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

a. Broadside in the Rawlinson collection, 4to, 566, fol. 193, Wood, E. 25, fol. 15. b. Pepys, iii, 19, No 17. c. Douce, ii, fol. 168 b. d. Pills to Purge Melancholy, iv, 130, ed. 1719.

1

There was a lady of the North Country,
Lay the bent to the bonny broom
And she had lovely daughters three.
Fa la la la, fa la la la ra re

2

There was a knight of noble worth
Which also lived in the North.

3

The knight, of courage stout and brave,
A wife he did desire to have.

4

He knocked at the ladie's gate
One evening when it was late.

5

The eldest sister let him in,
And pin'd the door with a silver pin.

6

The second sister she made his bed,
And laid soft pillows under his head.

7

The youngest daughter that same night,
She went to bed to this young knight.

8

And in the morning, when it was day,
These words unto him she did say:

9

‘Now you have had your will,’ quoth she,
‘I pray, sir knight, will you marry me?’

10

The young brave knight to her replyed,
‘Thy suit, fair maid, shall not be deny'd.

11

‘If thou canst answer me questions three,
This very day will I marry thee.’

12

‘Kind sir, in love, O then,’ quoth she,
‘Tell me what your [three] questions be.’

13

‘O what is longer than the way,
Or what is deeper than the sea?

14

‘Or what is louder than the horn,
Or what is sharper than a thorn?

15

‘Or what is greener than the grass,
Or what is worse then a woman was?’

16

‘O love is longer than the way,
And hell is deeper than the sea.

17

‘And thunder is louder than the horn,
And hunger is sharper than a thorn.

18

‘And poyson is greener than the grass,
And the Devil is worse than woman was.’

19

When she these questions answered had,
The knight became exceeding glad.

20

And having [truly] try'd her wit,
He much commended her for it.

21

And after, as it is verifi'd,
He made of her his lovely bride.

22

So now, fair maidens all, adieu,
This song I dedicate to you.

23

I wish that you may constant prove
Vnto the man that you do love.

The Three Sisters

RIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED—B

[_]

Gilbert's Christmas Carols, 2d ed., p. 65, from the editor's recollection. West of England.

1

There were three sisters fair and bright,
Jennifer gentle and rosemaree
And they three loved one valiant knight.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree

2

The eldest sister let him in,
And barred the door with a silver pin.

3

The second sister made his bed,
And placed soft pillows under his head.

4

The youngest sister, fair and bright,
Was resolved for to wed with this valiant knight.

5

‘And if you can answer questions three,
O then, fair maid, I will marry with thee.

6

‘What is louder than an horn,
And what is sharper than a thorn?

7

‘Thunder is louder than an horn,
And hunger is sharper than a thorn.’

8

‘What is broader than the way,
And what is deeper than the sea?’

9

‘Love is broader than the way,
And hell is deeper than the sea.’

[OMITTED]

10

[OMITTED]
‘And now, fair maid, I will marry with thee.’

The Unco Knicht's Wowing

RIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 647. From the recitation of Mrs Storie.

1

There was a knicht riding frae the east,
Sing the Cather banks, the bonnie brume
Wha had been wooing at monie a place.
And ye may beguile a young thing sune

2

He came unto a widow's door,
And speird whare her three dochters were.

3

The auldest ane's to a washing gane,
The second's to a baking gane.

4

The youngest ane's to a wedding gane,
And it will be nicht or she be hame.

5

He sat him doun upon a stane,
Till thir three lasses came tripping hame.

6

The auldest ane's to the bed making,
And the second ane's to the sheet spreading.

7

The youngest ane was bauld and bricht,
And she was to lye with this unco knicht.

8

‘Gin ye will answer me questions ten,
The morn ye sall be made my ain.

9

‘O what is heigher nor the tree?
And what is deeper nor the sea?

10

‘Or what is heavier nor the lead?
And what is better nor the breid?

11

‘O what is whiter nor the milk?
Or what is safter nor the silk?

12

‘Or what is sharper nor a thorn?
Or what is louder nor a horn?

13

‘Or what is greener nor the grass?
Or what is waur nor a woman was?’

14

‘O heaven is higher nor the tree,
And hell is deeper nor the sea.

15

‘O sin is heavier nor the lead,
The blessing's better nor the bread.

16

‘The snaw is whiter nor the milk,
And the down is safter nor the silk.

17

‘Hunger is sharper nor a thorn,
And shame is louder nor a horn.

18

‘The pies are greener nor the grass,
And Clootie's waur nor a woman was.’

19

As sune as she the fiend did name,
He flew awa in a blazing flame.

RIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED—D

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 142.

1

‘O what is higher than the trees?
Gar lay the bent to the bonny broom
And what is deeper than the seas?
And you may beguile a fair maid soon

2

‘O what is whiter than the milk?
Or what is softer than the silk?

3

‘O what is sharper than the thorn?
O what is louder than the horn?

4

‘O what is longer than the way?
And what is colder than the clay?

5

‘O what is greener than the grass?
And what is worse than woman was?’

6

‘O heaven's higher than the trees,
And hell is deeper than the seas.

7

‘And snow is whiter than the milk,
And love is softer than the silk.

8

‘O hunger's sharper than the thorn,
And thunder's louder than the horn.

9

‘O wind is longer than the way,
And death is colder than the clay.

10

‘O poison's greener than the grass,
And the Devil's worse than eer woman was.’

RIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED—E

1

There was a lady in the West,
Lay the bank with the bonny broom
She had three daughters of the best.
Fa lang the dillo
Fa lang the dillo dillo dee

2

There came a stranger to the gate,
And he three days and nights did wait.

3

The eldest daughter did ope the door,
The second set him on the floor.

4

The third daughter she brought a chair,
And placed it that he might sit there.

[_]

(To first daughter.)

5

‘Now answer me these questions three,
Or you shall surely go with me.

[_]

(To second daughter.)

6

‘Now answer me these questions six,
Or you shall surely be Old Nick's.

[_]

(To all three.)

7

‘Now answer me these questions nine,
Or you shall surely all be mine.

8

‘What is greener than the grass?
What is smoother than crystal glass?

9

‘What is louder than a horn?
What is sharper than a thorn?

10

‘What is brighter than the light?
What is darker than the night?

11

‘What is keener than an axe?
What is softer than melting wax?

12

‘What is rounder than a ring?’
‘To you we thus our answers bring.

13

‘Envy is greener than the grass,
Flattery smoother than crystal glass.

14

‘Rumour is louder than a horn,
Hunger is sharper than a thorn.

15

‘Truth is brighter than the light,
Falsehood is darker than the night.

16

‘Revenge is keener than an axe,
Love is softer than melting wax.

17

‘The world is rounder than a ring,
To you we thus our answers bring.

18

‘Thus you have our answers nine,
And we never shall be thine.’

2
THE ELFIN KNIGHT

A proper new ballad entituled The Wind hath blown my Plaid away; or, A Discourse betwixt a young [Wo]man and the Elphin Knight

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—A

[_]

A broadside in black letter, “printed, I suppose,” says Pinkerton, “about 1670,” bound up with five other pieces at the end of a copy of Blind Harry's ‘Wallace,’ Edin. 1673, in the Pepysian Library.

My plaid awa, my plaid awa,
And ore the hill and far awa,
And far awa to Norrowa,
My plaid shall not be blown awa.

1

The elphin knight sits on yon hill,
Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba
He blaws his horn both lowd and shril.
The wind hath blown my plaid awa

2

He blowes it east, he blowes it west,
He blowes it where he lyketh best.

3

‘I wish that horn were in my kist,
Yea, and the knight in my armes two.’

4

She had no sooner these words said,
When that the knight came to her bed.

5

‘Thou art over young a maid,’ quoth he,
‘Married with me thou il wouldst be.’

6

‘I have a sister younger than I,
And she was married yesterday.’

7

‘Married with me if thou wouldst be,
A courtesie thou must do to me.

8

‘For thou must shape a sark to me,
Without any cut or heme,’ quoth he.

9

‘Thou must shape it knife-and-sheerlesse,
And also sue it needle-threedlesse.’

10

‘If that piece of courtesie I do to thee,
Another thou must do to me.

11

‘I have an aiker of good ley-land,
Which lyeth low by yon sea-strand.

12

‘For thou must eare it with thy horn,
So thou must sow it with thy corn.

13

‘And bigg a cart of stone and lyme,
Robin Redbreast he must trail it hame.

14

‘Thou must barn it in a mouse-holl,
And thrash it into thy shoes soll.

15

‘And thou must winnow it in thy looff,
And also seck it in thy glove.

16

‘For thou must bring it over the sea,
And thou must bring it dry home to me.

17

‘When thou hast gotten thy turns well done,
Then come to me and get thy sark then.’

18

‘I'l not quite my plaid for my life;
It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’
The wind shall not blow my plaid awa

19

‘My maidenhead I'l then keep still,
Let the elphin knight do what he will.’
The wind's not blown my plaid awa

A proper new ballad entitled The Wind hath blawn my Plaid awa

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—B

[_]

A Collection of Curious Old Ballads, etc., p. 3. Partly from an old copy in black letter, and partly from the recitation of an old lady.

My plaid awa, my plaid awa,
And owre the hills and far awa,
And far awa to Norrowa,
My plaid shall not be blawn awa.

1

The Elphin knight sits on yon hill,
Ba, ba, ba, lillie ba
He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill.
The wind hath blawn my plaid awa

2

He blaws it east, he blaws it west,
He blaws it where he liketh best.

3

‘I wish that horn were in my kist,
Yea, and the knight in my arms niest.’

4

She had no sooner these words said,
Than the knight came to her bed.

5

‘Thou art oer young a maid,’ quoth he,
‘Married with me that thou wouldst be.’

6

‘I have a sister, younger than I,
And she was married yesterday.’

7

‘Married with me if thou wouldst be,
A curtisie thou must do to me.

8

‘It's ye maun mak a sark to me,
Without any cut or seam,’ quoth he.

9

‘And ye maun shape it, knife-, sheerless,
And also sew it needle-, threedless.’

10

‘If that piece of courtisie I do to thee,
Another thou must do to me.

11

‘I have an aiker of good ley land,
Which lyeth low by yon sea strand.

12

‘It's ye maun till't wi your touting horn,
And ye maun saw't wi the pepper corn.

13

‘And ye maun harrow't wi a thorn,
And hae your wark done ere the morn.

14

‘And ye maun shear it wi your knife,
And no lose a stack o't for your life.

15

‘And ye maun stack it in a mouse hole,
And ye maun thrash it in your shoe sole.

16

‘And ye maun dight it in your loof,
And also sack it in your glove.

17

‘And thou must bring it over the sea,
Fair and clean and dry to me.

18

‘And when that ye have done your wark,
Come back to me, and ye'll get your sark.’

19

‘I'll not quite my plaid for my life;
It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’

20

‘My maidenhead I'll then keep still,
Let the elphin knight do what he will.

The Elfin Knicht

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—C

[_]

Kinloch's A. S. Ballads, p. 145. From the recitation of M. Kinnear, a native of Mearnsshire, 23 Aug., 1826.

1

There stands a knicht at the tap o yon hill,
Oure the hills and far awa
He has blawn his horn loud and shill.
The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa

2

‘If I had the horn that I hear blawn,
And the knicht that blaws that horn!’

3

She had na sooner thae words said,
Than the elfin knicht cam to her side.

4

‘Are na ye oure young a may
Wi onie young man doun to lie?’

5

‘I have a sister younger than I,
And she was married yesterday.’

6

‘Married wi me ye sall neer be nane
Till ye mak to me a sark but a seam.

7

‘And ye maun shape it knife-, sheer-less,
And ye maun sew it needle-, threed-less.

8

‘And ye maun wash it in yon cistran,
Whare water never stood nor ran.

9

‘And ye maun dry it on yon hawthorn,
Whare the sun neer shon sin man was born.’

10

‘Gin that courtesie I do for thee,
Ye maun do this for me.

11

‘Ye'll get an acre o gude red-land
Atween the saut sea and the sand.

12

‘I want that land for to be corn,
And ye maun aer it wi your horn.

13

‘And ye maun saw it without a seed,
And ye maun harrow it wi a threed.

14

‘And ye maun shear it wi your knife,
And na tyne a pickle o't for your life.

15

‘And ye maun moue it in yon mouse-hole
And ye maun thrash it in your shoe-sole.

16

‘And ye maun fan it wi your luves,
And ye maun sack it in your gloves.

17

‘And ye maun bring it oure the sea,
Fair and clean and dry to me.

18

‘And whan that your wark is weill deen,
Yese get your sark without a seam.’

The Fairy Knight

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—D

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 296.

1

The Elfin knight stands on yon hill,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
Blawing his horn loud and shrill.
And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

2

‘If I had yon horn in my kist,
And the bonny laddie here that I luve best!

3

‘I hae a sister eleven years auld,
And she to the young men's bed has made bauld.

4

‘And I mysell am only nine,
And oh! sae fain, luve, as I woud be thine.’

5

‘Ye maun make me a fine Holland sark,
Without ony stitching or needle wark.

6

‘And ye maun wash it in yonder well,
Where the dew never wat, nor the rain ever fell.

7

‘And ye maun dry it upon a thorn
That never budded sin Adam was born.’

8

‘Now sin ye've askd some things o me,
It's right I ask as mony o thee.

9

‘My father he askd me an acre o land,
Between the saut sea and the strand.

10

‘And ye maun plow't wi your blawing horn,
And ye maun saw't wi pepper corn.

11

‘And ye maun harrow't wi a single tyne,
And ye maun shear't wi a sheep's shank bane.

12

‘And ye maun big it in the sea,
And bring the stathle dry to me.

13

‘And ye maun barn't in yon mouse hole,
And ye maun thrash't in your shee sole.

14

‘And ye maun sack it in your gluve,
And ye maun winno't in your leuve.

15

‘And ye maun dry't without candle or coal,
And grind it without quirn or mill.

16

‘Ye'll big a cart o stane and lime,
Gar Robin Redbreast trail it syne.

17

‘When ye've dune, and finishd your wark,
Ye'll come to me, luve, and get your sark.’

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—E

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 492.

1

The Elfin Knight sits on yon hill,
Ba ba lilly ba
Blowing his horn loud and shill.
And the wind has blawn my plaid awa

2

‘I love to hear that horn blaw;
I wish him [here] owns it and a'.’

3

That word it was no sooner spoken,
Than Elfin Knight in her arms was gotten.

4

‘You must mak to me a sark,
Without threed, sheers or needle wark.’

Lord John

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—F

[_]

Kinloch MSS, i, 75. From Mary Barr.

1

‘Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?
Sober and grave grows merry in time
There ye'll meet wi a handsome young dame,
Ance she was a true love o mine.

2

‘Tell her to sew me a holland sark,
And sew it all without needle-wark:
And syne we'll be true lovers again.

3

‘Tell her to wash it at yon spring-well,
Where neer wind blew, nor yet rain fell.

4

‘Tell her to dry it on yon hawthorn,
That neer sprang up sin Adam was born.

5

‘Tell her to iron it wi a hot iron,
And plait it a' in ae plait round.’

6

‘Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?
There ye'll meet wi a handsome young man,
Ance he was a true lover o mine.

7

‘Tell him to plough me an acre o land
Betwixt the sea-side bot and the sea-sand,
And syne we'll be true lovers again.

8

‘Tell him to saw it wi ae peck o corn,
And harrow it a' wi ae harrow tine.

9

‘Tell him to shear it wi ae hook-tooth,
And carry it hame just into his loof.

10

‘Tell him to stack it in yon mouse-hole,
And thrash it a' just wi his shoe-sole.

11

‘Tell him to dry it on yon ribless kiln,
And grind it a' in yon waterless miln.

12

Tell this young man, whan he's finished his wark,
He may come to me, and hese get his sark.’

The Cambrick Shirt

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—G

[_]

Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 3, ed. 1810.

1

‘Can you make me a cambrick shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Without any seam or needle work?
And you shall be a true lover of mine

2

‘Can you wash it in yonder well,
Where never sprung water nor rain ever fell?

3

‘Can you dry it on yonder thorn,
Which never bore blossom since Adam was born?

4

‘Now you have askd me questions three,
I hope you'll answer as many for me.

5

‘Can you find me an acre of land
Between the salt water and the sea sand?

6

‘Can you plow it with a ram's horn,
And sow it all over with one pepper corn?

7

‘Can you reap it with a sickle of leather,
And bind it up with a peacock's feather?

8

‘When you have done, and finishd your work,
Then come to me for your cambrick shirt.’

The Deil's Courtship

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—H

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 92.

1

‘Come, pretty Nelly, and sit thee down by me,
Every rose grows merry wi thyme
And I will ask thee questions three,
And then thou wilt be a true lover of mine.

2

‘Thou must buy me a cambrick smock
Without any stitch of needlework.

3

‘Thou must wash it in yonder strand,
Where wood never grew and water neer ran.

4

‘Thou must dry it on yonder thorn,
Where the sun never shined on since Adam was formed.’

5

‘Thou hast asked me questions three;
Sit down till I ask as many of thee.

6

‘Thou must buy me an acre of land
Betwixt the salt water, love, and the sea-sand.

7

‘Thou must plow it wi a ram's horn,
And sow it all over wi one pile o corn.

8

‘Thou must shear it wi a strap o leather,
And tie it all up in a peacock feather.

9

‘Thou must stack it in the sea,
And bring the stale o't hame dry to me.

10

‘When my love's done, and finished his work,
Let him come to me for his cambric smock.’

The Deil's Courting

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—I

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 103. From the recitation of John McWhinnie, collier, Newtown Green, Ayr.

1

A lady wonned on yonder hill,
Hee ba and balou ba
And she had musick at her will.
And the wind has blown my plaid awa

2

Up and cam an auld, auld man,
Wi his blue bonnet in his han.

3

‘I will ask ye questions three;
Resolve them, or ye'll gang wi me.

4

‘Ye maun mak to me a sark,
It maun be free o woman's wark.

5

‘Ye maun shape it knife-sheerless,
And ye maun sew it needle-threedless.

6

‘Ye maun wash it in yonder well,
Whare rain nor dew has ever fell.

7

‘Ye maun dry it on yonder thorn,
Where leaf neer grew since man was born.’

8

‘I will ask ye questions three;
Resolve them, or ye'll neer get me.

9

‘I hae a rig o bonnie land
Atween the saut sea and the sand.

10

‘Ye maun plow it wi ae horse bane,
And harrow it wi ae harrow pin.

11

‘Ye maun shear't wi a whang o leather,
And ye maun bind't bot strap or tether.

12

‘Ye maun stack it in the sea,
And bring the stale hame dry to me.

13

‘Ye maun mak a cart o stane,
And yoke the wren and bring it hame.

14

‘Ye maun thresh't atween your lufes,
And ye maun sack't atween your thies.’

15

‘My curse on those wha learnëd thee;
This night I weend ye'd gane wi me.’

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—J

[_]

Communicated by Rev. F. D. Huntington, Bishop of Western New York, as sung to him by his father in 1828, at Hadley, Mass.; derived from a rough, roystering “character” in the town.

1

Now you are a-going to Cape Ann,
Follomingkathellomeday
Remember me to the self-same man.
Ummatiddle, ummatiddle, ummatallyho, tallyho, follomingkathellomeday

2

Tell him to buy me an acre of land
Between the salt-water and the sea-sand.

3

Tell him to plough it with a ram's horn,
Tell him to sow it with one peppercorn.

4

Tell him to reap it with a penknife,
And tell him to cart it with two mice.

5

Tell him to cart it to yonder new barn
That never was built since Adam was born.

6

Tell him to thrash it with a goose quill,
Tell him to fan it with an egg-shell.

7

Tell the fool, when he's done his work,
To come to me, and he shall have his shirt.

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—K

[_]

Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes of England, 6th ed., p. 109, No 171.

1

My father left me three acres of land,
Sing ivy, sing ivy
My father left me three acres of land.
Sing holly, go whistle and ivy

2

I ploughed it with a ram's horn,
And sowed it all over with one pepper corn.

3

I harrowed it with a bramble bush,
And reaped it with my little penknife.

4

I got the mice to carry it to the barn,
And thrashed it with a goose's quill.

5

I got the cat to carry it to the mill;
The miller he swore he would have her paw,
And the cat she swore she would scratch his face.

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—L

[_]

Notes and Queries, 1st S., vii, 8. Signed D.

1

My father gave me an acre of land,
Sing ivy, sing ivy
My father gave me an acre of land.
Sing green bush, holly and ivy

2

I ploughd it with a ram's horn.

3

I harrowd it with a bramble.

4

I sowd it with a pepper corn.

5

I reapd it with my penknife.

6

I carried it to the mill upon the cat's back.

[OMITTED]

7

I made a cake for all the king's men.

THE ELFIN KNIGHT—M

[_]

Notes and Queries, 4th Series, III, 605, communicated by W. F., Glasgow, from a manuscript collection.

1

As I went up to the top o yon hill,
Every rose springs merry in't' time
I met a fair maid, an her name it was Nell.
An she langed to be a true lover o mine

2

‘Ye'll get to me a cambric sark,
An sew it all over without thread or needle.
Before that ye be, etc.

3

‘Ye'll wash it doun in yonder well,
Where water neer ran an dew never fell.

4

‘Ye'll bleach it doun by yonder green,
Where grass never grew an wind never blew.

5

‘Ye'll dry it doun on yonder thorn,
That never bore blossom sin Adam was born.’

6

‘Four questions ye have asked at me,
An as mony mair ye'll answer me.

7

‘Ye'll get to me an acre o land
Atween the saut water an the sea sand.

8

‘Ye'll plow it wi a ram's horn,
An sow it all over wi one peppercorn.

9

‘Ye'll shear it wi a peacock's feather,
An bind it all up wi the sting o an adder.

10

‘Ye'll stook it in yonder saut sea,
An bring the dry sheaves a' back to me.

11

‘An when ye've done and finished your wark,
Ye'll come to me, an ye'se get your sark.’
An then shall ye be true lover o mine

3
THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD

The Fause Knight upon the Road

THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD—A

[_]

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. 1xxiv. From Galloway.

1

‘O whare are ye gaun?’
Quo the fause knicht upon the road:
‘I'm gaun to the scule,’
Quo the wee boy, and still he stude.

2

‘What is that upon your back?’ quo etc.
‘Atweel it is my bukes,’ quo etc.

3

‘What's that ye've got in your arm?’
‘Atweel it is my peit.’

4

‘Wha's aucht they sheep?’
‘They are mine and my mither's.’

5

‘How monie o them are mine?’
‘A' they that hae blue tails.’

6

‘I wiss ye were on yon tree:’
‘And a gude ladder under me.’

7

‘And the ladder for to break:’
‘And you for to fa down.’

8

‘I wiss ye were in yon sie:’
‘And a gude bottom under me.’

9

‘And the bottom for to break:’
‘And ye to be drowned.’

The False Knight

THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD—B

[_]

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxiv, No xxxii.

‘O whare are ye gaun?’ quo the false knight,
And false, false was his rede:
‘I'm gaun to the scule,’ says the pretty little boy,
And still, still he stude.

The False Knight

THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD—C

[_]

Obtained by Mr Macmath from the recitation of his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, Galloway, who learned it many years ago from the wife of Peter McGuire, then cotman at Airds.

1

‘O whare are ye gaun?’
Says the false knight upon the road:
‘I am gaun to the schule,’
Says the wee boy, and still he stood.

2

‘Wha's aught the sheep on yonder hill?’
‘They are my papa's and mine.’

3

‘How many of them's mine?’
‘A' them that has blue tails.’

4

‘I wish you were in yonder well:’
‘And you were down in hell.’

4
LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT

The Gowans sae gay; or, Aye as the Gowans grow gay

LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT—A

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i, 22. b. Motherwell's MS., p. 563.

1

Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,
Aye as the gowans grow gay
There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn.
The first morning in May

2

‘If I had yon horn that I hear blawing,
And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom.’

3

This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,
Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen.

4

‘It's a very strange matter, fair maiden,’ said he,
‘I canna blaw my horn but ye call on me.

5

‘But will ye go to yon greenwood side?
If ye canna gang, I will cause you to ride.’

6

He leapt on a horse, and she on another,
And they rode on to the greenwood together.

7

‘Light down, light down, lady Isabel,’ said he,
‘We are come to the place where ye are to die.’

8

‘Hae mercy, hae mercy, kind sir, on me,
Till ance my dear father and mother I see.’

9

‘Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain,
And ye shall be the eight o them.’

10

‘O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee,
That we may hae some rest before that I die.’

11

She stroakd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep,
Wi a sma charm she lulld him fast asleep.

12

Wi his ain sword-belt sae fast as she ban him,
Wi his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him.

13

‘If seven king's-daughters here ye hae slain,
Lye ye here, a husband to them a'.’

The Water o Wearie's Well; or, Wearie's Wells

LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT—B

[_]

a. Buchan's MSS, ii, fol. 80. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 201. c. Motherwell's MS., p. 561. d. Harris MS., No 19.

1

There came a bird out o a bush,
On water for to dine,
An sighing sair, says the king's daughter,
‘O wae's this heart o mine!’

2

He's taen a harp into his hand,
He's harped them all asleep,
Except it was the king's daughter,
Who one wink couldna get.

3

He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,
Taen'er on behind himsell,
Then baith rede down to that water
That they ca Wearie's Well.

4

‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
No harm shall thee befall;
Oft times I've watered my steed
Wi the waters o Wearie's Well.’

5

The first step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the knee;
And sighend says this lady fair,
‘This water's nae for me.’

6

‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
No harm shall thee befall;
Oft times I've watered my steed
Wi the water o Wearie's Well.’

7

The next step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the middle;
‘O,' sighend says this lady fair,
I've wat my gowden girdle.’

8

‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
No harm shall thee befall;
Oft times have I watered my steed
Wi the water o Wearie's Well.’

9

The next step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the chin;
‘O,' sighend says this lady fair,
‘They sud gar twa loves twin.’

10

‘Seven king's-daughters I've drownd there,
In the water o Wearie's Well,
And I'll make you the eight o them,
And ring the common bell.’

11

‘Since I am standing here,’ she says,
‘This dowie death to die,
One kiss o your comely mouth
I'm sure wad comfort me.’

12

He louted him oer his saddle bow,
To kiss her cheek and chin;
She's taen him in her arms twa,
An thrown him headlong in.

13

‘Since seven king's daughters ye've drowned there,
In the water o Wearie's Well,
I'll make you bridegroom to them a',
An ring the bell mysell.’

14

And aye she warsled, and aye she swam,
And she swam to dry lan;
She thanked God most cheerfully
The dangers she oercame.

May Colven; or, May Colvin; or, False Sir John

LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT—C

[_]

a. Herd's MSS, i, 166. b. Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, i, 93. c. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 67, =b “collated with a copy obtained from recitation.”

1

False Sir John a wooing came
To a maid of beauty fair;
May Colven was this lady's name,
Her father's only heir.

2

He wood her butt, he wood her ben,
He wood her in the ha,
Until he got this lady's consent
To mount and ride awa.

3

He went down to her father's bower,
Where all the steeds did stand,
And he's taken one of the best steeds
That was in her father's land.

4

He's got on and she's got on,
And fast as they could flee,
Until they came to a lonesome part,
A rock by the side of the sea.

5

‘Loup off the steed,’ says false Sir John,
‘Your bridal bed you see;
For I have drowned seven young ladies,
The eight one you shall be.

6

‘Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,
All and your silken gown,
For it's oer good and oer costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.

7

‘Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,
All and your embroiderd shoen,
For they're oer good and oer costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.’

8

‘O turn you about, O false Sir John,
And look to the leaf of the tree,
For it never became a gentleman
A naked woman to see.’

9

He turnd himself straight round about,
To look to the leaf of the tree;
So swift as May Colven was
To throw him in the sea.

10

‘O help, O help, my May Colven,
O help, or else I'll drown;
I'll take you home to your father's bower,
And set you down safe and sound.’

11

‘No help, no help, O false Sir John,
No help, nor pity thee;
Tho seven king's-daughters you have drownd,
But the eight shall not be me.’

12

So she went on her father's steed,
As swift as she could flee,
And she came home to her father's bower
Before it was break of day.

13

Up then and spoke the pretty parrot:
‘May Colven, where have you been?
What has become of false Sir John,
That woo'd you so late the streen?

14

‘He woo'd you butt, he woo'd you ben,
He woo'd you in the ha,
Until he got your own consent
For to mount and gang awa.’

15

‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,
Lay not the blame upon me;
Your cup shall be of the flowered gold,
Your cage of the root of the tree.’

16

Up then spake the king himself,
In the bed-chamber where he lay:
‘What ails the pretty parrot,
That prattles so long or day?’

17

‘There came a cat to my cage door,
It almost a worried me,
And I was calling on May Colven
To take the cat from me.’

May Collin; or, Fause Sir John and May Colvin; or, May Collean

LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT—D

[_]

a. Sharpe's Ballad Book (1823), No 17, p. 45. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 45. c. Motherell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. 21, No. xxiv, one stanza.

1

O heard ye of a bloody knight,
Lived in the south country?
For he has betrayed eight ladies fair
And drowned them in the sea.

2

Then next he went to May Collin,
She was her father's heir,
The greatest beauty in the land,
I solemnly declare.

3

‘I am a knight of wealth and might,
Of townlands twenty-three;
And you'll be lady of them all,
If you will go with me.’

4

‘Excuse me, then, Sir John,’ she says;
‘To wed I am too young;
Without I have my parents' leave,
With you I darena gang.’

5

‘Your parents' leave you soon shall have,
In that they will agree;
For I have made a solemn vow
This night you'll go with me.’

6

From below his arm he pulled a charm,
And stuck it in her sleeve,
And he has made her go with him,
Without her parents' leave.

7

Of gold and silver she has got
With her twelve hundred pound,
And the swiftest steed her father had
She has taen to ride upon.

8

So privily they went along,
They made no stop or stay,
Till they came to the fatal place
That they call Bunion Bay.

9

It being in a lonely place,
And no house there was nigh,
The fatal rocks were long and steep,
And none could hear her cry.

10

‘Light down,’ he said, ‘fair May Collin,
Light down and speak with me,
For here I've drowned eight ladies fair,
And the ninth one you shall be.’

11

‘Is this your bowers and lofty towers,
So beautiful and gay?
Or is it for my gold,’ she said,
‘You take my life away?’

12

‘Strip off,’ he says, ‘thy jewels fine,
So costly and so brave,
For they are too costly and too fine
To throw in the sea wave.’

13

‘Take all I have my life to save,
O good Sir John, I pray;
Let it neer be said you killed a maid
Upon her wedding day.’

14

‘Strip off,’ he says, ‘thy Holland smock,
That's bordered with the lawn,
For it's too costly and too fine
To rot in the sea sand.’

15

‘O turn about, Sir John,’ she said,
‘Your back about to me,
For it never was comely for a man
A naked woman to see.’

16

But as he turned him round about,
She threw him in the sea,
Saying, ‘Lie you there, you false Sir John,
Where you thought to lay me.

17

‘O lie you there, you traitor false,
Where you thought to lay me,
For though you stripped me to the skin,
Your clothes you've got with thee.’

18

Her jewels fine she did put on,
So costly, rich and brave,
And then with speed she mounts his steed,
So well she did behave.

19

That lady fair being void of fear,
Her steed being swift and free,
And she has reached her father's gate
Before the clock struck three.

20

Then first she called the stable groom,
He was her waiting man;
Soon as he heard his lady's voice
He stood with cap in hand.

21

‘Where have you been, fair May Collin?
Who owns this dapple grey?’
‘It is a found one,’ she replied,
‘That I got on the way.’

22

Then out bespoke the wily parrot
Unto fair May Collin:
‘What have you done with false Sir John,
That went with you yestreen?’

23

‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,
And talk no more to me,
And where you had a meal a day
O now you shall have three.’

24

Then up bespoke her father dear,
From his chamber where he lay:
‘What aileth thee, my pretty Poll,
That you chat so long or day?’

25

‘The cat she came to my cage-door,
The thief I could not see,
And I called to fair May Collin,
To take the cat from me.’

26

Then first she told her father dear
The deed that she had done,
And next she told her mother dear
Concerning false Sir John.

27

‘If this be true, fair May Collin,
That you have told to me,
Before I either eat or drink
This false Sir John I'll see.’

28

Away they went with one consent,
At dawning of the day,
Until they came to Carline Sands,
And there his body lay.

29

His body tall, by that great fall,
By the waves tossed to and fro,
The diamond ring that he had on
Was broke in pieces two.

30

And they have taken up his corpse
To yonder pleasant green,
And there they have buried false Sir John,
For fear he should be seen.

The Outlandish Knight

LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT—E

[_]

J. H. Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 74.

1

An outlandish knight came from the north lands,
And he came a-wooing to me;
He told me he'd take me unto the north lands,
And there he would marry me.

2

‘Come, fetch me some of your father's gold,
And some of your mother's fee,
And two of the best nags out of the stable,
Where they stand thirty and three.’

3

She fetched him some of her father's gold,
And some of her mother's fee,
And two of the best nags out of the stable,
Where they stood thirty and three.

4

She mounted her on her milk-white steed,
He on the dapple grey;
They rode till they came unto the sea-side,
Three hours before it was day.

5

‘Light off, light off thy milk-white steed,
And deliver it unto me;
Six pretty maids have I drowned here,
And thou the seventh shalt be.

6

‘Pull off, pull off thy silken gown,
And deliver it unto me;
Methinks it looks too rich and too gay
To rot in the salt sea.

7

‘Pull off, pull off thy silken stays,
And deliver them unto me;
Methinks they are too fine and gay
To rot in the salt sea.

8

‘Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock,
And deliver it unto me;
Methinks it looks too rich and gay
To rot in the salt sea.’

9

‘If I must pull off my Holland smock,
Pray turn thy back unto me;
For it is not fitting that such a ruffian
A naked woman should see.’

10

He turned his back towards her
And viewed the leaves so green;
She catched him round the middle so small,
And tumbled him into the stream.

11

He dropped high and he dropped low,
Until he came to the side;
‘Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden,
And I will make you my bride.’

12

‘Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,
Lie there instead of me;
Six pretty maids have you drowned here,
And the seventh has drowned thee.’

13

She mounted on her milk-white steed,
And led the dapple grey;
She rode till she came to her own father's hall,
Three hours before it was day.

14

The parrot being in the window so high,
Hearing the lady, did say,
‘I'm afraid that some ruffian has led you astray,
That you have tarried so long away.’

15

‘Don't prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot,
Nor tell no tales of me;
Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,
Although it is made of a tree.’

16

The king being in the chamber so high,
And hearing the parrot, did say,
‘What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot,
That you prattle so long before day?’

17

‘It's no laughing matter,’ the parrot did say,
‘That so loudly I call unto thee,
For the cats have got into the window so high,
And I'm afraid they will have me.’

18

‘Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot,
Well turned, well turned for me;
Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,
And the door of the best ivory.’

The False Knight Outwitted

LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT—F

[_]

Roxburghe Ballads, iii, 449.

1

‘Go fetch me some of your father's gold,
And some of your mother's fee,
And I'll carry you into the north land,
And there I'll marry thee.’

2

She fetchd him some of her father's gold,
And some of her mother's fee;
She carried him into the stable,
Where horses stood thirty and three.

3

She leapd on a milk-white steed,
And he on a dapple-grey;
They rode til they came to a fair river's side,
Three hours before it was day.

4

‘O light, O light, you lady gay,
O light with speed, I say,
For six knight's daughters have I drowned here,
And you the seventh must be.’

5

‘Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle
That grows so near the brim,
For fear it should tangle my golden locks,
Or freckle my milk-white skin.’

6

He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle
That grows so near the brim,
And with all the strength that pretty Polly had
She pushd the false knight in.

7

‘Swim on, swim on, thou false knight,
And there bewail thy doom,
For I don't think thy cloathing too good
To lie in a watry tomb.’

8

She leaped on her milk-white steed,
She led the dapple grey;
She rid till she came to her father's house,
Three hours before it was day.

9

‘Who knocked so loudly at the ring?’
The parrot he did say;
‘O where have you been, my pretty Polly,
All this long summer's day?’

10

‘O hold your tongue, parrot,
Tell you no tales of me;
Your cage shall be made of beaten gold,
Which is now made of a tree.’

11

O then bespoke her father dear,
As he on his bed did lay:
‘O what is the matter, my parrot,
That you speak before it is day?’

12

‘The cat's at my cage, master,
And sorely frighted me,
And I calld down my Polly
To take the cat away.’

The Knight and the Chief's Daughter

LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT—G

[_]

British Museum, MS. Addit. 20094. Communicated to Mr T. Crofton Croker in 1829, as remembered by Mr W. Pigott Rogers, and believed by Mr Rogers to have been learned by him from an Irish nursery-maid.

1

‘Now steal me some of your father's gold,
And some of your mother's fee,
And steal the best steed in your father's stable,
Where there lie thirty three.’

2

She stole him some of her father's gold,
And some of her mother's fee,
And she stole the best steed from her father's stable,
Where there lay thirty three.

3

And she rode on the milk-white steed,
And he on the barb so grey,
Until they came to the green, green wood,
Three hours before it was day.

4

‘Alight, alight, my pretty colleen,
Alight immediately,
For six knight's daughters I drowned here,
And thou the seventh shall be.’

5

‘Oh hold your tongue, you false knight villain,
Oh hold your tongue,’ said she;
‘'Twas you that promised to marry me,
For some of my father's fee.’

6

‘Strip off, strip off your jewels so rare,
And give them all to me;
I think them too rich and too costly by far
To rot in the sand with thee.’

7

‘Oh turn away, thou false knight villain,
Oh turn away from me;
Oh turn away, with your back to the cliff,
And your face to the willow-tree.’

8

He turned about, with his back to the cliff,
And his face to the willow-tree;
So sudden she took him up in her arms,
And threw him into the sea.

9

‘Lie there, lie there, thou false knight villain,
Lie there instead of me;
'Twas you that promised to marry me,
For some of my father's fee.’

10

‘Oh take me by the arm, my dear,
And hold me by the hand,
And you shall be my gay lady,
And the queen of all Scotland.’

11

‘I'll not take you by the arm, my dear,
Nor hold you by the hand;
And I won't be your gay lady,
And the queen of all Scotland.’

12

And she rode on the milk-white steed,
And led the barb so grey,
Until she came back to her father's castle,
One hour before it was day.

13

And out then spoke her parrot so green,
From the cage wherein she lay:
Where have you now been, my pretty colleen,
This long, long summer's day?

14

‘Oh hold your tongue, my favourite bird,
And tell no tales on me;
Your cage I will make of the beaten gold,
And hang in the willow-tree.’

15

Out then spoke her father dear,
From the chamber where he lay:
Oh what hath befallen my favourite bird,
That she calls so loud for day?

16

‘'Tis nothing at all, good lord,’ she said,
‘'Tis nothing at all indeed;
It was only the cat came to my cage-door,
And I called my pretty colleen.’

5
GIL BRENTON

Gil Brenton; or, Chil Brenten

GIL BRENTON—A

[_]

a. Jamieson-Brown MS., No 16, fol. 34. b. William Tytler's Brown MS., No 3. From the recitation of Mrs Brown of Falkland, 1783, Aberdeenshire.

1

Gil Brenton has sent oer the fame,
He's woo'd a wife an brought her hame.

2

Full sevenscore o ships came her wi,
The lady by the greenwood tree.

3

There was twal an twal wi beer an wine,
An twal an twal wi muskadine:

4

An twall an twall wi bouted flowr,
An twall an twall wi paramour:

5

An twall an twall wi baken bread,
An twall an twall wi the goud sae red.

6

Sweet Willy was a widow's son,
An at her stirrup-foot he did run.

7

An she was dressd i the finest pa,
But ay she loot the tears down fa.

8

An she was deckd wi the fairest flowrs,
But ay she loot the tears down pour.

9

‘O is there water i your shee?
Or does the win blaw i your glee?

10

‘Or are you mourning i your meed
That eer you left your mither gueede?

11

‘Or are ye mourning i your tide
That ever ye was Gil Brenton's bride?’

12

‘The[re] is nae water i my shee,
Nor does the win blaw i my glee:

13

‘Nor am I mourning i my tide
That eer I was Gil Brenton's bride:

14

‘But I am mourning i my meed
That ever I left my mither gueede.

15

‘But, bonny boy, tell to me
What is the customs o your country.’

16

‘The customs o't, my dame,’ he says,
‘Will ill a gentle lady please.

17

‘Seven king's daughters has our king wedded,
An seven king's daughters has our king bedded.

18

‘But he's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,
An sent them mourning hame again.

19

‘But whan you come to the palace yate,
His mither a golden chair will set.

20

‘An be you maid or be you nane,
O sit you there till the day be dane.

21

‘An gin you're sure that you are a maid,
Ye may gang safely to his bed.

22

‘But gin o that you be na sure,
Then hire some woman o youre bowr.’

23

O whan she came to the palace yate,
His mither a golden chair did set.

24

An was she maid or was she nane,
She sat in it till the day was dane.

25

An she's calld on her bowr woman,
That waiting was her bowr within.

26

‘Five hundred pound, maid, I'll gi to the,
An sleep this night wi the king for me.’

27

Whan bells was rung, an mass was sung,
An a' man unto bed was gone,

28

Gil Brenton an the bonny maid
Intill ae chamber they were laid.

29

‘O speak to me, blankets, an speak to me, sheets,
An speak to me, cods, that under me sleeps;

30

‘Is this a maid that I ha wedded?
Is this a maid that I ha bedded?’

31

‘It's nae a maid that you ha wedded,
But it's a maid that you ha bedded.

32

‘Your lady's in her bigly bowr,
An for you she drees mony sharp showr.’

33

O he has taen him thro the ha,
And on his mither he did ca.

34

‘I am the most unhappy man
That ever was in christend lan.

35

‘I woo'd a maiden meek an mild,
An I've marryed a woman great wi child.’

36

‘O stay, my son, intill this ha,
An sport you wi your merry men a'.

37

‘An I'll gang to yon painted bowr,
An see how't fares wi yon base whore.’

38

The auld queen she was stark an strang;
She gard the door flee aff the ban.

39

The auld queen she was stark an steer;
She gard the door lye i the fleer.

40

‘O is your bairn to laird or loon?
Or is it to your father's groom?’

41

‘My bairn's na to laird or loon,
Nor is it to my father's groom.

42

‘But hear me, mither, on my knee,
An my hard wierd I'll tell to thee.

43

‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
We was the fairest under heaven.

44

‘We had nae mair for our seven years wark
But to shape an sue the king's son a sark.

45

‘O it fell on a Saturday's afternoon,
Whan a' our langsome wark was dane,

46

‘We keist the cavils us amang,
To see which shoud to the greenwood gang.

47

‘Ohone, alas! for I was youngest,
An ay my wierd it was the hardest.

48

‘The cavil it did on me fa,
Which was the cause of a' my wae.

49

‘For to the greenwood I must gae,
To pu the nut but an the slae;

50

‘To pu the red rose an the thyme,
To strew my mother's bowr and mine.

51

‘I had na pu'd a flowr but ane,
Till by there came a jelly hind greeme,

52

‘Wi high-colld hose an laigh-colld shoone,
An he 'peard to be some kingis son.

53

‘An be I maid or be I nane,
He kept me there till the day was dane.

54

‘An be I maid or be I nae,
He kept me there till the close of day.

55

‘He gae me a lock of yallow hair,
An bade me keep it for ever mair.

56

‘He gae me a carket o gude black beads,
An bade me keep them against my needs.

57

‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
An bade me ke[e]p it aboon a' thing.

58

‘He gae to me a little pen-kniffe,
An bade me keep it as my life.’

59

‘What did you wi these tokens rare
That ye got frae that young man there?’

60

‘O bring that coffer hear to me,
And a' the tokens ye sal see.’

61

An ay she ranked, an ay she flang,
Till a' the tokens came till her han.

62

‘O stay here, daughter, your bowr within,
Till I gae parley wi my son.’

63

O she has taen her thro the ha,
An on her son began to ca.

64

‘What did you wi that gay gold ring
I bade you keep aboon a' thing?

65

‘What did you wi that little pen-kniffe
I bade you keep while you had life?

66

‘What did you wi that yallow hair
I bade you keep for ever mair?

67

‘What did you wi that good black beeds
I bade you keep against your needs?’

68

‘I gae them to a lady gay
I met i the greenwood on a day.

69

‘An I would gi a' my father's lan,
I had that lady my yates within.

70

‘I would gi a' my ha's an towrs,
I had that bright burd i my bowrs.’

71

‘O son, keep still your father's lan;
You hae that lady your yates within.

72

‘An keep you still your ha's an towrs;
You hae that bright burd i your bowrs.’

73

Now or a month was come an gone,
This lady bare a bonny young son.

74

An it was well written on his breast-bane
‘Gil Brenton is my father's name.’

Cospatrick

GIL BRENTON—B

[_]

Scott's Minstrelsy, ii, 117, ed. 1802. Ed. 1830, iii, 263. Partly from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford.

1

Cospatrick has sent oer the faem,
Cospatrick brought his ladye hame.

2

And fourscore ships have come her wi,
The ladye by the grenewood tree.

3

There were twal and twal wi baken bread,
And twal and twal wi gowd sae reid:

4

And twal and twal wi bouted flour,
And twal and twal wi the paramour.

5

Sweet Willy was a widow's son,
And at her stirrup he did run.

6

And she was clad in the finest pall,
But aye she let the tears down fall.

7

‘O is your saddle set awrye?
Or rides your steed for you owre high?

8

‘Or are you mourning in your tide
That you suld be Cospatrick's bride?’

9

‘I am not mourning at this tide
That I suld be Cospatrick's bride;

10

‘But I am sorrowing in my mood
That I suld leave my mother good.

11

‘But, gentle boy, come tell to me,
What is the custom of thy countrye?’

12

‘The custom thereof, my dame,’ he says,
‘Will ill a gentle laydye please.

13

‘Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded,
And seven king's daughters has our lord bedded;

14

‘But he's cutted their breasts frae their breast bane,
And sent them mourning hame again.

15

‘Yet, gin you're sure that you're a maid,
Ye may gae safely to his bed;

16

‘But gif o that ye be na sure,
Then hire some damsell o your bour.’

17

The ladye's calld her bour-maiden,
That waiting was into her train;

18

‘Five thousand merks I will gie thee,
To sleep this night with my lord for me.’

19

When bells were rung, and mass was sayne,
And a' men unto bed were gane,

20

Cospatrick and the bonny maid,
Into ae chamber they were laid.

21

‘Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,
And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web;

22

‘And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie,
Is this a true maiden that lies by me?’

23

‘It is not a maid that you hae wedded,
But it is a maid that you hae bedded.

24

‘It is a liel maiden that lies by thee,
But not the maiden that it should be.’

25

O wrathfully he left the bed,
And wrathfully his claiths on did.

26

And he has taen him thro the ha,
And on his mother he did ca.

27

‘I am the most unhappy man
That ever was in christen land!

28

‘I courted a maiden meik and mild,
And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi child.’

29

‘O stay, my son, into this ha,
And sport ye wi your merrymen a';

30

‘And I will to the secret bour,
To see how it fares wi your paramour.’

31

The carline she was stark and sture;
She aff the hinges dang the dure.

32

‘O is your bairn to laird or loun?
Or is it to your father's groom?’

33

‘O hear me, mother, on my knee,
Till my sad story I tell to thee.

34

‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.

35

‘It fell on a summer's afternoon,
When a' our toilsome task was done,

36

‘We cast the kavils us amang,
To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.

37

‘O hon, alas! for I was youngest,
And aye my wierd it was the hardest.

38

‘The kavil it on me did fa,
Whilk was the cause of a' my woe.

39

‘For to the grene-wood I maun gae,
To pu the red rose and the slae;

40

‘To pu the red rose and the thyme,
To deck my mother's bour and mine,

41

‘I hadna pu'd a flower but ane,
When by there came a gallant hende,

42

‘Wi high-colld hose and laigh-colld shoon,
And he seemd to be sum king's son.

43

‘And be I maid or be I nae,
He kept me there till the close o day.

44

‘And be I maid or be I nane,
He kept me there till the day was done.

45

‘He gae me a lock o his yellow hair,
And bade me keep it ever mair.

46

‘He gae me a carknet o bonny beads,
And bade me keep it against my needs.

47

‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it abune a' thing.’

48

‘What did ye wi the tokens rare
That ye gat frae that gallant there?’

49

‘O bring that coffer unto me,
And a' the tokens ye sall see.’

50

‘Now stay, daughter, your bour within,
While I gae parley wi my son.’

51

O she has taen her thro the ha,
And on her son began to ca.

52

‘What did you wi the bonny beads
I bade ye keep against your needs?

53

‘What did you wi the gay gowd ring
I bade ye keep abune a' thing?’

54

‘I gae them a' to a ladye gay
I met in grene-wood on a day.

55

‘But I wad gie a' my halls and tours,
I had that ladye within my bours.

56

‘But I wad gie my very life,
I had that ladye to my wife.’

57

‘Now keep, my son, your ha's and tours;
Ye have that bright burd in your bours.

58

‘And keep, my son, your very life;
Ye have that ladye to your wife.’

59

Now or a month was cum and gane,
The ladye bore a bonny son.

60

And 'twas weel written on his breast-bane,
‘Cospatrick is my father's name.’

61

‘O rowe my ladye in satin and silk,
And wash my son in the morning milk.’

We were sisters, we were seven

GIL BRENTON—C

[_]

Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 207. “From the recital of a peasant-woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety years of age.”

1

We were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.

2

And it was a' our seven years wark
To sew our father's seven sarks.

3

And whan our seven years wark was done,
We laid it out upo the green.

4

We coost the lotties us amang,
Wha wad to the greenwood gang,

5

To pu the lily but and the rose,
To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.

6

[OMITTED] I was youngest,
[OMITTED] my weer was hardest.

7

And to the greenwood I bud gae,
[OMITTED]

8

There I met a handsome childe,
[OMITTED]

9

High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon,
He bore him like a king's son.

10

An was I weel, or was I wae,
He keepit me a' the simmer day.

11

An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t],
He keepit me a' the simmer night.

12

He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it aboon a' thing.

13

He gae to me a cuttie knife,
And bade me keep it as my life:

14

Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
For fear we wad neer meet mair.

[OMITTED]

15

Next there came shippes three,
To carry a' my bridal fee.

16

Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk,
Wrought wi maids' hands like milk.

17

They came toom and light to me,
But heavie went they waie frae me.

18

They were fu o baken bread,
They were fu of wine sae red.

19

My dowry went a' by the sea,
But I gaed by the grenewode tree.

20

An I sighed and made great mane,
As thro the grenewode we rade our lane.

21

An I ay siched an wiped my ee,
That eer the grenewode I did see.

22

‘Is there water in your glove,
Or win into your shoe?
O[r] am I oer low a foot-page
To rin by you, ladie?’

23

‘O there's nae water in my glove,
Nor win into my shoe;
But I am maning for my mither
Wha's far awa frae me.’

[OMITTED]

24

‘Gin ye be a maiden fair,
Meikle gude ye will get there.

25

‘If ye be a maiden but,
Meikle sorrow will ye get.

26

‘For seven king's daughters he hath wedded,
But never wi ane o them has bedded.

27

‘He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane,
An sends them back unto their dame.

28

‘He sets their backs unto the saddle,
An sends them back unto their father.

29

‘But be ye maiden or be ye nane,
To the gowden chair ye draw right soon.

30

‘But be ye leman or be ye maiden,
Sit nae down till ye be bidden.’

31

Was she maiden or was she nane,
To the gowden chair she drew right soon.

32

Was she leman or was she maiden,
She sat down ere she was bidden.

33

Out then spake the lord's mother;
Says, ‘This is not a maiden fair.

34

‘In that chair nae leal maiden
Eer sits down till they be bidden.’

35

The Billie Blin then outspake he,
As he stood by the fair ladie.

36

‘The bonnie may is tired wi riding,
Gaurd her sit down ere she was bidden.’

[OMITTED]

37

But on her waiting-maid she ca'd:
‘Fair ladie, what's your will wi me?’
‘O ye maun gie yere maidenheid
This night to an unco lord for me.’

38

‘I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been far beyond the sea,
But ay, by grenewode or by bower,
I hae keepit my virginitie.

39

‘But will it for my ladie plead,
I'll gie't this night to an unco lord.’

[OMITTED]

40

When bells were rung an vespers sung,
An men in sleep were locked soun,

41

Childe Branton and the waiting-maid
Into the bridal bed were laid.

42

‘O lie thee down, my fair ladie,
Here are a' things meet for thee;

43

‘Here's a bolster for yere head,
Here is sheets an comelie weids.’

[OMITTED]

44

‘Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin,
If this fair dame be a leal maiden.’

45

‘I wat she is as leal a wight
As the moon shines on in a simmer night.

46

‘I wat she is as leal a may
As the sun shines on in a simmer day.

47

‘But your bonnie bride's in her bower,
Dreeing the mither's trying hour.’

48

Then out o his bridal bed he sprang,
An into his mither's bower he ran.

49

‘O mither kind, O mither dear,
This is nae a maiden fair.

50

‘The maiden I took to my bride
Has a bairn atween her sides.

51

‘The maiden I took to my bower
Is dreeing the mither's trying hour.’

52

Then to the chamber his mother flew,
And to the wa the door she threw.

53

She stapt at neither bolt nor ban,
Till to that ladie's bed she wan.

54

Says, ‘Ladie fair, sae meek an mild,
Wha is the father o yere child?’

55

‘O mither dear,’ said that ladie,
‘I canna tell gif I sud die.

56

‘We were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.

57

‘And it was a' our seven years wark
To sew our father's seven sarks.

58

‘And whan our seven years wark was done,
We laid it out upon the green.

59

‘We coost the lotties us amang,
Wha wad to the greenwode gang;

60

‘To pu the lily but an the rose,
To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.

61

[OMITTED] ‘I was youngest,
[OMITTED] my weer was hardest.

62

‘And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae.
[OMITTED]

63

‘There I met a handsome childe,
[OMITTED]

64

‘Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon,
He seemed to be some king's son.

65

‘And was I weel or was I wae,
He keepit me a' the simmer day.

66

‘Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht,
He keepit me a' the simmer night.

67

‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
An bade me keep it aboon a' thing;

68

‘Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
For fear that we suld neer meet mair.

69

‘O mither, if ye'll believe nae me,
Break up the coffer, an there ye'll see.’

70

An ay she coost, an ay she flang,
Till her ain gowd ring came in her hand.

71

And scarce aught i the coffer she left,
Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft,

72

Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare.

73

She cried to her son, ‘Where is the ring
Your father gave me at our wooing,
An I gae you at your hunting?

74

‘What did ye wi the cuttie knife,
I bade ye keep it as yere life?’

75

‘O haud yere tongue, my mither dear;
I gae them to a lady fair.

76

‘I wad gie a' my lands and rents,
I had that ladie within my brents.

77

‘I wad gie a' my lands an towers,
I had that ladie within my bowers.’

78

‘Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents;
Ye hae that ladie within yere brents.

79

‘Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers;
Ye hae that lady within your bowers.’

80

Then to his ladie fast ran he,
An low he kneeled on his knee.

81

‘O tauk ye up my son,’ said he,
‘An, mither, tent my fair ladie.

82

‘O wash him purely i the milk,
And lay him saftly in the silk.

83

‘An ye maun bed her very soft,
For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.’

84

It was weel written on his breast-bane
Childe Branton was the father's name.

85

It was weel written on his right hand
He was the heir o his daddie's land.

Lord Dingwall

GIL BRENTON—D

[_]

Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, i, 204.

1

We were sisters, sisters seven,
Bowing down, bowing down
The fairest women under heaven.
And aye the birks a-bowing

2

They kiest kevels them amang,
Wha woud to the grenewood gang.

3

The kevels they gied thro the ha,
And on the youngest it did fa.

4

Now she must to the grenewood gang,
To pu the nuts in grenewood hang.

5

She hadna tarried an hour but ane
Till she met wi a highlan groom.

6

He keeped her sae late and lang
Till the evening set and birds they sang.

7

He gae to her at their parting
A chain o gold and gay gold ring;

8

And three locks o his yellow hair;
Bade her keep them for evermair.

9

When six lang months were come and gane.
A courtier to this lady came.

10

Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay,
And so he set their wedding-day.

11

A little boy to the ha was sent,
To bring her horse was his intent.

12

As she was riding the way along,
She began to make a heavy moan.

13

‘What ails you, lady,’ the boy said,
‘That ye seem sae dissatisfied?

14

‘Are the bridle reins for you too strong?
Or the stirrups for you too long?’

15

‘But, little boy, will ye tell me
The fashions that are in your countrie?’

16

‘The fashions in our ha I'll tell,
And o them a' I'll warn you well.

17

‘When ye come in upon the floor,
His mither will meet you wi a golden chair.

18

‘But be ye maid or be ye nane,
Unto the high seat make ye boun.

19

‘Lord Dingwall aft has been beguild
By girls whom young men hae defiled.

20

‘He's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,
And sent them back to their ain hame.’

21

When she came in upon the floor,
His mother met her wi a golden chair.

22

But to the high seat she made her boun:
She knew that maiden she was nane.

23

When night was come, they went to bed,
And ower her breast his arm he laid.

24

He quickly jumped upon the floor,
And said, ‘I've got a vile rank whore.’

25

Unto his mother he made his moan,
Says, ‘Mother dear, I am undone.

26

‘Ye've aft tald, when I brought them hame,
Whether they were maid or nane.

27

‘I thought I'd gotten a maiden bright;
I've gotten but a waefu wight.

28

‘I thought I'd gotten a maiden clear,
But gotten but a vile rank whore.’

29

‘When she came in upon the floor,
I met her wi a golden chair.

30

‘But to the high seat she made her boun,
Because a maiden she was nane.’

31

‘I wonder wha's tauld that gay ladie
The fashion into our countrie.’

32

‘It is your little boy I blame,
Whom ye did send to bring her hame.’

33

Then to the lady she did go,
And said, ‘O Lady, let me know

34

‘Who has defiled your fair bodie:
Ye're the first that has beguiled me.’

35

‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
The fairest women under heaven.

36

‘And we kiest kevels us amang,
Wha woud to the grenewood gang;

37

‘For to pu the finest flowers,
To put around our summer bowers.

38

‘I was the youngest o them a';
The hardest fortune did me befa.

39

‘Unto the grenewood I did gang,
And pu'd the nuts as they down hang.

40

‘I hadna stayd an hour but ane
Till I met wi a highlan groom.

41

‘He keeped me sae late and lang
Till the evening set and birds they sang.

42

‘He gae to me at our parting
A chain of gold and gay gold ring;

43

‘And three locks o his yellow hair;
Bade me keep them for evermair.

44

‘Then for to show I make nae lie,
Look ye my trunk, and ye will see.’

45

Unto the trunk then she did go,
To see if that were true or no.

46

And aye she sought, and aye she flang,
Till these four things came to her hand.

47

Then she did to her ain son go,
And said, ‘My son, ye'll let me know,

48

‘Ye will tell to me this thing:
What did you wi my wedding-ring?’

49

‘Mother dear, I'll tell nae lie:
I gave it to a gay ladie.

50

‘I would gie a' my ha's and towers,
I had this bird within my bowers.’

51

‘Keep well, keep well your lands and strands;
Ye hae that bird within your hands.

52

‘Now, my son, to your bower ye'll go:
Comfort your ladie, she's full o woe.’

53

Now when nine months were come and gane,
The lady she brought hame a son.

54

It was written on his breast-bane
Lord Dingwall was his father's name.

55

He's taen his young son in his arms,
And aye he praisd his lovely charms.

56

And he has gien him kisses three,
And doubled them ower to his ladie.

GIL BRENTON—E

[_]

Elizabeth Cochrane's Song-Book, p. 146, No 112.

1

Lord Benwall he's a hunting gone;
Hey down, etc.
He's taken with him all his merry men.
Hey, etc.

2

As he was walking late alone,
He spyed a lady both brisk and young.

3

He keeped her so long and long,
From the evening late till the morning came.

4

All that he gave her at their parting
Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.

5

Lord Benwall he's a wooing gone,
And he's taken with him all his merry men.

6

As he was walking the Haleigh throw,
He spy'd seven ladyes all in a row.

7

He cast a lot among them all;
Upon the youngest the lot did fall.

8

He wedded her and brought her home,
And by the way she made great moan.

9

‘What aileth my dearest and dayly flower?
What ails my dear, to make such moan?

10

‘Does the steed carry you too high?
Or does thy pillow sit awry?

11

‘Or does the wind blow in thy glove?
Or is thy heart after another love?’

12

‘The steed does not carry me too high,
Nor does my pillow sit awry.

13

‘Nor does the wind blow in my glove,
Nor is my heart after another love.’

14

When they were doun to supper set,
The weary pain took her by the back.

15

‘What ails my dearest and dayly flower?
What ails my dearest, to make such moan?’

16

‘I am with child, and it's not to thee,
And oh and alas, what shall I doe!’

17

‘I thought I had got a maid so mild;
But I have got a woman big with child.

18

‘I thought I had got a dayly flower;
I have gotten but a common whore.’

[OMITTED]

19

‘Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall,
And cherrish up your merry men all.’

[OMITTED]

20

‘As I was walking once late alone,
I spy'd a lord, both brisk and young.

21

‘He keeped me so long and long,
From the evening late till the morning came.

22

‘All that he gave me at our parting
Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.

23

‘If you will not believe what I tell to thee,
There's the key of my coffer, you may go and see.’

24

His mother went, and threw and flang,
Till to her hand the ring it came.

25

‘Lord Benwall, wilt thou tell to me
Where is the ring I gave to thee?’

26

‘Now I would give all my lands and tower,
To have that lady in my bower.

27

‘I would give all my lands and rents,
To have that lady in my tents.’

28

‘You need not give all your lands and tower,
For you have that lady in your power.

29

‘You need not give all your lands and rents,
For you have that lady in your tents.’

30

Now it was written on the child's breast-bone
Lord Benwall's sirname and his name.

31

It was written on the child's right hand
That he should be heir of Lord Benwall's land.

32

‘Canst cloath my lady in the silk,
And feed my young son with the milk.’

Lord Brangwill; or, Lord Bengwill

GIL BRENTON—F

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 219. From the recitation of Mrs Thomson, February, 1825. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvi, the first stanza only.

1

There were three sisters in a bouir,
Eh down and Oh down
And the youngest o them was the fairest flour.
Eh down and O down

2

And we began our seven years wark,
To sew our brither John a sark.

3

When seven years was come and gane,
There was nae a sleeve in it but ane.

4

But we coost kevils us amang
Wha wud to the green-wood gang.

5

But tho we had coosten neer sae lang,
The lot it fell on me aye to gang.

6

I was the youngest, and I was the fairest,
And alace! my wierd it was aye the sairest.

7

[OMITTED]
Till I had to the woods to gae.

8

To pull the cherrie and the slae,
And to seek our ae brither, we had nae mae.

9

But as I was walking the leas o Lyne,
I met a youth gallant and fine;

10

Wi milk white stockings and coal black shoon;
He seemed to be some gay lord's son.

11

But he keepit me there sae lang, sae lang,
Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.

12

Would I wee or would I way,
He keepit me the lang simmer day.

13

Would I way or would I wight,
He keepit me the simmer night.

14

But guess what was at our parting?
A pair o grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.

15

He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,
In token that we might meet mair.

16

But when nine months were come and gane,
This gallant lord cam back again.

17

He's wed this lady, and taen her wi him;
But as they were riding the leas o Lyne,

18

This lady was not able to ride,
[OMITTED]

19

‘O does thy saddle set thee aside?
Or does thy steed ony wrang way ride?

20

‘Or thinkst thou me too low a groom?
[OMITTED]

21

‘Or hast thou musing in thy mind
For the leaving of thy mother kind?’

22

‘My saddle it sets not me aside,
Nor does my steed ony wrang way ride.

23

‘Nor think I thee too low a groom
[OMITTED]

24

‘But I hae musing in my mind
For the leaving of my mother kind.’

25

‘I'll bring thee to a mother of mine,
As good a mother as eer was thine.’

26

‘A better mother she may be,
But an unco woman she'll prove to me.’

27

But when lords and ladies at supper sat,
Her pains they struck her in the back.

28

When lords and ladies were laid in bed,
Her pains they struck her in the side.

29

‘Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Brangwill,
For I'm wi child and you do not know't.’

30

He took up his foot and gave her sic a bang
Till owre the bed the red blood sprang.

31

He is up to his mother's ha,
Calling her as hard as he could ca.

32

‘I went through moss and I went through mure,
Thinking to get some lily flouir.

33

[OMITTED]
‘But to my house I have brocht a hure.

34

‘I thocht to have got a lady baith meek and mild,
But I've got a woman that's big wi child.’

35

‘O rest you here, Lord Brangwill,’ she said,
‘Till I relieve your lady that lyes so low.’

36

‘O daughter dear, will you tell to me
Who is the father of your babie?’

37

‘Yes, mother dear, I will tell thee
Who is the father of my babie.

38

‘As I was walking the leas o Lyne,
I met a youth gallant and fine;

39

‘With milk-white stockings and coal-black shoon;
He seemd to be sum gay lord's son.

40

‘He keepit me sae lang, sae lang,
Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.

41

‘Would I wee or would I way,
He keepit me the lang simmer day.

42

‘Would I way or would I wight,
He keepit me the simmer night.

43

‘But guess ye what was at our parting?
A pair of grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.

44

‘He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,
In token that we might meet mair.’

45

‘O dochter dear, will ye show me
These tokens that he gave to thee?’

46

‘Altho my back should break in three,
Unto my coffer I must be.’

47

‘Thy back it shall not break in three,
For I'll bring thy coffer to thy knee.’

48

Aye she coost, and aye she flang,
Till these three tokens came to her hand.

49

Then she is up to her son's ha,
Calling him hard as she could ca.

50

‘O son, O son, will you tell me
[OMITTED]

51

‘What ye did wi the grass green gloves and gay gold ring
That ye gat at your own birth-een?’

52

‘I gave them to as pretty a may
As ever I saw in a simmer day.

53

‘I wud rather than a' my lands sae broad
That I had her as sure as eer I had.

54

‘I would rather than a' my lands sae free
I had her here this night wi me.’

55

‘I wish you good o your lands sae broad,
For ye have her as sure as eer ye had.

56

‘I wish ye good o your lands sae free,
For ye have her here this night wi thee.’

57

‘Gar wash my auld son in the milk,
Gar deck my lady's bed wi silk.’

58

He gave his auld son kisses three,
But he doubled them a' to his gay ladye.

Bothwell

GIL BRENTON—G

[_]

Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 244; ed. 1776, I, 83.

1

As Bothwell was walking in the lowlands alane,
Hey down and a down
He met six ladies sae gallant and fine.
Hey down and a down

2

He cast his lot amang them a',
And on the youngest his lot did fa.

3

He's brought her frae her mother's bower,
Unto his strongest castle and tower.

4

But ay she cried and made great moan,
And ay the tear came trickling down.

5

‘Come up, come up,’ said the foremost man,
‘I think our bride comes slowly on.’

6

‘O lady, sits your saddle awry,
Or is your steed for you owre high?’

7

‘My saddle is not set awry,
Nor carries me my steed owre high;

8

‘But I am weary of my life,
Since I maun be Lord Bothwell's wife.’

9

He's blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill,
Up start the deer on evry hill.

10

He's blawn his horn sae lang and loud,
Up start the deer in gude green-wood.

11

His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa,
And she saw them riding ane and a'.

12

She's calld upon her maids by seven,
To mak his bed baith saft and even.

13

She's calld upon her cooks by nine,
To make their dinner fair and fine.

14

When day was gane, and night was come,
‘What ails my love on me to frown?

15

‘Or does the wind blow in your glove?
Or runs your mind on another love?’

16

‘Nor blows the wind within my glove,
Nor runs my mind on another love;

17

‘But I nor maid nor maiden am,
For I'm wi bairn to another man.’

18

‘I thought I'd a maiden sae meek and sae mild,
But I've nought but a woman wi child.’

19

His mother's taen her up to a tower,
And lockit her in her secret bower.

20

‘Now, doughter mine, come tell to me,
Wha's bairn this is that you are wi.’

21

‘O mother dear, I canna learn
Wha is the faither of my bairn.

22

‘But as I walkd in the lowlands my lane,
I met a gentleman gallant and fine.

23

‘He keepit me there sae late and sae lang,
Frae the evning late till the morning dawn.

24

‘And a' that he gied me to my propine
Was a pair of green gloves and a gay gold ring;

25

‘Three lauchters of his yellow hair,
In case that we shoud meet nae mair.’

26

His lady mother went down the stair:
[OMITTED]

27

‘Now son, now son, come tell to me,
Where's the green gloves I gave to thee?’

28

‘I gied to a lady sae fair and so fine
The green gloves and a gay gold ring.

29

‘But I wad gie my castles and towers,
I had that lady within my bowers.

30

‘But I wad gie my very life,
I had that lady to be my wife.’

31

‘Now keep, now keep your castles and towers,
You have that lady within your bowers.

32

‘Now keep, now keep your very life,
You have that lady to be your wife.’

33

‘O row my lady in sattin and silk,
And wash my son in the morning milk.’

GIL BRENTON—H

[_]

Kinloch MSS, v, 335, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill Burton.

1

We were seven sisters in a bower,
Adown adown, and adown and adown
The flower of a' fair Scotland ower.
Adown adown, and adown and adown

2

We were sisters, sisters seven,
The fairest women under heaven.

3

There fell a dispute us amang,
Wha would to the greenwood gang.

4

They kiest the kevels them amang,
O wha would to the greenwood gang.

5

The kevels they gied thro the ha,
And on the youngest it did fa.

6

The kevel fell into her hand,
To greenwood she was forced to gang.

7

She hedna pued a flower but ane,
When by there came an earl's son.

8

‘And was he well or was he wae,
He keepet me that summer's day.’

9

And was he weel or was he weight,
He keepet her that summer's night.

10

And he gave her a gay goud ring
His mother got at her wedding.

[OMITTED]

11

‘Oh is yer stirrup set too high?
Or is your saddle set awry?

12

‘Oh is yer stirrup set too side?
Or what's the reason ye canna ride?’

[OMITTED]

13

When all were at the table set,
Then not a bit could this lady eat.

14

When all made merry at the feast,
This lady wished she were at her rest.

[OMITTED]

6
WILLIE'S LADY

Willie's Lady; or, Sweet Willy

WILLIE'S LADY—A

[_]

a. A copy, by Miss Mary Fraser Tytler, of a transcript made by her grandfather from William Tytler's manuscript. b. Jamieson-Brown MS., No 15, fol. 33.

1

Willie has taen him oer the fame,
He's woo'd a wife and brought her hame.

2

He's woo'd her for her yellow hair,
But his mother wrought her mickle care.

3

And mickle dolour gard her dree,
For lighter she can never be.

4

But in her bower she sits wi pain,
And Willie mourns oer her in vain.

5

And to his mother he has gone,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

6

He says: ‘My ladie has a cup,
Wi gowd and silver set about.

7

‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let her be lighter o her young bairn.’

8

‘Of her young bairn she'll neer be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

9

‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.’

10

‘Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll neer bring home.’

11

But sighing says that weary wight,
‘I wish my life were at an end.’

12

‘Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

13

‘And say your ladie has a steed,
The like o'm's no in the lands of Leed.

14

‘For he [i]s golden shod before,
And he [i]s golden shod behind.

15

‘And at ilka tet of that horse's main,
There's a golden chess and a bell ringing.

16

‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let me be lighter of my young bairn.’

17

‘O her young bairn she'll neer be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

18

‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And ye shall wed another may.’

19

‘Another may I['ll] never wed,
Another may I['ll] neer bring hame.’

20

But sighing said that weary wight,
‘I wish my life were at an end.’

21

‘Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

22

‘And say your ladie has a girdle,
It's red gowd unto the middle.

23

‘And ay at every silver hem,
Hangs fifty silver bells and ten.

24

‘That goodlie gift has be her ain,
And let me be lighter of my young bairn.’

25

‘O her young bairn she's neer be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

26

‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.’

27

‘Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll neer bring hame.’

28

But sighing says that weary wight,
‘I wish my life were at an end.’

29

Then out and spake the Belly Blind;
He spake aye in good time.

30

‘Ye doe ye to the market place,
And there ye buy a loaf o wax.

31

‘Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like,
And in twa glassen een ye pit;

32

‘And bid her come to your boy's christening;
Then notice weel what she shall do.

33

‘And do you stand a little fore bye,
And listen weel what she shall say.’

34

‘Oh wha has loosed the nine witch knots
That was amo that ladie's locks?

35

‘And wha has taen out the kaims of care
That hangs amo that ladie's hair?

36

‘And wha's taen down the bush o woodbine
That hang atween her bower and mine?

37

‘And wha has killd the master kid
That ran beneath that ladie's bed?

38

‘And wha has loosed her left-foot shee,
And lotten that ladie lighter be?’

39

O Willie has loosed the nine witch knots
That was amo that ladie's locks.

40

And Willie's taen out the kaims o care
That hang amo that ladie's hair.

41

And Willie's taen down the bush o woodbine
That hang atween her bower and thine.

42

And Willie has killed the master kid
That ran beneath that ladie's bed.

43

And Willie has loosed her left-foot shee,
And letten his ladie lighter be.

44

And now he's gotten a bonny young son,
And mickle grace be him upon.

7
EARL BRAND

Earl Bran; or, The Brave Earl Brand and the King of England's Daughter

EARL BRAND—A

[_]

a, b, from the papers of the late Robert White, Esq., of Newcastle-on-Tyne: c, R. Bell, Ancient Poems, Ballads, etc. (1857), p. 122: d, fragmentary lines as remembered by Mrs Andrews, Mr White's sister, from her mother's singing.

1

Oh did ye ever hear o brave Earl Bran?
Ay lally, o lilly lally
He courted the king's daughter of fair England.
All i the night sae early

2

She was scarcely fifteen years of age
Till sae boldly she came to his bedside.

3

‘O Earl Bran, fain wad I see
A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.’

4

‘O lady, I have no steeds but one,
And thou shalt ride, and I will run.’

5

‘O Earl Bran, my father has two,
And thou shall have the best o them a.’

6

They have ridden oer moss and moor,
And they met neither rich nor poor.

7

Until they met with old Carl Hood;
He comes for ill, but never for good.

100

8

‘Earl Bran, if ye love me,
Seize this old carl, and gar him die.’

9

‘O lady fair, it wad be sair,
To slay an old man that has grey hair.

10

‘O lady fair, I'll no do sae;
I'll gie him a pound, and let him gae.’

11

‘O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day?
Or where hae ye stolen this lady away?’

12

‘I have not ridden this lee lang day,
Nor yet have I stolen this lady away.

13

‘She is my only, my sick sister,
Whom I have brought from Winchester.’

14

‘If she be sick, and like to dead,
Why wears she the ribbon sae red?

15

‘If she be sick, and like to die,
Then why wears she the gold on high?’

16

When he came to this lady's gate,
Sae rudely as he rapped at it.

17

‘O where's the lady o this ha?’
‘She's out with her maids to play at the ba.’

18

‘Ha, ha, ha! ye are a' mistaen:
Gae count your maidens oer again.

19

‘I saw her far beyond the moor,
Away to be the Earl o Bran's whore.’

20

The father armed fifteen of his best men,
To bring his daughter back again.

21

Oer her left shoulder the lady looked then:
‘O Earl Bran, we both are tane.’

22

‘If they come on me ane by ane,
Ye may stand by and see them slain.

23

‘But if they come on me one and all,
Ye may stand by and see me fall.’

24

They have come on him ane by ane,
And he has killed them all but ane.

25

And that ane came behind his back,
And he's gien him a deadly whack.

26

But for a' sae wounded as Earl Bran was,
He has set his lady on her horse.

27

They rode till they came to the water o Doune,
And then he alighted to wash his wounds.

28

‘O Earl Bran, I see your heart's blood!’
‘T is but the gleat o my scarlet hood.’

29

They rode till they came to his mother's gate,
And sae rudely as he rapped at it.

30

‘O my son's slain, my son's put down,
And a' for the sake of an English loun.’

31

‘O say not sae, my dear mother,
But marry her to my youngest brother.

[OMITTED]

32

‘This has not been the death o ane,
But it's been that of fair seventeen.’

[OMITTED]

The Douglas Tragedy

EARL BRAND—B

[_]

Scott's Minstrelsy, iii, 246, ed. 1803; iii, 6, ed. 1833: the copy principally used supplied by Mr Sharpe, the three last stanzas from a penny pamphlet and from tradition.

1

‘Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas,’ she says,
‘And put on your armour so bright;
Let it never be said that a daughter of thine
Was married to a lord under night.

2

‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And put on your armour so bright,
And take better care of your youngest sister,
For your eldest's awa the last night.’

3

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And lightly they rode away.

4

Lord William lookit oer his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,
Come riding over the lee.

101

5

‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘And hold my steed in your hand,
Until that against your seven brethren bold,
And your father, I mak a stand.’

6

She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
And never shed one tear,
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa,
And her father hard fighting, who lovd her so dear.

7

‘O hold your hand, Lord William!’ she said,
‘For your strokes they are wondrous sair;
True lovers I can get many a ane,
But a father I can never get mair.’

8

O she's taen out her handkerchief,
It was o the holland sae fine,
And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds,
That were redder than the wine.

9

‘O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘O whether will ye gang or bide?’
‘I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William,’ she said,
‘For ye have left me no other guide.’

10

He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And slowly they baith rade away.

11

O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they came to yon wan water,
And there they lighted down.

12

They lighted down to tak a drink
Of the spring that ran sae clear,
And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood,
And sair she gan to fear.

13

‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says,
‘For I fear that you are slain;’
‘'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,
That shines in the water sae plain.’

14

O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they cam to his mother's ha door,
And there they lighted down.

15

‘Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says,
‘Get up, and let me in!
Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says,
‘For this night my fair lady I've win.

16

‘O mak my bed, lady mother,’ he says,
‘O mak it braid and deep,
And lay Lady Margret close at my back,
And the sounder I will sleep.’

17

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,
Lady Margret lang ere day,
And all true lovers that go thegither,
May they have mair luck than they!

18

Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk,
Lady Margret in Mary's quire;
Out o the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,
And out o the knight's a briar.

19

And they twa met, and they twa plat,
And fain they wad be near;
And a' the warld might ken right weel
They were twa lovers dear.

20

But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pulld up the bonny brier,
And flang't in St. Mary's Loch.

Lord Douglas

EARL BRAND—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 502. From the recitation of Mrs Notman.

1

‘Rise up, rise up, my seven brave sons,
And dress in your armour so bright;
Earl Douglas will hae Lady Margaret awa
Before that it be light.

2

‘Arise, arise, my seven brave sons,
And dress in your armour so bright;
It shall never be said that a daughter of mine
Shall go with an earl or a knight.’

3

‘O will ye stand, fair Margaret,’ he says,
‘And hold my milk-white steed,

102

Till I fight your father and seven brethren,
In yonder pleasant mead?’

4

She stood and held his milk-white steed,
She stood trembling with fear,
Until she saw her seven brethren fall,
And her father that loved her dear.

5

‘Hold your hand, Earl Douglas,’ she says,
‘Your strokes are wonderous sair;
I may get sweethearts again enew,
But a father I'll ne'er get mair.’

6

She took out a handkerchief
Was made o' the cambrick fine,
And aye she wiped her father's bloody wounds,
And the blood sprung up like wine.

7

‘Will ye go, fair Margaret?’ he said,
‘Will ye now go, or bide?’
‘Yes, I'll go, sweet William,’ she said,
‘For ye've left me never a guide.

8

‘If I were to go to my mother's house,
A welcome guest I would be;
But for the bloody deed that's done this day
I'll rather go with thee.’

9

He lifted her on a milk-white steed
And himself on a dapple gray;
They drew their hats out over their face,
And they both went weeping away.

10

They rode, they rode, and they better rode,
Till they came to yon water wan;
They lighted down to gie their horse a drink
Out of the running stream.

11

‘I am afraid, Earl Douglas,’ she said,
‘I am afraid ye are slain;’
I think I see your bonny heart's blood
Running down the water wan.’

12

‘Oh no, oh no, fair Margaret,’ he said,
‘Oh no, I am not slain;
It is but the scad of my scarlet cloak
Runs down the water wan.’

13

He mounted her on a milk-white steed
And himself on a dapple gray,
And they have reached Earl Douglas' gates
Before the break of day.

14

‘O rise, dear mother, and make my bed,
And make it braid and wide,
And lay me down to take my rest,
And at my back my bride.’

15

She has risen and made his bed,
She made it braid and wide;
She laid him down to take his rest,
And at his back his bride.

16

Lord William died ere it was day,
Lady Margaret on the morrow;
Lord William died through loss of blood and wounds,
Fair Margaret died with sorrow.

17

The one was buried in Mary's kirk,
The other in Mary's quire;
The one sprung up a bonnie bush,
And the other a bonny brier.

18

These twa grew, and these twa threw,
Till they came to the top,
And when they could na farther gae,
They coost the lovers' knot.

Lady Margaret

EARL BRAND—D

[_]

Kinloch MSS, i, 327.

1

‘Sleepst thou or wakst thou, Lord Montgomerie,
Sleepst thou or wakst thou, I say?
Rise up, make a match for your eldest daughter,
For the youngest I carry away.’

2

‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
Dress yourselves in the armour sae fine;
For it ne'er shall be said that a churlish knight
Eer married a daughter of mine.’

[OMITTED]

3

‘Loup aff, loup aff, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
‘And hold my steed in your hand,
And I will go fight your seven brethren,
And your father, where they stand.’

4

Sometimes she gaed, sometimes she stood,
But never dropt a tear,
Until she saw her brethren all slain,
And her father who lovd her so dear.

103

5

‘Hold thy hand, sweet William,’ she says,
‘Thy blows are wondrous sore;
Sweethearts I may have many a one,
But a father I'll never have more.’

6

O she's taken her napkin frae her pocket,
Was made o the holland fine,
And ay as she dichted her father's bloody wounds,
They sprang as red as the wine.

7

‘Two chooses, two chooses, Lady Margret,’ he says,
‘Two chooses I'll make thee;
Whether to go back to your mother again,
Or go along with me.’

8

‘For to go home to my mother again,
An unwelcome guest I'd be;
But since my fate has ordered it so,
I'll go along with thee.’

9

He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself on the dapple gray,
And blawn his horn baith loud and shill,
And it sounded far on their way.

10

They rode oer hill, they rode oer dale,
They rode oer mountains so high,
Until they came to that beautiful place
Where Sir William's mother did lie.

11

‘Rise up, rise up, lady mother,’ he said,
‘Rise up, and make much o your own;
Rise up, rise up, lady mother,’ he said,
‘For his bride's just new come home.’

12

Sir William he died in the middle o the night,
Lady Margaret died on the morrow;
Sir William he died of pure pure love,
Lady Margaret of grief and sorrow.

The Douglas Tragedy

EARL BRAND—E

[_]

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 180. From recitation.

1

He has lookit over his left shoulder,
And through his bonnie bridle rein,
And he spy'd her father and her seven bold brethren,
Come riding down the glen.

2

‘O hold my horse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,
Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren,
As they come riding down the glen.’

3

Some time she rade, and some time she gaed,
Till she that place did near,
And there she spy'd her seven bold brethren slain,
And her father who loved her so dear.

4

‘O hold your hand, sweet William,’ she said,
‘Your bull baits are wondrous sair;
Sweet-hearts I may get many a one,
But a father I will never get mair.’

5

She has taken a napkin from off her neck,
That was of the cambrick so fine,
And aye as she wiped her father's bloody wounds,
The blood ran red as the wine.

[OMITTED]

6

He set her upon the milk-white steed,
Himself upon the brown;
He took a horn out of his pocket,
And they both went weeping along.

The Child of Ell

EARL BRAND—F

[_]

Percy MS., p. 57; ed. Hales and Furnivall, i, 133.

1

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Sayes ‘Christ thee saue, good Child of Ell!
Christ saue thee and thy steede!

2

‘My father sayes he will [eat] noe meate,
Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good,
Till he haue slaine the Child of Ell,
And haue seene his harts blood.’

3

‘I would I were in my sadle sett,
And a mile out of the towne;

104

I did not care for your father
And all his merry men!

4

‘I wold I were in my sadle sett,
And a little space him froe;
I did not care for your father
And all that long him to!’

5

He leaned ore his saddle bow
To kisse this lady good;
The teares that went them two betweene
Were blend water and blood.

6

He sett himselfe on one good steed,
This lady on a palfray,
And sett his litle horne to his mouth,
And roundlie he rode away.

7

He had not ridden past a mile,
A mile out of the towne,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

8

Her father was readye with her seuen brether,
He said, ‘Sett thou my daughter downe!
For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne,
To carry her forth of this towne!’

9

‘But lowd thou lyest, Sir Iohn the knight,
Thou now doest lye of me;
A knight me gott, and a lady me bore;
Soe neuer did none by thee.

10

‘But light now downe, my lady gay,
Light downe and hold my horsse,
Whilest I and your father and your brether
Doe play vs at this crosse.

11

‘But light now downe, my owne trew loue,
And meeklye hold my steede,
Whilest your father [and your seuen brether] bold

[OMITTED]

Gude Earl Brand and Auld Carle Hude

EARL BRAND—G

[_]

The Paisley Magazine, June 2, 1828, p. 321, communicated by William Motherwell. “Sung to a long, drawling, monotonous tune.”

[OMITTED]

1

‘Gude Earl Brand, I long to see
Faldee faldee fal deediddle a dee
All your grey hounds running over the lea.’
And the brave knights in the valley

2

‘Gude lady fair, I have not a steed but one,
But you shall ride and I shall run.’

3

They're ower moss and they're ower mure,
And they saw neither rich nor pure.

4

Until that they came to auld Karl Hude;
He's aye for ill and never for gude.

5

‘Gude Earl Brand, if ye love me,
Kill auld Karl Hude, and gar him die.’

6

‘O fair ladie, we'll do better than sae:
Gie him a penny, and let him gae.’

7

‘Gude Earl Brand, whare hae ye been,
Or whare hae ye stown this lady sheen?’

8

‘She's not my lady, but my sick sister,
And she's been at the wells of Meen.’

9

‘If she was sick, and very sair,
She wadna wear the red gold on her hair.

10

‘Or if she were sick, and like to be dead,
She wadna wear the ribbons red.’

11

He cam till he cam to her father's gate,
And he has rappit furious thereat.

12

‘Where is the lady o this hall?’
‘She's out wi her maidens, playing at the ball.’

13

‘If you'll get me fyfteen wale wight men,
Sae fast as I'll fetch her back again.’

14

She's lookit ower her left collar-bane:
‘O gude Earl Brand, we baith are taen.’

15

‘Light down, light down, and hold my steed;
Change never your cheer till ye see me dead.

16

‘If they come on me man by man,
I'll be very laith for to be taen.

17

‘But if they come on me one and all,
The sooner you will see me fall.’

18

O he has killd them all but one,
And wha was that but auld Karl Hude.

19

And he has come on him behind,
And put in him the deadly wound.

20

O he has set his lady on,
And he's come whistling all along.

21

‘Gude Earl Brand, I see blood:’
‘It's but the shade o my scarlet robe.’

22

They cam till they cam to the water aflood;
He's lighted down and he's wushen aff the blood.

23

His mother walks the floor alone:
‘O yonder does come my poor son.

24

‘He is both murderd and undone,
And all for the sake o an English loon.’

25

‘Say not sae, my dearest mother,
Marry her on my eldest brother.’

26

She set her fit up to the wa,
Faldee faldee fal deediddle adee
She's fallen down dead amang them a'.
And the brave knights o the valley

Auld Carle Hood; or, Earl Brand

EARL BRAND—H

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 32.

1

Did you ever hear of good Earl Brand,
Aye lally an lilly lally
And the king's daughter of fair Scotland?
And the braw knights o Airly

2

She was scarce fifteen years of age
When she came to Earl Brand's bed.
Wi the braw knights o Airly

3

‘O Earl Brand, I fain wad see
Our grey hounds run over the lea.’
Mang the braw bents o Airly

4

‘O,’ says Earl Brand, ‘I've nae steads but one,
And you shall ride and I shall run.’
Oer the braw heights o Airly

5

‘O,’ says the lady, ‘I hae three,
And ye shall hae yeer choice for me.’
Of the braw steeds o Airly

6

So they lap on, and on they rade,
Till they came to auld Carle Hood.
Oer the braw hills o Airly

7

Carl Hood's aye for ill, and he's no for good,
He's aye for ill, and he's no for good.
Mang the braw hills o Airly

8

‘Where hae ye been hunting a' day,
And where have ye stolen this fair may?’
I' the braw nights sae airly

9

‘She is my sick sister dear,
New comd home from another sister.’
I the braw nights sae early

10

‘O,’ says the lady, ‘if ye love me,
Gie him a penny fee and let him gae.’
I the braw nights sae early

11

He's gane home to her father's bower,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

12

‘Where is the lady o this ha?’
‘She's out wi the young maids, playing at the ba.’
I the braw nights so early

13

‘No,’ says another, ‘she's riding oer the moor,
And a' to be Earl Brand's whore.’
I the braw nights so early

14

The king mounted fifteen weel armed men,
A' to get Earl Brand taen.
I the braw hills so early

15

The lady looked over her white horse mane:
‘O Earl Brand, we will be taen.’
In the braw hills so early

16

He says, If they come one by one,
Ye'll no see me so soon taen.
In the braw hills so early

17

So they came every one but one,
And he has killd them a' but ane.
In the braw hills so early

18

And that one came behind his back,
And gave Earl Brand a deadly stroke.
In the braw hills of Airly

19

For as sair wounded as he was,
He lifted the lady on her horse.
In the braw nights so early

20

‘O Earl Brand, I see thy heart's bluid!’
‘It's but the shadow of my scarlet robe.’
I the braw nights so early

21

He came to his mother's home;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

22

She looked out and cryd her son was gone,
And a' for the sake [of] an English loon. [OMITTED]

23

‘What will I do wi your lady fair?’
‘Marry her to my eldest brother.’
The brawest knight i Airly

The Douglas Tragedy; or, Lord Douglas' Tragedy

EARL BRAND—I

[_]

A stall-copy lent me by Mrs Alexander Forbes, Liberton, Edinburgh.

1

‘Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas,’ she said,
‘And draw to your arms so bright;
Let it never be said a daughter of yours
Shall go with a lord or a knight.

2

‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And draw to your armour so bright;
Let it never be said a sister of yours
Shall go with a lord or a knight.’

3

He looked over his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,
And her father that lov'd her tenderly.

4

‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘And hold my steed in thy hand,
That I may go fight with your seven brethren bold,
And your father who's just at hand.’

5

O there she stood, and bitter she stood,
And never did shed a tear,
Till once she saw her seven brethren slain,
And her father she lovd so dear.

6

‘Hold, hold your hand, William,’ she said,
‘For thy strokes are wondrous sore;
For sweethearts I may get many a one,
But a father I neer will get more.’

7

She took out a handkerchief of holland so fine
And wip'd her father's bloody wound,
Which ran more clear than the red wine,
And forked on the cold ground.

8

‘O chuse you, chuse you, Margret,’ he said,
‘Whether you will go or bide!’
‘I must go with you, Lord William,’ she said,
‘Since you've left me no other guide.’

9

He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
And they slowly both rode away.

10

Away they rode, and better they rode,
Till they came to yonder sand,
Till once they came to yon river side,
And there they lighted down.

11

They lighted down to take a drink
Of the spring that ran so clear,
And there she spy'd his bonny heart's blood,
A running down the stream.

12

‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says,
‘For I fear that you are slain;’
‘'Tis nought but the shade of my scarlet clothes,
That is sparkling down the stream.’

13

He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
And slowly they rode away.

14

Ay they rode, and better they rode,
Till they came to his mother's bower;
Till once they came to his mother's bower,
And down they lighted there.

15

‘O mother, mother, make my bed,
And make it saft and fine,
And lay my lady close at my back,
That I may sleep most sound.’

16

Lord William he died eer middle o the night,
Lady Margret long before the morrow;
Lord William he died for pure true love,
And Lady Margret died for sorrow.

17

Lord William was bury'd in Lady Mary's kirk,
The other in Saint Mary's quire;
Out of William's grave sprang a red rose,
And out of Margret's a briar.

18

And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad fain been near;
And by this you may ken right well
They were twa lovers dear.

106

8
ERLINTON

107

Erlinton

ERLINTON—A

[_]

Scott's Minstrelsy, iii, 235, ed. 1803; ed. 1833, ii, 353. Made up from two copies obtained from recitation.

1

Erlinton had a fair daughter;
I wat he weird her in a great sin;
For he has built a bigly bower,
An a' to put that lady in.

2

An he has warnd her sisters six,
An sae has he her brethren se'en,
Outher to watch her a' the night,
Or else to seek her morn an een.

3

She hadna been i that bigly bower
Na not a night but barely ane,
Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
Chappd at the door, cryin ‘Peace within!’

4

‘O whae is this at my bower door,
That chaps sae late, nor kens the gin?’
‘O it is Willie, your ain true love,
I pray you rise an let me in!’

5

‘But in my bower there is a wake,
An at the wake there is a wane;
But I'll come to the green-wood the morn,
Whar blooms the brier, by mornin dawn.’

6

Then she's gane to her bed again,
Where she has layen till the cock crew thrice,
Then she said to her sisters a',
‘Maidens, 'tis time for us to rise.’

7

She pat on her back her silken gown,
An on her breast a siller pin,
An she's tane a sister in ilka hand,
An to the green-wood she is gane.

8

She hadna walkd in the green-wood
Na not a mile but barely ane,
Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
Whae frae her sisters has her taen.

9

He took her sisters by the hand,
He kissd them baith, an sent them hame,

108

An he's taen his true love him behind,
And through the green-wood they are gane.

10

They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood
Na not a mile but barely ane,
When there came fifteen o the boldest knights
That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane.

11

The foremost was an aged knight,
He wore the grey hair on his chin:
Says, ‘Yield to me thy lady bright,
An thou shalt walk the woods within.’

12

‘For me to yield my lady bright
To such an aged knight as thee,
People wad think I war gane mad,
Or a' the courage flown frae me.’

13

But up then spake the second knight,
I wat he spake right boustouslie:
‘Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright,
Or here the tane of us shall die.’

14

‘My lady is my warld's meed;
My life I winna yield to nane;
But if ye be men of your manhead,
Ye'll only fight me ane by ane.’

15

He lighted aff his milk-white steed,
An gae his lady him by the head,
Sayn, ‘See ye dinna change your cheer,
Untill ye see my body bleed.’

16

He set his back unto an aik,
He set his feet against a stane,
An he has fought these fifteen men,
An killd them a' but barely ane.

17

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
For he has left that aged knight,
An a' to carry the tidings hame.

18

When he gaed to his lady fair,
I wat he kissd her tenderlie:
‘Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought;
Now we shall walk the green-wood free.’

True Tammas

ERLINTON—B

[_]

MS. of Robert White, Esq., of Newcastle, from James Telfer's collection.

1

There was a knight, an he had a daughter,
An he wad wed her, wi muckle sin;
Sae he has biggit a bonnie bower, love,
An a' to keep his fair daughter in.

2

But she hadna been in the bonnie bower, love,
And no twa hours but barely ane,
Till up started Tammas, her ain true lover,
And O sae fain as he wad been in.

3

‘For a' sae weel as I like ye, Tammas,
An for a' sae weel as I like the gin,
I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love,
Na no this night wad I let thee in.

4

‘But yonder is a bonnie greenwud,
An in the greenwud there is a wauk,
An I'll be there an sune the morn, love,
It's a' for my true love's sake.

5

‘On my right hand I'll have a glove, love,
An on my left ane I'll have nane;
I'll have wi' me my sisters six, love,
An we will wauk the wuds our lane.’

6

They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud,
Na no an hour but barely ane,
Till up start Tammas, her ain true lover,
He's taen her sisters her frae mang.

7

An he has kissed her sisters six, love,
An he has sent them hame again,
But he has keepit his ain true lover,
Saying, ‘We will wauk the wuds our lane.’

8

They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud
Na no an hour but barely ane,
Till up start fifteen o the bravest outlaws
That ever bure either breath or bane.

9

An up bespake the foremost man, love,
An O but he spake angrily:
‘Either your life — or your lady fair, sir,
This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.’

109

10

‘My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir,
An O my life, but it lies me near!
But before I lose my lady fair, sir,
I'll rather lose my life sae dear.’

11

Then up bespak the second man, love,
An aye he spake mair angrily,
Saying, ‘Baith your life, and your lady fair, sir,
This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.’

12

‘My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir,
An O my life, but it lies me near!
But before I lose my lady fair, sir,
I'll rather lose my life sae dear.

13

‘But if ye'll be men to your manhood,
As that I will be unto mine,
I'll fight ye every ane man by man,
Till the last drop's blude I hae be slain.

14

‘O sit ye down, my dearest dearie,
Sit down and hold my noble steed,
And see that ye never change your cheer
Until ye see my body bleed.’

15

He's feughten a' the fifteen outlaws,
The fifteen outlaws every ane,
He's left naething but the auldest man
To go and carry the tidings hame.

16

An he has gane to his dearest dear,
An he has kissed her, cheek and chin,
Saying, ‘Thou art mine ain, I have bought thee dear,
An we will wauk the wuds our lane.’

Robin Hood and the Tanner's Daughter

ERLINTON—C

[_]

Gutch's Robin Hood, ii, 345, from a MS. of Mr. Payne Collier's, supposed to have been written about 1650.

1

As Robin Hood sat by a tree,
He espied a prettie may,
And when she chanced him to see,
She turnd her head away.

2

‘O feare me not, thou prettie mayde,
And doe not flie from mee;
I am the kindest man,’ he said,
‘That ever eye did see.’

3

Then to her he did doffe his cap,
And to her lowted low;
‘To meete with thee I hold it good hap,
If thou wilt not say noe.’

4

Then he put his hand around her waste,
Soe small, so tight, and trim,
And after sought her lip to taste,
And she to kissed him.

5

‘Where dost thou dwell, my prettie maide?
I prithee tell to me;’
‘I am a tanner's daughter,’ she said,
‘John Hobbes of Barneslee.’

6

‘And whither goest thou, pretty maide?
Shall I be thy true love?’
‘If thou art not afeard,’ she said,
‘My true love thou shalt prove.’

7

‘What should I feare?’ then he replied;
‘I am thy true love now;’
‘I have two brethren, and their pride
Would scorn such one as thou.’

8

‘That will we try,’ quoth Robin Hood;
‘I was not made their scorne;
He, shed my blood to doe the[e] good,
As sure as they were borne.’

9

‘My brothers are proude and fierce and strong;’
‘I am,’ said he, ‘the same,
And if they offer thee to wrong,
Theyle finde Ile play their game.

10

‘Through the free forrest I can run,
The king may not controll;
They are but barking tanners' sons,
To me they shall pay toll.

11

‘And if not mine be sheepe and kine,
I have cattle on my land;
On venison eche day I may dine,
Whiles they have none in hand.’

12

These wordes had Robin Hood scarce spoke,
When they two men did see,
Come riding till their horses smoke:
‘My brothers both,’ cried shee.

110

13

Each had a good sword by his side,
And furiouslie they rode
To where they Robin Hood espied,
That with the maiden stood.

14

‘Flee hence, flee hence, away with speede!’
Cried she to Robin Hood,
‘For if thou stay, thoult surely bleede;
I could not see thy blood.’

15

‘With us, false maiden, come away,
And leave that outlawe bolde;
Why fledst thou from thy home this day,
And left thy father olde?’

16

Robin stept backe but paces five,
Unto a sturdie tree;
‘Ile fight whiles I am left alive;
Stay thou, sweete maide, with mee.’

17

He stood before, she stoode behinde,
The brothers two drewe nie;
‘Our sister now to us resign,
Or thou full sure shalt die.’

18

Then cried the maide, ‘My brethren deare,
With ye Ile freely wend,
But harm not this young forrester,
Noe ill doth he pretend.’

19

‘Stande up, sweete maide, I plight my troth;
Fall thou not on thy knee;
Ile force thy cruell brothers both
To bend the knee to thee.

20

‘Stand thou behinde this sturdie oke,
I soone will quell their pride;
Thoult see my sword with furie smoke,
And in their hearts' blood died.’

21

He set his backe against a tree,
His foote against a stone;
The first blow that he gave so free
Cleft one man to the bone.

22

The tanners bold they fought right well,
And it was one to two;
But Robin did them both refell,
All in the damsell's viewe.

23

The red blood ran from Robins brow,
All downe unto his knee;
‘O holde your handes, my brethren now,
I will goe backe with yee.’

24

‘Stand backe, stand backe, my pretty maide,
Stand backe and let me fight;
By sweete St. James be no[t] afraide
But I will it requite.’

25

Then Robin did his sword uplift,
And let it fall againe;
The oldest brothers head it cleft,
Right through unto his braine.

26

‘O hold thy hand, bolde forrester,
Or ill may thee betide;
Slay not my youngest brother here,
He is my father's pride.’

27

‘Away, for I would scorne to owe,
My life to the[e], false maide!’
The youngest cried, and aimd a blow
That lit on Robin's head.

28

Then Robin leand against the tree,
His life nie gone did seeme;
His eyes did swim, he could not see
The maiden start betweene.

29

It was not long ere Robin Hood
Could welde his sword so bright;
Upon his feete he firmly stood,
And did renew the fight.

30

Untill the tanner scarce could heave
His weapon in the aire;
But Robin would not him bereave
Of life, and left him there.

31

Then to the greenewood did he fly,
And with him went the maide;
For him she vowd that she would dye,
He'd live for her, he said.

111

9
THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND

113

Jack of Newbury; or, The Ungrateful Knight and the Fair Flower of Northumberland

THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND—A

[_]

a. Deloney's Pleasant History of John Winchcomb, 9th ed., London, 1633, reprinted by Halliwell, p. 61. b. Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 169.

1

It was a knight in Scotland borne
Follow, my love, come over the strand
Was taken prisoner, and left forlorne,
Even by the good Earle of Northumberland.

2

Then was he cast in prison strong,
Where he could not walke nor lie along,
Even by the goode Earle of Northumberland.

3

And as in sorrow thus he lay,
The Earle's sweete daughter walkt that way,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

4

And passing by, like an angell bright,
The prisoner had of her a sight,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

5

And loud to her this knight did crie,
The salt teares standing in his eye,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

6

‘Faire lady,’ he said, ‘take pity on me,
And let me not in prison dye,
And you the faire flower of Northumberland.’

7

‘Faire Sir, how should I take pity on thee,
Thou being a foe to our countrey,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

8

‘Faire lady, I am no foe,’ he said,
‘Through thy sweet love heere was I stayd,
For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.’

9

‘Why shouldst thou come heere for love of me,
Having wife and children in thy countrie?
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

10

‘I sweare by the blessed Trinitie,
I have no wife nor children, I,
Nor dwelling at home in merrie Scotland.

114

11

‘If curteously you will set me free,
I vow that I will marrie thee,
So soone as I come in faire Scotland.

12

‘Thou shalt be a lady of castles and towers,
And sit like a queene in princely bowers,
When I am at home in faire Scotland.’

13

Then parted hence this lady gay,
And got her father's ring away,
To helpe this sad knight into faire Scotland.

14

Likewise much gold she got by sleight,
And all to helpe this forlorne knight
To wend from her father to faire Scotland.

15

Two gallant steedes, both good and able,
She likewise tooke out of the stable,
To ride with this knight into faire Scotland.

16

And to the jaylor she sent this ring,
The knight from prison forth to bring,
To wend with her into faire Scotland.

17

This token set the prisoner free,
Who straight went to this faire lady,
To wend with her into faire Scotland.

18

A gallant steede he did bestride,
And with the lady away did ride,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

19

They rode till they came to a water cleare:
‘Good Sir, how should I follow you heere,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland?

20

‘The water is rough and wonderfull deepe,
An[d] on my saddle I shall not keepe,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

21

‘Feare not the foord, faire lady,’ quoth he,
‘For long I cannot stay for thee,
And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.’

22

The lady prickt her wanton steed,
And over the river swom with speede,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

23

From top to toe all wet was shee:
‘This have I done for love of thee,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

24

Thus rode she all one winter's night,
Till Edenborow they saw in sight,
The chiefest towne in all Scotland.

25

‘Now chuse,’ quoth he, ‘thou wanton flower,
Whe'r thou wilt be my paramour,
Or get thee home to Northumberland.

26

‘For I have wife, and children five,
In Edenborow they be alive;
Then get thee home to faire England.

27

‘This favour shalt thou have to boote,
Ile have thy horse, go thou on foote,
Go, get thee home to Northumberland.’

28

‘O false and faithlesse knight,’ quoth shee,
‘And canst thou deale so bad with me,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland?

29

‘Dishonour not a ladie's name,
But draw thy sword and end my shame,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

30

He tooke her from her stately steed,
And left her there in extreme need,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

31

Then sate she downe full heavily;
At length two knights came riding by,
Two gallant knights of faire England.

32

She fell downe humbly on her knee,
Saying, ‘Courteous knights, take pittie on me,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.

33

‘I have offended my father deere,
And by a false knight that brought me heere,
From the good Earle of Northumberland.’

34

They tooke her up behind them then,
And brought her to her father's againe,
And he the good Earle of Northumberland.

35

All you faire maidens be warned by me,
Scots were never true, nor never will be,
To lord, nor lady, nor faire England.

115

The Provost's Dochter

THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND—B

[_]

a. Kinloch MSS, v, 49, in the handwriting of J. Beattie. b. Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 134, from the recitation of Miss E. Beattie.

1

The provost's daughter went out a walking,
A may's love whiles is easy won
She heard a poor prisoner making his moan,
And she was the fair flower of Northumberland.

2

‘If any lady would borrow me
Out into the prison strong,
I would make her a lady of high degree,
For I am a great lord in fair Scotland.’

3

She's done her to her father's bed-stock,
A may's love whiles is easy won
She's stolen the keys o many braw lock,
And she's loosd him out o the prison strong.

4

She's done her to her father's stable,
A may's love whiles is easy won
She's taen out a steed that was both swift and able,
To carry them both to fair Scotland.

5

O when they came to the Scottish cross,
A may's love whiles is easy won
‘Ye brazen-faced whore, light off o my horse,
And go get you back to Northumberland!’

6

O when they came to the Scottish moor,
A may's love whiles is easy won
‘Get off o my horse, you're a brazen-faced whore,
So go get you back to Northumberland!’

7

‘O pity on me, O pity,’ said she,
‘O that my love was so easy won!
Have pity on me as I had upon thee,
When I loosd you out of the prison strong.’

8

‘O how can I have pity on thee?
O why was your love so easy won!
When I have a wife and children three
More worthy than a' Northumberland.’

9

‘Cook in your kitchen I will be,
O that my love was so easy won!
And serve your lady most reverently,
For I darena go back to Northumberland.’

10

‘Cook in my kitchen you shall not be,
Why was your love so easy won!
For I will have no such servants as thee,
So get you back to Northumberland.’

11

But laith was he the lassie to tyne,
A may's love whiles is easy won
He's hired an old horse and feed an old man,
To carry her back to Northumberland.

12

O when she came her father before,
A may's love whiles is easy won
She fell down on her knees so low
For she was the fair flower of Northumberland.

13

‘O daughter, O daughter, why was ye so bold,
Or why was your love so easy won,
To be a Scottish whore in your fifteen year old?
And you the fair flower of Northumberland!’

14

Her mother she gently on her did smile,
O that her love was so easy won!
‘She is not the first that the Scotts have beguild,
But she's still the fair flower of Northumberland.

15

‘She shanna want gold, she shanna want fee,
Altho that her love was so easy won,
She shanna want gold to gain a man wi,
And she's still the fair flower of Northumberland.’

The Betrayed Lady

THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND—C

[_]

a. Buchan's MSS, ii, 166. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 208.

1

As I went by a jail-house door,
Maid's love whiles is easy won
I saw a prisoner standing there,
‘I wish I were home in fair Scotland.

2

‘Fair maid, will you pity me?
Ye'll steal the keys, let me gae free:
I'll make you my lady in fair Scotland.

3

‘I'm sure you have no need of me,
For ye have a wife and bairns three,
That lives at home in fair Scotland.’

116

4

He swore by him that was crownd with thorn,
That he never had a wife since the day he was born,
But livd a free lord in fair Scotland.

5

She went unto her father's bed-head,
She's stown the key o mony a lock,
She's let him out o prison strong.

6

She's went to her father's stable,
She's stown a steed baith wight and able,
To carry them on to fair Scotland.

7

They rode till they came to a muir,
He bade her light aff, they'd call her a whore,
If she didna return to Northumberland.

8

They rode till they came to a moss,
He bade her light aff her father's best horse,
And return her again to Northumberland.

9

‘I'm sure I have no need of thee,
When I have a wife and bairns three,
That lives at home in fair Scotland.’

10

‘I'll be cook in your kitchen,
And serve your lady handsomelie,
For I darena gae back to Northumberland.’

11

‘Ye cannot be cook in my kitchen,
My lady cannot fa sic servants as thee,
So ye'll return again to Northumberland.’

12

When she went thro her father's ha,
She looted her low amongst them a',
She was the fair flower o Northumberland.

13

Out spake her father, he spake bold,
‘How could ye be a whore in fifteen years old,
And you the flower of Northumberland?’

14

Out spake her mother, she spake wi a smile,
‘She's nae the first his coat did beguile,
Ye're welcome again to Northumberland.’

THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND—D

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 102.

1

She's gane down to her father's stable,
O my dear, and my love that she wan
She's taen out a black steed baith sturdy and able,
And she's away to fair Scotland.

2

When they came to Scotland bridge,
‘Light off, you whore, from my black steed,
And go your ways back to Northumberland.’

3

‘O take me by the body so meek,
And throw me in the water so deep,
For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’

4

‘I'll no take thee by the body so meek,
Nor throw thee in the water so deep;
Thou may go thy ways back to Northumberland.’

5

‘Take me by the body so small,
And throw me in yon bonny mill-dam,
For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’

The Flower of Northumberland

THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND—E

[_]

“Written down from memory by Robert Hutton, Shep-herd, Peel, Liddesdale.” Mr R. White's papers.

1

A bailiff's fair daughter, she lived by the Aln,
A young maid's love is easily won
She heard a poor prisoner making his moan,
And she was the flower of Northumberland.

2

‘If ye could love me, as I do love thee,
A young maid's love is hard to win
I'll make you a lady of high degree,
When once we go down to fair Scotland.’

3

To think of the prisoner her heart was sore,
A young maid's love is easily won
Her love it was much, but her pity was more,
And she, etc.

4

She stole from her father's pillow the key,
And out of the dungeon she soon set him free,
And she, etc.

117

5

She led him into her father's stable,
And they've taken a steed both gallant and able,
To carry them down to fair Scotland.

6

When they first took the way, it was darling and dear;
As forward they fared, all changed was his cheer,
And she, etc.

7

They rode till they came to a fair Scottish corse;
Says he, ‘Now, pray madam, dismount from my horse,
And go get you back to Northumberland.

8

‘It befits not to ride with a leman light,
When awaits my returning my own lady bright,
My own wedded wife in fair Scotland.’

9

The words that he said on her fond heart smote,
She knew not in sooth if she lived or not,
And she, etc.

10

She looked to his face, and it kythed so unkind
That her fast coming tears soon rendered her blind,
And she, etc.

11

‘Have pity on me as I had it on thee,
O why was my love so easily won!
A slave in your kitchen I'm willing to be,
But I may not go back to Northumberland.

12

‘Or carry me up by the middle sae sma,
O why was my love so easily won!
And fling me headlong from your high castle wa,
For I dare not go back to Northumberland.’

13

Her wailing, her woe, for nothing they went,
A young maid's love is easily won
His bosom was stone and he would not relent,
And she, etc.

14

He turned him around and he thought of a plan,
He bought an old horse and he hired an old man,
To carry her back to Northumberland.

15

A heavy heart makes a weary way,
She reached her home in the evening gray,
And she, etc.

16

And all as she stood at her father's tower-gate,
More loud beat her heart than her knock thereat,
And she, etc.

17

Down came her step-dame, so rugged and doure,
O why was your love so easily won!
‘In Scotland go back to your false paramour,
For you shall not stay here in Northumberland.’

18

Down came her father, he saw her and smiled,
A young maid's love is easily won
‘You are not the first that false Scots have beguiled,
And ye're aye welcome back to Northumberland.

19

‘You shall not want houses, you shall not want land,
You shall not want gold for to gain a husband,
And ye're aye welcome back to Northumberland.’

THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND—F

[_]

Gibb MS., No 8: from Jeannie Stirling, a young girl, as learned from her grandmother.

[OMITTED]

1

She stole the keys from her father's bed-head,
O but her love it was easy won!
She opened the gates, she opened them wide,
She let him out o the prison strong.

2

She went into her father's stable,
O but her love it was easy won!
She stole a steed that was both stout and strong,
To carry him hame frae Northumberland.

[OMITTED]

3

‘I'll be cook in your kitchen,
Noo sure my love has been easy won!
I'll serve your own lady with hat an with hand,
For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’

4

‘I need nae cook in my kitchin,
O but your love it was easy won!
Ye'll serve not my lady with hat or with hand,
For ye maun gae back to Northumberland.’

5

When she gaed hame, how her father did ban!
‘O but your love it was easy won!
A fair Scottish girl, not sixteen years old,
Was once the fair flower o Northumberland!’

The Heiress of Northumberland

THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND—G

[_]

From C. K. Sharpe's first collection, p. 7.

1

‘Why, fair maid, have pity on me,’
Waly's my love wi the life that she wan
‘For I am bound in prison strong,
And under the heir o Northumberland.’

2

‘How can I have pity on thee,’
Waly's my love, etc.
‘When thou hast a wife and children three,
All dwelling at home in fair Scotland?’

3

Now he has sworn a solemn oath,
And it was by eternity,
That wife and children he had none,
All dwelling at home in fair Scotland.

4

Now she's gone to her father's bedstock,
Waly's my love, etc.
And has stolen the key of the dungeon-lock,
And she the great heir o Northumberland.

5

And she's gone to her father's chest,
She has stolen away a suit of the best,
Altho she was heir o Northumberland.

6

Now she's gone to her father's coffer,
And has taen out gold nane kens how meickle,
Altho she, etc.

7

She's gane to her father's stable,
And taen out a steed baith lusty and able,
For a' she was heir, etc.

8

The rade till they came to Crafurdmoor,
He bade her light down for an English whore,
Altho she, etc.

9

The rade till the came to the water o Clyde,
He bade her light down, nae farer she should ride,
‘For now I am at hame in fair Scotland.’

10

‘Yonder view my castle,’ said he;
‘There I hae a wife and children three,
All dwelling at home,’ etc.

11

‘O take me by the middle sae sma
And thro me oer your castle-wa,
For I darena gang hame to Northumberland.’

12

When she came to her father's yett,
She durst hardly rapp thereat,
Altho she was, etc.

13

Out then spoke her stepmother sour,
She bad her pack off for an impudent whore,
‘For thou shalt not be heir o Northumberland.’

14

Out then spock her bastard brother;
‘She'll hae nae mair grace than God has gien her,
And she shall be heir o Northumberland.’

15

Out and spoke her father sae mild,
‘She's no the first maid a false Scot has beguild,
And she shall be,’ etc.

118

10
THE TWA SISTERS

126

The Miller and the King's Daughter; or, The Miller and the King's Daughters

THE TWA SISTERS—A

[_]

A. a. Broadside “printed for Francis Grove, 1656,” reprinted in Notes and Queries, 1st S., v, 591. b. Wit Restor'd, 1658, “p. 51,” p. 153 of the reprint of 1817. c. Wit and Drollery, ed. 1682, p. 87, = Dryden's Miscellany, Part 3, p. 316, ed. 1716. d. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 315.

1

There were two sisters, they went playing,
With a hie downe downe a downe-a
To see their father's ships come sayling in.
With a hy downe downe a downe-a

2

And when they came unto the sea-brym,
The elder did push the younger in.

3

‘O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne,
And drawe me up upon the dry ground.’

4

‘O sister, O sister, that may not bee,
Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree.’

5

Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam,
Until she came unto the mill-dam.

6

The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe,
And up he betook her withouten her life.

7

What did he doe with her brest-bone?
He made him a violl to play thereupon.

8

What did he doe with her fingers so small?
He made him peggs to his violl withall.

9

What did he doe with her nose-ridge?
Unto his violl he made him a bridge.

10

What did he doe with her veynes so blew?
He made him strings to his violl thereto.

11

What did he doe with her eyes so bright?
Upon his violl he played at first sight.

12

What did he doe with her tongue so rough?
Unto the violl it spake enough.

13

What did he doe with her two shinnes?
Unto the violl they danc'd Moll Syms.

14

Then bespake the treble string,
‘O yonder is my father the king.’

15

Then bespake the second string,
‘O yonder sitts my mother the queen.’

16

And then bespake the strings all three,
‘O yonder is my sister that drowned mee.’

17

‘Now pay the miller for his payne,
And let him bee gone in the divel's name.’

127

The Twa Sisters; or, The Cruel Sister

THE TWA SISTERS—B

[_]

a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 39. b. Wm. Tytler's Brown MS., No 15. c. Abbotsford MS., “Scottish Songs,” fol. 21. d. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 48.

1

There was twa sisters in a bowr,
Edinburgh, Edinburgh
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
Stirling for ay
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
There came a knight to be their wooer.
Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay

2

He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,
But he lovd the youngest above a' thing.

3

He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,
But lovd the youngest as his life.

4

The eldest she was vexed sair,
An much envi'd her sister fair.

5

Into her bowr she could not rest,
Wi grief an spite she almos brast.

6

Upon a morning fair an clear,
She cried upon her sister dear:

7

‘O sister, come to yon sea stran,
An see our father's ships come to lan.’

8

She's taen her by the milk-white han,
An led her down to yon sea stran.

9

The younges[t] stood upon a stane,
The eldest came an threw her in.

10

She tooke her by the middle sma,
An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.

11

‘O sister, sister, tak my han,
An Ise mack you heir to a' my lan.

12

‘O sister, sister, tak my middle,
An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle.

13

‘O sister, sister, save my life,
An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife.’

14

‘Foul fa the han that I should tacke,
It twin'd me an my wardles make.

15

‘Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair
Gars me gae maiden for evermair.’

16

Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,
Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.

17

O out it came the miller's son,
An saw the fair maid swimmin in.

18

‘O father, father, draw your dam,
Here's either a mermaid or a swan.’

19

The miller quickly drew the dam,
An there he found a drownd woman.

20

You coudna see her yallow hair
For gold and pearle that were so rare.

21

You coudna see her middle sma
For gouden girdle that was sae braw.

22

You coudna see her fingers white,
For gouden rings that was sae gryte.

23

An by there came a harper fine,
That harped to the king at dine.

24

When he did look that lady upon,
He sighd and made a heavy moan.

25

He's taen three locks o her yallow hair,
An wi them strung his harp sae fair.

26

The first tune he did play and sing,
Was, ‘Farewell to my father the king.’

27

The nextin tune that he playd syne,
Was, ‘Farewell to my mother the queen.’

28

The lasten tune that he playd then,
Was, ‘Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.’

128

The Cruel Sister

THE TWA SISTERS—C

[_]

Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802, ii, 143. Compounded from B b and a fragment of fourteen stanzas transcribed from the recitation of an old woman by Miss Charlotte Brooke.

1

There were two sisters sat in a bour;
Binnorie, O Binnorie
There came a knight to be their wooer.
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie

2

He courted the eldest with glove and ring,
But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing.

3

He courted the eldest with broach and knife,
But he loed the youngest aboon his life.

4

The eldest she was vexed sair,
And sore envied her sister fair.

5

The eldest said to the youngest ane,
‘Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?’

6

She's taen her by the lilly hand,
And led her down to the river strand.

7

The youngest stude upon a stane,
The eldest came and pushed her in.

8

She took her by the middle sma,
And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw.

9

‘O sister, sister, reach your hand,
And ye shall be heir of half my land.’

10

‘O sister, I'll not reach my hand,
And I'll be heir of all your land.

11

‘Shame fa the hand that I should take,
It's twin'd me and my world's make.’

12

‘O sister, reach me but your glove,
And sweet William shall be your love.’

13

‘Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,
And sweet William shall better be my love.

14

‘Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair
Garrd me gang maiden evermair.’

15

Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam,
Until she came to the miller's dam.

16

‘O father, father, draw your dam,
There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’

17

The miller hasted and drew his dam,
And there he found a drowned woman.

18

You could not see her yellow hair,
For gowd and pearls that were sae rare.

19

You could na see her middle sma,
Her gowden girdle was sae bra.

20

A famous harper passing by,
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.

21

And when he looked that ladye on,
He sighed and made a heavy moan.

22

He made a harp of her breast-bone,
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.

23

The strings he framed of her yellow hair,
Whose notes made sad the listening ear.

24

He brought it to her father's hall,
And there was the court assembled all.

25

He laid this harp upon a stone,
And straight it began to play alone.

26

‘O yonder sits my father, the king,
And yonder sits my mother, the queen.

27

‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh,
And by him my William, sweet and true.’

28

But the last tune that the harp playd then,
Was ‘Woe to my sister, false Helen!’

129

The Bonnie Milldams of Binnorie

THE TWA SISTERS—D

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, ii, 49. From the recitation of Mrs Johnston, a North-country lady.

1

There lived three sisters in a bouer,
Edinbruch, Edinbruch
There lived three sisters in a bouer,
Stirling for aye
There lived three sisters in a bouer,
The youngest was the sweetest flowr.
Bonnie St Johnston stands upon Tay

2

There cam a knicht to see them a',
And on the youngest his love did fa.

3

He brought the eldest ring and glove,
But the youngest was his ain true-love.

4

He brought the second sheath and knife,
But the youngest was to be his wife.

5

The eldest sister said to the youngest ane,
‘Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?’

6

And as they walked by the linn,
The eldest dang the youngest in.

7

‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
And ye'll be heir to a' my land.’

8

‘Foul fa the hand that I wad take,
To twin me o my warld's make.’

9

‘O sister, sister, tak my glove,
And yese get Willie, my true-love.’

10

‘Sister, sister, I'll na tak your glove,
For I'll get Willie, your true-love.’

11

Aye she swittert, and aye she swam,
Till she cam to yon bonnie mill-dam.

12

The miller's dochter cam out wi speed,
It was for water, to bake her bread.

13

‘O father, father, gae slack your dam;
There's in't a lady or a milk-white swan.’

[OMITTED]

14

They could na see her coal-black eyes
For her yellow locks hang oure her brees.

15

They could na see her weel-made middle
For her braid gowden girdle.

[OMITTED]

16

And by there cam an auld blind fiddler,
And took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.

[OMITTED]

17

The first spring that the bonnie fiddle playd,
‘Hang my cruel sister, Alison,’ it said.

The Twa Sisters

THE TWA SISTERS—E

[_]

Sharpe's Ballad Book, No 10, p. 30.

1

There livd twa sisters in a bower,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch!
There lived twa sisters in a bower,
Stirling for aye!
The youngest o them O she was a flower!
Bonny Sanct Johnstoune that stands upon Tay!

2

There cam a squire frae the west,
He loed them baith, but the youngest best.

3

He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,
But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing.

4

‘O sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?
Our father's ships sail bonnilie.’

5

The youngest sat down upon a stane;
The eldest shot the youngest in.

6

‘O sister, sister, lend me your hand,
And you shall hae my gouden fan.

7

‘O sister, sister, save my life,
And ye shall be the squire's wife.’

8

First she sank, and then she swam,
Untill she cam to Tweed mill-dam.

9

The millar's daughter was baking bread,
She went for water, as she had need.

10

‘O father, father, in our mill-dam
There's either a lady, or a milk-white swan.’

130

11

They could nae see her fingers small,
Wi diamond rings they were coverd all.

12

They could nae see her yellow hair,
Sae mony knots and platts were there.

13

They could nae see her lilly feet,
Her gowden fringes war sae deep.

14

Bye there cam a fiddler fair,
And he's taen three taits o her yellow hair.

The Bonny Bows o London

THE TWA SISTERS—F

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 383. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, 27th July, 1825.

1

There was two ladies livd in a bower,
Hey with a gay and a grinding O
The youngest o them was the fairest flower
About a' the bonny bows o London.

2

There was two ladies livd in a bower,
An wooer unto the youngest did go.

3

The oldest one to the youngest did say,
‘Will ye take a walk with me today,
And we'll view the bonny bows o London.

4

‘Thou'll set thy foot whare I set mine,
Thou'll set thy foot upon this stane.’

5

‘I'll set my foot where thou sets thine:’
The old sister dang the youngest in,
At, etc.

6

‘O sister dear, come tak my hand,
Take my life safe to dry land,’
At, etc.

7

‘It's neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,
It's neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,
At, etc.

8

‘It's thy cherry cheeks and thy white briest bane
Gars me set a maid owre lang at hame.’

9

She clasped her hand[s] about a brume rute,
But her cruel sister she lowsed them out.

10

Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,
Till she cam to the miller's dam.

11

The miller's bairns has muckle need,
They were bearing in water to bake some breid.

12

Says, ‘Father, dear father, in our mill-dam,
It's either a fair maid or a milk-white swan.’

13

The miller he's spared nae his hose nor his shoon
Till he brocht this lady till dry land.

14

I wad he saw na a bit o her feet,
Her silver slippers were made so neat.

15

I wad he saw na a bit o her skin,
For ribbons there was mony a ane.

16

He laid her on a brume buss to dry,
To see wha was the first wad pass her by.

17

Her ain father's herd was the first man
That by this lady gay did gang.

18

He's taen three links of her yellow hair,
And made it a string to his fiddle there.

19

He's cut her fingers long and small
To be fiddle-pins that neer might fail.

20

The very first spring that the fiddle did play,
‘Hang my auld sister,’ I wad it did say.

21

‘For she drowned me in yonder sea,
God neer let her rest till she shall die,’
At the bonny bows o London.

131

THE TWA SISTERS—G

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 104. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan.

1

There were three sisters lived in a bouir,
Hech, hey, my Nannie O
And the youngest was the fairest flouir.
And the swan swims bonnie O

2

‘O sister, sister, gang down to yon sand,
And see your father's ships coming to dry land.’

3

O they have gane down to yonder sand,
To see their father's ships coming to dry land.

4

‘Gae set your fit on yonder stane,
Till I tye up your silken goun.’

5

She set her fit on yonder stane,
And the auldest drave the youngest in.

6

‘O sister, sister, tak me by the hand,
And ye'll get a' my father's land.

7

‘O sister, sister, tak me by the gluve,
An ye'll get Willy, my true luve.’

8

She had a switch into her hand,
And ay she drave her frae the land.

9

O whiles she sunk, and whiles she swam,
Until she swam to the miller's dam.

10

The miller's daughter gade doun to Tweed,
To carry water to bake her bread.

11

‘O father, O father, what's yon in the dam?
It's either a maid or a milk-white swan.’

12

They have tane her out till yonder thorn,
And she has lain till Monday morn.

13

She hadna, hadna twa days lain,
Till by there came a harper fine.

14

He made a harp o her breast-bane,
That he might play forever thereon.

THE TWA SISTERS—H

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 147. From I. Goldie, March, 1825.

1

There were three sisters lived in a hall,
Hey with the gay and the grandeur O
And there came a lord to court them all.
At the bonnie bows o London town

2

He courted the eldest with a penknife,
And he vowed that he would take her life.

3

He courted the youngest with a glove,
And he said that he'd be her true love.

4

‘O sister, O sister, will you go and take a walk,
And see our father's ships how they float?

5

‘O lean your foot upon the stone,
And wash your hand in that sea-foam.’

6

She leaned her foot upon the stone,
But her eldest sister has tumbled her down.

7

‘O sister, sister, give me your hand,
And I'll make you lady of all my land.’

8

‘O I'll not lend to you my hand,
But I'll be lady of your land.’

9

‘O sister, sister, give me your glove,
And I'll make you lady of my true love.’

10

‘It's I'll not lend to you my glove,
But I'll be lady of your true love.’

11

Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,
Until she came to a miller's dam.

12

The miller's daughter was coming out wi speed,
For water for to bake some bread.

13

‘O father, father, stop the dam,
For it's either a lady or a milk-white swan.’

14

He dragged her out unto the shore,
And stripped her of all she wore.

15

By cam a fiddler, and he was fair,
And he buskit his bow in her bonnie yellow hair.

132

16

By cam her father's harper, and he was fine,
And he made a harp o her bonny breast-bone.

17

When they came to her father's court,
The harp [and fiddle these words] spoke:

18

‘O God bless my father the king,
And I wish the same to my mother the queen.

19

‘My sister Jane she tumbled me in,
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

Bonnie Milldams o Binnorie

THE TWA SISTERS—I

[_]

Kinloch MSS, v, 425. From the recitation of M. Kinnear, 23d August, 1826.

1

There war twa sisters lived in a bouer,
Binnorie and Binnorie
There cam a squire to court them baith.
At the bonnie mill-streams o Binnorie

2

He courted the eldest with jewels and rings,
But he lovd the youngest the best of all things.

3

He courted the eldest with a penknife,
He lovd the youngest as dear as his life.

4

It fell ance upon a day
That these twa sisters hae gane astray.

5

It was for to meet their father's ships that had come in.
[OMITTED]

6

As they walked up the linn,
The eldest dang the youngest in.

7

‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
And ye'll hae Lud John and aw his land.’

8

With a silver wand she pushd her in,
[OMITTED]

9

‘O sister, sister, tak my glove,
And ye sall hae my ain true love.’

10

The miller's dochter cam out wi speed.
It was for a water to bake her bread.

11

‘O father, father, gae slack your dam;
There's either a white fish or a swan.’

[OMITTED]

12

Bye cam a blind fiddler that way,
And he took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.

13

And the first spring that he playd,
It said, ‘It was my sister threw me in.’

The Miller's Melody

THE TWA SISTERS—J

[_]

Notes and Queries, 4th S., v, 23, from the north of Ireland.

1

There were two ladies playing ball,
Hey, ho, my Nannie O
A great lord came to court them all.
The swan she does swim bonnie O

2

He gave to the first a golden ring,
He gave to the second a far better thing.

[OMITTED]

3

He made a harp of her breast-bone
[OMITTED]

4

He set it down upon a stone,
And it began to play its lone.

Binnorie

THE TWA SISTERS—K

[_]

Mr G. R. Kinloch's papers, Kinloch MSS, ii, 59. From Mrs Lindores.

1

‘O sister, sister, gie me your hand,
Binnorie and Binnorie
And I'll give the half of my fallow-land,
By the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.’

[OMITTED]

2

The first time the bonnie fiddle played,
‘Hang my sister, Alison,’ it said,
‘At the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.’

133

The Miller's Melody; or, The Drowned Lady

THE TWA SISTERS—L

[_]

a. From oral tradition, Notes and Queries, 1st S., v, 316. b. The Scouring of the White Horse, p. 161. From North Wales.

1

O was it eke a pheasant cock,
Or eke a pheasant hen,
Or was it the bodye of a fair ladye,
Come swimming down the stream?

2

O it was not a pheasant cock,
Nor eke a pheasant hen,
But it was the bodye of a fair ladye
Came swimming down the stream.

[OMITTED]

3

And what did he do with her fair bodye?
Fal the lal the lal laral lody
He made it a case for his melodye.
Fal, etc.

4

And what did he do with her legs so strong?
He made them a stand for his violon.

5

And what did he do with her hair so fine?
He made of it strings for his violine.

6

And what did he do with her arms so long?
He made them bows for his violon.

7

And what did he do with her nose so thin?
He made it a bridge for his violin.

8

And what did he do with her eyes so bright?
He made them spectacles to put to his sight.

9

And what did he do with her petty toes?
He made them a nosegay to put to his nose.

Binorie, O an Binorie

THE TWA SISTERS—M

[_]

Taken down from recitation at Old Deir, 1876, by Mrs A. F. Murison. MS., p. 79.

1

There lived twa sisters in yonder ha,
Binórie O an Binórie
They hadna but ae lad atween them twa,
He's the bonnie miller lad o Binórie.

2

It fell oot upon a day,
The auldest ane to the youngest did say,
At the bonnie mill-dams o Binórie,

3

‘O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams,
To hear the blackbird thrashin oer his songs?
At the,’ etc.

4

‘O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams,
To see oor father's fish-boats come safe to dry lan?
An the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.’

5

They hadna been an oor at the dams,
Till they heard the blackbird thrashin oer his tune,
At the, etc.

6

They hadna been an oor at the dams
Till they saw their father's fish-boats come safe to dry lan,
Bat they sawna the bonnie miller laddie.

7

They stood baith up upon a stane,
An the eldest ane dang the youngest in,
I the, etc.

8

She swam up, an she swam doon,
An she swam back to her sister again,
I the, etc.

9

‘O sister, O sister, len me your han,
An yes be heir to my true love,
He's the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.’

10

‘It was not for that love at I dang you in,
But ye was fair and I was din,
And yes droon i the dams o Binorie.’

11

The miller's daughter she cam oot,
For water to wash her father's hans,
Frae the, etc.

12

‘O father, O father, ye will fish your dams,
An ye'll get a white fish or a swan,
I the,’ etc.

13

They fished up and they fished doon,
But they got nothing but a droonet woman,
I the, etc.

14

Some o them kent by her skin sae fair,
But weel kent he by her bonnie yallow hair
She's the bonnie miller's lass o Binorie.

134

15

Some o them kent by her goons o silk,
But weel kent he by her middle sae jimp,
She's the bonnie miller's lass o Binorie.

16

Mony ane was at her oot-takin,
But mony ane mair at her green grave makin,
At the bonny mill-dams o Binorie.

Binnorie

THE TWA SISTERS—N

[_]

[Pinkerton's] Scottish Tragic Ballads, p. 72.

1

There were twa sisters livd in a bouir,
Binnorie, O Binnorie
Their father was a baron of pouir.
By the bonnie mildams of Binnorie

2

The youngest was meek, and fair as the may
Whan she springs in the east wi the gowden day.

3

The eldest austerne as the winter cauld,
Ferce was her saul, and her seiming was bauld.

4

A gallant squire cam sweet Isabel to wooe;
Her sister had naething to luve I trow.

5

But filld was she wi dolour and ire,
To see that to her the comlie squire

6

Preferd the debonair Isabel:
Their hevin of luve of spyte was her hell.

7

Till ae ein she to her sister can say,
‘Sweit sister, cum let us wauk and play.’

8

They wauked up, and they wauked down,
Sweit sang the birdis in the vallie loun.

9

Whan they cam to the roaring lin,
She drave unweiting Isabel in.

10

‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
And ye sall hae my silver fan.

11

‘O sister, sister, tak my middle,
And ye sall hae my gowden girdle.’

12

Sumtimes she sank, sumtimes she swam,
Till she cam to the miller's dam.

13

The miller's dochtor was out that ein,
And saw her rowing down the streim.

14

‘O father deir, in your mil-dam
There is either a lady or a milk-white swan!’

15

Twa days were gane, whan to her deir
Her wraith at deid of nicht cold appeir.

16

‘My luve, my deir, how can ye sleip,
Whan your Isabel lyes in the deip!

17

‘My deir, how can ye sleip bot pain
Whan she by her cruel sister is slain!’

18

Up raise he sune, in frichtfu mude:
‘Busk ye, my meiny, and seik the flude.’

19

They socht her up and they socht her doun,
And spyd at last her glisterin gown.

20

They raisd her wi richt meikle care;
Pale was her cheik and grein was her hair.

The Bonny Bows o London

THE TWA SISTERS—O

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 128. b. Traditional Ballad Airs, edited by W. Christie, i, 42.

1

There were twa sisters in a bower,
Hey wi the gay and the grinding
And ae king's son has courted them baith.
At the bonny bonny bows o London

2

He courted the youngest wi broach and ring,
He courted the eldest wi some other thing.

3

It fell ance upon a day
The eldest to the youngest did say,

4

‘Will ye gae to yon Tweed mill-dam,
And see our father's ships come to land?’

5

They baith stood up upon a stane,
The eldest dang the youngest in.

6

She swimmed up, sae did she down,
Till she came to the Tweed mill-dam.

7

The miller's servant he came out,
And saw the lady floating about.

8

‘O master, master, set your mill,
There is a fish, or a milk-white swan.’

135

9

They could not ken her yellow hair,
[For] the scales o gowd that were laid there.

10

They could not ken her fingers sae white,
The rings o gowd they were sae bright.

11

They could not ken her middle sae jimp,
The stays o gowd were so well laced.

12

They could not ken her foot sae fair,
The shoes o gowd they were so rare.

13

Her father's fiddler he came by,
Upstarted her ghaist before his eye.

14

‘Ye'll take a lock o my yellow hair,
Ye'll make a string to your fiddle there.

15

‘Ye'll take a lith o my little finger bane,
And ye'll make a pin to your fiddle then.’

16

He's taen a lock o her yellow hair,
And made a string to his fiddle there.

17

He's taen a lith o her little finger bane,
And he's made a pin to his fiddle then.

18

The firstand spring the fiddle did play,
Said, ‘Ye'll drown my sister, as she's dune me.’

The Twa Sisters; or, The Swan swims bonnie O

THE TWA SISTERS—P

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 245. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, xx.

1

There were twa ladies in a bower,
Hey my bonnie Nannie O
The old was black and the young ane fair.
And the swan swims bonnie O

2

Once it happened on a day
The auld ane to the young did say,

3

The auld ane to the young did say,
‘Will you gae to the green and play?’

4

‘O sister, sister, I daurna gang,
For fear I file my silver shoon.’

5

It was not to the green they gaed,
But it was to the water of Tweed.

6

She bowed her back and she's taen her on,
And she's tumbled her in Tweed mill-dam.

7

‘O sister, O sister, O tak my hand,
And I'll mak you heir of a' my land.’

8

‘O sister, O sister, I'll no take your hand,
And I'll be heir of a' your land.’

9

‘O sister, O sister, O tak my thumb,
And I'll give you my true-love John.’

10

‘O sister, O sister, I'll no tak your thumb,
And I will get your true-love John.’

11

Aye she swattered and aye she swam,
Until she came to the mouth of the dam.

12

The miller's daughter went out to Tweed,
To get some water to bake her bread.

13

In again she quickly ran:
‘Here's a lady or a swan in our mill-dam.’

14

Out went the miller and his man
And took the lady out of the dam.

15

They laid her on the brae to dry;
Her father's fiddler then rode by.

16

When he this lady did come near,
Her ghost to him then did appear.

17

‘When you go to my father the king,
You'll tell him to burn my sister Jean.

18

‘When you go to my father's gate,
You'll play a spring for fair Ellen's sake.

19

‘You'll tak three links of my yellow hair,
And play a spring for evermair.’

136

The Twa Sisters

THE TWA SISTERS—Q

[_]

Copied Oct. 26, 1861, by J. F. Campbell, Esq., from a collection made by Lady Caroline Murray; traced by her to an old nurse, and beyond the beginning of this century.

1

There dwelt twa sisters in a bower,
Oh and ohone, and ohone and aree!
And the youngest she was the fairest flower.
On the banks of the Banna, ohone and aree!

2

There cam a knight to court the twa,
But on the youngest his love did fa.

3

He courted the eldest with ring and wi glove,
But he gave the youngest all his love.

4

He courted the eldest with brooch and wi knife,
But he loved the youngest as his life.

5

‘O sister, O sister, will ye come to the stream,
To see our father's ships come in?’

6

The youngest stood upon a stane,
Her sister came and pusht her in.

7

‘O sister, O sister, come reach me your hand,
And ye shall hae all our father's land.

8

‘O sister, O sister, come reach me your glove,
And you shall hae William to be your true love.’

9

‘I did not put you in with the design
Just for to pull you out again.’

10

Some time she sank, some time she swam,
Until she came to a miller's dam.

11

The miller's daughter dwelt on the Tweed,
She went for water to bake her bread.

12

‘O faither, faither, come drag me your dam,
For there's aither a lady in't, or a milk-white swan.’

13

The miller went, and he dragd his dam,
And he brought her fair body to lan.

14

They couldna see her waist sae sma
For the goud and silk about it a'.

15

They couldna see her yallow hair
For the pearls and jewels that were there.

16

Then up and spak her ghaist sae green,
‘Do ye no ken the king's dochter Jean?

17

‘Tak my respects to my father the king,
And likewise to my mother the queen.

18

‘Tak my respects to my true love William,
Tell him I deid for the love of him.

19

‘Carry him a lock of my yallow hair,
To bind his heart for evermair.’

The Three Sisters; or, Bodown; or, The Barkshire Tragedy

THE TWA SISTERS—R

[_]

a. Notes and Queries, 1st S., vi, 102, from Lancashire. b. Written down for J. F. Campbell, Esq., Nov. 7, 1861, at Wishaw House, Lancashire, by Lady Louisa Primrose. c. ‘The Scouring of the White Horse,’ p. 158, from Berkshire, as heard by Mr Hughes from his father.

1

There was a king of the north countree,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
There was a king of the north countree,
And he had daughters one, two, three.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be true to me

2

To the eldest he gave a beaver hat,
And the youngest she thought much of that.

3

To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain,
And the eldest she thought much of the same.

4

These sisters were walking on the bryn,
And the elder pushed the younger in.

5

‘Oh sister, oh sister, oh lend me your hand,
And I will give you both houses and land.’

6

‘I'll neither give you my hand nor glove,
Unless you give me your true love.’

7

Away she sank, away she swam,
Until she came to a miller's dam.

8

The miller and daughter stood at the door,
And watched her floating down the shore.

137

9

‘Oh father, oh father, I see a white swan,
Or else it is a fair woman.’

10

The miller he took up his long crook,
And the maiden up from the stream he took.

11

‘I'll give to thee this gay gold chain,
If you'll take me back to my father again.’

12

The miller he took the gay gold chain,
And he pushed her into the water again.

13

The miller was hanged on his high gate
For drowning our poor sister Kate.

14

The cat's behind the buttery shelf,
If you want any more, you may sing it yourself.

THE TWA SISTERS—S

[_]

Kinloch MSS, vi, 89, in Kinloch's hand.

[OMITTED]

1

‘O father, father, swims a swan,’
This story I'll vent to thee
‘O father, father, swims a swan,
Unless it be some dead woman.’
I'll prove true to my true love,
If my love prove true to me

2

The miller he held out his long fish hook,
And hooked this fair maid from the brook.

3

She offered the miller a gold ring stane
To throw her into the river again.

4

Down she sunk, and away she swam,
Until she came to her father's brook.

5

The miller was hung at his mill-gate,
For drowning of my sister Kate.

Sister, dear Sister

THE TWA SISTERS—T

[_]

Allingham's Ballad Book, p. xxxiii. From Ireland.

‘Sister, dear sister, where shall we go play?’
Cold blows the wind, and the wind blows low
‘We shall go to the salt sea's brim.’
And the wind blows cheerily around us, high ho

THE TWA SISTERS—U

[_]

Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell, as repeated by an ignorant woman in her dotage, who learned it at Huntington, Long Island, N. Y.

1

There was a man lived in the mist,
Bow down, bow down
He loved his youngest daughter best.
The bow is bent to me,
So you be true to your own true love,
And I'll be true to thee.

2

These two sisters went out to swim;
The oldest pushed the youngest in.

3

First she sank and then she swam,
First she sank and then she swam.

4

The miller, with his rake and hook,
He caught her by the petticoat.

[OMITTED]

Benorie

THE TWA SISTERS—V

[_]

Campbell MS., II, 88.

1

There dwelt twa sisters in a bower,
Benorie, O Benorie
The youngest o them was the fairest flower.
In the merry milldams o Benorie

2

There cam a wooer them to woo,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

3

He's gien the eldest o them a broach and a real,
Because that she loved her sister weel.
At etc.

4

He's gien the eldest a gay penknife,
He loved the youngest as dear as his life.
At etc.

5

‘O sister, O sister, will ye go oer yon glen,
And see my father's ships coming in?’
At etc.

6

‘O sister dear, I darena gang,
Because I'm feard ye throw me in.’
The etc.

7

‘O set your foot on yon sea stane,
And was yeer hands in the sea foam.’
At etc.

8

She set her foot on yon sea stane,
To wash her hands in the sea foam.
At etc.

9

[OMITTED]
But the eldest has thrown the youngest in.
The etc.

10

‘O sister, O sister, lend me your hand,
And ye'se get William and a' his land.’
At etc.

11

The miller's daughter cam out clad in red,
Seeking water to bake her bread.
At etc.

12

‘O father, O father, gae fish yeer mill-dam,
There's either a lady or a milk-[white] swan.’
In etc.

13

The miller cam out wi his lang cleek,
And he cleekit the lady out by the feet.
From the bonny milldam, etc.

14

Ye wadna kend her pretty feet,
The American leather was sae neat.
In etc.

15

Ye wadna kend her pretty legs,
The silken stockings were so neat tied.
In etc.

16

Ye wadna kend her pretty waist,
The silken stays were sae neatly laced.
In etc.

17

Ye wadna kend her pretty face,
It was sae prettily preend oer wi lace.
In etc.

18

Ye wadna kend her yellow hair,
It was sae besmeared wi dust and glar.
In etc.

19

By cam her father's fiddler fine,
And that lady's spirit spake to him.
From etc.

20

She bad him take three taits o her hair,
And make them three strings to his fiddle sae rare.
At etc.

21

‘Take two of my fingers, sae lang and sae white,
And make them pins to your fiddle sae neat.’
At etc.

22

The ae first spring that the fiddle played
Was, Cursed be Sir John, my ain true-love.
At etc.

23

The next spring that the fiddle playd
Was, Burn burd Hellen, she threw me in.
The etc.

Norham, down by Norham

THE TWA SISTERS—W

[_]

Communicated by Mr Thomas Lugton, of Kelso, as sung by an old cotter-woman fifty years ago; learned by her from her grandfather.

1

Ther were three ladies playing at the ba,
Norham, down by Norham
And there cam a knight to view them a'.
By the bonnie mill-dams o Norham

2

He courted the aldest wi diamonds and rings,
But he loved the youngest abune a' things.

[OMITTED]

3

‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,
And pull my poor body unto dry land.

4

‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your glove,
And you shall have my own true love!’

5

Oot cam the miller's daughter upon Tweed,
To carry in water to bake her bread.

6

‘Oh father, oh father, there's a fish in your dam;
It either is a lady or a milk-white swan.’

7

Oot cam the miller's man upon Tweed,
And there he spied a lady lying dead.

8

He could not catch her by the waist,
For her silken stays they were tight laced.

9

But he did catch her by the hand,
And pulled her poor body unto dry land.

10

He took three taets o her bonnie yellow hair,
To make harp strings they were so rare.

11

The very first tune that the bonnie harp played
Was The aldest has cuisten the youngest away.

Binnorie

THE TWA SISTERS—X

[_]

Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7.

I see a lady in the dam,
Binnorie, oh Binnorie
She shenes as sweet as ony swan.
I the bonny milldams o Binnorie

THE TWA SISTERS—Y

[_]

Communicated to Percy, April 7, 1770, and April 19, 1775, by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, near Ashford, Kent.

1

There was a king lived in the North Country,
Hey down down dery down
There was a king lived in the North Country,
And the bought it was bent to me
There was a king lived in the North Country,
And he had daughters one, two, three.
I'll prove true to my love,
If my love will prove true to me.

[OMITTED]

2

He gave the eldest a gay gold ring,
But he gave the younger a better thing.

3

He bought the younger a beaver hat;
The eldest she thought much of that.

4

‘Oh sister, oh sister, let us go run,
To see the ships come sailing along!’

5

And when they got to the sea-side brim,
The eldest pushed the younger in.

6

‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,
I'll make you heir of my house and land.’

7

‘I'll neither lend you my hand nor my glove,
Unless you grant me your true-love.’

8

Then down she sunk and away she swam,
Untill she came to the miller's mill-dam.

9

The miller's daughter sat at the mill-door,
As fair as never was seen before.

10

‘Oh father, oh father, there swims a swan,
Or else the body of a dead woman.’

11

The miller he ran with his fishing hook,
To pull the fair maid out o the brook.

12

‘Wee'll hang the miller upon the mill-gate,
For drowning of my sister Kate.’

THE TWA SISTERS—Z

[_]

This copy of ‘The Twa Sisters,’ Z, a variety of R, was derived from ladies in New York, and by them from a cousin.

1

There was a man lived in the West,
Sing bow down, bow down
There was a man lived in the West,
The bow was bent to me
There was a man lived in the West,
He loved his youngest daughter best;
So you be true to your own true-love
And I'll be true to thee.

2

He gave the youngest a beaver hat;
The eldest she was mad at that.

3

He gave the youngest a gay gold ring;
The eldest she had nothing.

4

As they stood by the river's brim,
The eldest pushed the youngest in.

5

‘Oh dear sister, hand me your hand,
And I'll give you my house and land.

6

‘Oh dear sister, hand me your glove,
And you shall have my own true-love.’

7

First she sank and then she swam,
She swam into the miller's dam.

8

The miller, with his line and hook,
He caught her by the petticoat.

9

He robbed her of her gay gold ring,
And then he threw her back again.

10

The miller, he was burnt in flame,
The eldest sister fared the same.

141

11
THE CRUEL BROTHER

145

[The] Cruel Brother; or, the Bride's Testament

THE CRUEL BROTHER—A

[_]

a. Alex. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS. b. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, i, 66, purporting to be from the recitation of Mrs Arrot of Aberbrothick.

1

There was three ladies playd at the ba,
With a hey ho and a lillie gay
There came a knight and played oer them a'.
As the primrose spreads so sweetly

2

The eldest was baith tall and fair,
But the youngest was beyond compare.

3

The midmost had a graceful mien,
But the youngest lookd like beautie's queen.

4

The knight bowd low to a' the three,
But to the youngest he bent his knee.

5

The ladie turned her head aside,
The knight he woo'd her to be his bride.

6

The ladie blushd a rosy red,
And sayd, ‘Sir knight, I'm too young to wed.’

7

‘O ladie fair, give me your hand,
And I'll make you ladie of a' my land.’

8

‘Sir knight, ere ye my favor win,
You maun get consent frae a' my kin.’

9

He's got consent frae her parents dear,
And likewise frae her sisters fair.

10

He's got consent frae her kin each one,
But forgot to spiek to her brother John.

11

Now, when the wedding day was come,
The knight would take his bonny bride home.

12

And many a lord and many a knight
Came to behold that ladie bright.

13

And there was nae man that did her see,
But wishd himself bridegroom to be.

14

Her father dear led her down the stair,
And her sisters twain they kissd her there.

15

Her mother dear led her thro the closs,
And her brother John set her on her horse.

16

She leand her oer the saddle-bow,
To give him a kiss ere she did go.

17

He has taen a knife, baith lang and sharp,
And stabbd that bonny bride to the heart.

18

She hadno ridden half thro the town,
Until her heart's blude staind her gown.

19

‘Ride softly on,’ says the best young man,
‘For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.’

20

‘O lead me gently up yon hill,
And I'll there sit down, and make my will.’

21

‘O what will you leave to your father dear?’
‘The silver-shod steed that brought me here.’

22

‘What will you leave to your mother dear?’
‘My velvet pall and my silken gear.’

23

‘What will you leave to your sister Anne?’
‘My silken scarf and my gowden fan.’

24

‘What will you leave to your sister Grace?’
‘My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.’

25

‘What will you leave to your brother John?’
‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’

26

‘What will you leave to your brother John's wife?’
‘The wilderness to end her life.’

27

This ladie fair in her grave was laid,
And many a mass was oer her said.

28

But it would have made your heart right sair,
To see the bridegroom rive his haire.

146

THE CRUEL BROTHER—B

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, i, 21, from Mary Barr, May, 1827, Clydesdale.

1

A gentleman cam oure the sea,
Fine flowers in the valley
And he has courted ladies three.
With the light green and the yellow

2

One o them was clad in red:
He asked if she wad be his bride.

3

One o them was clad in green:
He asked if she wad be his queen.

4

The last o them was clad in white:
He asked if she wad be his heart's delight.

5

‘Ye may ga ask my father, the king:
Sae maun ye ask my mither, the queen.

6

‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne:
And dinna forget my brither John.’

7

He has asked her father, the king:
And sae did he her mither, the queen.

8

And he has asked her sister Anne:
But he has forgot her brother John.

9

Her father led her through the ha,
Her mither danced afore them a'.

10

Her sister Anne led her through the closs,
Her brither John set her on her horse.

11

It's then he drew a little penknife,
And he reft the fair maid o her life.

12

‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the foremost man;
‘I think our bride comes hooly on.’

13

‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man;
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

14

Up than cam the gay bridegroom,
And straucht unto the bride he cam.

15

‘Does your side-saddle sit awry?
Or does your steed . . .

16

‘Or does the rain run in your glove?
Or wad ye chuse anither love?’

17

‘The rain runs not in my glove,
Nor will I e'er chuse anither love.

18

‘But O an I war at Saint Evron's well,
There I wad licht, and drink my fill!

19

‘Oh an I war at Saint Evron's closs,
There I wad licht, and bait my horse!’

20

Whan she cam to Saint Evron's well,
She dought na licht to drink her fill.

21

Whan she cam to Saint Evron's closs,
The bonny bride fell aff her horse.

22

‘What will ye leave to your father, the king?’
‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’

23

‘What will ye leave to your mother, the queen?’
‘The bluidy robes that I have on.’

24

‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’
‘My gude lord, to be wedded on.’

25

‘What will ye leave to your brither John?’
‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’

26

‘What will ye leave to your brither's wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow a' the days o her life.’

27

‘What will ye leave to your brither's bairns?’
‘The meal-pock to hang oure the arms.’

28

Now does she neither sigh nor groan:
She lies aneath yon marble stone.

147

Ther waur three ladies

THE CRUEL BROTHER—C

[_]

Harris MS., p. 11 b, No 7.

1

There waur three ladies in a ha,
Hech hey an the lily gey
By cam a knicht, an he wooed them a'.
An the rose is aye the redder aye

2

The first ane she was cled in green;
‘Will you fancy me, an be my queen?’

3

‘You may seek me frae my father dear,
An frae my mither, wha did me bear.

4

‘You may seek me frae my sister Anne,
But no, no, no frae my brither John.’

5

The niest ane she was cled in yellow;
‘Will you fancy me, an be my marrow?’

6

‘Ye may seek me frae my father dear,
An frae my mither, wha did me bear.

7

‘Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne,
But no, no, no frae my brither John.’

8

The niest ane she was cled in red:
‘Will ye fancy me, an be my bride?’

9

‘Ye may seek me frae my father dear,
An frae my mither wha did me bear.

10

‘Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne,
An dinna forget my brither John.’

11

He socht her frae her father, the king,
An he socht her frae her mither, the queen.

12

He socht her frae her sister Anne,
But he forgot her brither John.

13

Her mither she put on her goun,
An her sister Anne preened the ribbons doun.

14

Her father led her doon the close,
An her brither John set her on her horse.

[OMITTED]

15

Up an spak our foremost man:
‘I think our bonnie bride's pale an wan.’

[OMITTED]

16

‘What will ye leave to your father dear?’ ‘My [OMITTED] an my [OMITTED] chair.’

17

‘What will ye leave to your mither dear?’
‘My silken screen I was wont to wear.’

18

‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’
‘My silken snood an my golden fan.’

19

‘What will you leave to your brither John?’
‘The gallows tree to hang him on.’

THE CRUEL BROTHER—D

[_]

Notes and Queries, 1st S., vi, 53, 2d S., v, 171. As sung by a lady who was a native of County Kerry, Ireland.

1

There were three ladies playing at ball,
Farin-dan-dan and farin-dan-dee
There came a white knight, and he wooed them all.
With adieu, sweet honey, wherever you be

2

He courted the eldest with golden rings,
And the others with many fine things.
And adieu, etc.

THE CRUEL BROTHER—E

[_]

Notes and Queries, 4th S., v, 105. From Forfarshire, W. F.

There were three sisters playin at the ba,
Wi a hech hey an a lillie gay
There cam a knicht an lookt ower the wa'.
An the primrose springs sae sweetly.
Sing Annet, an Marret, an fair Maisrie,
An the dew hangs i the wood, gay ladie.

148

The Three Knights

THE CRUEL BROTHER—F

[_]

Gilbert's Ancient Christmas Carols, 2d ed., p. 68, as remembered by the editor. West of England.

1

There did three knights come from the west,
With the high and the lily oh
And these three knights courted one lady.
As the rose was so sweetly blown

2

The first knight came was all in white,
And asked of her, if she'd be his delight.

3

The next knight came was all in green,
And asked of her, if she'd be his queen.

4

The third knight came was all in red,
And asked of her, if she would wed.

5

‘Then have you asked of my father dear,
Likewise of her who did me bear?

6

‘And have you asked of my brother John?
And also of my sister Anne?’

7

‘Yes, I have asked of your father dear,
Likewise of her who did you bear.

8

‘And I have asked of your sister Anne,
But I've not asked of your brother John.’

9

Far on the road as they rode along,
There did they meet with her brother John.

10

She stooped low to kiss him sweet,
He to her heart did a dagger meet.

11

‘Ride on, ride on,’ cried the serving man,
‘Methinks your bride she looks wondrous wan.’

12

‘I wish I were on yonder stile,
For there I would sit and bleed awhile.

13

‘I wish I were on yonder hill,
There I'd alight and make my will.’

14

‘What would you give to your father dear?’
‘The gallant steed which doth me bear.’

15

‘What would you give to your mother dear?’
‘My wedding shift which I do wear.

16

‘But she must wash it very clean,
For my heart's blood sticks in evry seam.’

17

‘What would you give to your sister Anne?’
‘My gay gold ring and my feathered fan.’

18

‘What would you give to your brother John?’
‘A rope and gallows to hang him on.’

19

‘What would you give to your brother John's wife?’
‘A widow's weeds, and a quiet life.’

Fine Flowers of the Valley

THE CRUEL BROTHER—G

[_]

a. Herd's MSS, i, 41. b. Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, i, 88.

1

There was three ladys in a ha,
Fine flowers i the valley
There came three lords amang them a',
Wi the red, green, and the yellow

2

The first of them was clad in red:
‘O lady fair, will you be my bride?’

3

The second of them was clad in green:
‘O lady fair, will you be my queen?’

4

The third of them was clad in yellow:
‘O lady fair, will you be my marrow?’

5

‘You must ask my father dear,
Likewise the mother that did me bear.’

6

‘You must ask my sister Ann,
And not forget my brother John.’

7

‘I have askt thy father dear,
Likewise thy mother that did thee bear.

8

‘I have askt thy sister Ann,
But I forgot thy brother John.’

9

Her father led her through the ha,
Her mother dancd before them a'.

10

Her sister Ann led her through the closs,
Her brother John put her on her horse.

149

11

‘You are high and I am low;
Let me have a kiss before you go.’

12

She was louting down to kiss him sweet,
Wi his penknife he wounded her deep.

[OMITTED]

13

‘O lead me over into yon stile,
That I may stop and breath a while.

14

‘O lead me over to yon stair,
For there I'll ly and bleed ne mair.’

15

‘O what will you leave your father dear?’
‘That milk-white steed that brought me here.’

16

‘O what will you leave your mother dear?’
‘The silken gown that I did wear.’

17

‘What will you leave your sister Ann?’
‘My silken snood and golden fan.’

18

‘What will you leave your brother John?’
‘The highest gallows to hang him on.’

19

‘What will you leave your brother John's wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow to end her life.’

20

‘What will ye leave your brother John's bairns?’
‘The world wide for them to range.’

THE CRUEL BROTHER—H

[_]

Herd's MSS, i, 44, ii, 75; Scottish Songs, 1776, i, 90; appended to G.

She louted down to gie a kiss,
With a hey and a lilly gay

He stuck his penknife in her hass.
And the rose it smells so sweetly

‘Ride up, ride up,’ cry'd the foremost man;
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

THE CRUEL BROTHER—I

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, i, 27. From Mrs Bouchart, an old lady native of Forfarshire.

1

There war three bonnie boys playing at the ba,
Hech hey and a lily gay
There cam three ladies to view them a'.
And the rose it smells sae sweetlie

2

The first ane was clad in red:
‘O,’ says he, ‘ye maun be my bride.’

3

The next o them was clad in green:
‘O,’ says he, ‘ye maun be my queen.’

4

The tither o them was clad in yellow:
‘O,’ says he, ‘ye maun be my marrow.’

5

‘Ye maun gang to my father's bouer,
To see gin your bride he'll let me be.’

6

Her father led her doun the stair,
Her mither at her back did bear.

7

Her sister Jess led her out the closs,
Her brother John set her on the horse.

8

She loutit doun to gie him a kiss;
He struck his penknife thro her breist.

9

‘Ride on, ride on,’ says the foremaist man;
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

10

‘Ride on, ride on,’ says the merry bridegroom;
‘I think my bride's blude is rinnin doun.’

11

‘O gin I war at yon bonnie hill,
I wad lie doun and bleed my fill!

12

‘O gin I war at yon bonnie kirk-yard,
I wad mak my testament there!’

13

‘What will ye leave to your father dear?’
‘The milk-white steed that brocht me here.’

14

‘What will ye leave to your mother dear?’
‘The bluidy robes that I do wear.’

15

‘What will ye leave to your sister Ann?’
‘My silken snood and gowden fan.’

16

‘What will ye leave to your sister Jess?’
‘The bonnie lad that I loe best.’

150

17

‘What will ye leave to your brother John?’
‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’

18

‘What will ye leave to your brother John's wife?’
‘Sorrow and trouble a' her life.’

19

‘What will ye leave to your brother's bairns?’
‘The warld's wide, and let them beg.’

THE CRUEL BROTHER—J

[_]

From Miss Margaret Reburn, as current in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.

1

There were three sisters playing ball,
With the high and the lily O
And there came three knights to court them all.
With the rosey sweet, heigh ho

2

The eldest of them was drest in green:
‘I wish I had you to be my queen.’

3

The second of them was drest in red:
‘I wish I had you to grace my bed.’

4

The youngest of them was drest in white:
‘I wish I had you to be my wife.’

5

‘Did ye ask my father brave?
Or did ye ask my mother fair?

6

‘Or did ye ask my brother John?
For without his will I dare not move on.’

7

‘I did ask your parents dear,
But I did not see your brother John.’

[OMITTED]

8

‘Ride on, ride on,’ said the first man,
‘For I fear the bride comes slowly on.’

9

‘Ride on, ride on,’ said the next man,
‘For lo! the bride she comes bleeding on.’

[OMITTED]

10

‘What will you leave your mother dear?’
‘My heart's best love for ever and aye.’

11

‘What will ye leave your sister Anne?’
‘This wedding garment that I have on.’

12

‘What will ye leave your brother John's wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow all the days of her life.’

13

‘What will ye leave your brother John?’
‘The highest gallows to hang him on.’

14

‘What will ye leave your brother John's son?’
‘The grace of God to make him a man.’

THE CRUEL BROTHER—K

[_]

Notes and Queries, 4th S., iv, 517, as “sung in Cheshire amongst the people” in the last century. T. W.

1

There were three ladies playing at ball,
Gilliver, Gentle, and Rosemary
There came three knights and looked over the wall.
Sing O the red rose and the white lilly

2

The first young knight, he was clothed in red,
And he said, ‘Gentle lady, with me will you wed?’

3

The second young knight, he was clothed in blue,
And he said, ‘To my love I shall ever be true.’

4

The third young knight, he was clothed in green,
And he said, ‘Fairest maiden, will you be my queen?’

5

The lady thus spoke to the knight in red,
‘With you, sir knight, I never can wed.’

6

The lady then spoke to the knight in blue,
And she said, ‘Little faith I can have in you.’

7

The lady then spoke to the knight in green,
And she said, ‘'Tis at court you must seek for a queen.’

8

The three young knights then rode away,
And the ladies they laughed, and went back to their play.
Singing, etc.

The King of Fairies

THE CRUEL BROTHER—L

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 19.

1

There were three ladies playing at the ba,
With a hey and a lilly gay
When the King o Fairies rode by them a'.
And the roses they grow sweetlie

2

The foremost one was clad in blue;
He askd at her if she'd be his doo.

3

The second of them was clad in red;
He askd at her if she'd be his bride.

4

The next of them was clad in green;
He askd at her if she'd be his queen.

5

‘Go you ask at my father then,
And you may ask at my mother then.

6

‘You may ask at my sister Ann,
And not forget my brother John.’

7

‘O I have askd at your father then,
And I have askd at your mother then.

8

‘And I have askd at your sister Ann,
But I've quite forgot your brother John.’

9

Her father led her down the stair,
Her mother combd down her yellow hair.

10

Her sister Ann led her to the cross,
And her brother John set her on her horse.

11

‘Now you are high and I am low,
Give me a kiss before ye go.’

12

She's lootit down to gie him a kiss,
He gave her a deep wound and didna miss.

13

And with a penknife as sharp as a dart,
And he has stabbit her to the heart.

14

‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the foremost man,
‘I think our bride looks pale an wan.’

15

‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the middle man,
‘I see her heart's blude trinkling down.’

16

‘Ride on, ride,’ says the Fairy King,
‘She will be dead lang ere we win hame.’

17

‘O I wish I was at yonder cross,
Where my brother John put me on my horse.

18

‘I wish I was at yonder thorn,
I wad curse the day that ere I was born.

19

‘I wish I was at yon green hill,
Then I wad sit and bleed my fill.’

20

‘What will you leave your father then?’
‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’

21

‘What will you leave your mother then?’
‘My silver Bible and my golden fan.’

22

‘What will ye leave your sister Ann?’
‘My good lord, to be married on.’

23

‘What will ye leave your sister Pegg?’
‘The world wide to go and beg.’

24

‘What will you leave your brother John?’
‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’

25

‘What will you leave your brother's wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow to end her life.’

The Roses Grow Sweet Aye

THE CRUEL BROTHER—M

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 26.

1

There was three ladies playing at the ba,
With a hay and a lilly gay
A gentleman cam amang them a'.
And the roses grow sweet aye

2

The first of them was clad in yellow,
And he askd at her gin she'd be his marrow.

3

The next o them was clad in green;
He askd at her gin she'd be his queen.

4

The last o them [was] clad in red;
He askd at her gin she'd be his bride.

5

‘Have ye asked at my father dear?
Or have ye asked my mother dear?

6

‘Have ye asked my sister Ann?
Or have ye asked my brother John?’

7

‘I have asked yer father dear,
And I have asked yer mother dear.

8

‘I have asked yer sister Ann,
But I've quite forgot your brother John.’

9

Her father dear led her thro them a',
Her mother dear led her thro the ha.

10

Her sister Ann led her thro the closs,
And her brother John stabbed her on her horse.

11

‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the foremost man,
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

12

‘Ride up,’ cries the bonny bridegroom,
‘I think the bride be bleeding.’

13

‘This is the bludy month of May,
Me and my horse bleeds night and day.

14

‘O an I were at yon green hill,
I wad ly down and bleed a while.

15

‘O gin I was at yon red cross,
I wad light down and corn my horse.

16

‘O an I were at yon kirk-style,
I wad lye down and soon be weel.’

17

When she cam to yon green hill,
Then she lay down and bled a while.

18

And when she cam to yon red cross,
Then she lighted and corned her horse.

19

‘What will ye leave your father dear?’
‘My milk-white steed, which cost me dear.’

20

‘What will ye leave your mother dear?’
‘The bludy clothes that I do wear.’

21

‘What will ye leave your sister Ann?’
‘My silver bridle and my golden fan.’

22

‘What will ye leave your brother John?’
‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’

23

‘What will ye leave to your sister Pegg?’
‘The wide world for to go and beg.’

24

When she came to yon kirk-style,
Then she lay down, and soon was weel.

The Bride's Testamen

THE CRUEL BROTHER—N

[_]

Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, No 4.

Then out bespak the foremost priest:
Wi a heigh ho and a lilly gay
I think she's bleedin at the breast.
The flowers they spring so sweetly

151

12
LORD RANDAL

157

LORD RANDAL—A

[_]

From a small manuscript volume lent me by Mr William Macmath, of Edinburgh, containing four pieces written in or about 1710, and this ballad in a later hand. Charles Mackie, August, 1808, is scratched upon the binding.

1

‘O where ha you been, Lord Randal, my son?
And where ha you been, my handsome young man?’
‘I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

2

‘An wha met ye there, Lord Randal, my son?
An wha met you there, my handsome young man?’

158

‘O I met wi my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi huntin, an fain wad lie down.’

3

‘And what did she give you, Lord Randal, my son?
And what did she give you, my handsome young man?’
‘Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.’

4

‘And wha gat your leavins, Lord Randal, my son?
And wha gat your leavins, my handsom young man?’
‘My hawks and my hounds; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

5

‘And what becam of them, Lord Randal, my son?
And what becam of them, my handsome young man?’
‘They stretched their legs out an died; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.’

6

‘O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son!
I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!’
‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’

7

‘What d'ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal, my son?
What d'ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?’
‘Four and twenty milk kye; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’

8

‘What d'ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal, my son?
What d'ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?’
‘My gold and my silver; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, an I fain wad lie down.’

9

‘What d'ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
What d'ye leave to your brother, my handsome young man?’
‘My houses and my lands; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’

10

‘What d'ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
What d'ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?’
‘I leave her hell and fire; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’

Lord Donald

LORD RANDAL—B

[_]

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 110. From Mrs Comie, Aberdeen.

1

‘O whare hae ye been a' day, Lord Donald, my son?
O whare hae ye been a' day, my jollie young man?’
‘I've been awa courtin; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

2

‘What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?
What wad ye hae for your supper, my jollie young man?’

159

‘I've gotten my supper; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

3

‘What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?
What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man?’
‘A dish of sma fishes; mither mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

4

‘Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man?’
‘In my father's black ditches; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

5

‘What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
What like were your fishes, my jollie young man?’
‘Black backs and spreckld bellies; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

6

‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Donald, my son!
O I fear ye are poisond, my jollie young man!’
‘O yes! I am poisond; mither mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

7

‘What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald my son?
What will ye leave to your father, my jollie young man?’
‘Baith my houses and land; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

8

‘What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie young man?’
‘My horse and the saddle; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

9

‘What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young man?’
‘Baith my gold box and rings; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

10

‘What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man?’
‘The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree,
And lat her hang there for the poysoning o me.’

LORD RANDAL—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 69. From the recitation of Margaret Bain, in the parish of Blackford, Perthshire.

1

‘What's become of your hounds, King Henrie, my son?
What's become of your hounds, my pretty little one?’
‘They all died on the way; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

2

‘What gat ye to your supper, King Henry, my son?
What gat ye to your supper, my pretty little one?’

160

‘I gat fish boiled in broo; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

3

‘What like were the fish, King Henry, my son?
What like were the fish, my pretty little one?’
‘They were spreckled on the back and white on the belly; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

4

‘What leave ye to your father, King Henry, my son?
What leave ye to your father, my pretty little one?’
‘The keys of Old Ireland, and all that's therein; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

5

‘What leave ye to your brother, King Henry, my son?
What leave ye to your brother, my pretty little one?’
‘The keys of my coffers and all that's therein; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

6

‘What leave ye to your sister, King Henry, my son?
What leave ye to your sister, my pretty little one?’
‘The world's wide, she may go beg; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

7

‘What leave ye to your trew-love, King Henry, my son?
What leave ye to your trew-love, my pretty little one?’
‘The highest hill to hang her on, for she's poisoned me and my hounds all; mother, make my bed soon,
Oh I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

LORD RANDAL—D

[_]

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803, iii, 292.

1

‘O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?’
‘I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

2

‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’
‘I din'd wi my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

3

‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’
‘I gat eels boild in broo; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

4

‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’
‘O they swelld and they died; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

5

‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my son!
O I fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man!’
‘O yes! I am poisond; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

161

LORD RANDAL—E

[_]

Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 261. “A version still popular in Scotland,” 1849.

1

‘Ah where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
Ah where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
‘I've been in the wild woods; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

2

‘Oh you've been at your true love's, Lairde Rowlande, my son!
Oh you've been at your true-love's, Lairde Rowlande, my son!’
‘I've been at my true-love's; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

3

‘What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
‘I got eels boild in brue; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

4

‘What's become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What's become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
‘He died in the muirlands; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

5

‘What's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
‘They swelled and they died; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

Lord Ronald, My Son

LORD RANDAL—F

[_]

Johnson's Museum, No 327, p. 337. Communicated by Burns.

1

‘O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?
O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?’
‘I hae been wi my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi the hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

2

‘What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?’
‘I hae got deadly poison; mother, make my bed soon,
For life is a burden that soon I'll lay down.’

[OMITTED]

LORD RANDAL—G

[_]

Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 319. Originally from a clergyman's daughter, in Suffolk.

1

‘Where have you been today, Billy, my son?
Where have you been today, my only man?’
‘I've been a wooing; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at heart, and fain would lay down.’

2

‘What have you ate today, Billy, my son?
What have you ate today, my only man?’
‘I've ate eel-pie; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at heart, and shall die before noon.’

162

LORD RANDAL—H

[_]

Taken down by me, February, 1881, from the recitation of Ellen Healy, as repeated to her by a young girl at “Lackabairn,” Kerry, Ireland, about 1868.

1

‘Where was you all day, my own pretty boy?
Where was you all day, my comfort and joy?’
‘I was fishing and fowling; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

2

‘What did you have for your breakfast, my own pretty boy?
What did you have for your breakfast, my comfort and joy?’
‘A cup of strong poison; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

3

‘I fear you are poisoned, my own pretty boy,
I fear you are poisoned, my comfort and joy!’
‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

4

‘What will you leave to your father, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your father, my comfort and joy?’
‘I'll leave him my house and my property; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

5

‘What will you leave to your mother, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your mother, my comfort and joy?’
‘I'll leave her my coach and four horses; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

6

‘What will you leave to your brother, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your brother, my comfort and joy?’
‘I'll leave him my bow and my fiddle; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

7

‘What will you leave to your sister, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your sister, my comfort and joy?’
‘I'll leave her my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

8

‘What will you leave to your servant, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your servant, my comfort and joy?’
‘I'll leave him the key of my small silver box; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

9

‘What will you leave to your children, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your children, my comfort and joy?’
‘The world is wide all round for to beg; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

10

‘What will you leave to your wife, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your wife, my comfort and joy?’
‘I'll leave her the gallows, and plenty to hang her; mother, make my bed soon,
There's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

11

‘Where shall I make it, my own pretty boy?
Where shall I make it, my comfort and joy?’
‘Above in the churchyard, and dig it down deep,
Put a stone to my head and a flag to my feet,
And leave me down easy until I'll take a long sleep.’

163

Tiranti, My Son

LORD RANDAL—I

[_]

a. Communicated by Mrs L. F. Wesselhoeft, of Boston, as sung to her when a child by her grandmother, Elizabeth Foster, born in Maine, who appears to have learned the ballad of her mother about 1800. b. By a daughter of Elizabeth Foster, as learned about 1820. c. By Miss Ellen Marston, of New Bedford, as learned from her mother, born 1778. d. By Mrs Cushing, of Cambridge, Mass., as learned in 1838 from a schoolmate, who is thought to have derived it from an old nurse. e. By Mrs Augustus Lowell, of Boston. f. By Mrs Edward Atkinson, of Boston, learned of Mrs A. Lowell, in girlhood. g. By Mrs A. Lowell, as derived from a friend.

1

‘O where have you been, Tiranti, my son?
O where have you been, my sweet little one?’
‘I have been to my grandmother's; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.’

2

‘What did you have for your supper, Tiranti, my son?
What did you have for your supper, my sweet little one?’
‘I had eels fried in butter; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.’

3

‘Where did the eels come from, Tiranti, my son?
Where did the eels come from, my sweet little one?’
‘From the corner of the haystack; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.’

4

‘What color were the eels, Tiranti, my son?
What color were the eels, my sweet little one?’
‘They were streakëd and stripëd; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.’

5

‘What'll you give to your father, Tiranti, my son?
What'll you give to your father, my sweet little one?’
‘All my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.’

6

‘What'll you give to your mother, Tiranti, my son?
What'll you give to your mother, my sweet little one?’
‘A coach and six horses; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.’

7

‘What'll you give to your grandmother, Tiranti, my son?
What'll you give to your grandmother, my sweet little one?’
‘A halter to hang her; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.’

8

‘Where'll you have your bed made, Tiranti, my son?
Where'll you have your bed made, my sweet little one?’
‘In the corner of the churchyard; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.’

The Bonnie Wee Croodlin Dow

LORD RANDAL—J

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 238. From the recitation of Miss Maxwell, of Brediland.

1

‘O whare hae ye been a' day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?
O whare hae ye been a' day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
‘I've been at my step-mother's; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!
I've been at my step-mother's; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’

2

‘O what did ye get at your step-mother's, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’

[_]

[Twice.]

‘I gat a wee wee fishie; oh mak my bed. mammie, now!’

[_]

[Twice.]

164

3

‘O whare gat she the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
‘In a dub before the door; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’

4

‘What did ye wi the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
‘I boild it in a wee pannie; oh mak my bed, mammy, now!’

5

‘Wha gied ye the banes o the fishie till, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
‘I gied them till a wee doggie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’

6

‘O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?
O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘It shot out its fit and died, and sae maun I do too;
Oh mak my bed, mammy, now, now, oh mak my bed, mammy, now!’

The Croodlin Doo; or, The Wee Croodlen Doo

LORD RANDAL—K

[_]

a. Chambers' Scottish Ballads, p. 324. b. Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1842, p. 53. c. The Stenhouse-Laing ed. of Johnson's Museum, iv, 364, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.

1

‘O whaur hae ye been a' the day, my little wee croodlin doo?’
‘O I've been at my grandmother's; mak my bed, mammie, now!’

2

‘O what gat ye at your grandmother's, my little wee croodlin doo?’
‘I got a bonnie wee fishie; mak my bed, mammie, now!’

3

‘O whaur did she catch the fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘She catchd it in the gutter hole; mak my bed, mammie, now!’

4

‘And what did she do wi the fish, my little wee croodlin doo?’
‘She boiled it in a brass pan; O mak my bed, mammie, now!’

5

‘And what did ye do wi the banes o't, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘I gied them to my little dog; mak my bed, mammie, now!’

6

‘And what did your little doggie do, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘He stretched out his head, his feet, and deed; and so will I, mammie, now!’

Willie Doo

LORD RANDAL—L

[_]

Buchan's MSS, ii, 322; Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 179.

1

‘Whar hae ye been a' the day, Willie doo, Willie doo?
Whar hae ye been a' the day, Willie, my doo?’

2

‘I've been to see my step-mother; make my bed, lay me down;
Make my bed, lay me down, die shall I now!’

3

‘What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie doo, Willie doo?
What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie, my doo?’

4

‘She gae me a speckled trout; make my bed, lay me down;
She gae me a speckled trout, die shall I now!’

5

‘Whar got she the speckled trout, Willie doo, Willie doo?’
‘She got it amang the heather hills; die shall I now.’

6

‘What did she boil it in, Willie doo, Willie doo?’
‘She boild it in the billy-pot; die shall I now!’

7

‘What gaed she you for to drink, Willie doo, Willie doo?
What gaed she you for to drink, Willie, my doo?’

165

8

‘She gaed me hemlock stocks; make my bed, lay me down;
Made in the brewing pot; die shall I now!’

9

They made his bed, laid him down, poor Willie doo, Willie doo;
He turnd his face to the wa; he's dead now!

The Croodin Doo

LORD RANDAL—M

[_]

Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, p. 51. “Mrs Lockhart's copy.”

1

‘Where hae ye been a' the day, my bonny wee croodin doo?’
‘O I hae been at my stepmother's house; make my bed, mammie, now, now, now,
Make my bed, mammie, now!’

2

‘Where did ye get your dinner?’ my, etc.
‘I got it at my stepmother's;’ make, etc.

3

‘What did she gie ye to your dinner?’
‘She gae me a little four-footed fish.’

4

‘Where got she the four-footed fish?’
‘She got it down in yon well strand;’ O make, etc.

5

‘What did she do with the banes o't?’
‘She gae them to the little dog.’

6

‘O what became o the little dog?’
‘O it shot out its feet and died;’ O make, etc.

LORD RANDAL—N

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, v, 347. In Dr John Hill Burton's hand.

1

‘Fare hae ye been a' day, a' day, a' day,
Fare hae ye been a' day, my little wee croudlin doo?’

2

‘I've been at my step-mammie's, my step-mammie's, my step-mammie's,
I've been at my step-mammie's; come mack my beddy now!’

3

‘What got ye at yer step-mammie's,
My little wee croudlin doo?’

4

‘She gied me a spreckled fishie;
Come mack my beddy now!’

5

‘What did ye wi the baenies oet,
My little wee croudlin doo?’

6

‘I gaed them till her little dogie;
Come mack my beddy now!’

7

‘What did her little dogie syne,
My little wee croudlin doo?’

8

‘He laid down his heed and feet;
And sae shall I dee now!’

The Croodlin Doo

LORD RANDAL—O

[_]

From a manuscript collection, copied out in 1840 or 1850, by a granddaughter of Alexander Fraser-Tytler, p. 67.

1

‘O where hae ye been a' the day, my wee wee croodlin doo doo?
O where hae ye been a' the day, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘O I hae been to my step-mammie's; mak my bed, mammy, noo, noo,
Mak my bed, mammy, noo!’

2

‘O what did yere step-mammie gie to you?’ etc.
‘She gied to me a wee wee fish,’ etc.

3

‘[O] what did she boil the wee fishie in?’
‘O she boiled it in a wee wee pan; it turned baith black an blue, blue,
It turned baith black an blue.’

4

‘An what did she gie the banes o't to?’
‘O she gied them to a wee wee dog;’ mak, etc.

5

‘An what did the wee wee doggie do then?’
‘O it put out its tongue and its feet, an it deed; an sae maun I do noo, noo,
An sae maun I do noo!’

Lord Ronald, my son

LORD RANDAL—P

[_]

Communicated by Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh, as derived from his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, now (January, 1883) of Dalry, Kirkcudbrightshire, who learned it more than fifty years ago from Mary Williamson, then a nurse-maid at Airds.

1

‘Where hae ye been a' day, Lord Ronald, my son?
Where hae ye been a' day, my handsome young one?’
‘I've been in the wood hunting; mother, make my bed soon,
For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

2

‘O where did you dine, Lord Ronald, my son?
O where did you dine, my handsome young one?’
‘I dined with my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon,
For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

3

‘What got you to dine on, Lord Ronald, my son?
What got you to dine on, my handsome young one?’
‘I got eels boiled in water that in heather doth run,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

4

‘What did she wi the broo o them, Lord Ronald, my son?
What did she wi the broo o them, my handsome young one?’
‘She gave it to my hounds for to live upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

5

‘Where are your hounds now, Lord Ronald, my son?
Where are your hounds now, my handsome young one?’
‘They are a' swelled and bursted, and sae will I soon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

6

‘What will you leave your father, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your father, my handsome young one?’
‘I'll leave him my lands for to live upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

7

‘What will you leave your brother, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your brother, my handsome young one?’

‘I'll leave him my gallant steed for to ride upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

8

‘What will you leave your sister, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your sister, my handsome young one?’
‘I'll leave her my gold watch for to look upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

9

‘What will you leave your mother, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your mother, my handsome young one?’
‘I'll leave her my Bible for to read upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

10

‘What will you leave your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your sweetheart, my handsome young one?’
‘I'll leave her the gallows-tree for to hang upon,
It was her that poisoned me;’ and so he fell doun.

LORD RANDAL—Q

[_]

Pitcairn's MSS, III, 19. “This was communicated to me by my friend Patrick Robertson, Esq., Advocate, who heard it sung by an old lady in the North Country; Stanzas 2–5 “were very much similar to the set in Scott's Minstrelsy,” and were not taken down.

1

‘O whare hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
O whare hae ye been, my handsome young man?’
‘Oer the peat moss mang the heather, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

6

‘What leave ye to your father, Lord Randal, my son?
What leave ye to your father, my handsome young man?’
‘I leave my houses and land, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

7

‘What leave ye to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
What leave ye to your brother, my handsome young man?’
‘O the guid milk-white steed that I rode upon,
For I'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

8

‘What leave ye to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
What leave ye to your true-love, my handsome young man?’
‘O a high, high gallows, to hang her upon,
For I'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

Little wee toorin dow

LORD RANDAL—R

[_]

Pitcairn's MSS, III, 11. “From tradition: widow Stevenson.”

1

‘Whare hae ye been a' day, my little wee toorin dow?’
‘It's I've been at my grandmammy's; mak my bed, mammy, now.’

2

‘And what did ye get frae your grandmammy, my little wee toorin dow?’
‘It's I got a wee bit fishy to eat; mak my bed, mammy, now.’

3

‘An what did ye do wi the banes o it, my little wee toorin dow?’
‘I gied it to my black doggy to eat; mak my bed, mammy, now.’

4

‘An what did your little black doggy do syne, my little wee toorin dow?’
‘He shot out his head, and his feet, and he died; as I do, mammy, now.’

LORD RANDAL—S

[_]

Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, near Ashford, Kent, April 19, 1775: taken down by a friend of Mr Parsons “from the spinning-wheel, in Suffolk.”

1

‘Where have you been today, Randall, my son?
Where have you been today, my only man?’
‘I have been a hunting, mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.
Dear sister, hold my head, dear mother, make my bed,
I am sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.’

2

‘What have you eat today, Randal, my son?
What have you eat today, my only man?’
‘I have eat an eel; mother, make,’ etc.

3

‘What was the colour of it, Randal, my son?
What was the colour of it, my only man?’
‘It was neither green, grey, blue nor black,
But speckled on the back; make,’ etc.

4

‘Who gave you eels today, Randal, my son?
Who gave you eels today, my only man?’
‘My own sweetheart; mother, make,’ etc.

5

‘Where shall I make your bed, Randal, my son?
Where shall I make your bed, my only man?’
‘In the churchyard; mother, make,’ etc.

6

‘What will you leave her then, Randall, my son?
What will you leave her then, my only man?’
‘A halter to hang herself; make,’ etc.

LORD RANDAL—T

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 22 g, in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1

‘Where ha ye been, Lord Randal, my son?’
‘I been at the huntin, mother, mak my bed soon;
I'm weariet wi huntin, I fain wad lie down.’

2

‘What gat ye to yer supper, Lord Randal, my son?’
‘An eel boild i broo, mother, mak my bed soon;
I'm,’ etc.

3

‘What gat yer dogs, Earl Randal, my son?’
‘The broo o the eel, mother,’ etc.

4

‘What leave [ye] yer false love, Lord Randal, my son?’
‘My goud silken garters, to hang hersel on;
I'm,’ etc.

LORD RANDAL—U

[_]

Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, XX, No 77, Abbotsford; from Joseph Jamieson Archibald, Largs, 18th February, 1830.

1

‘Whare were ye the lea lang day,
My wee crooding doo, doo?’
‘I hae been at my step-dame's;
Mammy, mak my bed noo, noo!’

2

‘Whare gat she the wee, wee fish?’
‘She gat it neist the edder-flowe.’

3

‘What did she wi the fishie's banes?’
‘The wee black dog gat them to eat.’

4

‘What did the wee black doggie then?’
‘He shot out his fittie an deed;
An sae maun I now too, too.’ Etc.

167

13
EDWARD

169

EDWARD—A

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 139. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 339.

1

‘What bluid's that on thy coat lap,
Son Davie, son Davie?
What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
And the truth come tell to me.’

2

‘It is the bluid of my great hawk,
Mother lady, mother lady:
It is the bluid of my great hawk,
And the truth I have told to thee.’

3

‘Hawk's bluid was neer sae red,
Son Davie, son Davie:
Hawk's bluid was neer sae red,
And the truth come tell to me.’

4

‘It is the bluid of my greyhound,
Mother lady, mother lady:
It is the bluid of my greyhound,
And it wadna rin for me.’

5

‘Hound's bluid was neer sae red,
Son Davie, son Davie:
Hound's bluid was neer sae red,
And the truth come tell to me.’

6

‘It is the bluid o my brither John,
Mother lady, mother lady:
It is the bluid o my brither John,
And the truth I have told to thee.’

7

‘What about did the plea begin,
Son Davie, son Davie?’
‘It began about the cutting of a willow wand
That would never been a tree.’

8

‘What death dost thou desire to die,
Son Davie, son Davie?
What death dost thou desire to die?
And the truth come tell to me.’

9

‘I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
Mother lady, mother lady:
I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
And ye'll never see mair o me.’

10

‘What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife,
Son Davie, son Davie?’
‘Grief and sorrow all her life,
And she'll never see mair o me.’

11

‘What wilt thou leave to thy old son,
Son Davie, son Davie?’
‘I'll leave him the weary world to wander up and down,
And he'll never get mair o me.’

12

‘What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear,
Son Davie, son Davie?’
‘A fire o coals to burn her, wi hearty cheer,
And she'll never get mair o me.’

EDWARD—B

[_]

Percy's Reliques, 1765, i, 53. Communicated by Sir David Dalrymple.

1

‘Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
Edward, Edward,
Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
And why sae sad gang yee O?’
‘O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
Mither, mither,
O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
And I had nae mair bot hee O.’

2

‘Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward,
Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee O.’
‘O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, mither,
O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
That erst was sae fair and frie O.’

3

‘Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward,
Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ye drie O.’
‘O I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither,
O I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas, and wae is mee O!’

4

‘And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that,
Edward, Edward?

170

And whatten penance will ye drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me O.’
‘Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
Mither, mither,
Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
And Ile fare ovir the sea O.’

5

‘And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,
That were sae fair to see O?’
‘Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,
Mither, mither,
Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,
For here nevir mair maun I bee O.’

6

‘And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Whan ye gang ovir the sea O?’
‘The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,
Mither, mither,
The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,
For thame nevir mair wul I see O.’

7

‘And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir,
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir?
My deir son, now tell me O.’
‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Mither, mither,
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Sic counseils ye gave to me O.’

EDWARD—C

[_]

MS. of Alexander Laing, 1829, p. 25.

‘O what did the fray begin about?
My son, come tell to me:’
‘It began about the breaking o the bonny hazel wand,
And a penny wad hae bought the tree.’

14
BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE

173

Babylon; or, The Bonnie Banks o Fordie

BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE—A

[_]

a. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 88. b. The same. c. The same, Appendix, p. xxii, No xxvi, apparently from South Perthshire.

1

There were three ladies lived in a bower,
Eh vow bonnie
And they went out to pull a flower.
On the bonnie banks o Fordie

2

They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane,
When up started to them a banisht man.

3

He's taen the first sister by her hand,
And he's turned her round and made her stand.

4

‘It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

5

‘It's I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’

6

He's killed this may, and he's laid her by,
For to bear the red rose company.

174

7

He's taken the second ane by the hand,
And he's turned her round and made her stand.

8

‘It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

9

‘I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’

10

He's killed this may, and he's laid her by,
For to bear the red rose company.

11

He's taken the youngest ane by the hand,
And he's turned her round and made her stand.

12

Says, ‘Will ye be a rank robber's wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

13

‘I'll not be a rank robber's wife,
Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife.

14

‘For I hae a brother in this wood,
And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee.’

15

‘What's thy brother's name? come tell to me.’
‘My brother's name is Baby Lon.’

16

‘O sister, sister, what have I done!
O have I done this ill to thee!

17

‘O since I've done this evil deed,
Good sall never be seen o me.’

18

He's taken out his wee pen-knife,
And he's twyned himsel o his ain sweet life.

The Banishd Man

BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE—B

[_]

a. Herd's MSS, i, 38, ii, 76. b. The Scots Magazine, Oct., 1803, p. 699, communicated by Jamieson, and evidently from Herd's copy.

1

There wond three ladies in a bower,
Annet and Margret and Marjorie
And they have gane out to pu a flower.
And the dew it lyes on the wood, gay ladie

2

They had nae pu'd a flower but ane,
When up has started a banished man.

3

He has taen the eldest by the hand,
He has turned her about and bade her stand.

4

‘Now whether will ye be a banisht man's wife,
Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’

5

‘I will na be ca'd a banished man's wife,
I'll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.’

6

And he has taen out his little pen-knife,
And frae this lady he has taen the life.

7

He has taen the second by the hand,
He has turned her about and he bad her stand.

8

‘Now whether will ye be a banisht man's wife,
Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’

9

‘I will na be ca'd a banished man's wife;
I'll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.’

10

And he has taen out his little pen-knife,
And frae this lady he has taen the life.

11

He has taen the youngest by the hand,
He has turned her about and he bad her stand.

12

‘Now whether will ye be a banished man's wife,
Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’

13

‘I winnae be called a banished man's wife,
Nor yet will I be sticked wi your pen-knife.

14

‘But gin my three brethren had been here,
Ye had nae slain my sisters dear.’

[OMITTED]

175

BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 172. From J. Goldie, March, 1825.

1

There were three sisters on a road,
Gilly flower gentle rosemary
And there they met a banished lord.
And the dew it hings over the mulberry tree

2

The eldest sister was on the road,
And there she met with the banished lord.

3

‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
Or will ye be a banished lord's wife?’

4

‘I'll rather consent to lose my life
Before I'll be a banished lord's wife.’

5

‘It's lean your head upon my staff,’
And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff.

6

He flang her in amang the broom,
Saying, ‘Lye ye there till another ane come.’

7

The second sister was on the road,
And there she met with the banished lord.

8

‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
Or will ye be a banished lord's wife?’

9

‘I'll rather consent to lose my life
Before I'll be a banished lord's wife.’

10

‘It's lean your head upon my staff,’
And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff.

11

He flang her in amang the broom,
Saying, ‘Lie ye there till another ane come.’

12

The youngest sister was on the road,
And there she met with the banished lord.

13

‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
Or will ye be a banished lord's wife?’

14

‘O if my three brothers were here,
Ye durstna put me in such a fear.’

15

‘What are your three brothers, altho they were here,
That I durstna put you in such a fear?’

16

‘My eldest brother's a belted knight, The second, he's a [OMITTED]

17

‘My youngest brother's a banished lord,
And oftentimes he walks on this road.’

[OMITTED]

BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE—D

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 174. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, July 27, 1825.

1

There were three sisters, they lived in a bower,
Sing Anna, sing Margaret, sing Marjorie
The youngest o them was the fairest flower.
And the dew goes thro the wood, gay ladie

2

The oldest of them she's to the wood gane,
To seek a braw leaf and to bring it hame.

3

There she met with an outlyer bold,
Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.

4

‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’

5

‘O kind sir, if I hae't at my will,
I'll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.’

6

He's taen out his we pen-knife,
He's twinned this young lady of her sweet life

7

He wiped his knife along the dew;
But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.

8

The second of them she's to the wood gane,
To seek her old sister, and to bring her hame.

9

There she met with an outlyer bold,
Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.

10

‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’

11

‘O kind sir, if I hae't at my will,
I'll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.’

12

He's taen out his we pen-knife,
He's twinned this young lady of her sweet life.

176

13

He wiped his knife along the dew;
But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.

14

The youngest of them she's to the wood gane,
To seek her two sisters, and to bring them hame.

15

There she met with an outlyer bold,
Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.

16

‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’

17

‘If my three brethren they were here,
Such questions as these thou durst nae speer.’

18

‘Pray, what may thy three brethren be,
That I durst na mak so bold with thee?’

19

‘The eldest o them is a minister bred,
He teaches the people from evil to good.

20

‘The second o them is a ploughman good,
He ploughs the land for his livelihood.

21

‘The youngest of them is an outlyer bold,
Lies many a long night in the woods so cold.’

22

He stuck his knife then into the ground,
He took a long race, let himself fall on.

Duke of Perth's Three Daughters

BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE—E

[_]

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 212. From Mearnsshire.

1

The Duke o Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Elizabeth's to the greenwud gane,
To pu the rose and the fair lilie.

2

But she hadna pu'd a rose, a rose,
A double rose, but barely three,
Whan up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

3

‘Will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu'in them sae fair and free.’

4

‘Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,
For pu'in,’ etc.

5

Then out he's tane his little pen-knife,
And he's parted her and her sweet life,
And thrown her oer a bank o brume,
There never more for to be found.

6

The Duke o Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Margaret's to the greenwud gane,
To pu the rose and the fair lilie.

7

She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose,
A double rose, but barely three,
When up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

8

‘Will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?
For pu'in,’ etc.

9

‘Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,
For pu'in,’ etc.

10

Then out he's tane his little pen-knife,
And he's parted her and her sweet life,
For pu'in, etc.

11

The Duke o Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Mary's to the greenwud gane,
To pu the rose and the fair lilie.

12

She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose,
A double rose, but barely three,
When up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

13

‘O will ye be called a robber's wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?
For pu'in,’ etc.

14

‘Before I'll be called a robber's wife,
I'll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,
For pu'in,’ etc.

177

15

But just as he took out his knife,
To tak frae her her ain sweet life,
Her brother John cam ryding bye,
And this bloody robber he did espy.

16

But when he saw his sister fair,
He kennd her by her yellow hair;
He calld upon his pages three,
To find this robber speedilie.

17

‘My sisters twa that are dead and gane,
For whom we made a heavy maene,
It's you that's twinnd them o their life,
And wi your cruel bloody knife.

18

‘Then for their life ye sair shall dree;
Ye sall be hangit on a tree,
Or thrown into the poisond lake,
To feed the toads and rattle-snake.’

BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE—F

[_]

“In Gipsy Tents,” by Francis Hindes Groome, p. 143.

1

There were three sisters going from home,
All in a lea and alony, oh
They met a man, and he made them stand,
Down by the bonny banks of Airdrie, oh.

2

He took the first one by the hand,
He turned her round, and he made her stand.

3

Saying, Will you be a robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?

4

‘Oh, I wont be a robber's wife,
But I will die by your penknife.’

5

Then he took the second by her hand,
He turned her round, and he made her stand.

6

Saying, Will you be a robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?

7

‘Oh, I wont be a robber's wife,
But I will die by your penknife.’

8

He took the third one by the hand,
He turned her round, and he made her stand.

9

Saying, Will you be a robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?

10

‘Oh, I wont be a robber's wife,
And I wont die by your penknife.

11

‘If my two brothers had been here,
You would not have killed my sisters two.’

12

‘What was your two brothers' names?’
‘One was John, and the other was James.’

13

‘Oh, what did your two brothers do?’
‘One was a minister, the other such as you.’

14

‘Oh, what is this that I have done?
I have killed my sisters, all but one.

15

‘And now I'll take out my penknife,
And here I'll end my own sweet life.’

15
LEESOME BRAND

182

Leesome Brand

LEESOME BRAND—A

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i, 38. b. Motherwell's MS., p. 626.

1

My boy was scarcely ten years auld,
Whan he went to an unco land,
Where wind never blew, nor cocks ever crew,
Ohon for my son, Leesome Brand!

2

Awa to that king's court he went,
It was to serve for meat an fee;
Gude red gowd it was his hire,
And lang in that king's court stayd he.

3

He hadna been in that unco land
But only twallmonths twa or three,
Till by the glancing o his ee,
He gaind the love o a gay ladye.

4

This ladye was scarce eleven years auld,
When on her love she was right bauld;
She was scarce up to my right knee,
When oft in bed wi men I'm tauld.

5

But when nine months were come and gane,
This ladye's face turnd pale and wane.

6

To Leesome Brand she then did say,
‘In this place I can nae mair stay.

7

‘Ye do you to my father's stable,
Where steeds do stand baith wight and able.

8

‘Strike ane o them upo the back,
The swiftest will gie his head a wap.

183

9

‘Ye take him out upo the green,
And get him saddled and bridled seen.

10

‘Get ane for you, anither for me,
And lat us ride out ower the lee.

11

‘Ye do you to my mother's coffer,
And out of it ye'll take my tocher.

12

‘Therein are sixty thousand pounds,
Which all to me by right belongs.’

13

He's done him to her father's stable,
Where steeds stood baith wicht and able.

14

Then he strake ane upon the back,
The swiftest gae his head a wap.

15

He's taen him out upo the green,
And got him saddled and bridled seen.

16

Ane for him, and another for her,
To carry them baith wi might and virr.

17

He's done him to her mother's coffer,
And there he's taen his lover's tocher;

18

Wherein were sixty thousand pound,
Which all to her by right belongd.

19

When they had ridden about six mile,
His true love then began to fail.

20

‘O wae's me,’ said that gay ladye,
‘I fear my back will gang in three!

21

‘O gin I had but a gude midwife,
Here this day to save my life,

22

‘And ease me o my misery,
O dear, how happy I woud be!’

23

‘My love, we're far frae ony town,
There is nae midwife to be foun.

24

‘But if ye'll be content wi me,
I'll do for you what man can dee.’

25

‘For no, for no, this maunna be,’
Wi a sigh, replied this gay ladye.

26

‘When I endure my grief and pain,
My companie ye maun refrain.

27

‘Ye'll take your arrow and your bow,
And ye will hunt the deer and roe.

28

‘Be sure ye touch not the white hynde,
For she is o the woman kind.’

29

He took sic pleasure in deer and roe,
Till he forgot his gay ladye.

30

Till by it came that milk-white hynde,
And then he mind on his ladye syne.

31

He hasted him to yon greenwood tree,
For to relieve his gay ladye;

32

But found his ladye lying dead,
Likeways her young son at her head.

33

His mother lay ower her castle wa,
And she beheld baith dale and down;
And she beheld young Leesome Brand,
As he came riding to the town.

34

‘Get minstrels for to play,’ she said,
‘And dancers to dance in my room;
For here comes my son, Leesome Brand,
And he comes merrilie to the town.’

35

‘Seek nae minstrels to play, mother,
Nor dancers to dance in your room;
But tho your son comes, Leesome Brand,
Yet he comes sorry to the town.

36

‘O I hae lost my gowden knife;
I rather had lost my ain sweet life!

37

‘And I hae lost a better thing,
The gilded sheath that it was in.’

38

‘Are there nae gowdsmiths here in Fife,
Can make to you anither knife?

39

‘Are there nae sheath-makers in the land,
Can make a sheath to Leesome Brand?’

40

‘There are nae gowdsmiths here in Fife,
Can make me sic a gowden knife;

41

‘Nor nae sheath-makers in the land,
Can make to me a sheath again.

42

‘There ne'er was man in Scotland born,
Ordaind to be so much forlorn.

184

43

‘I've lost my ladye I lovd sae dear,
Likeways the son she did me bear.’

44

‘Put in your hand at my bed head,
There ye'll find a gude grey horn;
In it three draps o' Saint Paul's ain blude,
That hae been there sin he was born.

45

‘Drap twa o them o your ladye,
And ane upo your little young son;
Then as lively they will be
As the first night ye brought them hame.’

46

He put his hand at her bed head,
And there he found a gude grey horn,
Wi three draps o' Saint Paul's ain blude,
That had been there sin he was born.

47

Then he drappd twa on his ladye,
And ane o them on his young son,
And now they do as lively be,
As the first day he brought them hame.

The Broom blooms bonnie

LEESOME BRAND—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 365. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan.

1

‘There is a feast in your father's house,
The broom blooms bonnie and so is it fair
It becomes you and me to be very douce.
And we'll never gang up to the broom nae mair

2

‘You will go to yon hill so hie;
Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.’

3

He's tane his lady on his back,
And his auld son in his coat lap.

4

‘When ye hear me give a cry,
Ye'll shoot your bow and let me lye.

5

‘When ye see me lying still,
Throw away your bow and come running me till.’

6

When he heard her gie the cry,
He shot his bow and he let her lye.

7

When he saw she was lying still,
He threw away his bow and came running her till.

8

It was nae wonder his heart was sad
When he shot his auld son at her head.

9

He houkit a grave, long, large and wide,
He buried his auld son doun by her side.

10

It was nae wonder his heart was sair
When he shooled the mools on her yellow hair.

11

‘Oh,’ said his father, ‘son, but thou'rt sad!
At our braw meeting you micht be glad.’

12

‘Oh,’ said he, ‘Father, I've lost my knife
I loved as dear almost as my own life.

13

‘But I have lost a far better thing,
I lost the sheath that the knife was in.’

14

‘Hold thy tongue, and mak nae din;
I'll buy thee a sheath and a knife therein.’

15

‘A’ the ships eer sailed the sea
Neer'll bring such a sheath and a knife to me.

16

‘A’ the smiths that lives on land
Will neer bring such a sheath and knife to my hand.’

185

16
SHEATH AND KNIFE

The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair

SHEATH AND KNIFE—A

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 286. From the recitation of Mrs King, Kilbarchan Parish, February 9, 1825. b. ‘The broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,’ Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 189.

1

It is talked the warld all over,
The brume blooms bonnie and says it is fair
That the king's dochter gaes wi child to her brither.
And we'll never gang doun to the brume onie mair

2

He's taen his sister doun to her father's deer park,
Wi his yew-tree bow and arrows fast slung to his back.

3

‘Now when that ye hear me gie a loud cry,
Shoot frae thy bow an arrow and there let me lye.

4

‘And when that ye see I am lying dead,
Then ye'll put me in a grave, wi a turf at my head.’

5

Now when he heard her gie a loud cry,
His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let fly.
Now they'll never, etc.

6

He has made a grave that was lang and was deep,
And he has buried his sister, wi her babe at her feet.
And they'll never, etc.

7

And when he came to his father's court hall,
There was music and minstrels and dancing and all.
But they'll never, etc.

186

8

‘O Willie, O Willie, what makes thee in pain?’
‘I have lost a sheath and knife that I'll never see again.’
For we'll never, etc.

9

‘There is ships o your father's sailing on the sea
That will bring as good a sheath and a knife unto thee.’

10

‘There is ships o my father's sailing on the sea,
But sic a sheath and a knife they can never bring to me.’
Now we'll never, etc.

SHEATH AND KNIFE—B

[_]

Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. by D. Laing, p. 159: Sir Walter Scott, from his recollection of a nursery-maid's singing.

1

Ae lady has whispered the other,
The broom grows bonnie, the broom grows fair
Lady Margaret's wi bairn to Sir Richard, her brother.
And we daur na gae doun to the broom nae mair

[OMITTED]

2

‘And when ye hear me loud, loud cry,
O bend your bow, let your arrow fly.
And I daur na, etc.

3

‘But when ye see me lying still,
O then you may come and greet your fill.’

[OMITTED]

4

‘It's I hae broken my little pen-knife
That I loed dearer than my life.’
And I daur na, etc.

[OMITTED]

5

‘It's no for the knife that my tears doun run,
But it's a' for the case that my knife was kept in.’

The broom blooms bonie

SHEATH AND KNIFE—C

[_]

Johnson's Museum, No 461.

1

It's whispered in parlour, it's whispered in ha,
The broom blooms bonie, the broom blooms fair
Lady Marget's wi child amang our ladies a'.
And she dare na gae down to the broom nae mair

2

One lady whisperd unto another
Lady Marget's wi child to Sir Richard, her brother.

[OMITTED]

3

‘O when that you hear my loud loud cry,
Then bend your bow and let your arrows fly.
For I dare na,’ etc.

SHEATH AND KNIFE—D

[_]

Notes and Queries, 1st Series, v, 345, communicated by E. F. Rimbault.

1

Ae king's dochter said to anither,
Broom blooms bonnie an grows sae fair
We'll gae ride like sister and brither.
But we'll never gae down to the broom nae mair

SHEATH AND KNIFE—E

1

One king's daughter said to anither,
Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair
‘We'll gae ride like sister and brither.’
And we'll neer gae down to the brume nae mair

2

‘We'll ride doun into yonder valley,
Whare the greene green trees are budding sae gaily.

3

‘Wi hawke and hounde we will hunt sae rarely,
And we'll come back in the morning early.’

4

They rade on like sister and brither,
And they hunted and hawket in the valley the-gether.

5

‘Now, lady, hauld my horse and my hawk,
For I maun na ride, and I downa walk.

6

‘But set me doun be the rute o this tree,
For there hae I dreamt that my bed sall be.’

7

The ae king's dochter did lift doun the ither,
And she was licht in her armis like ony fether.

8

Bonnie Lady Ann sat doun be the tree,
And a wide grave was houkit whare nane suld be.

9

The hawk had nae lure, and the horse had nae master,
And the faithless hounds thro the woods ran faster.

10

The one king's dochter has ridden awa,
But bonnie Lady Ann lay in the deed-thraw.

The Broom blooms bonnie

SHEATH AND KNIFE—F

[_]

In C. K. Sharpe's papers there is the following version, in Motherwell's handwriting, sent by him to Sharpe with a letter dated Paisley, 8th October, 1825. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan.

1

‘There is a feast in your father's house,
The broom blooms bonnie, and so is it fair
It becomes you and me to be very douce.’
And we'll never gang up to the broom nae mair

2

‘Will you go to yon hill so hie,
Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.’

3

He's tane his lady on his back,
And his auld son in his coat-lap.

4

‘When ye hear me give a cry,
Ye'll shoot your bow and let me ly.

5

‘When ye see me lying still,
Throw awa your bow and come running me till.’

6

When he heard her gie a cry,
He shot his bow and he let her lye.

7

When he saw she was lying still,
He threw awa his bow and came running her till.

8

It was nae wonder his heart was sad,
When he shot his auld son at her head.

9

He howkit a grave lang, large and wide,
He buried his auld son down by her side.

10

It was nae wonder his heart was sair,
When he shooled the mools on her yellow hair.

11

‘Oh,’ said his father, ‘son, but thou'rt sad,
At our braw meeting you micht be glad.’

12

‘Oh,’ said he, ‘father, I've lost my knife,
I loved as dear almost as my own life.

13

‘But I have lost a far better thing,
I lost the sheathe that the knife was in.’

14

‘Hold thy tongue and mak nae din,
I'll buy thee a sheath and a knife therein.’

15

‘A’ the ships ere sailed the sea
Neer'll bring such a sheathe and knife to me.

16

‘A’ the smiths that lives on land
Will neer bring such a sheath and knife to my hand.’

187

17
HIND HORN

201

Hindhorn

HIND HORN—A

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 106. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan.

1

In Scotland there was a babie born,
Lill lal, etc.
And his name it was called young Hind Horn.
With a fal lal, etc.

2

He sent a letter to our king
That he was in love with his daughter Jean.

3

He's gien to her a silver wand,
With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon.

4

She's gien to him a diamond ring,
With seven bright diamonds set therein.

5

‘When this ring grows pale and wan,
You may know by it my love is gane.’

6

One day as he looked his ring upon,
He saw the diamonds pale and wan.

7

He left the sea and came to land,
And the first that he met was an old beggar man.

8

‘What news, what news?’ said young Hind Horn;
‘No news, no news,’ said the old beggar man.

9

‘No news,’ said the beggar, ‘no news at a',
But there is a wedding in the king's ha.

202

10

‘But there is a wedding in the king's ha,
That has halden these forty days and twa.’

11

‘Will ye lend me your begging coat?
And I'll lend you my scarlet cloak.

12

‘Will you lend me your beggar's rung?
And I'll gie you my steed to ride upon.

13

‘Will you lend me your wig o hair,
To cover mine, because it is fair?’

14

The auld beggar man was bound for the mill,
But young Hind Horn for the king's hall.

15

The auld beggar man was bound for to ride,
But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride.

16

When he came to the king's gate,
He sought a drink for Hind Horn's sake.

17

The bride came down with a glass of wine,
When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring.

18

‘O got ye this by sea or land?
Or got ye it off a dead man's hand?’

19

‘I got not it by sea, I got it by land,
And I got it, madam, out of your own hand.’

20

‘O I'll cast off my gowns of brown,
And beg wi you frae town to town.

21

‘O I'll cast off my gowns of red,
And I'll beg wi you to win my bread.’

22

‘Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown,
For I'll make you lady o many a town.

23

‘Ye needna cast off your gowns of red,
It's only a sham, the begging o my bread.’

24

The bridegroom he had wedded the bride,
But young Hind Horn he took her to bed.

Young Hyndhorn

HIND HORN—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 418. From the singing of a servant-girl at Halkhead.

1

I never saw my love before,
With a hey lillelu and a ho lo lan
Till I saw her thro an oger bore.
With a hey down and a hey diddle downie

2

She gave to me a gay gold ring,
With three shining diamonds set therein.

3

And I gave to her a silver wand,
With three singing lavrocks set thereon.

4

‘What if these diamonds lose their hue,
Just when your love begins for to rew?’

5

He's left the land, and he's gone to sea,
And he's stayd there seven years and a day.

6

But when he looked this ring upon,
The shining diamonds were both pale and wan.

7

He's left the seas and he's come to the land,
And there he met with an auld beggar man.

8

‘What news, what news, thou auld beggar man
For it is seven years sin I've seen lan.’

9

‘No news,’ said the old beggar man, ‘at all,
But there is a wedding in the king's hall.’

10

‘Wilt thou give to me thy begging coat?
And I'll give to thee my scarlet cloak.

11

‘Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff?
And I'll give to thee my good gray steed.’

12

The old beggar man was bound for to ride,
But Young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride.

13

When he came to the king's gate,
He asked a drink for Young Hynd Horn's sake.

14

The news unto the bonnie bride came
That at the yett there stands an auld man.

203

15

‘There stands an auld man at the king's gate;
He asketh a drink for young Hyn Horn's sake.’

16

‘I'll go thro nine fires so hot,
But I'll give him a drink for Young Hyn Horn's sake.’

17

She gave him a drink out of her own hand;
He drank out the drink and he dropt in the ring.

18

‘Got thou't by sea, or got thou't by land?
Or got thou't out of any dead man's hand?’

19

‘I got it not by sea, but I got it by land,
For I got it out of thine own hand.’

20

‘I'll cast off my gowns of brown,
And I'll follow thee from town to town.

21

‘I'll cast off my gowns of red,
And along with thee I'll beg my bread.’

22

‘Thou need not cast off thy gowns of brown,
For I can make thee lady of many a town.

23

‘Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red,
For I can maintain thee with both wine and bread.’

24

The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride wed,
But Young Hyn Horn took the bride to bed.

Young Hyn Horn

HIND HORN—C

[_]

a. Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 42: from Agnes Lyle. b. Motherwell's MS., p. 413: from the singing of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1

Young Hyn Horn's to the king's court gone,
Hoch hey and an ney O
He's fallen in love with his little daughter Jean.
Let my love alone, I pray you

2

He's bocht to her a little gown,
With seven broad flowers spread it along.

3

She's given to him a gay gold ring.
The posie upon it was richt plain.

4

‘When you see it losing its comely hue,
So will I my love to you.’

5

Then within a little wee,
Hyn Horn left land and went to sea.

6

When he lookt his ring upon,
He saw it growing pale and wan.

7

Then within a little [wee] again,
Hyn Horn left sea and came to the land.

8

As he was riding along the way,
There he met with a jovial beggar.

9

‘What news, what news, old man?’ he did say:
‘This is the king's young dochter's wedding day.’

10

‘If this be true you tell to me,
You must niffer clothes with me.

11

‘You'll gie me your cloutit coat,
I'll gie you my fine velvet coat.

12

‘You'll gie me your cloutit pock,
I'll gie you my purse; it'll be no joke.’

13

‘Perhaps there['s] nothing in it, not one bawbee;’
‘Yes, there's gold and silver both,’ said he.

14

‘You'll gie me your bags of bread,
And I'll gie you my milk-white steed.’

15

When they had niffered all, he said,
‘You maun learn me how I'll beg.’

16

‘When you come before the gate,
You'll ask for a drink for the highman's sake.’

17

When that he came before the gate,
He calld for a drink for the highman's sake.

18

The bride cam tripping down the stair,
To see whaten a bold beggar was there.

204

19

She gave him a drink with her own hand;
He loot the ring drop in the can.

20

‘Got ye this by sea or land?
Or took ye't aff a dead man's hand?’

21

‘I got na it by sea nor land,
But I got it aff your own hand.’

22

The bridegroom cam tripping down the stair,
But there was neither bride nor beggar there.

23

Her ain bridegroom had her first wed,
But Young Hyn Horn had her first to bed.

Young Hynhorn

HIND HORN—D

[_]

Cromek's Select Scotish Songs, ii, 204.

1

Near Edinburgh was a young son born,
Hey lilelu an a how low lan
An his name it was called young Hyn Horn.
An it's hey down down deedle airo

2

Seven long years he served the king,
An it's a' for the sake of his daughter Jean.

3

The king an angry man was he;
He send young Hyn Horn to the sea.

[OMITTED]

4

An on his finger she put a ring.
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

5

‘When your ring turns pale and wan,
Then I'm in love wi another man.’

[OMITTED]

6

Upon a day he lookd at his ring,
It was as pale as anything.

7

He's left the sea, an he's come to the lan,
An there he met an auld beggar man.

8

‘What news, what news, my auld beggar man?
What news, what news, by sea or by lan?’

9

‘Nae news, nae news,’ the auld beggar said,
‘But the king's dochter Jean is going to be wed.’

10

‘Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar-weed,
An I'll gie thee my gude gray steed.’

[OMITTED]

11

When he cam to our guid king's yet,
He sought a glass o wine for young Hyn Horn's sake.

12

He drank out the wine, an he put in the ring,
An he bade them carry't to the king's dochter Jean.

[OMITTED]

13

‘O gat ye't by sea, or gat ye't by lan?
Or gat ye't aff a dead man's han?’

14

‘I gat na't by sea, I gat na't by lan,
But I gat it out of your own han.’

[OMITTED]

15

‘Go take away my bridal gown,
For I'll follow him frae town to town.’

16

‘Ye need na leave your bridal gown,
For I'll make ye ladie o' mony a town.’

Hynd Horn

HIND HORN—E

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 91. From the recitation of Mrs Wilson.

[OMITTED]

1

Hynd Horn he has lookt on his ring,
Hey ninny ninny, how ninny nanny
And it was baith black and blue,
And she is either dead or she's married.
And the barck and the broom blooms bonnie

2

Hynd Horn he has shuped to land,
And the first he met was an auld beggar man.

3

‘What news, what news, my silly auld man?
For it is seven years syne I have seen land.

4

‘What news, what news, my auld beggar man?
What news, what news, by sea or by land?’

5

‘There is a king's dochter in the east,
And she has been marryed these nine nights past.

205

6

‘Intil the bride's bed she winna gang
Till she hears tell of her Hynd Horn.’

7

‘Cast aff, cast aff thy auld beggar weed,
And I will gie thee my gude gray steed.’

Young Hyndhorn

HIND HORN—F

[_]

Lowran Castle, or the Wild Boar of Curridoo: with other Tales. By Robert Trotter, Dumfries, 1822, p. 6. From the recitation of a young friend.

1

In Newport town this knight was born,
Hey lily loo, hey loo lan
And they've called him Young Hynd Horn.
Fal lal la, fal the dal the dady

2

Seven long years he served the king,
For the love of his daughter Jean.

3

He courted her through a wimble bore,
The way never woman was courted before.

4

He gave her through a silver wand,
With three singing laverocks there upon.

5

She gave him back a gay gold ring,
With three bright diamonds glittering.

6

‘When this ring grows pale and blue,
Fair Jeanie's love is lost to you.’

7

Young Hynd Horn is gone to sea,
And there seven long years staid he.

8

When he lookd his ring upon,
It grew pale and it grew wan.

9

Young Hynd Horn is come to land,
When he met an old beggar man.

10

‘What news, what news doth thee betide?’
‘No news, but Princess Jeanie's a bride.’

11

‘Will ye give me your old brown cap?
And I'll give you my gold-laced hat.

12

‘Will ye give me your begging weed?
And I'll give you my good grey steed.’

13

The beggar has got on to ride,
But Young Hynd Horn's bound for the bride.

[OMITTED]

Hynde Horn

HIND HORN—G

[_]

Kinloch MSS, VII, 117. It appears to have been derived by Miss Kinnear from Christy Smith.

1

‘Hynde Horn's bound, love, and Hynde Horn's free;
Whare was ye born? or frae what cuntrie?’

2

‘In gude greenwud whare I was born,
And all my friends left me forlorn.

3

‘I gave my love a gay gowd wand,
That was to rule oure all Scotland.

4

‘My love gave me a silver ring,
That was to rule abune aw thing.

5

‘Whan that ring keeps new in hue,
Ye may ken that your love loves you.

6

‘Whan that ring turns pale and wan,
Ye may ken that your love loves anither man.’

7

He hoisted up his sails, and away sailed he
Till he cam to a foreign cuntree.

8

Whan he lookit to his ring, it was turnd pale and wan;
Says, I wish I war at hame again.

9

He hoisted up his sails, and hame sailed he
Until he cam till his ain cuntree.

10

The first ane that he met with,
It was with a puir auld beggar-man.

11

‘What news? what news, my puir auld man?
What news hae ye got to tell to me?’

12

‘Na news, na news,’ the puirman did say,
‘But this is our queen's wedding-day.’

13

‘Ye'll lend me your begging-weed,
And I'll lend you my riding-steed.’

14

‘My begging-weed is na for thee,
Your riding-steed is na for me.’

15

He has changed wi the puir auld beggar-man.

16

‘What is the way that ye use to gae?
And what are the words that ye beg wi?’

17

‘Whan ye come to yon high hill,
Ye'll draw your bent bow nigh until.

18

‘Whan ye come to yon town-end,
Ye'll lat your bent bow low fall doun.

19

‘Ye'll seek meat for St Peter, ask for St Paul,
And seek for the sake of your Hynde Horn all.

20

‘But tak ye frae nane o them aw
Till ye get frae the bonnie bride hersel O.’

21

Whan he cam to yon high hill,
He drew his bent bow nigh until.

22

And when he cam to yon toun-end,
He loot his bent bow low fall doun.

23

He sought for St Peter, he askd for St Paul,
And he sought for the sake of his Hynde Horn all.

24

But he took na frae ane o them aw
Till he got frae the bonnie bride hersel O.

25

The bride cam tripping doun the stair,
Wi the scales o red gowd on her hair.

26

Wi a glass o red wine in her hand,
To gie to the puir beggar-man.

27

Out he drank his glass o wine,
Into it he dropt the ring.

28

‘Got ye't by sea, or got ye't by land,
Or got ye't aff a drownd man's hand?’

29

‘I got na't by sea, I got na't by land,
Nor gat I it aff a drownd man's hand;

30

‘But I got it at my wooing,
And I'll gie it to your wedding.

31

‘I'll tak the scales o gowd frae my head,
I'll follow you, and beg my bread.

32

‘I'll tak the scales o gowd frae my hair,
I'll follow you for evermair.’

33

She has tane the scales o gowd frae her head,
She's followed him, to beg her bread.

34

She has tane the scales o gowd frae her hair,
And she has followd him evermair.

35

Atween the kitchen and the ha,
There he loot his cloutie cloak fa.

36

The red gowd shined oure them aw,
And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown awa.

206

Hynd Horn

HIND HORN—H

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 268.

1

‘Hynd Horn fair, and Hynd Horn free,
O where were you born, in what countrie?’

2

‘In gude greenwood, there I was born,
And all my forbears me beforn.

3

‘O seven years I served the king,
And as for wages, I never gat nane;

4

‘But ae sight o his ae daughter,
And that was thro an augre bore.

5

‘My love gae me a siller wand,
'Twas to rule ower a' Scotland.

6

‘And she gae me a gay gowd ring,
The virtue o't was above a' thing.’

7

‘As lang's this ring it keeps the hue,
Ye'll know I am a lover true:

8

‘But when the ring turns pale and wan,
Ye'll know I love another man.’

9

He hoist up sails, and awa saild he,
And saild into a far countrie.

207

10

And when he lookd upon his ring,
He knew she loved another man.

11

He hoist up sails and home came he,
Home unto his ain countrie.

12

The first he met on his own land,
It chancd to be a beggar man.

13

‘What news, what news, my gude auld man?
What news, what news, hae ye to me?’

14

‘Nae news, nae news,’ said the auld man,
‘The morn's our queen's wedding day.’

15

‘Will ye lend me your begging weed?
And I'll lend you my riding steed.’

16

‘My begging weed will ill suit thee,
And your riding steed will ill suit me.’

17

But part be right, and part be wrang,
Frae the beggar man the cloak he wan.

18

‘Auld man, come tell to me your leed;
What news ye gie when ye beg your bread.’

19

‘As ye walk up unto the hill,
Your pike staff ye lend ye till.

20

‘But whan ye come near by the yett,
Straight to them ye will upstep.

21

‘Take nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul,
Nane frae high or low o them all.

22

‘And frae them all ye will take nane,
Until it comes frae the bride's ain hand.’

23

He took nane frae Peter nor frae Paul,
Nane frae the high nor low o them all.

24

And frae them all he would take nane,
Until it came frae the bride's ain hand.

25

The bride came tripping down the stair,
The combs o red gowd in her hair.

26

A cup o red wine in her hand,
And that she gae to the beggar man.

27

Out o the cup he drank the wine,
And into the cup he dropt the ring.

28

‘O got ye't by sea, or got ye't by land,
Or got ye't on a drownd man's hand?’

29

‘I got it not by sea, nor got it by land,
Nor got I it on a drownd man's hand.

30

‘But I got it at my wooing gay,
And I'll gie't you on your wedding day.’

31

‘I'll take the red gowd frae my head,
And follow you, and beg my bread.

32

‘I'll take the red gowd frae my hair,
And follow you for evermair.’

33

Atween the kitchen and the ha,
He loot his cloutie cloak down fa.

34

And wi red gowd shone ower them a',
And frae the bridegroom the bride he sta.

HIND HORN—I

[_]

a. From the recitation of Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, now of Dalry, both in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, December 12, 1882. b. From Miss Jessie Jane Macmath and Miss Agnes Macmath, nieces of Miss Webster, December 11, 1882: originally derived from an old nurse. Communicated by Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh.

[OMITTED]

1

She gave him a gay gold ring,
Hey lillelu and how lo lan
But he gave her a far better thing.
With my hey down and a hey diddle downie

2

He gave her a silver wan,
With nine bright laverocks thereupon.

[OMITTED]

3

Young Hynd Horn is come to the lan,
There he met a beggar man.

4

‘What news, what news do ye betide?’
‘Na news but Jeanie's the prince's bride.’

5

‘Wilt thou give me thy begging weed?
And I'll give thee my good grey steed.

6

‘Wilt thou give me thy auld grey hair?
And I'll give ye mine that is thrice as fair.’

7

The beggar he got on for to ride,
But young Hynd Horn is bound for the bride.

8

First the news came to the ha,
Then to the room mang the gentles a'.

9

‘There stands a beggar at our gate,
Asking a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake.’

10

‘I'll ga through nine fires hot
To give him a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake.’

11

She gave him the drink, and he dropt in the ring;
The lady turned baith pale an wan.

12

‘Oh got ye it by sea, or got ye it by lan?
Or got ye it off some dead man's han?’

13

‘I got it not by sea, nor I got it not by lan,
But I got it off thy milk-white han.’

14

‘I'll cast off my dress of red,
And I'll go with thee and beg my bread.

15

‘I'll cast off my dress of brown,
And follow you from city to town.

16

‘I'll cast off my dress of green,
For I am not ashamed with you to be seen.’

17

‘You need not cast off your dress of red,
For I can support thee on both wine and bread.

18

‘You need not cast off your dress of brown,
For I can keep you a lady in any town.

19

‘You need not cast off your dress of green,
For I can maintain you as gay as a queen.’

208

18
SIR LIONEL.

210

Sir Lionell

SIR LIONEL—A

[_]

Percy MS., p. 32, Hales and Furnivall, i, 75.

1

Sir Egrabell had sonnes three,
Blow thy horne, good hunter
Sir Lyonell was one of these.
As I am a gentle hunter

2

Sir Lyonell wold on hunting ryde,
Vntill the forrest him beside.

3

And as he rode thorrow the wood,
Where trees and harts and all were good,

4

And as he rode over the plaine,
There he saw a knight lay slaine.

5

And as he rode still on the plaine,
He saw a lady sitt in a graine.

6

‘Say thou, lady, and tell thou me,
What blood shedd heere has bee.’

7

‘Of this blood shedd we may all rew,
Both wife and childe and man alsoe.

8

‘For it is not past 3 days right
Since Sir Broninge was mad a knight.

9

‘Nor it is not more than 3 dayes agoe
Since the wild bore did him sloe.’

10

‘Say thou, lady, and tell thou mee,
How long thou wilt sitt in that tree.’

11

She said, ‘I will sitt in this tree
Till my friends doe feitch me.’

12

‘Tell me, lady, and doe not misse,
Where that your friends dwellings is.’

13

‘Downe,’ shee said, ‘in yonder towne,
There dwells my freinds of great renowne.’

14

Says, ‘Lady, Ile ryde into yonder towne
And see wether your friends beene bowne.

15

‘I my self wilbe the formost man
That shall come, lady, to feitch you home.’

16

But as he rode then by the way,
He thought it shame to goe away;

17

And vmbethought him of a wile,
How he might that wilde bore beguile.

18

‘Sir Egrabell,’ he said, ‘my father was;
He neuer left lady in such a case;

211

19

‘Noe more will I’ [OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

20

‘And a[fter] that thou shalt doe mee
Thy hawkes and thy lease alsoe.

21

‘Soe shalt thou doe at my command
The litle fingar on thy right hand.’

22

‘Ere I wold leaue all this with thee,
Vpoon this ground I rather dyee.’

23

The gyant gaue Sir Lyonell such a blow,
The fyer out of his eyen did throw.

24

He said then, ‘if I were saffe and sound,
As with-in this hower I was in this ground,

25

‘It shold be in the next towne told
How deare thy buffett it was sold;

26

‘And it shold haue beene in the next towne said
How well thy buffett it were paid.’

27

‘Take 40 daies into spite,
To heale thy wounds that beene soe wide.

28

‘When 40 dayes beene at an end,
Heere meete thou me both safe and sound.

29

‘And till thou come to me againe,
With me thoust leaue thy lady alone.’

30

When 40 dayes was at an end,
Sir Lyonell of his wounds was healed sound.

31

He tooke with him a litle page,
He gaue to him good yeomans wage.

32

And as he rode by one hawthorne,
Even there did hang his hunting horne.

33

He sett his bugle to his mouth,
And blew his bugle still full south.

34

He blew his bugle lowde and shrill;
The lady heard, and came him till.

35

Sayes, ‘the gyant lyes vnder yond low,
And well he heares your bugle blow.

36

‘And bidds me of good cheere be,
This night heele supp with you and me.’

37

Hee sett that lady vppon a steede,
And a litle boy before her yeede.

38

And said, ‘lady, if you see that I must dye,
As euer you loued me, from me flye.

39

‘But, lady, if you see that I must liue,’
[OMITTED]

Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Græme

SIR LIONEL—B

[_]

Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, i, 110. From the singing of an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banffshire.

1

A knicht had two sons o sma fame,
Hey nien nanny
Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Graeme.
And the norlan flowers spring bonny

2

And to the youngest he did say,
‘What occupation will you hae?
When the, etc.

3

‘Will you gae fee to pick a mill?
Or will you keep hogs on yon hill?’
While the, etc.

4

‘I winna fee to pick a mill,
Nor will I keep hogs on yon hill.
While the, etc.

5

‘But it is said, as I do hear,
That war will last for seven year,
And the, etc.

6

‘With a giant and a boar
That range into the wood o Tore.
And the, etc.

7

‘You'll horse and armour to me provide,
That through Tore wood I may safely ride.’
When the, etc.

212

8

The knicht did horse and armour provide,
That through Tore wood Graeme micht safely ride.
When the, etc.

9

Then he rode through the wood o Tore,
And up it started the grisly boar.
When the, etc.

10

The firsten bout that he did ride,
The boar he wounded in the left side.
When the, etc.

11

The nexten bout at the boar he gaed,
He from the boar took aff his head.
And the, etc.

12

As he rode back through the wood o Tore,
Up started the giant him before.
And the, etc.

13

‘O cam you through the wood o Tore,
Or did you see my good wild boar?’
And the, etc.

14

‘I cam now through the wood o Tore,
But woe be to your grisly boar.
And the, etc.

15

‘The firsten bout that I did ride,
I wounded your wild boar in the side.
And the, etc.

16

‘The nexten bout at him I gaed,
From your wild boar I took aff his head.’
And the, etc.

17

‘Gin you have cut aff the head o my boar,
It's your head shall be taen therfore.
And the, etc.

18

‘I'll gie you thirty days and three,
To heal your wounds, then come to me.’
While the, etc.

19

‘It's after thirty days and three,
When my wounds heal, I'll come to thee.’
When the, etc.

20

So Græme is back to the wood o Tore,
And he's killd the giant, as he killd the boar.
And the, etc.

The Jovial Hunter of Bromsgrove

SIR LIONEL—C

[_]

a. Allies, The British, Roman, and Saxon Antiquities and Folk-Lore of Worcestershire, 2d ed., p. 116. From the recitation of Benjamin Brown, of Upper Wick, about 1845. b. Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, edited by Robert Bell, p. 124.

1

Sir Robert Bolton had three sons,
Wind well thy horn, good hunter
And one of them was called Sir Ryalas.
For he was a jovial hunter

2

He rang'd all round down by the woodside,
Till up in the top of a tree a gay lady he spy'd.
For he was, etc.

3

‘O what dost thou mean, fair lady?’ said he;
‘O the wild boar has killed my lord and his men thirty.’
As thou beest, etc.

4

‘O what shall I do this wild boar to see?’
‘O thee blow a blast, and he'll come unto thee.’
As thou beest, etc.

5

[Then he put his horn unto his mouth],
Then he blowd a blast full north, east, west and south.
As he was, etc.

6

And the wild boar heard him full into his den;
Then he made the best of his speed unto him.
To Sir Ryalas, etc.

7

Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong,
He thrashd down the trees as he came along.
To Sir Ryalas, etc.

213

8

‘O what dost thou want of me?’ the wild boar said he;
‘O I think in my heart I can do enough for thee.’
For I am, etc.

9

Then they fought four hours in a long summer's day,
Till the wild boar fain would have gotten away.
From Sir Ryalas, etc.

10

Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword with might,
And he fairly cut his head off quite.
For he was, etc.

11

Then out of the wood the wild woman flew:
‘Oh thou hast killed my pretty spotted pig!
As thou beest, etc.

12

‘There are three things I do demand of thee,
It's thy horn, and thy hound, and thy gay lady.’
As thou beest, etc.

13

‘If these three things thou dost demand of me,
It's just as my sword and thy neck can agree.’
For I am, etc.

14

Then into his locks the wild woman flew,
Till she thought in her heart she had torn him through.
As he was, etc.

15

Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword again,
And he fairly split her head in twain.
For he was, etc.

16

In Bromsgrove church they both do lie;
There the wild boar's head is picturd by
Sir Ryalas, etc.

SIR LIONEL—D

[_]

Allies, Antiquities and Folk-Lore of Worcestershire, p. 118. From the recitation of --- Oseman, Hartlebury.

1

As I went up one brook, one brook,
Well wind the horn, good hunter
I saw a fair maiden sit on a tree top.
As thou art the jovial hunter

2

I said, ‘Fair maiden, what brings you here?’
‘It is the wild boar that has drove me here.’
As thou art, etc.

3

‘I wish I could that wild boar see;’
Well wind the horn, good hunter,
And the wild boar soon will come to thee.’
As thou art, etc.

4

Then he put his horn unto his mouth,
And he blowd both east, west, north and south.
As he was, etc.

5

The wild boar hearing it into his den,
[Then he made the best of his speed unto him].

6

He whetted his tusks for to make them strong,
And he cut down the oak and the ash as he came along.
For to meet with, etc.

7

They fought five hours one long summer's day,
Till the wild boar he yelld, and he'd fain run away.
And away from, etc.

8

O then he cut his head clean off,
[OMITTED]

9

Then there came an old lady running out of the wood,
Saying, ‘You have killed my pretty, my pretty spotted pig.’
As thou art, etc.

10

Then at him this old lady she did go,
And he clove her from the top of her head to her toe.
As he was, etc.

11

In Bromsgrove churchyard this old lady lies,
And the face of the boar's head there is drawn by,
That was killed by, etc.

214

The Old Man and his Three Sons

SIR LIONEL—E

[_]

a. Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, edited by Robert Bell, p. 250. b. Mr Robert White's papers.

1

There was an old man and sons he had three;
Wind well, Lion, good hunter
A friar he being one of the three,
With pleasure he ranged the north country.
For he was a jovial hunter

2

As he went to the woods some pastime to see,
He spied a fair lady under a tree,
Sighing and moaning mournfully.
He was, etc.

3

‘What are you doing, my fair lady?’
‘I'm frightened the wild boar he will kill me;
He has worried my lord and wounded thirty.’
As thou art, etc.

4

Then the friar he put his horn to his mouth,
And he blew a blast, east, west, north and south,
And the wild boar from his den he came forth.
Unto the, etc.

[OMITTED]

SIR LIONEL—F

[_]

Allies, Antiquities of Worcestershire, p. 120.

1

Sir Rackabello had three sons,
Wind well your horn, brave hunter
Sir Ryalash was one of these.
And he was a jovial hunter

215

19
KING ORFEO

217

KING ORFEO

[_]

The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468, Folk-Lore from Unst, Shetland, by Mrs Saxby, p. 109. Obtained from the singing of Andrew Coutts, an old man in Unst, Shetland, by Mr Biot Edmondston.

1

Der lived a king inta da aste,
Scowan ürla grün
Der lived a lady in da wast.
Whar giorten han grün oarlac

2

Dis king he has a huntin gaen,
He's left his Lady Isabel alane.

3

‘Oh I wis ye'd never gaen away,
For at your hame is döl an wae.

4

‘For da king o Ferrie we his daert,
Has pierced your lady to da hert.’

[OMITTED]

5

And aifter dem da king has gaen,
But whan he cam it was a grey stane.

6

Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,
Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

7

And first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.

8

An dan he played da göd gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

[OMITTED]

9

‘Noo come ye in inta wir ha,
An come ye in among wis a'.’

10

Now he's gaen in inta der ha,
An he's gaen in among dem a'.

11

Dan he took out his pipes to play,
Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

12

An first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.

13

An dan he played da göd gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

14

‘Noo tell to us what ye will hae:
What sall we gie you for your play?

15

‘What I will hae I will you tell,
An dat's me Lady Isabel.’

16

‘Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,
An yees be king ower a' your ain.’

17

He's taen his lady, an he's gaen hame,
An noo he's king ower a' his ain.

218

20
THE CRUEL MOTHER.

220

THE CRUEL MOTHER—A

[_]

Herd's MSS, i, 132, ii, 191: Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, ii, 237.

[OMITTED]

1

And there she's leand her back to a thorn,
Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladay
And there she has her baby born.
Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee

2

She has houked a grave ayont the sun,
And there she has buried the sweet babe in.

3

And she's gane back to her father's ha,
She's counted the leelest maid o them a'.

[OMITTED]

4

‘O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,
Gin ye smyle sae, ye'll smyle me dead.’

[OMITTED]

Fine Flowers in the Valley

THE CRUEL MOTHER—B

[_]

a. Johnson's Museum, p. 331. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, 1803, iii, 259, preface.

1

She sat down below a thorn,
Fine flowers in the valley
And there she has her sweet babe born.
And the green leaves they grow rarely

2

‘Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe,
And ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead.’

3

She's taen out her little pen-knife,
And twinnd the sweet babe o its life.

4

She's howket a grave by the light o the moon,
And there she's buried her sweet babe in.

5

As she was going to the church,
She saw a sweet babe in the porch.

6

‘O sweet babe, and thou were mine,
I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine.’

7

‘O mother dear, when I was thine,
You did na prove to me sae kind.’

[OMITTED]

The Cruel Mother

THE CRUEL MOTHER—C

[_]

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.

1

She leaned her back unto a thorn,
Three, three, and three by three
And there she has her two babes born.
Three, three, and thirty-three

2

She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt,
And there she bound them hand and foot.

3

She has taen out her wee pen-knife,
And there she ended baith their life.

4

She has howked a hole baith deep and wide,
She has put them in baith side by side.

221

5

She has covered them oer wi a marble stane,
Thinking she would gang maiden hame.

6

As she was walking by her father's castle wa,
She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba.

7

‘O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine,
I would dress you up in satin fine.

8

‘O I would dress you in the silk,
And wash you ay in morning milk.’

9

‘O cruel mother, we were thine,
And thou made us to wear the twine.

10

‘O cursed mother, heaven's high,
And that's where thou will neer win nigh.

11

‘O cursed mother, hell is deep,
And there thou'll enter step by step.’

The Cruel Mother

THE CRUEL MOTHER—D

[_]

a. Kinloch's MSS, v, 103, in the handwriting of James Beattie. b. Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46: from the recitation of Miss C. Beattie.

1

There lives a lady in London,
All alone and alone ee
She's gane wi bairn to the clerk's son.
Down by the green wood sae bonnie

2

She's taen her mantle her about,
She's gane aff to the gude green wood.

3

She's set her back untill an oak,
First it bowed and then it broke.

4

She's set her back untill a tree,
Bonny were the twa boys she did bear.

5

But she took out a little pen-knife,
And she parted them and their sweet life.

6

She's aff untill her father's ha;
She was the lealest maiden that was amang them a'.

7

As she lookit oure the castle wa,
She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba.

8

‘O if these two babes were mine,
They should wear the silk and the sabelline!’

9

‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline.

10

‘But out ye took a little pen-knife,
And ye parted us and our sweet life.

11

‘But now we're in the heavens hie,
And ye've the pains o hell to drie.’

The Cruel Mother

THE CRUEL MOTHER—E

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 390. b. Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1

There was a lady, she lived in Lurk,
Sing hey alone and alonie O
She fell in love with her father's clerk.
Down by yon greenwood sidie O

2

She loved him seven years and a day,
Till her big belly did her betray.

3

She leaned her back unto a tree,
And there began her sad misery.

4

She set her foot unto a thorn,
And there she got her two babes born.

5

She took out her wee pen-knife,
She twind them both of their sweet life.

6

She took the sattins was on her head,
She rolled them in both when they were dead.

7

She howkit a grave forenent the sun,
And there she buried her twa babes in.

8

As she was walking thro her father's ha,
She spied twa boys playing at the ba.

222

9

‘O pretty boys, if ye were mine,
I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.’

10

‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
Thou neer dressed us in silks so fine.

11

‘For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk,
And thou fell in love with thy father's clerk.

12

‘Thou loved him seven years and a day,
Till thy big belly did thee betray.

13

‘Thou leaned thy back unto a tree,
And there began thy sad misery.

14

‘Thou set thy foot unto a thorn,
And there thou got thy two babes born.

15

‘Thou took out thy wee pen-knife,
And twind us both of our sweet life.

16

‘Thou took the sattins was on thy head,
Thou rolled us both in when we were dead.

17

‘Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun,
And there thou buried thy twa babes in.

18

‘But now we're both in [the] heavens hie,
There is pardon for us, but none for thee.’

19

‘My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!’
‘There is pardon for us, but none for thee.’

The Cruel Mother

THE CRUEL MOTHER—F

[_]

a. Buchan's MSS, ii, 98. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 222.

1

It fell ance upon a day,
Edinburgh, Edinburgh
It fell ance upon a day,
Stirling for aye
It fell ance upon a day
The clerk and lady went to play.
So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay

2

‘If my baby be a son,
I'll make him a lord of high renown.’

3

She's leand her back to the wa,
Prayd that her pains might fa.

4

She's leand her back to the thorn,
There was her baby born.

5

‘O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,
You'll never suck by my side mair.’

6

She's riven the muslin frae her head,
Tied the baby hand and feet.

7

Out she took her little pen-knife,
Twind the young thing o its sweet life.

8

She's howked a hole anent the meen,
There laid her sweet baby in.

9

She had her to her father's ha,
She was the meekest maid amang them a'.

10

It fell ance upon a day,
She saw twa babies at their play.

11

‘O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,
I'd cleathe you in the silks sae fine.’

12

‘O wild mother, when we were thine,
You cleathd us not in silks so fine.

13

‘But now we're in the heavens high,
And you've the pains o hell to try.’

14

She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,
There I wat she got a fa.

223

THE CRUEL MOTHER—G

[_]

Notes and Queries, 1st S., viii, 358. From Warwickshire, communicated by C. Clifton Barry.

1

There was a lady lived on [a] lea,
All alone, alone O
Down by the greenwood side went she.
Down the greenwood side O

2

She set her foot all on a thorn,
There she had two babies born.

3

O she had nothing to lap them in,
But a white appurn, and that was thin.

The Cruel Mother

THE CRUEL MOTHER—H

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 402. From Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1

There was a lady brisk and smart,
All in a lone and a lonie O
And she goes with child to her father's clark.
Down by the greenwood sidie O

2

Big, big oh she went away,
And then she set her foot to a tree.

3

Big she set her foot to a stone,
Till her three bonnie babes were borne.

4

She took the ribbons off her head,
She tied the little babes hand and feet.

5

She howkit a hole before the sun,
She's laid these three bonnie babes in.

6

She covered them over with marble stone,
For dukes and lords to walk upon.

7

She lookit over her father's castle wa,
She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba.

8

The first o them was clad in red,
To shew the innocence of their blood.

9

The neist o them was clad in green,
To shew that death they had been in.

10

The next was naked to the skin,
To shew they were murderd when they were born.

11

‘O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I wad dress you in the satins so fine.’

12

‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
Thou did not use us half so kind.’

13

‘O bonnie babes, an ye be mine,
Whare hae ye been a' this time?’

14

‘We were at our father's house,
Preparing a place for thee and us.’

15

‘Whaten a place hae ye prepar'd for me?’
‘Heaven's for us, but hell's for thee.

16

‘O mother dear, but heaven's high;
That is the place thou'll ne'er come nigh.

17

‘O mother dear, but hell is deep;
'Twill cause thee bitterlie to weep.’

The Minister's Daughter of New York; or, Hey wi the rose and the lindie O

THE CRUEL MOTHER—I

[_]

a. Buchan's MS., ii, 111. b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 217. c. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, i, 106.

1

The minister's daughter of New York,
Hey wi the rose and the lindie, O
Has faen in love wi her father's clerk.
Alone by the green burn sidie, O

2

She courted him six years and a day,
At length her belly did her betray.

3

She did her down to the greenwood gang,
To spend awa a while o her time.

4

She lent her back unto a thorn,
And she's got her twa bonny boys born.

224

5

She's taen the ribbons frae her hair,
Bound their bodyes fast and sair.

6

She's put them aneath a marble stane,
Thinking a maiden to gae hame.

7

Looking oer her castle wa,
She spied her bonny boys at the ba.

8

‘O bonny babies, if ye were mine,
I woud feed you with the white bread and wine.

9

‘I woud feed you wi the ferra cow's milk,
And dress you in the finest silk.’

10

‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,
We saw none of your bread and wine.

11

‘We saw none of your ferra cow's milk,
Nor wore we of your finest silk.’

12

‘O bonny babies, can ye tell me,
What sort of death for you I must die?’

13

‘Yes, cruel mother, we'll tell to thee,
What sort of death for us you must die.

14

‘Seven years a fowl in the woods,
Seven years a fish in the floods.

15

‘Seven years to be a church bell,
Seven years a porter in hell.’

16

‘Welcome, welcome, fowl in the wood[s],
Welcome, welcome, fish in the flood[s].

17

‘Welcome, welcome, to be a church bell,
But heavens keep me out of hell.’

The Rose o Malindie O

THE CRUEL MOTHER—J

[_]

a. Harris MS., fol. 10, “Mrs Harris and others.” b. Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.

1

She leant her back against a thorn,
Hey for the Rose o' Malindie O
And there she has twa bonnie babes born.
Adoon by the green wood sidie O

2

She's taen the ribbon frae her head,
An hankit their necks till they waur dead.

3

She luikit outowre her castle wa,
An saw twa nakit boys, playin at the ba.

4

‘O bonnie boys, waur ye but mine,
I wald feed ye wi flour-bread an wine.’

5

‘O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
Ye didna feed us wi flour-bread an wine.’

6

‘O bonnie boys, gif ye waur mine,
I wald clied ye wi silk sae fine.’

7

‘O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
You didna clied us in silk sae fine.

8

‘Ye tuik the ribbon aff your head,
An' hankit our necks till we waur dead.

[OMITTED]

9

‘Ye sall be seven years bird on the tree,
Ye sall be seven years fish i the sea.

10

‘Ye sall be seven years eel i the pule,
An ye sall be seven years doon into hell.’

11

‘Welcome, welcome, bird on the tree,
Welcome, welcome, fish i the sea.

12

‘Welcome, welcome, eel i the pule,
But oh for gudesake, keep me frae hell!’

THE CRUEL MOTHER—K

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 186.

1

Lady Margaret looked oer the castle wa,
Hey and a lo and a lilly O
And she saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
Down by the green wood sidy O

2

‘O pretty babes, an ye were mine,
I would dress you in the silks so fine.’

225

3

‘O false mother, when we were thine,
Ye did not dress us in silks so fine.’

4

‘O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I would feed you on the bread and wine.’

5

‘O false mother, when we were thine,
Ye did not feed us on the bread and the wine.’

[OMITTED]

6

‘Seven years a fish in the sea,
And seven years a bird in the tree.

7

‘Seven years to ring a bell,
And seven years porter in hell.’

Fine Flowers in the Valley

THE CRUEL MOTHER—L

[_]

Smith's Scottish Minstrel, iv, 33, 2d ed.

1

A lady lookd out at a castle wa,
Fine flowers in the valley
She saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
And the green leaves they grow rarely

2

‘O my bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I would cleed ye i the scarlet sae fine.

3

‘I'd lay ye saft in beds o down,
And watch ye morning, night and noon.’

4

‘O mither dear, when we were thine,
Ye didna cleed us i the scarlet sae fine.

5

‘But ye took out yere little pen-knife,
And parted us frae our sweet life.

6

‘Ye howkit a hole aneath the moon,
And there ye laid our bodies down.

7

‘Ye happit the hole wi mossy stanes,
And there ye left our wee bit banes.

8

‘But ye ken weel, O mither dear,
Ye never cam that gate for fear.’

[OMITTED]

9

‘Seven lang years ye'll ring the bell,
And see sic sights as ye darna tell.’

THE CRUEL MOTHER—M

[_]

Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as learned in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.

‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
All a lee and aloney O
You neither dressed us in coarse or fine.’
Down by the greenwood sidy O

The Loch o the Loanie

THE CRUEL MOTHER—N

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 264.

1

As I lookit oer my father's castle wa,
All alone and alone O
I saw two pretty babes playing at the ba.
Down by yon green-wood sidie

2

‘O pretty babes, gin ye were mine,’
Hey the loch o the Loanie
‘I would clead ye o the silk sae fine.’
Down by that green-wood sidie

3

‘O sweet darlings, gin ye were mine,’
Hey the loch o the Loanie
‘I would feed ye on the morning's milk.’
Down by that green-wood sidie

4

‘O mither dear, when we were thine,’
By the loch o the Loanie
‘Ye neither dressd us wi silk nor twine.’
Down by this green-wood sidie

5

‘But ye tuke out your little pen-knife,’
By, etc.
‘And there ye tuke yer little babes' life.’
Down by the, etc.

6

‘O mither dear, when this ye had done,’
Alone by, etc.
‘Ye unkirtled yersel, and ye wrapt us in 't.’
Down by the, etc.

7

‘Neist ye houkit a hole fornent the seen.’
All alone and alone O
‘And tearless ye stappit your little babes in’
Down by the, etc.

8

‘But we are in the heavens high,’
And far frae the loch o the Loanie
‘But ye hae the pains o hell to d[r]ie.’
Before ye leave the green-wood sidie

THE CRUEL MOTHER—O

[_]

Percy Papers, with no account of the derivation.

1

There was a duke's daughter lived at York,
All alone and alone a
And she fell in love with her father's clarke.
Down by the greenwood side a, side a,
Down, etc.

2

She loved him seven long years and a day,
Till at last she came big-bellied away.

3

She set her back against a thorn,
And there she had two pretty babes born.

4

She took out a penknife long and short,
And she pierc'd these pretty babes to the tender heart.

5

So as she was walking in her father's hall,
She saw three pretty babes playing at ball.

6

The one was clothed in purple, the other in pall,
And the other was cloathed in no cloths at all.

7

‘O pretty babes, pretty babes, will you be mine?
You shall be clothed in scarlet so fine,
And ye shall drink ale, beer and wine.’

8

‘We are three angels, as other angels be,
And the hotest place in hell is reserved for thee.’

THE CRUEL MOTHER—P

[_]

Pepys Ballads, V, 4, No 2, from a transcript in the Percy Papers.

1

There was a duke's daughter lived in York,
Come bend and bear away the bows of yew
So secretly she loved her father's clark.
Gentle hearts, be to me true.

2

She loved him long and many a day,
Till big with child she went away.

3

She went into the wide wilderness;
Poor she was to be pitied for heaviness.

4

She leant her back against a tree,
And there she endurd much misery.

5

She leant her back against an oak,
With bitter sighs these words she spoke.

6

She set her foot against a thorne,
And there she had two pretty babes born.

7

She took her filliting off her head,
And there she ty'd them hand and leg.

8

She had a penknife long [and] sharp,
And there she stuck them to the heart.

9

She dug a grave, it was long and deep,
And there she laid them in to sleep.

10

The coldest earth it was their bed,
The green grass was their coverlid.

11

As she was a going by her father's hall,
She see three children a playing at ball.

12

One was drest in scarlet fine,
And the other[s was naked] as ere they was born.

13

‘O mother, O mother, if these children was mine,
I wold dress them [in] scarlet fine.’

14

‘O mother, O mother, when we was thine,
You did not dress [us] in scarlet fine.

15

‘You set your back against a tree,
And there you endured great misery.

16

‘You set your foot against a thorne,
And there you had us pritty babes born.

17

‘You took your filliting off your head,
And there you bound us, hand to leg.

18

‘You had a penknife long and sharp,
And there you stuck us to the heart.

19

‘You dug a grave, it was long and deep,
And there you laid us in to sleep.

20

‘The coldest earth it was our bed,
The green grass was our coverlid.

21

‘O mother, mother, for your sin
Heaven-gate you shall not enter in.

22

‘O mother, mother, for your sin
Hell-gates stands open to let you in.’

23

The lady's cheeks lookd pale and wan,
‘Alass I,’ said she, ‘what have I done!’

24

She tore her silken locks of hair,
And dy'd away in sad despair.

25

Young ladies all, of beauty bright,
Take warning by her last good-night.

THE CRUEL MOTHER—Q

[_]

Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia Burne, 1883-86, p. 540; “sung by Eliza Wharton and brothers, children of gipsies, habitually travelling in North Shropshire and Staffordshire, 13th July, 1885.”

1

There was a lady, a lady of York,
Ri fol i diddle i gee wo
She fell a-courting in her own father's park.
Down by the greenwood side, O

2

She leaned her back against the stile,
There she had two pretty babes born.

3

And she had nothing to lap 'em in,
But she had a penknife sharp and keen.

4

[OMITTED]
There she stabbed them right through the heart.

5

She wiped the penknife in the sludge;
The more she wiped it, the more the blood showed.

6

As she was walking in her own father's park,
She saw two pretty babes playing with a ball.

7

‘Pretty babes, pretty babes, if you were mine,
I'd dress you up in silks so fine.’

8

‘Dear mother, dear mother, [when we were thine,]
You dressed us not in silks so fine.

9

‘Here we go to the heavens so high,
You'll go to bad when you do die.’

228

21
THE MAID AND THE PALMER

232

Lillumwham

THE MAID AND THE PALMER—A

[_]

Percy MS., p. 461. Furnivall, iv, 96.

1

The maid shee went to the well to washe,
Lillumwham, lillumwham!
The mayd shee went to the well to washe,
Whatt then? what then?
The maid shee went to the well to washe,
Dew ffell of her lilly white fleshe.
Grandam boy, grandam boy, heye!
Leg a derry, leg a merry, mett, mer, whoope, whir!
Driuance, larumben, grandam boy, heye!

2

While shee washte and while shee ronge,
While shee hangd o the hazle wand.

3

There came an old palmer by the way,
Sais, ‘God speed thee well, thou faire maid!’

4

‘Hast either cupp or can,
To giue an old palmer drinke therin?’

5

Sayes, ‘I have neither cupp nor cann,
To giue an old palmer drinke therin.’

6

‘But an thy lemman came from Roome,
Cupps and canns thou wold ffind soone.’

7

Shee sware by God & good St. John,
Lemman had shee neuer none.

8

Saies, ‘Peace, ffaire mayd, you are fforsworne!
Nine children you haue borne.

9

‘Three were buryed vnder thy bed's head,
Other three vnder thy brewing leade.

10

‘Other three on yon play greene;
Count, maid, and there be 9.’

11

‘But I hope you are the good old man
That all the world beleeues vpon.

12

‘Old palmer, I pray thee,
Pennaunce that thou wilt giue to me.’

13

‘Penance I can giue thee none,
But 7 yeere to be a stepping-stone.

14

‘Other seaven a clapper in a bell,
Other 7 to lead an ape in hell.

15

‘When thou hast thy penance done,
Then thoust come a mayden home.’

THE MAID AND THE PALMER—B

[_]

A Ballad Book, by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, edited by David Laing, p. 157 f, vii; from Sir W. Scott's recollection.

1

‘Seven years ye shall be a stone,
[OMITTED]
For many a poor palmer to rest him upon.
And you the fair maiden of Gowden-gane

2

‘Seven years ye'll be porter of hell,
And then I'll take you to mysell.’

[OMITTED]

3

‘Weel may I be a' the other three,
But porter of hell I never will be.’
And I, etc.

233

22
ST STEPHEN AND HEROD

241

ST. STEPHEN AND HEROD

[_]

Sloane MS., 2593, fol. 22 b, British Museum.

1

Seynt Steuene was a clerk in kyng Herowdes halle,
And seruyd him of bred and cloþ, as euery kyng befalle.

2

Steuyn out of kechone cam, wyth boris hed on honde;
He saw a sterre was fayr and bryȝt ouer Bedlem stonde.

3

He kyst adoun þe boris hed and went in to þe halle:
‘I forsak þe, kyng Herowdes, and þi werkes alle.

4

‘I forsak þe, kyng Herowdes, and þi werkes alle;
Þer is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter þan we alle.’

5

‘Quat eylyt þe, Steuene? quat is þe befalle?

242

Lakkyt þe eyþer mete or drynk in kyng Herowdes halle?’

6

‘Lakit me neyþer mete ne drynk in kyng Herowdes halle;
Þer is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter þan we alle.’

7

Quat eylyt þe, Steuyn? art þu wod, or þu gynnyst to brede?
Lakkyt þe eyþer gold or fe, or ony ryche wede?’

8

‘Lakyt me neyþer gold ne fe, ne non ryche wede;
Þer is a chyld in Bedlem born xal helpyn vs at our nede.’

9

‘Þat is al so soþ, Steuyn, al so soþ, iwys,
As þis capoun crowe xal þat lyþ here in myn dysh.’

10

Þat word was not so sone seyd, þat word in þat halle,
Þe capoun crew Cristus natus est! among þe lordes alle.

11

Rysyt vp, myn turmentowres, be to and al be on,
And ledyt Steuyn out of þis town, and stonyt hym wyth ston!’

12

Tokyn he Steuene, and stonyd hym in the way,
And þerfore is his euyn on Crystes owyn day.

23
JUDAS

JUDAS

[_]

MS. B. 14, 39, of the thirteenth century, library of Trinity College, Cambridge, as printed in Wright & Halliwell's Reliquiæ Antiquæ, i, 144.

243

1

Hit wes upon a Scere-thorsday that ure loverd aros;
Ful milde were the wordes he spec to Judas.

2

‘Judas, thou most to Jurselem, oure mete for to bugge;
Thritti platen of selver thou bere up othi rugge.

3

‘Thou comest fer ithe brode stret, fer ithe brode strete;
Summe of thine tunesmen ther thou meiht imete.’

4

[OMITTED]
Imette wid is soster, the swikele wimon.

5

‘Judas, thou were wrthe me stende the wid ston,
For the false prophete that tou bilevest upon.’

6

‘Be stille, leve soster, thin herte the tobreke!
Wiste min loverd Crist, ful wel he wolde be wreke.’

7

‘Judas, go thou on the roc, heie upon the ston;
Lei thin heved imy barm, slep thou the anon.’

8

Sone so Judas of slepe was awake,
Thritti platen of selver from hym weren itake.

244

9

He drou hymselve bi the cop, that al it lavede a blode;
The Jewes out of Jurselem awenden he were wode.

10

Foret hym com the riche Jeu that heihte Pilatus:
‘Wolte sulle thi loverd, that hette Jesus?’

11

‘I nul sulle my loverd [for] nones cunnes eihte,
Bote hit be for the thritti platen that he me bitaihte.’

12

‘Wolte sulle thi lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?’
‘Nay, bote hit be for the platen that he habben wolde.’

13

In him com ur lord Crist gon, as is postles seten at mete:
‘Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?

14

[‘Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?]
Ic am ibouht ant isold today for oure mete.’

15

Up stod him Judas: ‘Lord, am I that [OMITTED]?
‘I nas never othe stude ther me the evel spec.’

16

Up him stod Peter, and spec wid al is mihte,
[OMITTED]

17

‘Thau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnihtes,
Yet ic wolde, loverd, for thi love fihte.’

18

‘Still thou be, Peter, wel I the icnowe;
Thou wolt fursake me thrien ar the coc him crowe.’

24
BONNIE ANNIE

245

Bonnie Annie

BONNIE ANNIE—A

[_]

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 123.

1

There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,
He had a fair lady, and one only dochter.

2

O she was fair, O dear, she was bonnie!
A ship's captain courted her to be his honey.

3

There cam a ship's captain out owre the sea sailing,
He courted this young thing till he got her wi bairn.

4

‘Ye'll steal your father's gowd, and your mother's money,
And I'll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.’

5

She's stown her father's gowd, and her mother's money,
But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.

[OMITTED]

6

‘There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me,
There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me.’

7

They've casten black bullets twice six and forty,
And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.

8

‘Ye'll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,
Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie.’

9

He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,
He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.

10

‘What can a woman do, love, I'll do for ye;’
‘Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.’

11

‘Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,
Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.’

12

‘I've laid about, steerd about, laid about cannie,
But all I can do, she winna sail for me.

246

13

‘Ye'll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,
And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie.’

14

He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,
He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie.

15

As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam,
And she was at Ireland as soon as them.

16

He made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,
And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.

The High Banks o Yarrow

BONNIE ANNIE—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 652. From the singing of a boy, Henry French, Ayr.

1

Down in Dumbarton there wonnd a rich merchant,
Down in Dumbarton there wond a rich merchant,
And he had nae family but ae only dochter.
Sing fal lal de deedle, fal lal de deedle lair, O a day

2

There cam a rich squire, intending to woo her,
He wooed her until he had got her wi babie.

3

‘Oh what shall I do! oh what shall come o me!
Baith father and mither will think naething o me.’

4

‘Gae up to your father, bring down gowd and money,
And I'll take ye ower to a braw Irish ladie.’

5

She gade to her father, brought down gowd and money,
And she's awa ower to a braw Irish ladie.

6

She hadna sailed far till the young thing cried ‘Women!’
‘What women can do, my dear, I'll do for you.’

7

‘O haud your tongue, foolish man, dinna talk vainly,
For ye never kent what a woman driet for you.

8

‘Gae wash your hands in the cauld spring water,
And dry them on a towel a' giltit wi silver.

9

‘And tak me by the middle, and lift me up saftlie,
And throw me ower shipboard, baith me and my babie.’

10

He took her by the middle, and lifted her saftly,
And threw her ower shipboard, baith her and her babie.

11

Sometimes she did sink, sometimes she did float it,
Until that she cam to the high banks o Yarrow.

12

‘O captain tak gowd, O sailors tak money,
And launch out your sma boat till I sail for my honey.’

13

‘How can I tak gowd, how can I tak money?
My ship's on a sand bank, she winna sail for me.’

14

The captain took gowd, the sailors took money,
And they launchd out their sma boat till he sailed for his honey.

15

‘Mak my love a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,
Whar the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow,
And bury my love on the high banks o Yarrow.’

16

They made her a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,
And buried her deep on the high banks o Yarrow.

247

25
WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE

250

Willie, Willie

WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE—A

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, i, 53, from the recitation of Mary Barr, Lesmahagow, aged upwards of seventy. May, 1827.

1

‘Willie, Willie, I'll learn you a wile,’
And the sun shines over the valleys and a'
‘How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.’
Amang the blue flowrs and the yellow and a'

2

‘Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead,
And tak your winding-sheet around your head.

251

3

‘Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat,
To ring your dead-bell at your lover's yett.’

4

He lay doun just as he war dead,
And took his winding-sheet round his head.

5

He gied the bellman his bell-groat,
To ring his dead-bell at his lover's yett.

6

‘O wha is this that is dead, I hear?’
‘O wha but Willie that loed ye sae dear.’

7

She is to her father's chamber gone,
And on her knees she's fallen down.

8

‘O father, O father, ye maun grant me this;
I hope that ye will na tak it amiss.

9

‘That I to Willie's burial should go;
For he is dead, full well I do know.’

10

‘Ye'll tak your seven bauld brethren wi thee,
And to Willie's burial straucht go ye.’

11

It's whan she cam to the outmost yett,
She made the silver fly round for his sake.

12

It's whan she cam to the inmost yett,
She made the red gowd fly round for his sake.

13

As she walked frae the court to the parlour there,
The pretty corpse syne began for to steer.

14

He took her by the waist sae neat and sae sma,
And threw her atween him and the wa.

15

‘O Willie, O Willie, let me alane this nicht,
O let me alane till we're wedded richt.’

16

‘Ye cam unto me baith sae meek and mild,
But I'll mak ye gae hame a wedded wife wi child.’

Blue Flowers and Yellow; or, The Blue Flowers and the Yellow

WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE—B

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i, 185. b. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, i, 120.

1

‘O Willie my son, what makes you sae sad?’
As the sun shines over the valley
‘I lye sarely sick for the love of a maid.’
Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

2

‘Were she an heiress or lady sae free,
That she will take no pity on thee?

3

‘O Willie, my son, I'll learn you a wile,
How this fair maid ye may beguile.

4

‘Ye'll gie the principal bellman a groat,
And ye'll gar him cry your dead lyke-wake.’

5

Then he gae the principal bellman a groat,
He bade him cry his dead lyke-wake.

6

This maiden she stood till she heard it a',
And down frae her cheeks the tears did fa.

7

She is hame to her father's ain bower:
‘I'll gang to yon lyke-wake ae single hour.’

8

‘Ye must take with you your ain brither John;
It's not meet for maidens to venture alone.’

9

‘I'll not take with me my brither John,
But I'll gang along, myself all alone.’

10

When she came to young Willie's yate,
His seven brithers were standing thereat.

11

Then they did conduct her into the ha,
Amang the weepers and merry mourners a'.

12

When she lifted up the covering sae red,
With melancholy countenance to look on the dead,

13

He's taen her in his arms, laid her gainst the wa,
Says, ‘Lye ye here, fair maid, till day.’

14

‘O spare me, O spare me, but this single night,
And let me gang hame a maiden sae bright.’

15

‘Tho all your kin were about your bower,
Ye shall not be a maiden ae single hour.

252

16

‘Fair maid, ye came here without a convoy,
But ye shall return wi a horse and a boy.

17

‘Ye came here a maiden sae mild,
But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife with child.’

WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 187.

1

‘O Willie, Willie, what makes thee so sad?’
And the sun shines over the valley
‘I have loved a lady these seven years and mair.’
Down amang the blue flowers and the yellow

2

‘O Willie, lie down as thou were dead,
And lay thy winding-sheet down at thy head.

3

‘And gie to the bellman a belling-great,
To ring the dead-bell at thy love's bower-yett.’

4

He laid him down as he were dead,
And he drew the winding-sheet oer his head.

5

He gied to the bellman a belling-great,
To ring the dead-bell at his love's bower-yett.

[OMITTED]

6

When that she came to her true lover's gate,
She dealt the red gold and all for his sake.

7

And when that she came to her true lover's bower,
She had not been there for the space of half an hour,

8

Till that she cam to her true lover's bed,
And she lifted the winding-sheet to look at the dead.

9

He took her by the hand so meek and sma,
And he cast her over between him and the wa.

10

‘Tho all your friends were in the bower,
I would not let you go for the space of half an hour.

11

‘You came to me without either horse or boy,
But I will send you home with a merry convoy.’

Amang the blue flowers and yellow

WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE—D

[_]

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix, No xvii.

‘O Johnie, dear Johnie, what makes ye sae sad?’
As the sun shines ower the valley
‘I think nae music will mak ye glad.’
Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

253

WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE—E

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 51. b. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 122.

1

‘If my love loves me, she lets me not know,
That is a dowie chance;
I wish that I the same could do,
Tho my love were in France, France,
Tho my love were in France.

2

‘O lang think I, and very lang,
And lang think I, I true;
But lang and langer will I think
Or my love o me rue.

3

‘I will write a broad letter,
And write it sae perfite,
That an she winna o me rue,
I'll bid her come to my lyke.’

4

Then he has written a broad letter,
And seald it wi his hand,
And sent it on to his true love,
As fast as boy could gang.

5

When she looked the letter upon,
A light laugh then gae she;
But ere she read it to an end,
The tear blinded her ee.

6

‘O saddle to me a steed, father,
O saddle to me a steed;
For word is come to me this night,
That my true love is dead.’

7

‘The steeds are in the stable, daughter,
The keys are casten by;
Ye cannot won to-night, daughter,
To-morrow ye'se won away.’

8

She has cut aff her yellow locks,
A little aboon her ee,
And she is on to Willie's lyke,
As fast as gang could she.

9

As she gaed ower yon high hill head,
She saw a dowie light;
It was the candles at Willie's lyke,
And torches burning bright.

10

Three o Willie's eldest brothers
Were making for him a bier;
One half o it was gude red gowd,
The other siller clear.

11

Three o Willie's eldest sisters
Were making for him a sark;
The one half o it was cambric fine,
The other needle wark.

12

Out spake the youngest o his sisters,
As she stood on the fleer:
How happy would our brother been,
If ye'd been sooner here!

13

She lifted up the green covering,
And gae him kisses three;
Then he lookd up into her face,
The blythe blink in his ee.

14

O then he started to his feet,
And thus to her said he:
Fair Annie, since we're met again,
Parted nae mair we'se be.

26
THE THREE RAVENS

THE THREE RAVENS

[_]

a. Melismata. Musicall Phansies. Fitting the Court, Cittie, and Countrey Humours. London, 1611, No 22. [T. Ravenscroft.]

254

1

There were three rauens sat on a tree,
Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
With a downe
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
They were as blacke as they might be.
With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe

2

The one of them said to his mate,
‘Where shall we our breakefast take?’

3

‘Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a knight slain vnder his shield.

4

‘His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their master keepe.

5

‘His haukes they flie so eagerly,
There's no fowle dare him come nie.’

6

Downe there comes a fallow doe,
As great with yong as she might goe.

7

She lift vp his bloudy hed,
And kist his wounds that were so red.

8

She got him vp vpon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake.

9

She buried him before the prime,
She was dead herselfe ere euen-song time.

10

God send euery gentleman,
Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.

255

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THE WHUMMIL BORE

THE WHUMMIL BORE

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 191. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvi, No iii.

1

Seven lang years I hae served the king,
Fa fa fa fa lilly
And I never got a sight of his daughter but ane.
With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle,
Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally

2

I saw her thro a whummil bore,
And I neer got a sight of her no more.

3

Twa was putting on her gown,
And ten was putting pins therein.

4

Twa was putting on her shoon,
And twa was buckling them again.

5

Five was combing down her hair,
And I never got a sight of her nae mair.

6

Her neck and breast was like the snow,
Then from the bore I was forced to go.

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BURD ELLEN AND YOUNG TAMLANE

BURD ELLEN AND YOUNG TAMLANE

[_]

Maidment's North Countrie Garland, 1824, p. 21. Communicated by R. Pitcairn, “from the recitation of a female relative, who had heard it frequently sung in her childhood,” about sixty years before the above date.

1

Burd Ellen sits in her bower windowe,
With a double laddy double, and for the double dow
Twisting the red silk and the blue.
With the double rose and the May-hay

2

And whiles she twisted, and whiles she twan,
And whiles the tears fell down amang.

3

Till once there by cam Young Tamlane:
‘Come light, oh light, and rock your young son.’

4

‘If you winna rock him, you may let him rair,
For I hae rockit my share and mair.’

[OMITTED]

5

Young Tamlane to the seas he's gane,
And a' women's curse in his company's gane.

University of Virginia Library

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A Noble Riddle Wisely Expounded; or, The Maid's Answer to the Knight's Three Questions

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The pagination of this document is inconsistent because additions from the appendices to volumes have been incorporated into the main body of the text where appropriate.

Square brackets denote editorial insertions or emendations.

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RIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED

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THE ELFIN KNIGHT