University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The English and Scottish Popular Ballads

Edited by Francis James Child.

expand sectionI. 
expand sectionII. 
expand sectionIII. 
expand sectionIV. 
expand sectionV. 
expand sectionVI. 
expand sectionVII. 
expand sectionVIII. 
collapse sectionIX. 
expand section266. 
expand section267. 
expand section268. 
expand section269. 
expand section270. 
expand section271. 
expand section272. 
expand section273. 
expand section274. 
expand section275. 
expand section276. 
expand section277. 
expand section278. 
expand section279. 
expand section280. 
expand section281. 
expand section282. 
expand section283. 
expand section284. 
expand section285. 
expand section286. 
expand section287. 
expand section288. 
expand section289. 
expand section290. 
expand section291. 
expand section292. 
expand section293. 
expand section294. 
expand section295. 
expand section296. 
expand section297. 
expand section298. 
expand section299. 
expand section300. 
expand section301. 
collapse section302. 
  
expand section303. 
expand section304. 
expand section305. 

Lord Travell

LORD LOVEL—C

[_]

Communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, 1873, as taken down from the recitation of Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay.

1

Lord Travell stands in his stable-door,
Dressing his milk-white steed,
An bye comes Lady Ounceville:
‘I wish you muckle speed.

2

‘Oh whar are ye gaun, Lord Travell?’ she says,
‘Whar are gaun frae me?’
‘I am gaun to London town,
Some strange things for to see.’

3

‘Whan will ye be back, Lord Travell?’ she says,
‘Whan will ye be back to me?’
‘I will be back in seven lang years,
To wed my gay ladie.’

4

‘Oh that is too lang for me,’ she says,
‘Oh that is too lang for me;
Oh that is too lang for me,’ she says,
‘To wed thy gay ladie.’

5

He hadna been in London town
A week but only three,
Whan a boding voice thirld in his ear,
That Scotland he maun see.

6

He rade an he rode alang the highway,
Till he cam to yon little town:
‘Oh is there ony body dead?
The bells they mak sic a sound.’

7

He rade an he rode alang the highway,
Till he cam to yon little town:
‘Oh is there ony body dead?
The folk gae mournin round.’

8

‘Oh yes indeed, there is ane dead,
Her name is Ounceville;
An she has died for a courteous knicht,
His name is Lord Travell.’

9

‘Oh hand ye aboot, ye gentlemen,
The white bread an the wine,
For the morn's nicht aboot this time
Ye'll do the same for mine!’