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. 
collapse sectionV. 
expand section114. 
expand section115. 
expand section116. 
expand section117. 
expand section118. 
expand section119. 
expand section120. 
expand section121. 
collapse section122. 
  
  
expand section123. 
expand section124. 
expand section125. 
expand section126. 
expand section127. 
expand section128. 
expand section129. 
expand section130. 
expand section131. 
expand section132. 
expand section133. 
expand section134. 
expand section135. 
expand section136. 
expand section137. 
expand section138. 
expand section139. 
expand section140. 
expand section141. 
expand section142. 
expand section143. 
expand section144. 
expand section145. 
expand section146. 
expand section147. 
expand section148. 
expand section149. 
expand section150. 
expand section151. 
expand section152. 
expand section153. 
expand section154. 
expand section155. 
expand sectionVI. 
expand sectionVII. 
expand sectionVIII. 
expand sectionIX. 

The Bonnie Earl o Murray

THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY—B

[_]

Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 11; from recitation.

1

Open the gates,
and let him come in;
He is my brother Huntly,
he'll do him nae harm.’

2

The gates they were opent,
they let him come in,
But fause traitor Huntly,
he did him great harm.

3

He's ben and ben,
and ben to his bed,
And with a sharp rapier
he stabbed him dead.

4

The lady came down the stair,
wringing her hands:
‘He has slain the Earl o Murray,
the flower o Scotland.’

5

But Huntly lap on his horse,
rade to the king:
‘Ye're welcome hame, Huntly,
and whare hae ye been?

449

6

‘Whare hae ye been?
and how hae ye sped?’
‘I've killed the Earl o Murray,
dead in his bed.’

7

‘Foul fa you, Huntly!
and why did ye so?
You might have taen the Earl o Murray,
and saved his life too.’

8

‘Her bread it's to bake,
her yill is to brew;
My sister's a widow,
and sair do I rue.

9

‘Her corn grows ripe,
her meadows grow green,
But in bonny Dinnibristle
I darena be seen.’