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

But the answer he received again,
The lines did grieve his heart right sair;
None of her friends there had her seen
For a twelvemonth and something mair.

11

Then he put on a palmer's weed,
And took a pikestaff in his hand;
To Violentrie's castle he hied,
But slowly, slowly he did gang.

12

When within the hall he came,
He joukd and couchd out-oer his tree:
‘If ye be lady of this hall,
Some of your good bountieth give me.’

13

‘What news, what news, palmer?’ she said,
‘And from what countrie came ye?’
‘I'm lately come from Grecian plains,
Where lys some of the Scots army.’

14

‘If ye be come from Grecian plains,
Some more news I will ask of thee;
Of one of the chieftains that lies there,
If he have lately seen his gay ladie.’

15

‘It is twelve months and something more
Since we did part in yonder plain;
And now this knight has begun to fear
One of his foes he has her taen.’

16

‘He has not taen me by force nor might,
It was all by my own free will;
He may tarry in the fight,
For here I mean to tarry still.

17

‘And if John Thomson ye do see,
Tell him I wish him silent sleep;
His head was not so cozelie
Nor yet so well as lies at my feet.’

18

With that he threw [aff] his strange disguise,
Laid by the mask that he had on;
Said, Hide me now, my ladie fair,
For Violentrie will soon be home.

19

‘For the love I bare thee once,
I'll strive to hide you if I can;’
Then put him down to a dark cellar,
Where there lay mony a new slain man.

20

But he hadna in the cellar been
Not an hour but barely three,
Till hideous was the sound he heard;
Then in at the gates came Violentrie.

21

Says, I wish yon well, my lady fair,
It's time for us to sit and dine;
Come, serve me with the good white bread,
And likewise with the claret wine.

22

‘That Scots chieftain, our mortal foe,
So oft from field has made us flee,
Ten thousand sequins this day I'd give
That I his face could only see.’

23

‘Of that same gift would ye give me,
If I could bring him unto thee?
I fairly hold you at your word;
Come ben, John Thomson, to my lord.’

24

Then from the vault John Thomson came,
Wringing his hands most piteouslie;
‘What would ye do,’ the Turk he cried,
‘If ye had me, as I have thee?’

25

‘If I had you, as ye have me,
I'll tell you what I'd do to thee;
I'd hang you up in good greenwood,
And cause your own hand wile the tree.

26

‘I meant to stick you with my knife,
For kissing my beloved wife;’
‘But that same weed ye've shaped for me,
It quickly shall be sewed for thee.’

27

Then to the wood they both are gone,
John Thomson clamb from tree to tree;
And aye he sighd, and said, Ohon!
Here comes the day that I must die!

28

He tied a ribbon on every branch,
Put up a flag his men might see;
But little did his false foe ken
He meant them any injurie.

29

He set his horn to his mouth,
And he has blawn baith loud and shrill;
And then three thousand armed men
Came tripping all out-oer the hill.

30

‘Deliver us our chief!’ they all did cry,
‘It's by our hand that ye must die!’
‘Here is your chief,’ the Turk replied,
With that fell on his bended knee.

31

‘O mercy, mercy, good fellows all,
Mercy I pray you'll grant to me!’
‘Such mercy as ye meant to give,
Such mercy we shall give to thee.’

32

This Turk they in his castle burnt,
That stood upon yon hill so hie;
John Thomson's gay lady they took,
And hangd her on yon greenwood tree.

JOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK—B

[_]

Leyden's Glossary to The Complaynt of Scotland, p. 371.

1

O cam ye in by the House o Rodes,
Or cam ye there away?
Or have [ye] seen Johne Tamson?
They say his wife has run away.

[OMITTED]

2

‘O what wad ye do, Johne Tamson,
Gin ye had me as I hae thee?’
‘I wad tak ye to the gude green-wood,
And gar your ain hand weil the tree.’

[OMITTED]

3

Johne Tamson peeped and poorly spake
Untill he did his ain men see;
‘O by my sooth,’ quo Johne Tamson,
‘Methinks I see a coming tree.’

[OMITTED]

4

And they hae hanged that grim Soudan,
For a' his mirth and meikle pride,
And sae hae they that ill woman,
Upon a scrogg-bush him beside.

267
THE HEIR OF LINNE

The Heir of Lin

THE HEIR OF LINNE—A

[_]

Percy MS., p. 71; Hales and Furnivall, I, 174.

1

Off all the lords in faire Scottland
A song I will begin;
Amongst them all there dweld a lord
Which was the vnthrifty lord of Linne.

2

His father and mother were dead him froe,
And soe was the head of all his kinne;
To the cards and dice that he did run
He did neither cease nor bl[i]nne.

3

To drinke the wine that was soe cleere,
With euery man he wold make merry;
And then bespake him Iohn of the Scales,
Vnto the heire of Linne sayd hee.

4

Sayes, How dost thou, Lord of Linne?
Doest either want gold or fee?
Wilt thou not sell thy lands soe brode
To such a good fellow as me?

5

‘Ffor [OMITTED] I [OMITTED] ’ he said,
‘My land, take it vnto thee;’
‘I draw you to record, my lord[ë]s all;’
With that he cast him a god's peny.

6

He told him the gold vpon the bord,
It wanted neuer a bare penny:
‘That gold is thine, the land is mine,
The heire of Linne I wilbee.’

7

‘Heere's gold inoughe,’ saithe the heire of Linne,
‘Both for me and my company:’
He drunke the wine that was soe cleere,
And with euery man he made merry.

8

With-in three quarters of a yeere
His gold and fee it waxed thinne,
His merry men were from him gone,
And left him himselfe all alone.

9

He had neuer a penny left in his pursse,
Neuer a penny [left] but three,
And one was brasse, and another was lead,
And another was white mony.

10

‘Now well-aday!’ said the heire of Linne,
‘Now welladay, and woe is mee!
For when I was the lord of Linne,
I neither wanted gold nor fee.

11

‘For I haue sold my lands soe broad,
And haue not left me one penny;

I must goe now and take some read
Vnto Edenborrow, and begg my bread.’

12

He had not beene in Edenborrow
Not three qwarters of a yeere,
But some did giue him, and some said nay,
And some bid ‘to the deele gang yee!

13

‘For if we shold hang any landles feer,
The first we wold begin with thee.’
‘Now welladay!’ said the heire of Linne,
‘No[w] welladay, and woe is mee!

14

‘For now I have sold my lands soe broad,
That mery man is irke with mee;
But when that I was the lord of Linne,
Then on my land I liued merrily.

15

‘And now I have sold my land soe broade
That I haue not left me one pennye!
God be with my father!’ he said,
‘On his land he liued merrily.’

16

Still in a study there as he stood,
He vnbethought him of [a] bill;
He vnbethought him of [a] bill
Which his father had left with him.

17

Bade him he shold neuer on it looke
Till he was in extreame neede,
‘And by my faith,’ said the heire of Linne,
‘Then now I had neuer more neede.’

18

He tooke the bill, and looked it on,
Good comfort that he found there;
Itt told him of a castle wall
Where there stood three chests in feare.

19

Two were full of the beaten gold,
The third was full of white mony;
He turned then downe his baggs of bread,
And filled them full of gold soe red.

20

Then he did neuer cease nor blinne
Till Iohn of the Scales house he did winne.
When that he came to Iohn of the Scales,
Vpp at the speere he looked then.

21

There sate three lords vpon a rowe,
And Iohn o the Scales sate at the bord's head,
And Iohn o the Scales sate at the bord's head,
Because he was the lord of Linne.

22

And then bespake the heire of Linne,
To Iohn o the Scales' wiffe thus sayd hee:
Sayd, Dame, wilt thou not trust me one shott
That I may sitt downe in this company?

23

‘Now, Christ's curse on my head,’ shee said,
‘If I doe trust thee one pennye;’
Then be-spake a good fellowe,
Which sate by Iohn o the Scales his knee.

24

Said, Haue thou here, thou heire of Linne,
Forty pence I will lend thee;
Some time a good fellow thou hast beene;
And other forty if neede bee.

25

Thé dru[n]ken wine that was soe cleere,
And euery man thé made merry;
And then bespake him Iohn o the Scales,
Vnto the lord of Linne said hee.

26

Said, How doest thou, heire of Linne,
Since I did buy thy lands of thee?
I will sell it to thee twenty pound better cheepe
Nor euer I did buy it of thee.

27

‘I draw you to recorde, lord[ë]s all,’
With that he cast him [a] god's penny;
Then he tooke to his baggs of bread,
And they were full of the gold soe redd.

28

He told him the gold then over the borde,
It wanted neuer a broad pennye:
‘That gold is thine, the land is mine,
And the heire of Linne againe I wilbee.’

29

‘Now welladay!’ said Iohn o the Scales' wife,
‘Welladay, and woe is me!
Yesterday I was the lady of Linne,
And now I am but Iohn o the Scales' wiffe!’

30

Saies, Haue thou heere, thou good fellow,
Forty pence thou did lend me,
Forty pence thou did lend me,
And forty pound I will giue thee.

31

‘Ile make thee keeper of my forrest
Both of the wild deere and the tame,’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

32

But then bespake the heire of Linne,
These were the words, and thus said hee,
Christs curse light vpon my crowne
If ere my land stand in any ieopardye!

The Heir of Linne; or, The Weary Heir of Linne; or, The Laird o Linne

THE HEIR OF LINNE—B

[_]

a. Buchan's MSS, I, 40. b. Buchan's MSS, II, 114. c. Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 112.

1

‘The bonny heir, and the well-faird heir,
And the weary heir o Linne,
Yonder he stands at his father's yetts,
And naebody bids him come in.

2

‘O see for he gangs, an see for he stands,
The weary heir o Linne!
O see for he stands on the cauld casey,
And nae an bids him come in!

3

‘But if he had been his father's heir,
Or yet the heir o Linne,
He wadna stand on the cauld casey,
Some an woud taen him in.’

4

‘Sing ower again that sang, nourice,
The sang ye sung just now;’
‘I never sung a sang in my life
But I woud sing ower to you.

5

‘O see for he gangs, an see for he stands,
The weary heir o Linne!
O see for he stands on the cauld casey,
An nae an bids him come in!

6

‘But if he had been his father's heir,
Or yet the heir o Linne,
He woudna stand on the cauld casye,
Some an woud taen him in.

7

‘When his father's lands a selling were,
His claise lay well in fauld,
But now he wanders on the shore,
Baith hungry, weet, and cauld.’

8

As Willie he gaed down the town,
The gentlemen were drinking;
Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass,
And some bade him gie nane,
Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass,
The weary heir o Linne.

9

As Willie he came up the town,
The fishers were a' sitting;
Some bade gie Willie a fish, a fish,
Some bade gie him a fin,
Some bade gie him a fish, a fish,
And lat the palmer gang.

10

He turned him right and round about,
As will as a woman's son,
And taen his cane into his hand,
And on his way to Linne.

11

His nourice at her window lookd,
Beholding dale and down,
And she beheld this distressd young man
Come walking to the town.

12

‘Come here, come here, Willie,’ she said,
‘And rest yoursel wi me;
I hae seen you in better days,
And in jovial companie.’

13

‘Gie me a sheave o your bread, nourice,
And a bottle o your wine,
And I'll pay you it a' ower again,
When I'm the laird o Linne.’

14

‘Ye'se get a sheave o my bread, Willie,
And a bottle o my wine,
But ye'll pay me when the seas gang dry,
For ye'll neer be heir o Linne.’

15

Then he turnd him right and round about,
As will as woman's son,
And aff he set, and bent his way,
And straightway came to Linne.

16

But when he came to that castle,
They were set down to dine;
A score o nobles there he saw,
Sat drinking at the wine.

17

Then some bade gie him beef, the beef,
And some bade gie him the bane;
And some bade gie him naething at a',
But lat the palmer gang.

18

Then out it speaks the new-come laird,
A saucy word spake hee;
‘Put round the cup, gie my rival a sup,
Let him fare on his way.’

19

Then out it speaks Sir Ned Magnew,
Ane o young Willie's kin;
‘This youth was ance a sprightly boy
As ever lived in Linne.’

20

He turned him right and round about,
As will as woman's son,
Then minded him on a little wee key,
That his mother left to him.

21

His mother left [him] this little wee key
A little before she died;
And bade him keep this little wee key
Till he was in maist need.

22

Then forth he went, these nobles left,
All drinkin' in the room,
Wi walking rod intill his hand,
He walked the castle roun.

23

There he found out a little door,
For there the key slipped in,
And there [he] got as muckle red gowd
As freed the lands o Linne.

24

Back through the nobles then he went,
A saucy man was then:
‘I'll take the cup frae this new-come laird,
For he neer bade me sit down.’

25

Then out it speaks the new-come laird,
He spake wi mock an jeer;
‘I'd gie a seat to the laird o Linne,
Sae be that he were here.

26

‘When the lands o Linne a selling were,
A' men said they were free;
This lad shall hae them frae me this day,
If he'll gie the third pennie.’

27

‘I take ye witness, nobles a',
Guide witnesses ye'll be;
I'm promisd the lands o Linne this day,
If I gie the third pennie.’

28

‘Ye've taen us witness, Willie,’ they said,
‘Guide witnesses we'll be;’
‘Buy the lands o Linne who likes,
They'll neer be bought by thee.’

29

He's done him to a gaming-table,
For it stood fair and clean;
There he tauld down as much rich gowd
As freed the lands o Linne.

30

Thus having done, he turnd about,
A saucy man was he;
‘Take up your monie, my lad,’ he says,
‘Take up your third pennie.

31

‘Aft hae I gane wi barefeet cauld,
Likewise wi legs full bare,
An mony days walkd at these yetts
Wi muckle dool and care.

32

‘But now my sorrow's past and gane,
And joy's returned to me,
And here I've gowd enough forbye,
Ahin this third pennie.’

33

As Willie he gaed down the town,
There he crawd wonderous crouse;
He calld the may afore them a',
The nourice o the house,

34

‘Come here, come here, my nurse,’ he says,
‘I'll pay your bread and wine;
Seas ebb and flow [as] they wont to do,
Yet I'm the laird o Linne.’

35

As he gaed up the Gallowgate port,
His hose abeen his sheen;
But lang ere he came down again
Was convoyed by lords fifeteen.

268
THE TWA KNIGHTS

THE TWA KNIGHTS

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 271.

1

There were twa knights in fair Scotland,
And they were brothers sworn;
They made a vow to be as true
As if they'd been brothers born.

2

The one he was a wealthy knight,
Had lands and buildings free;
The other was a young hynde squire,
In rank of lower degree.

3

But it fell ance upon a day
These squires they walkd alone,
And to each other they did talk
About the fair women.

4

‘O wed a may,’ the knight did say,
‘For your credit and fame;
Lay never your love on lemanry,
Bring nae gude woman to shame.’

5

‘There's nae gude women,’ the squire did say,
‘Into this place but nine;’
‘O well falls me,’ the knight replied,
‘For ane o them is mine.’

6

‘Ye say your lady's a gude woman,
But I say she is nane;
I think that I could gain her love
Ere six months they are gane.

7

‘If ye will gang six months away,
And sail upon the faem,
Then I will gain your lady's love
Before that ye come hame.’

8

‘O I'll gang till a far countrie,
And far beyond the faem,
And ye winna gain my lady's love
Whan nine lang months are gane.’

9

When the evening sun did set,
And day came to an end,
In then came the lady's gude lord,
Just in at yon town's end.

10

‘O comely are ye, my lady gay,
Sae fair and rare to see;
I wish whan I am gane away
Ye keep your mind to me.’

11

She gae'm a bason to wash in,
It shin'd thro a' the ha;
But aye as she gaed but and ben
She loot the saut tears fa.

12

‘I wonder what ails my gude lord
He has sic jealousie;
Never when we parted before,
He spak sic words to me.’

13

When cocks did craw, and day did daw,
This knight was fair at sea;
Then in it came the young hynde squire,
To work him villanie.

14

‘I hae a coffer o gude red gowd,
Another o white monie;
I woud gie you't a', my gay lady,
To lye this night wi me.’

15

‘If ye warna my lord's brother,
And him sae far frae hame,
Even before my ain bower-door
I'd gar hang you on a pin.’

16

He's gane frae the lady's bower,
Wi the saut tear in his ee,
And he is to his foster-mother
As fast as gang coud he.

17

‘There is a fancy in my head
That I'll reveal to thee,
And your assistance I will crave
If ye will grant it me.

18

‘I've fifty gaineas in my pocket,
I've fifty o them and three,
And if ye'll grant what I request
Ye'se hae them for your fee.’

19

‘Speak on, speak on, ye gude hynde squire,
What may your asking be?
I kenna wha woud be sae base
As nae serve for sic a fee.’

20

‘O I hae wagerd wi my brother,
When he went to the faem,
That I woud gain his lady's love
Ere six months they were gane.

21

‘To me he laid his lands at stake
Tho he were on the faem,
I wudna gain his lady's love
Whan nine lang months were gane.

22

‘Now I hae tried to gain her love,
But finds it winna do;
And here I'm come, as ye her know,
To seek some help frae you.

23

‘For I did lay my life at stake,
Whan my brother went frae hame,
That I woud gain his lady's love
Whan he was on the faem.’

24

But when the evening sun was set,
And day came to an end,
In it came that fause carline,
Just in at yon town's end.

25

‘O comely are ye, my gay lady,
Your lord is on the faem;
Yon unco squire will gain your love,
Before that he come hame.’

26

‘Forbid it,’ said the lady fair,
‘That eer the like shoud be,
That I woud wrang my ain gude lord,
And him sae far at sea.’

27

‘O comely are ye, my gay lady,
Stately is your fair bodie;
Your lovely visage is far chang'd,
That is best known to me.

28

‘You're sair dune out for want o sleep
Sin your lord went to sea;
Unless that ye do cease your grief,
It will your ruin be.

29

‘You'll send your maids unto the hay,
Your young men unto the corn;
I'll gar ye sleep as soun a sleep
As the night that ye were born.’

30

She sent her maids to ted the hay,
Her men to shear the corn,
And she gard her sleep as soun a sleep
As the night that she was born.

31

She rowd that lady in the silk,
Laid her on holland sheets;
Wi fine enchanting melodie,
She lulld her fast asleep.

32

She lockd the yetts o that castle
Wi thirty locks and three,
Then went to meet the young hynde squire
To him the keys gae she.

33

He's opend the locks o that castle,
Were thirty and were three,
And he's gane where that lady lay,
And thus to her said he.

34

‘O wake, O wake, ye gay lady,
O wake and speak to me;
I hae it fully in my power
To come to bed to thee.’

35

‘For to defile my husband's bed,
I woud think that a sin;
As soon as this lang day is gane,
Then I shall come to thine.’

36

Then she has calld her niece Maisry,
Says, An asking ye'll grant me,
For to gang to yon unco squire
And sleep this night for me.

37

‘The gude red gowd shall be your hire,
And siller's be your fee;
Five hundred pounds o pennies round,
Your tocher it shall be.’

38

She turnd her right and round about,
And thus to her did say;
O there was never a time on earth
So fain's I woud say nay.

39

But when the evening sun was set,
And day drawn to an end,
Then Lady Maisry she is gane,
Fair out at yon town-end.

40

Then she is to yon hynde squire's yates,
And tirled at the pin;
Wha was sae busy as the hynde squire
To lat that lady in!

41

He's taen her in his arms twa,
He was a joyfu man;
He neither bade her meat nor drink,
But to the bed he ran.

42

When he had got his will o her,
His will as he lang sought,
Her ring but and her ring-finger
Away frae her he brought.

43

With discontent straight home she went,
And thus lamented she;
Says, Wae be to yon young hynde squire!
Sae ill as he's used me.

44

When the maids came frae the hay,
The young men frae the corn,
Ben it came that lady gay,
Who thought lang for their return.

45

‘Where hae ye been, my maidens a',
Sae far awa frae me?
My foster-mother and lord's brother
Thought to hae beguiled me.

46

‘Had not she been my foster-mother,
I suckd at her breast-bane,
Even before my ain bower-door,
She in a gleed shoud burn.

47

‘The squire he thought to gain my love,
He's got but Lady Maisry;
He's cutted her ring and her ring-finger,
A love-token for to be.

48

‘I'll tie my finger in the dark,
Where nae ane shall me see;
I hope to loose it in the light,
Amang gude companie.’

49

When night was gane, and birds did sing,
And day began to peep,
The hynde squire walkd alang the shore,
His brother for to meet.

50

‘Ye are welcome, welcome, landless lord,
To my ha's and my bowers;
Ye are welcome hame, ye landless lord,
To my lady white like flowers.’

51

‘Ye say I am a landless lord,
But I think I am nane,
Without ye show some love-token
Awa frae her ye've tane.’

52

He drew the strings then o his purse,
And they were a' bludie;
The ring but and the ring-finger
Sae soon as he lat him see.

53

‘O wae be to you, fause hynde squire,
Ane ill death mat ye dee!
It was too sair a love-token
To take frae my ladie.

54

‘But ae asking of you, hynde squire,
In your won bowers to dine;’
‘With a' my heart, my brother dear,
Tho ye had asked nine.’

55

Then he is to his lady's father,
And a sorrow man was he:
‘O judge, O judge, my father dear,
This judgment pass for me.

56

‘What is the thing that shoud be done
Unto that gay lady
Who woud gar her lord gae landless,
And children bastards to be?’

57

‘She shoud be brunt upon a hill,
Or hangd upon a tree,
That woud gar her lord gang landless,
And children bastards be.’

58

‘Your judgment is too rash, father;
Your ain daughter is she
That this day has made me landless;
Your squire gaind it frae me.

59

‘Yet nevertheless, my parents dear,
Ae favour ye'll grant me,
And gang alang to my lost ha's,
And take your dine wi me.’

60

He threw the charters ower the table,
And kissd the yates o tree;
Says, Fare ye well, my lady gay,
Your face I'll never see.

61

Then his lady calld out to him,
Come here, my lord, and dine;
There's nae a smith in a' the land
That can ae finger join.

62

‘I tied my finger in the dark,
Whan nae ane did me see;
But now I'll loose it in the light,
Amang gude companie.

63

‘Even my niece, Lady Maisry,
The same woman was she;
The gude red gowd shall be her hire,
And likeways white monie.

64

‘Five hundred pounds o pennies round
Her tocher then shall be,
Because she did my wills obey,
Beguild the squire for me.’

65

Then they did call this young hynde squire
To come right speedilie,
Likeways they calld young Lady Maisry,
To pay her down her fee.

66

Then they laid down to Lady Maisry
The brand but and the ring;
It was to stick him wi the brand,
Or wed him wi the ring.

67

Thrice she minted to the brand,
But she took up the ring;
And a' the ladies who heard o it
Said she was a wise woman.

269
LADY DIAMOND

Lady Daisy

LADY DIAMOND—A

[_]

Aytoun's Ballads of Scotland, II, 173, 1859, from the recollection of a lady residing at Kirkaldy.

1

There was a king, and a very great king,
And a king of meikle fame;
He had not a child in the world but ane,
Lady Daisy was her name.

2

He had a very bonnie kitchen-boy,
And William was his name;
He never lay out o Lady Daisy's bower,
Till he brought her body to shame.

3

When een-birds sung, and een-bells rung,
And a' men were boune to rest,
The king went on to Lady Daisy's bower,
Just like a wandering ghaist.

4

He has drawn the curtains round and round,
And there he has sat him down;
‘To whom is this, Lady Daisy,’ he says,
‘That now you gae so round?

5

‘Is it to a laird? or is it to a lord?
Or a baron of high degree?
Or is it William, my bonnie kitchen-boy?
Tell now the truth to me.’

6

‘It's no to a laird, and it's no to a lord,
Nor a baron of high degree;
But it's to William, your bonnie kitchen-boy:
What cause hae I to lee?’

7

‘O where is all my merry, merry men,
That I pay meat and fee,
That they will not take out this kitchen-boy,
And kill him presentlie?’

8

They hae taen out this bonnie kitchen-boy,
And killd him on the plain;
His hair was like the threads o gold,
His een like crystal stane;
His hair was like the threads o gold,
His teeth like ivory bane.

9

They hae taen out this bonnie boy's heart,
Put it in a cup o gold;
‘Take that to Lady Daisy,’ he said,
‘For she's impudent and bold;’
And she washd it with the tears that ran from her eye
Into the cup of gold.

10

‘Now fare ye weel, my father the king!
You hae taen my earthly joy;
Since he's died for me, I'll die for him,
My bonnie kitchen-boy.’

11

‘O where is all my merry, merry men,
That I pay meat and wage,
That they could not withold my cruel hand,
When I was mad with rage?

12

‘I think nae wonder, Lady Daisy,’ he said,
‘That he brought your body to shame;
For there never was man of woman born
Sae fair as him that is slain.’

Lady Dayisie

LADY DIAMOND—B

[_]

From “The Old Lady's Collection,” formerly in the possession of Sir Walter Scott, No 41.

1

Ther was a king, an a worthy king,
[An a king] of birth an fame;
He had an only dear daughter,
An Dayesie was her name.

2

Ther was a boy about the house,
Bold Roben was his name;
He would not stay out of Dayese's bour,
Till he brought her body [to] shame.

3

When bells was rung, [OMITTED]
An a' man bon to rest,
The king went up to Lady Dayese's bour,
He was an unwelcome gast.

4

‘O Lady Dayesë, dear, d[ea]r Dayisie,
What gars ye gae sae round?
We yer tua sides high an yer bellie bige,
Fra yer face the couller is gane.’

5

‘O have ye loved? or have ye lang-sought?
Or die ye goo we barn?’
‘It's all for you, fair father,
That ye stayed so long in Spain.’

6

‘It's aff ye take yer berry-broun goon,
An ye lay it on a ston,

An I will tell you in a very short time
If ye loued any man or no[n].’

7

It's aff she has tane her berry-broun goon,
An laid it on a ston;
We her tua sides high, her belley turned bigg,
Fra her face the couller was gane.

8

‘O is it to lord? or is to lard?
Or till a man of mean?
Or is it to Bold Roben, the kittchen-boy?
Nou, Dayisie, dinne lea[n].’

9

‘It's no to leard, nor [to] lord,
Nor to a man of mean,
But it's to Bold Robien, our kittchen-boy;
Fatt neads me for to lea[n]?’

10

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
It's the morn befor I eat or drink
His heart-blude I sall see.’

11

He's tean Bold Robien by the hand
Lead him across the green;
His hear was leak the very threeds of goud,
His face shone leak the moon.

12

He's tane out this bonny boy's hear[t]
Into a cupe of gold,
Had it to Lady Dayese's bour,
Says, No[u], Dayesë, behold!

13

‘O welcom to me my heart's delight!
Nou welcom to me my joy!
Ye have dayed for me, an I'll day for ye,
Tho ye be but the kittchen-boy.’

14

She has taen out the coup of gold,
Lead it belou her head,
An she wish it we the tears ran doun fra her eays,
An or midnight she was dead.

15

She has tean out the coup of gold,
Laid it belou her hear,
An she wish it we the tears ran don fra her eays,
An alass! spak never mare.

LADY DIAMOND—C

[_]

Sharpe's Ballad Book, No 4, p. 12, as sung by Mary Johnston, dairy maid at Hoddam Castle.

1

There was a king, and a glorious king,
And a king of mickle fame,
And he had daughters only one,
Lady Dysmal was her name.

2

He had a boy, and a kitchen-boy,
A boy of mickle scorn,
And she lovd him lang, and she loved him aye,
Till the grass oergrew the corn.

3

When twenty weeks were gone and past,
O she began to greet!
Her petticoat grew short before,
And her stays they wadna meet.

4

It fell upon a winter's night
The king could get nae rest;
He came unto his daughter dear,
Just like a wandring ghaist.

5

He cam into her bed-chalmer,
And drew the curtains round:
‘What aileth thee, my daughter dear?
I fear you've gotten wrong.’

6

‘O if I have, despise me not,
For he is all my joy;
I will forsake baith dukes and earls,
And marry your kitchen-boy.’

7

‘Go call to me my merry men all,
By thirty and by three;
Go call to me my kitchen-boy,
We'll murder him secretlie.’

8

There was nae din that could be heard,
And neer a word was said,
Till they got him baith fast and sure
Between twa feather-beds.

9

‘Go cut the heart out of his breast,
And put it in a cup of gold,
And present it to his Dysmal dear,
For she is baith stout and bold.’

10

They've cut the heart out of his breast,
And put it in a cup of gold,
And presented it to his Dysmal dear,
Who was baith stout and bold.

11

‘O come to me, my hinney, my heart,
O come to me, my joy!
O come to me, my hinney, my heart
My father's kitchen-boy!’

12

She's taen the cup out of their hands,
And set it at her bed-head;
She washd it wi the tears that fell from her eyes,
And next morning she was dead.

13

‘O where were ye, my merry men all,
Whom I paid meat and wage,
Ye didna hold my cruel hand
When I was in my rage?

14

‘For gone is a' my heart's delight,
And gone is a' my joy;
For my dear Dysmal she is dead,
And so is my kitchen-boy.’

Lady Diamond; or, Lady Diamond, the King's Daughter; or, Lady Diamond

LADY DIAMOND—D

[_]

Buchan's MSS, II, 164.

1

There was a king, and a curious king,
And a king of royal fame,
He had ae daughter, he had never mair,
Lady Diamond was her name.

2

She's fa'en into shame, and lost her good name,
And wrought her parents 'noy;
And a' for her layen her love so low,
On her father's kitchen-boy.

3

One night as she lay on her bed,
Just thinking to get rest,
Up it came her old father,
Just like a wandering ghaist.

4

‘Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says,
‘Rise up, put on your gown;
Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says,
‘For I fear ye go too roun.’

5

‘Too roun I go, ye blame me no,
Ye cause me not to shame;
For better love I that bonny boy
Than all your well-bred men.’

6

The king's calld up his wall-wight men,
That he paid meat and fee:
‘Bring here to me that bonny boy,
And we'll smore him right quietlie.’

7

Up hae they taken that bonny boy,
Put him between twa feather-beds;
Naething was dane, naething was said,
Till that bonny boy was dead.

8

The king's taen out a broad, broad sword,
And streakd it on a strow,
And thro and thro that bonny boy's heart
He's gart cauld iron go.

9

Out he has taen his poor bloody heart,
Set it on a tasse of gold,
And set it before Lady Diamond's face,
Said, Fair lady, behold!

10

Up she has taen this poor bloody heart,
And holden it in her hand:
‘Better loved I that bonny, bonny boy
Than all my father's land.’

11

Up she has taen his poor bloody heart
And laid it at her head;
The tears away frae her eyes did fly,
And ere midnight she was dead.

Robin, the Kitchie-Boy

LADY DIAMOND—E

[_]

Joseph Robertson, “Adversaria,” p. 66; noted down from a female servant, July 15, 1829.

1

It was a king, and a verra greit king,
An a king o muckle fame,
An he had a luvelie dauchter fair,
An Dysie was her name.

2

She fell in love wi the kitchie-boy,
An a verra bonnie boy was he,

An word has gane till her father dear,
An an angry man was he.

3

‘Is it the laird? or is it the lord?
Or a man o high degree?
Or is it to Robin, the kitchie-boy?
O Dysie mak nae lee.’

4

‘It's nae the laird, nor is it the lord,
Nor a man o high degree,
But it's to Robin, the kitchie-boy;
What occasion hae I to lee?’

5

‘If it be to Robin, the kitchie-boy,
As I trust weel it be,
The morn, afore ye eat meal or drink,
Ye'll see him hanged hie.’

6

They have taen Robin out,
His hair was like threads o gold;
That verra day afore it was night,
Death made young Dysie cold.

270
THE EARL OF MAR'S DAUGHTER

The Earl of Mar's Daughter

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 49; Motherwell's MS. p. 565.

1

It was intill a pleasant time,
Upon a simmer's day,
The noble Earl of Mar's daughter
Went forth to sport and play.

2

As thus she did amuse hersell,
Below a green aik tree,
There she saw a sprightly doo
Set on a tower sae hie.

3

‘O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true,
If ye'll come down to me,
Ye'se hae a cage o guid red gowd
Instead o simple tree:

4

‘I'll put gowd hingers roun your cage,
And siller roun your wa;
I'll gar ye shine as fair a bird
As ony o them a'.’

5

But she hadnae these words well spoke,
Nor yet these words well said,
Till Cow-me-doo flew frae the tower
And lighted on her head.

6

Then she has brought this pretty bird
Hame to her bowers and ha,
And made him shine as fair a bird
As ony o them a'.

7

When day was gane, and night was come,
About the evening tide,
This lady spied a sprightly youth
Stand straight up by her side.

8

‘From whence came ye, young man?’ she said;
‘That does surprise me sair;
My door was bolted right secure,
What way hae ye come here?’

9

‘O had your tongue, ye lady fair,
Lat a' your folly be;
Mind ye not on your turtle-doo
Last day ye brought wi thee?’

10

‘O tell me mair, young man,’ she said,
‘This does surprise me now;
What country hae ye come frae?
What pedigree are you?’

11

‘My mither lives on foreign isles,
She has nae mair but me;
She is a queen o wealth and state,
And birth and high degree.

12

‘Likewise well skilld in magic spells,
As ye may plainly see,
And she transformd me to yon shape,
To charm such maids as thee.

13

‘I am a doo the live-lang day,
A sprightly youth at night;
This aye gars me appear mair fair
In a fair maiden's sight.

14

‘And it was but this verra day
That I came ower the sea;
Your lovely face did me enchant;
I'll live and dee wi thee.’

15

‘O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true,
Nae mair frae me ye'se gae;’

‘That's never my intent, my luve,
As ye said, it shall be sae.’

16

‘O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true,
It's time to gae to bed;’
‘Wi a' my heart, my dear marrow,
It's be as ye hae said.’

17

Then he has staid in bower wi her
For sax lang years and ane,
Till sax young sons to him she bare,
And the seventh she's brought hame.

18

But aye as ever a child was born
He carried them away,
And brought them to his mither's care,
As fast as he coud fly.

19

Thus he has staid in bower wi her
For twenty years and three;
There came a lord o high renown
To court this fair ladie.

20

But still his proffer she refused,
And a' his presents too;
Says, I'm content to live alane
Wi my bird, Cow-me-doo.

21

Her father sware a solemn oath
Amang the nobles all,
‘The morn, or ere I eat or drink,
This bird I will gar kill.’

22

The bird was sitting in his cage,
And heard what they did say;
And when he found they were dismist,
Says, Wae's me for this day!

23

‘Before that I do langer stay,
And thus to be forlorn,
I'll gang unto my mither's bower,
Where I was bred and born.’

24

Then Cow-me-doo took flight and flew
Beyond the raging sea,
And lighted near his mither's castle,
On a tower o gowd sae hie.

25

As his mither was wauking out,
To see what she coud see,
And there she saw her little son,
Set on the tower sae hie.

26

‘Get dancers here to dance,’ she said,
‘And minstrells for to play;
For here's my young son, Florentine,
Come here wi me to stay.’

27

‘Get nae dancers to dance, mither,
Nor minstrells for to play,
For the mither o my seven sons,
The morn's her wedding-day.’

28

‘O tell me, tell me, Florentine,
Tell me, and tell me true,
Tell me this day without a flaw,
What I will do for you.’

29

‘Instead of dancers to dance, mither,
Or minstrells for to play,
Turn four-and-twenty wall-wight men
Like storks in feathers gray;

30

‘My seven sons in seven swans,
Aboon their heads to flee;
And I mysell a gay gos-hawk,
A bird o high degree.’

31

Then sichin said the queen hersell,
‘That thing's too high for me;’
But she applied to an auld woman,
Who had mair skill than she.

32

Instead o dancers to dance a dance,
Or minstrells for to play,
Four-and-twenty wall-wight men
Turnd birds o feathers gray;

33

Her seven sons in seven swans,
Aboon their heads to flee;
And he himsell a gay gos-hawk,
A bird o high degree.

34

This flock o birds took flight and flew
Beyond the raging sea,
And landed near the Earl Mar's castle,
Took shelter in every tree.

35

They were a flock o pretty birds,
Right comely to be seen;
The people viewd them wi surprise,
As they dancd on the green.

36

These birds ascended frae the tree
And lighted on the ha,

And at the last wi force did flee
Amang the nobles a'.

37

The storks there seized some o the men,
They coud neither fight nor flee;
The swans they bound the bride's best man
Below a green aik tree.

38

They lighted next on maidens fair,
Then on the bride's own head,
And wi the twinkling o an ee
The bride and them were fled.

39

There's ancient men at weddings been
For sixty years or more,
But sic a curious wedding-day
They never saw before.

40

For naething coud the companie do,
Nor naething coud they say
But they saw a flock o pretty birds
That took their bride away.

41

When that Earl Mar he came to know
Where his dochter did stay,
He signd a bond o unity,
And visits now they pay.

271
THE LORD OF LORN AND THE FALSE STEWARD

Lord of Learne

THE LORD OF LORN AND THE FALSE STEWARD—A

[_]

Percy MS., p. 73, Hales and Furnivall, I, 180.

1

It was the worthy Lord of Learen,
He was a lord of a hie degree;
He had noe more children but one sonne,
He sett him to schoole to learne curtesie.

2

Lear[n]ing did soe proceed with that child,
I tell you all in veretie,
He learned more vpon one day
Then other children did on three,

3

And then bespake the schoole-master,
Vnto the Lord of Learne said hee,
I thinke thou be some stranger borne,
For the holy gost remaines with thee.

4

He said, I am noe stranger borne,
Forsooth, master, I tell it to thee;
It is a gift of Almighty God
Which he hath giuen vnto mee.

5

The schoole-master turnd him round about,
His angry mind he thought to asswage,
For the child cold answer him soe quicklie,
And was of soe tender yeere of age.

6

The child he caused a steed to be brought,
A golden bridle done him vpon;
He tooke his leaue of his schoolfellows,
And home the child that he is gone.

7

And when he came before his father,
He ffell low downe vpon his knee:
‘My blessing, father, I wold aske,
If Christ wold grant you wold gine it me.’

8

‘Now God thee blesse, my sonne and my heire,
His servant in heauen that thou may bee!
What tydings hast thou brought me, child,
Thou art comen home so soone to mee?’

9

‘Good tydings, father, I haue you brought,
Goo[d tydings] I hope it is to thee;
The booke is not in all S[c]ottlande
But I can reade it before your eye.’

10

A ioyed man his father was,
Euen the worthy Lord of Learne:

‘Thou shalt goe into Ffrance, my child,
The speeches of all strange lands to learne.’

11

But then bespake the child his mother,
The Lady of Learne and then was shee;
Saies, Who must be his well good guide,
When he goes into that strange country?

12

And then bespake that bonnie child,
Vntill his father tenderlie;
Saies, Father, I'le haue the hend steward,
For he hath beene true to you and mee.

13

The lady to concell the steward did take,
And counted downe a hundred pound there;
Saies, Steward, be true to my sonne and my heire,
And I will giue thee mickle mere.

14

‘If I be not true to my master,’ he said,
‘Christ himselfe be not trew to mee!
If I be not true to my lord and master,
An ill death that I may die!’

15

The Lord of Learne did apparell his child
With bruche, and ringe, and many a thinge;
The apparrell he had his body vppon,
Thé say was worth a squier's liuinge.

16

The parting of the younge Lord of Learne
With his ffather, his mother, his ffellows deere,
Wold haue made a manis hart for to change,
If a Iew borne that he were.

17

The wind did serue, and thé did sayle
Over the sea into Ffrance land;
He vsed the child soe hardlie,
He wold let him haue neuer a penny to spend.

18

And meate he wold let the child haue none,
Nor mony to buy none, trulie;
The boy was hungry and thirsty both;
Alas! it was the more pitty.

19

He laid him downe to drinke the water
That was soe low beneathe the brime;
He [that] was wont to haue drunke both ale and wine
Then was faine of the water soe thinne.

20

And as he was drinking of the water
That ran soe low beneath the brime,
Soe ready was the false steward
To drowne the bonny boy therin.

21

‘Haue mercy on me, worthy steward!
My life,’ he said, ‘lend it to mee,
And all that I am heire vpon,’
Saies, ‘I will giue vnto thee.’

22

Mercy to him the steward did take,
And pulld the child out of the brime;
Euer alacke, the more pittye!
He tooke his clothes euen from him.

23

Saies, Doe thou me of that veluett gowne,
The crimson hose beneath thy knee,
And doe me of thy cordiuant shoone,
Are buckled with the gold soe free.

24

‘Doe thou me off thy sattin doublett,
Thy shirtband wrought with glistering gold,
And doe mee off thy golden chaine,
About thy necke soe many a fold.

25

‘Doe thou me off thy veluett hat,
With fether in that is soe ffine;
All vnto thy silken shirt,
That's wrought with many a golden seam.’

26

The child before him naked stood,
With skin as white as lilly flower;
For [t]his worthy lords bewtie
He might haue beene a ladye's paramoure.

27

He put vpon him a lether cote,
And breeches of the same beneath the knee,
And sent that bony child him froe,
Service for to craue, truly.

28

He pulld then forth a naked sword
That hange full low then by his side;
‘Turne thy name, thou villaine,’ he said,
‘Or else this sword shall be thy guide.’

29

‘What must be my name, worthy steward?
I pray thee now tell it me:’
‘Thy name shalbe Pore Disaware,
To tend sheepe on a lonelye lee.’

30

The bonny child he went him froe,
And looked to himselfe, truly;
Saw his apparrell soe simple vppon;
O Lord! he weeped tenderlye.

31

Vnto a shepard's house that childe did goe,
And said, Sir, God you saue and see!
Doe you not want a servant-boy,
To tend your sheepe on a lonelie lee?

32

‘Where was thou borne?’ the shepard said,
‘Where, my boy, or in what country?’
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I was borne in fayre Scottland,
That is soe farr beyond the sea.’

33

‘I haue noe child,’ the shepard sayd;
‘My boy, thoust tarry and dwell with mee;
My liuinge,’ he sayd, ‘and all my goods,
I'le make thee heire [of] after mee.’

34

And then bespake the shepard's wife,
To the Lord of Learne thus did she say;
‘Goe thy way to our sheepe,’ she said,
‘And tend them well both night and day.’

35

It was a sore office, O Lord, for him
That was a lord borne of a great degree!
As he was tending his sheepe alone,
Neither sport nor play cold hee.

36

Let vs leaue talking of the Lord of Learne,
And let all such talking goe;
Let vs talke more of the false steward,
That caused the child all this woe.

37

He sold this Lord of Learne's his clothes
For fiue hundred pound to his pay [there],
And bought himselfe a suite of apparrell
Might well beseeme a lord to weare.

38

When he that gorgeous apparrell bought,
That did soe finelie his body vppon,
He laughed the bony child to scorne
That was the bonny Lord of Learne.

39

He laughed that bonny boy to scorne;
Lord! pitty it was to heare;
I haue herd them say, and soe haue you too,
That a man may buy gold to deere.

40

When that he had all that gorgeous apparrell,
That did soe finelie his body vpon,
He went a woing to the Duke's daughter of France,
And called himselfe the Lord of Learne.

41

The Duke of Ffrance heard tell of this,
To his place that worthy lord was come, truly;
He entertaind him with a quart of red Renish wi[ne],
Saies, Lord of Learne, thou art welcome to me.

42

Then to supper that they were sett,
Lords and ladyes in their degree;
The steward was sett next the Duke of France;
An vnseemlye sight it was to see.

43

Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,
Vnto the Lord of Leearne said hee there,
Sayes, Lord of Learne, if thou'le marry my daught[er],
I'le mend thy liuing fiue hundred pound a yeere.

44

Then bespake that lady fayre,
Answered her ffather soe alone,
That shee would be his marryed wiffe
If he wold make her lady of Learne.

45

Then hand in hand the steward her he tooke,
And plight that lady his troth alone,
That she shold be his marryed wiffe,
And he wold make her the ladie of Learne.

46

Thus that night it was gone,
The other day was come, truly;
The lady wold see the robucke run,
Vp hills and dales and forrest free.

47

Then shee was ware of the younge Lord of Learne
Tending sheepe vnder a bryar, trulye.
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

48

And thus shee called vnto her maids,
And held her hands vp thus an hie;
Sayes, Feitch me yond shepard's boy,
I'le know why he doth mourne, trulye.

49

When he came before that lady fayer,
He fell downe vpon his knee;
He had beene so well brought vpp
He needed not to learne curtesie.

50

‘Where wast thou borne, thou bonny boy?
Where or in what countrye?’
‘Madam, I was borne in faire Scottland,
That is soe farr beyond the sea.’

51

‘What is thy name, thou bonny boy?
I pray thee tell it vnto mee;’
‘My name,’ he sayes, ‘is Poore Disaware,
That tends sheepe on a lonely lee.’

52

‘One thing thou must tell mee, bonny boy,
Which I must needs aske of thee,
Dost not thou know the young Lord of Learne?
He is comen a woing into France to me.’

53

‘Yes, that I doe, madam,’ he said,
And then he wept most tenderlie;
‘The Lord of Learne is a worthy lord,
If he were at home in his oune country.’

54

‘What ayles thee to weepe, my bonny boy?
Tell me or ere I part thee froe:’
‘Nothing but for a freind, madam,
That's dead from me many a yeere agoe.’

55

A loud laughter the ladie lought,
O Lord! shee smiled wonderous hie:
‘I haue dwelled in France since I was borne;
Such a shepard's boy I did neuer see.

56

‘Wilt thou not leaue thy sheepe, my child,
And come vnto service vnto mee?
And I will giue thee meate and fee,
And my chamberlaine thou shalt bee.’

57

‘Then I will leaue my sheepe, madam,’ he sayd,
‘And come into service vnto thee,
If you will giue me meate and fee,
Your chamberlaine that I may bee.’

58

When the lady came before her father,
Shee fell low downe vpon her knee;
‘Grant me, father,’ the lady said,
‘This boy my chamberlaine to be.’

59

‘But O nay, nay,’ the duke did say,
‘Soe my daughter it may not bee;
The lord that is come a woing to you
Will be offended with you and mee.’

60

Then came downe the false steward,
Which called himselfe the Lord of Learne, trulie;
When he looked that bonny boy vpon,
An angry man i-wis was hee.

61

‘Where was thou borne, thou vagabond?
Where?’ he sayd, ‘and in what country?’
Says, I was borne in fayre Scotland,
That is soe far beyond the sea.

62

‘What is thy name, thou vagabond?
Haue done qu[i]cklie, and tell it to me;’
‘My name,’ he sayes, ‘is Poore Disaware,
I tend sheep on the lonelie lee.’

63

‘Thou art a theefe,’ the steward said,
‘And soe in the end I will prooue thee;’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

64

Then be-spake the ladie fayre,
‘Peace, Lord of Learne! I doe pray thee;
Ffor if noe loue you show this child,
Noe favor can you haue of mee.’

65

‘Will you beleeue me, lady faire,
When the truth I doe tell yee?
Att Aberdonie, beyond the sea,
His father he robbed a hundred three.’

66

But then bespake the Duke of France
Vnto the boy soe tenderlie;
Saies, Boy, if thou loue harsses well,
My stable-groome I will make thee.

67

And thus that that did passe vppon
Till the twelve monthes did draw to an ende;
The boy applyed his office soe well
Euery man became his freind.

68

He went forth earlye one morning
To water a gelding at the water soe free;
The gelding vp, and with his head
He hitt the child aboue his eye.

69

‘Woe be to thee, thou gelding,’ he sayd,
‘And to the mare that foled thee!
Thou hast striken the Lord of Learne
A litle tinye aboue the eye.

70

‘First night after I was borne, a lord I was,
An earle after my father doth die;
My father is the worthy Lord of Learne,
And child he hath noe more but mee;
He sent me over the sea with the false steward,
And thus that he hath beguiled mee.’

71

The lady [wa]s in her garden greene,
Walking with her mayds, trulye,
And heard the boy this mourning make,
And went to weeping, trulie.

72

‘Sing on thy song, thou stable groome,
I pray thee doe not let for mee,
And as I am a true ladie
I wilbe trew vnto thee.’

73

‘But nay, now nay, madam!’ he sayd,
‘Soe that it may not bee;
I am tane sworne vpon a booke,
And forsworne I will not bee.’

74

‘Sing on thy song to thy gelding,
And thou doest not sing to mee;
And as I am a true ladie
I will euer be true vnto thee.’

75

He sayd, Woe be to thee, gelding,
And to the mare that foled thee!
For thou hast strucken the Lord of Learne
A litle aboue mine eye.

76

First night I was borne, a lord I was,
An earle after my father doth dye;
My father is the good Lord of Learne,
And child he hath noe other but mee;
My father sent me over [the sea] with the false steward,
And thus that he hath beguiled mee.

77

‘Woe be to the steward, lady,’ he sayd,
‘Woe be to him verrily!
He hath beene about this twelve months day
For to deceiue both thee and mee.

78

‘If you doe not my councell keepe,
That I haue told you with good intent,
And if you doe it not well keepe,
Ffarwell! my life is at an ende.’

79

‘I wilbe true to thee, Lord of Learne,
Or else Christ be not soe vnto me;
And as I am a trew ladye,
I'le neuer marry none but thee.’

80

Shee sent in for her father, the Duke,
In all the speed that ere might bee;
‘Put of my wedding, father,’ shee said,
‘For the loue of God, this monthës three.

81

‘Sicke I am,’ the ladye said,
‘O sicke, and verry like to die!
Put of my wedding, father Duke,
Ffor the loue of God, this monthës three.’

82

The Duke of France put of this wedding
Of the steward and the lady monthës three,
For the ladie sicke shee was,
Sicke, sicke, and like to die.

83

Shee wrote a letter with her owne hand,
In all the speede that euer might bee;
Shee sent [it] over into Scottland,
That is soe ffarr beyond the sea.

84

When the messenger came beffore the old Lord of Learne,
He kneeled low downe on his knee,
And he deliuered the letter vnto him,
In all the speed that euer might bee.

85

[The] first looke he looked the letter vpon,
Lo! he wept full bitterly;
The second looke he looked it vpon,
Said, False steward, woe be to thee!

86

When the Ladye of Learne these tydings heard,
O Lord! shee wept soe biterlye:
‘I told you of this, now good my lord,
When I sent my child into that wild country.’

87

‘Peace, Lady of Learne,’ the lord did say,
‘For Christ his loue I doe pray thee;
And as I am a christian man,
Wroken vpon him that I wilbe.’

88

He wrote a letter with his owne hand,
In all the speede that ere might bee;
He sent it into the lords in Scottland,
That were borne of a great degree.

89

He sent for lords, he sent for knights,
The best that were in the countrye,
To go with him into the land of France,
To seeke his sonne in that strange country.

90

The wind was good, and they did sayle,
Fiue hundred men into France land,
There to seeke that bonny boy
That was the worthy Lord of Learne.

91

They sought the country through and through,
Soe farr to the Duke's place of Ffrance land;
There they were ware of that bonny boy,
Standing with a porter's staffe in his hand.

92

Then the worshippfull, thé did bowe,
The serving-men fell on their knee,
They cast their hatts vp into the ayre
For ioy that boy that they had seene.

93

The Lord of Learne then he light downe,
And kist his child both cheeke and chinne,
And said, God blesse thee, my sonne and my heire!
The blisse of heauen that thou may winne!

94

The false steward and the Duke of France
Were in a castle-topp, trulie;
‘What fooles are yond,’ says the false steward,
‘To the porter makes soe lowe curtesie?’

95

Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,
Calling my Lord of Learne, trulie;
He sayd, I doubt the day be come
That either you or I must die.

96

Thé sett the castle round about,
A swallow cold not haue flone away;
And there thé tooke the false steward
That the Lord of Learne did betray.

97

And when they had taken the false steward,
He fell lowe downe vpon his knee,
And craued mercy of the Lord of Learne
For the villanous dedd he had done, trulye.

98

‘Thou shalt haue mercy,’ said the Lord of Learne,
‘Thou vile traitor, I tell to thee,
As the lawes of the realme they will thee beare,
Wether it bee for thee to liue or dye.’

99

A quest of lords that there was chosen,
To goe vppon his death, trulie;
There thé iudged the false steward,
Whether he was guiltie, and for to dye.

100

The forman of the iury he came in,
He spake his words full lowd and hie;
Said, Make thee ready, thou false steward,
For now thy death it drawes full nie.

101

Sayd he, If my death it doth draw nie,
God forgiue me all I haue done amisse!
Where is that lady I haue loued soe longe?
Before my death to giue me a kisse.

102

‘Away, thou traitor!’ the lady said,
‘Auoyd out of my company!
For thy vild treason thou hast wrought,
Thou had need to cry to God for mercye.’

103

First they tooke him and h[a]ngd him halfe,
And let him downe before he was dead,
And quartered him in quarters many,
And sodde him in a boyling lead.

104

And then they tooke him out againe,
And cutten all his ioynts in sunder,
And burnte him eke vpon a hyll;
I-wis thé did him curstlye cumber.

105

A loud laughter the lady laught,
O Lord! she smiled merrylie;
She sayd, I may praise my heauenly king
That euer I seene this vile traytor die.

106

Then bespake the Duke of France,
Vnto the right Lord of Learne sayd he there;
Says, Lord of Learne, if thou wilt marry my daught[er]
I'le mend thy liuing fiue hundred a yeere.

107

But then bespake that bonie boy,
And answered the Duke quicklie,
I had rather marry your daughter with a ring of go[ld]
Then all the gold that ere I blinket on with mine eye.

108

But then bespake the old Lord of Learne,
To the Duke of France thus he did say,
Seeing our children doe soe well agree,
They shalbe marryed ere wee goe away.

109

The Lady of Learne shee was sent for
Throughout Scottland soe speedilie,
To see these two children sett vpp
In their seats of gold full royallye.

A pretty ballad of the Lord of Lorn and the Fals Steward

THE LORD OF LORN AND THE FALSE STEWARD—B

[_]

a. Wood, 401, fol. 95 b. b. Roxburghe, I, 222, III, 534; Roxburghe Ballads, ed. Chappell, II, 55. c. Pepys, I, 494, No 254 (from a transcript in Percy's papers).

1

It was a worthy Lord of Lorn,
He was a lord of high degree,
He sent [his son] unto the schoole,
To learn some civility.

2

He learned more learning in one day
Then other children did in three;
And then bespake the schoolmaster
Unto him tenderly.

3

‘In faith thou art the honestest boy
That ere I blinkt on with mine eye;
I hope thou art some easterling born,
The Holy Ghost is with thee.’

4

He said he was no easterling born,
The child thus answered courteously;
My father is the Lord of Lorn,
And I his son, perdye.

5

The schoolmaster turned round about,
His angry mood he could not swage;
He marvelled the child could speak so wise,
He being of so tender age.

6

He girt the saddle to the steed,
The bridle of the best gold shone;
He took his leave of his fellows all,
And quickly he was gone.

7

And when he came to his father dear
He kneeled down upon his knee;
‘I am come to you, fathe[r],’ he said,
‘God's blessing give you me.’

8

‘Thou art welcome, son,’ he said,
‘God's blessing I give thee;
What tidings hast thou brought, my son,
Being come so hastily?’

9

‘I have brought tidings, father,’ he said,
‘And so likëd it may be,
There's never a book in all Scotland
But I can read it, truly.

10

‘There's nere a doctor in all this realm,
For all he goes in rich array,
I can write him a lesson soon
To learn in seven years day.’

11

‘That is good tidings,’ said the lord,
‘All in the place where I do stand;
My son, thou shalt into France go,
To learn the speeches of each land.’

12

‘Who shall go with him?’ said the lady;
‘Husband, we have no more but he;’
‘Madam,’ he saith, ‘my head steward,
He hath bin true to me.’

13

She cal'd the steward to an account,
A thousand pound she gave him anon;
Sayes, Good Sir Steward, be as good to my child,
When he is far from home.

14

‘If I be fals unto my young lord,
Then God be [the] like to me indeed!’
And now to France they both are gone,
And God be their good speed.

15

They had not been in France land
Not three weeks unto an end,
But meat and drink the child got none,
Nor mony in purse to spend.

16

The child ran to the river's side;
He was fain to drink water then;
And after followed the fals steward,
To put the child therein.

17

‘But nay, marry!’ said the child,
He asked mercy pittifully,
‘Good steward, let me have my life,
What ere betide my body.’

18

‘Now put off thy fair cloathing
And give it me anon;
So put thee of thy s'lken shirt,
With many a golden seam.’

19

But when the child was stript naked,
His body white as the lilly-flower,
He might have bin seen for his body
A prince's paramour.

20

He put him in an old kelter coat
And hose of the same above the knee,
He bid him go to the shepherd's house,
To keep sheep on a lonely lee.

21

The child did say, What shall be my name?
Good steward, tell to me;

‘Thy name shall be Poor Disawear,
That thy name shall be.’

22

The child came to the shepheard's house
And asked mercy pittifully;
Sayes, Good sir shepheard, take me in,
To keep sheep on a lonely lee.

23

But when the shepheard saw the child,
He was so pleasant in his eye,
‘I have no child, I'le make thee my heir,
Thou shalt have my goods, perdie.’

24

And then bespake the shepheard's wife,
Unto the child so tenderly;
‘Thou must take the sheep and go to the field,
And keep them on a lonely lee.’

25

Now let us leave talk of the child,
That is keeping sheep on a lonely lee,
And we'l talk more of the fals steward,
And of his fals treachery.

26

He bought himself three suits of apparrell,
That any lord might a seem[d] to worn,
He went a wooing to the Duke's daughter,
And cal'd himself the Lord of Lorn.

27

The duke he welcomed the yong lord
With three baked stags anon;
If he had wist him the fals steward,
To the devill he would have gone.

28

But when they were at supper set,
With dainty delicates that was there,
The d[uke] said, If thou wilt wed my daughter,
I'le give thee a thousand pound a year.

29

The lady would see the red buck run,
And also for to hunt the doe,
And with a hundred lusty men
The lady did a hunting go.

30

The lady is a hunting gon,
Over le and fell that is so high;
There was she ware of a shepherd's boy,
With sheep on a lonely lee.

31

And ever he sighed and made moan,
And cried out pittifully,
‘My father is the Lord of Lorn,
And knows not wha[t]'s become of me.’

32

And then bespake the lady gay,
And to her maid she spake anon,
‘Go fetch me hither the shepherd's boy;
Why maketh he all this moan?’

33

But when he came before the lady
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
He was not to learn his courtesie:

34

‘Where was thou born, thou bonny child?
For whose sake makst thou all this mone?’
‘My dearest friend, lady,’ he said,
‘Is dead many years agon.’

35

‘Tell thou to me, thou bonny child,
Tell me the truth and do not lye,
Knost thou not the yong lord of Lorn,
Is come a wooing unto me?’

36

‘Yes, forsooth,’ then said the child,
‘I know the lord then, veryly;
The young lord is a valliant lord
At home in his own country.’

37

‘Wilt leave thy sheep, thou bonny child,
And come in service unto me?’
‘Yes, forsooth,’ then said the child,
‘At your bidding will I be.’

38

When the steward lookt upon the child,
He bewraild him villainously:
‘Where wast thou born, thou vagabone?
Or where is thy country?’

39

‘Ha don! ha don!’ said the lady gay,
She cal'd the steward then presently;
‘Without you bear him more good will,
You get no love of me.’

40

Then bespake the false steward
Unto the lady hastily:
‘At Aberdine, beyond the seas,
His father robbëd thousands three.’

41

But then bespake the lady gay
Unto her father courteously,
Saying, I have found a bonny child
My chamberlain to be.

42

‘Not so, not so,’ then said the duke,
‘For so it may not be,

For that young L[ord] of Lorn that comes a wooing
Will think somthing of thee and me.’

43

When the duke had lookt upon the child,
He seemd so pleasant to the eye,
‘Child, because thou lovst horses well,
My groom of stables thou shalt be.’

44

The child plied the horses well
A twelve month to an end;
He was so courteous and so true
Every man became his fri[e]nd.

45

He led a fair gelding to the water,
Where he might drink, verily;
The great gelding up with his head
And hit the child above the eye.

46

‘Wo worth thee, horse!’ then said the child,
‘That ere mare foalëd thee!
Thou little knowst what thou hast done;
Thou hast stricken a lord of high degree.’

47

The d[uke's] daughter was in her garden green,
She heard the child make great moan;
She ran to the child all weeping,
And left her maidens all alone.

48

‘Sing on thy song, thou bonny child,
I will release thee of thy pain;’
‘I have made an oath, lady,’ he said,
‘I dare not tell my tale again.’

49

‘Tell the horse thy tale, thou bonny child,
And so thy oath shall savëd be;’
But when he told the horse his tale
The lady wept full tenderly.

50

‘I'le do for thee, my bonny child,
In faith I will do more for thee;
For I will send thy father word,
And he shall come and speak with me.

51

‘I will do more, my bonny child,
In faith I will do more for thee,
And for thy sake, my bonny child,
I'le put my wedding off months three.’

52

The lady she did write a letter,
Full pittifully with her own hand,
She sent it to the Lord of Lorn
Whereas he dwelt in fair Scotland.

53

But when the lord had read the letter
His lady wept most tenderly:
‘I knew what would become of my child
In such a far country.’

54

The old lord cal'd up his merry men,
And all that he gave cloth and fee,
With seven lords by his side,
And into France rides he.

55

The wind servd, and they did saile
So far into France land;
They were ware of the Lord of Lorn,
With a porter's staff in his hand.

56

The lords they moved hat and hand,
The servingmen fell on their knee;
‘What folks be yonder,’ said the steward,
‘That makes the porter courtesie?’

57

‘Thou art a false thief,’ said the L[ord] of Lorn,
‘No longer might I bear with thee;
By the law of France thou shalt be ju[d]gd,
Whether it be to live or die.’

58

A quest of lords there chosen was,
To bench they came hastily,
But when the quest was ended
The fals steward must dye.

59

First they did him half hang,
And then they took him down anon,
And then put him in boyling lead,
And then was sodden, brest and bone.

60

And then bespake the Lord of Lorn,
With many other lords mo;
‘Sir Duke, if you be as willing as we,
We'l have a marriage before we go.’

61

These children both they did rejoyce
To hear the lord his tale so ended;
They had rather to day then to morrow,
So he would not be offended.

62

But when the wedding ended was
There was delicious dainty cheer;
I'le tell you how long the wedding did last,
Full three quarters of a year.

63

Such a banquet there was wrought,
The like was never seen;
The king of France brought with him then
A hundred tun of good red wine.

64

Five set of musitians were to be seen,
That never rested night nor day,
Also Italians there did sing,
Full pleasantly with great joy.

65

Thus have you heard what troubles great
Unto successive joyes did turn,
And happy news among the rest
Unto the worthy Lord of Lorn.

66

Let rebels therefore warnëd be
How mischief once they do pretend;
For God may suffer for a time,
But will disclose it in the end.

272
THE SUFFOLK MIRACLE

The Suffolk Miracle

[_]

a. Wood, E. 25, fol. 83. b. Roxburghe, II, 240; Moore's Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry, p. 463.

1

A wonder stranger ne'r was known
Then what I now shall treat upon.
In Suffolk there did lately dwell
A farmer rich and known full well.

2

He had a daughter fair and bright,
On whom he plac'd his chief delight;
Her beauty was beyond compare,
She was both virtuous and fair.

3

A young man there was living by,
Who was so charmëd with her eye
That he could never be at rest,
He was with love so much possest.

4

He made address to her, and she
Did grant him love immediately;
Which when her father came to hear,
He parted her and her poor dear.

5

Forty miles distant was she sent,
Unto his brother's, with intent
That she should there so long remain
Till she had chang'd her mind again.

6

Hereat this young man sadly grievd,
But knew not how to be relievd;
He sighd and sobd continually
That his true love he could not see.

7

She by no means could to him send
Who was her heart's espousëd friend;
He sighd, she grievd, but all in vain,
For she confin'd must still remain.

8

He mournd so much that doctor's art
Could give no ease unto his heart;
Who was so strang[e]ly terrified,
That in short time for love he dyed.

9

She that from him was sent away
Knew nothing of his dying-day,
But constant still she did remain;
To love the dead was then in vain.

10

After he had in grave been laid
A month or more, unto this maid
He comes about middle of the night,
Who joyd to see her heart's delight.

11

Her father's horse, which well she knew,
Her mother's hood and safeguard too,
He brought with him to testifie
Her parents' order he came by.

12

Which when her unckle understood,
He hop't it would be for her good,
And gave consent to her straightway
That with him she should come away.

13

When she was got her love behind,
They passd as swift as any wind,
That in two hours, or little more,
He brought her to her father's door.

14

But as they did this great haste make,
He did complain his head did ake;
Her handkerchief she then took out,
And tyed the same his head about.

15

And unto him she thus did say:
‘Thou art as cold as any clay;
When we come home, a fire wee'l have;’
But little dreamt he went to grave.

16

Soon were they at her father's door,
And after she ne'r see him more;
‘I'le set the horse up,’ then he said,
And there he left this harmless maid.

17

She knockt, and strait a man he cryed,
‘Who's there?’ ‘'Tis I,’ she then replyed;
Who wondred much her voice to hear,
And was possest with dread and fear.

18

Her father he did tell, and then
He stared like an affrighted man:
Down stairs he ran, and when he see her,
Cry'd out, My child, how cam'st thou here?

19

‘Pray, sir, did you not send for me,
By such a messenger?’ said she:
Which made his hair stare on his head,
As knowing well that he was dead.

20

‘Where is he?’ then to her he said;
‘He's in the stable,’ quoth the maid.
‘Go in,’ said he, ‘and go to bed;
I'le see the horse well littered.’

21

He stared about, and there could hee
No shape of any mankind see,
But found his horse all on a sweat;
Which made him in a deadly fret.

22

His daughter he said nothing to,
Nor no one else, though well they knew
That he was dead a month before,
For fear of grieveing her full sore.

23

Her father to his father went
Who was deceasd, with this intent,
To tell him what his daughter said;
So both came back unto this maid.

24

They askd her, and she still did say
'T was he that then brought her away;
Which when they heard they were amaz'd,
And on each other strang[e]ly gaz'd.

25

A handkerchief she said she tyed
About his head, and that they tryed;
The sexton they did speak unto,
That he the grave would then undo.

26

Affrighted then they did behold
His body turning into mould,
And though he had a month been dead,
This kercheif was about his head.

27

This thing unto her then they told,
And the whole truth they did unfold;
She was thereat so terrified
And grievd, she quickly after dyed.

28

Part not true love, you rich men, then;
But, if they be right honest men
Your daughters love, give them their way,
For force oft breeds their lives' decay.

273
KING EDWARD THE FOURTH AND A TANNER OF TAMWORTH

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH AND A TANNER OF TAMWORTH

[_]

a. Wood, 401, fol. 44, Bodleian Library.

b. Douce, I, 109, Bodleian Library.

c. Roxburghe, I, 176, 177; Chappell, Roxburghe Ballads, I, 529.

1

In summer time, when leaves grew green,
and birds were singing on every tree,
King Edward would a hunting ride,
some pastime for to see.

2

Our king he would a hunting ride,
by eight a clock of the day,
And well was he ware of a bold tanner,
came riding on the way.

3

A good russet coat the tanner had on,
fast buttoned under his chin,
And under him a good cow-hide,
and a mare of four shilling.

4

‘Now stand you here, my good lords all,
under this trusty tree,
And I will wend to yonder fellow,
to know from whence came he.

5

‘God speed, God speed,’ then said our king;
‘thou art welcome, good fellow,’ quoth he;
‘Which is the way to Drayton Basset
I pray thee shew to me.’

6

‘The ready way to Drayton Basset,
from this place as thou dost stand,
The next pair of gallows thou comst to
thou must turn up [on] thy right hand.’

7

‘That is not the way,’ then said our king,
‘the ready way I pray thee shew me;’
‘Whether thou be thief or true man,’ quoth the tanner,
‘I'm weary of thy company.

8

‘Away, with a vengeance,’ quoth the tanner,
‘I hold thee out of thy wit,
For all this day have I ridden and gone,
And I am fasting yet.’

9

‘Go with me to Drayton Basset,’ said our king,
‘no daintyes we will lack;

We'l have meat and drink of the best,
And I will pay the shot.’

10

‘Godamercy for nothing,’ said the tanner,
‘thou shalt pay for no dinner of mine;
I have more groats and nobles in my purse
then thou hast pence in thine.’

11

‘God save your goods,’ then said the king,
‘and send them well to thee!’
‘Be thou thief or true man,’ quoth the tanner,
‘I am weary of thy company.

12

‘Away, with a vengeance,’ quoth the tanner,
‘of thee I stand in fear;
The aparrell thou wearst on thy back
May seem a good lord to wear.’

13

‘I never stole them,’ said our king,
‘I swear to thee by the rood;’
‘Thou art some ruffian of the country,
thou rid'st in the midst of thy good.’

14

‘What news dost thou hear?’ then said our king,
‘I pray what news do you hear?’
‘I hear no news,’ answered the tanner,
‘but that cow-hides be dear.’

15

‘Cow-hides? cow-hides?’ then said our king,
‘I marvell what they be;’
‘Why, art thou a fool?’ quoth the tanner,
‘look, I have one under me.’

16

‘Yet one thing now I would thee pray,
so that thou wouldst not be strange;
If thy mare be better then my steed,
I pray thee let us change.’

17

‘But if you needs with me will change,
As change full well may ye,
By the faith of my body,’ quoth the tanner,
‘I look to have boot of thee.’

18

‘What boot wilt thou ask?’ then said our king,
‘what boot dost thou ask on this ground?’
‘No pence nor half-pence,’ said the tanner,
‘but a noble in gold so round.’

19

‘Here's twenty good groats,’ then said the king,
‘so well paid see you be;’
‘I love thee better then I did before,
I thought thou hadst nere a peny.

20

‘But if so be we needs must change,
as change thou must abide,
Though thou hast gotten Brock my mare,
thou shalt not have my cow-hide.’

21

The tanner took the good cow-hide,
that of the cow was hilt,
And threw it upon the king's saddle,
That was so fairly guilt.

22

‘Now help me, help me,’ quoth the tanner,
‘Full quickly that I were gone,
For when I come home to Gillian my wife
she'l say I'm a gentleman.’

23

The king took the tanner by the leg,
he girded a fart so round;
‘You'r very homely,’ said the king,
‘were I aware, I'd laid you o th' ground.’

24

But when the tanner was in the king's saddle
astonëd then he was;
He knew not the stirrops that he did wear,
whether they were gold or brass.

25

But when the steed saw the black cow-tale wag,
for and the black cow-horn,
The steed began to run away,
as the divel the tanner had born.

26

Untill he came unto a nook,
a little beside an ash;
The steed gave the tanner such a fall
his neck was almost brast.

27

‘Take thy horse again, with a vengeance,’ he said,
‘with me he shall not abide;’
‘It is no marvell,’ said the king, and laught,
‘he knew not your cow-hide.

28

‘But if that we needs now must change,
as change that well we mought,
I'le swear to you plain, if you have your mare,
I look to have some boot.’

29

‘What boot will you ask?’ quoth the tanner,
‘What boot will you ask on this ground?’
‘No pence nor half-pence,’ said our king,
‘but a noble in gold so round.’

30

‘Here's twenty [good] groats,’ said the tanner,
‘and twenty more I have of thine;
I have ten groats more in my purse,
we'l drink five of them at the wine.’

31

The king set a bugle-horne to his mouth,
that blew both loud and shrill,
And five hundred lords and knights
came riding over a hill.

32

‘Away, with a vengeance,’ quoth the tanner,
‘with thee I'le no longer abide;
Thou art a strong thief, yonder be thy fellows,
they will steal away my cow-hide.’

33

‘No, I protest,’ then said our king,
‘for so it may not be;
They be the lords of Drayton Basset,
come out of the North Country.’

34

But when they came before the king
full low they fell on their knee;
The tanner had rather then a thousand pound
he had been out of his company.

35

‘A coller! a coller!’ then said the king,
‘a coller!’ then did he cry;
Then would he have given a thousand pound
he had not been so nigh.

36

‘A coller? a coller?’ then quoth the tanner,
‘it is a thing which will breed sorrow;
For after a coller commeth a halter,
and I shall be hanged tomorrow.’

37

‘No, do not fear,’ the king did say;
‘for pastime thou hast shown me,
No coller nor halter thou shalt have,
but I will give thee a fee.

38

‘For Plompton Park I will give thee,
with tenements three beside,
Which is worth three hundred pound a year,
to maintain thy good cow-hide.’

39

‘Godamercy, Godamercy,’ quoth the tanner;
‘for this good deed thou hast done,
If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth,
thou shalt have clouting-leather for thy shone.’

274
OUR GOODMAN

OUR GOODMAN—A

[_]

Herd's MSS, I, 140.

1

Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he,
And then he saw a saddle-horse,
Where nae horse should be.

2

‘What's this now, goodwife?
What's this I see?
How came this horse here,
Without the leave o me?’

Recitative.

‘A horse?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a horse,’ quo he.

3

‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
Ill mat ye see!
'Tis naething but a broad sow,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘A broad sow?’ quo he.
‘Ay, a sow,’ quo shee.

4

‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But a sadle on a sow's back
I never saw nane.’

5

Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he;
He spy'd a pair of jack-boots,
Where nae boots should be.

6

‘What's this now, goodwife?
What's this I see?
How came these boots here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘Boots?’ quo she.
‘Ay, boots,’ quo he.

7

‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
And ill mat ye see!
It's but a pair of water-stoups,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘Water-stoups?’ quo he.
‘Ay, water-stoups,’ quo she.

8

‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But siller spurs on water-stoups
I saw never nane.’

9

Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he,
And he saw a sword,
Whare a sword should na be.

10

‘What's this now, goodwife?
What's this I see?
How came this sword here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘A sword?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a sword,’ quo he.

11

‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
Ill mat ye see!
It's but a porridge-spurtle,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘A spurtle?’ quo he.
‘Ay, a spurtle,’ quo she.

12

‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But siller-handed spurtles
I saw never nane.’

13

Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he;
There he spy'd a powderd wig,
Where nae wig shoud be.

14

‘What's this now, goodwife?
What's this I see?
How came this wig here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘A wig?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a wig,’ quo he.

15

‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
And ill mat you see!
'Tis naething but a clocken-hen,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘Clocken hen?’ quo he.
‘Ay, clocken hen,’ quo she.

16

‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But powder on a clocken-hen
I saw never nane.’

17

Hame came our goodman,
And hame came he,
And there he saw a muckle coat,
Where nae coat should be.

18

‘What's this now, goodwife?
What's this I see?
How came this coat here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘A coat?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a coat,’ quo he.

19

‘Shame fa your cuckold face,
Ill mat ye see!
It's but a pair o blankets,
My minnie sent to me.’

‘Blankets?’ quo he.
‘Ay, blankets,’ quo she.

20

‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But buttons upon blankets
I saw never nane.’

21

Ben went our goodman,
And ben went he,
And there he spy'd a sturdy man,
Where nae man shoud be.

22

‘What's this now, goodwife?
What's this I see?
How came this man here,
Without the leave o me?’

‘A man?’ quo she.
‘Ay, a man,’ quo he.

23

‘Poor blind body,
And blinder mat ye be!
It's a new milking-maid,
My mither sent to me.’

‘A maid?’ quo he.
‘Ay, a maid,’ quo she.

24

‘Far hae I ridden,
And farer hae I gane,
But lang-bearded maidens
I saw never nane.’

The Merry Cuckold and Kind Wife

OUR GOODMAN—B

[_]

A broadside: Printed and Sold at the Printing-Office in Bow Church-Yard, London.

1

O I went into the stable,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three horses stand,
by one, by two, and by three.

2

O I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three horses here,
without the leave of me?’

3

‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can't you very well see?
These are three milking-cows,
my mother sent to me.’

4

‘Heyday! Godzounds! Milking-cows with bridles and saddles on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

5

O I went into the kitchen,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three swords hang,
by one, by two, and by three.

6

O I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three swords do here,
without the leave of me?’

7

‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can't you very well see?
They are three roasting-spits,
my mother sent to me.’

8

‘Heyday! Godzounds! Roasting spits with scabbards on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

9

O I went into the parlour,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three cloaks hang,
by one, by two, and by three.

10

O I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three cloaks do here,
without the leave of me?’

11

‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can't you very well see?
These are three mantuas,
my mother sent to me.’

12

‘Heyday! Godzounds! Mantuas with capes on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

13

I went into the pantry,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three pair of boots hang,
by one, by two, and by three.

14

O I called to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she
‘O what do these three pair of boots do here,
without the leave of me?’

15

‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can't you very well see?
These are three pudding-bags,
my mother sent to me.’

16

‘Heyday! Godzounds! Pudding-bags with spurs on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

17

I went into my closet,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three pair of breeches lie,
by one, by two, and by three.

18

O I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three pair of breeches do here,
without the leave of me?’

19

‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can't you very well see?
These are three petticoats,
my mother sent to me.’

20

‘Heyday! Godzounds! Petticoats with waistbands on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

21

I went into the dairy,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three hats hang,
by one, by two, and by three.

22

I calld to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘Pray what do these three hats do here,
without the leave of me?’

23

‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
can't you very well see?
They are three skimming-dishes,
my mother sent to me.’

24

‘Heyday! Godzounds! Skimming-dishes with hat-bands on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

25

I went into the chamber,
and there for to see,
And there I saw three men in bed lie,
by one, by two, and by three.

26

I called to my loving wife,
and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she:
‘O what do these three men in bed,
without the leave of me?’

27

‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold,
don't you very well see?
They are three milking-maids,
my mother sent to me.’

28

‘Heyday! Godzounds! Milking-maids with beards on!
the like was never known!’
Old Wichet a cuckold went out,
and a cuckold he came home.

275
GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR

Get up and bar the Door

GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR—A

[_]

a. Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 330. b. [Pinkerton], Select Scotish Ballads, 1783, II, 150.

1

It fell about the Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was then,
When our goodwife got puddings to make,
And she's boild them in the pan.

2

The wind sae cauld blew south and north,
And blew into the floor;
Quoth our goodman to our goodwife,
‘Gae out and bar the door.’

3

‘My hand is in my hussyfskap,
Goodman, as ye may see;
An it shoud nae be barrd this hundred year,
It's no be barrd for me.’

4

They made a paction tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure,
That the first word whaeer shoud speak,
Shoud rise and bar the door.

5

Then by there came two gentlemen,
At twelve o clock at night,
And they could neither see house nor hall,
Nor coal nor candle-light.

6

‘Now whether is this a rich man's house,
Or whether is it a poor?’
But neer a word wad ane o them speak,
For barring of the door.

7

And first they ate the white puddings,
And then they ate the black;
Tho muckle thought the goodwife to hersel,
Yet neer a word she spake.

8

Then said the one unto the other,
‘Here, man, tak ye my knife;
Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard,
And I'll kiss the goodwife.’

9

‘But there's nae water in the house,
And what shall we do than?’
‘What ails ye at the pudding-broo,
That boils into the pan?’

10

O up then started our goodman,
An angry man was he:
‘Will ye kiss my wife before my een,
And scad me wi pudding-bree?’

11

Then up and started our goodwife,
Gied three skips on the floor:
‘Goodman, you've spoken the foremost word,
Get up and bar the door.’

John Blunt

GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR—B

[_]

Macmath MS. p. 74. “From the singing of Miss Jane Webster, 15th October, 1886, and 26th August, 1887, who learned it at Airds of Kells, Kirkcudbrightshire, many years ago, from James McJannet.”

1

There leeved a wee man at the fit o yon hill,
John Blunt it was his name, O
And he selld liquor and ale o the best,
And bears a wondrous fame. O
Tal lara ta lilt, tal lare a lilt,
Tal lara ta lilt, tal lara

2

The wind it blew frae north to south,
It blew into the floor;
Says auld John Blunt to Janet the wife,
Ye maun rise up and bar the door.

3

‘My hans are in my husseyskep,
I canna weel get them free,
And if ye dinna bar it yersel
It'll never be barred by me.’

4

They made it up atween them twa,
They made it unco sure,
That the ane that spoke the foremost word
Was to rise and bar the door.

5

There was twa travellers travelling late,
Was travelling cross the muir,
And they cam unto wee John Blunt's,
Just by the light o the door.

6

‘O whether is this a rich man's house,
Or whether is it a puir?’
But never a word would the auld bodies speak,
For the barring o the door.

7

First they bad good een to them,
And syne they bad good morrow;
But never a word would the auld bodies speak,
For the barring o the door, O.

8

First they ate the white puddin,
And syne they ate the black,
And aye the auld wife said to hersel,
May the deil slip down wi that!

9

And next they drank o the liquor sae strong,
And syne they drank o the yill:
‘And since we hae got a house o our ain
I'm sure we may tak our fill.’

10

It's says the ane unto the ither,
Here, man, tak ye my knife,
An ye'll scrape aff the auld man's beard,
While I kiss the gudewife.

11

‘Ye hae eaten my meat, ye hae drucken my drink,
Ye'd make my auld wife a whore!’
‘John Blunt, ye hae spoken the foremost word,
Ye maun rise up and bar the door.’

Johnie Blunt

GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR—C

[_]

Johnson's Museum, IV, 376, No 365, 1792. Contributed by Robert Burns.

1

There livd a man in yonder glen,
And John Blunt was his name; O
He maks gude maut and he brews gude ale,
And he bears a wondrous fame. O

2

The wind blew in the hallan ae night,
Fu snell out oer the moor;
‘Rise up, rise up, auld Luckie,’ he says,
‘Rise up, and bar the door.’

3

They made a paction tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure,
Whaeer sud speak the foremost word
Should rise and bar the door.

4

Three travellers that had tint their gate,
As thro the hills they foor,
They airted by the line o light
Fu straught to Johnie Blunt's door.

5

They haurld auld Luckie out o her bed
And laid her on the floor,
But never a word auld Luckie wad say,
For barrin o the door.

6

‘Ye've eaten my bread, ye hae druken my ale,
And ye'll mak my auld wife a whore!’
‘A ha, Johnie Blunt! ye hae spoke the first word,
Get up and bar the door.’

100

276
THE FRIAR IN THE WELL

101

The Fryer well fitted; or, The Fryer well fitted; or, The Fryer and the Maid

THE FRIAR IN THE WELL—A

[_]

a. Rawlinson, 566, fol. 63, 40. b. Roxburghe, II, 172; Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VII, 222. c. D'Urfey's Pills to purge Melancholy, ed. 1719, III, 325.

1

As I lay musing all alone,
fa, la, la, la, la
A pretty jeast I thought upon;
fa, la, la, la, la
Then listen a while, and I will you tell
Of a fryer that loved a bonny lass well.
fa, la, la, la, la
fa, la, la, lang-tre-down-dilly

2

He came to the maid when she went to bed,
Desiring to have her maidenhead,
But she denyëd his desire,
And told him that she feard hell-fire.

3

‘Tush,’ quoth the fryer, ‘thou needst not doubt
If thou wert in hell I could sing thee out:’
‘Then,’ quoth the maid, ‘thou shalt have thy request;’
The fryer was glad as a fox in his nest.

4

‘But one thing,’ quoth she, ‘I do desire,
Before you have what you require;
Before that you shall do the thing,
An angel of mony thou shalt me bring.’

5

‘Tush,’ quoth the fryer, ‘we shall agree,
No mony shall part my love and me;
Before that I will see thee lack,
I'le pawn the grey gown from my back.’

6

The maid bethought her of a wile
How she the fryer might beguile;
While he was gone, the truth to tell,
She hung a cloth before the well.

7

The fryer came, as his covenant was,
With money to his bonny lass;
‘Good morrow, fair maid!’ ‘Good morrow!’ quoth she.
‘Here is the mony I promised thee.’

8

She thankt the man, and she took his mony:
‘Now let us go to 't,’ quoth he, ‘sweet hony:’
‘O stay,’ quoth she, ‘some respite make,
My father comes, he will me take.’

9

‘Alas!’ quoth the fryer, ‘where shall I run,
To hide me till that he be gone?’
‘Behinde the cloath run thou,’ quoth she,
‘And there my father cannot thee see.’

102

10

Behind the cloath the fryer crept,
And into the well on the sudden he leapt;
‘Alas,’ quoth he, ‘I am in the well!’
‘No matter,’ quoth she, ‘if thou wert in hell.

11

‘Thou sayst thou couldst sing me out of hell,
Now prithee sing thy self out of the well:’
The fryer sung with a pittiful sound,
Oh help me out, or I shall be dround!

12

‘I trow,’ quoth she, ‘your courage is coold.’
Quoth the fryer, I was never so foold,
I never was servëd so before.
‘Then take heed,’ quoth she, ‘thou comst there no more.’

13

Quoth he, For sweet Saint Francis sake
On his disciple some pitty take:
Quoth she, Saint Francis never taught
His scholars to tempt young maids to naught.

14

The fryer did entreat her still
That she should help him out of the well;
She heard him make such pittious moan
She helpd him out, and bid him be gone.

15

Quoth he, Shall I have my mony again,
Which thou from me hast beforehand tane?
‘Good sir,’ said she, ‘there's no such matter;
I'le make you pay for fouling my water.’

16

The fryer went all along the street,
Droping wet, like a new-washd sheep;
Both old and young commended the maid
That such a witty prank had plaid.

The Friar and Fair Maid; or, The Friar

THE FRIAR IN THE WELL—B

[_]

a. Buchan's MSS, II, 351. b. Kinloch MSS, VI, 97, in Kinloch's handwriting. c. Kinloch MSS, V, 60, in the handwriting of James Beattie.

O hearken and hear, and I will you tell
Sing, Faldidae, faldidadi
Of a friar that loved a fair maiden well.
Sing, Faldi dadi di di

(bis)

2

The friar he came to this maiden's bedside,
And asking for her maidenhead.

3

‘O I would grant you your desire,
If't werena for fear o hell's burning fire.’

4

‘O hell's burning fire ye need have no doubt;
Altho you were in, I could whistle you out.’

5

‘O if I grant to you this thing,
Some money you unto me must bring.’

6

He brought her the money, and did it down tell;
She had a white cloth spread over the well.

7

Then the fair maid cried out that her master was come;
‘O,’ said the friar, ‘then where shall I run?’

8

‘O ye will go in behind yon screen,
And then by my master ye winna be seen.’

9

Then in behind the screen she him sent,
But he fell into the well by accident.

10

Then the friar cried out with a piteous moan,
O help! O help me! or else I am gone.

11

‘Ye said ye wad whistle me out o hell;
Now whistle your ain sel out o the well.’

12

She helped him out and bade him be gone;
The friar he asked his money again.

13

‘As for your money, there is no much matter
To make you pay more for jumbling our water.’

14

Then all who hear it commend this fair maid
For the nimble trick to the friar she played.

15

The friar he walked on the street,
And shaking his lugs like a well-washen sheep.

104

277
THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN

105

Sweet Robin

THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN—A

[_]

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 319. “From the recitation of a friend of the editor's in Morayshire.”

1

She wadna bake, she wadna brew,
Hollin, green hollin
For spoiling o her comely hue.
Bend your bow, Robin

2

She wadna wash, she wadna wring,
For spoiling o her gay goud ring.

3

Robin he's gane to the fald
And catched a weather by the spauld.

4

And he has killed his weather black
And laid the skin upon her back.

5

‘I darena pay you, for your kin,
But I can pay my weather's skin.

6

‘I darena pay my lady's back,
But I can pay my weather black.’

7

‘O Robin, Robin, lat me be,
And I'll a good wife be to thee.

8

‘It's I will wash, and I will wring,
And never mind my gay goud ring.

9

‘It's I will bake, and I will brew,
And never mind my comely hue.

10

‘And gin ye thinkna that eneugh,
I'se tak the goad and I'se ca the pleugh.

11

‘Gin ye ca for mair whan that is doon,
I'll sit i the neuk and I'll dight your shoon.’

Robin he's gane to the wude

THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN—B

[_]

Harris MS., fol. 26 b, No 25, from Miss Harris.

1

Robin he's gane to the wast,
Hollin, green hollin
He's waled a wife amang the warst.
Bend your bows, Robin

2

She could neither bake nor brew,
For spoilin o her bonnie hue.

3

She could neither spin nor caird,
But fill the cup, an sair the laird.

4

She could neither wash nor wring,
For spoilin o her gay goud ring.

5

Robin's sworn by the rude
That he wald mak an ill wife gude.

6

Robin he's gaun to the fauld,
An taen his blaik [wither] by the spauld.

7

He's taen aff his wither's skin
An he has preened his ain wife in.

8

‘I daurna beat my wife, for a' her kin,
But I may beat my wither's skin.’

9

‘I can baith bake an brew;
What care I for my bonnie hue?

10

‘I can baith wash an wring;
What care I for my gay gowd ring?

11

‘I can baith spin an caird;
Lat onybodie sair the laird.’

12

Robin's sworn by the rude
That he has made an ill wife gude.

106

The Cooper of Fife

THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN—C

[_]

Whitelaw's Book of Scottish Song, p. 333.

1

There was a wee cooper who lived in Fife,
Nickity, nackity, noo, noo, noo
And he has gotten a gentle wife.
Hey Willie Wallacky, how John Dougall,
Alane, quo Rushety, roue, roue, roue

2

She wadna bake, nor she wadna brew,
For the spoiling o her comely hue.

3

She wadna card, nor she wadna spin,
For the shaming o her gentle kin.

4

She wadna wash, nor she wadna wring,
For the spoiling o her gouden ring.

5

The cooper's awa to his woo-pack
And has laid a sheep-skin on his wife's back.

6

‘It's I'll no thrash ye, for your proud kin,
But I will thrash my ain sheep-skin.’

7

‘Oh, I will bake, and I will brew,
And never mair think on my comely hue.

8

‘Oh, I will card, and I will spin,
And never mair think on my gentle kin.

9

‘Oh, I will wash, and I will wring,
And never mair think on my gouden ring.’

10

A' ye wha hae gotten a gentle wife
Send ye for the wee cooper o Fife.

THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN—D

[_]

Jamieson-Brown MS., Appendix, p. iii, letter of R. Scott to Jamieson, June 9, 1805.

1

There livd a laird down into Fife,
Riftly, raftly, now, now, now
An he has married a bonny young wife.
Hey Jock Simpleton, Jenny['s] white petticoat,
Robin a Rashes, now, now, now

2

He courted her and he brought her hame,
An thought she would prove a thrifty dame.

3

She could neither spin nor caird,
But sit in her chair and dawt the laird.

4

She wadna bake and she wadna brew,
An a' was for spoiling her delicate hue.

5

She wadna wash nor wad she wring,
For spoiling o her gay goud ring.

6

But he has taen him to his sheep-fauld,
An taen the best weather by the spauld.

7

Aff o the weather he took the skin,
An rowt his bonny lady in.

8

‘I dare na thump you, for your proud kin,
But well sall I lay to my ain weather's skin.’

[OMITTED]

THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN—E

[_]

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 324.

1

There lives a landart laird in Fife,
And he has married a dandily wife.

2

She wadna shape, nor yet wad she sew,
But sit wi her cummers and fill hersell fu.

3

She wadna spin, nor yet wad she card,
But she wad sit and crack wi the laird.

4

He is down to his sheep-fald
And cleekit a weather by the back-spald.

5

He's whirpled aff the gude weather's-skin
And wrappit the dandily lady therein.

6

‘I darena pay you, for your gentle kin,
But weel I may skelp my weather's-skin.’

[OMITTED]

107

278
THE FARMER'S CURST WIFE

108

The Farmer's Old Wife

THE FARMER'S CURST WIFE—A

[_]

Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, p. 210, Percy Society, vol. xvii.

1

There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,

(Chorus of whistlers

There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,
And he had a bad wife, as many knew well.

(Chorus of whistlers)

2

Then Satan came to the old man at the plough:
‘One of your family I must have now.

3

‘It is not your eldest son that I crave,
But it is your old wife, and she I will have.’

4

‘O welcome, good Satan, with all my heart!
I hope you and she will never more part.’

5

Now Satan has got the old wife on his back,
And he lugged her along, like a pedlar's pack.

6

He trudged away till they came to his hall-gate;
Says he, Here, take in an old Sussex chap's mate.

7

O then she did kick the young imps about;
Says one to the other, Let's try turn her out.

8

She spied thirteen imps all dancing in chains,
She up with her pattens and beat out their brains.

9

She knocked the old Satan against the wall:
‘Let's turn her out, or she'll murder us all.’

10

Now he's bundled her up on his back amain,
And to her old husband he took her again.

11

‘I have been a tormentor the whole of my life,
But I neer was tormented so as with your wife.’

THE FARMER'S CURST WIFE—B

[_]

Macmath MS., p. 96. Taken down by Mr Macmath from the recitation of his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, Cross-michael, Kirkcudbrightshire, August 27th, 1892; learned many years ago, at Airds of Kells, from the singing of Samuel Galloway.

1

The auld Deil cam to the man at the pleugh,
Rumchy ae de aidie
Saying, I wish ye gude luck at the making o yer sheugh.
Mushy toorin an ant tan aira.

2

‘It's neither your oxen nor you that I crave;
It's that old scolding woman, it's her I must have.’

3

‘Ye're welcome to her wi a' my gude heart;
I wish you and her it's never may part.’

4

She jumped on to the auld Deil's back,
And he carried her awa like a pedlar's pack.

5

He carried her on till he cam to hell's door,
He gaed her a kick till she landed in the floor.

6

She saw seven wee deils a sitting in a raw,
She took up a mell and she murdered them a'.

7

A wee reekit deil lookit owre the wa:
‘O tak her awa, or she'll ruin us a'.’

8

‘O what to do wi her I canna weel tell;
She's no fit for heaven, and she'll no bide in hell.’

[OMITTED]

9

She jumpit on to the auld Deil's back,
And he carried her back like a pedlar's pack.

[OMITTED]

10

She was seven years gaun, and seven years comin,
And she cried for the sowens she left in the pot.

109

279
THE JOLLY BEGGAR

110

Ther was a wife in yon toun

THE JOLLY BEGGAR—A

[_]

“Old Lady's Collection,” No 36.

1

‘Ther is a wife in yone toun-end, an she has dothers three,
An I wad be a beager for ony of a' the three.’

2

He touk his clouty clok him about, his peak-staff in his hand,
An he is awa to yon toun-end, leak ony peare man.

3

‘I ha ben about this fish-toun this years tua or three,
Ha ye ony quarters, deam, that ye coud gie me?’

4

‘Awa, ye pear carl, ye dinne kean my name;
Ye sudd ha caed me mistress fan ye called me bat deam.’

5

He tuke his hat in his hand an gied her juks three:
‘An ye want manners, misstres, quarters ye'll gie me.’

6

‘Awa, ye pear carle, in ayont the fire,
An sing to our Lord Gray's men to their hearts' disire.’

7

Some lowked to his goudie lowks, some to his milk-whit skine,
Some to his ruffled shirt, the gued read gold hang in.

8

Out spak our madin, an she was ay shay,
Fatt will the jolly beager gett afore he gaa to lay?

9

Out spak our goudwife, an she was not sae shay,
He'se gett a dish of lang kell, besids a puss pay.

10

Out spak the jolly beager, That dish I dou denay;
I canne sup yer lang kell nor yet yer puss pay.

11

Bat ye gett to my supper a capon of the best,
Tuo or three bottels of yer wine, an bear, an we sall ha a merry feast.

12

‘Ha ye ony siler, carll, to bint the bear an wine?’
‘O never a peney, misstress, had I lang sine.’

13

The beager wadne lay in the barn, nor yett in the bayr,
Bat in ahind the haa-dor, or att the kitchen-fire.

111

14

The beager's bed was well [made] of gued clean stray an hay,
[OMITTED]

15

The madin she rose up to bar the dor,
An ther she spayed a naked man, was rinen throu the flour.

16

He tuke her in his arms an to his bed he ran;
‘Hollie we me, sir,’ she says, ‘or ye'll waken our pear man.’

17

The begger was a cuning carle, an never a word he spake
Till he got his turn dean, an sayn began to crak.

18

‘Is ther ony dogs about this toun? madin, tell me nou:’
‘Fatt wad ye dee we them, my hony an my dou?’

19

‘They wad ravie a' my meall-poks an die me mukell wrang:’
‘O doll for the deaing o it! are ye the pear man?

20

‘I thought ye had ben some gentelman, just leak the leard of Brody!
I am sorry for the doing o itt! are ye the pore boddie?’

21

She tuke the meall-poks by the strings an thrue them our the waa:
‘Doll gaa we meall-poks, madinhead an a'!’

22

She tuke him to her press, gave him a glass of wine;
He tuke her in his arms, says, Honey, ye'ss be mine.

23

He tuke a horn fra his side an he blue loud an shill,
An four-an-tuenty belted knights came att the beager's will.

24

He tuke out a pean-kniff, lute a' his dudes faa,
An he was the braest gentelman that was among them a'.

25

He patt his hand in his poket an gaa her ginnes three,
An four-an-tuenty hunder mark, to pay the nires feea.

26

‘Gin ye had ben a gued woman, as I thought ye had ben,
I wad haa made ye lady of castels eaght or nine.’

The Jolly Beggar; or, The Jolly Beggars; or, The Jolly Beggar-Man

THE JOLLY BEGGAR—B

[_]

a. Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 46. b. Curious Tracts, Scotland, British Museum, 1078, m. 24, No 30.

1

There was a jolly beggar, and a begging he was bound,
And he took up his quarters into a landart town.
Fa la la, etc.

2

He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in byre,
But in ahint the ha-door, or else afore the fire.

3

The beggar's bed was made at een wi good clean straw and hay,
And in ahint the ha-door, and there the beggar lay.

4

Up raise the goodman's dochter, and for to bar the door,
And there she saw the beggar standin i the floor.

5

He took the lassie in his arms and to the bed he ran,
‘O hooly, hooly wi me, sir! ye'll waken our goodman.’

6

The beggar was a cunnin loon, and neer a word he spake
Until he got his turn done, syne he began to crack.

7

‘Is there ony dogs into this town? maiden, tell me true.’
‘And what wad ye do wi them, my hinny and my dow?’

112

8

‘They'll rive a' my mealpocks, and do me meikle wrang.’
‘O dool for the doing o't! are ye the poor man?’

9

Then she took up the mealpocks and flang them oer the wa:
‘The d—l gae wi the mealpocks, my maiden-head and a'!

10

‘I took ye for some gentleman, at least the Laird of Brodie;
O dool for the doing o't! are ye the poor bodie?’

11

He took the lassie in his arms and gae her kisses three,
And four-and-twenty hunder merk to pay the nurice-fee.

12

He took a horn frae his side and blew baith loud and shrill,
And four-and-twenty belted knights came skipping oer the hill.

13

And he took out his little knife, loot a' his duddies fa,
And he was the brawest gentleman that was amang them a'.

14

The beggar was a cliver loon and he lap shoulder height:
‘O ay for sicken quarters as I gat yesternight!’

116

280
THE BEGGAR-LADDIE

The Shipherd Boy

THE BEGGAR-LADDIE—A

[_]

The “Old Lady's Collection,” No 35; north of Scotland.

1

Shiperd-boy, what is yer trade?
Or what way do ye wine yer bread?
Or what way do ye wine yer bread,
Fan the kipeng nout gies over?

2

‘Spindels an forls it is my trade,
An bits o sticks to them who need,
Whilk is a gentell trade indeed;
Bony lassie, cane ye lea me?’

3

‘I lea you as I supos
Rachell loved Jacob of old,
As Jason loied his flice of gould,
Sae dearly do I lea ye.

4

‘Ye cast off yer clouty coat,
An ye pitt one my scarlett cloke,
An I will follou you just att the back,
Becass ye are a bonny laddie.’

5

He cust off his cloutty coat,
An he patt on her scarlet cloke,

117

An she folloued him just att the back,
Becaus he was a bonny laddie.

6

They gaed on, an forder on,
Till they came to yon borrous-toun;
She bought a loaf an they both satt doun,
Bat she ate no we her laddie.

7

They gaed on, an forder one,
Till they came to the nest borrous-toun;
I wat the lassie louked doun,
For the following of her laddie.

8

‘O if I wer on the head of yon hill,
Ther I wad greet my fill,
For the follouing of my laddie.’

9

‘O had yer toung, my dearest dear,
I ill ha ye back as I brought ye hear,
For I canna bear yer morning.’

10

‘O had yer toung, my dearest dear,
I will gae throu the warld baith far an near,
Becaus ye'r a bonny ladie.’

11

They gad on, an forder on,
Till they came to his father's haa,
An he knoked ther fue loudly.

12

‘O had yer hand, my dear[est] dear,
An dou not knoke sae loudly,
For fear they sud be angry.’

13

Four-an-tuenty gentelmen
They conved the beager ben,
An as mony gay ladës
Conved the beager's lassie.

14

His brother lead her throu the haa:
‘I wis, brother, we had beagged a',
For sick a bonny lassie.’

15

That same night she was bedded,
An the nist morning she was wedded;
She came to gued by grait misgiding,
By the follouing of her laddie.

The Beggar's Dawtie

THE BEGGAR-LADDIE—B

[_]

Murison MS., p. 85; from Aberdeenshire.

1

'Twas on a day in the month o June
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
When Phoebus shines sae clearly.

2

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
She says, My dear, what is your trade
When thiggin ye give over?

3

‘Spinls and forls is my trade,
Wi bits o sticks I win my bread,
An O it is a winnin trade;
Bonnie lassie, can ye loo me?’
An O it is, etc.

4

‘O I can love ye manyfold,
As Jacob loved Rachel of old,
And as Jessie loved the cups o gold;
My dear, can ye believe me?’
As Jessie, etc.

5

‘It's ye'll tak aff the robes o red,
An ye'll pit on the beggin-weed,
An ye'll gang wi me an ye'll beg your bread,
An ye'll be the beggar's dawtie.’

6

When they cam to yon borough-toon,
They bocht a loaf an they baith sat doon,
They bocht a loaf an they baith sat doon,
An the lassie ate wi her laddie.

7

When they cam to yon grassy hill,
Where spotted flocks do feed their fill,
‘I'll sit me doon an I'll greet a while,
For the followin o my laddie.’

8

‘It's ye'll tak aff yer beggin-weed,
An ye'll pit on the goons o red,
An ye'll gang ye back the road ye cam,
For I canna bide yer greetin.’

9

‘Betide me weel, betide me woe,
It's wi the beggar an I'll go,
An I'll follow him through frost an snow,
An I'll be the beggar's dawtie.’

118

10

When they cam to yonder ha,
He knockit loud an sair did ca;
She says, My dear, we'll be foun in fa
For knockin here sae loudly.

11

Four-an-twenty gentlemen
Cam a' to welcome the beggar in,
An as monie fair ladies gay
To welcome's bonnie lassie.

12

When at he gied through the ha,
They a' did laugh, they were like to fa,
Sayin, Brither, I wish we had beggit a',
For sic a bonnie lassie.

13

‘The streen ye was the beggar's bride,
An noo this nicht ye'll lie by my side,
Come weel, come woe, whateer betide,
An ye'll be aye my dawtie.’

The Beggar-Laddie

THE BEGGAR-LADDIE—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 249; from the recitation of Miss Ann Wilson, of the Tontine Inn, Paisley, who learned it from the cook in her father's house.

1

Down in yonder garden gay,
Where many a ladie does repair,
Where many a ladie does repair,
Puing of flowers sae bonnie.

2

‘O do you see yon shepherd's son,
Feeding his flocks in yonder loan,
Feeding his flocks in yonder loan?
Vow but he feeds them bonnie!’

3

‘O laddie, laddie, what is your trade?
Or by what means do you win your bread?
Or by what means do you win your bread?
O laddie, tell unto me.’

4

‘By making spindles is my trade,
Or whorles in the time o need,
And by which ways I do win my bread:
O lady, do you love me?’

5

‘As Judas loved a piece of gold,
As Jacob loved Rachel of old,
As Jacob loved Rachel of old,
O laddie, I do love thee.’

6

‘You must put off your robes of silk,
You must put on my cloutit claes,
And follow me hard at my back,
And ye'll be my beggar-lassie.’

7

She's put aff her robes of silk,
And she's put on his cloutit claes,
And she's followed him hard at his back,
And she's been his beggar-lassie.

8

O when they cam to [the] borrowstoun,
Vow but the lassie lookit doun!
Vow but the lassie lookit doun!
Following her beggar-laddie.

9

O when they cam to Stirling toun,
He coft a loaf and they baith sat doun,
He coft a loaf and they baith sat doun,
And she's eaten wi her beggar-laddie.

10

‘O do you see yon hie, hie hill,
Where the corn grows baith rank and tall?
If I was there, I would greet my fill,
Where naebody wuld see me.’

11

When they came to his brother's hall,
Vow but he chappit loud and schill!
‘Don't chap sae loud,’ the lassie said,
‘For we may be fund faut wi.’

12

Four-and-twenty gentlemen,
And twice as many gay ladies,
And twice as many gay ladies,
Came to welcome in the lassie.

13

His brother led her thro the hall,
With laughter he was like to fall;
He said, I think we should beg it all,
For she is a bonnie lassie.

14

‘You must put aff your cloutit claes,
You must put on your robes of silk,
You must put on your robes of silk,
For ye are a young knicht's ladye.’

119

The Gaberlunzie Laddie; or, The Beggar's Bride

THE BEGGAR-LADDIE—D

[_]

Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 100; from three copies, two in Banffshire, and one in Aberdeenshire.

1

'Twas in the pleasant month of June,
When woods and valleys a' grow green,
And valiant ladies walk alane,
While Phoebus shines soe clearly.
And valiant ladies, etc.

2

Out-ower yon den I spied a swain,
Wi a shepherd's club into his han;
He was driving ewes out-ower yon knowes,
And said, Lassie, I could love you.
He was driving ewes, etc.

3

‘Oh, I could love you manifold,
As Jacob lovd Rachel of old,
As Jesse lovd the fields of gold,
So dearly could I love you.

4

‘In ha's and chambers ye'se be laid,
In silks and cambrics ye'se be clade,
An wi the finest ye'se be fed,
My dear, gin ye would believe me.’

5

‘Your ha's and chambers ye'll soon sweep clean,
Wi your flattering tongue now let me alane;
You are designd to do me wrang,
Awa, young man, and leave me.

6

‘But tell me now what is your trade,
When you've given over sheep and club?’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

7

‘By making besoms I win my bread,
And spindles and whorles in time o need;
Is n't that a gentle trade indeed?
Bonnie lassie, can you loe me?

8

‘Will ye cast aff your mantle black
And put on you a clouty cloak,
And follow me close at the back,
The gaberlunyie-laddie?’

9

Then she coost aff her mantle black,
And she put on a clouty cloak,
And she followd him close at the back,
Her gaberlunyie-laddie.

10

As they gaed through yon borough-town,
For shame the lassie lookit down;
But they bought a loaf and they both sat down,
And the lassie ate wi her laddie.

11

When they came to his father's gate,
Sae loudly as he rappd thereat;
‘My dear,’ said she, ‘ye'll be found in faut
For rapping there sae loudly.’

12

Then four-and-twenty gentlemen
Convoyd the gentle beggar ben,
And aye as mony gay ladies
Convoyd the bonny lassie.

13

When they were come into the ha,
Wi laughter a' were like to fa:
‘I wish, dear brother, we had beggëd a',
For sic a bonnie lassie.’

14

Then as he stood amang them a',
He let his meal-pocks a' down fa,
And in red gowd he shone oer them a',
And she was a young knight's lady.

15

Yestreen she was the begger's bride,
As his wife she now stood by his side,
And for a' the lassie's ill misguide,
She's now the young knight's lady.

The Shepherd's Bonny Lassy

THE BEGGAR-LADDIE—E

[_]

Kinloch MSS, V, 249. As recited by John Laurie, Abbeygreen.

1

'Twas in the merry month of June,
When woods and gardens were all in bloom,
When woods and gardens were all in bloom,
And Phœbus shining clearly.

2

Did you not see your shepherd-swain,
Feeding his flocks upon the plain,
Feeding his flocks all one by one,
And keeping them together?

3

Did you not see yon bonny green,
Where dukes and lords and my love hath been,

120

Where dukes and lords and my love hath been,
And Phœbus shining clearly?

4

‘O shepherd, shepherd, tell me indeed
Which is the way you dou win your bread,
Which is the way you dou win your bread,
When feeding you give over?’

5

‘By making spindles I win my bread,
By turning whorles in time of need,
By turning whorles in time of need,
Say, lassy, can you love me?’

6

‘I could love you manifold,
As Jacob loved Rachel of old,
As Jacob loved Rachel of old,
So dearly could I love you.’

7

‘You must cast off these robes of silk,
And put about my shepherd's cloak,
And you must walk down at my back,
Like a shepherd's bonny lassie.’

8

She has cast off her robes of silk,
And put about his shepherd's cloak,
And she has walkd down at his back,
Like a shepherd's bonny lassie.

9

O they walked up, and they walked down,
Till this fair maiden she's wearyed grown;
Says she, My dear, we'll go to some town,
And there tak up our lodgings.

10

O whan they cam to his father's gate,
Sae loudly, loudly as he did rap;
Says she, My dear, we'll be found in fault
For rapping here sae boldly.

11

But whan they cam to his father's hall,
O loud, loud laughter they laughed all,
Saying, Brother, I wish we had herded all,
Ye've got sic an a bonny lassie.

12

Now this young couple they were wed,
And all the way the flowers were spread,
For in disguise they were married;
She's now the young squire's lady.

121

281
THE KEACH I THE CREEL

122

The Keach i the Creel

THE KEACH I THE CREEL—A

[_]

Whitelaw's Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 35; “taken down from the recitation of a gentleman in Liddesdale.”

1

A fair young may went up the street,
Some white-fish for to buy,
And a bonnie clerk's faen in love wi her,
And he's followed her by and by, by,
And he's followed her by and by.

2

‘O where live ye, my bonnie lass,
I pray thee tell to me;
For gin the nicht were ever sae mirk
I wad come and visit thee.’

3

‘O my father he aye locks the door,
My mither keeps the key;
And gin ye were ever sic a wily wight
Ye canna win in to me.’

4

But the clerk he had ae true brother,
And a wily wight was he;
And he has made a lang ladder,
Was thirty steps and three.

5

He has made a cleek but and a creel,
A creel but and a pin;
And he's away to the chimley-top,
And he's letten the bonnie clerk in.

6

The auld wife, being not asleep,
Heard something that was said;
‘I'll lay my life,’ quo the silly auld wife,
‘There's a man i our dochter's bed.’

7

The auld man he gat owre the bed,
To see if the thing was true;
But she's ta'en the bonny clerk in her arms,
And coverd him owre wi blue.

8

‘O where are ye gaun now, father?’ she says,
‘And where are ye gaun sae late?
Ye've disturbd me in my evening prayers,
And O but they were sweet!’

9

‘O ill betide ye, silly auld wife,
And an ill death may ye die!
She has the muckle buik in her arms,
And she's prayin for you and me.’

10

The auld wife being not asleep,
Then something mair was said;
‘I'll lay my life,’ quo the silly auld wife,
‘There's a man i our dochter's bed.’

11

The auld wife she got owre the bed,
To see if the thing was true;
But what the wrack took the auld wife's fit?
For into the creel she flew.

12

The man that was at the chimley-top,
Finding the creel was fu,
He wrappit the rape round his left shouther,
And fast to him he drew.

123

13

‘O help! O help! O hinny, now, help!
O help, O hinny, now!
For him that ye aye wished me to
He's carryin me off just now.’

14

‘O if the foul thief's gotten ye,
I wish he may keep his haud;
For a' the lee lang winter nicht
Ye'll never lie in your bed.’

15

He's towed her up, he's towed her down,
He's towed her through an through;
‘O Gude assist!’ quo the silly auld wife,
‘For I'm just departin now.’

16

He's towed her up, he's towed her down,
He's gien her a richt down-fa,
Till every rib i the auld wife's side
Playd nick-nack on the wa.

17

O the blue, the bonnie, bonnie blue,
And I wish the blue may do weel!
And every auld wife that's sae jealous o her dochter,
May she get a good keach i the creel!

The Creel, or, Bonnie May

THE KEACH I THE CREEL—B

[_]

Communicated February, 1873, by Mr David Louden, of Morham, Haddington, N. B., as derived from Andrew Hastie, Rentonhall.

1

As bonnie may went up the street,
Some sweetmeats for to buy,
There was a young clerk followed after her,
And followed her by and by, by,
And followed her by and by.

2

‘It's bonnie may, where do you stay?
Or where is't that you be?
Oh if the night be neer so dark,
Awat I'll come and visit thee.’

3

‘My father locks the door at een,
My mother keeps the key;
Gin ye were neer sic a rovin blade,
Ye canna win in to me.’

4

The young clerk has a young brither,
And a wily wag was he;
He's made to him a long ladder,
Wi thirty steps and three.

5

And he's put it to the chimney-top,
And the creel he's put on a pin,
And he's put it to the chimney-top,
And he's let the young clerk in.

6

The auld wife she was standing by,
She heard a word was said;
‘I could lay my life,’ said the silly auld wife,
‘There's a man in oor dochter's bed.’

7

The auld man he cam doun the stairs
To see if it were true;
The young clerk was lying in bonnie may's arms,
And she's covered him oer wi blue.

8

‘Where are you going, dear father?’ she says,
‘Where are you going so late?
You stopped me of my evening prayers,
And oh, but they were sweet!’

9

‘The deil tak you, ye silly auld wife,
And an ill death may ye dee!
For your dochter was lyin wi the book in her arms,
And she's prayin for you and me.’

10

The auld wife still standin no far by,
Still hearin a word, she said,
‘Ye may say as ye like, ye silly auld man,
There's a man in oor dochter's bed.’

11

I dinna ken what's taen the auld wife's fit,
But into the creel she flew;
The young clerk['s brither] being at the chimney-top,
He found the creel was fu.

12

He's thrown the rope out-owre his shouther,
And to him he did draw;
He's drawn her up, he's drawn her doun,
He's drawn her through and through.

13

Till the auld wife she began to cry,
I'm just departin noo!

124

But aye he drew her up and doun,
And drew her through and through.

14

He's drawn her up, he's let her doun,
He's gien her evendoun fall,
Till every rib on the auld wife's side
Played nick-nack on the wall.

15

It's O the blue, the bonnie, bonnie blue,
I wish the blue may do weel!
For every auld wife that is jealous o her dochter
May be rockit to the d—l in a creel!

The Cunning Clerk

THE KEACH I THE CREEL—C

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 278.

1

As I gaed down to Collistown,
Some white-fish for to buy, buy,
The cunning clerk he followed me,
And he followed me speedily, ly,
And he followed me speedily.

2

Says, Faur ye gaun, my dearest dear?
O faur ye gaun, my dow?
There's naebody comes to my bedside,
And naebody wins to you.

3

‘Your brother is a gallant square-wright,
A gallant square-wright is he;
Ye'll gar him make a lang ladder,
Wi thirty steps and three.

4

‘And gar him big a deep, deep creel,
A deep creel and a string,
And ye'll come up to my bedside,
And come bonnily linken in.’

5

The auld gudeman and auld gudewife,
To bed they went, to sleep;
But wae mat worth the auld gudewife!
A wink she coudna get.

6

‘I dreamd a dreary dream this night,
I wish it binna true,
That the rottens had come thro the wa,
And cutted the coverin blue.’

7

Then up it raise the auld gudeman,
To see gin it was true;
And he's gane to his daughter dear,
Says, What are ye doing, my dow?

8

‘What are ye doing, my daughter dear?
What are ye doing, my dow?’
‘The prayer book's in my hand, father,
Praying for my auld minnie and you.’

9

The auld gudeman and auld gudewife,
To bed they went, to sleep;
But wae mat worth the auld gudewife!
But aye she wakend yet.

10

‘I dreamd a dreary dream this night,
I wish it binna true,
That the cunning clerk and your ae daughter
Were aneath the coverin blue.’

11

‘O rise yoursell, gudewife,’ he says,
‘The diel may had you fast!
Atween you and your ae daughter
I canno get ae night's rest.’

12

Up then raise the auld gudewife,
To see gin it was true,
And she fell arselins in the creel,
And up the string they drew.

13

‘Win up, win up, gudeman,’ she says,
‘Win up and help me now!
For he that ye gae me to last night,
I think he's catchd me now.’

14

‘Gin Auld Nick he has catchd you now,
I wish he may had you fast;
As for you and your ae daughter,
I never get kindly rest.’

15

They howded her, and they showded her,
Till the auld wife gat a fa,
And three ribs o the auld wife's side
Gaed knip-knap ower in twa.

125

The Covering Blue

THE KEACH I THE CREEL—D

[_]

Kinloch MSS, I, 276; from Alexander Kinnear, of Stonehaven.

1

‘My father he locks the doors at nicht,
My mither the keys carries ben, ben;
There's naebody dare gae out,’ she says,
‘And as few dare come in, in,
And as few dare come in.’

2

‘I will mak a lang ladder,
Wi fifty steps and three,
I will mak a lang ladder,
And lichtly come doun to thee.’

3

He has made a lang ladder,
Wi fifty steps and three,
He has made a lang ladder,
And lichtly come doun the lum.

4

They had na kissd nor lang clappit,
As lovers do whan they meet,
Till the auld wife says to the auld man,
I hear somebody speak.

5

‘I dreamed a dreem sin late yestreen,
And I'm feard my dream be true;
I dreamd that the rottens cam thro the wa,
And cuttit the covering blue.

6

‘Ye'll rise, ye'll rise, my auld gudeman,
And see gin this be true;’
‘If ye're wanting rising, rise yoursel,
For I wish the auld chiel had you.’

7

‘I dreamed a dream sin late yestreen,
And I'm feard my dream be true;
I dreamd that the clerk and our ae dother
War rowed in the covering blue.

8

‘Ye'll rise, ye'll rise, my auld gudeman,
And see gin this be true:’
‘If ye're wanting rising, rise yoursel,
For I wish the auld chiel had you.’

9

But up she raise, and but she gaes,
And she fell into the gin;
He gied the tow a clever tit,
That brought her out at the lum.

10

‘Ye'll rise, ye'll rise, my auld gudeman,
Ye'll rise and come to me now,
For him that ye've gien me sae lang till,
I fear he has gotten me now.’

11

‘The grip that he's gotten, I wish he may haud,
And never let it gae,
For atween you and your ae dother
I rest neither nicht nor day.’

126

282
JOCK THE LEG AND THE MERRY MERCHANT

JOCK THE LEG AND THE MERRY MERCHANT

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 165.

1

As Jock the Leg and the merry merchant
Came from yon borrow's town,
They took their budgets on their backs,
And fieldert they were boun.

2

But they came to a tavern-house,
Where chapmen used to be:
‘Provide, provide,’ said Jock the Leg,
‘A good supper for me.

127

3

‘For the merry merchant shall pay it a',
Tho it were good merks three;’
‘But never a penny,’ said the merry merchant,
‘But shot, as it fa's me.

4

‘A bed, a bed,’ said the merry merchant,
‘It's time to go to rest;’
‘And that ye shall,’ said the good goodwife,
‘And your covrings o the best.’

5

Then Jock the Leg in one chamber was laid,
The merchant in another,
And lockfast door atween them twa,
That the one might not see the other.

6

But the merchant was not well lain down,
Nor yet well fa'en asleep,
Till up it starts him Jock the Leg,
Just at the merchant's feet.

7

‘Win up, win up,’ said Jock the Leg,
‘We might hae been miles three;’
‘But never a foot,’ said the merry merchant,
‘Till day that I do see.

8

‘For I cannot go by Barnisdale,
Nor yet by Coventry;
For Jock the Leg, that common thief,
Would take my pack from me.’

9

‘I'll hae you in by Barnisdale,
And down by Coventry,
And I'll guard you frae Jock the Leg
Till day that ye do see.’

10

When they were in by Barnisdale,
And in by Coventry,
‘Repeat, repeat,’ said Jock the Leg,
‘The words ye ance tauld me.’

11

‘I never said aught behind your back
But what I'll say to thee;
Are ye that robber, Jock the Leg,
Will take my pack frae me?’

12

‘O by my sooth,’ said Jock the Leg,
‘You'll find that man I be;
Surrender that pack that's on your back,
Or then be slain by me.’

13

He's ta'en his pack down frae his back,
Set it below yon tree;
Says, I will fight for my good pack
Till day that I may see.

14

Then they fought there in good greenwood
Till they were bloody men;
The robber on his knees did fall,
Said, Merchant, hold your hand.

15

‘An asking, asking,’ said Jock the Leg,
‘An asking ye'll grant me;’
‘Ask on, ask on,’ said the merry merchant,
‘For men to asking are free.’

16

‘I've dune little harm to you,’ he said,
‘More than you'd been my brother;
Give me a blast o my little wee horn,
And I'll give you another.’

17

‘A blast o your little wee horn,’ he said,
‘Of this I take no doubt;
I hope you will take such a blast
Ere both your eyes fly out.’

18

He set his horn to his mouth,
And he blew loud and shrill,
And four-and-twenty bauld bowmen
Came Jock the Leg until.

19

‘Ohon, alas!’ said the merry merchant,
‘Alas! and woe is me!
Sae many, a party o common thiefs,
But nane to party me!

20

‘Ye'll wile out six o your best bowmen,
Yourself the seventh to be,
And, put me one foot frae my pack,
My pack ye shall have free.’

21

He wiled six o his best bowmen,
Himself the seventh to be,
But [him] frae his pack they couldna get,
For all that they could dee.

22

He's taen his pack into one hand,
His broadsword in the other,
And he slew five o the best bowmen,
And the sixth he has dung over.

23

Then all the rest they gae a shout,
As they stood by the tree;
Some said they would this merchant head,
Some said they'd let him be.

24

But Jock the Leg he then replied,
To this I'll not agree;
He is the boldest broadsword-man
That ever I fought wi.

128

25

‘If ye could wield the bow, the bow
As ye can do the brand,
I would hae you to good greenwood,
To be my master's man.’

26

‘Tho I could wield the bow, the bow
As I can do the brand,
I would not gang to good greenwood,
To join a robber-band.’

27

‘O give me some of your fine linen,
To cleathe my men and me,
And ye'se hae some of my dun deers' skins,
Below yon greenwood-tree.’

28

‘Ye'se hae nane o my fine linen,
To cleathe your men and thee,
And I'll hae nane o your stown deers' skins,
Below yon greenwood-tree.’

29

‘Ye'll take your pack upon your back,
And travel by land or sea;
In brough or land, wherever we meet,
Good billies we shall be.’

30

‘I'll take my pack upon my back,
And go by land or sea;
In brough or land, wherever we meet,
A rank thief I'll call thee.’

283
THE CRAFTY FARMER

THE CRAFTY FARMER

[_]

a. ‘The Crafty Farmer,’ Logan, A Pedlar's Pack, p. 126, from a chap-book of 1796; ‘The Crafty Miller,’ Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 208, from a Glasgow stall-copy; a stall-copy, printed by M. Randall, Stirling.

b. ‘The Yorkshire Farmer,’ Kidson, Traditional Tunes, p.140, from The Manchester Songster, 1792.

c. ‘Saddle to Rags,’ Dixon, Ancient Poems, etc., p. 126, Percy Society, vol. xvii., taken down from the recitation of a Yorkshire yeoman in 1845.

d. ‘The Thief Outwitted,’ Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, XI, 112, 1873, taken down by E. McC., Guernsey, “from the recitation of an old woman now in her eighty-second year, who learnt it in her childhood from her father, a laborer from the neigh-borhood of Yeovil.”

e. ‘The Silly Old Man,’ Baring-Gould and Sheppard, Songs and Ballads of the West, 3d ed., No 18, Part I, p. 38, as sung by the Rev. E. Luscombe, a Devonshire man, about 1850 (Part IV, p. xviii).

f. ‘The Silly Old Man,’ Miss M. H. Mason's Nursery Rhymes and Country Songs, p. 43, as sung in Devonshire.

129

1

The song that I'm going to sing,
I hope it will give you content,
Concerning a silly old man,
That was going to pay his rent.

2

As he was riding along,
Along all on the highway,
A gentleman-thief overtook him,
And thus to him did say.

3

‘Well overtaken!’ said the thief,
‘Well overtaken!’ said he;
And ‘Well overtaken!’ said the old man,
‘If thou be good company.’

4

‘How far are you going this way?’
Which made the old man for to smile;
‘By my faith,’ said the old man,
‘I'm just going two mile.

5

‘I am a poor farmer,’ he said,
‘And I farm a piece of ground,
And my half-year's rent, kind sir,
Just comes to forty pound.

6

‘And my landlord has not been at home,
I've not seen him this twelvemonth or more,
Which makes my rent be large;
I've to pay him just fourscore.’

7

‘Thou shouldst not have told any body,
For thieves there's ganging many;
If any should light on thee,
They'll rob thee of thy money.’

8

‘O never mind,’ said the old man,
‘Thieves I fear on no side,
For the money is safe in my bags,
On the saddle on which I ride.’

9

As they were riding along,
The old man was thinking no ill,
The thief he pulled out a pistol
And bid the old man stand still.

10

But the old man provd crafty,
As in the world there's many;
He threw his saddle oer the hedge,
Saying, Fetch it, if thou'lt have any.

11

The thief got off his horse,
With courage stout and bold,
To search for the old man's bag,
And gave him his horse to hold.

12

The old man put's foot i the stirrup
And he got on astride;
To its side he clapt his spur up,
You need not bid the old man ride.

130

13

‘O stay!’ said the thief, ‘O stay!
And half the share thou shalt have;’
‘Nay, by my faith,’ said the old man,
‘For once I have bitten a knave.’

14

The thief he was not content,
But he thought there must be bags;
He out with his rusty old sword
And chopt the old saddle in rags.

15

When he came to the landlord's house,
This old man he was almost spent;
Saying, Come, show me a private room
And I'll pay you a whole year's rent.

16

‘I've met a fond fool by the way,
I swapt horses and gave him no boot;
But never mind,’ said the old man,
‘For I got the fond fool by the foot.’

17

He opend this rogue's portmantle,
It was glorious to behold;
There were three hundred pounds in silver,
And three hundred pounds in gold.

18

And as he was riding home,
And down a narrow lane,
He espied his mare tied to a hedge,
Saying, Prithee, Tib, wilt thou gang hame?

19

When he got home to his wife
And told her what he had done,
Up she rose and put on her clothes,
And about the house did run.

20

She sung, and she sung, and she sung,
She sung with a merry devotion,
Saying, If ever our daughter gets wed,
It will help to enlarge her portion.

131

284
JOHN DORY

JOHN DORY

[_]

Ravenscroft's Deuteromelia, London, 1609; No 1 of Freemen's Songs, sig. B.

132

1

As it fell on a holy-day,
And vpon an holy-tide-a,
Iohn Dory bought him an ambling nag,
To Paris for to ride-a.

2

And when John Dory to Paris was come,
A little before the gate-a,
John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted
To let him in thereat-a.

3

The first man that John Dory did meet
Was good king John of France-a;
John Dory could well of his courtesie,
But fell downe in a trance-a.

4

‘A pardon, a pardon, my liege and my king,
For my merie men and for me-a,
And all the churles in merie England,
I'le bring them all bound to thee-a.’

5

And Nicholl was then a Cornish man,
A little beside Bohide-a,
And he mande forth a good blacke barke,
With fiftie good oares on a side-a.

6

‘Run vp, my boy, vnto the maine top,
And looke what thou canst spie-a:’
‘Who ho! who ho! a goodly ship I do see,
I trow it be John Dory[-a.’]

7

They hoist their sailes, both top and top,
The meisseine and all was tride-a,
And euery man stood to his lot,
What euer should betide-a.

8

The roring cannons then were plide,
And dub-a-dub went the drumme-a;
The braying trumpets lowde they cride
To courage both all and some-a.

9

The grappling-hooks were brought at length,
The browne bill and the sword-a,
John Dory at length, for all his strength,
Was clapt fast vnder board-a.

133

285
THE GEORGE ALOE AND THE SWEEPSTAKE

THE GEORGE ALOE AND THE SWEEPSTAKE

[_]

a. Percy Papers, “from an ancient black-letter copy in Ballard's collection.”

b. Rawlinson, 566, fol. 183, 40.

c. Roxburghe, III, 204, in Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 408.

134

1

The George Aloe and the Sweepstakes too,
With hey, with ho, for and a nony no
They were two merchant-men, a sailing for Safee.
And along the course of Barbary

2

[The George Aloe to anchor came,
But the jolly Sweepstake kept on her way.]

3

They had not sayled leagues two or three
Before they spyed a sail upon the sea.

4

‘O hail, O hail, you lusty gallants,
From whence is your good ship, and whither is she bound?’

5

‘O we are some merchant-men, sailing for Safee:’
‘And we be French rebels, a roving on the sea.

6

‘O hail, O hail, you English dogs, [hail!]’
‘The[n] come aboard. you French dogs, and strike down your sail!’

7

‘Amain, amain, you gallant Englishmen!’
‘Come, you French swades, and strike down your sails!’

8

They laid us aboard on the starboard-side,
And they overthrew us into the sea so wide.

9

When tidings to the George Aloe came
That the jolly Sweepstakes by a Frenchman was tane,

10

‘To top, to top, thou little ship-boy,
And see if this French man-of-war thou canst descry.’

11

‘A sail, a sail, under your lee,
Yea, and another under her bough.’

12

‘Weigh anchor, weigh anchor, O jolly boat-swain,
We will take this Frenchman if we can.’

13

We had not sailed leagues two or three
But we met the French man-of-war upon the sea.

14

‘All hail, all hail, you lusty gallants,
Of whence is your fair ship, and whither is she bound?’

15

‘O we are merchant-men, and bound for Safee;’
‘And we are Frenchmen, roving upon the sea.

16

‘Amain, amain, you English dogs!’
‘Come aboard, you French rogues, and strike your sails!’

17

The first good shot the George Aloe shot,
It made the Frenchmen's hearts sore afraid.

18

The second shot the George Aloe did afford,
He struck the main-mast over the board.

19

‘Have mercy, have mercy, you brave English[men].’
‘O what have you done with our brethren on [shore]?’
As they sail[ed].

20

‘We laid them aboard on the starboard side,
And we threw them into the sea so wide.’

21

‘Such mercy as you have shewed unto them,
Even the like mercy shall you have again.’

22

We laid them aboard on the larboard side,
And we threw them into the sea so wide.

23

Lord, how it grieved our hearts full sore
To see the drowned Frenchmen float along the shore!

24

Now, gallant seamen all, adieu,
With hey, with ho, for and a nony no
This is the last news that I can write to you.
To England's coast from Barbary

135

286
THE SWEET TRINITY (THE GOLDEN VANITY)

136

Sir Walter Raleigh sailing in the Low-lands

THE SWEET TRINITY (THE GOLDEN VANITY)—A

[_]

Pepys Ballads, IV, 196, No 189.

1

Sir Walter Rawleigh has built a ship,
In the Neatherlands
Sir Walter Rawleigh has built a ship,
In the Neather-lands
And it is called The Sweet Trinity,
And was taken by the false gallaly.
Sailing in the Low-lands

137

2

‘Is there never a seaman bold
In the Neather-lands
Is there never a seaman bold
In the Neather-lands
That will go take this false gallaly,
And to redeem The Sweet Trinity?’
Sailing, etc.

3

Then spoke the little ship-boy;
In the Neather-lands
Then spoke the little ship-boy;
In the Neather-lands
‘Master, master, what will you give me
And I will take this false gallaly,
And release The Sweet Trinity?’
Sailing, etc.

4

‘I'll give thee gold, and I'le give thee fee,
In the Neather-lands
I'll give thee gold and I'le give thee fee,
In the Neather-lands
And my eldest daughter thy wife shall be.’
Sailing, etc.

5

He set his breast, and away he did swim,
Until he came to the false gallaly.

6

He had an augor fit for the [n]once,
The which will bore fifteen good holes at once.

7

Some ware at cards, and some at dice,
Until the salt water flashd in their eyes.

8

Some cut their hats, and some cut their caps,
For to stop the salt-water gaps.

9

He set his breast, and away did swim,
Until he came to his own ship again.

10

‘I have done the work I promised to do,
For I have sunk the false gallaly,
And released The Sweet Trinity.

11

‘You promised me gold, and you promised me fee,
Your eldest daughter my wife she must be.’

12

‘You shall have gold, and you shall have fee,
But my eldest daughter your wife shall never be.’
For sailing, etc.

13

‘Then fare you well, you cozening lord,
Seeing you are not so good as your word.’
For sailing, etc.

14

And thus I shall conclude my song,
Of the sailing in the Low-lands
Wishing all happiness to all seamen both old and young.
In their sailing in the Low-lands

The Goulden Vanitie; or, The French Galley; or, The Lowlands Low

THE SWEET TRINITY (THE GOLDEN VANITY)—B

[_]

a. Logan's Pedlar's Pack, p. 42, as sung about 1840 by Mr P. S. Fraser, of Edinburgh, and obtained by him orally. b. As sung by Mr George Du Maurier to Mr J. R. Lowell, 1884. c. Motherwell's MS., p. 420; from Mr John Cleland, marble-cutter, Glasgow, who had it of Mr Forrester, Stirling. d. Communicated by Mrs Moncrieff, as taught to a relative of hers by an old Scottish lady about 1830. e. Findlay MSS, I, 161, “from Strang, Divinity Student, 1868.” f. Sharpe's Ballad Book, 1880, p. 160, note by Sir Walter Scott.

1

There was a gallant ship, and a gallant ship was she
Eck iddle du, and the Lowlands low
And she was called The Goulden Vanitie.
As she sailed to the Lowlands low

2

She had not sailed a league, a league but only three,
Eck, etc.
When she came up with a French gallee.
As she sailed, etc.

3

Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he;
‘What will you give me if I sink that French gallee?’
As ye sail, etc.

4

Out spoke the captain, out spoke he;
‘We'll gie ye an estate in the North Countrie.’
As we sail, etc.

138

5

‘Then row me up ticht in a black bull's skin,
And throw me oer deck-buird, sink I or swim.’
As ye sail, etc.

6

So they've rowed him up ticht in a black bull's skin,
And have thrown him oer deck-buird, sink he or soom.
As they sail, etc.

7

About, and about, and about went he,
Until he cam up with the French gallee.
As they sailed, etc.

8

O some were playing cards, and some were playing dice,
When he took out an instrument, bored thirty holes at twice.
As they sailed, etc.

9

Then some they ran with cloaks, and some they ran with caps,
To try if they could stap the saut-water draps.
As they sailed, etc.

10

About, and about, and about went he,
Until he cam back to The Goulden Vanitie.
As they sailed, etc.

11

‘Now throw me oer a rope and pu me up on buird,
And prove unto me as guid as your word.’
As ye sail, etc.

12

‘We'll no throw you oer a rope, nor pu you up on buird,
Nor prove unto you as guid as our word.’
As we sail, etc.

13

Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he;
Then hang me, I'll sink ye as I sunk the French gallee.
As ye sail, etc.

14

But they've thrown him oer a rope, and have pu'd him up on buird,
And have proved unto him far better than their word.
As they sailed, etc.

Golden Vanity; or, The Low Lands Low; or, Low in the Lowlands Low; or, The Golden Vanity; or, The French Gallio; or, The French Gallolee; or, The Turkish Galley; or, The Lowlands Low

THE SWEET TRINITY (THE GOLDEN VANITY)—C

[_]

a. Stall-copy, Pitts, Seven Dials, Logan's Pedlar's Pack, p. 45. b. Long's Dictionary of the Isle of Wight Dialect, p. 145. c. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 238, compounded from the recitation of an old woman of Buckie, Banffshire, and a chap-book copy. d. Baring-Gould and Sheppard, Songs of the West, No 64, Part III, p. 24, Part IV, p. xxxi, taken down from James Olver, Launceston (an improved copy). e. Buchan's MSS, II, 390, 414. f. Motherwell's MS., p. 392, and Note-Book, p. 50, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, 24th August, 1825. g. Macmath MS., p. 80, from the recitation of Miss Agnes Macmath, 1893; learned at Airds of Kells, Kirkcudbrightshire.

1

‘I have a ship in the North Countrie,
And she goes by the name of The Golden Vanity;
I'm afraid she will be taken by some Turkish gallee,
As she sails on the Low Lands Low.’

2

Then up starts our little cabin-boy,
Saying, Master, what will you give me if I do them destroy?
‘I will give you gold, I will give you store,
You shall have my daughter when I return on shore,
If ye sink them in the Low Lands Low.’

3

The boy bent his breast and away he jumpt in;
He swam till he came to this Turkish galleon,
As she laid on the Low Lands Low.

4

The boy he had an auger to bore holes two at twice;
While some were playing cards, and some were playing dice,
He let the water in, and it dazzled in their eyes,
And he sunk them in the Low Lands Low.

5

The boy he bent his breast and away he swam back again,
Saying, Master take me up, or I shall be slain,
For I have sunk them in the Low Lands Low.

6

‘I'll not take you up,’ the master he cried;
‘I'll not take you up,’ the master replied;

139

‘I will kill you, I will shoot you, I will send you with the tide,
I will sink you in the Low Lands Low.’

7

The boy he swam round all by the starboardside;
They laid him on the deck, and it's there he soon died;
Then they sewed him up in an old cow's-hide,
And they threw him overboard, to go down with the tide,
And they sunk him in the Low Lands Low.

143

287
CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW

CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW

[_]

Bagford Ballads, I, 65.

144

1

Strike up, you lusty gallants, with musick and sound of drum,
For we have descryed a rover, upon the sea is come;
His name is Captain Ward, right well it doth appear,
There has not been such a rover found out this thousand year.

2

For he hath sent unto our king, the sixth of January,
Desiring that he might come in, with all his company:
‘And if your king will let me come till I my tale have told,
I will bestow for my ransome full thirty tun of gold.’

3

‘O nay! O nay!’ then said our king, ‘O nay! this may not be,
To yield to such a rover my self will not agree;
He hath deceivd the French-man, likewise the King of Spain,
And how can he be true to me that hath been false to twain?’

4

With that our king provided a ship of worthy fame,
Rainbow she is called, if you would know her name;
Now the gallant Rainbow she rowes upon the sea,
Five hundred gallant seamen to bear her company.

5

The Dutch-man and the Spaniard she made them for to flye,
Also the bonny French-man, as she met him on the sea:
When as this gallant Rainbow did come where Ward did lye,
‘Where is the captain of this ship?’ this gallant Rainbow did cry.

6

‘O that am I,’ says Captain Ward, ‘there's no man bids me lye,
And if thou art the king's fair ship, thou art welcome unto me:’
‘I'le tell thee what,’ says Rainbow, ‘our king is in great grief
That thou shouldst lye upon the sea and play the arrant thief,

7

‘And will not let our merchants ships pass as they did before;
Such tydings to our king is come, which grieves his heart full sore.’
With that this gallant Rainbow she shot, out of her pride,
Full fifty gallant brass pieces, charged on every side.

8

And yet these gallant shooters prevailed not a pin,
Though they were brass on the out-side, brave Ward was steel within;
‘Shoot on, shoot on,’ says Captain Ward, ‘your sport well pleaseth me,
And he that first gives over shall yield unto the sea.

9

‘I never wrongd an English ship, but Turk and King of Spain,
For and the jovial Dutch-man as I met on the main.
If I had known your king but one two years before,
I would have savd brave Essex life, whose death did grieve me sore.

10

‘Go tell the King of England, go tell him thus from me,
If he reign king of all the land, I will reign king at sea.’
With that the gallant Rainbow shot, and shot, and shot in vain,
And left the rover's company, and returnd home again.

11

‘Our royal king of England, your ship's returnd again,
For Ward's ship is so strong it never will be tane:’
‘O everlasting!’ says our king, ‘I have lost jewels three,
Which would have gone unto the seas and brought proud Ward to me.

12

‘The first was Lord Clifford, Earl of Cumberland;
The second was the lord Mountjoy, as you shall understand;
The third was brave Essex, from field would never flee;

145

Which would a gone unto the seas and brought proud Ward to me.’

288
THE YOUNG EARL OF ESSEX'S VICTORY OVER THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY

146

Queen Elizabeth's Champion; or, Great Britain's Glory

THE YOUNG EARL OF ESSEX'S VICTORY OVER THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY—A

[_]

a. Douce Ballads, III, fol. 80 b. b. Roxburghe, III, 416, in Ebsworth's Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 405.

1

Come, sound up your trumpets and beat up your drums,
And let's go to sea with a valiant good cheer,
In search of a mighty vast navy of ships,
The like has not been for these fifty long year.
Raderer two, tandaro te,
Raderer, tandorer, tan do re.

2

The queen she provided a navy of ships,
With sweet flying streamers, so glorious to see,
Rich top and top-gallants, captains and lieutenants,
Some forty, some fifty, brass-pieces and three.

3

They had not saild past a week on the seas,
Not passing a week and days two or three,
But they were aware of the proud emperor,
Both him and all his proud company.

4

When he beheld our powerful fleet,
Sailing along in their glory and pride,
He was amazed at their valour and fame,
Then to his warlike command[er]s he cry'd.

5

These were the words of the old emperor:
Pray who is this that is sailing to me?
If he be king that weareth a crown,
Yet I am a better man than he.

6

‘It is not a king, nor lord of a crown,
Which now to the seas with his navy is come,
But the young Earl of Essex, the Queen's lieutenant,
Who fears no foes in Christendom.’

7

‘Oh! is that lord then come to the seas?
Let us tack about and be steering away;
I have heard so much of his father before
That I will not fight with young Essex today.’

8

O then bespoke the emperor's son,
As they were tacking and steering away,
‘Give me, royal father, this navy of s[h]ips,
And I will go fight with Essex today.’

9

‘Take them with all my heart, loving son,
Most of them are of a capital size;
But should he do as his father has done,
Farewel thine honour and mine likewise.’

10

With cannons hot and thundering shot,
These two gallants fought on the main,
And as it was young Essex's lot,
The emperor's son by him was taen.

11

‘Give me my son,’ the emperor cry'd,
‘Who you this day have taken from me,
And I'll give to the[e] three keys of gold,
The one shall be of High Germany.’

12

‘I care not for thy three keys of gold,
Which thou hast profferd to set him free,
But thy son he shall to England sail,
And go before the queen with me.’

13

‘Then have I fifty good ships of the best,
As good as ever were sent to the sea,
And eer my son into England sail,
They shall go all for good company.’

14

They had not fought this famous battle,
They had not fought it hours three,
But some lost legs, and some lost arms,
And some lay tumbling in the sea.

147

15

Essex he got this battle likewise,
Tho't was the hotest that ever was seen;
Home he returnd with a wonderful prize,
And brought the emperor's son to the queen.

16

O then bespoke the prentices all,
Living in London, both proper and tall,
In a kind letter, sent straight to the queen,
For Essex's sake they would fight all.

Earl of Essex

THE YOUNG EARL OF ESSEX'S VICTORY OVER THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY—B

[_]

Kinloch MSS, I, 113. From Mary Barr, June, 1827.

1

‘'Tis, old England, old England, I bid thee adieu,
The drums and the trumpets command me frae shore;
And you lusty fellows, both valiant and true,
Will you venture with me where loud cannons roar?’

2

‘O Billy, O Billy, talk not of the seas,
But stay at home with me on the shore;
I'll do my endeavour thy fancy to please,
And there's others to go where loud cannons roar.’

3

‘O Nelly, O Nelly, I must to the seas,
For there is no gold to be had upon shore;
There's honour, and gold, and riches likewise,
To the man that doth die where loud cannons roar.’

4

‘Remember the winds, love, remember the waves,
Remember the dangers that are upon seas;
Remember there is neither coffin nor grave
To the man that doth die where loud cannons roar.’

5

‘Remember old Benbow, and think on his blows;
Remember the dangers he felt upon seas;
He lost both his legs by one shot of his foes;
He lost his sweet life, yet his honour's the more.’

6

‘Remember proud Shawfield, that honoured knight,
Who came with his navy to the Spanish shore;
At the rock of Salem his life took a flight,
And with him there died some hundreds more.’

7

‘Our queen she has builded a navy of ships,
And they are arrayed all right gloriously;
With top and top-gallant, with captain, lieutenant,
Some fifty, some sixty, brass pieces and three.’

8

‘Well, since you'll go, may my blessing advance,
And carry you safely from Flanders to Spain;
And when you've conquered that tyrant in France,
Then my blessing return you to old England again.’

9

They had not sailed one hour upon sea,
Not one hour passing days two or three,
Till up came the bold emperour,
The bold emperour of High Germanie.

10

‘O who is this?’ the bold emperour cries,
‘Who is this that comes sailing to me?
I'm sure he's a knight, or a king of crown,
Or I'm sure I am a far better fellow than he.’

11

‘I am neither a knight, nor a king of a crown,
But here, with my navy, on board I am come;
For I am Lord Essex, the Queen's lieutenant,
Who never feard foe in all Christendom.’

12

Out and spoke the bold emperour's son,
All as they were mounting and hyeing away;
‘O father, lend me your navy of ships,
And I'll go fight with Lord Essex today.’

13

‘O son, I'll lend thee my navy of ships,
And they are all of a capable size;
But if he be as good as his old father was,
Adieu to your honour, and mine likewise.’

148

14

O they have fought on at a terrible rate,
Until it drew night to the cool of the day,
And as it fell in young Essex's lot,
The bold emperour's son he's taen prisoner away.

15

‘O give me my son,’ the bold emperour cried,
‘O give me my son thou hast taken from me,
And you shall have three keys of gold,
And one of them opens High Germanie.’

16

‘What value I thy three keys of gold,
Or any proud offer thou canst give to me?
For up to old England thy son he must go,
And stand before our queen's high majesty.’

17

‘'Tis I have fifteen ships of the best,
And other fifteen distant on sea;
Since up to old England my son he must go,
Then we'll all go together for good companie.’

289
THE MERMAID

149

The Seamen's Distress

THE MERMAID—A

[_]

The Glasgow Lasses Garland, the second piece, British Museum, 11621. c. 3 (68). “Newcastle, 1765?”

1

As we lay musing in our beds,
So well and so warm at ease,
I thought upon those lodging-beds
Poor seamen have at seas.

2

Last Easter day, in the morning fair,
We was not far from land,
Where we spied a mermaid on the rock,
With comb and glass in hand.

3

The first came up the mate of our ship,
With lead and line in hand,
To sound and see how deep we was
From any rock or sand.

4

The next came up the boatswain of our ship,
With courage stout and bold:
‘Stand fast, stand fast, my brave lively lads,
Stand fast, my brave hearts of gold!’

5

Our gallant ship is gone to wreck,
Which was so lately trimmd;
The raging seas has sprung a leak,
And the salt water does run in.

6

Our gold and silver, and all our cloths,
And all that ever we had,
We forced was to heave them overboard,
Thinking our lives to save.

7

In all, the number that was on board
Was five hundred and sixty-four,
And all that ever came alive on shore
There was but poor ninety-five.

8

The first bespoke the captain of our ship,
And a well-spoke man was he;
‘I have a wife in fair Plymouth town,
And a widow I fear she must be.’

9

The next bespoke the mate of our ship,
And a well-bespoke man was he;
‘I have a wife in fair Portsmouth,
And a widow I fear she must be.’

10

The next bespoke the boatswain of our ship,
And a well-bespoke man was he;
‘I have a wife in fair Exeter,
And a widow I fear she must be.’

11

The next bespoke the little cabbin-boy,
And a well-bespoke boy was he;
‘I am as sorry for my mother dear
As you are for your wives all three.

12

‘Last night, when the moon shin'd bright,
My mother had sons five,
But now she may look in the salt seas
And find but one alive.’

13

‘Call a boat, call a boat, you little Plymouth boys,
Don't you hear how the trumpet[s] sound?
[For] the want of our boat our gallant ship is lost,
And the most of our merry men is drownd.’

14

Whilst the raging seas do roar,
And the lofty winds do blow,
And we poor seamen do lie on the top,
Whilst the landmen lies below.

150

The stormy winds do blow

THE MERMAID—B

[_]

a. Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time, p. 742. b. The same, p. 743, one stanza and the burden, contributed by Mr Charles Sloman, in 1840. c. Notes and Queries, 6th Series, VII, 276, communicated from memory by Mr Thomas Bayne, Helensburgh, N. B., stanzas 1, 6.

1

One Friday morn when we set sail,
Not very far from land,
We there did espy a fair pretty maid
With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand,
With a comb and a glass in her hand.

While the raging seas did roar,
And the stormy winds did blow,
While we jolly sailor-boys were up into the top,
And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,
And the land-lubbers lying down below.

2

Then up starts the captain of our gallant ship,
And a brave young man was he:
‘I've a wife and a child in fair Bristol town,
But a widow I fear she will be.’

For the raging seas, etc.

3

Then up starts the mate of our gallant ship,
And a bold young man was he:
‘Oh! I have a wife in fair Portsmouth town,
But a widow I fear she will be.’

For the raging seas, etc.

4

Then up starts the cook of our gallant ship,
And a gruff old soul was he:
‘Oh! I have a wife in fair Plymouth town,
But a widow I fear she will be.’

5

And then up spoke the little cabin-boy,
And a pretty little boy was he;
‘Oh! I am more grievd for my daddy and my mammy
Than you for your wives all three.’

6

Then three times round went our gallant ship,
And three times round went she;
For the want of a life-boat they all went down,
And she sank to the bottom of the sea.

The Mermaid

THE MERMAID—C

[_]

Communicated by Mr W. Chappell, as noted down by him from the singing of men dressed as sailors, on Tower Hill. Subsequently printed, with a few variations, in Old English Ditties, Oxenford and Macfarren, I, 206.

1

One Friday morn as we'd set sail,
And our ship not far from land,
We there did espy a fair mermaid,
With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand,
With a comb and a glass in her hand.
While the raging seas did roar,
And the stormy winds did blow,
And we jolly sailor-boys were up, up aloft,
And the landsmen were lying down below,
And the landlubbers all down below, below, below,
And the landlubbers all down below.

2

Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,
Who at once did our peril see;
I have married a wife in fair London town,
And tonight she a widow will be.’

3

And then up spoke the litel cabin-boy,
And a fair-haired boy was he;
‘I've a father and mother in fair Portsmouth town,
And this night she will weep for me.’

4

Now three times round goes our gallant ship,
And three times round went she;
For the want of a life-boat they all were drownd,
As she went to the bottom of the sea.

151

The Mermaid

THE MERMAID—D

[_]

a. Long, A Dictionary of the Isle of Wight Dialect, London, 1886, p. 142. b. H. Such, 177 Union St., Boro'.

1

`Twas a Friday morning when we set sail,
And our ship was not far from land,
When there we spied a fair pretty maid,
With a comb and a glass in her hand.
Oh, the raging seas they did roar,
And the stormy winds they did blow,
While we poor sailor-boys were all up aloft,
And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,
And the land-lubbers lying down below.

2

Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,
And a mariner good was he;
‘I have married a wife in fair London town,
And this night a widow she will be.’

3

Then up spoke the cabin-boy of our gallant ship,
And a brave little boy was he;
‘I've a father and a mother in old Portsmouth town,
And this night they will both weep for me.’

4

Then up spoke a seaman of our gallant ship,
And a well-spoken man was he;
‘For want of a long-boat we shall all be drowned,
And shall sink to the bottom of the sea.’

5

Then three times round went that gallant ship,
And down like a stone sank she;
The moon shone bright, and the stars gave their light,
But they were all at the bottom of the sea.

The Bonnie Mermaid

THE MERMAID—E

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 145. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxiii, No XXX, the first stanza.

1

Up and spoke the bonny mermaid,
Wi the comb and the glass in her hand;
Says, Cheer up your hearts, my mariners all,
You are not very far from the land.
And the raging seas do foam, foam,
And the stormy winds do blow,
While we poor sailors must mount to the top,
When the landsmen they lye low.

2

Out and spoke the captain of our ship,
And a fine little man was he;
‘O I've a wife in fair London town,
And a widow this night she shall be.’

3

Out and spoke the mate of our ship,
And a tight little man was he;
‘O I've a wife in Dublin city,
And a widow this night she shall be.’

4

Out and spoke our second mate,
And a clever little man was he;
‘Oh I have a wife in Greenock town,
And a widow this night she shall be.’

5

Out and spoke our little prentice boy,
And a fine little boy was he;
‘Oh I am sorry for my mother,’ he said,
‘As you are for your wives all three.’

6

Out and spoke the cook of our ship,
And a rusty old dog was he;
Says, I am as sorry for my pats and my pans
As you are for your wives all three.

Greenland

THE MERMAID—F

[_]

Kinloch MSS, VII, 245. From the recitation of a little boy from Glasgow, who sang it in Grove St., Edinburgh, July, 1826.

1

Greenland, Greenland, is a bonny, bonny place,
Whare there's neither grief nor flowr,
Whare there's neither grief nor tier to be seen,
But hills and frost and snow.

2

Up starts the kemp o the ship,
Wi a psalm-book in his hand:
‘Swoom away, swoom away, my merry old boys,
For you'll never see dry land.’

152

3

Up starts the gaucy cook,
And a weil gaucy cook was he;
‘I wad na gie aw my pans and my kettles
For aw the lords in the sea.’

4

Up starts the kemp o the ship,
Wi a bottle and a glass intil his hand;
‘Swoom away, swoom away, my merry old sailors,
For you'll never see dry land.’

5

O the raging seas they row, row, row,
The stormy winds do blow,
As sune as he had gane up to the tap,
As [OMITTED] low.

153

290
THE WYLIE WIFE OF THE HIE TOUN HIE

My lady ye shall be

THE WYLIE WIFE OF THE HIE TOUN HIE—A

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 72, Thomas Wilkie's MS., 1813-15, p. 74, Abbotsford; taken down from the recitation of a female friend, who sang it to a lively air.

1

It fell about the Martinmas,
When the gentlemen were drinking there wine,
And a' the discourse that they had
Was about the ladies they gude fine.

2

It's up an spake a tall young man,
The tallest o the companie;
‘The bonniest lass that I ken off
She lives into the hee toun hee.

3

‘O I would give a guinea of gold,
A guinea and a pint of wine,
I would give it to the hostler's wife,
For to wile that bonny lassie in.’

4

The hostler's wife gaed down the stair,
And she's looked hersell round near by,
And there she spied the bonny handsom girl,
Coming walking down the hee town high.

5

‘Come in, come in, my bonny handsom girl,
Come speak one word with me;
Come taste a little of our wine,
For it's new come out of Italie.’

6

So willillie she wil'd her up,
And so willillie she wil'd her in,
And so cunningly she's locked the door,
And she's comd down the stair again.

7

One of them took her by the milk-white hand,
And he's laid her body on the ground,
And aye she sightd, and said, Alass,
'Tis a sin to do me wrong!

8

‘But since ye hae done sae muckle to me,
And brought me to so muckle shame,
O wad ye be so kind to me
As to tell to me your name.’

9

‘O if I tell to you my name,
It's a thing I never did to none;
But I will tell to the, my dear;
I am the Earl of Beaton's son.’

154

10

When two years were past and gone,
This gentleman came walking by,
And there he spied the bonny handsome girl,
Coming walking down the hie town high.

11

‘To whom belongs that pretty child,
That blinks with its pretty eye?’
‘His father's from home and has left me alone,
And I have been at the fold milking my ky.’

12

‘You lie, you lie, my bonny handsome girl,
So loudlie I hear you lie;
O do not you mind that happie day
When ye was drinking the wine wi me?’

13

He's lighted off his milk-white steed,
He's kissd her both cheeck and chin;
He's made a' the servants in Beaton castle
To welcome this fair lady in.

THE WYLIE WIFE OF THE HIE TOUN HIE—B

[_]

Struthers's British Minstrel, I, xxv., from recitation.

1

It fell about the Martinmas time,
When the nobles were drinking wine,
And the matter of their discourse it was,
‘O the ladies they go fine:’

2

Up then spake a brave gentleman,
The best in the companie;
‘The bonniest lass that eer I saw,
She dwells in the hie town hie.

3

‘I wad give a guinea of red gold,
Sae wad I a pint of wine,
To onie of the hostler-wives
That wad wyle to me the bonnie lassie in.’

4

Up then spake the hostler's wife,
And an ill death may she die!
‘An ye'll gie me a guinea of gold,
I will wyle the bonnie lassie in to thee.’

5

The hostler's wife stood on the stair-head,
To see what she could see,
And there she saw this fair creature,
Coming down frae the hie town hie.

6

‘Come in, come in, my bonnie, bonnie lass,
Come in and speak with me;
Come in and drink a glass of wine,
That's new come aff the raging sea.’

7

‘My father's out upon the plain,
And I am waiting his incoming;
And I'm a girl so neat and trim
That I'm afraid of your merry men.’

8

‘My merry men are all gone out,
And they will not be in till nine,
And, if ye would my favour win,
Come in and drink a glass of wine.’

9

Sae cunningly she wyld her in,
And sae cunningly she led her round,
Till she wyld her to the room where he was,
And she locked the door the bonnie lass behind.

10

First he kissd her cherry cheeks,
And than he kissd her cherry chin,
And than he kissd her ruby lips,
Saying, Indeed ye're a weel-faurd thing.

[OMITTED]

11

‘O since ye've got your will o me,
And brought me unto public shame,
I pray, kind sir, ye'll marry me,
Or that ye'll tell me what's your name.’

12

‘If I tell my name to you, bonnie lassie,
It's mair than ever I telld ane;
But I will tell to you, bonnie lassie;
I am an earl's second son.

13

‘I am an earl's second son,
My father has more children than me;
My eldest brother he heirs the land,
And my father he sent me to the sea.’

14

He put his hand into his pocket,
And he gave her sixty guineas and three,
Saying, Fare thee weel, my lovely young creature,
Ye'll never get mair of me.

15

As she went down through Edinburgh streets,
The bonnie bells as they did ring,
‘Farewell, fareweel, my bonnie, bonnie lassie,
Ye've got the clod that winna cling.’

[OMITTED]

16

He hadna been ae week at the sea,
Not a week but only five,
Till the king made him a captain sae brave,
And he made the bonnie lassie his wife.

155

The Bonnie Lass o the Hie Toun End

THE WYLIE WIFE OF THE HIE TOUN HIE—C

[_]

Communicated, February, 1873, by Mr David Louden, of Morham, Haddington, as recited by Mrs Richard Dodds, Morham, Loanhead, “aged over seventy.”

1

In Edinburgh, on a summer evening,
Our gentlemen sat drinking wine,
And every one to the window went,
To view the ladies, they went so fine.

2

They drank the wine, and they spilt the beer,
So merrily as the reel went round,
And a' the healths that was drucken there
Was to the bonnie lass o the hie toun end.

3

Up then spoke a young squire's son,
And as he spoke it all alone;
‘Oh, I would give a guinea of gold,
And so would I a pint of wine,
And I would make them their licence free
That would welcome this bonnie lassie in.’

4

The ostler's wife, on hearin this,
So nimbly down the stairs she ran,
And the first toun's-body that she met
Was the bonnie lass o the hie toun end.

5

‘Mistress, ye maun gang wi me
And get a cup o oor claret wine;
It's new come oer the ragin sea,
Awat it is baith gude and fine.’

6

‘To gang wi you I daurna stay,
My mither's wearyin for me in;
I am so beautiful and fine
I am a prey to all young men.’

7

Wi sattin slippers on her feet,
So nimbly up the stair she ran,
And wha so ready as this young squire
To welcome the bonny lassie in.

8

He['s] taen her by the milk-white hand,
He's gently led her through the room,
And aye she sighed, and aye she said,
It would be a pity to do me wrong.

9

‘Now, since you've taken your will o me,
I pray, kind sir, tell me your name;’
‘Oh yes, my dear, indeed,’ he said
‘But it's more than I ever did to one.

10

‘I am a squire and a squire's son,
My faither has fifty ploughs o land,
And I'm a man in the militrie,
And I must away and rank up my men.

11

‘And Jamie Lumsdaine is my name,
From the North Countrie, love, I really came.’

12

About a twelvemonth after that,
He sent a letter owre the main,
And muckle writin was therein,
To the bonnie lass o the hie toun end.

13

About a twelvemonth after that,
He himsel cam owre the main;
He made her Duchess o Douglas Dale,
And to him she's had a fine young son.

The Flowers of Edinburgh

THE WYLIE WIFE OF THE HIE TOUN HIE—D

[_]

Gibb MS., No 14, p. 57. From the recitation of Eppie Fraser, daughter of a tramp, and unable to read, about 1840.

1

All the soldiers in Edinburgh town
Were sitting drinking at the wine,
An all the toasts that were among them
Was a health to the lassie that goes sae fine.

2

Up then spake an officier,
The bravest in the company;
‘To every one I will give a guinea,
A guinea and a pint of wine,
To the ostler's wife I wald double it a',
If she'd entice that young lassie in.’

3

The old wife tripped down the stair,
And aye she said, ‘A good morrow, dame!’
And aye she said, an the maid replied,
‘What is your will wi me, madam?’

4

‘It's not to do you any harm,
Or yet your body any ill,
But, if you would my favour gain,
Come up an taste one glass of wine.’

5

‘My father stands on the stair-head,
Just lookin for me to come in;
I am so proper and so tall
I'm much afraid of your merry men.’

156

6

‘My merry men, they are all gone out,
An they will not be in till dine;
So, if you would my favour gain,
Come up an taste a glass of wine.’

7

The fair maid tripped up the stair,
The old wife bolted the door behind;
He's tane her in his arms twa,
Says, O but ye are a bonny thing!

8

Twenty times he kissed her cheek,
An twenty times her bonny chin,
An twenty times her ruby lips:
‘O but ye are a bonny thing!’

[OMITTED]

9

‘Noo, since ye've got your wills o me,
What is your name, I pray you tell;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED] where you dwell.’

10

[OMITTED]
‘My eldest brother, he heirs the land;
I was forced to be a highwayman,
Or else a soldier, as I am.’

11

An aye the lassie she sat an grat,
An aye thae words spak them atween,
An aye the lassie she sat an grat,
And cursed the auld wife that brocht her in.

12

They had na been in Edinburgh
A month, a month but only nine,
When they have got the royal commission
For to march to Aberdeen.

13

An aye the lassie she sat an grat,
An aye thae words spak them atween,
An aye the lassie she sat an grat,
And cursed the auld wife that brocht her in.

14

They had na been in Aberdeen
A month, a month but only one,
When he got on the captain's coat,
An made her lady o his land.

15

An aye the lassie she sat an sang,
An aye thae words spak them atween,
An aye the lassie she sat an sang,
An hersed the auld wife that brocht her in.

291
CHILD OWLET

Childe Owlet

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 27; Motherwell's MS., p. 572.

157

1

Lady Erskine sits in her chamber,
Sewing at her silken seam,
A chain of gold for Childe Owlet,
As he goes out and in.

2

But it fell ance upon a day
She unto him did say,
Ye must cuckold Lord Ronald,
For a' his lands and ley.

3

‘O cease! forbid, madam,’ he says,
‘That this should eer be done!
How would I cuckold Lord Ronald,
And me his sister's son?’

4

Then she's ta'en out a little penknife,
That lay below her bed,
Put it below her green stay's cord,
Which made her body bleed.

5

Then in it came him Lord Ronald,
Hearing his lady's moan;
‘What blood is this, my dear,’ he says,
‘That sparks on the fire-stone?’

6

‘Young Childe Owlet, your sister's son,
Is now gane frae my bower;
If I hadna been a good woman,
I'd been Childe Owlet's whore.’

7

Then he has taen him Childe Owlet,
Laid him in prison strong,
And all his men a council held
How they woud work him wrong.

8

Some said they woud Childe Owlet hang,
Some said they woud him burn;
Some said they woud have Childe Owlet
Between wild horses torn.

9

‘There are horses in your stables stand
Can run right speedilie,
And ye will to your stable go,
And wile out four for me.’

10

They put a foal to ilka foot,
And ane to ilka hand,
And sent them down to Darling muir,
As fast as they coud gang.

11

There was not a kow in Darling muir,
Nor ae piece o a rind,
But drappit o Childe Owlet's blude
And pieces o his skin.

12

There was not a kow in Darling muir,
Nor ae piece o a rash,
But drappit o Childe Owlet's blude
And pieces o his flesh.

292
THE WEST-COUNTRY DAMOSEL'S COMPLAINT

THE WEST-COUNTRY DAMOSEL'S COMPLAINT

[_]

a. Douce Ballads, II, fol. 254 b; Roxburghe Ballads, II, 499, Ebsworth, VI, 635. b. Douce Ballads, II, 245 b.

158

1

‘When will you marry me, William,
And make me your wedded wife?
Or take you your keen bright sword
And rid me out of my life.’

2

‘Say no more so then, lady,
Say you no more then so,
For you shall into the wild forrest,
And amongst the buck and doe.

3

‘Where thou shalt eat of the hips and haws,
And the roots that are so sweet,
And thou shalt drink of the cold water,
That runs underneath [thy] feet.’

4

Now she had not been in the wild forrest
Passing three months and a day
But with hunger and cold she had her fill,
Till she was quite worn away.

5

At last she saw a fair tyl'd-house,
And there she swore by the rood
That she would to that fair tyl'd-house,
There for to get her some food.

6

But when she came unto the gates,
Aloud, aloud she cry'd,
An alms, an alms, my own sister!
I ask you for no pride.

7

Her sister calld up her merry men all,
By one, by two, and by three,
And bid them hunt away that wild doe,
As far as ere they could see.

8

They hunted her ore hill and dale,
And they hunted her so sore
That they hunted her into the forrest,
Where her sorrows grew more and more.

9

She laid a stone all at her head,
And another all at her feet,
And down she lay between these two,
Till death had lulld her asleep.

10

When sweet Will came and stood at her head,
And likewise stood at her feet,
A thousand times he kist he[r] cold lips,
Her body being fast asleep.

11

Yea, seaven times he stood at her feet,
And seaven times at her head,
A thousand times he shook her hand,
Although her body was dead.

12

‘Ah wretched me!’ he loudly cry'd,
‘What is it that I have done?
O woud to the powers above I'de dy'd,
When thus I left her alone!

13

‘Come, come, you gentle red-breast now,
And prepare for us a tomb,
Whilst unto cruel Death I bow,
And sing like a swan my doom.

14

‘Why could I ever cruel be
Unto so fair a creature?
Alas! she dy'd for love of me,
The loveliest she in nature!

15

‘For me she left her home so fair
To wander in this wild grove,
And there with sighs and pensive care
She ended her life for love.

16

‘O constancy, in her thou'rt lost!
Now let women boast no more;
She's fled unto the Elizium coast,
And with her carryd the store.

17

‘O break, my heart, with sorrow filld,
Come, swell, you strong tides of grief!
You that my dear love have killd,
Come, yield in death to me relief.

18

‘Cruel her sister, was't for me
That to her she was unkind?

159

Her husband I will never be,
But with this my love be joynd.

19

‘Grim Death shall tye the marriage-bands,
Which jealousie shan't divide;
Together shall tye our cold hands,
Whilst here we lye side by side.

20

‘Witness, ye groves, and chrystial streams,
How faithless I late have been,
But do repent with dying leaves
Of that my ungrateful sin;

21

‘And wish a thousand times that I
Had been but to her more kind,
And not have let a virgin dye
Whose equal there's none can find.

22

‘Now heaps of sorrow press my soul;
Now, now 't is she takes her way;
I come, my love, without controule,
Nor from thee will longer stay.’

23

With that he fetchd a heavy groar
Which rent his tender breast,
And then by her he laid him down,
When as death did give him rest.

24

Whilst mournful birds, with leavy boughs,
To them a kind burial gave,
And warbled out their love-sick vows,
Whilst they both slept in their grave.

The West-Country Damosels Complaint, or, The Faithful Lovers Last Farewel.

Being the relation of a young maid who pined herself to death for the love of a young man, who, after he had notice of it, dyed likewise for grief.

Careless young men, by this a warning take
How you kind virgins, when they love, forsake;
Least the same fate oretake you, and you dye
For breach of vows and infidelity.
Be kind, but swear not more then what you mean,
Least comick jests become a trajeck scean.

[_]

To the tune of Johnny Armstrong.

293
JOHN OF HAZELGREEN

160

JOHN OF HAZELGREEN—A

[_]

Elizabeth Cochrane's MS., p. 126.

1

Into a sweet May morning,
As the sun clearly shone,
I heard a propper damsell
Making a heavy moan;
Making a heavy moan,
I marvelled what she did mean,
And it was for a gentleman,
Sir John of Hasillgreen.

2

‘What aileth thee now, bony maid,
To mourn so sore into the tide?
O happy were the man,’ he sayes,
‘That had thee to his bride,
To ly down by his side;
Then he were not to mean;’
But still she let the tears down fall
For pleasant Hasilgreen.

3

‘Oh what for a man is Hasillgreen?
Sweet heart, pray tell to me.’
‘He is a propper gentleman,
Dwels in the South Countrie;
With shoulders broad and arms long,
And comely to be seen;
His hairs are like the threeds of gold,
My pleasant Hasilgreen.’

4

‘Now Hasilgreen is married,
Let all this talking be.’
‘If Hasilgreen be married,
This day then woe to me;
For I may sigh and sob no more,
But close my weeping een,
And hold my peace and cry no more,
But dy for Hasilgreen.’

5

‘Will you let Hasilgreen alone,
And go along with me?
I'll marry you on my eldest son,
Make you a gay lady.’

161

‘Make me a gay lady?’ she sayes,
‘I am a maid too mean;
I'll rather stay at home,’ she cries,
‘And dy for Hasilgreen.’

6

He takes this pretty maid him behind
And fast he spurred the horse,
And they're away to Bigger toun,
Then in to Biggar Cross.
Their lodging was far sought,
And so was it foreseen;
But still she let the tears doun fall
For pleasant Hasillgreen.

7

He's ta'en this pretty maid by the hand,
And he is doun the toun;
He bought for her a pettycoat,
Yea, and a trailing goun;
A silken kell fitt for her head,
Laid oer with silver sheen;
But still she let the tears doun fall
For pleasant Hasilgreen.

8

He's taen this bony mey him behind,
And he is to the Place,
Where there was mirth and merryness,
And ladyes fair of face;
And ladyes fair of face,
Right seemly to be seen,
But still she let the tears doun fall
For pleasant Hasilgreen.

9

Young Hasilgreen ran hastilie
To welcome his father dear;
He's ta'en that pretty maid in his arms,
And kist off her falling tear:
‘O bony mey, now for thy sake
I would be rent and rien;
I would give all my father's lands
To have thee in Hasilgreen.’

10

‘O hold your tongue now, son,’ he sayes,
‘Let no more talking be;
This maid has come right far from home
This day to visit thee.
This day should been your wedding-day,
It shall be thy bridall-een,
And thou's get all thy father's lands,
And dwell in Hasillgreen.’

Jock o Hazelgreen

JOHN OF HAZELGREEN—B

[_]

Kinloch's MSS, VII, 135; from the recitation of Jenny Watson, Lanark, 24 April, 1826.

1

It was on a morning early,
Before day-licht did appear,
I heard a pretty damsel
Making a heavy bier;
Making a heavy bier,
I wonderd what she did mean;
But ay the tears they rappit doun,
Crying, O Jock o Hazelgreen!

2

‘O whare is this Hazelgreen, maid?
That I may him see.’
‘He is a ticht and a proper man,
Lives in the South Cuntree.
His shoulders broad, his arms lang,
O he's comely to be seen!’—
But ay the tears they drappit doun
For Jock o Hazelgreen.

3

‘Will ye gang wi me, fair maid?
[OMITTED]
And I'll marry ye on my son,’
[OMITTED]
‘Afore I'd go along wi you,
To be married on your son,
I'd rather choose to stay at hame,
And die for Hazelgreen.’

4

But he has tane her up behind,
And spurred on his horse,
Till ance he cam to Embro toun,
And lichted at the corss.
He bought to her a petticoat,
Besides a handsome goun;
He tied a silver belt about her waist,
Worth thrice three hunder pund.

5

And whan he cam to Hazelyetts,
He lichted doun therein;
Monie war the brave ladies there,
Monie ane to be seen.
She lichted doun amang them aw,
She seemed to be the queen;
But ay the tears they rappit doun
For Jock o Hazelgreen.

162

6

Young Hazelgreen took her by the hand
And led her out and in:
Said, Bonnie lady, for your sake,
I could be baith rent and rien;
I wad gie aw my lands and rents,
Tho I had kingdoms three,
If I could hae the great pleasure
To enjoy thy fair bodie.

7

‘No more of this,’ his father said,
‘Of your mourning let abee;
I brought the damsel far frae hame,
She's thrice as wae for thee.
The morn is your bridal-day,
The nicht is your bridal-een,
And I'll gie you aw my lands and rents,
My pleasing son, Hazelgreen.’

John o Hazelgreen

JOHN OF HAZELGREEN—C

[_]

Kinloch MSS, I, 319.

1

As I gaed out in a May morning,
Afore that I could see,
And there I heard a pretty fair may
Making sweet melodie.
She was making sic melodie,
I wonderd what she could mean;
But ay she sang and sang about
Sweet John o Hazelgreen.

2

‘O what na man is Hazelgreen?
Fair may, pray tell to me.’
‘He is a stout and a tall young man
As in a' the South Countrie.
He is a stout and a tall young man,
And comely to be seen;
But still O I maun weep and wail
For John o Hazelgreen.’

3

‘Hold your tongue, fair maid,’ he says,
‘And let your weeping alane;
I'll marry you to my eldest son,
And you shall be ca'd my dame.’

4

He has tane her on ahint him,
And fast he spurred the steed;
For Edinbro town he there was bound,
Where they soon came wi speed.

7

He's tane her to the Luckenbooths,
Coft her a braw new gown,
A handsome feather for her hat,
And a pair o silken shoon.

8

He has tane the fair may up again,
And fast awa rode he;
For Hazelgreen now he was bound,
Her lodging there to be.

9

She jumped aff frae ahint him,
As fair as any queen;
‘Come down, come down, Lord John,’ he says,
‘And welcome your lady hame.

10

‘It is the tall and comely youth,
Sweet John o Hazelgreen;
If we canna see it bridal-day,
It shall be bridal-een.’

John o Hazelgreen; or, Jock of Hazelgreen

JOHN OF HAZELGREEN—D

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 253. b. Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 319.

1

As I went forth to take the air
Intill an evening clear,
And there I spied a lady fair,
Making a heavy bier;
Making a heavy bier, I say,
But and a piteous meen,
And aye she sighd, and said, Alas,
For John o Hazelgreen!

2

The sun was sinking in the west,
The stars were shining clear,
When thro the thickets o the wood,
A gentleman did appear.
Says, Who has done you the wrong, fair maid,
And left you here alane?
Or who has kissd your lovely lips,
That ye ca Hazelgreen?

3

‘Hold your tongue, kind sir,’ she said,
‘And do not banter so;
How will ye add affliction
Unto a lover's woe?

163

For none's done me the wrong,’ she said,
‘Nor left me here alane;
Nor none has kissd my lovely lips,
That I ca Hazelgreen.’

4

‘Why weep ye by the tide, lady?
Why weep ye by the tide?
How blythe and happy might he be
Gets you to be his bride!
Gets you to be his bride, fair maid,
And him I'll no bemean;
But when I take my words again,
Whom call ye Hazelgreen?

5

‘What like a man was Hazelgreen?
Will ye show him to me?’
‘He is a comely, proper youth
I in my sleep did see;
Wi arms tall, and fingers small,
He's comely to be seen;’
And aye she loot the tears down fall
For John o Hazelgreen.

6

‘If ye'll forsake young Hazelgreen,
And go along with me,
I'll wed you to my eldest son,
Make you a lady free.’
‘It's for to wed your eldest son
I am a maid oer mean;
I'll rather stay at home,’ she says
‘And die for Hazelgreen.’

7

‘If ye'll forsake young Hazelgreen,
And go along with me,
I'll wed you to my second son,
And your weight o gowd I'll gie.’
‘It's for to wed your second son
I am a maid oer mean;
I'll rather stay at home,’ she says,
‘And die for Hazelgreen.’

8

Then he's taen out a siller comb,
Combd down her yellow hair;
And lookëd in a diamond bright,
To see if she were fair.
‘My girl, ye do all maids surpass
That ever I have seen;
Cheer up your heart, my lovely lass,
And hate young Hazelgreen.’

9

‘Young Hazelgreen he is my love,
And ever mair shall be;
I'll nae forsake young Hazelgreen
For a' the gowd ye'll gie.’
But aye she sighd, and said, Alas!
And made a piteous meen,
And aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.

10

He lookëd high, and lighted low,
Set her upon his horse;
And they rode on to Edinburgh,
To Edinburgh's own cross.
And when she in that city was,
She lookd like ony queen:
‘'Tis a pity such a lovely lass
Shoud love young Hazelgreen.’

11

‘Young Hazelgreen, he is my love,
And ever mair shall be;
I'll nae forsake young Hazelgreen
For a' the gowd ye'll gie.’
And aye she sighd, and said, Alas!
And made a piteous meen,
And aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.

12

‘Now hold your tongue, my well-fard maid,
Lat a' your mourning be,
And a' endeavours I shall try
To bring that youth to thee,
If ye'll tell me where your love stays,
His stile and proper name.’
‘He's laird o Taperbank,’ she says,
‘His stile, Young Hazelgreen.’

13

Then he has coft for that lady
A fine silk riding-gown,
Likewise he coft for that lady
A steed, and set her on;
Wi menji feathers in her hat,
Silk stockings and siller sheen,
And they are on to Taperbank,
Seeking young Hazelgreen.

14

They nimbly rode along the way,
And gently spurrd their horse,
Till they rode on to Hazelgreen,
To Hazelgreen's own close.
Then forth he came, young Hazelgreen,
To welcome his father free:
‘You're welcome here, my father dear,
And a' your companie.’

15

But when he lookd oer his shoulder,
A light laugh then gae he;
Says, If I getna this lady,
It's for her I must die.

164

I must confess this is the maid
I ance saw in a dream,
A walking thro a pleasant shade,
As fair's a cypress queen.

16

‘Now hold your tongue, young Hazelgreen,
Lat a' your folly be;
If ye be wae for that lady,
She's thrice as wae for thee.
She's thrice as wae for thee, my son,
As bitter doth complain;
Well is she worthy o the rigs
That lie on Hazelgreen.’

17

He's taen her in his arms twa,
Led her thro bower and ha:
‘Cheer up your heart, my dearest dear,
Ye're flower out-oer them a'.
This night shall be our wedding-een,
The morn we'll say, Amen;
Ye'se never mair hae cause to mourn,
Ye're lady o Hazelgreen.’

JOHN OF HAZELGREEN—E

[_]

a. “Got in the South County by Mr Pringle:” Kinloch's MSS, I, 321. b. Kinloch's MSS, VII, 2.

1

‘Why weep ye by the tide, ladye?
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sall be his bride.
And ye sall be his bride, ladye,
Sae comely to be seen;’
But aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.

2

‘O whaten a man is Hazelgreen?
I pray thee tell to me.’
‘O there's not a handsomer gentleman
In a' the South Countrie.
His arms are long, his shoulders broad,
Sae comely to be seen!’
And aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.

165

294
DUGALL QUIN

Dugall Quin

[_]

The Old Lady's MS. Collection, No 27.

1

Dugall Quin came to the toun,
An he's ben lang awaa,
An he is one to Lissie's bed,
Tartan, trues, an a'.

2

‘Hou wad ye leak me, Lisie,’ he says,
‘Gin that I war yer ain,
We raged cot apon my back,
An singel-soled sheen,
A littel we bonnet on my head,
An tua merry wenking ean?’

3

‘Well wad I leak ye, Dugall,’ she says,
‘Gin that ye war my ain,
We ragged coat upon yer back,
An singel-soled sheen,
A littel we bonnet on yer head,
An tua merry wenking eyn.

4

‘Hou wad ye leak me, Dugall,’ she says,
‘Gin I wer yer ain,
We silken sneed upon my head,
An gold fann in my hand,
An madins ning, a' clead in green,
To be att my comand?’

5

‘Well wad I leak ye, Lisie,’ he says,
‘Gin ye wer my ain,
We silken sneed upon yer head,
An a goud fan in yer hand,
An madins nine, a' clad in green,
To be att yer command.

6

‘Follou me nou, Lisie,’ he says,
‘Follou me throu Farie,
An reap the boddoms of my pakets,
An ye'll gett tempeng chiss of farei.’

166

7

Outspak her father, says,
Lissie, I widna wish ye,
For gin ye gay we this young man
They will say I ha bat lost ye.

8

‘O had yer toung, my father dear,
For a' that winne brake me;
For I will gaa we this young man,
Since it's his will to take me.’

9

‘Follou me nou, Lissë,’ he says,
‘An follou me throu Farie,
An reap the boddom of my poket,
An ye'll gett tempeng chess of farie.’

10

‘Wea matt worth yer well-fared face,
Alas that ever I saa ye!
The first an thing that ever ye gaa to me
Was the tempen chess of farie.’

11

Dugall Quin read doun the toun,
Upon Dumfarling's horses,
An Lisie Meanes folloued him,
For a' her father's forces.

12

‘Follou me nou, Lisie,’ he says,
‘An follou me our Boggie;
I ill make ye lady of ning mills,
An lady of bonny Garlogë.’

13

She has folloued her trou-love
[An folloued him] our Boggie,
An she has marred Dugall Quin,
An lives belou Strathbogy.

295
THE BROWN GIRL

167

The bonny Brown Girl; or, The Brown Girl

THE BROWN GIRL—A

[_]

The Brown Girl's Garland, British Museum, 11621. c. 3 (10), n. d., before 1788.

1

‘I am as brown as brown can be,
My eyes as black as a sloe;
I am as brisk as a nightingale,
And as wilde as any doe.

2

‘My love has sent me a love-letter,
Not far from yonder town,
That he could not fancy me,
Because I was so brown.

3

‘I sent him his letter back again.
For his love I valu'd not,
Whether that he could fancy me
Or whether he could not.

4

‘He sent me his letter back again,
That he lay dangerous sick,
That I might then go speedily
To give him up his faith.’

5

Now you shall hear what love she had
Then for this love-sick man;
She was a whole long summer's day
In a mile a going on.

6

When she came to her love's bed-side,
Where he lay dangerous sick,
She could not for laughing stand
Upright upon her feet.

7

She had a white wand all in her hand,
And smoothd it all on his breast;
‘In faith and troth come pardon me,
I hope your soul's at rest.

8

‘I'll do as much for my true-love
As other maidens may;
I'll dance and sing on my love's grave
A whole twelvemonth and a day.’

THE BROWN GIRL—B

[_]

Taken down lately by Rev. S. Baring-Gould from a blacksmith, parish of Thrushleton, Devon.

1

‘I am as brown as brown can be,
And my eyes as black as sloe;
I am as brisk as brisk can be,
And wild as forest doe.

2

‘My love he was so high and proud,
His fortune too so high,
He for another fair pretty maid
Me left and passed me by.

3

‘Me did he send a love-letter,
He sent it from the town,
Saying no more he loved me,
For that I was so brown.

4

‘I sent his letter back again,
Saying his love I valued not,
Whether that he would fancy me,
Whether that he would not.

5

‘When that six months were overpassd,
Were overpassd and gone,
Then did my lover, once so bold,
Lie on his bed and groan.

6

‘When that six months were overpassd,
Were gone and overpassd,
O then my lover, once so bold,
With love was sick at last.

7

‘First sent he for the doctor-man:
‘You, doctor, me must cure;
The pains that now do torture me
I can not long endure.’

8

‘Next did he send from out the town,
O next did send for me;
He sent for me, the brown, brown girl
Who once his wife should be.

9

‘O neer a bit the doctor-man
His sufferings could relieve;
O never an one but the brown, brown girl
Who could his life reprieve.’

10

Now you shall hear what love she had
For this poor love-sick man,
How all one day, a summer's day,
She walked and never ran.

168

11

When that she came to his bedside,
Where he lay sick and weak,
O then for laughing she could not stand
Upright upon her feet.

12

‘You flouted me, you scouted me,
And many another one;
Now the reward is come at last,
For all that you have done.’

13

The rings she took from off her hands,
The rings by two and three:
‘O take, O take these golden rings,
By them remember me.’

14

She had a white wand in her hand,
She strake him on the breast:
‘My faith and troth I give back to thee,
So may thy soul have rest.’

15

‘Prithee,’ said he, ‘forget, forget,
Prithee forget, forgive;
O grant me yet a little space,
That I may be well and live.’

16

‘O never will I forget, forgive,
So long as I have breath;
I'll dance above your green, green grave
Where you do lie beneath.’

296
WALTER LESLY

Walter Lesly

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 139.

1

On the second of October, a Monday at noon,
In came Walter Lesly, to see his proper one;
He set a chair down by her side, and gently sat her by,
Says, Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?

2

He's taen a glass into his hand, inviting her to drink,
But little knew she his meaning, or what the rogue did think;
Nor what the rogue did think, to steal the maid away;
‘Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’

169

3

When they had taen a glass or two, and all were making merry,
In came Geordy Lesly, and forth he did her carry;
Then upon high horseback sae hard's he did her tye,
‘Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’

4

Her mother she came to the door, the saut tears on her cheek,
She coudna see her daughter, it was for dust and reek;
It was for dust and reek, the swords they glancd sae high;
‘And will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’

5

When they came to the ale-house, the people there were busy;
A bridal-bed it was well made, and supper well made ready;
When the supper down was set, baith plumpudding and pie,
‘And will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’

6

When they had eaten and well drunken, and a' man bound for bed,
The laddie and the lassie in ae chamber were laid;
He quickly stript her to the smock, and gently laid her bye,
Says, Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?

7

But Walter being weary, he fell fast asleep,
And then the lassie thought it fit to start up till her feet;
To start up till her feet, and her petticoats to tye,
‘We'll go no more to Conland, the winter-time to lye.’

8

Then over moss and over muir sae cleverly she ran,
And over hill and over dale, without stockings or shoon;
The men pursued her full fast, wi mony shout and cry,
Says, Will ye go to Conland, the winter-time to lye.

9

‘Wae to the dubs o Duffus land, that eer they were sae deep;
They've trachled a' our horsemen and gart our captain sleep;
And gart our captain sleep, and the lassie win away,
And she'll go no more to Conland, the winter-time to lye.’

10

‘I'd rather be in Duffus land, selling at the ale,
Before I was wi Lesly, for a' his auld meal;
For a' his auld meal, and sae mony comes to buy;
I'll go no more to Conland the winter-time to lye.

11

‘I'd rather be in Duffus land, dragging at the ware,
Before I was wi Lesly, for a' his yellow hair;
For a' his yellow hair, and sae well's he can it tye;
I'll go no more to Conland, this winter-time to lye.’

12

It was not for her beauty, nor yet her gentle bluid,
But for her mither's dollars, of them he had great need;
Of them he had great need, now he maun do them by,
For she'll go no more to Conland, this winter-time to lye.

170

297 EARL ROTHES

Earl Rothes

[_]

Kinloch MSS, I, 333.

1

‘O Earl Rothes, an thou wert mine,
And I were to be thy ladie,
I wad drink at the beer, and tipple at the wine,
And be my bottle with any.’

2

‘Hold thy tongue, sister Ann,’ he says,
‘Thy words they are too many;
What wad ye do wi sae noble a lord,
When he has so noble a ladie?

3

‘O I'll pay you your tocher, Lady Ann,
Both in gear and money,
If ye'll forsake Earl Rothes's companie,
And mind that he has a ladie.’

4

‘I do not value your gold,’ she says,
‘Your gear it's no sae readie;
I'll neer forsake Earl Rothes's companie,
And I don't gie a fig for his ladie.’

5

‘I'll keep ye i the castle, Lady Ann,
O servants ye shall hae monie;
I'll keep ye till ye're safely brocht to bed,
And I'll mak you a marquis's ladie.’

6

‘I do not value your castle,’ she says,
‘Your servants are no sae readie;
Earl Rothes will keep me till I'm brocht to bed,
And he'll mak me a marquis's ladie.’

7

‘Woe be to thee, Earl Rothes,’ he says,
‘And the mark o the judge be upon thee,
For the using o this poor thing sae,
For the using my sister so badly.

8

‘When I'm come to the years of a man,
And able a sword to carry,
I'll thrust it thro Earl Rothes' bodie
For the using my sister sae basely.

9

‘Fare thee well, Lady Ann,’ he says,
‘No longer will I tarry;
You and I will never meet again,
Till we meet at the bonny town o Torry.’

171

298
YOUNG PEGGY

Young Peggy

[_]

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 153.

1

‘O whare hae ye been, Peggy?
O whare hae ye been?’
‘I the garden amang the gilly-flowrs,
Atween twal hours and een.’

2

‘Ye've na been there your leen, Peggy,
Ye've na been there your leen;
Your father saw you in Jamie's arms,
Atween twal hours and een.’

3

‘Tho my father saw me in Jamie's arms,
He'll see me there again;
For I will sleep in Jamie's arms
When his grave's growin green.’

4

‘Your Jamie is a rogue, Peggy,
Your Jamie is a loun,
For trysting out our ae dochter,
And her sae very young.’

5

‘Lay no the wyte on Jamie, mither,
The blame a' lies on me;
For I will sleep in Jamie's arms
When your een winna see.’

6

Now she has to her ain bouer gane;
He was waiting there him leen:
‘I'm blythe to see ye, Jamie, here,
For we maunna meet again.’

7

She's tane the wine-glass in her hand,
Pourd out the wine sae clear;
Says, Here's your health and mine, Jamie,
And we maun meet na mair.

8

She has tane him in her arms twa,
And gien him kisses five;
Says, Here's your health and mine, Jamie,
I wish weel mote ye thrive.

9

‘Your father has a bonnie cock,
Divides the nicht and day,
And at the middle watch o the nicht
In greenwud ye'll meet me.’

10

Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung,
And a' men boun for bed,
She's kilted up her green claithing,
And met Jamie in the wud.

11

Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung,
About the hour o twa,
It's up bespak her auld father,
Says, Peggy is awa!

12

‘Ga saddle to me the black, the black,
Ga saddle to me the grey;’
But ere they wan to the tap o the hill
The wedding was a' bye.

172

299
TROOPER AND MAID

The Trooper and Fair Maid

TROOPER AND MAID—A

1

One evening as a maid did walk,
The moon was shining clearly,
She heard a trooper at the gates,
She thought it was her dearie.
She's taen his horse then by the head,
And led him to the stable,
And gien to him baith corn and hay,
To eat what he was able.
Bonny lass, gin I come near you,
Bonny lass, gin I come near you,
I'll gar a' your ribbons reel,
Bonny lass, or eer I lea you.

2

She's taen the trooper by the hand,
And led him to the table,

173

And furnishd him wi bread and cheese,
To eat what he was able.
She's taen the wine-glass in her hand,
Poured out the wine sae clearly;
‘Here is your health an mine,’ she cried,
‘And ye're welcome hame, my deary!

3

‘A glass o wine for gentlemen,
And bonny lads for lasses,
And bread and cheese for cavaliers,
And corn and hay for asses.’
Then she went but and made his bed,
She made it like a lady,
And she coost aff her mankie gown,
Says, Laddie, are you ready?

4

Then he coost aff his big watch-coat,
But and his silken beaver,
A pair o pistols frae his side,
And he lay down beside her.
‘Bonny lassie, I am wi you now,
Bonny lassie I am wi you,
But I'll gar a' your ribbons reel,
Bonny lassie, ere I lea you.’

5

The trumpet sounds thro Birldale,
Says, Men and horse, make ready;
The drums do beat at Staneman hill,
‘Lads, leave your mam and daddie.’
The fifes did play at Cromley banks,
‘Lads, leave the lewes o Fyvie;’
And then the trooper he got up,
Says, Lassie, I must lea you.

6

‘Bonny lassie, I maun lea you now,
Bonny lassie, I maun lea you;
But if ever I come this road again,
I will come in and see you.’

7

She's taen her gown out-ower her arms,
And followed him to Stirling,
And aye the trooper he did say,
O turn ye back, my darling.
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When rashin rinds grow gay gowd rings,
I winna langer tarry.’

8

‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When heather-knaps grow siller taps,
I winna langer tarry.’
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When heather-cows grow owsen-bows,
I winna langer tarry.’

9

‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells,
I winna langer tarry.’
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When apple-trees grow in the seas,
I winna langer tarry.’

10

‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When fishes fly, and seas gang dry,
I winna langer tarry.’
‘O when will we twa meet again?
Or when will you me marry?’
‘When frost and snaw shall warm us a',
I winna langer tarry.’

11

‘Yestreen I was my daddie's dow,
But an my mamy's dawtie;
This night I gang wi bairn to you,
Wae's me that I eer saw thee!’
‘Yestreen ye were your daddie's dow,
But an your mammie's dawtie;
But gin ye gang wi bairn to me,
Ye may rue that eer ye saw me.

12

‘O turn back, my bonny lass,
And turn back, my dearie;
For the Highland hills are ill to climb,
And the bluidy swords woud fear ye.’

The Trooper

TROOPER AND MAID—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 27; from the recitation of Widow Nicol.

1

There cam a trooper frae the West,
And of riding he was weary;
He rappit at and clappit at,
In calling for his dearie.
By chance the maid was in the close,
The moon was shining clearly,
She opened the gates and let him in,
Says, Ye're welcome hame, my dearie.

174

2

She took the horse by the bridle-reins
And led him to the stable;
She gave him corn and hay to eat,
As much as he was able.
She up the stair and made the bed,
She made it fit for a lady,
Then she coost aff her petticoat,
Said, Trooper, are ye ready?

3

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘There's bread and cheese for musqueteers,
And corn and hay for hor[s]es,
Sack and sugar for auld wives,
And lads for bonnie lasses.’

4

He coost aff his gude buff coat,
His boots, likewise his beaver,
He drew his rapier frae his side,
And streekit him down beside her.
‘Bonnie lass, I trew I'm near the[e] now,
Bonnie lass, I trew I'm near thee,
And I'll gar a' thy ribbons reel,
Bonnie lassie, or I lea thee.’

5

They had but spoken little a while
Till of speaking they were weary;
They sleeped together in each other's arms
Till the sun was shining clearly.
The very first sound the trumpet gave
Was, Troopers, are ye ready?
Away you must to London town,
Or else for Londonderry.

6

She took the bottle in her hand,
The glass into the other,
She filled it up with blood-red wine,
Until it ran quite over.
She drank a health to her love on the stair,
Saying, When shall we two marry?
Or when shall we two meet again,
On purpose for to marry?

7

‘O when shall we two meet again?
Or when shall we two marry?’
‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells;
No longer must I tarry.’

TROOPER AND MAID—C

[_]

Jamieson, Popular Ballads, II, 158, as often heard by him in Morayshire.

1

There cam a trooper frae the west,
And he's ridden till his deary;
‘It's open and lat me in,’ he says,
For I am wet and weary.’

[OMITTED]

2

‘O whan sall we be married, love?
O whan sall we be married?’
‘Whan heather-cows turn owsen-bows,
It's then that we'll be married.’

3

‘O whan sall we be married, love?
O when sall we be married?’
‘When cockle-shells turn siller bells,
It's then that we'll be married.’

4

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘Whan the sun and moon dance on the green,
It's then that we'll be married.’

The Trooper Lad

TROOPER AND MAID—D

[_]

Communicated by Mr Macmath, with this note: “Received, 21st August, 1895, at Crossmichael, from my aunt, Miss Jane Webster. Learned by her many years ago, at Airds of Kells, from the singing of John Coltart.”

1

The trooper lad cam to oor gate,
And oh! but he was weary,
He rapped at and chapped at,
Syne called for his kind deary.

2

The bonnie lass being in the close,
The moon was shining clearly, —
‘Ye'r welcome here, my trooper lad,
Ye'r welcome, my kind deary.’

3

She's taen his horse by the bridle-reins,
And led him to the stable,
She's gien him corn and hay to eat,
As much as he was able.

4

She's taen the knight by the milk-white hand,
And led him to her chamber,
And gied him bread and cheese to eat,
And wine to drink his pleasure.

5

‘Bonnie lassie, I'll lie near ye noo,
Bonnie lassie, I'll lie near ye,
An I'll gar a' your ribbons reel
In the morning or I leave ye.’

6

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
And she put off her wee white smock,
Crying, ‘Laddie, are ye ready?’

[OMITTED]

7

The first time that the trumpet played
Was, Up, up and awa, man!
The next time that the trumpet played
Was, The morn's the battle-day, man!

8

‘Bonnie lassie, I maun leave ye noo,
Bonnie lassie, I maun leave ye;
But, if e'er I come this way again
I will ca in an see ye.’

9

Bread and cheese for gentlemen,
An corn and hay for horses;
Pipes and tobacco for auld wives,
And bonnie lads for lasses.

10

‘When will us twa meet again?
When will we meet and marry?’
‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,
Nae langer, love, we'll tarry.’

11

So he's taen his auld grey cloak about him noo,
An he's ower the mountains fairly,
Crying, ‘Fare ye weel, my bonnie lass,
Fareweel, my ain kind deary.’

175

300
BLANCHEFLOUR AND JELLYFLORICE

Blancheflour and Jellyflorice

BLANCHEFLOUR AND JELLYFLORICE

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 125; Motherwell's MS., p. 588.

1

There was a maid, richly arrayd,
In robes were rare to see,
For seven years and something mair
She servd a gay ladie.

2

But being fond o a higher place,
In service she thought lang;
She took her mantle her about,
Her coffer by the band.

3

And as she walkd by the shore-side,
As blythe's a bird on tree,
Yet still she gaz'd her round about,
To see what she could see.

4

At last she spied a little castle,
That stood near by the sea;
She spied it far and drew it near,
To that castle went she.

5

And when she came to that castle
She tirled at the pin,
And ready stood a little wee boy
To lat this fair maid in.

6

‘O who's the owner of this place,
O porter-boy, tell me;’
‘This place belongs unto a queen
O birth and high degree.’

7

She put her hand in her pocket,
And gae him shillings three:
‘O porter, bear my message well
Unto the queen frae me.’

8

The porter's gane before the queen,
Fell low down on his knee:
‘Win up, win up, my porter-boy,
What makes this courtesie?’

9

‘I hae been porter at your yetts,
My dame, these years full three,
But see a ladie at your yetts
The fairest my eyes did see.’

10

‘Cast up my yetts baith wide and braid,
Lat her come in to me,
And I'll know by her courtesie
Lord's daughter if she be.’

11

When she came in before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee:
‘Service frae you, my dame the queen,
I pray you grant it me.’

176

12

‘If that service ye now do want,
What station will ye be?
Can ye card wool, or spin, fair maid,
Or milk the cows to me?’

13

‘No, I can neither card nor spin,
Nor cows I canno milk,
But sit into a lady's bower
And sew the seams o silk.’

14

‘What is your name, ye comely dame?
Pray tell this unto me:’
‘O Blancheflour, that is my name,
Born in a strange countrie.’

15

‘O keep ye well frae Jellyflorice —
My ain dear son is he —
When other ladies get a gift,
O that ye shall get three.’

16

It wasna tald into the bower
Till it went thro the ha,
That Jellyflorice and Blancheflour
Were grown ower great witha.

17

When the queen's maids their visits paid,
Upo the gude Yule-day,
When other ladies got horse to ride,
She boud take foot and gae.

18

The queen she calld her stable-groom,
To come to her right seen;
Says, Ye'll take out yon wild waith steed
And bring him to the green.

19

‘Ye'll take the bridle frae his head,
The lighters frae his een;
Ere she ride three times roun the cross,
Her weel-days will be dune.”

20

Jellyflorice his true-love spy'd
As she rade roun the cross,
And thrice he kissd her lovely lips,
And took her frae her horse.

21

‘Gang to your bower, my lily-flower,
For a' my mother's spite;
There's nae other amang her maids,
In whom I take delight.

22

‘Ye are my jewel, and only ane,
Nane's do you injury;
For ere this-day-month come and gang
My wedded wife ye'se be.’

301
THE QUEEN OF SCOTLAND

The Queen of Scotland

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 46; Motherwell's MS., p. 577.

1

‘O Troy Muir, my lily-flower,
An asking I'll ask thee;
Will ye come to my bigley bower
And drink the wine wi me?’

2

‘My dame, this is too much honour
You have conferrd on me;
I'm sure it's mair than I've deservd
Frae sic a one as thee.’

177

3

‘In Reekie's towers I hae a bower,
And pictures round it set;
There is a bed that is well made,
Where you and I shall sleep.’

4

‘O God forbid,’ this youth then said,
‘That ever I drie sic blame
As ever to touch the queen's bodie,
Altho the king's frae hame.’

5

When that he had these words spoken,
She secretly did say,
Some evil I shall work this man,
Before that it be day.

6

Whan a' her maids were gane to bed,
And knights were gane frae hame,
She calld upon young Troy Muir,
To put fire in her room.

7

‘An asking, asking, Troy Muir,
An asking ye'll grant me;’
‘O, if it be a lawful thing,
My dame it's granted be.’

8

‘There is a stane in yon garden,
Nae ane lifts it for me;
But if that ye woud lift the same,
A brave man I'll ca thee.

9

‘Under yon stane there is a pit,
Most dreary for to see,
And in it there's as much red gowd
As buy a dukedom to thee.’

10

‘O if I had ae sleep in bed,
And saw the morning sun,
As soon's I rise and see the skies,
Your will it shall be done.’

11

When birds did sing, and sun did rise,
And sweetly sang the lark,
Troy Muir to the garden went,
To work this dreary wark.

12

He's taen the stane then by a ring,
And lifted manfullie;
A serpent that lang wanted meat
Round Troy Muir's middle did flee.

13

‘How shall I get rid o this foul beast?
It's by it I must dee;
I never thought the queen, my friend,
Woud work this mischief to me.’

14

But by there came a weelfaird may,
As Troy Muir did tauk,
The serpent's furious rage to lay,
Cut aff her fair white pap.

15

As soon as she the same had done,
Young Troy Muir was set free,
And in ane hour the wound was heald,
That nae mair pain had she.

16

Says Troy Muir, My lily-flower,
Ye hae releasëd me;
But before I see another day,
My wedded wife ye'se be.

17

He married her on that same day,
Brought her to his ain hame;
A lovely son to him she bare,
When full nine months were gane.

18

As heaven was pleasd, in a short time,
To ease her first sad pain,
Sae was it pleasd, when she'd a son,
To hae a pap again.

178

302
YOUNG BEARWELL

Young Bearwell

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 75; Motherwell's MS., p. 456, derived from Buchan; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 345.

1

When two lovers love each other well,
Great sin it were them to twinn;
And this I speak from Young Bearwell;
He loved a lady young,
The Mayor's daughter of Birktoun-brae,
That lovely, leesome thing.

2

One day when she was looking out,
When washing her milk-white hands,
That she beheld him Young Bearwell,
As he came in the sands.

3

Says, Wae's me for you, Young Bearwell,
Such tales of you are tauld;
They'll cause you sail the salt sea so far
As beyond Yorkisfauld.

179

4

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘O shall I bide in good greenwood,
Or stay in bower with thee?’

5

‘The leaves are thick in good greenwood,
Would hold you from the rain;
And if you stay in bower with me
You will be taken and slain.

6

‘But I caused build a ship for you
Upon Saint Innocent's day;
I'll bid Saint Innocent be your guide,
And Our Lady, that meikle may.
You are a lady's first true-love,
God carry you well away!’

7

Then he sailed east, and he sailed west,
By many a comely strand;
At length a puff of northern wind
Did blow him to the land.

8

When he did see the king and court,
Were playing at the ba;
Gave him a harp into his hand,
Says, Stay, Bearwell, and play.

9

He had not been in the king's court
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till there came lairds and lords anew
To court that lady gay.

10

They wooed her with brooch and ring,
They nothing could keep back;
The very charters of their lands
Into her hands they pat.

11

She's done her down to Heyvalin,
With the light of the moon;
Says, Will ye do this deed for me,
And will ye do it soon?

12

‘Will ye go seek him Young Bearwell,
On seas wherever he be?
And if I live and bruik my life
Rewarded ye shall be.’

13

‘Alas, I am too young a skipper,
So far to sail the faem;
But if I live and bruik my life
I'll strive to bring him hame.’

14

So he has saild east and then saild west,
By many a comely strand,
Till there came a blast of northern wind
And blew him to the land.

15

And there the king and all his court
Were playing at the ba;
Gave him a harp into his hand,
Says, Stay, Heyvalin, and play.

16

He has tane up the harp in hand,
And unto play went he,
And Young Bearwell was the first man
In all that companie.

[OMITTED]

303
THE HOLY NUNNERY

The Holy Nunnery

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 193.

180

1

Fair Annie had a costly bower,
Well built wi lime and stane,
And Willie came to visit her,
Wi the light o the meen.

2

When he came to Annie's bower-door,
He tirled at the pin:
‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Fair Annie,
Ye'll open, lat me come in.’

3

‘O never a fit,’ says Fair Annie,
‘Till I your errand ken;’
‘My father's vowd a vow, Annie,
I'll tell you when I'm in.

4

‘My father's vowed a rash vow,
I darena marry thee;
My mither's vowed anither vow,
My bride ye'se never be.’

5

‘If ye had tauld me that, Willie,
When we began to woo,
There was naithing in this warld wide
Shoud drawn my love to you.

6

‘A nun, a nun,’ said Fair Annie,
‘A nun will I be then;’
‘A priest, a priest,’ said Sweet Willie,
‘A priest will I be syne.’

7

She is gane to her father,
For mither she had nane;
And she is on to her father,
To see if she'd be a nun.

8

‘An asking, asking, father dear,
An asking ye'll grant me;
That's to get to the holy nunnery,
And there to live or die.’

9

‘Your asking's nae sae great, daughter,
But granted it shall be;
For ye'se won to the holy nunnery,
There to live or die.’

10

Then they gaed on, and farther on,
Till they came to the yate;
And there they spied a maiden porter,
Wi gowd upon her hat.

11

‘An asking, asking, maiden porter,
An asking ye'll grant me;
If I'll won to the holy nunnery,
There to live or die.’

12

‘Your asking's nae sae great, lady,
But granted it shall be;
For ye'se won to the holy nunnery,
There to live or die.

13

‘But ye maun vow a vow, lady,
Before that ye seek in;
Never to kiss a young man's mouth
That goes upon the grun.

14

‘And ye must vow anither vow,
Severely ye must work;
The well-warst vow that ye're to vow,
Is never to gang to kirk.’

15

‘I will vow a vow,’ she said,
‘Before that I seek in;
I neer shall kiss a young man's mouth
That goes upon the grun.

16

‘And I will vow anither vow,
Severely I will work;
The well-warst vow that I'm to vow
Is never to gang to kirk.’

181

17

For seven years now Fair Annie,
In the holy nunnery lay she,
And seven years Sweet Willie lay,
In languish like to die.

18

‘Is there nae duke nor lord's daughter,
My son, can comfort thee,
And save thee frae the gates o death?
Is there nae remedie?’

19

‘There is nae duke nor lord's daughter,
Mother, can comfort me,
Except it be my love, Annie,
In the holy nunnery lies she.’

20

They've dressd Sweet Willie up in silk,
Wi gowd his gown did shine,
And nane coud ken by his pale face
But he was a lady fine.

21

So they gaed on, and farther on,
Till they came to the yate,
And there they spied a maiden porter,
Wi gowd upon her hat.

22

‘An asking, an asking, maiden porter,
An asking ye'll grant me;
For to win in to the holy nunnery,
Fair Annie for to see.’

23

‘Your asking's nae sae great, lady,
But granted it shall be;
Ye'se won into the holy nunnery,
Fair Annie for to see.

24

‘Be she duke's or lord's daughter,
It's lang sin she came here:’
Fair Annie kent her true love's face;
Says, Come up, my sister dear.

25

Sweet Willie went to kiss her lips,
As he had wont to do;
But she softly whispered him,
I darena this avow.

304
YOUNG RONALD

YOUNG RONALD

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 282; Motherwell's MS., p. 601, derived from Buchan.

182

1

It fell upon the Lammas time,
When flowers were fresh and green,
And craig and cleugh was covered ower
With cloathing that was clean.

2

'Twas at that time a noble squire,
Sprung from an ancient line,
Laid his love on a lady fair,
The king's daughter o Linne.

3

When cocks did craw, and day did daw,
And mint in meadows sprang,
Young Ronald and his little wee boy
They rode the way alang.

4

So they rode on, and farther on,
To yonder pleasant green,
And there he spied that lady fair,
In her garden alane.

5

These two together lang they stood,
And love's tale there they taul;
The glancing o her fair color
Did Ronald's own impale.

6

He lifted's hat, and thus he spake;
O pity have on me!
For I could pledge what is my right,
All for the sake of thee.

7

‘Ye're young amo your mirth, kind sir,
And fair o your dull hours;
There's nae a lady in a' London
But might be your paramour.

8

‘But I'm too young to wed, kind sir,
You must not take it ill;
Whate'er my father bids me do,
I maun be at his will.’

9

He kissd her then and took his leave,
His heart was all in pride,
And he is on to Windsor gone,
And his boy by his side.

10

And when he unto Windsor came,
And lighted on the green,
There he spied his mother dear,
Was walking there alane.

11

‘Where have ye been, my son, Ronald,
From gude school-house, this day?’
‘I hae been at Linne, mother,
Seeing yon bonny may.’

12

‘O wae's me for you now, Ronald,
For she will not you hae;
For mony a knight and bauld baron
She's nickd them a' wi nae.’

13

Young Ronald's done him to his bower,
And he took bed and lay;
Nae woman could come in his sight,
For the thoughts o this well-fard may.

183

14

Then in it came his father dear,
Well belted in a brand;
The tears ran frae his twa gray eyes,
All for his lovely son.

15

Then Ronald calld his stable-groom
To come right speedilie;
Says, Ye'll gang to yon stable, boy,
And saddle a steed for me.

16

‘His saddle o the guid red gowd,
His bits be o the steel,
His bridle o a glittering hue;
See that ye saddle him weel.

17

‘For I've heard greeters at your school-house,
Near thirty in a day;
But for to hear an auld man greet,
It passes bairns' play.’

18

When cocks did craw, and day did daw,
And mint in meadows sprang,
Young Ronald and his little wee boy
The way they rode alang.

19

So they rode on, and further on,
To yonder pleasant green,
And there they saw that lady fair,
In her garden alane.

20

And twenty times before he ceasd
He kissd her lips sae clear,
And said, Dear lady, for your sake,
I'll fight fell lang and sair.

21

‘Full haste, nae speed, for me, kind sir,’
Replied the lady clear;
‘Far better bucklings ye maun bide
Or ye gain my love by weir.

22

‘King Honour is my father's name,
The morn to war maun fare,
And that's to fight a proud giant,
That's wrought him muckle care.

23

‘Along wi him he is to take
Baith noble knights and squires;
I woud wish you as well-dressd a knight
As ony will be there.

24

‘And I'll gie you a thousand crowns,
To part amang your men;
A robe upon your ain body,
Weel sewd wi my ain hand.

25

‘Likewise a ring, a royal thing,
The virtue it is gude;
If ony o your men be hurt,
It soon will stem their blude.

26

‘Another ring, a royal thing,
Whose virtue is well known;
As lang's this ring your body's on,
Your bluid shall neer be drawn.’

27

He kissd her then, and took his leave,
His heart was all in pride,
And he is on to Windsor gone,
And his boy by his side.

28

And when he unto Windsor came,
And lighted on the green,
There he saw his auld father,
Was walking him alane.

29

‘Where hae ye been, my son, Ronald,
From gude school-house the day?’
‘O I hae been at Linne, father,
Seeking yon bonny may.’

30

‘O wae's me for you now, Ronald,
For she will not you hae;
Mony a knight and bauld baron
She's nickd them a' wi nay.’

31

‘O had your tongue, my father dear,
Lat a' your folly be;
The last words that I wi her spake,
Her love was granted me.

32

‘King Honour is her father's name,
The morn to war maun fare,
And that's to fight a proud giant,
That's wrought him muckle care.

33

‘Alang wi him he means to take
Baith knights and noble squires;
And she wishes me as well drest a knight
As ony will be there.

34

‘And she's gaen me a thousand crowns,
To part amang my men;
A robe upon my ain body,
Weel sewd wi her ain hand.

35

‘Likewise a ring, a royal thing,
The virtue it is gude;
If ony o my men be hurt,
It soon will stem their blude.

184

36

‘Another ring, a royal thing,
Whose virtue is unknown;
As lang's this ring my body's on,
My blude will neer be drawn.’

37

‘If that be true, my son, Ronald,
That ye hae tauld to me,
I'll gie to you an hundred men,
To bear you companie.

38

‘Besides as muckle gude harness
As carry them on the lee;
It is a company gude enough
For sic a squire as thee.’

39

When cocks did craw, and day did daw,
And mint in meadows spread,
Young Ronald and his merry young men
Were ready for to ride.

40

So they rode on, and farther on,
To yonder pleasant green,
And there they spied that lady fair,
In her garden, sair mourning.

41

These twa together lang they stood,
And love's tale there they taul,
Till her father and his merry young men
Had ridden seven mile.

42

He kissd her then, and took his leave,
His heart was all in pride,
And then he sprang alang the road
As sparks do frae the gleed.

43

Then to his great steed he set spur;
He being swift o feet,
They soon arrived on the plain,
Where all the rest did meet.

44

Then flew the foul thief frae the west,
His make was never seen;
He had three heads upon ae hause,
Three heads on ae breast-bane.

45

He bauldly stept up to the king,
Seiz'd's steed in his right hand;
Says, Here I am, a valiant man,
Fight me now if ye can.

46

‘Where is the man in a' my train
Will take this deed in hand?
And he shall hae my daughter dear,
And third part o my land.’

47

‘O here am I,’ said young Ronald,
‘Will take the deed in hand;
And ye'll gie me your daughter dear,
I'll seek nane o your land.’

48

‘I woudna for my life, Ronald,
This day I left you here;
Remember ye yon lady gay
For you shed mony a tear.’

49

Fan he did mind on that lady
That he left him behind,
He hadna mair fear to fight
Nor a lion frae a chain.

50

Then he cut aff the giant's heads
Wi ae sweep o his hand,
Gaed hame and married that lady,
And heird her father's land.

185

305
THE OUTLAW MURRAY

191

The Sang of the Outlaw Murray; or, The Outlaw Murray; or, The Song of the Outlaw Murray

THE OUTLAW MURRAY—A

[_]

a. Herd's MSS, II, fol. 76, I, 255, 1795. b. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803, I, 1; principally from a copy found among the papers of the late Mrs Cockburn, of Edinburgh. c. Aytoun's Ballads of Scotland, 1859, II, 131; “from an old manuscript in the Philiphaugh charterchest,” now not accessible. d. A copy among the Philiphaugh papers, transcribed not earlier than 1848.

1

Etrick forest is a fair foreste,
In it grows manie a semelie trie;
The hart, the hynd, the dae, the rae,
And of a' [wylde] beastis grete plentie.

2

There's a castell biggit with lime and stane,
O gin it stands not pleasantlie!
In the fore front o that castell fair
Twa unicorns are bra to see.

3

There's the picture of a knight and a ladye bright,
And the grene hollin aboon their brie;
There an Outlaw keepis five hundred men,
He keepis a royalle companie.

4

His merrie men are in [ae] liverie clad,
Of the Lincoln grene so fair to see;
He and his ladie in purple clad,
O if they live not royallie!

5

Word is gane to our nobell king,
In Edinburgh where that he lay,
That there was an Outlaw in Etterick forest
Counted him nought and all his courtrie gay.

6

‘I mak a vowe,’ then the goode king said,
‘Unto the man that dear bought me,
I'se either be king of Etrick forest,
Or king of Scotland that Outlaw's bee.’

7

Then spak the erle hight Hamilton,
And to the noble king said he;
My sovereign prince, sum counsell tak,
First of your nobles, syne of me.

8

‘I redd you send yon bra Outlaw till
And see gif your man cum will he;
Desire him cum and be your man,
And hald of you yon forest frie.

9

‘And gif he refuses to do that,
We'll conquess both his lands and he,
Or else we'll throw his castell down,
And mak a widowe of his gaye ladie.’

10

The king called on a gentleman,
James Boyd, Erle of Arran, his brother was he;
When James he came before the king
He fell before him on his knie.

11

‘Welcum, James Boyd,’ said our nobil king,
‘A message ye maun gang for me;
Ye maun hie to Etrick forrest,
To yon Outlaw, where dwelleth he.

12

‘Ask hym of quhom he haldis his lands,
Or, man, wha may his master be;
Desyre him come and be my man,
And hald of me yon forrest frie.

13

‘To Edinburgh to cum and gang
His safe-warrand I sall be;
And, gif he refuses to do that,
We'll conquess baith his lands and he.

14

‘Thou mayst vow I'll cast his castell doun,
And mak a widow of his gay ladie;
I'll hang his merrie men pair by pair
In ony frith where I may them see.’

15

James Boyd took his leave of the nobill king,
To Etrick forrest fair came he;
Down Birkendale brae when that he cam,
He saw the fair forest with his ee.

16

Baith dae and rae and hart and hynd,
And of all wylde beastis grete plentie;
He heard the bows that bauldly ring,
And arrows whidderand near him by.

17

Of the fair castell he got a sight,
The like he nere saw with his ee;
On the fore front of that castell
Twa unicorns were bra to see.

18

The picture of a knight and a ladie bright,
And the grene hollin aboon their brie;
Thereat he spy'd five hundred men,
Shuting with bows upon the lee.

19

They a' were in ae liverie clad,
Of the Lincoln grene, sae fair to see;
The knight and his ladye in purple clad;
O gif they lived right royallie!
Therefore he kend he was master-man,
And served him in his ain degree.

192

20

‘God mot thee save, brave Outlaw Murray,
Thy ladie and a' thy chivalrie!’
‘Marry, thou's wellcum, gentleman,
Sum king's-messenger thou seems to be.’

21

‘The King of Scotland sent me hier,
And, gude Outlaw, I'm sent to thee;
I wad wat of whom ye hald your lands,
Or, man, wha may thy master be.’

22

‘Thir landis are mine,’ the Outlaw said,
‘I own na king in Christentie;
Frae Soudron I this forest wan,
When the king nor's knights were not to see.’

23

‘He desires you'l come to Edinburgh,
And hald of him this forest frie;
And gif you refuse to do this,
He'll conquess both thy landis and thee;
He has vowd to cast thy castell down,
And make a widow of thy gaye ladie.

24

‘He'll hang thy merrie men pair by pair,
In ony frith where he may them finde;’
‘Aye, by my troth,’ the Outlaw said,
‘Then wad I think me far behinde.

25

‘Eere the king my fair countrie get,
This land that's nativest to me,
Mony of his nobils sall be cauld,
Their ladies sall be right wearie.’

26

Then spak his ladye fair of face,
She said, Without consent of me
That an outlaw shuld come before the king:
I am right rad of treasonrie.

27

‘Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame,
For Edinburgh my lord sall never see:’
James tuke his leave of the Outlaw keene,
To Edinburgh boun is he.

28

And when he came before the king,
He fell before him on his knie:
‘Wellcum, James Boyd,’ said the nobil king,
‘What foreste is Etrick forest frie?’

29

‘Etrick forest is the fairest forest
That ever man saw with his ee;
There's the dae, the rae, the hart, the hynde,
And of all wild beastis great plentie.

30

‘There's a prittie castell of lime and stone,
O gif it stands not pleasauntlie!
There's on the fore side of that castell
Twa unicorns sae bra to see.

31

‘There's the picture of a knight and [a] ladie bright,
And the grene hollin aboon their brie;
There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men,
O gif they live not royallie!

32

‘His merry men in [ae] liverie clad,
O the Lincoln grene, so fair to see;
He and his ladye in purple clad,
O gif they live not royallie!

33

‘He says yon forest is his ain,
He wan it from the Soudronie;
Sae as he won it, sae will he keep it,
Contrair all kings in Christentie.’

34

‘Gar ray my horse,’ said the nobil king,
‘To Etrick [forest] hie will I me;’
Then he gard graith five thousand men,
And sent them on for the forest frie.

35

Then word is gane the Outlaw till,
In Etrick forest where dwelleth he,
That the king was cumand to his cuntrie,
To conquess baith his lands and he.

36

‘I mak a vow,’ the Outlaw said,
‘I mak a vow, and that trulie,
Were there but three men to tak my part,
Yon king's cuming full deir suld be.’

37

Then messengers he called forth,
And bade them haste them speedilie:
‘Ane of you go to Halliday,
The laird of the Corehead is he.

38

‘He certain is my sister's son,
Bid him cum quick and succour me;
Tell Halliday with thee to cum,
And shaw him a' the veritie.’

39

‘What news? what news,’ said Halliday,
‘Man, frae thy master unto me?’
‘Not as ye wad; seeking your aid;
The king's his mortal enemie.’

40

‘Aye, by my troth,’ quoth Halliday,
‘Even for that it repenteth me;

193

For, gif he lose fair Ettrick forest,
He'll take fair Moffatdale frae me.

41

‘I'll meet him wi five hundred men,
And surely mae, if mae may be:’
[The Outlaw calld a messenger,
And bid him hie him speedily.]

42

‘To Andrew Murray of Cockpool,
That man's a deir cousin to me;
Desire him cum and make me aid,
With all the power that he may be.

43

‘The king has vowd to cast my castell down,
And mak a widow of my gay ladye;
He'll hang my merry men pair by pair
I[n] ony place where he may them see.’

44

‘It stands me hard,’ quoth Andrew Murray,
‘Judge if it stands not hard with me,
To enter against a king with crown,
And put my lands in jeopardie.

45

‘Yet, gif I cum not on the daye,
Surelie at night he sall me see:’
To Sir James Murray, laird of Traquair,
A message came right speedilie.

46

‘What news? what news,’ James Murray said,
‘Man, frae thy master unto me?’
‘What needs I tell? for well ye ken
The king's his mortal enemie.

47

‘He desires ye'll cum and make him aid,
With all the powers that ye may be:’
‘And, by my troth,’ James Murray said,
‘With that Outlaw I'll live and die.

48

‘The king has gifted my lands lang syne,
It can not be nae war with me;’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

49

The king was cumand thro Cadden ford,
And fiftene thousand men was he;
They saw the forest them before,
They thought it awsom for to see.

50

Then spak the erle hight Hamilton,
And to the nobil king said he,
My sovereign prince, sum counsell take,
First at your nobles, syne at me.

51

‘Desyre him meet you at Penman's Core,
And bring four in his cumpanie;
Fyve erles sall gang yoursell before,
Gude cause that you suld honord be.

52

‘And, if he refuses to do that,
Wi fire and sword we'll follow thee;
There sall never a Murray after him
Have land in Etrick forest frie.’

53

The king then called a gentleman,
Royal-banner-bearer then was he,
James Hope Pringle of Torsonse by name;
He came and knelit upon his knie.

54

‘Welcum, James Pringle of Torsonse;
Ye man a message gae for me;
Ye man gae to yon Outlaw Murray,
Surely where bauldly bideth he.

55

‘Bid him meet me at Penman's Core,
And bring four of his companie;
Five erles sall cum wi mysell,
Gude reason I suld honord be.

56

‘And if he refuses to do that,
Bid him look for nae gude o me;
There sall never a Murray after him
Have land in Etric forest frie.’

57

James came before the Outlaw keene,
And served him in his ain degree:
‘Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse,
What tidings frae the king to me?’

58

‘He bids you meet him at Penman's Core,
And bring four of your companie;
Five erles will cum with the king,
Nae more in number will he be.

59

‘And gif you refuse to do that,
I freely here upgive with thee,
There will never a Murray after thee
Have land in Etrick forest frie.

60

‘He'll cast your bonny castell down,
And make a widow of your gay ladie,
He'll hang your merry men pair by pair
In ony place where he may them see.’

61

‘It stands me hard,’ the Outlaw said,
‘Judge if it stands not hard with me;

194

I reck not of losing of mysell,
But all my offspring after me.

62

‘Auld Haliday, young Haliday,
Ye sall be twa to gang wi me;
Andrew Murray and Sir James Murray,
We'll be nae mae in cumpanie.’

63

When that they came before the king,
They fell before him on their knee:
‘Grant mercy, mercy, royal king,
Een for his sake who died on tre!’

64

‘Sicken-like mercy sall ye have,
On gallows ye sall hangit be;’
‘God forbid!’ quo the Outlaw then,
‘I hope your Grace will better be.

65

‘These lands of Etrick forest fair,
I wan them frae the enemie;
Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them,
Contrair all kings in Christentie.’

66

All the nobilis said, the king about,
Pitye it were to see him die:
‘Yet graunt me mercye, sovereign prince,
Extend your favour unto me!

67

‘I'll give you the keys of my castell,
With the blessing of my fair ladie;
Mak me the sheriff of the forest,
And all my offspring after me.’

68

‘Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell,
With the blessing of thy fair ladye?
I'll mak the[e] shiryff of the forest,
Surely while upwards grows the trie;
If you be not traytour to the king,
Forfaulted sall ye never be.’

69

‘But, prince, what sall cum o my men?
When I go back, traitour they'll ca me;
I had rather lose my life and land,
Eer my merry men rebukëd me.’

70

‘Will your merry men amend their lives
And all their pardouns I grant thee:
Now name thy landes whe'ere they be,
And here I render them to thee.’

71

‘Fair Philiphaugh, prince, is my awin,
I biggit it wi lime and stane;
The Tinnies and the Hangingshaw,
My leige, are native steeds of mine.

72

‘[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
I have mony steeds in the forest shaw,
But them by name I dinna knaw.’

73

The keys of the castell he gave the king,
With the blessing of his fair ladye;
He was made sheryff of Etrick forest,
Surely while upward grows the trie;
And, if he was not traytour to the king,
Forfaulted he suld never be.

74

Wha ever heard, in ony tymes,
Sicken an outlaw in his degree
Sic favour get before a king
As did the Outlaw Murray of the forest frie?

An old song called Outlaw Murray

THE OUTLAW MURRAY—B

[_]

Glenriddell's MSS, XI, 61, 1791.

1

Etterick forest's a pleasant land,
And it grows mony a bonny tree;
With buck and doe and a' wild beast,
A castle stands right bonnilie.

2

Yon castle has twa unicorns,
The like I never saw wi my ee,
The picture of a knight and lady bright,
And the green hollin's aboon her [bree].

3

Word is gane to Edinbro town
[OMITTED]
That there's an Outlaw in Etterick forest
That keeps as fine a court as he.

4

The king has sworn a solemn oath,
And he has sworn by [the Virgin Mary],
He would either be king of Etterick forest,
Or king of Scotland the Outlaw should be.

5

He has ca'd up Mr James Boyd,
A highland laird I'm sure was he:

195

‘Ye must gae to Etterick forest
And see of wha he hads his land,
And wha pays yon men meat and fee.’

6

He's tane his leave o the king and court,
Een as hard as he may dree;
When he came in o'er Loudon edge,
He viewed the forest wi his eee.

7

He thought it was as pleasant a land
As ever his two eyes did see,
But when he came in oer [OMITTED],
They were a' ranked on Newark lee.

8

O waly, but they were bonny to see!
Five hundred men playing at the ba;
They were a' clad in the Lincoln green,
And the Outlaw's sell in taffety.

9

‘Weel met you save, Outlaw,’ he says,
‘You and your brave companie;
The King of Scotland hath sent me here,
To see whom on you hold your lands,
Or who pays thir men meat and fee.’

10

The first ae man the answer made,
It was the Outlaw he:
‘The lands they are all mine,
And I pay thir men meat and fee,
And as I wan them so will I lose them,
Contrair the kings o Cristendie.

11

‘I never was a king's subject,
And a king's subject I'll never be;
For I wan them i the fields fighting,
Where him and his nobles durst not come and see.’

12

O out bespeaks the Outlaw's lady,
I wot she spake right wisely;
‘Be good unto your nobles at home,
For Edinbro mine shall never see;’
But meat and drink o the best I'm sure got he.

13

He has taen his leave o the Outlaw free,
And een as hard as he may dree,
While he came to the king's court,
Where he kneeld low down on his knee.

14

‘What news? what news, James,’ he says,
‘Frae yon Outlaw and his company?’
‘Yon forest is as fine a land
As ever I did see.

15

‘Yon Outlaw keeps as fine a court
As any king in Cristendie;
Yon lands they are here all his own,
And he pays yon men meat and fee,
And as he wan them so will he lose them,
Contrair the kings of Cristendie.

16

‘He never was a king's subject,
And a king's subject he'll never be;
For he wan them in the fields fighting,
Where the king and his nobles durst not come to see.’

17

The king has sworn a solemn oath,
And he has sworn by the Virgin Mary,
He would either be king of Etterick forest,
Or king of Scotland the Outlaw should be.

18

The king has ca'd up Mr James Pringle,
Laird of Torson[s]e at the time was he:
‘Ye must gae to Etterick forest,
And see wha of he hads his land,
And wha pays yon men meat and fee.’

[_]

19-25=6-12.

26

‘And as I wan them so will I lose them,
Contrair the kings o Cristendie;
I wan them frae the Soudan Turk,
When their cuckold king durst not come to see;
For I wan them in the fields fighting,
Where him and his nobles durst not come to see.’

[_]

27-32=12-17.

33

‘Gar warn me Perthshire and Angus both,
Fifeshire up and down, and Loudons three,
For I fear of them we hae great need,
[OMITTED]’

34

Then word is come to the Outlaw then,
‘Our noble king comes on the morn,
Landless men ye will a' be;’
He's called up his little foot-page,
His sister's son I trow was he.

35

‘Ye must tak Etterick head
Een as hard as ye can drie;
Ye must gae to the Corhead and tell
Andrew Brown this frae me.

196

36

‘The noble king comes in the morn,
And landless men we will a' be;
[OMITTED]
And tell him to send me some supply.’

37

The boy has taen Etterick head,
And een as hard as he may drie,
Till he came to the Corhead,
And he shouted out and cry'd well he.

38

‘What news? what news, my little boy?
What news has thy master to me?’
‘The noble king comes in the morn,
And landless then ye will a' be.

39

‘Ye must meet him on the morn,
And mak him some supply;’
‘For if he get the forest fair frae him,
He'll hae Moffat-dale frae me.

40

‘I'll meet him the morn wi five hundred men,
And fifty mair, if they may be;
And if he get the forest fair
We'll a' die on the Newark lee.’

41

Word is gane to the Border then,
To [OMITTED], the country-keeper I'm sure was he:
‘The noble king comes in the morn,
And landless men ye will a' be.’

42

‘I'll meet him the morn wi five hundred men,
And fifty mair, if they may be;
And if he get the forest fair,
We'll a' die on the Newark lee.’

43

Word is gane to Philiphaugh,
His sister's son I'm sure was he,
To meet him the morn wi some supply,
‘For the noble king comes in the morn,
And landless men ye will a' be.’

44

‘In the day I daur not be seen,
For he took a' my lands frae me
And gifted me them back again;
Therefore against him I must not be;
For if I be found against him rebel,
It will be counted great treason[rie].

45

‘In the day I daur not be seen,
But in the night he shall me find
With five hundred men and fifty, if they may be,
And before he get the forest fair
We'll a' die on the Newark lee.’

46

When the king came in oer Loudon edge,
Wi three thousand weel teld was he,
And when he came in oer [OMITTED]
He viewd that forest wi his ee.

47

The Outlaw and his men were a'
Ranked on the Newark lee;
They were a' clad in the Lincoln green,
And he himsell in the taffety.

48

An auld grey-haird knight has taen aff his cap,
[OMITTED]
‘Pardon, pardon, my sovereign liege,
Two or three words to speak wi you.

49

‘If you please to send for the Outlaw,
To see if he could with you agree,
There's not a man yon Outlaw has
But of yours he'll choose to be.’

50

The king he has taen af his cap,
He held it on his majesty;
‘I'll meet him the morn at the poor man's house,
In number not above two or three;’
The Outlaw says, I'll hae as few as thee.

51

‘There's Andrew Brown, and Andrew Murray,
And Mess James Murray shall gang wi me,
[OMITTED]
And nae mae shall my number be.’

52

And when they came to the poor man's core
They waited two lang hours or three,
And they were aware of the noble king coming,
And hundreds three in his company.

53

‘I wonder what the muckle Deel
He'll learned kings to lie,
For to fetch me here frae amang my men
Even like a dog for to die;
But before I gang to Edinbro town
Monny toom saddles shall there be.’

54

The king he has taen aff his cap;
[OMITTED]
‘It [were] great offence here,’ he says,
‘And great pity to see thee die.

197

55

‘For thou shalt be laerd o this forest fair
As lang as upwards grows the tree
And downward the twa rivers run,
If the steads thou can but rightly name to me.’

56

‘There's Hangingshaw high and Hangingshaw laigh,
[OMITTED]
The Tinis and the Tinis-burn,
The Newark and the Newark lee.’

[OMITTED]

Outlaw Murray, an antient historical ballad

THE OUTLAW MURRAY—C

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 31, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1

‘Gae fetch to me James Pringle wi hast,
An see that he come speedilie,
For he maun on to Ettrick forest,
An see whae pays yon men meat and fee.’

2

When James Pringle cam down oer Birkendalee,
The hawks war yellin right loudlie,
The hunds war rinnin oer hill and dale,
As the bugle-horn soundit bonnilie.

3

‘Gae tell yer king this land's my ain,
An to thir men I pay meat and fee;
I took it thrae the Souden Turk,
When nae sic cuckold king might be.

4

‘Sae as I wan, sae will I lose,
Spite o the kings in Christendie;
I never was a king's subject,
Nor a king's subject will I ever be.’

5

‘Outlaw Murray says yon land's his ain,
And to yon men he pays meat and fee;
He took it frae the Souden Turk,
When you and your men durstna come and see.’

6

It was than the king he gat up in hast,
An wow an angrie man was he!
‘I'se either be king o Ettrick forest,
Or king o Scotland sal he be.

7

‘Gar warn me Fife an a' Lothian land,
An Perth an Angus, to ride wi me,
For gin we war five thousan strang
Master and mair I fear he'll be.’

8

When the king came oer be Birkendalee,
He spy'd the forest wi his ee;
There war daes an raes an monie wild beast,
An a castle stannin right bonnilie.

9

An in that castle a unicorn,
An, waly, but they war fair to see!
A warlike knight and a lady bright,
An the green halleen aboon her bree.

10

An Outlaw Murray an his merry men
War a' rankit up i the Newark lee,
Well mountit on a milk-white steed;
Waly, he rankit them bonnilie!

11

His men war a clad oer wi green,
An he was clad i the taffatie,
Wi belt an pistle by his side;
O waly, but they war fair to see!

[OMITTED]

12

‘Haliday young an Halliday auld,
Ye ir the men that man ride wi me;
But gin we war five hunder strang
Master an mair I fear they'll be.’

[OMITTED]

13

‘Philliphaugh it is my ain,
An Newark it belangs to me;
Lewinshope an Hanginshaw
Nae mortal man can claim thrae me.’

[OMITTED]

14

It was than James Boyd got up in hast,
An to his merry men a' spak he;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]