Young Beachen
YOUNG BEICHAN—D
[_]
“The Old Lady's Collection,” from which it was copied
by Skene, No. 14.
1
Young Beachen as born in fair London,
An foiren lands he langed to see,
An he was tean by the savage Mour,
An they used him mast cruely.
2
Throu his shoulder they patt a bore,
An throu the bore they patt a tree,
An they made him tralle ther ousen-carts,
An they used him most cruelly.
3
The savige More had ae doughter,
I wat her name was Susan Pay,
An she is to the prison-house
To hear the prisenor's mone.
4
He made na his mone to a stok,
He made it no to a ston,
But it was to the Quin of Heaven,
That he made his mone.
5
‘Gine a lady wad borrou me,
Att her foot I wad rune,
An a widdou wad borrou me,
I wad becom her sone.
6
‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,
I wad wed her we a ring,
I wad make her lady of haas an bours,
An of the high tours of Line.’
7
‘Sing our yer sang, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘Sing our yer sang to me;’
‘I never sang that sang, lady,
Bat fat I wad sing to ye.
8
‘An a lady wad borrou me,
Att her foot I wad rune,
An a widdou wad borrou me,
I wad becom her son.
9
‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,
I wad wed her we a ring,
I wad mak her lady of haas an bours,
An of the high tours of Line.’
10
Saftly gaid she but,
An saftly gaid she ben;
It was na for want of hose nor shone,
Nor time to pit them on.
11
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An she has stoun the kees of the prison,
An latten Young Beachen gang.
12
She gae him a lofe of her whit bread,
An a bottel of her wine,
She bad him mind on the leady's love
That fread him out of pine.
13
She gae him a stead was gued in time of nead,
A sadle of the bone,
Five hundred poun in his poket,
Bad him gae speading home.
14
An a lish of gued gray honds,
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15
Fan seven lang year wer come an gane,
Shusie Pay thought lang,
An she is on to fair London,
As fast as she could gang.
16
Fan she came to Young Beachen's gate,
[OMITTED]
‘Is Young Beachen att home,
Or is he in this country?’
17
‘He is att home,
[H]is bearly bride him we;’
Sighan says her Susë Pay,
‘Was he quit forgoten me?’
18
On every finger she had a ring,
An on the middel finger three;
She gave the porter on of them,
‘Gett a word of your lord to me.’
19
He gaed up the stare,
Fell lau doun on his knee:
‘Win up, my proud porter,
What is your will we [me]?’
20
‘I ha ben porter att your gate
This therty year an three;
The fairest lady is att yer gate
Mine eays did ever see.’
21
Out spak the brid's mother,
An a haghty woman was she;
‘If ye had not excepted the bonny brid,
Ye might well ha excepted me.’
22
‘No desparegment to you, madam,
Nor non to her grace;
The sol of yon lady's foot
Is fairer then yer face.’
23
He's geen the table we his foot,
An caped it we his knee:
‘I wad my head an a' my land
It's Susie Pay come over the sea.’
24
The stare was therty steps,
I wat he made them three;
He toke her in his arms tua,
‘Susie Pay, y'er welcom to me!’
25
‘Gie me a shive of your whit bread,
An a bottel of your wine;
Dinner ye mind on the lady's love
That freed ye out of pine?’
26
He took her
Doun to yon garden green,
An changed her name fra Shusie Pay,
An called her bonny Lady Jean.
27
‘Yer daughter came hear on high hors-back,
She sall gae hame in coaches three,
An I sall dubel her tocher our,
She is nean the war of me.’
28
‘It's na the fashon of our country,
Nor yet of our name,
To wed a may in the morning
An send her hame att none.’
29
‘It's na the fashon of my country,
Nor of my name,
Bat I man mind on the lady's love
That freed me out of pine.’
