Susan Pye and Lord Beichan
YOUNG BEICHAN—F
[_]
Pitcairn's MSS, III, 159, 1817-25. From the recitation of
Widow Stevenson, aged seventy-three: “East Country.”
1
In the lands where Lord Beichan was born,
Amang the stately steps of stane,
He wore the goud at his left shoulder,
But to the Holy Land he's gane.
2
He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Amang the Prudents that was black,
He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Till the Prudent did Lord Beichan tak.
3
The gard him draw baith pleugh and harrow,
And horse and oxen twa or three;
They cast him in a dark dungeon,
Whare he coud neither hear nor see.
4
The Prudent had a fair daughter,
I wot they ca'd her Susy Pye,
And all the keys in that city
Hang at that lady by and bye.
5
It once fell out upon a day
That into the prison she did gae,
And whan she cam to the prison door,
She kneeled low down on her knee.
6
‘O hae ye ony lands, Beichan,
Or hae ye ony castles hie,
Whar ye wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison I wad let thee?’
7
‘Fair London's mine, dear lady,’ he said,
‘And other places twa or three,
Whar I wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison ye wad let me.’
8
O she has opened the prison door,
And other places twa or three,
And gien him bread, and wine to drink,
In her own chamber privately.
9
O then she built a bonny ship,
And she has set it on the main,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It's for to tak Lord Beichan hame.
10
O she's gaen murning up and down,
And she's gaen murnin to the sea,
Then to her father she has gane in,
Wha spak to her right angrily.
11
‘O do ye mourn for the goud, daughter,
Or do ye mourn for the whyte monie?
Or do ye mourn for the English squire?
I wat I will gar hang him hie.’
12
‘I neither mourn for the goud, father,
Nor do I for the whyte monie,
Nor do I for the English squire;
And I care na tho ye hang him hie.
13
‘But I hae promised an errand to go,
Seven lang miles ayont the sea,
And blythe and merry I never will be
Untill that errand you let me.’
14
‘That errand, daughter, you may gang,
Seven long miles beyond the sea,
Since blythe and merry you'll neer be
Untill that errand I'll let thee.’
15
O she has built a bonny ship,
And she has set it in the sea,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It's all for to tak her a long journie.
16
And she's sailed a' the summer day,
I wat the wind blew wondrous fair;
In sight of fair London she has come,
And till Lord Beichan's yett she walked.
17
Whan she cam till Lord Beichan's yett,
She rappit loudly at the pin:
‘Is Beichan lord of this bonny place?
I pray ye open and let me in.
18
‘And O is this Lord Beichan's yett,
And is the noble lord within?’
‘O yes, it is Lord Beichan's yett,
He's wi his bride and mony a ane.’
19
‘If you'll gang up to Lord Beichan,
Tell him the words that I tell thee;
It will put him in mind of Susy Pye,
And the Holy Land, whareer he be.
20
‘Tell him to send one bite of bread,
It's and a glass of his gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady's love
That loosed him out of prison strong.’
[OMITTED]
21
‘I hae been porter at your yett,
I'm sure this therty lang years and three,
But the fairest lady stands thereat
That evir my twa eyes did see.
22
‘On ilka finger she has a ring,
And on the foremost she has three;
As muckle goud is on her head
As wad buy an earldom of land to thee.
23
‘She bids you send a bite of bread,
It's and a glass of your gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady's love
That let you out of prison strong.’
24
It's up and spak the bride's mother,
A weight of goud hung at her chin:
‘There is no one so fair without
But there are, I wat, as fair within.’
25
It's up and spak the bride hersel,
As she sat by the gude lord's knee:
‘Awa, awa, ye proud porter,
This day ye might hae excepted me.’
[OMITTED]
26
‘Tak hence, tak hence your fair daughter,
Tak hame your daughter fair frae me;
For saving one kiss of her bonny lips,
I'm sure of her body I am free.
27
‘Awa, awa, ye proud mither,
It's tak your daughter fair frae me;
For I brought her home with chariots six,
And I'll send her back wi coaches three.’
28
It's he's taen the table wi his fit,
And syne he took it wi his knee;
He gard the glasses and wine so red,
He gard them all in flinders flee.
29
O he's gane down the steps of stairs,
And a' the stately steps of stane,
Until he cam to Susy Pye;
I wat the tears blinded baith their eyne.
30
He led her up the steps of stairs,
And a' the stately steps of stane,
And changed her name from Susy Pye,
And ca'd her lusty Lady Jane.
31
‘O fye, gar cooks mak ready meat,
O fye, gar cooks the pots supply,
That it may be talked of in fair London,
I've been twice married in ae day.’
