THE ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH POPULAR BALLADS

BY

FRANCIS JAMES CHILD.

Boston, New York, Houghton, Mifflin and Company

[1886-98]

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PREFACE.

(NOTE: The Preface and Bibliography which follow were transcribed from the 1860 edition, titled 'English and Scottish Ballads'; the ballads were transcribed from the much expanded 1886-98 edition, titled "The English and Scottish Popular Ballads"--JBH.)

THESE volumes have been compiled from the numerous collections of Ballads printed since the beginning of the last century. They contain all but two or three of the ancient ballads of England and Scotland, and nearly all those ballads which, in either country, have been gathered from oral tradition,--whether ancient or not. Widely different from the true popular ballads, the spontaneous products of nature, are the works of the professional ballad-maker, which make up the bulk of Garlands and Broadsides. These, though sometimes not without grace, more frequently not lacking in humor, belong to artificial literature,--of course to an humble department. 1 As

many ballads of this second class have been admitted as it was thought might be wished for, perhaps I should say tolerated, by the "benevolent reader." No words could express the dulness and inutility of a collection which should embrace all the Roxburghe and Pepys broadsides--a scope with which this publication was most undeservedly credited by an English journal. But while the broadside ballads have been and must have been gleaned, the popular ballads demand much more liberal treatment. Many of the older ones are mutilated, many more are miserably corrupted, but as long as any traces of their originals are left, they are worthy of attention and have received it. When a ballad is extant in a variety of forms, all the most important versions are given.--Less than this would have seemed insufficient for a collection intended as a complement to an extensive series of the British Poets. To meet the objections of readers for pleasure, all those pieces which are wanting in general interest are in each volume inserted in an appendix.

The ballads are grouped in eight Books, nearly corresponding to the division of volumes. The arrangement in the several Books may be called chronological, by which is meant, an arrangement

according to the probable antiquity of the story, not the age of the actual form or language. Exceptions to this rule will be observed, partly the result of oversight, partly of fluctuating views; the most noticeable case is in the First Book, where the ballads that stand at the beginning are certainly not so old as some that follow. Again, it is very possible that some pieces might with advantage be transferred to different Books, but it is believed that the general disposition will be found practically convenient. It is as follows:--

BOOK I. contains Ballads involving Superstitions of various kinds,--as of Fairies, Elves, Water-spirits, Enchantment, and Ghostly Apparitions; and also some Legends of Popular Heroes.

BOOK II. Tragic Love-ballads.

BOOK III. other Tragic Ballads.

BOOK IV. Love-ballads not Tragic.

BOOK V. Ballads of Robin Hood, his followers, and compeers.

BOOK VI. Ballads of other Outlaws, especially Border Outlaws, of Border Forays, Feuds, &c.

BOOK VII.Historical Ballads, or those relating to public characters or events.

BOOK VIII. Miscellaneous Ballads, especially Humorous, Satirical, Burlesque; also some specimens of the Moral and Scriptural, and all such pieces as had been overlooked in arranging the earlier volumes.

For the Texts, the rule has been to select the most authentic copies, and to reprint them as they stand in the collections, restoring readings that had been changed without grounds, and noting all deviations from the originals, whether those of previous editors or of this edition, in the margin. Interpolations acknowledged by the editors have generally been dropped. In two instances only have previously printed texts been superseded or greatly improved: the text of The Horn of King Arthur, in the first volume, was furnished from the manuscript, by J. O. Halliwell, Esq., and Adam Bel, in the fifth volume, has been amended by a recently discovered fragment of an excellent edition, kindly communicated by J. P. Collier, Esq.

The Introductory Notices prefixed to the several ballads may seem dry and somewhat meagre. They will be found, it is believed, to comprise what is most essential even for the less cursory reader to know. These prefaces are intended to give an account of all the printed forms of each ballad, and references to the books in which they were first published. In many cases also, the corresponding ballads in other languages, especially in Danish, Swedish, and German, are briefly pointed out. But these last notices are very imperfect. Fascinating as such investigations are, they could not be allowed to interfere with the progress of the series of Poets of which this col

lection of Ballads forms a part, nor were the necessary books immediately at hand. At a more favorable time the whole subject may be resumed, unless some person better qualified shall take it up in the interim.

While upon this point let me make the warmest acknowledgments for the help received from Grundtvig's Ancient Popular Ballads of Denmark (Danmarics Gamle Folkeviser), a work which has no equal in its line, and which may in every way serve as a model for collections of National Ballads. Such a work as Grundtvig's can only be imitated by an English editor, never equalled, for the material is not at hand. All Denmark seems to have combined to help on his labors; schoolmasters and clergymen, in those retired nooks where tradition longest lingers, have been very active in taking down ballads from the mouths of the people, and a large number of old manuscripts have been placed at his disposal.--We have not even the Percy Manuscript at our command, and must be content to take the ballads as they are printed in the Reliques, with all the editor's changes. This manuscript is understood to be in the hands of a dealer who is keeping it from the public in order to enhance its value. The greatest service that can now be done to English Ballad-literature is to publish this precious document. Civilization has made too great strides in the island of Great

Britain for us to expect much more from tradition.

Certain short romances which formerly stood in the First Book, have been dropped from thise second Edition, in order to give the collection a homogeneous character. One or two ballads have been added, and some of the prefaces considerably enlarged.

F. J. C.

May, 1860.

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Footnotes

vii:1 This distinction is not absolute, for several of the ancient ballads have a sort of literary character, and many broadsides were printed from oral tradition. The only popular ballads excluded from this selection that require mention, are The Bonny Hynd, The Jolly Beggar, The Baffled Knight, The Keach in the Creel, and The Earl of Errol. These ballads, in all their varieties, may be found by referring to the general Index at the end of the eighth volume. To extend the utility of this index, references are also given to many other ballads which, though not worth reprinting, may occasionally be inquired for.

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LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL COLLECTIONS

OF ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH BALLADS AND SONGS.

[This list does not include (excepting a few reprints) the collections of Songs, Madrigals, "Ballets," &c., published in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,--the titles of most of which are to be seen in Rimbault's Bibliotheca Madrigaliana. On the other hand, it does include a few useful books connected with ballad-poetry which would not properly come into a list of collections. The relative importance of the works in this list is partially indicated by difference of type. When two or more editions are mentioned, those used in this collection are distinguished by brackets. A few books which we have not succeeded in finding--all of slight or no importance--are marked with a star.]

"A Choise Collection of Comic and Serious Scots Poems. Both Ancient and Modern. By several Hands. Edinburgh. Printed by James Watson." Three Parts, 1706, 1709, 1710. [1713, 1709, 1711.]

"Miscellany Poems, containing a variety of new Translations of the Ancient Poets, together with several original poems. By the most eminent hands." Ed. by Dryden. 6 vols. 1st ed. 1684-1708. Ed. of 1716* contains ballads not in the earlier ones.

"Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy; being a Collection of the best Merry Ballads and Songs, Old and New. Fitted to all Humours, having each their proper Tune for either Voice or Instrument: most of the Songs being new set." By Thomas D'Urfey. 6 vols. London. 1719-20.

"A COLLECTION OF OLD BALLADS. Corrected from the best and most ancient Copies extant. With Introductions Historical, Critical, or Humorous."

3 vols. London. 1st and 2d vol. 1723, 3d vol. 1725.

"The Evergreen. Being a Collection of Scots Poems, Wrote by the Ingenious before 1600. Published by Allan Ramsay." 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1724. [Edinburgh. Printed for Alex. Donaldson, 1761.]

"The Tea-Table Miscellany: A Collection of Choice Songs, Scots and English." Edinburgh. 1724. 4 vols. [Glasgow, R. & A. Foulis. 1768. 2 vols.]

"Orpheus Caledonius, or a Collection of Scots Songs, Set to Musick by W. Thomson." London, 1725, fol. [1733, 2 vols. 8vo.]

"The Hive. A Collection of the most celebrated Songs." In Four Volumes. 4th ed. London. 1732.

"The British Musical Miscellany, or The Delightful Grove, being a collection of celebrated English and Scottish Songs." London. 1733-36.

RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY: Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and other Pieces of our Earlier Poets; together with some few of later date. By THOMAS PERCY, Lord Bishop of Dromore." 3 vols. 1st ed. London, 1765. [4th ed. (improved) 1794.--London, L. A. Lewis, 1839.]

"ANCIENT AND MODERN SCOTTISH SONGS, heroic Ballads, &c." By DAVID HERD. 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1769. 2d ed. 1776. [3d ed. Printed for Lawrie and Symington, 1791.]

Ancient Scottish Poems. Published from the MS. of George Bannatyne, MDLXVIII." By Sir David Dalrymple, Lord Hailes. Edinburgh, 1770.

"The Choice Spirit's Chaplet: or a Poesy from Parnassus, being a Select Collection of Songs from the most approved authors: many of them written and the whole compiled by George Alexander Stevens, Esq." Whitehaven, 1771.

"A Collection of English Songs in score for three or four Voices. Composed about the year 1500. Taken from MSS. of the same age. Revised and digested by John Stafford Smith." London, 1779.

"Scottish Tragic Ballads." John Pinkerton. London, 1781.

"Two Ancient Scottish Poems; The Gaberlunzie-Man and Christ's Kirk on the Green. With Notes and Observations. By John Callender, Esq. of Craigforth." Edinburgh, 1782.

"The Charmer: A Collection of Songs, chiefly such as are eminent for poetical merit; among which are many originals, and others that were never before printed in a songbook." 2 vols. 4th ed. Edinburgh, 1782.

"Select Scottish Ballads." 2 vols. John Pinkerton. London, 1783. Vol. I. Tragic Ballads, Vol. II. Comic Ballads.

"A Select Collection of English Songs, with their Original Airs, and an Historical Essay on the Origin and Progress of National Song." By J. Ritson. 1783. 2d ed. with Additional Songs and Occasional Notes, by Thomas Park. London, 1813. 3 vols.

"The Poetical Museum. Containing Songs and Poems on almost every subject. Mostly from Periodical Publications." George Caw. Hawick, 1784.

"The Bishopric Garland or Durham Minstrel." Edited by Ritson. Stockton, 1784. Newcastle, 1792. [London, 1809.] See " Northern Garlands," p. xix.

* "The New British Songster. A Collection of Songs, Scots

and English, with Toasts and Sentiments for the Bottle." Falkirk, 1785.

"Ancient Scottish Poems, never before in print, but now published from the MS. collections of Sir Richard Maitland," &c. John Pinkerton. 2 vols. London, 1786.

"The Works of James I., King of Scotland." To which are added "Two Ancient Scotish Poems, commonly ascribed to King James V." (The Gaberlunzie-Man and the Jollie Beggar.) Morrison's Scotish Poets. Poets. Perth, 1786.

"THE SCOTS MUSICAL MUSEUM. In six volumes. Consisting of Six Hundred Scots Songs, with proper Basses for the Piano Forte," &c. By James Johnson. Edinburgh, 1787-1803. [3d ed. "with copious Notes and Illustrations of the Lyric Poetry and Music of Scotland, by the late Wiliam Stenhouse," and "with additional Notes and Illustrations," by David Laing. 4 vols. Edinburgh and London, 1853.]

"The Yorkshire Garland." Edited by Ritson. York, 1788. See "Northern Garlands," p. xix.

* "A Select Collection of Favourite Scottish Ballads." 6 vols. R. Morison & Son. Perth, 1790.

"Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry: From Authentic Manuscripts and Old Printed Copies. By Joseph Ritson, Esq." London, 1791. [Second Edition, London, 1833.]

"Ancient Songs and Ballads, from the Reign of King Henry the Second to the Revolution. Collected by Joseph Ritson, Esq." 2 vols. Printed 1787, dated 1790, published 1792. [London, 1829.]

"Scottish Poems, reprinted from scarce editions, with three

pieces before unpublished." Collected by John Pinkerton. 3 vols. London, 1792.

* "The Melodies of Scotland, &c. The Poetry chiefly by Burns. The whole collected by George Thomson." Lond. & Edin. 6 vols. 1793-1841. See p. xx., last title but one.

"The Northumberland Garland." Edited by Ritson. Newcastle, 1793. [London, 1809.] See "Northern Garlands," p. xix.

"SCOTISH SONG. In two volumes." JOSEPH RITSON. London, 1794.

"ROBIN HOOD: A Collection of all the Ancient Poems, Songs and Ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English Outlaw. To which are prefixed Historical Anecdotes of his Life. By JOSEPH RITSON, Esq." 2 vols. 1795. [Second Edition, London, 1832.]

"A Collection of English Songs, with an Appendix of Original Pieces." London, 1796. Lord Hailes.

* "An Introduction to the History of Poetry in Scotland, &c., by Alexander Campbell, to which are subjoined Songs of the Lowlands of Scotland, carefully compared with the original editions." Edinburgh, 1798. 4to.

"Tales of Wonder; Written and collected by M. G. Lewis, Esq., M. P." 2 vols. London, 1800. [NewYork, 1801.]

"Scottish Poems of the Sixteenth Century." Ed. by J. G. Dalzell. Edinburgh, 1801. 2 vols. (Contains "Ane Compendious Booke of Godly and Spirituall Songs, collectit out of sundrie Partes of the Scripture, with sundrie of other Ballates, changed out of Prophaine Sanges for avoyding of Sinne and Harlotrie, with Augmentatioun of sundrie Gude and Godly Ballates, not contained in the first Edition.

Newlie corrected and amended by the first Originall Copie. Edinburgh, printed by Andro Hart.")

"The Complaynt of Scotland. Written in 1548. With a Preliminary Dissertation and Glossary." By John Leyden. Edinburgh, 1801.

"Chronicle of Scottish Poetry; from the Thirteenth Century to the Union of the Crowns." By J. Sibbald. 4 vols. Edinburgh, 1802.

The North-Country Chorister." Edited by J. Ritson. Durham, 1802. [London, 1809.] See " Northern Garlands," p. xix.

"MINSTRELSY OF THE SCOTTISH BORDER: Consisting of Historical and Romantic Ballads, collected in the Southern Counties of Scotland; with a few of modern date founded upon local tradition." 1st and 2d vols. 1802, 3d 1803. [Poetical Works of SIR WALTER SCOTT, vols. 1-4. Cadell, Edinburgh, 1851.]

"The Wife of Auchtermuchty. An ancient Scottish Poem, with a translation into Latin Rhyme." Edinburgh, 1803.

"A Collection of Songs, Moral, Sentimental, Instructive, and Amusing." By James Plumtre. 4to. Cambridge, 1805, London, 1824. 3 vols.

"POPULAR BALLADS AND SONGS, from Tradition, Manuscripts, and scarce Editions; with translations of similar pieces from the ancient Danish language, and a few originals by the Editor. By ROBERT JAMIESON." 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1806.

"Ancient (!) Historic Ballads." Newcastle, 1807.

"Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, chiefly ancient." By John Finlay. 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1808.

"Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song," &c. By R. H. Cromek. London, 1810.

"Old Ballads, Historical and Narrative, with some of modern date: collected from Rare Copies and MSS." By Thomas Evans. 2 vols. 1777. 4 vols. 1784. [New edition, revised and enlarged by R. H. Evans. 4 vols. London, 1810.]

"Select Scottish Songs, Ancient and Modern, with Critical and Biographical Notices, by Robert Burns. Edited by R. H. Cromek." London. 1810. 2 vols.

"Essay on Song-Writing; with a Selection of such English Songs as are most eminent for poetical merit. By John Aiken. A new edition, with Additions and Corrections, and a Supplement by R. H. Evans." London, 1810.

"Northern Garlands." London, 1810. (Contains The Bishopric, Yorkshire, and Northumberland Garlands, and The North-Country Chorister, before mentioned.)

"Bibliographical Miscellanies, being a Collection of Curious Pieces in Verse and Prose." By Dr. Bliss. Oxford, 1813.

"Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, from the earlier Teutonic and Scandinavian Romances, &c., with translations of Metrical Tales from the Old German, Danish, Swedish, and Icelandic Languages." 4to. By Weber, Scott, and Jamieson. Edinburgh, 1814.

"Pieces of ancient Poetry, from unpublished Manuscripts and scarce Books." Fry. Bristol, 1814.

"A Collection of Ancient and Modern Scottish Ballads, Tales, and Songs: with explanatory Notes and Observations." By John Gilchrist. 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1815.

"Heliconia. Comprising a Selection of the Poetry of the Elizabethan age, written or published between 1575 and 1604." Edited by T. Park. 3 vols. London, 1815.

* "Albyn's Anthology." By Alexander Campbell. Edinburgh, 1816.

"The Pocket Encyclopedia of Song." 2 vols. Glasgow, 1816.

"Calliope: A Selection of Ballads, Legendary and Pathetic." London, 1816.

Facetiae. Musarum Deliciae (1656), Wit Restor'd (1658), and Wits Recreations (1640). 2 vols. London, 1817.

"The Suffolk Garland: or a Collection of Poems, Songs, Tales, Ballads, Sonnets, and Elegies, relative to that county." Ipswich, 1818.'The Jacobite Relics of Scotland: being the Songs, Airs, and Legends of the adherents to the House of Stuart. Collected and illustrated by James Hogg." 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1819 and 1821.

"The Harp of Caledonia: A Collection of Songs, Ancient and Modern, chiefly Scottish," &c. ByJohnStruthers. 3 vols. Glasgow, 1819.

"The New Notborune Mayd." Roxburghe Club. London, 1820.

"The Scottish Minstrel, a Selection from the Vocal Melodies of Scotland, Ancient and Modern, arranged for the PianoForte by R. A. Smith." 6 vols. 1820-24.

* "The British Minstrel, a Selection of Ballads, Ancient and Modern; with Notes, Biographical and Critical. By John Struthers." Glasgow, 1821.

"Scarce Ancient Ballads, many never before published." Aberdeen. Alex. Laing, 1822.

"The Select Melodies of Scotland, interspersed with those of Ireland and Wales," &c. By George Thomson. London. 6 vols. 1822-25.'

"Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland." By David Laing.' Edinburgh, 1822.

"The Beauties of English Poetry." London, 1823.

"The Thistle of Scotland; a Selection of Ancient Ballads, with Notes. By Alexander Laing." Aberdeen, 1823.

"Some ancient Christmas Carols, with the tunes to which they were formerly sung in the West of England; together with two ancient Ballads, a Dialogue, &c. Collected by Davies Gilbert." The Second Edition. London, 1823.

"A Collection of Curious Old Ballads and Miscellaneous Poetry." David Webster. Edinburgh, 1824.

"A Ballad Book." By Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. 1824. (30 copies printed.)

"A North Countrie Garland." By James Maidment Edinburgh, 1824. (30 copies printed.)

"The Common-Place Book of Ancient and Modern Ballad and Metrical Legendary Tales. An Original Selection, including many never before published." Edinburgh, 1824.

* "The Scottish Caledonian Encyclopædia; or, the Original, Antiquated, and Natural Curiosities of the South of Scotland, interspersed with Scottish Poetry." By John Mactaggart. London, 1824.

"Gleanings of Scotch, English, and Irish scarce Old Ballads, chiefly Tragical and Historical." By Peter Buchan. Peterhead, 1825.

"The Songs of Scotland, Ancient and Modern; with an Introduction and Notes," &c. By Allan Cunningham. 4 vols. London, 1825.

"Early Metrical Tales." By David Laing. Edinburgh, 1826.

"ANCIENT SCOTTISH BALLADS, recovered from Tradition, and never before published: with Notes, Historical and Explanatory, and an Appendix, containing the Airs of several of the Ballads." By GEORGE R. KINLOCH. Edinburgh, 1827.

"MIINSTRELSY, ANCIENT AND MODERN, with an Historical Introduction and Notes. By WILLIAM MOTHERWELL." Glasgow, 1827.

"The Ballad-Book." By George R. Kinloch. Edinburgh, 1827. (30 copies printed.)

"Ancient Ballads and Songs, chiefly from Tradition, Manuscripts, and Scarce Works," &c. By Thomas Lyle. London, 1827.

"The Knightly Tale of Golagrus and Gawane, and other Ancient Poems. Printed at Edinburgh, by W. Chepman and A. Myllar in the year M. D. VIII. Reprinted MD. CCC. XXVII."

"Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, hitherto unpublished." By Peter Buchan. 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1828.

"Jacobite Minstrelsy, with Notes illustrative of the Text, and containing Historical Details in Relation to the House of Stuart from 1640 to 1784." Glasgow, 1829.

"The Scottish Ballads; Collected and Illustrated by Robert Chambers." Edinburgh, 1829.

"The Scottish Songs; Collected and Illustrated by Robert Chambers." 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1829.

"Ancient Metrical Tales: printed chiefly from Original Sources." By C. H. Hartshorne. London, 1829.

"Christmas Carols, Ancient and Modern, including the most popular in the West of England, and the airs to which they were sung," &c. By W. Sandys. London, 1833.

The Bishoprick Garland, or a collection of Legends, Songs, Ballads, &c., belonging to the County of Durham." By Sir Cuthbert Sharp. London, 1834.

"The Universal Songster, or Museum of Mirth, forming the most complete, extensive, and valuable collection of Ancient and Modern Songs in the English language. 3 vols. London. 1834.

"Hugues de Lincoln. Recneil de Ballades, Anglo-Normande et Ecossoises, relatives an meurtre de cet enfant," &c. Francisque Michel. Paris, 1834.

"Ballads and other Fugitive Poetical Pieces, chiefly, Scottish; from the collections of Sir James Balfour." Edinburgh, 1834. Ed. by James Maidment.

"Lays and Legends of Various Nations." By W. J. Thoms. London, 1834. 5 parts.

"'The Songs of England and Scotland." By Peter Cunningham. 2 vols. London, 1835.

"Songs and Carols. Printed from a Manuscript in the Sloane Collection in the British Museum." By T. Wright. London, 1836.

"The Nutbrown Maid. From the earliest edition of Arnold's Chronicle." By T. Wright. London, 1836.

"The Turnament of Totenham, and The Feest. Two early Ballads, printed from a Manuscript preserved in the Public Library of the University of Cambridge." By T. Wright. London, 1836.

"A Little Book of Ballads." Newport, 1836. Printed by E. V. Utterson for the Roxburghe Club.

"Ancient Scotish Melodies, from a Manuscript of the Reign of King James VI., with an Introductory Enquiry illustrative of the History of Music in Scotland." By William Dauney. Edinburgh, 1838.

"Syr Gawayne; a collection of Ancient Romance Poems, by Scotish and English authors, relating to that celebrated Knight of the Round Table, with an Introduction, Notes, and a Glossary." By Sir Fred. Madden. Bannatyne Club. London, 1839.

* "Frühlingsgabe für Freunde älterer Literatur." By Th. G. v. Karajan. Vienna, 1839. (Contains English ballads.)

"The Political Songs of England, from the Reign of John to that of Edward II. Edited and translated by Thomas Wright." London, 1839. Camden Society.

"A Collection of National English Airs, consisting of Ancient Song, Ballad, and Dance Tunes, interspersed with Remarks and Anecdote, and preceded by an Essay on English Minstrelsy." By W. Chappell. 2 vols. London, 1838-1840. (see post.)

"The Latin Poems commonly attributed to Walter Mapes, collected and edited by Thomas Wright." London, 1841. Camden Society.

PUBLICATIONS OF THE PERCY SOCIETY,
(1840-1852.)

Vol. I. "Old Ballads, from Early Printed Copies of the Utmost Rarity." By J. Payne Collier. 1840.

"A Collection of Songs and Ballads relative to the London Prentices and Trades, and to the Affairs of London generally, during the 14th, 15th, and 16th centuries." By Charles Mackay. 1841.

"The Historical Songs of Ireland: illustrative of the Revolutionary Struggle between James II. and William III. By T. Crofton Croker. 1841.

"The King and a Poor Northern Man. From the edition of 1640." 1841.

Vol. II. "The Early Naval Ballads of England. Collected and edited by J. O. Halliwell." 1841.

"The Mad Pranks and Merry Jests of Robin Goodfellow. Reprinted from the edition of 1628." By J. Payne Collier. 1841.

Vol. III. "Political Ballads published in England during the Commonwealth." By Thomas Wright. 1841.

"Strange Histories: consisting of Ballads and other Poems, principally by Thomas Deloney. From the edition of 1607." 1841.

"The History of Patient Grisel. Two early Tracts in Black-letter." 1842.

Vol. IV. "The Nursery Rhymes of England, collected principally from oral Tradition." By J. O. Halliwell. 1842.

Vol. VI. "Ancient Poetical Tracts of the Sixteenth Century." Reprinted from unique Copies. By E. F. Rimbault. 1842.

"The Crown Garland of Golden Roses: Consisting of Ballads and Songs. By Richard Johnson." Part I. From the edition of 1612. 1842. [Part II., from the edition of 1659, in vol. xv.]

Vol. IX. "Old Ballads illustrating the great Frost of 1683-4, and the Fair on the Thames." Collected and edited by E. F. Rimbault. 1844.

Vol. XIII. "Six Ballads with Burdens." By James Goodwin. 1844.

"Lyrical Poems selected from Musical Publications between the years 1589 and 1600." By J. P. Collier. 1844.

Vol. XV. "The Crown Garland of Golden Roses. Part II. From the edition of 1659." 1845.

Vol. XVII. "Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads." [From a MS. of Buchan's.] Edited by James Henry Dixon. 1845.

"Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, taken down from oral recitation, and transcribed from private manuscripts,

rare broadsides; and scarce publications. Collected and edited by James Henry Dixon." 1846.

Vol. XIX. "The Civic Garland. A Collection of Songs from London Pageants." By F. W. Fairholt. 1845.

Vol. XXI. "Popular Songs illustrative of the French Invasions of Ireland." By T. Crofton Croker. 1845.

Vol. XXIII. "Songs and Carols, now first printed from a manuscript of the Fifteenth Century." By Thomas Wright, 1847.

"Festive Songs, principally of the 16th and 17th centuries: with an Introduction." By William Sandys. 1848.

Vol. XXVII. "Satirical Songs and Poems on Costume: from the 13th to the 19th century." By F. W. Fairholt. 1849.

Vol. XXIX. "The Loyal Garland: a Collection of Songs of the 17th century. Reprinted from a black-letter copy supposed to be unique." By J. O. Halliwell. 1850.

"Poems and Songs relating to George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, and his assassination by John Felton." By F. W. Fairholt.

Vol. XXX. "The Garland of Goodwill, by Thomas Deloney." From the edition of 1678. By J. H. Dixon. 1852.

"Popular Rhymes, Fireside Stories, and Amusements of Scotland." By Robert Chambers, Edinburgh. 1842. [Earlier edition in 1826.]

"Selections from the Early Ballad Poetry of England and Scotland. Edited by Richard John King." London, 1842.

"The Book of British Ballads." By S. C. Hall. 2 vols. 1842, 1844.

"The Book of Scottish Song: collected and illustrated

with Historical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on the Song-Writers of Scotland." By Alex. Whitelaw. 1843. [Glasgow, Edinburgh and London, 1855.]

"A New Book of Old Ballads." By James Maidment. Edinburgh, 1844. [60 copies printed.]

* Twelve Romantic Scottish Ballads, with Music. Chambers, 1844.

Publications of the Shakespeare Society:

"The Shakespeare Society Papers." Vol. I. 1844. Vol. IV. 1849.

"Illustrations of the Fairy Mythology of A Midsummer Night's Dream." By J. O. Halliwell. 1845.

"The Moral Play of Wit and Science, and Early Poetical Miscellanies from an Unpublished Manuscript." By J. O. Halliwell. 1848.

"Extracts from the Registers of the Stationers' Company, of Works entered for publication between the years 1557 and 1570. With Notes and Illustrations by J. Payne Collier." 1848. Vol. II. [1570-1587.] 1849.

"The Book of Scottish Ballads; collected and illustrated with Historical and Critical Notices. By Alex. Whitelaw." Glasgow, Edinburgh & London. 1845.

"Reliquim Antiquæ." Wright & Halliwell. 2 vols. London, 1845.

Essays on Subjects connected with the Literature, Popular Superstitions, and History of England in the Middle Ages." By Thomas Wright. 2 vols. London, 1846.

"The Borderer's Table Book: or Gatherings of the Local

History and Romance of the English and Scottish Border. By M. A. Richardson." 8 vols. Newcastle-upon-Tyne 1846.

"The Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire," &c. By James Paterson and Captain Charles Gray. 2 vols. Ayr, 1846-1847.

"The Minstrelsy of the English Border. Being a Collection of Ballads, Ancient, Remodelled, and Original, founded on well-known Border Legends. With Illustrative Notes." By Frederick Sheldon. London, 1847.

"A Book of Roxburghe Ballads. Edited by John Payne Collier." London, 1847.

"Bibliotheca Madrigaliana. A Bibliographical Account of the Musical and Poetical Works published in England during the 16th and 17th centuries, under the titles of Madrigals, Ballets, Ayres, Canzonets," &c. By E. F. Rimbault. 1847.

"A Lytell Geste of Robin Hode, with other Ancient and Modern Ballads and Songs relating to this celebrated Yeoman," &c. By John Mathew Gutch. 2 vols. London. 1847.

"Sir Hugh of Lincoln: or an Examination of a curious tradition respecting the Jews, with a Notice of the Popular Poetry connected with it. By the Rev. Abraham Hume." London, 1849.

"Ballads and Poems respecting Hugh of Lincoln." J. O. Halliwell. Brixton Hill, 1849.

"The Ballad of Edwin and Emma. By David Mallet." With Notes and Illustrations by Frederick T. Dinsdale. London, 1849.

"Musical Illustrations of Bishop Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. A Collection of Old Ballad Tunes, etc. chiefly from rare MSS. and

early Printed Books," &c. By Edward F. Rimbault. London, 1850.

"The Fairy Mythology. Illustrative of the Romance and Superstition of various Countries." By Thomas Keightley. London, 1850.

"Palatine Anthology. A Collection of ancient Poems and Ballads relating to Lancashire and Cheshire. The Palatine Garland. Being a Selection of Ballads and Fragments supplementary to the Palatine Anthology." By J. O. Halliwell. 1850. [Privately printed.]

"A New Boke about Shakespeare and Stratford-on-Avon." By J. O. Halliwell. 1850. [Privately printed.]

A Little Book of Songs and Ballads, gathered from Ancient Musick Books, MS. and Printed." By E. F. Rimbault. London, 1851.

"The Sussex Garland. A collection of Ballads, Sonnets, Tales, Elegies, Songs, Epitaphs, &c. illustrative of the County of Sussex." By James Taylor. Newick, 1851.

"The Yorkshire Anthology. A Collection of Ancient and Modern Ballads, Poems and Songs, relating to the County of Yorkshire. Collected by J. O. Halliwell." London, 1851. [Privately printed.]

"The Norfolk Anthology. A Collection of Poems, Ballads, and Rare Tracts, relating to the County of Norfolk." Coilected by J. 0. Halliwell. 1852. [Privately printed.]

"The Illustrated Book of English Songs. From the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century. Illustrated London Library. London, (about) 1852.

"The Illustrated Book of Scottish Songs. From the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century. Illustrated London Library. London, (about) 1852.

"The Great Hero of the Ancient Minstrelsy of England, Robin Hood," &c. By Joseph Hunter. London, 1852.

"The Literature and Romance of Northern Europe, &c.; with copious specimens of the most celebrated Histories, Romances, Popular Legends and Tales, old Chivalrous Ballads," &c. By William & Mary Howitt. 2 vols. London, 1852.

* "The Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry of Great Britain, Historical, Traditional, and Romantic: to which are added a Selection of Modern Imitations, and some Translations." By J. S. Moore. London, 1853.

"The Songs of Scotland adapted to their appropriate Melodies," &c. Illustrated with Historical, Biographical, and Critical Notices. By George Farquhar Graham. 3 vols. Edinburgh, 1854-6

"Songs from the Dramatists." Edited by Robert Bell. Annotated Edition of the English Poets. London, 1854.

"Popular Music of the Olden Time; a Collection of Ancient Songs, Ballads, and Dance Tunes, illustrative of the National Music of England. With short introductions to the different reigns, and notices of the airs from writers of the 16th and 17th centuries. Also a short account of the Minstrels." By W. Chappell. London. Begun, 1855. Complete in 2 vols.

"Reliques of Ancient Poetry, &c. (Percy's.) To which is now added a Supplement of many curious Historical and Narrative Ballads, reprinted from Rare Copies." Philadelphia, 1855.

"Early Ballads illustrative of History, Traditions and Customs." By R. Bell. Annotated Edition of the English Poets. London, 1856.

"Ballads and Songs. By David Mallet. A new Edition,

with Notes and Illustrations and a Memoir of the Author." By Frederick Dinsdale. London, 1857.

"Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England. Edited by Robert Bell." London, 1857.

"The Ballads of Scotland. Edited by William Edmondstoune Aytoun." 2 vols. Edinburgh and London, 1858. 2d ed., 1859.

"The Romantic Scottish Ballads: Their Epoch and Authorship. Edinburgh Papers. By Robert Chambers." Lond. & Ed. 1859.

"The Romantic Scottish Ballads and the Lady Wardlaw Heresy. By Norval Clyne." Aberdeen, 1859.

"Political Poems and Songs relating to English History, composed during the Period from the Accession of Edward II. to that of Richard III." By Thomas Wright. Vol. I. London, 1859. (Published by the British Government.)

The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire. By C. J. D. Ingledew. (Announced.)

The Jacobite Minstrelsy of Scotland. By Charles Mackay (Announced.)

The Gentleman's Magazine, * The Scots Magazine, The Retrospective Review, The British Bibliographer, Censura Literaria, Restituta, Notes and Queries, &c.

The full titles of the principal collections of ballad-poetry in other languages, referred to in these volumes, are as follows:--

"Udvalgte Danske Viser fra Middelalderen; efter A. S. Vedels og P. Syvs trykte Udgaver og efter haandskrevne Samlinger udgivne paa ny af Abrahamson, Nyerup, og Ralhbek." Copenhagen, 1812-1814. 5 vols.

DANMARKS GAMLE FOLKEVISER, UDGIVNE AF SVEND GRUNDTVIG. 2 vols., and the first part of the third. Copenhagen, 1853-58.

"Svenska Folk-Visor fran Forntiden, samlade och utgifne af Er. Gust. Geijer och Arv. Aug. Afzelius." Stockholm, 1814-1816. 3 vols.

"Svenska Fornsånger. En Samling af Kämpavisor, Folk-Visor, Lekar och Dansar, samt Barn- och Vall-Sånger. Utgifne af Adolf Iwar Arwidsson." Stockholm, 1834-1842. 3 vols.

"Altdänische Heldenlieder, Balladen, und Mährchen, übersetzt von Wilhelm Carl Grimm." Heidelberg, 1811.

"Des Knaben Wunderhorn. Alte deutsche Lieder." Arnim & Brentano. 3 vols. Heidelberg, 1806-8. 2d ed. of first part in 1819.

"Die Volkslieder der Deutschen, etc. Herausgegeben durch Friedrich Karl Freiherrn von Erlach." Mannheim, 1834-36. 5 vols.

"Versuch einer geschichtlichen Charakteristik der Volkslieder Germanischer Nationen, mit einer Uebersicht der Lieder aussereuropäischer Völkerschaften." Von Talvj. Leipzig, 1840.

"'Schlesische Volkslieder mit Melodien. Aus dem Munde des Volks gesammelt und herausgegeben von Hoffmann von Fallersleben und Ernst Richter." Leipzig, 1842.

"Alte hoch- und niederdeutsche Volkslieder, in Fünf Büchern, herausgegeben von Ludwig Uhland." 2 vols. Stuttgart, 1844-5.

"Deutscher Liederhort. Auswahl der vorzüglichern deutschen Volkslieder aus der Vorzeit und der Gegenwart mit ihren eigenthümlichen Melodien." Von Ludwig Erk. Berlin, 1856.

"Niederländische Volkslieder. Gesammelt und erläutert von Hoffmann von Fallersleben." 2d ed. Hannover, 1856.

---

1A: Riddles Wisely Expounded

1A.1 THERE was a lady of the North Country, Refrain: Lay the bent to the bonny broom And she had lovely daughters three. Refrain: Fa la la la, fa la la la ra re 1A.2 There was knight of noble worth Which also lived in the North. 1A.3 The knight, of courage stout and brave, A wife he did desire to have. 1A.4 He knocked at the ladie’s gate One evening when it was late. 1A.5 The eldest sister let him in, And pin’d the door with a silver pin. 1A.6 The second sister she made his bed, And laid soft pillows under his head. 1A.7 The youngest daughter that same night, She went to bed to this young knight. 1A.8 And in the morning, when it was day, These words unto him she did say: 1A.9 ‘Now you have had your will,’ quoth she, ‘I pray, sir knight, will you marry me?’ 1A.10 The young brave knight to her replyed, ‘Thy suit, fair maid, shall not be deny’d. 1A.11 ‘If thou canst answer me questions three, This very day will I marry thee.’ 1A.12 ‘Kind sir, in love, O then,’ quoth she, ‘Tell me what your [three] questions be.’ 1A.13 ‘O what is longer than the way, Or what is deeper than the sea? 1A.14 ‘Or what is louder than the horn, Or what is sharper than a thorn? 1A.15 ‘Or what is greener than the grass, Or what is worse then a woman was?’ 1A.16 ‘O love is longer than the way, And hell is deeper than the sea. 1A.17 ‘And thunder is louder than the horn, And hunger is sharper than a thorn. 1A.18 ‘And poyson is greener than the grass, And the Devil is worse than woman was.’ 1A.19 When she these questions answered had, The knight became exceeding glad. 1A.20 And having [truly] try’d her wit, He much commended her for it. 1A.21 And after, as it is verifi’d, He made of her his lovely bride. 1A.22 So now, fair maidens all, adieu, This song I dedicate to you. 1A.23 I wish that you may constant prove Vnto the man that you do love.

1B: Riddles Wisely Expounded

1B.1	THERE were three sisters fair and bright, Refrain:	Jennifer gentle and rosemaree And they three loved one valiant knight. Refrain:	As the dew flies over the mulberry tree 1B.2	The eldest sister let him in, And barred the door with a silver pin. 1B.3	The second sister made his bed, And placed soft pillows under his head. 1B.4	The youngest sister, fair and bright, Was resolved for to wed with this valiant knight. 1B.5	‘And if you can answer questions three, O then, fair maid, I will marry with thee. 1B.6	‘What is louder than an horn, And what is sharper than a thorn? 1B.7	‘Thunder is louder than an horn, And hunger is sharper than a thorn.’ 1B.8	‘What is broader than the way, And what is deeper than the sea?’ 1B.9	‘Love is broader than the way, And hell is deeper than the sea.’ * * * * * 1B.10	. . . . . ‘And now, fair maid, I will marry with thee.’
1C: Riddles Wisely Expounded
 

1C.1	THERE was a knicht riding frae the east, Refrain:	Sing the Cather banks, the bonnie brume Wha had been wooing at monie a place. Refrain:	And ye may beguile a young thing sune 1C.2	He came unto a widow’s door, And speird whare her three dochters were. 1C.3	The auldest ane’s to a washing gane, The second’s to a baking gane. 1C.4	The youngest ane’s to a wedding gane, And it will be nicht or she be hame. 1C.5	He sat him doun upon a stane, Till thir three lasses came tripping hame. 1C.6	The auldest ane’s to the bed making, And the second ane’s to the sheet spreading. 1C.7	The youngest ane was bauld and bricht, And she was to lye with this unco knicht. 1C.8	‘Gin ye will answer me questions ten, The morn ye sall be made my ain. 1C.9	‘O what is heigher nor the tree? And what is deeper nor the sea? 1C.10	‘Or what is heavier nor the lead? And what is better nor the breid? 1C.11	‘O what is whiter nor the milk? Or what is safter nor the silk? 1C.12	‘Or what is sharper nor a thorn? Or what is louder nor a horn? 1C.13	‘Or what is greener nor the grass? Or what is waur nor a woman was?’ 1C.14	‘O heaven is higher nor the tree, And hell is deeper nor the sea. 1C.15	‘O sin is heavier nor the lead, The blessing’s better nor the bread. 1C.16	‘The snaw is whiter nor the milk, And the down is safter nor the silk. 1C.17	‘Hunger is sharper nor a thorn, And shame is louder nor a horn. 1C.18	‘The pies are greener nor the grass, And Clootie’s waur nor a woman was.’ 1C.19	As sune as she the fiend did name, He flew awa in a blazing flame.
1D: Riddles Wisely Expounded
 

1D.1	‘O WHAT is higher than the trees? Refrain:	Gar lay the bent to the bonny broom And what is deeper than the seas? Refrain:	And you may beguile a fair maid soon 1D.2	‘O what is whiter than the milk? Or what is softer than the silk? 1D.3	‘O what is sharper than the thorn? O what is louder than the horn? 1D.4	‘O what is longer than the way? And what is colder than the clay? 1D.5	‘O what is greener than the grass? And what is worse than woman was?’ 1D.6	‘O heaven’s higher than the trees, And hell is deeper than the seas. 1D.7	‘And snow is whiter than the milk, And love is softer than the silk. 1D.8	‘O hunger’s sharper than the thorn, And thunder’s louder than the horn. 1D.9	‘O wind is longer than the way, And death is colder than the clay. 1D.10	‘O poison’s greener than the grass, And the Devil’s worse than eer woman was.’
1[E]: Riddles Wisely Expounded
 

1[E.1]	There was a lady in the West, Refrain:	Lay the bank with the bonny broom 1[E.1]	She had three daughters of the best. Refrain:	Fa lang the dillo Fa lang the dillo dillo dee 1[E.2]	There came a stranger to the gate, And he three days and nights did wait. 1[E.3]	The eldest daughter did ope the door, The second set him on the floor. 1[E.4]	The third daughter she brought a chair, And placed it that he might sit there. 1[E.5]	‘Now answer me these questions three, Or you shall surely go with me. 1[E.6]	‘Now answer me these questions six, Or you shall surely be Old Nick’s. 1[E.7]	‘Now answer me these questions nine, Or youe shall surely all be mine. 1[E.8]	‘What is greener than the grass? What is smoother than crystal glass? 1[E.9]	‘What is louder than a horn? What is sharper than a thorn? 1[E.10]	‘What is brighter than the light? What is darker than the night? 1[E.11]	‘What is keener than an axe? What is softer than melting wax? 1[E.12]	‘What is rounder than a ring?’ ‘To you we thus our answers bring. 1[E.13]	‘Envy is greener than the grass, Flattery smoother than crystal glass. 1[E.14]	‘Rumour is louder than a horn, Hunger is sharper than a thorn. 1[E.15]	‘Truth is brighter than the light, Falsehood is darker than the night. 1[E.16]	‘Revenge is keener than an axe, Love is softer than melting wax. 1[E.17]	‘The world is rounder than a ring, To you we thus our answers bring. 1[E.18]	‘Thus you have our answers nine, And we never shall be thine.’


 
2A: The Elfin Knight
 
2A.1	MY plaid awa, my plaid awa, And ore the hill and far awa, And far awa to Norrowa, My plaid shall not be blown awa. The elphin knight sits on yon hill, Refrain:	Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba He blaws his horn both lowd and shril. Refrain:	The wind hath blown my plaid awa 2A.2	He blowes it east, he blowes it west, He blowes it where he lyketh best. 2A.3	‘I wish that horn were in my kist, Yea, and the knight in my armes two.’ 2A.4	She had no sooner these words said, When that the knight came to her bed. 2A.5	‘Thou art over young a maid,’ quoth he, ‘Married with me thou il wouldst be.’ 2A.6	‘I have a sister younger than I, And she was married yesterday.’ 2A.7	‘Married with me if thou wouldst be, A courtesie thou must do to me. 2A.8	‘For thou must shape a sark to me, Without any cut or heme,’ quoth he. 2A.9	‘Thou must shape it knife-and-sheerlesse, And also sue it needle-threedlesse.’ 2A.10	‘If that piece of courtesie I do to thee, Another thou must do to me. 2A.11	‘I have an aiker of good ley-land, Which lyeth low by yon sea-strand. 2A.12	‘For thou must eare it with thy horn, So thou must sow it with thy corn. 2A.13	‘And bigg a cart of stone and lyme, Robin Redbreast he must trail it hame. 2A.14	‘Thou must barn it in a mouse-holl, And thrash it into thy shoes soll. 2A.15	thou must winnow it in thy looff, And also seck it in thy glove. 2A.16	‘For thou must bring it over the sea, And thou must bring it dry home to me. 2A.17	en thou hast gotten thy turns well done, Then come to me and get thy sark then.’ 2A.18	‘I’l not quite my plaid for my life; It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’ 2A.18r	The wind shall not blow my plaid awa 2A.19	‘My maidenhead I’l then keep still, Let the elphin knight do what he will.’ 2A.19r	The wind’s not blown my plaid awa
 
2B.b: The Elfin Knight
 
2B.1	MY plaid awa, my plaid awa, And owre the hills and far awa, And far awa to Norrowa, My plaid shall not be blawn awa. The Elphin knight sits on yon hill, Refrain:	Ba, ba, ba, lillie ba He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill. Refrain:	The wind hath blawn my plaid awa 2B.2	He blaws it east, he blaws it west, He blaws it where he liketh best. 2B.3	‘I wish that horn were in my kist, Yea, and the knight in my arms niest.’ 2B.4	She had no sooner these words said, Than the knight came to her bed. 2B.5	‘Thou art oer young a maid,’ quoth he, ‘Married with me that thou wouldst be.’ 2B.6	‘I have a sister, younger than I, And she was married yesterday.’ 2B.7	‘Married with me if thou wouldst be, A curtisie thou must do to me. 2B.8	‘It’s ye maun mak a sark to me, Without any cut or seam,’ quoth he. 2B.9	‘And ye maun shape it, knife-, sheerless, And also sew it needle-, threedless.’ 2B.10	‘If that piece of courtisie I do to thee, Another thou must do to me. 2B.11	‘I have an aiker of good ley land, Which lyeth low by yon sea strand. 2B.12	‘It’s ye maun till’t wi your touting horn, And ye maun saw’t wi the pepper corn. 2B.13	‘And ye maun harrow’t wi a thorn, And hae your wark done ere the morn. 2B.14	‘And ye maun shear it wi your knife, And no lose a stack o’t for your life. 2B.15	‘And ye maun stack it in a mouse hole, And ye maun thrash it in your shoe sole. 2B.16	‘And ye maun dight it in your loof, And also sack it in your glove. 2B.17	‘And thou must bring it over the sea, Fair and clean and dry to me. 2B.18	‘And when that ye have done your wark, Come back to me, and ye’ll get your sark.’ 2B.19	‘I’ll not quite my plaid for my life; It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’ 2B.20	‘My maidenhead I’ll then keep still, Let the elphin knight do what he will.
 
2C: The Elfin Knight
 
2C.1	THERE stands a knicht at the tap o yon hill, Refrain:	Oure the hills and far awa He has blawn his horn loud and shill. Refrain:	The cauld wind’s blawn my plaid awa 2C.2	‘If I had the horn that I hear blawn, And the knicht that blaws that horn!’ 2C.3	She had na sooner thae words said, Than the elfin knicht cam to her side. 2C.4	‘Are na ye oure young a may Wi onie young man doun to lie?’ 2C.5	‘I have a sister younger than I, And she was married yesterday.’ 2C.6	‘Married wi me ye sall neer be nane Till ye mak to me a sark but a seam. 2C.7	‘And ye maun shape it knife-,sheer-less, And ye maun sew it needle-, threed-less. 2C.8	‘And ye maun wash it in yon cistran, Whare water never stood nor ran. 2C.9	‘And ye maun dry it on yon hawthorn, Whare the sun neer shon sin man was born.’ 2C.10	‘Gin that courtesie I do for thee, Ye maun do this for me. 2C.11	‘Ye’ll get an acre o gude red-land Atween the saut sea and the sand. 2C.12	‘I want that land for to be corn, And ye maun aer it wi your horn. 2C.13	‘And ye maun saw it without a seed, And ye maun harrow it wi a threed. 2C.14	‘And ye maun shear it wi your knife, And na tyne a pickle o’t for your life. 2C.15	‘And ye maun moue it in yon mouse-hole And ye maun thrash it in your shoe-sole. 2C.16	‘And ye maun fan it wi your luves, And ye maun sack it in your gloves. 2C.17	‘And ye maun bring it oure the sea, Fair and clean and dry to me. 2C.18	‘And whan that your wark is weill deen, Yese get your sark without a seam.’
 
2D: The Elfin Knight
 
2D.1	THE Elfin knight stands on yon hill, Refrain:	Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw Blawing his horn loud and shrill. Refrain:	And the wind has blawin my plaid awa 2D.2	‘If I had yon horn in my kist, And the bonny laddie here that I luve best! 2D.3	‘I hae a sister eleven years auld, And she to the young men’s bed has made bauld. 2D.4	‘And I mysell am only nine, And oh! sae fain, luve, as I woud be thine.’ 2D.5	‘Ye maun make me a fine Holland sark, Without ony stitching or needle wark. 2D.6	‘And ye maun wash it in yonder well, Where the dew never wat, nor the rain ever fell. 2D.7	‘And ye maun dry it upon a thorn That never budded sin Adam was born.’ 2D.8	‘Now sin ye’ve askd some things o me, It’s right I ask as mony o thee. 2D.9	‘My father he askd me an acre o land, Between the saut sea and the strand. 2D.10	‘And ye maun plow’t wi your blawing horn, And ye maun saw’t wi pepper corn. 2D.11	And ye maun harrow’t wi a single tyne, And ye maun shear’t wi a sheep’s shank bane. 2D.12	‘And ye maun big it in the sea, And bring the stathle dry to me. 2D.13	‘And ye maun barn ’t in yon mouse hole, And ye maun thrash’t in your shee sole. 2D.14	‘And ye maun sack it in your gluve, And ye maun winno’t in your leuve. 2D.15	‘And ye maun dry’t without candle or coal, And grind it without quirn or mill. 2D.16	‘Ye’ll big a cart o stane and lime, Gar Robin Redbreast trail it syne. 2D.17	‘When ye’ve dune, and finishd your wark, Ye’ll come to me, luve, and get your sark.’
 
2E: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2E.1	THE Elfin Knight sits on yon hill,
       Refrain:	Ba ba lilly ba
 	Blowing his horn loud and shill.
       Refrain:	And the wind has blawn my plaid awa
 2E.2	‘I love to hear that horn blaw;
 	I wish him [here] owns it and a’.’
 2E.3	That word it was no sooner spoken,
 	Than Elfin Knight in her arms was gotten.
 2E.4	‘You must mak to me a sark,
 	Without threed, sheers or needle wark.’

 
 
2F: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2F.1	‘DID ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?
       Refrain:	Sober and grave grows merry in time
 	There ye’ll meet wi a handsome young dame,
       Refrain:	Ance she was a true love o mine.
 2F.2	‘Tell her to sew me a holland sark,
 	And sew it all without needle-wark:
       Refrain:	And syne we’ll be true lovers again.
 2F.3	‘Tell her to wash it at yon spring-well,
 	Where neer wind blew, nor yet rain fell.
 2F.4	‘Tell her to dry it on yon hawthorn,
 	That neer sprang up sin Adam was born.
 2F.5	‘Tell her to iron it wi a hot iron,
 	And plait it a’ in ae plait round.’
 2F.6	‘Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?
 	There ye’ll meet wi a handsome young man,
       Refrain:	Ance he was a true lover o mine.
 2F.7	‘Tell him to plough me an acre o land
 	Betwixt the sea-side bot and the sea-sand,
       Refrain:	And syne we’ll be true lovers again.
 2F.8	‘Tell him to saw it wi ae peck o corn,
 	And harrow it a’ wi ae harrow tine.
 2F.9	‘Tell him to shear it wi ae hook-tooth,
 	And carry it hame just into his loof.
 2F.10	‘Tell him to stack it in yon mouse-hole,
 	And thrash it a’ just wi his shoe-sole.
 2F.11	‘Tell him to dry it on yon ribless kiln,
 	And grind it a’ in yon waterless miln.
 2F.12	Tell this young man, whan he’s finished his wark,
 	He may come to me, and hese get his sark.’

 
 
2G: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2G.1	‘CAN you make me a cambrick shirt,
       Refrain:	Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
 	Without any seam or needle work?
       Refrain:	And you shall be a true lover of mine
 2G.2	‘Can you wash it in yonder well,
 	Where never sprung water nor rain ever fell?
 2G.3	‘Can you dry it on yonder thorn,
 	Which never bore blossom since Adam was born?
 2G.4	‘Now you have askd me questions three,
 	I hope you’ll answer as many for me.
 2G.5	‘Can you find me an acre of land
 	Between the salt water and the sea sand?
 2G.6	‘Can you plow it with a ram’s horn,
 	And sow it all over with one pepper corn?
 2G.7	‘Can you reap it with a sickle of leather,
 	And bind it up with a peacock’s feather?
 2G.8	‘When you have done, and finishd your work,
 	Then come to me for your cambrick shirt.’

 
 
2H: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2H.1	‘COME, pretty Nelly, and sit thee down by me,
       Refrain:	Every rose grows merry wi thyme
 	And I will ask thee questions three,
       Refrain:	And then thou wilt be a true lover of mine.
 2H.2	‘Thou must buy me a cambrick smock
 	Without any stitch of needlework.
 2H.3	‘Thou must wash it in yonder strand,
 	Where wood never grew and water neer ran.
 2H.4	‘Thou must dry it on yonder thorn,
 	Where the sun never shined on since Adam was formed.’
 2H.5	‘Thou hast asked me questions three;
 	Sit down till I ask as many of thee.
 2H.6	‘Thou must buy me an acre of land
 	Betwixt the salt water, love, and the sea-sand.
 2H.7	‘Thou must plow it wi a ram’s horn,
 	And sow it all over wi one pile o corn.
 2H.8	‘Thou must shear it wi a strap o leather,
 	And tie it all up in a peacock feather.
 2H.9	‘Thou must stack it in the sea,
 	And bring the stale o’t hame dry to me.
 2H.10	‘When my love’s done, and finished his work,
 	Let him come to me for his cambric smock.’

 
 
2I: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2I.1	A LADY wonned on yonder hill,
       Refrain:	Hee ba and balou ba
 	And she had musick at her will.
       Refrain:	And the wind has blown my plaid awa
 2I.2	Up and cam an auld, auld man,
 	Wi his blue bonnet in his han.
 2I.3	‘I will ask ye questions three;
 	Resolve them, or ye’ll gang wi me.
 2I.4	‘Ye maun mak to me a sark,
 	It maun be free o woman’s wark.
 2I.5	‘Ye maun shape it knife- sheerless,
 	And ye maun sew it needle- threedless.
 2I.6	‘Ye maun wash it in yonder well,
 	Whare rain nor dew has ever fell.
 2I.7	‘Ye maun dry it on yonder thorn,
 	Where leaf neer grew since man was born.’
 2I.8	‘I will ask ye questions three;
 	Resolve them, or ye’ll neer get me.
 2I.9	‘I hae a rig o bonnie land
 	Atween the saut sea and the sand.
 2I.10	‘Ye maun plow it wi ae horse bane,
 	And harrow it wi ae harrow pin.
 2I.11	‘Ye maun shear’t wi a whang o leather,
 	And ye maun bind ’t bot strap or tether.
 2I.12	‘Ye maun stack it in the sea,
 	And bring the stale hame dry to me.
 2I.13	‘Ye maun mak a cart o stane,
 	And yoke the wren and bring it hame.
 2I.14	‘Ye maun thresh’t atween your lufes,
 	And ye maun sack’t atween your thies.’
 2I.15	‘My curse on those wha learn d thee;
 	This night I weend ye’d gane wi me.’

 
 
2J: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2J.1	NOW you are a-going to Cape Ann,
       Refrain:	Follomingkathellomeday
 	Remember me to the self-same  man.
       Refrain:	Ummatiddle, ummatiddle, ummatallyho, tallyho, follomingkathellomeday
 2J.2	Tell him to buy me an acre of land
 	Between the salt-water and the sea-sand.
 2J.3	Tell him to plough it with a ram’s horn,
 	Tell him to sow it with one peppercorn.
 2J.4	Tell him to reap it with a penknife,
 	And tell him to cart it with two mice.
 2J.5	Tell him to cart it to yonder new barn
 	That never was built since Adam was born.
 2J.6	Tell him to thrash it with a goose quill,
 	Tell him to fan it with an egg-shell.
 2J.7	Tell the fool, when he’s done his work,
 	To come to me, and he shall have his shirt.

 
 
2K: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2K.1	MY father left me three acres of land,
       Refrain:	Sing ivy, sing ivy
 	My father left me three acres of land.
       Refrain:	Sing holly, go whistle and ivy
 2K.2	I ploughed it with a ram’s horn,
 	And sowed it all over with one pepper corn.
 2K.3	I harrowed it with a bramble bush,
 	And reaped it with my little penknife.
 2K.4	I got the mice to carry it to the barn,
 	And thrashed it with a goose’s quill.
 2K.5	I got the cat to carry it to the mill;
 	The miller he swore he would have her paw,
 	And the cat she swore she would scratch his face.

 
 
2L: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2L.1	MY father gave me an acre of land,
       Refrain:	Sing ivy, sing ivy
 	My father gave me an acre of land.
       Refrain:	Sing green bush, holly and ivy
 2L.2	I ploughd it with a ram’s horn.
 2L.3	I harrowd it with a bramble.
 2L.4	I sowd it with a pepper corn.
 2L.5	I reapd it with my penknife.
 2L.6	I carried it to the mill upon the cat’s back.
 	* * * * *
 2L.7	I made a cake for all the king’s men.

 
 
2[M]: The Elfin Knight
 
 
 2[M.1]	As I went up to the top o yon hill,
       Refrain:	Every rose springs merry in’ t’ time
 	I met a fair maid, an her name it was Nell.
       Refrain:	An she langed to be a true lover o mine
 2[M.2]	‘Ye’ll get to me a cambric sark,
 	An sew it all over without thread or needle.
       Refrain:	Before that ye be, etc.
 2[M.3]	’ll wash it doun in yonder well,
 	Where water neer ran an dew never fell.
 2[M.4]	‘Ye’ll bleach it doun by yonder green,
 	Where grass never grew an wind never blew.
 2[M.5]	‘Ye’ll dry it doun on yonder thorn,
 	That never bore blossom sin Adam was born.’
 2[M.6]	‘Four questions ye have asked at me,
 	An as mony mair ye’ll answer me.
 2[M.7]	‘Ye’ll get to me an acre o land
 	Atween the saut water an the sea sand.
 2[M.8]	‘Ye’ll plow it wi a ram’s horn,
 	An sow it all over wi one peppercorn.
 2[M.9]	‘Ye’ll shear it wi a peacock’s feather,
 	An bind it all up wi the sting o an adder.
 2[M.10]	‘Ye’ll stook it in yonder saut sea,
 	An bring the dry sheaves a’ back to me.
 2[M.11]	‘An when ye’ve done and finished your wark,
 	Ye’ll come to me, an ye’se get your sark.’
 2[M.12]	An then shall ye be ture lover o mine

 


 
3A: The Fause Knight on the Road
 
 
 3A.1	‘O WHARE are ye gaun?’
       Refrain:	Quo the fause knicht upon the road:
 	‘I’m gaun to the scule,’
       Refrain:	Quo the wee boy, and still he stude.
 3A.2	‘What is that upon your back?’
       Refrain:	quo etc.
 3A.2	‘Atweel it is my bukes,’
       Refrain:	quo etc.
 3A.3	‘What’s that ye’ve got in your arm?’
 	‘Atweel it is my peit.’
 3A.4	‘Wha’s aucht they sheep?’
 	‘They are mine and my mither’s.’
 3A.5	‘How monie o them are mine?’
 	‘A’ they that hae blue tails.’
 3A.6	‘I wiss ye were on yon tree:’
 	‘And a gude ladder under me.’
 3A.7	‘And the ladder for to break:’
 	‘And you for to fa down.’
 3A.8	‘I wiss ye were in yon sie:’
 	And a gude bottom under me.’
 3A.9	‘And the bottom for to break:’
 	‘And ye to be drowned.’

 
 
3B: The Fause Knight on the Road
 
 
 3B.1	‘O WHARE are ye gaun?’ quo the false knight,
 	And false, false was his rede:
 	‘I’m gaun to the scule,’ says the pretty little boy,
 	And still, still he stude.

 
 
3[C]: The Fause Knight on the Road
 
 
 3[C.1]	‘O whare are ye gaun?’
       Refrain:	Says the false knight upon the road:
 3[C.1]	‘I am gaun to the schule,’
       Refrain:	Says the wee boy, and still he stood.
 3[C.2]	‘Wha’s aught the sheep on yonder hill?’
 	‘They are my papa’s and mine.’
 3[C.3]	‘How many of them’s mine?’
 	‘A’ them that has blue tails.’
 3[C.4]	‘I wish you were in yonder well:’
 	‘And you were down in hell.’

 


 
4A: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
 
 
 4A.1	FAIR lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,
       Refrain:	Aye as the gowans grow gay
 	There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn.
       Refrain:	The first morning in May
 4A.2	‘If I had yon horn that I hear blawing,
 	And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom.’
 4A.3	This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,
 	Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen.
 4A.4	‘It’s a very strange matter, fair maiden,’ said he,
 	‘I canna blaw my horn but ye call on me.
 4A.5	‘But will ye go to yon greenwood side?
 	If ye canna gang, I will cause you to ride.’
 4A.6	He leapt on a horse, and she on another,
 	And they rode on to the greenwood together.
 4A.7	‘Light down, light down, lady Isabel,’ said he,
 	We are come to the place where ye are to die.
 4A.8	‘Hae mercy, hae mercy, kind sir, on me,
 	Till ance my dear father and mother I see.’
 4A.9	‘Seven king’s-daughters here hae I slain,
 	And ye shall be the eight o them.’
 4A.10	‘O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee,
 	That we may hae some rest before that I die.’
 4A.11	She stroakd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep,
 	Wi a sma charm she lulld him fast asleep.
 4A.12	Wi his ain sword-belt sae fast as she ban him,
 	Wi his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him.
 4A.13	‘If seven king’s-daughters here ye hae slain,
 	Lye ye here, a husband to them a’.’

 
 
4B: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
 
4B.1	THERE came a bird out o a bush, On water for to dine, An sighing sair, says the king’s daughter, ‘O wae’s this heart o mine!’ 4B.2	He’s taen a harp into his hand, He’s harped them all asleep, Except it was the king’s daughter, Who one wink couldna get. 4B.3	He’s luppen on his berry-brown steed, Taen ’er on behind himsell, Then baith rede down to that water That they ca Wearie’s Well. 4B.4	‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, No harm shall thee befall; Oft times I’ve watered my steed Wi the waters o Wearie’s Well.’ 4B.5	The first step that she stepped in, She stepped to the knee; And sighend says this lady fair, ‘This water’s nae for me.’ 4B.6	‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, No harm shall thee befall; Oft times I’ve watered my steed Wi the water o Wearie’s Well.’ 4B.7	The next step that she stepped in, She stepped to the middle; ‘O,’ sighend says this lady fair, I’ve wat my gowden girdle.’ 4B.8	‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, No harm shall thee befall; Oft times have I watered my steed Wi the water o Wearie’s Well.’ 4B.9	The next step that she stepped in, She stepped to the chin; ‘O,’ sighend says this lady fair, ‘They sud gar twa loves twin.’ 4B.10	‘Seven king’s-daughters I’ve drownd there, In the water o Wearie’s Well, And I’ll make you the eight o them, And ring the common bell.’ 4B.11	‘Since I am standing here,’ she says, ‘This dowie death to die, One kiss o your comely mouth I’m sure wad comfort me.’ 4B.12	He louted him oer his saddle bow, To kiss her cheek and chin; She’s taen him in her arms twa, An thrown him headlong in. 4B.13	‘Since seven king’s daughters ye’ve drowned there, In the water o Wearie’s Well, I’ll make you bridegroom to them a’, An ring the bell mysell.’ 4B.14	And aye she warsled, and aye she swam, And she swam to dry lan; She thanked God most cheerfully The dangers she oercame.
 
4C: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
 
4C.1	FALSE Sir John a wooing came To a maid of beauty fair; May Colven was this lady’s name, Her father’s only heir. 4C.2	He wood her butt, he wood her ben, He wood her in the ha, Until he got this lady’s consent To mount and ride awa. 4C.3	He went down to her father’s bower, Where all the steeds did stand, And he’s taken one of the best steeds That was in her father’s land. 4C.4	He’s got on and she’s got on, And fast as they could flee, Until they came to a lonesome part, A rock by the side of the sea. 4C.5	‘Loup off the steed,’ says false Sir John, ‘Your bridal bed you see; For I have drowned seven young ladies, The eight one you shall be. 4C.6	‘Cast off, cast off, my May Colven, All and your silken gown, For it’s oer good and oer costly To rot in the salt sea foam. 4C.7	‘Cast off, cast off, my May Colven, All and your embroiderd shoen, For they’re oer good and oer costly To rot in the salt sea foam.’ 4C.8	‘O turn you about, O false Sir John, And look to the leaf of the tree, For it never became a gentleman A naked woman to see.’ 4C.9	He turnd himself straight round about, To look to the leaf of the tree; So swift as May Colven was To throw him in the sea. 4C.10	‘O help, O help, my May Colven, O help, or else I’ll drown; I’ll take you home to your father’s bower, And set you down safe and sound.’ 4C.11	‘No help, no help, O false Sir John, No help, nor pity thee; Tho seven king’s-daughters you have drownd, But the eight shall not be me.’ 4C.12	So she went on her father’s steed, As swift as she could flee, And she came home to her father’s bower Before it was break of day. 4C.13	Up then and spoke the pretty parrot: ‘May Colven, where have you been? What has become of false Sir John, That woo’d you so late the streen? 4C.14	‘He woo’d you butt, he woo’d you ben, He woo’d you in the ha, Until he got your own consent For to mount and gang awa.’ 4C.15	‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, Lay not the blame upon me; Your cup shall be of the flowered gold, Your cage of the root of the tree.’ 4C.16	Up then spake the king himself, In the bed-chamber where he lay: ‘What ails the pretty parrot, That prattles so long or day?’ 4C.17	‘There came a cat to my cage door, It almost a worried me, And I was calling on May Colven To take the cat from me.’
 
4D: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
 
4D.1	O HEARD ye of a bloody knight, Lived in the south country? For he has betrayed eight ladies fair And drowned them in the sea. 4D.2	Then next he went to May Collin, She was her father’s heir, The greatest beauty in the land, I solemnly declare. 4D.3	‘I am a knight of wealth and might, Of townlands twenty-three; And you’ll be lady of them all, If you will go with me.’ 4D.4	‘Excuse me, then, Sir John,’ she says; ‘To wed I am too young; Without I have my parents’ leave, With you I darena gang.’ 4D.5	‘Your parents’ leave you soon shall have, In that they will agree; For I have made a solemn vow This night you’ll go with me.’ 4D.6	From below his arm he pulled a charm, And stuck it in her sleeve, And he has made her go with him, Without her parents’ leave. 4D.7	Of gold and silver she has got With her twelve hundred pound, And the swiftest steed her father had She has taen to ride upon. 4D.8	So privily they went along, They made no stop or stay, Till they came to the fatal place That they call Bunion Bay. 4D.9	It being in a lonely place, And no house there was nigh, The fatal rocks were long and steep, And none could hear her cry. 4D.10	‘Light down,’ he said, ’Fair May Collin, Light down and speak with me, For here I’ve drowned eight ladies fair, And the ninth one you shall be.’ 4D.11	‘Is this your bowers and lofty towers, So beautiful and gay? Or is it for my gold,’ she said, ‘You take my life away?’ 4D.12	‘Strip off,’ he says, ’Thy jewels fine, So costly and so brave, For they are too costly and too fine To throw in the sea wave.’ 4D.13	‘Take all I have my life to save, O good Sir John, I pray; Let it neer be said you killed a maid Upon her wedding day.’ 4D.14	‘Strip off,’ he says, ’Thy Holland smock, That’s bordered with the lawn, For it’s too costly and too fine To rot in the sea sand.’ 4D.15	‘O turn about, Sir John,’ she said, ‘Your back about to me, For it never was comely for a man A naked woman to see.’ 4D.16	But as he turned him round about, She threw him in the sea, Saying, ‘Lie you there, you false Sir John, Where you thought to lay me. 4D.17	‘O lie you there, you traitor false, Where you thought to lay me, For though you stripped me to the skin, Your clothes you’ve got with thee.’ 4D.18	Her jewels fine she did put on, So costly, rich and brave, And then with speed she mounts his steed, So well she did behave. 4D.19	That lady fair being void of fear, Her steed being swift and free, And she has reached her father’s gate Before the clock struck three. 4D.20	Then first she called the stable groom, He was her waiting man; Soon as he heard his lady’s voice He stood with cap in hand. 4D.21	‘Where have you been, fair May Collin? Who owns this dapple grey?’ ‘It is a found one,’ she replied, ‘That I got on the way.’ 4D.22	Then out bespoke the wily parrot Unto fair May Collin: ‘What have you done with false Sir John, That went with you yestreen?’ 4D.23	‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, And talk no more to me, And where you had a meal a day O now you shall have three.’ 4D.24	Then up bespoke her father dear, From his chamber where he lay: ‘What aileth thee, my pretty Poll, That you chat so long or day?’ 4D.25	The cat she came to my cage-door, The thief I could not see, And I called to fair May Collin, To take the cat from me.’ 4D.26	Then first she told her father dear The deed that she had done, And next she told her mother dear Concerning false Sir John. 4D.27	‘If this be true, fair May Collin, That you have told to me, Before I either eat or drink This false Sir John I’ll see.’ 4D.28	Away they went with one consent, At dawning of the day, Until they came to Carline Sands, And there his body lay. 4D.29	His body tall, by that great fall, By the waves tossed to and fro, The diamond ring that he had on Was broke in pieces two. 4D.30	And they have taken up his corpse To yonder pleasant green, And there they have buried false Sir John, For fear he should be seen.
 
4E: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
 
4E.1	AN outlandish knight came from the north lands, And he came a-wooing to me; He told me he’d take me unto the north lands, And there he would marry me. 4E.2	‘Come, fetch me some of your father’s gold, And some of your mother’s fee, And two of the best nags out of the stable, Where they stand thirty and three.’ 4E.3	She fetched him some of her father’s gold, And some of her mother’s fee, And two of the best nags out of the stable, Where they stood thirty and three. 4E.4	She mounted her on her milk-white steed, He on the dapple grey; They rode till they came unto the sea-side, Three hours before it was day. 4E.5	‘Light off, light off thy milk-white steed, And deliver it unto me; Six pretty maids have I drowned here, And thou the seventh shalt be. 4E.6	‘Pull off, pull off thy silken gown, And deliver it unto me; Methinks it looks too rich and too gay To rot in the salt sea. 4E.7	‘Pull off, pull off thy silken stays, And deliver them unto me; Methinks they are too fine and gay To rot in the salt sea. 4E.8	‘Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock, And deliver it unto me; Methinks it looks too rich and gay To rot in the salt sea.’ 4E.9	‘If I must pull off my Holland smock, Pray turn thy back unto me; For it is not fitting that such a ruffian A naked woman should see.’ 4E.10	He turned his back towards her And viewed the leaves so green; She catched him round the middle so small, And tumbled him into the stream. 4E.11	He dropped high and he dropped low, Until he came to the side; ‘Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden, And I will make you my bride.’ 4E.12	‘Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man, Lie there instead of me; Six pretty maids have you drowned here, And the seventh has drowned thee.’ 4E.13	She mounted on her milk-white steed, And led the dapple grey; She rode till she came to her own father’s hall, Three hours before it was day. 4E.14	The parrot being in the window so high, Hearing the lady, did say, ‘I’m afraid that some ruffian has led you astray, That you have tarried so long away.’ 4E.15	‘Don’t prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot, Nor tell no tales of me; Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, Although it is made of a tree.’ 4E.16	The king being in the chamber so high, And hearing the parrot, did say, ‘What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot, That you prattle so long before day?’ 4E.17	‘It’s no laughing matter,’ the parrot did say, ‘That so loudly I call unto thee, For the cats have got into the window so high, And I’m afraid they will have me.’ 4E.18	‘Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot, Well turned, well turned for me; Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, And the door of the best ivory.’
 
4F: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
 
4F.1	’GO fetch me some of your father’s gold, And some of your mother’s fee, And I’ll carry you into the north land, And there I’ll marry thee.’ 4F.2	She fetchd him some of her father’s gold, And some of her mother’s fee; She carried him into the stable, Where horses stood thirty and three. 4F.3	She leapd on a milk-white steed, And he on a dapple-grey; They rode til they came to a fair river’s side, Three hours before it was day. 4F.4	‘O light, O light, you lady gay, O light with speed, I say, For six knight’s daughters have I drowned here, And you the seventh must be.’ 4F.5	‘Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle That grows so near the brim, For fear it should tangle my golden locks, Or freckle my milk-white skin.’ 4F.6	He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle That grows so near the brim, And with all the strength that pretty Polly had She pushd the false knight in. 4F.7	‘Swim on, swim on, thou false knight, And there bewail thy doom, For I don’t think thy cloathing too good To lie in a watry tomb.’ 4F.8	She leaped on her milk-white steed, She led the dapple grey; She rid till she came to her father’s house, Three hours before it was day. 4F.9	‘Who knocked so loudly at the ring?’ The parrot he did say; ‘O where have you been, my pretty Polly, All this long summer’s day?’ 4F.10	‘O hold your tongue, parrot, Tell you no tales of me; Your cage shall be made of beaten gold, Which is now made of a tree.’ 4F.11	O then bespoke her father dear, As he on his bed did lay: ‘O what is the matter, my parrot, That you speak before it is day?’ 4F.12	‘The cat’s at my cage, master, And sorely frighted me, And I calld down my Polly To take the cat away.’
 
4[G]: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
 
4[G.1]	‘Now steal me some of your father’s gold, And some of your mother’s fee, And steal the best steed in your father’s stable, Where there lie thirty three.’ 4[G.2]	She stole him some of her father’s gold, And some of her mother’s fee, And she stole the best steed from her father’s stable, Where there lay thirty three. 4[G.3]	And she rode on the milk-white steed, And he on the barb so grey, Until they came to the green, green wood, Three hours before it was day. 4[G.4]	‘Alight, alight, my pretty colleen, Alight immediately, For six knight’s daughters I drowned here, And thou the seventh shall be.’ 4[G.5]	‘Oh hold your tongue, you false knight villain, Oh hold your tongue,’ said she; ‘’Twas you that promised to marry me, For some of my father’s fee.’ 4[G.6]	‘Strip off, strip off your jewels so rare, And give them all to me; I think them too rich and too costly by far To rot in the sand with thee.’ 4[G.7]	‘Oh turn away, thou false knight villain, Oh turn away from me; Oh turn away, with your back to the cliff, And your face to the willow-tree.’ 4[G.8]	He turned about, with his back to the cliff, And his face to the willow-tree; So sudden she took him up in her arms, And threw him into the sea. 4[G.9]	‘Lie there, lie there, thou false knight villain, Lie there instead of me; ’Twas you that promised to marry me, For some of my father’s fee.’ 4[G.10]	‘Oh take me by the arm, my dear, And hold me by the hand, And you shall be my gay lady, And the queen of all Scotland.’ 4[G.11]	‘I’ll not take you by the arm, my dear, Nor hold you by the hand; And I won’t be your gay lady, And the queen of all Scotland.’ 4[G.12]	And she rode on the milk-white steed, And led the barb so grey, Until she came back to her father’s castle, One hour before it was day. 4[G.13]	And out then spoke her parrot so green, From the cage wherein she lay: Where have you now been, my pretty colleen, This long, long summer’s day? 4[G.14]	‘Oh hold your tongue, my favourite bird, And tell no tales on me; Your cage I will make of the beaten gold, And hang in the willow-tree.’ 4[G.15]	Out then spoke her father dear, From the chamber where he lay: Oh what hath befallen my favourite bird, That she calls so loud for day? 4[G.16]	‘’Tis nothing at all, good lord,’ she said, ‘’Tis nothing at all indeed; It was only the cat came to my cage-door, And Icalled my pretty colleen.’


 
5A: Gil Brenton
 
5A.1	GIL BRENTON has sent oer the fame, He’s woo’d a wife an brought her hame. 5A.2	Full sevenscore o ships came her wi, The lady by the greenwood tree. 5A.3	There was twal an twal wi beer an wine, An twal an twal wi muskadine: 5A.4	An twall an twall wi bouted flowr, An twall an twall wi paramour: 5A.5	An twall an twall wi baken bread, An twall an twall wi the goud sae red. 5A.6	Sweet Willy was a widow’s son, An at her stirrup-foot he did run. 5A.7	An she was dressd i the finest pa, But ay she loot the tears down fa. 5A.8	An she was dickd wi the fairest flowrs, But ay she loot the tears down pour. 5A.9	‘O is there water i your shee? Or does the win blaw i your glee? 5A.10	‘Or are you mourning i your meed That eer you left your mither gueede? 5A.11	‘Or are ye mourning i your tide That ever ye was Gil Brenton’s bride?’ 5A.12	[re] is nae water i my shee, Nor does the win blaw i my glee: 5A.13	‘Nor am I mourning i my tide That eer I was Gil Brenton’s bride: 5A.14	‘But I am mourning i my meed That ever I left my mither gueede. 5A.15	‘But, bonny boy, tell to me What is the customs o your country.’ 5A.16	‘The customs o’t, my dame,’ he says, ‘Will ill a gentle lady please. 5A.17	‘Seven king’s daughters has our king wedded, An seven king’s daughters has our king bedded. 5A.18	‘But he’s cutted the paps frae their breast-bane, An sent them mourning hame again. 5A.19	‘But whan you come to the palace yate, His mither a golden chair will set. 5A.20	‘An be you maid or be you nane, O sit you there till the day be dane. 5A.21	‘An gin you’re sure that you are a maid, Ye may gang safely to his bed. 5A.22	‘But gin o that you be na sure, Then hire some woman o youre bowr.’ 5A.23	O whan she came to the palace yate, His mither a golden chair did set. 5A.24	An was she maid or was she nane, She sat in it till the day was dane. 5A.25	An she’s calld on her bowr woman, That waiting was her bowr within. 5A.26	‘Five hundred pound, maid, I’ll gi to the, An sleep this night wi the king for me.’ 5A.27	Whan bells was rung, an mass was sung, An a’ man unto bed was gone, 5A.28	Gil Brenton an the bonny maid Intill ae chamber they were laid. 5A.29	‘O speak to me, blankets, an speak to me, sheets, An speak to me, cods, that under me sleeps; 5A.30	‘Is this a maid that I ha wedded? Is this a maid that I ha bedded?’ 5A.31	‘It’s nae a maid that you ha wedded, But it’s a maid that you ha bedded. 5A.32	‘Your lady’s in her bigly bowr, An for you she drees mony sharp showr.’ 5A.33	O he has taen him thro the ha, And on his mither he did ca. 5A.34	‘I am the most unhappy man That ever was in christend lan. 5A.35	‘I woo’d a maiden meek an mild, An I’ve marryed a woman great wi child.’ 5A.36	‘O stay, my son, intill this ha, An sport you wi your merry men a’. 5A.37	‘An I’ll gang to yon painted bowr, An see how’t fares wi yon base whore.’ 5A.38	The auld queen she was stark an strang; She gard the door flee aff the ban. 5A.39	The auld queen she was stark an steer; She gard the door lye i the fleer. 5A.40	‘O is your bairn to laird or loon? Or is it to your father’s groom?’ 5A.41	‘My bairn’s na to laird or loon, Nor is it to my father’s groom. 5A.42	‘But hear me, mither, on my knee, An my hard wierd I’ll tell to thee. 5A.43	‘O we were sisters, sisters seven, We was the fairest under heaven. 5A.44	‘We had nae mair for our seven years wark But to shape an sue the king’s son a sark. 5A.45	‘O it fell on a Saturday’s afternoon, Whan a’ our langsome wark was dane, 5A.46	‘We keist the cavils us amang, To see which shoud to the greenwood gang. 5A.47	‘Ohone, alas! for I was youngest, An ay my wierd it was the hardest. 5A.48	‘The cavil it did on me fa, Which was the cause of a’ my wae. 5A.49	‘For to the greenwood I must gae, To pu the nut but an the slae; 5A.50	‘To pu the red rose an the thyme, To strew my mother’s bowr and mine. 5A.51	‘I had na pu’d a flowr but ane, Till by there came a jelly hind greeme, 5A.52	‘Wi high-colld hose an laigh-colld shoone, An he ’peard to be some kingis son. 5A.53	‘An be I maid or be I nane, He kept me there till the day was dane. 5A.54	‘An be I maid or be I nae, He kept me there till the close of day. 5A.55	‘He gae me a lock of yallow hair, An bade me keep it for ever mair. 5A.56	‘He gae me a carket o gude black beads, An bade me keep them against my needs. 5A.57	‘He gae to me a gay gold ring, An bade me ke[e]p it aboon a’ thing. 5A.58	‘He gae to me a little pen-kniffe, An bade me keep it as my life.’ 5A.59	‘What did you wi these tokens rare That ye got frae that young man there?’ 5A.60	‘O bring that coffer hear to me, And a’ the tokens ye sal see.’ 5A.61	An ay she ranked, an ay she flang, Till a’ the tokens came till her han. 5A.62	‘O stay here, daughter, your bowr within, Till I gae parley wi my son.’ 5A.63	O she has taen her thro the ha, An on her son began to ca. 5A.64	‘What did you wi that gay gold ring I bade you keep aboon a’ thing? 5A.65	‘What did you wi that little pen-kniffe I bade you keep while you had life? 5A.66	‘What did you wi that yallow hair I bade you keep for ever mair? 5A.67	‘What did you wi that good black beeds I bade you keep against your needs?’ 5A.68	‘I gae them to a lady gay I met i the greenwood on a day. 5A.69	‘An I would gi a’ my father’s lan, I had that lady my yates within. 5A.70	‘I would gi a’ my ha’s an towrs, I had that bright burd i my bowrs.’ 5A.71	‘O son, keep still your father’s lan; You hae that lady your yates within. 5A.72	‘An keep you still your ha’s an towrs; You hae that bright burd i your bowrs.’ 5A.73	Now or a month was come an gone, This lady bare a bonny young son. 5A.74	An it was well written on his breast-bane ‘Gil brenton is my father’s name.’
 
5B: Gil Brenton
 
5B.1	COSPATRICK has sent oer the faem, Cospatrick brought his ladye hame. 5B.2	And fourscore ships have come her wi, The ladye by the grenewood tree. 5B.3	There were twal and twal wi baken bread, And twal and twal wi gowd sae reid: 5B.4	And twal and twal wi bouted flour, And twal and twal wi the paramour. 5B.5	Sweet Willy was a widow’s son, And at her stirrup he did run. 5B.6	And she was clad in the finest pall, But aye she let the tears down fall. 5B.7	‘O is your saddle set awrye? Or rides your steed for you owre high? 5B.8	‘Or are you mourning in your tide That you suld be Cospatrick’s bride?’ 5B.9	‘I am not mourning at this tide That I suld be Cospatrick’s bride; 5B.10	‘But I am sorrowing in my mood That I suld leave my mother good. 5B.11	‘But, gentle boy, come tell to me, What is the custom of thy countrye?’ 5B.12	‘The custom thereof, my dame,’ he says, ‘Will ill a gentle laydye please. 5B.13	‘Seven king’s daughters has our lord wedded, And seven king’s daughters has our lord bedded; 5B.14	‘But he’s cutted their breasts frae their breast bane, And sent them mourning hame again. 5B.15	‘Yet, gin you’re sure that you’re a maid, Ye may gae safely to his bed; 5B.16	‘But gif o that ye be na sure, Then hire some damsell o your bour.’ 5B.17	The ladye’s calld her bour-maiden, That waiting was into her train; 5B.18	‘Five thousand merks I will gie thee, To sleep this night with my lord for me.’ 5B.19	When bells were rung, and mass was sayne, And a’ men unto bed were gane, 5B.20	Cospatrick and the bonny maid, Into ae chamber they were laid. 5B.21	‘Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed, And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web; 5B.22	‘And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie, Is this a true maiden that lies by me?’ 5B.23	‘It is not a maid that you hae wedded, But it is a maid that you hae bedded. 5B.24	‘It is a liel maiden that lies by thee, But not the maiden that it should be.’ 5B.25	O wrathfully he left the bed, And wrathfully his claiths on did. 5B.26	And he has taen him thro the ha, And on his mother he did ca. 5B.27	‘I am the most unhappy man That ever was in christen land! 5B.28	‘I courted a maiden meik and mild, And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi child.’ 5B.29	‘O stay, my son, into this ha, And sport ye wi your merrymen a’; 5B.30	‘And I will to the secret bour, To see how it fares wi your paramour.’ 5B.31	The carline she was stark and sture; She aff the hinges dang the dure. 5B.32	‘O is your bairn to laird or loun? Or is it to your father’s groom?’ 5B.33	‘O hear me, mother, on my knee, Till my sad story I tell to thee. 5B.34	‘O we were sisters, sisters seven, We were the fairest under heaven. 5B.35	‘It fell on a summer’s afternoon, When a’ our toilsome task was done, 5B.36	‘We cast the kavils us amang, To see which suld to the grene-wood gang. 5B.37	‘O hon, alas! for I was youngest, And aye my wierd it was the hardest. 5B.38	‘The kavil it on me did fa, Whilk was the cause of a’ my woe. 5B.39	‘For to the grene-wood I maun gae, To pu the red rose and the slae; 5B.40	‘To pu the red rose and the thyme, To deck my mother’s bour and mine. 5B.41	‘I hadna pu’d a flower but ane, When by there came a gallant hende, 5B.42	‘Wi high-colld hose and laigh-colld shoon, And he seemd to be sum king’s son. 5B.43	‘And be I maid or be I nae, He kept me there till the close o day. 5B.44	‘And be I maid or be I nane, He kept me there till the day was done. 5B.45	‘He gae me a lock o his yellow hair, And bade me keep it ever mair. 5B.46	‘He gae me a carknet o bonny beads, And bade me keep it against my needs. 5B.47	‘He gae to me a gay gold ring, And bade me keep it abune a’ thing.’ 5B.48	‘What did ye wi the tokens rare That ye gat frae theat gallant there?’ 5B.49	‘O bring that coffer unto me, And a’ the tokens ye sall see.’ 5B.50	‘Now stay, daughter, your bour within, While I gae parley wi my son.’ 5B.51	O she has taen her thro the ha, And on her son began to ca. 5B.52	‘What did you wi the bonny beads I bade ye keep against your needs? 5B.53	‘What did you wi the gay gowd ring I bade ye keep abune a’ thing?’ 5B.54	‘I gae them a’ to a ladye gay I met in grene-wood on a day. 5B.55	‘But I wad gie a’ my halls and tours, I had that ladye within my bours. 5B.56	‘But I wad gie my very life, I had that ladye to my wife.’ 5B.57	‘Now keep, my son, your ha’s and tours; Ye have that bright burd in your bours. 5B.58	‘And keep, my son, your very life; Ye have that ladye to your wife.’ 5B.59	Now or a month was cum and gane, The ladye bore a bonny son. 5B.60	And ’twas weel written on his breast-bane, ‘Cospatrick is my father’s name.’ 5B.61	‘O rowe my ladye in satin and silk, And wash my son in the morning milk.’
 
5C: Gil Brenton
 
5C.1	WE were sisters, we were seven, We were the fairest under heaven. 5C.2	And it was a’ our seven years wark To sew our father’s seven sarks. 5C.3	And whan our seven years wark was done, We laid it out upo the green. 5C.4	We coost the lotties us amang, Wha wad to the greenwood gang. 5C.5	To pu the lily but and the rose, To strew witha’ our sisters’ bowers. 5C.6	. . . . . I was youngest, . . . . . my weer was hardest. 5C.7	And to the greenwood I bud gae, . . . . . 5C.8	There I met a handsome childe, . . . . . 5C.9	High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon, He bore him like a king’s son. 5C.10	An was I weel, or was I wae, He keepit me a’ the simmer day. 5C.11	An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t], He keepit me a’ the simmer night. 5C.12	He gae to me a gay gold ring, And bade me keep it aboon a’ thing. 5C.13	He gae to me a cuttie knife, And bade me keep it as my life: 5C.14	Three lauchters o his yellow hair, For fear we wad neer meet mair. * * * * * 5C.15	Next there came shippes three, To carry a’ my bridal fee. 5C.16	Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk, Wrought wi maids’ hands like milk. 5C.17	They came toom and light to me, But heavie went they waie frae me. 5C.18	y were fu o baken bread, They were fu of wine sae red. 5C.19	My dowry went a’ by the sea, But I gaed by the grenewode tree. 5C.20	An I sighed and made great mane, As thro the grenewode we rade our lane. 5C.21	An I ay siched an wiped my ee, That eer the grenewode I did see. 5C.22	‘Is there water in your glove, Or win into your shoe? O[r] am I oer low a foot-page To rin by you, ladie?’ 5C.23	‘O there’s nae water in my glove, Nor win into my shoe; But I am maning for my mither Wha’s far awa frae me.’ * * * * * 5C.24	‘Gin ye be a maiden fair, Meikle gude ye will get there. 5C.25	‘If ye be a maiden but, Meikle sorrow will ye get. 5C.26	‘For seven king’s daughters he hath wedded, But never wi ane o them has bedded. 5C.27	‘He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane, An sends them back unto their dame. 5C.28	‘He sets their backs unto the saddle, An sends them back unto their father. 5C.29	‘But be ye maiden or be ye nane, To the gowden chair ye draw right soon. 5C.30	‘But be ye leman or be ye maiden, Sit nae down till ye be bidden.’ 5C.31	Was she maiden or was she nane, To the gowden chair she drew right soon. 5C.32	she leman or was she maiden, She sat down ere she was bidden. 5C.33	Out then spake the lord’s mother; Says, ‘This is not a maiden fair. 5C.34	‘In that chair nae leal maiden Eer sits down till they be bidden.’ 5C.35	The Billie Blin then outspake he, As he stood by the fair ladie. 5C.36	‘The bonnie may is tired wi riding, Gaurd her sit down ere she was bidden.’ * * * * * 5C.37	But on her waiting-maid she ca’d: ‘Fair ladie, what’s your will wi me?’ ‘O ye maun gie yere maidenheid This night to an unco lord for me.’ 5C.38	‘I hae been east, I hae been west, I hae been far beyond the sea, But ay, by grenewode or by bower, I hae keepit my virginitie. 5C.39	‘But will it for my ladie plead, I’ll gie’t this night to an unco lord.’ * * * * * 5C.40	When bells were rung an vespers sung, An men in sleep were locked soun, 5C.41	Childe Branton and the waiting-maid Into the bridal bed were laid. 5C.42	‘O lie thee down, my fair ladie, Here are a’ things meet for thee; 5C.43	‘Here’s a bolster for yere head, Here is sheets an comelie weids.’ * * * * * 5C.44	‘Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin, If this fair dame be a leal maiden.’ 5C.45	‘I wat she is as leal a wight As the moon shines on in a simmer night. 5C.46	‘I wat she is as leal a may As the sun shines on in a simmer day. 5C.47	‘But your bonnie bride’s in her bower, Dreeing the mither’s trying hour.’ 5C.48	Then out o his bridal bed he sprang, An into his mither’s bower he ran. 5C.49	‘O mither kind, O mither dear, This is nae a maiden fair. 5C.50	‘The maiden I took to my bride Has a bairn atween her sides. 5C.51	‘The maiden I took to my bower Is dreeing the mither’s trying hour.’ 5C.52	Then to the chamber his mother flew, And to the wa the door she threw. 5C.53	She stapt at neither bolt nor ban, Till to that ladie’s bed she wan. 5C.54	Says, ‘Ladie fair, sae meek an mild, Wha is the father o yere child?’ 5C.55	‘O mither dear,’ said that ladie, ‘I canna tell gif I sud die. 5C.56	‘We were sisters, we were seven, We were the fairest under heaven. 5C.57	‘And it was a’ our seven years wark To sew our father’s seven sarks. 5C.58	‘And whan our seven years wark was done, We laid it out upon the green. 5C.59	‘We coost the lotties us amang, Wha wad to the greenwode gang; 5C.60	‘To pu the lily but an the rose, To strew witha’ our sisters’ bowers. 5C.61	. . . . . ‘I was youngest, . . . . . my weer was hardest. 5C.62	‘And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae. . . . . 5C.63	‘There I met a handsome childe, . . . . 5C.64	‘Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon, He seemed to be some king’s son. 5C.65	‘And was I weel or was I wae, He keepit me a’ the simmer day. 5C.66	‘Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht, He keepit me a’ the simmer night. 5C.67	‘He gae to me a gay gold ring, An bade me keep it aboon a’ thing; 5C.68	‘Three lauchters o he yellow hair, For fear that we suld neer meet mair. 5C.69	‘O mither, if ye’ll believe nae me, Break up the coffer, an there ye’ll see.’ 5C.70	An ay she coost, an ay she flang, Till her ain gowd ring came in her hand. 5C.71	And scarce aught i the coffer she left, Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft, 5C.72	Three lauchters o his yellow hair, Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare. 5C.73	She cried to her son, ‘Where is the ring Your father gave me at our wooing, An I gae you at your hunting? 5C.74	‘What did ye wi the cuttie knife, I bade ye keep it as yere life?’ 5C.75	‘O haud yere tongue, my mither dear; I gae them to a lady fair. 5C.76	‘I wad gie a’ my lands and rents, I had that ladie within my brents. 5C.77	‘I wad gie a’ my lands an towers, I had that ladie within my bowers.’ 5C.78	‘Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents; Ye hae that ladie within yere brents. 5C.79	‘Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers; Ye hae that lady within your bowers.’ 5C.80	Then to his ladie fast ran he, An low he kneeled on his knee. 5C.81	‘O tauk ye up my son,’ said he, ‘An, mither, tent my fair ladie. 5C.82	‘O wash him purely i the milk, And lay him saftly in the silk. 5C.83	‘An ye maun bed her very soft, For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.’ 5C.84	It was weel written on his breast-bane Childe Branton was the father’s name. 5C.85	It was weel written on his right hand He was the heir o his daddie’s land.
 
5D: Gil Brenton
 
5D.1	WE were sisters, sisters seven, Refrain:	Bowing down, bowing down The fairest women under heaven. Refrain:	And aye the birks a-bowing 5D.2	They kiest kevels them amang, Wha woud to the grenewood gang. 5D.3	The kevels they gied thro the ha, And on the youngest it did fa. 5D.4	Now she must to the grenewood gang, To pu the nuts in grenewood hang. 5D.5	She hadna tarried an hour but ane Till she met wi a highlan groom. 5D.6	He keeped her sae late and lang Till the evening set and birds they sang. 5D.7	He gae to her at their parting A chain o gold and gay gold ring; 5D.8	And three locks o his yellow hair; Bade her keep them for evermair. 5D.9	When six lang months were come and gane. A courtier to this lady came. 5D.10	Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay, And so he set their wedding-day. 5D.11	A little boy to the ha was sent, To bring her horse was his intent. 5D.12	As she was riding the way along, She began to make a heavy moan. 5D.13	‘What ails you, lady,’ the boy said, ‘That ye seem sae dissatisfied? 5D.14	‘Are the bridle reins for you too strong? Or the stirrups for you too long?’ 5D.15	‘But, little boy, will ye tell me The fashions that are in your countrie?’ 5D.16	‘The fashions in our ha I’ll tell, And o them a’ I’ll warn you well. 5D.17	‘When ye come in upon the floor, His mither will meet you wi a golden chair. 5D.18	‘But be ye maid or be ye nane, Unto the high seat make ye boun. 5D.19	‘Lord Dingwall aft has been beguild By girls whom young men hae defiled. 5D.20	‘He’s cutted the paps frae their breast-bane, And sent them back to their ain hame.’ 5D.21	When she came in upon the floor, His mother met her wi a golden chair. 5D.22	But to the high seat she made her boun: She knew that maiden she was nane. 5D.23	When night was come, they went to bed, And ower her breast his arm he laid. 5D.24	He quickly jumped upon the floor, And said, ‘I’ve got a vile rank whore.’ 5D.25	Unto his mother he made his moan, Says, ‘Mother dear, I am undone. 5D.26	‘Ye’ve aft tald, when I brought them hame, Whether they were maid or nane. 5D.27	‘I thought I’d gotten a maiden bright; I’ve gotten but a waefu wight. 5D.28	‘I thought I’d gotten a maiden clear, But gotten but a vile rank whore.’ 5D.29	‘When she came in upon the floor, I met her wi a golden chair. 5D.30	‘But to the high seat she made her boun, Because a maiden she was nane.’ 5D.31	‘I wonder wha’s tauld that gay ladie The fashion into our countrie.’ 5D.32	‘It is your little boy I blame, Whom ye did send to bring her hame.’ 5D.33	Then to the lady she did go, And said, ‘O Lady, let me know 5D.34	‘Who has defiled your fair bodie: Ye’re the first that has beguiled me.’ 5D.35	‘O we were sisters, sisters seven, The fairest women under heaven. 5D.36	‘And we kiest kevels us amang, Wha woud to the grenewood gang; 5D.37	‘For to pu the finest flowers, To put around our summer bowers. 5D.38	‘I was the youngest o them a’; The hardest fortune did me befa. 5D.39	‘Unto the grenewood I did gang, And pu’d the nuts as they down hang. 5D.40	‘I hadna stayd an hour but ane Till I met wi a highlan groom. 5D.41	‘He keeped me sae late and lang Till the evening set and birds they sang. 5D.42	‘He gae to me at our parting A chain of gold and gay gold ring; 5D.43	‘And three locks o his yellow hair; Bade me keep them for evermair. 5D.44	‘Then for to show I make nae lie, Look ye my trunk, and ye will see.’ 5D.45	Unto the trunk then she did go, To see if that were true or no. 5D.46	And aye she sought, and aye she flang, Till these four things came to her hand. 5D.47	Then she did to her ain son go, And said, ‘My son, ye’ll let me know, 5D.48	‘Ye will tell to me this thing: What did you wi my wedding-ring?’ 5D.49	‘Mother dear, I’ll tell nae lie: I gave it to a gay ladie. 5D.50	‘I would gie a’ my ha’s and towers, I had this bird within my bowers.’ 5D.51	‘Keep well, keep well your lands and strands; Ye hae that bird within your hands. 5D.52	‘Now, my son, to your bower ye’ll go: Comfort your ladie, she’s full o woe.’ 5D.53	Now when nine months were come and gane, The lady she brought hame a son. 5D.54	It was written on his breast-bane Lord Dingwall was his father’s name. 5D.55	He’s taen his young son in his arms, And aye he praisd his lovely charms. 5D.56	And he has gien him kisses three, And doubled them ower to his ladie.
 
5E: Gil Brenton
 
5E.1	LORD BENWALL he’s a hunting gone; Refrain:	Hey down, etc. He’s taken with him all his merry men. Refrain:	Hey, etc. 5E.2	As he was walking late alone, He spyed a lady both brisk and young. 5E.3	He keeped her so long and long, From the evening late till the morning came. 5E.4	All that he gave her at their parting Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring. 5E.5	Lord Benwall he’s a wooing gone, And he’s taken with him all his merry men. 5E.6	As he was walking the Haleigh throw, He spy’d seven ladyes all in a row. 5E.7	He cast a lot among them all; Upon the youngest the lot did fall. 5E.8	He wedded her and brought her home, And by the way she made great moan. 5E.9	‘What aileth my dearest and dayly flower? What ails my dear, to make such moan? 5E.10	‘Does the steed carry you too high? Or does thy pillow sit awry? 5E.11	‘Or does the wind blow in thy glove? Or is thy heart after another love?’ 5E.12	‘The steed does not carry me too high, Nor does my pillow sit awry. 5E.13	‘Nor does the wind blow in my glove, Nor is my heart after another love.’ 5E.14	When they were doun to supper set, The weary pain took her by the back. 5E.15	‘What ails my dearest and dayly flower? What ails my dearest, to make such moan?’ 5E.16	‘I am with child, and it’s not to thee, And oh and alas, what shall I doe!’ 5E.17	‘I thought I had got a maid so mild; But I have got a woman big with child. 5E.18	‘I thought I had got a dayly flower; I have gotten but a common whore.’ * * * * * 5E.19	‘Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall, And cherrish up your merry men all.’ * * * * * 5E.20	‘As I was walking once late alone, I spy’d a lord, both brisk and young. 5E.21	‘He keeped me so long and long, From evening late till the morning came. 5E.22	‘All that he gave me at our parting Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring. 5E.23	‘If you will not believe what I tell to thee, There’s the key of my coffer, you may go and see.’ 5E.24	His mother went, and threw and flang, Till to her hand the ring it came. 5E.25	‘Lord Benwall, wilt thou tell to me Where is the ring I gave to thee?’ 5E.26	‘Now I would give all my lands and tower, To have that lady in my bower. 5E.27	‘I would give all my lands and rents, To have that lady in my tents.’ 5E.28	‘You need not give all your lands and tower, For you have that lady in your power. 5E.29	‘You need not give all your lands and rents, For you have that lady in your tents.’ 5E.30	Now it was written on the child’s breast-bone Lord Benwall’s sirname and his name. 5E.31	It was written on the child’s right hand That he should be heir of Lord Benwall’s land. 5E.32	‘Canst cloath my lady in the silk, And feed my young son with the milk.’
 
5F: Gil Brenton
 
5F.1	THERE were three sisters in a bouir, Refrain:	Eh down and Oh down And the youngest o them was the fairest flour. Refrain:	Eh down and O down 5F.2	And we began our seven years wark, To sew our brither John a sark. 5F.3	When seven years was come and gane, There was nae a sleeve in it but ane. 5F.4	But we coost kevils us amang Wha wud to the green-wood gang. 5F.5	But tho we had coosten neer sae lang, The lot it fell on me aye to gang. 5F.6	I was the youngest, and I was the fairest, And alace! my wierd it was aye the sairest. 5F.7	. . . Till I had to the woods to gae. 5F.8	To pull the cherrie and the slae, And to seek our ae brither, we had nae mae. 5F.9	But as I was walking the leas o Lyne, I met a youth gallant and fine; 5F.10	Wi milk white stockings and coal black shoon; He seemed to be some gay lord’s son. 5F.11	But he keepit me there sae lang, sae lang, Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang. 5F.12	Would I wee or would I way, He keepit me the lang simmer day. 5F.13	Would I way or would I wight, He keepit me the simmer night. 5F.14	But guess what was at our parting? A pair o grass green gloves and a gay gold ring. ring. 5F.15	He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair, In token that we might meet mair. 5F.16	But when nine months were come and gane, This gallant lord cam back again. 5F.17	He’s wed this lady, and taen her wi him; But as they were riding the leas o Lyne, 5F.18	This lady was not able to ride, . . . 5F.19	‘O does thy saddle set thee aside? Or does thy steed ony wrang way ride? 5F.20	‘Or thinkst thou me too low a groom? . . . 5F.21	‘Or hast thou musing in thy mind For the leaving of thy mother kind?’ 5F.22	‘My saddle it sets not me aside, Nor does my steed ony wrang way ride. 5F.23	‘Nor think I thee too low a groom . . . 5F.24	‘But I hae musing in my mind For the leaving of my mother kind.’ 5F.25	‘I’ll bring thee to a mother of mine, As good a mother as eer was thine.’ 5F.26	‘A better mother she may be, But an unco woman she’ll prove to me.’ 5F.27	But when lords and ladies at supper sat, Her pains they struck her in the back. 5F.28	When lords and ladies were laid in bed, Her pains they struck her in the side. 5F.29	‘Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Brangwill, For I’m wi child and you do not know’t.’ 5F.30	He took up his foot and gave her sic a bang Till owre the bed the red blood sprang. 5F.31	He is up to his mother’s ha, Calling her as hard as he could ca. 5F.32	‘I went through moss and I went through mure, Thinking to get some lily flouir. 5F.33	. . . ‘But to my house I have brocht a hure. 5F.34	‘I thocht to have got a lady baith meek and mild, But I’ve got a woman that’s big wi child.’ 5F.35	‘O rest you here, Lord Brangwill,’ she said, ‘Till I relieve your lady that lyes so low.’ 5F.36	‘O daughter dear, will you tell to me Who is the father of your babie?’ 5F.37	‘Yes, mother dear, I will tell thee Who is the father of my babie. 5F.38	‘As I was walking the leas o Lyne, I met a youth gallant and fine; 5F.39	th milk-white stockings and coal-black shoon; He seemed to be sum gay lord’s son. 5F.40	‘He keepit me sae lang, sae lang, Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang. 5F.41	‘Would I wee or would I way, He keepit me the lang simmer day. 5F.42	‘Would I way or would I wight, He keepit me the simmer night. 5F.43	‘But guess ye what was at our parting? A pair of grass green gloves and a gay gold ring. 5F.44	‘He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair, In token that we might meet mair.’ 5F.45	‘O dochter dear, will ye show me These tokens that he gave to thee?’ 5F.46	‘Altho my back should break in three, Unto my coffer I must be.’ 5F.47	‘Thy back it shall not break in three, For I’ll bring thy coffer to thy knee.’ 5F.48	Aye she coost, and aye she flang, Till these three tokens came to her hand. 5F.49	Then she is up to her sons’s ha, Calling him hard as she could ca. 5F.50	‘O son, O son, will you tell me . . . 5F.51	‘What ye did wi the grass green gloves and gay gold ring That ye gat at your own birth-een?’ 5F.52	‘I gave them to as pretty a may As ever I saw in a simmer day. 5F.53	‘I wud rather than a’ my lands sae broad That I had her as sure as eer I had. 5F.54	‘I would rather than a’ my lands sae free I had her here this night wi me.’ 5F.55	‘I wish you good o your lands sae broad, For ye have her as sure as eer ye had. 5F.56	‘I wish ye good o your lands sae free, For ye have her here this night wi thee.’ 5F.57	‘Gar wash my auld son in the milk, Gar deck my lady’s bed wi silk.’ 5F.58	He gave his auld son kisses three, But he doubled them a’ to his gay ladye.
 
5G: Gil Brenton
 
5G.1	AS Bothwell was walking in the lowlands alane, Refrain:	Hey down and a down He met six ladies sae gallant and fine. Refrain:	Hey down and a down 5G.2	He cast his lot among them a’, And on the youngest his lot did fa. 5G.3	He’s brought her frae her mother’s bower, Unto his strongest castle and tower. 5G.4	But ay she cried and made great moan, And ay the tear came trickling down. 5G.5	‘Come up, come up,’ said the foremost man, ‘I think our bride comes slowly on.’ 5G.6	‘O lady, sits your saddle awry, Or is your steed for you owre high?’ 5G.7	‘My saddle is not set awry, Nor carries me my steed owre high; 5G.8	‘But I am weary of my life, Since I maun be Lord Bothwell’s wife.’ 5G.9	He’s blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill, Up start the deer on evry hill. 5G.10	He’s blawn his horn sae lang and loud, Up start the deer in gude green-wood. 5G.11	His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa, And she saw them riding ane and a’. 5G.12	She’s calld upon her maids by seven, To mak his bed baith saft and even. 5G.13	She’s calld upon her cooks by nine, To make their dinner fair and fine. 5G.14	When day was gane, and night was come, ‘What ails my love on me to frown? 5G.15	‘Or does the wind blow in your glove? Or runs your mind on another love?’ 5G.16	‘Nor blows the wind within my glove, Nor runs my mind on another love; 5G.17	‘But I nor maid nor maiden am, For I’m wi bairn to another man.’ 5G.18	‘I thought I’d a maiden sae meek and sae mild, But I’ve nought but a woman wi child.’ 5G.19	His mother’s taen her up to a tower, And lockit her in her secret bower. 5G.20	‘Now, doughter mine, come tell to me, Wha’s bairn this is that you are wi.’ 5G.21	‘O mother dear, I canna learn Wha is the faither of my bairn. 5G.22	‘But as I walkd in the lowlands my lane, I met a gentleman gallant and fine. 5G.23	‘He keepit me there sae late and sae lang, Frae the evning late till the morning dawn. 5G.24	‘And a’ that he gied me to my propine Was a pair of green gloves and a gay gold ring; 5G.25	‘Three lauchters of his yellow hair, In case that we shoud meet nae mair.’ 5G.26	His lady mother went down the stair: . . . 5G.27	‘Now son, now son, come tell to me, Where’s the green gloves I gave to thee?’ 5G.28	‘I gied to a lady sae fair and so fine The green gloves and a gay gold ring. 5G.29	‘But I wad gie my castles and towers, I had that lady within my bowers. 5G.30	‘But I wad gie my very life, I had that lady to be my wife.’ 5G.31	‘Now keep, now keep your castles and towers, You have that lady within your bowers. 5G.32	‘Now keep, now keep your very life, You have that lady to be your wife.’ 5G.33	‘O row my lady in sattin and silk, And wash my son in the morning milk.’
 
5H: Gil Brenton
 
 
 5H.1	WE were seven sisters in a bower,
       Refrain:	Adown adown, and adown and adown
 	The flower of a’ fair Scotland ower.
       Refrain:	Adown adown, and adown and adown
 5H.2	We were sisters, sisters seven,
 	The fairest women under heaven.
 5H.3	There fell a dispute us amang,
 	Wha would to the greenwood gang.
 5H.4	They kiest the kevels them amang,
 	O wha would to the greenwood gang.
 5H.5	The kevels they gied thro the ha,
 	And on the youngest it did fa.
 5H.6	The kevel fell into her hand,
 	To greenwood she was forced to gang.
 5H.7	She hedna pued a flower but ane,
 	When by there came an earl’s son.
 5H.8	‘And was he well or was he wae,
 	He keepet me that summer’s day.’
 5H.9	And was he weel or was he weight,
 	He keepet her that summer’s night.
 5H.10	And he gave her a gay goud ring
 	His mother got at her wedding.
 	* * * * *
 5H.11	‘Oh is yer stirrup set too high?
 	Or is your saddle set awry?
 5H.12	‘Oh is yer stirrup set too side?
 	Or what’s the reason ye canna ride?’
 	* * * * *
 5H.13	When all were at the table set,
 	Then not a bit could this lady eat.
 5H.14	When all made merry at the feast,
 	This lady wished she were at her rest.
 	* * * * *

 


 
6A: Willie’s Lady
 
6A.1	WILLIE has taen him oer the fame, He’s woo’d a wife and brought her hame. 6A.2	He’s woo’d her for her yellow hair, But his mother wrought her mickle care. 6A.3	And mickle dolour gard her dree, For lighter she can never be. 6A.4	But in her bower she sits wi pain, And Willie mourns oer her in vain. 6A.5	And to his mother he has gone, That vile rank witch of vilest kind. 6A.6	He says: ‘My ladie has a cup, Wi gowd and silver set about. 6A.7	‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain, And let her be lighter o her young bairn.’ 6A.8	‘Of her young bairn she’ll neer be lighter, Nor in her bower to shine the brighter. 6A.9	‘But she shall die and turn to clay, And you shall wed another may.’ 6A.10	‘Another may I’ll never wed, Another may I’ll neer bring home.’ 6A.11	But sighing says that weary wight, ‘I wish my life were at an end.’ 6A.12	‘Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again, That vile rank witch of vilest kind. 6A.13	‘And say your ladie has a steed, The like o’m’s no in the lands of Leed. 6A.14	‘For he [i]s golden shod before, And he [i]s golden shod behind. 6A.15	‘And at ilka tet of that horse’s main, There’s a golden chess and a bell ringing. 6A.16	‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain, And let me be lighter of my young bairn.’ 6A.17	‘O her young bairn she’ll neer be lighter, Nor in her bower to shine the brighter. 6A.18	‘But she shall die and turn to clay, And ye shall wed another may.’ 6A.19	‘Another may I[’ll] never wed, Another may I[’ll] neer bring hame.’ 6A.20	But sighing said that weary wight, ‘I wish my life were at an end.’ 6A.21	‘Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again, That vile rank witch of vilest kind. 6A.22	‘And say your ladie has a girdle, It’s red gowd unto the middle. 6A.23	‘And ay at every silver hem, Hangs fifty silver bells and ten. 6A.24	‘That goodlie gift has be her ain, And let me be lighter of my young bairn.’ 6A.25	‘O her young bairn she’s neer be lighter, Nor in her bower to shine the brighter. 6A.26	‘But she shall die and turn to clay, And you shall wed another may.’ 6A.27	‘Another may I’ll never wed, Another may I’ll neer bring hame.’ 6A.28	But sighing says that weary wight, ‘I wish my life were at an end.’ 6A.29	Then out and spake the Belly Blind; He spake aye in good time. 6A.30	‘Ye doe ye to the market place, And there ye buy a loaf o wax. 6A.31	‘Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like, And in twa glassen een ye pit; 6A.32	‘And bid her come to your boy’s christening; Then notice weel what she shall do. 6A.33	‘And do you stand a little fore bye, And listen weel what she shall say.’ 6A.34	‘Oh wha has loosed the nine witch knots That was amo that ladie’s locks? 6A.35	‘And wha has taen out the kaims of care That hangs amo that ladie’s hair? 6A.36	‘And wha’s taen down the bush o woodbine That hang atween her bower and mine? 6A.37	‘And wha has killd the master kid That ran beneath that ladie’s bed? 6A.38	‘And wha has loosed her left-foot shee, And lotten that ladie lighter be?’ 6A.39	O Willie has loosed the nine witch knots That was amo that ladie’s locks. 6A.40	And Willie’s taen out the kaims o care That hang amo that ladie’s hair. 6A.41	And Willie’s taen down the bush o woodbine That hang atween her bower and thine. 6A.42	And Willie has killed the master kid That ran beneath that ladie’s bed. 6A.43	And Willie has loosed her left-foot shee, And letten his ladie lighter be. 6A.44	And now he’s gotten a bonny young son, And mickle grace be him upon.


 
7A: Earl Brand
 
7A.1	OH did ye ever hear o brave Earl Bran? Refrain:	Ay lally, o lilly lally He courted the king’s daughter of fair England. Refrain:	All i the night sae early 7A.2	She was scarcely fifteen years of age Till sae boldly she came to his bedside. 7A.3	‘O Earl Bran, fain wad I see A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.’ 7A.4	‘O lady, I have no steeds but one, And thou shalt ride, and I will run.’ 7A.5	‘O Earl Bran, my father has two, And thou shall have the best o them a.’ 7A.6	They have ridden oer moss and moor, And they met neither rich nor poor. 7A.7	Until they met with old Carl Hood; He comes for ill, but never for good. 7A.8	‘Earl Bran, if ye love me, Seize this old carl, and gar him die.’ 7A.9	‘O lady fair, it wad be sair, To slay an old man that has grey hair. 7A.10	‘O lady fair, I’ll no do sae; I’ll gie him a pound, and let him gae.’ 7A.11	‘O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day? Or where hae ye stolen this lady away?’ 7A.12	‘I have not ridden this lee lang day. Nor yet have I stolen this lady away. 7A.13	‘She is my only, my sick sister, Whom I have brought from Winchester.’ 7A.14	‘If she be sick, and like to dead, Why wears she the ribbon sae red? 7A.15	‘If she be sick, and like to die, Then why wears she the gold on high?’ 7A.16	When he came to his lady’s gate, Sae rudely as he rapped at it. 7A.17	‘O where’s the lady o this ha?’ ‘She’s out with her maids to play at the ba. 7A.18	‘Ha, ha, ha! ye are a’ mistaen: Gae count your maidens oer again. 7A.19	‘I saw her far beyond the moor, Away to be the Earl o Bran’s whore.’ 7A.20	The father armed fifteen of his best men, To bring his daughter back again. 7A.21	Oer her left shoulder the lady looked then: ‘O Earl Bran, we both are tane.’ 7A.22	‘If they come on me ane by ane, Ye may stand by and see them slain. 7A.23	‘But if they come on me one and all, Ye may stand by and see me fall.’ 7A.24	They have come on him ane by ane, And he has killed them all but ane. 7A.25	And that ane came behind his back, And he’s gien him a deadly whack. 7A.26	But for a’ sae wounded as Earl Bran was, He has set his lady on her horse. 7A.27	They rode till they came to the water o Doune, And then he alighted to wash his wounds. 7A.28	‘O Earl Bran, I see your heart’s blood!’ ’Tis but the gleat o my scarlet hood.’ 7A.29	They rode till they came to his mother’s gate, And sae rudely as he rapped at it. 7A.30	‘O my son’s slain, my son’s put down, And a’ for the sake of an English loun.’ 7A.31	‘O say not sae, my dear mother, But marry her to my youngest brother. * * * * * 7A.32	‘This has not been the death o ane, But it’s been that of fair seventeen.’ * * * * *
 
7B: Earl Brand
 
7B.1	‘RISE up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas,’ she says, ‘And put on your armour so bright; Let it never be said that a daughter of thine Was married to a lord under night. 7B.2	‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And put on your armour so bright, And take better care of your youngest sister, For your eldest’s awa the last night.’ 7B.3	He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And lightly they rode away. 7B.4	Lord William lookit oer his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold, Come riding over the lee. 7B.5	‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said, ‘And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father, I mak a stand.’ 7B.6	She held his steed in her milk-white hand, And never shed one tear, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa, And her father hard fighting, who lovd her so dear. 7B.7	‘O hold your hand, Lord William!’ she said, ‘For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair.’ 7B.8	O she’s taen out her handkerchief, It was o the holland sae fine, And aye she dighted her father’s bloody wounds, That were redder than the wine. 7B.9	‘O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,’ he said, ‘O whether will ye gang or bide?’ ‘I’ll gang, I’ll gang, Lord William,’ she said, ‘For ye have left me no other guide.’ 7B.10	He’s lifted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And slowly they baith rade away. 7B.11	O they rade on, and on they rade, And a’ by the light of the moon, Until they came to yon wan water, And there they lighted down. 7B.12	They lighted down to tak a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear, And down the stream ran his gude heart’s blood, And sair she gan to fear. 7B.13	‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says, ‘For I fear that you are slain;’ ‘’Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain.’ 7B.14	O they rade on, and on they rade, And a’ by the light of the moon, Until they cam to his mother’s ha door, And there they lighted down. 7B.15	‘Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says, ‘Get up, and let me in! Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says, ‘For this night my fair lady I’ve win. 7B.16	‘O mak my bed, lady mother,’ he says, ‘O mak it braid and deep, And lay Lady Margret close at my back, And the sounder I will sleep.’ 7B.17	Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, Lady Margret lang ere day, And all true lovers that go thegither, May they have mair luck than they! 7B.18	Lord William was buried in St. Mary’s kirk, Lady Margret in Mary’s quire; Out o the lady’s grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o the knight’s a briar. 7B.19	And they twa met, and they twa plat, And fain they wad be near; And a’ the warld might ken right weel They were twa lovers dear. 7B.20	But bye and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough! For he pulld up the bonny brier, And flang’t in St. Mary’s Loch.
 
7C: Earl Brand
 
7C.1	‘RISE up, rise up, my seven brave sons, And dress in your armour so bright; Earl Douglas will hae Lady Margaret awa Before that it be light. 7C.2	‘Arise, arise, my seven brave sons, And dress in your armour so bright; It shall never be said that a daughter of mine Shall go with an earl or a knight.’ 7C.3	‘O will ye stand, fair Margaret,’ he says, ‘And hold my milk-white steed, Till I fight your father and seven brethren, In yonder pleasant mead?’ 7C.4	She stood and held his milk-white steed, She stood trembling with fear, Until she saw her seven brethren fall, And her father that loved her dear. 7C.5	‘Hold your hand, Earl Douglas,’ she says, ‘Your strokes are wonderous sair; I may get sweethearts again enew, But a father I’ll ne’er get mair.’ 7C.6	She took out a handkerchief Was made o’ the cambrick fine, And aye she wiped her father’s bloody wounds, And the blood sprung up like wine. 7C.7	‘Will ye go, fair Margaret?’ he said, ‘Will ye now go, or bide?’ ‘Yes, I’ll go, sweet William,’ she said, ‘For ye’ve left me never a guide. 7C.8	‘If I were to go to my mother’s house, A welcome guest I would be; But for the bloody deed that’s done this day I’ll rather go with thee.’ 7C.9	He lifted her on a milk-white steed And himself on a dapple gray; They drew their hats out over their face, And they both went weeping away. 7C.10	They rode, they rode, and they better rode, Till they came to yon water wan; They lighted down to gie their horse a drink Out of the running stream. 7C.11	‘I am afraid, Earl Douglas,’ she said, ‘I am afraid ye are slain;’ I think I see your bonny heart’s blood Running down the water wan.’ 7C.12	‘Oh no, oh no, fair Margaret,’ he said, ‘Oh no, I am not slain; It is but the scad of my scarlet cloak Runs down the water wan.’ 7C.13	He mounted her on a milk-white steed And himself on a dapple gray, And they have reached Earl Douglas’ gates Before the break of day. 7C.14	‘O rise, dear mother, and make my bed, And make it braid and wide, And lay me down to take my rest, And at my back my bride.’ 7C.15	She has risen and made his bed, She made it braid and wide; She laid him down to take his rest, And at his back his bride. 7C.16	Lord William died ere it was day, Lady Margaret on the morrow; Lord William died through loss of blood and wounds, Fair Margaret died with sorrow. 7C.17	The one was buried in Mary’s kirk, The other in Mary’s quire; The one sprung up a bonnie bush, And the other a bonny brier. 7C.18	These twa grew, and these twa threw, Till they came to the top, And when they could na farther gae, They coost the lovers’ knot.
 
7D: Earl Brand
 
7D.1	‘SLEEPST thou or wakst thou, Lord Montgomerie, Sleepst thou or wakst thou, I say? Rise up, make a match for your eldest daughter, For the youngest I carry away.’ 7D.2	‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, Dress yourselves in the armour sae fine; For it ne’er shall be said that a churlish knight Eer married a daughter of mine.’ * * * * * 7D.3	‘Loup aff, loup aff, Lady Margaret,’ he said, ‘And hold my steed in your hand, And I will go fight your seven brethren, And your father, where they stand.’ 7D.4	Sometimes she gaed, sometimes she stood, But never dropt a tear, Until she saw her brethren all slain, And her father who lovd her so dear. 7D.5	‘Hold thy hand, sweet William,’ she says, ‘Thy blows are wondrous sore; Sweethearts I may have many a one, But a father I’ll never have more.’ 7D.6	O she’s taken her napkin frae her pocket, Was made o the holland fine, And ay as she dichted her father’s bloody wounds, They sprang as red as the wine. 7D.7	‘Two chooses, two chooses, Lady Margret,’ he says, ‘Two chooses I’ll make thee; Whether to go back to your mother again, Or go along with me.’ 7D.8	‘For to go home to my mother again, An unwelcome guest I’d be; But since my fate has ordered it so, I’ll go along with thee.’ 7D.9	He has mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself on the dapple gray, And blawn his horn baith loud and shill, And it sounded far on their way. 7D.10	They rode oer hill, they rode oer dale, They rode oer mountains so high, Until they came to that beautiful place Where Sir William’s mother did lie. 7D.11	‘Rise up, rise up, lady mother,’ he said, ‘Rise up, and make much o your own; Rise up, rise up, lady mother,’ he said, ‘For his bride’s just new come home.’ 7D.12	Sir Willian he died in the middle o the night, Lady Margaret died on the morrow; Sir William he died of pure pure love, Lady Margaret of grief and sorrow.
 
7E: Earl Brand
 
 
 7E.1	HE has lookit over his left shoulder,
 	And through his bonnie bridle rein,
 	And he spy’d her father and her seven bold brethren,
 	Come riding down the glen.
 7E.2	‘O hold my horse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
 	O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,
 	Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren,
 	As they come riding down the glen.’
 7E.3	Some time she rade, and some time she gaed,
 	Till she that place did near,
 	And there she spy’d her seven bold brethren slain,
 	And her father who loved her so dear.
 7E.4	‘O hold you hand, sweet William,’ she said,
 	‘Your bull baits are wondrous sair;
 	Sweet-hearts I may get many a one,
 	But a father I will never get mair.’
 7E.5	She has taken a napkin from off her neck,
 	That was of the cambrick so fine,
 	And aye as she wiped her father’s bloody wounds,
 	The blood ran red as the wine.
 	* * * * *
 7E.6	He set her upon the milk-white steed,
 	Himself upon the brown;
 	He took a horn out of his pocket,
 	And they both went weeping along.

 
 
7F: Earl Brand
 
7F.1	. . . . . . Sayes ‘Christ thee saue, good Child of Ell! Christ saue thee and thy steede! 7F.2	‘My father sayes he will [eat] noe meate, Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good, Till he haue slaine the Child of Ell, And haue seene his harts blood.’ 7F.3	‘I wold I were in my sadle sett, And a mile out of the towne; I did not care for your father And all his merry men! 7F.4	‘I wold I were in my sadle sett, And a little space him froe; I did not care for your father And all that long him to!’ 7F.5	He leaned ore his saddle bow To kisse this lady good; The tears that went them two betweene Were blend water and blood. 7F.6	He sett himselfe on one good steed, This lady on a palfray, And sett his litle horne to his mouth, And roundlie he rode away. 7F.7	He had not ridden past a mile, A mile out of the towne, . . . . . . 7F.8	Her father was readye with her seuen brether, He said, ‘Sett thou my daughter downe! For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne, To carry her forth of this towne!’ 7F.9	But lowd thou lyest, Sir Iohn the knight, Thou now doest lye of me; A knight me gott, and a lady me bore; Soe neuer did none by thee. 7F.10	‘But light now downe, my lady gay, Light downe and hold my horsse, Whilest I and your father and your brether Doe play vs at this crosse. 7F.11	‘But light now downe, my owne trew loue, And meeklye hold my steede, Whilest your father [and your seuen brether] bold * * * * *
 
7[G]: Earl Brand
 
7[G.1]	* * * * ‘Gude Earl Brand, I long to see Refrain:	Faldee faldee fal deediddle a dee 7[G.1]	All your grey hounds running over the lea.’ Refrain:	And the brave knights in the valley 7[G.2]	‘Gude lady fair, I have not a steed but one, But you shall ride and I shall run.’ 7[G.3]	They’re ower moss and they’re ower mure, And they saw neither rich nor pure. 7[G.4]	Until that they came to auld Karl Hude; He’s aye for ill and never for gude. 7[G.5]	‘Gude Earl Brand, if ye love me, Kill auld Karl Hude, and gar him die.’ 7[G.6]	‘O fair ladie, we’ll do better than sae: Gie him a penny and let him gae.’ 7[G.7]	‘Gude Earl Brand, whare hae ye been, Or whare hae ye stown this lady sheen?’ 7[G.8]	‘She’s not my lady, but my sick sister, And she’s been at the wells of Meen.’ 7[G.9]	‘If she was sick, and very sair, She wadna wear the red gold on her hair. 7[G.10[	‘Or if she were sick, and like to be dead, She wadna wear the ribbons red.’ 7[G.11]	He cam till he cam to her father’s gate, And he has rappit furious thereat. 7[G.12]	‘Where is the lady o this hall?’ ‘She’s out wi her maidens, playing at the ball.’ 7[G.13]	‘If you’ll get me fyfteen wale wight men, Sae fast as I’ll fetch her back again.’ 7[G.14]	She’s lookit ower her left collar-bane: ‘O gude Earl Brand, we baith are taen.’ 7[G.15]	‘Light down, light down, and hold my steed; Change never your cheer till ye see me dead. 7[G.16]	‘If they come on me man by man, I’ll be very laith for to be taen. 7[G.17]	‘But if they come on me one and all, The sooner you will see me fall.’ 7[G.18]	O he has killd them all but one, And wha was that but auld Karl Hude. 7[G.19]	And he has come on him behind, And put in him the deadly wound. 7[G.20]	O he has set his lady on, And he’s come whistling all along. 7[G.21]	hGude Earl Brand, I see blood:’ ‘It’s but the shade o my scarlet robe.’ 7[G.22]	They cam till they cam to the water aflood; He’s lighted down and he’s wushen aff the blood. 7[G.23]	His mother walks the floor alone: ‘O yonder does come my poor son. 7[G.24]	‘He is both murderd and undone, And all for the sake o an English loon.’ 7[G.25]	‘Say not sae, my dearest mother, Marry her on my eldest brother.’ 7[G.26]	She set her fit up to the wa, 7[G.26r]	Faldee faldee fal deediddle adee 7[G.26]	She’s fallen down dead amang them a’. 7[G.26r]	And the brave knights o the valley
 
7[H]: Earl Brand
 
7[H.1]	Did you ever hear of good Earl Brand, Refrain:	Aye lally an lilly lally 7[H.1]	And the king’s daughter of fair Scotland? Refrain:	And the braw knights o Airly 7[H.2]	She was scarce fifteen years of age When she came to Earl Brand’s bed. Refrain:	Wi the braw knights o Airly 7[H.3]	‘O Earl Brand, I fain wad see Our grey hounds run over the lea.’ Refrain:	Mang the braw bents o Airly 7[H.4]	‘O,’ says Earl Brand, ‘I’ve nae steads but one, And you shall ride and I shall run.’ Refrain:	Oer the braw heights o Airly 7[H.5]	‘O,’ says the lady, ‘I hae three, And ye shall hae yeer choice for me.’ Refrain:	Of the braw steeds o Airly 7[H.6]	So they lap on, and on they rade, Till they came to auld Carle Hood. Refrain:	Oer the braw hills o Airly 7[H.7]	Carl Hood’s aye for ill, and he’s no for good, He’s aye for ill, and he’s no for good. Refrain:	Mang the braw hills o Airly 7[H.8]	‘Where hae ye been hunting a’ day, And where have ye stolen this fair may?’ Refrain:	I’ the braw nights sae airly 7[H.9]	‘She is my sick sister dear, New comd home from another sister.’ Refrain:	I the braw nights sae early 7[H.10]	‘O,’ says the lady, ’if ye love me, Gie him a penny fee and let him gae.’ 7[H.10r]	I the braw nights sae early 7[H.11]	He’s gane home to her father’s bower, . . . . . . . . . . . 7[H.12]	‘Where is the lady o this ha?’ ‘She’s out wi the young maids, playing at the ba.’ 7[H.12r]	I the braw nights so early 7[H.13]	‘No,’ says another, ’She’s riding oer the moor, And a’ to be Earl Brand’s whore.’ 7[H.13r]	I the braw nights so early 7[H.14]	The king mounted fifteen weel armed men, A’ to get Earl Brand taen. 7[H.14r]	I the braw hills so early 7[H.15]	The lady looked over her white horse mane: ‘O Earl Brand, we will be taen.’ 7[H.15r]	In the braw hills so early 7[H.16]	He says, If they come one by one, Ye’ll no see me so soon taen. 7[H.16r]	In the braw hills so early 7[H.17]	So they came every one but one, And he has killd them a’ but ane. 7[H.17r]	In the braw hills so early 7[H.18]	And that one came behind his back, And gave Earl Brand a deadly stroke. 7[H.18r]	In the braw nights of Airly 7[H.19]	For as sair wounded as he was, He lifted the lady on her horse. 7[H.19r]	In the braw nights so early 7[H.20]	‘O Earl Brand, I see thy heart’s bluid!’ ‘It’s but the shadow of my scarlet robe.’ 7[H.20r]	I the braw nights so early 7[H.21]	He came to his mother’s home; . . . . . . . . . . . 7[H.22]	She looked out and cryd her son was gone, And a’ for the sake [of] an English loon. . . . . . 7[H.23]	‘What will I do wi your lady fair?’ ‘Marry her to my eldest brother.’ 7[H.23r]	The brawest knight i Airly
 
7[I]: Earl Brand
 
7[I.1]	‘Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas,’ she said, ‘And draw to your arms so bright; Let it never be said a daughter of yours Shall go with a lord or a knight. 7[I.2]	‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And draw to your armour so bright; Let it never be said a sister of yours Shall go with a lord or a night.’ 7[I.3]	He looked over his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold, And her father that lov’d her tenderly. 7[I.4]	‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said, ‘And hold my steed in thy hand. That I may go fitht with your seven brethren bold, And your father who’s just at hand.’ 7[I.5]	O there she stood, and bitter she stood, And never did shed a tear, Till once she saw her seven brethren slain, And her father she lovd so dear. 7[I.6]	‘Hold, hold your hand, William,’ she said, ‘For thy strokes are wondrous sore; For sweethearts I may get many a one, But a father I neer will get more.’ 7[I.7]	She took out a handkerchief of holland so fine And wip’d her father’s bloody wound, Which ran more clear than the red wine, And forked on the cold ground. 7[I.8]	‘O chuse you, chuse you, Margret,’ he said, ‘Whether you will go or bide!’ ‘I must go with you, Lord William,’ she said, ‘Since you’ve left me no other guide.’ 7[I.9]	He lifted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side, And they slowly both rode away. 7[I.10]	Away they rode, and better they rode, Till they came to yonder sand, Till once they came to yon river side, And ther they lighted down. 7[I.11]	They lighted down to take a drink Of the spring that ran so clear, And there she spy’d his bonny heart’s blood, A running down the stream. 7[I.12]	‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says, ‘For I fear that you are slain;’ ‘’Tis nought but the shade of my scarlet clothes, That is sparkling down the stream.’ 7[I.13]	He lifted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side, And slowly they rode away. 7[I.14]	Ay they rode, and better they rode, Till they came to his mother’s bower; Till once they came to his mother’s bower, And down they lighted there. 7[I.15]	‘O mother, mother, make my bed, And make it saft and fine, And lay my lady close at my back, That I may sleep most sound.’ 7[I.16]	Lord William he died eer middle o the night, Lady Margret long before the morrow; Lord William he died for pure true love, And Lady Margret died for sorrow. 7[I.17]	Lord William was bury’d in Lady Mary’s kirk, The other in Saint Mary’s quire; Out of William’s grave sprang a red rose, And out of Margret’s a briar. 7[I.18]	And ay they grew, and ay they threw, As they wad fain been near; And by this you may ken right well They were twa lovers dear.


 
8A: Erlinton
 
8A.1	ERLINTON had a fair daughter; I wat he weird her in a great sin; For he has built a bigly bower, An a’ to put that lady in. 8A.2	An he has warnd her sisters six, An sae has he her brethren se’en, Outher to watch her a’ the night, Or else to seek her morn an een. 8A.3	She hadna been i that bigly bower Na not a night but barely ane, Till there was Willie, her ain true love, Chappd at the door, cryin ‘Peace within!’ 8A.4	‘O whae is this at my bower door, That chaps sae late, nor kens the gin?’ ‘O it is Willie, your ain true love, I pray you rise an let me in!’ 8A.5	‘But in my bower there is a wake, An at the wake there is a wane; But I’ll come to the green-wood the morn, Whar blooms the brier, by mornin dawn.’ 8A.6	Then she’s gane to her bed again, Where she has layen till the cock crew thrice, Then she said to her sisters a’, ‘Maidens, ’tis time for us to rise.’ 8A.7	She pat on her back her silken gown, An on her breast a siller pin, An she’s tane a sister in ilka hand, An to the green-wood she is gane. 8A.8	She hadna walkd in the green-wood Na not a mile but barely ane, Till there was Willie, her ain true love, Whae frae her sister has her taen. 8A.9	He took her sisters by the hand, He kissd them baith, an sent them hame, An he’s taen his true love him behind, And through the green-wood they are gane. 8A.10	They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood Na not a mile but barely ane, When there came fifteen o the boldest knights That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane. 8A.11	The foremost was an aged knight, He wore the grey hair on his chin: Says, ‘Yield to me thy lady bright, An thou shalt walk the woods within.’ 8A.12	‘For me to yield my lady bright To such an aged knight as thee, People wad think I war gane mad, Or a’ the courage flown frae me.’ 8A.13	But up then spake the second knight, I wat he spake right boustouslie: ‘Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright, Or here the tane of us shall die.’ 8A.14	‘My lady is my warld’s meed; My life I winna yield to nane; But if ye be men of your manhead, Ye’ll only fight me ane by ane.’ 8A.15	He lighted aff his milk-white steed, An gae his lady him by the head, Sayn, ‘See ye dinna change your cheer, Untill ye see my body bleed.’ 8A.16	He set his back unto an aik, He set his feet against a stane, An he has fought these fifteen men, An killd them a’ but barely ane. 8A.17	. . . . . . . . . For he has left that aged knight, An a’ to carry the tidings hame. 8A.18	When he gaed to his lady fair, I wat he kissd her tenderlie: ‘Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought; Now we shall walk the green-wood free.’
 
8B: Erlinton
 
8B.1	THERE was a knight, an he had a daughter, An he wad wed her, wi muckle sin; Sae he has biggit a bonnie bower, love, An a’ to keep his fair daughter in. 8B.2	But she hadna been in the bonnie bower, love, And no twa hours but barely ane, Till up started Tammas, her ain true lover, And O sae fain as he wad been in. 8B.3	‘For a’ sae weel as I like ye, Tammas, An for a’ sae weel as I like the gin, I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love, Na no this night wad I let thee in. 8B.4	‘But yonder is a bonnie greenwud, An in the greenwud there is a wauk, An I’ll be there an sune the morn, love, It’s a’ for my true love’s sake. 8B.5	‘On my right hand I’ll have a glove, love, An on my left ane I’ll have nane; I’ll have wi’ me my sisters six, love, An we will wauk the wuds our lane.’ 8B.6	They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud, Na no an hour but barely ane, Till up start Tammas, her ain true lover, He’s taen her sisters her frae mang. 8B.7	An he has kissed her sisters six, love, An he has sent them hame again, But he has keepit his ain true lover, Saying, ‘We will wauk the wuds our lane.’ 8B.8	They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud Na no an hour but barely ane, Till up start fifteen o the bravest outlaws That ever bure either breath or bane. 8B.9	An up bespake the foremost man, love, An O but he spake angrily: ‘Either your life--or your lady fair, sir, This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.’ 8B.10	‘My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir, An O my life, but it lies me near! But before I lose my lady fair, sir, I’ll rather lose my life sae dear.’ 8B.11	Then up bespak the second man, love, An aye he spake mair angrily, Saying, ‘Baith your life, and your lady fair, sir, This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.’ 8B.12	‘My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir, An O my life, but it lies me near! But before I lose my lady fair, sir, I’ll rather lose my life sae dear. 8B.13	‘But if ye’ll be men to your manhood, As that I will be unto mine, I’ll fight ye every ane man by man, Till the last drop’s blude I hae be slain. 8B.14	‘O sit ye down, my dearest dearie, Sit down and hold my noble steed, And see that ye never change your cheer Until ye see my body bleed.’ 8B.15	He’s feughten a’ the fifteen outlaws, The fifteen outlaws every ane, He’s left naething but the auldest man To go and carry the tidings hame. 8B.16	An he has gane to his dearest dear, An he has kissed her, cheek and chin, Saying, ‘Thou art mine ain, I have bought thee dear, An we will wauk the wuds our lane.’
 
8C: Erlinton
 
8C.1	AS Robin Hood sat by a tree, He espied a prettie may, And when she chanced him to see, She turnd her head away. 8C.2	‘O feare me not, thou prettie mayde, And doe not flie from mee; I am the kindest man,’ he said, ‘That ever eye did see.’ 8C.3	Then to her he did doffe his cap, And to her lowted low; ‘To meete with thee I hold it good hap, If thou wilt not say noe.’ 8C.4	Then he put his hand around her waste, Soe small, so tight, and trim, And after sought her lip to taste, And she to kissed him. 8C.5	‘Where dost thou dwell, my prettie maide? I prithee tell to me;’ ‘I am a tanner’s daughter,’ she said, ‘John Hobbes of Barneslee.’ 8C.6	‘And whither goest thou, pretty maide? Shall I be thy true love?’ ‘If thou art not afeard,’ she said, ‘My true love thou shalt prove.’ 8C.7	‘What should I feare?’ then he replied; ‘I am thy true love now;’ ‘I have two brethren, and their pride Would scorn such one as thou.’ 8C.8	‘That will we try,’ quoth Robin Hood; ‘I was not made their scorne; Ile shed my blood to doe the[e] good, As sure as they were borne.’ 8C.9	‘My brothers are proude and fierce and strong;’ ‘I am,’ said he, ’The same, And if they offer thee to wrong, Theyle finde Ile play their game. 8C.10	‘Through the free forrest I can run, The king may not controll; They are but barking tanners’ sons, To me they shall pay toll. 8C.11	‘And if not mine be sheepe and kine, I have cattle on my land; On venison eche day I may dine, Whiles they have none in hand.’ 8C.12	These wordes had Robin Hood scarce spoke, When they two men did see, Come riding till their horses smoke: ‘My brothers both,’ cried shee. 8C.13	Each had a good sword by his side, And furiouslie they rode To where they Robin Hood espied, That with the maiden stood. 8C.14	‘Flee hence, flee hence, away with speede!’ Cried she to Robin Hood, ‘For if thou stay, thoult surely bleede; I could not see thy blood.’ 8C.15	‘With us, false maiden, come away, And leave that outlawe bolde; Why fledst thou from thy home this day, And left thy father olde?’ 8C.16	Robin stept backe but paces five, Unto a sturdie tree; ‘Ile fight whiles I am left alive; Stay thou, sweete maide, with mee.’ 8C.17	He stood before, she stoode behinde, The brothers two drewe nie; ‘Our sister now to us resign, Or thou full sure shalt die.’ 8C.18	Then cried the maide, ‘My brethren deare, With ye Ile freely wend, But harm not this young forrester, Noe ill doth he pretend.’ 8C.19	‘Stande up, sweete maide, I plight my troth; Fall thou not on thy knee; Ile force thy cruell brothers both To bend the knee to thee. 8C.20	‘Stand thou behinde this sturdie oke, I soone will quell their pride; Thoult see my sword with furie smoke, And in their hearts’ blood died.’ 8C.21	He set his backe against a tree, His foote against a stone; The first blow that he gave so free Cleft one man to the bone. 8C.22	The tanners bold they fought right well, And it was one to two; But Robin did them both refell, All in the damsell’s viewe. 8C.23	The red blood ran from Robins brow, All downe unto his knee; ‘O holde your handes, my brethren now, I will goe backe with yee.’ 8C.24	‘Stand backe, stand backe, my pretty maide, Stand backe and let me fight; By sweete St. James be no[t] afraide But I will it requite.’ 8C.25	Then Robin did his sword uplift, And let it fall againe; The oldest brothers head it cleft, Right through unto his braine. 8C.26	‘O hold thy hand, bolde forrester, Or ill may thee betide; Slay not my youngest brother here, He is my father’s pride.’ 8C.27	‘Away, for I would scorne to owe, My life to the[e], false maide!’ The youngest cried, and aimd a blow That lit on Robin’s head. 8C.28	Then Robin leand against the tree, His life nie gone did seeme; His eyes did swim, he could not see The maiden start betweene. 8C.29	It was not long ere Robin Hood Could welde his sword so bright; Upon his feete he firmly stood, And did renew the fight. 8C.30	Untill the tanner scarce could heave His weapon in the aire; But Robin would not him bereave Of life, and left him there. 8C.31	Then to the greenewood did he fly, And with him went the maide; For him she vowd that she would dye, He’d live for her, he said.


 
9A: The Fair Flower of Northumberland
 
9A.1	IT was a knight in Scotland borne Refrain:	Follow, my love, come over the strand Was taken prisoner, and left forlorne, Refrain:	Even by the good Earle of Northumberland. 9A.2	Then was he cast in prison strong, Where he could not walke nor lie along, Refrain:	Even by the goode Earle of Northumberland. 9A.3	And as in sorrow thus he lay, The Earle’s sweete daughter walkt that way, Refrain:	And she the faire flower of Northumberland. 9A.4	And passing by, like an angell bright, The prisoner had of her a sight, Refrain:	And she the faire flower of Northumberland. 9A.5	And loud to her this knight did crie, The salt teares standing in his eye, Refrain:	And she the faire flower of Northumberland. 9A.6	‘Faire lady,’ he said, ’Take pity on me, And let me not in prison dye, Refrain:	And you the faire flower of Northumberland.’ 9A.7	‘Faire Sir, how should I take pity on thee, Thou being a foe to our countrey, Refrain:	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’ 9A.8	‘Faire lady, I am no foe,’ he said, ‘Through thy sweet love heere was I stayd, Refrain:	For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.’ 9A.9	‘Why shouldst thou come heere for love of me, Having wife and children in thy countrie? Refrain:	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’ 9A.10	‘I sweare by the blessed Trinitie, I have no wife nor children, I, 9A.10r	Nor dwelling at home in merrie Scotland. 9A.11	‘If curteously you will set me free, I vow that I will marrie thee, 9A.11r	So soone as I come in faire Scotland. 9A.12	‘Thou shalt be a lady of castles and towers, And sit like a queene in princely bowers, 9A.12r	When I am at home in faire Scotland.’ 9A.13	Then parted hence this lady gay, And got her father’s ring away, 9A.13r	To helpe this sad knight into faire Scotland. 9A.14	Likewise much gold she got by sleight, And all to help this forlorne knight 9A.14r	To wend from her father to faire Scotland. 9A.15	Two gallant steedes, both good and able, She likewise tooke out of the stable, 9A.15r	To ride with this knight into faire Scotland. 9A.16	And to the jaylor she sent this ring, The knight from prison forth to bring, 9A.16r	To wend with her into faire Scotland. 9A.17	This token set the prisoner free, Who straight went to this faire lady, 9A.17r	To wend with her into faire Scotland. 9A.18	A gallant steede he did bestride, And with the lady away did ride, 9A.18r	And she the faire flower of Northumberland. 9A.19	They rode till they came to a water cleare: ‘Good Sir, how should I follow you heere, 9A.19r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland? 9A.20	‘The water is rough and wonderfull deepe, An[d] on my saddle I shall not keepe, 9A.20r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’ 9A.21	‘Feare not the foord, faire lady,’ quoth he, ‘For long I cannot stay for thee, 9A.21r	And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.’ 9A.22	The lady prickt her wanton steed, And over the river swom with speede, 9A.22r	And she the faire flower of Northumberland. 9A.23	From top to toe all wet was shee: ‘This have I done for love of thee, 9A.23r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’ 9A.24	Thus rode she all one winter’s night, Till Edenborow they saw in sight, 9A.24r	The chiefest towne in all Scotland. 9A.25	‘Now chuse,’ quoth he, ’Thou wanton flower, Whe’r thou wilt be my paramour, 9A.25r	Or get thee home to Northumberland. 9A.26	‘For I have wife, and children five, In Edenborow they be alive; 9A.26r	Then get thee home to faire England. 9A.27	‘This favour shalt thou have to boote, Ile have thy horse, go thou on foote, 9A.27r	Go, get thee home to Northumberland.’ 9A.28	‘O false and faithlesse knight,’ quoth shee, ‘And canst thou deale so bad with me, 9A.28r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland? 9A.29	‘Dishonour not a ladie’s name, But draw thy sword and end my shame, 9A.29r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’ 9A.30	He tooke her from her stately steed, And left her there in extreme need, 9A.30r	And she the faire flower of Northumberland. 9A.31	Then sate she downe full heavily; At length two knights came riding by, 9A.31r	Two gallant knights of faire England. 9A.32	She fell downe humbly on her knee, Saying, ‘Courteous knights, take pittie on me, 9A.32r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland. 9A.33	‘I have offended my father deere, And by a false knight that brought me heere, 9A.33r	From the good Earle of Northumberland.’ 9A.34	They tooke her up behind them then, And brought her to her father’s againe, 9A.34r	And he the good Earle of Northumberland. 9A.35	All you faire maidens be warned by me, Scots were never true, nor never will be, 9A.35r	To lord, nor lady, nor faire England.
 
9B: The Fair Flower of Northumberland
 
9B.1	THE provost’s daughter went out a walking, Refrain:	A may’s love whiles is easy won She heard a poor prisoner making his moan, Refrain:	And she was the fair flower of Northumberland. 9B.2	‘If any lady would borrow me Refrain:	Out into the prison strong, 9B.2	I would make her a lady of high degree, Refrain:	For I am a great lord in fair Scotland.’ 9B.3	She’s done her to her father’s bed-stock, Refrain:	A may’s love whiles is easy won 9B.3	She’s stolen the keys o many braw lock, Refrain:	And she’s loosd him out o the prison strong. 9B.4	She’s done her to her father’s stable, Refrain:	A may’s love whiles is easy won 9B.4	She’s taen out a steed that was both swift and able, Refrain:	To carry them both to fair Scotland. 9B.5	O when they came to the Scottish cross, Refrain:	A may’s whiles is easy won 9B.5	‘Ye brazen-faced whore, light off o my horse, Refrain:	And go get you back to Northumberland!’ 9B.6	O when they came to the Scottish moor, Refrain:	A may’s love whiles is easy won 9B.6	‘Get off o my horse, you’re a brazen-faced whore, Refrain:	So go get you back to Northumberland!’ 9B.7	‘O pity on me, O pity,’ said she, Refrain:	‘O that my love was so easy won! 9B.7	Have pity on me as I had upon thee, Refrain:	When I loosd you out of the prison strong.’ 9B.8	‘O how can I have pity on thee? Refrain:	O why was your love so easy won! 9B.8	When I have a wife and children three Refrain:	More worthy than a’ Northumberland.’ 9B.9	‘Cook in your kitchen I will be, Refrain:	O that my love was so easy won! 9B.9	And serve your lady most reverently, Refrain:	For I darena go back to Northumberland.’ 9B.10	‘Cook in my kitchen you shall not be, 9B.10r	Why was your love so easy won! 9B.10	For I will have no such servants as thee, 9B.10r	So get you back to Northumberland.’ 9B.11	But laith was he the lassie to tyne, 9B.11r	A may’s love whiles is easy won 9B.11	He’s hired an old horse and feed an old man, 9B.11r	To carry her back to Northumberland. 9B.12	O when she came her father before, 9B.12r	A may’s love whiles is easy won 9B.12	She fell down on her knees so low 9B.12r	For she was the fair flower of Northumberland. 9B.13	‘O daughter, O daughter, why was ye so bold, 9B.13r	Or why was your love so easy won, 9B.13	To be a Scottish whore in your fifteen year old? 9B.13r	And you the fair flower of Northumberland!’ 9B.14	Her mother she gently on her did smile, 9B.14r	O that her love was so easy won! 9B.14	‘She is not the first that the Scotts have beguild, 9B.14r	But she’s still the fair flower of Northumberland. 9B.15	‘She shanna want gold, she shanna want fee, 9B.15r	Altho that her love was so easy won, 9B.15	She shanna want gold to gain a man wi, 9B.15r	And she’s still the fair flower of Northumberland.’
 
9C: The Fair Flower of Northumberland
 
9C.1	AS I went by a jail-house door, Refrain:	Maid’s love whiles is easy won I saw a prisoner standing there, Refrain:	‘I wish I were home in fair Scotland. 9C.2	‘Fair maid, will you pity me? Ye’ll steal the keys, let me gae free: Refrain:	I’ll make you my lady in fair Scotland. 9C.3	‘I’m sure you have no need of me, For ye have a wife and bairns three, Refrain:	That lives at home in fair Scotland.’ 9C.4	He swore by him that was crownd with thorn, That he never had a wife since the day he was born, Refrain:	But livd a free lord in fair Scotland. 9C.5	She went unto her father’s bed-head, She’s stown the key o mony a lock, Refrain:	She’s let him out o prison strong. 9C.6	She’s went to her father’s stable, She’s stown a steed baith wight and able, Refrain:	To carry them on to fair Scotland. 9C.7	They rode till they came to a muir, He bade her light aff, they’d call her a whore, Refrain:	If she didna return to Northumberland. 9C.8	They rode till they came to a moss, He bade her light aff her father’s best horse, Refrain:	And return her again to Northumberland. 9C.9	‘I’m sure I have no need of thee, When I have a wife and bairns three, Refrain:	That lives at home in fair Scotland.’ 9C.10	‘I’ll be cook in your kitchen, And serve your lady handsomelie, 9C.10r	For I darena gae back to Northumberland.’ 9C.11	‘Ye cannot be cook in my kitchen, My lady cannot fa sic servants as thee, 9C.11r	So ye’ll return again to Northumberland.’ 9C.12	When she went thro her father’s ha, She looted her low amongst them a’, 9C.12r	She was the fair flower o Northumberland. 9C.13	Out spake her father, he spake bold, ‘How could ye be a whore in fifteen years old, 9C.13r	And you the flower of Northumberland?’ 9C.14	Out spake her mother, she spake wi a smile, ‘She’s nae the first his coat did beguile, 9C.14r	Ye’re welcome again to Northumberland.’
 
9D: The Fair Flower of Northumberland
 
 
 9D.1	SHE’S gane down to her father’s stable,
       Refrain:	O my dear, and my love that she wan
 	She’s taen out a black steed baith sturdy and able,
       Refrain:	And she’s away to fair Scotland.
 9D.2	When they came to Scotland bridge,
 	‘Light off, you whore, from my black steed,
       Refrain:	And go your ways back to Northumberland.’
 9D.3	‘O take me by the body so meek,
 	And throw me in the water so deep,
       Refrain:	For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’
 9D.4	‘I’ll no take thee by the body so meek,
 	Nor throw thee in the water so deep;
       Refrain:	Thou may go thy ways back to Northumberland.’
 9D.5	‘Take me by the body so small,
 	And throw me in yon bonny mill-dam,
       Refrain:	For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’

 
 
9E: The Fair Flower of Northumberland
 
9E.1	A BAILIFF’S fair daughter, she lived by the Aln, Refrain:	A young maid’s love is easily won She heard a poor prisoner making his moan, Refrain:	And she was the flower of Northumberland. 9E.2	‘If ye could love me, as I do love thee, Refrain:	A young maid’s love is hard to win 9E.2	I’ll make you a lady of high degree, Refrain:	When once we go down to fair Scotland.’ 9E.3	To think of the prisoner her heart was sore, Refrain:	A young maid’s love is easily won 9E.3	Her love it was much, but her pity was more, Refrain:	And she, etc. 9E.4	She stole from her father’s pillow the key, And out of the dungeon she soon set him free, Refrain:	And she, etc. 9E.5	She led him into her father’s stable, And they’ve taken a steed both gallant and able, Refrain:	To carry them down to fair Scotland. 9E.6	When they first took the way, it was darling and dear; As forward they fared, all changed was his cheer, Refrain:	And she, etc. 9E.7	They rode till they came to a fair Scottish corse; Says he, ‘Now, pray madam, dismount from my horse, Refrain:	And go get you back to Northumberland. 9E.8	‘It befits not to ride with a leman light, When awaits my returning my own lady bright, Refrain:	My own wedded wife in fair Scotland.’ 9E.9	The words that he said on her fond heart smote, She knew not in sooth if she lived or not, Refrain:	And she, etc. 9E.10	She looked to his face, and it kythed so unkind That her fast coming tears soon rendered her blind, 9E.10r	And she, etc. 9E.11	‘Have pity on me as I had it on thee, 9E.11r	O why was my love so easily won! 9E.11	A slave in your kitchen I’m willing to be, 9E.11r	But I may not go back to Northumberland. 9E.12	‘Or carry me up by the middle sae sma, 9E.12r	O why was my love so easily won! 9E.12	And fling me headlong from your high castle wa, 9E.12r	For I dare not go back to Northumberland.’ 9E.13	Her wailing, her woe, for nothing they went, 9E.13r	A young maid’s love is easily won 9E.13	His bosom was stone and he would not relent, 9E.13r	And she, etc. 9E.14	He turned him around and he thought of a plan, He bought an old horse and he hired an old man, 9E.14r	To carry her back to Northumberland. 9E.15	A heavy heart makes a weary way, She reached her home in the evening gray, 9E.15r	And she, etc. 9E.16	And all as she stood at her father’s tower-gate, More loud beat her heart than her knock thereat, 9E.16r	And she, etc. 9E.17	Down came her step-dame, so rugged and doure, 9E.17r	O why was your love so easily won! 9E.17	‘In Scotland go back to your false paramour, 9E.17r	For you shall not stay here in Northumberland.’ 9E.18	Down came her father, he saw her and smiled, 9E.18r	A young maid’s love is easily won 9E.18	‘You are not the first that false Scots have beguiled, 9E.18r	And ye’re aye welcome back to Northumberland. 9E.19	‘You shall not want houses, you shall not want land, You shall not want gold for to gain a husband, 9E.19r	And ye’re aye welcome back to Northumberland.’
 
9[F]: The Fair Flower of Northumberland
 
 
 9[F.1]	* * * *
 	She stole the keys from her father’s bed-head,
       Refrain:	O but her love it was easy won!
 9[F.1]	She opened the gates, she opened them wide,
       Refrain:	She let him out o the prison strong.
 9[F.2]	She went into her father’s stable,
       Refrain:	O but her love it was easy won!
 9[F.2]	She stole a steed that was both stout and strong,
       Refrain:	To carry him hame frae Northumberland.
 	* * * * *
 9[F.3]	‘I’ll be cook in your kitchen,
       Refrain:	Noo sure my love has been easy won!
 9[F.3]	I’ll serve your own lady with hat an with hand,
       Refrain:	For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’
 9[F.4]	‘I need nae cook in my kitchin,
       Refrain:	O but your love it was easy won!
 9[F.4]	Ye’ll serve not my lady with hat or with hand,
       Refrain:	For ye maun gae back to Northumberland.’
 9[F.5]	When she gaed hame, how her father did ban!
       Refrain:	‘O but your love it was easy won!
 9[F.5]	A fair Scottish girl, not sixteen years old,
       Refrain:	Was once the fair flower o Northumberland!’

 
 
9[G]: The Fair Flower of Northumberland
 
9[G].1	‘Why, fair maid, have pity on me,’ Refrain:	Waly’s my love wi the life that she wan 9[G.1]	‘For I am bound in prison strong, Refrain:	And under the heir o Northumberland.’ 9[G.2]	‘How can I have pity on thee,’ Refrain:	Waly’s my love, etc. 9[G.2]	‘When thou hast a wife and children three, Refrain:	All dwelling at home in fair Scotland?’ 9[G.3]	Now he has sworn a solemn oath, Refrain:	An it was by eternity, 9[G.3]	That wife and children he had none, Refrain:	All dwelling at home in fair Scotland. 9[G.4]	Now she’s gone to her father’s bedstock, Refrain:	Waly’s my love, etc. 9[G.4]	And has stolen the key of the dungeon-lock, Refrain:	And she the great heir o Northumberland. 9[G.5]	And she’s gone to her father’s chest, She has stolen away a suit of the best, Refrain:	Altho she was heir o Northumberland. 9[G.6]	Now she’s gone to her father’s coffer, And has taen out gold nane kens how meickle, Refrain:	Altho she, etc. 9[G.7]	She’s gane to her father’s stable, And taen out a steed baith lusty and able, Refrain:	For a’ she was heir, etc. 9[G.8]	The rade till they came to Crafurdmoor, He bade her light down for an English whore, Refrain:	Altho she, etc. 9[G.9]	The rade till the came to the water o Clyde, He bade her light down, nae farer she should ride, Refrain:	‘For now I am at hame in fair Scotland.’ 9[G.10]	‘Yonder view my castle,’ said he; ‘There I hae a wife and children three, 9[G.10r]	All dwelling at home,’ etc. 9[G.11]	‘O take me by the middle sae sma And thro me oer your castle-wa, 9[G.11r]	For I darena gang hame to Northumberland.’ 9[G.12]	When she came to her father’s yett, She durst hardly rapp thereat, 9[G.12r]	Altho she was, etc. 9[G.13]	Out then spoke her stepmother sour, She bad her pack off for an impudent whore, 9[G.13r]	‘For thou shalt not be heir o Northumberland.’ 9[G.14]	Out then spock her bastard brother; ‘She’ll hae nae mair grace than God has gien her, 9[G.14r]	And she shall be heir o Northumberland.’ 9[G.15]	Out and spoke her father sae mild, ‘She’s no the first maid a false Scot has beguild, 9[G.15r]	And she shall be,’ etc.


 
10A: The Twa Sisters
 
10A.1	THERE were two sisters, they went playing, Refrain:	With a hie downe downe a downe-a To see their father’s ships come sayling in. Refrain:	With a hy downe downe a downe-a 10A.2	And when they came unto the sea-brym, The elder did push the younger in. 10A.3	‘O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne, And drawe me up upon the dry ground.’ 10A.4	‘O sister, O sister, that may not bee, Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree.’ 10A.5	Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam, Until she came unto the mill-dam. 10A.6	The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe, And up he betook her withouten her life. 10A.7	What did he doe with her brest-bone? He made him a violl to play thereupon. 10A.8	What did he doe with her fingers so small? He made him peggs to his violl withall. 10A.9	What did he doe with her nose-ridge? Unto his violl he made him a bridge. 10A.10	What did he doe with her veynes so blew? He made him strings to his violl thereto. 10A.11	What did he doe with her eyes so bright? Upon his violl he played at first sight. 10A.12	What did he doe with her tongue so rough? Unto the violl it spake enough. 10A.13	What did he doe with her two shinnes? Unto the violl they danc’d Moll Syms. 10A.14	Then bespake the treble string, ‘O yonder is my father the king.’ 10A.15	Then bespake the second string, ‘O yonder sitts my mother the queen.’ 10A.16	And then bespake the strings all three, ‘O yonder is my sister that drowned mee.’ 10A.17	‘Now pay the miller for his payne, And let him bee gone in the divel’s name.’
 
10B: The Twa Sisters
 
10B.1	THERE was twa sisters in a bowr, Refrain:	Edinburgh, Edinburgh There was twa sisters in a bowr, Refrain:	Stirling for ay There was twa sisters in a bowr, There came a knight to be their wooer. Refrain:	Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay 10B.2	He courted the eldest wi glove an ring, But he lovd the youngest above a’ thing. 10B.3	He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife, But lovd the youngest as his life. 10B.4	The eldest she was vexed sair, An much envi’d her sister fair. 10B.5	Into her bowr she could not rest, Wi grief an spite she almos brast. 10B.6	Upon a morning fair an clear, She cried upon her sister dear: 10B.7	‘O sister, come to yon sea stran, An see our father’s ships come to lan.’ 10B.8	She’s taen her by the milk-white han, An led her down to yon sea stran. 10B.9	The younges[t] stood upon a stane, The eldest came an threw her in. 10B.10	She tooke her by the middle sma, An dashd her bonny back to the jaw. 10B.11	‘O sister, sister, tak my han, An Ise mack you heir to a’ my lan. 10B.12	‘O sister, sister, tak my middle, An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle. 10B.13	‘O sister, sister, save my life, An I swear Ise never be nae man’s wife.’ 10B.14	‘Foul fa the han that I should tacke, It twin’d me an my wardles make. 10B.15	‘Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair Gars me gae maiden for evermair.’ 10B.16	Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam, Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam. 10B.17	O out it came the miller’s son, An saw the fair maid swimmin in. 10B.18	‘O father, father, draw your dam, Here’s either a mermaid or a swan.’ 10B.19	The miller quickly drew the dam, An there he found a drownd woman. 10B.20	You coudna see her yallow hair For gold and pearle that were so rare. 10B.21	You coudna see her middle sma For gouden girdle that was sae braw. 10B.22	You coudna see her fingers white, For gouden rings that was sae gryte. 10B.23	An by there came a harper fine, That harped to the king at dine. 10B.24	When he did look that lady upon, He sighd and made a heavy moan. 10B.25	He’s taen three locks o her yallow hair, An wi them strung his harp sae fair. 10B.26	The first tune he did play and sing, Was, ‘Farewell to my father the king.’ 10B.27	The nextin tune that he playd syne, Was, ‘Farewell to my mother the queen.’ 10B.28	The lasten tune that he playd then, Was, ‘Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.’
 
10C: The Twa Sisters
 
10C.1	THERE were two sisters sat in a bour; Refrain:	Binnorie, O Binnorie There came a knight to be their wooer. Refrain:	By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie 10C.2	He courted the eldest with glove and ring, But he loed the youngest aboon a’ thing. 10C.3	He courted the eldest with broach and knife, But he loed the youngest aboon his life. 10C.4	The eldest she was vexed sair, And sore envied her sister fair. 10C.5	The eldest said to the youngest ane, ‘Will ye go and see our father’s ships come in?’ 10C.6	She’s taen her by the lilly hand, And led her down to the river strand. 10C.7	The youngest stude upon a stane, The eldest came and pushed her in. 10C.8	She took her by the middle sma, And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw. 10C.9	‘O sister, sister, reach your hand, And ye shall be heir of half my land.’ 10C.10	‘O sister, I’ll not reach my hand, And I’ll be heir of all your land. 10C.11	‘Shame fa the hand that I should take, It’s twin’d me and my world’s make.’ 10C.12	‘O sister, reach me but your glove, And sweet William shall be your love.’ 10C.13	‘Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove, And sweet William shall better be my love. 10C.14	‘Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair Garrd me gang maiden evermair.’ 10C.15	Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam, Until she came to the miller’s dam. 10C.16	‘O father, father, draw your dam, There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’ 10C.17	The miller hasted and drew his dam, And there he found a drowned woman. 10C.18	You could not see her yellow hair, For gowd and pearls that were sae rare. 10C.19	You could na see her middle sma, Her gowden girdle was sae bra. 10C.20	A famous harper passing by, The sweet pale face he chanced to spy. 10C.21	And when he looked that ladye on, He sighed and made a heavy moan. 10C.22	He made a harp of her breast-bone, Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone. 10C.23	The strings he framed of her yellow hair, Whose notes made sad the listening ear. 10C.24	He brought it to her father’s hall, And there was the court assembled all. 10C.25	He laid this harp upon a stone, And straight it began to play alone. 10C.26	‘O yonder sits my father, the king, And yonder sits my mother, the queen. 10C.27	‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh, And by him my William, sweet and true.’ 10C.28	But the last tune that the harp playd then, Was ‘Woe to my sister, false Helen!’
 
10D: The Twa Sisters
 
10D.1	THERE lived three sisters in a bouer, Refrain:	Edinbruch, Edinbruch There lived three sisters in a bouer, Refrain:	Stirling for aye There lived three sisters in a bouer, The youngest was the sweetest flowr. Refrain:	Bonnie St Johnston stands upon Tay 10D.2	There cam a knicht to see them a’, And on the youngest his love did fa. 10D.3	He brought the eldest ring and glove, But the youngest was his ain true-love. 10D.4	He brought the second sheath and knife, But the youngest was to be his wife. 10D.5	The eldest sister said to the youngest ane, ‘Will ye go and see our father’s ships come in?’ 10D.6	And as they walked by the linn, The eldest dang the youngest in. 10D.7	‘O sister, sister, tak my hand, And ye’ll be heir to a’ my land.’ 10D.8	‘Foul fa the hand that I wad take, To twin me o my warld’s make.’ 10D.9	‘O sister, sister, tak my glove, And yese get Willie, my true-love.’ 10D.10	‘Sister, sister, I’ll na tak your glove, For I’ll get Willie, your true-love.’ 10D.11	Aye she swittert, and aye she swam, Till she cam to yon bonnie mill-dam. 10D.12	The miller’s dochter cam out wi speed, It was for water, to bake her bread. 10D.13	‘O father, father, gae slack your dam; There’s in’t a lady or a milk-white swan.’ * * * * * 10D.14	They could na see her coal-black eyes For her yellow locks hang oure her brees. 10D.15	They could na see her weel-made middle For her braid gowden girdle. * * * * * 10D.16	And by there cam an auld blind fiddler, And took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair. * * * * * 10D.17	The first spring that the bonnie fiddle playd, ‘Hang my cruel sister, Alison,’ it said.
 
10E: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10E.1	THERE livd twa sisters in a bower,
       Refrain:	Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch!
 	There lived twa sisters in a bower,
       Refrain:	Stirling for aye!
 	The youngest o them O she was a flower!
       Refrain:	Bonny Sanct Johnstoune that stands upon Tay!
 10E.2	There cam a squire frae the west,
 	He loed them baith, but the youngest best.
 10E.3	He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,
 	But he loed the youngest aboon a’ thing.
 10E.4	‘O sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?
 	Our father’s ships sail bonnilie.’
 10E.5	The youngest sat down upon a stane;
 	The eldest shot the youngest in.
 10E.6	‘O sister, sister, lend me your hand,
 	And you shall hae my gouden fan.
 10E.7	‘O sister, sister, save my life,
 	And ye shall be the squire’s wife.’
 10E.8	First she sank, and then she swam,
 	Untill she cam to Tweed mill-dam.
 10E.9	The millar’s daughter was baking bread,
 	She went for water, as she had need.
 10E.10	‘O father, father, in our mill-dam
 	There’s either a lady, or a milk-white swan.’
 10E.11	They could nae see her fingers small,
 	Wi diamond rings they were coverd all.
 10E.12	They could nae see her yellow hair,
 	Sae mony knots and platts were there.
 10E.13	They could nae see her lilly feet,
 	Her gowden fringes war sae deep.
 10E.14	Bye there cam a fiddler fair,
 	And he’s taen three taits o her yellow hair.

 
 
10F: The Twa Sisters
 
10F.1	THERE was two ladies livd in a bower, Refrain:	Hey with a gay and a grinding O The youngest o them was the fairest flower Refrain:	About a’ the bonny bows o London. 10F.2	There was two ladies livd in a bower, An wooer unto the youngest did go. 10F.3	The oldest one to the youngest did say, ‘Will ye take a walk with me today, Refrain:	And we’ll view the bonny bows o London. 10F.4	‘Thou’ll set thy foot whare I set mine, Thou’ll set thy foot upon this stane.’ 10F.5	‘I’ll set my foot where thou sets thine:’ The old sister dang the youngest in, Refrain:	At, etc. 10F.6	‘O sister dear, come tak my hand, Take my life safe to dry land,’ Refrain:	At, etc. 10F.7	‘It’s neer by my hand thy hand sall come in, It’s neer by my hand thy hand sall come in, Refrain:	At, etc. 10F.8	‘It’s thy cherry cheeks and thy white briest bane Gars me set a maid owre lang at hame.’ 10F.9	She clasped her hand[s] about a brume rute, But her cruel sister she lowsed them out. 10F.10	Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, Till she cam to the miller’s dam. 10F.11	The miller’s bairns has muckle need, They were bearing in water to bake some breid. 10F.12	Says, ‘Father, dear father, in our mill-dam, It’s either a fair maid or a milk-white swan.’ 10F.13	The miller he’s spared nae his hose nor his shoon Till he brocht this lady till dry land. 10F.14	I wad he saw na a bit o her feet, Her silver slippers were made so neat. 10F.15	I wad he saw na a bit o her skin, For ribbons there was mony a ane. 10F.16	He laid her on a brume buss to dry, To see wha was the first wad pass her by. 10F.17	Her ain father’s herd was the first man That by this lady gay did gang. 10F.18	He’s taen three links of her yellow hair, And made it a string to his fiddle there. 10F.19	He’s cut her fingers long and small To be fiddle-pins that neer might fail. 10F.20	The very first spring that the fiddle did play, ‘Hang my auld sister,’ I wad it did say. 10F.21	‘For she drowned me in yonder sea, God neer let her rest till she shall die,’ 10F.21r	At the bonny bows o London.
 
10G: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10G.1	THERE were three sisters lived in a bouir,
       Refrain:	Hech, hey, my Nannie O
 	And the youngest was the fairest flouir.
       Refrain:	And the swan swims bonnie O
 10G.2	‘O sister, sister, gang down to yon sand,
 	And see your father’s ships coming to dry land.’
 10G.3	O they have gane down to yonder sand,
 	To see their father’s ships coming to dry land.
 10G.4	‘Gae set your fit on yonder stane,
 	Till I tye up your silken goun.’
 10G.5	She set her fit on yonder stane,
 	And the auldest drave the youngest in.
 10G.6	‘O sister, sister, tak me by the hand,
 	And ye’ll get a’ my father’s land.
 10G.7	‘O sister, sister, tak me by the gluve,
 	An ye’ll get Willy, my true luve.’
 10G.8	She had a switch into her hand,
 	And ay she drave her frae the land.
 10G.9	O whiles she sunk, and whiles she swam,
 	Until she swam to the miller’s dam.
 10G.10	The miller’s daughter gade doun to Tweed,
 	To carry water to bake her bread.
 10G.11	‘O father, O father, what’s yon in the dam?
 	It’s either a maid or a milk-white swan.’
 10G.12	They have tane her out till yonder thorn,
 	And she has lain till Monday morn.
 10G.13	She hadna, hadna twa days lain,
 	Till by there came a harper fine.
 10G.14	He made a harp o her breast-bane,
 	That he might play forever thereon.

 
 
10H: The Twa Sisters
 
10H.1	THERE were three sisters lived in a hall, Refrain:	Hey with the gay and the grandeur O And there came a lord to court them all. Refrain:	At the bonnie bows o London town. 10H.2	He courted the eldest with a penknife, And he vowed that he would take her life. 10H.3	He courted the youngest with a glove, And he said that he’d be her true love. 10H.4	‘O sister, O sister, will you go and take a walk, And see our father’s ships how they float? 10H.5	‘O lean your foot upon the stone, And wash your hand in that sea-foam.’ 10H.6	She leaned her foot upon the stone, But her eldest sister has tumbled her down. 10H.7	‘O sister, sister, give me your hand, And I’ll make you lady of all my land.’ 10H.8	‘O I’ll not lend to you my hand, But I’ll be lady of your land.’ 10H.9	‘O sister, sister, give me your glove, And I’ll make you lady of my true love.’ 10H.10	‘It’s I’ll not lend to you my glove, But I’ll be lady of your true love.’ 10H.11	Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, Until she came to a miller’s dam. 10H.12	The miller’s daughter was coming out wi speed, For water for to bake some bread. 10H.13	‘O father, father, stop the dam, For it’s either a lady or a milk-white swan.’ 10H.14	He dragged her out unto the shore, And stripped her of all she wore. 10H.15	By cam a fiddler, and he was fair, And he buskit his bow in her bonnie yellow hair. By cam her father’s harper, and he was fine, 10H.16	he made a harp o her bonny breast-bone. 10H.17	When they came to her father’s court, The harp [and fiddle these words] spoke: 10H.18	‘O God bless my father the king, And I wish the same to my mother the queen. 10H.19	‘My sister Jane she tumbled me in, . . . . . * * * * *
 
10I: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10I.1	THERE war twa sisters lived in a bouer,
       Refrain:	Binnorie and Binnorie
 	There cam a squire to court them baith.
       Refrain:	At the bonnie mill-streams o Binnorie
 10I.2	He courted the eldest with Jewels and rings,
 	But he lovd the youngest the best of all things.
 10I.3	He courted the eldest with a penknife,
 	He lovd the youngest as dear as his life.
 10I.4	It fell ance upon a day
 	That these twa sisters hae gane astray.
 10I.5	It was for to meet their father’s ships that had come in.
 	. . . . .
 10I.6	As they walked up the linn,
 	The eldest dang the youngest in.
 10I.7	‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
 	And ye’ll hae Lud John and aw his land.’
 10I.8	With a silver wand she pushd her in,
 	. . . . .
 10I.9	‘O sister, sister, tak my glove,
 	And ye sall hae my ain true love.’
 10I.10	The miller’s dochter cam out wi speed.
 	It was for a water to bake her bread.
 10I.11	‘O father, father, gae slack your dam;
 	There’s either a white fish or a swan.’
 	* * * * *
 10I.12	Bye cam a blind fiddler that way,
 	And he took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.
 10I.13	And the first spring that he playd,
 	It said, ‘It was my sister threw me in.’

 
 
10J: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10J.1	THERE were two ladies playing ball,
       Refrain:	Hey, ho, my Nannie O
 	A great lord came to court them all.
       Refrain:	The swan she does swim bonnie O
 10J.2	He gave to the first a golden ring,
 	He gave to the second a far better thing.
 	* * * * *
 10J.3	He made a harp of her breast-bone
 	. . . . .
 10J.4	He set it down upon a stone,
 	And it began to play its lone.

 
 
10K: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10K.1	‘O SISTER, sister, gie me your hand,
       Refrain:	Binnorie and Binnorie
 	And I’ll give the half of my fallow-land,
       Refrain:	By the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.’
 	* * * * *
 10K.2	The first time the bonnie fiddle played,
 	‘Hang my sister, Alison,’ it said,
       Refrain:	‘At the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.’

 
 
10L: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10L.1	O WAS it eke a pheasant cock,
 	Or eke a pheasant hen,
 	Or was it the bodye of a fair ladye,
 	Come swimming down the stream?
 10L.2	O it was not a pheasant cock,
 	Nor eke a pheasant hen,
 	But it was the bodye of a fair ladye
 	Came swimming down the stream.
 	* * * * *
 10L.3	And what did he do with her fair bodye?
       Refrain:	Fal the lal the lal laral lody
 10L.3	He made it a case for his melodye.
       Refrain:	Fal, etc.
 10L.4	And what did he do with her legs so strong?
 	He made them a stand for his violon.
 10L.5	And what did he do with her hair so fine?
 	He made of it strings for his violine.
 10L.6	And what did he do with her arms so long?
 	He made them bows for his violon.
 10L.7	And what did he do with her nose so thin?
 	He made it a bridge for his violin.
 10L.8	And what did he do with her eyes so bright?
 	He made them spectacles to put to his sight.
 10L.9	And what did he do with her petty toes?
 	He made them a nosegay to put to his nose.

 
 
10M: The Twa Sisters
 
10M.1	THERE lived twa sisters in yonder ha, Refrain:	Bin’orie O an Bin’orie They hadna but ae lad atween them twa, Refrain:	He’s the bonnie miller lad o Bin’orie. 10M.2	It fell oot upon a day, The auldest ane to the youngest did say, Refrain:	At the bonnie mill-dams o Bin’orie, 10M.3	‘O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams, To hear the blackbird thrashin oer his songs? Refrain:	At the,’ etc. 10M.4	‘O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams, To see oor father’s fish-boats come safe to dry lan? Refrain:	An the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.’ 10M.5	They hadna been an oor at the dams, Till they heard the blackbird thrashin oer his tune, Refrain:	At the, etc. 10M.6	They hadna been an oor at the dams Till they saw their father’s fish-boats come safe to dry lan, Refrain:	Bat they sawna the bonnie miller laddie. 10M.7	They stood baith up upon a stane, An the eldest ane dang the youngest in, Refrain:	I the, etc. 10M.8	She swam up, an she swam doon, An she swam back to her sister again, Refrain:	I the, etc. 10M.9	‘O sister, O sister, len me your han, An yes be heir to my true love, Refrain:	He’s the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.’ 10M.10	‘It was not for that love at I dang you in, But ye was fair and I was din, 10M.10r	And yes droon i the dams o Binorie.’ 10M.11	The miller’s daughter she cam oot, For water to wash her father’s hans, 10M.11r	Frae the, etc. 10M.12	‘O father, O father, ye will fish your dams, An ye’ll get a white fish or a swan, 10M.12r	I the,’ etc. 10M.13	They fished up and they fished doon, But they got nothing but a droonet woman, 10M.13r	I the, etc. 10M.14	Some o them kent by her skin sae fair, But weel kent he by her bonnie yallow hair 10M.14r	She’s the bonnie miller’s lass o Binorie. 10M.15	Some o them kent by her goons o silk, But weel kent he by her middle sae jimp, 10M.15r	She’s the bonnie miller’s lass o Binorie. 10M.16	Mony ane was at her oot-takin, But mony ane mair at her green grave makin, 10M.16r	At the bonny mill-dams o Binorie.
 
10N: The Twa Sisters
 
10N.1	THERE were twa sisters livd in a bouir, Refrain:	Binnorie, O Binnorie Their father was a baron of pouir. Refrain:	By the bonnie mildams of Binnorie 10N.2	The youngest was meek, and fair as the may Whan she springs in the east wi the gowden day. 10N.3	The eldest austerne as the winter cauld, Ferce was her saul, and her seiming was bauld. 10N.4	A gallant squire can sweet Isabel to wooe; Her sister had naething to luve I trow. 10N.5	But filld was she wi dolour and ire, To see that to her the comlie squire 10N.6	Preferd the debonair Isabel: Their hevin of luve of spyte was her hell. 10N.7	Till ae ein she to her sister can say, ‘Sweit sister, cum let us wauk and play.’ 10N.8	They wauked up, and they wauked down, Sweit sang the birdis in the vallie loun. 10N.9	Whan they cam to the roaring lin, She drave unweiting Isabel in. 10N.10	‘O sister, sister, tak my hand, And ye sall hae my silver fan. 10N.11	‘O sister, sister, tak my middle, And ye sall hae my gowden girdle.’ 10N.12	Sumtimes she sank, sumtimes she swam, Till she cam to the miller’s dam. 10N.13	The miller’s dochtor was out that ein, And saw her rowing down the streim. 10N.14	‘O father deir, in your mil-dam There is either a lady or a milk-white swan!’ 10N.15	Twa days were gane, whan to her deir Her wraith at deid of nicht cold appeir. 10N.16	‘My luve, my deir, how can ye sleip, Whan your Isabel lyes in the deip! 10N.17	‘My deir, how can ye sleip bot pain Whan she by her cruel sister is slain!’ 10N.18	Up raise he sune, in frichtfu mude: ‘Busk ye, my meiny, and seik the flude.’ 10N.19	They socht her up and they socht her doun, And spyd at last her glisterin gown. 10N.20	They raisd her wi richt meidle care; Pale was her cheik and grein was her hair.
 
10O: The Twa Sisters
 
10O.1	THERE were twa sisters in a bower, Refrain:	Hey wi the gay and the grinding And ae king’s son has courted them baith. Refrain:	At the bonny bonny bows o London 10O.2	He courted the youngest wi broach and ring, He courted the eldest wi some other thing. 10O.3	It fell ance upon a day The eldest to the youngest did say, 10O.4	‘Will ye gae to yon Tweed mill-dam, And see our father’s ships come to land?’ 10O.5	They baith stood up upon a stane, The eldest dang the youngest in. 10O.6	She swimmed up, sae did she down, Till she came to the Tweed mill-dam. 10O.7	The miller’s servant he came out, And saw the lady floating about. 10O.8	‘O master, master, set your mill, There is a fish, or a milk-white swan.’ 10O.9	They could not ken her yellow hair, [For] the scales o gowd that were laid there. 10O.10	They could not ken her fingers sae white, The rings o gowd they were sae bright. 10O.11	They could not ken her middle sae jimp, The stays o gowd were so well laced. 10O.12	They could not ken her foot sae fair, The shoes o gowd they were so rare. 10O.13	Her father’s fiddler he came by, Upstarted her ghaist before his eye. 10O.14	‘Ye’ll take a lock o my yellow hair, Ye’ll make a string to your fiddle there. 10O.15	‘Ye’ll take a lith o my little finger bane, And ye’ll make a pin to your fiddle then.’ 10O.16	He’s taen a lock o her yellow hair, And made a string to his fiddle there. 10O.17	He’s taen a lith o her little finger bane, And he’s made a pin to his fiddle then. 10O.18	The firstand spring the fiddle did play, Said, ‘Ye’ll drown my sister, as she’s dune me.’
 
10P: The Twa Sisters
 
10P.1	THERE were twa ladies in a bower, Refrain:	Hey my bonnie Nannie O The old was black and the young ane fair. Refrain:	And the swan swims bonnie O 10P.2	Once it happened on a day The auld ane to the young did say, 10P.3	The auld ane to the young did say, ‘Will you gae to the green and play?’ 10P.4	‘O sister, sister, I daurna gang, For fear I file my silver shoon.’ 10P.5	It was not to the green they gaed, But it was to the water of Tweed. 10P.6	She bowed her back and she’s taen her on, And she’s tumbled her in Tweed mill-dam. 10P.7	‘O sister, O sister, O tak my hand, And I’ll mak you heir of a’ my land.’ 10P.8	‘O sister, O sister, I’ll no take your hand, And I’ll be heir of a’ your land.’ 10P.9	‘O sister, O sister, O tak my thumb, And I’ll give you my true-love John.’ 10P.10	‘O sister, O sister, I’ll no tak your thumb, And I will get your true-love John.’ 10P.11	Aye she swattered and aye she swam, Until she came to the mouth of the dam. 10P.12	The miller’s daughter went out to Tweed, To get some water to bake her bread. 10P.13	In again she quickly ran: ‘Here’s a lady or a swan in our mill-dam.’ 10P.14	Out went the miller and his man And took the lady out of the dam. 10P.15	They laid her on the brae to dry; Her father’s fiddler then rode by. 10P.16	When he this lady did come near, Her ghost to him then did appear. 10P.17	‘When you go to my father the king, You’ll tell him to burn my sister Jean. 10P.18	‘When you go to my father’s gate, You’ll play a spring for fair Ellen’s sake. 10P.19	‘You’ll tak three links of my yellow hair, And play a spring for evermair.’
 
10Q: The Twa Sisters
 
10Q.1	THERE dwelt twa sisters in a bower, Refrain:	Oh and ohone, and ohone and aree! And the youngest she was the fairest flower. Refrain:	On the banks of the Banna, ohone and aree! 10Q.2	There cam a knight to court the twa, But on the youngest his love did fa. 10Q.3	He courted the eldest with ring and wi glove, But he gave the youngest all his love. 10Q.4	He courted the eldest with brooch and wi knife, But he loved the youngest as his life. 10Q.5	‘O sister, O sister, will ye come to the stream, To see our father’s ships come in?’ 10Q.6	The youngest stood upon a stane, Her sister came and pusht her in. 10Q.7	‘O sister, O sister, come reach me your hand, And ye shall hae all our father’s land. 10Q.8	‘O sister, O sister, come reach me your glove, And you shall hae William to be your true love.’ 10Q.9	‘I did not put you in with the design Just for to pull you out again.’ 10Q.10	Some time she sank, some time she swam, Until she came to a miller’s dam. 10Q.11	The miller’s daughter dwelt on the Tweed, She went for water to bake her bread. 10Q.12	‘O faither, faither, come drag me your dam, For there’s aither a lady in’t, or a milk-white swan.’ 10Q.13	The miller went, and he dragd his dam, And he brought her fair body to lan. 10Q.14	They couldna see her waist sae sma For the goud and silk about it a’. 10Q.15	They couldna see her yallow hair For the pearls and jewels that were there. 10Q.16	Then up and spak her ghaist sae green, ‘Do ye no ken the king’s dochter Jean? 10Q.17	‘Tak my respects to my father the king, And likewise to my mother the queen. 10Q.18	‘Tak my respects to my true love William, Tell him I deid for the love of him. 10Q.19	‘Carry him a lock of my yallow hair, To bind his heart for evermair.’
 
10R: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10R.1	THERE was a king of the north countree,
       Refrain:	Bow down, bow down, bow down
 	There was a king of the north countree,
 	And he had daughters one, two, three.
       Refrain:	I’ll be true to my love, and my love’ll be true to me
 10R.2	To the eldest he gave a beaver hat,
 	And the youngest she thought much of that.
 10R.3	To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain,
 	And the eldest she thought much of the same.
 10R.4	These sisters were walking on the bryn,
 	And the elder pushed the younger in.
 10R.5	‘Oh sister, oh sister, oh lend me your hand,
 	And I will give you both houses and land.’
 10R.6	‘I’ll neither give you my hand nor glove,
 	Unless you give me your true love.’
 10R.7	Away she sank, away she swam,
 	Until she came to a miller’s dam.
 10R.8	The miller and daughter stood at the door,
 	And watched her floating down the shore.
 10R.9	‘Oh father, oh father, I see a white swan,
 	Or else it is a fair woman.’
 10R.10	The miller he took up his long crook,
 	And the maiden up from the stream he took.
 10R.11	‘I’ll give to thee this gay gold chain,
 	If you’ll take me back to my father again.’
 10R.12	The miller he took the gay gold chain,
 	And he pushed her into the water again.
 10R.13	The miller was hanged on his high gate
 	For drowning our poor sister Kate.
 10R.14	The cat’s behind the buttery shelf,
 	If you want any more, you may sing it yourself.

 
 
10S: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10S.1	* * * *
 	‘O FATHER, father, swims a swan,’
 	This story I’ll vent to thee
 	‘O father, father, swims a swan,
 	Unless it be some dead woman.’
       Refrain:	I’ll prove true to my true love,
 		If my love prove true to me
 10S.2	The miller he held out his long fish hook,
 	And hooked this fair maid from the brook.
 10S.3	She offered the miller a gold ring stane
 	To throw her into the river again.
 10S.4	Down she sunk, and away she swam,
 	Until she came to her father’s brook.
 10S.5	The miller was hung at his mill-gate,
 	For drowning of my sister Kate.

 
 
10T: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10T.1	SISTER, dear sister, where shall we go play?’
       Refrain:	Cold blows the wind, and the wind blows low
 	‘We shall go to the salt sea’s brim.’
       Refrain:	And the wind blows cheerily around us, high ho

 
 
10U: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10U.1	THERE was a man lived in the mist,
       Refrain:	Bow down, bow down
 	He loved his youngest daughter best.
       Refrain:	The bow is bent to me,
 	So you be true to your own true love,
 	And I’ll be true to thee.
 10U.2	These two sisters went out to swim;
 	The oldest pushed the youngest in.
 10U.3	First she sank and then she swam,
 	First she sank and then she swam.
 10U.4	The miller, with his rake and hook,
 	He caught her by the petticoat.
 	* * * * *

 
 
10[V]: The Twa Sisters
 
10[V].1	There dwelt twa sisters in a bower, Refrain:	Benorie, O Benorie 10[V.1]	The youngest o them was the fairest flower. Refrain:	In the merry milldams o Benorie 10[V.2]	There cam a wooer them to woo, . . . . . . . . . . 10[V.3]	He’s gien the eldest o them a broach and a real, Because that she loved her sister weel. Refrain:	At etc.’p 10[V.4]	He’s gien the eldest a gay penknife, He loved the youngest as dear as his life. Refrain:	At etc. 10[V.5]	‘O sister, O sister, will ye go oer yon glen, And see my father’s ships coming in?’ Refrain:	At etc. 10[V.6]	‘O sister dear, I darena gang, Because I’m feard ye throw me in.’ Refrain:	The etc. 10[V.7]	‘O set your foot on yon sea stane, And was yeer hands in the sea foam.’ Refrain:	At etc. 10[V.8]	She set her foot on yon sea stane, To wash her hands in the sea foam. Refrain:	At etc. 10[V.9]	. . . . . But the eldest has thrown the youngest in. Refrain:	The etc. 10[V.10]	‘O sister, O sister, lend me your hand, And ye’se get William and a’ his land.’ 10[V.10r]	At etc. 10[V.11]	The miller’s daughter cam out clad in red, Seeking water to bake her bread. 10[V.11r]	At etc. 10[V.12]	‘O father, O father, gae fish yeer mill-dam, There’s either a lady or a milk-[white] swan.’ 10[V.12r]	In etc. 10[V.13]	The miller cam out wi his lang cleek, And he cleekit the lady out by the feet. 10[V.13r]	From the bonny milldam, etc. 10[V.14]	Ye wadna kend her pretty feet, The American leather was sae neat. 10[V.14r]	In etc. 10[V.15]	Ye wadna kend her pretty legs, The silken stockings were so neat tied. 10[V.15r]	In etc. 10[V.16]	Ye wadna kend her pretty waist, The silken stays were sae neatly laced. 10[V.16r]	In etc. 10[V.17]	Ye wadna kend her pretty face, It was sae prettily preend oer wi lace. 10[V.17r]	In etc. 10[V.18]	Ye wadna kend her yellow hair, It was sae besmeared wi dust and glar. 10[V.18r]	In etc. 10[V.19]	By cam her father’s fiddler fine, And that lady’s spirit spake to him. 10[V.19r]	From etc. 10[V.20]	She bad him take three taits o her hair, And make them three strings to his fiddle sae rare. 10[V.20r]	At etc. 10[V.21]	‘Take two of my fingers, sae lang and sae white, And make them pins to your fiddle sae neat.’ 10[V.21r]	At etc. 10[V.22]	The ae first spring that the fiddle played Was, Cursed be Sir John, my ain true-love. 10[V.22r]	At etc. 10[V.23]	The next spring that the fiddle playd Was, Burn burd Hellen, she threw me in. 10[V.23r]	The etc.
 
10[W]: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10[W].1	Ther were three ladies playing at the ba,
       Refrain:	Norham, down by Norham
 10[W.1]	And there cam a knight to view them a’.
       Refrain:	By the bonnie mill-dams o Norham
 10[W.2]	He courted the aldest wi diamonds and rings,
 	But he loved the youngest abune a’ things.
 	* * * * *
 10[W.3]	‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,
 	And pull my poor body unto dry land.
 10[W.4]	‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your glove,
 	And you shall have my own true love!’
 10[W.5]	Oot cam the miller’s daughter upon Tweed,
 	To carry in water to bake her bread.
 10[W.6]	‘Oh father, oh father, there’s a fish in your dam;
 	It either is a lady or a milk-white swan.’
 10[W.7]	Oot cam the miller’s man upon Tweed,
 	And there he spied a lady lying dead.
 10[W.8]	He could not catch her by the waist,
 	For her silken stays they were tight laced.
 10[W.9]	But he did catch her by the hand,
 	And pulled her poor body unto dry land.
 10[W.10]	He took three taets o her bonnie yellow hair,
 	To make harp strings they were so rare.
 10[W.11]	The very first tune that the bonnie harp played
 	Was The aldest has cuisten the youngest away.

 
 
10[X]: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10[X].1	I see a lady in the dam,
       Refrain:	Binnorie, oh Binnorie
 10[X.1]	She shenes as sweet as ony swan.
       Refrain:	I the bonny milldams o Binnorie

 
 
10[Y]: The Twa Sisters
 
 
 10[Y].1	There was a king lived in the North Country,
       Refrain:	Hey down down dery down
 10[Y.1]	There was a king lived in the North Country,
       Refrain:	And the bough it was bent to me
 10[Y.1]	There was a king lived in the North Country,
 	And he had daughters one, two, three.
       Refrain:	I’ll prove true to my love,
 	If my love will prove true to me.
 	* * * * *
 10[Y.2]	He gave the eldest a gay gold ring,
 	But he gave the younger a better thing.
 10[Y.3]	He bought the younger a beaver hat;
 	The eldest she thought much of that.
 10[Y.4]	‘Oh sister, oh sister, let us go run,
 	To see the ships come sailing along!’
 10[Y.5]	And when they got to the sea-side brim,
 	The eldest pushed the younger in.
 10[Y.6]	‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,
 	I’ll make you heir of my house and land.’
 10[Y.7]	‘I’ll neither lend you my hand nor my glove,
 	Unless you grant me your true-love.’
 10[Y.8]	Then down she sunk and away she swam,
 	Untill she came to the miller’s mill-dam.
 10[Y.9]	The miller’s daughter sat at the mill-door,
 	As fair as never was seen before.
 10[Y.10]	‘Oh father, oh father, there swims a swan,
 	Or else the body of a dead woman.’
 10[Y.11]	The miller he ran with his fishing hook,
 	To pull the fair maid out o the brook.
 10[Y.12]	‘Wee’ll hang the miller upon the mill-gate,
 	For drowning of my sister Kate.’

 


 
11A: The Cruel Brother
 
11A.1	THERE was three ladies playd at the ba, Refrain:	With a hey ho and a lillie gay There came a knight and played oer them a’. Refrain:	As the primrose spreads so sweetly 11A.2	The eldest was baith tall and fair, But the youngest was beyond compare. 11A.3	The midmost had a graceful mien, But the youngest lookd like beautie’s queen. 11A.4	The knight bowd low to a’ the three, But to the youngest he bent his knee. 11A.5	The ladie turned her head aside, The knight he woo’d her to be his bride. 11A.6	The ladie blushd a rosy red, And sayd, ‘Sir knight, I’m too young to wed.’ 11A.7	‘O ladie fair, give me your hand, And I’ll make you ladie of a’ my land.’ 11A.8	‘Sir knight, ere ye my favor win, You maun get consent frae a’ my kin.’ 11A.9	He’s got consent frae her parents dear, And likewise frae her sisters fair. 11A.10	He’s got consent frae her kin each one, But forgot to spiek to her brother John. 11A.11	Now, when the wedding day was come, The knight would take his bonny bride home. 11A.12	And many a lord and many a knight Came to behold that ladie bright. 11A.13	And there was nae man that did her see, But wishd himself bridegroom to be. 11A.14	Her father dear led her down the stair, And her sisters twain they kissd her there. 11A.15	Her mother dear led her thro the closs, And her brother John set her on her horse. 11A.16	She leand her oer the saddle-bow, To give him a kiss ere she did go. 11A.17	He has taen a knife, baith lang and sharp, And stabbd that bonny bride to the heart. 11A.18	She hadno ridden half thro the town, Until her heart’s blude staind her gown. 11A.19	‘Ride softly on,’ says the best young man, ‘For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.’ 11A.20	‘O lead me gently up yon hill, And I’ll there sit down, and make my will.’ 11A.21	‘O what will you leave to your father dear?’ ‘The silver-shod steed that brought me here.’ 11A.22	‘What will you leave to your mother dear?’ ‘My velvet pall and my silken gear.’ 11A.23	‘What will you leave your sister Anne?’ ‘My silken scarf and my gowden fan.’ 11A.24	at will you leave to your sister Grace?’ My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.’ 11A.25	‘What will you leave to your brother John?’ ‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’ 11A.26	‘What will you leave to your brother John’s wife?’ ‘The wilderness to end her life.’ 11A.27	This ladie fair in her grave was laid, And many a mass was oer her said. 11A.28	But it would have made your heart right sair, To see the bridegroom rive his haire.
 
11B: The Cruel Brother
 
11B.1	A GENTLEMAN cam oure the sea, Refrain:	Fine flowers in the valley And he has courted ladies three. Refrain:	With the light green and the yellow 11B.2	One o them was clad in red: He asked if she wad be his bride. 11B.3	One o them was clad in green: He asked if she wad be his queen. 11B.4	The last o them was clad in white: He asked if she wad be his heart’s delight. 11B.5	‘Ye may ga ask my father, the king: Sae maun ye ask my mither, the queen. 11B.6	‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne: And dinna forget my brither John.’ 11B.7	He has asked her father, the king: And sae did he her mither, the queen. 11B.8	And he has asked her sister Anne: But he has forgot her brother John. 11B.9	Her father led her through the ha, Her mither danced afore them a’. 11B.10	Her sister Anne led her through the closs, Her brither John set her on her horse. 11B.11	It’s then he drew a little penknife, And he reft the fair maid o her life. 11B.12	‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the foremost man; ‘I think our bride comes hooly on.’ 11B.13	‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man; ‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’ 11B.14	Up than cam the gay bridegroom, And straucht unto the bride he cam. 11B.15	‘Does your side-saddle sit awry? Or does your steed . . . 11B.16	‘Or does the rain run in your glove? Or wad ye chuse anither love?’ 11B.17	‘The rain runs not in my glove, Nor will I e’er chuse anither love. 11B.18	‘But O an I war at Saint Evron’s well, There I wad licht, and drink my fill! 11B.19	‘Oh an I war at Saint Evron’s closs, There I wad licht, and bait my horse!’ 11B.20	Whan she cam to Saint Evron’s well, She dought na licht to drink her fill. 11B.21	Whan she cam to Saint Evron’s closs, The bonny bride fell aff her horse. 11B.22	‘What will ye leave to your father, the king?’ ‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’ 11B.23	‘What will ye leave to your mother, the queen?’ ‘The bluidy robes that I have on.’ 11B.24	‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’ ‘My gude lord, to be wedded on.’ 11B.25	‘What will ye leave to your brither John?’ ‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’ 11B.26	‘What will ye leave to your brither’s wife?’ ‘Grief and sorrow a’ the days o her life.’ 11B.27	‘What will ye leave to your brither’s bairns?’ ‘The meal-pock to hang oure the arms.’ 11B.28	Now does she neither sigh nor groan: She lies aneath yon marble stone.
 
11C: The Cruel Brother
 
11C.1	THERE waur three ladies in a ha, Refrain:	Hech hey an the lily gey By cam a knicht, an he wooed them a’. Refrain:	An the rose is aye the redder aye 11C.2	The first ane she was cled in green; ‘Will you fancy me, an be my queen?’ 11C.3	‘You may seek me frae my father dear, An frae my mither, wha did me bear. 11C.4	‘You may seek me frae my sister Anne, But no, no, no frae my brither John.’ 11C.5	The niest ane she was cled in yellow; ‘Will you fancy me, an be my marrow?’ 11C.6	‘Ye may seek me frae my father dear, An frae my mither, wha did me bear. 11C.7	‘Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne, But no, no, no frae my brither John.’ 11C.8	The niest ane she was cled in red: ‘Will ye fancy me, an be my bride?’ 11C.9	‘Ye may seek me frae my father dear, An frae my mither wha did me bear. 11C.10	‘Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne, An dinna forget my brither John.’ 11C.11	He socht her frae her father, the king, An he socht her frae her mither, the queen. 11C.12	He socht her frae her sister Anne, But he forgot her brither John. 11C.13	Her mither she put on her goun, An her sister Anne preened the ribbons doun. 11C.14	Her father led her doon the close, An her brither John set her on her horse. * * * * * 11C.15	Up an spak our foremost man: ‘I think our bonnie bride’s pale an wan.’ * * * * * 11C.16	‘What will ye leave to your father dear?’ ‘My . . . . . an my . . . . . chair.’ 11C.17	‘What will ye leave to your mither dear?’ ‘My silken screen I was wont to wear.’ 11C.18	‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’ ‘My silken snood an my golden fan.’ 11C.19	‘What will you leave to your brither John?’ ‘The gallows tree to hang him on.’
 
11D: The Cruel Brother
 
 
 11D.1	THERE were three ladies playing at ball,
       Refrain:	Farin-dan-dan and farin-dan-dee
 	There came a white knight, and he wooed them all.
       Refrain:	With adieu, sweet honey, wherever you be
 11D.2	He courted the eldest with golden rings,
 	And the others with many fine things.
       Refrain:	And adieu, etc.

 
 
11E: The Cruel Brother
 
 
 11E.1	THERE were three sisters playin at the ba,
 11E.r	Wi a hech hey an a lillie gay
 11E	There cam a knicht an lockt ower the wa’.
 11E.r	An the primrose springs sae sweetly.
 	Sing Annet, an Marret, an fair Maisrie,
 	An the dew hangs i the wood, gay ladie.

 
 
11F: The Cruel Brother
 
11F.1	THERE did three knights come from the west, Refrain:	With the high and the lily oh And these three knights courted one lady. Refrain:	As the rose was so sweetly blown 11F.2	The first knight came was all in white, And asked of her, if she’d be his delight. 11F.3	The next knight came was all in green, And asked of her, if she’d be his queen. 11F.4	The third knight came was all in red, And asked of her, if she would wed. 11F.5	‘Then have you asked of my father dear, Likewise of her who did me bear? 11F.6	‘And have you asked of my brother John? And also of my sister Anne?’ 11F.7	‘Yes, I have asked of your father dear, Likewise of her who did you bear. 11F.8	‘And I have asked of your sister Anne, But I’ve not asked of your brother John.’ 11F.9	Far on the road as they rode along, There did they meet with her brother John. 11F.10	She stooped low to kiss him sweet, He to her heart did a dagger meet. 11F.11	‘Ride on, ride on,’ cried the serving man, ‘Methinks your bride she looks wondrous wan.’ 11F.12	‘I wish I were on yonder stile, For there I would sit and bleed awhile. 11F.13	‘I wish I were on yonder hill, There I’d alight and make my will.’ 11F.14	‘What would you give to your father dear?’ ‘The gallant steed which doth me bear.’ 11F.15	‘What would you give to your mother dear?’ ‘My wedding shift which I do wear. 11F.16	‘But she must wash it very clean, For my heart’s blood sticks in evry seam.’ 11F.17	‘What would you give to your sister Anne?’ ‘My gay gold ring and my feathered fan.’ 11F.18	‘What would you give to your brother John?’ ‘A rope and gallows to hang him on.’ 11F.19	‘What would you give to your brother John’s wife?’ ‘A widow’s weeds, and a quiet life.’
 
11G: The Cruel Brother
 
11G.1	THERE was three ladys in a ha, Refrain:	Fine flowers i the valley There came three lords amang them a’, Refrain:	Wi the red, green, and the yellow 11G.2	The first of them was clad in red: ‘O lady fair, will you be my bride?’ 11G.3	The second of them was clad in green: ‘O lady fair, will you be my queen?’ 11G.4	The third of them was clad in yellow: ‘O lady fair, will you be my marrow?’ 11G.5	‘You must ask my father dear, Likewise the mother that did me bear.’ 11G.6	‘You must ask my sister Ann, And not forget my brother John.’ 11G.7	‘I have askt thy father dear, Likewise thy mother that did thee bear. 11G.8	‘I have askt thy sister Ann, But I forgot thy brother John.’ 11G.9	Her father led her through the ha, Her mother dancd before them a’. 11G.10	Her sister Ann led her through the closs, Her brother John put her on her horse. 11G.11	‘You are high and I am low; Let me have a kiss before you go.’ 11G.12	She was louting down to kiss him sweet, Wi his penknife he wounded her deep. * * * * * 11G.13	‘O lead me over into yon stile, That I may stop and braeth a while. 11G.14	‘O lead me over to yon stair, For there I’ll ly and bleed ne mair.’ 11G.15	‘O what will you leave your father dear?’ ‘That milk-white steed that brought me here.’ 11G.16	‘O what will you leave your mother dear?’ ‘The silken gown that I did wear.’ 11G.17	‘What will you leave your sister Ann?’ ‘My silken snood and golden fan.’ 11G.18	‘What will you leave your brother John?’ ‘The highest gallows to hang him on.’ 11G.19	‘What will you leave your brother John’s wife?’ ‘Grief and sorrow to end her life.’ 11G.20	‘What will ye leave your brother John’s bairns?’ ‘The world wide for them to range.’
 
11H: The Cruel Brother
 
 
 11H.1	SHE louted down to gie a kiss,
       Refrain:	With a hey and a lilly gay
 	He stuck his penknife in her hass.
       Refrain:	And the rose it smells so sweetly
 11H.2	de up, ride up,’ cry’d the foremost man;
 	‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

 
 
11I: The Cruel Brother
 
11I.1	THERE war three bonnie boys playing at the ba, Refrain:	Hech hey and a lily gay There cam three ladies to view them a’. Refrain:	And the rose it smells sae sweetlie 11I.2	The first ane was clad in red: ‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my bride.’ 11I.3	The next o them was clad in green: ‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my queen.’ 11I.4	The tither o them was clad in yellow: ‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my marrow.’ 11I.5	‘Ye maun gang to my father’s bouer, To see gin your bride he’ll let me be.’ 11I.6	Her father led her doun the stair, Her mither at her back did bear. 11I.7	Her sister Jess led her out the closs, Her brother John set her on the horse. 11I.8	She loutit doun to gie him a kiss; He struck his penknife thro her breist. 11I.9	‘Ride on, ride on,’ says the foremaist man; ‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’ 11I.10	‘Ride on, ride on,’ says the merry bride-groom; ‘I think my bride’s blude is rinnin doun.’ 11I.11	‘O gin I war at yon bonnie hill, I wad lie doun and bleed my fill! 11I.12	‘O gin I war at yon bonnie kirk-yard, I wad mak my testament there!’ 11I.13	‘What will ye leave to your father dear?’ ‘The milk-white steed that brocht me here.’ 11I.14	‘What will ye leave to your mother dear?’ ‘The bluidy robes that I do wear.’ 11I.15	‘What will ye leave to your sister Ann?’ ‘My silken snood and gowden fan.’ 11I.16	‘What will ye leave to your sister Jess?’ ‘The bonnie lad that I loe best.’ 11I.17	‘What will ye leave to your brother John?’ ‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’ 11I.18	‘What will ye leave to your brother John’s wife?’ ‘Sorrow and trouble a’ her life.’ 11I.19	‘What will ye leave to your brother’s bairns?’ ‘The warld’s wide, and let them beg.’
 
11J: The Cruel Brother
 
11J.1	THERE were three sisters playing ball, Refrain:	With the high and the lily O And there came three knights to court them all. Refrain:	With the rosey sweet, heigh ho 11J.2	The eldest of them was drest in green: ‘I wish I had you to be my queen.’ 11J.3	The second of them was drest in red: ‘I wish I had you to grace my bed.’ 11J.4	The youngest of them was drest in white: ‘I wish I had you to be my wife.’ 11J.5	‘Did ye ask my father brave? Or did ye ask my mother fair? 11J.6	‘Or did ye ask my brother John? For without his will I dare not move on.’ 11J.7	‘I did ask your parents dear, But I did not see your brother John.’ * * * * * 11J.8	‘Ride on, ride on,’ said the first man, ‘For I fear the bride comes slowly on.’ 11J.9	‘Ride on, ride on,’ said the next man, ‘For lo! the bride she comes bleeding on.’ * * * * * 11J.10	‘What will you leave your mother dear?’ ‘My heart’s best love for ever and aye.’ 11J.11	‘What will ye leave your sister Anne?’ ‘This wedding garment that I have on.’ 11J.12	‘What will ye leave your brother John’s wife?’ ‘Grief and sorrow all the days of her life.’ 11J.13	‘What will ye leave your brother John?’ ‘The highest gallows to hang him on.’ 11J.14	‘What will ye leave your brother John’s son?’ ‘The grace of God to make him a man.’
 
11K: The Cruel Brother
 
 
 11K.1	THERE were three ladies playing at ball,
       Refrain:	Gilliver, Gentle, and Rosemary
 	There came three knights and looked over the wall.
       Refrain:	Sing O the red rose and the white lilly
 11K.2	The first young knight, he was clothed in red,
 	And he said, ‘Gentle lady, with me will you wed?’
 11K.3	The second young knight, he was clothed in blue,
 	And he said, ‘To my love I shall ever be true.’
 11K.4	The third young knight, he was clothed in green,
 	And he said, ‘Fairest maiden, will you be my queen?’
 11K.5	The lady thus spoke to the knight in red,
 	‘With you, sir knight, I never can wed.’
 11K.6	The lady then spoke to the knight in blue,
 	And she said, ‘Little faith I can have in you.’
 11K.7	The lady then spoke to the knight in green,
 	And she said, ‘’Tis at court you must seek for a queen.’
 11K.8	The three young knights then rode away,
 	And the ladies they laughed, and went back to their play.
       Refrain:	Singing, etc.

 
 
11[L]: The Cruel Brother
 
11[L].1	There were three ladies playing at the ba, Refrain:	With a hey and a lilly gay 11[L.1]	When the King o Fairies rode by them a’. Refrain:	And the roses they grow sweetlie 11[L.2]	The foremost one was clad in blue; He askd at her if she’d be his doo. 11[L.3]	The second of them was clad in red; He asked at her if she’d be his bride. 11[L.4]	The next of them was clad in green; He askd at her if she’d be his queen. 11[L.5]	‘Go you ask at my father then, And you may ask at my mother then. 11[L.6]	‘You may ask at my sister Ann, And not forget my brother John.’ 11[L.7]	‘O I have askd at your father then, And I have askd at your mother then. 11[L.8]	‘And I have askd at your sister Ann, But I’ve quite forgot your brother John.’ 11[L.9]	Her father led her down the stair, Her mother combd down her yellow hair. 11[L.10]	Her sister Ann led her to the cross, And her brother John set her on her horse. 11[L.11]	‘Now you are high and I am low, Give me a kiss before ye go.’ 11[L.12]	She’s lootit down to gie him a kiss, He gave her a deep wound and didna miss. 11[L.13]	And with a penknife as sharp as a dart, And he has stabbit her to the heart. 11[L.14]	‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the foremost man, ‘I think our bride looks pale an wan.’ 11[L.15]	‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the middle man, ‘I see her heart’s blude trinkling down.’ 11[L.16]	‘Ride on, ride,’ says the Fairy King, ‘She will be dead lang ere we win hame.’ 11[L.17]	‘O I wish I was at yonder cross, Where my brother John put me on my horse. 11[L.18]	‘I wish I was at yonder thorn, I wad curse the day that ere I was born. 11[L.19]	‘I wish I was at yon green hill, Then I wad sit and bleed my fill.’ 11[L.20]	‘What will you leave your father then?’ ‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’ 11[L.21]	‘What will you leave your mother then?’ ‘My silver Bible and my golden fan.’ 11[L.22]	‘What will ye leave your sister Ann?’ ‘My good lord, to be married on.’ 11[L.23]	‘What will ye leave your sister Pegg?’ ‘The world wide to go and beg.’ 11[L.24]	‘What will you leave your brother John?’ ‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’ 11[L.25]	‘What will you leave your brother’s wife?’ ‘Grief and sorrow to end her life.’
 
11[M]: The Cruel Brother
 
11[M].1	There was three ladies playing at the ba, Refrain:	With a hay and a lilly gay 11[M.1]	A gentleman cam amang them a’. Refrain:	And the roses grow sweet aye 11[M.2]	The first of them was clad in yellow, And he askd at her gin she’d be his marrow. 11[M.3]	The next o them was clad in green; He askd at her gin she’d be his queen. 11[M.4]	The last o them [was] clad in red; He askd at her gin she’d be his bride. 11[M.5]	‘Have ye asked at my father dear? Or have ye asked my mother dear? 11[M.6]	‘Have ye asked my sister Ann? Or have ye asked my brother John?’ 11[M.7]	‘I have asked yer father dear, And I have asked yer mother dear. 11[M.8]	‘I have asked yer sister Ann, But I’ve quite forgot your brother John.’ 11[M.9]	Her father dear led her thro them a’, Her mother dear led her thro the ha. 11[M.10]	Her sister Ann led her thro the closs, And her brother John stabbed her on her horse. 11[M.11]	‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the foremost man, ‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’ 11[M.12]	‘Ride up,’ cries the bonny bridegroom, ‘I think the bride be bleeding.’ 11[M.13]	‘This is the bludy month of May, Me and my horse bleeds night and day. 11[M.14]	‘O an I were at yon green hill, I wad ly down and bleed a while. 11[M.15]	‘O gin I was at yon red cross, I wad light down and corn my horse. 11[M.16]	‘O an I were at yon kirk-style, I wad lye down and soon be weel.’ 11[M.17]	When she cam to yon green hill, Then she lay down and bled a while. 11[M.18]	And when she cam to yon red cross, Then she lighted and corned her horse. 11[M.19]	‘What will ye leave your father dear?’ ‘My milk-white steed, which cost me dear.’ 11[M.20]	‘What will ye leave your mother dear?’ ‘The bludy clothes that I do wear.’ 11[M.21]	‘What will ye leave your sister Ann?’ ‘My silver bridle and my golden fan.’ 11[M.22]	‘What will ye leave your brother John?’ ‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’ 11[M.23]	‘What will ye leave to your sister Pegg?’ ‘The wide world for to go and beg.’ 11[M.24]	When she came to yon kirk-style, Then she lay down, and soon was weel.
 
11[N]: The Cruel Brother
 
 
 11[N].1	Then out bespak the foremost priest:
       Refrain:	Wi a heigh ho and a lilly gay
 11[N.1]	I think she’s bleedin at the breast.
       Refrain:	The flowers they spring so sweetly

 


 
12A: Lord Rendal
 
12A.1	‘O WHERE ha you been, Lord Randal, my son? And where ha you been, my handsome young man?’ ‘I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.’ 12A.2	‘An what met ye there, Lord Randal, my son? An wha met you there, my handsome young man?’ ‘O I met wi my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m wearied wi huntin, an fain wad lie down.’ 12A.3	‘And what did she give you, Lord Randal, my son? And what did she give you, my handsome young man?’ ‘Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.’ 12A.4	‘And wha gat your leavins, Lord Randal, my son? And wha gat your leavins, my handsom young man?’ ‘My hawks and my hounds; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.’ 12A.5	d what becam of them, Lord Randal, my son? And what becam of them, my handsome young man?’ ‘They stretched their legs out an died; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.’ 12A.6	‘O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son! I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!’ ‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’ 12A.7	‘What d’ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal, my son? What d’ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?’ ‘Four and twenty milk kye; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’ 12A.8	‘What d’ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal, my son? What d’ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?’ ‘My gold and my silver; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m sick at the heart, an I fain wad lie down.’ 12A.9	‘What d’ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal, my son? What d’ye leave to your brother, my handsome young man?’ ‘My houses and my lands; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’ 12A.10	‘What d’ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son? What d’ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?’ ‘I leave her hell and fire; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’
 
12B: Lord Rendal
 
12B.1	‘O WHARE hae ye been a’ day, Lord Donald, my son? O whare hae ye been a’ day, my jollie young man?’ ‘I’ve been awa courtin; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.2	‘What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Donald, my son? What wad ye hae for your supper, my jollie young man?’ ‘I’ve gotten my supper; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.3	‘What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald,my son? What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man?’ ‘A dish of sma fishes; mither mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.4	‘Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son? Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man?’ ‘In my father’s black ditches; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.5	‘What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son? What like were your fishes, my jollie young man?’ ‘Black backs and spreckld bellies; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.6	‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Donald, my son! O I fear ye are poisond, my jollie young man!’ ‘O yes! I am poisond; mither mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.7	‘What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald my son? What will ye leave to your father, my jollie young man?’ ‘Baith my houses and land; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.8	‘What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son? What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie young man?’ ‘My horse and the saddle; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.9	‘What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son? What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young man?’ ‘Baith my gold box and rings; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’ 12B.10	‘What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son? What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man?’ ‘The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree, And lat her hang there for the poysoning o me.’
 
12C: Lord Rendal
 
12C.1	‘WHAT’S become of your hounds, King Henrie, my son? What’s become of your hounds, my pretty little one?’ ‘They all died on the way; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’ 12C.2	‘What gat ye to your supper, King Henry, my son? What gat ye to your supper, my pretty little one?’ ‘I gat fish boiled in broo; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’ 12C.3	‘What like were the fish, King Henry, my son? What like were the fish, my pretty little one?’ ‘They were spreckled on the back and white on the belly; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’ 12C.4	‘What leave ye to your father, King Henry, my son? What leave ye to your father, my pretty little one?’ ‘The keys of Old Ireland, and all that’s therein; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’ 12C.5	at leave ye to your brother, King Henry, my son? What leave ye to your brother, my pretty little one?’ ‘The keys of my coffers and all that’s therein; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’ 12C.6	‘What leave ye to your sister, King Henry, my son? What leave ye to your sister, my pretty little one?’ ‘The world’s wide, she may go beg; mother, mak my bed soon, For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’ 12C.7	‘What leave ye to your trew-love, King Henry, my son? What leave ye to your trew-love, my pretty little one?’ ‘The highest hill to hang her on, for she’s poisoned me and my hounds all; mother, make my bed soon, Oh I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’
 
12D: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12D.1	‘O WHERE hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
 	O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?’
 	‘I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
 12D.2	‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
 	Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’
 	‘I din’d wi my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
 12D.3	‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
 	What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’
 	‘I gat eels boild in broo; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
 12D.4	‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?
 	What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’
 	‘O they swelld and they died; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
 12D.5	‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my son!
 	O I fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man!’
 	‘O yes! I am poisond; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

 
 
12E: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12E.1	‘AH where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
 	Ah where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
 	‘I’ve been in the wild woods; mither, mak my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’
 12E.2	‘Oh you’ve been at your true love’s, Lairde Rowlande, my son!
 	Oh you’ve been at your true-love’s, Lairde Rowlande, my son!’
 	‘I’ve been at my true-love’s; mither, mak my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’
 12E.3	‘What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
 	What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
 	‘I got eels boild in brue; mither, mak my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’
 12E.4	‘What’s become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
 	What’s become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
 	‘He died in the muirlands; mither, mak my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’
 12E.5	‘What’s become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
 	What’s become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
 	‘They swelled and they died; mither, mak my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

 
 
12F: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12F.1	‘O WHERE hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?
 	O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?’
 	‘I hae been wi my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary wi the hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
 12F.2	‘What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
 	What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?’
 	‘I hae got deadly poison; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For life is a burden that soon I’ll lay down.’
 	* * * * *

 
 
12G: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12G.1	‘WHERE have you been today, Billy, my son?
 	Where have you been today, my only man?’
 	‘I’ve been a wooing; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m sick at heart, and fain would lay down.’
 12G.2	‘What have you ate today, Billy, my son?
 	What have you ate today, my only man?’
 	‘I’ve ate eel-pie; mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m sick at heart, and shall die before noon.’

 
 
12H: Lord Rendal
 
12H.1	‘WHERE was you all day, my own pretty boy? Where was you all day, my comfort and joy?’ ‘I was fishing and fowling; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.2	‘What did you have for your breakfast, my own pretty boy? What did you have for your breakfast, my comfort and joy?’ ‘A cup of strong poison; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.3	‘I fear you are poisoned, my own pretty boy, I fear you are poisoned, my comfort and joy!’ ‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.4	‘What will you leave to your father, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to your father, my comfort and joy?’ ‘I’ll leave him my house and my property; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.5	‘What will you leave to your mother, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to your mother, my comfort and joy?’ ‘I’ll leave her my coach and four horses; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.6	‘What will you leave to your brother, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to your brother, my comfort and joy?’ ‘I’ll leave him my bow and my fiddle; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.7	‘What will you leave to your sister, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to your sister, my comfort and joy?’ ‘I’ll leave her my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.8	‘What will you leave to your servant, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to you servant, my comfort and joy?’ ‘I’ll leave him the key of my small silver box; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.9	‘What will you leave to your children, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to your children, my comfort and joy?’ ‘The world is wide all round for to beg; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.10	‘What will you leave to your wife, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to your wife, my comfort and joy?’ ‘I’ll leave her the gallows, and plenty to hang her; mother, make my bed soon, There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’ 12H.11	‘Where shall I make it, my own pretty boy? Where shall I make it, my comfort and joy?’ ‘Above in the churchyard, and dig it down deep, Put a stone to my head and a flag to my feet, And leave me down easy until I’ll take a long sleep.’
 
12I: Lord Rendal
 
12I.1	‘O WHERE have you been, Tiranti, my son? O where have you been, my sweet little one?’ ‘I have been to my grandmother’s; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’ 12I.2	‘What did you have for your supper, Tiranti, my son? What did you have for your supper, my sweet little one?’ ‘I had eels fried in butter; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’ 12I.3	‘Where did the eels come from, Tiranti, my son? Where did the eels come from, my sweet little one?’ ‘From the corner of the haystack; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’ 12I.4	‘What color were the eels, Tiranti, my son? What color were the eels, my sweet little one?’ ‘They were streak d and strip d; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’ 12I.5	‘What’ll you give to your father, Tiranti, my son? What’ll you give to your father, my sweet little one?’ ‘All my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’ 12I.6	‘What’ll you give to your mother, Tiranti, my son? What’ll you give to your mother, my sweet little one?’ ‘A coach and six horses; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’ 12I.7	‘What’ll you give to your grandmother, Tiranti, my son? What’ll you give to your grandmother, my sweet little one?’ ‘A halter to hang her; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’ 12I.8	‘Where’ll you have your bed made, Tiranti, my son? Where’ll you have your bed made, my sweet little one?’ ‘In the corner of the churchyard; mother, make my bed soon, For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’
 
12J: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12J.1	‘O WHARE hae ye been a’ day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?
 	O whare hae ye been a’ day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
 	‘I’ve been at my step-mother’s; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!
 	I’ve been at my step-mother’s; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’
 12J.2	‘O what did ye get at your step-mother’s, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’ [Twice.]
 	‘I gat a wee wee fishie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’ [Twice.]
 12J.3	‘O whare gat she the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
 	‘In a dub before the door; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’
 12J.4	‘What did ye wi the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
 	‘I boild it in a wee pannie; oh mak my bed, mammy, now!’
 12J.5	‘Wha gied ye the banes o the fishie till, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
 	‘I gied them till a wee doggie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’
 12J.6	‘O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?
 	O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
 	‘It shot out its fit and died, and sae maun I do too;
 	Oh mak my bed, mammy, now, now, oh mak my bed, mammy, now!’

 
 
12K: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12K.1	‘O WHAUR hae ye been a’ the day, my little wee croodlin doo?’
 	‘O I’ve been at my grandmother’s; mak my bed, mammie, now!’
 12K.2	‘O what gat ye at your grandmother’s, my little wee croodlin doo?’
 	‘I got a bonnie wee fishie; mak my bed, mammie, now!’
 12K.3	‘O whaur did she catch the fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
 	‘She catchd it in the gutter hole; mak my bed, mammie, now!’
 12K.4	‘And what did she do wi the fish, my little wee croodlin doo?’
 	‘She boiled it in a brass pan; O mak my bed, mammie, now!’
 12K.5	d what did ye do wi the banes o’t, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
 	‘I gied them to my little dog; mak my bed, mammie, now!’
 12K.6	‘And what did your little doggie do, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
 	‘He stretched out his head, his feet, and deed; and so will I, mammie, now!’

 
 
12L: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12L.1	‘WHAR hae ye been a’ the day, Willie doo, Willie doo?
 	Whar hae ye been a’ the day, Willie, my doo?’
 12L.2	‘I’ve been to see my step-mother; make my bed, lay me down;
 	Make my bed, lay me down, die shall I now!’
 12L.3	‘What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie doo, Willie doo?
 	What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie, my doo?’
 12L.4	‘She gae me a speckled trout; make my bed, lay me down;
 	She gae me a speckled trout, die shall I now!’
 12L.5	‘Whar got she the speckled trout,Willie doo, Willie doo?’
 	‘She got it amang the heather hills; die shall I now.’
 12L.6	‘What did she boil it in, Willie doo, Willie doo?’
 	‘She boild it in the billy-pot; die shall I now!’
 12L.7	‘What gaed she you for to drink, Willie doo, Willie doo?
 	What gaed she you for to drink, Willie, my doo?’
 12L.8	‘She gaed me hemlock stocks; make my bed, lay me down;
 	Made in the brewing pot; die shall I now!’
 12L.9	They made his bed, laid him down, poor Willie doo, Willie doo;
 	He turnd his face to the wa; he’s dead now!

 
 
12M: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12M.1	‘WHERE hae ye been a’ the day, my bonny wee croodin doo?’
 	‘O I hae been at my stepmother’s house; make my bed, mammie, now, now, now,
 	Make my bed, mammie, now!’
 12M.2	‘Where did ye get your dinner?’ my, etc.
 	‘I got it at my stepmother’s;’ make, etc.
 12M.3	‘What did she gie ye to your dinner?’
 	‘She gae me a little four-footed fish.’
 12M.4	‘Where got she the four-footed fish?’
 	‘She got it down in yon well strand;’ O make, etc.
 12M.5	‘What did she do with the banes o’t?’
 	‘She gae them to the little dog.’
 12M.6	‘O what became o the little dog?’
 	‘O it shot out its feet and died;’ O make, etc.

 
 
12N: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12N.1	‘FARE hae ye been a’ day, a’ day, a’ day,
 	Fare hae ye been a’ day, my little wee croudlin doo?’
 12N.2	‘I’ve been at my step-mammie’s, my step mammie’s, my step-mammie’s,
 	I’ve been at my step-mammie’s; come mack my beddy now!’
 12N.3	‘What got ye at yer step-mammie’s,
 	My little wee croudlin doo?’
 12N.4	‘She gied me a spreckled fishie;
 	Come mack my beddy now!’
 12N.5	‘What did ye wi the baenies oet,
 	My little wee croudlin doo?’
 12N.6	‘I gaed them till her little dogie;
 	Come mack my beddy now!’
 12N.7	‘What did her little dogie syne,
 	My little wee croudlin doo?’
 12N.8	‘He laid down his heed and feet;
 	And sae shall I dee now!’

 
 
12O: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12O.1	‘O WHERE hae ye been a’ the day, my wee wee croodlin doo doo?
 	O where hae ye been a’ the day, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
 	‘O I hae been to my step-mammie’s; mak my bed, mammy, noo, noo,
 	Mak my bed, mammy, noo!’
 12O.2	‘O what did yere step-mammie gie to you?’ etc.
 	‘She gied to me a wee wee fish,’ etc.
 12O.3	‘[O] what did she boil the wee fishie in?’
 	‘O she boiled it in a wee wee pan; it turned baith black an blue, blue,
 	It turned baith black an blue.’
 12O.4	‘An what did she gie the banes o’t to?’
 	‘O she gied them to a wee wee dog;’ mak, etc.
 12O.5	‘An what did the wee wee doggie do then?’
 	‘O it put out its tongue and its feet, an it deed; an sae maun I do, noo, noo,
 	An sae maun I do noo!’

 
 
12[P]: Lord Rendal
 
12[P].1	‘Where hae ye been a’ day, Lord Ronald, my son? Where hae ye been a’ day, my handsome young one?’ ‘I’ve been in the wood hunting; mother, make my bed soon, For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun’ 12[P.2]	‘O where did you dine, Lord Ronald, my son? O where did you dine, my handsome young one?’ ‘I dined with my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon, For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’ 12[P.3]	‘What got you to dine on, Lord Ronald, my son? What got you to dine on, my handsome young one?’ ‘I got eels boiled in water that in heather doth run, And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’ 12[P.4]	‘What did she wi the broo o them, Lord Ronald, my son? What did she wi the broo o them, my handsome young one?’ ‘She gave it to my hounds for to live upon, And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’ 12[P.5]	‘Where are your hounds now, Lord Ronald, my son? Where are your hounds now, my handsome young one?’ ‘They are a’ swelled and bursted, and sae will I soon, And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’ 12[P.6]	‘What will you leave your father, Lord Ronald, my son? What will you leave your father, my handsome young one?’ ‘I’ll leave him my lands for to live upon, And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’ 12[P.7]	‘What will you leave your brother, Lord Ronald, my son? What will you leave your brother, my handsome young one?’ ‘I’ll leave him my gallant steed for to ride upon, And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’ 12[P.8]	‘What will you leave your sister, Lord Ronald, my son? What will you leave your sister, my handsome young one?’ ‘I’ll leave her my gold watch for to look upon, And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’ 12[P.9]	‘What will you leave your mother, Lord Ronald, my son? What will you leave your mother, my handsome young one?’ ‘I’ll leave her my Bible for to read upon, And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’ 12[P.10]	‘What will you leave your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son? What will you leave your sweetheart, my handsome young one?’ ‘I’ll leave her the gallows-tree for to hang upon, It was her that poisoned me;’ and so he fell doun.
 
12[Q]: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12[Q].1	‘O whare hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
 	O whare hae ye been, my handsome young man?’
 	‘Oer the peat moss mang the heather, mother, mak my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
 12[Q.6]	‘What leave ye to your father, Lord Randal, my son?
 	What leave ye to your father, my handsome young man?’
 	‘I leave my houses and land, mother, mak my bed soon,
 	For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
 12[Q.7]	‘What leave ye to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
 	What leave ye to your brother, my handsome young man?’
 	‘O the guid milk-white steed that I rode upon,
 	For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
 12[Q.8]	‘What leave ye to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
 	What leave ye to your true-love, my handsome young man?’
 	‘O a high, high gallows, to hang her upon,
 	For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

 
 
12[R]: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12[R].1	‘Whare hae ye been a’ day, my little wee toorin dow?’
 	‘It’s I’ve been at my grandmammy’s; mak my bed, mammy, now.’
 12[R.2]	‘And what did ye get frae your grandmammy, my little wee toorin dow?’
 	‘It’s I got a wee bit fishy to eat; mak my bed, mammy, now.’
 12[R.3]	‘An what did ye do wi the banes o it, my little wee toorin dow?’
 	‘I gied it to my black doggy to eat; mak my bed, mammy, now.’
 12[R.4]	‘An what did your little black doggy do syne, my little wee toorin dow?’
 	‘He shot out his head, and his feet, and he died; as I do, mammy, now.’

 
 
12[S]: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12[S].1	‘Where have you been today, Randall, my son?
 	Where have you been today, my only man?’
 	‘I have been a hunting, mother, make my bed soon,
 	For I’m sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.
 	Dear sister, hold my head, dear mother, make my bed,
 	I am sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.’
 12[S.2]	‘What have you eat today, Randal, my son?
 	What have you eat today, my only man?’
 	‘I have eat an eel; mother, make,’ etc.
 12[S.3]	‘What was the colour of it, Randal, my son?
 	What was the colour of it, my only man?’
 	‘It was neither green, grey, blue nor black,
 	But speckled on the back; make,’ etc.
 12[S.4]	‘Who gave you eels today, Randal, my son?
 	Who gave you eels today, my only man?’
 	‘My own sweetheart; mother, make,’ etc.
 12[S.5]	‘Where shall I make your bed, Randal, my son?
 	Where shall I make your bed, my only man?’
 	‘In the churchyard; mother, make,’ etc.
 12[S.6]	‘What will you leave her then, Randall, my son?
 	What will you leave her then, my only man?’
 	‘A halter to hang herself; make,’ etc.

 
 
12[U]: Lord Rendal
 
 
 12[U].1	‘Whare were ye the lea lang day,
       Refrain:	My wee crooding doo, doo?’
 12[U.1]	‘I hae been at my step-dame’s;
       Refrain:	Mammy, mak my bed noo, noo!’
 12[U.2]	‘Whare gat she the wee, wee fish?’
 	‘She gat it neist the edder-flowe.’
 12[U.3]	‘What did she wi the fishie’s banes?’
 	‘The wee black dog gat them to eat.’
 12[U.4]	‘What did the wee black doggie then?’
 	‘He shot out his fittie an deed;
       Refrain:	An sae maun I now too, too.’ etc.

 


 
13A: Edward
 
13A.1	‘WHAT bluid’s that on thy coat lap, Son Davie, son Davie? What bluid’s that on thy coat lap? And the truth come tell to me.’ 13A.2	‘It is the bluid of my great hawk, Mother lady, mother lady: It is the bluid of my great hawk, And the truth I have told to thee.’ 13A.3	‘Hawk’s bluid was neer sae red, Son Davie, son Davie: Hawk’s bluid was neer sae red, And the truth come tell to me.’ 13A.4	‘It is the bluid of my greyhound, Mother lady, mother lady: It is the bluid of my greyhound, And it wadna rin for me.’ 13A.5	‘Hound’s bluid was neer sae red, Son Davie, son Davie: Hound’s bluid was neer sae red, And the truth come tell to me.’ 13A.6	‘It is the bluid o my brither John, Mother lady, mother lady: It is the bluid o my brither John, And the truth I have told to thee.’ 13A.7	‘What about did the plea begin, Son Davie, son Davie?’ ‘It began about the cutting of a willow wand That would never been a tree.’ 13A.8	‘What death dost thou desire to die, Son Davie, son Davie? What death dost thou desire to die? And the truth come tell to me.’ 13A.9	‘I’ll set my foot in a bottomless ship, Mother lady, mother lady: I’ll set my foot in a bottomless ship, And ye’ll never see mair o me.’ 13A.10	‘What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife, Son Davie, son Davie?’ ‘Grief and sorrow all her life, And she’ll never see mair o me.’ 13A.11	‘What wilt thou leave to thy old son, Son Davie, son Davie?’ ‘I’ll leave him the weary world to wander up and down, And he’ll never get mair o me.’ 13A.12	‘What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear, Son Davie, son Davie?’ ‘A fire o coals to burn her, wi hearty cheer, And she’ll never get mair o me.’
 
13B: Edward
 
13B.1	‘WHY dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, Edward, Edward, Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, And why sae sad gang yee O?’ ‘O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, Mither, mither, O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, And I had nae mair bot hee O.’ 13B.2	‘Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, Edward, Edward, Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, My deir son I tell thee O.’ ‘O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, Mither, mither, O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, That erst was sae fair and frie O.’ 13B.3	‘Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, Edward, Edward, Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, Sum other dule ye drie O.’ ‘O I hae killed my fadir deir, Mither, mither, O I hae killed my fadir deir, Alas, and wae is mee O!’ 13B.4	‘And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that, Edward, Edward? And whatten penance will ye drie for that? My deir son, now tell me O.’ ‘Ile set my feit in yonder boat, Mither, mither, Ile set my feit in yonder boat, And Ile fare ovir the sea O.’ 13B.5	‘And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha, Edward, Edward? And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha, That were sae fair to see O?’ ‘Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa, Mither, mither, Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa, For here nevir mair maun I bee O.’ 13B.6	‘And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Whan ye gang ovir the sea O?’ ‘The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, Mither, mither, The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, For thame nevir mair wul I see O.’ 13B.7	‘And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir, Edward, Edward? And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir? My deir son, now tell me O.’ ‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, Mither, mither, The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, Sic counseils ye gave to me O.’
 
13C: Edward
 
 
 13C.1	‘O WHAT did the fray begin about?
 	My son, come tell to me:’
 	‘It began about the breaking o the bonny hazel wand,
 	And a penny wad hae bought the tree.’

 


 
14A: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie
 
14A.1	THERE were three ladies lived in a bower, Refrain:	Eh vow bonnie And they went out to pull a flower. Refrain:	On the bonnie banks o Fordie 14A.2	They hadna pu’ed a flower but ane, When up started to them a banisht man. 14A.3	He’s taen the first sister by her hand, And he’s turned her round and made her stand. 14A.4	‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife, Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’ 14A.5	‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife, But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’ 14A.6	He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by, For to bear the red rose company. 14A.7	He’s taken the second ane by the hand, And he’s turned her round and made her stand. 14A.8	‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife, Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’ 14A.9	‘I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife, But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’ 14A.10	He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by, For to bear the red rose company. 14A.11	He’s taken the youngest ane by the hand, And he’s turned her round and made her stand. 14A.12	Says, ‘Will ye be a rank robber’s wife, Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’ 14A.13	‘I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife, Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife. 14A.14	‘For I hae a brother in this wood, And gin ye kill me, it’s he’ll kill thee.’ 14A.15	‘What’s thy brother’s name? come tell to me.’ ‘My brother’s name is Baby Lon.’ 14A.16	‘O sister, sister, what have I done! O have I done this ill to thee! 14A.17	‘O since I’ve done this evil deed, Good sall never be seen o me.’ 14A.18	He’s taken out his wee pen-knife, And he’s twyned himsel o his ain sweet life.
 
14B: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie
 
14B.1	THERE wond three ladies in a bower, Refrain:	Annet and Margret and Marjorie And they have gane out to pu a flower. Refrain:	And the dew it lyes on the wood, gay ladie 14B.2	They had nae pu’d a flower but ane, When up has started a banished man. 14B.3	He has taen the eldest by the hand, He has turned her about and bade her stand. 14B.4	‘Now whether will ye be a banisht man’s wife, Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’ 14B.5	‘I will na be ca’d a banished man’s wife, I’ll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.’ 14B.6	And he has taen out his little pen-knife, And frae this lady he has taen the life. 14B.7	He has taen the second by the hand, He has turned her about and he bad her stand. 14B.8	‘Now whether will ye be a banisht man’s wife, Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’ 14B.9	‘I will na be ca’d a banished man’s wife; I’ll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.’ 14B.10	And he has taen out his little pen-knife, And frae this lady he has taen the life. 14B.11	He has taen the youngest by the hand, He has turned her about and he bad her stand. 14B.12	‘Now whether will ye be a banished man’s wife, Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’ 14B.13	‘I winnae be called a banished man’s wife, Nor yet will I be sticked wi your pen-knife. 14B.14	‘But gin my three brethren had been here, Ye had nae slain my sisters dear.’ * * * * *
 
14C: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie
 
14C.1	THERE were three sisters on a road, Refrain:	Gilly flower gentle rosemary And there they met a banished lord. Refrain:	And the dew it hings over the mulberry tree 14C.2	The eldest sister was on the road, And there she met with the banished lord. 14C.3	‘O will ye consent to lose your life, Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’ 14C.4	‘I’ll rather consent to lose my life Before I’ll be a banished lord’s wife.’ 14C.5	‘It’s lean your head upon my staff,’ And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff. 14C.6	He flang her in amang the broom, Saying, ‘Lye ye there till another ane come.’ 14C.7	The second sister was on the road, And there she met with the banished lord. 14C.8	‘O will ye consent to lose your life, Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’ 14C.9	‘I’ll rather consent to lose my life Before I’ll be a banished lord’s wife.’ 14C.10	‘It’s lean your head upon my staff,’ And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff. 14C.11	He flang her in amang the broom, Saying, ‘Lie ye there till another ane come.’ 14C.12	The youngest sister was on the road, And there she met with the banished lord. 14C.13	‘O will ye consent to lose your life, Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’ 14C.14	‘O if my three brothers were here, Ye durstna put me in such a fear.’ 14C.15	‘What are your three brothers, altho they were here, That I durstna put you in such a fear?’ 14C.16	‘My eldest brother’s a belted knight, The second, he’s a . . . 14C.17	‘My youngest brother’s a banished lord, And oftentimes he walks on this road.’ * * * * *
 
14D: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie
 
14D.1	THERE were three sisters, they lived in a bower, Refrain:	Sing Anna, sing Margaret, sing Marjorie The youngest o them was the fairest flower. Refrain:	And the dew goes thro the wood, gay ladie 14D.2	The oldest of them she’s to the wood gane, To seek a braw leaf and to bring it hame. 14D.3	There she met with an outlyer bold, Lies many long nights in the woods so cold. 14D.4	‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife? Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’ 14D.5	‘O kind sir, if I hae’t at my will, I’ll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.’ 14D.6	He’s taen out his we pen-knife, He’s twinned this young lady of her sweet life 14D.7	He wiped his knife along the dew; But the more he wiped, the redder it grew. 14D.8	The second of them she’s to the wood gane, To seek her old sister, and to bring her hame. 14D.9	There she met with an outlyer bold, Lies many long nights in the woods so cold. 14D.10	‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife? Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’ 14D.11	‘O kind sir, if I hae’t at my will, I’ll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.’ 14D.12	He’s taen out his we pen-knife, He’s twinned this young lady of her sweet life. 14D.13	He wiped his knife along the dew; But the more he wiped, the redder it grew. 14D.14	The youngest of them she’s to the wood gane, To seek her two sisters, and to bring them hame. 14D.15	There she met with an outlyer bold, Lies many long nights in the woods so cold. 14D.16	‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife? Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’ 14D.17	‘If my three brethren they were here, Such questions as these thou durst nae speer.’ 14D.18	‘Pray, what may thy three brethren be, That I durst na mak so bold with thee?’ 14D.19	‘The eldest o them is a minister bred, He teaches the people from evil to good. 14D.20	‘The second o them is a ploughman good, He ploughs the land for his livelihood. 14D.21	‘The youngest of them is an outlyer bold, Lies many a long night in the woods so cold.’ 14D.22	He stuck his knife then into the ground, He took a long race, let himself fall on.
 
14E: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie
 
14E.1	THE Duke o Perth had three daughters, Refrain:	Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie; And Elizabeth’s to the greenwud gane, Refrain:	To pu the rose and the fair lilie. 14E.2	But she hadna pu’d a rose, a rose, Refrain:	A double rose, but barely three, 14E.2	Whan up and started a Loudon lord, Refrain:	Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen. 14E.3	‘Will ye be called a robber’s wife? Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife? Refrain:	For pu’in the rose and the fair lilie, For pu’in them sae fair and free.’ 14E.4	‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife, I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife, Refrain:	For pu’in,’ etc. 14E.5	Then out he’s tane his little pen-knife, And he’s parted her and her sweet life, And thrown her oer a bank o brume, There never more for to be found. 14E.6	The Duke o Perth had three daughters, Refrain:	Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie; 14E.6	And Margaret’s to the greenwud gane, Refrain:	To pu the rose and the fair lilie. 14E.7	She hadna pu’d a rose, a rose, Refrain:	A double rose, but barely three, 14E.7	When up and started a Loudon lord, Refrain:	Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen. 14E.8	‘Will ye be called a robber’s wife? Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife? Refrain:	For pu’in,’ etc. 14E.9	‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife, I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife, Refrain:	For pu’in,’ etc. 14E.10	Then out he’s tane his little pen-knife, And he’s parted her and her sweet life, 14E.10r	For pu’in, etc. 14E.11	The Duke o Perth had three daughters, Refrain:	Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie; 14E.11	And Mary’s to the greenwud gane, Refrain:	To pu the rose and the fair lilie. 14E.12	She hadna pu’d a rose, a rose, 14E.12r	A double rose, but barely three, 14E.12	When up and started a Loudon lord, 14E.12r	Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen. 14E.13	‘O will ye be called a robber’s wife? Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife? 14E.13r	For pu’in,’ etc. 14E.14	‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife, I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife, 14E.14r	For pu’in,’ etc. 14E.15	But just as he took out his knife, To tak frae her her ain sweet life, Her brother John cam ryding bye, And this bloody robber he did espy. 14E.16	But when he saw his sister fair, He kennd her by her yellow hair; He calld upon his pages three, To find this robber speedilie. 14E.17	‘My sisters twa that are dead and gane, For whom we made a heavy maene, It’s you that’s twinnd them o their life, And wi your cruel bloody knife. 14E.18	‘Then for their life ye sair shall dree; Ye sall be hangit on a tree, Or thrown into the poisond lake, To feed the toads and rattle-snake.’
 
14[F]: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie
 
14[F].1	There were three sisters going from home, Refrain:	All in a lea and alony, oh 14[F.1]	They met a man, and he made them stand, Refrain:	Down by the bonny banks of Airdrie, oh. 14[F.2]	He took the first one by the hand, He turned her round, and he made her stand. 14[F.3]	Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife? Or will you die by my penknife? 14[F.4]	‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife, But I will die by your penknife.’ 14[F.5]	Then he took the second by her hand, He turned her round, and he made her stand. 14[F.6]	Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife? Or will you die by my penknife? 14[F.7]	‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife, But I will die by your penknife.’ 14[F.8]	He took the third one by the hand, He turned her round, and he made her stand. 14[F.9]	Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife? Or will you die by my penknife? 14[F.10]	‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife, And I wont die by you penknife. 14[F.11]	‘If my two brothers had been here, You would not have killed my sisters two.’ 14[F.12]	‘What was your two brothers’ names?’ ‘One was John, and the other was James.’ 14[F.13]	‘Oh, what did your two brothers do?’ ‘One was a minister, the other such as you.’ 14[F.14]	‘Oh, what is this that I have done? I have killed my sisters, all but one. 14[F.15]	‘And now I’ll take out my penknife, And here I’ll end my own sweet life.’


 
15A: Leesom Brand
 
15A.1	MY boy was scarcely ten years auld, Whan he went to an unco land, Where wind never blew, nor cocks ever crew, Ohon for my son, Leesome Brand! 15A.2	Awa to that king’s court he went, It was to serve for meat an fee; Gude red gowd it was his hire, And lang in that king’s court stayd he. 15A.3	He hadna been in that unco land But only twallmonths twa or three, Till by the glancing o his ee, He gaind the love o a gay ladye. 15A.4	This ladye was scarce eleven years auld, When on her love she was right bauld; She was scarce up to my right knee, When oft in bed wi men I’m tauld. 15A.5	But when nine months were come and gane, This ladye’s face turnd pale and wane. 15A.6	To Leesome Brand she then did say, ‘In this place I can nae mair stay. 15A.7	‘Ye do you to my father’s stable, Where steeds do stand baith wight and able. 15A.8	‘Strike ane o them upo the back, The swiftest will gie his head a wap. 15A.9	‘Ye take him out upo the green, And get him saddled and bridled seen. 15A.10	‘Get ane for you, anither for me, And lat us ride out ower the lee. 15A.11	‘Ye do you to my mother’s coffer, And out of it ye’ll take my tocher. 15A.12	‘Therein are sixty thousand pounds, Which all to me by right belongs.’ 15A.13	He’s done him to her father’s stable, Where steeds stood baith wicht and able. 15A.14	Then he strake ane upon the back, The swiftest gae his head a wap. 15A.15	He’s taen him out upo the green, And got him saddled and bridled seen. 15A.16	Ane for him, and another for her, To carry them baith wi might and virr. 15A.17	He’s done him to her mother’s coffer, And there he’s taen his love’s tocher; 15A.18	Wherein were sixty thousand pound, Which all to her by right belongd. 15A.19	When they had ridden about six mile, His true love then began to fail. 15A.20	‘O wae’s me,’ said that gay ladye, ‘I fear my back will gang in three! 15A.21	‘O gin I had but a gude midwife, Here this day to save my life, 15A.22	‘And ease me o my misery, O dear, how happy I would be!’ 15A.23	‘My love, we’re far frae ony town, There is nae midwife to be foun. 15A.24	‘But if ye’ll be content wi me, I’ll do for you what man can dee.’ 15A.25	‘For no, for no, this maunna be,’ Wi a sigh, replied this gay ladye. 15A.26	‘When I endure my grief and pain, My companie ye maun refrain. 15A.27	‘Ye’ll take your arrow and your bow, And ye will hunt the deer and roe. 15A.28	‘Be sure ye touch not the white hynde, For she is o the woman kind.’ 15A.29	He took sic pleasure in deer and roe, Till he forgot his gay ladye. 15A.30	Till by it came that milk-white hynde, And then he mind on his ladye syne. 15A.31	He hasted him to yon greenwood tree, For to relieve his gay ladye; 15A.32	But found his ladye lying dead, Likeways her young son at her head. 15A.33	His mother lay ower her castle wa, And she beheld baith dale and down; And she beheld young Leesome Brand, As he came riding to the town. 15A.34	‘Get minstrels for to play,’ she said, ‘And dancers to dance in my room; For here comes my son, Leesome Brand, And he comes merrilie to the town.’ 15A.35	‘Seek nae minstrels to play, mother, Nor dancers to dance in your room; But tho your son comes, Leesome Brand, Yet he comes sorry to the town. 15A.36	‘O I hae lost my gowden knife; I rather had lost my ain sweet life! 15A.37	‘And I hae lost a better thing, The gilded sheath that it was in.’ 15A.38	‘Are there nae gowdsmiths here in Fife, Can make to you anither knife? 15A.39	‘Are there nae sheath-makers in the land, Can make a sheath to Leesome Brand?’ 15A.40	‘There are nae gowdsmiths here in Fife, Can make me sic a gowden knife; 15A.41	‘Nor nae sheath-makers in the land, Can make to me a sheath again. 15A.42	‘There ne’er was man in Scotland born, Ordaind to be so much forlorn. 15A.43	‘I’ve lost my ladye I lovd sae dear, Likeways the son she did me bear.’ 15A.44	‘Put in your hand at my bed head, There ye’ll find a gude grey horn; In it three draps o’ Saint Paul’s ain blude, That hae been there sin he was born. 15A.45	‘Drap twa o them o your ladye, And ane upo your little young son; Then as lively they will be As the first night ye brought them hame.’ 15A.46	He put his hand at her bed head, And there he found a gude grey horn, Wi three draps o’ Saint Paul’s ain blude, That had been there sin he was born. 15A.47	Then he drappd twa on his ladye, And ane o them on his young son, And now they do as lively be, As the first day he brought them hame.
 
15B: Leesom Brand
 
15B.1	‘THERE is a feast in your father’s house, Refrain:	The broom blooms bonnie and so is it fair It becomes you and me to be very douce. Refrain:	And we’ll never gang up to the broom nae mair 15B.2	‘You will go to yon hill so hie; Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.’ 15B.3	He’s tane his lady on his back, And his auld son in his coat lap. 15B.4	‘When ye hear me give a cry, Ye’ll shoot your bow and let me lye. 15B.5	‘When ye see my lying still, Throw away your bow and come running me till.’ 15B.6	When he heard her gie the cry, He shot his bow and he let her lye. 15B.7	When he saw she was lying still, He threw away his bow and came running her till. 15B.8	It was nae wonder his heart was sad When he shot his auld son at her head. 15B.9	houkit a grave, long, large and wide, He buried his auld son doun by her side. 15B.10	It was nae wonder his heart was sair When he shooled the mools in her yellow hair. 15B.11	‘Oh,’ said his father, ’Son, but thou’rt sad! At our braw meeting you micht be glad.’ 15B.12	‘Oh,’ said he, ‘Father, I’ve lost my knife I loved as dear almost as my own life. 15B.13	‘But I have lost a far better thing, I lost the sheath that the knife was in.’ 15B.14	‘Hold thy tongue, and mak nae din; I’ll buy thee a sheath and a knife therein.’ 15B.15	‘A’ the ships eer sailed the sea Neer’ll bring such a sheath and a knife to me. 15B.16	‘A’ the smiths that lives on land Will neer bring such a sheath and knife to my hand.’


 
16A: Sheath and Knife
 
16A.1	IT is talked the warld all over, Refrain:	The brume blooms bonnie and says it is fair That the king’s dochter gaes wi child to her brither. Refrain:	And we’ll never gang doun to the brume onie mair 16A.2	He’s taen his sister doun to her father’s deer park, Wi his yew-tree bow and arrows fast slung to his back. 16A.3	‘Now when that ye hear me gie a loud cry, Shoot frae thy bow an arrow and there let me lye. 16A.4	‘And when that ye see I am lying dead, Then ye’ll put me in a grave, wi a turf at my head.’ 16A.5	Now when he heard her gie a loud cry, His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let fly. Refrain:	Now they’ll never, etc. 16A.6	He has made a grave that was lang and was deep, And he has buried his sister, wi her babe at her feet. Refrain:	And they’ll never, etc. 16A.7	And when he came to his father’s court hall, There was music and minstrels and dancing and all. Refrain:	But they’ll never, etc. 16A.8	‘O Willie, O Willie, what makes thee in pain?’ ‘I have lost a sheath and knife that I’ll never see again.’ Refrain:	For we’ll never, etc. 16A.9	‘There is ships o your father’s sailing on the sea That will bring as good a sheath and a knife unto thee.’ 16A.10	‘There is ships o my father’s sailing on the sea, But sic a sheath and a knife they can never bring to me.’ 16A.10r	Now we’ll never, etc.
 
16B: Sheath and Knife
 
 
 16B.1	AE lady has whispered the other,
       Refrain:	The broom grows bonnie, the broom grows fair
 	Lady Margaret’s wi bairn to Sir Richard, her brother.
       Refrain:	And we daur na gae doun to the broom nae mair
 	* * * * *
 16B.2	‘And when ye hear me loud, loud cry,
 	O bend your bow, let your arrow fly.
       Refrain:	And I daur na, etc.
 16B.3	‘But when ye see me lying still,
 	O then you may come and greet your fill.’
 	* * * * *
 16B.4	‘It’s I hae broken my little pen-knife
 	That I loed dearer than my life.’
       Refrain:	And I daur na, etc.
 	* * * * *
 16B.5	‘It’s no for the knife that my tears doun run,
 	But it’s a’ for the case that my knife was kept in.’

 
 
16C: Sheath and Knife
 
 
 16C.1	IT’S whispered in parlour, it’s whispered in ha,
       Refrain:	The broom blooms bonie, the broom blooms fair
 	Lady Marget’s wi child amang our ladies a’.
       Refrain:	And she dare na gae down to the broom nae mair
 16C.2	One day whisperd unto another
 	Lady Marget’s wi child to Sir Richard, her brother.
 	* * * * *
 16C.3	‘O when that you hear my loud loud cry,
 	Then bend your bow and let your arrows fly.
       Refrain:	For I dare na,’ etc.

 
 
16D: Sheath and Knife
 
 
 16D.1	AE king’s dochter said to anither,
       Refrain:	Broom blooms bonnie an grows sae fair
 	We’ll gae ride like sister and brither.
       Refrain:	But we’ll never gae down to the broom nae mair

 
 
16[E]: Sheath and Knife
 
 
 16[E].1	One king’s daughter said to anither,
       Refrain:	Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair
 16[E.1]	‘We’ll gae ride like sister and brither.’
       Refrain:	And we’ll neer gae down to the brume nae mair
 16[E.2]	‘We’ll ride doun into yonder valley,
 	Whare the greene green trees are budding sae gaily.
 16[E.3]	‘Wi hawke and hounde we will hunt sae rarely,
 	And we’ll come back in the morning early.’
 16[E.4]	They rade on like sister and brither,
 	And they hunted and hawket in the valley the-gether.
 16[E.5]	‘Now, lady, hauld my horse and my hawk,
 	For I maun na ride, and I downa walk.
 16[E.6]	‘But set me doun be the rute o this tree,
 	For there hae I dreamt that my bed sall be.’
 16[E.7]	The ae king’s dochter did lift doun the ither,
 	And she was licht in her armis like ony fether.
 16[E.8]	Bonnie Lady Ann sat doun be the tree,
 	And a wide grave was houkit whare nane suld be.
 16[E.9]	The hawk had nae lure, and the horse had nae master,
 	And the faithless hounds thro the woods ran faster.
 16[E.10]	The one king’s dochter has ridden awa,
 	But bonnie Lady Ann lay in the deed-thraw.

 
 
16[F]: Sheath and Knife
 
16[F].1	‘There is a feast in your father’s house, Refrain:	The broom blooms bonnie, and so is it fair 16[F.1]	It becomes you and me to be very douce.’ Refrain:	And we’ll never gang up to the broom nae mair 16[F.2]	‘Will you to to yon hill so hie, Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.’ 16[F.3]	He’s tane his lady on his back, And his auld son in his coat-lap. 16[F.4]	‘When ye hear me give a cry, Ye’ll shoot your bow and let me ly. 16[F.5]	‘When ye see me lying still, Throw awa your bow and come running me till.’ 16[F.6]	When he heard her gie a cry, He shot his bow and he let her lye. 16[F.7]	When he saw she was lying still, He threw awa his bow and came running her till. 16[F.8]	It was nae wonder his heart was sad, When he shot his auld son at her head. 16[F.9]	He howkit a grave lang, large and wide, He buried his auld son down by her side. 16[F.10]	It was nae wonder his heart was sair, When he shooled the mools on her yellow hair. 16[F.11]	‘Oh,’ said his father, ’Son, but thou’rt sad, At our braw meeting you micht be glad.’ 16[F.12]	‘Oh,’ said he, ’Father, I’ve lost my knife, I loved as dear almost as my own life. 16[F.13]	‘But I have lost a far better thing, I lost the sheathe that the knife was in.’ 16[F.14]	‘Hold thy tongue and mak nae din, I’ll buy thee a sheath and a knife therein.’ 16[F.15]	‘A’ the ships ere sailed the sea Neer’ll bring such a sheathe and knife to me. 16[F.16]	‘A’ the smiths that lives on land Will neer bring such a sheath and knife to my hand.’


 
17A: Hind Horn
 
17A.1	IN Scotland there was a babie born, Refrain:	Lill lal, etc. And his name it was called young Hind Horn. Refrain:	With a fal lal, etc. 17A.2	He sent a letter to our king That he was in love with his daughter Jean. 17A.3	He’s gien to her a silver wand, With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon. 17A.4	She’s gien to him a diamond ring, With seven bright diamonds set therein. 17A.5	‘When this ring grows pale and wan, You may know by it my love is gane.’ 17A.6	One day as he looked his ring upon, He saw the diamonds pale and wan. 17A.7	He left the sea and came to land, And the first that he met was an old beggar man. 17A.8	‘What news, what news?’ said young Hind Horn; ‘No news, no news,’ said the old beggar man. 17A.9	‘No news,’ said the beggar, ’No news at a’, But there is a wedding in the king’s ha. 17A.10	‘But there is a wedding in the king’s ha, That has halden these forty days and twa.’ 17A.11	‘Will ye lend me your begging coat? And I’ll lend you my scarlet cloak. 17A.12	‘Will you lend me your beggar’s rung? And I’ll gie you my steed to ride upon. 17A.13	‘Will you lend me your wig o hair, To cover mine, because it is fair?’ 17A.14	The auld beggar man was bound for the mill, But young Hind Horn for the king’s hall. 17A.15	The auld beggar man was bound for to ride, But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride. 17A.16	When he came to the king’s gate, He sought a drink for Hind Horn’s sake. 17A.17	The bride came down with a glass of wine, When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring. 17A.18	‘O got ye this by sea or land? Or got ye it off a dead man’s hand?’ 17A.19	‘I got not it by sea, I got it by land, And I got it, madam, out of your own hand.’ 17A.20	‘O I’ll cast off my gowns of brown, And beg wi you frae town to town. 17A.21	‘O I’ll cast off my gowns of red, And I’ll beg wi you to win my bread.’ 17A.22	‘Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown, For I’ll make you lady o many a town. 17A.23	‘Ye needna cast off your gowns of red, It’s only a sham, the begging o my bread.’ 17A.24	The bridegroom he had wedded the bride, But young Hind Horn he took her to bed.
 
17B: Hind Horn
 
17B.1	I NEVER saw my love before, Refrain:	With a hey lillelu and a ho lo lan Till I saw her thro an oger bore. Refrain:	With a hey down and a hey diddle downie 17B.2	She gave to me a gay gold ring, With three shining diamonds set therein. 17B.3	And I gave to her a silver wand, With three singing lavrocks set thereon. 17B.4	‘What if these diamonds lose their hue, Just when your love begins for to rew?’ 17B.5	He’s left the land, and he’s gone to sea, And he’s stayd there seven years and a day. 17B.6	But when he looked this ring upon, The shining diamonds were both pale and wan. 17B.7	He’s left the seas and he’s come to the land, And there he met with an auld beggar man. 17B.8	‘What news, what news, thou auld beggar man For it is seven years sin I’ve seen lan.’ 17B.9	‘No news,’ said the old beggar man, ‘at all, But there is a wedding in the king’s hall.’ 17B.10	‘Wilt thou give to me thy begging coat? And I’ll give to thee my scarlet cloak. 17B.11	‘Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff? And I’ll give to thee my good gray steed.’ 17B.12	The old beggar man was bound for to ride, But Young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride. 17B.13	When he came to the king’s gate, He asked a drink for Young Hynd Horn’s sake. 17B.14	The news unto the bonnie bride came That at the yett there stands an auld man. 17B.15	‘There stands an auld man at the king’s gate; He asketh a drink for young Hyn Horn’s sake.’ 17B.16	‘I’ll go thro nine fires so hot, But I’ll give him a drink for Young Hyn Horn’s sake.’ 17B.17	She gave him a drink out of her own hand; He drank out the drink and he dropt in the ring. 17B.18	‘Got thou’t by sea, or got thou’t by land? Or got thou’t out of any dead man’s hand?’ 17B.19	‘I got it not by sea, but I got it by land, For I got it out of thine own hand.’ 17B.20	‘I’ll cast off my gowns of brown, And I’ll follow thee from town to town. 17B.21	‘I’ll cast off my gowns of red, And along with thee I’ll beg my bread.’ 17B.22	‘Thou need not cast off thy gowns of brown, For I can make thee lady of many a town. 17B.23	‘Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red, For I can maintain thee with both wine and bread.’ 17B.24	The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride wed, But Young Hyn Horn took the bride to bed.
 
17C: Hind Horn
 
17C.1	YOUNG Hyn Horn’s to the king’s court gone, Refrain:	Hoch hey and an ney O He’s fallen in love with his little daughter Jean. Refrain:	Let my love alone, I pray you 17C.2	He’s bocht to her a little gown, With seven broad flowers spread it along. 17C.3	She’s given to him a gay gold ring. The posie upon it was richt plain. 17C.4	‘When you see it losing its comely hue, So will I my love to you.’ 17C.5	Then within a little wee, Hyn Horn left land and went to sea. 17C.6	When he lookt his ring upon, He saw it growing pale and wan. 17C.7	Then within a little [wee] again, Hyn Horn left sea and came to the land. 17C.8	As he was riding along the way, There he met with a jovial beggar. 17C.9	‘What news, what news, old man?’ he did say: ‘This is the king’s young dochter’s wedding day.’ 17C.10	‘If this be true you tell to me, You must niffer clothes with me. 17C.11	‘You’ll gie me your cloutit coat, I’ll gie you my fine velvet coat. 17C.12	‘You’ll gie me your cloutit pock, I’ll gie you my purse; it’ll be no joke.’ 17C.13	‘Perhaps there[’s] nothing in it, not one bawbee;’ ‘Yes, there’s gold and silver both,’ said he. 17C.14	‘You’ll gie me your bags of bread, And I’ll gie you my milk-white steed.’ 17C.15	When they had niffered all, he said, ‘You maun learn me how I’ll beg.’ 17C.16	‘When you come before the gate, You’ll ask for a drink for the highman’s sake.’ 17C.17	When that he came before the gate, He calld for a drink for the highman’s sake. 17C.18	The bride cam tripping down the stair, To see whaten a bold beggar was there. 17C.19	She gave him a drink with her own hand; He loot the ring drop in the can. 17C.20	‘Got ye this by sea or land? Or took ye’t aff a dead man’s hand?’ 17C.21	‘I got na it by sea nor land, But I got it aff your own hand.’ 17C.22	The bridegroom cam tripping down the stair, But there was neither bride nor beggar there. 17C.23	Her ain bridegroom had her first wed, But Young Hyn Horn had her first to bed.
 
17D: Hind Horn
 
17D.1	NEAR Edinburgh was a young son born, Refrain:	Hey lilelu an a how low lan An his name it was called young Hyn Horn. Refrain:	An it’s hey down down deedle airo 17D.2	Seven long years he served the king, An it’s a’ for the sake of his daughter Jean. 17D.3	The king an angry man was he; He send young Hyn Horn to the sea. * * * * * 17D.4	An on his finger she put a ring. . . . . . * * * * * 17D.5	‘When your ring turns pale and wan, Then I’m in love wi another man.’ * * * * * 17D.6	Upon a day he lookd at his ring, It was as pale as anything. 17D.7	He’s left the sea, an he’s come to the lan, An there he met an auld beggar man. 17D.8	‘What news, what news, my auld beggar man? What news, what news, by sea or by lan?’ 17D.9	‘Nae news, nae news,’ the auld beggar said, ‘But the king’s dochter Jean is going to be wed.’ 17D.10	‘Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar-weed, An I’ll gie thee my gude gray steed.’ * * * * * 17D.11	When he cam to our guid king’s yet, He sought a glass o wine for young Hyn Horn’s sake. 17D.12	He drank out the wine, an he put in the ring, An he bade them carry’t to the king’s dochter Jean. * * * * * 17D.13	‘O gat ye’t by sea, or gat ye’t by lan? Or gat ye’t aff a dead man’s han?’ 17D.14	‘I gat na’t by sea, I gat na’t by lan, But I gat it out of your own han.’ * * * * * 17D.15	take away my bridal gown, For I’ll follow him frae town to town.’ 17D.16	‘Ye need na leave your bridal gown, For I’ll make ye ladie o’ mony a town.’
 
17E: Hind Horn
 
 
 17E.1	* * * *
 	HYND HORN he has lookt on his ring,
       Refrain:	Hey ninny ninny, how ninny nanny
 	And it was baith black and blue,
 	And she is either dead or she’s married.
       Refrain:	And the barck and the broom blooms bonnie
 17E.2	Hynd Horn he has shuped to land,
 	And the first he met was an auld beggar man.
 17E.3	‘What news, what news, my silly auld man?
 	For it is seven years syne I have seen land.
 17E.4	‘What news, what news, my auld beggar man?
 	What news, what news, by sea or by land?’
 17E.5	‘There is a king’s dochter in the east,
 	And she has been marryed these nine nights past.
 17E.6	‘Intil the bride’s bed she winna gang
 	Till she hears tell of her Hynd Horn.’
 17E.7	‘Cast aff, cast aff thy auld beggar weed,
 	And I will gie thee my gude gray steed.’

 
 
17F: Hind Horn
 
 
 17F.1	IN Newport town this knight was born,
       Refrain:	Hey lily loo, hey loo lan
 	And they’ve called him Young Hynd Horn.
       Refrain:	Fal lal la, fal the dal the dady
 17F.2	Seven long years he served the king,
 	For the love of his daughter Jean.
 17F.3	He courted her through a wimble bore,
 	The way never woman was courted before.
 17F.4	He gave her through a silver wand,
 	With three singing laverocks there upon.
 17F.5	She gave him back a gay gold ring,
 	With three bright diamonds glittering.
 17F.6	‘When this ring grows pale and blue,
 	Fair Jeanie’s love is lost to you.’
 17F.7	Young Hynd Horn is gone to sea,
 	And there seven long years staid he.
 17F.8	When he lookd his ring upon,
 	It grew pale and it grew wan.
 17F.9	Young Hynd Horn is come to land,
 	When he met an old beggar man.
 17F.10	‘What news, what news doth thee betide?’
 	‘No news, but Princess Jeanie’s a bride.’
 17F.11	‘Will ye give me your old brown cap?
 	And I’ll give you my gold-laced hat.
 17F.12	‘Will ye give me your begging weed?
 	And I’ll give you my good grey steed.’
 17F.13	The beggar has got on to ride,
 	But Young Hynd Horn’s bound for the bride.
 	* * * * *

 
 
17G: Hind Horn
 
17G.1	‘HYNDE HORN’S bound love, and Hynde Horn’s free, Whare was ye born, or in what countrie?’ 17G.2	‘In gude greenwud whare I was born, And all my friends left me forlorn. 17G.3	‘I gave my love a silver wand; That was to rule oure all Scotland. 17G.4	‘My love gave me a gay gowd ring; That was to rule abune a’ thing.’ 17G.5	‘As lang as that ring keeps new in hue, Ye may ken that your love loves you. 17G.6	‘But whan that ring turns pale and wan, Ye may ken that your love loves anither man.’ 17G.7	He hoisted up his sails, and away sailed he, Till that he cam to a foreign countrie. 17G.8	He looked at his ring; it was turnd pale and wan; He said, ‘I wish I war at hame again.’ 17G.9	He hoisted up his sails, and hame sailed he, Until that he came to his ain countrie. 17G.10	The first ane that he met wi Was wi a puir auld beggar man. 17G.11	‘What news, what news, my silly old man? What news hae ye got to tell to me?’ 17G.12	‘Na news, na news,’ the puir man did say, ‘But this is our queen’s wedding day.’ 17G.13	‘Ye’ll lend me your begging weed, And I’ll gie you my riding steed.’ 17G.14	‘My begging weed is na for thee, Your riding steed is na for me.’ 17G.15	But he has changed wi the beggar man, . . . . . 17G.16	‘Which is the gate that ye used to gae? And what are the words ye beg wi?’ 17G.17	‘Whan ye come to yon high hill, Ye’ll draw your bent bow nigh until. 17G.18	‘Whan ye come to yonder town, Ye’ll let your bent bow low fall down. 17G.19	‘Ye’ll seek meat for St Peter, ask for St Paul, And seek for the sake of Hynde Horn all. 17G.20	‘But tak ye frae nane of them a’, Till ye get frae the bonnie bride hersel O.’ 17G.21	Whan he cam to yon high hill, He drew his bent bow nigh until. 17G.22	And whan he cam to yonder town, He lute his bent bow low fall down. 17G.23	He saught meat for St Peter, he askd for St Paul, And he sought for the sake of Hynde Horn all. 17G.24	But he would tak frae nane o them a’, Till he got frae the bonnie bride hersel O. 17G.25	The bride cam tripping doun the stair, Wi the scales o red gowd on her hair. 17G.26	Wi a glass of red wine in her hand, To gie to the puir auld beggar man. 17G.27	It’s out he drank the glass o wine, And into the glass he dropt the ring. 17G.28	‘Got ye’t by sea, or got ye’t by land, Or got ye’t aff a drownd man’s hand?’ 17G.29	‘I got na’t by sea, I got na’t by land, Nor got I it off a drownd man’s hand. 17G.30	‘But I got it at my wooing, And I’ll gie it at your wedding.’ 17G.31	‘I’ll tak the scales o gowd frae my head, I’ll follow you, and beg my bread. 17G.32	‘I’ll tak the scales of gowd frae my hair, I’ll follow you, for evermair.’ 17G.33	She has tane the scales o gowd frae her head, She has followed him to beg her bread. 17G.34	She has tane the scales o gowd frae her hair, And she has followed him for evermair. 17G.35	But atween the kitchen and the ha, There he lute his cloutie cloak fa. 17G.36	And the red gowd shined oure him a’, And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown awa.
 
17H: Hind Horn
 
17H.1	‘HYND HORN fair, and Hynd Horn free, O where were you born, in what countrie?’ 17H.2	‘In gude greenwood, there I was born, And all my forbears me beforn. 17H.3	‘O seven years I served the king, And as for wages, I never gat nane; 17H.4	‘But ae sight o his ae daughter, And that was thro an augre bore. 17H.5	‘My love gae me a siller wand, ’Twas to rule ower a’ Scotland. 17H.6	‘And she gae me a gay gowd ring, The virtue o’t was above a’ thing.’ 17H.7	‘As lang’s this ring it keeps the hue, Ye’ll know I am a lover true: 17H.8	‘But when the ring turns pale and wan, Ye’ll know I love another man.’ 17H.9	He hoist up sails, and awa saild he, And saild into a far countrie. 17H.10	And when he lookd upon his ring, He knew she loved another man. 17H.11	He hoist up sails and home came he, Home unto his ain countrie. 17H.12	The first he met on his own land, It chancd to be a beggar man. 17H.13	‘What news, what news, my gude auld man? What news, what news, hae ye to me?’ 17H.14	‘Nae news, nae news,’ said the auld man, ‘The morn’s our queen’s wedding day.’ 17H.15	‘Will ye lend me your begging weed? And I’ll lend you my riding steed.’ 17H.16	‘My begging weed will ill suit thee, And your riding steed will ill suit me.’ 17H.17	But part be right, and part be wrang, Frae the beggar man the cloak he wan. 17H.18	‘Auld man, come tell to me your leed; What news ye gie when ye beg your bread.’ 17H.19	‘As ye walk up unto the hill, Your pike staff ye lend ye till. 17H.20	‘But whan ye come near by the yett, Straight to them ye will upstep. 17H.21	‘Take nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul, Nane frae high or low o them all. 17H.22	‘And frae them all ye will take nane, Until it comes frae the bride’s ain hand.’ 17H.23	He took nane frae Peter nor frae Paul, Nane frae the high nor low o them all. 17H.24	And frae them all he would take nane, Until it came frae the bride’s ain hand. 17H.25	The bride came tripping down the stair, The combs o red gowd in her hair. 17H.26	A cup o red wine in her hand, And that she gae to the beggar man. 17H.27	Out o the cup he drank the wine, And into the cup he dropt the ring. 17H.28	‘O got ye’t by sea, or got ye’t by land, Or got ye’t on a drownd man’s hand?’ 17H.29	‘I got it not by sea, nor got it by land, Nor got I it on a drownd man’s hand. 17H.30	‘But I got it at my wooing gay, And I’ll gie’t you on your wedding day.’ 17H.31	‘I’ll take the red gowd frae my head, And follow you, and beg my bread. 17H.32	‘I’ll take the red gowd frae my hair, And follow you for evermair.’ 17H.33	Atween the kitchen and the ha, He loot his cloutie cloak down fa. 17H.34	And wi red gowd shone ower them a’, And frae the bridegroom the bride he sta.
 
17[I]: Hind Horn
 
17[I.1]	* * * * She gave him a gay gold ring, Refrain:	Hey lillelu and how lo lan 17[I.1]	But he gave her a far better thing. Refrain:	With my hey down and a hey diddle downie 17[I.2]	He gave her a silver wan, With nine bright laverocks thereupon. * * * * * 17[I.3]	Young Hynd Horn is come to the lan, There he met a beggar man. 17[I.4]	‘What news, what news do ye betide?’ ‘Na news but Jeanie’s the prince’s bride.’ 17[I.5]	‘Wilt thou give me thy begging weed? And I’ll give thee my good grey steed. 17[I.6]	‘Wilt thou give me thy auld grey hair? And I’ll give ye mine that is thrice as fair.’ 17[I.7]	The beggar he got on for to ride, But young Hynd Horn is bound for the bride. 17[I.8]	First the news came to the ha, Then to the room mang the gentles a’. 17[I.9]	‘There stands a beggar at our gate, Asking a drink for young Hynd Horn’s sake.’ 17[I.10]	‘I’ll ga through nine fires hot To give him a drink for young Hynd Horn’s sake.’ 17[I.11]	She gave him the drink, and he dropt in the ring; They lady turned baith pale an wan. 17[I.12]	‘Oh got ye it by sea, or got ye it by lan? Or got ye it off some dead man’s han?’ 17[I.13]	‘I got it not by sea, nor I got it not by lan, But I got it off thy milk-white han.’ 17[I.14]	‘I’ll cast off my dress of red, And I’ll go with thee and beg my bread. 17[I.15]	‘I’ll cast off my dress of brown, And follow you from city to town. 17[I.16]	‘I’ll cast off my dress of green, For I am not ashamed with you to be seen.’ 17[I.17]	‘You need not cast off your dress of red, For I can support thee on both wine and bread. 17[I.18]	‘You need not cast off your dress of brown, For I can keep you a lady in any town. 17[I.19]	‘You need not cast off your dress of green, For I can maintain you as gay as a queen.’


 
18A: Sir Lionel
 
18A.1	SIR EGRABELL had sonnes three, Refrain:	Blow thy horne, good hunter Sir Lyonell was one of these. Refrain:	As I am a gentle hunter 18A.2	Sir Lyonell wold on hunting ryde, Vntill the forrest him beside. 18A.3	And as he rode thorrow the wood, Where trees and harts and all were good, 18A.4	And as he rode over the plaine, There he saw a knight lay slaine. 18A.5	And as he rode still on the plaine, He saw a lady sitt in a graine. 18A.6	‘Say thou, lady, and tell thou me, What blood shedd heere has bee.’ 18A.7	‘Of this blood shedd we may all rew, Both wife and childe and man alsoe. 18A.8	‘For it is not past 3 days right Since Sir Broninge was mad a knight. 18A.9	‘Nor it is not more than 3 dayes agoe Since the wild bore did him sloe.’ 18A.10	‘Say thou, lady, and tell thou mee, How long thou wilt sitt in that tree.’ 18A.11	She said, ‘I will sitt in this tree Till my friends doe feitch me.’ 18A.12	‘Tell me, lady, and doe not misse, Where that your friends dwellings is.’ 18A.13	‘Downe,’ shee said, ’in yonder towne, There dwells my freinds of great renowne.’ 18A.14	Says, ‘Lady, Ile ryde into yonder towne And see wether your friends beene bowne. 18A.15	‘I my self wilbe the formost man That shall come, lady, to feitch you home.’ 18A.16	But as he rode then by the way, He thought it shame to goe away; 18A.17	And vmbethought him of a wile, How he might that wilde bore beguile. 18A.18	‘Sir Egrabell,’ he said, ’My father was; He neuer left lady in such a case; 18A.19	‘Noe more will I’ . . . * * * * * 18A.20	‘And a[fter] that thou shalt doe mee Thy hawkes and thy lease alsoe. 18A.21	‘Soe shalt thou doe at my command The litle fingar on thy right hand.’ 18A.22	‘Ere I wold leaue all this with thee, Vpoon this ground I rather dyee.’ 18A.23	The gyant gaue Sir Lyonell such a blow, The fyer out of his eyen did throw. 18A.24	He said then, ’if I were saffe and sound, As with-in this hower I was in the ground, 18A.25	‘It shold be in the next towne told How deare thy buffett it was sold; 18A.26	‘And it shold haue beene in the next towne said How well thy buffett it were paid.’ 18A.27	‘Take 40 daies into spite, To heale thy wounds that beene soe wide. 18A.28	‘When 40 dayes beene at an end, Heere meete thou me both safe and sound. 18A.29	And till thou come to me againe, With me thoust leaue thy lady alone.’ 18A.30	When 40 dayes was at an end, Sir Lyonell of his wounds was healed sound. 18A.31	He tooke with him a litle page, He gaue to him good yeomans wage. 18A.32	And as he rode by one hawthorne, Even there did hang his hunting horne. 18A.33	He sett his bugle to his mouth, And blew his bugle still full south. 18A.34	He blew his bugle lowde and shrill; The lady heard, and came him till. 18A.35	Sayes, ’The gyant lyes vnder yond low, And well he heares your bugle blow. 18A.36	‘And bidds me of good cheere be, This night heele supp with you and me.’ 18A.37	Hee sett that lady vppon a steede, And a litle boy before her yeede. 18A.38	And said, ’lady, if you see that I must dye, As euer you loued me, from me flye. 18A.39	‘But, lady, if you see that I must liue,’ * * * * *
 
18B: Sir Lionel
 
18B.1	A KNIGHT had two sons o sma fame, Refrain:	Hey nien nanny Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Graeme. Refrain:	And the norlan flowers spring bonny 18B.2	And to the youngest he did say, ‘What occupation will you hae? Refrain:	When the, etc. 18B.3	‘Will you gae fee to pick a mill? Or will you keep hogs on yon hill?’ Refrain:	While the, etc. 18B.4	‘I winna fee to pick a mill, Nor will I keep hogs on yon hill. Refrain:	While the, etc. 18B.5	‘But it is said, as I do hear, That war will last for seven year, Refrain:	And the, etc. 18B.6	‘With a giant and a boar That range into the wood o Tore. Refrain:	And the, etc. 18B.7	‘You’ll horse and armour to me provide, That through Tore wood I may safely ride.’ Refrain:	When the, etc. 18B.8	The knicht did horse and armour provide, That through Tore wood Graeme micht safely ride. Refrain:	When the, etc. 18B.9	Then he rode through the wood o Tore, And up it started the grisly boar. Refrain:	When the, etc. 18B.10	The firsten bout that he did ride, The boar he wounded in the left side. 18B.10r	When the, etc. 18B.11	The nexten bout at the boar he gaed, He from the boar took aff his head. 18B.11r	And the, etc. 18B.12	As he rode back through the wood o Tore, Up started the giant him before. 18B.12r	And the, etc. 18B.13	‘O cam you through the wood o Tore, Or did you see my good wild boar?’ 18B.13r	And the, etc. 18B.14	‘I cam now through the wood o Tore, But woe be to your grisly boar. 18B.14r	And the, etc. 18B.15	‘The firsten bout that I did ride, I wounded your wild boar in the side. 18B.15r	And the, etc. 18B.16	‘The nexten bout at him I gaed, From your wild boar I took aff his head.’ 18B.16r	And the, etc. 18B.17	‘Gin you have cut aff the head o my boar, It’s your head shall be taen therfore. 18B.17r	And the, etc. 18B.18	‘I’ll gie you thirty days and three, To heal your wounds, then come to me.’ 18B.18r	While the, etc. 18B.19	‘It’s after thirty days and three, When my wounds heal, I’ll come to thee.’ 18B.19r	When the, etc. 18B.20	So Graeme is back to the wood o Tore, And he’s killd the giant, as he killd the boar. 18B.20r	And the, etc.
 
18C: Sir Lionel
 
18C.1	SIR ROBERT BOLTON had three sons, Refrain:	Wind well thy horn, good hunter And one of them was called Sir Ryalas. Refrain:	For he was a jovial hunter 18C.2	He rang’d all round down by the woodside, Till up in the top of a tree a gay lady he spy’d. Refrain:	For he was, etc. 18C.3	‘O what dost thou mean, fair lady?’ said he; ‘O the wild boar has killed my lord and his men thirty.’ Refrain:	As thou beest, etc. 18C.4	‘O what shall I do this wild boar to see?’ ‘O thee blow a blast, and he’ll come unto thee.’ Refrain:	As thou beest, etc. 18C.5	[Then he put his horn unto his mouth], Then he blowd a blast full north, east, west and south. Refrain:	As he was, etc. 18C.6	And the wild boar heard him full into his den; Then he made the best of his speed unto him. Refrain:	To Sir Ryalas, etc. 18C.7	Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong, He thrashd down the trees as he came along. Refrain:	To Sir Ryalas, etc. 18C.8	‘O what dost thou want of me?’ the wild boar said he; ‘O I think in my heart I can do enough for thee.’ Refrain:	For I am, etc. 18C.9	Then they fought four hours in a long summer’s day, Till the wild boar fain would have gotten away. Refrain:	From Sir Ryalas, etc. 18C.10	Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword with might, And he fairly cut his head off quite. 18C.10r	For he was, etc. 18C.11	Then out of the wood the wild woman flew: ‘Oh thou hast killed my pretty spotted pig! 18C.11r	As thou beest, etc. 18C.12	‘There are three things I do demand of thee, It’s thy horn, and thy hound, and thy gay lady.’ 18C.12r	As thou beest, etc. 18C.13	‘If these three things thou dost demand of me, It’s just as my sword and thy neck can agree.’ 18C.13r	For I am, etc. 18C.14	Then into his locks the wild woman flew, Till she thought in her heart she had torn him through. 18C.14r	As he was, etc. 18C.15	Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword again, And he fairly split her head in twain. 18C.15r	For he was, etc. 18C.16	In Bromsgrove church they both do lie; There the wild boar’s head is picturd by 18C.16r	Sir Ryalas, etc.
 
18D: Sir Lionel
 
18D.1	AS I went up one brook, one brook, Refrain:	Well wind the horn, good hunter I saw a fair maiden sit on a tree top. Refrain:	As thou art the jovial hunter 18D.2	I said, ‘Fair maiden, what brings you here?’ ‘It is the wild boar that has drove me here.’ Refrain:	As thou art, etc. 18D.3	‘I wish I could that wild boar see;’ Refrain:	Well wind the horn, good hunter, And the wild boar soon will come to thee.’ Refrain:	As thou art, etc. 18D.4	Then he put his horn unto his mouth, And he blowd both east, west, north and south. Refrain:	As he was, etc. 18D.5	The wild boar hearing it into his den, [Then he made the best of his speed unto him]. 18D.6	He whetted his tusks for to make them strong, And he cut down the oak and the ash as he came along. Refrain:	For to meet with, etc. 18D.7	They fought five hours one long summer’s day, Till the wild boar he yelld, and he’d fain run away. Refrain:	And away from, etc. 18D.8	O then he cut his head clean off, . . . . . 18D.9	Then there came an old lady running out of the wood, Saying, ‘You have killed my pretty, my pretty spotted pig.’ Refrain:	As thou art, etc. 18D.10	Then at him this old lady she did go, And he clove her from the top of her head to her toe. 18D.10r	As he was, etc. 18D.11	In Bromsgrove churchyard this old lady lies, And the face of the boar’s head there is drawn by, 18D.11r	That was killed by, etc.
 
18E: Sir Lionel
 
 
 18E.1	THERE was an old man and sons he had three;
       Refrain:	Wind well, Lion, good hunter
 	A friar he being one of the three,
 	With pleasure he ranged the north country.
       Refrain:	For he was a jovial hunter
 18E.2	As he went to the woods some pastime to see,
 	He spied a fair lady under a tree,
 	Sighing and moaning mournfully.
       Refrain:	He was, etc.
 18E.3	‘What are you doing, my fair lady?’
 	‘I’m fightened the wild boar he will kill me;
 	He has worried my lord and wounded thirty.’
       Refrain:	As thou art, etc.
 18E.4	Then the friar he put his horn to his mouth,
 	And he blew a blast, east, west, north and south,
 	And the wild boar from his den he came forth.
       Refrain:	Unto the, etc.
 	* * * * *

 
 
18F: Sir Lionel
 
 
 18F.1	SIR RACKABELLO had three sons,
       Refrain:	Wind well your horn, brave hunter
 	Sir Ryalash was one of these.
       Refrain:	And he was a jovial hunter

 


 
19A: King Orfeo
 
19A.1	DER lived a king inta da aste, Refrain:	Scowan ürla grün Der lived a lady in da wast. Refrain:	Whar giorten han grün oarlac 19A.2	Dis king he has a huntin gaen, He’s left his Lady Isabel alane. 19A.3	‘Oh I wis ye’d never gaen away, For at your hame is d’ol an wae. 19A.4	‘For da king o Ferrie we his daert, Has pierced your lady to da hert.’ * * * * * 19A.5	And aifter dem da king has gaen, But whan he cam it was a grey stane. 19A.6	Dan he took oot his pipes ta play, Bit sair his hert wi d’ol an wae. 19A.7	And first he played da notes o noy, An dan he played da notes o joy. 19A.8	An dan he played da g’od gabber reel, Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale. * * * * * 19A.9	‘Noo come ye in inta wir ha, An come ye in among wis a’.’ 19A.10	Now he’s gaen in inta der ha, An he’s gaen in among dem a’. 19A.11	Dan he took out his pipes to play, Bit sair his hert wi d’ol an wae. 19A.12	An first he played da notes o noy, An dan he played da notes o joy. 19A.13	An dan he played da g’od gabber reel, Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale. 19A.14	‘Noo tell to us what ye will hae: What sall we gie you for your play? 19A.15	‘What I will hae I will you tell, An dat’s me Lady Isabel.’ 19A.16	‘Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame, An yees be king ower a’ your ain.’ 19A.17	He’s taen his lady, an he’s gaen hame, An noo he’s king ower a’ his ain.


 
20A: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20A.1	* * * *
 	AND there she’s leand her back to a thorn,
       Refrain:	Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladay
 	And there she has her baby born.
       Refrain:	Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee
 20A.2	She has houked a grave ayont the sun,
 	And there she has buried the sweet babe in.
 20A.3	And she’s gane back to her father’s ha,
 	She’s counted the leelest maid o them a’.
 	* * * * *
 20A.4	‘O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,
 	Gin ye smyle sae, ye’ll smyle me dead.’
 	* * * * *

 
 
20B: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20B.1	SHE sat down below a thorn,
       Refrain:	Fine flowers in the valley
 	And there she has her sweet babe born.
       Refrain:	And the green leaves they grow rarely
 20B.2	‘Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe,
 	And ye smile sae sweet, ye’ll smile me dead.’
 20B.3	She’s taen out her little pen-knife,
 	And twinnd the sweet babe o its life.
 20B.4	She’s howket a grave by the light o the moon,
 	And there she’s buried her sweet babe in.
 20B.5	As she was going to the church,
 	She saw a sweet babe in the porch.
 20B.6	‘O sweet babe, and thou were mine,
 	I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine.’
 20B.7	‘O mother dear, when I was thine,
 	You did na prove to me sae kind.’
 	* * * * *

 
 
20C: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20C.1	SHE leaned her back unto a thorn,
       Refrain:	Three, three, and three by three
 	And there she has her two babes born.
       Refrain:	Three, three, and thirty-three
 20C.2	She took frae ’bout her ribbon-belt,
 	And there she bound them hand and foot.
 20C.3	She has taen out her wee pen-knife,
 	And there she ended baith their life.
 20C.4	She has howked a hole baith deep and wide,
 	She has put them in baith side by side.
 20C.5	She has covered them oer wi a marble stane,
 	Thinking she would gang maiden hame.
 20C.6	As she was walking by her father’s castle wa,
 	She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba.
 20C.7	‘O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine,
 	I would dress you up in satin fine.
 20C.8	‘O I would dress you in the silk,
 	And wash you ay in morning milk.’
 20C.9	‘O cruel mother, we were thine,
 	And thou made us to wear the twine.
 20C.10	‘O cursed mother, heaven’s high,
 	And that’s where thou will neer win nigh.
 20C.11	‘O cursed mother, hell is deep,
 	And there thou’ll enter step by step.’

 
 
20D: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20D.1	THERE lies a lady in London,
       Refrain:	All alone and alone ee
 	She’s gane wi bairn to the clerk’s son.
       Refrain:	Down by the green wood sae bonnie
 20D.2	She’s taen her mantle her about,
 	She’s gane aff to the gude green wood.
 20D.3	She’s set her back untill an oak,
 	First it bowed and then it broke.
 20D.4	She’s set her back untill a tree,
 	Bonny were the twa boys she did bear.
 20D.5	But she took out a little pen-knife,
 	And she parted them and their sweet life.
 20D.6	She’s aff untill her father’s ha;
 	She was the lealest maiden that was amang them a’.
 20D.7	As she lookit oure the castle wa,
 	She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba.
 20D.8	‘O if these two babes were mine,
 	They should wear the silk and the sabelline!’
 20D.9	‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
 	We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline.
 20D.10	‘But out ye took a little pen-knife,
 	And ye parted us and our sweet life.
 20D.11	‘But now we’re in the heavens hie,
 	And ye’ve the pains o hell to drie.’

 
 
20E: The Cruel Mother
 
20E.1	THERE was a lady, she lived in Lurk, Refrain:	Sing hey alone and alonie O She fell in love with her father’s clerk. Refrain:	Down by yon greenwood sidie O 20E.2	She loved him seven years and a day, Till her big belly did her betray. 20E.3	She leaned her back unto a tree, And there began her sad misery. 20E.4	She set her foot unto a thorn, And there she got her two babes born. 20E.5	She took out her wee pen-knife, She twind them both of their sweet life. 20E.6	She took the sattins was on her head, She rolled them in both when they were dead. 20E.7	She howkit a grave forenent the sun, And there she buried her twa babes in. 20E.8	As she was walking thro her father’s ha, She spied twa boys playing at the ba. 20E.9	‘O pretty boys, if ye were mine, I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.’ 20E.10	‘O mother dear, when we were thine, Thou neer dressed us in the silks so fine. 20E.11	‘For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk, And thou fell in love with thy father’s clerk. 20E.12	‘Thou loved him seven years and a day, Till thy big belly did thee betray. 20E.13	‘Thou leaned thy back unto a tree, And there began thy sad misery. 20E.14	‘Thou set thy foot unto a thorn, And there thou got thy two babes born. 20E.15	‘Thou took out thy wee pen-knife, And twind us both of our sweet life. 20E.16	‘Thou took the sattins was on thy head, Thou rolled us both in when we were dead. 20E.17	‘Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun, And there thou buried thy twa babes in. 20E.18	‘But now we’re both in [the] heavens hie, There is pardon for us, but none for thee.’ 20E.19	‘My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!’ ‘There is pardon for us, but none for thee.’
 
20F: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20F.1	IT fell ance upon a day,
       Refrain:	Edinburgh, Edinburgh
 	It fell ance upon a day,
       Refrain:	Stirling for aye
 	It fell ance upon a day
 	The clerk and lady went to play.
       Refrain:	So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay
 20F.2	‘If my baby be a son,
 	I’ll make him a lord of high renown.’
 20F.3	She’s leand her back to the wa,
 	Prayd that her pains might fa.
 20F.4	She’s leand her back to the thorn,
 	There was her baby born.
 20F.5	‘O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,
 	You’ll never suck by my side mair.’
 20F.6	She’s riven the muslin frae her head,
 	Tied the baby hand and feet.
 20F.7	Out she took her little pen-knife,
 	Twind the young thing o its sweet life.
 20F.8	She’s howked a hole anent the meen,
 	There laid her sweet baby in.
 20F.9	She had her to her father’s ha,
 	She was the meekest maid amang them a’.
 20F.10	It fell ance upon a day,
 	She saw twa babies at their play.
 20F.11	‘O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,
 	I’d cleathe you in the silks sae fine.’
 20F.12	‘O wild mother, when we were thine,
 	You cleathd us not in silks so fine.
 20F.13	‘But now we’re in the heavens high,
 	And you’ve the pains o hell to try.’
 20F.14	She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,
 	There I wat she got a fa.

 
 
20G: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20G.1	THERE was a lady lived on [a] lea,
       Refrain:	All alone, alone O
 	Down by the greenwood side went she.
       Refrain:	Down the greenwood side O
 20G.2	She set her foot all on a thorn,
 	There she had two babies born.
 20G.3	O she had nothing to lap them in,
 	But a white appurn, and that was thin.

 
 
20H: The Cruel Mother
 
20H.1	THERE was a lady brisk and smart, Refrain:	All in a lone and a lonie O And she goes with child to her father’s clark. Refrain:	Down by the greenwood sidie O 20H.2	Big, big oh she went away, And then she set her foot to a tree. 20H.3	Big she set her foot to a stone, Till her three bonnie babes were borne. 20H.4	She took the ribbons off her head, She tied the little babes hand and feet. 20H.5	She howkit a hole before the sun, She’s laid these three bonnie babes in. 20H.6	She covered them over with marble stone, For dukes and lords to walk upon. 20H.7	She lookit over her father’s castle wa, She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba. 20H.8	The first o them was clad in red, To shew the innocence of their blood. 20H.9	The neist o them was clad in green, To shew that death they had been in. 20H.10	The next was naked to the skin, To shew they were murderd when they were born, 20H.11	‘O bonnie babes, an ye were mine, I wad dress you in the satins so fine.’ 20H.12	‘O mother dear, when we were thine, Thou did not use us half so kind.’ 20H.13	‘O bonnie babes, an ye be mine, Whare hae ye been a’ this time?’ 20H.14	‘We were at our father’s house, Preparing a place for thee and us.’ 20H.15	‘Whaten a place hae ye prepar’d for me?’ ‘Heaven’s for us, but hell’s for thee. 20H.16	‘O mother dear, but heaven’s high; That is the place thou’ll ne’er come nigh. 20H.17	‘O mother dear, but hell is deep; ’Twill cause thee bitterlie to weep.’
 
20I: The Cruel Mother
 
20I.1	THE minister’s daughter of New York, Refrain:	Hey wi the rose and the lindie, O Has faen in love wi her father’s clerk. Refrain:	Alone by the green burn sidie, O 20I.2	She courted him six years and a day, At length her belly did her betray. 20I.3	She did her down to the greenwood gang, To spend awa a while o her time. 20I.4	She lent her back unto a thorn, And she’s got her twa bonny boys born. 20I.5	She’s taen the ribbons frae her hair, Bound their bodyes fast and sair. 20I.6	She’s put them aneath a marble stane, Thinking a maiden to gae hame. 20I.7	Looking oer her castle wa, She spied her bonny boys at the ba. 20I.8	‘O bonny babies, if ye were mine, I woud feed you with the white bread and wine. 20I.9	‘I woud feed you wi the ferra cow’s milk, And dress you in the finest silk.’ 20I.10	‘O cruel mother, when we were thine, We saw none of your bread and wine. 20I.11	‘We saw none of your ferra cow’s milk, Nor wore we of your finest silk.’ 20I.12	‘O bonny babies, can ye tell me, What sort of death for you I must die?’ 20I.13	‘Yes, cruel mother, we’ll tell to thee, What sort of death for us you must die. 20I.14	‘Seven years a fowl in the woods, Seven years a fish in the floods. 20I.15	‘Seven years to be a church bell, Seven years a porter in hell.’ 20I.16	‘Welcome, welcome, fowl in the wood[s], Welcome, welcome, fish in the flood[s]. 20I.17	‘Welcome, welcome, to be a church bell, But heavens keep me out of hell.’
 
20J: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20J.1	SHE leant her back against a thorn,
       Refrain:	Hey for the Rose o’ Malindie O
 	And there she has twa bonnie babes born.
       Refrain:	Adoon by the green wood sidie O
 20J.2	She’s taen the ribbon frae her head,
 	An hankit their necks till they waur dead.
 20J.3	She luikit outowre her castle wa,
 	An saw twa nakit boys, playin at the ba.
 20J.4	‘O bonnie boys, waur ye but mine,
 	I wald feed ye wi flour-bread an wine.’
 20J.5	‘O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
 	Ye didna feed us wi flour-bread an wine.’
 20J.6	‘O bonnie boys, gif ye waur mine,
 	I wald clied ye wi silk sae fine.’
 20J.7	‘O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
 	You didna clied us in silk sae fine.
 20J.8	‘Ye tuik the ribbon aff your head,
 	An’ hankit our necks till we waur dead.
 	* * * * *
 20J.9	‘Ye sall be seven years bird on the tree,
 	Ye sall be seven years fish i the sea.
 20J.10	‘Ye sall be seven years eel i the pule,
 	An ye sall be seven years doon into hell.’
 20J.11	‘Welcome, welcome, bird on the tree,
 	Welcome, welcome, fish i the sea.
 20J.12	‘Welcome, welcome, eel i the pule,
 	But oh for gudesake, keep me frae hell!’

 
 
20K: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20K.1	LADY MARGARET looked oer the castle wa,
       Refrain:	Hey and a lo and a lilly O
 	And she saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
       Refrain:	Down by the green wood sidy O
 20K.2	‘O pretty babes, an ye were mine,
 	I would dress you in the silks so fine.’
 20K.3	‘O false mother, when we were thine,
 	Ye did not dress us in silks so fine.’
 20K.4	‘O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
 	I would feed you on the bread and wine.’
 20K.5	‘O false mother, when we were thine,
 	Ye did not feed us on the bread and the wine.’
 	* * * * *
 20K.6	‘Seven years a fish in the sea,
 	And seven years a bird in the tree.
 20K.7	‘Seven years to ring a bell,
 	And seven years porter in hell.’

 
 
20L: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20L.1	A LADY lookd out at a castle wa,
       Refrain:	Fine flowers in the valley
 	She saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
       Refrain:	And the green leaves they grow rarely
 20L.2	‘O my bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
 	I would cleed ye i the scarlet sae fine.
 20L.3	‘I’d lay ye saft in beds o down,
 	And watch ye morning, night and noon.’
 20L.4	‘O mither dear, when we were thine,
 	Ye didna cleed us i the scarlet sae fine.
 20L.5	‘But ye took out yere little pen-knife,
 	And parted us frae our sweet life.
 20L.6	‘Ye howkit a hole aneath the moon,
 	And there ye laid our bodies down.
 20L.7	‘Ye happit the hole wi mossy stanes,
 	And there ye left our wee bit banes.
 20L.8	‘But ye ken weel, O mither dear,
 	Ye never cam that gate for fear.’
 	* * * * *
 20L.9	‘Seven lang years ye’ll ring the bell,
 	And see sic sights as ye darna tell.’

 
 
20M: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20M.1	‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
       Refrain:	All a lee and aloney O
 	You neither dressed us in coarse or fine.’
       Refrain:	Down by the greenwood sidy O

 
 
20[N]: The Cruel Mother
 
20[N].1	As I lookit oer my father’s castle wa, Refrain:	All alone and alone O 20[N.1]	I saw two pretty babes playing at the ba. Refrain:	Down by yon green-wood sidie 20[N.2]	‘O pretty babes, gin ye were mine,’ Refrain:	Hey the loch o the Loanie 20[N.2]	‘I would clead ye o the silk sae fine.’ Refrain:	Down by that green-wood sidie 20[N.3]	‘O sweet darlings, gin ye were mine,’ Refrain:	Hey the loch o the Loanie 20[N.3]	‘I would feed ye on the morning’s milk.’ Refrain:	Down by the green-wood sidie 20[N.4]	‘O mither dear, when we were thine,’ Refrain:	By the lock o the Loanie 20[N.4]	‘Ye neither dressd us wi silk nor twine.’ Refrain:	Down by this green-wood sidie 20[N.5]	‘But ye tuke out your little pen-knife,’ Refrain:	By, etc. 20[N.5]	‘And there ye tuke yer little babes’ life.’ Refrain:	Down by the, etc. 20[N.6]	‘O mither dear, when this ye had done,’ Refrain:	Alone by, etc. 20[N.6]	‘Ye unkirtled yersel, and ye wrapt us in ’t.’ Refrain:	Down by the, etc. 20[N.7]	‘Neist ye houkit a hole fornent the seen.’ Refrain:	All alone and alone O 20[N.7]	‘And tearless ye stappit your little babes in’ Refrain:	Down by the, etc. 20[N.8]	‘But we are in the heavens high,’ Refrain:	And far frae the loch o the Loanie 20[N.8]	‘But ye hae the pains o hell to d[r]ie.’ Refrain:	Before ye leave the green-wood sidie
 
20[N2]: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20[N2].1	There was a duke’s daughter lived at York,
       Refrain:	All alone and alone a
 20[N2.1]	And she fell in love with her father’s clarke.
       Refrain:	Down by the greenwood side a, side a,
 	Down, etc.
 20[N2.2]	She loved him seven long years and a day,
 	Till at last she came big-bellied away.
 20[N2.3]	She set her back against a thorn,
 	And there she had two pretty babes born.
 20[N2.4]	She took out a penknife long and short,
 	And she pierc’d these pretty babes to the tender heart.
 20[N2.5]	So as she was walking in her father’s hall,
 	She saw three pretty babes playing at ball.
 20[N2.6]	The one was clothed in purple, the other in pall,
 	And the other was cloathed in no cloths at all.
 20[N2.7]	‘O pretty babes, pretty babes, will you be mine?
 	You shall be clothed in scarlet so fine,
 	And ye shall drink ale, beer, and wine.’
 20[N2.8]	‘We are three angels, as other angels be,
 	And the hotest place in hell is reserved for thee.’

 
 
20[O]: The Cruel Mother
 
20[O].1	There was a duke’s daughter lived in York, Refrain:	Come bend and bear away the bows of yew 20[O.1]	So secretly she loved her father’s clark. Refrain:	Gentle hearts, be to me true. 20[O.2]	She loved him long and many a day, Till big with child she went away. 20[O.3]	She went into the wide wilderness; Poor she was to be pitied for heaviness. 20[O.4]	She leant her back against a tree, And there she endurd much misery. 20[O.5]	She leant her back against an oak, With bitter sighs these words she spoke. 20[O.6]	She set her foot against a thorne, And there she had two pretty babes born. 20[O.7]	She took her filliting off her head, And there she ty’d them hand and leg. 20[O.8]	She had a penknife long [and] sharp, And there she stuck them to the heart. 20[O.9]	She dug a grave, it was long and deep, And there she laid them in to sleep. 20[O.10]	The coldest earth it was their bed, The green grass was their coverlid. 20[O.11]	As she was a going by her father’s hall, She see three children a playing at ball. 20[O.12]	One was drest in scarlet fine, And the other[s was naked] as ere they was born. 20[O.13]	‘O mother, O mother, if these children was mine, I wold dress them [in] scarlet fine.’ 20[O.14]	‘O mother, O mother, when we was thine, You did not dress [us] in scarlet fine. 20[O.15]	‘You set your back against a tree, And there you endured great misery. 20[O.16]	‘You set your foot against a thorne, And there you had us pritty babes born. 20[O.17]	‘You took your filliting off your head, And there you bound us, hand to leg. 20[O.18]	‘You had a penknife long and sharp, And there you stuck us to the heart. 20[O.19]	‘You dug a grave, it was long and deep, And there you laid us in to sleep. 20[O.20]	The coldest earth it was our bed, The green grass was our coverlid. 20[O.21]	‘O mother, mother, for your sin Heaven-gate you shall not enter in. 20[O.22]	‘O mother, mother, for your sin Hell-gates stands open to let you in.’ 20[O.23]	The lady’s cheeks lookd pale and wan, ‘Alass I,’ said she, ’what have I done!’ 20[O.24]	She tore her silken locks of hair, And dy’d away in sad despair. 20[O.25]	Young ladies all, of beauty bright, Take warning by her last good-night.
 
20[Q]: The Cruel Mother
 
 
 20[Q].1	There was a lady, a lady of York,
       Refrain:	Ri fol i diddle i gee wo
 20[Q.1]	She fell a-courting in her own father’s park.
       Refrain:	Down by the greenwood side, O
 20[Q.2]	She leaned her back against the stile,
 	There she had two pretty babes born.
 20[Q.3]	And she had nothing to lap ’em in,
 	But she had a penknife sharp and keen.
 20[Q.4]	. . . . . . . . .
 	There she stabbed them right through the heart.
 20[Q.5]	She wiped the penknife in the sludge;
 	The more she wiped it, the more the blood showed.
 20[Q.6]	As she was walking in her own father’s park,
 	She saw two pretty babes playing with a ball.
 20[Q.7]	‘Pretty babes, pretty babes, if you were mine,
 	I’d dress you up in silks so fine.’
 20[Q.8]	‘Dear mother, dear mother, [when we were thine,]
 	You dressed us not in silks so fine.
 20[Q.9]	‘Here we go to the heavens so high,
 	You’ll go to bad when you do die.’

 


 
21A: The Maid and the Palmer
 
21A.1	THE maid shee went to the well to washe, Refrain:	Lillumwham, lillumwham! The mayd shee went to the well to washe, Refrain:	Whatt then? what then? The maid shee went to the well to washe, Dew fell of her lilly white fleshe. Refrain:	Grandam boy, grandam boy, heye! Leg a derry, leg a merry, mett, mer, whoope, whir! Driuance, larumben, grandam boy, heye! 21A.2	While shee washte and while shee ronge, While shee hangd o the hazle wand. 21A.3	There came an old palmer by the way, Sais, ‘God speed thee well, thou faire maid!’ 21A.4	‘Hast either cupp or can, To giue an old palmer drinke therin?’ 21A.5	Sayes, ‘I have neither cupp nor cann, To giue an old palmer drinke therin.’ 21A.6	‘But an thy lemman came from Roome, Cupps and canns thou wold find soone.’ 21A.7	She sware by God & good St. John, Lemman had shee neuer none. 21A.8	Sais, ‘Peace, faire mayd, you are forsworne! Nine children you haue borne. 21A.9	‘Three were buryed vnder thy bed’s head, Other three vnder thy brewing leade. 21A.10	‘Other three on yon play greene; Count, maid, and there be 9.’ 21A.11	‘But I hope you are the good old man That all the world beleeues vpon. 21A.12	‘Old palmer, I pray thee, Pennaunce that thou wilt giue to me.’ 21A.13	‘Penance I can giue thee none, But 7 yeere to be a stepping-stone. 21A.14	‘Other seaven a clapper in a bell, Other 7 to lead an ape in hell. 21A.15	‘When thou hast thy penance done, Then thoust come a mayden home.’
 
21B: The Maid and the Palmer
 
 
 21B.1	‘SEVEN years ye shall be a stone,
       Refrain:	. . . . .
 	For many a poor palmer to rest him upon.
       Refrain:	And you the fair maiden of Gowden-gane
 21B.2	‘Seven years ye’ll be porter of hell,
 	And then I’ll take you to mysell.’
 	* * * * *
 21B.3	‘Weel may I be a’ the other three,
 	But porter of hell I never will be.’
       Refrain:	And I, etc.

 


 
22: St. Stephen and Herod
 
 
 22.1	SEYNT Steuene was a clerk in kyng Herowdes halle,
 And	seruyd him of bred and cloth, as euery kyng befalle.
 22.2	Steuyn out of kechone cam, wyth boris hed on honde;
 	He saw a sterre was fayr and bryy+ot ouer Bedlem stonde.
 22.3	He kyst adoun the boris hed and went in to the halle:
 	‘I forsak the, kyng Herowdes, and thi werkes alle.
 22.4	‘I forsak the, kyng Herowdes, and thi werkes alle;
 RRther	is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter than we alle.’
 22.5	‘Quat eylyt the, Steuene? quat is the befalle?
 	Lakkyt the eyther mete or drynk in kyng Herowdes halle!’
 22.6	kit me neyther mete ne drynk in kyng Herowdes halle;
 RRther	is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter than we alle.’
 22.7	Quat eylyt the, Steuyn? art thu wod, or thu gynnyst to brede?
 	Lakkyt the eyther gold or fe, or ony ryche wede?’
 22.8	‘Lakyt me neyther gold ne fe, ne non ryche wede;
 RRther	is a chyld in Bedlem born xal helpyn vs at our nede.’
 22.9	‘RRthat is al so soth, Steuyn, al so soth, iwys,
 	As this capoun crowe xal that lyth here in myn dysh.’
 22.10	RRthat word was not so sone seyd, that word in that halle,
 	THe capoun crew Cristus natus est! among the lordes alle.
 22.11	Rysyt vp, myn turmentowres, be to and al be on,
 And	ledyt Steuyn out of this town, and stonyt hym wyth ston!’
 22.12	Tokyn he Steuene, and stonyd hym in the way,
 And	therfore is his euyn on Crystes owyn day.

 


 
23: Judas
 
23.1	HIT wes upon a Scere-thorsday that ure loverd aros; Ful milde were the wordes he spec to Judas. 23.2	‘Judas, thou most to Jurselem, oure mete for to bugge; Thritti platen of selver thou bere up othi rugge. 23.3	‘Thou comest fer ithe brode stret, fer ithe brode strete; Summe of thine tunesmen ther thou meiht imete.’ 23.4	. . . . . Immette wid is soster, the swikele wimon. 23.5	‘Judas, thou were wrthe me stende the wid ston, For the false prophete that tou bilevest upon.’ 23.6	‘Be stille, leve soster, thin herte the tobreke! Wiste min loverd Crist, ful wel he wolde be wreke.’ 23.7	‘Judas, go thou on the roc, heie upon the ston; Lei thin heved imy barm, slep thou the anon.’ 23.8	Sone so Judas of slepe was awake, Thritti platen of selver from hym weren itake. 23.9	He drou hymselve bi the cop, that al it lavede a blode; The Jewes out of Jurselem awenden he were wode. 23.10	Foret hym com the riche Jeu that heihte Pilatus: ‘Wolte sulle thi loverd, that hette Jesus?’ 23.11	‘I nul sulle my loverd [for] nones cunnes eihte, Bote hit be for the thritti platen that he me bitaihte.’ 23.12	‘Wolte sulle thi lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?’ ‘Nay, bote hit be for the platen that he habben wolde.’ 23.13	In him com ur lord Crist gon, as is postles seten at mete: ‘Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete? 23.14	[‘Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?] Ic am ibouht ant isold today for oure mete.’ 23.15	Up stod him Judas: ‘Lord, am I that . . .? ‘I nas never othe stude ther me the evel spec.’ 23.16	Up him stod Peter, and spec wid al is mihte, . . . . . . 23.17	‘Thau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnihtes, Yet ic wolde, loverd, for thi love fihte.’ 23.18	‘Still thou be, Peter, wel I the icnowe; Thou wolt fursake me thrien ar the coc him crowe.’


 
24A: Bonnie Annie
 
24A.1	THERE was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar, He had a fair lady, and one only dochter. 24A.2	O she was fair, O dear, she was bonnie! A ship’s captain courted her to be his honey. 24A.3	There cam a ship’s captain out owre the sea sailing, He courted this young thing till he got her wi bairn. 24A.4	‘Ye’ll steal your father’s gowd, and your mother’s money, And I’ll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.’ 24A.5	She’s stown her father’s gowd, and her mother’s money, But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie. * * * * * 24A.6	‘There’s fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me, There’s fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me.’ 24A.7	They’ve casten black bullets twice six and forty, And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie. 24A.8	‘Ye’ll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie, Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie.’ 24A.9	He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie, He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie. 24A.10	‘What can a woman do, love, I’ll do for ye;’ ‘Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.’ 24A.11	‘Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie, Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.’ 24A.12	‘I’ve laid about, steerd about, laid about cannie, But all I can do, she winna sail for me. 24A.13	‘Ye’ll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie, And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie.’ 24A.14	He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie, He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie. 24A.15	As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam, And she was at Ireland as soon as them. 24A.16	He made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow, And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.
 
24B: Bonnie Annie
 
24B.1	DOWN in Dumbarton there wonnd a rich merchant, Down in Dumbarton there wond a rich merchant, And he had nae family but ae only dochter. Refrain:	Sing fal lal de deedle, fal lal de deedle lair, O a day 24B.2	There cam a rich squire, intending to woo her, He wooed her until he had got her wi babie. 24B.3	‘Oh what shall I do! oh what shall come o me! Baith father and mither will think naething o me.’ 24B.4	‘Gae up to your father, bring down gowd and money, And I’ll take ye ower to a braw Irish ladie.’ 24B.5	She gade to her father, brought down gowd and money, And she’s awa ower to a braw Irish ladie. 24B.6	She hadna sailed far till the young thing cried ‘Women!’ ‘What women can do, my dear, I’ll do for you.’ 24B.7	‘O haud your tongue, foolish man, dinna talk vainly, For ye never kent what a woman driet for you. 24B.8	‘Gae wash your hands in the cauld spring water, And dry them on a towel a’ giltit wi silver. 24B.9	‘And tak me by the middle, and lift me up saftlie, And throw me ower shipboard, baith me and my babie.’ 24B.10	He took her by the middle, and lifted her saftly, And threw her ower shipboard, baith her and her babie. 24B.11	Sometimes she did sink, sometimes she did float it, Until that she cam to the high banks o Yarrow. 24B.12	‘O captain tak gowd, O sailors tak money, And launch out your sma boat till I sail for my honey.’ 24B.13	‘How can I tak gowd, how can I tak money? My ship’s on a sand bank, she winna sail for me.’ 24B.14	The captain took gowd, the sailors took money, And they launchd out their sma boat till he sailed for his honey. 24B.15	‘Mak my love a coffin o the gowd sae yellow, Whar the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow, And bury my love on the high banks o Yarrow.’ 24B.16	They made her a coffin o the gowd sae yellow, And buried her deep on the high banks o Yarrow.


 
25A: Willie’s Lyke-Wake
 
25A.1	‘WILLIE, Willie, I’ll learn you a wile,’ Refrain:	And the sun shines over the valleys and a’ ‘How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.’ Refrain:	Amang the blue flowrs and the yellow and a’ 25A.2	‘Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead, And tak your winding-sheet around your head. 25A.3	‘Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat, To ring your dead-bell at your lover’s yett.’ 25A.4	He lay doun just as he war dead, And took his winding-sheet round his head. 25A.5	He gied the bellman his bell-groat, To ring his dead-bell at his lover’s yett. 25A.6	‘O wha is this that is dead, I hear?’ ‘O wha but Willie that loed ye sae dear.’ 25A.7	She is to her father’s chamber gone, And on her knees she’s fallen down. 25A.8	‘O father, O father, ye maun grant me this; I hope that ye will na tak it amiss. 25A.9	‘That I to Willie’s burial should go; For he is dead, full well I do know.’ 25A.10	‘Ye’ll tak your seven bauld brethren wi thee, And to Willie’s burial straucht go ye.’ 25A.11	It’s whan she cam to the outmost yett, She made the silver fly round for his sake. 25A.12	It’s whan she cam to the inmost yett, She made the red gowd fly round for his sake. 25A.13	As she walked frae the court to the parlour there, The pretty corpse syne began for to steer. 25A.14	He took her by the waist sae neat and sae sma, And threw her atween him and the wa. 25A.15	‘O Willie, O Willie, let me alane this nicht, O let me alane till we’re wedded richt.’ 25A.16	‘Ye cam unto me baith sae meek and mild, But I’ll mak ye gae hame a wedded wife wi child.’
 
25B: Willie’s Lyke-Wake
 
25B.1	‘O Willie my son, what makes you sae sad?’ Refrain:	As the sun shines over the valley ‘I lye sarely sick for the love of a maid.’ Refrain:	Amang the blue flowers and the yellow 25B.2	‘Were she an heiress or lady sae free, That she will take no pity on thee? 25B.3	‘O Willie, my son, I’ll learn you a wile, How this fair maid ye may beguile. 25B.4	‘Ye’ll gie the principal bellman a groat, And ye’ll gar him cry your dead lyke-wake.’ 25B.5	Then he gae the principal bellman a groat, He bade him cry his dead lyke-wake. 25B.6	This maiden she stood till she heard it a’, And down frae her cheeks the tears did fa. 25B.7	She is hame to her father’s ain bower: ‘I’ll gang to yon lyke-wake ae single hour.’ 25B.8	‘Ye must take with you your ain brither John; It’s not meet for maidens to venture alone.’ 25B.9	‘I’ll not take with me my brither John, But I’ll gang along, myself all alone.’ 25B.10	When she came to young Willie’s yate, His seven brithers were standing thereat. 25B.11	Then they did conduct her into the ha, Amang the weepers and merry mourners a’. 25B.12	When she lifted up the covering sae red, With melancholy countenance to look on the dead, 25B.13	He’s taen her in his arms, laid her gainst the wa, Says, ‘Lye ye here, fair maid, till day.’ 25B.14	‘O spare me, O spare me, but this single night, And let me gang hame a maiden sae bright.’ 25B.15	‘Tho all your kin were about your bower, Ye shall not be a maiden ae single hour. 25B.16	‘Fair maid, ye came here without a convoy, But ye shall return wi a horse and a boy. 25B.17	‘Ye came here a maiden sae mild, But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife with child.’
 
25C: Willie’s Lyke-Wake
 
 
 25C.1	‘O WILLIE, Willie, what makes thee so sad?’
       Refrain:	And the sun shines over the valley
 	‘I have loved a lady these seven years and mair.’
       Refrain:	Down amang the blue flowers and the yellow
 25C.2	‘O Willie, lie down as thou were dead,
 	And lay thy winding-sheet down at thy head.
 25C.3	‘And gie to the bellman a belling-great,
 	To ring the dead-bell at thy love’s bower-yett.’
 25C.4	He laid him down as he were dead,
 	And he drew the winding-sheet oer his head.
 25C.5	He gied to the bellman a belling-great,
 	To ring the dead-bell at his love’s bower-yett.
 	* * * * *
 25C.6	When that she came to her true lover’s gate,
 	She dealt the red gold and all for his sake.
 25C.7	And when that she came to her true lover’s bower,
 	She had not been there for the space of half an hour,
 25C.8	Till that she cam to her true lover’s bed,
 	And she lifted the winding-sheet to look at the dead.
 25C.9	He took her by the hand so meek and sma,
 	And he cast her over between him and the wa.
 25C.10	‘Tho all your friends were in the bower,
 	I would not let you go for the space of half an hour.
 25C.11	‘You came to me without either horse or boy,
 	But I will send you home with a merry convoy.’

 
 
25D: Willie’s Lyke-Wake
 
 
 25D.1	‘O JOHNIE, dear Johnie, what makes ye sae sad?’
       Refrain:	As the sun shines ower the valley
 	‘I think nae music will mak ye glad.’
       Refrain:	Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

 
 
25[E]: Willie’s Lyke-Wake
 
25[E].1	‘If my love loves me, she lets me not know, That is a dowie chance; I wish that I the same could do, Tho my love were in France, France, Tho my love were in France. 25[E.2]	‘O lang think I, and very lang, And lang think I, I true; But lang and langer will I think Or my love o me rue. 25[E.3]	‘I will write a broad letter, And write it sae perfite, That an she winna o me rue, I’ll bid her come to my lyke.’ 25[E.4]	Then he has written a broad letter, And seald it wi his hand, And sent it on to his true love, As fast as boy could gang. 25[E.5]	When she looked the letter upon, A light laugh then gae she; But ere she read it to an end, The tear blinded her ee. 25[E.6]	‘O saddle to me a steed, father, O saddle to me a steed; For word is come to me this night, That my true love is dead.’ 25[E.7]	‘The steeds are in the stable, daughter, The keys are casten by; Ye cannot won to-night, daughter, To-morrow ye’se won away.’ 25[E.8]	She has cut aff her yellow locks, A little aboon her ee, And she is on to Willie’s lyke, As fast as gang could she. 25[E.9]	As she gaed ower yon high hill head, She saw a dowie light; It was the candles at Willie’s lyke, And torches burning bright. 25[E.10]	Three o Willie’s eldest brothers Were making for him a bier; One half o it was gude red gowd, The other siller clear. 25[E.11]	Three o Willie’s eldest sisters Were making for him a sark; The one half o it was cambric fine, The other needle wark. 25[E.12]	Out spake the youngest o his sisters, As she stood on the fleer: How happy would our brother been, If ye’d been sooner here! 25[E.13]	She lifted up the green covering, And gae him kisses three; Then he lookd up into her face, The blythe blink in his ee. 25[E.14]	O then he started to his feet, And thus to her said he: Fair Annie, since we’re met again, Parted nae mair we’se be.


 
26: The Three Ravens
 
 
 26.1	THERE were three rauens sat on a tree,
       Refrain:	Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe
 	There were three rauens sat on a tree,
       Refrain:	With a downe
 	There were three rauens sat on a tree,
 	They were as blacke as they might be.
       Refrain:	With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe
 26.2	The one of them said to his mate,
 	‘Where shall we our breakefast take?’
 26.3	‘Downe in yonder greene field,
 	There lies a knight slain vnder his shield.
 26.4	‘His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
 	So well they can their master keepe.
 26.5	‘His haukes they flie so eagerly,
 	There’s no fowle dare him come nie.’
 26.6	Downe there comes a fallow doe,
 	As great with yong as she might goe.
 26.7	She lift vp his bloudy hed,
 	And kist his wounds that were so red.
 26.8	She got him vp vpon her backe,
 	And carried him to earthen lake.
 26.9	She buried him before the prime,
 	She was dead herselfe ere euen-song time.
 26.10	God send euery gentleman,
 	Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.

 


 
27: The Whummil Bore
 
 
 27.1	SEVEN lang years I hae served the king,
       Refrain:	Fa fa fa fa lilly
 	And I never got a sight of his daughter but ane.
       Refrain:	With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle,
 	Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally
 27.2	I saw her thro a whummil bore,
 	And I neer got a sight of her no more.
 27.3	Twa was putting on her gown,
 	And ten was putting pins therein.
 27.4	Twa was putting on her shoon,
 	And twa was buckling them again.
 27.5	Five was combing down her hair,
 	And I never got a sight of her nae mair.
 27.6	Her neck and breast was like the snow,
 	Then from the bore I was forced to go.

 


 
28: Burd Ellen and Young Tamlane
 
 
 28.1	BURD ELLEN sits in her bower windowe,
       Refrain:	With a double laddy double, and for the double dow
 	Twisting the red silk and the blue.
       Refrain:	With the double rose and the May-hay
 28.2	And whiles she twisted, and whiles she twan,
 	And whiles the tears fell down amang.
 28.3	Till once there by cam Young Tamlane:
 	‘Come light, oh light, and rock your young son.’
 28.4	‘If you winna rock him, you may let him rair,
 	For I hae rockit my share and mair.’
 	* * * * *
 28.5	Young Tamlane to the seas he’s gane,
 	And a’ women’s curse in his company’s gane.

 


 
29: The Boy and the Mantle
 
29.1	IN the third day of May to Carleile did come A kind curteous child, that cold much of wisdome. 29.2	A kirtle and a mantle this child had vppon, With brauches and ringes full richelye bedone. 29.3	He had a sute of silke, about his middle drawne; Without he cold of curtesye, he thought itt much shame. 29.4	‘God speed thee, King Arthur, sitting att thy meate! And the goodly Queene Gueneuer! I cannott her forgett. 29.5	‘I tell you lords in this hall, I hett you all heede, Except you be the more surer, is you for to dread.’ 29.6	He plucked out of his potewer, and longer wold not dwell, He pulled forth a pretty mantle, betweene two nut-shells. 29.7	‘Haue thou here, King Arthure, haue thou heere of mee; Giue itt to thy comely queene, shapen as itt is alreadye. 29.8	‘Itt shall neuer become that wiffe that	hath once done amisse:’ Then euery knight in the kings court began to care for his. 29.9	Forth came dame Gueneuer, to the mantle shee her bed; The ladye shee was new-fangle, but yett shee was affrayd. 29.10	When shee had taken the mantle, shee stoode as she had beene madd; It was from the top to the toe as sheeres had itt shread. 29.11	One while was itt gaule, another while was itt greene; another while was itt wadded; ill itt did her beseeme. 29.12	Another while was it blacke, and bore the worst hue; ‘By my troth,’ quoth King Arthur, ‘I thinke thou be not true.’ 29.13	Shee threw downe the mantle, that	bright was of blee, Fast with a rudd redd to her chamber can shee flee. 29.14	Shee curst the weauer and the walker that clothe that had wrought, And bade a vengeance on his crowne that	hither hath itt brought. 29.15	‘I had rather be in a wood, vnder a greene tree, Then in King Arthurs court shamed for to bee.’ 29.16	Kay called forth his ladye, and bade her come neere; Saies, ‘Madam, and thou be guiltye, I pray thee hold thee there.’ 29.17	Forth came his ladye shortlye and anon, Boldlye to the mantle then is shee gone. 29.18	When she had tane the mantle, and cast it her about, Then was shee bare all aboue the buttocckes. 29.19	Then euery knight that	was in the kings court Talked, laughed, and showted, full oft att that sport. 29.20	Shee threw downe the mantle, that	bright was of blee, Ffast with a red rudd to her chamber can shee flee. 29.21	Forth came an old knight, pattering ore a creede, And he proferred to this little boy twenty markes to his meede, 29.22	And all the time of the Christmasse willinglye to feede; For why, this mantle might doe his wiffe some need. 29.23	When shee had tane the mantle, of cloth that was made, Shee had no more left on her but a tassell and a threed: Then euery knight in the kings court bade euill might shee speed. 29.24	Shee threw downe the mantle, that	bright was of blee, And fast with a redd rudd to her chamber can shee flee. 29.25	Craddocke called forth his ladye, and bade her come in; Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye, with a litle dinne. 29.26	‘Winne this mantle, ladye, and it shalbe thine If thou neuer did amisse since thou wast mine.’ 29.27	Forth came Craddockes ladye shortlye and anon, But boldlye to the mantle then is shee gone. 29.28	When shee had tane the mantle, and cast itt her about, Vpp att her great toe itt began to crinkle and crowt; Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle, and shame me not for nought. 29.29	‘Once I did amisse, I tell you certainlye, When I kist Craddockes mouth vnder a greene tree, When I kist Craddockes mouth before he marryed mee.’ 29.30	When shee had her shreeuen, and her sines shee had tolde, The mantle stoode about her right as shee wold; 29.31	Seemelye of coulour, glittering like gold; Then euery knight in Arthurs court did her behold. 29.32	Then spake dame Gueneuer to Arthur our king: ‘She hath tane yonder mantle, not with wright but with wronge! 29.33	‘See you not yonder woman that	maketh her selfe soe clene? I haue seene tane out of her bedd of men fiueteene; 29.34	‘Preists, clarkes, and wedded men, from her by-deene; Yett she taketh the mantle, and maketh her-selfe cleane!’ 29.35	Then spake the litle boy that	kept the mantle in hold; Sayes ‘King, chasten thy wiffe; of her words shee is to bold. 29.36	‘Shee is a bitch and a witch, and a whore bold; King, in thine owne hall thou art a cuchold.’ 29.37	The litle boy stoode looking ouer a dore; He was ware of a wyld bore, wold haue werryed a man. 29.38	He pulld forth a wood kniffe, fast thither that he ran; He brought in the bores head, and quitted him like a man. 29.39	He brought in the bores head, and was wonderous bold; He said there was neuer a cucholds kniffe carue itt that cold. 29.40	Some rubbed their kniues vppon a whetstone; Some threw them vnder the table, and said they had none. 29.41	King Arthur and the child stood looking them vpon; All their kniues edges turned backe againe. 29.42	Craddoccke had a litle kniue of iron and of steele; He birtled the bores head wonderous weele, That	euery knight in the kings court had a morssell. 29.43	The litle boy had a horne, of red gold that ronge; He said, ’There was noe cuckolde shall drinke of my horne, But he shold itt sheede, either behind or beforne.’ 29.44	Some shedd on their shoulder, and some on their knee; He that cold not hitt his mouth put it in his eye; And he that was a cuckhold, euery man might him see. 29.45	Craddoccke wan the horne and the bores head; His ladye wan the mantle vnto her meede; Euerye such a louely ladye, God send her well to speede!


 
30: King Arthur and King Cornwall
 
30.1	* * * * [SAIES, ‘Come here, cuzen Gawaine so gay,] My sisters sonne be yee; Ffor you shall see one of the fairest round tables That euer you see with your eye.’ 30.2	Then bespake Lady Queen Gueneuer, And these were the words said shee: ‘I know where a round table is, thou noble king, Is worth thy round table and other such three. 30.3	‘The trestle that stands vnder this round table,’ she said, ‘Lowe downe to the mould, It is worth thy round table, thou worthy king, Thy halls, and all thy gold. 30.4	‘The place where this round table stands in, . . . . . . It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee, And all good Litle Britaine.’ 30.5	‘Where may that table be, lady?’ quoth hee, ‘Or where may all that goodly building be?’ ‘You shall it seeke,’ shee says, ’Till you it find, For you shall neuer gett more of me.’ 30.6	Then bespake him noble King Arthur, These were the words said hee: ‘Ile make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity, 30.7	‘Ile never sleepe one night there as I doe another, Till that round table I see: Sir Marramiles and Sir Tristeram, Fellowes that ye shall bee. 30.8	. . . . . . . . . . ‘Weele be clad in palmers weede, Fiue palmers we will bee; 30.9	‘There is noe outlandish man will vs abide, Nor will vs come nye.’ Then they riued east and th riued west, In many a strange country. 30.10	Then they tranckled a litle further, They saw a battle new sett: ‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur, . . . . . . well . * * * * * 30.11	But when he cam to this . . c . . And to the palace gate, Soe ready was ther a proud porter, And met him soone therat. 30.12	Shooes of gold the porter had on, And all his other rayment was vnto the same: ‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur, ‘Yonder is a minion swaine.’ 30.13	Then bespake noble King Arthur, These were the words says hee: ‘Come hither, thou proud porter, I pray thee come hither to me. 30.14	‘I haue two poore rings of my finger, The better of them Ile giue to thee; Tell who may be lord of this castle,’ he sayes, ‘Or who is lord in this cuntry?’ 30.15	‘Cornewall King,’ the porter sayes, ‘There is none soe rich as hee; Neither in christendome, nor yet in heathennest, None hath soe much gold as he.’ 30.16	And then bespake him noble King Arthur, These were the words sayes hee: ‘I haue two poore rings of my finger, The better of them Ile giue thee, If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall King, And greete him well from me. 30.17	‘Pray him for one nights lodging and two meales meate, For his love that dyed vppon a tree; Of one ghesting and two meales meate, For his loue that dyed vppon a tree. 30.18	‘Of one ghesting, of two meales meate, For his love that was of virgin borne, And in the morning that we may scape away, Either without scath or scorne.’ 30.19	Then forth is gone this proud porter, As fast as he cold hye, And when he came befor Cornewall King, He kneeled downe on his knee. 30.20	Sayes, ‘I haue beene porter-man, at thy gate, This thirty winter and three . . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 30.21	. . . . . . . . . . . Our Lady was borne; then thought Cornewall King These palmers had beene in Brittaine. 30.22	Then bespake him Cornwall King, These were the words he said there: ‘Did you euer know a comely king, His name was King Arthur?’ 30.23	And then bespake him noble King Arthur, These were the words said hee: ‘I doe not know that comly king, But once my selfe I did him see.’ Then bespake Cornwall King againe, These were the words said he: 30.24	Sayes, ‘Seuen yeere I was clad and fed, In Litle Brittaine, in a bower; I had a daughter by King Arthurs wife, That	now is called my flower; For King Arthur, that kindly cockward, Hath none such in his bower. 30.25	‘For I durst sweare, and saue my othe, That	same lady soe bright, That a man that were laid on his death bed Wold open his eyes on her to haue sight.’ ‘Now, by my faith,’ sayes noble King Arthur, ‘And that’s a full faire wight!’ 30.26	And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe, And these were the words he said: ‘Come hither, fiue or three of my knights, And feitch me downe my steed; King Arthur, that foule cockeward, Hath none such, if he had need. 30.27	‘For I can ryde him as far on a day As King Arthur can doe any of his on three; And is it not a pleasure for a king When he shall ryde forth on his iourney? 30.28	‘For the eyes that beene in his head, Th glister as doth the gleed.’ ‘Now, by my faith,’ says noble King Arthur, ’That is a well faire steed.’ * * * * * 30.29	. . . . . . . . . . . ‘Nobody say . . . . But one that’s learned to speake.’ 30.30	Then King Arthur to his bed was brought, A greeiued man was hee; And soe were all his fellowes with him, From him th thought neuer to flee. 30.31	Then take they did that lodly groome, And under the rub-chadler closed was hee, And he was set by King Arthurs bed-side, To heere theire talke and theire comunye; 30.32	That he might come forth, and make Proclamation, Long before it was day; It was more for King Cornwalls pleasure, Then it was for King Arthurs pay. 30.33	And when King Arthur in his bed was laid, These were the words said hee: ‘Ile make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity, That Ile be the bane of Cornwall Kinge, Litle Brittaine or euer I see!’ 30.34	‘It is an vnaduised vow,’ saies Gawaine the gay, ‘As ever king hard make I; But wee that beene five christian men, Of the christen faith are wee, And we shall fight against anoynted king And all his armorie.’ 30.35	And then bespake him noble Arthur, And these were the words said he: ‘Why, if thou be afraid, Sir Gawaine the gay, Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne country.’ 30.36	And then bespake Sir Gawaine the gay, And these were the words said hee: ‘Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty vow, Heere another vow make will I. 30.37	‘Ile make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity, That	I will haue yonder faire lady To Litle Brittaine with mee. 30.38	‘Ile hose her hourly to my heart, And with her Ile worke my will;’ . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 30.39	. . . . . These were the words sayd hee: ‘Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend, It is better be drowned in the sea.’ 30.40	And then bespake Sir Bredbeddle, And these were the words said he: ‘Why, I will wrestle with yon lodly feend, God, my gouernor thou wilt bee!’ 30.41	Then bespake him noble Arthur, And these were the words said he: ‘What weapons wilt thou haue, thou gentle knight? I pray thee tell to me.’ 30.42	He sayes, ‘Collen brand Ile haue in my hand, And a Millaine knife fast by me knee, And a Danish axe fast in my hands, That	a sure weapon I thinke wilbe.’ 30.43	Then with his Collen brand that he had in his hand The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in three; With that start out a lodly feend, With seuen heads, and one body. 30.44	The fyer towards the element flew, Out of his mouth, where was great plentie; The knight stoode in the middle and fought, That	it was great ioy to see. 30.45	Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand, And his Millaine knife burst on his knee, And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first, That a sur weapon he thought shold be. 30.46	But now is the knight left without any weapons, And alacke! it was the more pitty; But a surer weapon then he had one, Had neuer lord in Christentye; And all was but one litle booke, He found it by the side of the sea. 30.47	He found it at the sea-side, Wrucked upp in a floode; Our Lord had written it with his hands, And sealed it with his bloode. * * * * * 30.48	‘That thou doe not s . . . . But ly still in that wall of stone, Till I haue beene with noble King Arthur, And told him what I haue done.’ 30.49	And when he came to the kings chamber, He cold of his curtesie: Says, ‘Sleepe you, wake you, noble King Arthur? And euer Iesus waken yee!’ 30.50	‘Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,’ These were the words said hee; ‘Ffor thee I haue card; how hast thou fared? O gentle knight, let me see.’ 30.51	The knight wrought the king his booke, Bad him behold, reede and see; And euer he found it on the backside of the leafe As noble Arthur wold wish it to be. 30.52	And then bespake him King Arthur, ‘Alas! thow gentle knight, how may this be, That I might see him in the same licknesse That	he stood vnto thee?’ 30.53	And then bespake him the Greene Knight, These were the words said hee: ‘If youle stand stifly in the battell stronge, For I haue won all the victory.’ 30.54	Then bespake him the King againe, And these were the words said hee: ‘If wee stand not stifly in this battell strong, Wee are worthy to be hanged all on a tree.’ 30.55	Then bespake him the Greene Kinght, These were the words said he: Saies, ‘I doe coniure thee, thou fowle feend, In the same licknesse thou stood vnto me.’ 30.56	With that start out a lodly feend, With seuen heads, and one body; The fier towards the element flaugh, Out of his mouth, where was great plenty. 30.57	The knight stood in the middle p . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 30.58	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . they stood the space of an houre, I know not what they did. 30.59	And then bespake him the Greene Knight, And these were the words said he: Saith, ‘I coniure thee, thou fowle feend, That	thou feitch downe the steed that we see.’ 30.60	And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he cold hie, And feitch he did that faire steed, And came againe by and by. 30.61	Then bespake him Sir Marramiles, And these were the words said hee: ‘Riding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle, The mastery belongs to me.’ 30.62	Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand, To ryd him he was full bold; He cold noe more make him goe Then a child of three yeere old. 30.63	He laid vppon him with heele and hand, With yard that was soe fell; ‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile, ‘For I thinke he be the devill of hell. 30.64	‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile, ‘Helpe! for Christs pittye; Ffor without thy help, brother Bredbeddle, He will neuer be rydden for me.’ 30.65	Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle, These were the words said he: ‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beane, Thou tell me how this steed was riddin in his country. 30.66	He saith, ’There is a gold wand Stands in King Cornwalls study windowe; . . . . . . . . . . . . 30.67	‘Let him take that wand in that window, And strike three strokes on that steed; And then he will spring forth of his hand As sparke doth out of gleede.’ 30.68	And then bespake him the Greene Knight, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 30.69	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A lowd blast he may blow then. 30.70	And then bespake Sir Bredebeddle, To the feend these words said hee: Says, ‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie, The powder-box thou feitch me.’ 30.71	Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he cold hie, And feich he did the powder-box, And came againe by and by. 30.72	Then Sir Tristeram tooke powder forth of that box, And blent it with warme sweet milke, And there put it vnto that horne, And swilled it about in that ilke. 30.73	Then he tooke the horne in his hand, And a lowd blast he blew; He rent the horne vp to the midst, All his fellowes this th knew. 30.74	Then bespake him the Greene Knight, These were the words said he: Saies, ‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie, That	thou feitch me the sword that I see.’ 30.75	Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he cold hie, And feitch he did that faire sword, And came againe by and by. 30.76	Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle, To the king these words said he: ‘Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble King Arthur, For the vowes sake that thou made Ile giue it th[ee,] And goe strike off King Cornewalls head, In bed were he doth lye.’ 30.77	Then forth is gone noble King Arthur, As fast as he cold hye, And strucken he hath off King Cornwalls head, And came againe by and by. 30.78	He put the head vpon a swords point, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * *


 
31: The Marriage of Sir Gawain
 
31.1	KINGE ARTHUR liues in merry Carleile, And seemely is to see, And there he hath with him Queene Genever, That	bride soe bright of blee. 31.2	And there he hath with [him] Queene Genever, That	bride soe bright in bower, And all his barons about him stoode, That	were both stiffe and stowre. 31.3	The king kept a royall Christmasse, Of mirth and great honor, And when . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 31.4	‘And bring me word what thing it is That a woman [will] most desire; This shalbe thy ransome, Arthur,’ he sayes, ‘For Ile haue noe other hier.’ 31.5	King Arthur then held vp his hand, According thene as was the law; He tooke his leaue of the baron there, And homward can he draw. 31.6	And when he came to merry Carlile, To his chamber he is gone, And ther came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine, As he did make his mone. 31.7	And there came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine, That	was a curteous knight; ‘Why sigh you soe sore, vnckle Arthur,’ he said, ‘Or who hath done thee vnright?’ 31.8	‘O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine, That	faire may thee beffall! For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe, Thou wold not meruaile att all. 31.9	‘Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling, A bold barron there I fand, With a great club vpon his backe, Standing stiffe and strong. 31.10	‘And he asked me wether I wold fight Or from him I shold begone, O[r] else I must him a ransome pay, And soe depart him from. 31.11	‘To fight with him I saw noe cause; Methought it was not meet; For he was stiffe and strong with-all, His strokes were nothing sweete. 31.12	‘Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine, I ought to him to pay; I must come againe, as I am sworne, Vpon the New Yeers day; 31.13	‘And I must bring him word what thing it is . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 31.14	Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde, In one soe rich array, Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling, That	he might keepe his day. 31.15	And as he rode over a more, Hee see a lady where shee sate Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen; She was cladd in red scarlett. 31.16	Then there as shold haue stood her mouth, Then there was sett her eye; The other was in her forhead fast, The way that she might see. 31.17	Her nose was crooked and turnd outward, Her mouth stood foule a-wry; A worse formed lady than shee was, Neuer man saw with his eye. 31.18	To halch vpon him, King Arthur, This lady was full faine, But King Arthur had forgott his lesson, What he shold say againe. 31.19	‘What knight art thou,’ the lady sayd, ‘That will not speak to me? Of me be thou nothing dismayd, Tho I be vgly to see. 31.20	‘For I haue halched you curteouslye, And you will not me againe; Yett I may happen Sir Knight,’ shee said, ‘To ease thee of thy paine.’ 31.21	‘Giue thou ease me, lady,’ he said, ‘Or helpe me any thing, Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen, And marry him with a ring.’ 31.22	‘Why, if I help thee not, thou noble King Arthur, Of thy owne hearts desiringe, Of gentle Gawaine . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 31.23	And when he came to the Tearne Wadling, The baron there cold he finde, With a great weapon on his backe, Standing stiffe and stronge. 31.24	And then he tooke King Arthurs letters in his hands, And away he cold them fling, And then he puld out a good browne sword, And cryd himselfe a king. 31.25	And he sayd, I have thee and thy land, Arthur, To doe as it pleaseth me, For this is not thy ransome sure, Therfore yeeld thee to me. 31.26	And then bespoke him noble Arthur, And bad him hold his hand: ‘And giue me leaue to speake my mind In defence of all my land.’ 31.27	He said, As I came over a more, I see a lady where shee sate Betweene an oke and a green hollen; Shee was clad in red scarlett. 31.28	And she says a woman will haue her will, And this is all her cheef desire: Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill, This is thy ransome and all thy hyer. 31.29	He sayes, An early vengeance light on her! She walkes on yonder more; It was my sister that told thee this, And she is a misshappen hore. 31.30	But heer Ile make mine avow to God To doe her an euill turne, For an euer I may thate fowle theefe get, In a fyer I will her burne. * * * * * 31.31	Sir Lancelott and Sir Steven bold, They rode with them that day, And the formost of the company There rode the steward Kay. 31.32	Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore, Sir Garrett with them soe gay, Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight, To the forrest fresh and gay. 31.33	And when he came to the greene forrest, Vnderneath a greene holly tree, Their sate that lady in red scarlet That	vnseemly was to see. 31.34	Sir Kay beheld this ladys face, And looked vppon her swire; ‘Whosoeuer kisses this lady,’ he sayes, ‘Of his kisse he stands in feare.’ 31.35	Sir Kay beheld the lady againe, And looked vpon her snout; ‘Whosoeuer kisses this lady,’ he saies, ‘Of his kisse he stands in doubt.’ 31.36	‘Peace, cozen Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine, ‘Amend thee of thy life; For there is a knight amongst vs all That	must marry her to his wife.’ 31.37	‘What! wedd her to wiffe!’ then said Sir Kay, ‘In the diuells name anon! Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may, For I had rather be slaine!’ 31.38	Then some tooke vp their hawkes in hast, And some tooke vp their hounds, And some sware thy wold not marry her For citty nor for towne. 31.39	And then be-spake him noble King Arthur, And sware there by this day, ‘For a litle foule sight and misliking . . . . . * * * * * 31.40	Then shee said, Choose thee, gentle Gawaine, Truth as I doe say, Wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse In the night or else in the day. 31.41	And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, Was one soe mild of moode, Sayes, Well I know what I wold say, God grant it may be good! 31.42	To haue thee fowle in the night When I with thee shold play-+- Yet I had rather, if I might, Haue thee fowle in the day. 31.43	‘What! when lords goe with ther feires,’ shee said, ‘Both to the ale and wine, Alas! then I must hyde my selfe, I must not goe withinne.’ 31.44	And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, Said, Lady, that’s but skill; And because thou art my owne lady, Thou shalt haue all thy will. 31.45	Then she said, Blesed be thou, gentle Gawain, This day that I thee see, For as thou seest me att this time, From hencforth I wilbe. 31.46	My father was an old knight, And yett it chanced soe That he marryed a younge lady That	brought me to this woe. 31.47	Shee witched me, being a faire young lady, To the greene forrest to dwell, And there I must walke in womans liknesse, Most like a feend of hell. 31.48	She witched my brother to a carlish b. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 31.49	. . . . . . . . . . . . ‘That looked soe foule, and that was wont On the wild more to goe.’ 31.50	‘Come kisse her, brother Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine, ‘And amend th of thy liffe; I sweare this is the same lady That	I marryed to my wiffe.’ 31.51	Sir Kay kissed that lady bright, Standing vpon his feete; He swore as he was trew knight, The spice was neuer soe sweete. 31.52	‘Well, cozen Gawaine,’ sayes Sir Kay, ‘Thy chance is fallen arright, For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids I euer saw with my sight.’ 31.53	‘It is my fortune,’ said Sir Gawaine; ‘For my vnckle Arthurs sake I am glad as grasse wold be of raine, Great ioy that I may take.’ 31.54	Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme, Sir Kay tooke her by the tother, They led her straight to King Arthur, As they were brother and brother. 31.55	King Arthur welcomed them there all, And soe did Lady Geneuer his queene, With all the knights of the Round Table, Most seemly to be seene. 31.56	King Arthur beheld that lady faire That was soe faire and bright, He thanked Christ in Trinity For Sir Gawaine that gentle knight. 31.57	Soe did the knights, both more and lesse, Reioyced all that day For the good chance that hapened was To Sir Gawaine and his lady gay.


 
32: King Henry
 
32.1	LAT never a man a wooing wend That lacketh thingis three; A routh o gold, an open heart, Ay fu o charity. 32.2	As this I speak of King Henry, For he lay burd-alone; An he’s doen him to a jelly hunt’s ha, Was seven miles frae a town. 32.3	He chas’d the deer now him before, An the roe down by the den, Till the fattest buch in a’ the flock King Henry he has slain. 32.4	O he has doen him to his ha, To make him beerly cheer; An in it came a griesly ghost, Steed stappin i the fleer. 32.5	Her head hat the reef-tree o the house, Her middle ye mot wel span; He’s thrown to her his gay mantle, Says, ‘Lady, hap your lingcan.’ 32.6	Her teeth was a’ like teather stakes, Her nose like club or mell; An I ken naething she ’peard to be, But the fiend that wons in hell. 32.7	‘Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry, Some meat ye gie to me!’ ‘An what meat’s in this house, lady, An what ha I to gie?’ ‘O ye do kill your berry-brown steed, An you bring him here to me.’ 32.8	O whan he slew his berry-brown steed, Wow but his heart was sair! Shee eat him [a’] up, skin an bane, Left naething but hide an hair. 32.9	‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, Mair meat ye gi to me!’ ‘An what meat’s in this house, lady, An what ha I to gi?’ ‘O ye do kill your good gray-hounds, An ye bring them a’ to me.’ 32.10	O whan he slew his good gray-hounds, Wow but his heart was sair! She eat them a’ up, skin an bane, Left naething but hide an hair. 32.11	‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, Mair meat ye gi to me!’ ‘An what meat’s i this house, lady, An what ha I to gi?’ ‘O ye do kill your gay gos-hawks, An ye bring them here to me.’ 32.12	O whan he slew his gay gos-hawks, Wow but his heart was sair! She eat them a’ up, skin an bane, Left naething but feathers bare. 32.13	‘Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry, Some drink ye bring to me!’ ‘O what drink’s i this house, lady, That you’re nae welcome ti?’ ‘O ye sew up your horse’s hide, An bring in a drink to me.’ 32.14	And he’s sewd up the bloody hide, A puncheon o wine put in; She drank it a’ up at a waught, Left na ae drap ahin. 32.15	‘A bed, a bed, now, King Henry, A bed you mak to me! For ye maun pu the heather green, An mak a bed to me.’ 32.16	O pu’d has he the heather green, An made to her a bed, An up has he taen his gay mantle, An oer it has he spread. 32.17	‘Tak aff your claiths, now, King Henry, An lye down by my side!’ ‘O God forbid,’ says King Henry, ‘That ever the like betide; That ever the fiend that wons in hell Shoud streak down by my side.’ * * * * * 32.18	Whan night was gane, and day was come, An the sun shone throw the ha, The fairest lady that ever was seen Lay atween him an the wa. 32.19	‘O well is me!’ says King Henry, ‘How lang’ll this last wi me?’ Then out it spake that fair lady, ‘Even till the day you dee. 32.20	‘For I’ve met wi mony a gentle knight That’s gien me sic a fill, But never before wi a courteous knight That ga me a’ my will.’


 
33A: Kempy Kay
 
33A.1	KEMPY KAYE’s a wooing gane, Far, far ayont the sea, And he has met with an auld, auld man, His gudefaythir to be. 33A.2	‘It’s I’m coming to court your daughter dear, And some part of your gear:’ ‘And by my sooth,’ quoth Bengoleer, ‘She’ll sare a man a wear. 33A.3	‘My dochter she’s a thrifty lass, She span seven year to me, And if it were weel counted up, Full three heire it would be. 33A.4	‘What’s the matter wi you, my fair creature, You look so pale and wan? I’m sure you was once the fairest creature That ever the sun shined on. 33A.5	‘Gae scrape yoursel, and gae scart yoursel, And mak your brucket face clean, For the wooers are to be here to nighte, And your body’s to be seen.’ 33A.6	Sae they scrapit her, and they scartit her, Like the face of an aussy pan; Syne in cam Kempy Kay himself, A clever and tall young man. 33A.7	His teeth they were like tether-sticks, His nose was three fit lang, Between his shouthers was ells three, And tween his eyne a span. 33A.8	He led his dochter by the hand, His dochter ben brought he: ‘O is she not the fairest lass That’s in great Christendye?’ 33A.9	Ilka hair intil her head Was like a heather-cowe, And ilka louse anunder it Was like a bruckit ewe. 33A.10	She had tauchy teeth and kaily lips, And wide lugs, fou o hair; Her pouches fou o peasemeal-daighe A’ hinging down her spare. 33A.11	Ilka eye intil her head Was like a rotten plumbe, And down browed was the queyne, And sairly did she gloom. 33A.12	Ilka nail upon her hand Was like an iron rake, And ilka tooth intil her head Was like a tether-stake. * * * * * 33A.13	She gied to him a gravat, O the auld horse’s sheet, And he gied her a gay gold ring, O the auld couple-root.
 
33B: Kempy Kay
 
33B.1	KEMPY KAYE is a wooing gane, Far ayont the sea, And there he met wi auld Goling, His gudefather to be, be, His gudefather to be. 33B.2	‘Whar are ye gaun, O Kempy Kaye, Whar are ye gaun sae sune?’ ‘O I am gaun to court a wife, And think na ye that’s a weel dune?’ 33B.3	‘An ye be gaun to court a wife, As ye do tell to me, ’Tis ye sall hae my Fusome Fug, Your ae wife for to be.’ 33B.4	Whan auld Goling cam to the house, He lookit thro a hole, And there he saw the dirty drab Just whisking oure the coal. 33B.5	‘Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug, And mak your foul face clean, For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw Is come develling doun the green.’ 33B.6	Up then rose the Fusome Fug, To mak her foul face clean; And aye she cursed her mither She had na water in. 33B.7	She rampit out, and she rampit in, She rampit but and ben; The tittles and tattles that hang frae her tail Wad muck an acre o land. 33B.8	She had a neis upon her face Was like an auld pat-fit; Atween her neis bot an her mou Was inch thick deep wi dirt. 33B.9	She had twa een intil her head War like twa-rotten plums; The heavy brows hung doun her face, And O I vow she glooms! 33B.10	He gied to her a braw silk napkin, Was made o’ an auld horse-brat: ‘I ne’er wore a silk napkin a’ my life, But weel I wat Ise wear that.’ 33B.11	He gied to her a braw gowd ring, Was made frae an auld brass pan: ‘I neer wore a gowd ring in a’ my life, But now I wat Ise wear ane.’ 33B.12	Whan thir twa lovers had met thegither, O kissing to get their fill, The slaver that hang atween their twa gabs Wad hae tetherd a ten year auld bill.
 
33C: Kempy Kay
 
33C.1	KEMPY KAYE’s a wooing gane, And far beyond the sea, a wee And there he met wi Drearylane, His gay gudefather to be. a wee 33C.2	‘Gude een, gude een,’ quo Drearylane, ‘Gude een, gude een,’ quo he, a wee ‘I’ve come your dochter’s love to win, I kenna how it will do.’ a wee 33C.3	‘My dochter she’s a thrifty lass, She’s spun this gay seven year, And if it come to gude guiding, It will be half a heer.’ 33C.4	‘Rise up, rise up, ye dirty slut, And wash your foul face clean; The wooers will be here the night That suld been here yestreen.’ 33C.5	They took him ben to the fire en, And set him on a chair; He looked on the lass that he loved best, And thought she was wondrous fair. 33C.6	The een that was in our bride’s head Was like twa rotten plooms; She was a chaunler-chaftit quean, And O but she did gloom! 33C.7	The skin that was on our bride’s breast Was like a saffron bag, And aye her hand was at her neek, And riving up the scabs. 33C.8	The hair that was on our bride’s head Was like a heather-cow, And every louse that lookit out Was like a brockit ewe. 33C.9	Betwixd Kempy’s shouthers was three ells, His nose was nine feet lang, His teeth they were like tether sticks, Between his eyne a span. 33C.10	So aye they kissed, and aye they clapped, I wat they kissed weel; The slaver that hang between their mouths Wad hae tethered a twa year auld bill.
 
33D: Kempy Kay
 
 
 33D.1	* * * *
 	The father came unto the door,
 	And keeked thro the key-hole, a wee
 	And there he saw his dochter Jean,
 	Sitting on a coal. a wee
 33D.2	They scartit her, and scrapit her,
 	Wi the hand o a rusty pan, a wee
 	Her father he did all his best
 	For to get her a man. a wee
 33D.3	She is to the stoups gane,
 	There is nae water in;
 	She’s cursed the hands and ban’d the feet
 	That did na bring it in.
 33D.4	Out then spak her auld mither,
 	In her bed whare she lay:
 	‘If there is nae water in the house,
 	Gae harl her thro the lin.’
 33D.5	O she is to the taipy tapples gane,
 	That stood for seven year,
 	And there she washed her foul face clean,
 	And dried it wi a huggar.
 33D.6	He’s gien her a gay gold ring,
 	Just like a cable-rope,
 	And she’s gien him a gay gravat,
 	Made out o the tail o a sark.

 
 
33E: Kempy Kay
 
33E.1	‘GUD een, gud een,’ says Chickmakin, ‘Ye’re welcome here,’ says Drowsy Lane; ‘I’m comd to court your daughter Jean, And marry her wi yer will, a wee.’ 33E.2	‘My daughter Jean’s a thrifty lass, She’s spun these seven lang years to me, And gin she spin another seven, She’ll munt a half an heir, a wee.’ 33E.3	Drowsy Lane, it’s he’s gane hame, And keekit through the hole, a wee And there he saw his daughter Jean A reeking oer the coal. a wee 33E.4	‘Get up, get up, ye dirty bitch, And wash yer foul face clean, For they are to be here the night That should hae been here yestreen.’ 33E.5	Up she rose, pat on her clothes, She’s washen her foul face clean; She cursed the hands, she ban’d the feet, That wadna bring the water in. 33E.6	She rubbit hersel, she scrubbit hersel, Wi the side of a rustit pan, a wee, And in a little came Chickmakin, A braw young lad indeed was he. 33E.7	His teeth they were like tether-steeks, His nose was five feet lang; Between his shoulders was nine yards broad, And between his een a span. 33E.8	Ilka hair into his head Was like a heather-cowe, And ilka louse that lookit out Was like a brookit ewe. 33E.9	Thae twa kissd and thae twa clapt, And thae twa kissd their fill, And aye the slaver between them hang Wad tetherd a ten-pund bull. 33E.10	They twa kissd and they twa clapt, And they gaed to their bed, a wee, And at their head a knocking stane And at their feet a mell, a wee. 33E.11	The auld wife she lay in her bed: ‘And gin ye’ll do my bidding a wee, And gin ye’ll do my bidding,’ quoth she, ‘Yees whirl her oer the lea, a wee.’
 
33F: Kempy Kay
 
 
 33F.1	AS I cam oer yon misty muir,
 	And oer yon grass-green hill,
 	There I saw a campy carle
 	Going to the mill.
       Refrain:	And bar aye yer bower door weel weel,
 	And bar ay yer bower door weel.
 33F.2	I lookit in at her window,
 	And in at her hove hole,
 	And there I saw a fousome fag,
 	Cowering oer a coal.
 33F.3	‘Get up, get up, ye fousome fag,
 	And make yer face fou clean;
 	For the wooers will be here the night,
 	And your body will be seen.’
 33F.4	He gave her a gay cravat,
 	’Twas of an auld horse-sheet;
 	He gave her a gay goud ring,
 	’Twas of an auld tree root.
 33F.5	He laid his arms about her neck,
 	They were like kipple-roots;
 	And aye he kissd her wi his lips,
 	They were like meller’s hoops.
 33F.6	When they were laid in marriage bed,
 	And covered oer wi fail,
 	The knocking mell below their heads
 	Did serve them wondrous weel.
 33F.7	Ilka pap into her breasts
 	Was like a saffron bag,
 	And aye his hand at her a . . e
 	Was tearing up the scabs.
 33F.8	Ilka hair into her head
 	Was like a heather-cow,
 	And ilka louse that lookit out
 	Was like a brookit ewe.

 
 
33G: Kempy Kay
 
33G.1	KING KNAPPERTY he’s a hunting gane, Oer hills and mountains high, high, high, A gude pike-staff intill his hand, And dulgets anew forbye,I, I, I, And dulgets anew forbye. 33G.2	Then he met in wi an auld woman, Was feeding her flocks near by, I, I, I: ‘I’m come a wooing to your daughter, And a very gude bargain am I, I, I.’ 33G.3	And she’s awa to her wee hole house, Lookd in a wee chip hole, And there she saw her filthy wee flag, Was sitting athort the coal. 33G.4	‘Get up, get up, ye filthy foul flag, And make your foul face clean; There are wooers coming to the town, And your foul face mauna be seen.’ 33G.5	Then up she raise, an awa she gaes, And in at the back o the door, And there a pig o water she saw, ’Twas seven years auld an mair. 33G.6	Aye she rubbed, an aye she scrubbed, To make her foul face clean, And aye she bannd the auld wife, her mither, For nae bringing clean water in. 33G.7	King Knapperty he came in at the door, Stood even up in the floor; Altho that she had neer seen him before, She kent him to be her dear. 33G.8	He has taen her in his arms twa, And kissd her, cheek and chin: ‘I neer was kissd afore in my life, But this night got mony ane.’ 33G.9	He has put his hand in his pocket, And he’s taen out a ring: Says, ‘Take ye that, my dearest dear, It is made o the brazen pan.’ 33G.10	She thankd him ance, she thankd him twice, She thankd him oer again: ‘I neer got a ring before in my life, But this night hae gotten ane.’ 33G.11	These lovers bed it was well made, And at their hearts’ desire; These lovers bed it was well made, At the side o the kitchen fire. 33G.12	The bolster that these lovers had Was the mattock an the mell, And the covring that these lovers had Was the clouted cloak an pale. 33G.13	The draps that fell frae her twa een Woud have gard a froth-mill gang, An [the] clunkerts that hung at their heels Woud hae muckd an acre o land. 33G.14	An ilka hair that was in their head Was like a heather-cow, And ilka tenant that it containd Was like a linsteed-bow.


 
34A: Kemp Owyne
 
34A.1	HER mother died when she was young, Which gave her cause to make great moan; Her father married the warst woman That ever lived in Christendom. 34A.2	She served her with foot and hand, In every thing that she could dee, Till once, in an unlucky time, She threw her in ower Craigy’s sea. 34A.3	Says, ‘Lie you there, dove Isabel, And all my sorrows lie with thee; Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea, And borrow you with kisses three, Let all the warld do what they will, Oh borrowed shall you never be!’ 34A.4	Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang, And twisted thrice about the tree, And all the people, far and near, Thought that a savage beast was she. 34A.5	These news did come to Kemp Owyne, Where he lived, far beyond the sea; He hasted him to Craigy’s sea, And on the savage beast lookd he. 34A.6	Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted was about the tree, And with a swing she came about: ‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me. 34A.7	‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried, ‘That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I vow my belt your death shall be.’ 34A.8	He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal belt he brought him wi; Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted twice about the tree, And with a swing she came about: ‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me. 34A.9	‘Here is a royal ring,’ she said, ‘That I have found in the green sea; And while your finger it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my ring your death shall be.’ 34A.10	He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal ring he brought him wi; Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted ance about the tree, And with a swing she came about: ‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me. 34A.11	‘Here is a royal brand,’ she said, ‘That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my brand your death shall be.’ 34A.12	He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal brand he brought him wi; Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short, And twisted nane about the tree, And smilingly she came about, As fair a woman as fair could be.
 
34B: Kemp Owyne
 
34B.1	COME here, come here, you freely feed, An lay your head low on my knee; The hardest weird I will you read That eer war read to a lady. 34B.2	‘O meikle dollour sall you dree, An ay the sat seas oer ye[’s] swim; An far mair dollour sall ye dree On Eastmuir craigs, or ye them clim. 34B.3	‘I wot ye’s be a weary wight, An releived sall ye never be Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the craig and thrice kiss thee.’ 34B.4	O meickle dollour did she dree, An ay the sat seas oer she swam; An far mair dollour did she dree On Eastmuir craigs, or them she clam; An ay she cried for Kempion, Gin he would come till her han. 34B.5	Now word has gane to Kempion That sich a beast was in his lan, An ay be sure she would gae mad Gin she gat nae help frae his han. 34B.6	‘Now by my sooth,’ says Kempion, ‘This fiery beast I[’ll] gang to see;’ ‘An by my sooth,’ says Segramour, ‘My ae brother, I’ll gang you wi.’ 34B.7	O biggit ha they a bonny boat, An they hae set her to the sea, An Kempion an Segramour The fiery beast he gane to see: A mile afore they reachd the shore, I wot she gard the red fire flee. 34B.8	‘O Segramour, keep my boat afloat, An lat her no the lan so near; For the wicked beast she’ll sure gae mad, An set fire to the land an mair.’ 34B.9	‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+- An it is na for the fear o thee-+- Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’ 34B.10	He’s louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, An he has gien her kisses ane; Awa she gid, an again she came, The fieryest beast that ever was seen. 34B.11	‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+- An it is na for fear o thee-+- Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’ 34B.12	He louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, An he has gien her kisses twa; Awa she gid, an again she came, The fieryest beast that ever you saw. 34B.13	‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+- An it is na for fear o ye-+- Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’ 34B.14	He’s louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, An he has gien her kisses three; Awa she gid, an again she came, The fairest lady that ever coud be. 34B.15	‘An by my sooth,’ say[s] Kempion, ‘My ain true love-+-for this is she-+- O was it wolf into the wood, Or was it fish intill the sea, Or was it man, or wile woman, My true love, that misshapit thee?’ 34B.16	‘It was na wolf into the wood, Nor was it fish into the sea, But it was my stepmother, An wae an weary mot she be. 34B.17	‘O a heavier weird light her upon Than ever fell on wile woman; Her hair’s grow rough, an her teeth’s grow lang, An on her four feet sal she gang. 34B.18	‘Nane sall tack pitty her upon, But in Wormie’s Wood she sall ay won, An relieved sall she never be, Till St Mungo come oer the sea.’


 
35: Allison Gross
 
35.1	O ALLISON GROSS, that lives in yon towr, The ugliest witch i the north country, Has trysted me ae day up till her bowr, An monny fair speech she made to me. 35.2	She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair, An she set me down saftly on her knee; Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true, Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi. 35.3	She showd me a mantle o red scarlet, Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine; Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true, This goodly gift it sal be thine. 35.4	‘Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, Haud far awa, an lat me be; I never will be your lemman sae true, An I wish I were out o your company.’ 35.5	She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk, Well wrought wi pearles about the ban; Says, Gin you will be my ain true love, This goodly gift you sal comman. 35.6	She showd me a cup of the good red gold, Well set wi jewls sae fair to see; Says, Gin you will be my lemman sae true, This goodly gift I will you gi. 35.7	‘Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, Had far awa, and lat me be; For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth For a’ the gifts that ye coud gi.’ 35.8	She’s turnd her right and roun about, An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn, An she sware by the meen and the stars abeen, That she’d gar me rue the day I was born. 35.9	Then out has she taen a silver wand, An she’s turnd her three times roun an roun; She’s mutterd sich words till my strength it faild, An I fell down senceless upon the groun. 35.10	She’s turnd me into an ugly worm, And gard me toddle about the tree; An ay, on ilka Saturdays night, My sister Maisry came to me, 35.11	Wi silver bason an silver kemb, To kemb my heady upon her knee; But or I had kissd her ugly mouth, I’d rather a toddled about the tree. 35.12	But as it fell out on last Hallow-even, When the seely court was ridin by, The queen lighted down on a gowany bank, Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye. 35.13	She took me up in her milk-white han, An she’s stroakd me three times oer her knee; She chang’d me again to my ain proper shape, An I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.


 
36: The Laily Worm and the Machrel of the Sea
 
36.1	‘I WAS but seven year auld When my mither she did die; My father married the ae warst woman The warld did ever see. 36.2	‘For she has made me the laily worm, That lies at the fit o the tree, An my sister Masery she’s made The machrel of the sea. 36.3	‘An every Saturday at noon The machrel comes to me, An she takes my laily head An lays it on her knee, She kaims it wi a siller kaim, An washes’t in the sea. 36.4	‘Seven knights hae I slain, Sin I lay at the fit of the tree, An ye war na my ain father, The eight ane ye should be.’ 36.5	‘Sing on your song, ye laily worm, That ye did sing to me:’ ‘I never sung that song but what I would it sing to thee. 36.6	‘I was but seven year auld, When my mither she did die; My father married the ae warst woman The warld did ever see. 36.7	‘For she changed me to the laily worm, That lies at the fit o the tree, And my sister Masery To the machrel of the sea. 36.8	‘And every Saturday at noon The machrel comes to me, An she takes my laily head An lays it on her knee, An kames it wi a siller kame, An washes it i the sea. 36.9	‘Seven knights hae I slain, Sin I lay at the fit o the tree, An ye war na my ain father, The eighth ane ye shoud be.’ 36.10	He sent for his lady, As fast as send could he: ‘Whar is my son that ye sent frae me, And my daughter, Lady Masery?’ 36.11	‘Your son is at our king’s court, Serving for meat an fee, An your daughter’s at our queen’s court, . . . . . ’ 36.12	‘Ye lie, ye ill woman, Sae loud as I hear ye lie; My son’s the laily worm, That lies at the fit o the tree, And my daughter, Lady Masery, Is the machrel of the sea!’ 36.13	She has tane a siller wan, An gien him strokes three, And he has started up the bravest knight That ever your eyes did see. 36.14	She has taen a small horn, An loud an shrill blew she, An a’ the fish came her untill But the proud machrel of the sea: ‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape, An ye’s never mare shape me.’ 36.15	He has sent to the wood For whins and for hawthorn, An he has taen that gay lady, An there he did her burn.


 
37A: Thomas Rymer
 
37A.1	TRUE THOMAS lay oer yond grassy bank, And he beheld a ladie gay, A ladie that was brisk and bold, Come riding oer the fernie brae. 37A.2	Her skirt was of the grass-green silk, Her mantel of the velvet fine, At ilka tett of her horse’s mane Hung fifty silver bells and nine. 37A.3	True Thomas he took off his hat, And bowed him low down till his knee: ‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For your peer on earth I never did see.’ 37A.4	‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says, ‘That name does not belong to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfland, And I’m come here for to visit thee. * * * * * 37A.5	‘But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas, True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, For ye maun serve me seven years, Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.’ 37A.6	She turned about her milk-white steed, And took True Thomas up behind, And aye wheneer her bridle rang, The steed flew swifter than the wind. 37A.7	For forty days and forty nights He wade thro red blude to the knee, And he saw neither sun nor moon, But heard the roaring of the sea. 37A.8	O they rade on, and further on, Until they came to a garden green: ‘Light down, light down, ye ladie free, Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.’ 37A.9	‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says, ‘That fruit maun not be touched by thee, For a’ the plagues that are in hell Light on the fruit of this countrie. 37A.10	‘But I have a loaf here in my lap, Likewise a bottle of claret wine, And now ere we go farther on, We’ll rest a while, and ye may dine.’ 37A.11	When he had eaten and drunk his fill, ‘Lay down your head upon my knee,’ The lady sayd, re we climb yon hill, And I will show you fairlies three. 37A.12	‘O see not ye yon narrow road, So thick beset wi thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Tho after it but few enquires. 37A.13	‘And see not ye that braid braid road, That lies across yon lillie leven? That is the path of wickedness, Tho some call it the road to heaven. 37A.14	‘And see not ye that bonny road, Which winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae. 37A.15	‘But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever you may hear or see, For gin ae word you should chance to speak, You will neer get back to your ain countrie.’ 37A.16	He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green, And till seven years were past and gone True Thomas on earth was never seen.
 
37B: Thomas Rymer
 
37B.1	As Thomas lay on Huntlie banks-+- A wat a weel bred man was he-+- And there he spied a lady fair, Coming riding down by the Eildon tree. 37B.2	The horse she rode on was dapple gray, And in her hand she held bells nine; I thought I heard this fair lady say These fair siller bells they should a’ be mine. 37B.3	It’s Thomas even forward went, And lootit low down on his knee: ‘Weel met thee save, my lady fair, For thou’rt the flower o this countrie.’ 37B.4	‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she says, ‘O no, O no, that can never be, For I’m but a lady of an unco land, Comd out a hunting, as ye may see. 37B.5	‘O harp and carp, Thomas,’ she says, ‘O harp and carp, and go wi me; It’s be seven years, Thomas, and a day, Or you see man or woman in your ain countrie.’ 37B.6	It’s she has rode, and Thomas ran, Until they cam to yon water clear; He’s coosten off his hose and shon, And he’s wooden the water up to the knee. 37B.7	It’s she has rode, and Thomas ran, Until they cam to yon garden green; He’s put up his hand for to pull down ane, For the lack o food he was like to tyne. 37B.8	‘Hold your hand, Thomas,’ she says, ‘Hold your hand, that must not be; It was a’ that cursed fruit o thine Beggared man and woman in your countrie. 37B.9	‘But I have a loaf and a soup o wine, And ye shall go and dine wi me; And lay yer head down in my lap, And I will tell ye farlies three. 37B.10	‘It’s dont ye see yon broad broad way, That leadeth down by yon skerry fell? It’s ill’s the man that dothe thereon gang, For it leadeth him straight to the gates o hell. 37B.11	‘It’s dont ye see yon narrow way, That leadeth down by yon lillie lea? It’s weel’s the man that doth therein gang, For it leads him straight to the heaven hie.’ * * * * * 37B.12	It’s when she cam into the hall-+- I wat a weel bred man was he-+- They’ve asked him question[s], one and all, But he answered none but that fair ladie. 37B.13	O they speerd at her where she did him get, And she told them at the Eildon tree; . . . . . . . . . . .
 
37C: Thomas Rymer
 
37C.1	TRUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank, A ferlie he spied wi’ his ee, And there he saw a lady bright, Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. 37C.2	Her shirt was o the grass-green silk, Her mantle o the velvet fyne, At ilka tett of her horse’s mane Hang fifty siller bells and nine. 37C.3	True Thomas, he pulld aff his cap, And louted low down to his knee: ‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth I never did see.’ 37C.4	‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said, ‘That name does not belang to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee. 37C.5	‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said, ‘Harp and carp along wi me, And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be.’ 37C.6	‘Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunton me;’ Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree. 37C.7	‘Now, ye maun go wi me,’ she said, ‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, And ye maun serve me seven years, Thro weal or woe, as may chance to be.’ 37C.8	She mounted on her milk-white steed, She’s taen True Thomas up behind, And aye wheneer her bridle rung, The steed flew swifter than the wind. 37C.9	O they rade on, and farther on-+- The steed gaed swifter than the wind-+- Untill they reached a desart wide, And living land was left behind. 37C.10	‘Light down, light down, now, True Thomas, And lean your head upon my knee; Abide and rest a little space, And I will shew you ferlies three. 37C.11	‘O see ye not yon narrow road, So thick beset with thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Tho after it but few enquires. 37C.12	‘And see not ye that braid braid road, That lies across that lily leven? That is the path of wickedness, Tho some call it the road to heaven. 37C.13	‘And see not ye that bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae. 37C.14	‘But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see, For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, Ye’ll neer get back to your ain countrie.’ 37C.15	O they rade on, and farther on, And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea. 37C.16	It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light, And they waded thro red blude to the knee; For a’ the blude that’s shed on earth Rins thro the springs o that countrie. 37C.17	Syne they came on to a garden green, And she pu’d an apple frae a tree: ‘Take this for thy wages, True Thomas, It will give the tongue that can never lie.’ 37C.18	‘My tongue is mine ain,’ True Thomas said; ‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! I neither dought to buy nor sell, At fair or tryst where I may be. 37C.19	‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer, Nor ask of grace from fair ladye:’ ‘Now hold thy peace,’ the lady said, ‘For as I say, so must it be.’ 37C.20	He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green, And till seven years were gane and past True Thomas on earth was never seen.


 
38A: The Wee Wee Man
 
 
 38A.1	As I was walking all alone,
 	Between a water and a wa,
 	And there I spy’d a wee wee man,
 	And he was the least that ere I saw.
 38A.2	His legs were scarce a shathmont’s length,
 	And thick and thimber was his thigh;
 	Between his brows there was a span,
 	And between his shoulders there was three.
 38A.3	He took up a meikle stane,
 	And he flang’t as far as I could see;
 	Though I had been a Wallace wight,
 	I couldna liften’t to my knee.
 38A.4	‘O wee wee man, but thou be strang!
 	O tell me where thy dwelling be?’
 	‘My dwelling’s down at yon bonny bower;
 	O will you go with me and see?’
 38A.5	On we lap, and awa we rade,
 	Till we came to yon bonny green;
 	We lighted down for to bait our horse,
 	And out there came a lady fine.
 38A.6	Four and twenty at her back,
 	And they were a’ clad out in green;
 	Though the King of Scotland had been there,
 	The warst o them might hae been his queen.
 38A.7	On we lap, and awa we rade,
 	Till we came to yon bonny ha,
 	Whare the roof was o the beaten gould,
 	And the floor was o the cristal a’.
 38A.8	When we came to the stair-foot,
 	Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma,
 	But in the twinkling of an eye,
 	My wee wee man was clean awa.

 
 
38B: The Wee Wee Man
 
 
 38B.1	AS I was walking by my lane,
 	Atween a water and a wa,
 	There sune I spied a wee wee man,
 	He was the least that eir I saw.
 38B.2	His legs were scant a shathmont’s length,
 	And sma and limber was his thie;
 	Atween his shoulders was ae span,
 	About his middle war but three.
 38B.3	He has tane up a meikle stane,
 	And flang’t as far as I cold see;
 	Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht,
 	I dought na lift it to my knie.
 38B.4	‘O wee wee man, but ye be strang!
 	Tell me whar may thy dwelling be?
 	‘I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir;
 	O will ye gae wi me and see?’
 38B.5	On we lap, and awa we rade,
 	Till we cam to a bonny green;
 	We lichted syne to bait our steid,
 	And out there cam a lady sheen.
 38B.6	Wi four and twentie at her back,
 	A’ comely cled in glistering green;
 	Thouch there the King of Scots had stude,
 	The warst micht weil hae been his queen.
 38B.7	On syne we past wi wondering cheir,
 	Till we cam to a bonny ha;
 	The roof was o the beaten gowd,
 	The flure was o the crystal a’.
 38B.8	When we cam there, wi wee wee knichts
 	War ladies dancing, jimp and sma,
 	But in the twinkling of an eie,
 	Baith green and ha war clein awa.

 
 
38C: The Wee Wee Man
 
 
 38C.1	’TWAS down by Carterhaugh, father,
 	I walked beside the wa,
 	And there I saw a wee wee man,
 	The least that eer I saw.
 38C.2	His legs were skant a shathmont lang,
 	Yet umber was his thie;
 	Between his brows there was ae span,
 	And between his shoulders three.
 38C.3	He’s taen and flung a meikle stane,
 	As far as I could see;
 	I could na, had I been Wallace wight,
 	Hae lifted it to my knee.
 38C.4	wee wee man, but ye be strang!
 	Where may thy dwelling be?’
 	‘It’s down beside yon bonny bower;
 	Fair lady, come and see.’
 38C.5	On we lap, and away we rade,
 	Down to a bonny green;
 	We lighted down to bait our steed,
 	And we saw the fairy queen.
 38C.6	With four and twenty at her back,
 	Of ladies clad in green;
 	Tho the King of Scotland had been there,
 	The worst might hae been his queen.
 38C.7	On we lap, and away we rade,
 	Down to a bonny ha;
 	The roof was o the beaten goud,
 	The floor was of chrystal a’.
 38C.8	And there were dancing on the floor,
 	Fair ladies jimp and sma;
 	But in the twinkling o an eye,
 	They sainted clean awa.

 
 
38D: The Wee Wee Man
 
 
 38D.1	AS I gaed out to tak a walk,
 	Atween the water and the wa,
 	There I met wi a wee wee man,
 	The weest man that ere I saw.
 38D.2	Thick and short was his legs,
 	And sma and thin was his thie,
 	And atween his een a flee might gae,
 	And atween his shouthers were inches three.
 38D.3	And he has tane up a muckle stane,
 	And thrown it farther than I coud see;
 	If I had been as strong as ere Wallace was,
 	I coud na lift it to my knie.
 38D.4	‘O,’ quo I, ’But ye be strong!
 	And O where may your dwelling be?’
 	‘It’s down in to yon bonnie glen;
 	Gin ye dinna believe, ye can come and see.’
 38D.5	And we rade on, and we sped on,
 	Till we cam to yon bonny glen,
 	And there we lichted and louted in,
 	And there we saw a dainty dame.
 38D.6	There was four and twenty wating on her,
 	And ilka ane was clad in green,
 	And he had been the king of fair Scotland,
 	The warst o them micht hae been his queen.
 38D.7	There war pipers playing on ilka stair,
 	And ladies dancing in ilka ha,
 	But before ye coud hae sadd what was that,
 	The house and wee manie was awa.

 
 
38E: The Wee Wee Man
 
 
 38E.1	AS I was walking mine alone,
 	Betwext the water and the wa,
 	There I spied a wee wee man,
 	He was the least ane that eer I saw.
 38E.2	His leg was scarse a shaftmont lang,
 	Both thick and nimble was his knee;
 	Between his eyes there was a span,
 	Betwixt his shoulders were ells three.
 38E.3	This wee wee man pulled up a stone,
 	He flang’t as far as I could see;
 	Tho I had been like Wallace strong,
 	I wadna gotn’t up to my knee.
 38E.4	I said, Wee man, oh, but you’re strong!
 	Where is your dwelling, or where may’t be?
 	‘My dwelling’s at yon bonnie green;
 	Fair lady, will ye go and see?’
 38E.5	On we lap, and awa we rade,
 	Until we came to yonder green;
 	We lichtit down to rest our steed,
 	And there cam out a lady soon.
 38E.6	Four and twenty at her back,
 	And every one of them was clad in green;
 	Altho he had been the King of Scotland,
 	The warst o them a’ micht hae been his queen.
 38E.7	There were pipers playing in every neuk,
 	And ladies dancing, jimp and sma,
 	And aye the owre-turn o their tune
 	Was ‘Our wee wee man has been lang awa.’

 
 
38F: The Wee Wee Man
 
 
 38F.1	AS I was walking mine alane,
 	Between the water and the wa,
 	And oh there I spy’d a wee wee mannie,
 	The weeest mannie that ere I saw.
 38F.2	His legs they were na a gude inch lang,
 	And thick and nimble was his thie;
 	Between his een there was a span,
 	And between his shouthers there were ells three.
 38F.3	I asked at this wee wee mannie
 	Whare his dwelling place might be;
 	The answer that he gied to me
 	Was, Cum alang, and ye shall see.
 38F.4	So we’ll awa, and on we rade,
 	Till we cam to yon bonnie green;
 	We lichted down to bait our horse,
 	And up and started a lady syne.
 38F.5	Wi four and twenty at her back,
 	And they were a’ weell clad in green;
 	Tho I had been a crowned king,
 	The warst o them might ha been my queen.
 38F.6	So we’ll awa, and on we rade,
 	Till we cam to yon bonnie hall;
 	The rafters were o the beaten gold,
 	And silver wire were the kebars all.
 38F.7	And there was mirth in every end,
 	And ladies dancing, ane and a,
 	And aye the owre-turn o their sang
 	Was ‘The wee wee mannie’s been lang awa.’

 
 
38G: The Wee Wee Man
 
 
 38G.1	AS I gaed out to tak the air,
 	Between Midmar and bonny Craigha,
 	There I met a little wee man,
 	The less o him I never saw.
 38G.2	His legs were but a finger lang,
 	And thick and nimle was his knee;
 	Between his brows there was a span,
 	Between his shoulders ells three.
 38G.3	He lifted a stane sax feet in hight,
 	He lifted it up till his right knee,
 	And fifty yards and mair, I’m sure,
 	I wyte he made the stane to flee.
 38G.4	‘O little wee man, but ye be wight!
 	Tell me whar your dwelling be;’
 	‘I hae a bower, compactly built,
 	Madam, gin ye’ll cum and see.’
 38G.5	Sae on we lap, and awa we rade,
 	Till we come to yon little ha;
 	The kipples ware o the gude red gowd,
 	The reef was o the proseyla.
 38G.6	Pipers were playing, ladies dancing,
 	The ladies dancing, jimp and sma;
 	At ilka turning o the spring,
 	The little man was wearin’s wa.
 38G.7	Out gat the lights, on cam the mist,
 	Ladies nor mannie mair coud see
 	I turnd about, and gae a look,
 	Just at the foot o’ Benachie.

 


 
39A: Tam Lin
 
39A.1	O I FORBID you, maidens a’, That wear gowd on your hair, To come or gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tam Lin is there. 39A.2	There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh But they leave him a wad, Either their rings, or green mantles, Or else their maidenhead. 39A.3	Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has broded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she’s awa to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie. 39A.4	When she came to Carterhaugh Tam Lin was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsel. 39A.5	She had na pu’d a double rose, A rose but only twa, Till up then started young Tam Lin, Says, Lady, thou’s pu nae mae. 39A.6	Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet, And why breaks thou the wand? Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh Withoutten my command? 39A.7	‘Carterhaugh, it is my ain, My daddie gave it me; I’ll come and gang by Carterhaugh, And ask nae leave at thee.’ * * * * * 39A.8	Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she is to her father’s ha, As fast as she can hie. 39A.9	Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba, And out then cam the fair Janet, Ance the flower amang them a’. 39A.10	Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the chess, And out then cam the fair Janet, As green as onie glass. 39A.11	Out then spak an auld grey knight, Lay oer the castle wa, And says, Alas, fair Janet, for thee But we’ll be blamed a’. 39A.12	‘Haud your tongue, ye auld fac’d knight, Some ill death may ye die! Father my bairn on whom I will, I’ll father nane on thee.’ 39A.13	Out then spak her father dear, And he spak meek and mild; ‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says, ‘I think thou gaes wi child.’ 39A.14	‘If that I gae wi child, father, Mysel maun bear the blame; There’s neer a laird about your ha Shall get the bairn’s name. 39A.15	‘If my love were an earthly knight, As he’s an elfin grey, I wad na gie my ain true-love For nae lord that ye hae. 39A.16	‘The steed that my true-love rides on Is lighter than the wind; Wi siller he is shod before, Wi burning gowd behind.’ 39A.17	Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she’s awa to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie. 39A.18	When she cam to Carterhaugh, Tam Lin was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsel. 39A.19	She has na pu’d a double rose, A rose but only twa, Till up then started young Tam Lin, Says Lady, thou pu’s nae mae. 39A.20	Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet, Amang the groves sae green, And a’ to kill the bonie babe That we gat us between? 39A.21	‘O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,’ she says, ‘For’s sake that died on tree, If eer ye was in holy chapel, Or chirstendom did see?’ 39A.22	‘Roxbrugh he was my grandfather, Took me with him to bide, And ance it fell upon a day That wae did me betide. 39A.23	‘And ance it fell upon a day, A cauld day and a snell, When we were frae the hunting come, That frae my horse I fell; The Queen o Fairies she caught me, In yon green hill to dwell. 39A.24	‘And pleasant is the fairy land, But, an eerie tale to tell, Ay at the end of seven years We pay a tiend to hell; I am sae fair and fu o flesh, I’m feard it be mysel. 39A.25	‘But the night is Halloween, lady, The morn is Hallowday; Then win me, win me, an ye will, For weel I wat ye may. 39A.26	‘Just at the mirk and midnight hour The fairy folk will ride, And they that wad their true-love win, At Miles Cross they maun bide.’ 39A.27	‘But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin, Or how my true-love know, Amang sae mony unco knights The like I never saw?’ 39A.28	‘O first let pass the black, lady, And syne let pass the brown, But quickly run to the milk-white steed, Pu ye his rider down. 39A.29	‘For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed, And ay nearest the town; Because I was an earthly knight They gie me that renown. 39A.30	‘My right hand will be glovd, lady, My left hand will be bare, Cockt up shall my bonnet be, And kaimd down shall my hair, And thae’s the takens I gie thee, Nae doubt I will be there. 39A.31	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady, Into an esk and adder; But hold me fast, and fear me not, I am your bairn’s father. 39A.32	‘They’ll turn me to a bear sae grim, And then a lion bold; But hold me fast, and fear me not, As ye shall love your child. 39A.33	‘Again they’ll turn me in your arms To a red het gaud of airn; But hold me fast, and fear me not, I’ll do to you nae harm. 39A.34	‘And last they’ll turn me in your arms Into the burning gleed; Then throw me into well water, O throw me in wi speed. 39A.35	‘And then I’ll be your ain true-love, I’ll turn a naked knight; Then cover me wi your green mantle, And cover me out o sight.’ 39A.36	Gloomy, gloomy was the night, And eerie was the way, As fair Jenny in her green mantle To Miles Cross she did gae. 39A.37	About the middle o the night She heard the bridles ring; This lady was as glad at that As any earthly thing. 39A.38	First she let the black pass by, And syne she let the brown; But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed, And pu’d the rider down. 39A.39	Sae weel she minded whae he did say, And young Tam Lin did win; Syne coverd him wi her green mantle, As blythe’s a bird in spring. 39A.40	Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, Out of a bush o broom: ‘Them that has gotten young Tam Lin Has gotten a stately groom.’ 39A.41	Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, And an angry woman was she: ‘Shame betide her ill-far’d face, And an ill death may she die, For she’s taen awa the boniest knight In a’ my companie. 39A.42	‘But had I kend, Tam Lin,’ she says, ‘What now this night I see, I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een, And put in twa een o tree.’
 
39B: Tam Lin
 
39B.1	I FORBID ye, maidens a’, That wear goud on your gear, To come and gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tom Line is there. 39B.2	There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh But they leave him a wad. Either their things or green mantles, Or else their maidenhead. 39B.3	But Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little above her knee, And she has broded her yellow hair A little above her bree, And she has gaen for Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie. 39B.4	When she came to Carterhaugh Tom Line was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsell. 39B.5	She hadna pu’d a double rose, A rose but only twae, Till up then started young Tom Line, Says, Lady, thou’s pu nae mae. 39B.6	Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet? Why breaks thou the wand? Why comest thou to Carterhaugh Withouthen my command? 39B.7	‘Fair Carterhaugh it is my ain, My daddy gave it me; I’ll come and gae by Carterhaugh, And ask nae leave at thee.’ * * * * * 39B.8	Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she is on to her father’s ha, As fast as she can hie. 39B.9	Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba, And out then came fair Janet, The flowr amang them a’. 39B.10	Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the chess, Out then came fair Janet, As green as ony glass. 39B.11	Out spak an auld grey-headed knight, Lay owre the castle wa, And says, Alas, fair Janet, For thee we’ll be blam’d a’. 39B.12	‘Had your tongue, you auld grey knight, Some ill dead may ye die! Father my bairn on whom I will, I’ll father nane on thee.’ 39B.13	Out then spak her father dear, He spak baith thick and milde; ‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says, ‘I think ye gae wi childe.’ 39B.14	‘If that I gae wi child, father, Mysell bears a’ the blame; There’s not a laird about your ha Shall get the bairnie’s name. 39B.15	‘If my lord were an earthly knight, As he’s an elfish grey, I wad na gie my ain true-love For nae lord that ye hae.’ 39B.16	Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she’s away to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie. 39B.17	When she came to Carterhaugh, Tom Line was at the well, And there she faund his steed standing, But away was himsell. 39B.18	She hadna pu’d a double rose, A rose but only twae, Till up then started young Tom Line, Says, Lady, thou’s pu na mae. 39B.19	Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet, Out owr yon groves sae green, And a’ to kill your bonny babe, That we gat us between? 39B.20	‘O tell me, tell me, Tom,’ she says, ‘For’s sake who died on tree, If eer ye were in holy chapel, Or christendom did see.’ 39B.21	‘Roxburgh he was my grandfather, Took me with him to bide, And ance it fell upon a day That wae did me betide. 39B.22	‘Ance it fell upon a day, A cauld day and a snell, When we were frae the hunting come, That from my horse I fell. 39B.23	‘The Queen of Fairies she came by, Took me wi her to dwell, Evn where she has a pleasant land For those that in it dwell, But at the end o seven years, They pay their teind to hell. 39B.24	‘The night it is gude Halloween, The fairie folk do ride, And they that wad their true-love win, At Miles Cross they maun bide.’ 39B.25	‘But how shall I thee ken, Thomas, Or how shall I thee knaw, Amang a pack o uncouth knights The like I never saw?’ 39B.26	‘The first company that passes by, Say na, and let them gae; The next company that passes by, Say na, and do right sae; The third company that passes by, Then I’ll be ane o thae. 39B.27	‘Some ride upon a black, lady, And some ride on a brown, But I ride on a milk-white steed, And ay nearest the town: Because I was an earthly knight They gae me that renown. 39B.28	‘My right hand will be glovd, lady, My left hand will be bare, And thae’s the tokens I gie thee, Nae doubt I will be there. 39B.29	‘Then hie thee to the milk-white steed, And pu me quickly down, Cast thy green kirtle owr me, And keep me frae the rain. 39B.30	‘They’ll turn me in thy arms, lady, An adder and a snake; But hold me fast, let me na gae, To be your warldly mate. 39B.31	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady, A grey greyhound to girn; But hald me fast, let me na gae, The father o your bairn. 39B.32	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady, A red het gad o iron; Then haud me fast, and be na feard, I’ll do to you nae harm. 39B.33	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady, A mother-naked man; Cast your green kirtle owr me, To keep me frae the rain. 39B.34	‘First dip me in a stand o milk, And then a stand o water; Haud me fast, let me na gae, I’ll be your bairnie’s father.’ 39B.35	Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she is on to Miles Cross, As fast as she can hie. 39B.36	The first company that passd by, She said na, and let them gae; The next company that passed by, She said na, and did right sae; The third company that passed by, Then he was ane o thae. 39B.37	She hied her to the milk-white steed, And pu’d him quickly down; She cast her green kirtle owr him, To keep him frae the rain; Then she did all was orderd her, And sae recoverd him. 39B.38	Then out then spak the Queen o Fairies, Out o a bush o broom: ‘They that hae gotten young Tom Line Hae got a stately groom.’ 39B.39	Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, Out o a bush of rye: ‘Them that has gotten young Tom Line Has the best knight in my company. 39B.40	‘Had I kend, Thomas,’ she says, ‘A lady wad hae borrowd thee, I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een, Put in twa een o tree. 39B.41	‘Had I but kend, Thomas,’ she says, ‘Before I came frae hame, I had taen out that heart o flesh, Put in a heart o stane.’
 
39C: Tam Lin
 
 
 39C.1	* * * *
 	SHERR’rrS prickt hersell and prind hersell,
 	By the ae light o the moon,
 	And she’s awa to Kertonha,
 	As fast as she can gang.
 39C.2	‘What gars ye pu the rose, Jennet?
 	What gars ye break the tree?
 	What gars you gang to Kertonha
 	Without the leave of me?’
 39C.3	‘Yes, I will pu the rose, Thomas,
 	And I will break the tree;
 	For Kertonha shoud be my ain,
 	Nor ask I leave of thee.’
 39C.4	‘Full pleasant is the fairy land,
 	And happy there to dwell;
 	I am a fairy, lyth and limb,
 	Fair maiden, view me well.
 39C.5	‘O pleasant is the fairy land,
 	How happy there to dwell!
 	But ay at every seven years end
 	We’re a’ dung down to hell.
 39C.6	‘The morn is good Halloween,
 	And our court a’ will ride;
 	If ony maiden wins her man,
 	Then she may be his bride.
 39C.7	‘But first ye’ll let the black gae by,
 	And then ye’ll let the brown;
 	Then I’ll ride on a milk-white steed,
 	You’ll pu me to the ground.
 39C.8	‘And first, I’ll grow into your arms
 	An esk but and an edder;
 	Had me fast, let me not gang,
 	I’ll be your bairn’s father.
 39C.9	‘Next, I’ll grow into your arms
 	A toad but and an eel;
 	Had me fast, let me not gang,
 	If you do love me leel.
 39C.10	‘Last, I’ll grow into your arms
 	A dove but and a swan;
 	Then, maiden fair, you’ll let me go,
 	I’ll be a perfect man.’
 	* * * * *

 
 
39D: Tam Lin
 
39D.1	O ALL you ladies young and gay, Who are so sweet and fair, Do not go into Chaster’s wood, For Tomlin will be there. 39D.2	Fair Margret sat in her bonny bower, Sewing her silken seam, And wished to be in Chaster’s wood, Among the leaves so green. 39D.3	She let her seam fall to her foot, The needle to her toe, And she has gone to Chaster’s wood, As fast as she could go. 39D.4	When she began to pull the flowers, She pulld both red and green; Then by did come, and by did go, Said, Fair maid, let aleene. 39D.5	‘O why pluck you the flowers, lady, Or why climb you the tree? Or why come ye to Chaster’s wood Without the leave of me?’ 39D.6	‘O I will pull the flowers,’ she said, ‘Or I will break the tree, For Chaster’s wood it is my own, I’ll no ask leave at thee.’ 39D.7	He took her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass green sleeve, And laid her low down on the flowers, At her he asked no leave. 39D.8	The lady blushed, and sourly frowned, And she did think great shame; Says, ’if you are a gentleman, You will tell me your name.’ 39D.9	‘First they did call me Jack,’ he said, ‘And then they called me John, But since I lived in the fairy court Tomlin has always been my name. 39D.10	‘So do not pluck that flower, lady, That has these pimples gray; They would destroy the bonny babe That we’ve got in our play.’ 39D.11	‘O tell me, Tomlin,’ she said, ‘And tell it to me soon, Was you ever at good church-door, Or got you christendoom?’ 39D.12	‘O I have been at good church-door, And aff her yetts within; I was the Laird of Foulis’s son, The heir of all this land. 39D.13	‘But it fell once upon a day, As hunting I did ride, As I rode east and west yon hill There woe did me betide. 39D.14	‘O drowsy, drowsy as I was! Dead sleep upon me fell; The Queen of Fairies she was there, And took me to hersell. 39D.15	‘The Elfins is a pretty place, In which I love to dwell, But yet at every seven years’ end The last here goes to hell; And as I am ane o flesh and blood, I fear the next be mysell. 39D.16	‘The morn at even is Halloween; Our fairy court will ride, Throw England and Scotland both, Throw al the world wide; And if ye would me borrow, At Rides Cross ye may bide. 39D.17	‘You may go into the Miles Moss, Between twelve hours and one; Take holy water in your hand, And cast a compass round. 39D.18	‘The first court that comes along, You’ll let them all pass by; The next court that comes along, Salute them reverently. 39D.19	‘The next court that comes along Is clad in robes of green, And it’s the head court of them all, For in it rides the queen. 39D.20	‘And I upon a milk-white steed, With a gold star in my crown; Because I am an earthly man I’m next to the queen in renown. 39D.21	‘Then seize upon me with a spring, Then to the ground I’ll fa, And then you’ll hear a rueful cry That Tomlin is awa. 39D.22	‘Then I’ll grow in your arms two Like to a savage wild; But hold me fast, let me not go, I’m father of your child. 39D.23	‘I’ll grow into your arms two Like an adder or a snake; But hold me fast, let me not go, I’ll be your earthly maick. 39D.24	‘I’ll grow into your arms two Like iron in strong fire; But hold me fast, let me not go, Then you’ll have your desire.’ 39D.25	She rid down to Miles Cross, Between twelve hours and one, Took holy water in her hand, And cast a compass round. 39D.26	The first court that came along, She let them all pass by; The next court that came along Saluted reverently. 39D.27	The next court that came along Were clad in robes of green, When Tomlin, on a milk-white steed, She saw ride with the queen. 39D.28	She seized him in her arms two, He to the ground did fa, And then she heard a ruefull cry ‘Tomlin is now awa.’ 39D.29	He grew into her arms two Like to a savage wild; She held him fast, let him not go, The father of her child. 39D.30	He grew into her arms two Like an adder or a snake; She held him fast, let him not go, He was her earthly maick. 39D.31	He grew into her arms two Like iron in hot fire; She held him fast, let him not go, He was her heart’s desire. 39D.32	Then sounded out throw elphin court, With a loud shout and a cry, That the pretty maid of Chaster’s wood That day had caught her prey. 39D.33	‘O stay, Tomlin,’ cried Elphin Queen, ‘Till I pay you your fee;’ ‘His father has lands and rents enough, He wants no fee from thee.’ 39D.34	‘O had I known at early morn Tomlin would from me gone, I would have taken out his heart of flesh Put in a heart of stone.’
 
39E: Tam Lin
 
39E.1	LADY MARGARET is over gravel green, And over gravel grey, And she’s awa to Charteris ha, Lang lang three hour or day. 39E.2	She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower, A flower but only ane, Till up and started young Tamlin, Says, Lady, let alane. 39E.3	She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower, A flower but only twa, Till up and started young Tamlene, Atween her and the wa. 39E.4	‘How daur you pu my flower, madam? How daur ye break my tree? How daur ye come to Charter’s ha, Without the leave of me?’ 39E.5	‘Weel I may pu the rose,’ she said, ‘But I daurna break the tree; And Charter’s ha is my father’s, And I’m his heir to be.’ 39E.6	‘If Charteris ha be thy father’s, I was ance as gude mysell; But as I came in by Lady Kirk, And in by Lady Well, 39E.7	‘Deep and drowsy was the sleep On my poor body fell; By came the Queen of Faery, Made me with her to dwell. 39E.8	‘But the morn at een is Halloween, Our fairy foks a’ do ride; And she that will her true-love win, At Blackstock she must bide. 39E.9	‘First let by the black,’ he said, ‘And syne let by the brown; But when you see the milk-white steed, You’ll pull his rider down. 39E.10	‘You’ll pull him into thy arms, Let his bricht bridle fa, And he’ll fa low into your arms Like stone in castle’s wa. 39E.11	‘They’ll first shape him into your arms An adder or a snake; But hold him fast, let him not go, He’ll be your world’s make. 39E.12	‘They’ll next shape him into your arms Like a wood black dog to bite; Hold him fast, let him not go, For he’ll be your heart’s delight. 39E.13	‘They’ll next shape [him] into your arms Like a red-het gaud o airn; But hold him fast, let him not go, He’s the father o your bairn. 39E.14	‘They’ll next shape him into your arms Like the laidliest worm of Ind; But hold him fast, let him not go, And cry aye "[Young Tamlin."]’ * * * * * 39E.15	Lady Margaret first let by the black, And syne let by the brown, But when she saw the milk-white steed She pulled the rider down. 39E.16	She pulled him into her arms, Let his bright bridle fa’, And he fell low into her arms, Like stone in castle’s wa. 39E.17	They first shaped him into arms An adder or a snake; But she held him fast, let him not go, For he’d be her warld’s make. 39E.18	They next shaped him into her arms Like a wood black dog to bite; But she held him fast, let him not go, For he’d be her heart’s delight. 39E.19	They next shaped him into her arms Like a red-het gaud o airn; But she held him fast, let him not go, He’d be father o her bairn. 39E.20	They next shaped him into her arms Like the laidliest worm of Ind; But she held him fast, let him not go, And cried aye ‘Young Tamlin.’ 39E.21	The Queen of Faery turned her horse about, Says, Adieu to thee, Tamlene! For if I had kent what I ken this night, If I had kent it yestreen, I wad hae taen out thy heart o flesh, And put in a heart o stane.
 
39F: Tam Lin
 
39F.1	* * * * SHERR’rrS taen her petticoat by the band, Her mantle owre her arm, And she’s awa to Chester wood, As fast as she could run. 39F.2	She scarsely pulled a rose, a rose, She scarse pulled two or three, Till up there starts Thomas On the Lady Margaret’s knee. 39F.3	She’s taen her petticoat by the band, Her mantle owre her arm, And Lady Margaret’s gane hame agen, As fast as she could run. 39F.4	Up starts Lady Margaret’s sister, An angry woman was she: ‘If there ever was a woman wi child, Margaret, you are wi!’ 39F.5	Up starts Lady Margaret’s mother, An angry woman was she: ‘There grows ane herb in yon kirk-yard That will scathe the babe away.’ 39F.6	She took her petticoats by the band, Her mantle owre her arm, And she’s gane to yon kirk-yard As fast as she could run. 39F.7	She scarcely pulled an herb, an herb, She scarse pulled two or three, Till up starts there Thomas Upon this Lady Margret’s knee. 39F.8	‘How dare ye pull a rose?’ he says, ‘How dare ye break the tree? How dare ye pull this herb,’ he says, ‘To scathe my babe away? 39F.9	‘This night is Halloweve,’ he said, ‘Our court is going to waste, And them that loves their true-love best At Chester bridge they’ll meet. 39F.10	‘First let pass the black,’ he says, ‘And then let pass the brown, But when ye meet the milk-white steed, Pull ye the rider down. 39F.11	‘They’ll turn me to an eagle,’ he says, ‘And then into an ass; Come, hold me fast, and fear me not, The man that you love best. 39F.12	‘They’ll turn me to a flash of fire, And then to a naked man; Come, wrap you your mantle me about, And then you’ll have me won.’ 39F.13	She took her petticoats by the band, Her mantle owre her arm, And she’s awa to Chester bridge, As fast as she could run. 39F.14	And first she did let pass the black, And then let pass the brown, But when she met the milk-white steed, She pulled the rider down. 39F.15	They turned him in her arms an eagle, And then into an ass; But she held him fast, and feared him not, The man that she loved best. 39F.16	They turned him into a flash of fire, And then into a naked man; But she wrapped her mantle him about, And then she had him won. 39F.17	‘O wae be to ye, Lady Margaret, And an ill death may you die, For you’ve robbed me of the bravest knight That eer rode in our company.’
 
39G: Tam Lin
 
39G.1	TAKE warning, a’ ye ladies fair, That wear gowd on your hair, Come never unto Charter’s woods, For Tam-a-line he’s there. 39G.2	Even about that knight’s middle O’ siller bells are nine; Nae ane comes to Charter wood, And a maid returns again. 39G.3	Lady Margaret sits in her bower door, Sewing at her silken seam; And she langd to gang to Charter woods, To pou the roses green. 39G.4	She hadna poud a rose, a rose, Nor broken a branch but ane, Till by it came him true Tam-a-line, Says, Ladye, lat alane. 39G.5	O why pou ye the rose, the rose? Or why brake ye the tree? Or why come ye to Charter woods, Without leave askd of me? 39G.6	‘I will pou the rose, the rose, And I will brake the tree; Charter woods are a’ my ain, I’ll ask nae leave o thee.’ 39G.7	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, And laid her low on gude green wood, At her he spierd nae leave. 39G.8	When he had got his wills of her, His wills as he had taen, He’s taen her by the middle sma, Set her to feet again. 39G.9	She turnd her right and round about, To spier her true-love’s name, But naething heard she, nor naething saw, As a’ the woods grew dim. 39G.10	Seven days she tarried there, Saw neither sun nor meen; At length, by a sma glimmering light, Came thro the wood her lane. 39G.11	When she came to her father’s court, As fine as ony queen; But when eight months were past and gane, Got on the gown o’ green. 39G.12	Then out it speaks an eldren knight, As he stood at the yett: ‘Our king’s daughter, she gaes wi bairn, And we’ll get a’ the wyte.’ 39G.13	‘O had your tongue, ye eldren man, And bring me not to shame; Although that I do gang wi bairn, Yese naeways get the blame. 39G.14	‘Were my love but an earthly man, As he’s an elfin knight, I woudna gie my ain true love For a’ that’s in my sight.’ 39G.15	Then out it speaks her brither dear, He meant to do her harm: ‘There is an herb in Charter wood Will twine you an the bairn.’ 39G.16	She’s taen her mantle her about, Her coffer by the band, And she is on to Charter wood, As fast as she coud gang. 39G.17	She hadna poud a rose, a rose, Nor braken a branch but ane, Till by it came him Tam-a-Line, Says, Ladye, lat alane. 39G.18	O why pou ye the pile, Margaret, The pile o the gravil green, For to destroy the bonny bairn That we got us between? 39G.19	O why pou ye the pile, Margaret, The pile o the gravil gray, For to destroy the bonny bairn That we got in our play? 39G.20	For if it be a knave-bairn, He’s heir o a’ my land; But if it be a lass-bairn, In red gowd she shall gang. 39G.21	‘If my luve were an earthly man, As he’s an elfin rae, I coud gang bound, love, for your sake, A twalmonth and a day.’ 39G.22	‘Indeed your love’s an earthly man, The same as well as thee, And lang I’ve haunted Charter woods, A’ for your fair bodie.’ 39G.23	‘O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line, O tell, an tell me true, Tell me this night, an mak nae lie, What pedigree are you?’ 39G.24	‘O I hae been at gude church-door, An I’ve got christendom; I’m the Earl o’ Forbes’ eldest son, An heir ower a’ his land. 39G.25	‘When I was young, o three years old, Muckle was made o me; My step-mother put on my claithes, An ill, ill sained she me. 39G.26	‘Ae fatal morning I went out, Dreading nae injury, And thinking lang, fell soun asleep, Beneath an apple tree. 39G.27	‘Then by it came the Elfin Queen, And laid her hand on me; And from that time since ever I mind, I’ve been in her companie. 39G.28	‘O Elfin it’s a bonny place, In it fain woud I dwell; But ay at ilka seven years’ end They pay a tiend to hell, And I’m sae fou o flesh an blude, I’m sair feard for mysell.’ 39G.29	‘O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line, O tell, an tell me true; Tell me this night, an mak nae lie, What way I’ll borrow you?’ 39G.30	‘The morn is Halloweven night, The elfin court will ride, Through England, and thro a’ Scotland, And through the world wide. 39G.31	‘O they begin at sky setting, Rides a’ the evening tide; And she that will her true-love borrow, [At] Miles-corse will him bide. 39G.32	‘Ye’ll do you down to Miles-corse, Between twall hours and ane, And full your hands o holy water, And cast your compass roun. 39G.33	‘Then the first an court that comes you till Is published king and queen; The next an court that comes you till, It is maidens mony ane. 39G.34	‘The next an court that comes you till Is footmen, grooms and squires; The next an court that comes you till Is knights, and I’ll be there. 39G.35	‘I Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed, A goud star on my crown; Because I was an earthly knight, Got that for a renown. 39G.36	‘And out at my steed’s right nostril, He’ll breathe a fiery flame; Ye’ll loot you low, and sain yoursel, And ye’ll be busy then. 39G.37	‘Ye’ll take my horse then by the head, And lat the bridal fa; The Queen o’ Elfin she’ll cry out, True Tam-a-Line’s awa. 39G.38	‘Then I’ll appear in your arms Like the wolf that neer woud tame; Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go, Case we neer meet again. 39G.39	‘Then I’ll appear in your arms Like the fire that burns sae bauld; Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go, I’ll be as iron cauld. 39G.40	‘Then I’ll appear in your arms Like the adder an the snake; Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go, I am your warld’s make. 39G.41	‘Then I’ll appear in your arms Like to the deer sae wild; Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go, And I’ll father your child. 39G.42	‘And I’ll appear in your arms Like to a silken string; Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go, Till ye see the fair morning. 39G.43	‘And I’ll appear in your arms Like to a naked man; Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go, And wi you I’ll gae hame.’ 39G.44	Then she has done her to Miles-corse, Between twall hours an ane, And filled her hands o holy water, And kiest her compass roun. 39G.45	The first an court that came her till Was published king and queen; The niest an court that came her till Was maidens mony ane. 39G.46	The niest an court that came her till Was footmen, grooms and squires; The niest an court that came her till Was knights, and he was there. 39G.47	True Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed, A gowd star on his crown; Because he was an earthly man, Got that for a renown. 39G.48	And out at the steed’s right nostril, He breathd a fiery flame; She loots her low, an sains hersell, And she was busy then. 39G.49	She’s taen the horse then by the head, And loot the bridle fa; The Queen o Elfin she cried out, ‘True Tam-a-Line’s awa.’ 39G.50	‘Stay still, true Tam-a-Line,’ she says, ‘Till I pay you your fee:’ ‘His father wants not lands nor rents, He’ll ask nae fee frae thee.’ 39G.51	‘Gin I had kent yestreen, yestreen, What I ken weel the day, I shoud taen your fu fause heart, Gien you a heart o clay.’ 39G.52	Then he appeared in her arms Like the wolf that neer woud tame; She held him fast, let him not go, Case they neer meet again. 39G.53	Then he appeared in her arms Like the fire burning bauld; She held him fast, let him not go, He was as iron cauld. 39G.54	And he appeared in her arms Like the adder an the snake; She held him fast, let him not go, He was her warld’s make. 39G.55	And he appeared in her arms Like to the deer sae wild; She held him fast, let him not go, He’s father o her child. 39G.56	And he appeared in her arms Like to a silken string; She held him fast, let him not go, Till she saw fair morning. 39G.57	And he appeared in her arms Like to a naked man; She held him fast, let him not go, And wi her he’s gane hame. 39G.58	These news hae reachd thro a’ Scotland, And far ayont the Tay, That Lady Margaret, our king’s daughter, That night had gaind her prey. 39G.59	She borrowed her love at mirk midnight, Bare her young son ere day, And though ye’d search the warld wide, Ye’ll nae find sic a may.
 
39H: Tam Lin
 
39H.1	I FORBID ye, maidens a’, That wears gowd in your hair, To come or gang by Carterhaugh, For young Tam Lane is there. 39H.2	I forbid ye, maidens a’, That wears gowd in your green, To come or gang by Carterhaugh, For fear of young Tam Lane. 39H.3	‘Go saddle for me the black,’ says Janet, ‘Go saddle for me the brown, And I’ll away to Carterhaugh, And flower mysell the gown. 39H.4	‘Go saddle for me the brown,’ says Janet, ‘Go saddle for me the black, And I’ll away to Carterhaugh, And flower mysel a hat.’ * * * * * 39H.5	She had not pulld a flowr, a flowr, A flower but only three, Till up there startit young Tam Lane, Just at bird Janet’s knee. 39H.6	‘Why pullst thou the herb, Janet, And why breaks thou the tree? Why put you back the bonny babe That’s between you and me?’ 39H.7	‘If my child was to an earthly man, As it is to a wild buck rae, I would wake him the length of the winter’s night, And the lea lang simmer’s day.’ 39H.8	‘The night is Halloween, Janet, When our gude neighbours will ride, And them that would their true-love won At Blackning Cross maun bide. 39H.9	‘Many will the black ride by, And many will the brown, But I ride on a milk-white steed, And ride nearest the town: Because I was a christened knight They gie me that renown. 39H.10	‘Many will the black ride by, But far mae will the brown; But when ye see the milk-white stead, Grip fast and pull me down. 39H.11	‘Take me in yer arms, Janet, An ask, an adder lang; The grip ye get ye maun haud fast, I’ll be father to your bairn. 39H.12	‘Take me in your arms, Janet, An adder and a snake; The grip ye get ye maun haud fast, I’ll be your warld’s make.’ * * * * * 39H.13	Up bespak the Queen of Fairies, She spak baith loud and high: ‘Had I kend the day at noon Tam Lane had been won from me, 39H.14	‘I wad hae taen out his heart o flesh, Put in a heart o tree, That a’ the maids o Middle Middle Mist Should neer hae taen Tam Lane frae me.’ 39H.15	Up bespack the Queen of Fairies, And she spak wi a loud yell: ‘Aye at every seven year’s end We pay the kane to hell. And the koors they hae gane round about, And I fear it will be mysel.’
 
39I: Tam Lin
 
39I.1	‘O I FORBID ye, maidens a’, That wear gowd on your hair, To come or gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tamlane is there. 39I.2	‘There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh But maun leave him a wad, Either gowd rings, or green mantles, Or else their maidenheid. 39I.3	‘Now gowd rings ye may buy, maidens, Green mantles ye may spin, But, gin ye lose your maidenheid, Ye’ll neer get that agen.’ 39I.4	But up then spak her, fair Janet, The fairest o a’ her kin: ‘I’ll cum and gang to Carterhaugh, And ask nae leave o him.’ 39I.5	Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little abune her knee, And she has braided her yellow hair A little abune her bree. 39I.6	And when she came to Carterhaugh, She gaed beside the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsell. 39I.7	She hadna pu’d a red red rose, A rose but barely three, Till up and starts a wee wee man, At lady Janet’s knee. 39I.8	Says, Why pu ye the rose, Janet? What gars ye break the tree? Or why come ye to Carterhaugh, Withouten leave o me? 39I.9	Says, Carterhaugh it is mine ain, My daddie gave it me; I’ll come and gang to Carterhaugh, And ask nae leave o thee. 39I.10	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, Among the leaves sae green, And what they did I cannot tell, The green leaves were between. 39I.11	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, Among the roses red, And what they did I cannot say, She neer returnd a maid. 39I.12	When she cam to her father’s ha, She looked pale and wan; They thought she’d dreed some sair sickness, Or been with some leman. 39I.13	She didna comb her yellow hair Nor make meikle o her head, And ilka thing that lady took Was like to be her deid. 39I.14	It’s four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba; Janet, the wightest of them anes, Was faintest o them a’. 39I.15	Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the chess; And out there came the fair Janet, As green as any grass. 39I.16	Out and spak an auld grey-headed knight, Lay oer the castle wa: ‘And ever, alas! for thee, Janet, But we’ll be blamed a’!’ 39I.17	‘Now haud your tongue, ye auld grey knight, And an ill deid may ye die! Father my bairn on whom I will, I’ll father nane on thee.’ 39I.18	Out then spak her father dear, And he spak meik and mild: ‘And ever, alas! my sweet Janet, I fear ye gae with child.’ 39I.19	‘And if I be with child, father, Mysell maun bear the blame; There’s neer a knight about your ha Shall hae the bairnie’s name. 39I.20	‘And if I be with child, father, ’Twill prove a wondrous birth, For weel I swear I’m not wi bairn To any man on earth. 39I.21	‘If my love were an earthly knight, As he’s an elfin grey, I wadna gie my ain true love For nae lord that ye hae.’ 39I.22	She prinkd hersell and prinnd hersell, By the ae light of the moon, And she’s away to Carterhaugh, To speak wi young Tamlane. 39I.23	And when she cam to Carterhaugh, She gaed beside the well, And there she saw the steed standing, But away was himsell. 39I.24	She hadna pu’d double rose, A rose but only twae, When up and started young Tamlane, Says, Lady, thou pu’s nae mae. 39I.25	Why pu ye the rose, Janet, Within this garden grene, And a’ to kill the bonny babe That we got us between? 39I.26	‘The truth ye’ll tell to me, Tamlane, A word ye mauna lie; Gin eer ye was in haly chapel, Or sained in Christentie?’ 39I.27	‘The truth I’ll tell to thee, Janet, A word I winna lie; A knight me got, and a lady me bore, As well as they did thee. 39I.28	‘Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire, Dunbar, Earl March, is thine; We loved when we were children small, Which yet you well may mind. 39I.29	‘When I was a boy just turnd of nine, My uncle sent for me, To hunt and hauk, and ride with him, And keep him companie. 39I.30	‘There came a wind out of the north, A sharp wind and a snell, And a deep sleep came over me, And frae my horse I fell. 39I.31	‘The Queen of Fairies keppit me In yon green hill to dwell, And I’m a fairy, lyth and limb, Fair ladye, view me well. 39I.32	‘Then would I never tire, Janet, In Elfish land to dwell, But aye, at every seven years, They pay the teind to hell; And I am sae fat and fair of flesh, I fear ’twill be mysell. 39I.33	‘This night is Halloween, Janet, The morn is Hallowday, And gin ye dare your true love win, Ye hae nae time to stay. 39I.34	‘The night it is good Halloween, When fairy folk will ride, And they that wad their true-love win, At Miles Cross they maun bide.’ 39I.35	‘But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane? Or how shall I thee knaw, Amang so many unearthly knights, The like I never saw?’ 39I.36	‘The first company that passes by, Say na, and let them gae; The next company that passes by, Say na, and do right sae; The third company that passes by, Then I’ll be ane o thae. 39I.37	‘First let pass the black, Janet, And syne let pass the brown, But grip ye to the milk-white steed, And pu the rider down. 39I.38	‘For I ride on the milk-white steed, And aye nearest the town; Because I was a christend knight, They gave me that renown. 39I.39	‘My right hand will be gloved, Janet, My left hand will be bare; And these the tokens I gie thee, Nae doubt I will be there. 39I.40	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet, An adder and a snake; But had me fast, let me not pass, Gin ye wad be my maik. 39I.41	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet, An adder and an ask; They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet, A bale that burns fast. 39I.42	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet, A red-hot gad o airn; But haud me fast, let me not pass, For I’ll do you no harm. 39I.43	‘First dip me in a stand o milk, And then in a stand o water; But had me fast, let me not pass, I’ll be your bairn’s father. 39I.44	‘And next they’ll shape me in your arms A tod but and an eel; But had me fast, nor let me gang, As you do love me weel. 39I.45	‘They’ll shape me in your arms, Janet, A dove but and a swan, And last they’ll shape me in your arms A mother-naked man; Cast your green mantle over me, I’ll be myself again.’ 39I.46	Gloomy, gloomy, was the night, And eiry was the way, As fair Janet, in her green mantle, To Miles Cross she did gae. 39I.47	About the dead hour o the night She heard the bridles ring, And Janet was as glad o that As any earthly thing. 39I.48	And first gaed by the black black steed, And then gaed by the brown; But fast she gript the milk-white steed, And pu’d the rider down. 39I.49	She pu’d him frae the milk-white steed, And loot the bridle fa, And up there raise an erlish cry, ‘He’s won amang us a’!’ 39I.50	They shaped him in fair Janet’s arms An esk but and an adder; She held him fast in every shape, To be her bairn’s father. 39I.51	They shaped him in her arms at last A mother-naked man, She wrapt him in her green mantle, And sae her true love wan. 39I.52	Up then spake the Queen o Fairies, Out o a bush o broom: ‘She that has borrowd young Tamlane Has gotten a stately groom.’ 39I.53	Up then spake the Queen o Fairies, Out o a bush o rye: ‘She’s taen awa the bonniest knight In a’ my cumpanie. 39I.54	‘But had I kennd, Tamlane,’ she says, ‘A lady wad borrowd thee I wad taen out thy twa grey een, Put in twa een o tree. 39I.55	‘Had I but kennd, Tamlane,’ she says, ‘Before ye came frae hame, I wad taen out your heart o flesh, Put in a heart o stane. 39I.56	‘Had I but had the wit yestreen That I hae coft the day, I’d paid my kane seven times to hell Ere you’d been won away.’
 
39[J]: Tam Lin
 
39[J.1]	* * * * ‘The night, the night is Halloween, Tommorow’s Hallowday, . . . . . . . . . . . . 39[J.2]	‘The night, the night is Halloween, Our seely court maun ride, Thro England and thro Ireland both, And a’ the warld wide. * * * * * 39[J.3]	‘The firsten court that comes ye bye, You’ll lout, and let them gae; The seconden court that comes you bye, You’ll hail them reverently. 39[J.4]	‘The thirden court that comes you by, Sae weel’s ye will me ken, For some will be on a black, a black, And some will be on a brown, But I will be on a bluid-red steed, And will ride neist the queen. 39[J.5]	‘The thirden court that comes you bye, Sae weel’s ye will me ken, For I’ll be on a bluid-red steed, Wi three stars on his crown. 39[J.6]	‘Ye’ll tak the horse head in yer hand, And grip the bridle fast; The Queen o Elfin will gie a cry, ‘True Tamas is stown awa!’ 39[J.7]	‘And I will grow in your twa hands And adder and an eel; But the grip ye get ye’ll hold it fast, I’ll be father to yer chiel. 39[J.8]	‘I will wax in your twa hans As hot as any coal; But if you love me as you say, You’ll think of me and thole. 39[J.9]	‘O I will grow in your twa hands An adder and a snake; The grip ye get now hold it fast, And I’ll be your world’s mait. 39[J.10]	‘O I’ll gae in at your gown sleeve, And out at your gown hem, And I’ll stand up before thee then A freely naked man. 39[J.11]	‘O I’ll gae in at your gown sleeve, And out at your gown hem, And I’ll stand before you then, But claithing I’ll hae nane. 39[J.12]	‘Ye’ll do you down to Carden’s Ha, And down to Carden’s stream, And there you’ll see our seely court, As they come riding hame.’ * * * * * 39[J.13]	‘It’s nae wonder, my daughter Janet, Ture Tammas ye thought on; An he were a woman as he’s a man, My bedfellow he should be.’
 
39[J2]: Tam Lin
 
39[J2].1	The maid that sits in Katherine’s Hall, Clad in her robes so black, She has to yon garden gone, For flowers to flower her hat. 39[J2.2]	She had not pulled the red, red rose, A double rose but three, When up there starts a gentleman, Just at this lady’s knee. 39[J2.3]	Says, Who’s this pulls the red, red rose? Breaks branches off the tree? Or who’s this treads my garden-grass, Without the leave of me? 39[J2.4]	‘Yes, I will pull the red, red rose, Break branches off the tree, This garden in Moorcartney wood, Without the leave o thee.’ 39[J2.5:	He took her by the milk-white hand And gently laid her down, Just in below some shady trees Where the green leaves hung down. 39[J2.6]	‘Come tell to me, kind sir,’ she said, ‘What before you never told; Are you an earthly man?’ said she, ‘A knight or a baron bold?’ 39[J2.7]	‘I’ll tell to you, fair lady,’ he said, ‘What before I neer did tell; I’m Earl Douglas’s second son, With the queen of the fairies I dwell. 39[J2.8]	‘When riding through yon forest-wood, And by yon grass-green well, A sudden sleep me overtook, And off my steed I fell. 39[J2.9]	Ther queen of the fairies, being there, Made me with her to dwell, And still once in the seven years We pay a teind to hell. 39[J2.10]	‘And because I am an earthly man, Myself doth greatly fear, For the cleverest man in all our train To Pluto must go this year. 39[J2.11]	‘This night is Halloween, lady, And the fairies they will ride; The maid that will her true-love win At Miles Cross she may bide.’ 39[J2.12]	‘But how shall I thee ken, though, sir? Or how shall I thee know, Amang a pack o hellish wraiths, Before I never saw?’ 39[J2.13]	‘Some rides upon a black horse, lady, And some upon a brown, But I myself on a milk-white steed, And I aye nearest the toun. 39[J2.14]	‘My right hand shall be covered, lady, My left hand shall be bare, And that’s a token good enough That you will find me there. 39[J2.15]	‘Take the Bible in your right hand, With God for to be your guide, Take holy water in thy left hand, And throw it on every side.’ 39[J2.16]	She’s taen her mantle her about, A cane into her hand, And she has unto Miles Cross gone, As hard as she can gang. 39[J2.17]	First she has letten the black pass by, And then she has letten the brown, But she’s taen a fast hold o the milk-white steed, And she’s pulled Earl Thomas doun. 39[J2.18]	The queen of the fairies being there, Sae loud she’s letten a cry, ‘The maid that sits in Katherine’s Hall This night has gotten her prey. 39[J2.19]	‘But hadst thou waited, fair lady, Till about this time the morn, He would hae been as far from thee or me As the wind that blew when he was born.’ 39[J2.20]	They turned him in this lady’s arms Like the adder and the snake; She held him fast; why should she not? Though her poor heart was like to break. 39[J2.21]	They turned him in this lady’s arms Like two red gads of airn; She held him fast; why should she not? She knew they could do her no harm. 39[J2.22]	They turned him in this lady’s arms Like to all things that was vile; She held him fast; why should she not? The father of her child. 39[J2.23]	They turned him in this lady’s arms Like to a naked knight; She’s taen him hame to her ain bower, And clothed him in armour bright.
 
39[K]: Tam Lin
 
39[K].1	Leady Margat stands in her boor-door, Clead in the robs of green; She longed to go to Charters Woods, To pull the flowers her lean. 39[K.2]	She had not puld a rose, a rose, O not a rose but one, Till up it starts True Thomas, Said, Leady, let alone. 39[K.3]	‘Why pull ye the rose, Marget? Or why break ye the tree? Or why come ye to Charters Woods Without the leave of me?’ 39[K.4]	‘I will pull the rose,’ she said, ‘And I will break the tree, For Charters Woods is all my own, And I’l ask no leave of the.’ 39[K.5]	He’s tean her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, And laid her lo at the foot of the tree, At her he askt no leave. 39[K.6]	It fell once upon a day They wer a pleaying at the ba, And every one was reed and whyte, Leady Marget’s culler was all awa. 39[K.7]	Out it speaks an elder man, As he stood in the gate, ‘Our king’s daughter she gos we bern, And we will get the wait.’ 39[K.8]	‘If I be we bern,’ she said, ‘My own self beer the blame! There is not a man in my father’s court Will get my bern’s name.’ 39[K.9]	‘There grows a flower in Charters Woods, It grows on gravel greay, It ould destroy the boney young bern That ye got in your pley.’ 39[K.10]	She’s tean her mantle her about, Her green glove on her hand, And she’s awa to Charters Woods, As fest as she could gang. 39[K.11]	She had no puld a pile, a pile, O not a pile but one, Up it startid True Thomas, Said, Leady, lat alean. 39[K.12]	Why pull ye the pile, Marget, That grows on gravel green, For to destroy the boney young bern That we got us between?’ 39[K.13]	‘If it were to an earthly man, As [it is] to an elphan knight, I ould walk for my true-love’s sake All the long winter’s night.’ 39[K.14]	‘When I was a boy of eleven years old, And much was made of me, I went out to my father’s garden, Fell asleep at yon aple tree: The queen of Elphan [she] came by, And laid on her hands on me. 39[K.15]	‘Elphan it’s a boney place, In it fain wid I dwall; But ey at every seven years end We pay the teene to hell: I’m so full of flesh and blood I’m sear feart for mysel. 39[K.16]	‘The morn’s Hallow Even’s night, When a’ our courts do ride, Through England and through Irland, Through a’ the world wide: And she that would her true-love borrow At Miles Corse she may bide. 39[K.17]	‘The first an court that ye come till, Ye let them a’ pass by; The next an court that ye come till, Ye hile them reverendly. 39[K.18]	‘The next an court the ye come till, An therein rides the queen, Me upon a milk-whyte steed, And a gold star in my croun; Because I am a erle’s soon, I get that for my renoun. 39[K.19]	‘Ye take me in your armes, Give me a right sear fa; The queen of Elphan she’l cry out, True Thomas is awa! 39[K.20]	‘First I’l be in your armes The fire burning so bold; Ye hold me fast, let me no pass Till I be like iron cold. 39[K.21]	‘Next I’l be in your armes The fire burning so wild; Ye hold me fast, let me no pass, I’m the father of your child.’ 39[K.22]	The first court that came her till, She let them a’ pass by; The nex an court that came her till, She helt them reverendly. 39[K.23]	The nex an court that came her till, And therein read the queen, True Thomas on a milk-whyte steed, A gold star in his croun; Because he was a earl’s soon, He got that for his renoun. 39[K.24]	She’s tean him in her arms, Geen him a right sore fa; The queen of Elphan she cried out, True Thomas is awa! 39[K.25]	He was into her arms The fire burning so bold; She held him fast, let him no pass Till he was like iron cold. 39[K.26]	He was into her arms The fire burning so wild; She held him fast, let him no pass, He was the father of her child. 39[K.27]	The queen of Elphan she cried out, An angry woman was she, ‘Let Leady Marget an her true-love be, She’s bought him dearer than me.’
 
39[L]: Tam Lin
 
 
 39[L].1	I charge ye, a’ ye ladies fair,
 	That wear goud in your hair,
 	To come an gang bye Carterhaugh,
 	For young Tam Lien is there.
 	* * * * *
 39[L.2]	Then Janet kiltit her green cleadin
 	A wee aboon her knee,
 	An she’s gane away to Carterhaugh,
 	As fast as she can dree.
 39[L.3]	When Janet cam to Carterhaugh,
 	Tam Lien was at the wall,
 	An there he left his steed stannin,
 	But away he gaed his sell.
 39[L.4]	She had na pu’d a red, red rose,
 	A rose but only thre,
 	Till up then startit young Tam Lien,
 	Just at young Jenet’s knee.
 39[L.5]	‘What gars ye pu the rose, Janet,
 	Briek branches frae the tree,
 	An come an gang by Carterhaugh,
 	An speir nae leave of me?’
 39[L.6]	‘What need I speir leave o thee, Tam?
 	What need I speir leave o thee,
 	When Carterhaugh is a’ mine ain,
 	My father gae it me?’
 	* * * * *
 39[L.7]	She’s kiltit up her green cleadin
 	A wee aboon her knee,
 	An she’s away to her ain bower-door,
 	As fast as she can dree.
 	* * * * *
 39[L.8]	There war four-an-twentie fair ladies
 	A’ dancin in a chess,
 	An some war blue an some war green,
 	But Janet was like the gress.
 39[L.9]	There war four-an-twentie fair ladies
 	A’ playin at the ba,
 	An some war red an som wer white,
 	But Jennet was like the snaw.

 
 
39[M]: Tam Lin
 
39[M].1	My father was a noble knight, And was much gi’n to play, And I myself a bonny boy, And followed him away. 39[M.2]	He rowd me in his hunting-coat And layd me down to sleep, And by the queen of fairies came, And took me up to keep. 39[M.3]	She set me on a milk-whtie steed; ’Twas o the elfin kind; His feet were shot wi beaten goud, And fleeter than the wind. 39[M.4]	Then we raid on and on’ard mair, Oer mountain, hill and lee, Till we came to a hie, hie wa, Upon a mountain’s bree. 39[M.5]	The apples hung like stars of goud Out-our that wa sa fine; I put my hand to pu down ane, For want of food I thought to tine. 39[M.6]	‘O had your hand, Tamas!’ she said, ‘O let that evil fruit now be! It was that apple ye see there Beguil’d man and woman in your country. 39[M.7]	‘O dinna ye see yon road, Tamas, Down by yon lilie lee? Blessd is the man who yon gate gaes, It leads him to the heavens hie. 39[M.8]	‘And dinna ye see yon road, Tamas, Down by yon frosty fell? Curst is the man that yon gate gaes, For it leads to the gates of hell. 39[M.9]	‘O dinna ye see yon castle, Tamas, That’s biggit between the twa, And theekit wi the beaten goud? O that’s the fairies’ ha. 39[M.10]	‘O when ye come to the ha, Tamas, See that a weel-learnd boy ye be; They’ll ask ye questions ane and a’, But see ye answer nane but me. 39[M.11]	‘If ye speak to ain but me, Tamas, A fairie ye maun ever bide; But if ye speak to nane but me, Tamas, Ye may come to be your country’s pride.’ 39[M.12]	And when he came to Fairie Ha, I wot a weel-learnd boy was he; They askd him questions ane and a’, But he answerd nane but his ladie. 39[M.13]	There was four-and-twenty gude knights’-sons In fairie land obliged to bide, And of a’ the pages that were there Fair Tamas was his ladie’s pride. 39[M.14]	There was four-and-twenty earthly boys, Wha all played at the ba, But Tamas was the bonniest boy, And playd the best amang them a’. 39[M.15]	There was four-and-twenty earthly maids, Wha a’ playd at the chess, Their colour rosy-red and white, Their gowns were green as grass. 39[M.16]	‘And pleasant are our fairie sports, We flie o’er hill and dale; But at the end of seven years They pay the teen to hell. 39[M.17]	‘And now’s the time, at Hallowmess, Late on the morrow’s even, And if ye miss me then, Janet, I’m lost for yearis seven.’
 
39[N]: Tam Lin
 
 
 39[N].1	‘Gowd rings I can buy, Thomas,
 	Green mantles I can spin,
 	But gin ye take my maidenheid
 	I’ll neer get that again.’
 39[N.2]	Out and spak the queen o fairies,
 	Out o a shot o wheat,
 	‘She that has gotten young Tamlane
 	Has gotten my heart’s delight.’

 


 
40: The Queen of Elfan’s Nourice
 
40.1	I HEARD a cow low, a bonnie cow low, An a cow low down in yon glen; Lang, lang will my young son greet Or his mither bid him come ben. 40.2	I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, An a cow low down in yon fauld; Lang, lang will my young son greet Or his mither take him frae cauld. * * * * * 40.3	. . . . . . . . . Waken, Queen of Elfan, An hear your nourice moan.’ 40.4	‘O moan ye for your meat, Or moan ye for your fee, Or moan ye for the ither bounties That ladies are wont to gie?’ 40.5	‘I moan na for my meat, Nor moan I for my fee, Nor moan I for the ither bounties That ladies are wont to gie. 40.6	. . . . . . . . . . But I moan for my young son I left in four nights auld. 40.7	‘I moan na for my meat, Nor yet for my fee, But I mourn for Christen land, It’s there I fain would be.’ 40.8	‘O nurse my bairn, nourice,’ she says, ‘Till he stan at your knee, An ye’s win hame to Christen land, Whar fain it’s ye wad be. 40.9	‘O keep my bairn, nourice, Till he gang by the hauld, An ye’s win hame to your young son Ye left in four nights auld.’ * * * * * 40.10	‘O nourice lay your head Upo my knee: See ye na that narrow road Up by yon tree? 40.11	. . . . . . . . . . . That’s the road the righteous goes, And that’s the road to heaven. 40.12	‘An see na ye that braid road, Down by yon sunny fell? Yon’s the road the wicked gae, An that’s the road to hell.’ * * * * *


 
41A: Hind Etin
 
41A.1	LADY MARGARET sits in her bower door, Sewing at her silken seam; She heard a note in Elmond’s wood, And wishd she there had been. 41A.2	She loot the seam fa frae her side, And the needle to her tae, And she is on to Elmond’s wood As fast as she coud gae. 41A.3	She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut, Nor broken a branch but ane, Till by it came a young hind chiel, Says, Lady, lat alane. 41A.4	O why pu ye the nut, the nut, Or why brake ye the tree? For I am forester o this wood: Ye shoud spier leave at me. 41A.5	‘I’ll ask leave at no living man, Nor yet will I at thee; My father is king oer a’ this realm, This wood belongs to me.’ 41A.6	She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut, Nor broken a branch but three, Till by it came him Young Akin, And gard her lat them be. 41A.7	The highest tree in Elmond’s wood, He’s pu’d it by the reet, And he has built for her a bower, Near by a hallow seat. 41A.8	He’s built a bower, made it secure We carbuncle and stane; Tho travellers were never sae nigh, Appearance it had nane. 41A.9	He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood, For six lang years and one, Till six pretty sons to him she bear, And the seventh she’s brought home. 41A.10	It fell ance upon a day, This guid lord went from home, And he is to the hunting gane, Took wi him his eldest son. 41A.11	And when they were on a guid way, Wi slowly pace did walk, The boy’s heart being something wae, He thus began to talk: 41A.12	‘A question I woud ask, father, Gin ye woudna angry be:’ ‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy, Ye’se nae be quarrelld by me.’ 41A.13	‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet, I never can see them dry; And I wonder what aileth my mither, To mourn continually.’ 41A.14	‘Your mither was a king’s daughter, Sprung frae a high degree, And she might hae wed some worthy prince, Had she nae been stown by me. 41A.15	‘I was her father’s cup-bearer, Just at that fatal time; I catchd her on a misty night, Whan summer was in prime. 41A.16	‘My luve to her was most sincere, Her luve was great for me, But when she hardships doth endure, Her folly she does see.’ 41A.17	‘I’ll shoot the buntin o the bush, The linnet o the tree, And bring them to my dear mither, See if she’ll merrier be.’ 41A.18	It fell upo another day, This guid lord he thought lang, And he is to the hunting gane, Took wi him his dog and gun. 41A.19	Wi bow and arrow by his side, He’s aff, single, alane, And left his seven children to stay Wi their mither at hame. 41A.20	‘O I will tell to you, mither, Gin ye wadna angry be:’ ‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy, Ye’se nae be quarrelld by me.’ 41A.21	‘As we came frae the hynd-hunting, We heard fine music ring:’ ‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy, I wish I’d been there my lane.’ 41A.22	He’s taen his mither by the hand, His six brithers also, And they are on thro Elmond’s wood, As fast as they coud go. 41A.23	They wistna weel where they were gaen, Wi the stratlins o their feet; They wistna weel where they were gaen, Till at her father’s yate. 41A.24	‘I hae nae money in my pocket, But royal rings hae three; I’ll gie them you, my little young son, And ye’ll walk there for me. 41A.25	‘Ye’ll gie the first to the proud porter, And he will lat you in; Ye’ll gie the next to the butler-boy, And he will show you ben; 41A.26	‘Ye’ll gie the third to the minstrel That plays before the king; He’ll play success to the bonny boy Came thro the wood him lane.’ 41A.27	He gae the first to the proud porter, And he opend an let him in; He gae the next to the butler-boy, And he has shown him ben; 41A.28	He gae the third to the minstrel That playd before the king; And he playd success to the bonny boy Came thro the wood him lane. 41A.29	Now when he came before the king, Fell low down on his knee; The king he turned round about, And the saut tear blinded his ee. 41A.30	‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, Gang frae my companie; Ye look sae like my dear daughter, My heart will birst in three.’ 41A.31	‘If I look like your dear daughter, A wonder it is none; If I look like your dear daughter, I am her eldest son.’ 41A.32	‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy, Where may my Margaret be?’ ‘She’s just now standing at your yates, And my six brithers her wi.’ 41A.33	‘O where are all my porter-boys That I pay meat and fee, To open my yates baith wide and braid? Let her come in to me.’ 41A.34	When she came in before the king, Fell low down on her knee; ‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye’ll dine wi me.’ 41A.35	‘Ae bit I canno eat, father, Nor ae drop can I drink, Till I see my mither and sister dear, For lang for them I think.’ 41A.36	When she came before the queen, Fell low down on her knee; ‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear This day ye’se dine wi me.’ 41A.37	‘Ae bit I canno eat, mither, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my dear sister, For lang for her I think.’ 41A.38	When that these two sisters met, She haild her courteouslie; ‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear, This day ye’se dine wi me.’ 41A.39	‘Ae bit I canno eat, sister, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my dear husband, For lang for him I think.’ 41A.40	‘O where are all my rangers bold That I pay meat and fee, To search the forest far an wide, And bring Akin to me?’ 41A.41	Out it speaks the little wee boy: Na, na, this maunna be; Without ye grant a free pardon, I hope ye’ll nae him see. 41A.42	‘O here I grant a free pardon, Well seald by my own han; Ye may make search for Young Akin, As soon as ever you can.’ 41A.43	They searchd the country wide and braid, The forests far and near, And found him into Elmond’s wood, Tearing his yellow hair. 41A.44	‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin, Win up, and boun wi me; We’re messengers come from the court, The king wants you to see.’ 41A.45	‘O lat him take frae me my head, Or hang me on a tree; For since I’ve lost my dear lady, Life’s no pleasure to me.’ 41A.46	‘Your head will nae be touchd, Akin, Nor hangd upon a tree; Your lady’s in her father’s court, And all he wants is thee.’ 41A.47	When he came in before the king, Fell low down on his knee; ‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin, This day ye’se dine wi me.’ 41A.48	But as they were at dinner set, The boy asked a boun: ‘I wish we were in the good church, For to get christendoun. 41A.49	‘We hae lived in guid green wood This seven years and ane; But a’ this time, since eer I mind, Was never a church within.’ 41A.50	‘Your asking’s nae sae great, my boy, But granted it shall be; This day to guid church ye shall gang, And your mither shall gang you wi.’ 41A.51	When unto the guid church she came, She at the door did stan; She was sae sair sunk down wi shame, She coudna come farer ben. 41A.52	Then out it speaks the parish priest, And a sweet smile gae he: ‘Come ben, come ben, my lily flower, Present your babes to me.’ 41A.53	Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick, And likewise James and John; They calld the eldest Young Akin, Which was his father’s name. 41A.54	Then they staid in the royal court, And livd wi mirth and glee, And when her father was deceasd, Heir of the crown was she.
 
41B: Hind Etin
 
41B.1	MAY MARGRET stood in her bouer door, Kaiming doun her yellow hair; She spied some nuts growin in the wud, And wishd that she was there. 41B.2	She has plaited her yellow locks A little abune her bree, And she has kilted her petticoats A little below her knee, And she’s aff to Mulberry wud, As fast as she could gae. 41B.3	She had na pu’d a nut, a nut, A nut but barely ane, Till up started the Hynde Etin, Says, Lady, let thae alane! 41B.4	‘Mulberry wuds are a’ my ain; My father gied them me, To sport and play when I thought lang; And they sall na be tane by thee.’ 41B.5	And ae she pu’d the tither berrie, Na thinking o’ the skaith, And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin, I wad be unco laith. 41B.6	But he has tane her by the yellow locks, And tied her till a tree, And said, For slichting my commands, An ill death sall ye dree. 41B.7	He pu’d a tree out o the wud, The biggest that was there, And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep, And put May Margret there. 41B.8	‘Now rest ye there, ye saucie may; My wuds are free for thee; And gif I tak ye to mysell, The better ye’ll like me.’ 41B.9	Na rest, na rest May Margret took, Sleep she got never nane; Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor, Her head upon a stane. 41B.10	‘O tak me out,’ May Margret cried, ‘O tak me hame to thee, And I sall be your bounden page Until the day I dee.’ 41B.11	He took her out o the dungeon deep, And awa wi him she’s gane; But sad was the day an earl’s dochter Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin. * * * * * 41B.12	It fell out ance upon a day Hynde Etin’s to the hunting gane, And he has tane wi him his eldest son, For to carry his game. 41B.13	‘O I wad ask ye something, father, An ye wadna angry be;’ ‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son, Ask onie thing at me.’ 41B.14	‘My mother’s cheeks are aft times weet, Alas! they are seldom dry;’ ‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son, Tho she should brast and die. 41B.15	‘For your mother was an earl’s dochter, Of noble birth and fame, And now she’s wife o Hynde Etin, Wha neer got christendame. 41B.16	‘But we’ll shoot the laverock in the lift, The buntlin on the tree, And ye’ll tak them hame to your mother, And see if she’ll comforted be.’ * * * * * 41B.17	‘I wad ask ye something, mother, An ye wadna angry be;’ ‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son, Ask onie thing at me.’ 41B.18	‘Your cheeks they are aft times weet, Alas! they’re seldom dry;’ ‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son, Tho I whould brast and die. 41B.19	‘For I was ance an earl’s dochter, Of noble birth and fame, And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin, Wha neer got christendame.’ * * * * *
 
41C: Hind Etin
 
41C.1	‘O WELL like I to ride in a mist, And shoot in a northern win, And far better a lady to steal, That’s come of a noble kin.’ 41C.2	Four an twenty fair ladies Put on this lady’s sheen, And as mony young gentlemen Did lead her ower the green. 41C.3	Yet she preferred before them all Him, young Hastings the Groom; He’s coosten a mist before them all, And away this lady has taen. 41C.4	He’s taken the lady on him behind, Spared neither grass nor corn, Till they came to the wood o Amonshaw, Where again their loves were sworn. 41C.5	And they hae lived in that wood Full mony a year and day, And were supported from time to time By what he made of prey. 41C.6	And seven bairns, fair and fine, There she has born to him, And never was in gude church-door, Nor ever got gude kirking. 41C.7	Ance she took harp into her hand, And harped them a’ asleep, Then she sat down at their couch-side, And bitterly did weep. 41C.8	Said, Seven bairns hae I born now To my lord in the ha; I wish they were seven greedy rats, To run upon the wa, And I mysel a great grey cat, To eat them ane and a’. 41C.9	For ten lang years now I hae lived Within this cave of stane, And never was at gude church-door, Nor got no gude churching. 41C.10	O then out spake her eldest child, And a fine boy was he: O hold your tongue, my mother dear; I’ll tell you what to dee. 41C.11	Take you the youngest in your lap, The next youngest by the hand, Put all the rest of us you before, As you learnt us to gang. 41C.12	And go with us unto some kirk-+- You say they are built of stane-+- And let us all be christened, And you get gude kirking. 41C.13	She took the youngest in her lap, The next youngest by the hand, Set all the rest of them her before, As she learnt them to gang. 41C.14	And she has left the wood with them, And to the kirk has gane, Where the gude priest them christened, And gave her gude kirking.


 
42A: Clerk Colvill
 
42A.1	CLARK COLVEN and his gay ladie, As they walked to yon garden green, A belt about her middle gimp, Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen: 42A.2	‘O hearken weel now, my good lord, O hearken weel to what I say; When ye gang to the wall o Stream, O gang nae neer the well-fared may.’ 42A.3	‘O haud your tongue, my gay ladie, Tak nae sic care o me; For I nae saw a fair woman I like so well as thee.’ 42A.4	He mounted on his berry-brown steed, And merry, merry rade he on, Till he came to the wall o Stream, And there he saw the mermaiden. 42A.5	‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may, And ay’s ye wash your sark o silk:’ ‘It’s a’ for you, ye gentle knight, My skin is whiter than the milk.’ 42A.6	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, He’s taen her by the sleeve sae green, And he’s forgotten his gay ladie, And away with the fair maiden. * * * * * 42A.7	‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven, ‘And aye sae sair’s I mean my head!’ And merrily leugh the mermaiden, ‘O win on till you be dead. 42A.8	‘But out ye tak your little pen-knife, And frae my sark ye shear a gare; Row that about your lovely head, And the pain ye’ll never feel nae mair.’ 42A.9	Out he has taen his little pen-knife, And frae her sark he’s shorn a gare, Rowed that about his lovely head, But the pain increased mair and mair. 42A.10	‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven, ‘An aye sae sair’s I mean my head!’ And merrily laughd the mermaiden, ‘It will ay be war till ye be dead.’ 42A.11	Then out he drew his trusty blade, And thought wi it to be her dead, But she’s become a fish again, And merrily sprang into the fleed. 42A.12	He’s mounted on his berry-brown steed, And dowy, dowy rade he home, And heavily, heavily lighted down When to his ladie’s bower-door he came. 42A.13	‘Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed, And, gentle ladie, lay me down; Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow, ’Twill never be bent by me again.’ 42A.14	His mither she has made his bed, His gentle ladie laid him down, His brither he has unbent his bow, ’Twas never bent by him again.
 
42B: Clerk Colvill
 
42B.1	CLERK COLVILL and his lusty dame Were walking in the garden green; The belt around her stately waist Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen. 42B.2	‘O promise me now, Clerk Colvill, Or it will cost ye muckle strife, Ride never by the wells of Slane, If ye wad live and brook your life.’ 42B.3	‘Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame, Now speak nae mair of that to me; Did I neer see a fair woman, But I wad sin with her body?’ 42B.4	He’s taen leave o his gay lady, Nought minding what his lady said, And he’s rode by the wells of Slane, Where washing was a bonny maid. 42B.5	‘Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid, That wash sae clean your sark of silk;’ ‘And weel fa you, fair gentleman, Your body whiter than the milk.’ * * * * * 42B.6	Then loud, loud cry’d the Clerk Colvill, ‘O my head it pains me sair;’ ‘Then take, then take,’ the maiden said, ‘And frae my sark you’ll cut a gare.’ 42B.7	Then she’s gied him a little bane-knife, And frae her sark he cut a share; She’s ty’d it round his whey-white face, But ay his head it aked mair. 42B.8	Then louder cry’d the Clerk Colvill, ‘O sairer, sairer akes my head;’ ‘And sairer, sairer ever will,’ The maiden crys, ’Till you be dead.’ 42B.9	Out then he drew his shining blade, Thinking to stick her where she stood, But she was vanishd to a fish, And swam far off, a fair mermaid. 42B.10	‘O mother, mother, braid my hair; My lusty lady, make my bed; O brother, take my sword and spear, For I have seen the false mermaid.’
 
42C: Clerk Colvill
 
42C.1	CLERK COLIN and his mother dear Were in the garden green; The band that was about her neck Cost Colin pounds fifteen; The belt about her middle sae sma Cost twice as much again. 42C.2	‘Forbidden gin ye wad be, love Colin, Forbidden gin ye wad be, And gang nae mair to Clyde’s water, To court yon gay ladie.’ 42C.3	‘Forbid me frae your ha, mother, Forbid me frae your bour, But forbid me not frae yon ladie; She’s fair as ony flour. 42C.4	‘Forbidden I winna be, mother, Forbidden I winna be, For I maun gang to Clyde’s water, To court yon gay ladie.’ 42C.5	An he is on his saddle set, As fast as he could win, An he is on to Clyde’s water, By the lee licht o the moon. 42C.6	An when he cam to the Clyde’s water He lichted lowly down, An there he saw the mermaiden, Washin silk upon a stane. 42C.7	‘Come down, come down, now, Clerk Colin, Come down an [fish] wi me; I’ll row ye in my arms twa, An a foot I sanna jee.’ * * * * * 42C.8	‘O mother, mother, mak my bed, And, sister, lay me doun, An brother, tak my bow an shoot, For my shooting is done.’ 42C.9	He wasna weel laid in his bed, Nor yet weel fa’en asleep, When up an started the mermaiden, Just at Clerk Colin’s feet. 42C.10	‘Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin, Will ye lie there an die? Or will ye gang to Clyde’s water, To fish in flood wi me?’ 42C.11	‘I will lie here an die,’ he said, ‘I will lie here an die; In spite o a’ the deils in hell I will lie here an die.’


 
43A: The Broomfield Hill
 
43A.1	there was a knight and a lady bright, Had a true tryste at the broom; The ane gaed early in the morning, The other in the afternoon. 43A.2	And ay she sat in her mother’s bower door, And ay she made her mane: ‘O whether should I gang to the Broomfield Hill, Or should I stay at hame? 43A.3	‘For if I gang to the Broomfield Hill, My maidenhead is gone; And if I chance to stay at hame, My love will ca me mansworn.’ 43A.4	Up then spake a witch-woman, Ay from the room aboon: ‘O ye may gang to the broomfield Hill, And yet come maiden hame. 43A.5	‘For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill, Ye’ll find your love asleep, With a silver belt about his head, And a broom-cow at his feet. 43A.6	‘Take ye the blossom of the broom, The blossom it smells sweet, And strew it at your true-love’s head, And likewise at his feet. 43A.7	‘Take ye the rings off your fingers, Put them on his right hand, To let him know, when he doth awake, His love was at his command.’ 43A.8	She pu’d the broom flower on Hive Hill, And strewd on’s white hals-bane, And that was to be wittering true That maiden she had gane. 43A.9	‘O where were ye, my milk-white steed, That I hae coft sae dear, That wadna watch and waken me When there was maiden here?’ 43A.10	‘I stamped wi my foot, master, And gard my bridle ring, But na kin thing wald waken ye, Till she was past and gane.’ 43A.11	‘And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk, That I did love sae dear, That wadna watch and waken me When there was maiden here.’ 43A.12	‘I clapped wi my wings, master, And aye my bells I rang, And aye cry’d, Waken, waken, master, Before the ladye gang.’ 43A.13	‘But haste and haste, my gude white steed, To come the maiden till, Or a’ the birds of gude green wood Of your flesh shall have their fill.’ 43A.14	‘Ye need na burst your gude white steed Wi racing oer the howm; Nae bird flies faster through the wood, Than she fled through the broom.’
 
43B: The Broomfield Hill
 
 
 43B.1	‘IRR’rrLL wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager with you
 	Five hundred merks and ten,
 	That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green wood,
 	And a maiden return agen.’
 43B.2	‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager with you
 	Five hundred merks and ten,
 	That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood,
 	And a maiden return agen.’
 	* * * * *
 43B.3	She’s pu’d the blooms aff the broom-bush,
 	And strewd them on’s white hass-bane:
 	‘This is a sign whereby you may know
 	That a maiden was here, but she’s gane.’
 43B.4	‘O where was you, my good gray steed,
 	That I hae loed sae dear?
 	O why did you not awaken me
 	When my true love was here?’
 43B.5	‘I stamped with my foot, master,
 	And gard my bridle ring,
 	But you wadnae waken from your sleep
 	Till your love was past and gane.’
 43B.6	‘Now I may sing as dreary a sang
 	As the bird sung on the brier,
 	For my true love is far removd,
 	And I’ll neer see her mair.’

 
 
43C: The Broomfield Hill
 
43C.1	THERE was a knight and lady bright Set trysts amo the broom, The one to come at morning ear, The other at afternoon. 43C.2	‘I’ll wager a wager wi you,’ he said, ‘An hundred merks and ten, That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills, Return a maiden again.’ 43C.3	‘I’ll wager a wager wi you,’ she said, ‘A hundred pounds and ten, That I will gang to Broomfield Hills, A maiden return again.’ 43C.4	The lady stands in her bower door, And thus she made her mane: ‘O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills, Or shall I stay at hame? 43C.5	‘If I do gang to Broomfield Hills, A maid I’ll not return; But if I stay from Broomfield Hills, I’ll be a maid mis-sworn.’ 43C.6	Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife, Sat in the bower aboon: ‘O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills, Ye shall not stay at hame. 43C.7	‘But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills, Walk nine times round and round; Down below a bonny burn bank, Ye’ll find your love sleeping sound. 43C.8	‘Ye’ll pu the bloom frae aff the broom, Strew’t at his head and feet, And aye the thicker that ye do strew, The sounder he will sleep. 43C.9	‘The broach that is on your napkin, Put it on his breast bane, To let him know, when he does wake, That’s true love’s come and gane. 43C.10	‘The rings that are on your fingers, Lay them down on a stane, To let him know, when he does wake, That’s true love’s come and gane. 43C.11	‘And when ye hae your work all done, Ye’ll gang to a bush o’ broom, And then you’ll hear what he will say, When he sees ye are gane.’ 43C.12	When she came to Broomfield Hills, She walkd it nine times round, And down below yon burn bank, She found him sleeping sound. 43C.13	She pu’d the bloom frae aff the broom, Strew’d it at ’s head and feet, And aye the thicker that she strewd, The sounder he did sleep. 43C.14	The broach that was on her napkin, She put on his breast bane, To let him know, when he did wake, His love was come and gane. 43C.15	The rings that were on her fingers, She laid upon a stane, To let him know, when he did wake, His love was come and gane. 43C.16	Now when she had her work all dune, She went to a bush o broom, That she might hear what he did say, When he saw she was gane. 43C.17	‘O where were ye, my guid grey hound, That I paid for sae dear, Ye didna waken me frae my sleep When my true love was sae near?’ 43C.18	‘I scraped wi my foot, master, Till a’ my collars rang, But still the mair that I did scrape, Waken woud ye nane.’ 43C.19	‘Where were ye, my berry-brown steed, That I paid for sae dear, That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep When my love was sae near?’ 43C.20	‘I patted wi my foot, master, Till a’ my bridles rang, But still the mair that I did patt, Waken woud ye nane.’ 43C.21	‘O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk, That I paid for sae dear, That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep When ye sae my love near?’ 43C.22	‘I flapped wi my wings, master, Till a’ my bells they rang, But still the mair that I did flap, Waken woud ye nane.’ 43C.23	‘O where were ye, my merry young men, That I pay meat and fee, Ye woudna waken me out o’ my sleep When my love ye did see?’ 43C.24	‘Ye’ll sleep mair on the night, master, And wake mair on the day; Gae sooner down to Broomfield Hills When ye’ve sic pranks to play. 43C.25	‘If I had seen any armed men Come riding over the hill-+- But I saw but a fair lady Come quietly you until.’ 43C.26	‘O wae mat worth you, my young men, That I pay meat and fee, That ye woudna waken me frae sleep When ye my love did see. 43C.27	‘O had I waked when she was nigh, And o her got my will, I shoudna cared upon the morn Tho sma birds o her were fill.’ 43C.28	When she went out, right bitter wept, But singing came she hame; Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills, And maid returnd again.
 
43D: The Broomfield Hill
 
43D.1	‘IRR’rrLL wager, I’ll wager,’ says Lord John, ‘A hundred merks and ten, That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields, And a maid return again.’ 43D.2	‘But I’ll lay a wager wi you, Lord John, A’ your merks oure again, That I’ll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields, And a maid return again.’ 43D.3	Then Lord John mounted his grey steed, And his hound wi his bells sae bricht, And swiftly he rade to the bonny broomfields, Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht. 43D.4	‘Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed, My lady will soon be here, And I’ll lay my head aneath this rose sae red, And the bonnie burn sae near.’ 43D.5	But sound, sound was the sleep he took, For he slept till it was noon, And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away, Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon. 43D.6	She strawed the roses on the ground, Threw her mantle on the brier, And the belt around her middle sae jimp, As a taiken that she’d been there. 43D.7	The rustling leaves flew round his head, And rousd him frae his dream; He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green, That his love had been there and was gane. 43D.8	‘O whare was ye, my gude grey steed, That I coft ye sae dear, That ye didna waken your master, Whan ye kend that his love was here?’ 43D.9	‘I pautit wi my foot, master, Garrd a’ my bridles ring, And still I cried, Waken, gude master, For now is the hour and time.’ 43D.10	‘Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound, That I coft ye sae dear, That ye didna waken your master, Whan ye kend that his love was here?’ 43D.11	‘I pautit wi my foot, master, Garrd a’ my bells to ring, And still I cried, Waken, gude master, For now is the hour and time.’ 43D.12	‘But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks, That I coft ye sae dear, That ye didna waken your master, Whan ye kend that his love was here?’ 43D.13	‘O wyte na me, now, my master dear, I garrd a’ my young hawks sing, And still I cried, Waken, gude master, For now is the hour and time.’ 43D.14	‘Then be it sae, my wager gane, ’Twill skaith frae meikle ill, For gif I had found her in bonnie broomfields, O her heart’s blude ye’d drunken your fill.’
 
43E: The Broomfield Hill
 
43E.1	‘IRR’rrLL wager, I’ll wager wi you, fair maid, Five hunder punds and ten, That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower, An a maid return back agen.’ 43E.2	‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi you, kin’ sir, Five hunder punds and ten, That a maid I’ll gang to the bonnie green bower, An a maid return again.’ 43E.3	But when she cam to the bonnie green bower, Her true-love was fast asleep; Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips, An his breath was wondrous sweet. 43E.4	Sometimes she went to the crown o his head, Sometimes to the soles o his feet, Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips, An his breath was wondrous sweet. 43E.5	She’s taen a ring frae her finger, Laid it upon his breast-bane; It was for a token that she had been there, That she had been there, but was gane. 43E.6	‘Where was you, where was ye, my merry men a’, That I do luve sae dear, That ye didna waken me out o my sleep When my true love was here? 43E.7	‘Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk, That I do luve sae dear, That ye didna waken me out o my sleep Whan my true love was here?’ 43E.8	‘Wi my wings I flaw, kin’ sir, An wi my bill I sang, But ye woudna waken out o yer sleep Till your true love was gane.’ 43E.9	‘Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed, That I do luve sae dear, That ye didna waken me out o my sleep When my true love was here?’ 43E.10	‘I stampit wi my fit, maister, And made my bridle ring, But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep, Till your true love was gane.’
 
43F: The Broomfield Hill
 
43F.1	A NOBLE young squire that livd in the west, He courted a young lady gay, And as he was merry, he put forth a jest, A wager with her he would lay. 43F.2	‘A wager with me?’ the young lady reply’d, ‘I pray, about what must it be? If I like the humour you shan’t be deny’d; I love to be merry and free.’ 43F.3	Quoth he, ‘I will lay you an hundred pounds, A hundred pounds, aye, and ten, That a maid if you go to the merry broomfield, That a maid you return not again.’ 43F.4	‘I’ll lay you that wager,’ the lady she said, Then the money she flung down amain; ‘To the merry broomfield I’ll go a pure maid, The same I’ll return home again.’ 43F.5	He coverd her bett in the midst of the hall With an hundred and ten jolly pounds, And then to his servant straightway he did call, For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds. 43F.6	A ready obedience the servant did yield, And all was made ready oer night; Next morning he went to the merry broomfield, To meet with his love and delight. 43F.7	Now when he came there, having waited a while, Among the green broom down he lies; The lady came to him, and coud not but smile, For sleep then had closed his eyes. 43F.8	Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur’d, Down from her own finger so fair, That when he awaked he might be assur’d His lady and love had been there. 43F.9	She left him a posie of pleasant perfume, Then stept from the place where he lay; Then hid herself close in the besom of the broom, To hear what her true-love would say. 43F.10	He wakend and found the gold ring on his hand, Then sorrow of heart he was in: ‘My love has been here, I do well understand, And this wager I now shall not win. 43F.11	‘O where was you, my goodly gawshawk, The which I have purchasd so dear? Why did you not waken me out of my sleep When the lady, my lover, was here?’ 43F.12	‘O with my bells did I ring, master, And eke with my feet did I run; And still did I cry, Pray awake, master, She’s here now, and soon will be gone.’ 43F.13	‘O where was you, my gallant greyhound, Whose collar is flourishd with gold? Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my sleep When thou didst my lady behold?’ 43F.14	‘Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when she came, And likewise my coller I shook, And told you that here was the beautiful dame, But no notice of me then you took.’ 43F.15	‘O where was thou, my serving-man, Whom I have cloathed so fine? If you had wak’d me when she was here, The wager then had been mine.’ 43F.16	‘In the night ye should have slept, master, And kept awake in the day; Had you not been sleeping when hither she came, Then a maid she had not gone away.’ 43F.17	Then home he returnd, when the wager was lost, With sorrow of heart, I may say; The lady she laughd to find her love crost,-+- This was upon midsummer-day. 43F.18	‘O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald, And heard you when you did complain; And thus I have been to the merry broomfield, And a maid returnd back again. 43F.19	‘Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine, For now ’tis as clear as the sun, The money, the money, the money is mine, The wager I fairly have won.’


 
44: The Two Magicians
 
44.1	THE lady stands in her bower door, As straight as willow wand; The blacksmith stood a little forebye, Wi hammer in his hand. 44.2	‘Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair, Into your robes o red; Before the morn at this same time, I’ll gain your maidenhead.’ 44.3	‘Awa, awa, ye coal-black smith, Woud ye do me the wrang To think to gain my maidenhead, That I hae kept sae lang!’ 44.4	Then she has hadden up her hand, And she sware by the mold, ‘I wudna be a blacksmith’s wife For the full o a chest o gold. 44.5	‘I’d rather I were dead and gone, And my body laid in grave, Ere a rusty stock o coal-black smith My maidenhead shoud have.’ 44.6	But he has hadden up his hand, And he sware by the mass, ‘I’ll cause ye be my light leman For the hauf o that and less.’ 44.6b	O bide, lady, bide, And aye he bade her bide; The rusty smith your leman shall be, For a’ your muckle pride. 44.7	Then she became a turtle dow, To fly up in the air, And he became another dow, And they flew pair and pair. 44.7b	O bide, lady, bide, ’C.. 44.8	She turnd hersell into an eel, To swim into yon burn, And he became a speckled trout, To gie the eel a turn. 44.8b	O bide, lady, bide, ’C.. 44.9	Then she became a duck, a duck, To puddle in a peel, And he became a rose-kaimd drake, To gie the duck a dreel. 44.9b	O bide, lady, bide, ’C.. 44.10	She turnd hersell into a hare, To rin upon yon hill, And he became a gude grey-hound, And boldly he did fill. 44.10b	O bide, lady, bide, ’C.. 44.11	Then she became a gay grey mare, And stood in yonder slack, And he became a gilt saddle, And sat upon her back. 44.11b	Was she wae, he held her sae, And still he bade her bide; The rusty smith her leman was, For a’ her muckle pride. 44.12	Then she became a het girdle, And he became a cake, And a’ the ways she turnd hersell, The blacksmith was her make. 44.12b	Was she wae, etc. 44.13	She turnd hersell into a ship, To sail out ower the flood; He ca’ed a nail intill her tail, And syne the ship she stood. 44.13b	Was she wae, etc. 44.14	Then she became a silken plaid, And stretchd upon a bed, And he became a green covering, And gaind her maidenhead. 44.14b	Was she wae, etc.


 
45A: King John and the Bishop
 
45A.1	OFF an ancient story Ile tell you anon, Of a notable prince that was called King Iohn, In England was borne, with maine and with might; Hee did much wrong and mainteined litle right. 45A.2	This noble prince was vexed in veretye, For he was angry with the Bishopp of Canterbury; Ffor his house-keeping and his good cheere, Th rode post for him, as you shall heare. 45A.3	They rode post for him verry hastilye; The king sayd the bishopp kept a better house then hee: A hundred men euen, as I [have heard] say, The bishopp kept in his house euerye day, And fifty gold chaines, without any doubt, In veluett coates waited the bishopp about. 45A.4	The bishopp, he came to the court anon, Before his prince that was called King Iohn. As soone as the bishopp the king did see, ‘O,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp, thow art welcome to mee. There is noe man soe welcome to towne As thou that workes treason against my crowne’ 45A.5	‘My leege,’ quoth the bishopp, ‘I wold it were knowne I spend, your grace, nothing but that that’s my owne; I trust your grace will doe me noe deare For spending my owne trew gotten geere.’ 45A.6	‘Yes,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp, thou must needs dye, Eccept thou can answere mee questions three; Thy head shalbe smitten quite from thy bodye, And all thy liuing remayne vnto mee. 45A.7	‘First,’ quoth the king, ’Tell me in this steade, With this crowne of gold heere vpon my head, Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth, Lett me know within one pennye what I am worth. 45A.8	‘Secondlye, tell me without any dowbt How soone I may goe the whole world about; And thirdly, tell mee or euer I stinte, What is the thing, bishopp, that I doe thinke. Twenty dayes pardon thoust haue trulye, And come againe and answere mee.’ 45A.9	The bishopp bade the king god night att a word; He rode betwixt Cambridge and Oxenford, But neuer a doctor there was soe wise Cold shew him these questions or enterprise. 45A.10	Wherewith the bishopp was nothing gladd, But in his hart was heauy and sadd, And hyed him home to a house in the countrye, To ease some part of his melanchollye. 45A.11	His halfe-brother dwelt there, was feirce and fell, Noe better but a shepard to the bishoppe himsell; The shepard came to the bishopp anon, Saying, My Lord, you are welcome home! 45A.12	‘What ayles you,’ quoth the shepard, ’that you are soe sadd, And had wonte to haue beene soe merry and gladd?’ ‘Nothing,’ quoth the bishopp, ‘I ayle att this time; Will not thee availe to know, brother mine.’ 45A.13	‘Brother,’ quoth the shepeard, ’you haue heard itt, That	a foole may teach a wisemane witt; Say me therfore whatsoeuer you will, And if I doe you noe good, Ile doe you noe ill.’ 45A.14	Quoth the bishop: I haue beene att the court anon, Before my prince is called King Iohn, And there he hath charged mee Against his crowne with traitorye. 45A.15	If I cannott answer his misterye, Three questions hee hath propounded to mee, He will haue my land soe faire and free, And alsoe the head from my bodye. 45A.16	The first question was, to tell him in that stead, With the crowne of gold vpon his head, Amongst his nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth, To lett him know within one penye what hee is worth. 45A.17	And secondlye, to tell him with-out any doubt How soone he may goe the whole world about; And thirdlye, to tell him, or ere I stint, What is the thinge that he does thinke. 45A.18	‘Brother,’ quoth the shepard, ’you are a man of learninge; What neede you stand in doubt of soe small a thinge? Lend me,’ quoth the shepard, ’your ministers apparrell, Ile ryde to the court and answere your quarrell. 45A.19	‘Lend me your serving men, say me not nay, With all your best horsses that ryd on the way; Ile to the court, this matter to stay; Ile speake with King Iohn and heare what heele say.’ 45A.20	The bishopp with speed prepared then To sett forth the shepard with horsse and man; The shepard was liuely without any doubt; I wott a royall companye came to the court. 45A.21	The shepard hee came to the court anon Before [his] prince that was called King Iohn. As soone as the king the shepard did see, ‘O,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp thou art welcome to me.’ The shepard was soe like the bishopp his brother, The king cold not know the one from the other. 45A.22	Quoth the king, Bishopp, thou art welcome to me If thou can answer me my questions three. Said the shepeard, If it please your grace, Show mee what the first quest[i]on was. 45A.23	‘First,’ quoth the king, ’Tell mee in this stead, With the crowne of gold vpon my head, Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth, Within one pennye what I am worth.’ 45A.24	Quoth the shepard, To make your grace noe offence, I thinke you are worth nine and twenty pence; For our Lord Iesus, that bought vs all, For thirty pence was sold into thrall Amongst the cursed Iewes, as I to you doe showe; But I know Christ was one penye better then you. 45A.25	Then the king laught, and swore by St Andrew He was not thought to bee of such a small value. ‘Secondlye, tell mee with-out any doubt How soone I may goe the world round about.’ 45A.26	Saies the shepard, It is noe time with your grace to scorne, But rise betime with the sun in the morne, And follow his course till his vprising, And then you may know without any leasing. 45A.27	And this [to] your grace shall proue the same, You are come to the same place from whence you came; [In] twenty-four houres, with-out any doubt, Your grace may the world goe round about; The world round about, euen as I doe say, If with the sun you can goe the next way. 45A.28	‘And thirdlye tell me or euer I stint, What is the thing, bishoppe, that I doe thinke.’ ‘That shall I doe,’ quoth the shepeard; ’For veretye, You thinke I am the bishopp of Canterburye.’ 45A.29	‘Why, art not thou? the truth tell to me; For I doe thinke soe,’ quoth the king, ’By St Marye.’ ‘Not soe,’ quoth the shepeard; ’The truth shalbe knowne, I am his poore shepeard; my brother is att home.’ 45A.30	‘Why,’ quoth the king, ’if itt soe bee, Ile make thee bishopp here to mee.’ ‘Noe, Sir,’ quoth the shepard, ‘I pray you be still, For Ile not bee bishop but against my will; For I am not fitt for any such deede, For I can neither write nor reede.’ 45A.31	‘Why then,’ quoth the king, ‘Ile giue thee cleere A pattent of three hundred pound a yeere; That	I will giue thee franke and free; Take thee that, shepard, for coming to me. 45A.32	‘Free pardon Ile giue,’ the kings grace said, ‘To saue the bishopp, his land and his head; With him nor thee Ile be nothing wrath; Here is the pardon for him and thee both.’ 45A.33	Then the shepard he had noe more to say, But tooke the pardon and rode his way: When he came to the bishopps place, The bishopp asket anon how all things was. 45A.34	‘Brother,’ quoth the shepard, ‘I haue well sped, For I haue saued both your land and your head; The king with you is nothing wrath, For heere is the pardon for you and mee both.’ 45A.35	Then the bishopes hart was of a merry cheere: ‘Brother, thy paines Ile quitt them cleare; For I will giue thee a patent to thee and to thine Of fifty pound a yeere, land good and fine.’ 45A.36	. . . . . . . . . . ‘I will to thee noe longer croche nor creepe, Nor Ile serue thee noe more to keepe thy sheepe.’ 45A.37	Whereeuer wist you shepard before, That	had in his head witt such store To pleasure a bishopp in such a like case, To answer three questions to the kings grace? Whereeuer wist you shepard gett cleare Three hundred and fifty pound a yeere? 45A.38	I neuer hard of his fellow before. Nor I neuer shall: now I need to say noe more. I neuer knew shepeard that gott such a liuinge But David, the shepeard, that was a king.
 
45B: King John and the Bishop
 
45B.1	IRR’rrLL tell you a story, a story anon, Of a noble prince, and his name was King John; For he was a prince, and a prince of great might, He held up great wrongs, he put down great right. Refrain:	Derry down, down hey, derry down 45B.2	I’ll tell you a story, a story so merry, Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury, And of his house-keeping and high renown, Which made him resort to fair London town. 45B.3	‘How now, father abbot? ’Tis told unto me That thou keepest a far better house than I; And for [thy] house-keeping and high renown, I fear thou has treason against my crown.’ 45B.4	‘I hope, my liege, that you owe me no grudge For spending of my true-gotten goods:’ ‘If thou dost not answer me questions three, Thy head shall be taken from thy body. 45B.5	‘When I am set so high on my steed, With my crown of gold upon my head, Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth. 45B.6	‘And the next question you must not flout, How long I shall be riding the world about; And the third question thou must not shrink, But tell to me truly what I do think.’ 45B.7	‘O these are hard questions for my shallow wit, For I cannot answer your grace as yet; But if you will give me but three days space, I’ll do my endeavor to answer your grace.’ 45B.8	‘O three days space I will thee give, For that is the longest day thou hast to live. And if thou dost not answer these questions right, Thy head shall be taken from thy body quite.’ 45B.9	And as the shepherd was going to his fold, He spy’d the old abbot come riding along: ‘How now, master abbot? You’r welcome home; What news have you brought from good King John?’ 45B.10	‘Sad news, sad news I have thee to give, For I have but three days space for to live; If I do not answer him questions three, My head will be taken from my body. 45B.11	‘When he is set so high on his steed, With his crown of gold upon his head, Amongst all his nobility, with joy and much mirth, I must tell him to one penny what he is worth. 45B.12	‘And the next question I must not flout, How long he shall be riding the world about; And the third question I must not shrink, But tell him truly what he does think.’ 45B.13	‘O master, did you never hear it yet, That a fool may learn a wiseman wit? Lend me but your horse and your apparel, I’ll ride to fair London and answer the quarrel.’ 45B.14	‘Now I am set so high on my steed, With my crown of gold upon my head, Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth, Now tell me to one penny what I am worth.’ 45B.15	‘For thirty pence our Saviour was sold, Amongst the false Jews, as you have been told, And nine and twenty’s the worth of thee, For I think thou are one penny worser than he.’ 45B.16	‘And the next question thou mayst not flout; How long I shall be riding the world about.’ ‘You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he rises again, And then I am sure you will make no doubt But in twenty-four hours you’l ride it about.’ 45B.17	‘And the third question you must not shrink, But tell me truly what I do think.’ ‘All that I can do, and ’twill make you merry; For you think I’m the Abbot of Canterbury, But I’m his poor shepherd, as you may see, And am come to beg pardon for he and for me.’ 45B.18	The king he turned him about and did smile, Saying, Thou shalt be the abbot the other while: ‘O no, my grace, there is no such need, For I can neither write nor read.’ 45B.19	‘Then four pounds a week will I give unto thee For this merry jest thou hast told unto me; And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.’


 
46A: Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship
 
46A.1	THE laird of Bristoll’s daughter was in the woods walking, And by came Captain Wetherbourn, a servant to the king; And he said to his livery man, Wer’t not against the law, I would tak her to mine ain bed, and lay her neist the wa. 46A.2	‘I’m into my father’s woods, amongst my father’s trees, O kind sir, let mee walk alane, O kind sir, if you please; The butler’s bell it will be rung, and I’ll be mist awa; I’ll lye into mine ain bed, neither at stock nor wa.’ 46A.3	‘O my bonny lady, the bed it’s not be mine, For I’ll command my servants for to call it thine; The hangings are silk satin, the sheets are holland sma, And we’s baith lye in ae bed, but you’s lye neist the wa. 46A.4	‘And so, my bonny lady, -+-I do not know your name,-+- But my name’s Captain Wetherburn, and I’m a man of fame; Tho your father and a’ his men were here, I would na stand in awe To tak you to mine ain bed, and lay you neist the wa. 46A.5	‘Oh my bonny, bonny lady, if you’ll gie me your hand, You shall hae drums and trumpets to sound at your command; Wi fifty men to guard you, sae weel their swords can dra, And wee’s baith lye in ae bed, but you’s lye neist the wa.’ 46A.6	He’s mounted her upon a steid, behind his gentleman, And he himself did walk afoot, to had his lady on, With his hand about her midle sae jimp, for fear that she should fa; She man lye in his bed, but she’ll not lye neist the wa. 46A.7	He’s taen her into Edinburgh, his landlady cam ben: ‘And monny bonny ladys in Edinburgh hae I seen, But the like of this fine creature my eyes they never sa;’ ‘O dame bring ben a down-bed, for she’s lye neist the wa.’ 46A.8	‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, a+end dinna trouble me, Unless you get to my supper, and that is dishes three; Dishes three to my supper, tho I eat nane at a’, Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa. 46A.9	‘You maun get to my supper a cherry but a stane, And you man get to my supper a capon but a bane, And you man get a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga, Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll not lye neist the wa.’ 46A.10	‘A cherry whan in blossom is a cherry but a stane; A capon when he’s in the egg canna hae a bane; The dow it is a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga; And ye man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.’ 46A.11	‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, a+end dinna me perplex, Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions six; Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa, Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll not lye neist the wa. 46A.12	‘What is greener than the grass, what’s higher than the tree? What’s war than a woman’s wiss, what’s deeper than the sea? What bird sings first, and whereupon the dew down first does fa? Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll lye neist the wa.’ 46A.13	‘Virgus is greener than the grass, heaven’s higher than the tree; The deil’s war than a woman’s wish, hell’s deeper than the sea; The cock sings first, on the Sugar Loaf the dew down first does fa; And ye man lye in my bed, betweest me and the wa.’ 46A.14	‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, ‘I pray you give it oer, Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions four; Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa, Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa. 46A.15	‘You man get to me a plumb that does in winter grow; And likewise a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro; A sparrow’s horn, a priest unborn, this night to join us twa, Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.’ 46A.16	‘There is a plumb in my father’s yeard that does in winter grow; Likewise he has a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro; A sparrow’s horn, it may be found, there’s ane in every tae, There’s ane upo the mouth of him, perhaps there may be twa. 46A.17	‘The priest is standing at the door, just ready to come in; Nae man could sae that he was born, to lie it is a sin; For a wild boar bored him mother’s side, he out of it did fa; And you man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.’ 46A.18	Little kent Grizey Sinclair, that morning when she raise, ’Twas to be the hindermost of a’ her single days; For now she’s Captain Wetherburn’s wife, a man she never saw, And she man lye in his bed, but she’ll not lye neist the wa.
 
46B: Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship
 
46B.1	THE Lord of Rosslyn’s daughter gaed through the wud her lane, And there she met Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the king. He said unto his livery-man, Were’t na agen the law, I wad tak her to my ain bed, and lay her at the wa. 46B.2	‘I’m walking here my lane,’ she says, ‘amang my father’s trees; And ye may lat me walk my lane, kind sir, now gin ye please. The supper-bell it will be rung, and I’ll be missd awa; Sae I’ll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.’ 46B.3	He said, My pretty lady, I pray lend me your hand, And ye’ll hae drums and trumpets always at your command; And fifty men to guard ye wi, that weel their swords can draw; Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’ll lie at the wa. 46B.4	‘Haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray let go my hand; The supper-bell it will be rung, nae langer maun I stand. My father he’ll na supper tak, gif I be missd awa; Sae I’ll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.’ 46B.5	‘O my name is Captain Wedderburn, my name I’ll neer deny, And I command ten thousand men, upo yon mountains high. Tho your father and his men were here, of them I’d stand na awe, But should tak ye to my ain bed, and lay ye neist the wa.’ 46B.6	Then he lap aff his milk-white steed, and set the lady on, And a’ the way he walkd on foot, he held her by the hand; He held her by the middle jimp, for fear that she should fa; Saying, I’ll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay thee at the wa. 46B.7	He took her to his quartering-house, his landlady looked ben, Saying, Monie a pretty ladie in Edinbruch I’ve seen; But sic ’na pretty ladie is not into it a’: Gae, mak for her a fine down-bed, and lay her at the wa. 46B.8	‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye lat me be, For I’ll na lie in your bed till I get dishes three; Dishes three maun be dressd for me, gif I should eat them a’, Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa. 46B.9	‘’Tis I maun hae to my supper a chicken without a bane; And I maun hae to my supper a cherry without a stane; And I maun hae to my supper a bird without a gaw, Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’ 46B.10	‘Whan the chicken’s in the shell, I am sure it has na bane; And whan the cherry’s in the bloom, I wat it has na stane; The dove she is a genty bird, she flees without a gaw; Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’ll be at the wa.’ 46B.11	‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye give me owre, For I’ll na lie in your bed, till I get presents four; Presents four ye maun gie me, and that is twa and twa, Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa. 46B.12	‘’Tis I maun hae some winter fruit that in December grew; And I maun hae a silk mantil that waft gaed never through; A sparrow’s horn, a priest unborn, this nicht to join us twa, Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’ 46B.13	‘My father has some winter fruit that in December grew; My mither has a silk mantil the waft gaed never through; A sparrow’s horn ye soon may find, there’s ane on evry claw, And twa upo the gab o it, and ye shall get them a. 46B.14	‘The priest he stands without the yett, just ready to come in; Nae man can say he eer was born, nae man without he sin; He was haill cut frae his mither’s side, and frae the same let fa; Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’se lie at the wa.’ 46B.15	‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray don’t me perplex, For I’ll na lie in your bed till ye answer questions six: Questions six ye maun answer me, and that is four and twa, Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa. 46B.16	‘O what is greener than the gress, what’s higher than thae trees? O what is worse than women’s wish, what’s deeper than the seas? What bird craws first, what tree buds first, what first does on them fa? Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’ 46B.17	‘Death is greener than the gress, heaven higher than thae trees; The devil’s waur than women’s wish, hell’s deeper than the seas; The cock craws first, the cedar buds first, dew first on them does fa; Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’se lie at the wa.’ 46B.18	Little did this lady think, that morning whan she raise, That this was for to be the last o a’ her maiden days. But there’s na into the king’s realm to be found a blither twa, And now she’s Mrs. Wedderburn, and she lies at the wa.
 
46C: Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship
 
46C.1	THE laird of Roslin’s daughter walked thro the wood her lane, And by came Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the Queen; He said unto his serving man, Wer’t not agaynst the law, I would tak her to my ain house as lady o my ha. 46C.2	He said, My pretty ladye, I pray give me your hand; You shall have drums and trumpets always at your command; With fifty men to guard you, that well their swords can draw, And I’ll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay you next the wa. 46C.3	‘I’m walking in my feyther’s shaws:’ quo he, My charming maid, I am much better than I look, so be you not afraid; For I serve the queen of a’ Scotland, and a gentil dame is she; So we’se be married ere the morn, gin ye can fancy me. 46C.4	. . . . . . . . . . . ‘The sparrow shall toot on his horn, gif naething us befa, And I’ll mak you up a down-bed, and lay you next the wa. 46C.5	‘Now hold away from me, kind sir, I pray you let me be; I wont be lady of your ha till you answer questions three; Questions three you must answer me, and that is one and twa, Before I gae to Woodland’s house, and be lady o your ha. 46C.6	‘You must get me to my supper a chicken without a bone; You must get me to my supper a cherry without a stone; You must get me to my supper a bird without a ga, Before I go to Woodland’s house and be lady of your ha.’ 46C.7	‘When the cherry is in the bloom, I’m sure it has no stone; When the chicken’s in the shell, I’m sure it has nae bone; The dove she is a gentil bird, and flies without a ga; So I’ve answered you your questions three, and you’re lady of my ha.’ * * * * * 46C.8	‘Questions three you must answer me: What’s higher than the trees? And what is worse than woman’s voice? What’s deeper than the seas?’ . . . . . . . . . . . 46C.9	He answered then so readily: Heaven’s higher than the trees; The devil’s worse than woman’s voice; hell’s deeper than the seas; . . . . . . . . . . . 46C.10	‘One question still you must answer me, or you I laugh to scorn; Go seek me out an English priest, of woman never born;’ . . . . . . . . . . . 46C.11	‘Oh then,’ quo he, ’My young brother from mother’s side was torn, And he’s a gentil English priest, of woman never born;’ . . . . . . . . . . . 46C.12	Little did his lady think, that morning when she raise, It was to be the very last of all her mayden days; . . . . . . . . .


 
47A: Proud Lady Margaret
 
47A.1	RR’rrTWAS on a night, an evening bright, When the dew began to fa, Lady Margaret was walking up and down, Looking oer her castle wa. 47A.2	She looked east and she looked west, To see what she could spy, When a gallant knight came in her sight, And to the gate drew nigh. 47A.3	‘You seem to be no gentleman, You wear your boots so wide; But you seem to be some cunning hunter, You wear the horn so syde.’ 47A.4	‘I am no cunning hunter,’ he said, ‘Nor neer intend to be; But I am come to this castle To seek the love of thee. And if you do not grant me love, This night for thee I’ll die.’ 47A.5	‘If you should die for me, sir knight, There’s few for you will meane; For mony a better has died for me, Whose graves are growing green. 47A.6	[‘But ye maun read my riddle,’ she said, ‘And answer my questions three; And but ye read them right,’ she said, ‘Gae stretch ye out and die.] 47A.7	‘Now what is the flower, the ae first flower, Springs either on moor or dale? And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird, Sings on the evening gale?’ 47A.8	‘The primrose is the ae first flower Springs either on moor or dale, And the thristlecock is the bonniest bird Sings on the evening gale.’ 47A.9	[‘But what’s the little coin,’ she said, ‘Wald buy my castle bound? And what’s the little boat,’ she said, ‘Can sail the world all round?’] 47A.10	‘O hey, how mony small pennies Make thrice three thousand pound? Or hey, how mony salt fishes Swim a’ the salt sea round?’ 47A.11	‘I think you maun be my match,’ she said, ‘My match and something mair; You are the first eer got the grant Of love frae my father’s heir. 47A.12	‘My father was lord of nine castles, My mother lady of three; My father was lord of nine castles, And there’s nane to heir but me. 47A.13	‘And round about a’ thae castles You may baith plow and saw, And on the fifteenth day of May The meadows they will maw.’ 47A.14	‘O hald your tongue, Lady Margaret,’ he said, ‘For loud I hear you lie; Your father was lord of nine castles, Your mother was lady of three; Your father was lord of nine castles, But ye fa heir to but three. 47A.15	‘And round about a’ thae castles You may baith plow and saw, But on the fifteenth day of May The meadows will not maw. 47A.16	‘I am your brother Willie,’ he said, ‘I trow ye ken na me; I came to humble your haughty heart, Has gard sae mony die.’ 47A.17	‘If ye be my brother Willie,’ she said, ‘As I trow weel ye be, This night I’ll neither eat nor drink, But gae alang wi thee.’ 47A.18	‘O hold your tongue, Lady Margaret,’ he said, ‘Again I hear you lie; For ye’ve unwashen hands and ye’ve unwashen feet, To gae to clay wi me. 47A.19	‘For the wee worms are my bedfellows, And cauld clay is my sheets, And when the stormy winds do blow, My body lies and sleeps.’
 
47B: Proud Lady Margaret
 
47B.1	THERE was a knight, in a summer’s night, Appeard in a lady’s hall, As she was walking up and down, Looking oer her castle wall. 47B.2	‘God make you safe and free, fair maid, God make you safe and free!’ ‘O sae fa you, ye courteous knight, What are your wills wi me?’ 47B.3	‘My wills wi you are not sma, lady, My wills wi you nae sma, And since there’s nane your bower within, Ye’se hae my secrets a’. 47B.4	‘For here am I a courtier, A courtier come to thee, And if ye winna grant your love, All for your sake I’ll dee.’ 47B.5	‘If that ye dee for me, sir knight, Few for you will make meen; For mony gude lord’s done the same, Their graves are growing green.’ 47B.6	‘O winna ye pity me, fair maid, O winna ye pity me? O winna ye pity a courteous knight, Whose love is laid on thee?’ 47B.7	‘Ye say ye are a courteous knight, But I think ye are nane; I think ye’re but a millar bred, By the colour o your claithing. 47B.8	‘You seem to be some false young man, You wear your hat sae wide; You seem to be some false young man, You wear your boots sae side.’ 47B.9	‘Indeed I am a courteous knight, And of great pedigree; Nae knight did mair for a lady bright Than I will do for thee. 47B.10	‘O I’ll put smiths in your smithy, To shoe for you a steed, And I’ll put tailors in your bower, To make for you a weed. 47B.11	‘I will put cooks in your kitchen, And butlers in your ha, And on the tap o yourn father’s castle I’ll big gude corn and saw.’ 47B.12	‘If ye be a courteous knight, As I trust not ye be, Ye’ll answer some o the sma questions That I will ask at thee. 47B.13	‘What is the fairest flower, tell me, That grows in mire or dale? Likewise, which is the sweetest bird Sings next the nightingale? Or what’s the finest thing,’ she says, ‘That king or queen can wile?’ 47B.14	‘The primrose is the fairest flower That grows in mire or dale; The mavis is the sweetest bird Next to the nightingale; And yellow gowd’s the finest thing That king or queen can wale. 47B.15	‘Ye hae asked many questions, lady, I’ve you as many told;’ ‘But how many pennies round Make a hundred pounds in gold? 47B.16	‘How many of the small fishes Do swim the salt seas round? Or what’s the seemliest sight you’ll see Into a May morning?’ * * * * * 47B.17	‘Berry-brown ale and a birken speal, And wine in a horn green; A milk-white lace in a fair maid’s dress Looks gay in a May morning.’ 47B.18	‘Mony’s the questions I’ve askd at thee, And ye’ve answerd them a’; Ye are mine, and I am thine, Amo the sheets sae sma. 47B.19	‘You may be my match, kind sir, You may be my match and more; There neer was ane came sic a length Wi my father’s heir before. 47B.20	‘My father’s lord o nine castles, My mother she’s lady ower three, And there is nane to heir them all, No never a ane but me; Unless it be Willie, my ae brother, But he’s far ayont the sea.’ 47B.21	‘If your father’s laird o nine castles, Your mother lady ower three, I am Willie your ae brother, Was far beyond the sea.’ 47B.22	‘If ye be Willie, my ae brother, As I doubt sair ye be, But if it’s true ye tell me now, This night I’ll gang wi thee.’ 47B.23	‘Ye’ve ower ill washen feet, Janet, And ower ill washen hands, And ower coarse robes on your body, Alang wi me to gang. 47B.24	‘The worms they are my bed-fellows, And the cauld clay my sheet, And the higher that the wind does blaw, The sounder I do sleep. 47B.25	‘My body’s buried in Dumfermline, And far beyond the sea, But day nor night nae rest coud get, All for the pride o thee. 47B.26	‘Leave aff your pride, jelly Janet,’ he says, ‘Use it not ony mair; Or when ye come where I hae been You will repent it sair. 47B.27	‘Cast aff, cast aff, sister,’ he says, ‘The gowd lace frae your crown; For if ye gang where I hae been, Ye’ll wear it laigher down. 47B.28	‘When ye’re in the gude church set, The gowd pins in your hair, Ye take mair delight in your feckless dress Than ye do in your morning prayer. 47B.29	‘And when ye walk in the church-yard, And in your dress are seen, There is nae lady that sees your face But wishes your grave were green. 47B.30	‘You’re straight and tall, handsome withall, But your pride owergoes your wit, But if ye do not your ways refrain, In Pirie’s chair ye’ll sit. 47B.31	‘In Pirie’s chair you’ll sit, I say, The lowest seat o hell; If ye do not amend your ways, It’s there that ye must dwell.’ 47B.32	Wi that he vanishd frae her sight, Wi the twinkling o an eye; Naething mair the lady saw But the gloomy clouds and sky.
 
47C: Proud Lady Margaret
 
47C.1	ONCE there was a jolly hind squire Appeard in a lady’s ha, And aye she walked up and down, Looking oer her castle wa. 47C.2	‘What is your wills wi me, kind sir? What is your wills wi me?’ ‘My wills are [not] sma wi thee, lady, My wills are [not] sma wi thee. 47C.3	‘For here I stand a courtier, And a courtier come to thee, And if ye will not grant me your love, For your sake I will die.’ 47C.4	‘If you die for my sake,’ she says, ‘Few for you will make moan; Many better’s died for my sake, Their graves are growing green. 47C.5	‘You appear to be some false young man, You wear your hat so wide; You appear to be some false young man, You wear your boots so side. 47C.6	‘An asking, asking, sir,’ she said, ‘An asking ye’ll grant me:’ ‘Ask on, ask on, lady,’ he said, ‘What may your asking be?’ 47C.7	‘What’s the first thing in flower,’ she said, ‘That springs in mire or dale? What’s the next bird that sings,’ she says, ‘Unto the nightingale? Or what is the finest thing,’ she says, ‘That king or queen can wile?’ 47C.8	‘The primrose is the first in flower That springs in mire or dale; The thristle-throat is the next that sings Unto the nightingale; And yellow gold is the finest thing That king or queen can wile. 47C.9	‘You have asked many questions, lady, I’ve you as many told;’ ‘But how many pennies round Make a hundred pounds in gold? 47C.10	‘How many small fishes Do swim the salt seas round? Or what’s the seemliest sight you’ll see Into a May morning? * * * * * 47C.11	‘There’s ale into the birken scale, Wine in the horn green; There’s gold in the king’s banner When he is fighting keen.’ 47C.12	‘You may be my match, kind sir,’ she said, ‘You may be my match and more; There neer was one came such a length With my father’s heir before. 47C.13	‘My father’s lord of nine castles, No body heir but me.’ ‘Your father’s lord of nine castles, Your mother’s lady of three; 47C.14	‘Your father’s heir of nine castles, And you are heir to three; For I am William, thy ae brother, That died beyond the sea.’ 47C.15	‘If ye be William, my ae brother, This night, O well is me! If ye be William, my ae brother, This night I’ll go with thee.’ 47C.16	‘For no, for no, jelly Janet,’ he says, ‘For no, that cannot be; You’ve oer foul feet and ill washen hands To be in my company. 47C.17	‘For the wee wee worms are my bedfellows, And the cold clay is my sheet, And the higher that the winds do blow, The sounder I do sleep. 47C.18	‘Leave off your pride, jelly Janet,’ he says, ‘Use it not any more; Or when you come where I have been You will repent it sore. 47C.19	‘When you go in at yon church door, The red gold on your hair, More will look at your yellow locks Than look on the Lord’s prayer. 47C.20	‘When you go in at yon church door, The red gold on your crown; When you come where I have been, You’ll wear it laigher down.’ 47C.21	The jolly hind squire, he went away In the twinkling of an eye, Left the lady sorrowful behind, With many bitter cry.
 
47D: Proud Lady Margaret
 
47D.1	THERE cam a knicht to Archerdale, His steed was winder sma, An there he spied a lady bricht, Luikin owre her castle wa. 47D.2	‘Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht, Though on horseback ye do ride; Ye seem to be some sutor’s son, Your butes they are sae wide.’ 47D.3	‘Ye dinna seem a lady gay, Though ye be bound wi pride; Else I’d gane bye your father’s gate But either taunt or gibe.’ 47D.4	He turned aboot his hie horse head, An awa he was boun to ride, But neatly wi her mouth she spak: Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide. 47D.5	‘Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire, Tell me mair o your tale; Tell me some o that wondrous lied Ye’ve learnt in Archerdale. 47D.6	‘What gaes in a speal?’ she said, ‘What in a horn green? An what gaes on a lady’s head, Whan it is washen clean?’ 47D.7	‘Ale gaes in a speal,’ he said, ‘Wine in a horn green; An silk gaes on a lady’s head, Whan it is washen clean.’ 47D.8	Aboot he turned his hie horse head, An awa he was boun to ride, When neatly wi her mouth she spak: Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide. 47D.9	‘Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire, Tell me mair o your tale; Tell me some o that unco lied You’ve learnt in Archerdale. 47D.10	‘Ye are as like my ae brither As ever I did see; But he’s been buried in yon kirkyaird It’s mair than years is three.’ 47D.11	‘I am as like your ae brither As ever ye did see; But I canna get peace into my grave, A’ for the pride o thee. 47D.12	‘Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet, Leave pride an vanitie; If ye come the roads that I hae come, Sair warned will ye be. 47D.13	‘Ye come in by yonder kirk Wi the goud preens in your sleeve; When you’re bracht hame to yon kirkyaird, You’ll gie them a’ thier leave. 47D.14	‘Ye come in to yonder kirk Wi the goud plaits in your hair; When you’re bracht hame to yon kirkyaird, You will them a’ forbear.’ 47D.15	He got her in her mither’s bour, Puttin goud plaits in her hair; He left her in her father’s gairden, Mournin her sins sae sair.
 
47E: Proud Lady Margaret
 
47E.1	FAIR MARGRET was a young ladye, An come of high degree; Fair Margret was a young ladye, An proud as proud coud be. 47E.2	Fair Margret was a rich ladye, The king’s cousin was she; Fair Margaret was a rich ladye, An vain as vain coud be. 47E.3	She war’d her wealth on the gay cleedin That comes frae yont the sea, She spent her time frae morning till night Adorning her fair bodye. 47E.4	Ae night she sate in her stately ha, Kaimin her yellow hair, When in there cum like a gentle knight, An a white scarf he did wear. 47E.5	‘O what’s your will wi me, sir knight, O what’s your will wi me? You’re the likest to my ae brother That ever I did see. 47E.6	‘You’re the likest to my ae brother That ever I hae seen, But he’s buried in Dunfermline kirk, A month an mair bygane.’ 47E.7	‘I’m the likest to your ae brother That ever ye did see, But I canna get rest into my grave, A’ for the pride of thee. 47E.8	‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret, Leave pride an vanity; Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen, Sair altered ye maun be. 47E.9	‘O ye come in at the kirk-door Wi the gowd plaits in your hair; But wud ye see what I hae seen, Ye maun them a’ forbear. 47E.10	‘O ye come in at the kirk-door Wi the gowd prins i your sleeve; But wad ye see what I hae seen, Ye maun gie them a’ their leave. 47E.11	‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret, Leave pride an vanity; Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen, Sair altered ye maun be.’ 47E.12	He got her in her stately ha, Kaimin her yellow hair, He left her on her sick sick bed, Sheding the saut saut tear.


 
48: Young Andrew
 
48.1	AS I was cast in my first sleepe, A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew, Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man, Some men called him yonge Andrew. 48.2	The moone shone bright, and itt cast a fayre light, Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, and my sweete! For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere, And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete. 48.3	Then he tooke her in his armes two, And kissed her both cheeke and chin, And twise or thrise he pleased this may Before they tow did part in twinn. 48.4	Saies, Now, good sir, you haue had your will, You can demand no more of mee; Good sir, remember what you said before, And goe to the church and marry mee. 48.5	‘Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold; . . . . . Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold, And I’le goe to the church and marry thee. 48.6	This ladye is gone to her fathers hall, And well she knew where his red gold lay, And counted forth five hundred pound, Besides all other iuells and chaines: 48.7	was well counted vpon his knee; And brought itt all to younge Andrew, Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand, And led her vp to an hill soe hye. 48.8	Shee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett, (A pittyffull sight after yee shall see:) ‘Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,’ he sayes, ‘For noe foote further thoust gang with mee.’ 48.9	But then shee put of her gowne of veluett, With many a salt teare from her eye, And in a kirtle of fine breaden silke Shee stood beffore young Andrews eye. 48.10	Sais, O put off thy kirtle of silke, Ffor some and all shall goe with mee; And to my owne lady I must itt beare, Who I must needs loue better then thee. 48.11	Then shee put of her kirtle of silke, With many a salt teare still from her eye; In a peticoate of scarlett redd Shee stood before young Andrewes eye. 48.12	Saies, O put of thy peticoate, For some and all of itt shall goe with mee; And to my owne lady I will itt beare, Which dwells soe farr in a strange countrye 48.13	But then shee put of her peticoate, With many a salt teare still from her eye, And in a smocke of braue white silke She stood before young Andrews eye. 48.14	Saies, O put of thy smocke of silke, For some and all shall goe with mee; Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare, That	dwells soe farr in a strange countrye. 48.15	Sayes, O remember, young Andrew, Once of a woman you were borne; And for that birth that Marye bore, I pray you let my smocke be vpon! 48.16	‘Yes, fayre ladye, I know itt well, Once of a woman I was borne; Yett for noe birth that Mary bore, Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.’ 48.17	But then shee put of her head-geere fine; Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound; The hayre that was vpon this bony wench head Couered her bodye downe to the ground. 48.18	Then he pulled forth a Scottish brand, And held itt there in his owne right hand; Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords point, ladye, Or thow wilt goe naked home againe? 48.19	‘Liffe is sweet,’ then, ’Sir,’ said shee, ‘Therfore I pray you leaue mee with mine; Before I wold dye on your swords point, I had rather goe naked home againe. 48.20	‘My father,’ shee sayes, ’is a right good erle As any remaines in his countrye; If euer he doe your body take, You’r sure to flower a gallow tree. 48.21	‘And I haue seuen brethren,’ shee sayes, ‘And they are all hardy men and bold; Giff euer th doe your body take, You must neuer gang quicke ouer the mold.’ 48.22	‘If your father be a right good erle As any remaines in his owne countrye, Tush! he shall neuer by body take, I’le gang soe fast ouer the sea. 48.23	‘If you have seuen brethren,"] he sayes, ‘If they be neuer soe hardy or bold, Tush! they shall neuer my body take, I’le gang soe fast into the Scottish mold.’ 48.24	Now this ladye is gone to her fathers hall, When euery body their rest did take; But the Erle which was her father Lay waken for his deere daughters sake. 48.25	‘But who is that,’ her father can say, ’That soe priuilye knowes the pinn?’ ‘It’s Hellen, your owne deere daughter, father, I pray you rise and lett me in.’ 48.26	. . . . . ‘Noe, by my hood!’ quoth her father then, ‘My [house] thoust neuer come within, Without I had my red gold againe.’ 48.27	‘Nay, your gold is gone, father!’ said shee, . . . . . ‘Then naked thou came into this world, And naked thou shalt returne againe.’ 48.28	‘Nay! God forgaue his death, father,’ shee sayes, ‘And soe I hope you will doe mee;’ ‘Away, away, thou cursed woman, I pray God an ill death thou may dye!’ 48.29	Shee stood soe long quacking on the ground Till her hart itt burst in three; And then shee fell dead downe in a swoond, And this was the end of this bonny ladye. 48.30	Ithe morning, when her father gott vpp, A pittyffull sight there he might see; His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes, The teares they trickeled fast from his eye. 48.31	. . . . . . Sais, Fye of gold, and fye of fee! For I sett soe much by my red gold That	now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!’ 48.32	. . . . . . But after this time he neere dought good day, But as flowers doth fade in the frost, Soe he did wast and weare away. 48.33	But let vs leaue talking of this ladye, And talke some more of young Andrew; Ffor false he was to this bonny ladye, More pitty that he had not beene true. 48.34	He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest, Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales, But there they cought him by such a braue wyle That	hee must come to tell noe more tales. * * * * * 48.35	. . . . . Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell, And shee came roaring like a beare, And gaping like a feend of hell. 48.36	Soe they fought together like two lyons, And fire betweene them two glashet out; Th raught eche other such a great rappe, That	there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott. 48.37	But now young Andrew he is dead, But he was neuer buryed vnder mold, For ther as the wolfe devoured him, There lyes all this great erles gold.


 
49A: The Twa Brothers
 
49A.1	THERE were twa brethren in the north, They went to the school thegither; The one unto the other said, Will you try a warsle afore? 49A.2	They warsled up, they warsled down, Till Sir John fell to the ground, And there was a knife in Sir Willie’s pouch, Gied him a deadlie wound. 49A.3	‘Oh brither dear, take me on your back, Carry me to yon burn clear, And wash the blood from off my wound, And it will bleed nae mair.’ 49A.4	He took him up upon his back, Carried him to yon burn clear, And washd the blood from off his wound, But aye it bled the mair. 49A.5	‘Oh brither dear, take me on your back, Carry me to yon kirk-yard, And dig a grave baith wide and deep, And lay my body there.’ 49A.6	He’s taen him up upon his back, Carried him to yon kirk-yard, And dug a grave baith deep and wide, And laid his body there. 49A.7	‘But what will I say to my father dear, Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’ ‘Oh say that he’s to England gone, To buy him a cask of wine.’ 49A.8	‘And what will I say to my mother dear, Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’ ‘Oh say that he’s to England gone, To buy her a new silk gown.’ 49A.9	‘And what will I say to my sister dear, Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’ ‘Oh say that he’s to England gone, To buy her a wedding ring.’ 49A.10	‘But what will I say to her you loe dear, Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?’ ‘Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair, And home again will never come.’
 
49B: The Twa Brothers
 
49B.1	THERE was two little boys going to the school, And twa little boys they be, They met three brothers playing at the ba, And ladies dansing hey. 49B.2	‘It’s whether will ye play at the ba, brither, Or else throw at the stone?’ ‘I am too little, I am too young, O brother let me alone.’ 49B.3	He pulled out a little penknife, That was baith sharp and sma, He gave his brother a deadly wound That was deep, long and sair. 49B.4	He took the holland sark off his back, He tore it frae breast to gare, He laid it to the bloody wound, That still bled mair and mair. 49B.5	‘It’s take me on your back, brother,’ he says, ‘And carry me to yon kirk-yard, And make me there a very fine grave, That will be long and large. 49B.6	‘Lay my bible at my head,’ he says, ‘My chaunter at my feet, My bow and arrows by my side, And soundly I will sleep. 49B.7	‘When you go home, brother,’ he says, ‘My father will ask for me; You may tell him I am in Saussif town, Learning my lesson free. 49B.8	‘When you go home, brother,’ he says, ‘My mother will ask for me; You may tell her I am in Sausaf town, And I’ll come home merrily. 49B.9	‘When you go home, brother,’ he says, ‘Lady Margaret will ask for me; You may tell her I’m dead and in grave laid, And buried in Sausaff toun.’ 49B.10	She put the small pipes to her mouth, And she harped both far and near, Till she harped the small birds off the briers, And her true love out of the grave. 49B.11	‘What’s this? what’s this, lady Margaret?’ he says, ‘What’s this you want of me?’ ‘One sweet kiss of your ruby lips, That’s all I want of thee.’ 49B.12	‘My lips they are so bitter,’ he says, ‘My breath it is so strong, If you get one kiss of my ruby lips, Your days will not be long.’
 
49C: The Twa Brothers
 
49C.1	THERE were twa brithers at ae scule; As they were coming hame, Then said the ane until the other ‘John, will ye throw the stane?’ 49C.2	‘I will not throw the stane, brither, I will not play at the ba; But gin ye come to yonder wood I’ll warsle you a fa.’ 49C.3	The firsten fa young Johnie got, It brought him to the ground; The wee pen-knife in Willie’s pocket Gied him a deadly wound. 49C.4	‘Tak aff, tak aff, my holland sark, And rive it frae gore to gore, And stap it in my bleeding wounds, They’ll aiblins bleed noe more.’ 49C.5	He pouit aff his holland sark, And rave it frae gore to gore, And stapt it in his bleeding wounds, But ay they bled the more. 49C.6	‘O brither, tak me on your back, And bear me hence away, And carry me to Chester kirk, And lay me in the clay.’ 49C.7	‘What will I say to your father, This night when I return?’ ‘Tell him I’m gane to Chester scule, And tell him no to murn.’ 49C.8	‘What will I say to your mother, This nicht whan I gae hame?’ ‘She wishd afore I cam awa That I might neer gae hame.’ 49C.9	‘What will I say to your true-love, This nicht when I gae hame?’ ‘Tell her I’m dead and in my grave, For her dear sake alane.’ 49C.10	He took him upon his back And bore him hence away, And carried him to Chester kirk, And laid him in the clay. 49C.11	He laid him in the cauld cauld clay, And he cuirt him wi a stane, And he’s awa to his fathers ha, Sae dowilie alane. 49C.12	‘You’re welcome, dear son,’ he said, ‘You’re welcome hame to me; But what’s come o your brither John, That gade awa wi thee?’ 49C.13	‘Oh he’s awa to Chester scule, A scholar he’ll return; He bade me tell his father dear About him no to murn.’ 49C.14	‘You’re welcome hame, dear son,’ she said, ‘You’re welcome hame to me; But what’s come o your brither John, That gade awa wi thee?’ 49C.15	‘He bade me tell his mother dear, This nicht when I cam hame, Ye wisht before he gade awa, That he might neer return.’ 49C.16	Then next came up his true-love dear, And heavy was her moan; ‘You’re welcome hame, dear Will,’ she said, ‘But whare’s your brither John?’ 49C.17	‘O lady, cease your trouble now, O cease your heavy moan; He’s dead and in the cauld cauld clay, For your dear sake alone.’ 49C.18	She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht, She wept the sma brids frae the tree, She wept the starns adoun frae the lift, She wept the fish out o the sea. 49C.19	‘O cease your weeping, my ain true-love, Ye but disturb my rest;’ ‘Is that my ain true lover John, The man that I loe best?’ 49C.20	‘’Tis naething but my ghaist,’ he said, ‘That’s sent to comfort thee; O cease your weeping, my true-love, And ’twill gie peace to me.’
 
49D: The Twa Brothers
 
49D.1	‘O WILL ye gae to the school, brother? Or will ye gae to the ba? Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin, To see whilk o’s maun fa?’ 49D.2	‘It’s I winna gae to the school, brother, Nor will I gae to the ba; But I will gae to the wood a-warslin, And it is you maun fa.’ 49D.3	They warstled up, they warstled down, The lee-lang simmer’s day; . . . . . . . . . 49D.4	‘O lift me up upon your back, Tak me to yon wall fair; You’ll wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer, And syne they’ll bleed nae mair. 49D.5	‘And ye’ll tak aff my hollin sark, And riv’t frae gair to gair; Ye’ll stap it in my bluidy wounds, And syne they’ll bleed nae mair.’ 49D.6	He’s liftit his brother upon his back, Taen him to yon wall fair; He’s washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer, But ay they bled mair and mair. 49D.7	And he’s taen aff his hollin sark, And riven’t frae gair to gair; He’s stappit it in his bluidy wounds, But ay they bled mair and mair. 49D.8	‘Ye’ll lift me up upon your back, Tak me to Kirkland fair; Ye’ll mak my greaf baith braid and lang, And lay my body there. 49D.9	Ye’ll lay my arrows at my head, My bent bow at my feet, My sword and buckler at my side, As I was wont to sleep. 49D.10	‘Whan ye gae hame to your father, He’ll speer for his son John: Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair, Learning the school alone. 49D.11	‘When ye gae hame to my sister, She’ll speer for her brother John: Ye’ll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair, The green grass growin aboon. 49D.12	‘Whan ye gae hame to my true-love, She’ll speer for her lord John: Ye’ll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair, But hame ye fear he’ll never come.’ 49D.13	He’s gane hame to his father; He speered for his son John: ‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair, Learning the school alone.’ 49D.14	And whan he gaed hame to his sister, She speered for her brother John: ‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair, The green grass growin aboon.’ 49D.15	And whan he gaed home to his true-love, She speerd for her lord John: ‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair, And hame I fear he’ll never come.’ 49D.16	‘But whaten bluid’s that on your sword, Willie? Sweet Willie, tell to me;’ ‘O it is the bluid o my grey hounds, They wadna rin for me.’ 49D.17	‘It’s nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie, Their bluid was never so red; But it is the bluid o my true-love, That ye hae slain indeed.’ 49D.18	That fair may wept, that fair may mournd, That fair may mournd and pin’d: ‘When every lady looks for her love, I neer need look for mine.’ 49D.19	‘O whaten a death will ye die, Willie? Now, Willie, tell to me;’ ‘Ye’ll put me in a bottomless boat, And I’ll gae sail the sea.’ 49D.20	‘Whan will ye come hame again, Willie? Now, Willie, tell to me;’ ‘Whan the sun and moon dances on the green, And that will never be.’
 
49E: The Twa Brothers
 
49E.1	THERE were twa brothers at the scule, And when they got awa, ‘It’s will ye play at the stane-chucking, Or will ye play at the ba, Or will ye gae up to yon hill head, And there we’ll warsel a fa?’ 49E.2	‘I winna play at the stane-chucking, Nor will I play at the ba; But I’ll gae up to yon bonnie green hill, And there we’ll warsel a fa.’ 49E.3	They warsled up, they warsled down, Till John fell to the ground; A dirk fell out of William’s pouch, And gave John a deadly wound. 49E.4	‘O lift me upon your back, Take me to yon well fair, And wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer, And they’ll neer bleed nae mair.’ 49E.5	He’s lifted his brother upon his back, Taen him to yon well fair; He’s wash’d his bluidy wounds oer and oer, But they bleed ay mair and mair. 49E.6	‘Tak ye aff my holland sark, And rive it gair by gair, And row it in my bluidy wounds, And they’ll neer bleed nae mair.’ 49E.7	He’s taken aff his holland sark, And torn it gair by gair; He’s rowit it in his bluidy wounds, But they bleed ay mair and mair. 49E.8	‘Tak now aff my green cleiding, And row me saftly in, And tak me up to yon kirk-style, Whare the grass grows fair and green.’ 49E.9	He’s taken aff the green cleiding, And rowed him saftly in; He’s laid him down by yon kirk-style, Whare the grass grows fair and green. 49E.10	‘What will ye say to your father dear, When ye gae hame at een?’ ‘I’ll say ye’re lying at yon kirk-style, Whare the grass grows fair and green.’ 49E.11	‘O no, O no, my brother dear, O you must not say so; But say that I’m gane to a foreign land, Whare nae man does me know.’ 49E.12	When he sat in his father’s chair, He grew baith pale and wan: ‘O what blude’s that upon your brow? O dear son, tell to me;’ ‘It is the blude of my gray steed, He wadna ride wi me.’ 49E.13	‘O thy steed’s blude was neer sae red, Nor eer sae dear to me: O what blude’s this upon your cheek? O dear son, tell to me;’ ‘It is the blude of my greyhound, He wadna hunt for me.’ 49E.14	‘O thy hound’s blude was neer sae red, Nor eer sae dear to me: O what blude’s this upon your hand? O dear son, tell to me;’ ‘It is the blude of my gay goss-hawk, He wadna flee for me.’ 49E.15	‘O thy hawk’s blude was neer sae red, Nor eer sae dear to me: O what blude’s this upon your dirk? Dear Willie, tell to me;’ ‘It is the blude of my ae brother, O dule and wae is me!’ 49E.16	‘O what will ye say to your father? Dear Willie, tell to me;’ ‘I’ll saddle my steed, and awa I’ll ride, To dwell in some far countrie.’ 49E.17	‘O when will ye come hame again? Dear Willie, tell to me;’ ‘When sun and mune leap on yon hill, And that will never be.’ 49E.18	She turnd hersel right round about, And her heart burst into three: ‘My ae best son is deid and gane, And my tother ane I’ll neer see.’
 
49F: The Twa Brothers
 
49F.1	THERE were twa brothers in the east, Went to the school o Ayr; The one unto the other did say, Come let us wrestle here. 49F.2	They wrestled up and wrestled down, Till John fell to the ground; There being a knife in Willie’s pocket, Gae John his deadly wound. 49F.3	‘O is it for my gold, brother? Or for my white monie? Or is it for my lands sae braid, That ye hae killed me?’ 49F.4	‘It is not for your gold,’ he said, ‘Nor for your white monie; It is by the hand o accident That I hae killed thee.’ 49F.5	‘Ye’ll take the shirt that’s on my back, Rive it frae gair to gair, And try to stop my bloody wounds, For they bleed wonderous sair.’ 49F.6	He’s taen the shirt was on his back, Reave it frae gare to gare, And tried to stop his bleeding wounds, But still they bled the mair. 49F.7	‘Ye’ll take me up upon your back, Carry me to yon water clear, And try to stop my bloody wounds, For they run wonderous sair.’ 49F.8	He’s taen him up upon his back, Carried him to yon water clear, And tried to stop his bleeding wounds, But still they bled the mair. 49F.9	‘Ye’ll take me up upon your back, Carry me to yon church-yard; Ye’ll dig a grave baith wide and deep, And then ye’ll lay me there. 49F.10	‘Ye’ll put a head-stane at my head, Another at my feet, Likewise a sod on my breast-bane, The souner I may sleep. 49F.11	‘Whenever my father asks of thee, Saying, What’s become of John? Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea, For a cargo of good wine. 49F.12	‘And when my sweetheart asks of thee, Saying, What’s become of John? Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea, To buy a wedding gown. 49F.13	‘And when my sister asks of thee, Saying, William, where is John? Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea, To learn some merry sang. 49F.14	‘And when my mother asks of thee, Saying, William, where is John? Tell her I’m buried in green Fordland, The grass growing ower my tomb.’ 49F.15	He’s taen him up upon his back, Carried him to yon church-yard, And dug a grave baith wide and deep, And he was buried there. 49F.16	He laid a head-stane at his head, Another at his feet, And laid a green sod on his breast, The souner he might sleep. 49F.17	His father asked when he came hame, Saying, ‘William, where is John?’ Then John said, ‘He is ower the sea, To bring you hame some wine.’ 49F.18	‘What blood is this upon you, William, And looks sae red on thee?’ ‘It is the blood o my grey-hound, He woudna run for me.’ 49F.19	‘O that’s nae like your grey-hound’s blude, William, that I do see; I fear it is your own brother’s blood That looks sae red on thee.’ 49F.20	‘That is not my own brother’s blude, Father, that ye do see; It is the blood o my good grey steed, He woudna carry me.’ 49F.21	‘O that is nae your grey steed’s blude, William, that I do see; It is the blood o your brother John, That looks sae red on thee.’ 49F.22	‘It’s nae the blood o my brother John, Father, that ye do see; It is the blude o my good grey hawk, Because he woudna flee.’ 49F.23	‘O that is nae your grey hawk’s blood, William, that I do see:’ ‘Well, it’s the blude o my brother, This country I maun flee.’ 49F.24	‘O when will ye come back again, My dear son, tell to me?’ ‘When sun and moon gae three times round, And this will never be.’ 49F.25	‘Ohon, alas! now William, my son, This is bad news to me; Your brother’s death I’ll aye bewail, And the absence o thee.’
 
49G: The Twa Brothers
 
49G.1	AS John and William were coming home one day, One Saturday afternoon, Says John to William, Come and try a fight, Or will you throw a stone? Or will you come down to yonder, yonder town Where the maids are all playing ball, ball, ball, Where the maids are all playing ball? 49G.2	Says William to John, I will not try a fight, Nor will I throw a stone, Nor will I come down to yonder town, Where the maids are all playing ball. 49G.3	So John took out of his pocket A knife both long and sharp, And stuck it through his brother’s heart, And the blood came pouring down. 49G.4	Says John to William, Take off thy shirt, And tear it from gore to gore, And wrap it round your bleeding heart, And the blood will pour no more.’ 49G.5	So John took off his shirt, And tore it from gore to gore, And wrapped it round his bleeding heart, And the blood came pouring more. 49G.6	‘What shall I tell your dear father, When I go home to-night?’ ‘You’ll tell him I’m dead and in my grave, For the truth must be told.’ 49G.7	‘What shall I tell your dear mother, When I go home to-night?’ ‘You’ll tell her I’m dead and in my grave, For the truth must be told.’ 49G.8	‘How came this blood upon your knife? My son, come tell to me;’ ‘It is the blood of a rabbit I have killed, O mother, pardon me.’ 49G.9	‘The blood of a rabbit couldnt be so pure, My son, come tell to me:’ ‘It is the blood of a squirrel I have killed, O mother, pardon me.’ 49G.10	‘The blood of a squirrel couldnt be so pure, My son, come tell to me:’ ‘It is the blood of a brother I have killed, O mother, pardon me.’
 
49[H]: The Twa Brothers
 
49[H].1	Two pretty boys lived in the North, The went to the school so rare; The one unto the other said, We’ll try some battle of war. 49[H.2]	The worselaid up, the worselaid down, Till John lay on the ground; A pen-knife out of William’s pocket Gave John a deadly wound. 49[H.3]	‘O is it for my gold?’ he said, ‘Or for my rich monie? Or is it for my land sa broad, That you have killed me?’ 49[H.4]	‘It’s neither for your gold,’ he said, ‘Or for your rich monie, But it is for your land sa broad That I have killed thee.’ 49[H.5]	‘You’ll take [me] up upon your back, Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard; You’ill houk a hole large and deep, And lay my body there. 49[H.6]	‘You’ll put a good stone ou my head, Another at me feet, A good green turf upon my breast, That the sounder I m[a]y sleep. 49[H.7]	‘And if my father chance to ask What’s come of your brother John, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 49[H.8]	‘What blood is this upon your coat? I pray come tell to me;’ ‘It is the blood of my grey hound, It would not run for me.’ 49[H.9]	‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red, I pray come tell to me;’ ‘It is the blood of my black horse, It would not hunt for me.’ 49[H.10]	‘The blood of your black horse was near so red, I pray come tell to me;’ ‘It is the blood of my brother John, Since better canna be.’ * * * * * 49[H.11]	He put his foot upon a ship, Saying, I am gane our the sea; ‘O when will you come back again, I pray come tell to me.’ 49[H.12]	‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom, That[’s] the day you’ll never see.’


 
50: The Bonny Hind
 
50.1	O MAY she comes, and may she goes, Down by yon gardens green, And there she spied a gallant squire As squire had ever been. 50.2	And may she comes, and may she goes, Down by yon hollin tree, And there she spied a brisk young squire, And a brisk young squire was he. 50.3	‘Give me your green manteel, fair maid, Give me your maidenhead; Gif ye winna gie me your green manteel, Gi me your maidenhead.’ 50.4	He has taen her by the milk-white hand, And softly laid her down, And when he’s lifted her up again Given her a silver kaim. 50.5	‘Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir, Perhaps there may be nane; But if you be a courtier, You’ll tell to me your name.’ 50.6	‘I am nae courtier, fair maid, But new come frae the sea; I am nae courtier, fair maid, But when I court’ith thee. 50.7	‘They call me Jack when I’m abroad, Sometimes they call me John; But when I’m in my father’s bower Jock Randal is my name.’ 50.8	‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad, Sae loud’s I hear ye lee! Ffor I’m Lord Randal’s yae daughter, He has nae mair nor me.’ 50.9	‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may, Sae loud’s I hear ye lee! For I’m Lord Randal’s yae yae son, Just now come oer the sea.’ 50.10	She’s putten her hand down by her spare, And out she’s taen a knife, And she has putn’t in her heart’s bluid, And taen away her life. 50.11	And he’s taen up his bonny sister, With the big tear in his een, And he has buried his bonny sister Amang the hollins green. 50.12	And syne he’s hyed him oer the dale, His father dear to see: ‘Sing O and O for my bonny hind, Beneath yon hollin tree!’ 50.13	1 ‘What needs you care for your bonny hyn? For it you needna care; There’s aught score hyns in yonder park, And five score hyns to spare. 50.14	‘Four score of them are siller-shod, Of thae ye may get three;’ ‘But O and O for my bonny hyn, Beneath yon hollin tree!’ 50.15	‘What needs you care for your bonny hyn? For it you need na care; Take you the best, gi me the warst, Since plenty is to spare.’ 50.16	‘I care na for your hyns, my lord, I care na for your fee; But O and O for my bonny hyn, Beneath the hollin tree!’ 50.17	‘O were ye at your sister’s bower, Your sister fair to see, Ye’ll think na mair o your bonny hyn Beneath the hollin tree.’ * * * * *


 
51A: Lizie Wan
 
51A.1	LIZIE WAN sits at her father’s bower-door, Weeping and making a mane, And by there came her father dear: ‘What ails thee, Lizie Wan?’ 51A.2	‘I ail, and I ail, dear father,’ she said, ‘And I’ll tell you a reason for why; There is a child between my twa sides, Between my dear billy and I.’ 51A.3	Now Lizie Wan sits at her father’s bower-door, Sighing and making a mane, And by there came her brother dear: ‘What ails thee, Lizie Wan?’ 51A.4	‘I ail, I ail, dear brither,’ she said, ‘And I’ll tell you a reason for why; There is a child bewteen my twa sides, Between you, dear billy, and I.’ 51A.5	‘And hast thou tald father and mother o that? And hast thou tald sae o me?’ And he has drawn his gude braid sword, That hung down by his knee.
51A.6	And he has cutted aff Lizie Wan’s head, And her fair body in three, And he’s awa to his mothers bower, And sair aghast was he. 51A.7	‘What ails thee, what ails thee, Geordy Wan? What ails thee sae fast to rin? For I see by thy ill colour Some fallow’s deed thou hast done.’ 51A.8	‘Some fallow’s deed I have done, mother, And I pray you pardon me; For I’ve cutted aff my greyhound’s head; He wadna rin for me.’ 51A.9	‘Thy greyhound’s bluid was never sae red, O my son Geordy Wan! For I see by thy ill colour Some fallow’s deed thou hast done.’ 51A.10	‘Some fallow’s deed I hae done, mother, And I pray you pardon me; For I hae cutted aff Lizie Wan’s head And her fair body in three.’ 51A.11	‘O what wilt thou do when thy father comes hame, O my son Geordy Wan?’ ‘I’ll set my foot in a bottomless boat, And swim to the sea-ground.’ 51A.12	‘And when will thou come hame again, O my son Geordy Wan?’ ‘The sun and the moon shall dance on the green That night when I come hame.’
 
51B: Lizie Wan
 
51B.1	ROSIE she sat in her simmer bower, Greitin and making grit mane, When down by cam her father, saying, What ails thee Rosie Ann? 51B.2	‘A deal, a deal, dear father,’ she said, ‘Great reason hae I to mane, For there lyes a little babe in my side, Between me and my brither John.’ 51B.3	Rosie she sat in her simmer bower, Weeping and making great mane, And wha cam doun but her mither dear, Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann? 51B.4	‘A deal, a deal, dear mither,’ she said, ‘Great reason hae I to mane, For there lyes a little babe in my side, Between me and my brither John.’ 51B.5	Rosie she sat in her simmer bower, Greiting and making great mane, And wha came doun but her sister dear, Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?
51B.6	‘A deal, a deal, dear sister,’ she said, ‘Great reason hae I to mane, For there lyes a little babe in my side, Between me and my brither John.’ 51B.7	Rosie she sat in her simmer bower, Weeping and making great mane, And wha cam doun but her fause, fause brither, Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann? 51B.8	‘A deal, a deal, dear brither,’ she said, ‘Great reason hae I to cry, For there lyes a little babe in my side, Between yoursell and I.’ 51B.9	‘Weel ye hae tauld father, and ye hae tauld mither, And ye hae tauld sister, a’ three;’ Syne he pulled out his wee penknife, And he cut her fair bodie in three. 51B.10	‘O what blude is that on the point o your knife, Dear son, come tell to me?’ ‘It is my horse’s, that I did kill, Dear mother and fair ladie.’ 51B.11	‘The blude o your horse was neer sae red, Dear son, come tell to me:’ ‘It is my grandfather’s, that I hae killed, Dear mother and fair ladie.’ 51B.12	‘The blude o your grandfather was neer sae fresh, Dear son, come tell to me:’ ‘It is my sister’s, that I did kill, Dear mother and fair ladie.’ 51B.13	‘What will ye do when your father comes hame, Dear son, come tell to me?’ ‘I’ll set my foot on yon shipboard, And I hope she’ll sail wi me.’ 51B.14	‘What will ye do wi your bonny bonny young wife, Dear son, come tell to me?’ ‘I’ll set her foot on some other ship, And I hope she’ll follow me.’ 51B.15	‘And what will ye do wi your wee son, Dear son, come tell to me?’ ‘I’ll leave him wi you, my dear mother, To keep in remembrance of me.’ 51B.16	‘What will ye do wi your houses and lands, Dear son, come tell to me?’ ‘I’ll leave them wi you, my dear mother, To keep my own babie.’ 51B.17	‘And whan will you return again, Dear son, come tell to me?’ ‘When the sun and the mune meet on yon hill, And I hope that’ll neer be.’


 
52A: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean
 
52A.1	THE king’s young dochter was sitting in her window, Sewing at her silken seam; She lookt out o the bow-window, And she saw the leaves growing green, my luve, And she saw the leaves growing green. 52A.2	She stuck her needle into her sleeve, Her seam down by her tae, And she is awa to the merrie green-wood, To pu the nit and slae. 52A.3	She hadna pu’t a nit at a’, A nit but scarcely three, Till out and spak a braw young man, Saying, How daur ye bow the tree? 52A.4	‘It’s I will pu the nit,’ she said, ‘And I will bow the tree, And I will come to the merrie green wud, And na ax leive o thee.’ 52A.5	He took her by the middle sae sma, And laid her on the gerss sae green, And he has taen his will o her, And he loot her up agen. 52A.6	‘Now syn ye hae got your will o me, Pray tell to me your name; For I am the king’s young dochter,’ she said, ‘And this nicht I daurna gang hame.’ 52A.7	‘Gif ye be the king’s dochter,’ he said, ‘I am his auldest son; I wish I had died on some frem isle, And never had come hame! 52A.8	‘The first time I came hame, Jeanie, Thou was na here nor born; I wish my pretty ship had sunk, And I had been forlorn! 52A.9	‘The neist time I came hame, Jeanie, Thou was sittin on the nourice knee; And I wish my pretty ship had sunk, And I had never seen thee! 52A.10	‘And the neist time I came hame, Jeanie, I met thee here alane; I wish my pretty ship had sunk, And I had neer come hame!’ 52A.11	She put her hand down by her side, And doun into her spare, And she pou’t out a wee pen-knife, And she wounded hersell fu sair. 52A.12	Hooly, hooly rase she up, And hooly she gade hame, Until she came to her father’s parlour, And there she did sick and mane. 52A.13	‘O sister, sister, mak my bed, O the clean sheets and strae, O sister, sister, mak my bed, Down in the parlour below.’ 52A.14	Her father he came tripping down the stair, His steps they were fu slow; ‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ he said, ‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’ 52A.15	‘O late yestreen, as I came hame, Down by yon castil wa, O heavy, heavy was the stane That on my briest did fa!’ 52A.16	Her mother she came tripping doun the stair, Her steps they were fu slow; ‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ she said, ‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’ 52A.17	‘O late yestreen, as I cam hame, Down by yon castil wa, O heavy, heavy was the stane That on my breast did fa!’ 52A.18	Her sister came tripping doun the stair, Her steps they were fu slow; ‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ she said, ‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’ ‘O late yestreen, as I cam hame, Doun by yon castil wa, O heavy, heavy was the stane That on my breast did fa!’ 52A.19	Her brither he cam trippin doun the stair, His steps they were fu slow; He sank into his sister’s arms, And they died as white as snaw.
 
52B: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean
 
52B.1	LADY MARGARET sits in her bow-window, Sewing her silken seam; . . . . . . . . . . . 52B.2	She’s drapt the thimble at her tae, And her scissars at her heel, And she’s awa to the merry green-wood, To see the leaves grow green. 52B.3	She had scarsely bowed a branch, Or plucked a nut frae the tree, Till up and starts a fair young man, And a fair young man was he. 52B.4	‘How dare ye shake the leaves?’ he said, ‘How dare ye break the tree? How dare ye pluck the nuts,’ he said, ‘Without the leave of me?’ 52B.5	. . . . . . . . . . . ‘Oh I know the merry green wood’s my ain, And I’ll ask the leave of nane.’ 52B.6	He gript her by the middle sae sma, He gently sat her down, While the grass grew up on every side, And the apple trees hang down. 52B.7	She says, Young man, what is your name? For ye’ve brought me to meikle shame; For I am the king’s youngest daughter, And how shall I gae hame? 52B.8	‘If you’re the king’s youngest daughter, It’s I’m his auldest son, And heavy heavy is the deed, sister, That you and I have done.’ 52B.9	He had a penknife in his hand, Hang low down by his gair, And between the long rib and the short one He woundit her deep and sair. 52B.10	. . . . . . . . . . . And fast and fast her ruddy bright blood Fell drapping on the ground. 52B.11	She took the glove off her right hand, And slowly slipt it in the wound, And slowly has she risen up, And slowly slipped home. * * * * * 52B.12	‘O sister dear, when thou gaes hame Unto thy father’s ha, It’s make my bed baith braid and lang, Wi the sheets as white as snaw.’ * * * * * 52B.13	‘When I came by the high church-yard Heavy was the stain that bruised my heel, . . . . . . . that bruised my heart, I’m afraid it shall neer heal.’ * * * * *
 
52C: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean
 
52C.1	AS Annie sat into her bower, A thought came in her head, That she would gang to gude greenwood, Across the flowery mead. 52C.2	She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower, Nor broken a branch but twa, Till by it came a gentle squire, Says, Lady, come awa. 52C.3	There’s nane that comes to gude greenwood But pays to me a tein, And I maun hae your maidenhead, Or than your mantle green. 52C.4	‘My mantle’s o the finest silk, Anither I can spin; But gin you take my maidenhead, The like I’ll never fin.’ 52C.5	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, There laid her low in gude greenwood, And at her spierd nae leave. 52C.6	When he had got his wills o her, His wills as he had taen, She said, If you rightly knew my birth, Ye’d better letten alane. 52C.7	‘Is your father a lord o might? Or baron o high degree? Or what race are ye sprung frae, That I should lat ye be?’ 52C.8	‘O I am Castle Ha’s daughter, O birth and high degree, And if he knows what ye hae done, He’ll hang you on a tree.’ 52C.9	‘If ye be Castle Ha’s daughter, This day I am undone; If ye be Castle Ha’s daughter, I am his only son.’ 52C.10	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jelly hind squire, Sae loud as I hear you lie, Castle Ha, he has but ae dear son, And he is far beyond the sea.’ 52C.11	‘O I am Castle Ha’s dear son, A word I dinna lie; Yes, I am Castle Ha’s dear son, And new come oer the sea. 52C.12	‘’Twas yesterday, that fatal day, That I did cross the faem; I wish my bonny ship had sunk, And I had neer come hame.’ 52C.13	Then dowie, dowie, raise she up, And dowie came she hame, And stripped aff her silk mantle, And then to bed she’s gane. 52C.14	Then in it came her mother dear, And she steps in the fleer: ‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie, What makes your lying here?’ 52C.15	‘This morning fair, as I went out, Near by yon castle wa, Great and heavy was the stane That on my foot did fa.’ 52C.16	‘Hae I nae ha’s, hae I nae bowers, Towers, or mony a town? Will not these cure your bonny foot, Gar you gae hale and soun?’ 52C.17	‘Ye hae ha’s, and ye hae bowers, And towers, and mony a town, But nought will cure my bonny foot, Gar me gang hale and soun.’ 52C.18	Then in it came her father dear, And he trips in the fleer: ‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie, What makes your lying here?’ 52C.19	‘This morning fair, as I went out, Near by yon castle wa, Great and heavy was the stane That on my foot did fa.’ 52C.20	‘Hae I nae ha’s, hae I nae bowers, And towers, and mony a town? Will not these cure your bonny foot, Gar you gang hale and soun?’ 52C.21	‘O ye hae ha’s, and ye hae bowers, And towers, and mony a town, But nought will cure my bonny foot, Gar me gang hale and soun.’ 52C.22	Then in it came her sister Grace; As she steps in the fleer, ‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie, What makes your lying here? 52C.23	‘Win up, and see your ae brother, That’s new come ower the sea;’ ‘Ohon, alas!’ says fair Annie, ‘He spake ower soon wi me.’ 52C.24	To her room her brother’s gane, Stroked back her yellow hair, To her lips his ain did press, But words spake never mair.
 
52D: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean
 
52D.1	THE lady’s taen her mantle her middle about, Into the woods she’s gane, . . . . . . . . . . . 52D.2	She hadna poud a flower o gude green-wood, O never a flower but ane, Till by he comes, an by he gangs, Says, Lady, lat alane. 52D.3	For I am forester o this wood, And I hae power to pine Your mantle or your maidenhead, Which o the twa ye’ll twine. 52D.4	‘My mantle is o gude green silk, Another I can card an spin; But gin ye tak my maidenhead, The like I’ll never fin.’ 52D.5	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, And laid her low at the foot o a tree, At her high kin spierd nae leave. 52D.6	‘I am bold Burnet’s ae daughter, You might hae lat me be:’ ‘And I’m bold Burnet’s ae dear son, Then dear! how can this dee?’ 52D.7	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jolly hind squire, So loud’s I hear you lie! Bold Burnet has but ae dear son, He’s sailing on the sea.’ 52D.8	‘Yesterday, about this same time, My bonny ship came to land; I wish she’d sunken in the sea, And never seen the strand! 52D.9	‘Heal well this deed on me, lady, Heal well this deed on me!’ ‘Although I would heal it neer sae well, Our God above does see.’ 52D.10	She’s taen her mantle her middle about, And mourning went she hame, And a’ the way she sighd full sair, Crying, Am I to blame! 52D.11	Ben it came her father dear, Stout stepping on the flear: ‘Win up, win up, my daughter Janet, And welcome your brother here.’ 52D.12	Up she’s taen her milk-white hand, Streakd by his yellow hair, Then turnd about her bonny face, And word spake never mair.


 
53A: Young Beichan
 
53A.1	IN London city was Bicham born, He longd strange countries for to see, But he was taen by a savage Moor, Who handld him right cruely. 53A.2	For thro his shoulder he put a bore, An thro the bore has pitten a tree, An he’s gard him draw the carts o wine, Where horse and oxen had wont to be. 53A.3	He’s casten [him] in a dungeon deep, Where he coud neither hear nor see; He’s shut him up in a prison strong, An he’s handld him right cruely. 53A.4	O this Moor he had but ae daughter, I wot her name was Shusy Pye; She’s doen her to the prison-house, And she’s calld Young Bicham one word by. 53A.5	‘O hae ye ony lands or rents, Or citys in your ain country, Coud free you out of prison strong, An coud mantain a lady free?’ 53A.6	‘O London city is my own, An other citys twa or three, Coud loose me out o prison strong, An coud mantain a lady free.’ 53A.7	O she has bribed her father’s men Wi meikle goud and white money, She’s gotten the key o the prison doors, An she has set Young Bicham free. 53A.8	She’s gi’n him a loaf o good white bread, But an a flask o Spanish wine, An she bad him mind on the ladie’s love That sae kindly freed him out o pine. 53A.9	‘Go set your foot on good ship-board, An haste you back to your ain country, An before that seven years has an end, Come back again, love, and marry me.’ 53A.10	It was long or seven years had an end She longd fu sair her love to see; She’s set her foot on good ship-board, An turnd her back on her ain country. 53A.11	She’s saild up, so has she doun, Till she came to the other side; She’s landed at Young Bicham’s gates, An I hop this day she sal be his bride. 53A.12	‘Is this Young Bicham’s gates?’ says she, ‘Or is that noble prince within?’ ‘He’s up the stairs wi his bonny bride, An monny a lord and lady wi him.’ 53A.13	‘O has he taen a bonny bride, An has he clean forgotten me!’ An sighing said that gay lady, I wish I were in my ain country! 53A.14	But she’s pitten her han in her pocket, An gin the porter guineas three; Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter, An bid the bridegroom speak to me. 53A.15	O whan the porter came up the stair, He’s fa’n low down upon his knee: ‘Won up, won up, ye proud porter, An what makes a’ this courtesy?’ 53A.16	I’ve been porter at your gates This mair nor seven years an three, But there is a lady at them now The like of whom I never did see. 53A.17	‘For on every finger she has a ring, An on the mid-finger she has three, An there’s as meikle goud aboon her brow As woud buy an earldome o lan to me.’ 53A.18	Then up it started Young Bicham, An sware so loud by Our Lady, ‘It can be nane but Shusy Pye, That has come oer the sea to me.’ 53A.19	O quickly ran he down the stair, O fifteen steps he has made but three; He’s tane his bonny love in his arms, An a wot he kissd her tenderly. 53A.20	‘O hae you tane a bonny bride? An hae you quite forsaken me? An hae ye quite forgotten her That gae you life an liberty?’ 53A.21	She’s lookit oer her left shoulder To hide the tears stood in her ee; ‘Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,’ she says, ‘I’ll strive to think nae mair on thee.’ 53A.22	‘Take back your daughter, madam,’ he says, ‘An a double dowry I’ll gi her wi; For I maun marry my first true love, That’s done and suffered so much for me.’ 53A.23	He’s take his bonny love by the han, And led her to yon fountain stane; He’s changd her name frae Shusy Pye, An he’s cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.
 
53B: Young Beichan
 
53B.1	IN England was Young Brechin born, Of parents of a high degree; The selld him to the savage Moor, Where they abused him maist cruellie. 53B.2	Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore, And thro evry bore they pat a tree; They made him draw the carts o wine, Which horse and owsn were wont to drie. 53B.3	The pat him into prison strong, Where he could neither hear nor see; They pat him in a dark dungeon, Where he was sick and like to die. 53B.4	‘Is there neer an auld wife in this town That’ll borrow me to be her son? Is there neer a young maid in this town Will take me for her chiefest one?’ 53B.5	A Savoyen has an only daughter, I wat she’s called Young Brichen by; ‘O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen?’ she says, ‘Or who is’t that does on me cry? 53B.6	‘O hast thou any house or lands, Or hast thou any castles free, That thou wadst gi to a lady fair That out o prison wad bring thee?’ 53B.7	‘O lady, Lundin it is mine, And other castles twa or three; These I wad gie to a lady fair That out of prison wad set me free.’ 53B.8	She’s taen him by the milk-white hand, And led him to a towr sae hie, She’s made him drink the wine sae reid, And sung to him like a mavosie. 53B.9	O these two luvers made a bond, For seven years, and that is lang, That he was to marry no other wife, And she’s to marry no other man. 53B.10	n seven years were past and gane, This young lady began to lang, And she’s awa to Lundin gane, To see if Brechin’s got safe to land. 53B.11	When she came to Young Brechin’s yett, She chappit gently at the gin; ‘Is this Young Brechin’s yett?’ she says, ‘Or is this lusty lord within?’ ‘O yes, this is Lord Brechin’s yett, And I wat this be his bridal een.’ 53B.12	She’s put her hand in her pocket, And thrawin the porter guineas three; ‘Gang up the stair, young man,’ she says, ‘And bid your master come down to me. 53B.13	‘Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread, And a bottle o his ae best wine, And neer forget that lady fair That did him out o prison bring.’ 53B.14	The porter tripped up the stair, And fell low down upon his knee: ‘Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter, What mean you by this courtesie?’ 53B.15	‘O I hae been porter at your yett This thirty years and a’ but three; There stands the fairest lady thereat That ever my twa een did see. 53B.16	‘On evry finger she has a ring, On her mid-finger she has three; She’s as much gold on her horse’s neck As wad by a earldom o land to me. 53B.17	‘She bids you send o your ae best bread, And a bottle o your ae best wine, And neer forget the lady fair That out o prison did you bring.’ 53B.18	He’s taen the table wi his foot, And made the cups and cans to flee: ‘I’ll wager a’ the lands I hae That Susan Pye’s come oer the sea.’ * * * * * 53B.19	Then up and spak the bride’s mother: ‘And O an ill deid may ye die! If ye didna except the bonny bride, Ye might hae ay excepted me.’ 53B.20	‘O ye are fair, and fair, madam, And ay the fairer may ye be! But the fairest day that eer ye saw, Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.’ 53B.21	O when these lovers two did meet, The tear it blinded baith their ee; ‘Gie me my faith and troth,’ she says, ‘For now fain hame wad I be.’ 53B.22	‘Tak hame your daughter, madam,’ he says, ‘She’s neer a bit the war o me; Except a kiss o her bonny lips, Of her body I am free; She came to me on a single horse, Now I’ll send her hame in chariots three.’ 53B.23	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And he’s led her to a yard o stane; He’s changed her name frae Susan Pye, And calld her lusty Lady Jane.
 
53C: Young Beichan
 
53C.1	YOUNG Bekie was as brave a knight As ever saild the sea; An he’s doen him to the court of France, To serve for meat and fee. 53C.2	He had nae been i the court of France A twelvemonth nor sae long, Til he fell in love with the king’s daughter, An was thrown in prison strong. 53C.3	The king he had but ae daughter, Burd Isbel was her name; An she has to the prison-house gane, To hear the prisoner’s mane. 53C.4	‘O gin a lady woud borrow me, At her stirrup-foot I wood rin; Or gin a widow wad borrow me, I woud swear to be her son. 53C.5	‘Or gin a virgin woud borrow me, I woud wed her wi a ring; I’d gi her ha’s, I’d gie her bowers, The bonny towrs o Linne.’ 53C.6	O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but, An barefoot came she ben; It was no for want o hose an shoone, Nor time to put them on. 53C.7	But a’ for fear that her father dear Had heard her making din: She’s stown the keys o the prison-house dor An latten the prisoner gang. 53C.8	O whan she saw him, Young Bekie, Her heart was wondrous sair! For the mice but an the bold rottons Had eaten his yallow hair. 53C.9	She’s gien him a shaver for his beard, A comber till his hair, Five hunder pound in his pocket, To spen, an nae to spair. 53C.10	She’s gien him a steed was good in need, An a saddle o royal bone, A leash o hounds o ae litter, An Hector called one. 53C.11	Atween this twa a vow was made, ’Twas made full solemnly, That or three years was come an gane, Well married they should be. 53C.12	He had nae been in’s ain country A twelvemonth till an end, Till he’s forcd to marry a duke’s daughter, Or than lose a’ his land. 53C.13	‘Ohon, alas!’ says Young Beckie, ‘I know not what to dee; For I canno win to Burd Isbel, And she kensnae to come to me.’ 53C.14	O it fell once upon a day Burd Isbel fell asleep, An up it starts the Belly Blin, An stood at her bed-feet. 53C.15	‘O waken, waken, Burd Isbel, How [can] you sleep so soun, Whan this is Bekie’s wedding day, An the marriage gain on? 53C.16	‘Ye do ye to your mither’s bowr, Think neither sin nor shame; An ye tak twa o your mither’s marys, To keep ye frae thinking lang. 53C.17	‘Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet, An your marys in dainty green, An ye pit girdles about your middles Woud buy an earldome. 53C.18	‘O ye gang down by yon sea-side, An down by yon sea-stran; Sae bonny will the Hollans boats Come rowin till your han. 53C.19	‘Ye set your milk-white foot abord, Cry, Hail ye, Domine! An I shal be the steerer o’t, To row you oer the sea.’ 53C.20	She’s tane her till her mither’s bowr, Thought neither sin nor shame, An she took twa o her mither’s marys, To keep her frae thinking lang. 53C.21	She dressd hersel i the red scarlet, Her marys i dainty green, And they pat girdles about their middles Woud buy an earldome. 53C.22	An they gid down by yon sea-side, An down by yon sea-stran; Sae bonny did the Hollan boats Come rowin to their han. 53C.23	She set her milk-white foot on board, Cried, Hail ye, Domine! An the Belly Blin was the steerer o’t, To row her oer the sea. 53C.24	Whan she came to Young Bekie’s gate, She heard the music play; Sae well she kent frae a’ she heard, It was his wedding day. 53C.25	She’s pitten her han in her pocket, Gin the porter guineas three; ‘Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter, Bid the bride-groom speake to me.’ 53C.26	O whan that he cam up the stair, He fell low down on his knee: He haild the king, an he haild the queen, An he haild him, Young Bekie. 53C.27	‘O I’ve been porter at your gates This thirty years an three; But there’s three ladies at them now, Their like I never did see. 53C.28	‘There’s ane o them dressd in red scarlet, And twa in dainty green, An they hae girdles about their middles Woud buy an earldome.’ 53C.29	Then out it spake the bierly bride, Was a’ goud to the chin; ‘Gin she be braw without,’ she says, ‘We’s be as braw within.’ 53C.30	Then up it starts him, Young Bekie, An the tears was in his ee: ‘I’ll lay my life it’s Burd Isbel, Come oer the sea to me.’ 53C.31	O quickly ran he down the stair, An whan he saw ’twas shee, He kindly took her in his arms, And kissd her tenderly. 53C.32	‘O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie, The vow ye made to me, Whan I took you out o the prison strong, Whan ye was condemnd to die? 53C.33	‘I gae you a steed was good in need, An a saddle o royal bone, A leash o hounds o ae litter, An Hector called one.’ 53C.34	It was well kent what the lady said, That it wasnae a lee, For at ilka word the lady spake, The hound fell at her knee. 53C.35	‘Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear, A blessing gae her wi, For I maun marry my Burd Isbel, That’s come oer the sea to me.’ 53C.36	‘Is this the custom o your house, Or the fashion o your lan, To marry a maid in a May mornin, An send her back at even?’
 
53D: Young Beichan
 
53D.1	YOUNG BEACHEN was born in fair London, And foreign lands he langed to see; He was taen by the savage Moor, An the used him most cruellie. 53D.2	Through his showlder they pat a bore, And through the bore the pat a tree; They made him trail their ousen carts, And they used him most cruellie. 53D.3	The savage Moor had ae daughter, I wat her name was Susan Pay; And she is to the prison house, To hear the prisoner’s moan. 53D.4	He made na his moan to a stocke, He made na it to a stone, Bit it was to the Queen of Heaven That he made his moan. 53D.5	‘Gin a lady wad borrow me, I at her foot wad run; An a widdow wad borrow me, I wad become her son. 53D.6	‘But an a maid wad borrow me, I wad wed her wi a ring; I wad make her lady of haas and bowers, An of the high towers of Line.’ 53D.7	‘Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,’ she says, ‘Sing oer yer sang to me;’ ‘I never sang that sang, lady, But I wad sing to thee. 53D.8	‘Gin a lady wad borrow me, I at her foot wad run; An a widdow wad borrow me, I wad become her son. 53D.9	‘But an a maid wad borrow me, I wad wed her wi a ring; I wad make her lady of haas and bowers, An of the high towers of Line.’ 53D.10	Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but, An saftlly gaed she ben, It was na for want of hose nor shoon, Nor time to pet them on. 53D.11	. . . . . . . . . . An she has staen the keys of the prison, An latten Young Beachen gang. 53D.12	She gae him a leaf of her white bread, An a bottle of her wine, She bad him mind on the lady’s love That freed him out of pine. 53D.13	She gae him a steed was guid in need, A saddle of the bane, Five hundred pown in his pocket, Bad him gae speeding hame. 53D.14	An a leash of guid grayhounds, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53D.15	Whan seven lang years were come and gane, Shusie Pay thought lang, An she is on to fair London, As fast as she could gang. 53D.16	Whan she cam to Young Beachen’s gate, . . . . . ‘Is Young Beachan at hame, Or is he in this countrie?’ 53D.17	‘He is at hame, is hear,’ they said, . . . . . An sighan says her Susie Pay, Has he quite forgotten me? 53D.18	On every finger she had a ring, On the middle finger three; She gae the porter ane of them: ‘Get a word o your lord to me.’ 53D.19	He gaed up the stair, Fell low down on his knee: ‘Win up, my proud porter, What is your will wi me?’ 53D.20	‘I hae been porter at yer gate This thirty year and three; The fairst lady is at yer gate Mine eyes did ever see.’ 53D.21	Out spak the bride’s mither, An a haghty woman was she: ‘If ye had na eccepted the bonny bride, Ye might well ha eccepted me.’ 53D.22	‘No disparagement to you, madam, Nor none unto her Grace; The sole of yonr lady’s foot Is fairer than her face.’ 53D.23	He’s gaen the table wi his foot, And couped it wi his knee: ‘I wad my head and a’ my land ’Tis Susie Pay, come oer the sea.’ 53D.24	The stair was thirty steps, I wat he made them three; He took her in his arms twa: ‘Susie Pay, ye’r welcome to me.’ 53D.25	‘Gie me a shive of your white bread, An a bottle of your wine; Dinna ye mind on the lady’s love That freed ye out of pine?’ 53D.26	He took her . . . . Down to yon garden green, An changed her name fra Susie Pay, An called her bonny Lady Jean. 53D.27	‘Yer daughter came here on high horse-back, She sal gae hame in coaches three, An I sall double her tocher our, She’s nane the war o me.’ 53D.28	‘It’s na the fashion o our countrie, Nor yet o yer nane, To wed a maid in the morning, An send her hame at een.’ 53D.29	‘It’s na the fashion o my countrie, Nor is it of my nane, But I man mind on the lady’s love That freed me out of pine.’
 
53E: Young Beichan
 
53E.1	IN London was Young Beichan born, He longed strange countries for to see, But he was taen by a savage Moor, Who handled him right cruellie. 53E.2	For he viewed the fashions of that land, Their way of worship viewed he, But to Mahound or Termagant Would Beichan never bend a knee. 53E.3	So in every shoulder they’ve putten a bore, In every bore they’ve putten a tree, And they have made him trail the wine And spices on his fair bodie. 53E.4	They’ve casten him in a dungeon deep, Where he could neither hear nor see, For seven years they kept him there, Till he for hunger’s like to die. 53E.5	This Moor he had but ae daughter, Her name was called Susie Pye, And every day as she took the air, Near Beichan’s prison she passed by. 53E.6	O so it fell upon a day She heard Young Beichan sadly sing: ‘My hounds they all go masterless, My hawks they flee from tree to tree, My younger brother will heir my land, Fair England again I’ll never see!’ 53E.7	All night long no rest she got, Young Beichan’s song for thinking on; She’s stown the keys from her father’s head, And to the prison strong is gone. 53E.8	And she has opend the prison doors, I wot she opend two or three, Ere she could come Young Beichan at, He was locked up so curiouslie. 53E.9	But when she came Young Beichan before, Sore wonderd he that may to see; He took her for some fair captive: ‘Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?’ 53E.10	‘O have ye any lands,’ she said, ‘Or castles in your own countrie, That ye could give to a lady fair, From prison strong to set you free?’ 53E.11	‘Near London town I have a hall, With other castles two or three; I’ll give them all to the lady fair That out of prison will set me free.’ 53E.12	‘Give me the truth of your right hand, The truth of it give unto me, That for seven years ye’ll no lady wed, Unless it be along with me.’ 53E.13	‘I’ll give thee the truth of my right hand, The truth of it I’ll freely gie, That for seven years I’ll stay unwed, For the kindness thou dost show to me.’ 53E.14	And she has brib’d the proud warder Wi mickle gold and white monie, She’s gotten the keys of the prison strong, And she has set Young Beichan free. 53E.15	She’s gien him to eat the good spice-cake, She’s gien him to drink the blood-red wine, She’s bidden him sometimes think on her, That sae kindly freed him out of pine. 53E.16	She’s broken a ring from her finger, And to Beichan half of it gave she: ‘Keep it, to mind you of that love The lady bore that set you free. 53E.17	‘And set your foot on good ship-board, And haste ye back to your own countrie, And before that seven years have an end, Come back again, love, and marry me.’ 53E.18	But long ere seven years had an end, She longd full sore her love to see, For ever a voice within her breast Said, ‘Beichan has broke his vow to thee:’ So she’s set her foot on good ship-board, And turnd her back on her own countrie. 53E.19	She sailed east, she sailed west, Till to fair England’s shore she came, Where a bonny shepherd she espied, Feeding his sheep upon the plain. 53E.20	‘What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd? What news hast thou to tell to me?’ ‘Such news I hear, ladie,’ he says, ‘The like was never in this countrie. 53E.21	‘There is a wedding in yonder hall, Has lasted these thirty days and three; Young Beichan will not bed with his bride, For love of one that’s yond the sea.’ 53E.22	She’s put her hand in her pocket, Gien him the gold and white monie: ‘Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy, For the good news thou tellst to me.’ 53E.23	When she came to Young Beichan’s gate, She tirled softly at the pin; So ready was the proud porter To open and let this lady in. 53E.24	‘Is this Young Beichan’s hall,’ she said, ‘O is that noble lord within?’ ‘Yea, he’s in the hall among them all, And this is the day o his weddin.’ 53E.25	‘And has he wed anither love? And has he clean forgotten me?’ And sighin said that gay ladie, I wish I were in my own countrie! 53E.26	And she has taen her gay gold ring, That with her love she brake so free; Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter, And bid the bridegroom speak to me. 53E.27	When the porter came his lord before, He kneeled down low on his knee: ‘What aileth thee, my proud porter, Thou art so full of courtesie?’ 53E.28	‘I’ve been porter at your gates, It’s thirty long years now and three; But there stands a lady at them now, The like o her did I never see. 53E.29	‘For on every finger she has a ring, And on her mid-finger she has three, And as meickle gold aboon her brow As would buy an earldom to me.’ 53E.30	It’s out then spak the bride’s mother, Aye and an angry woman was shee: ‘Ye might have excepted our bonny bride, And twa or three of our companie.’ 53E.31	‘O hold your tongue, thou bride’s mother, Of all your folly let me be; She’s ten times fairer nor the bride, And all that’s in your companie. 53E.32	‘She begs one sheave of your white bread, But and a cup of your red wine, And to remember the lady’s love That last relievd you out of pine.’ 53E.33	‘O well-a-day!’ said Beichan then, ‘That I so soon have married thee! For it can be none but Susie Pye, That sailed the sea for love of me.’ 53E.34	And quickly hied he down the stair; Of fifteen steps he made but three; He’s taen his bonny love in his arms, And kist and kist her tenderlie. 53E.35	‘O hae ye taen anither bride? And hae ye quite forgotten me? And hae ye quite forgotten her That gave your life and libertie?’ 53E.36	She looked oer her left shoulder, To hide the tears stood in her ee: ‘Now fare thee well, Young Beichan,’ she says, ‘I’ll try to think no more on thee.’ 53E.37	‘O never, never, Susie Pye, For surely this can never be, Nor ever shall I wed but her That’s done and dreed so much for me.’ 53E.38	Then out and spak the forenoon bride: ‘My lord, your love it changeth soon; This morning I was made your bride, And another chose ere it be noon.’ 53E.39	O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride, Ye’re neer a whit the worse for me, And whan ye return to your own countrie, A double dower I’ll send with thee.’ 53E.40	He’s taen Susie Pye by the white hand, And gently led her up and down, And ay as he kist her red rosy lips, ‘Ye’re welcome, jewel, to your own.’ 53E.41	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And led her to yon fountain stane; He’s changed her name from Susie Pye, And he’s call’d her his bonny love, Lady Jane.
 
53F: Young Beichan
 
53F.1	IN the lands whre 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. 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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?’ 53F.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.’ 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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.’ 53F.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. 53F.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.’ 53F.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.’ 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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.’ 53F.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. 53F.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.’ * * * * * 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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.’ 53F.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.’ 53F.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.’ * * * * * 53F.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. 53F.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.’ 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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. 53F.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.’
 
53G: Young Beichan
 
 
 53G.1	* * * *
 	‘O WHARR’rrS aught a’ yon flock o sheep,
 	An wha’s aught a’ yon flock o kye?
 	An wha’s aught a’ yon pretty castles,
 	That you sae often do pass bye?’
 53G.2	‘They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s sheep,
 	They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s kye;
 	They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s castles,
 	That you sae often do pass bye.’
 	* * * * *
 53G.3	He’s tane [the] table wi his feet,
 	Made cups an candlesticks to flee:
 	‘I’ll lay my life ’tis Susy Pie,
 	Come owr the seas to marry me.’

 
 
53H: Young Beichan
 
53H.1	YOUNG BEICHAN was in London born, He was a man of hie degree; He past thro monie kingdoms great, Until he cam unto Grand Turkie. 53H.2	He viewd the fashions of that land, Their way of worship viewed he, But unto onie of their stocks He wadna sae much as bow a knee: 53H.3	Which made him to be taken straight, And brought afore their hie jurie; The savage Moor did speak upricht, And made him meikle ill to dree. 53H.4	In ilka shoulder they’ve bord a hole, And in ilka hole they’ve put a tree; They’ve made him to draw carts and wains, Till he was sick and like to dee. 53H.5	But Young Beichan was a Christian born, And still a Christian was he; Which made them put him in prison strang, And cauld and hunger sair to dree, And fed on nocht but bread and water, Until the day that he mot dee. 53H.6	In this prison there grew a tree, And it was unco stout and strang, Where he was chained by the middle, Until his life was almaist gane. 53H.7	The savage Moor had but ae dochter, And her name it was Susie Pye, And ilka day as she took the air, The prison door she passed bye. 53H.8	But it fell ance upon a day, As she was walking, she heard him sing; She listend to his tale of woe, A happy day for Young Beichan! 53H.9	‘My hounds they all go masterless, My hawks they flee frae tree to tree, My youngest brother will heir my lands, My native land I’ll never see.’ 53H.10	‘O were I but the prison-keeper, As I’m a ladie o hie degree, I soon wad set this youth at large, And send him to his ain countrie.’ 53H.11	She went away into her chamber, All nicht she never closd her ee; And when the morning begoud to dawn, At the prison door alane was she. 53H.12	She gied the keeper a piece of gowd, And monie pieces o white monie, To tak her thro the bolts and bars, The lord frae Scotland she langd to see; She saw young Beichan at the stake, Which made her weep maist bitterlie. 53H.13	‘O hae ye got onie lands,’ she says, ‘Or castles in your ain countrie? It’s what wad ye gie to the ladie fair Wha out o prison wad set you free?’ 53H.14	‘It’s I hae houses, and I hae lands, Wi monie castles fair to see, And I wad gie a’ to that ladie gay, Wha out o prison wad set me free.’ 53H.15	The keeper syne brak aff his chains, And set Lord Beichan at libertie; She filld his pockets baith wi gowd, To tak him till his ain countrie. 53H.16	She took him frae her father’s prison, And gied to him the best o wine, And a brave health she drank to him: ‘I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine! 53H.17	‘It’s seven lang years I’ll mak a vow, And seven lang years I’ll keep it true; If ye’ll wed wi na ither woman, It’s I will wed na man but you.’ 53H.18	She’s tane him to her father’s port, And gien to him a ship o fame: ‘Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord, I fear I’ll neer see you again.’ 53H.19	Lord Beichan turnd him round about, And lowly, lowly loutit he: ‘Ere seven lang years come to an end, I’ll tak you to mine ain countrie.’ * * * * * 53H.20	Then whan he cam to Glosgow town, A happy, happy man was he; The ladies a’ around him thrangd, To see him come frae slaverie. 53H.21	His mother she had died o sorrow, And a’ his brothers were dead but he; His lands they a’ were lying waste, In ruins were his castles free. 53H.22	Na porter there stood at his yett, Na human creature he could see, Except the screeching owls and bats, Had he to bear him companie. 53H.23	But gowd will gar the castles grow, And he had gowd and jewels free, And soon the pages around him thrangd, To serve him on their bended knee. 53H.24	His hall was hung wi silk and satin, His table rung wi mirth and glee, He soon forgot the lady fair That lowsd him out o slaverie. 53H.25	Lord Beichan courted a lady gay, To heir wi him his lands sae free, Neer thinking that a lady fair Was on her way frae Grand Turkie. 53H.26	For Susie Pye could get na rest, Nor day nor nicht could happy be, Still thinking on the Scottish lord, Till she was sick and like to dee. 53H.27	But she has builded a bonnie ship, Weel mannd wi seamen o hie degree, And secretly she stept on board, And bid adieu to her ain countrie. 53H.28	But whan she cam to the Scottish shore, The bells were ringing sae merrilie; It was Lord Beichan’s wedding day, Wi a lady fair o hie degree. 53H.29	But sic a vessel was never seen; The very masts were tappd wi gold, Her sails were made o the satin fine, Maist beautiful for to behold. 53H.30	But whan the lady cam on shore, Attended wi her pages three, Her shoon were of the beaten gowd, And she a lady of great beautie. 53H.31	Then to the skipper she did say, ‘Can ye this answer gie to me? Where are Lord Beichan’s lands sae braid? He surely lives in this countrie.’ 53H.32	Then up bespak the skipper bold, For he could speak the Turkish tongue: ‘Lord Beichan lives not far away; This is the day of his wedding.’ 53H.33	‘If ye will guide me to Beichan’s yetts, I will ye well reward,’ said she; Then she and all her pages went, A very gallant companie. 53H.34	When she cam to Lord Beichan’s yetts, She tirld gently at the pin; Sae ready was the proud porter To let the wedding guests come in. 53H.35	‘Is this Lord Beichan’s house,’ she says, ‘Or is that noble lord within?’ ‘Yes, he is gane into the hall, With his brave bride and monie ane.’ 53H.36	‘Ye’ll bid him send me a piece of bread, Bot and a cup of his best wine; And bid him mind the lady’s love That ance did lowse him out o pyne.’ 53H.37	Then in and cam the porter bold, I wat he gae three shouts and three: ‘The fairest lady stands at your yetts That ever my twa een did see.’ 53H.38	Then up bespak the bride’s mither, I wat an angry woman was she: ‘You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride, Tho she’d been three times as fair as she.’ 53H.39	‘My dame, your daughter’s fair enough, And aye the fairer mot she be! But the fairest time that eer she was, She’ll na compare wi this ladie. 53H.40	‘She has a gowd ring on ilka finger, And on her mid-finger she has three; She has as meikle gowd upon her head As wad buy an earldom o land to thee. 53H.41	‘My lord, she begs some o your bread, Bot and a cup o your best wine, And bids you mind the lady’s love That ance did lowse ye out o pyne.’ 53H.42	Then up and started Lord Beichan, I wat he made the table flee: ‘I wad gie a’ my yearlie rent ’Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea.’ 53H.43	Syne up bespak the bride’s mother, She was never heard to speak sae free: ‘Ye’ll no forsake my ae dochter, Tho Susie Pye has crossd the sea?’ 53H.44	‘Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam, For she is neer the waur o me; She cam to me on horseback riding, And she sall gang hame in chariot free.’ 53H.45	He’s tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand, And led her thro his halls sae hie: ‘Ye’re now Lord Beichan’s lawful wife, And thrice ye’re welcome unto me.’ 53H.46	Lord Beichan prepard for another wedding, Wi baith their hearts sae fu o glee; Says, ‘I’ll range na mair in foreign lands, Sin Susie Pye has crossd the sea. 53H.47	‘Fy! gar a’ our cooks mak ready, And fy! gar a’ our pipers play, And fy! gar trumpets gae thro the toun, That Lord Beichan’s wedded twice in a day!’
 
53I: Young Beichan
 
53I.1	IN London was Young Bechin born, Foreign nations he longed to see; He passed through many kingdoms great, At length he came unto Turkie. 53I.2	He viewed the fashions of that land, The ways of worship viewed he, But unto any of their gods He would not so much as bow the knee. 53I.3	every shoulder they made a bore, In every bore they put a tree, Then they made him the winepress tread, And all in spite of his fair bodie. 53I.4	They put him into a deep dungeon, Where he could neither hear nor see, And for seven years they kept him there, Till for hunger he was like to die. 53I.5	Stephen, their king, had a daughter fair, Yet never a man to her came nigh; And every day she took the air, Near to his prison she passed by. 53I.6	One day she heard Young Bechin sing A song that pleased her so well, No rest she got till she came to him, All in his lonely prison cell. 53I.7	‘I have a hall in London town, With other buildings two or three, And I’ll give them all to the ladye fair That from this dungeon shall set me free.’ 53I.8	She stole the keys from her dad’s head, And if she oped one door ay she opened three, Till she Young Bechin could find out, He was locked up so curiouslie. * * * * * 53I.9	‘I’ve been a porter at your gate This thirty years now, ay and three; There stands a ladye at your gate, The like of her I neer did see. 53I.10	‘On every finger she has a ring, On the mid-finger she has three; She’s as much gold about her brow As would an earldom buy to me.’ * * * * * 53I.11	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, He gently led her through the green; He changed her name from Susie Pie, An he’s called her lovely Ladye Jean.
 
53J: Young Beichan
 
 
 53J.1	* * * *
 	SHERR’rrS taen the keys frae her fadder’s coffer,
 	Tho he keeps them most sacredlie,
 	And she has opend the prison strong,
 	And set Young Beichan at libertie.
 	* * * * *
 53J.2	. . . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	‘Gae up the countrie, my chile,’ she says,
 	‘Till your fadder’s wrath be turned from thee.’
 	* * * * *
 53J.3	She’s put her han intill her purse,
 	And gave the porter guineas three;
 	Says, ‘Tak ye that, ye proud porter,
 	And tell your master to speak wi me.
 53J.4	‘Ye’ll bid him bring a shower o his best love,
 	But and a bottle o his wine,
 	And do to me as I did to him in time past,
 	And brought him out o muckle pine.’
 53J.5	He’s taen the table wi his foot,
 	And he has keppit it wi his knee:
 	‘I’ll wager my life and a’ my lan,
 	It’s Susan Pie come ower the sea.
 53J.6	‘Rise up, rise up, my bonnie bride,
 	Ye’re neither better nor waur for me;
 	Ye cam to me on a horse and saddle,
 	But ye may gang back in a coach and three.’

 
 
53K: Young Beichan
 
 
 53K.1	* * * *
 	‘There is a marriage in yonder hall,
 	Has lasted thirty days and three;
 	The bridegroom winna bed the bride,
 	For the sake of one that’s owre the sea.’
 	* * * * *
 53K.2	‘What news, what news, my brave young porter?
 	What news, what news have ye for me?’
 	‘As beautiful a ladye stands at your gate
 	As eer my two eyes yet did see.’
 53K.3	‘A slice of bread to her get ready,
 	And a bottle of the best of wine;
 	Not to forget that fair young ladye
 	Who did release thee out of close confine.’
 53K.4	Lord Bechin in a passion flew,
 	And rent himself like a sword in three,
 	Saying, ‘I would give all my father’s riches
 	If my Sophia was ’cross the sea.’
 53K.5	Up spoke the young bride’s mother,
 	Who never was heard to speak so free,
 	Saying, ‘I hope you’ll not forget my only daughter,
 	Though your Sophia be ’cross the sea.’
 53K.6	‘I own a bride I’ve wed your daughter,
 	She’s nothing else the worse of me;
 	She came to me on a horse and saddle,
 	She may go back in a coach and three.’

 
 
53L: Young Beichan
 
53L.1	LORD BATEMAN was a noble lord, A noble lord of high degree; He shipped himself all aboard of a ship, Some foreign country for to see. 53L.2	He sailed east, he sailed west, Until he came to famed Turkey, Where he was taken and put to prison, Until his life was quite weary. 53L.3	All in this prison there grew a tree, O there it grew so stout and strong! Where he was chained all by the middle, Until his life was almost gone. 53L.4	This Turk he had one only daughter, The fairest my two eyes eer see; She steel the keys of her father’s prison, And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free. 53L.5	O she took him to her father’s cellar, And gave to him the best of wine; And every health she drank unto him Was, ‘I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was mine.’ 53L.6	‘O have you got houses, have you got land, And does Northumberland belong to thee? And what would you give to the fair young lady As out of prison would let you go free?’ 53L.7	‘O I’ve got houses and I’ve got land, And half Northumberland belongs to me; And I will give it all to the fair young lady As out of prison would let me go free.’ 53L.8	‘O in seven long years, I’ll make a vow For seven long years, and keep it strong, That if you’ll wed no other woman, O I will wed no other man.’ 53L.9	O she took him to her father’s harbor, And gave to him a ship of fame, Saying, Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman, I fear I never shall see you again. 53L.10	Now seven long years is gone and past, And fourteen days, well known to me; She packed up all her gay clothing, And swore Lord Bateman she would go see. 53L.11	O when she arrived at Lord Bateman’s castle, How boldly then she rang the bell! ‘Who’s there? who’s there?’ cries the proud young porter, ‘O come unto me pray quickly tell.’ 53L.12	‘O is this here Lord Bateman’s castle, And is his lordship here within?’ ‘O yes, O yes,’ cries the proud young porter, ‘He’s just now taking his young bride in.’ 53L.13	‘O bid him to send me a slice of bread, And a bottle of the very best wine, And not forgetting the fair young lady As did release him when close confine.’ 53L.14	O away and away went this proud young porter, O away and away and away went he, Until he come to Lord Bateman’s chamber, When he went down on his bended knee. 53L.15	‘What news, what news, my proud young porter? What news, what news? Come tell to me:’ ‘O there is the fairest young lady As ever my two eyes did see. 53L.16	‘She has got rings on every finger, And on one finger she has got three; With as much gay gold about her middle As would buy half Northumberlee. 53L.17	‘O she bids you to send her a slice of bread, And a bottle of the very best wine, And not forgetting the fair young lady As did release you when close confine.’ 53L.18	Lord Bateman then in passion flew, And broke his sword in splinters three, Saying, I will give half of my father’s land, If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea. 53L.19	Then up and spoke this young bride’s mother, Who never was heard to speak so free; Saying, You’ll not forget my only daughter, If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea. 53L.20	‘O it’s true I made a bride of your daughter, But she’s neither the better nor the worse for me; She came to me with a horse and saddle, But she may go home in a coach and three.’ 53L.21	Lord Bateman then prepared another marriage, With both their hearts so full of glee, Saying, I will roam no more to foreign countries, Now that Sophia has crossed the sea.
 
53M: Young Beichan
 
53M.1	YOUNG BONWELL was a squire’s ae son, And a squire’s ae son was he; He went abroad to a foreign land, To serve for meat and fee. 53M.2	He hadna been in that country A twalmonth and a day, Till he was cast in prison strong, For the sake of a lovely may. 53M.3	‘O if my father get word of this, At hame in his ain country, He’ll send red gowd for my relief, And a bag o white money. 53M.4	‘O gin an earl woud borrow me, At his bridle I woud rin; Or gin a widow woud borrow me, I’d swear to be her son. 53M.5	‘Or gin a may woud borrow me, I’d wed her wi a ring, Infeft her wi the ha’s and bowers O the bonny towers o Linne.’ 53M.6	But it fell ance upon a day Dame Essels she thought lang, And she is to the jail-house door, To hear Young Bondwell’s sang. 53M.7	‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny Bondwell, The sang ye sang just now:’ ‘I never sang the sang, lady, But I woud war’t on you. 53M.8	‘O gin my father get word o this, At hame in his ain country, He’ll send red gowd for my relief, And a bag o white money. 53M.9	‘O gin an earl woud borrow me, At his bridle I woud rin; Or gin a widow would borrow me, I’d swear to be her son. 53M.10	‘O gin a may woud borrow me, I woud wed her wi a ring, Infeft her wi the ha’s and bowers O the bonny towers o Linne.’ 53M.11	She’s stole the keys o the jail-house door, Where under the bed they lay; She’s opend to him the jail-house door, And set Young Bondwell free. 53M.12	She gae’m a steed was swift in need, A saddle o royal ben, A hunder pund o pennies round, Bade him gae roav an spend. 53M.13	A couple o hounds o ae litter, And Cain they ca’d the one; Twa gay gos-hawks she gae likeways, To keep him onthought lang. 53M.14	When mony days were past and gane, Dame Essels thought fell lang, And she is to her lonely bower, To shorten her wi a sang. 53M.15	The sang has such a melody, It lulld her fast asleep; Up starts a woman, clad in green, And stood at her bed-feet. 53M.16	‘Win up, win up, Dame Essels,’ she says, ‘This day ye sleep ower lang; The morn is the squire’s wedding day, In the bonny towers o Linne. 53M.17	‘Ye’ll dress yoursell in the robes o green, Your maids in robes sae fair, And ye’ll put girdles about their middles, Sae costly, rich and rare. 53M.18	‘Ye’ll take your maries alang wi you, Till ye come to yon strand; There ye’ll see a ship, wi sails all up, Come sailing to dry land. 53M.19	‘Ye’ll take a wand into your hand, Ye’ll stroke her round about, And ye’ll take God your pilot to be, To drown ye’ll take nae doubt.’ 53M.20	Then up it raise her Dame Essels, Sought water to wash her hands, But aye the faster that she washd, The tears they trickling ran. 53M.21	Then in it came her father dear, And in the floor steps he: ‘What ails Dame Essels, my daughter dear, Ye weep sae bitterlie? 53M.22	‘Want ye a small fish frae the flood, Or turtle frae the sea? Or is there man in a’ my realm This day has offended thee?’ 53M.23	‘I want nae small fish frae the flood, Nor turtle frae the sea; But Young Bondwell, your ain prisoner, This day has offended me.’ 53M.24	Her father turnd him round about, A solemn oath sware he: ‘If this be true ye tell me now High hanged he shall be. 53M.25	‘To-morrow morning he shall be Hung high upon a tree:’ Dame Essels whisperd to hersel, ‘Father, ye’ve made a lie.’ 53M.26	She dressd hersel in robes o green, Her maids in robes sae fair, Wi gowden girdles round their middles, Sae costly, rich and rare. 53M.27	She’s taen her mantle her about, A maiden in every hand; They saw a ship, wi sails a’ up, Come sailing to dry land. 53M.28	She’s taen a wand intill her hand, And stroked her round about, And she’s taen God her pilot to be, To drown she took nae doubt. 53M.29	So they saild on, and further on, Till to the water o Tay; There they spied a bonny little boy, Was watering his steeds sae gay. 53M.30	‘What news, what news, my little boy, What news hae ye to me? Are there any weddings in this place, Or any gaun to be?’ 53M.31	‘There is a wedding in this place, A wedding very soon; The morn’s the young squire’s wedding day, In the bonny towers of Linne.’ 53M.32	O then she walked alang the way To see what coud be seen, And there she saw the proud porter, Drest in a mantle green. 53M.33	‘What news, what news, porter?’ she said, ‘What news hae ye to me? Are there any weddings in this place, Or any gaun to be?’ 53M.34	‘There is a wedding in this place, A wedding very soon; The morn is Young Bondwell’s wedding day, The bonny squire o Linne.’ 53M.35	‘Gae to your master, porter,’ she said, ‘Gae ye right speedilie; Bid him come and speak wi a maid That wishes his face to see.’ 53M.36	The porter’s up to his master gane, Fell low down on his knee; ‘Win up, win up, my porter,’ he said, ‘Why bow ye low to me?’ 53M.37	hae been porter at your yetts These thirty years and three, But fairer maids than’s at them now My eyes did never see. 53M.38	‘The foremost she is drest in green, The rest in fine attire, Wi gowden girdles round their middles, Well worth a sheriff’s hire.’ 53M.39	Then out it speaks Bondwell’s own bride, Was a’ gowd to the chin; ‘They canno be fairer thereout,’ she says, ‘Than we that are therein.’ 53M.40	‘There is a difference, my dame,’ he said, ‘’Tween that ladye’s colour and yours; As much difference as you were a stock, She o the lily flowers.’ 53M.41	Then out it speaks him Young Bondwell, An angry man was he: ‘Cast up the yetts baith wide an braid, These ladies I may see.’ 53M.42	Quickly up stairs Dame Essel’s gane, Her maidens next her wi; Then said the bride, This lady’s face Shows the porter’s tauld nae lie. 53M.43	The lady unto Bondwell spake, These words pronounced she: O hearken, hearken, fause Bondwell, These words that I tell thee. 53M.44	Is this the way ye keep your vows That ye did make to me, When your feet were in iron fetters, Ae foot ye coudna flee? 53M.45	I stole the keys o the jail-house door Frae under the bed they lay, And opend up the jail-house door, Set you at liberty. 53M.46	Gae you a steed was swift in need, A saddle o royal ben, A hunder pund o pennies round, Bade you gae rove an spend. 53M.47	A couple o hounds o ae litter, Cain they ca’ed the ane, Twa gay gos-hawks as swift’s eer flew, To keep you onthought lang. 53M.48	But since this day ye’ve broke your vow, For which ye’re sair to blame, And since nae mair I’ll get o you, O Cain, will ye gae hame? 53M.49	‘O Cain! O Cain!’ the lady cried, And Cain did her ken; They baith flappd round the lady’s knee, Like a couple o armed men. 53M.50	He’s to his bride wi hat in hand, And haild her courteouslie: ‘Sit down by me, my bonny Bondwell, What makes this courtesie?’ 53M.51	‘An asking, asking, fair lady, An asking ye’ll grant me;’ ‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Bondwell, What may your askings be?’ 53M.52	‘Five hundred pounds to you I’ll gie, Of gowd an white monie, If ye’ll wed John, my ain cousin; He looks as fair as me.’ 53M.53	‘Keep well your monie, Bondwell,’ she said, ‘Nae monie I ask o thee; Your cousin John was my first love, My husband now he’s be.’ 53M.54	Bondwell was married at morning ear, John in the afternoon; Dame Essels is lady ower a’ the bowers And the high towers o Linne.
 
53N: Young Beichan
 
53N.1	IN London was Young Bichen born, He longd strange lands to see; He set his foot on good ship-board, And he sailed over the sea. 53N.2	He had not been in a foreign land A day but only three, Till he was taken by a savage Moor, And they used him most cruelly. 53N.3	In every shoulder they put a pin, To every pin they put a tree; They made him draw the plow and cart, Like horse and oxen in his country. 53N.4	He had not servd the savage Moor A week, nay scarcely but only three, Till he has casten him in prison strong, Till he with hunger was like to die. 53N.5	It fell out once upon a day That Young Bichen he made his moan, As he lay bound in irons strong, In a dark and deep dungeon. 53N.6	‘An I were again in fair England, As many merry day I have been, Then I would curb my roving youth No more to see a strange land. 53N.7	‘O an I were free again now, And my feet well set on the sea, I would live in peace in my own country, And a foreign land I no more would see.’ 53N.8	The savage Moor had but one daughter, I wot her name was Susan Py; She heard Young Bichen make his moan, At the prison-door as she past by. 53N.9	‘O have ye any lands,’ she said, ‘Or have you any money free, Or have you any revenues, To maintain a lady like me?’ 53N.10	‘O I have land in fair England, And I have estates two or three, And likewise I have revenues, To maintain a lady like thee.’ 53N.11	‘O will you promise, Young Bichen,’ she says, ‘And keep your vow faithful to me, That at the end of seven years In fair England you’ll marry me? 53N.12	‘I’ll steal the keys from my father dear, Tho he keeps them most secretly; I’ll risk my life for to save thine, And set thee safe upon the sea.’ 53N.13	She’s stolen the keys from her father, From under the bed where they lay; She opened the prison strong And set Young Bichen at liberty. 53N.14	She’s gone to her father’s coffer, Where the gold was red and fair to see; She filled his pockets with good red gold, And she set him far upon the sea. 53N.15	‘O mind you well, Young Bichen,’ she says, ‘The vows and oaths you made to me; When you are come to your native land, O then remember Susan Py!’ 53N.16	But when her father he came home He missd the keys there where they lay; He went into the prison strong, But he saw Young Bichen was away. 53N.17	‘Go bring your daughter, madam,’ he says, ‘And bring her here unto me; Altho I have no more but her, Tomorrow I’ll gar hang her high.’ 53N.18	The lady calld on the maiden fair To come to her most speedily; ‘Go up the country, my child,’ she says, ‘Stay with my brother two years or three. 53N.19	‘I have a brother, he lives in the isles, He will keep thee most courteously And stay with him, my child,’ she says, ‘Till thy father’s wrath be turnd from thee.’ 53N.20	Now will we leave young Susan Py A while in her own country, And will return to Young Bichen, Who is safe arrived in fair England. 53N.21	He had not been in fair England Above years scarcely three, Till he has courted another maid, And so forgot his Susan Py. 53N.22	The youth being young and in his prime, Of Susan Py thought not upon, But his love was laid on another maid, And the marriage-day it did draw on. 53N.23	But eer the seven years were run, Susan Py she thought full long; She set her foot on good ship-board, And she has saild for fair England. 53N.24	On every finger she put a ring, On her mid-finger she put three; She filld her pockets with good red gold, And she has sailed oer the sea. 53N.25	She had not been in fair England A day, a day, but only three, Till she heard Young Bichen was a bridegroom, And the morrow to be the wedding-day. 53N.26	‘Since it is so,’ said young Susan, ‘That he has provd so false to me, I’ll hie me to Young Bichen’s gates, And see if he minds Susan Py.’ 53N.27	She has gone up thro London town, Where many a lady she there did spy; There was not a lady in all London Young Susan that could outvie. 53N.28	She has calld upon a waiting-man, A waiting-man who stood near by: ‘Convey me to Young Bichen’s gates, And well rewarded shals thou be.’ 53N.29	When she came to Young Bichen’s gate She chapped loudly at the pin, Till down there came the proud porter; ‘Who’s there,’ he says, ’That would be in?’ 53N.30	‘Open the gates, porter,’ she says, ‘Open them to a lady gay, And tell your master, porter,’ she says, ‘To speak a word or two with me.’ 53N.31	The porter he has opend the gates; His eyes were dazzled to see A lady dressd in gold and jewels; No page nor waiting-man had she. 53N.32	‘O pardon me, madam,’ he cried, ‘This day it is his wedding-day; He’s up the stairs with his lovely bride, And a sight of him you cannot see.’ 53N.33	She put her hand in her pocket, And therefrom took out guineas three, And gave to him, saying, Please, kind sir, Bring down your master straight to me. 53N.34	The porter up again has gone, And he fell low down on his knee, Saying, Master, you will please come down To a lady who wants you to see. 53N.35	A lady gay stands at your gates, The like of her I neer did see; She has more gold above her eye Nor would buy a baron’s land to me. 53N.36	Out then spake the bride’s mother, I’m sure an angry woman was she: ‘You’re impudent and insolent, For ye might excepted the bride and me.’ 53N.37	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye proud woman, I’m sure sae loud as I hear you lie; She has more gold on her body Than would buy the lands, the bride, and thee!’ 53N.38	‘Go down, go down, porter,’ he says, ‘And tell the lady gay from me That I’m up-stairs wi my lovely bride, And a sight of her I cannot see.’ 53N.39	The porter he goes down again, The lady waited patiently: ‘My master’s with his lovely bride, And he’ll not win down my dame to see.’ 53N.40	From off her finger she’s taen a ring; ‘Give that your master,’ she says, ’From me, And tell him now, young man,’ she says, ‘To send down a cup of wine to me.’ 53N.41	‘Here’s ring for you, master,’ he says, ‘On her mid-finger she has three, And you are desird, my lord,’ he says, ‘To send down a cup of wine with me.’ 53N.42	He hit the table with his foot, He kepd it with his right knee: ‘I’ll wed my life and all my land That is Susan Py, come o’er the sea!’ 53N.43	He has gone unto the stair-head, A step he took but barely three; He opend the gates most speedily, And Susan Py he there could see. 53N.44	‘Is this the way, Young Bichen,’ she says, ‘Is this the way you’ve guided me? I relieved you from prison strong, And ill have you rewarded me. 53N.45	mind ye, Young Bichen,’ she says, ‘The vows and oaths that ye made to me, When ye lay bound in prison strong, In a deep dungeon of misery?’ 53N.46	He took her by the milk-white hand, And led her into the palace fine; There was not a lady in all the palace But Susan Py did all outshine. 53N.47	The day concluded with joy and mirth, On every side there might you see; There was great joy in all England For the wedding-day of Susan Py.


 
54A: The Cherry-Tree Carol
 
 
 54A.1	JOSEPH was an old man,
 	and an old man was he,
 	When he wedded Mary,
 	in the land of Galilee.
 54A.2	Joseph and Mary walked
 	through an orchard good,
 	Where was cherries and berries,
 	so red as any blood.
 54A.3	Joseph and Mary walked
 	through an orchard green,
 	Where was berries and cherries,
 	as thick as might be seen.
 54A.4	O then bespoke Mary,
 	so meek and so mild:
 	‘Pluck me one cherry, Joseph,
 	for I am with child.’
 54A.5	O then bespoke Joseph,
 	with words most unkind:
 	‘Let him pluck thee a cherry
 	that brought thee with child.’
 54A.6	O then bespoke the babe,
 	within his mother’s womb:
 	‘Bow down then the tallest tree,
 	for my mother to have some.’
 54A.7	Then bowed down the highest tree
 	unto his mother’s hand;
 	Then she cried, See, Joseph,
 	I have cherries at command.
 54A.8	O then bespake Joseph:
 	‘I have done Mary wrong;
 	But cheer up, my dearest,
 	and be not cast down.’
 54A.9	Then Mary plucked a cherry,
 	as red as the blood,
 	Then Mary went home
 	with her heavy load.
 54A.10	Then Mary took her babe,
 	and sat him on her knee,
 	Saying, My dear son, tell me
 	what this world will be.
 54A.11	‘O I shall be as dead, mother,
 	as the stones in the wall;
 	O the stones in the streets, mother,
 	shall mourn for me all.
 54A.12	‘Upon Easter-day, mother,
 	my uprising shall be;
 	O the sun and the moon, mother,
 	shall both rise with me.’

 
 
54B: The Cherry-Tree Carol
 
54B.1	JOSEPH was an old man, and an old man was he, And he married Mary, the Queen of Galilee. 54B.2	When Joseph was married, and Mary home had brought, Mary proved with child, and Joseph knew it not. 54B.3	Joseph and Mary walked through a garden gay, Where the cherries they grew upon every tree. 54B.4	O then bespoke Mary, with words both meek and mild: ‘O gather me cherries, Joseph, they run so in my mind.’ 54B.5	And then replied Joseph, with words so unkind: ‘Let him gather thee cherries that got thee with child.’ 54B.6	O then bespoke our Saviour, all in his mother’s womb: ‘Bow down, good cherry-tree, to my mother’s hand.’ 54B.7	The uppermost sprig bowed down to Mary’s knee: ‘Thus you may see, Joseph, these cherries are for me.’ 54B.8	‘O eat your cherries, Mary, O eat your cherries now; O eat your cherries, Mary, that grow upon the bough.’ 54B.9	As Joseph was a walking, he heard an angel sing: ‘This night shall be born our heavenly king. 54B.10	‘He neither shall be born in housen nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, but in an ox’s stall. 54B.11	‘He neither shall be clothed in purple nor in pall, But all in fair linen, as were babies all. 54B.12	‘He neither shall be rocked in silver nor in gold, But in a wooden cradle, that rocks on the mould. 54B.13	‘He neither shall be christened in white wine nor red, But with fair spring water, with which we were christened.’ 54B.14	Then Mary took her young son, and set him on her knee: ‘I pray thee now, dear child, tell how this world shall be.’ 54B.15	‘O I shall be as dead, mother, as the stones in the wall; O the stones in the street, mother, shall mourn for me all. 54B.16	‘And upon a Wednesday my vow I will make, And upon Good Friday my death I will take. 54B.17	‘Upon Easter-day, mother, my rising shall be; O the sun and the moon shall uprise with me. 54B.18	’ The people shall rejoice, and the birds they shall sing, To see the uprising of the heavenly king.’
 
54C: The Cherry-Tree Carol
 
54C.1	JOSEPH was an old man, an old man was he, He married sweet Mary, the Queen of Galilee. 54C.2	As they went a walking in the garden so gay, Maid Mary spied cherries, hanging over yon tree. 54C.3	Mary said to Joseph, with her sweet lips so mild, ‘Pluck those cherries, Joseph, for to give to my child.’ 54C.4	O then replied Joseph, with words so unkind, ‘I will pluck no cherries for to give to thy child.’ 54C.5	Mary said to cherry-tree, ‘Bow down to my knee, That I may pluck cherries, by one, two, and three.’ 54C.6	The uppermost sprig then bowed down to her knee: ‘Thus you may see, Joseph, these cherries are for me.’ 54C.7	‘O eat your cherries, Mary, O eat your cherries now, O eat your cherries, Mary, that grow upon the bough.’ 54C.8	As Joseph was a walking he heard angels sing, ‘This night there shall be born our heavenly king. 54C.9	‘He neither shall be born in house nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, but in an ox-stall. 54C.10	‘He shall not be clothed in purple nor pall, But all in fair linen, as wear babies all. 54C.11	‘He shall not be rocked in silver nor gold, But in a wooden cradle, that rocks on the mould. 54C.12	‘He neither shall be christened in milk nor in wine, But in pure spring-well water, fresh sprung from Bethine.’ 54C.13	Mary took her baby, she dressed him so sweet; She laid him in a manger, all there for to sleep. 54C.14	As she stood over him she heard angels sing, ‘Oh bless our dear Saviour, our heavenly king.’
 
54D: The Cherry-Tree Carol
 
 
 54D.1	O JOSEPH was an old man,
 	and an old man was he,
 	And he married Mary,
 	from the land of Galilee.
 54D.2	Oft after he married her,
 	how warm he were abroad,
 	. . . .
 	. . . .
 54D.3	Then Mary and Joseph
 	walkd down to the gardens cool;
 	Then Mary spied a cherry,
 	as red as any blood.
 54D.4	‘Brother Joseph, pluck the cherry,
 	for I am with child:’
 	‘Let him pluck the cherry, Mary,
 	as is father to the child.’
 54D.5	Then our blessed Saviour spoke,
 	from his mother’s womb:
 	‘Mary shall have cherries,
 	and Joseph shall have none.’
 54D.6	From the high bough the cherry-tree
 	bowd down to Mary’s knee;
 	Then Mary pluckt the cherry,
 	by one, two, and three.
 54D.7	They went a little further,
 	and heard a great din:
 	‘God bless our sweet Saviour,
 	our heaven’s love in.’
 54D.8	Our Saviour was not rocked
 	in silver or in gold,
 	But in a wooden cradle,
 	like other babes all.
 54D.9	Our Saviour was not christend
 	in white wine or red,
 	But in some spring water,
 	like other babes all.

 


 
55: The Carnal and the Crane
 
55.1	AS I passed by a river side, And there as I did reign, In argument I chanced to hear A Carnal and a Crane. 55.2	The Carnal said unto the Crane, If all the world should turn, Before we had the Father, But now we have the Son! 55.3	‘From whence does the Son come, From where and from what place?’ He said, In a manger, Between an ox and ass. 55.4	‘I pray thee,’ said the Carnal, ‘Tell me before thou go, Was not the mother of Jesus Conceivd by the Holy Ghost?’ 55.5	She was the purest virgin, And the cleanest from sin; She was the handmaid of our Lord And mother of our king. 55.6	‘Where is the golden cradle That Christ was rocked in? Where are the silken sheets That Jesus was wrapt in?’ 55.7	A manger was the cradle That Christ was rocked in: The provender the asses left So sweetly he slept on. 55.8	There was a star in the east land, So bright it did appear, Into King Herod’s chamber, And where King Herod were. 55.9	The Wise Men soon espied it, And told the king on high A princely babe was born that night No king could eer destroy. 55.10	‘If this be true,’ King Herod said, ‘As thou tellest unto me, This roasted cock that lies in the dish Shall crow full fences three.’ 55.11	The cock soon freshly featherd was, By the work of God’s own hand, And then three fences crowed he, In the dish where he did stand. 55.12	‘Rise up, rise up, you merry men all, See that you ready be; All children under two years old Now slain they all shall be.’ 55.13	Then Jesus, ah, and Joseph, And Mary, that was so pure, They travelld into Egypt, As you shall find it sure. 55.14	And when they came to Egypt’s land, Amongst those fierce wild beasts, Mary, she being weary, Must needs sit down to rest. 55.15	‘Come sit thee down,’ says Jesus, ‘Come sit thee down by me, And thou shalt see how these wild beasts Do come and worship me.’ 55.16	First came the lovely lion, Which Jesus’s grace did bring, And of the wild beasts in the field The lion shall be king. 55.17	We’ll choose our virtuous princess Of birth and high degree, In every sundry nation, Whereer we come and see. 55.18	Then Jesus, ah, and Joseph, And Mary, that was unknown, They travelled by a husbandman, Just while his seed was sown. 55.19	‘God speed thee, man,’ said Jesus, ‘Go fetch thy ox and wain, And carry home thy corn again Which thou this day hast sown.’ 55.20	The husbandman fell on his knees, Even upon his face: ‘Long time hast thou been looked for, But now thou art come at last. 55.21	‘And I myself do now believe Thy name is Jesus called; Redeemer of mankind thou art, Though undeserving all.’ 55.22	‘The truth, man, thou hast spoken, Of it thou mayst be sure, For I must lose my precious blood For thee and thousands more. 55.23	‘If any one should come this way, And enquire for me alone, Tell them that Jesus passed by As thou thy seed did sow.’ 55.24	After that there came King Herod, With his train so furiously, Enquiring of the husbandman Whether Jesus passed by. 55.25	‘Why, the truth it must be spoke, And the truth it must be known; For Jesus passed by this way When my seed was sown. 55.26	‘But now I have it reapen, And some laid on my wain, Ready to fetch and carry Into my barn again.’ 55.27	‘Turn back,’ says the captain, ‘Your labor and mine’s in vain; It’s full three quarters of a year Since he his seed has sown.’ 55.28	So Herod was deceived, By the work of God’s own hand, And further he proceeded Into the Holy Land. 55.29	There’s thousands of children young Which for his sake did die; Do not forbid those little ones, And do not them deny. 55.30	The truth now I have spoken, And the truth now I have shown; Even the Blessed Virgin She’s now brought forth a son.


 
56A: Dives and Lazarus
 
a. Sylvester, A Garland of Christmas Carols, p. 50, from an old Birmingham broadside. b. Husk, Songs of the Nativity, p. 94, from a Worcestershire broadside of the last century.
56A.1	AS it fell out upon a day, Rich Dives he made a feast, And he invited all his friends, And gentry of the best. 56A.2	Then Lazarus laid him down and down, And down at Dives’ door: ‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives, Bestow upon the poor.’ 56A.3	‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus, That lies begging at my door; No meat nor drink will I give thee, Nor bestow upon the poor.’ 56A.4	Then Lazarus laid him down and down, And down at Dive’s wall: ‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives, Or with hunger starve I shall.’ 56A.5	‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus, That lies begging at my wall; No meat nor drink will I give thee, But with hunger starve you shall.’ 56A.6	Then Lazarus laid him down and down, And down at Dive’s gate: ‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives, For Jesus Christ sake.’ 56A.7	‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus, That lies begging at my gate; No meat nor drink will I give thee, For Jesus Christ his sake.’ 56A.8	Then Dives sent out his merry men, To whip poor Lazarus away; They had no power to strike a stroke, But flung their whips away. 56A.9	Then Dives sent out his hungry dogs, To bite him as he lay; They had no power to bite at all, But licked his sores away. 56A.10	As it fell out upon a day, Poor Lazarus sickened and died; Then came two angels out of heaven His soul therein to guide. 56A.11	‘Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus, And go along with me; For you’ve a place prepared in heaven, To sit on an angel’s knee.’ 56A.12	As it fell out upon a day, Rich Dives sickened and died; Then came two serpents out of hell, His soul therein to guide. 56A.13	‘Rise up, rise up, brother Dives, And go with us to see A dismal place, prepared in hell, From which thou canst not flee.’ 56A.14	Then Dives looked up with his eyes, And saw poor Lazarus blest: ‘Give me one drop of water, brother Lazarus, To quench my flaming thirst. 56A.15	‘Oh had I as many years to abide As there are blades of grass, Then there would be an end, but now Hell’s pains will ne’er be past. 56A.16	‘Oh was I now but alive again, The space of one half hour! Oh that I had my peace secure! Then the devil should have no power.’
 
56B: Dives and Lazarus
 
From memory, as sung by carol-singers at Christmas, in Worcestershire, at Hagley and Hartlebury, 1829-39: F. S. L., in Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, III, 76.
56B.1	AS it fell out upon one day, Rich Diverus he made a feast, And he invited all his friends, And gentry of the best. 56B.2	And it fell out upon one day, Poor Lazarus he was so poor, He came and laid him down and down. Evn down at Diverus’ door. 56B.3	So Lazarus laid him down and down Even down at Diverus’ door: ‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus, Do bestow upon the poor.’ 56B.4	‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus, Lying begging at my door: No meat, no drink will I give thee, Nor bestow upon the poor.’ 56B.5	Then Lazarus laid him down and down, Even down at Diverus’ wall: ‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus, Or surely starve I shall. 56B.6	‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus, Lying begging at my wall; No meat, no drink will I give thee, And therefore starve thou shall.’ 56B.7	Then Lazarus laid him down and down, Even down at Diverus’ gate: ‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus, For Jesus Christ his sake.’ 56B.8	‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus, Lying begging at my gate; No meat, no drink will I give thee, For Jesus Christ his sake. 56B.9	Then Diverus sent out his merry men all, To whip poor Lazarus away; They had not power to whip one whip, But threw their whips away. 56B.10	Then Diverus sent out his hungry dogs, To bite poor Lazarus away; They had not power to bite one bite, But licked his sores away. 56B.11	And it fell out upon one day, Poor Lazarus he sickened and died; There came two angels out of heaven, His soul thereto to guide. 56B.12	‘Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus, And come along with me; There is a place prepared in heaven, For to sit upon an angel’s knee.’ 56B.13	And it fell out upon one day Rich Diverus he sickened and died; There came two serpents out of hell, His soul thereto to guide. 56B.14	‘Rise up, rise up, brother Diverus, And come along with me; There is a place prepared in hell, For to sit upon a serpent’s knee.’


 
57: Brown Robyn’s Confession
 
 
 Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 110.  Motherwell’s MS., p. 580.
 
 57.1	IT fell upon a Wodensday
 	Brown Robyn’s men went to sea,
 	But they saw neither moon nor sun,
 	Nor starlight wi their ee.
 57.2	‘We’ll cast kevels us amang,
 	See wha the unhappy man may be;’
 	The kevel fell on Brown Robyn,
 	The master-man was he.
 57.3	‘It is nae wonder,’ said Brown Robyn,
 	‘Altho I dinna thrive,
 	For wi my mither I had twa bairns,
 	And wi my sister five.
 57.4	‘But tie me to a plank o wude,
 	And throw me in the sea;
 	And if I sink, ye may bid me sink,
 	But if I swim, just lat me bee.’
 57.5	They’ve tyed him to a plank o wude,
 	And thrown him in the sea;
 	He didna sink, tho they bade him sink;
 	He swimd, and they bade lat him bee.
 57.6	He hadna been into the sea
 	An hour but barely three,
 	Till by it came Our Blessed Lady,
 	Her dear young son her wi.
 57.7	‘Will ye gang to your men again,
 	Or will ye gang wi me?
 	Will ye gang to the high heavens,
 	Wi my dear son and me?’
 57.8	‘I winna gang to my men again,
 	For they would be feared at mee;
 	But I woud gang to the high heavens,
 	Wi thy dear son and thee.’
 57.9	‘It’s for nae honour ye did to me, Brown Robyn,
 	It’s for nae guid ye did to mee;
 	But a’ is for your fair confession
 	You’ve made upon the sea.’

 


 
58A: Sir Patrick Spens
 
a. Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 71: "given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland." b. Herd’s Scots Songs, 1769, p. 243.
58A.1	THE king sits in Dumferling toune, Drinking the blude-reid wine: ‘O whar will I get guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine?’ 58A.2	Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the kings richt kne: ‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor That sails upon the se.’ 58A.3	The king has written a braid letter, And signd it wi his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand. 58A.4	The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. 58A.5	‘O wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o’ the yeir, To sail upon the se! 58A.6	‘Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all, Our guid schip sails the morne:’ ‘O say na sae, my master deir, For I feir a deadlie storme. 58A.7	‘Late late yestreen I saw the new moone, Wi the auld moone in hir arme, And I feir, I feir, my deir master, That we will cum to harme.’ 58A.8	O our Scots nables wer richt laith To weet their cork-heild schoone; Bot lang owre a’ the play wer playd, Their hats they swam aboone. 58A.9	O lang, lang may their ladies sit, Wi thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence Cum sailing to the land. 58A.10	O lang, lang may the ladies stand, Wi thair gold kems in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they’ll se thame na mair. 58A.11	Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, It’s fiftie fadom deip, And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi the Scots lords at his feit.
Child 58 B: Sir Patrick Spens
Herd’s MSS., II, 27, I, 49.
58B.1	THE king he sits in Dumferling, Drinking the blude reid wine: O ‘O where will I get a gude sailor, That’l sail the ships o mine?’ O 58B.2	Up then started a yallow-haird man, Just be the kings right knee: ‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor That ever saild the see.’ 58B.3	Then the king he wrote a lang letter, And sealld it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, That was lyand at Leith Sands. 58B.4	When Patrick lookd the letter on, He gae loud laughters three; But afore he wan to the end of it The teir blindit his ee. 58B.5	‘O wha is this has tald the king, Has tald the king o me? Gif I but wist the man it war, Hanged should he be. 58B.6	‘Come eat and drink, my merry men all, For our ships maun sail the morn; Bla’d wind, bla’d weet, bla’d sna or sleet, Our ships maun sail the morn.’ 58B.7	‘Alake and alas now, good master, For I fear a deidly storm; For I saw the new moon late yestreen, And the auld moon in her arms.’ 58B.8	They had not saild upon the sea A league but merely three, When ugly, ugly were the jaws That rowd unto their knee. 58B.9	They had not saild upon the sea A league but merely nine, When wind and weit and snaw and sleit Came blawing them behind. 58B.10	‘Then where will I get a pretty boy Will take my steer in hand, Till I go up to my tap-mast, And see gif I see dry land?’ 58B.11	‘Here am I, a pretty boy That’l take your steir in hand, Till you go up to your tap-mast, And see an you see the land.’ 58B.12	Laith, laith were our Scottich lords To weit their coal-black shoon; But yet ere a’ the play was playd, They wat their hats aboon. 58B.13	Laith, laith war our Scottish lords To weit their coal-black hair; But yet ere a’ the play was playd, They wat it every hair. 58B.14	The water at St Johnston’s wall Was fifty fathom deep, And there ly a’ our Scottish lords, Sir Patrick at their feet. 58B.15	Lang, lang may our ladies wait Wi the tear blinding their ee, Afore they see Sir Patrick’s ships Come sailing oer the sea. 58B.16	Lang, lang may our ladies wait, Wi their babies in their hands, Afore they see Sir Patrick Spence Come sailing to Leith Sands.
Child 58C: Sir Patrick Spens
Motherwell’s MS., p. 493, "from the recitation of Buchanan, alias Mrs Notman, 9 September, 1826." 58C.1	THE king sat in Dunfermline toun, Drinking the blude red wine: ‘Where will I get a bold sailor, To sail this ship o mine?’ 58C.2	Out then spak an auld auld knicht, Was nigh the king akin: ‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sailed the main.’ 58C.3	The king’s wrote a large letter, Sealed it with his own hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on dry land. 58C.4	The first three lines he looked on, The tears did blind his ee; The neist three lines he looked on Not one word could he see. 58C.5	‘Wha is this,’ Sir Patrick says, ‘That’s tauld the king o me, To set me out this time o the year To sail upon the sea! 58C.6	‘Yestreen I saw the new new mune, And the auld mune in her arm; And that is the sign since we were born Even of a deadly storm. 58C.7	‘Drink about, my merry boys, For we maun sail the morn; Be it wind, or be it weet, Or be it deadly storm.’ 58C.8	We hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but only ane, Till cauld and watry grew the wind, And stormy grew the main. 58C.9	We hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but only twa, Till cauld and watry grew the wind, Come hailing owre them a’. 58C.10	We hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but only three, Till cold and watry grew the wind, And grumly grew the sea. 58C.11	‘Wha will come,’ the captain says, ‘And take my helm in hand? Or wha’ll gae up to my topmast, And look for some dry land? 58C.12	‘Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy, See what you can spy; Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy, See if any land we’re nigh.’ 58C.13	‘We’re fifty miles from shore to shore, And fifty banks of sand; And we have all that for to sail Or we come to dry land.’ 58C.14	‘Come down, come down, my pretty boy, I think you tarry lang; For the saut sea’s in at our coat-neck And out at our left arm. 58C.15	‘Come down, come down, my pretty boy, I fear we here maun die; For thro and thro my goodly ship I see the green-waved sea.’ 58C.16	Our Scotch lords were all afraid To weet their cork-heeled shoon; But lang or a’ the play was played, Their hats they swam abune. 58C.17	The first step that the captain stept, It took him to the knee, And the next step that the captain stepped They were a’ drownd in the sea. 58C.18	Half owre, half owre to Aberdour It’s fifty fadoms deep, And there lay good Sir Patrick Spens, And the Scotch lords at his feet. 58C.19	Lang may our Scotch lords’ ladies sit, And sew their silken seam, Before they see their good Scotch lords Come sailing owre the main. 58C.20	Lang lang may Sir Patrick’s lady Sit rocking her auld son, Before she sees Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing owre the main.
 
58D: Sir Patrick Spens
 
 
 Motherwell’s MS., p. 496, communicated by Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
 
 58D.1	THE king sits in Dumferling town,
 	Drinking the blood red wine: O
 	‘Where will I get a good skipper,
 	To sail seven ships o mine?’ O
 	Where will, etc?p
 58D.2	O up then spake a bra young man,
 	And a bra young man was he:
 	‘Sir Andrew Wood is the best skipper
 	That ever saild the sea.’
 58D.3	The king has written a bra letter,
 	And seald it wi his hand,
 	And ordered Sir Andrew Wood
 	To come at his command.
 58D.4	‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
 	Has tauld the king o me?
 	For had he been a better man,
 	He might ha tauld a lee.’
 58D.5	As I came in by the Inch, Inch, Inch,
 	I heard an auld man weep:
 	‘Sir Andrew Wood and a’ his men
 	Are drowned in the deep!’
 58D.6	O lang lang may yon ladies stand,
 	Their fans into their hands,
 	Before they see Sir Andrew Wood
 	Come sailing to dry land.
 58D.7	O laith laith were our Scottish lords
 	To weit their cork-heeled shoon;
 	But ere that a’ the play was plaid,
 	They wat their heads aboon.
 58D.8	Nore-east, nore-west frae Aberdeen
 	Is fifty fanthom deep,
 	And there lies good Sir Andrew Wood,
 	And a’ the Scottish fleet.

 
 
58E: Sir Patrick Spens
 
Motherwell’s MS., p. 348.
58E.1	THE king sits in Dumfermline toun, Sae merrilie drinking wine; O Says, Whare will I get a fine skipper, Wud sail these ships of mine? O 58E.2	Out and spak an auld rich knicht, And an ill death may he die! Says, Young Patrick is the best skipper That ever set sail on sea. 58E.3	The king did write a lang letter, Sealed it with his own hand, And he sent it to Young Patrick, To come at his command. 58E.4	When Young Patrick read the letter lang, The tear blindit his ee; Says Wha is this, or wha is that, That’s tauld the king of me? Altho he had been better than what he is, He micht hae askt leave of me. 58E.5	‘But busk, O busk, my merry men a’, O busk and mak you braw, For blaw the wind what airt it will, Our ship she must awa. 58E.6	‘Drink, O drink, my merrie men all, Drink o the beer and wine, For gin Wedensday by twal o’clock We’ll a’ be in our lang hame.’ 58E.7	Out and spak a pretty little boy: ‘I fear a deadlie storm; For I saw the new mune late yestreen, And the old ane in her arm, And readilie, maister,’ said he, ‘That’s the sign of a deadly storm.’ 58E.8	Aye they sat, and aye they drank, They drank of the beer and wine, And gin Wedensday gin ten o’clock, Their hair was wat abune. 58E.9	‘Whare wuld I get a pretty little boy, That wants to win hose and shoon, Wuld up to the top of my mainmast go, See if he could spy land?’ 58E.10	‘O here am I, a pretty little boy, Wants to win hose and shoon; I’ll up to the top of your mainmast go, Though I should neer come doun.’ 58E.11	‘Come doun, come doun, my pretty little boy, I think thou tarries lang; For the jawe is coming in at my coat-neck, Going out at my richt hand.’ 58E.12	But there cum a shouir out o the Norewest, Of dreidfu hail and rain, It made Young Patrick and his men A’ flat wi the sea faem. 58E.13	O is na it a great pitye To see feather-beds on the main? But it is a greater pitye, I think, To see men doing the same. 58E.14	There’s a brig at the back o Sanct John’s toun, It’s fifty fadom deep, And there lies a’ our brau Scots lords, Young Patrick’s at their feet. 58E.15	Young Patrick’s lady sits at hame, She’s sewing her silken seam; And aye when she looks to the salt sea waves, ‘I fear he’ll neer return.’ 58E.16	Young Patrick’s lady sits at hame Rocking her oldest son; And aye when she looks to the salt sea waves, ‘I’m feared he’ll neer come hame.’
 
58F: Sir Patrick Spens
 
Motherwell’s MS., p. 153, from the recitation of Mrs Thomson.
58F.1	THE king he sits on Dunfermline hill, Drinking baith beer and wine; O Says, Whare shall I get a good skipper, That will sail the salt sea fine? O 58F.2	But out then speaks an Irish knight, Sat by the king’s right knee: ‘Skipper Patrick is the best skipper That ever my eyes did see.’ 58F.3	The king has written a lang letter, And sealed it wi his hand, And sent it to Skipper Patrick, As he walked alang the sand. 58F.4	‘O wha is this, or wha is that, That’s tauld the king of me? For tho it had been the queen hersell, She might hae let it be. 58F.5	‘But busk you, O busk, my merry men all, Sae merrily busk and boune, For blaw the wind where eer it will, Our gude ship sails the morn.’ 58F.6	‘O no, O no, our dear master, It will be a deidly storm; For yestreen I saw the new new mune, Wi the auld mune in her arm; It’s a token, maister, or ye were born, It will be a deadly storm.’ 58F.7	‘But busk, O busk, my merrie men all, Our gude ship sails the morn, For blow the wind whereer it will, Our gude ship sails the morn.’ 58F.8	They had na sailed a day, a day, A day but scarsely five, Till Skipper Patrick’s bonny ship Began to crack and rive. 58F.9	It’s bonny was the feather beds That swimmed alang the main, But bonnier was our braw Scots lords, They neer returned again. 58F.10	Our Scots lords they are all laith To weet their coal black shoon; But I trow or a’ the play was played, They wat their hair abune. 58F.11	Our ladies may stand upon the sand, Kembing down their yellow hair, But they will neer see Skipper Patrick’s ship Come sailing in nae mair. 58F.12	Our ladies may stand upon the sand Wi gloves upon their hand, But they will never see Skipper Patrick’s ship Come sailing into the land. 58F.13	O vour and o vour to bonnie Aberdour It’s fifty fadoms deep; There you will find young Patrick lye, Wi his Scots lords at his head. 58F.14	Row owre, row owre to Aberdour, It’s fifty fadom deep; And there lies Earl Patrick Spens, His men all at his feet.
Child 58G: Sir Patrick Spens
Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 157, communicated by Scott.
58G.1	THE king sits in Dunfermlin town, Sae merrily drinkin the wine: ‘Whare will I get a mariner, Will sail this ship o mine?’ 58G.2	Then up bespak a bonny boy, Sat just at the king’s knee: ‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best seaman, That eer set foot on sea.’ 58G.3	The king has written a braid letter, Seald it wi his ain hand; He has sent word to Sir Patrick, To come at his command. 58G.4	‘O wha is this, or wha is that, Has tald the king o me? For I was never a good seaman, Nor ever intend to be.’ 58G.5	They mounted sail on Munenday morn, Wi a’ the haste they may, And they hae landed in Norraway, Upon the Wednesday. 58G.6	They hadna been a month, a month In Norraway but three, Till lads o Norraway began to say, Ye spend a’ our white monie. 58G.7	‘Ye spend a’ our good kingis goud, But and our queenis fee:’ ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud, Sae weel’s I hear you lie. 58G.8	‘For I brought as much white money As will gain my men and me; I brought half a fou o good red goud Out oer the sea with me. 58G.9	‘Be’t wind or weet, be’t snaw or sleet, Our ships maun sail the morn:’ ‘O ever alack! my master dear, I fear a deadly storm. 58G.10	‘I saw the new moon late yestreen, Wi the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we’ll suffer harm.’ 58G.11	They hadna sailed a league on sea, A league but barely ane, Till anchors brak, and tap-masts lap; There came a deadly storm. 58G.12	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy Will tak thir sails in hand, That will gang up to the tap-mast, See an he ken dry land?’ 58G.13	Laith, laith were our good Scots lords To weet their leathern shoon; But or the morn at fair day-light, Their hats were wat aboon. 58G.14	Mony was the feather bed, That flotterd on the faem, And mony was the good Scots lord Gaed awa that neer cam hame, And mony was the fatherless bairn That lay at hame greetin. 58G.15	It’s forty miles to Aberdeen, And fifty fathoms deep; And there lyes a’ our good Scots lords, Wi Sir Patrick at their feet. 58G.16	The ladies crackt their fingers white, The maidens tore their hair, A’ for the sake o their true loves, For them they neer saw mair. 58G.17	Lang, lang may our ladies stand, Wi their fans in their hand, Ere they see Sir Patrick and his men Come sailing to the land.
 
58H: Sir Patrick Spens
 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 64, ed. 1803; I, 299, ed. 1833; "taken from two MS. copies, collated with several verses recited by the editor’s friend, Robert Hamilton, Esq., Advocate."
58H.1	THE king sits in Dumfermline town, Drinking the blude-red wine: O ‘O whare will I get a skeely skipper, To sail this new ship of mine?’ O 58H.2	O up and spake an eldern knight, Sat at the king’s right knee: ‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever saild the sea.’ 58H.3	Our king has written a braid letter, And seald it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand. 58H.4	‘To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway oer the faem; The king’s daughter of Noroway, ’Tis thou maun bring her hame.’ 58H.5	The first word that Sir Patrick read, Sae loud, loud laughed he; The neist word that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his ee. 58H.6	‘O wha is this has done this deed, And tauld the king o me, To send us out at this time of the year To sail upon the sea? 58H.7	‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, Our ship must sail the faem; The king’s daughter of Noroway, ’Tis we must fetch her hame.’ 58H.8	They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn, Wi a’ the speed they may; They hae landed in Noroway, Upon a Wodensday. 58H.9	They hadna been a week, a week In Noroway but twae, When that the lords o Noroway Began aloud to say: 58H.10	‘Ye Scottishmen spend a’ our king’s goud, And a’ our queenis fee!’ ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud, Fu loud I hear ye lie! 58H.11	‘For I brought as much white monie As gane my men and me, And I brought a half-fou o gude red goud Out oer the sea wi me. 58H.12	‘Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a’, Our gude ship sails the morn:’ ‘Now, ever alake! my master dear, I fear a deadly storm! 58H.13	‘I saw the new moo late yestreen, Wi the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we’ll come to harm.’ 58H.14	They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea. 58H.15	The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, It was sic a deadly storm, And the waves came oer the broken ship, Till a’ her sides were torn. 58H.16	‘O where will I get a gude sailor, To take my helm in hand, Till I get up to the tall topmast, To see if I can spy land?’ 58H.17	‘O here am I, a sailor gude, To take the helm in hand, Till you go up to the tall topmast; But I fear you’ll neer spy land.’ 58H.18	He hadna gane a step, a step, A step but barely ane, When a bout flew out of our goodly ship, And the salt sea it came in. 58H.19	‘Gae fetch a web o the silken claith, Another o the twine, And wap them into our ship’s side, And letna the sea come in.’ 58H.20	They fetched a web o the silken claith, Another o the twine, And they wapped them roun that gude ship’s side, But still the sea came in. 58H.21	O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords To weet their cork-heeld shoon; But lang or a’ the play was playd, They wat their hats aboon. 58H.22	And mony was the feather-bed That flattered on the faem, And mony was the gude lord’s son That never mair cam hame. 58H.23	The ladyes wrang their fingers white, The maidens tore their hair, A’ for the sake of their true loves, For them they’ll see na mair. 58H.24	O lang, lang may the ladyes sit, Wi their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand. 58H.25	And lang, lang may the maidens sit, Wi their goud kaims in their hair, A’ waiting for their ain dear loves, For them they’ll see na mair. 58H.26	O forty miles off Aberdeen ’Tis fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi the Scots lords at his feet.
 
58I: Sir Patrick Spens
 
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 1; Motherwell’s MS., p. 550.
58I.1	THE king sits in Dumfermline town, A-drinking at the wine; Says, Where will I get a good skipper, Will sail the saut seas fine? 58I.2	Out it speaks an eldren knight Amang the companie: ‘Young Patrick Spens is the best skipper That ever saild the sea.’ 58I.3	The king he wrote a braid letter, And seald it wi his ring; Says, Ye’ll gie that to Patrick Spens, See if ye can him find. 58I.4	He sent this not wi an auld man, Nor yet a simple boy, But the best o nobles in his train This letter did convoy. 58I.5	When Patrick lookd the letter upon A light laugh then gae he; But ere he read it till an end, The tear blinded his ee. 58I.6	Ye’ll eat and drink, my merry men a’, An see ye be weell thorn; For blaw it weet, or blaw it wind, My guid ship sails the morn.’ 58I.7	Then out it speaks a guid auld man, A guid death mat he dee! ‘Whatever ye do, my guid master, Tak God your guide to bee. 58I.8	‘For late yestreen I saw the new moon, The auld moon in her arm:’ ‘Ohon, alas!’ says Patrick Spens, ‘That bodes a deadly storm. 58I.9	‘But I maun sail the seas the morn, And likewise sae maun you; To Noroway, wi our king’s daughter, A chosen queen she’s now. 58I.10	‘But I wonder who has been sae base As tauld the king o mee; Even tho he ware my ae brither, An ill death mat he dee!’ 58I.11	Now Patrick he riggd out his ship, And sailed ower the faem, But mony a dreary thought had hee, While hee was on the main. 58I.12	They hadna saild upon the sea A day but barely three, Till they came in sight o Noroway, It’s there where they must bee. 58I.13	They hadna stayed into that place A month but and a day, Till he causd the flip in mugs gae roun, And wine in cans sae gay. 58I.14	The pipe and harp sae sweetly playd, The trumpets loudly soun; In every hall where in they stayd, Wi their mirth did reboun. 58I.15	Then out it speaks an auld skipper, An inbearing dog was hee: ‘Ye’ve stayd ower lang in Noroway, Spending your king’s monie.’ 58I.16	Then out it speaks Sir Patrick Spens: ‘O how can a’ this bee? I hae a bow o guid red gowd Into my ship wi mee. 58I.17	‘But betide me well, betide me wae, This day I’se leave the shore, And never spend my king’s monie Mong Noroway dogs no more.’ 58I.18	Young Patrick hee is on the sea, And even on the faem, Wi five-an-fifty Scots lords’ sons, That langd to bee at hame. 58I.19	They hadna saild upon the sea A day but barely three, Till loud and boistrous grew the wind, And stormy grew the sea. 58I.20	‘O where will I get a little wee boy Will tak my helm in hand, Till I gae up to my tapmast, And see for some dry land?’ 58I.21	He hadna gane to his tapmast A step but barely three, Ere thro and thro the bonny ship’s side He saw the green haw sea. 58I.22	‘There are five-an-fifty feather beds Well packed in ae room; And ye’ll get as muckle guid canvas As wrap the ship a’ roun. 58I.23	‘Ye’ll pict her well, and spare her not, And mak her hale and soun:’ But ere he had the word well spoke The bonny ship was down. 58I.24	O laith, laith were our guid lords’ sons To weet their milk-white hands; But lang ere a’ the play was ower, They wat their gowden bands. 58I.25	O laith, laith were our Scots lords’ sons To weet their coal-black shoon; But lang ere a’ the play was ower, They wat their hats aboon. 58I.26	It’s even ower by Aberdour It’s fifty fathoms deep, And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens, And a’s men at his feet. 58I.27	It’s even ower by Aberdour, There’s mony a craig and fin, And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens, Wi mony a guid lord’s son. 58I.28	Lang, lang will the ladyes look, Into their morning weed, Before they see young Patrick Spens Come sailing ower the fleed. 58I.29	Lang, lang will the ladyes look, Wi their fans in their hand, Before they see him Patrick Spens Come sailing to dry land.
Child 58J: Sir Patrick Spens
Miss Harris’s MS., fol. 4, from the singing of her mother.
58J.1	HIE sits oor king in Dumfermline, Sits birlin at the wine; Says, Whare will I get a bonnie boy That will sail the saut seas fine? That will hie owre to Norraway, To bring my dear dochter hame? 58J.2	Up it spak a bonnie boy, Sat by the king’s ain knie: ‘Sir Patrick Spens is as gude a skipper As ever sailed the sea.’ 58J.3	The king has wrote a broad letter, And signed it wi his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, To read it gif he can. 58J.4	The firsten line he luikit on, A licht lauchter gae he; But ere he read it to the end, The tear blindit his ee. 58J.5	‘O wha is this, or wha is that, Has tauld oor king o me? I wad hae gien him twice as muckle thank To latten that abee! 58J.6	‘But eat an drink, my merrie young men, Eat, an be weel forn; For blaw it wind, or blaw it weet, Oor gude ship sails the morn.’ 58J.7	Up it spak his youngest son, Sat by Sir Patrick’s knie: ‘I beg you bide at hame, father, An I pray be ruled by me. 58J.8	‘For I saw the new mune late yestreen, Wi the auld mune in her arms; An ever an alake, my father dear, It’s a token o diedly storms.’ 58J.9	‘It’s eat an drink, my merrie young men, Eat, an be weel forn; For blaw it wind, or blaw it weet, Oor gude ship sails the morn.’ 58J.10	They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but only three, When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws Cam drivin to their knie. 58J.11	They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but only five, When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws Their gude ship began to rive. 58J.12	They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league but only nine, When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws Cam drivin to their chin. 58J.13	‘O whaur will I get a bonnie boy Will tak the steer in hand, Till I mount up to oor tapmast, To luik oot for dry land?’ 58J.14	‘O here am I, a bonnie boy, Will tak the steer in hand, Till you mount up to oor tapmast, To luik oot for dry land.’ 58J.15	He’s gaen up to the tapmast, To the tapmast sae hie; He luikit around on every side, But dry land he couldna see. 58J.16	He luikit on his youngest son, An the tear blindit he ee; Says, I wish you had been in your mother’s bowr, But there you’ll never be. 58J.17	‘Pray for yoursels, my merrie young men, Pray for yoursels an me, For the first landen that we will land Will be in the boddam o the sea.’ 58J.18	Then up it raise the mermaiden, Wi the comb an glass in her hand: ‘Here’s a health to you, my merrie young men, For you never will see dry land.’ 58J.19	O laith, laith waur oor gude Scots lords To weet their cork-heeled shoon; But lang, lang ere the play was played, Their yellow locks soomed aboun. 58J.20	There was Saturday, an Sabbath day, An Monnonday at morn, That feather-beds an silken sheets Can floatin to Kinghorn. 58J.21	It’s och, och owre to Aberdour, It’s fifty faddoms deep; An there lie a’ oor gude Scots lords, Wi Sir Patrick Spens at their feet. 58J.22	O lang, lang will his lady sit, Wi the fan into her hand, Until she see her ain dear lord Come sailin to dry land. 58J.23	O lang, lang will his lady sit, Wi the tear into her ee, Afore she see her ain dear lord Come hieing to Dundee. 58J.24	O lang, lang will his lady sit, Wi the black shoon on her feet, Afore she see Sir Patrick Spens Come drivin up the street.
 
58K: Sir Patrick Spens
 
Communicated by Mr Murison, as taken down from recitation in Old Deer by Mrs Murison.
58K.1	IT’S when he read the letter ower A licht lauch then leuch he; But lang ere he wan the end o it The saut tear filled his ee. 58K.2	‘O woe be to the man,’ he says, ‘That’s tauld the king o me; Altho he be my ain brither, Some ill death mat he dee! 58K.3	. . . . . . . . . . ‘For be it weet, or be it win, My bonnie ship sails the morn.’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ 58K.4	‘For late the streen I saw the new meen, Bit an the auld ane tee. An it fears me sair, my good maister, For a tempest in the sea.’ 58K.5	. . . . . . . . . . . Till up it rase the win an storm, An a tempest i the sea. 58K.6	. . . . . . . . . . . It’s throch an throu the comely cog There comes the green raw sea. ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ 58K.7	‘Call upo your men, maister, An dinna call on me, For ye drank them weel ere ye tuke the gate, But O nane gae ye me. 58K.8	‘Ye beat my back, an beat my sides, When I socht hose an sheen; So call upo your men, maister, As they lie drunk wi wine.’ 58K.9	‘Come doon, come doon, my bonnie boy, An tak my helm in han; Gin ever we live to gae to lan, I’ll wed ye wi my daughter Ann.’ 58K.10	‘Ye used me ill, my guid maister, When we was on the lan, But nevertheless, my gude maister, I’ll tak your helm in han.’ 58K.11	O laith, laith was oor bonny boys To weet their cork-heeled shoes; But lang ere a’ the play was played, They wat their yallow broos. 58K.12	O laith, laith was oor bonnie boys To weet their cork-heeled sheen; But lang ere a’ the play was played, They wat their hair abeen. 58K.13	‘O lang, lang will my lady leuk, Wi the lantern in her han, Afore she see my bonnie ship Come sailin to dry lan.’ 58K.14	Atween Leith an Aberdeen Lies mony a craig an sea, An there it lies young Patrick Spens, An mony bonnie boys him wi.
Child 58L: Sir Patrick Spens
Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 6, Motherwell’s MS., p. 156, from Mrs Gentles, Paisley, February 1825.
58L.1	OUR ship it was a gudely ship, Its topmast was of gold, And at every tack of needlework There hung a silver bell. 58L.2	Up started the mermaid by our ship, Wi the glass and the comb in her hand: ‘Reek about, reek about, my merrie men, Ye are not far from land.’ 58L.3	‘You lie, you lie, you pretty mermaid, Sae loud as I hear you lie; For since I have seen your face this nicht, The land I will never see.’ 58L.4	We hadna sailed a league but ane, A league but barely three, Till all we and our goodly ship Was all drowned in the sea. 58L.5	Lang lang may our ladies stand, Wi their seams into their hand, Looking for Sir Patrick’s ship, That will never come to land.
 
58M: Sir Patrick Spens
 
 
 Buchan’s Gleaning, p. 196, "from a very intelligent old man."
 
 58M.1	THERE shall no man go to my ship
 	Till I say mass and dine,
 	And take my leave of my lady;
 	Go to my bonny ship syne.
 58M.2	When he was up at the top-mast head
 	Around could naething see,
 	But terrible storm in the air aboon,
 	And below the roaring sea.
 58M.3	‘Come down, come down, my good master,
 	You see not what I see;
 	For thro an thro your bonny ship’s side
 	I see the green salt sea.’
 58M.4	Lang lang will the ladies look,
 	Wi their gown-tails owre their crown,
 	Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
 	Sailing to Dumferline town.
 
 		     Child 58N: Sir Patrick Spens
 
 Noted down from a female servant, by Joseph Robertson, July, 15, 1829, Adversaria, p. 67.
 
 58N.1	OWER and ower by Aberdour
 	There’s mony a cloudy stone,
 	And there is mony a gude lord’s son
 	I fear will never come home.
 58N.2	Lang, lang will his lady look,
 	Wi her baby in her arms,
 	But she’ll never see Earl Patrick Spens
 	Com walkin up the stran.
 58N.3	‘I have a table in my room,
 	It cost me guineas nine;
 	I wad sink it in the sea
 	For ae sight o dry lan.
 58N.4	‘There’s a coast o green velvet on my back,
 	I got it for my fee;
 	But tho I wad gie ten thousan punds,
 	Dry land I will never see.’

 
 
58O: Sir Patrick Spens
 
 
 Gibb MS., p. 63.
 
 58O.1	BONNY were the feather beds
 	Cam sailin ower the faem,
 	But bonnier was the sexteen lords
 	Gaed out and neer cam hame.
 58O.2	Lang, lang may the nourice sit,
 	Wi the bonny babe on her knee,
 	Ere ever she see her good lord come,
 	To pay to her her fee.
 58O.3	An lang, lang will the lady sit,
 	Wi the gowd fan in her hand,
 	Ere ever she see her ain gude lord
 	Come skipping to dry land.

 
 
58 P: Sir Patrick Spens
 
 
 Kinloch MSS, I, 281.
 
 58P.1	FU laith, fu laith was our braw Scots lords
 	To weet their coal black shoon;
 	But ere the battle a’ was foucht,
 	Their hats war weet aboun.
 58P.2	Out and starts the mermaiden,
 	Wi a fan into her hand:
 	‘Keep up your hearts, my merry men a’,
 	For ye’re near the dry land.’
 58P.3	Out and spak Earl Patrick Graham,
 	Wi the saut tear in his ee:
 	‘Now sin we’ve seen the mermaiden,
 	Dry land we’ll never see.’
 58P.4	Down below Dunbarton castle,
 	Full fifty fathoms deep,
 	There lies a’ our braw Scots men,
 	Earl Patrick at their feet.

 
 
58 Q: Sir Patrick Spens
 
 	
 Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, I, xiv, from a recited copy.
 
 58Q.1	THEN up an cam a mermaid,
 	Wi a siller cup in her han:
 	‘Sail on, sail on, my gude Scotch lords,
 	For ye sune will see dry lan.’
 58Q.2	‘Awa, awa, ye wind woman,
 	An let your fleechin be;
 	For sen your face we’ve seen the day,
 	Dry lan we’ll never see.’

 
 
58R: Sir Patrick Spens
 
 
 	Communicated by Mr Macmath, from Mr William Traquair, S. S. C., Edinburgh; obtained originally in Perthsire.
 
 58R	’TWAS late, late on a Saturday night,
 	And early on a Sunday morn,
 	That robes of silk and feather beds
 	Came floating to Kean-Gorn.

 


 
59A: Sir Aldingar
 
Percy MS., p. 68; Hales and Furnivall, I, 166.
59A.1	OUR king he kept a ffalse steward, Men called him Sir Aldingar, . . . . . . . . . 59A.2	He wold haue layen by our comely queene, Her deere worshipp to haue betraide; Our queene shee was a good woman, And euer more said him nay. 59A.3	Aldingar was offended in his mind, With her hee was neuer content, But he sought what meanes he cold find out, In a fyer to haue her brent. 59A.4	There came a lame lazer to the kings gates, A lazar was blind and lame; He tooke the lazar vpon his backe, Vpon the queenes bed he did him lay. 59A.5	He said, Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest; Looke thou goe not away; Ile make thee a whole man and a sound In two howres of a day. 59A.6	And then went forth Sir Aldingar, Our queene for to betray, And then he mett with our comlye king, Saies, God you saue and see! 59A.7	‘If I had space, as I haue grace, A message I wold say to thee:’ ‘Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar, Say thou on and vnto me.’ 59A.8	‘I can let you now see one of [the] greiuos[est] sights that euer Christen king did see; Our queene hath chosen a new, new loue, She will haue none of thee. 59A.9	‘If shee had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had beene her shame; But she hath chosen a lazar man, Which is both blinde and lame.’ 59A.10	‘If this be true, thou Aldingar, that thou dost tell to me, Then will I make thee a rich knight Both of gold and fee. 59A.11	‘But if it be false, Sir Aldingar, That thou doest tell to me, Then looke for noe other death But to be hangd on a tree. Goe with me,’ saide our comly king, ‘This lazar for to see.’ 59A.12	When the king he came into the queenes chamber, Standing her bed befor, ‘There is a lodly lome,’ says Harry King, ‘For our dame Queene Elinor! 59A.13	‘If thou were a man, as thou art none, Here thou sholdest be slaine; But a paire of new gallowes shall be built, Thoust hang on them soe hye. 59A.14	‘And [a] fayre fyer there shalbe bett, And brent our queene shalbee:’ Fforth then walked our comlye king, And mett with our comly queene. 59A.15	Saies, God you saue, our queene, Madam, And Christ you saue and see! Heere you [haue] chosen a new, new loue, And you will haue none of mee. 59A.16	‘If you had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had beene your shame; But you haue chosen a lazar man, That is both blind and lame.’ 59A.17	‘Euer alacke!’ said our comly queene, ‘Sir Aldingar is false to mee; But euer alacke!’ said our comly queene, ‘Euer alas, and woe is mee! 59A.18	‘I had thought sweuens had neuer been true; I haue prooued them true at the last; I dreamed in my sweauen on Thursday at eueninge, In my bed wheras I lay, 59A.19	‘I dreamed a grype and a grimlie beast Had carryed my crowne away, My gorgett and my kirtle of golde, And all my faire heade-geere. 59A.20	How he wold haue worryed me with his tush, And borne me into his nest, Saving there came a little hawk, Flying out of the east. 59A.21	‘Saving there came a little hawke, Which men call a merlion; Vntill the ground he stroke him downe, that dead he did fall downe. 59A.22	‘Giffe I were a man, as I am none, A battell I would proue; I wold fight with that false traitor; Att him I cast my gloue! 59A.23	‘Seing I am able noe battell to make, You must grant me, my leege, a knight, To fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar, To maintaine me in my right.’ 59A.24	‘I’le giue thee forty dayes,’ said our king, ‘To seeke thee a man therin; If thou find not a man in forty dayes, In a hott fyer thou shall brenn.’ 59A.25	Our queene sent forth a messenger; He rode fast into the south; He rode the countryes through and through, Soe ffar vnto Portsmouth. 59A.26	. . . . . . . . . . . He cold find never a man in the south country that wold fight with the knight soe keene. 59A.27	The second messenger the queen forth sent Rode far into the east; But, blessed be God made sunn and moone! He sped then all of the best. 59A.28	As he rode then by one riuer side, There he mett with a little child; He seemed noe more in a mans likenesse Then a child of four yeeres old. 59A.29	He askt the queenes messenger how far he rode; Loth he was him to tell; The little one was offended att him, Bid him adew, farwell. 59A.30	Said, Turne thou againe, thou messenger, Greete our queene well from me; When bale is att hyest, boote is att next; Helpe enough there may bee. 59A.31	‘Bid our queene remember what she did dreame In her bedd wheras shee lay; Shee dreamed the grype and the grimly beast Had carryed her crowne away; 59A.32	‘Her gorgett and her kirtle of gold, Alsoe her faire head-geere; He wold haue werryed her with his tushe, And borne her into his nest. 59A.33	‘Saving there came a little hawke, Men call him a merlyon; Vntill the ground he did strike him downe, that dead he did ffall downe. 59A.34	‘Bidd the queene be merry att her hart, Euermore light and glad; When bale is att hyest, boote is at next, Helpe enoughe there shalbe.’ 59A.35	Then the queenes messenger rode backe, A gladed man then was hee; When he came before our queene, A gladd woman then was shee. 59A.36	Shee gaue the messenger twenty pound, O lord, in gold and ffee; Saies, Spend and spare not while this doth last, Then feitch thou more of me. 59A.37	Our queene was put in a tunne to burne, She thought no thing but death; Th?e were ware of the little one Came ryding forth of the east. 59A.38	With a mu . . . . . A louelie child was hee; When he came to that fier, He light the queene full nigh. 59A.39	Said, Draw away these brands of fire Lie burning before our queene, And feitch me hither Sir Aldingar, that is a knight soe keene. 59A.40	When Aldingar see that little one, Ffull litle of him hee thought; If there had beene halfe a hundred such, Of them he wold not haue wrought. 59A.41	Hee sayd, Come hither, Sir Aldingar; Thou seemust as bigge as a ffooder; I trust to God, ere I haue done with thee, God will send to vs [an] auger. 59A.42	Saies, The first stroke that’s giuen, Sir Aldingar, I will giue vnto thee, And if the second giue thou may, Looke then thou spare not mee. 59A.43	The litle one pulld forth a well good sword, I-wis itt was all of guilt; It cast light there over that feild, It shone soe all of guilt. 59A.44	He stroke the first stroke att Aldingar, He stroke away his leggs by his knee; . . . . . . . . . . . 59A.45	Sayes, Stand vp, stand vp, thou false traitor, And fight vpon thy feete; For and thou thriue as thou begins, Of a height wee shalbe meete. 59A.46	‘A preist, a preist,’ sayes Aldingar, ‘Me for to houzle and shriue! A preist, a preist,’ sayes Aldingar, ‘While I am a man liuing a-liue! 59A.47	‘I wold haue laine by our comlie queene; To it shee wold neuer consent; I thought to haue betrayd her to our king, In a fyer to haue had her brent. 59A.48	‘There came a lame lazar to the kings gates, A lazar both blind and lame; I tooke the lazar vpon my backe, In the Queenes bed I did him lay. 59A.49	‘I bad him, Lie still, lazar, where he lay, Looke he went not away; I wold make him a whole man and a sound In two houres of a day. 59A.50	. . . . . . . . . . ‘Euer alacke!’ sayes Sir Aldingar, ‘Falsing neuer doth well; 59A.51	‘Forgiue, forgiue me, queene, Madam! For Christs loue forgiue me!’ ‘God forgaue his death, Aldingar, And freely I forgiue thee.’ 59A.52	‘Now take thy wife, thou King Harry, And loue her as thou shold; Thy wiffe shee is as true to thee As stone that lies on the castle wall.’ 59A.53	The lazar vnder the gallow tree Was a pretty man and small; The lazar vnder the gallow tree Was made steward in King Henerys hall.
 
59B: Sir Aldingar
 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 51, 1803. Communicated to Scott by K. Williamson Burnet, of Monboddo, as written down from the recitation of an old woman, long in the service of the Arbuthnot family.
59B.1	THE birds sang sweet as ony bell, The world had not their make; The queen she’s gone to her chamber, With Rodingham to talk. 59B.2	‘I love you well, my queene, my dame, Bove land and rents so clear, And for the love of you, my queen, Would thole pain most severe.’ 59B.3	‘If well you love me, Rodingham, I’m sure so do I thee; I love you well as any man, Save the king’s fair bodye.’ 59B.4	‘I love you well, my queen, my dame, ’Tis truth that I do tell; And for to lye a night with you, The salt seas I would sail.’ 59B.5	‘Away, away, O Rodingham! You are both stark and stoor; Would you defile the king’s own bed, And make his queen a whore? 59B.6	‘To-morrow you’d be taken sure, And like a traitor slain, And I’d be burned at a stake, Altho I be the queen.’ 59B.7	All in an angry mood, Untill he met a leper-man, Just by the hard way-side. 59B.8	He intoxicate the leper-man, With liquors very sweet, And gave him more and more to drink, Until he fell asleep. 59B.9	He took him in his arms two, And carried him along, Till he came to the queen’s own bed, And there he laid him down. 59B.10	He then steppd out of the queen’s bower, As swift as any roe, Till he came to the very place Where the king himself did go. 59B.11	The king said unto Rodingham, What news have you to me? He said, Your queen’s a false woman, As I did plainly see. 59B.12	He hastend to the queen’s chamber, So costly and so fine, Until he came to the queen’s own bed, Where the leper-man was lain. 59B.13	He looked on the leper-man, Who lay on his queen’s bed; He lifted up the snaw-shite sheets, And thus he to him said. 59B.14	‘Plooky, plooky are your cheeks, And plooky is your chin, And plooky are your armis twa, My bonny queen’s layne in. 59B.15	‘Since she has lain into your arms, She shall not lye in mine; Since she has kissd your ugsome mouth, She never shall kiss mine.’ 59B.16	In anger he went to the queen, Who fell upon her knee; He said, You false, unchaste woman, What’s this you’ve done to me? 59B.17	The queen then turnd herself about, The tear blinded her ee: ‘There’s not a knight in a’ your court Dare give that name to me.’ 59B.18	He said, ’Tis true that I do say; For I a proof did make; You shall be taken from my bower, And burned at a stake. 59B.19	‘Perhaps I’ll take my word again, And may repent the same, If that you’ll get a Christian man To fight that Rodingham.’ 59B.20	‘Alass! alass!’ then cried our queen, ‘Alas, and woe to me! There’s not a man in all Scotland Will fight with him for me.’ 59B.21	She breathed unto her messengers, Sent them south, east, and west; They could find none to fight with him, Nor enter the contest. 59B.22	She breathed on her messengers, She sent them to the north; And there they found Sir Hugh le Blond, To fight him he came forth. 59B.23	When unto him they did unfold The circumstance all right, He bade them go and tell the queen That for her he would fight. 59B.24	The day came on that was to do That dreadful tragedy; Sir hugh le Blond was not come up, To fight for our lady. 59B.25	‘Put on the fire,’ the monster said, ‘It is twelve on the bell;’ ’’Tis scarcely ten, now,’ said the king, ‘I heard the clock mysell.’ 59B.26	Before the hour the queen is brought, The burning to proceed; In a black velvet chair she’s set, A token for the dead. 59B.27	She saw the flames ascending high, The tears blinded her ee: ‘Where is the worthy knight,’ she said, ‘Who is to fight for me?’ 59B.28	Then up and spak the king himsell: ‘My dearest, have no doubt, For yonder comes the man himsel, As bold as eer set out.’ 59B.29	They then advanced to fight the duel, With swords of temperd steel; Till down the blood of Rodingham Came running to his heel. 59B.30	Sir Hugh took out a lusty sword, ’Twas of the metal clear, And he has pierced Rodingham Till’s heart-blood did appear. 59B.31	‘Confess your treachery, now,’ he said, ‘This day before you die;’ ‘I do confess my treachery, I shall no longer lye. 59B.32	‘I like to wicked Haman am, This day I shall be slain:’ The queen was brought to her chamber, A good woman again. 59B.33	The queen then said unto the king, Arbattle’s near the sea; Give it unto the northern knight, That this day fought for me. 59B.34	Then said the king, Come here, Sir Knight, And drink a glass of wine, And, if Arbattle’s not enough, To it we’ll Fordoun join.
 
59C: Sir Aldingar
 
 
 Dr Joseph Robertson’s Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 6.
 
 59C.1	THEY’VE putten her into prison strang,
 	A twalmon lang and mair,
 	Until the mice and wild rattens
 	Did tear her yallow hair.
 59C.2	’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’
 	‘One shake o your han,’ said Rodingham,
 	‘One shak o your han gie me:’
 	‘I cam na here for shaking hans,
 	But to fight maist desperatelie.’
 59C.3	‘It’s nae ten strucken on the clock,
 	Nor eleven on the bell:’
 	‘We’ll doe ill deeds anew ere night,
 	Tho it were strucken twall.’

 


 
60: King Estmere
 
a. Percy’s Reliques, edition of 1794, I, 64. b. Reliques, edition of 1765, I, 58.
60.1	HEARKEN to me, gentlemen, Come and you shall heare; Ile tell you of two of the boldest brether That ever borne were. 60.2	The tone of them was Adler Younge, The tother was Kyng Estmere; The were as bolde men in their deeds As any were, farr and neare. 60.3	As they were drinking ale and wine Within his brother’s hall, ‘When will ye marry a wyfe, brother, A wyfe to glad us all?’ 60.4	Then bespake him Kyng Estmere, And answered him hartilye: ‘I know not that ladye in any land, That’s able to marrye with mee.’ 60.5	‘Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother, Men call her bright and sheene; If I were kyng here in your stead, That ladye shold be my queene.’ 60.6	Saies, Reade me, reade me, deare brother, Throughout merry England, Where we might find a messenger Betwixt us towe to sende. 60.7	Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brother, Ile beare you companye; Many a man throughe fals messengers is deceived, And I feare lest soe shold wee. 60.8	Thus the renisht them to ryde, Of twoe good renisht steeds, And when the came to King Adlands halle, Of redd gold shone their weeds. 60.9	And when the came to Kyng Adlands hall, Before the goodlye gate, There they found good Kyng Adland Rearing himselfe theratt. 60.10	‘Now Christ thee save, good Kyng Adland; Now Christ you save and see:’ Sayd, You be welcome, King Estmere, Right hartilye to mee. 60.11	‘You have a daughter,’ said Adler Younge, ‘Men call her bright and sheene; My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe, Of Englande to be queene.’ 60.12	‘Yesterday was att my deere daughter The king his sonne of Spayn, And then she nicked him of naye, And I doubt sheele do you the same.’ 60.13	‘The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim, And ’leeveth on Mahound, And pitye it were that fayre ladye Shold marrye a heathen hound.’ 60.14	‘But grant to me,’ sayes Kyng Estmere, ‘For my love I you praye, That I may see your daughter deere Before I goe hence awaye.’ 60.15	‘Although itt is seven yeers and more Since my daughter was in halle, She shall come once downe for your sake, To glad my guest?es alle.’ 60.16	Downe then came that mayden fayre, With ladyes laced in pall, And halfe a hundred of bold knightes, To bring her [from] bowre to hall, And as many gentle squiers, To tend upon them all. 60.17	The talents of golde were on her head sette Hanged low downe to her knee, And everye ring on her small finger Shone of the chrystall free. 60.18	Saies, God you save, my deere madam, Saies, God you save and see: Said, You be welcome, Kyng Estmere, Right welcome unto mee. 60.19	‘And, if you love me, as you saye, Soe well and hartilee, All that ever you are comen about Soone sped now itt shal bee.’ 60.20	Then bespake her father deare: My daughter, I saye naye; Remember well the kyng of Spayne, What he sayd yesterdaye. 60.21	‘He wold pull downe my halles and castles, And reave me of my lyfe; I cannot blame him if he doe, If I reave him of his wyfe. 60.22	‘Your castles and your towres, father, Are stronglye built aboute, And therefore of the king his sonne of Spaine Wee neede not stande in doubt. 60.23	‘Plight me your troth, nowe, Kyng Estmere, By heaven and your righte hand, That you will marrye me to your wyfe, And make me queene of your land.’ 60.24	Then Kyng Estmere he plight his troth, By heaven and his righte hand, That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe, And make her queene of his land. 60.25	And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre, To goe to his owne countree, To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes, That marryed the might bee. 60.26	They had not ridden scant a myle, A myle forthe of the towne, But in did come the kyng of Spayne, With kemp?es many one. 60.27	But in did come the kyng of Spayne, With manye a bold barone, Tone day to marrye Kyng Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carrye her home. 60.28	Shee sent one after Kyng Estmere, In all the spede might bee, That he must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose his ladye. 60.29	One whyle then the page he went, Another while he ranne; Till he had oretaken King Estmere, I-wis he never blanne. 60.30	‘Tydings, tydings, Kyng Estmere!’ ‘What tydinges nowe, my boye?’ ‘O tydinges I can tell to you, That will you sore annoye. 60.31	‘You had not ridden scant a mile, A mile out of the towne, But in did come the kyng of Spayne, With kemp?es many a one. 60.32	‘But in did come the kyng of Spayne, With manye a bold barone, Tone daye to marrye King Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carry her home. 60.33	‘My ladye fayre she greetes you well, And ever-more well by mee; You must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose your ladye.’ 60.34	Saies, Reade me, reade me, deere brother, My reade shall ryse at thee, Whether it is better to turne and fighte, Or goe home and loose my ladye. 60.35	‘Now hearken to me,’ sayes Adler Yonge, ‘And your reade must rise at me; I quicklye will devise a waye To sette thy ladye free. 60.36	‘My mother was a westerne woman, And learned in gramarye, And when I learned at the schole, Something shee taught itt mee. 60.37	‘There growes an hearbe within this field, And iff it were but knowne, His color, which is whyte and redd, It will make blacke and browne. 60.38	‘His color, which is browne and blacke, Itt will make redd and whyte; That sworde is not in all Englande Upon his coate will byte. 60.39	‘And you shal be a harper, brother, Out of the north countrye, And Ile be your boy, soo faine of fighte, And beare your harpe by your knee. 60.40	‘And you shal be the best harper That ever tooke harpe in hand, And I wil be the best singer That ever sung in this lande. 60.41	‘Itt shal be written in our forheads, All and in grammarye, That we towe are the boldest men That are in all Christentye.’ 60.42	And thus they renisht them to ryde, Of tow good renisht steedes, And when they came to King Adlands hall, Of redd gold shone their weedes. 60.43	And whan the came to Kyng Adlands hall Untill the fayre hall-yate, There they found a proud porter, Rearing himselfe thereatt. 60.44	Sayes, Christ thee save, thou proud porter, Sayes, Christ thee save and see: ‘Nowe you be welcome,’ sayd the porter, ‘Of what land soever ye bee.’ 60.45	‘Wee beene harpers,’ sayd Adler Younge, ‘Come out of the northe countrye; Wee beene come hither untill this place This proud weddinge for to see.’ 60.46	Sayd, And your color were white and redd, As it is blacke and browne, I wolde saye King Estmere and his brother Were comen untill this towne. 60.47	Then they pulled out a ryng of gold, Layd itt on the porters arme: ‘And ever we will thee, proud porter, Thow wilt saye us no harme.’ 60.48	Sore he looked on Kyng Estmere, And sore he handled the ryng, Then opened to them the fayre hall-yates, He lett for no kind of thyng. 60.49	Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede Soe fayre att the hall-bord; The froth that came from his brydle bitte Light in Kyng Bremors beard. 60.50	Saies, Stable thy steed, thou proud harper, Saies, Stable him in the stalle; It doth not beseeme a proud harper To stable his steed in a kyngs halle. 60.51	‘My ladde he is so lither,’ he said, ‘He will doe nought that’s meete; And is there any man in this hall Were able him to beate?’ 60.52	‘Thou speakst proud words,’ sayes the king of Spaine, ‘Thou harper, here to mee; There is a man within this halle Will beate thy ladd and thee.’ 60.53	‘O let that man come downe,’ he said, ‘A sight of him wold I see; And when hee hath beaten well my ladd, Then he shall beate of mee.’ 60.54	Downe then came the kemperye man, And looked him in the eare; For all the gold that was under heaven, He durst not neigh him neare. 60.55	‘And how nowe, kempe,’ said the kyng of Spaine, ‘And how, what aileth thee?’ He saies, It is writt in his forhead, All and in grammarye, That for all the gold that is under heaven, I dare not neigh him nye. 60.56	Then Kyng Estmere pulld forth his harpe, And plaid a pretty thinge; The ladye upstart from the borde, And wold have gone from the king. 60.57	‘Stay thy harpe, thou proud harper, For Gods love I pray thee; For and thou playes as thou beginns, Thou’lt till my bryde from mee.’ 60.58	He stroake upon his harpe againe, And playd a pretty thinge; The ladye lough a loud laughter, As shee sate by the king. 60.59	Saies, Sell me thy harpe, thou proud harper, And thy string?es all; For as many gold nobles thou shalt have As heere bee ringes in the hall.’ 60.60	‘What wold ye doe with my harpe,’ he sayd, ‘If I did sell itt yee?’ ‘To playe my wiffe and me a fitt, When abed together wee bee.’ 60.61	‘Now sell me,’ quoth hee, ‘thy bryde soe gay, As shee sitts by thy knee; And as many gold nobles I will give As leaves been on a tree.’ 60.62	‘And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay, Iff I did sell her thee? More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye To lye by mee then thee.’ 60.63	Hee played agayne both loud and shrille, And Adler he did syng, ‘O ladye, this is thy owne true love, Noe harper, but a kyng. 60.64	‘O ladye, this is thy owne true love, As playnlye thou mayest see, And Ile rid thee of that foule paynim Who partes thy love and thee.’ 60.65	The ladye looked, the ladye blushte, And blushte and lookt agayne, While Adler he hath drawne his brande, And hath the sowdan slayne. 60.66	Up then rose the kemperye men, And loud they gan to crye: ‘Ah! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng, And therefore yee shall dye.’ 60.67	Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde, And swith he drew his brand, And Estmere he and Adler Yonge Right stiffe in stour can stand. 60.68	And aye their swordes soe sore can byte, Throughe help of gramarye, That soone they have slayne the kempery men, Or forst them forth to flee. 60.69	Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye, And marryed her to his wiffe, And brought her home to merry England, With her to leade his life.


 
61: Sir Cawline
 
Percy MS., p. 368; Hales and Furnivall, III, 3.
* * * * * 61.1	AND in that land dwells a king Which does beare the bell ouer all, And with him there dwelled a curteous knight, Sir Cawline men him call. 61.2	And he hath a ladye to his daughter, Of ffashyon shee hath noe peer; Knights and lordes they woed her both, Trusted to haue beene her feere. 61.3	Sir Cawline loues her best of on?e, But nothing durst hee say To discreeue his councell to noe man, But deerlye loued this may. 61.4	Till itt beffell vpon a day, Great dill to him was dight; The maydens loue remoued his mind, To care-bed went the knight. 61.5	And one while he spread his armes him ffroe, And cryed so pittyouslye: ‘Ffor the maydens loue that I haue most minde This day may comfort mee, Or else ere noone I shalbe dead!’ Thus can Sir Cawline say. 61.6	When our parish masse that itt was done, And our king was bowne to dine, He sayes, Where is Sir Cawline, 61.7	But then answered a curteous knight, Ffast his hands wringinge: ‘Sir Cawline’s sicke, and like to be dead Without and a good leedginge.’ 61.8	‘Ffeitch yee downe my daughter deere, Shee is a leeche ffull ffine; I, and take you doe and the baken bread, And drinke he on the wine soe red, And looke no daynti is ffor him to deare, For ffull loth I wold him tine.’ 61.9	This ladye is gone to his chamber, Her maydens ffollowing nye; ‘O well,’ shee sayth, ‘how doth my lord?’ ‘O sicke!’ againe saith hee. 61.10	‘I, but rise vp wightlye, man, for shame! Neuer lye here soe cowardlye! Itt is told in my ffathers hall, Ffor my loue you will dye.’ 61.11	‘Itt is ffor your loue, ffayre ladye, that all this dill I drye; Ffor if you wold comfort me with a kisse, Then were I brought ffrom bale to blisse, Noe longer here wold I lye.’ 61.12	‘Alas! soe well you know, Sir knight,’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61.13	. . . . . . I cannott bee your peere: ‘Ffor some deeds of armes ffaine wold I doe, To be your bacheeleere.’ 61.14	‘Vpon Eldrige Hill there growes a thorne, Vpon the mores brodinge; And wold you, sir knight, wake there all night To day of the other morninge? 61.15	‘Ffor the eldrige king, that is mickle of might, Will examine you beforne; And there was neuer man that bare his liffe away Since the day that I was borne.’ 61.16	‘But I will ffor your sake, ffaire ladye, Walke on the bents [soe] browne, And Ile either bring you a readye token, Or Ile neuer come to you againe.’ 61.17	But this ladye is gone to her chamber, Her maydens ffollowing bright, And Sir Cawlin’s gone to the mores soe broad, Ffor to wake there all night. 61.18	Vnto midnight [that] the moone did rise, He walked vp and downe, And a lightsome bugle then heard he blow, Ouer the bents soe browne; Saies hee, And if cryance come vntill my hart, I am ffarr ffrom any good towne. 61.19	And he spyed, ene a litle him by, A ffuryous king and a ffell, And a ladye bright his brydle led, that seemlye itt was to see. 61.20	And soe fast hee called vpon Sir Cawline, Oh man, I redd the fflye! Ffor if cryance come vntill thy hart, I am a-feard least thou mun dye. 61.21	He sayes, [No] cryance comes to my hart, Nor ifaith I ffeare not thee; Ffor because thou minged not Christ before, Thee lesse me dreadeth thee. 61.22	But Sir Cawline he shooke a speare; The king was bold, and abode; And the timber these two children bore Soe soone in sunder slode; Ffor they tooke and two good swords, And they layden on good loade. 61.23	But the elridge king was mickle of might, And stiffly to the ground did stand; But Sir Cawline, with an aukeward stroke, He brought ffrom him his hand, I, and fflying ouer his head soe hye, [It] ffell downe of that lay land. 61.24	And his lady stood a litle thereby, Ffast ringing her hands: ‘For the maydens loue that you haue most minde, Smyte you my lord no more. 61.25	‘And hees neuer come vpon Eldrige [Hill], Him to sport, gamon, or play, And to meete noe man of middle-earth And that liues on Christs his lay.’ 61.26	But he then vp and that eldryge king, Sett him in his sadle againe, And that eldryge king and his ladye To their castle are they gone. 61.27	And hee tooke then vp and that eldryge sword, As hard as any fflynt, And soe he did those ringes fiue, Harder then ffyer, and brent. 61.28	Ffirst he presented to the kings daughter The hand, and then the sword, . . . . . . . . . . . ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ 61.29	‘But a serre buffett you haue him giuen, The king and the crowne,’ shee sayd: ‘I, but four and thirty stripes Comen beside the rood.’ 61.30	And a gyant that was both stiffe [and] strong, He lope now them amonge, And vpon his squier fiue heads he bare, Vnmackley made was hee. 61.31	And he dranke then on the kings wine, And hee put the cup in his sleeue, And all th?e trembled and were wan, Ffor feare he shold them greeffe. 61.32	‘Ill tell thee mine arrand, king,’ he sayes, ‘Mine errand what I doe heere; Ffor I will bren thy temples hye, Or Ile haue thy daughter deere; Thou shalt ffind mee a ppeare.’ I, or else vpon yond more soe brood 61.33	The king he turned him round about, Lord, in his heart he was woe! Says, Is there noe knight of the Round Table This matter will vndergoe? 61.34	‘I, and hee shall haue my broad lands, And keepe them well his liue; I, and soe hee shall my daughter deere, To be his weded wiffe.’ 61.35	And then stood vp Sir Cawline, His owne errand ffor to say: ‘Ifaith, I wold to God, Sir,’ sayd Sir Cawline, ‘that soldan I will assay. 61.36	‘Goe ffeitch me downe my eldrige sword, Ffor I woone itt att ffray:’ ‘But away, away!’ sayd the hend soldan, ‘Thou tarryest mee here all day!’ 61.37	But the hend soldan and Sir Cawline Th?e ffought a summers day; Now has hee slaine that hend soldan, And brought his fiue heads away. 61.38	And the king has betaken him his broade lands, And all his venison; . . . . . . . . . . . 61.39	‘But take you doo and your lands [soe] broad, And brooke them well your liffe; Ffor you promised mee your daughter deere, To be my weded wiffe.’ 61.40	‘Now by my ffaith,’ then sayes our king, ‘Ffor that wee will not striffe, Ffor thou shalt haue my daughter dere, To be thy weded wiffe.’ 61.41	The other morninge Sir Cawline rose By the dawning of the day, And vntill a garden did he goe His mattins ffor to say; And that bespyed a ffalse steward, A shames death that he might dye! 61.42	And he lett a lyon out of a bande, Sir Cawline ffor to teare; And he had noe wepon him vpon, Nor noe wepon did weare. 61.43	But hee tooke then his mantle of greene, Into the lyons mouth itt thrust; He held the lyon soe sore to the wall Till the lyons hart did burst. 61.44	And the watchmen cryed vpon the walls And sayd, ‘Sir Cawline’s slaine! And with a beast is not ffull litle, A lyon of mickle mayne:’ Then the kings daughter shee ffell downe, ‘For peerlesse is my payne!’ 61.45	‘O peace, my lady!’ sayes Sir Cawline, ‘I haue bought thy loue ffull deere; O peace, my lady!’ sayes Sir Cawline, ‘Peace, lady, ffor I am heere!’ 61.46	Then he did marry this kings daughter, With gold and siluer bright, And fiftene sonnes this ladye beere To Sir Cawline the knight.


 
62A: Fair Annie
 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 102, 1802, chiefly from the recitation of an old woman residing near Kirkhill, in West Lothian.
62A.1	IT’S narrow, narrow, make your bed, And learn to lie your lane; For I’m ga’n oer the sea, Fair Annie, A braw bride to bring hame. Wi her I will get gowd and gear; Wi you I neer got nane. 62A.2	‘But wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale? And wha will welcome my brisk bride, That I bring oer the dale?’ 62A.3	‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale, And I will welcome your brisk bride, That you bring oer the dale.’ 62A.4	‘But she that welcomes my brisk bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, And braid her yellow hair.’ 62A.5	‘But how can I gang maiden-like, When maiden I am nane? Have I not born seven sons to thee, And am with child again?’ 62A.6	She’s taen her young son in her arms, Another in her hand, And she’s up to the highest tower, To see him come to land. 62A.7	‘Come up, come up, my eldest son, And look oer yon sea-strand, And see your father’s new-come bride, Before she come to land.’ 62A.8	‘Come down, come down, my mother dear, Come frae the castle wa! I fear, if langer ye stand there, Ye’ll let yoursell down fa.’ 62A.9	And she gaed down, and farther down, Her love’s ship for to see, And the topmast and the mainmast Shone like the silver free. 62A.10	And she’s gane down, and farther down, The bride’s ship to behold, And the topmast and the mainmast They shone just like the gold. 62A.11	She’s taen her seven sons in her hand, I wot she didna fail; She met Lord Thomas and his bride, As they came oer the dale. 62A.12	‘You’re welcome to your house, Lord Thomas, You’re welcome to your land; You’re welcome with your fair ladye, That you lead by the hand. 62A.13	‘You’re welcome to your ha’s, ladye, Your welcome to your bowers; You’re welcome to your hame, ladye, For a’ that’s here is yours.’ 62A.14	‘I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie, Sae dearly as I thank thee; You’re the likest to my sister Annie, That ever I did see. 62A.15	‘There came a knight out oer the sea, And steald my sister away; The shame scoup in his company, And land whereer he gae!’ 62A.16	She hang ae napkin at the door, Another in the ha, And a’ to wipe the trickling tears, Sae fast as they did fa. 62A.17	And aye she served the lang tables, With white bread and with wine, And aye she drank the wan water, To had her colour fine. 62A.18	And aye she served the lang tables, With white bread and with brown; And ay she turned her round about, Sae fast the tears fell down. 62A.19	And he’s taen down the silk napkin, Hung on a silver pin, And aye he wipes the tear trickling A’ down her cheek and chin. 62A.20	And aye he turn’d him round about, And smiled amang his men; Says, Like ye best the old ladye, Or her that’s new come hame? 62A.21	When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men bound to bed, Lord Thomas and his new-come bride To their chamber they were gaed. 62A.22	Annie made her bed a little forbye, To hear what they might say; ‘And ever alas!’ Fair Annie cried, ‘That I should see this day! 62A.23	‘Gin my seven sons were seven young rats, Running on the castle wa, And I were a grew cat mysell, I soon would worry them a’. 62A.24	‘Gin my seven sons were seven young hares, Running oer yon lilly lee, And I were a grew hound mysell, Soon worried they a’ should be.’ 62A.25	And wae and sad Fair Annie sat, And drearie was her sang, And ever, as she sobbd and grat, ‘Wae to the man that did the wrang!’ 62A.26	‘My gown is on,’ said the new-come bride, ‘My shoes are on my feet, And I will to Fair Annie’s chamber, And see what gars her greet. 62A.27	‘What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie, That ye make sic a moan? Has your wine barrels cast the girds, Or is your white bread gone? 62A.28	‘O wha was’t was your father, Annie, Or wha was’t was your mother? And had ye ony sister, Annie, Or had ye ony brother?’ 62A.29	‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father, The Countess of Wemyss my mother; And a’ the folk about the house To me were sister and brother.’ 62A.30	‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, I wot sae was he mine; And it shall not be for lack o gowd That ye your love sall tyne. 62A.31	‘For I have seven ships o mine ain, A’ loaded to the brim, And I will gie them a’ to thee, Wi four to thine eldest son: But thanks to a’ the powers in heaven That I gae maiden hame!’
 
62B: Fair Annie
 
Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 376, from the recitation of Mrs Arrot, of Aberbrothick.
62B.1	THERE livd a lord on yon sea-side, And he thought on a wile, How he would go over the saut sea A lady to beguile. 62B.2	‘O learn to mak your bed, Helen, And learn to ly your lane, For I’m gaun over the saut seas A bright bride to bring hame.’ 62B.3	‘How can I mak my bed,’ she says, ‘Unless I mak it wide, Whan I have seven o your sons To lie down by my side? 62B.4	‘And the first o your seven sons, He rides a milk-white steed; The second o your seven sons He wears a milk-white weed. 62B.5	‘The third ane o your seven sons, He draws baith ale and wine; The fourth ane o your seven sons, He serves you when you dine. 62B.6	‘The fifth ane o your seven sons, He can baith read and write; And the sixth ane o your seven sons, He is a’ your heart’s delight. 62B.7	‘And the youngest o your seven sons, He sleeps on my breast-bane; Whan him and I ly down at night, For him rest get I nane.’ 62B.8	‘O wha will bake my bridal bread, And brew my bridal ale? And wha will welcome my gae lady, That I bring oer the dale? 62B.9	‘And sin ye’ve taen the turn in hand, See that ye do it right, And ilka chimly o the house, That they be dearly dight.’ 62B.10	O a’ the day she washd and wrang, And a’ the night she buik, And she’s awa to her chamber, To gie her young son suck. 62B.11	‘Come here, come here, my eldest son, And see what ye may see; For yonder comes your father dear, Your mother-in-law side be.’ 62B.12	She’s taen a cake o the best bread, A bottle o the best wine, And a’ the keys upon her arm, And to the yates she’s gaen. 62B.13	‘Ye are welcome hame, gay lady,’ she said, ‘And ay ye are welcome hame; And sae is a’ the gentlewomen That’s wi you ridden and gane. 62B.14	‘You are welcome hame, gay lord’ she said, ‘And ay ye are welcome hame; And sae is a’ the gentlemen That’s wi you ridden and gane.’ 62B.15	She saird them up, she saird them down, She saird them till and frae; But when she went behind their backs, The tear did blind her ee. 62B.16	Whan day was gane, and night was come, And a’ man boun to bed, The bridegroom and the bonny bride In their chamber was laid. 62B.17	Burd Helen and her seven sons Lay in a bower near by; . . . . . . . . . . 62B.18	‘If my seven sons were seven grey ratts, To rin frae wa to wa, And I mysel a good grey cat, I would bite their back a-twa. 62B.19	‘If my seven sons were seven grey hares, And them to rin a race, And I mysel a good greyhound, I would gie them a chace.’ 62B.20	Up and spak the bonny bride, In chamber where she lay: ‘There is a lady in this bower, She will gae mad or day.’ 62B.21	‘Lye still, lye still, my bonny bride, Lye still and tak a sleep; It’s but ane o my wine puncheons; Nae langer wad it keep.’ 62B.22	‘King Henry was my father dear, Queen Catherine was my mother, Lady Anne she was my sister dear, And Frederick was my brother. 62B.23	‘And whan I was six years of age, They ca’d me Mary Mild; I was stown frae my father’s yate, Whan I was but a child.’ 62B.24	Then up and spak the bonny bride, By her lord as she lay: ‘Lye down, lye down, my dear sister, There’s nae ill done for me. 62B.25	‘O seven ships conveyd me here, And seven came oer the main; And four o them shall stay wi you, And three convey me hame. 62B.26	‘But when I gae hame to my father’s house, They will laugh me to scorn, To come awa a wedded wife, Gae hame a maid the morn.’
 
62C: Fair Annie
 
Motherwell’s manuscript, p. 351, from the recitation of Janet Holmes, an old woman in Kilbarchan, who derived the ballad from her mother; July 18, 1825.
62C.1	LEARN to mak you bed, honey, And learn to lye your lane, For I’m gaun owre the salt seas, A fair lady to bring hame. 62C.2	‘And with her I’ll get gold and gear, With thee I neer got nane; I took you as a waaf woman, I leave you as the same.’ 62C.3	‘What aileth thee at me, my lord, What aileth thee at me, When seven bonnie sons I have born, All of your fair bodie? 62C.4	‘The eldest of your seven sons, He can both read and write; The second of your sons, my lord, Can do it more perfyte. 62C.5	‘The third one of your sons, my lord, He waters your milk-white steed; The fourth one of your sons, my lord, With red gold shines his weed. 62C.6	‘The fifth one of your sons, my lord, He serves you when you dine; The sixth one now you do behold, How he walks out and in. 62C.7	‘The seventh one of your sons, my lord, Sucks hard at my breast-bane; When a’ the house they are at rest, For him I can get nane. 62C.8	‘And if you leave me thus forlorn, A wainless wife I’ll be, For anybody’s gold or gear That is beyond the sea.’ 62C.9	‘O wha will bake my bridal bread, Or wha will brew my ale? Or wha will cook my kitchen neat, Or give my men their meal?’ 62C.10	‘For love I’ll bake your bridal bread, To brew your ale I’m fain, To cook your kitchen, as I have done, Till you return again.’ 62C.11	‘O wha will bake my bridal bread, Or wha will brew my ale? Or wha will welcome my braw bride, That I bring owre the dale?’ 62C.12	‘For love I’ll bake your bridal bread, For love I’ll brew your ale, And I will welcome your braw bride That you bring owre the dale.’ 62C.13	Her mind she keeped, but sair she weepd The time that he was gane . . . . . . . . . . . . 62C.14	‘Go up, go up, my eldest son, Go to the upmost ha, And see if you see your father coming, With your mother-to-be-in-law.’ 62C.15	‘Put on, put on, O mother dear, Put on your gouns so braw, For yonder is my father coming, With my mother-to-be-in-law.’ 62C.16	She’s taen the wheat-bread in one hand, The red wines, which plenty were, And she’s gane to the outmost gate, And bid them welcome there. 62C.17	‘You’re welcome here, my brother dear, Ye’re welcome, brother John; Ye’re welcome a’ my brethern dear, That has this journey gone.’ 62C.18	‘I thank you, sister Annie,’ he says, ‘And I thank you heartilie, And as you’ve welcomed home myself, You’ll welcome my fair ladye.’ 62C.19	‘If I had roses to my feet, And ribbons to my gown, And as leal a maid as your braw bride, I would speak without a frown.’ 62C.20	He’s given her roses to her feet, And ribbons to her gown, And she has welcomed his braw bride, But weel that was her own! 62C.21	‘I thank you, sister Annie,’ she says, ‘I thank you heartilie, And if I be seven years about this place, Rewarded you shall be.’ 62C.22	She served them up, she served them down, And she served all their cries, And aye as she came down the stair The tears fell from her eyes. 62C.23	When mass was sung, and all bells rung, And all men boune for bed, The good lord and his fair lady Were in their chamber laid. 62C.24	But poor Annie and her seven sons Was in a room hard by, And as she lay she sighed and wept, And thus began to cry: 62C.25	‘O were my sons transformed to cats, To speel this castle wa, And I mysell a red blood-hound That I might worry them a’!’ 62C.26	The bride she overhearing all, And sair she rued her fate: ‘Awauk, awauk, my lord,’ she said, ‘Awauk, for well you may; For There’s a woman in this gate That will go mad ere day. 62C.27	‘I fear she is a leman of thine, And a leman meek and mild; Get up and pack her down the stairs, Tho the woods were neer sae wild.’ 62C.28	‘O yes, she is a leman of mine, And a leman meek and kind, And I will not pack her down the stairs, For a’ the gear that’s thine.’ 62C.29	‘O wha’s your father, Ann?’ she says, ‘Or wha’s your mother dear? Or wha’s your sister, Ann?’ she says, ‘Or brother? let me hear.’ 62C.30	‘King Easter he’s my father dear, The Queen my mother was; John Armstrang, in the west-airt lands, My eldest brother is.’ 62C.31	‘Then I’m your sister, Ann,’ she says, ‘And I’m a full sister to thee; You were stolen awa when very young, By the same lord’s treacherie. 62C.32	‘I’ve seven ships upon the sea, All loaded to the brim, And five of them I’ll give to thee, And twa shall carry me hame. 62C.33	‘My mother shall mak my tocher up, When I tell her how you thrive; For we never knew where you was gone, Or if you was alive.’
 
62D: Fair Annie
 
 
 Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p.307.
 62D.1	‘WHA will bake my bridal bread,
 	And brew my bridal ale?
 	And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
 	That I bring oer the dale?’
 62D.2	‘I will bake your bridal bread,
 	And brew your bridal ale,
 	And I will welcome your brisk bride,
 	That you bring oer the dale.’
 62D.3	‘But she that welcomes my brisk bride
 	Maun gang like maiden fair;
 	She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
 	And braid her yellow hair.’
 62D.4	‘But how can I gang maiden-like,
 	When maiden I am nane?
 	Have I not born seven sons to thee,
 	And am with child agen?’
 62D.5	She’s taen her young son in her arms,
 	Another in her hand,
 	And she’s up to the highest tower,
 	To see him come to land.
 62D.6	‘You’re welcome to your house, master,
 	You’re welcome to your land;
 	You’re welcome with your fair lady,
 	That you lead by the hand.’
 	’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’
 62D.7	And ay she servd the lang tables,
 	With white bread and with wine,
 	And ay she drank the wan water,
 	To had her colour fine.
 62D.8	Now he’s taen down a silk napkin,
 	Hung on the silver pin,
 	And ay he wipes the tears trickling
 	Adown her cheek and chin.

 
 
62E: Fair Annie
 
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 20; Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 371.
62E.1	‘O WHA will bake my bridal bread, And brew my bridal ale? Wha will welcome my bright bride, That I bring oer the dale?’ 62E.2	‘O I will bake your bridal bread, An brew your bridal ale; An I will welcome your bright bride, That you bring oer the dale. 62E.3	‘O she that welcomes my bright bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace her in her green cloathin, An braid her yallow hair.’ 62E.4	‘O how can I gang maiden like, Whan maiden I am nane? Whan I ha born you seven sons, An am wi bairn again?’ 62E.5	The lady stood in her bowr door An lookit oer the lan, An there she saw her ain good lord, Leadin his bride by the han. 62E.6	She’s dressd her sons i the scarlet red, Hersel i the dainty green, An tho her cheek lookd pale and wan, She well might ha been a queen. 62E.7	She calld upon her eldest son: ‘Look yonder what you see; For yonder comes your father dear, Your step-mother him wi. 62E.8	‘O you’r welcome hame, my ain good lord, To your ha’s but an your bowrs; You’r welcome hame, my ain good lord, To your castles an your towrs: Sae is your bright bride you beside, She’s fairer nor the flowers.’ 62E.9	‘O whatn a lady’s that?’ she says, ‘That welcoms you an me? If I’m lang lady about this place, Some good I will her dee. She looks sae like my sister Jane, Was stoln i the bowr frae me.’ 62E.10	O she has servd the lang tables, Wi the white bread an the wine; But ay she drank the wan water, To keep her colour fine. 62E.11	‘An she gid by the first table, An leugh amo them a’; But ere she reachd the second table, She let the tears down fa. 62E.12	She’s taen a napkin lang an white, An hung’t upon a pin; It was to dry her watry eyes, As she went out and in. 62E.13	Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung, An a’ man boun to bed, The bride but an the bonny bridegroom In ae chamber was laid. 62E.14	She’s taen her harp intill her han, To harp this twa asleep; An ay as she harped an she sang, Full sorely did she weep. 62E.15	‘O seven fu fair sons I have born To the good lord o this place, An I wish that they were seven hares, To run the castle race, An I mysel a good gray houn, An I woud gi them chase. 62E.16	‘O seven fu fair sons I have born To the good lord o this ha; I wish that they were seven rottons, To rin the castle wa, An I mysell a good gray cat, I wot I woud worry them a’ 62E.17	‘The earle o Richmond was my father, An the lady was my mother, An a’ the bairns bisides mysel Was a sister an a brother.’ 62E.18	‘Sing on, sing on, ye gay lady, I wot ye hae sung in time; Gin the earle o Richmond was your father, I wot sae was he mine.’ 62E.19	‘Rise up, rise up, my bierly bride; I think my bed’s but caul; I woudna hear my lady lament For your tocher ten times taul. 62E.20	‘O seven ships did bring you here, An an sal tak you hame; The leve I’ll keep to your sister Jane, For tocher she gat nane.’
 
62F: Fair Annie
 
Motherwell’s MS., p. 385; Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 327. From the recitation of Mrs Rule, Paisley, August 16, 1825.
62F.1	‘LEARN to mak your bed, Annie, And learn to lie your lane, For I maun owre the salt seas gang, A brisk bride to bring hame. 62F.2	‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, And tye it in your neck, And see you look as maiden-like As the first day that we met.’ 62F.3	‘O how can I look maiden-like, When a maid I’ll never be; When seven brave sons I’ve born to thee, And the eighth is in my bodie? 62F.4	‘The eldest of your sons, my lord, Wi red gold shines his weed; The second of your sons, my lord, Rides on a milk-white steed. 62F.5	‘And the third of your sons, my lord, He draws your beer and wine, And the fourth of your sons, my lord, Can serve you when you dine. 62F.6	‘And the fift of your sons, my lord, He can both read and write, And the sixth of your sons, my lord, Can do it maist perfyte. 62F.7	‘And the sevent of your sons, my lord, Sits on the nurse’s knee; And how can I look maiden-like, When a maid I’ll never be? 62F.8	‘But wha will bake your wedding bread, And brew your bridal ale? Or wha will welcome your brisk bride, That you bring owre the dale?’ 62F.9	‘I’ll put cooks in my kitchen, And stewards in my hall, And I’ll have bakers for my bread, And brewers for my ale; But you’re to welcome my brisk bride, That I bring owre the dale.’ 62F.10	He set his fut into his ship, And his cock-boat on the main; He swore it would be year and day Or he returned again. 62F.11	When year and day was past and gane, Fair Annie she thocht lang, And she is up to her bower-head, To behold both sea and land. 62F.12	‘Come up, come up, my eldest son, And see now what you see; O yonder comes your father dear, And your stepmother-to-be.’ 62F.13	‘Cast off your gown of black, mother, Put on your gown of brown, And I’ll put off my mourning weeds, And we’ll welcome him home.’ 62F.14	She’s taken wine into her hand, And she has taken bread, And she is down to the water-side To welcome them indeed. 62F.15	‘You’re welcome, my lord, you’re welcome, my lord, You’re welcome home to me; So is every lord and gentleman That is in your companie. 62F.16	‘You’re welcome, my lady, you’re welcome, my lady, You’re welcome home to me; So is every lady and gentleman That’s in your companye.’ 62F.17	‘I thank you, my girl, I thank you, my girl, I thank you heartilie; If I live seven years about this house, Rewarded you shall be.’ 62F.18	She served them up, she served them down, With the wheat bread and the wine; By aye she drank the cold water, To keep her colour fine. 62F.19	She servd them up, she servd them down, With the wheat bread and the beer; By aye she drank the cauld water, To keep her colour clear. 62F.20	When bells were rung and mass was sung, And all were boune for rest, Fair Annie laid her sons in bed, And a sorrowful woman she was. 62F.21	‘Will I go to the salt, salt seas, And see the fishes swim? Or will I go to the gay green-wood, And hear the small birds sing?’ 62F.22	Out and spoke an aged man, That stood behind the door: ‘Ye will not go to the salt, salt seas, To see the fishes swim; Nor will ye go to the gay green-wood, To hear the small birds sing. 62F.23	‘But ye’ll take a harp, into your hand, Go to the chamber door, And aye ye’ll harp, and aye ye’ll murn, With the salt tears falling oer.’ 62F.24	She’s tane a harp into her hand, Went to their chamber door, And aye she harpd, and aye she murnd, With the salt tears falling oer. 62F.25	Out and spak the brisk young bride, I n bride-bed where she lay: ‘I think I hear my sister Annie, And I wish weel it may; For a Scotish lord staw her awa, And an ill death may he die! 62F.26	‘Wha was your father, my girl,’ she says, ‘Or wha was your mother? Or had you ever a sister dear, Or had you ever a brother?’ 62F.27	‘King Henry was my father dear, Queen Easter was my mother, Prince Henry was my brother dear, And Fanny Flower my sister.’ 62F.28	‘If King Henry was your father dear, And Queen Easter was your mother, And Prince Henry was your brother dear, Then surely I’m your sister. 62F.29	‘Come to your bed, my sister dear, It neer was wrangd for me, But an ae kiss of his merry mouth, As we cam owre the sea.’ 62F.30	‘Awa, awa, ye forenoon bride, Awa, awa frae me! I wudna hear my Annie greet, For a’ the gold I got wi thee.’ 62F.31	‘There was five ships of gay red gold Came owre the seas with me; It’s twa o them will take me hame, And three I’ll leave wi thee. 62F.32	‘Seven ships o white money Came owre the seas wi me; Five o them I’ll leave wi thee, And twa’ll tak me hame, And my mother will mak my portion up, When I return again.’
 
62 G: Fair Annie
 
 	
 Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as current in County Meath, Ireland, 1860-70.
 
 62G.1	SHE served them up, she served them down,
 	She served them up with wine,
 	But still she drank the clear spring water,
 	To keep her color fine.
 62G.2	‘I must get up, she must sit down,
 	She must sit in my place,
 	Or else be torn by wild horses
 	And thrown over the gates.’
 62G.3	‘You wont get up, she wont sit down,
 	She wont sit in your place,
 	Nor yet be torn by wild horses,
 	Nor thrown over the gates.’
 62G.4	She called up her seven sons,
 	By one, by two, by three:
 	‘I wish you were all seven gray-hounds,
 	This night to worry me.’
 62G.5	‘What ails you, fair Ellen? what ails you, fair?
 	Or why do you sigh and moan?’
 	‘The hoops are off my wine hogsheads,
 	And my wine is overflown.’

 
 
62 H: Fair Annie
 
 	
 From Dr Thomas Davidson.  Aberdeenshire.
 
 62H.1	‘BUT wha will bake my bridal bread,
 	An brew my bridal ale,
 	And wha will welcome my bride hame,
 	Is mair that I can tell.’
 62H.2	‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread,
 	And brew your bridal ale,
 	But wha will welcome your bride hame,
 	It’ll need tae be yersel.’
 62H.3	An she’s hung up a silken towel
 	Upon a golden pin,
 	...tae wipe her een,
 	As she gaed but and ben.

 
 
62I: Fair Annie
 
Kinloch MSS, I, 155, May, 1827. "Composed of three recited versions obtained in the west of Scotland."
62I.1	‘LEARN to mak your bed, Annie, And learn to lie your lane; For I am gaing oure the saut seas, A brisk bride to bring hame. 62I.2	‘Wi her I will get gowd and gear; Wi thee I neer gat nane; I got thee as a waif woman, I’ll leave thee as the same. 62I.3	‘O wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale? Or wha welcome my brisk bride, That I’ll bring oure the dale?’ 62I.4	‘O I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale; But I downa welcam your brisk bride That ye’ll bring frae the dale.’ 62I.5	‘She that welcomes my brisk bride, She maun took maiden-like; She maun kaim doun her yellow locks, And lay them in her neck.’ 62I.6	‘O how can I look maiden-like, When maiden I am nane? For seven sons I hae born to thee, And the eighth lies in my wame. 62I.7	‘But what aileth thee at me, my lord, What aileth thee at me, Whan seven braw sons I’ve born to thee, Out of my fair bodie? 62I.8	‘The first ane of your sons, my lord, Can baith read and write; And the second of your sons, my lord, Can do it maist perfyte. 62I.9	‘The third ane o your sons, my lord, Can water your grey steed; And the fourth ane o your sons, my lord, Can bake your bridal bread. 62I.10	‘The fifth ane o your sons, my lord, Can serve ye whan ye dine; And the sixth ane o your sons, my lord, Can brew your bridal wine. 62I.11	‘The seventh ane o your sons, my lord, Lies close at my breist-bane; Whan a’ the lave are fast asleep, It’s rest I can get nane.’ 62I.12	He set his foot into the stirrup, His hand upon the mane; Says, It will be year and day, ladie, Ere ye see me again. 62I.13	Whan he had ae foot on the sea, The ither on dry lan, ‘It will be year and day, ladie, Till I come back again.’ 62I.14	Whan year and day war past and gane, Fair Annie she thought lang; And she went up to her hie tower, Wi a silk seam in her hand. 62I.15	She lookit east, she lookit west, And south, below the sun, And there she spied her ain gude lord, Coming sailing to the lan. 62I.16	She called up her seven braw sons, By ane, twa, and by three: ‘See, yonder comes your father, And your mother-for-to-be.’ 62I.17	And she called up her servants a’: ‘O come, behold and see! O yonder comes your master dear, And a new mistress brings he. 62I.18	‘Gae doun, gae doun, my eldest son, Into the outmost ha, And if ye welcome ane o them, Be sure to welcome a’.’ 62I.19	Some ran east, and some ran west, And some ran to the sea; There was na ane in a’ his house To welcome his new ladie. 62I.20	But Annie’s to her coffer gane, Tane out a silver kaim, And she’s kaimd doun her yellow hair, As she a maid had been. 62I.21	And Annie has kaimd her lang yellow locks, And laid them in her neck; And she’s awa to the saut, saut sea, To welcome his lady aff deck. 62I.22	She durst na ca him her ain gude lord, For angering o the bride; But she did ca him master dear, And I wat he was richt glad. 62I.23	‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, master,’ she said, ‘To your halls bot an your bouers; And sae are a’ thir merry young men That come alang with you. 62I.24	‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, fair ladie, To your halls but an your bouers; And sae are a’ thir gay ladies; For a’ that’s here is yours.’ 62I.25	‘I thank ye, I thank ye, fair maiden, I thank ye kindlie; If I be lang about this house, Rewarded ye sall be. 62I.26	‘I have a brither o mine ain; He’s newly come from sea; I think it wad be a richt gude match To marry him and thee.’ 62I.27	‘I thank ye, I thank ye, fair ladie; Gie your brither to whom like ye; But there’s never ane in this warld My wedding day sall see: But one word o my master dear In private wad I be.’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ 62I.28	The first dish that fair Annie set doun, She lookit baith pale and wan; The neist dish that fair Annie set doun, She was scarce able to stan. 62I.29	‘O is this your mistress, good lord,’ she says, ‘Although she looks modest and mild? Then we will hunt her frae our house Wi dogs and hawks sae wild.’ 62I.30	‘She’s na my mistress, dear lady,’ he says, ‘Altho she looks modest and mild; Nor will we hunt her frae our house Wi dogs and hawks sae wild.’ 62I.31	Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men boun for bed, The bonnie bride and the bridegroom In bride’s bed they were laid. 62I.32	Whan dinner was past, and supper was by, And a’ were boun for bed, Fair Annie and her seven sons In a puir bye-chamber war laid. 62I.33	Fair Annie took out her virginals, And sadly did she play; . . . . . . . . . . 62I.34	‘O gin my sons were yon grey rats, That climb the castle-wa, And I mysel a bloody grey cat, I’d rise and worry them a’.’ 62I.35	Then out and spak the bonny bride, In bride’s bed whare she lay: ‘I think this is like my sister Anne, That doth sae sadly play.’ 62I.36	‘Lie still, lie still, my gay ladie, Lie still and sleep a wee; It’s nathing but an auld servant, That waileth sae for me.’ 62I.37	‘O gin my seven sons were seven young hares, That rin round the castle wa, And I mysel a bluidy grewhund, I wad rise and worry them a’.’ 62I.38	The new bride waukenit in the nicht, And blew upon her horn: ‘I think I hear my sister’s voice, That was stown frae us a bairn.’ 62I.39	‘Sleep on, sleep on, dear lady,’ he says, ‘It’s yon maiden in her dream, . . . . . . . . . . . . 62I.40	‘O wha was eer thy father, fair maid, Or wha was eer thy mither? Or wha was eer thy ae sister, Or wha was eer thy brither?’ 62I.41	‘King Henry was my father,’ she said, ‘Queen Elinore was my mither; Fair Marion was my ae sister, Earl Robert was my brither.’ 62I.42	‘Sin King Henry was your father, fair maid, And Queen Elinore your mither, O I am een your ae sister, And ye are just the ither. 62I.43	‘Come to your bed, fair Annie,’ she said, ‘Come to your bed full sune; I may weel say, I daur weel say, There is na evil dune. 62I.44	‘Seven ships of gold did bring me here, But ane shall tak me hame; Six I will leave to my sister Anne, To bring up her children young. 62I.45	‘But whan I gang to my father’s ha, And tirl on the pin, The meanest in a’ my father’s house Will ca me a forsaken ane.’
 
62J: Fair Annie
 
Buchan’s MSS, I, 66.
62J.1	‘LEARN, O learn, Fair Annie,’ he said, ‘O learn to lie your lane; For I am going ower the sea, To woo and to bring hame 62J.2	‘A brighter and a fairer dame Than ever ye hae been; For I am going ower the sea, To chuse and bring her hame.’ 62J.3	‘What aileth thee, my ain gude lord, What aileth thee at me? For seven braw sons hae I born Unto your fair bodie. 62J.4	‘The eldest o your sons, my lord, Is heir o a’ your land; The second o your braw young sons He rises at your right hand. 62J.5	‘The third o your braw young sons He serves you when you dine; The fourth o your braw sons, my lord, He bring to you the wine. 62J.6	‘The fifth o your braw young sons Right well can use the pen; The sixth o your braw young sons, He’s travelling but and ben. 62J.7	‘The seventh o your braw young sons, He lies on my breast-bane, The fairest flower amo them a’, That lay my sides between.’ 62J.8	‘But I am going ower the sea, To woo and to bring hame A lady wi some gowd and gear; Wi you I never got nane.’ 62J.9	‘Ye staw me awa in twall years auld, Ye sought nae gowd wi me; Ye put me to the schools o Ayr For fully years three. 62J.10	‘But wha’ll be cook in your kitchen, And butler in your ha? And wha will govern your merry young men, When ye are far awa?’ 62J.11	‘O ye’ll be cook in my kitchen, And butler in my ha, And ye’ll wait on my merry young men, And serve them ane and a’.’ 62J.12	‘But wha will bake your bridal bread, And wha will brew your ale? And wha will welcome that lady That ye bring ower the dale. 62J.13	‘O ye will bake my bridal bread, And ye will brew my ale, And ye will welcome that lady That I bring ower the dale. 62J.14	‘Ye’ll bake bread, and ye’ll brew ale, For three score knights and ten; That day month I gang awa, The same day I’ll come again.’ 62J.15	‘O I will bake your bridal bread, And I will brew your ale; But oh, to welcome another woman My heart will nae be hale.’ 62J.16	‘Ye will put roses in your hair, And ribbons in your sheen, And ye will look fair maiden like, Though maiden ye be nane.’ 62J.17	‘O I’ll put roses in my hair, And ribbons in my sheen, And may be look as maiden-like As the bride ye bring hame.’ 62J.18	Two of his sons he sent before, And two rade by his side, And three he left at hame wi her, She was the brightest bride. 62J.19	As she was gazing her around, To view the rural plain, And there she saw the bridal folk, Merrily coming hame. 62J.20	‘Come here, come here, my boys a’, Ye see not what I see; For here I see your fair father, And a step-mother to thee. 62J.21	‘O shall I call him honey, Sandy, Husband, or my gude lord? Or shall I call him my gude master, Let well or woe betide?’ 62J.22	‘Ye winna call him honey, mother, For angering o the bride; But ye’ll call him your gude master, Let well or woe betide.’ 62J.23	She buskd her bonny boys in black, Herself in simple green, A kaim o gowd upon her hair, As maiden she had been. 62J.24	She’s taen the white bread in her lap, The wine glass in her hand, And she’s gane out upo the green, To welcome the bride hame. 62J.25	She woudna ca him her ain gude lord, For angering o the bride: ‘Ye’re welcome hame, my gude master, Your lands lie braid and wide.’ 62J.26	‘O fair mat fa you, Fair Annie, Sae well’s ye’ve welcomd me; Ye might hae welcomd my new bride; Some gift to you she’ll gie.’ 62J.27	‘Ye’re welcome hame, ye new-come bride, To your ha’s and your bowers; Ye’re welcome hame, my lady gay, Ye’re whiter that the flowers.’ 62J.28	‘O wha is this,’ the bride did say, ‘Sae well that welcomes me? If I’m lang lady o this place Some gift to her I’ll gie. 62J.29	‘She’s likest to my dear sister That eer my eyes did see; A landit lord staw her awa, An ill death mat he die! 62J.30	‘I hae a brother here this day, Fairer ye neer did see; And I woud think nae ill a match Unto this fair ladie.’ 62J.31	‘Ye’ll wed your brother on a stock, Sae do ye on a stane; I’ll wed me to the kingdom of heaven, For I’ll neer wed a man.’ 62J.32	She servd the footmen o the beer, The nobles o the wine; But nane did cross her pale, pale lips, For changing o her min. 62J.33	When she came in unto the room She leuch amo them a’, But when she turnd her back about She loot the saut tears fa. 62J.34	She hanged up a silken cloath Upon a siller pin; It was to dry her twa blue eyes, As she went out and in. 62J.35	Her heart wi sorrow sair was filld, Her breast wi milk ran out; She aft went ot a quiet chamber, And let her young son suck. 62J.36	‘There is a woman in this house This day has served me; But I’ll rise up, let her sit down, She’s ate, that I may see. 62J.37	‘O wha is this,’ the bride coud say, ‘That serves this day sae well? And what means a’ this bonny boys, That follow at her heel?’ 62J.38	‘This is my sister, Fair Annie, That serves this day sae well, And these are a’ her bauld brothers, That follow at her heel.’ 62J.39	Then out it speaks the new-come bride, Was full o jealousie: ‘I fear there’s something new, my lord, Ye mean to hide frae me. 62J.40	‘But if she be your light leman Has me sair beguild, She shall gae out at my window, And range the woods sae wild.’ 62J.41	When day was dane, and night drew on, And a’ man bound for bed, The bridegroom and the new-come bride In ae chamber were laid. 62J.42	The lady being left alone, Nursing her fair young son, She has taen up her gude lord’s harp, She harped and she sung. 62J.43	‘Seven braw sons hae I born To the lord o this place; I wish they were seven hares To run the castle race, And I mysel a gude greyhound, To gie them a’ a chace.’ 62J.44	‘Lie near, lie near, my ain gude lord, Lie near and speak wi me; There is a woman in the house, She will be wild ere day.’ 62J.45	‘Lie still, lie still, my new-come bride, Lie still and take your rest; The pale’s out o my wine-puncheon, And lang it winna rest.’ 62J.46	She held the harp still in her hand, To harp them baith asleep, And aye she harped and she sang, And saut tears she did weep. 62J.47	‘Seven braw sons hae I born To the gude lord o this ha; I wish that they were seven brown rats, To climb the castle wa, And I mysel a gude grey cat, To take them ane and a’.’ 62J.48	‘Lie near, lie near, my ain gude lord, Lie near and speak wi me; There is a woman in this house, She will be wild ere day.’ 62J.49	‘Lie yond, lie yond, my new-come bride, My sheets are wonderous cauld; I woudna hear my love’s lament For your gowd ten thousand fauld.’ 62J.50	‘O wae be to you, ye fause lord, Some ill death mat ye die! For that’s the voice o my sister Ann, Was stown frae yont the sea.’ 62J.51	‘Fair mat fa ye, ye buirdly bride, A gude death mat ye die! For that’s the voice o your sister Ann, Was stown frae yont the sea; I came seeking Annie’s tocher, I was not seeking thee.’ 62J.52	‘Seven gude ships I hae brought here, In seven I’se gae hame; And a’ the gowd that I brought here, It’s a’ gang back again.’ 62J.53	‘Seven ships they brought you here, But ye’ll gang hame in ane; Ye’ll leave the rest to tocher Ann, For wi her I got nane.’ 62J.54	‘Seven ships they brought me here, But I’ll gang hame in ane; I’ll get my sister’s eldest son To hae me maiden hame. 62J.55	‘My father wants not gowd nor gear, He will get me a man; And happy, happy will he be To hear o his daughter Ann. 62J.56	‘I hae my sheen upon my feet, My gloves upon my hand, And ye’ll come to your bed, Annie, For I’ve dane you nae wrang.’


 
63A: Child Waters
 
Percy MS., p. 274; Hales and Furnivall, II, 269.
63A.1	CHILDE Watters in his stable stoode, And stroaket his milke-white steede; To him came a ffaire young ladye As ere did weare womans wee<de]. 63A.2	Saies, Christ you saue, good Chyld Waters! Sayes, Christ you saue and see! My girdle of gold, which was too longe, Is now to short ffor mee. 63A.3	‘And all is with one chyld of yours, I ffeele sturre att my side; My gowne of greene, it is to strayght; Before it was to wide.’ 63A.4	‘If the child be mine, Faire Ellen,’ he sayd, ‘Be mine, as you tell mee, Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both, Take them your owne to bee. 63A.5	‘If the child be mine, Ffaire Ellen,’ he said, ‘Be mine, as you doe sweare, Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both, And make that child your heyre.’ 63A.6	Shee saies, I had rather haue one kisse, Child Waters, of thy mouth, Then I wold haue Cheshire and Lancashire both, that lyes by north and south. 63A.7	‘And I had rather haue a twinkling, Child Waters, of your eye, Then I wold haue Cheshire and Lancashire both, To take them mine oune to bee.’ 63A.8	‘To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde Soe ffarr into the north countrye; The ffairest lady that I can ffind, Ellen, must goe with mee.’ ‘And euer I pray you, Child Watters, Your ffootpage let me bee!’ 63A.9	‘If you will my ffootpage be, Ellen, As you doe tell itt mee, Then you must cutt your gownne of greene An inche aboue your knee. 63A.10	‘Soe must you doe your yellow lockes, Another inch aboue your eye; You must tell noe man what is my name; My ffootpage then you shall bee.’ 63A.11	All this long day Child Waters rode, Shee ran bare ffoote by his side; Yett was he neuer soe curteous a knight To say, Ellen, will you ryde? 63A.12	But all this day Child Waters rode, Shee ran barffoote thorow the broome; Yett he was neuer soe curteous a knight As to say, Put on your shoone. 63A.13	‘Ride softlye,’ shee said, ‘Child Watters; Why doe you ryde soe ffast? The child which is no mans but yours My bodye itt will burst.’ 63A.14	He sayes, Sees thou yonder water, Ellen, that fflowes from banke to brim? ‘I trust to god, Child Waters,’ shee said, ‘You will neuer see mee swime.’ 63A.15	But when shee came to the waters side, Shee sayled to the chinne: ‘Except the lord of heauen be my speed, Now must I learne to swime.’ 63A.16	The salt waters bare vp Ellens clothes, Our Ladye bare vpp he<r] chinne, And Child Waters was a woe man, good Lord, To ssee Faire Ellen swime. 63A.17	And when shee ouer the water was, Shee then came to his knee: He said, Come hither, Ffaire Ellen, Loe yonder what I see! 63A.18	‘Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen? Of redd gold shine the yates; There’s four and twenty ffayre ladyes, The ffairest is my wordlye make. 63A.19	‘Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen? Of redd gold shineth the tower; There is four and twenty ffaire ladyes, The fairest is my paramoure.’ 63A.20	‘I doe see the hall now, Child Waters, that of redd gold shineth the yates; God giue good then of your selfe, And of your wordlye make! 63A.21	‘I doe see the hall now, Child Waters, that of redd gold shineth the yates; God giue good then of your selfe, And of your paramoure!’ 63A.22	There were four and twenty ladyes, Were playing att the ball, And Ellen, was the ffairest ladye, Must bring his steed to the stall. 63A.23	There were four and twenty faire ladyes Was playing att the chesse; And Ellen, shee was the ffairest ladye, Must bring his horsse to grasse. 63A.24	And then bespake Child Waters sister, And these were the words said shee: You haue the prettyest ffootpage, brother, that euer I saw with mine eye; That euer I saw with mine eye; 63A.25	‘But that his belly it is soe bigg, His girdle goes wonderous hye; And euer I pray you, Child Waters, Let him goe into the chamber with mee.’ 63A.26	‘It is more meete for a little ffootpage, that has run through mosse and mire, To take his supper vpon his knee And sitt downe by the kitchin fyer, Then to goe into the chamber with any ladye That weares soe [rich] attyre.’ 63A.27	But when th?e had supped euery one, To bedd they took the way; He sayd, Come hither, my little footpage, Harken what I doe say. 63A.28	And goe thee downe into yonder towne, And low into the street; The ffairest ladye that thou can find, Hyer her in mine armes to sleepe, And take her vp in thine armes two, For filinge of her ffeete. 63A.29	Ellen is gone into the towne, And low into the streete; The fairest ladye that shee cold find Shee hyred in his armes to sleepe, And tooke her in her armes two, For filing of her ffeete. 63A.30	‘I pray you now, good Child Waters, that I may creepe in att your bedds feete; For there is noe place about this house Where I may say a sleepe.’ 63A.31	This [night] and itt droue on affterward Till itt was neere the day: He sayd, Rise vp, my litle ffoote-page, And giue my steed corne and hay; And soe doe thou the good blacke oates, that he may carry me the better away. 63A.32	And vp then rose Ffaire Ellen, And gaue his steed corne and hay, And soe shee did and the good blacke oates, that he might carry him the better away. 63A.33	Shee layned her backe to the manger side, And greiuouslye did groane; And that beheard his mother deere, And heard her make her moane. 63A.34	Shee said, Rise vp, thou Child Waters, I thinke thou art a cursed man; For yonder is a ghost in thy stable, that greiuouslye doth groane, Or else some woman laboures of child, Shee is soe woe begone. 63A.35	But vp then rose Child Waters, And did on his shirt of silke; Then he put on his other clothes On his body as white as milke. 63A.36	And when he came to the stable-dore, Full still that hee did stand, that hee might heare now Faire Ellen, That hee might heare now Faire Ellen, How shee made her monand. 63A.37	Shee said, Lullabye, my owne deere child! Lullabye, deere child, deere! I wold thy father were a king, Thy mother layd on a beere! 63A.38	‘Peace now,’ he said, ‘good Faire Ellen, And be of good cheere, I thee pray, And the bridall and the churching both, They shall bee vpon one day.’
 
63B: Child Waters
 
a. Jamieson’s Brown MS., fol. 22, taken down from Mrs Brown’s recitation before 1783. b. A. Fraser Tytler’s Brown MS., No 9, as recited by Mrs Brown in 1800.
63B.1	‘I WARN ye all, ye gay ladies, That wear scarlet an brown, That ye dinna leave your father’s house, To follow young men frae town.’ 63B.2	‘O here am I, a lady gay, That wears scarlet an brown, Yet I will leave my father’s house, An follow Lord John frae the town.’ 63B.3	Lord John stood in his stable-door, Said he was bound to ride; Burd Ellen stood in her bowr-door, Said she’d rin by his side. 63B.4	He’s pitten on his cork-heeld shoone, An fast awa rade he; She’s clade hersel in page array, An after him ran she. 63B.5	Till they came till a wan water, An folks do ca it clyde; Then he’s lookit oer his left shoulder, Says, Lady, can ye wide? 63B.6	‘O I learnt it i my father house, An I learnt it for my weal, Wenneer I came to a wan water, To swim like ony eel.’ 63B.7	But the firstin stap the lady stappit, The water came til her knee; ‘Ohon, alas!’ said the lady, ‘This water’s oer deep for me.’ 63B.8	The nextin stap the lady stappit, The water came till her middle; An sighin says that gay lady, I’ve wat my gouden girdle 63B.9	The nextin stap the lady stappit, The water came till her pap; An the bairn that was in her twa sides For caul begane to quake. 63B.10	‘Lye still, lye still, my ain dear babe, Ye work your mither wae; Your father rides on high horse-back, Cares little for us twae.’ 63B.11	O about the midst o Clyden water There was a yeard-fast stane; He lightly turnd his horse about, An tooke her on him behin. 63B.12	‘O tell me this now, good Lord John, An a word ye dinna lee, How far it is to your lodgin, Whare we this night maun be?’ 63B.13	‘O see you nae yon castle, Ellen, That shines sae fair to see? There is a lady in it, Ellen, Will sunder you an me. 63B.14	‘There is a lady in that castle Will sunder you and I:’ ‘Betide me well, betide me wae, I sal go there an try.’ 63B.15	‘O my dogs sal eat the good white bread, An ye sal eat the bran; Then will ye sigh, an say, alas! That ever I was a man!’ 63B.16	‘O I sal eat the good white bread, An your dogs sal eat the bran; An I hope to live an bless the day, That ever ye was a man.’ 63B.17	‘O my horse sal eat the good white meal, An ye sal eat the corn; Then will ye curse the heavy hour That ever your love was born.’ 63B.18	‘O I sal eat the good white meal, An your horse sal eat the corn; An I ay sall bless the happy hour That ever my love was born.’ 63B.19	O four an twenty gay ladies Welcomd Lord John to the ha, But a fairer lady than them a’ Led his horse to the stable sta. 63B.20	An four an twenty gay ladies Welcomd Lord John to the green, But a fairer lady than them a’ At the manger stood alane. 63B.21	Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung, Ar a’ men boun to meat, Burd Ellen at a bye-table Amo the foot-men was set. 63B.22	‘O eat an drink, my bonny boy, The white bread an the beer:’ ‘The never a bit can I eat or drink, My heart’s sae full of fear.’ 63B.23	‘O eat an drink, my bonny boy, The white bread an the wine:’ ‘O I canna eat nor drink, master, My heart’s sae full of pine.’ 63B.24	But out it spake Lord John’s mother, An a wise woman was she: ‘Whare met ye wi that bonny boy, That looks sae sad on thee? 63B.25	‘Sometimes his cheek is rosy red, An sometimes deadly wan; He’s liker a woman big wi bairn, Than a young lord’s serving man.’ 63B.26	‘O it makes me laugh, my mother dear, Sic words to hear frae thee; He is a squire’s ae dearest son, That for love has followd me. 63B.27	‘Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy, Gi my horse corn an hay:’ ‘O that I will, my master dear, As quickly as I may.’ 63B.28	She’s taen the hay under her arm, The corn intill her han, An she’s gane to the great stable, As fast as eer she can. 63B.29	‘O room ye roun, my bonny broun steeds, O room ye near the wa; For the pain that strikes me thro my sides Full soon will gar me fa.’ 63B.30	She’s leand her back against the wa; Strong travail seizd her on; An even amo the great horse feet Burd Ellen brought forth her son. 63B.31	Lord John’[s] mither intill her bowr Was sitting all alone, Whan, i the silence o the night, She heard fair Ellen’s moan. 63B.32	‘Won up, won up, my son,’ she says, ‘Go se how a’ does fare; For I think I hear a woman’s groans, An a bairn greeting sair.’ 63B.33	O hastily he gat him up, Stayd neither for hose nor shoone, An he’s doen him to the stable-door, Wi the clear light o the moon. 63B.34	He strack the door hard wi his foot, An sae has he wi his knee, An iron locks an iron bars Into the floor flung he: ‘Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,’ he says, ‘Ther’s nane come in but me.’ 63B.35	Up he has taen his bonny young son, An gard wash him wi the milk; An up has he taen his fair lady, Gard row her in the silk. 63B.36	‘Cheer up your heart, Burd Ellen,’ he says, ‘Look nae mair sad nor wae; For your marriage an your kirkin too Sal baith be in ae day.’
Child 63C: Child Waters
Kinloch’s annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, Kinloch MSS, IV, 180.
63C.1	‘THE corn is turning ripe, Lord John, The nuts are growing fu, And ye are bound for your ain countrie, Fain wad I go wi you.’ 63C.2	‘Wi me, Margret, wi me, Margret, What wad ye do wi me? I’ve mair need o a pretty little boy, To wait upon my steed.’ 63C.3	‘It’s I will be your pretty little boy, To wait upon your steed; And ilka town that we come to, A pack of hounds I’ll lead.’ 63C.4	‘My hounds will eat o the bread o wheat, And ye of the bread of bran; And then you will sit and sigh, That eer ye loed a man.’ 63C.5	The first water that they cam to, I think they call it Clyde, He saftly unto her did say, Lady Margret, will ye ride? 63C.6	The first step that she steppit in, She steppit to the knee; Says, Wae be to ye, waefu water, For through ye I maun be. 63C.7	The second step that she steppit in, She steppit to the middle, And sighd, and said, Lady Margret, ‘I’ve staind my gowden girdle.’ 63C.8	The third step that she steppit in, She steppit to the neck; The pretty babe within her sides, The cauld it garrd it squake. 63C.9	‘Lie still my babe, lie still my babe, Lie still as lang’s ye may, For your father rides on horseback high, Cares little for us twae.’ 63C.10	It’s whan she cam to the other side, She sat doun on a stane; Says, Them that made me, help me now, For I am far frae hame. 63C.11	‘How far is it frae your mither’s bouer, Gude Lord John tell to me?’ ‘It’s therty miles, Lady Margaret, It’s therty miles and three: And yese be wed to ane o her serving men, For yese get na mair o me.’ 63C.12	Then up bespak the wylie parrot, As it sat on the tree, ‘Ye lee, ye lee, Lord John,’ it said, ‘Sae loud as I hear ye lee. 63C.13	‘Ye say it’s therty miles frae your mither’s bouer, Whan it’s but barely three; And she’ll neer be wed to a serving man, For she’ll be your ain ladie.’ 63C.14	[‘O dinna ye see yon bonnie castle, Lies on yon sunny lea? And yese get ane o my mither’s men, For yese get na mair o me.’] 63C.15	[‘We’ll see I yon bonnie castle, Lies on yon sunny lea, But Ise neer hae nane o your mither’s men, Tho I never gat mair o thee.’] 63C.16	[Whan he cam to the porter’s yett He tirled at the pin, And wha sae ready as the bauld porter To open and lat him in.] 63C.17	Monie a lord and fair ladie Met Lord John in the closs, But the bonniest face amang them a’ Was hauding Lord John’s horse. 63C.18	[Monie a lord and lady bricht Met Lord John on the green, But the bonniest boy amang them a’ Was standing by, him leen.] 63C.19	Monie a lord and gay ladie Sat dining in the ha, But the bonniest face that was there Was waiting on them a’. 63C.20	O up bespak Lord John’s sister, A sweet young maid was she: ‘My brither has brought a bonnie young page, His like I neer did see; But the red flits fast frae his cheek, And the tear stands in his ee.’ 63C.21	But up bespak Lord John’s mither, She spak wi meikle scorn: ‘He’s liker a woman gret wi bairn, Than onie waiting-man.’ 63C.22	‘It’s ye’ll rise up, my bonnie boy, And gie my steed the hay:’ ‘O that I will, my dear master, As fast as I can gae.’ 63C.23	She took the hay aneath her arm, The corn intil her hand, But atween the stable-door and the staw, Lady Margret made a stand. 63C.24	[Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men boun for bed, Lord John, mither, and sister gay In ae bour they were laid.] 63C.25	[Lord John had na weel gat aff his claise, Nor was he weel laid doun, Till his mither heard a bairn greet, And a woman’s heavy moan.] 63C.26	[‘Win up, win up, Lord John,’ she said, ‘Seek neither hose nor shoon; For I’ve heard a bairn loud greet, And a woman’s heavy moan.’] 63C.27	[Lord John raise, put on his claise, Sought neither hose nor shoon, Atween the ha and the stable-door He made na a step but ane.] 63C.28	‘O open the door, Lady Margaret, O open and let me in; I want to see if my steed be fed, Or my grey-hounds fit to rin.’ 63C.29	‘I’ll na open the door, Lord John,’ she said, ‘I’ll na open it to thee, Till ye grant to me my ae request, And a puir ane it’s to me. 63C.30	‘Ye’ll gie to me a bed in an outhouse, For my young son and me, And the meanest servant in a’ the place, To wait on him and me.’ 63C.31	[He’s tane the door wi his fit, And he keppd it wi his knee, He made the door o double deals In splinders soon to flee.] 63C.32	[‘An askin, an askin, grant me, Lord John, An askin ye’ll grant me; The meanest maid about the place To bring a glass o water to me.’] 63C.33	‘I grant, I grant, Lady Margret,’ he said, ‘A’ that, and mair frae me, The very best bed in a’ the place To your young son and thee, And my mither, and my sister dear, To wait on him and thee. 63C.34	‘And a’ thae lands, and a’ thae rents, They shall be his and thine; Our wedding and our kirking day, They sall be all in ane.’ 63C.35	And he has tane Lady Margaret, And rowd her in the silk, And he has tane his ain young son, And washd him in the milk.
 
63D: Child Waters
 
 
 63D.24.	* * * *
 	Lord John rose, put on his clothes,
 	Sought neither stockens nor shoon,
 	An between the ha and the stable
 	He made not a step but one.
 63D.25	‘O open, open, to me, Burd Ellen,
 	O open an let me in:’
 	‘O yes, O yes, will I, Lord John,
 	But not till I can win;
 	O yes, will I, Lord John,’ she says,
 	‘But I’m lyin wi your young son.’
 63D.26	He’s taen the door wi his foot,
 	An he kepped it wi his knee;
 	He made the door of double deals
 	In splinders soon to flee.
 63D.27	‘An askin ye’ll grant me, Lord John,
 	An askin ye’ll grant me;
 	May the meanest maid about the place
 	Bring a glass o water to me?’
 63D.28	‘O hold your tongue, Burd Ellen,’ he said,
 	‘Lat a’ your askins be;
 	For the best maid about the house
 	Shall bring a glass o wine to thee.
 63D.29	‘An the best bed about it a’,
 	For my young son an thee;
 	My mother and my ae sister
 	Sal bear you company.
 63D.30	‘Your marriage an your kirkin day
 	They sal be both in ane,
 	An a’ these ha’s an bowers, Burd Ellen,
 	They sal be yours an mine.’

 
 
63E: Child Waters
 
63E.1	‘I BEG you bide at hame, Margaret, An sew your silken seam; If ye waur in the wide Hielands, Ye wald be owre far frae hame.’ 63E.2	‘I winna bide a hame,’ she said, ‘Nor sew my silken seam; For if I waur in the wide Hielands, I wald no be owre far frae hame.’ 63E.3	‘My steed sall drink the blude-red wine, An you the water wan; I’ll mak you sigh, an say, alace, That ever I loed a man!’ 63E.4	‘Though your steed does drink the blude-red wine, An me the water wan, Yet will I sing, an merry be, That ever I loed a man.’ 63E.5	‘My hounds shall eat the bread o wheat, An you the bread o bran; I’ll mak you sigh, an say, alace, That ever you loed Lord John!’ 63E.6	‘Though your hounds do eat the bread o wheat, An me the bread o bran, Yet will I sing, an merrie be, That ever I loed Lord John.’ 63E.7	He turned aboot his high horse head, An awa he was boun to ride; She kilted up her green clieden, An after him she gaed. 63E.8	Whan they cam to that water Whilk a’ man ca the Clyde, He turned aboot his high horse head, Said, Ladie, will you ride? 63E.9	‘I learnt it in my mother’s bour, I wish I had learnt it weel, That I could swim this wan water As weel as fish or eel.’ 63E.10	Whan at the middle o that water, She sat doon on a stone; He turned aboot his high horse head, Says, Ladie, will ye loup on? 63E.11	‘I learnt in my mother’s bour, I wish I had learnt it better, That I culd swim this wan water As weel as eel or otter.’ 63E.12	He has taen the narrow ford, An she has taen the wide; Lang, lang ere he was at the middle, She was sittin at the ither side. 63E.13	. . . . . . . . . . Wi sighen said that Fair Margaret, Alace, I’m far frae hame! 63E.14	‘Hoo mony miles is’t to your castle? Noo Lord John, tell to me;’ ‘Hoo mony miles is’t to my castle? It’s thirty miles an three:’ Wi sighen said that Fair Margaret, It’ll never be gane by me! 63E.15	But up it spak the wily bird, As it sat on the tree, ‘Rin on, rin on noo, Fair Margaret, It scarcely miles is three.’ 63E.16	Whan they cam to the wide Hielands, An lichted on the green, Every an spak Erse to anither, But Margaret she spak nane. 63E.17	Whan they waur at table set, An birlin at the best, Margaret set at a bye-table, An fain she wald hain rest. 63E.18	‘Oh mither, mither, mak my bed Wi clean blankets an sheets, An lay my futeboy at my feet, The sounder I may sleep.’ 63E.19	She has made Lord John his bed, Wi clean blankets an sheets, An laid his futeboy at his feet, But neer a wink culd he sleep. 63E.20	‘Win up, win up noo, Fair Margaret, An see that my steed has meat; See that his corn is in his travisse, Nor lyin amang his feet.’ 63E.21	Slowly, slowly rase she up, An slowly put she on, An slowly gaed she doon the stair, Aye makin a heavy moan. * * * * * 63E.22	‘An asken, an asken, gude Lord John, I pray you grant it me; For the warst bed in a’ your hoose, To your young son an me.’ 63E.23	‘Your asken is but sma, Margaret, Sune grantet it shall be; For the best bed in a’ my hoose Is owre little for thee.’ 63E.24	‘An asken, an asken, gude Lord John, I pray you grant it me; For the warst ale in a’ your hoose, That ye wald gie to me.’ 63E.25	‘Your asken is but sma, Margaret, Sune grantet it sall be; For the best wine in a’ my hoose Is owre little for thee. 63E.26	‘But cheer up your heart noo, Fair Margaret, For, be it as it may, Your kirken an your fair weddin Sall baith be on one day.’
 
63F: Child Waters
 
63F.1	LORD THOMAS stands in his stable-door, Seeing his steeds kaimd down; Lady Ellen sits at her bower-door, Sewing her silver seam. 63F.2	‘O will ye stay at hame, Ellen, And sew your silver seam? Or will ye to the rank highlands? For my lands lay far frae hame.’ 63F.3	‘I winna stay at hame, Lord Thomas, And sew my silver seam; But I’ll gae to the rank highlands, Tho your lands lay far frae hame.’ * * * * * 63F.4	‘An asking, an asking, Lord Thomas, I pray thee grant it me; How many miles into your fair tower, And house where you would be?’ 63F.5	‘Your asking fair, lady Ellen,’ he says, ‘Shall now be granted thee; For to my castle where it stands Is thirty miles and three:’ ‘O wae is me,’ says Lady Ellen, ‘It will never be run by me.’ 63F.6	But up and spak the wily pyot, That sat upon the tree: ‘Sae loud, sae loud, ye fause, fause knight, Sae loud as I hear you lie! 63F.7	‘For to your dwelling-house,’ it says, ‘Of miles it’s scantly three:’ ‘O weel is me,’ says Lady Ellen; ‘It shall be run by me.’ * * * * * 63F.8	‘O mither, mither, mak my bed, And mak it braid and wide, And lay my little page at my feet, Whatever may betide.’ * * * * * 63F.9	‘An asking, an asking, Lord Thomas, I pray thee grant it me; O grant me a cup of cold water, Between my young son and me.’ 63F.10	‘What you do ask, Lady Ellen, Shall soon be granted thee; The best bread and the best wine, Between my young son and thee.’ 63F.11	‘I ask again, my good Lord Thomas, I ask again of thee; The poorest cot-house in your land, Between my young son and me.’ 63F.12	‘Your asking now, dear Lady Ellen, I quickly grant to thee; The best bower about my tower, Between my young son and thee.’
 
63G: Child Waters
 
63G.1	THE knight he stands in stable-door, Says he, I will go ride; The lady’s kilted her gay cloathing, And ran low by his side. 63G.2	He has ridden, and she has run, Till they came to yon water wan; He has ridden, and she has run, Like to his waiting man. 63G.3	He has ridden, and she has run, Till they came on to Clyde; The knight he rode on high horseback, But the lady she bot wide. 63G.4	The first step that the lady stepped, She stept into the knee; The bairn that was between her sides There he gied spartles three. 63G.5	‘Lie still, lie still, my bonny boy, Ye work your mother woe; Your father rides on high horseback, Cares little for us two.’ 63G.6	The nextand step that lady stepped, She stept into the pap; The bairn that was between her sides There spartled and he lap. 63G.7	‘Ly still, ly still, my bonny boy, You work your mother’s woe; Your father rides on high horseback, Cares little for us two.’ 63G.8	In the middle of that water There stands a yird-fast stone; He turnd his horse head back again, Said, Lady, loup ye on. 63G.9	She hadna ridden a mile, a mile, O never a mile but ane, Till she grew sick, and so weary She couldna ride nor gang. 63G.10	‘Ride on, ride on, my gay lady, You see not what I see; For yonder is my father’s castle, A little beyond the lee, And ye’ll get ane of my father’s men, But, lady, neer lippen on me.’ 63G.11	There were four and twenty bonny ladies Led Willie frae bower to ha, But the bonniest lady among them a’ Led his steed to the sta. 63G.12	When they were at the table set, And sitting at their dine, Out it spake his mother dear, And she spake aye in time. 63G.13	‘Sometimes your boy’s red, Willie, And other times he’s wan; He looks like a woman wi bairn, But no ways like a man.’ 63G.14	‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, Go look your master’s steed; See that his meat be at his head, And not among his feet.’ 63G.15	O healy, healy raise she up, And healy gaed she down, And healy opend the stable-door, And as healy gaed she in, And even among that big horse feet She bear her dear young son. 63G.16	As Willie’s mother was walking alone, Between the bower and ha, She thought she heard a bairn’s greet And lady’s moan in the sta. 63G.17	‘Gude make ye safe, my ae son Willie, Gude keep ye safe frae harm; Ye might hae chosen a lighter foot-boy Than a women in travilling.’ 63G.18	He hit the table wi his foot, He kept it wi his knee, Till silver cups and silver spoons Into the floor did flee. 63G.19	There was fifteen steps into that stair, I wat he made them a’ but three; He’s to the stable gane in haste, And a’ to see his gay lady. 63G.20	‘I am not come o sic low kin, Nor yet sic low degree, That you needed to banish me frae your sight, That ye left nae woman wi me.’ 63G.21	‘I wish I’d drunken the wan water When I did drink the wine, Or when I left my lady gay, And her at sic a time. 63G.22	‘But up ye’ll take my dear young son, And wash him wi the milk, And up ye’ll take my lady gay And row her in the silk; For her kirking and her fair wedding Shall baith stand in ae day.’
 
63H: Child Waters
 
63H.1	* * * * ‘TURN back, turn back, O Burd Alone, For the water’s both broad and long:’ First she went into the shoulders, And sine unto the chin. 63H.2	‘How far is it to your hall, Lord John? How far is it? I pray of thee:’ ‘The nearest way unto my hall Is thirty miles and three. 63H.3	‘Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone, Ye’ll sink before ye win owre:’ ‘I am too big with bairn,’ she says, ‘To sink or I win owre.’ 63H.4	‘Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone, Turn back, I pray of thee; For I’ve got a wife and seven bairns, I like far better than thee.’ 63H.5	And then spak a wild parrot, Sat high upon the tree: ‘Gang on, gang on, O Burd Alone, [He likes nane better nor thee.] 63H.6	‘For Lord John has neither wife nor bairns, He likes better than thee, And the nearest way to Lord John’s hall Is only short miles three.’ 63H.7	When she was come to Lord John’s hall, Lords, knights and ladies braw Was there to welcome them hame; But the bravest in the ha, She waited at Lord John’s back, Serving the tables a’. 63H.8	When she was laid into her bed, Amang the servants a’ ilk ane, The mother heard a babie greet, And a lady make a heavy maen. 63H.9	‘Rise up, rise up, Lord John,’ she said, ‘Bind on thy hose and shoon; Thow might hae got some other lady Then a lady big wi bairn.’ 63H.10	Lord John awa to the hay-loft, Where his lady lay; ‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says, ‘O rise and let me in; It’s I have got no loves without, But I’ve got one within.’ 63H.11	‘I ask three favours of you, Lord John, I ask three favours of thee; I ask a bottle of your sma, sma beer, For your old son and me.’ 63H.12	‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says, ‘O rise and let me in; My wine and gin is at your command, And that of my old son.’ 63H.13	‘The next favour I ask of you, Lord John, The next favour I ask of thee, Is the meanest room in all your house, For your young son and me. 63H.14	‘The next favour I ask of you, Lord John, The next favour I ask of thee, Is the meanest maid in a’ your house, To wait on your yong son and me.’ 63H.15	‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says, ‘O rise and let me in; For thy bridal and thy banquet day Shall both be held in ane.’
 
63I: Child Waters
 
 
 63I.1	LORD JOHN stands in his stable-door,
 	Just on his way to ride;
 	Lady Ellen stands in her bower-door,
 	Says, Bide, Lord John, abide!
 	* * * * *
 63I.2	He did ride, and she did run,
 	A lief-lang simmer’s day,
 	Until they came till a wan water,
 	That a’ man did ca Tay.
 63I.3	The first step that she steppit in,
 	She steppit tae the cweet;
 	An sichan said that gay lady,
 	I fear this water’s deep!
 63I.4	The next step that she steppit in,
 	She steppit tae the knee;
 	An sichan said that gay lady,
 	This water’s deep for me!
 63I.5	Lord John hield down his high horse head,
 	Said, Lady, will ye ride?
 	‘O no! O no! kind sir,’ she said,
 	‘I’ll rather choose tae wide.’
 63I.6	The next step that she steppit in,
 	She steppit tae the chin;
 	An sichan said that gay lady,
 	I’ll wide nae farrer in.
 63I.7	The firsten town that they cam till,
 	She got a leash o huns tae lead,
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	* * * * *
 63I.8	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
 	An a’ was ready tae dine,
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 63I.9	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
 	An a’ were bound for bed,
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .

 
 
63J: Child Waters
 
63J.1	THE knight stands in his stable-door, Says he, I will gae ride; A lady stands in her bower-door, Says, I’ll ride by your side. 63J.2	‘Ye shall not follow me, Burd Helen, Except ye do this deed; That is, to saddle to me my horse, And bridle to me my steed, And every town that ye come to, A liesh o hounds to lead.’ 63J.3	‘I will saddle to you your horse, Sae will I bridle your steed; And every town that we come to, A liesh o hounds I’ll lead.’ 63J.4	Take warning a’, ye maidens fair, That wear scarlet and brown; In virtue leave your lammas beds, To follow knights frae town. 63J.5	‘My dogs shall eat the white bread, Helen, And you the dust and bran; And you will sigh, and say, alas! That eer our loves began.’ 63J.6	‘Your dogs may eat the gude white bread, And I the dust and bran; Yet will I sing, and say, well’s me, That eer our loves began.’ 63J.7	‘My horse shall drink the gude red wine, And you the water wan; And then you’ll sigh, and say, alas! That eer our loves began.’ 63J.8	‘Your horse may drink the gude red wine, And I the water wan; But yet I’ll sing, and say, well’s me, That eer our loves began.’ 63J.9	Then Willie lap on his white steed, And straight awa did ride; Burd Helen, drest in men’s array, She walked by his side. 63J.10	But he was neer sae lack a knight As ance woud bid her ride, And she was neer sae mean a may As ance woud bid him bide. 63J.11	Sweet Willie rade, Burd Helen ran, A livelang summer’s tide, Until she came to wan water, For a’ men ca’s it Clyde. 63J.12	The first an step that she wade in, She wadit to the knee; ‘Ohon, alas!’ said that fair maid, ‘This water’s nae for me!’ 63J.13	The next an step that she wade in, She wadit to the pap; The babe within her sides twa, Cauld water gart it quack. 63J.14	‘Lie still, lie still, my bonny bairn, For a’ this winna dee; Your father rides on high horseback, Minds neither you nor me.’ 63J.15	In the midst of Clyde’s water, There stands a yird-fast stone; There he leant him ower his saddle-bow, And set that lady on, And brought her to the other side, Then set her down again. 63J.16	‘O see ye not yon goodly towers, And gowd towers stand sae hie? There is a lady in yonder bower Will sinder you and me.’ 63J.17	‘I wish nae ill to your lady, She neer wishd nane to me; But I wish the maid maist o your love That drees far mair for thee. 63J.18	‘I wish nae ill to your lady, She neer comes in my thought; But I wish the maid maist o your love That dearest hae you bought.’ 63J.19	Four an twenty gay ladies Led Willie thro bower and ha; But the fairest lady amo them a’ Led his horse to the sta. 63J.20	Four an twenty gay ladies Were a’ at dinner set; Burd Helen sat at a by-table, A bit she coudna eat. 63J.21	Out it spake her Dow Isbel, A skilly dame was she: ‘O whare got ye this fine foot-page Ye’ve brought alang wi thee? 63J.22	‘Sometimes his colour waxes red, Sometimes it waxes wan; He is liker a woman big wi bairn Nor be a waiting man.’ 63J.23	‘Win up, win up, my boy,’ he says, ‘At my bidding to be, And gang and supper my gude steed, See he be litterd tee.’ 63J.24	Then she is into stable gane, Shut tee the door wi a pin, And even amang Willie’s horse feet Brought hame her bonny young son. 63J.25	When day was gane, and night was come, And a’ man bound for bed, Sweet Willie and Dow Isbel In ae chamber were laid. 63J.26	They hadna been well lien down, Nor yet well faen asleep, Till up it wakens Sweet Willie, And stood at Dow Isbel’s feet. 63J.27	‘I dreamd a dreary dream this night, I wish it may be for guid; Some rogue hae broke my stable-door, And stown awa my steed. 63J.28	‘Win up, win up now, Dow Isbel, At my bidding to be, And ye’ll gae to my stable-door, See that be true or lie.’ 63J.29	When she gaed to the stable-door, She heard a grievous groan; She thought she heard a bairn greet, But and a woman’s moan. 63J.30	‘When I was in my bigly bower, I wore but what I would; This night I’m lighter ’mang Willie’s horse feet, I fear I’ll die for cold. 63J.31	‘When I was in my bigly bower, I wore gold to my tae; This night I’m lighter mang Willie’s horse feet, And fear I’ll die or day. 63J.32	‘When I was in my bigly bower, I wore scarlet and green; This night I’m lighter mang Willie’s horse feet, And fear I’ll die my lane.’ 63J.33	Dow Isbel now came tripping hame, As fast as gang coud she; ‘I thought your page was not a man, Ye brought alang wi thee. 63J.34	‘As I gaed to your stable, Willie, I heard a grievous groan; I thought I heard a bairn greet, But and a woman’s moan. 63J.35	‘She said, when in her bigly bower, She wore but what she would; But this night is lighter mang your horse feet, And fears she’ll die for cold. 63J.36	‘She said, when in her bigly bower, She wore gold to her tae; But this night is lighter mang your horse feet, And fears she’ll die or day. 63J.37	‘Win up, win up, now Sweet Willie, At my bidding to be, And speak some comfort to the maid, That’s dreed sae much for thee.’ 63J.38	He is to the stable door gane, As fast as gang coud he; ‘O open, O open, Burd Helen,’ he says, ‘Ye’ll open the door to me.’ 63J.39	‘That was never my mother’s custom, And hope it’s never be mine, A knight into her companie, When she drees a’ her pine.’ 63J.40	‘O open the door, Burd Helen,’ he says, ‘O open the door to me; For as my sword hangs by my gair, I’ll gar it gang in three.’ 63J.41	‘How can I open, how shall I open, How can I open to thee, When lying amang your great steed’s feet, Your young son on my knee?’ 63J.42	He hit the door then wi his foot, Sae did he wi his knee, Till doors o deal, and locks o steel, In splinders gart he flee. 63J.43	‘An asking, asking, Sweet Willie, An asking ye’ll grant me; The warst in bower in a’ your towers, For thy young son and me.’ 63J.44	‘Your asking’s nae sae great, Burd Helen, But granted it shall be; The best in bower in a’ my towers, For my young son and thee.’ 63J.45	‘An asking, asking, sweet Willie, An asking ye’ll grant me; The warst an woman about your bowers, To wait on him and me.’ 63J.46	‘The best an woman about my bowers, To wait on him and thee, And that’s my sister Dow Isbel, And a gude woman is she. 63J.47	‘Ye will take up my little young son, And wash him wi the milk; And ye’ll take up my gay lady, And row her in the silk. 63J.48	‘Be favourable to my lady, Be favourable, if ye may; Her kirking and her fair wedding Shall baith stand on ae day. 63J.49	‘There is not here a woman living But her shall be my bride, And all is for the fair speeches I got frae her at Clyde.’
 
63[K]: Child Waters
 
63[K].1	Willie was a harper guid, He was a harper fine; He harped the burds out of the tree, The fish out of the flood, The milk out of a woman’s brist That bab had never nean. 63[K.2]	He harped out, an he harped in, Till he harped them a’ aslep, Unless it was her Fair Elen, An she stood on her feett. 63[K.3]	Willie stod in stabile dor, He said he wad ride, . . . . . . . . . . . 63[K.4]	‘Na women mane gae we me, Hellen, Na women mane gaie we me Bat them that will saddle my hors, An bridell my steed, An elky toun that I come to A lish of hons mane lead.’ 63[K.5]	‘I will saddle yer hors, Willie, An I will bridel yer steed, An elky toun att we come tell A leash of honds will lead.’ 63[K.6]	‘The dogs sall eat the gued fite bread, An ye the dou pran, An ye sall bliss, an na curse, That ever ye lied a man.’ 63[K.7]	‘The dogs sall eat the whit bread, An me the dou pran, An I will bliss, an na curs, That ear I loved a man.’ 63[K.8]	She has saddled his hors, An she has bridled his stead, An ealky toun att they came throu A lish of honds did lead. 63[K.9]	The dogs did eatt the whit bread, An her the douey pran, An she did bliss, an she did na curs, That ever she loyed a man. 63[K.10]	Fan they came to yon wan water That a’ man caas Clayd, He louked over his left shoder, Says, Ellen, will ye ride? 63[K.11]	‘I learned it in my medder’s bour, I wiss I had learned it better, Fan I came to wane water To sume as dos the otter. 63[K.12]	‘I learned in my midder’s bour, I watt I learned it well, Fan I came to wan water, To sume as dos the ell.’ 63[K.13]	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Or the knight was in the middell of the water, The lady was in the eather side. 63[K.14]	She leaned her back to a stane, Gaa a call opon: ‘O my back is right sore, An I sae farr frae hame! 63[K.15]	‘Hou monny mill ha ye to rid, An hou mony I to rine?’ ‘Fifty mill ha I to rid, Fifty you to rine, An by that time I dou supos Ye will be a dead woman.’ 63[K.16]	Out spak a bonny burd, Sate on yon tree, ‘Gaa on, fair Ellen, Ye ha scarcly milles three.’ 63[K.17]	Four-an-tuenty bony ladys Mett Willie in the closs, Bat the fairest lady among them a’ Took Willie frae his horse. 63[K.18]	Four-an-trenty bonny ladys Lead Willie to the table, Bat the fairest lady among them a’ Led his hors to the stable. 63[K.19]	She leaned betuen the gray folle an the waa, An gae a call opon; ‘O my back is fue sore, An I sae far fra home! 63[K.20]	‘Fan I was in my father’s bour, I ware goud to my hell; Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet, An the call it will me kell. 63[K.21]	‘Fan I was in my midder’s bour I wear goud to my head; Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet, And the calle will be my dead.’ 63[K.22]	‘Fatten a heavey horse-boy, my son Willie, Is this ye ha brought to me? Some times he grous read, read, An some times paill an wane; He louks just leak a woman we bairn, An no weis es leak a man.’ 63[K.23]	‘Gett up, my heavey hors-boy, Gie my hors corn an hay;’ ‘By my soth,’ says her Fair Ellen, ‘Bat as fast as I may.’ 63[K.24]	‘I dreamed a dream san the straine, Gued read a’ dreams to gued! I dreamed my stable-dor was opned An stoun was my best steed. Ye gae, my sister, An see if the dream be gued.’ 63[K.25]	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . She thought she hard a baby greet, Bat an a lady mone. 63[K.26]	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘I think I hard a baby greet, Bat an a lady mone.’ 63[K.27]	‘A askend, Wikllie,’ she says, ‘An ye man grant it me; The warst room in a’ yer house To your young son an me.’ 63[K.28]	[‘Ask on, Fair Ellen, Ye’r sure yer asken is free;] The best room in a’ my house To yer young son an ye.’ 63[K.29]	‘[A] asken, Willie,’ she sayes, ‘An ye will grant it me; The smallest bear in yer house To [yer] young son an me.’ 63[K.30]	‘Ask on, Fair Ellen, Ye’r sure your asken is free; The best bear in my house [To yer young son an ye.] 63[K.31]	‘The best bear in my house Is the black bear an the wine, An ye sall haa that, Fair Ellen, To you an yer young son.’ 63[K.32]	‘[A] askent, Willie,’ she says, ‘An ye will grant [it] me; The warst maid in yer house To wait on yer young son an me.’ 63[K.33]	‘The best maid in my house Is my sister Meggie, An ye sall ha her, Fair Ellen, To wait on yer young son an ye. 63[K.34]	‘Chire up, Fair Ellen, Chire up, gin ye may; Yer kirking an yer fair weding Sall baith stand in ae day.’


 
64A: Fair Janet
 
64A.1	‘YE maun gang to your father, Janet, Ye maun gang to him soon; Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, In case that his days are dune.’ 64A.2	Janet’s awa to her father, As fast as she could hie: ‘O what’s your will wi me, father? O what’s your will wi me?’ 64A.3	‘My will wi you, Fair Janet,’ he said, ‘It is both bed and board; Some say that he loe Sweet Willie, But ye maun wed a French lord.’ 64A.4	‘A French lord maun I wed, father? A French lord maun I wed? Then, by my sooth,’ quo Fair Janet, ‘He’s neer enter my bed.’ 64A.5	Janet’s awa to her chamber, As fast as she could go; Wha’s the first ane that tapped there, But Sweet Willie her jo? 64A.6	‘O we maun part this love, Willie, That has been lang between; There’s a French lord coming oer the sea, To wed me wi a ring; There’s a French lord coming oer the sea, To wed and tak me hame.’ 64A.7	‘If we maun part this love, Janet, It causeth mickle woe; If we maun part this love, Janet, It makes me into mourning go.’ 64A.8	‘But ye maun gang to your three sisters, Meg, Marion, and Jean; Tell them to come to Fair Janet, In case that her days are dune.’ 64A.9	Willie’s awa to his three sisters, Meg, Marion, and Jean: ‘O haste, and gang to Fair Janet, I fear that her days are dune.’ 64A.10	Some drew to them their silken hose, Some drew to them their shoon, Some drew to them their silk manteils, Their covering to put on, And they’re awa to Fair Janet, By the hie light o the moon. * * * * * 64A.11	‘O I have born this babe, Willie, Wi mickle toil and pain; Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie, For nurse I dare be nane.’ 64A.12	He’s tane his young son in his arms, And kisst him cheek and chin, And he’s awa to his mother’s bower, By the hie light o the moon. 64A.13	‘O open, open, mother,’ he says, ‘O open, and let me in; The rain rains on my yellow hair, And the dew drops oer my chin, And I hae my young son in my arms, I fear that his days are dune.’ 64A.14	With her fingers lang and sma She lifted up the pin, And with her arms lang and sma Received the baby in. 64A.15	‘Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie, And comfort your fair lady; For where ye had but ae nourice, Your young son shall hae three.’ 64A.16	Willie he was scarce awa, And the lady put to bed, Whan in and came her father dear: ‘Make haste, and busk the bride.’ 64A.17	‘There’s a sair pain in my head, father, There’s a sair pain in my side; And ill, O ill, am I, father, This day for to be a bride.’ 64A.18	‘O ye maun busk this bonny bride, And put a gay mantle on; For she shall wed this auld French lord, Gin she should die the morn.’ 64A.19	Some put on the gay green robes, And some put on the brown; But Janet put on the scarlet robes, To shine foremost throw the town. 64A.20	And some they mounted the black steed, And some mounted the brown; But Janet mounted the milk-white steed, To ride foremost throw the town. 64A.21	‘O wha will guide your horse, Janet? O wha will guide him best?’ ‘O wha but Willie, my true-love? He kens I loe him best.’ 64A.22	And when they cam to Marie’s kirk, To tye the haly ban, Fair Janet’s cheek looked pale and wan, And her colour gaed an cam. 64A.23	When dinner it was past and done, And dancing to begin, ‘O we’ll go take the bride’s maidens, And we’ll go fill the ring.’ 64A.24	O ben than cam the auld French lord, Saying, Bride, will ye dance with me? ‘Awa, awa, ye auld French lord, Your face I downa see.’ 64A.25	O ben than cam now Sweet Willie, He cam with ane advance: ‘O I’ll go tak the bride’s maidens, And we’ll go tak a dance.’ 64A.26	‘I’ve seen ither days wi you, Willie, And so has mony mae, Ye would hae danced wi me mysel, Let a’ my maidens gae.’ 64A.27	O ben than cam now Sweet Willie, Saying, Bride, will ye dance wi me? ‘Aye, by my sooth, and that I will, Gin my back should break in three.’ 64A.28	She had nae turned her throw the dance, Throw the dance but thrice, When she fell doun at Willie’s feet, And up did never rise. 64A.29	Willie’s taen the key of his coffer, And gien it to his man: ‘Gae hame, and tell my mother dear My horse he has me slain; Bid her be kind to my young son, For father he has nane.’ 64A.30	The tane was buried in Marie’s kirk, And the tither in Marie’s quire; Out of the tane there grew a birk, And the tither a bonny brier.
 
64B: Fair Janet
 
64B.1	‘IF you do love me weel, Willie, Ye’ll shew to me truelie; Ye’ll build to me a bonnie ship, And set her on the sea.’ 64B.2	He did love her very weel, He shewed to her trulie; He builded her a bonnie ship, And set her on the sea. 64B.3	They had not sailed one league, one league, One league but only three, Till sharp, sharp showers fair Janet took, She grew sick and like to die. 64B.4	‘If you do love me weel, Willie, Ye’ll shew to me trulye; Ye’ll tak me to my mother’s bower, Whare I was wont to be.’ 64B.5	He did love her very weel, He shewed to her trulye; He took her to her mother’s bower, Whare she was wont to be. 64B.6	‘It’s ye’ll stand up at my richt side, You will on tiptaes stand, Until you hear your auld son weep, But an you Janet mourn. 64B.7	‘Come take your auld son in your arms, He is both large and lang; Come take your auld son in your arms, And for a nourice gang.’ 64B.8	He is to his mother’s bowers, An hour or it struck nine: ‘I have a babe into my arms, He’ll die nor nouricing.’ 64B.9	‘Goe home, go home, my son,’ she says, ‘And mak thy Jenny blythe; If ae nurse winna sere her son, It’s I’ll provide him five.’ 64B.10	Fair Janet was nae weel lichter, Nor weel doun on her side, Till ben and cam her father dear, Saying, Wha will busk our bride? 64B.11	Ben and cam her brethren dear, Saying, Wha will busk our bride? And wha will saddle our bride’s horse? Whom ahint will she ride? 64B.12	‘Hold your tongue, my brethren dear, And let your folly be, For I’m sae fair and full of hair Sma busking will serve me. 64B.13	‘Hold your tongue, my brethren dear, And let your folly be, For I will ride behint William, He will best wait on me. 64B.14	‘Willie, lay the saddle saft, And lead the bridle soun, And when we come to Mary’s Kirk, Ye’ll set me hooly down.’ 64B.15	Supper scarslie was owre, Nor musick weel fa’n to, Till ben and cam the bride’s brethren, Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me: ‘Awa, awa, my brethren dear, For dancing’s no for me.’ 64B.16	Ben and came her ain bridegroom, Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me; She says, Awa, awa, ye southland dog, Your face I downa see. 64B.17	Ben and cam then Sweet Willie, Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me: ‘Oh I will dance the floor once owre, Tho my heart should break in three.’ 64B.18	‘Oh no, oh no,’ said Sweet William, ‘Let no such things eer be; But I will cut my glove in two, And I’ll dance for thee and me.’ 64B.19	She hadna danced the floor once owre, I’m sure she hadna thrice, Till she fell in a deadly swound, And from it neer did rise. 64B.20	Out and spak her ain bridegroom, And an angry man was he: ‘This day she has gien me the gecks, Yet she must bear the scorn; There’s not a bell in merry Linkum Shall ring for her the morn.’ 64B.21	Out and spoke then Sweet William, And a sorry man was he: ‘Altho she has gien you the gecks, She will not bear the scorn; There’s not a bell in merry Linkum But shall ring for her the morn.’ 64B.22	There was not a bell in merry Linkum But they tinkled and they rang, And a’ the birds that flew above, They changed their notes and sang.
 
64C: Fair Janet
 
64C.1	LIVD ance twa luvers in yon dale, And they luvd ither weel; Frae evning late to morning aire Of luving luvd their fill. 64C.2	‘Now, Willie, gif you luve me weel, As sae it seems to me, Gar build, gar build a bonny schip, Gar build it speedilie. 64C.3	‘AnRR rrwe wLl saL the sea sae g-een, Unto some far countrie, Or we’ll sail to some bonie isle, Stands lanely midst the sea.’ 64C.4	But lang or ere the schip was built, Or deckd, or rigged out, Came sick a pain in Annet’s back That down she coud na lout. 64C.5	‘Now, Willie, gif ye luve me weel, As sae it seems to me, O haste, haste, bring me to my bowr, And my bowr-maidens three.’ 64C.6	He’s taen her in his arms twa, And kissd her, cheik and chin; He’s brocht her to her ain sweet bowr, But nae bowr-maid was in. 64C.7	‘Now leave my bower, Willie,’ she said, ‘Now leave me to my lane; When she was travelling.’ 64C.8	He’s stepped three steps down the stair, Upon the marble stane; Sae loud’s he heard his young son’s greet, But and his lady’s mane! 64C.9	‘Now come, now come, Willie,’ she said, ‘Tak your young son frae me, And hie him to your mother’s bower, With speed and privacie.’ 64C.10	He’s taen his young son in his arms, He’s kissd him, cheik and chin; He’s hied him to his mother’s bower, By th’ ae light of the moon. 64C.11	And with him came the bold barone, And he spake up wi pride: ‘Gar seek, gar seek the bower-maidens, Gar busk, gar busk the bryde.’ 64C.12	‘My maidens, easy with my back, And easy with my side; O set my saddle saft, Willie, I am a tender bryde.’ 64C.13	When she came to the burrow-town, They gied her a broch and ring, And when she came to . . ., They had a fair wedding. 64C.14	O up then spake the norland lord, And blinkit wi his ee: ‘I trow this lady’s born a bairn,’ Then laucht loud lauchters three. 64C.15	And up then spake the brisk bridegroom, And he spake up wi pryde: ‘Gin I should pawn my wedding-gloves, I will dance wi the bryde.’ 64C.16	‘Now had your tongue, my lord,’ she said, ‘Wi dancing let me be; I am sae thin in flesh and blude, Sma dancing will serve me.’ 64C.17	But she’s taen Willie be the hand, The tear blinded her ee: ‘But I wad dance wi my true-luve, But bursts my heart in three.’ 64C.18	She’s taen her bracelet frae her arm, Her garter frae her knee: ‘Gie that, gie that to my young son, He’ll neer his mother see.’ * * * * * 64C.19	‘Gar deal, gar deal the bread, mother, Gar deal, gar deal the wyne; This day hath seen my true-love’s death, This nicht shall witness myne.’
 
64D: Fair Janet
 
64D.1	‘IT never was my mother’s fashion, As little will’t be mine, For to hae gay lords within my room When ladies are travailing.’ 64D.2	Lord William was scarsely down the stair, A step but only ane, Till he heard his auld son gie a cry, And his lady a heavy maen. 64D.3	‘Turn back, turn back, Lord William,’ she says, ‘Take thy auld son in thy coat-neuk, And see and reach thy mother’s bowers Twa hours before day comes.’ 64D.4	He’s awa wi his auld son in his coat-neuk, As fast as he can run, And there he’s reached his mother’s bowers, Twa hours before day came. 64D.5	‘O rise, O rise, my mother dear, O rise and let me in, For I’ve my auld son in my coat-neuk, And he shivers at the chin.’ 64D.6	‘Ye’re welcome hame to me, Lord William, And so is thy auld son; It’s where ye had but ae nourice, Thy auld son he’ll hae four.’ 64D.7	His lady was scarsely in her bed, Nor well faln owre asleep, When four and twenty knights and lords Came for the bride at last. 64D.8	They dressed her up, they dressed her down, They dressed her wondrous fine, And just before her ain bedside She lost her colour clean. 64D.9	‘Be hooly wi my head, maidens, Be hooly wi my hair, For it was washen late last night, And now it’s very sair.’ 64D.10	Out then spoke a southern lord, And oh but he spak bauld: ‘She is the likest that bore a child That eer my eyes did see.’ 64D.11	Up then spak her auld, auld father, And oh he spoke in time: ‘She neer bore a child since her birth Except it was yestreen.’ 64D.12	Out then spoke a northern lord: ‘It’s bride, will ye dance wi me?’ ‘Oh no, oh no, you northland lord, It’s dancing’s no for me.’ 64D.13	Out then spoke a southland lord: ‘It’s bride, will ye dance wi me?’ ‘Oh no, oh no, you southland lord, I would as lief chuse to die.’ 64D.14	Out then spoke her ain bridegroom: ‘O bride, will ye dance wi me?’ ‘Oh no, oh no, my ain bridegroom, It’s dancing’s no for me.’ 64D.15	yes, I’ll dance, dear Willie,’ she said, Out then spoke her ain Willy, And oh he spoke fu fine: ‘O bride, O bride, will ye dance wi me,’ . . . . . 64D.16	‘Oh yes, oh yes, Willie,’ she said, ‘It’s I will dance with thee; Oh yes, I’ll dance, dear Willie,’ she said, ‘Tho my back it gaes in three.’ 64D.17	She leaned her head on Willie’s breast, And her back unto the wa: ‘O there’s the key of my coffer, And pay weel the nouriss fee, And aye when ye look on your auld son, Ye may aye think on me.’
 
64E: Fair Janet
 
64E.1	WILLIE and Fair Janet Sat a’ day on yon hill; And Janet she took sair pains, And O but she grew ill. 64E.2	‘Fetch a woman to me, Willie, O fetch a woman to me, For without the help of woman, Willie, Surely I will dee.’ 64E.3	‘O tie a napkin on my face, That naething I may see, And what can a woman do, Janet, But I will do for thee?’ * * * * * 64E.4	She was na scarcely brought to bed, Nor yet laid on her side, Till in and cam her father there, Crying, Fy, gae busk the bride. 64E.5	‘A wearyed bride am I, father, A wearyed bride am I; Must I gae wed that southlan lord, And let Sweet Willie abe?’ * * * * * 64E.6	‘Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet, What shall your cleeding be; Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet, And I will gie it to thee. 64E.7	‘Whether will you hae it of the berry brown, Or of the holland green; Or will you hae it of the crimson red, Most lovely to be seen?’ 64E.8	‘I will not hae’t of the berry brown, Nor yet o the holly green; But I will hae’t of the crimson red, Most lovely to be seen.’ 64E.9	‘Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet, What man you’ll ride behind:’ ‘O wha sae fitting as Sweet Willie? He’ll fit my saddle fine.’ 64E.10	O they rode on, and they rode on, Till they cam to Merrytown green; But Sweet Willie and Fair Janet Cam aye hoolie ahin. 64E.11	O whan they cam to Merrytown, And lighted on the green, Monie a bluidy aith was sworn That our bride was wi bairn. 64E.12	Out and spake the bonny bride, And she swore by her fingers ten: ‘If eer I was wi bairn in my life, I was lighter sin yestreen.’ 64E.13	Up and raise he the bridegroom, Says, Bride, will ye dance wi me? ‘Dance on, dance on, bridegroom,’ she says, ‘For I’ll dance nane wi thee.’ 64E.14	Up and raise her father then, Says, Bride, will ye dance wi me? ‘Dance on, my father,’ she replied, ‘I pray thee let me be.’ 64E.15	Then up and raise he Sweet Willie, And he had meikle pride: ‘I’ll lay my gloves in the bride’s han, And I’ll dance for the bride.’ 64E.16	‘O no, O no, O Sweet Willie, O no, that shall na be; For I will dance wi thee, Willie, Tho my back should fa in three.’ 64E.17	She had na run a reel, a reel, A reel but barely three, Till pale and wan grew Fair Janet, And her head took Willie’s knee. 64E.18	Out and spake then the bridegroom, And he spake wi great scorn: ‘There’s not a bell in Merrytown kirk Shall ring for her the morn.’ 64E.19	Out and spak he Sweet Willie, And his heart was almost gane: ‘’Tis a the bells in Merrytown kirk Shall ring for her the morn.’ 64E.20	Willie was buried in Mary’s kirk, etc., etc., etc.
 
64F: Fair Janet
 
64F.1	HEY, love Willie, and how, love Willie, And Willie my love shall be; They’re thinking to sinder our lang love, Willie; It’s mair than man can dee. 64F.2	‘Ye’ll mount me quickly on a steed, A milk-white steed or gray, And carry me on to gude greenwood, Before that it be day.’ 64F.3	He mounted her upon a steed, He chose a steed o gray; He had her on to gude greenwood, Before that it was day. 64F.4	‘O will ye gang to the cards, Meggie? Or will ye gang wi me? Or will ye hae a bower-woman, To stay ere it be day?’ 64F.5	‘I winna gang to the cards,’ she said, ‘Nor will I gae wi thee, Nor will I hae a bower-woman, To spoil my modestie. 64F.6	‘Ye’ll gie me a lady at my back, An a lady me beforn, An a midwife at my twa sides, Till your young son be born. 64F.7	‘Ye’ll do me up, and further up, To the top o yon greenwood tree; For every pain myself shall hae, The same pain ye maun drie.’ 64F.8	The first pain that did strike Sweet Willie, It was into the side; Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie, These pains are ill to bide! 64F.9	The nextan pain that strake Sweet Willie, It was into the back; Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie, These pains are women’s wreck! 64F.10	The nextan pain that strake Sweet Willie, It was into the head; Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie, I fear my lady’s dead! 64F.11	Then he’s gane on, and further on, At the foot o yon greenwood tree; There he got his lady lighter, Wi his young son on her knee. 64F.12	Then he’s taen up his little young son, And kissd him, cheek and chin, And he is on to his mother, As fast as he could gang. 64F.13	‘Ye will take in my son, mother, Gie him to nurses nine; Three to wauk, and three to sleep, And three to fanf between.’ 64F.14	Then he has left his mother’s house, And frae her he has gane, And he is back to his lady, And safely brought her hame. 64F.15	Then in it came her father dear, Was belted in a brand: ‘It’s nae time for brides to lye in bed, When the bridegroom’s send’s in town. 64F.16	‘There are four-and-twenty noble lords A’ lighted on the green; The fairest knight amang them a’, He must be your bridegroom.’ 64F.17	‘O wha will shoe my foot, my foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will prin my sma middle, Wi the short prin and the lang?’ 64F.18	Now out it speaks him Sweet Willie, Who knew her troubles best: ‘It is my duty for to serve, As I’m come here as guest. 64F.19	‘Now I will shoe your foot, Maisry, And I will glove your hand, And I will prin your sma middle, Wi the sma prin and the lang.’ 64F.20	‘Wha will saddle my steed,’ she says, ‘And gar my bridle ring? And wha will hae me to gude church-door, This day I’m ill abound?’ 64F.21	‘I will saddle your steed, Maisry, And gar your bridle ring, And I’ll hae you to gude church-door, And safely set you down.’ 64F.22	‘O healy, healy take me up, And healy set me down, And set my back until a wa, My foot to yird-fast stane.’ 64F.23	He healy took her frae her horse, And healy set her down, And set her back until a wa, Her foot to yird-fast stane. 64F.24	When they had eaten and well drunken, And a’ had thornd fine, The bride’s father he took the cup, For to serve out the wine. 64F.25	Out it speaks the bridegroom’s brother, An ill death mat he die! ‘I fear our bride she’s born a bairn, Or else has it a dee.’ 64F.26	She’s taen out a Bible braid, And deeply has she sworn; ‘If I hae born a bairn,’ she says, ‘Sin yesterday at morn, 64F.27	‘Or if I’ve born a bairn,’ she says, ‘Sin yesterday at noon, There’s nae a lady amang you a’ That woud been here sae soon.’ 64F.28	Then out it spake the bridegroom’s man, Mischance come ower his heel! ‘Win up, win up, now bride,’ he says, ‘And dance a shamefu reel.’ 64F.29	Then out it speaks the bride hersell, And a sorry heart had she: ‘Is there nae ane amang you a’ Will dance this dance for me?’ 64F.30	Then out it speaks him Sweet Willie, And he spake aye thro pride: ‘O draw my boots for me, bridegroom, Or I dance for your bride.’ 64F.31	Then out it spake the bride hersell: O na, this maunna be; For I will dance this dance mysell, Tho my back shoud gang in three. 64F.32	She hadna well gane thro the reel, Nor yet well on the green, Till she fell down at Willie’s feet As cauld as ony stane. 64F.33	He’s taen her in his arms twa, And haed her up the stair; Then up it came her jolly bridegroom, Says, What’s your business there? 64F.34	Then Willie lifted up his foot, And dang him down the stair, And brake three ribs o the bridegroom’s side, And a word he spake nae mair. 64F.35	Nae meen was made for that lady, When she was lying dead; But a’ was for him Sweet Willie, On the fields for he ran mad.
 
64G: Fair Janet
 
64G.1	‘WILL you marry the southland lord, A queen of fair England to be? Or will you burn for Sweet Willie, The morn upon yon lea?’ 64G.2	‘I will marry the southland lord, Father, sen it is your will; But I’d rather it were my burial-day, For my grave I’m going till. 64G.3	‘O go, O go now, my bower-wife, O go now hastilie, O go now to Sweet Willie’s bower, And bid him cum speak to me.’ * * * * * 64G.4	And he is to his mother’s bower, As fast as he could rin: ‘Open, open, my mother dear, Open, and let me in. 64G.5	‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair, The dew stands on my chin, And I have something in my lap, And I wad fain be in.’ 64G.6	‘O go, O go now, Sweet Willie, And make your lady blithe, For wherever you had ae nourice, Your young son shall hae five.’ 64G.7	Out spak Annet’s mother dear, An she spak a word o’ pride; Says, Whare is a’ our bride’s maidens, They’re no busking the bride? 64G.8	‘O haud your tongue, my mother dear, Your speaking let it be, For I’m sae fair and full o flesh Little busking will serve me.’ 64G.9	Out an spak the bride’s maidens, They spak a word o pride; Says, Whare is a’ the fine cleiding? It’s we maun busk the bride. 64G.10	‘Deal hooly wi my head, maidens, Deal hooly wi my hair; For it was washen late yestreen, And it is wonder sair.’ * * * * * 64G.11	And Willie swore a great, great oath, And he swore by the thorn, That she was as free o a child that night As the night that she was born. 64G.12	‘Ye hae gien me the gowk, Annet, But I’ll gie you the scorn; For there’s no a bell in a’ the town Shall ring for you the morn.’ 64G.13	Out and spak then Sweet Willie: Sae loud’s I hear you lie! There’s no a bell in a’ the town But shall ring for Annet and me. * * * * *


 
65A: Lady Maisry
 
65A.1	THE young lords o the north country Have all a wooing gone, To win the love of Lady Maisry, But o them she woud hae none. 65A.2	O they hae courted Lady Maisry Wi a’ kin kind of things; An they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi brotches an wi’ rings. 65A.3	An they ha sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; An they ha sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an frae brother. 65A.4	An they ha followd her Lady Maisry Thro chamber an thro ha; But a’ that they coud say to her, Her answer still was Na. 65A.5	‘O had your tongues, young men,’ she says, ‘An think nae mair o me; For I’ve gien my love to an English lord, An think nae mair o me.’ 65A.6	Her father’s kitchy-boy heard that, An ill death may he dee! An he is on to her brother, As fast as gang coud he. 65A.7	‘O is my father an my mother well, But an my brothers three? Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well, There’s naething can ail me.’ 65A.8	‘Your father and your mother is well, But an your brothers three; Your sister Lady Maisry’s well, So big wi bairn gangs she.’ 65A.9	‘Gin this be true you tell to me, My mailison light on thee! But gin it be a lie you tell, You sal be hangit hie.’ 65A.10	He’s done him to his sister’s bowr, Wi meikle doole an care; An there he saw her Lady Maisry, Kembing her yallow hair. 65A.11	‘O wha is aught that bairn,’ he says, ‘That ye sae big are wi’ And gin ye winna own the truth, This moment ye sall dee.’ 65A.12	She turnd her right an roun about, An the kem fell frae her han; A trembling seizd her fair body, An her rosy cheek grew wan. 65A.13	‘O pardon me, my brother dear, An the truth I’ll tell to thee; My bairn it is to Lord William, An he is betrothd to me.’ 65A.14	‘O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain country, That ye draw up wi an English dog, To bring this shame on me? 65A.15	‘But ye maun gi up the English lord, Whan youre young babe is born; For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, Your life sall be forlorn.’ 65A.16	‘I will gi up this English blood, Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Tho my life should be forlorn.’ 65A.17	‘O whare is a’ my merry young men, Whom I gi meat and fee, To pu the thistle and the thorn, To burn this wile whore wi?’ 65A.18	‘O whare will I get a bonny boy, To help me in my need, To rin wi hast to Lord William, And bid him come wi speed?’ 65A.19	O out it spake a bonny boy, Stood by her brother’s side: ‘O I would rin your errand, lady, Oer a’ the world wide. 65A.20	‘Aft have I run your errands, lady, Whan blawn baith win and weet; But now I’ll rin your errand, lady, Wi sat tears on my cheek.’ 65A.21	O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam, An whan he came to the green grass growin, He slackd his shoone and ran. 65A.22	O whan he came to Lord William’s gates, He baed na to chap or ca, But set his bent bow till his breast, An lightly lap the wa; An, or the porter was at the gate, The boy was i the ha. 65A.23	‘O is my biggins broken, boy? Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a dear daughter or son?’ 65A.24	‘Your biggin is na broken, sir, Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a’ the lan For you this day maun burn.’ 65A.25	‘O saddle me the black, the black, Or saddle me the brown; O saddle me the swiftest steed That ever rade frae a town.’ 65A.26	Or he was near a mile awa, She heard his wild horse sneeze: ‘Mend up the fire, my false brother, It’s na come to my knees.’ 65A.27	han he lighted at the gate, She heard his bridle ring: ‘Mend up the fire, my false brother, It’s far yet frae my chin. 65A.28	‘Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin hard an fast Will soon men’t up to thee. 65A.29	‘O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, Sae hard as they are boun, I would have turnd me frae the gleed, And castin out your young son.’ 65A.30	‘O I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your father an your mother; An I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an your brother. 65A.31	‘An I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief of a’ your kin; An the last bonfire that I come to, Mysel I will cast in.’
 
65B: Lady Maisry
 
65B.1	IN came her sister, Stepping on the floor; Says, It’s telling me, my sister Janet, That you’re become a whore. 65B.2	‘A whore, sister, a whore, sister? That’s what I’ll never be; I’m no so great a whore, sister, As liars does on me lee. 65B.3	In came her brother, Stepping on the floor; Says, It’s telling me, my sister Janet, That you’re become a whore.’ 65B.4	‘A whore, brother, a whore, brother? A whore I’ll never be; I’m no so bad a woman, brother, As liears does on me lee.’ 65B.5	In came her mother, Stepping on the floor: ‘They are telling me, my daughter, That you’re so soon become a whore.’ 65B.6	‘A whore, mother, a whore, mother? A whore I’ll never be; I’m only with child to an English lord, Who promised to marry me.’ 65B.7	In came her father, Stepping on the floor; Says, They tell me, my daughter Janet, That you are become a whore.’ 65B.8	‘A whore, father, a whore, father? A whore I’ll never be; I’m but with child to an English lord, Who promisd to marry me.’ 65B.9	Then in it came an old woman, The lady’s nurse was she, And ere she could get out a word The tear blinded her ee. 65B.10	‘Your father’s to the fire, Janet, Your brother’s to the whin; All for to kindle a bold bonfire, To burn your body in.’ 65B.11	‘Where will I get a boy,’ she said, ‘Will gain gold for his fee, That would run unto fair England For thy good lord to thee.’ 65B.12	‘O I have here a boy,’ she said, ‘Will gain gold to his fee, For he will run to fair England For thy good lord to thee.’ 65B.13	Now when he found a bridge broken, He bent his bow and swam, And when he got where grass did grow, He slacked it and ran. 65B.14	And when he came to that lord’s gate, Stopt not to knock or call, But set his bent bow to his breast And lightly leapt the wall; And ere the porter could open the gate, The boy was in the hall, 65B.15	In presence of that noble lord, And fell down on his knee: ‘What is it, my boy,’ he cried, ‘Have you brought unto me? 65B.16	‘Is my building broke into? Or is my towers won? Or is my true-love delivered Of daughter or of son?’ 65B.17	‘Your building is not broke,’ he cried, ‘Nor is your towers won, Nor is your true-love delivered Of daughter nor of son; But if you do not come in haste, Be sure she will be gone. 65B.18	‘Her father is gone to the fire, Her brother to the whin, To kindle up a bold bonfire, To burn her body in.’ 65B.19	‘Go saddle to me the black,’ he cried, ‘And do it very soon; Get unto me the swiftest horse That ever rade from the town.’ 65B.20	The first horse that he rade upon, For he was raven black, He bore him far, and very far, But failed in a slack. 65B.21	The next horse that he rode upon, He was a bonny brown; He bore him far, and very far, But did at last fall down. 65B.22	The next horse that he rode upon, He as the milk was white; Fair fall the mare that foaled that foal. Took him to Janet’s sight! 65B.23	And boots and spurs, all as he was, Into the fire he lap, Got one kiss of her comely mouth, While her body gave a crack. 65B.24	‘O who has been so bold,’ he says, ‘This bonfire to set on? Or who has been so bold,’ he says, ‘Her body for to burn?’ 65B.25	‘O here are we,’ her brother said, ‘This bonfire who set on; And we have been so bold,’ he said, ‘Her body for to burn.’ 65B.26	‘O I’ll cause burn for you, Janet, Your father and your mother; And I’ll cause die for you, Janet, Your sister and your brother. 65B.27	‘And I’ll cause mony back be bare, And mony shed be thin, And mony wife be made a widow, And mony ane want their son.’
 
65C: Lady Maisry
 
65C.1	BEN came to her father dear, Stepping upon the floor; Says, It’s told me, my daughter Janet, That you’re now become a whore. 65C.2	‘A whore, father, a whore, father? That’s what I’ll never be, Tho I am with bairn to an English lord, That first did marry me.’ 65C.3	Soon after spoke her bower-woman, And sorely did she cry: ‘Oh woe is me, my lady fair, That ever I saw this day! 65C.4	‘For your father’s to the fire, Janet, Your brother’s to the whin, Even to kindle a bold bonefire, 65C.5	‘Where will I get a bonnie boy, Will win gold to his fee, That will run on to fair England For my good lord to me?’ 65C.6	‘Oh here am I, your waiting-boy, Would win gold to my fee, And will carry any message for you, By land or yet by sea.’ 65C.7	And when he fand the bridges broke, He bent his bow and swam, But when he fand the grass growing, He slacked it and ran. 65C.8	And when he came to that lord’s gate, Stopt not to knock nor call, But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly lap the wall. 65C.9	And ere the porter was at the gate The boy was in the hall, And in that noble lord’s presence He on his knee did fall. 65C.10	‘O is my biggins broken?’ he said, ‘Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of daughter of or son?’ 65C.11	‘Your biggins are not broken,’ he said, ‘Nor is your towers won, Nor is your lady lighter yet, Of daughter or of son; But if you stay a little time Her life it will be gone. 65C.12	‘For her father’s gone to the fire, Her brother to the whin, Even to kindle a bold bonfire, To burn her body in.’ 65C.13	‘Go saddle for me in haste,’ he cried, ‘A brace of horses soon; Go saddle for me the swiftest steeds That ever rode to a town.’ 65C.14	The first steed that he rade on, For he was as jet black, He rode him far, and very far, But he fell down in a slack. 65C.15	The next steed that he rode on, For he was a berry brown; He bore him far, and very far, But at the last fell down. 65C.16	The next steed that he rode on, He was as milk so white; Fair fall the mare that foaled the foal Took him to Janet’s lyke! 65C.17	But boots and spurs, all as he was, Into the fire he lap, Took ae kiss of her comely mouth, While her body gave a crack. 65C.18	‘O who has been so bold,’ he said, ‘This bonfire to set on? Or who has been so bold,’ he cried, ‘My true-love for to burn?’ 65C.19	Her father cried, I’ve been so bold This bonefire to put on; Her brother cried, We’ve been so bold Her body for to burn. 65C.20	‘Oh I shall hang for you, Janet, Your father and your brother; And I shall burn for you, Janet, Your sister and your mother. 65C.21	‘Oh I shall make many bed empty, And many shed be thin, And many a wife to be a widow, And many one want their son. 65C.22	‘Then I shall take a cloak of cloth, A staff made of the wand, And the boy who did your errand run Shall be heir of my land.’
 
65D: Lady Maisry
 
65D.1	LADY MARGERY was her mother’s ain daughter, And her father’s only heir, And she’s away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some unco lair. 65D.2	She hadna been in Strawberry Castle A year but only three, Till she has proved as big with child, As big as woman could be. 65D.3	Word has to her father gone, As he pat on his shoon, That Lady Margery goes wi child, Unto some English loon. 65D.4	Word has to her mother gane, As she pat on her gown, That Lady Margery goes wi child, Unto some English loon. 65D.5	The father he likes her ill, The mother she likes her waur, But her father he wished her in a fire strang, To burn for ever mair. * * * * * 65D.6	‘Will ye hae this auld man, Lady Margery, To be yeer warldly make? Or will ye burn in fire strang, For your true lover’s sake?’ 65D.7	‘I wunna hae that old, old man To be my worldly make, But I will burn in fire strang, For my true lover’s sake.’ 65D.8	‘O who will put of the pot? O who will put of the pan? And who will build a bale-fire, To burn her body in.’ 65D.9	The brother took of the pot, The sister took of the pan, And her mother builded a bold bale-fire, To burn her body in. 65D.10	‘O where will I get a bony boy That will run my errand soon? That will run to Strawberry Castle, And tell my love to come soon?’ 65D.11	But then started up a little boy, Near to that lady’s kin: ‘Often have I gane your errands, madam, But now it is time to rin.’ 65D.12	O when he came to Strawberry Castle, He tirled at the pin; There was nane sae ready as that lord himsell To let the young body in. 65D.13	‘O is my towers broken? Or is my castle wone? Or is my lady Margery lighter Of a daughter or a son?’ 65D.14	‘Your towers are not broken, Nor is your castle wone; But the fairest lady of a’ the land For thee this day does burn.’ 65D.15	‘Go saddle for me the black, black horse, Go saddle to me the brown; Go saddle to me as swift a steed As ever man rade on.’ 65D.16	They saddled to him the black horse, They saddled to him the brown; They’ve saddled to him as swift a steed As ever man rade on. 65D.17	He put his foot into the stirrup, He bounded for to ride; The silver buttons lap of his breast, And his nose began to bleed. 65D.18	He bursted fifteen gude stout steeds, And four o them were dappled gray, And the little foot-page ran aye before, Crying, Mend it, an ye may! 65D.19	When he came to the bale-fire, He lighted wi a glent, Wi black boots and clean spurs, And through the fire he went. 65D.20	He laid ae arm about her neck, And the other beneath her chin; He thought to get a kiss o her, But her middle it gade in twain. 65D.21	‘But who has been so false,’ he said, ‘And who has been sae cruel, To carry the timber from my ain wood To burn my dearest jewel? 65D.22	‘But I’ll burn for ye, Lady Margery, Yeer father and yeer mother; And I’ll burn for ye, Lady Margery, Yeer sister and yeer brother. 65D.23	‘I’ll do for ye, Lady Margery, What never was done for nane; I’ll make many lady lemanless, And many a clothing thin. 65D.24	‘And I’ll burn for yeer sake, Lady Margery, The town that yeer burnt in, And [make] many a baby fatherless, That’s naething o the blame.’
 
65E: Lady Maisry
 
65E.1	LADY MARJORY was her mother’s only daughter, Her father’s only heir, O And she is awa to Strawberry Castle, To get some unco lair. O 65E.2	She had na been in Strawberry Castle A twelve month and a day, Till Lady Marjory she gaes wi child, As big as she can gae. 65E.3	Word is to her father gone, Before he got on his shoon, That Lady Marjory she gaes wi child, And it is to an Irish groom. 65E.4	But word is to her mother gane, Before that she gat on her gown, That Lady Marjorie she goes wi child, To a lord of high renown. 65E.5	‘O wha will put on the pot?’ they said, ‘Or wha will put on the pan? Or wha will put on a bauld, bauld fire, To burn Lady Marjorie in?’ 65E.6	Her father he put on the pot, Her sister put on the pan, And her brother he put on a bauld, bauld fire, To burn Lady Marjorie in; And her mother she sat in a golden chair, To see her daughter burn. 65E.7	‘But where will I get a pretty little boy, That will win hose and shoon, That will go quickly to Strawberry Castle And bid my lord come doun?’ 65E.8	‘O here am I a pretty boy, That’ll win hose and shoon, That will rin quickly to Strawberry Castle, And bid thy lord come doun.’ 65E.9	O when he came to broken brigs, He bent his bow and swam, And when he came to good dry land, He let down his foot and ran. 65E.10	When he came to Strawberry Castle, He tirled at the pin; None was so ready as the gay lord himsell To open and let him in. 65E.11	‘O is there any of my towers burnt? Or any of my castles broken? Or is Lady Marjorie brought to bed, Of a daughter or a son?’ 65E.12	‘O there is nane of thy towers burnt, Nor nane of thy castles broken, But Lady Marjorie is condemned to die, To be burnt in a fire of oaken.’ 65E.13	‘O gar saddle to me the black,’ he said, ‘Gar saddle to me the brown; Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed That eer carried a man from town.’ 65E.14	He left the black into the slap, The brown into the brae, But fair fa that bonny apple-gray That carried this gay lord away! 65E.15	He took a little horn out of his pocket, And he blew ’t both loud and shrill, And the little life that was in her, She hearkend to it full weel. 65E.16	‘Beet on, beet on, my brother dear, I value you not one straw, For yonder comes my own true-love, I hear his horn blaw. 65E.17	‘Beet on, beet on, my father dear, I value you not a pin, For yonder comes my own true-love, I hear his bridle ring.’ 65E.18	But when he came into the place, He lap unto the wa; He thought to get a kiss o her bonny lips, But her body fell in twa. 65E.19	‘Oh vow, oh vow, oh vow,’ he said, ‘Oh vow but ye’ve been cruel! Ye’ve taken the timber out of my own wood And burnt my ain dear jewel. 65E.20	‘Now for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I’ll burn both father and mother; And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I’ll burn both sister and brother. 65E.21	‘And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I’ll burn both kith and kin; But I will remember the pretty little boy That did thy errand rin.’
 
65F: Lady Maisry
 
65F.1	FAIR MARJORYRR’rrS gaen into the school, Between six and seven, An she’s come back richt big wi bairn, Between twalve and eleven. 65F.2	It’s out then sprung her mither dear, Stood stately on the flure: ‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory, But ye’re sune becum a hure.’ 65F.3	‘I’m not a hure, mither,’ she said, ‘Nor ever intend to be; But I’m wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he’ll marry me.’ 65F.4	[It’s out then sprung her father dear, Stood stately on the flure: ‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory, But ye’re sune becum a hure.’ 65F.5	‘I’m not a hure, father,’ she said, ‘Nor ever intend to be; But I’m wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he will marry me.’ 65F.6	It’s out then sprung her brother dear, Stood stately on the flure: ‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory, But ye’re sune becum a hure.’ 65F.7	‘I’m not a hure, brother,’ she said, ‘Nor ever intend to be; But I’m wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he will marry me.’ 65F.8	It’s out then sprung her sister dear, Stood stately on the flure: ‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory, But ye’re sune becum a hure.’ 65F.9	‘I’m not a hure, sister,’ she said, ‘Nor ever intend to be;] Ye’re but a young woman, sister, An ye shuld speak sparinlie.’ 65F.10	Her father’s to the grene-wude gaen, Her brither’s to the brume; An her mither sits in her gowden chair, To see her dochter burn. * * * * * 65F.11	. . . . . . . . . . . The sister she culd do naething, And she sat down to greet. 65F.12	‘Oh whare will I get a bonny boy, That will win hose an shoon, That wull rin to Strawberry Castle for me, And bid my true-love come?’ 65F.13	It’s out than spak a bonny boy, That stude richt at her knee: ‘It’s I wull rin your errand, ladie, Wi the saut tear i my ee.’ 65F.14	It’s whan he cam to broken brigg, He bent his bow an swam, An whan he cam whare green grass grew, Set doon his feet an ran. 65F.15	An whan he cam to Strawberry Castle, He thirled at the pin, An aye sae ready as the porter was To rise and let him in. * * * * * 65F.16	‘Gae saddle to me the black,’ he says, ‘Gae saddle to me the broun; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed That eer set fute on grun.’ 65F.17	It’s first he burst the bonny black, An syne the bonny broun, But the dapple-gray rade still away, Till he cam to the toun. 65F.18	An aye he rade, an aye he rade, An aye away he flew, Till the siller buttons flew off his coat; He took out his horn an blew. 65F.19	An aye he blew, an aye he blew, He blew baith loud an shrill, An the little life that Marjory had, She heard his horn blaw weel. 65F.20	‘Beik on, beik on, cruel mither,’ she said, ‘For I value you not a straw; For if ever I heard my love in my life, He’s comin here awa.’ * * * * * 65F.21	When he cam unto the flames He jamp in, butes and a’; He thocht to hae kissd her red rosy lips, But her body broke in twa. * * * * * 65F.22	I’ll burn for thy sake, Marjory, The toun that thou lies in; An I’ll mak the baby fatherless, For I’ll throw mysel therein.
 
65G: Lady Maisry
 
65G.1	* * * * ‘MY father was the first good man Who tied me to a stake; My mother was the first good woman Who did the fire make. 65G.2	‘My brother was the next good man Who did the fire fetch; My sister was the next good woman Who lighted it with a match. 65G.3	‘They blew the fire, they kindled the fire, Till it did reach my knee: "[O mother, mother, quench the fire! The smoke will smother me."] 65G.4	‘O had I but my little foot-page, My errand he would run; He would run unto gay London, And bid my lord come home.’ 65G.5	Then there stood by her sister’s child, Her own dear sister’s son: ‘O many an errand I’ve run for thee, And but this one I’ll run.’ 65G.6	He ran, where the bridge was broken down He bent his bow and swam; He swam till he came to the good green turf, He up on his feet and ran. 65G.7	He ran till he came at his uncle’s hall; His uncle sat at his meat: ‘Good mete, good mete, good uncle, I pray, O if you knew what I’d got to say, How little would you eat!’ 65G.8	‘O is my castle broken down, Or is my tower won? Or is my gay lady brought o bed, Of a daughter or a son?’ 65G.9	‘Your castle is not broken down, Your tower it is not won; Your gay lady is not brought to bed, Of a daughter or a son. 65G.10	‘But she has sent you a gay gold ring, With a posy round the rim, To know, if you have any love for her, You’ll come to her burning.’ 65G.11	He called down his merry men all, By one, by two, by three; He mounted on his milk-white steed, To go to Margery. 65G.12	They blew the fire, they kindled the fire, Till it did reach her head: ‘O mother, mother, quench the fire! For I am nearly dead.’ 65G.13	She turned her head on her left shoulder, Saw her girdle hang on the tree: ‘O God bless them that gave me that! They’ll never give more to me.’ 65G.14	She turned her head on her right shoulder, Saw her lord come riding home: ‘O quench the fire, my dear mother! For I am nearly gone.’ 65G.15	He mounted off his milk-white steed, And into the fire he ran, Thinking to save his gay ladye, But he had staid too long.
 
65H: Lady Maisry
 
65H.1	THERE stands a stane in wan water, It’s lang ere it grew green; Lady Maisry sits in her bower door, Sewing at her silken seam. 65H.2	Word’s gane to her mother’s kitchen, And to her father’s ha, That Lady Maisry is big wi bairn-+- And her true-love’s far awa. 65H.3	When her brother got word of this, Then fiercely looked he: ‘Betide me life, betide me death, At Maisry’s bower I’se be. 65H.4	‘Gae saddle to me the black, the black, Gae saddle to me the brown; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, To hae me to the town.’ 65H.5	When he came to Maisry’s bower, He turnd him round about, And at a little shott-window, He saw her peeping out. 65H.6	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry, God make you safe and free!’ ‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, my brother dear, What are your wills wi me?’ 65H.7	‘What’s come o a’ your green claithing, Was ance for you too side? And what’s become o your lang stays, Was ance for you too wide?’ 65H.8	‘O he that made my claithing short, I hope he’ll make them side; And he that made my stays narrow, I hope he’ll make them wide.’ 65H.9	‘O is it to a lord o might, Or baron o high degree? Or is it to any o your father’s boys, Rides in the chase him wi?’ 65H.10	‘It’s no to any Scottish lord, Nor baron o high degree; But English James, that little prince, That has beguiled me.’ 65H.11	‘O was there not a Scots baron That could hae fitted thee, That thus you’ve lovd an Englishman, And has affronted me?’ 65H.12	She turnd her right and round about, The tear blinded her ee: ‘What is the wrang I’ve done, brother, Ye look sae fierce at me?’ 65H.13	‘Will ye forsake that English blude, When your young babe is born?’ ‘I’ll nae do that, my brother dear, Tho I shoud be forlorn.’ 65H.14	‘I’se cause a man put up the fire, Anither ca in the stake, And on the head o yon high hill I’ll burn you for his sake. 65H.15	‘O where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, For to hew down baith thistle and thorn, To burn that lady wi?’ 65H.16	Then he has taen her, Lady Maisry, And fast he has her bound; And he causd the fiercest o his men Drag her frae town to town. 65H.17	Then he has causd ane of his men Hew down baith thistle and thorn; She carried the peats in her petticoat-lap, Her ainsell for to burn. 65H.18	Then ane pat up this big bauld fire, Anither ca’d in the stake; It was to burn her Lady Maisry, All for her true-love’s sake. 65H.19	But it fell ance upon a day, Prince James he thought full lang; He minded on the lady gay He left in fair Scotland. 65H.20	‘O where will I get a little wee boy, Will win gowd to his fee, That will rin on to Adam’s high tower, Bring tidings back to me?’ 65H.21	‘O here am I, a little wee boy, Will win gowd to my fee, That will rin on to Adam’s high tower, Bring tidings back to thee.’ 65H.22	Then he is on to Adam’s high tower, As fast as gang coud he, And he but only wan in time The fatal sight to see. 65H.23	He sat his bent bow to his breast, And ran right speedilie, And he is back to his master, As fast as gang coud he. 65H.24	‘What news, what news, my little wee boy? What news hae ye to me?’ ‘Bad news, bad news, my master dear, Bad news, as ye will see.’ 65H.25	‘Are ony o my biggins brunt, my boy? Or ony o my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, O dear daughter or son?’ 65H.26	‘There’s nane o your biggins brunt, master, Nor nane o your towers won, Nor is your lady lighter yet, O dear daughter nor son. 65H.27	‘There’s an has been [put up] a big bauld fire, Anither ca’d in the stake, And on the head o yon high hill, They’re to burn her for your sake.’ 65H.28	‘Gae saddle to me the black, the black, Gae saddle to me the brown; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, To hae me to the town.’ 65H.29	Ere he was three miles near the town, She heard his horse-foot patt: ‘Mend up the fire, my fause brother, It scarce comes to my pap.’ 65H.30	Ere he was twa miles near the town, She heard his bridle ring: ‘Mend up the fire, my fause brother, It scarce comes to my chin. 65H.31	‘But look about, my fause brother, Ye see not what I see; I see them coming here, or lang Will mend the fire for thee.’ 65H.32	Then up it comes him little Prince James, And fiercely looked he: ‘I’se make my love’s words very true She said concerning me. 65H.33	‘O wha has been sae bauld,’ he said, ‘As put this bonfire on? And wha has been sae bauld,’ he said, ‘As put that lady in?’ 65H.34	Then out it spake her brother then, He spoke right furiouslie; Says, I’m the man that put her in: Wha dare hinder me? 65H.35	‘If my hands had been loose,’ she said, ‘As they are fastly bound, I woud hae looted me to the ground, Gien you up your bonny young son.’ 65H.36	‘I will burn, for my love’s sake, Her father and her mother; And I will burn, for my love’s sake, Her sister and her brother. 65H.37	‘And I will burn, for my love’s sake, The whole o a’ her kin; And I will burn, for my love’s sake, Thro Linkum and thro Lin. 65H.38	‘And mony a bed will I make toom, And bower will I make thin; And mony a babe shall thole the fire, For I may enter in.’ 65H.39	Great meen was made for Lady Maisry, On that hill whare she was slain; But mair was for her ain true-love, On the fields for he ran brain.
 
65I: Lady Maisry
 
65I.1	THERE lived a lady in Scotland, Refrain:	Hey my love and ho my joy There lived a lady in Scotland, Refrain:	Who dearly loved me There lived a lady in Scotland, An she’s fa’n in love wi an Englishman, Refrain:	And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in Dundee 65I.2	The father unto the daughter came, Refrain:	Who dearly loved me 65I.2	Saying, Will you forsake that Englishman? 65I.3	‘If you will not that Englishman forsake, Refrain:	Who dearly loved me 65I.3	O I will burn you at a stake.’ 65I.4	‘I will not that Englishman forsake, Refrain:	Who dearly loved me 65I.4	Tho you should burn me at a stake. 65I.5	‘O where will I get a pretty little boy, Refrain:	Who dearly loves me 65I.5	Who will carry tidings to my joy?’ 65I.6	‘Here am I, a pretty little boy, Refrain:	Who dearly loves thee 65I.6	Who will carry tidings to thy joy.’ 65I.7	‘Give to him this right-hand glove, Refrain:	Who dearly loves me 65I.7	Tell him to get another love. Refrain:	For, etc. 65I.8	‘Give to him this little penknife, Refrain:	Who dearly loves me 65I.8	Tell him to get another wife. Refrain:	For, etc. 65I.9	‘Give to him this gay gold ring; Refrain:	Who dearly loves me 65I.9	Tell him I’m going to my burning.’ Refrain:	An, etc. 65I.10	The brother did the stake make, 65I.10r	Who dearly loved me 65I.10	The father did the fire set. 65I.10r	An bonnie Susie Cleland was burnt in Dundee.
 
65[J]: Lady Maisry
 
65[J].1	Lady Margery was the king’s ae daughter, But an the prince’s heir; O She’s away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some English lair. O 65[J.2]	She had not been in Strawberry Castle A twelvemonth and a day Till she’s even as big wi child As ever a lady could gae. 65[J.3]	Her father’s to the cutting o the birks, Her mother to the broom, And a’ for to get a bundle o sticks To burn that fair lady in. 65[J.4]	‘O hold your hand now, father dear, O hold a little while, For if my true-love be yet alive I’ll hear his bridle ring. 65[J.5]	‘Where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hoes and shoon, That will run to Strawberry Castle And tell my love to come?’ 65[J.6]	She’s called on her waiting-maid To bring out bread and wine: ‘Now eat and drink, my bonny boy, Ye’ll neer eat mair o mine.’ 65[J.7]	Away that bonny boy he’s gaen, As fast as he could rin; When he cam where grass grew green Set down his feet and ran. 65[J.8]	And when he cam where brigs were broken He bent his bow and swam; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65[J.9]	When he came to Strawberry Castle, He lighted on the green; Who was so ready as the noble lord To rise and let the boy in! 65[J.10]	‘What news? what new, my pretty page? What tydings do ye bring? Is my lady lighter yet Of a daughter or a son?’ 65[J.11]	‘Bad news, bad news, my noble lord, Bad tydings have I brung; The fairest lady in a’ Scotland This day for you does burn.’ 65[J.12]	He has mounted a stately steed And he was bound to ride; The silver buttons flew off his coat And his nose began to bleed. 65[J.13]	The second steed that lord mounted Stumbled at a stone; ‘Alass! alass!’ he cried with grief, ‘My lady will be gone.’ 65[J.14]	When he came from Strawberry Castle He lighted boots and a’; He thought to have goten a kiss from her, But her body fell in twa. 65[J.15]	For the sake o Lady Margery He’s cursed her father and mother, For the sake o Lady Margery He’s cursed her sister and brother. 65[J.16]	And for the sake o Lady Margery He’s cursed all her kin; He cried, Scotland is the ae warst place That ever my fit was in!
 
65[K]: Lady Maisry
 
65[K].1	Marjorie was fer father’s dear, Her mother’s only heir, An she’s away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some unco lear. 65[K.2]	She had na been i Strawberry Castle A year but barely three Till Marjorie turnd big wi child, As big as big could be. * * * * * 65[K.3]	‘Will ye hae that old, old man To be yer daily mate, Or will ye burn in fire strong For your true lover’s sake?’ 65[K.4]	‘I winna marry that old, old man To be my daily mate; I’ll rather burn i fire strong For my true lover’s sake. * * * * * 65[K.5]	‘O where will I get a bonnie boy That will win hose an shoon An will gae rin to Strawberry Castle, To gar my good lord come soon?’ 65[K.6]	‘Here am I, a bonnie boy That will win hose an shoon, An I’ll gae rin to Strawberry Castle, And gar your lord come soon.’ 65[K.7]	‘Should ye come to a brocken brig, Than bend your bow an swim; An whan ye com to garse growin Set down yer feet an rin.’ 65[K.8]	When eer he came to brigs broken, He bent his bow an swam, And whan he cam to grass growin He set down his feet an ran. 65[K.7]	When eer he cam to Strawberry Castle He tirlt at the pin; There was nane sae ready as that young lord To open an let him in. 65[K.8]	‘Is there ony o my brigs broken? Or ony o my castle win? Or is my lady brought to bed Of a daughter or a son?’ 65[K.9]	‘There’s nane o a’ yer brigs broken, Ther’s nane of your castles win; But the fairest lady in a’ your land This day for you will burn.’ 65[K.10]	‘Gar saddle me the black, black horse, Gar saddle me the brown, Gar saddle me the swiftest stead That eer carried man to town.’ 65[K.11]	He’s burstit the black unto the slack, The grey unto the brae, An ay the page that ran afore Cried, Ride, sir, an ye may. 65[K.12]	Her father kindlet the bale-fire, Her brother set the stake, Her mother sat an saw her burn, An never cired Alack! 65[K.13]	‘Beet on, beet [on], my cruel father, For you I cound nae friend; But for fifteen well mete mile I’ll hear my love’s bridle ring.’ 65[K.14]	When he cam to the bonnie Dundee, He lightit wi a glent; Wi jet-black boots an glittrin spurs Through that bale-fire he went. 65[K.15]	He thought his love wad hae datit him, But she was dead an gane; He was na sae wae for the lady As he was for her yong son. 65[K.16]	‘But I’ll gar burn for you, Marjorie, Yer father an yer mother, An I’ll gar burn for you, Marjorie, Your sister an your brother. 65[K.17]	‘An I will burn for you, Marjorie, The town that ye’r brunt in, An monie ane’s be fatherless That has but little sin.’


 
66A: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet
 
66A.1	LORD INGRAM and Chiel Wyet Was baith born in one bower; Laid baith their hearts on one lady, The less was their honour. 66A.2	Chiel Wyet and Lord Ingram Was baith born in one hall; Laid baith their hearts on one lady, The worse did them befall. 66A.3	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery From father and from mother; Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery From sister and from brother. 66A.4	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery With leave of a’ her kin; And every one gave full consent, But she said no to him. 66A.5	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery Into her father’s ha; Chiel Wyet wood her Lady Maisery Amang the sheets so sma. 66A.6	Now it fell out upon a day, She was dressing her head, That ben did come her father dear, Wearing the gold so red. 66A.7	He said, Get up now, Lady Maisery, Put on your wedding gown; For Lord Ingram he will be here, Your wedding must be done. 66A.8	‘I’d rather be Chiel Wyet’s wife, The white fish for to sell, Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife, To wear the silk so well. 66A.9	‘I’d rather be Chiel Wyet’s wife, With him to beg my bread, Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife, To wear the gold so red. 66A.10	‘Where will I get a bonny boy, Will win gold to his fee, And will run unto Chiel Wyet’s, With this letter from me?’ 66A.11	‘O here I am, the boy,’ says one, ‘Will win gold to my fee, And carry away any letter To Chiel Wyet from thee.’ 66A.12	And when he found the bridges broke, He bent his bow and swam; And when he found the grass growing, He hastened and he ran. 66A.13	And when he came to Chiel Wyet’s castle, He did not knock nor call, But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly leaped the wall; And ere the porter opend the gate, The boy was in the hall. 66A.14	The first line he looked on, A grieved man was he; The next line he looked on, A tear blinded his ee: Says, I wonder what ails my one brother He’ll not let my love be! 66A.15	‘But I’ll send to my brother’s bridal-+- The bacon shall be mine-+- Full four and twenty buck and roe, And ten tun of the wine; And bid my love be blythe and glad, And I will follow syne.’ 66A.16	There was not a groom about that castle But got a gown of green, And all was blythe, and all was glad, But Lady Maisery she was neen. 66A.17	There was no cook about that kitchen But got a gown of gray, And all was blythe, and all was glad, But Lady Maisery was wae. 66A.18	Between Mary Kirk and that castle Was all spread ower with garl, To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens From tramping on the marl. 66A.19	From Mary Kirk and that castle Was spread a cloth of gold, To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens From treading on the mold. 66A.20	When mass was sung, and bells was rung, And all men bound for bed, Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maisery In one bed they were laid. 66A.21	When they were laid into their bed-+- It was baith soft and warm-+- He laid his hand over her side, Says, I think you are with bairn. 66A.22	‘I told you once, so did I twice, When ye came me to woo, That Chiel Wyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bower. 66A.23	‘I told you twice, I told you thrice, Ere ye came me to wed, That Chiel Wyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bed.’ 66A.24	‘O will you father your bairn on me, And on no other man? And I’ll give him to his dowry Full fifty ploughs of land.’ 66A.25	‘I will not father my bairn on you, Nor on no wrongeous man, Though ye would give him to his dowry Five thousand ploughs of land.’ 66A.26	Then up did start him Chiel Wyet, Shed by his yellow hair, And gave Lord Ingram to the heart A deep wound and a sair. 66A.27	Then up did start him Lord Ingram, Shed by his yellow hair, And gave Chiel Wyet to the heart A deep wound and a sair. 66A.28	There was no pity for that two lords, Where they were lying slain; But all was for her Lady Maisery, In that bower she gaed brain. 66A.29	There was no pity for that two lords, When they were lying dead; But all was for her Lady Maisery, In that bower she went mad. 66A.30	Said, Get to me a cloak of cloth, A staff of good hard tree; If I have been an evil woman, I shall beg till I dee. 66A.31	‘For a bit I’ll beg for Chiel Wyet, For Lord Ingram I’ll beg three; All for the good and honorable marriage At Mary Kirk he gave me.’
 
66B: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet
 
66B.1	LORD INGRAM and Gil Viett Were baith born in ae ha; They laid their love on ae lady, An fate they coud na fa. 66B.2	Lord Ingram and Gil Viett Were baith laid in ae wame; They laid their love on ae lady, The greater was their shame. 66B.3	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Masery Frae father and frae mither; Gill Viett wood her Lady Masery Frae sister and frae brither. 66B.4	Lord Ingram courted her Lady Masery Among the company a’; Gill Viett he wood her Lady Masery Among the sheets so sma. 66B.5	‘Get up, my daughter dear, Put on your bridal gown; This day’s your bridal day Wi Lord Ingram.’ 66B.6	‘How can I get up, An put on my bridal gown, Or how marry the ae brither, An the tither’s babe in my womb?’ * * * * * 66B.7	‘O laugh you at mysell, brither, Or at my companie? Or laugh ye at my bonnie bride, She wad na laugh at thee?’ 66B.8	‘I laugh na at yoursel, brither, Nor at your companie; Nor laugh I at your buirlie bride, She wad na laugh at me. 66B.9	‘But there’s a brotch on a breast-bane, A garlan on ane’s hair; Gin ye kend what war under that, Ye wad neer love woman mair. 66B.10	‘There is a brotch on a breast-bane, An roses on ane’s sheen; Gin ye kend what war under that, Your love wad soon be deen.’ 66B.11	Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ man boun to bed, Lord Ingram and Lady Masery In ae chamer were laid. 66B.12	He put his hand out oure his bonnie bride, The babe between her sides did quake: . . . . . . . . . . . 66B.13	‘O father your babe on me, Lady Masery, O father your babe on me.’ . . . . . . . . . . . 66B.14	‘I may father my babe on a stock, Sae may I on a stane, But my babe shall never hae A father but its ain.’ 66B.15	He took out a brand, And laid it atween them twa; . . . . . . . . . . . 66B.16	Gill Viett took out a long brand, And stroakd it oer a stro, An thro and thro Lord Ingram’s bodie He made it come and go. 66B.17	‘Wae mat worth ye, Gill Viett, An ill died mat ye die! For I had the cup in my hand To hae drunken her oer to thee.’ 66B.18	‘[For] ae mile [I wad gae] for Gil Viett, For Lord Ingram I wad hae gaen three; An a’ for that in good kirk-door Fair wedding he gave me.’ 66B.19	Gil Viett took a long brand, An stroakd it on a stro, An through and thro his own bodie He made it come and go. 66B.20	There was nae mean made for that godd lords, In bowr whar they lay slain, But a’ was for that lady, In bowr whar she gaed brain. 66B.21	There was nae mean made for that lady, In bowr whar she lay dead, But a’ was for the bonnie babe That lay blabbering in her bleed.
 
66C: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet
 
66C.1	LADY MAISDRY was a lady fair, She maid her mither’s bed; Auld Ingram was an aged knight, And hee sought her to wed. 66C.2	‘’Tis I forbid ye, Auld Ingram, For to seek me to spouse; For Lord Wayets, your sister’s son, Has been into my bowrs. 66C.3	‘’Tis I forbid ye, Auld Ingram, For to seek me to wed; For Lord Wayets, your sister’s son, Has been into my bed.’ 66C.4	‘’Tis he has bought to this lady The robes of the brown; ‘And ever alas,’ says this lady, ‘The robs will pit mee down!’ 66C.5	And he has bought to this lady The robs of the red; ‘And ever alas,’ says this lady, ‘The robs will be my dead!’ 66C.6	And he has bought to this lady The chrystal and the lammer, Sae has hee bought to her mither The curches of the cammer. 66C.7	Every ane o her se’n brethren They had a hawk in hand, And every lady i the place They got a goud garland. 66C.8	Every cuk in that kitchen They gat a noble claith; A’ was blyth at Auld Ingram’s cuming, But Lady Maisdrey was wraith. 66C.9	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy, Wad fain wun hos and shoon, That wud rin on to my Wayets, And quickly cume again?’ 66C.10	‘Here am I, a bonny boy, Wad fain wun hoes and shoon, Wha wull rin on to your Wayets, And quickly cume again.’ 66C.11	‘Ye’l bid him, and ye’l pray him baith, Gif ony prayer can dee, To Mary Kirk to cume the morn, My weary wadding to see.’ 66C.12	Lord Wayets lay our his castle wa, Beheld baith dale and down, And he beheld a bonny boy Cume rinnen to the town. 66C.13	‘What news, what news, ye bonny boy? What news ye hae to mee? . . . . . . . . . . . 66C.14	‘O is my ladie’s fauldis brunt? Or is her towrs wun? Or is my Maisdrey lighter yet A dear dochter or sun?’ 66C.15	‘Your ladie’s faulds they are not brunt, Nor yet are her towrs wun, Neither is Maisdrey lighter yet A dear dochter or sun. 66C.16	‘But she bids ye and she prays ye baith, Gif ony prayer can dee, To Mary Kirk to cume the morn, Her weary wadding to see.’ 66C.17	He dung the boord up wi his fit, Sae did he wi his tae; The silver cup that sat upon’t I the fire he gard it flee: ‘O what na a lord in a’ Scotland Dare marry my Maisdrey?’ 66C.18	‘O ’tis but a feeble thought To tell the tane and not the tither; O ’tis but a feeble thought To tell ’tis your mither’s brither.’ 66C.19	‘’Tis I wull send to that wadding, And I wul follow syne, The fitches o the fallow deer An the gammons o the swine, An the nine hides o the noble cow; ’Twas slain in season time. 66C.20	‘’Tis I wul send to that wadding Ten ton of the red wyne; Much more I’ll send to that wadding, An I wul follow syne.’ 66C.21	When he came in unto the ha, Lady Maisdrey she did ween, And twenty times he kist her mou Before Auld Ingram’s een. 66C.22	Nor to the kirk she wud ne gae, Nor til’t she wudn ride, Till four and twunty men she gat her before, An twunty on ilka side, An four and twunty milk-white dows To flee aboon her head. 66C.23	A loud laughter gae Lord Wayets Mang the mids o his men: ‘Marry the lady wham they weel, A maiden she is nane.’ 66C.24	‘O laugh ye at my men, Wayets? Or di ye laugh at me? Or laugh ye at the beerly bride, That’s gane to marry me?’ 66C.25	‘I laugh na at your men, uncle, Nor yet dive I at thee, Bit I laugh at my lands sae braid, Sae weel’s I do them see.’ 66C.26	Whan ene was cume, and ene-bells rung, An a’ man gane to bed, The bride bit and the silly bridegroom In chambers they were laid. 66C.27	Was na it a fell thing for to see, Twa heads lye on a coad, Lady Maisdrey like the moten goud, Auld Ingram like a toad? 66C.28	He turnd his face unto the stock, And sound he fell asleep; She turnd her fair face unto the wa, An sa’t tears she did weep. 66C.29	It fell about the mark midnight, Auld Ingram began to turn him; He pat his hands on’s lady’s sides, An waly, sair was she murnin. 66C.30	‘What aileth thee, my lady dear? Ever alas and wae’s me, There is a baube betwixt thy sides! O sae sair’s it grieves me.’ 66C.31	‘Didn I tell ye that, Auld Ingram, Or ye saught me to wed, That Lord Wayets, your sister’s son, Had been into my bed?’ 66C.32	‘O father that bairn on me, Maisdrey, O father it on me, An ye sall hae a rigland shire Your mornin’s gift to bee.’ 66C.33	‘O sarbit,’ says the Lady Maisdrey, ‘That ever the like me befa, To father my bairn on Auld Ingram, Lord Wayets in my father’s ha! 66C.34	‘O sarbit,’ says the Lady Maisdrey, ‘That ever the like me betide, To father my bairn on Auld Ingram, An Lord Wayets beside!’
 
66D: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet
 
66D.1	LORD INGRAM and Childe Viat Were both bred in one ha; They laid their luves on one ladye, And frae her they could na fa. 66D.2	Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisery, He courted her frae ha to bower; And even sae did Childe Viat, Amang the summer flowers. 66D.3	Lord Ingram courted Ladye Maisery, He courted her frae bower to ha; And even sae did Childe Viat, Among the sheets sae sma. 66D.4	Sir Ingram bought her Ladye Maisery The steed that paid him well; She wads he were ayont the sea, Gin she had her true love. 66D.5	Lord Ingram bought her Lady Maisery The knives hafted wi steel; She wads they were in his heart’s bluid, Gin Childe Viat was weel. 66D.6	Lord Ingram bought her Lady Maisery The golden knobbed gloves; She wads they were ayone the sea, Gin she had her true love. * * * * * 66D.7	‘There’s two swords in one scabbard, They cost me many a pound; Take you the best, leave me the worst, We’s fight till they be done.’ 66D.8	The firsten stroke Lord Ingram gae, He wounded Childe Viat nigh; The nexten stroke Childe Viat gae, Lord Ingram’s head did flie; And fifty feet oer a burken buss Lord Ingram’s head did flee. 66D.9	There was no mane made for these two lords, In bower where they lay slain; But all was for this fair ladie, In bower where she gaed brain. * * * * * 66D.10	‘For one word I would gie for Childe Viat, For Lord Ingram I would gie three; And it’s a’ for the brave wedding That he did to me gie.’
 
66E: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet
 
66E.1	LORD INGRAM and Childe vyet Were baith born in ae bower; They fell in love wi ae lady, Their honour was but poor. 66E.2	Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet Were baith bred in ae ha; They laid their love on Lady Maisry, The waur did them befa. 66E.3	Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry Frae sister and frae brother. 66E.4	Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry Frae a’ her kith and kin; Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry But she said nay to him. 66E.5	Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry In the garden amo the flowers; Childe Vyet courted Lady Maisry Amo her ha’s and bowers. 66E.6	Lord Ingram sent to Lady Maisry A steed paced fu well; She wishes he were ower the sea, If Childe Vyet were well. 66E.7	Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry Frae her relations a’; Childe Vyet courted Lady Maisry Amo the sheets sae sma. 66E.8	Lord Ingram bought to Lady Maisry The siller knapped gloves; She wishd his hands might swell in them, Had she her ain true love. 66E.9	Lord Ingram bought to Lady Maisry The brands garnishd wi steel; She wishd the same might pierce his heart, Gin Childe Vyet were weell. 66E.10	Child vyet bought to Lady Maisry The fancy ribbons sma; She had mair delight in her sma fancy Than o Lord Ingram, gowd and a’. 66E.11	Lord Ingram’s gane to her father, And thus he did complain: ‘O am I doomd to die for love, And nae be loved again? 66E.12	‘I hae sent to you daughter The steed paced fu well; She wishes I were ower the sea, Gin Childe Vyet were well. 66E.13	‘I hae bought to your daughter The siller knapped gloves; She wishd my hands might swell in them, Had she her ain true love. 66E.14	‘I hae bought to your daughter The brands garnishd wi steel; She wishd the same might pierce my heart, Gin Childe Vyet were weell. 66E.15	‘Childe Vyet bought to your daughter The fancy ribbons sma; She’s mair delight in her sma fancy Nor o me, gowd and a’.’ 66E.16	Her father turnd him round about, A solemn oath sware he, Saying, She shall be the bride this night, And you bridegroom shall be. 66E.17	‘O had your tongue, my father dear, Let a’ your passion be; The reason that I love this man, It is unknown to thee.’ 66E.18	Sweetly played the merry organs, Intill her mother’s bower; But still and dum stood Lady Maisry, And let the tears down pour. 66E.19	Sweetly played the harp sae fine, Intill her fathers ha; But still and dum stood Lady Maisry, And let tears down fa. 66E.20	Tween Marykirk and her mother’s bower, Was a’ clad ower wi gowd, For keeping o her snaw-white feet Frae treading o the mould. 66E.21	Lord Ingram gaed in at ae church-door, Childe Vyet at another, And lightly leugh him Childe Vyet At Lord Ingram, his brother. 66E.22	‘O laugh ye at my men, brother? Or do ye laugh at me? Or laugh ye at young Lady Maisry, This night my bride’s to be?’ 66E.23	‘I laugh na at your men, brother, Nor do I laugh at thee; But I laugh at the knightless sport That I saw wi my ee. 66E.24	‘It is a ring on ae finger, A broach on ae breast-bane; And if ye kent what’s under that, Your love woud soon be dane.’ 66E.25	Lord Ingram and his merry young men Out ower the plains are gane, And pensively walkd him Childe Vyet, Him single self alane. 66E.26	When they had eaten and well drunken, And a’ men bound for bed, Lord Ingram and Lady Maisry In ae chamber were laid. 66E.27	He laid his hand upon her breast, And thus pronounced he: ‘There is a bairn within your sides, Wha may the father be? 66E.28	‘Wha ever be your bairn’s father, Ye will father it on me; The fairest castle o Snowdown Your morning gift shall be.’ 66E.29	‘Wha ever be my bairn’s father, I’ll neer father it on thee; For better love I my bairn’s father ’Nor ever I’ll love thee.’ 66E.30	Then he’s taen out a trusty brand, Laid it between them tway; Says, Lye ye there, ye ill woman, A maid for me till day. 66E.31	Next morning her father came, Well belted wi a brand; Then up it starts him Lord Ingram, He was an angry man. 66E.32	‘If your daughter had been a gude woman, As I thought she had been, Cauld iron shoud hae never lien The lang night us between.’ 66E.33	‘Ohon, alas! my daughter dear, What’s this I hear o thee? I thought ye was a gude woman As in the north countrie.’ 66E.34	‘O had your tongue, my father dear, Let a’ your sorrows be; I never liked Lord Ingram, Ye ken ye forced me.’ 66E.35	Then in it came him Childe Vyet, Well belted wi a brand; Then up it raise him Lord Ingram, He was an angry man. 66E.36	‘Win up, win up, now Lord Ingram, Rise up immediately, That you and I the quarrel try, Who gains the victory. 66E.37	‘I hae twa brands in ae scabbard, That cost me mony pound; Take ye the best, gie me the warst, And I’ll fight where I stand.’ 66E.38	Then up it starts him Childe Vyet, Shook back his yellow hair; The first an stroke Childe Vyet drew, He wounded Ingram sair. 66E.39	Then up it starts him Lord Ingram, Shed back his coal-black hair’ The first an stroke Lord Ingram drew, Childe Vyet needed nae mair. 66E.40	Nae meen was made for these twa knights, Whan they were lying dead, But a’ for her Lady Maisry, That gaes in mournfu weed. 66E.41	Says, ‘If I hae been an ill woman, Alas and wae is me! And if I’ve been an ill woman, A gude woman I’ll be! 66E.42	‘Ye’ll take frae me my silk attire, Bring me a palmer’s weed, And thro the world, for their sakes, I’ll gang and beg my bread. 66E.43	‘If I gang a step for Childe Vyet, For Lord Ingram I’ll gang three; All for the honour that he paid At Marykirk to me. 66E.44	‘I’ll gang a step for Childe Vyet, For Lord Ingram I’ll gang three; It was into my mother’s bower Childe Vyet wronged me.’


 
67A: Glasgerion
 
67A.1	GLASGERION was a kings owne sonne, And a harper he was good; He harped in the kings chamber, Where cuppe and candle stoode, And soe did hee in the queens chamber, Till ladies waxed wood. 67A.2	And then bespake the kings daughter, And these words thus sayd shee: . . . . . . . . . 67A.3	Saide, Strike on, strike on, Glasgerrion, Of thy striking doe not blinne; There’s neuer a stroke comes ouer thin harpe But it glads my hart within. 67A.4	‘Faire might you fall, lady!’ quoth hee; ‘Who taught you now to speake? I haue loued you, lady, seuen yeere; My hart I durst neere breake.’ 67A.5	‘But come to my bower, my Glasgerryon, When all men are att rest; As I am a ladie true of my promise, Thou shalt bee a welcome guest.’ 67A.6	But hom then came Glasgerryon, A glad man, Lord, was hee: ‘And come thou hither, Iacke, my boy, Come hither vnto mee. 67A.7	‘For the kings daughter of Normandye, Her loue is granted mee, And beffore the cocke haue crowen, Att her chamber must I bee.’ 67A.8	‘But come you hither master,’ quoth hee, ‘Lay your head downe on this stone; For I will waken you, master deere, Afore it be time to gone.’ 67A.9	But vpp then rose that lither ladd, And did on hose and shoone; A coller he cast vpon his necke, Hee seemed a gentleman. 67A.10	And when he came to that ladies chamber, He thrild vpon a pinn; The lady was true of her promise, Rose vp and lett him in. 67A.11	He did not take the lady gay To boulster nor to bedd, But down vpon her chamber-flore Full soone he hath her layd. 67A.12	He did not kisse that lady gay When he came nor when he youd; And sore mistrusted that lady gay He was of some churl s blood. 67A.13	But home then came that lither ladd, And did of his hose and shoone, And cast that coller from about his necke; He was but a churl s sonne: ‘Awaken,’ quoth hee, ’My master deere, I hold it time to be gone. 67A.14	‘For I haue sadled your horsse, master, Well bridled I haue your steed; Haue not I serued a good breakfast, When time comes I haue need.’ 67A.15	But vp then rose good Glasgerryon, And did on both hose and shoone, And cast a coller about his necke; He was a kingees sonne. 67A.16	And when he came to that ladies chamber, He thrild vpon a pinn; The lady was more then true of promise, Rose vp and let him in. 67A.17	Saies, Whether haue you left with me Your braclett or your gloue? Or are you returned backe againe To know more of my loue?’ 67A.18	Glasgerryon swore a full great othe, By oake and ashe and thorne, ‘Lady, I was neuer in your chamber Sith the time that I was borne.’ 67A.19	‘O then it was your litle foote-page Falsly hath beguiled me:’ And then shee pulld forth a litle pen-kniffe, That	hanged by her knee, Says, There shall neuer noe churl s blood Spring within my body. 67A.20	But home then went Glasgerryon, A woe man, good [Lord], was hee; Sayes, Come hither, thou Iacke, my boy, Come thou hither to me. 67A.21	Ffor if I had killed a man to-night, Iacke, I wold tell it thee; But if I haue not killed a man to-night, Iacke, thou hast killed three! 67A.22	And he puld out his bright browne sword, And dryed it on his sleeue, And he smote off that lither ladds head, And asked noe man noe leaue. 67A.23	He sett the swords poynt till his brest, The pumill till a stone; Thorrow that falsenese of that lither ladd These three liues werne all gone.
 
67B: Glasgerion
 
67B.1	GLENKINDIE was ance a harper gude, He harped to the king; And Glenkindie was ance the best harper That ever harpd on a string. 67B.2	He’d harpit a fish out o saut water, Or water out o a stane, Or milk out o a maiden’s breast, That bairn had never nane. 67B.3	He’s taen his harp intil his hand, He harpit and he sang, And ay as he harpit to the king, To haud him unthought lang. 67B.4	‘I’ll gie you a robe, Glenkindie, A robe o the royal pa, Gin ye will harp i the winter’s night Afore my nobles a’.’ * * * * * 67B.5	He’s taen his harp intill his hand, He’s harpit them a’ asleep, Except it was the young countess, That love did waukin keep. 67B.6	And first he has harpit a grave tune, And syne he has harpit a gay, And mony a sich atween hands I wat the lady gae. 67B.7	Says, Whan day is dawen, and cocks hae crawen, And wappit their wings sae wide, It’s ye may come to my bower-door, And streek you by my side. 67B.8	But look that ye tell na Gib, your man, For naething that ye dee; For, an ye tell him Gib, your man, He’ll beguile baith you and me. 67B.9	He’s taen his harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, And he is hame to Gib, his man, As fast as he could gang. 67B.10	‘O mith I tell you, Gib, my man, Gin I a man had slain?’ ‘O that ye micht, my gude master, Altho ye had slain ten.’ 67B.11	‘Then tak ye tent now, Gib, my man, My bidden for to dee; And but an ye wauken me in time, Ye sall be hangit hie. 67B.12	‘Whan day has dawen, and cocks hae crawen, And wappit their wings sae wide, I’m bidden gang till yon lady’s bower, And streek me by her side.’ 67B.13	‘Gae hame to your bed, my good master; Ye’ve waukit, I fear, oer lang; For I’ll wauken you in as good time As ony cock i the land.’ 67B.14	He’s taen his harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, Until he harpit his master asleep, Syne fast awa did gang. 67B.15	And he is till that lady’s bower, As fast as he could rin; When he cam till that lady’s bower, He chappit at the chin. 67B.16	‘O wha is this,’ says that lady, ‘That opens nae and comes in?’ ‘It’s I, Glenkindie, your ain true-love, O open and lat me in!’ 67B.17	She kent he was nae gentle knicht That she had latten in, For neither when he gaed nor cam, Kist he her cheek or chin. 67B.18	He neither kist her when he cam, Nor clappit her when he gaed, And in and at her bower window, The moon shone like the gleed. 67B.19	‘O ragged is your hose, Glenkindie, And riven is your sheen, And reaveld is your yellow hair, That I saw late yestreen.’ 67B.20	‘The stockings they are Gib, my man’s, They came first to my hand, And this is Gib, my man’s shoon, At my bed-feet they stand; I’ve reavelld a’ my yellow hair Coming against the wind.’ 67B.21	He’s taen the harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, Until he cam to his master, As fast as he could gang. 67B.22	‘Won up, won up, my good master, I fear ye sleep oer lang; There’s nae a cock in a’ the land But was wappit his wings and crawn.’ 67B.23	Glenkindie’s tane his harp in hand, He harpit and he sang, And he has reachd the lady’s bower Afore that eer he blan. 67B.24	When he cam to the lady’s bower, He chappit at the chin: ‘O wha is that at my bower-door, That opens na and comes in?’ ‘It’s I, Glenkindie, your ain true-love, And in I canna win.’ * * * * * 67B.25	‘Forbid it, forbid it,’ says that lady, ‘That ever sic shame betide, That I should first be a wild loon’s lass, And than a young knight’s bride.’ 67B.26	He’s taen his harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, And he is hame to Gib, his man, As fast as he could gang. 67B.27	‘Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man, Till I pay you your fee; Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man, Weel payit sall ye be.’ 67B.28	And he has taen him Gib, his man, And he has hangd him hie, And he’s hangit him oer his ain yate, As high as high could be. 67B.29	There was nae pity for that lady, For she lay cald and dead, But a’ was for him, Glenkindie, In bower he must go mad.
 
67C: Glasgerion
 
67C.1	GLENKINNIE was as good a harper As ever harpet tone; He harpet fish out o the sea-flood, And water out of a dry loan, And milk out o the maiden’s breast That bairn had never neen. 67C.2	He harpit i the king’s palace, He harpit them a’ asleep, Unless it were Burd Bell alone, And she stud on her feet. 67C.3	‘Ye will do ye home, Glenkinnie, And ye will take a sleep, And ye will come to my bower-door Before the cock’s crowing.’ 67C.4	He’s taen out his milk-white steed, And fast away rode he, Till he came to his ain castle, Where gold glanced never so hie. 67C.5	‘Might I tell ye, Jeck, my man, Gin I had slain a man?’ ‘Deed might [ye], my good master, Altho ye had slain ten.’ 67C.6	‘I’ve faun in love wi a gay ladie, She’s daughter to the Queen, And I maun be at her bower-door Before the cock’s crowing.’ 67C.7	He’s taen out his master’s steed, And fast awa rode he, Until he cam to Burd Bell’s door, Where gold glanced never so hie. 67C.8	When he came to Burd Bell’s door, He tirled at the pin, And up she rose, away she goes, To let Glenkinnie in. 67C.9	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That I combed out yestreen. * * * * * 67C.10	She looked out at a shot-window, Atween her and the meen: ‘There is twa lovers beguiled the night, And I fear I am ane. 67C.11	‘Ye shall na hae to say, Glenkindie, When you sit at the wine, That once you loved a queen’s daughter, And she was your footman’s quean.’ * * * * *


 
68A: Young Hunting
 
68A.1	O LADY, rock never your young son young One hour longer for me, For I have a sweetheart in Garlick’s Wells I love thrice better than thee. 68A.2	‘The very sols of my love’s feet Is whiter then thy face:’ ‘But nevertheless na, Young Hunting, Ye’l stay wi me all night.’ 68A.3	She has birld in him Young Hunting The good ale and the beer, Till he was as fou drunken As any wild-wood steer. 68A.4	She has birld in him Young Hunting The good ale and the wine, Till he was as fou drunken As any wild-wood swine. 68A.5	Up she has tain him Young Hunting, And she has had him to her bed, . . . . . . . . . . 68A.6	And she has minded her on a little penknife, That hangs low down by her gare, And she has gin him Young Hunting A deep wound and a sare. 68A.7	Out an spake the bonny bird, That flew abon her head: ‘Lady, keep well thy green clothing Fra that good lord’s blood.’ 68A.8	‘O better I’ll keep my green clothing Fra that good lord’s blood Nor thou can keep thy flattering toung, That flatters in thy head. 68A.9	‘Light down, light down, my bonny bird, Light down upon my hand, . . . . . . . . . . . 68A.10	‘O siller, O siller shall be thy hire, An goud shall be thy fee, An every month into the year, Thy cage shall changed be.’ 68A.11	‘I winna light down, I shanna light down, I winna light on thy hand; For soon, soon wad ye do to me As ye done to Young Hunting.’ 68A.12	She has booted an spird him Young Hunting As he had been gan to ride, A hunting-horn about his neck, An the sharp sourd by his side. 68A.13	And she has had him to yon wan water, For a’ man calls it Clyde, . . . . . . . . . . 68A.14	The deepest pot intill it all She has puten Young Hunting in; A green truff upon his breast, To hold that good lord down. 68A.15	It fell once upon a day The king was going to ride, And he sent for him Young Hunting, To ride on his right side. 68A.16	She has turnd her right and round about, She sware now by the corn, ‘I saw na thy son, Young Hunting, Sen yesterday at morn.’ 68A.17	She has turnd her right and round about, She swear now by the moon, ‘I saw na thy son, Young Hunting, Sen yesterday at noon. 68A.18	‘It fears me sair in Clyde Water That he is drownd therein:’ O thay ha sent for the king’s duckers, To duck for Young Hunting. 68A.19	They ducked in at the tae water-bank, Thay ducked out at the tither: ‘We’ll duck no more for Young Hunting, All tho he wear our brother.’ 68A.20	Out an spake the bonny bird, That flew abon their heads, . . . . . . . . . . 68A.21	‘O he’s na drownd in Clyde Water, He is slain and put therein; The lady that lives in yon castil Slew him and put him in. 68A.22	‘Leave aff your ducking on the day, And duck upon the night; Whear ever that sakeless knight lys slain, The candels will shine bright.’ 68A.23	Thay left off their ducking o the day, And ducked upon the night, And where that sakeless knight lay slain, The candles shone full bright. 68A.24	The deepest pot intill it a’ Thay got Young Hunting in; A green turff upon his brest, To hold that good lord down. 68A.25	O thay ha sent aff men to the wood To hew down baith thorn an fern, That they might get a great bonefire To burn that lady in. ‘Put na the wyte on me,’ she says, ‘It was her May Catheren.’ 68A.26	Whan thay had tane her May Catheren, In the bonefire set her in; It wad na take upon her cheeks, Nor take upon her chin, Nor yet upon her yallow hair, To healle the deadly sin. 68A.27	Out they hae tain her May Catheren, And they hay put that lady in; O it took upon her cheek, her cheek, An it took upon her chin, An it took on her fair body, She burnt like hoky-gren.
 
68B: Young Hunting
 
68B.1	YOUNG REDINRR’rrS til the huntin gane, Wi therty lords and three; And he has til his true-love gane, As fast as he could hie. 68B.2	‘Ye’re welcome here, my Young Redin, For coal and candle-licht; And sae are ye, my Young Redin, To bide wi me the nicht.’ 68B.3	‘I thank ye for your licht, ladie, Sae do I for your coal; But there’s thrice as fair a ladie as thee Meets me at Brandie’s Well.’ 68B.4	Whan they war at their supper set, And merrily drinking wine, This ladie has tane a sair sickness, And til her bed has gane. 68B.5	Young Redin he has followed her, And a dowie man was he; He fund his true-love in her bouer, And the tear was in her ee. 68B.6	Whan he was in her arms laid, And gieing her kisses sweet, Then out she’s tane a little penknife, And woundid him sae deep. 68B.7	‘O lang, lang is the winter nicht, And slawly daws the day; There is a slain knicht in my bouer, And I wish he war away.’ 68B.8	Then up bespak her bouer-woman, And she spak ae wi spite: ‘An there be a slain knicht in your bouer, It’s yoursell that has the wyte.’ 68B.9	‘O heal this deed on me, Meggy, O heal this deed on me; The silks that war shapen for me gen Pasche, They sall be sewed for thee.’ 68B.10	‘O I hae heald on my mistress A twalmonth and a day, And I hae heald on my mistress Mair than I can say.’ * * * * * 68B.11	They’ve booted him, and they’ve spurred him, As he was wont to ride, A huntin-horn round his neck, And a sharp sword by his side; In the deepest place o Clyde’s Water, It’s there they’ve made his bed. 68B.12	Sine up bespak the wylie parrot, As he sat on the tree: ‘And hae ye killd him Young Redin, Wha neer had love but thee?’ 68B.13	‘Come doun, come doun, ye wylie parrot, Come doun into my hand; Your cage sall be o the beaten gowd, Whan now it’s but the wand.’ 68B.14	‘I winna come doun, I canna come doun, I winna come doun to thee; For as ye’ve dune to Young Redin, Ye’ll do the like to me; Ye’ll thraw my head aff my hause-bane, And throw me in the sea.’ 68B.15	O there cam seekin Young Redin Mony a lord and knicht, And there cam seekin Young Redin Mony a ladie bricht. 68B.16	And they’ve til his true-love gane, Thinking he was wi her; . . . . . . . . . . . 68B.17	‘I hae na seen him Young Redin Sin yesterday at noon; He turnd his stately steed about, And hied him throw the toun. 68B.18	‘But ye’ll seek Clyde’s Water up and doun, Ye’ll seek it out and in; I hae na seen him Young Redin Sin yesterday at noon.’ 68B.19	Then up bespak Young Redin’s mither, And a dowie woman was scho: ‘There’s na a place in Clyde’s Water But my son wad gae throw.’ 68B.20	They’ve sought Clyde’s Water up and doun, They’ve sought it out and in, And the deepest place in Clyde’s Water They’ve fund Young Redin in. 68B.21	O white, white war his wounds washen, As white as a linen clout; But as the traitor she cam near, His wounds they gushit out. 68B.22	‘It’s surely been my bouer-woman, O ill may her betide! I neer wad slain him Young Redin, And thrown him in the Clyde.’ 68B.23	Then they’ve made a big bane-fire, The bouer-woman to brin; It tuke not on her cheek, her cheek, It tuke not on her chin, But it tuke on the cruel hands That pat Young Redin in. 68B.24	Then They’ve tane out the bouer-woman, And pat the ladie in; It tuke na on her cheek, her cheek, It tuke na on her chin, But it tuke on the fause, fause arms That Young Redin lay in.
 
68C: Young Hunting
 
68C.1	The ladie stude in her bour-door, In her bour-door as she stude, She thocht she heard a bridle ring, That did her bodie gude. 68C.2	She thocht it had been her father dear, Come ridin owre the sand; But it was her true-love Riedan, Come hiean to her hand. 68C.3	‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, Young Riedan,’ she said, ‘To coal an cannel-licht; You’re welcome, you’re welcome, Young Riedan, To sleep in my bour this nicht.’ 68C.4	‘I thank you for your coal, madame, An for your cannel tae; There’s a fairer maid at Clyde’s Water, I love better than you.’ 68C.5	‘A fairer maid than me, Riedan? A fairer maid than me? A fairer maid than ten o me You shurely neer did see.’ 68C.6	He leant him owre his saddle-bow, To gie her a kiss sae sweet; She keppit him on a little penknife, An gae him a wound sae deep. 68C.7	‘O hide! oh hide! my bourswoman, Oh hide this deed on me! An the silks that waur shappit for me at Yule At Pasch sall be sewed for thee.’ 68C.8	They saidled Young Riedan, they bridled Young Riedan, The way he was wont to ride; Wi a huntin-horn aboot his neck, An a sharp sword by his side. 68C.9	An they are on to Clyde’s Water, An they rade it up an doon, An the deepest linn in a’ Clyde’s Water They flang him Young Riedan [in]. 68C.10	‘Lie you there, you Young Riedan, Your bed it is fu wan; The [maid] you hae at Clyde’s Water, For you she will think lang.’ 68C.11	Up it spak the wily bird, As it sat on the tree: ‘Oh wae betide you, ill woman, An an ill death may you dee! For he had neer anither love, Anither love but thee.’ 68C.12	‘Come doon, come doon, my pretty parrot, An pickle wheat aff my glue; An your cage sall be o the beaten goud, Whan it’s of the willow tree.’ 68C.13	‘I winna come doon, I sanna come doon, To siccan a traitor as thee: For as you did to Young Riedan, Sae wald you do to mee.’ 68C.14	Come doon, come doon, my pretty parrot, An pickle wheat aff my hand; An your cage sall be o the beaten goud, Whan it’s o the willow wand.’ 68C.15	‘I winna come doon, I sanna come doon, To siccan a traitor as thee; You wald thraw my head aff my hase-bane, An fling it in the sea.’ 68C.16	It fell upon a Lammas-tide The king’s court cam ridin bye: ‘Oh whare is it him Young Riedan? It’s fain I wald him see.’ 68C.17	‘Oh I hae no seen Young Riedan Sin three lang weeks the morn; It bodes me sair, and drieds me mair, Clyde’s Water’s him forlorn.’ 68C.18	Up it spak the wily bird, As it sat on the tree; . . . . . . . . . . 68C.19	‘Leave aff, leave aff your day-seekin, An ye maun seek by nicht; Aboon the place Young Riedan lies, The cannels burn bricht.’ 68C.20	They gae up their day-seekin, An they did seek by nicht; An ower the place Young Riedan lay, The cannels burnt bricht. 68C.21	The firsten grip his mother got Was o his yellow hair; An was na that a dowie grip, To get her ae son there! 68C.22	The nexten grip his mother got Was o his milk-white hand; An wasna that a dowie grip, To bring sae far to land! 68C.23	White, white waur his wounds washen, As white as ony lawn; But sune’s the traitor stude afore, Then oot the red blude sprang. * * * * * 68C.24	Fire wadna tak on her bourswoman, Niether on cheek nor chin; But it took fast on thae twa hands That flang young Riedan in. 68C.25	‘Come oot, come oot, my bourswoman, Come oot, lat me win in; For as I did the deed mysell, Sae man I drie the pine.’
 
68D: Young Hunting
 
68D.1	EARL RICHARD has a hunting gone, As fast as he can ride; He’s a hunting-horn about his neck, And a broadsword by his side. 68D.2	‘Licht down, licht down, Earl Richard,’ she says, ‘O licht down and come in, And thou’ll get cheer and charcoal clear, And torches for to burn.’ 68D.3	‘I winna licht, I canna licht, I winna licht at all; A fairer lady then ten of thee Meets me at Richard’s Wall.’ 68D.4	He louted owre his saddle-bow, And for to kiss her sweet, But little thocht o that penknife Wherewith she wound him deep. 68D.5	‘Why wounds thou me so deep, lady? Why stabs thou me so sore? There’s not a lord like Earl Richard Could love false woman more.’ 68D.6	She called upon her waiting-maid, Long before it was day: ‘I have a dead man in my bower, I wish he were away.’ 68D.7	‘Keep ye your bower, my lily-flower, Keep it free of all men’s blood;’ ‘Oh I will keep it een as weel As you or any maid. 68D.8	‘But siller will be thy wage,’ she says, ‘And gold will be thy fee, And I mysell will gang alang And bear thee companye.’ 68D.9	They booted him, and spurred him, As he was wont to ride, And they’re awa to Lorn’s Water, To Lorn’s Water so wide. 68D.10	They turned down his yellow hair, Turnd up his milk-white feet: ‘Lye thou there, Earl Richard,’ she said, ‘Till the blood seep from thy bane; That fairer maid than ten of me Will look lang or thou come hame.’ 68D.11	As they were coming hame again, Upon the road so hie, There they spy’d a small pyet, Was sitting on a tree. 68D.12	‘Where has thou been, fair lady?’ it says, ‘Whare has thou been so soon? Or what did thou wi Earl Richard, Was late wi thee yestreen?’ 68D.13	‘Come down, come down, my wee pyet; An thou’ll come to my knee, I have a cage of beaten gold, And I’ll bestow ’t on thee.’ 68D.14	‘Keep thou thy cage of beaten gold, And I will keep my tree; For as thou did wi Earl Richard, So wad thou do wi me; Thou wad thraw the wee head aff my bouk, And drown me in the sea.’ 68D.15	‘Come down, come down, my wee pyet; An thou’ll come to my hand, I have a cage of beaten gold, And thou’s be put therein.’ 68D.16	‘Keep thou thy cage o beaten gold, And I will keep my tree; For as thou did wi Earl Richard, So would thou do wi me.’ 68D.17	‘Oh an I had my bow bendit, And set unto my knee, I wad shoot this wee pyet Sits gabbling on the tree.’ 68D.18	‘Before thou get thy bow bendit, And set unto thy knee, I’ll be at Earl Richard’s father, Telling ill tales on thee.’ 68D.19	As they were coming hame again, Upon the road so bricht, There they saw Earl Richard’s father, Coming marching in their sicht. 68D.20	‘Whare has thou been, fair lady?’ he says, ‘Whare has thou been back sae sune? O what did thou wi my auld son, Was late wi thee yestreen?’ 68D.21	She did swear by stars o licht, And grass-green growing corn, That she had not seen Earl Richard’s face Since Saturday at morn; ‘But in Lorn’s Water, indeed,’ she says, ‘I fear his days are done.’ 68D.22	‘There was not a ford in Lorn’s Water But he could ride it weel; And what did thou wi my auld son, That went with thee afield?’ * * * * *
 
68E: Young Hunting
 
68E.1	LORD WILLIAM was the bravest knight That dwalt in fair Scotland, And, though renowned in France and Spain, Fell by a ladie’s hand. 68E.2	As she was walking maid alone, Down by yon shady wood, She heard a smit o bridle reins, She wishd might be for good. 68E.3	‘Come to my arms, my dear Willie, You’re welcome hame to me; To best o chear and charcoal red, And candle burnin free.’ 68E.4	‘I winna light, I darena light, Nor come to your arms at a’; A fairer maid than ten o you I’ll meet at Castle-law.’ 68E.5	‘A fairer maid than me, Willie? A fairer maid than me? A fairer maid than ten o me Your eyes did never see.’ 68E.6	He louted owr his saddle-lap To kiss here ere they part, And wi a little keen bodkin, She pierced him to the heart. 68E.7	‘Ride on, ride on, Lord William now, As fast as ye can dree; Your bonny lass at Castle-law Will weary you to see.’ 68E.8	Out up then spake a bonny bird, Sat high upon a tree: ‘How could you kill that noble lord? He came to marry thee.’ 68E.9	‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird, And eat bread aff my hand; Your cage shall be of wiry goud, Whar now it’s but the wand.’ 68E.10	‘Keep ye your cage o goud, lady, And I will keep my tree; As ye hae done to Lord William, Sae wad ye do to me.’ 68E.11	She set her foot on her door-step, A bonny marble stane, And carried him to her chamber, Oer him to make her mane. 68E.12	And she has kept that good lord’s corpse Three quarters of a year, Until that word began to spread; Then she began to fear. 68E.13	Then she cryed on her waiting-maid, Ay ready at her ca: ‘There is a knight into my bower, ’Tis time he were awa.’ 68E.14	The ane has taen him by the head, The ither by the feet, And thrown him in the wan water, That ran baith wide and deep. 68E.15	‘Look back, look back, now, lady fair, On him that loed ye weel; A better man than that blue corpse Neer drew a sword of steel.’
 
68F: Young Hunting
 
68F.1	EARL RICHARD is a hunting gone, As fast as he can ride, His hunting-horn hung about his neck, And a small sword by his side. 68F.2	When he came to my lady’s gate He tirled at the pin, And wha was sae ready as the lady hersell To open and let him in. 68F.3	‘O light, O light, Earl Richard,’ she says, ‘O light and stay a’ night; You shall have cheer wi charcoal clear, And candles burning bright.’ 68F.4	‘I will not light, I cannot light, I cannot light at all; A fairer lady than ten of thee Is waiting at Richard’s Wall.’ 68F.5	He stooped from his milk-white steed, To kiss her rosy cheek; She had a pen-knife in her hand, And wounded him so deep. 68F.6	‘O lie ye there, Earl Richard,’ she says, ‘O lie ye there till morn; A fairer lady than ten of me Will think lang of your coming home.’ 68F.7	She called her servants ane by ane, She called them twa by twa: ‘I have got a dead man in my bower, I wish he were awa.’ 68F.8	The one has taen [him] by the hand, And the other by the feet, And they’ve thrown him in a deep draw-well, Full fifty fathom deep. 68F.9	Then up bespake a little bird, That sat upon a tree: ‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye false lady, And pay your maids their fee.’ 68F.10	‘Come down, come down, my pretty bird, That sits upon the tree; I have a cage of beaten gold, I’ll gie it unto thee.’ 68F.11	‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady, And pay your maids their fee; As ye have done to Earl Richard, Sae wud ye do to me.’ 68F.12	‘If I had an arrow in my hand, And a bow bent on a string, I’d shoot a dart at thy proud heart, Amang the leaves sae green.’
 
68G: Young Hunting
 
 
 68G.1	SHE has calld to her her bower-maidens,
 	She has calld them one by one:
 	‘There is a dead man in my bower,
 	I wish that he was gone.’
 68G.2	They have booted him, and spurred him,
 	As he was wont to ride,
 	A hunting-horn around his waist,
 	A sharp sword by his side.
 68G.3	Then up and spake a bonie bird,
 	That sat upon the tree:
 	‘What hae ye done wi Earl Richard?
 	Ye was his gay lady.’
 68G.4	‘Cum down, cum down, my bonie bird,
 	Cum sit upon my hand;
 	And ye sall hae a cage o the gowd,
 	Where ye hae but the wand.’
 68G.5	‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
 	Nae ill woman for me;
 	What ye hae done to Earl Richard,
 	Sae wad ye do to mee.’
 	* * * * *
 68G.6	‘O there’s a bird intill your bowir
 	That sings sae sad and sweet;
 	O there’s a bird intill your bour
 	Kept me frae my nicht’s sleep.’
 	* * * * *
 68G.7	And she sware by the grass sae greene,
 	Sae did she by the corn,
 	That she had not seen Earl Richard
 	Sen yesterday at morn.
 	* * * * *

 
 
68H: Young Hunting
 
 
 68H.1	* * * *
 	‘HAIL well, hail well, my little foot-page,
 	Hail well this deed on me,
 	And ever I live my life to brook,
 	I’se pay thee well thy fee.’
 68H.2	‘It’s we’l beet him, and we’l spur him,
 	As gin he had been gain to ride,
 	Put a huntin-horn about his neck,
 	And a small sword by his side.
 68H.3	‘And we’ll carry him to Clyde’s Water,
 	And there we’ll fling him in,
 	That we may have it to be said
 	In Clyde’s Water he drownd.’
 68H.4	O they bet him, and they spurrd him,
 	As gin he had been gain to ride,
 	Pat a huntin-horn about his neck,
 	But the sword on his wrang side.
 68H.5	And they hae carried him to Clyde’s Water,
 	And there they flang him in,
 	That they might have it to be said
 	In Clyde’s Water he drowned.
 	* * * * *
 68H.6	‘It’s we’ll sen for the king’s doukers,
 	And douk it up and doun;
 	It’s we’ll sen for the king’s doukers,
 	And douk it out and in.’
 68H.7	Out it spak a little wee birdie,
 	As it sat on yon burn-brae:
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 68H.8	‘Ye may lay by your day doukers,
 	And turn you to the night,
 	And where the innocent blood lies slain,
 	The candles will burn fou bricht.’
 68H.9	O they hae brunt that gay ladie,
 	And blawn her in the air,
 	And nothing o that bower-man would burn
 	But the hands that buskd him rare.

 
 
68I: Young Hunting
 
 
 68I.1	* * * *
 	‘Come down, come down, thou bonnie bird,
 	Sit low upon my hand,
 	And thy cage shall be o the beaten gowd,
 	And not of hazel wand.’
 68I.2	‘O woe, O woe be to thee, lady,
 	And an ill death may thou die!
 	For the way thou guided good Lord John,
 	Soon, soon would thou guide me.’
 68I.3	‘Go bend to me my bow,’ she said,
 	‘And set it to my ee,
 	And I will gar that bonnie bird
 	Come quickly down to me.’
 68I.4	‘Before thou bend thy bow, lady,
 	And set it to thy ee,
 	O I will be at yon far forest,
 	Telling ill tales on thee.’
 	* * * * *

 
 
68J: Young Hunting
 
68J.1	‘O lady, rock never your young son young One hour langer for me; For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells I love far better than thee. 68J.2	‘The very sole o that ladye’s foot Than thy face is far mair white:’ ‘But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard, Ye will bide in my bower a’ night?’ 68J.3	She birled him wi the ale and wine, As they sat down to sup: A living man he laid him down, But I wot he neer rose up. 68J.4	Then up and spake the popinjay, That flew aboun her head: ‘Lady, keep weel your green cleiding Frae gude Erl Richard’s bleid.’ 68J.5	‘O better I’ll keep my green cleiding Frae gude Erl Richard’s bleid, Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung, That trattles in thy head.’ 68J.6	She has calld upon her bower-maidens, She has calld them ane by ane: ‘There lies a deid man in my bowr, I wish that he were gane.’ 68J.7	They hae booted him, and spurred him, As he was wont to ride, A hunting-horn tied round his waist, A sharp sword by his side; And they hae had him to the wan water, For a’ men call it Clyde. 68J.8	Then up and spake the popinjay, That sat upon the tree: ‘What hae ye down wi Erl Richard? Ye were his gaye ladye.’ 68J.9	‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird, And sit upon my hand; And thou sall hae a cage o gowd, Where thou hast but the wand.’ 68J.10	‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Nae cage o gowd for me; As ye hae dune to Erl Richard, Sae wad ye do to me.’ 68J.11	She hadna crossd a rigg o land, A rigg but barely ane, When she met wi his auld father, Came riding all alane. 68J.12	‘Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair, Where hae ye been sae late? We hae been seeking Erl Richard, But him we canna get.’ 68J.13	‘Erl Richard kens a’ the fords in Clyde, He’ll ride them ane by ane; And though the night was neer sae mirk, Erl Richard will be hame.’ 68J.14	O it fell anes upon a day The king was boun to ride, And he has mist him Erl Richard, Should hae ridden on his right side. 68J.15	The ladye turnd her round about, Wi mickle mournfu din: ‘It fears me sair o Clyde water, That he is drownd therein.’ 68J.16	‘Gar douk, gar douk,’ the king he cried, ‘Gar douk for gold and fee; O wha will douk for Erl Richard’s sake, Or wha will douk for me?’ 68J.17	They douked in at ae weil-heid, And out aye at the other: ‘We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard, Altho he were our brother.’ 68J.18	It fell that in that ladye’s castle The king was boun to bed, And up and spake the popinjay, That flew abune his head. 68J.19	‘Leave aff your douking on the day, And douk upon the night; And wherever that sackless knight lies slain, The candles will burn bright.’ 68J.20	‘O there’s a bird within this bower, That sings baith sad and sweet; O there’s a bird within your bower Keeps me frae my night’s sleep.’ 68J.21	They left the douking on the day, And douked upon the night, And where that sackless knight lay slain, The candles burned bright. 68J.22	The deepest pot in a’ the linn They fand Erl Richard in; A green turf tyed across his breast, To keep that gude lord down. 68J.23	Then up and spake the king himsell, When he saw the deadly wound, ‘O wha has slain my right-hand man, That held my hawk and hound?’ 68J.24	Then up and spake the popinjay, Says, What needs a’ this din? It was his light lemman took his life, And hided him in the linn. 68J.25	She swore her by the grass sae grene, Sae did she by the corn, She had na seen him Erl Richard Since Moninday at morn. 68J.26	‘Put na the wyte on me,’ she said, ‘It was my may, Catherine:’ Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn, To burn that maiden in. 68J.27	It wadna take upon her cheik, Nor yet upon her chin, Nor yet upon her yellow hair, To cleanse the deadly sin. 68J.28	The maiden touchd the clay-cauld corpse, A drap it never bled; The ladye laid her hand on him, And soon the ground was red. 68J.29	Out they hae ta’en her May Catherine, And put her mistress in; The flame tuik fast upon her cheik, Tuik fast upon her chin, Tuik fast upon her fair bodye, She burnd like hollins grene.
 
68K: Young Hunting
 
68K.1	LADY MAISRY forth from her bower came, And stood on her tower-head; She thought she heard a bridle ring, The sound did her heart guid. 68K.2	She thought it was her first true-love, Whom she loved ance in time; But it was her new love, Hunting, Come frae the hunting o the hyn. 68K.3	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry, God make you safe and free; I’m come to take my last farewell, And pay my last visit to thee.’ 68K.4	‘O stay, O stay then, Young Hunting, O stay with me this night; Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear, And candles burning bright.’ 68K.5	‘Have no more cheer, you lady fair, An hour langer for me; I have a lady in Garmouth town I love better than thee.’ 68K.6	‘O if your love be changed, my love, Since better canno be, Nevertheless, for auld lang syne, Ye’ll stay this night wi me. 68K.7	‘Silver, silver shall be your wage, And gowd shall be your fee, And nine times nine into the year Your weed shall changed be. 68K.8	‘Will ye gae to the cards or dice, Or to a tavern fine? Or will ye gae to a table forebye, And birl baith beer and wine?’ 68K.9	‘I winna gang to the cards nor dice, Nor to a tavern fine; But I will gang to a table forebye, And birl baith beer and wine.’ 68K.10	Then she has drawn for Young Hunting The beer but and the wine, Till she got him as deadly drunk As ony unhallowed swine. 68K.11	Then she’s taen out a trusty brand, That hang below her gare, Then she’s wounded him Young Hunting, A deep wound and a sair. 68K.12	Then out it speaks her comrade, Being in the companie: ‘Alas! this deed that ye hae done Will ruin baith you and me.’ 68K.13	‘Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine, Heal well this deed on me, The robes that were shapen for my bodie, They shall be sewed for thee.’ 68K.14	‘Tho I woud heal it never sae well, And never sae well,’ said she, ‘There is a God above us baith That can baith hear and see.’ 68K.15	They booted him, and spurred him, As he’d been gaun to ride, A hunting-horn about his neck, A sharp sword by his side. 68K.16	And they rode on, and farther on, All the lang summer’s tide, Until they came to wan water, Where a’ man ca’s it Clyde. 68K.17	And the deepest pot in Clyde’s water, And there they flang him in, And put a turf on his breast-bane, To had Young Hunting down. 68K.18	O out it speaks a little wee bird, As she sat on the brier: ‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry, And pay your maiden’s hire.’ 68K.19	‘O I will pay my maiden’s hire, And hire I’ll gie to thee; If ye’ll conceal this fatal deed, Ye’s hae gowd for your fee.’ 68K.20	Then out it speaks a bonny bird, That flew aboon their head: ‘Keep well, keep well your green claithing Frae ae drap o his bluid.’ 68K.21	‘O I’ll keep well my green claithing Frae ae drop o his bluid, Better than I’ll do your flattering tongue, That flutters in your head. 68K.22	‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird, Light down upon my hand; For ae gowd feather that’s in your wing, I woud gie a’ my land.’ 68K.23	‘How shall I come down, how can I come down, How shall I come down to thee? The things ye said to Young Hunting, The same ye’re saying to me.’ 68K.24	But it fell out on that same day The king was going to ride, And he calld for him Young Hunting, For to ride by his side. 68K.25	Then out it speaks the little young son, Sat on the nurse’s knee: ‘It fears me sair,’ said that young babe, ‘He’s in bower wi yon ladie.’ 68K.26	Then they hae calld her Lady Katharine, And she sware by the thorn That she saw not him Young Hunting Sin yesterday at morn. 68K.27	Then they hae calld her Lady Maisry, And she sware by the moon That she saw not him Young Hunting Sin yesterday at noon. 68K.28	‘He was playing him at the Clyde’s Water, Perhaps he has fa’en in:’ The king he calld his divers all, To dive for his young son. 68K.29	They div’d in thro the wan burn-bank, Sae did they outthro the other: ‘We’ll dive nae mair,’ said these young men, ‘Suppose he were our brother.’ 68K.30	Then out it spake a little bird, That flew aboon their head: ‘Dive on, dive on, ye divers all, For there he lies indeed. 68K.31	‘But ye’ll leave aff your day diving, And ye’ll dive in the night; The pot where Young Hunting lies in, The candles they’ll burn bright. 68K.32	‘There are twa ladies in yon bower, And even in yon ha, And they hae killd him Young Hunting, And casten him awa. 68K.33	‘They booted him, and spurred him, As he’d been gaun to ride, A hunting-horn tied round his neck, A sharp sword by his side 68K.34	‘The deepest pot o Clyde’s Water, There they flang him in, Laid a turf on his breast-bane, To had Young Hunting down.’ 68K.35	Now they left aff their day diving, And they dived on the night; The pot that Young Hunting lay in, The candles were burning bright. 68K.36	The king he calld his hewers all, To hew down wood and thorn, For to put up a strong bale-fire, These ladies for to burn. 68K.37	And they hae taen her Lady Katharine, And they hae pitten her in; But it wadna light upon her cheek, Nor woud it on her chin, But sang the points o her yellow hair, For healing the deadly sin. 68K.38	Then they hae taen her Lady Maisry, And they hae put her in: First it lighted on her cheek, And syne upon her chin, And sang the points o her yellow hair, And she burnt like keckle-pin.


 
69A: Clerk Sanders
 
69A.1	CLARK SANDERS and May Margret Walkt ower yon graveld green, And sad and heavy was the love, I wat, it fell this twa between. 69A.2	‘A bed, a bed,’ Clark Sanders said, ‘A bed, a bed for you and I;’ ‘Fye no, fye no,’ the lady said, ‘Until the day we married be. 69A.3	‘For in it will come my seven brothers, And a’ their torches burning bright; They’ll say, We hae but ae sister, And here her lying wi a knight.’ 69A.4	‘Ye’l take the sourde fray my scabbord, And lowly, lowly lift the gin, And you may say, your oth to save, You never let Clark Sanders in. 69A.5	‘Yele take a napken in your hand, And ye’l ty up baith your een, An ye may say, your oth to save, That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen. 69A.6	‘Yele take me in your armes twa, Yele carrey me ben into your bed, And ye may say, your oth to save, In your bower-floor I never tread.’ 69A.7	She has taen the sourde fray his scabbord, And lowly, lowly lifted the gin; She was to swear, her oth to save, She never let Clerk Sanders in. 69A.8	She has tain a napkin in her hand, And she ty’d up baith her eeen; She was to swear, her oth to save, She saw na him sene late yestreen. 69A.9	She has taen him in her armes twa, And carried him ben into her bed; She was to swear, her oth to save, He never in her bower-floor tread. 69A.10	In and came her seven brothers, And all their torches burning bright; Says thay, We hae but ae sister, And see there her lying wi a knight. 69A.11	Out and speaks the first of them, ‘A wat they hay been lovers dear;’ Out and speaks the next of them, ‘They hay been in love this many a year.’ 69A.12	Out an speaks the third of them, ‘It wear great sin this twa to twain;’ Out an speaks the fourth of them, ‘It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.’ 69A.13	Out an speaks the fifth of them, ‘A wat they’ll near be twaind by me;’ Out an speaks the sixt of them, ‘We’l tak our leave an gae our way.’ 69A.14	Out an speaks the seventh of them, ‘Altho there wear no a man but me, . . . . . I bear the brand, I’le gar him die.’ 69A.15	Out he has taen a bright long brand, And he has striped it throw the straw, And throw and throw Clarke Sanders’ body A wat he has gard cold iron gae. 69A.16	Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt, Intill his arms whare she lay, And well and wellsom was the night, A wat it was between these twa. 69A.17	And they lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the day began to daw; And kindly till him she did say ‘It’s time, trew-love, ye wear awa.’ 69A.18	They lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the sun began to shine; She lookt between her and the wa, And dull and heavy was his eeen. 69A.19	She thought it had been a loathsome sweat, A wat it had fallen this twa between; But it was the blood of his fair body, A wat his life days wair na lang. 69A.20	‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake What other ladys would na thoule; When seven years is come and gone, There’s near a shoe go on my sole. 69A.21	‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake What other ladies would think mare; When seven years is come and gone, Ther’s nere a comb go in my hair. 69A.22	‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake What other ladies would think lack; When seven years is come an gone, I’le wear nought but dowy black.’ 69A.23	The bells gaed clinking throw the towne, To carry the dead corps to the clay, An sighing says her May Margret, ‘A wat I bide a doulfou day.’ 69A.24	In an come her father dear, Stout steping on the floor; . . . . . . . . . . 69A.25	‘Hold your toung, my doughter dear, Let all your mourning a bee; I’le carry the dead corps to the clay, An I’le come back an comfort thee.’ 69A.26	‘Comfort well your seven sons, For comforted will I never bee; For it was neither lord nor loune That was in bower last night wi mee.’
 
69B: Clerk Sanders
 
69B.1	CLERK SAUNDERS and a gay lady Was walking in yonder green, And heavy, heavy was the love That fell this twa lovers between. 69B.2	‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said, ‘And ay a bed for you and me;’ ‘Never a ane,’ said the gay lady, ‘Till ance we twa married be. 69B.3	‘There would come a’ my seven brethern, And a’ their torches burning bright, And say, We hae but ae sister, And behad, she’s lying wi you the night.’ 69B.4	‘You’ll take a napkain in your hand, And then you will tie up your een; Then you may swear, and safe your aith, You sawna Sandy sin yestreen. 69B.5	‘You’ll take me up upo your back, And then you’ll carry me to your bed; Then you may swear, and save your aith, Your board [-floor] Sandy never tred.’ 69B.6	She’s taen him upo her back, And she’s carried him unto her bed, That she might swear, and safe her aith, Her board-floor Sandy never tread. 69B.7	She’s taen a napkin in her hand, And lo she did tie up her een, That she might swear, and safe her aith, She sawna Sandy syne yestreen. 69B.8	They were na weel into the room, Nor yet laid weel into the bed, . . . . . . . . . . 69B.9	When in came a’ her seven brethern, And a’ their torches burning bright; Says they, We hae but ae sister, And behold, she’s lying wi you this night. 69B.10	‘I,’ bespake the first o them, A wat an ill death mat he die! ‘I bear a brand into my hand Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.’ 69B.11	‘I,’ bespake the second of them, A wat a good death mat he die! ‘We will gae back, let him alane, His father has nae mair but he.’ 69B.12	‘I,’ bespake the third o them, A wat an ill death mat he die! ‘I bear the brand into my hand Shall quickly help to gar him die.’ 69B.13	‘I,’ bespake the fourth o them, A wat an ill death mat he die! ‘I bear the brand into my hand Shall never help to gar him die.’ 69B.14	‘I,’ bespake the fifth o them, A wat a good death mat he die! ‘Altho his father hae nae mair, I’ll quickly help to gar him die.’ 69B.15	‘I,’ bespake the sixth o them, A wat a good death mat he die! ‘He’s a worthy earl’s son, I’ll never help to gar him die.’ 69B.16	‘I,’ bespake the seventh of them, A wat an ill death mat he die! ‘I bear the brand into my hand Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.’ 69B.17	They baith lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the sun began to sheen; She drew the curtains a wee bit, And dull and drowsie was his een. 69B.18	‘This night,’ said she, ’The sleepiest man That ever my twa eyes did see Hay lyen by me, and sweat the sheets; A wite they’re a great shame to see.’ 69B.19	She rowd the claiths a’ to the foot, And then she spied his deadly wounds: ‘O wae be to my seven brethern, A wat an ill death mat they die! 69B.20	‘I’m sure it was neither rogue nor loun I had into my bed wi me; ’Twas Clerk Saunders, that good earl’s son, That pledgd his faith to marry me.’
 
69C: Clerk Sanders
 
69C.1	IT was a sad and a rainy nicht As ever raind frae toun to toun; Clerk Saunders and his lady gay They were in the fields sae broun. 69C.2	‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders cried, ‘A bed, a bed, let me lie doun; For I am sae weet and sae wearie That I canna gae nor ride frae toun.’ 69C.3	‘A bed, a bed,’ his lady cried, ‘A bed, a bed, ye’ll neer get nane; . . . . . . . . . . . 69C.4	‘For I hae seven bauld brethren, Bauld are they, and very rude; And if they find ye in bouer wi me, They winna care to spill your blude.’ 69C.5	‘Ye’ll tak a lang claith in your hand, Ye’ll haud it up afore your een, That ye may swear, and save your aith, That ye saw na Sandy sin yestreen. 69C.6	‘And ye’ll tak me in your arms twa, Ye’ll carry me into your bed, That ye may swear, and save your aith, That in your bour-floor I never gaed.’ 69C.7	She’s taen a lang claith in her hand, She’s hauden’t up afore her een, That she might swear, and save her aith, That she saw na Sandy sin yestreen. 69C.8	She has taen him in her arms twa, And carried him into her bed, That she might swear, and save her aith, That on her bour-floor he never gaed. 69C.9	Then in there cam her firsten brother, Bauldly he cam steppin in: ‘Come here, come here, see what I see! We hae only but ae sister alive, And a knave is in bour her wi.’ 69C.10	Then in and cam her second brother, Says, Twa lovers are ill to twin; And in and cam her thirden brother, ‘O brother dear, I say the same.’ 69C.11	Then in and cam her fourthen brother, ‘It’s a sin to kill a sleepin man;’ And in and cam her fifthen brother, ‘O brother dear, I say the same.’ 69C.12	Then in and cam her sixthen brother, ‘I wat he’s neer be steerd by me;’ But in and cam her seventhen brother, ‘I bear the hand that sall gar him dee.’ 69C.13	Then out he drew a nut-brown sword, I wat he stript it to the stroe, And thro and thro Clerk Saunder’s body I wat he garrd cauld iron go. 69C.14	Then they lay there in ither’s arms Until the day began to daw; Then kindly to him she did say, ‘It’s time, my dear, ye were awa. 69C.15	‘Ye are the sleepiest young man,’ she said, ‘That ever my twa een did see; Ye’ve lain a’ nicht into my arms, I’m sure it is a shame to be.’ 69C.16	She turnd the blankets to the foot, And turnd the sheets unto the wa, And there she saw his bluidy wound, . . . . . 69C.17	‘O wae be to my seventhen brother, I wat an ill death mot he dee! He’s killd Clerk Saunders, an earl’s son, I wat he’s killd him unto me.’ 69C.18	Then in and cam her father dear, Cannie cam he steppin in; Says, Haud your tongue, my dochter dear, What need you mak sic heavy meane? 69C.19	‘We’ll carry Clerk Saunders to his grave, And syne come back and comfort thee:’ ‘O comfort weel your seven sons, father, For man sall never comfort me; Ye’ll marrie me wi the Queen o Heaven, For man sall never enjoy me.’
 
69D: Clerk Sanders
 
69D.1	* * * * ‘O I have seven bold brethren, And they are all valiant men, If they knew a man that would tread my bower His life should not go along wi him.’ 69D.2	‘Then take me up into your arms, And lay me low down on your bed, That ye may swear, and keep your oath clear, That your bower-room I did na tread. 69D.3	‘Tie a handkerchief round your face, And you must tye it wondrous keen, That you may swear, and keep your oath clear, Ye saw na me since late yestreen.’ 69D.4	But they were scarsley gone to bed, Nor scarse fa’n owre asleep, Till up and started her seven brethren, Just at Lord Saunder’s feet. 69D.5	Out bespoke the first brither, ‘Oh but love be wondrous keen!’ Out bespoke the second brither, ‘It’s ill done to kill a sleeping man.’ 69D.6	Out bespoke the third brither, ‘We had better gae and let him be;’ Out bespoke the fourth brither, ‘He’ll no be killd this night for me:’ 69D.7	Out bespoke the fifth brother, ‘This night Lord Saunders he shall die; Tho there were not a man in all Scotland, This night Lord Saunders he shall die.’ 69D.8	He took out a rousty rapier, And he drew it three times thro the strae; Between Lord Saunders’ short rib and his side He gard the rusty rapier gae. 69D.9	‘Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,’ she said, ‘Awake, awake, for sin and shame! For the day is light, and the sun shines bricht, ‘And I am afraid we will be taen. 69D.10	‘Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,’ she said, ‘Awake, awake, for sin and shame! For the sheets they are asweat,’ she said, ‘And I am afraid we will be taen. 69D.11	‘I dreamed a dreary dream last night, I wish it may be for our good, That I was cutting my yellow hair, And dipping it in the wells o blood.’ 69D.12	Aye she waukened at this dead man, Aye she put on him to and fro; Oh aye she waukend at this dead man, But of his death she did not know. * * * * * 69D.13	‘It’s I will do for my love’s sake What many ladies would think lang; Seven years shall come and go Before a glove go on my hand. 69D.14	‘And I will do for my love’s sake What many ladies would not do; Seven years shall come and go Before I wear stocking or shoe. 69D.15	‘Ther’ll neer a shirt go on my back, There’ll neer a kame go in my hair, There’ll never coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower nae mair.’
 
69E: Clerk Sanders
 
69E.1	AN ensign and a lady gay, As they were walking on a green, The ensign said to the lady gay, Will you tak me to your bower at een? 69E.2	‘I have seven bluidy brithers, Och and to you they have nae good will; And if they catch you in my bower, They’ll value not your bluid to spill.’ 69E.3	‘O you may take me on your back, And carry me to your chamber-bed, That I may swear, and avow richt clear, That your flowery bower I did never tread. 69E.4	‘O take a napkin from your pocket, And with it blindfold my een, That I may swear, and avow richt clear, That your flowery bower I have never seen.’ 69E.5	O she’s taen him upon her back, And carried him to her chamber-bed, That he might swear, and avow it clear, That her flowery [bower] he did never tread. 69E.6	O she’s taen a napkin from her pocket, And with it blinded baith his een, That he might swear, and avow it clear, That her flowery bower he had never seen. 69E.7	They were not well into their bed, Nor were they scarsely fallen asleep, Till in there came her seven bluidy brithers, And placed themselves at the ensign’s feet. 69E.8	Said the first one to the second, ‘Och it is long since this love began;’ Said the second unto the third, ‘It’s a sin to kill a sleeping man.’ 69E.9	Said the third one to the fourth, ‘I will go to yon tavern hie;’ Said [the] fourth one to the fifth, ‘O if you will go, so will I.’ 69E.10	Said the fifth to the sixth, ‘Och it’s long since this love began;’ Said the sixth to the seventh, ‘It’s a sin to kill a sleeping man.’ 69E.11	Out then spoke the seventh bluidy brither, Aye and an angry man was he: ‘Altho there was no more men alive, The ensign’s butcher I will be.’ 69E.12	He’s taen out his rusty broad-sword, And ran it three times along his throat, And thro and thro the ensign’s body The tempered steel it went thro and thro. 69E.13	‘O I have dreamed a dream,’ she said, ‘And such an dreams cannot be good; I dreamed my bower was full of swine, And the ensign’s clothes all dipped in blood. 69E.14	‘I have dreamed another dream, And such an dreams are never good; That I was combing down my yellow hair, And dipping it in the ensign’s blood.’ 69E.15	‘O hold your tongue, my sister dear, And of your weeping let a be; For I will get you a better match Than eer the ensign, what was he?’ 69E.16	‘So woe be to you, my seven bluidy brithers, Aye and an ill death may you die! For you durst not fight him in battle-field, But you killed him sleeping in bed wi me. 69E.17	‘I’ll do more for my love’s sake That other lovers would not incline; Seven years shall come and go Before I wash this face of mine. 69E.18	‘I will do for my love’s sake What other lovers would not repair; Seven years shall come and go Before I comb down my yellow hair. 69E.19	‘I’ll do more for my love’s sake, What other lovers will not do; Seven years shall come and go Before I cast off stocking and shoe. 69E.20	‘I will do for my love’s sake What other lovers they will be slack; Seven years shall come and go Before I cast off my robes of black. 69E.21	‘Go make to me a high, high tower, Be sure you make it stout and strong, And on the top put an honour’s gate, That my love’s ghost may go out and in.’
 
69F: Clerk Sanders
 
69F.1	CLERK SAUNDERS was an earl’s son, He livd upon sea-sand; May Margaret was a king’s daughter, She livd in upper land. 69F.2	Clerk Saunders was an earl’s son, Weel learned at the scheel; May Margaret was a king’s daughter, They baith loed ither weel. 69F.3	He’s throw the dark, and throw the mark, And throw the leaves o green, Till he came to May Margaret’s door, And tirled at the pin. 69F.4	‘O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret, Or are ye the bower within?’ O wha is that at my bower-door, Sae weel my name does ken?’ ‘It’s I, Clerk Saunders, your true-love, You’ll open and lat me in. 69F.5	‘O will ye to the cards, Margaret, Or to the table to dine? Or to the bed, that’s weel down spread, And sleep when we get time?’ 69F.6	‘I’ll no go to the cards,’ she says, ‘Nor to the table to dine; But I’ll go to a bed, that’s weel down spread, And sleep when we get time.’ 69F.7	They were not weel lyen down, And no weel fa’en asleep, When up and stood May Margaret’s brethren, Just up at their bed-feet. 69F.8	‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret, And dinna to us len, O wha is aught yon noble steed, That stands your stable in?’ 69F.9	‘The steed is mine, and it may be thine, To ride whan ye ride in hie; . . . . . . . . . . 69F.10	‘But awa, awa, my bald brethren, Awa, and mak nae din; For I am as sick a lady the nicht As eer lay a bower within.’ 69F.11	‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret, And dinna to us len, O wha is aught yon noble hawk, That stands your kitchen in?’ 69F.12	‘The hawk is mine, and it may be thine, To hawk whan ye hawk in hie; . . . . . . . . . . 69F.13	‘But awa, awa, my bald brethren, Awa, and mak nae din; For I’m ane o the sickest ladies this nicht That eer lay a bower within.’ 69F.14	‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret, And dinna to us len, O wha is that, May Margaret, You and the wa between?’ 69F.15	‘O it is my bower-maiden,’ she says, ‘As sick as sick can be; O it is my bower-maiden,’ she says, ‘And she’s thrice as sick as me.’ 69F.16	‘We hae been east, and we’ve been west, And low beneath the moon; But a’ the bower-women eer we saw Hadna goud buckles in their shoon.’ 69F.17	Then up and spak her eldest brither, Ay in ill time spak he: ‘It is Clerk Saunders, your true-love, And never mat I the But for this scorn that he has done This moment he sall die.’ 69F.18	But up and spak her youngest brother, Ay in good time spak he: ‘O but they are a gudelie pair! True lovers an ye be, The sword that hangs at my sword-belt Sall never sinder ye.’ 69F.19	Syne up and spak her nexten brother, And the tear stood in his ee: ‘You’ve loed her lang, and loed her weel, And pity it wad be The sword that hangs at my sword-belt Shoud ever sinder ye.’ 69F.20	But up and spak her fifthen brother: ‘Sleep on your sleep for me; But we baith sall never sleep again, For the tane o us sall die.’ 69F.21	And up and spak her thirden brother, Ay in ill time spak he: ‘Curse on his love and comeliness! Dishonourd as ye be, The sword that hangs at my sword-belt Sall quickly sinder ye.’ 69F.22	The eldest brother has drawn his sword, The second has drawn anither, Between Clerk Saunders’ hause and collarbane The cald iron met thegither. 69F.23	‘O wae be to you, my fause brethren, And an ill death mat ye die! Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field, And no in bed wi me.’
 
69G: Clerk Sanders
 
69G.1	CLERK SANDY and a lady gay Where walking in the garden green, And great and heavy was the love That hae befa’en these twa between. 69G.2	‘A bed, a bed,’ said Clerk Sandy, ‘A bed, my love, for you and me;’ ‘O never a foot,’ said the lady gay, ‘Till ance that we twa married be. 69G.3	‘My seven brithers will come in, And a’ their torches burning bright; They’ll say, We hae but ae sister, And here she’s lying wi a knight.’ 69G.4	‘Ye’ll take my brand I bear in hand, And wi the same ye’ll lift the gin; Then ye may swear, and save your oath, That ye neer let Clerk Sandy in. 69G.5	‘Ye’ll take that kurchie on your head, And wi the same tie up your een; And ye will swear, and save your oath, Ye saw not Sandy sin yestreen. 69G.6	‘Ye’ll lift me in your arms twa, And carry me unto your bed; Then ye may swear, and save your oath, Clerk Sandy in your bower neer tread.’ 69G.7	She’s taen the brand he bare in hand, And wi the same lifted the gin; It was to swear, and save her oath, She never loot Clerk Sandy in. 69G.8	She’s taen the kurchie frae her head, And wi the same tied up her een; It was to swear, and save her oath, She saw not Sandy sin yestreen. 69G.9	She’s taen him in her arms twa, And she’s carried him to her bed; It was to swear, and save her oath, Clerk Sandie in her bower neer tread. 69G.10	They hadna kissd, nor love clapped, Like other lovers when they meet, Till in a quarter’s space and less These two lovers fell sound asleep. 69G.11	Then in it came her seven brothers, And a’ their torches burning bright; They said, We hae but ae sister, And here she’s lying wi a knight. 69G.12	O out it speaks the first o them, ‘We will awa and lat them be;’ Then out it speaks the second o them, ‘His father has nae mair but he.’ 69G.13	Out it speaks the third o them, For he was standing on the birk: ‘Nae sweeter coud twa lovers lye, Tho they’d been married in a kirk.’ 69G.14	Then out it speaks the fourth o them, Mair fair and lovely is his buke: ‘Our sister dear we cannot blame, Altho in him she pleasure took.’ 69G.15	Then out it speaks the fifth o them, ‘It were a sin to do them ill;’ Then out it spake the sixth o them, ‘It’s hard a sleeping man to kill.’ 69G.16	But out it speaks the seventh o them, I wish an ill death mat he dee! ‘I wear the sharp brand by my side That soon shall gar Clerk Sandy die.’ 69G.17	Then he’s taen out his trusty brand, And he has stroakd it ower a strae; And thro and thro Clerk Sandy’s middle I wat he’s gart it come and gae. 69G.18	The lady slept by her love’s side Until the dawning o the day, But what was dune she naething knew, For when she wak’d these words did say: 69G.19	‘Awake, awake, now Clerk Sandy, Awake, and turn you unto me; Ye’re nae sae keen’s ye were at night, When you and I met on the lee.’ 69G.20	O then she calld her chamber-maid To bring her coal and candle seen: ‘I fear Clerk Sandy’s dead eneuch, I had a living man yestreen.’ 69G.21	They hae lifted his body up, They hae searched it round and round, And even anent his bonny heart Discovered the deadly wound. 69G.22	She wrung her hands, and tore her hair, And wrung her hands most bitterlie: ‘This is my fause brothers, I fear, This night hae used this crueltie. 69G.23	‘But I will do for my love’s sake Woud nae be done by ladies rare; For seven years shall hae an end Or eer a kame gang in my hair. 69G.24	‘O I will do for my love’s sake What other ladies woud think lack; For seven years shall hae an end Or eer I wear but dowie black. 69G.25	‘And I will do for my love’s sake What other ladies woudna thole; Seven years shall hae an end Or eer a shoe gang on my sole.’ 69G.26	In it came her father dear, And he was belted in a brand; Sae softly as he trad the floor, And in her bower did stately stand. 69G.27	Says, Hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And ye’ll lat a’ your mourning be; I’ll wed you to a higher match Or eer his father’s son coud be. 69G.28	‘Wed well, wed well your seven sons; I wish ill wedded they may be, Sin they hae killd him Clerk Sandy! For wedded shall I never be.’ 69G.29	His corpse was laid in the cauld clay, The bells went tinkling thro the town; ‘Alas! alas!’ said the lady gay, ‘That eer I heard that waefu soun!’ 69G.30	When she had sitten intill her bower A twalmonth lang and weary day, Even below her bower-window She heard a ghaist to knock an cry. 69G.31	She says, Ye’re thief or bauld robber, Or biggin come to burn or brake; Or are you ony masterfu man, That is come seeking ony make? 69G.32	‘I am not thief nor bauld robber, Nor bigging come to burn nor brake; Nor am I ony masterfu man, That is come seeking ony make; But I’m Clerk Sandy, your first love, And wants wi you again to speak. 69G.33	‘Gin ye’re Clerk Sandy, my first love, And wants wi me to speak again, Tell me some o’ the love tokens That you and I had last between.’ 69G.34	‘O mind not ye, ye gay lady, Sin last I was in bower wi thee, That in it came your seven brethren, The youngest gart me sairly dree?’ Then sighd and said the gay lady, ‘Sae true a tale as ye tell me.’ 69G.35	Sae painfully she clam the wa, She clam the wa up after him; ’Twas not for want of stockings nor sheen, But hadna time to put them on; And in the midst o gude greenwood, ’Twas there she lost the sight o him. 69G.36	The lady sat, and mourning there, Until she coudna weep nae mair; At length the cloks and wanton flies They biggit in her yellow hair. 69G.37	‘O had your peace, my dearest dear, For I am come to mak you wise; Or this night nine nights come and gang, We baith shall be in Paradise.’


 
70A: Willie and Lady Maisry
 
70A.1	WILLIE was a widow’s son, And he wore a milk-white weed, O And weel could Willie read and write, Far better ride on steed. O 70A.2	Lady Margerie was the first lady That drank to him the wine, And aye as the healths gade round and round, ‘Laddy, your love is mine.’ 70A.3	Lady Margerie was the first ladye That drank to him the beer, And aye as the healths gade round and round, ‘Laddy, you’re welcome here.’ 70A.4	‘You must come into my bower When the evening bells do ring, And you must come into my bower When the evening mass doth sing.’ 70A.5	He’s taen four and twenty braid arrows, And laced them in a whang, And he’s awa to Lady Margerie’s bower, As fast as he can gang. 70A.6	He set ae foot on the wall, And the other on a stane, And he’s killed a’ the king’s life-guards, And he’s killed them every man. 70A.7	‘Oh open, open, Lady Margerie, Open and let me in; The weet weets a’ my yellow hair, And the dew draps on my chin.’ 70A.8	With her feet as white as sleet She strode her bower within, And with her fingers long and small She’s looten Sweet Willie in. 70A.9	She’s louten down unto her foot To loose Sweet Willie’s shoon; The buckles were sa stiff they wudna lowse, The blood had frozen in. 70A.10	‘O Willie, Willie, I fear that thou Has bred me dule and sorrow; The deed that thou has dune this nicht Will kythe upon the morrow.’ 70A.11	In then came her father dear, And a broad sword by his gare, And he’s gien Willie, the widow’s son, A deep wound and a sair. 70A.12	‘Lye yont, lye yont, Willie,’ she says, ‘Your sweat weets a’ my side; Lye yont, lie yont, Willie,’ she says, ‘For your sweat I downa bide.’ 70A.13	She turned her back unto the wa, Her face unto the room, And there she saw her auld father, Walking up and down. 70A.14	‘Woe be to you, father,’ she said, ‘And an ill deed may you die! For ye’ve killd Willie, the widow’s son And he would have married me.’ 70A.15	She turned her back unto the room, Her face unto the wa, And with a deep and heavy sich Her heart it brak in twa.
 
70B: Willie and Lady Maisry
 
70B.1	SWEET WILLIE was a widow’s son, And milk-white was his weed; It sets him weel to bridle a horse, And better to saddle a steed, my dear, And better to saddle a steed. 70B.2	But he is on to Maisry’s bower-door, And tirled at the pin: ‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Maisry, Ye’ll open, let me come in.’ 70B.3	‘O who is this at my bower-door, Sae well that knows my name?’ ‘It is your ain true-love, Willie, If ye love me, lat me in.’ 70B.4	Then huly, huly raise she up, For fear o making din, Then in her arms lang and bent, She caught sweet Willie in. 70B.5	She leand her low down to her toe, To loose her true-love’s sheen, But cauld, cauld were the draps o bleed Fell fae his trusty brand. 70B.6	‘What frightfu sight is that, my love? A frightfu sight to see! What bluid is this on your sharp brand? O may ye not tell me?’ 70B.7	‘As I came thro the woods this night, The wolf maist worried me; O shoud I slain the wolf, Maisry? Or shoud the wolf slain me?’ 70B.8	They hadna kissd, nor love clapped, As lovers when they meet, Till up it starts her auld father, Out o his drowsy sleep. 70B.9	‘O what’s become o my house-cock, Sae crouse at ane did craw? I wonder as much at my bold watch, That’s nae shooting ower the wa. 70B.10	‘My gude house-cock, my only son, Heir ower my land sae free, If ony ruffian hae him slain, High hanged shall he be.’ 70B.11	Then he’s on to Maisry’s bower-door, And tirled at the pin: ‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, daughter Maisry, Ye’ll open, lat me come in.’ 70B.12	Between the curtains and the wa She rowd her true-love then, And huly went she to the door, And let her father in. 70B.13	‘What’s become o your maries, Maisry, Your bower it looks sae teem? What’s become o your green claithing, Your beds they are sae thin?’ 70B.14	‘Gude forgie you, father,’ she said, ‘I wish ye be’t for sin; Sae aft as ye hae dreaded me, But never found me wrang.’ 70B.15	He turnd him right and round about, As he’d been gaun awa; But sae nimbly as he slippet in Behind a screen sae sma. 70B.16	Maisry, thinking a’ dangers past, She to her love did say, ‘Come, love, and take your silent rest; My auld father’s away.’ 70B.17	Then baith lockd in each other’s arms, They fell full fast asleep, When up it starts her auld father, And stood at their bed-feet. 70B.18	‘I think I hae the villain now That my dear son did slay; But I shall be revengd on him Before I see the day.’ 70B.19	Then he’s drawn out a trusty brand, And stroakd it oer a stray, And thro and thro Sweet Willie’s middle He’s gart cauld iron gae. 70B.20	Then up it wakend Lady Maisry, Out o her drowsy sleep, And when she saw her true-love slain, She straight began to weep. 70B.21	‘O gude forgie you now, father,’ she said, ‘I wish ye be’t for sin; For I never lovd a love but ane, In my arms ye’ve him slain.’ 70B.22	‘This night he’s slain my gude bold watch, Thirty stout men and twa; Likewise he’s slain your ae brother, To me was worth them a’. 70B.23	‘If he has slain my ae brither, Himsell had a’ the blame, For mony a day he plots contriv’d, To hae Sweet Willie slain. 70B.24	‘And tho he’s slain your gude bold watch, He might hae been forgien; They came on him in armour bright, When he was but alane.’ 70B.25	Nae meen was made for this young knight, In bower where he lay slain, But a’ was for sweet Maisry bright, In fields where she ran brain.


 
71: The Bent Sae Brown
 
71.1	‘THERE are sixteen lang miles, I’m sure, Between my love and me; There are eight o them in gude dry land, And other eight by sea. 71.2	‘Betide me life, betide me death, My love I’ll gang and see; Altho her friends they do me hate, Her love is great for me. 71.3	‘If my coat I’ll make a boat, And o my sark a sail, And o my cane a gude tapmast, Dry land till I come till.’ 71.4	Then o his coat he’s made a boat, And o his sark a sail; And o his cane a gude tapmast, Dry land till he came till. 71.5	He is on to Annie’s bower-door, And tirled at the pin: ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, my love, Annie, Ye’ll rise, lat me come in.’ 71.6	‘O who is this at my bower-door, Sae well that kens my name?’ ‘It is your true-love, Sweet Willie, For you I’ve crossd the faem.’ 71.7	‘I am deeply sworn, Willie, By father and by mother; At kirk or market where we meet, We darna own each other. 71.8	‘And I am deeply sworn, Willie, By my bauld brothers three; At kirk or market where we meet, I darna speak to thee.’ 71.9	‘Ye take your red fan in your hand, Your white fan ower your een, And ye may swear, and save your oath, Ye sawna me come in. 71.10	‘Ye take me in your arms twa, And carry me to your bed; And ye may swear, and save your oath, Your bower I never tread.’ 71.11	She’s taen her red fan in her hand, The white fan ower her een; It was to swear, and save her oath, She sawna him come in. 71.12	She’s taen him in her arms twa, And carried him to her bed; It was to swear, and save her oath, Her bower he never tread. 71.13	They hadna kissd, nor love clapped, As lovers do when they meet, Till up it waukens her mother, Out o her drowsy sleep. 71.14	‘Win up, win up, my three bauld sons, Win up and make ye boun; Your sister’s lover’s in her bower, And he’s but new come in.’ 71.15	Then up it raise her three bauld sons, And girt to them their brand, And they are to their sister’s bower, As fast as they coud gang. 71.16	When they came to their sister’s bower, They sought it up and down; But there was neither man nor boy In her bower to be foun. 71.17	n out it speaks the first o them: ‘We’ll gang and lat her be; For there is neither man nor boy Intill her companie.’ 71.18	Then out it speaks the second son: ‘Our travel’s a’ in vain; But mother dear, nor father dear, Shall break our rest again.’ 71.19	Then out it speaks the third o them, An ill death mat he die! ‘We’ll lurk amang the bent sae brown, That Willie we may see.’ 71.20	He stood behind his love’s curtains, His goud rings showd him light; And by this ye may a’ weell guess He was a renowned knight. 71.21	He’s done him to his love’s stable, Took out his berry-brown steed; His love stood in her bower-door, Her heart was like to bleed. 71.22	‘O mourn ye for my coming, love? Or for my short staying? Or mourn ye for our safe sindring, Case we never meet again?’ 71.23	‘I mourn nae for your here coming, Nor for your staying lang; Nor mourn I for our safe sindring, I hope we’ll meet again. 71.24	‘I wish ye may won safe away, And safely frae the town; For ken you not my brothers three Are mang the bent sae brown?’ 71.25	‘If I were on my berry-brown steed, And three miles frae the town, I woudna fear your three bauld brothers, Amang the bent sae brown.’ 71.26	He leint him ower his saddle-bow, And kissd her lips sae sweet; The tears that fell between these twa, They wat his great steed’s feet. 71.27	But he wasna on his berry-brown steed, Nor twa miles frae the town, Till up it starts these three fierce men, Amang the bent sae brown. 71.28	Then up they came like three fierce men, Wi mony shout and cry: ‘Bide still, bide still, ye cowardly youth, What makes your haste away? 71.29	‘For I must know before you go, Tell me, and make nae lie; If ye’ve been in my sister’s bower, My hands hall gar ye die.’ 71.30	‘Tho I’ve been in your sister’s bower, I have nae fear o thee; I’ll stand my ground, and fiercly fight, Aud shall gain victorie.’ 71.31	‘Now I entreat you for to stay, Unto us gie a wad; If ye our words do not obey, I’se gar your body bleed.’ 71.32	‘I have nae wad, says Sweet Willie, Unless it be my brand, And that shall guard my fair body, Till I win frae your hand.’ 71.33	Then two o them stept in behind, All in a furious meed; The third o them came him before, And seizd his berry-brown steed. 71.34	O then he drew his trusty brand, That hang down by his gare, And he has slain these three fierce men, And left them sprawling there. 71.35	Then word has gane to her mother, In bed where she slept soun, That Willie had killd her three bauld sons, Amang the bent sae brown. 71.36	Then she has cut the locks that hung Sae low down by her ee, Sae has she kiltit her green claithing A little aboon her knee. 71.37	And she has on to the king’s court, As fast as gang coud she; When Fair Annie got word o that, Was there as soon as she. 71.38	Her mother, when before the king, Fell low down on her knee; ‘Win up, win up, my dame,’ he said, ‘What is your will wi me?’ 71.39	‘My wills they are not sma, my liege, The truth I’ll tell to thee; There is ane o your courtly knights Last night hae robbed me.’ 71.40	‘And has he broke your bigly bowers? Or has he stole your fee? There is nae knight into my court Last night has been frae me; 71.41	‘Unless ’twas Willie o Lauderdale, Forbid that it be he!’ ‘And by my sooth,’ says the auld woman, ‘That very man is he. 71.42	‘For he has broke my bigly bowers, And he has stole my fee, And made my daughter Ann a whore, And an ill woman is she. 71.43	‘That was not all he did to me, Ere he went frae the town; My sons sae true he fiercly slew, Amang the bent sae brown.’ 71.44	Then out it spake her daughter Ann, She stood by the king’s knee: ‘Ye lie, ye lie, my mother dear, Sae loud’s I hear you lie. 71.45	‘He has not broke your bigly bowers, Nor has he stole your fee, Nor made your daughter Ann a whore; A good woman I’ll be. 71.46	‘Altho he slew your three bauld sons, He weel might be forgien; They were well clad in armour bright, Whan my love was him lane.’ 71.47	‘Well spoke, well spoke,’ the king replied, ‘This tauking pleases me; For ae kiss o your lovely mouth, I’ll set your true-love free.’ 71.48	She’s taen the king in her arms, And kissd him cheek and chin; He then set her behind her love, And they went singing hame.


 
72A: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford
 
72A.1	O I will sing to you a sang, But oh my heart is sair! The clerk’s twa sons in Owsenford Has to learn some unco lair. 72A.2	They hadna been in fair Parish A twelvemonth an a day, Till the clerk’s twa sons o Owsenford Wi the mayor’s twa dauthrers lay. 72A.3	O word’s gaen to the mighty mayor, As he saild on the sea, That the clerk’s twa sons o Owsenford Wi his twa daughters lay. 72A.4	‘If they hae lain wi my twa daughters, Meg an Marjorie, The morn, or I taste meat or drink, They shall be hangit hie.’ 72A.5	O word’s gaen to the clerk himself, As he sat drinkin wine, That his twa sons in fair Parish Were bound in prison strong. 72A.6	Then up and spak the clerk’s ladye, And she spak powrfully: ‘O tak with ye a purse of gold, Or take with ye three, And if ye canna get William, Bring Andrew hame to me.’ * * * * * 72A.7	‘O lye ye here for owsen, dear sons, Or lie ye here for kye? Or what is it that ye lie for, Sae sair bound as ye lie?’ 72A.8	‘We lie not here for owsen, dear father, Nor yet lie here for kye, But it’s for a little o dear bought love Sae sair bound as we lie.’ 72A.9	O he’s gane to the mighty mayor, And he spoke powerfully: ‘Will ye grant me my twa sons’ lives, Either for gold or fee? Or will ye be sae gude a man As grant them baith to me?’ 72A.10	‘I’ll no grant ye yere twa sons’ lives, Neither for gold or fee, Nor will I be sae gude a man As gie them back to thee; Before the morn at twelve o’clock Ye’ll see them hangit hie.’ 72A.11	Up an spak his twa daughters, An they spak powrfully: ‘Will ye grant us our twa loves’ lives, Either for gold or fee? Or will ye be sae gude a man As grant them baith to me.’ 72A.12	‘I’ll no grant ye yere twa loves’ lives, Neither for gold or fee, Nor will I be sae gude a man As grant their lives to thee; Before the morn at twelve o’clock Ye’ll see them hangit hie.’ 72A.13	O he’s taen out these proper youths, And hangd them on a tree, And he’s bidden the clerk o Owsenford Gang hame to his ladie. 72A.14	His lady sits on yon castle-wa, Beholding dale an doun, An there she saw her ain gude lord Come walkin to the toun. 72A.15	‘Ye’re welcome, welcome, my ain gude lord, Ye’re welcome hame to me; But where away are my twa sons? Ye should hae brought them wi ye.’ 72A.16	‘It’s I’ve putten them to a deeper lair, An to a higher schule; Yere ain twa sons ill no be here Till the hallow days o Yule.’ 72A.17	‘O sorrow, sorrow come mak my bed, An dool come lay me doon! For I’ll neither eat nor drink, Nor set a fit on ground.’
 
72B: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford
 
72B.1	DE weel, de weel, my twa young sons, An learn weel at the squeel; Tak no up wi young women-kin, An learn to act the feel.’ 72B.2	But they had na been in Blomsbury A twalmon and a day, Till the twa pretty clerks o Owsenfoord Wi the mayr’s dauchters did lay. 72B.3	Word has gaen till the auld base mayr, As he sat at his wine, That the twa pretty clerks o Owsenford Wi his daughters had lien. 72B.4	Then out bespak the auld base mayr, An an angry man was he: ‘Tomorrow, before I eat meat or drink, I’ll see them hanged hie.’ 72B.5	But word has gaen to Owsenfoord . . . . . Before the letter was read, She let the tears doun fa. * * * * * 72B.6	‘Your sons are weel, an verra weel, An learnin at the squeel; But I fear ye winna see your sons At the holy days o Yeel.’ 72B.7	Their father he went to Bloomsbury, He turnit him roun about, An there he saw his twa braw sons, In the prison, leukin out. 72B.8	‘O lie ye there for owsen, my sons, Or lie ye there for kye? Or lie ye there for dear fond love, Si closs as ye de lie?’ 72B.9	‘We lie na here for owsen, father, We lie na here for kye, But we lie here for dear fond love, An we’re condemned to die.’ * * * * * 72B.10	Then out bespak the clerks’ fader, An a sorry man was he: ‘Gae till you bowers, ye lillie-flowers, For a’ this winna dee.’ 72B.11	Then out bespak the aul base mayr, An an angry man was he: ‘Gar to your bowers, ye vile base whores, Ye’ll see them hanged hie.’ * * * * *
 
72C: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford
 
72C.1	IRR’rrLL tell you a tale, or I’ll sing you a song, Will grieve your heart full sair; How the twa bonny clerks o Oxenford Went aff to learn their lear. 72C.2	Their father lovd them very weel, Their mother muckle mair, And sent them on to Billsbury, To learn deeper lear. 72C.3	Then out it spake their mother dear: ‘Do weel, my sons, do weel, And haunt not wi the young women, Wi them to play the fiel.’ 72C.4	Their father sware them on their souls, Their mother on their life, Never to lie wi the auld mayor’s daughters, Nor kiss the young mayor’s wife. 72C.5	But they hadna been in Billsbury A twallmonth and a day, Till the twa bonny clerks o Oxenford With the mayor’s twa daughters lay. 72C.6	As these twa clerks they sat and wrote, The ladies sewed and sang; There was mair mirth in that chamber Than all fair Ferrol’s land. 72C.7	But word’s gane to the wicked mayor, As he sat at the wine, That the twa bonny clerks o Oxenford With his twa daughters had lyne. 72C.8	‘O have they lain with my daughters dear, Heirs out ower a’ my land, The morn, ere I eat or drink, I’ll hang them with my hand.’ 72C.9	Then he has taen the twa bonny clerks, Bound them frae tap to tae, Till the reddest blood in their body Out ower their nails did gae. 72C.10	‘Whare will I get a little wee boy, Will win gowd to his fee, That will rin on to Oxenford, And that right speedilie?’ 72C.11	Then up it starts a bonny boy, Gold yellow was his hair; I wish his father and mother joy, His true-love muckle mair. 72C.12	Says, Here am I, a little wee boy, Will win gowd to my fee, That will rin on to Oxenford, And that right speedilie. 72C.13	‘Where ye find the grass green growing, Set down your heel and rin, And where ye find the brigs broken, Ye’ll bend your bow and swim. 72C.14	‘But when ye come to Oxenford, Bide neither to chap nor ca, But set your bent bow to your breast, And lightly loup the wa.’ 72C.15	Where he found the grass green growing, He slackt his shoes and ran, And where he found the brigs broken, He bent his bow and swam. 72C.16	And when he came to Oxenford, Did neither chap nor ca, But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly leapt the wa. 72C.17	‘What news, what news, my little wee boy? What news hae ye to me? How are my sons in Billsbury, Since they went far frae me?’ 72C.18	‘Your sons are well, and learning well, But at a higher school, And ye’ll never see your sons again. On the holy days o Yule.’ 72C.19	‘Wi sorrow now gae make my bed, Wi care and caution lay me down; That man on earth shall neer be born Shall see me mair gang on the groun. 72C.20	‘Take twenty pounds in your pocket, And ten and ten to tell them wi, And gin ye getna hynde Henry, Bring ye gay Gilbert hame to me.’ 72C.21	Out it speaks old Oxenford, A sorry, sorry man, was he: Out it speaks old Oxenford, A sorry, sorry man, was he: ‘Your strange wish does me surprise, They are baith there alike to me. 72C.22	‘Wi sorrow now I’ll saddle my horse, And I will gar my bridle ring, And I shall be at Billsbury Before the small birds sweetly sing.’ 72C.23	Then sweetly sang the nightingale, As she sat on the wand, But sair, sair, mournd Oxenford, As he gaed in the strand. 72C.24	When he came to Billsbury, He rade it round about, And at a little shott-window His sons were looking out. 72C.25	‘O lye ye there, my sons,’ he said, ‘For oxen, or for kye? Or is it for a little o deep dear love, Sae sair bound as ye lye?’ 72C.26	‘We lye not here, father,’ they said, ‘For oxen, nor for kye; It’s all for a little o deep dear love, Sae sair bound as we lye. 72C.27	‘O borrow’s, borrow’s, father,’ they said, ‘For the love we bear to thee!’ ‘O never fear, my pretty sons, Well borrowed ye shall be.’ 72C.28	Then he’s gane to the wicked mayor, And hailed him courteouslie: ‘Good day, good day, O Billsbury, God make you safe and free!’ ‘Come sit you down, brave Oxenford, God make you safe and free!’ ‘Come sit you down, brave Oxenford, What are your wills with me?’ 72C.29	‘Will ye gie me my sons again, For gold or yet for fee? Will ye gie me my sons again, For’s sake that died on tree?’ 72C.30	‘I winna gie you your sons again, For gold nor yet for fee; But if ye’ll stay a little while, Ye’se see them hanged hie.’ 72C.31	Ben it came the mayor’s daughters, Wi kirtle, coat alone; Their eyes did sparkle like the gold, As they tript on the stone. 72C.32	‘Will ye gie us our loves, father, For gold or yet for fee? Or will ye take our own sweet life, And let our true-loves be?’ 72C.33	He’s taen a whip into his hand, And lashed them wondrous sair: Gae to your bowers, ye vile rank whores, Ye’se never see them mair. 72C.34	Then out it speaks old Oxenford, A sorry man was he: ‘Gang to your bowers, ye lily-flowers, For a’ this maunna be.’ 72C.35	Out it speaks him hynde Henry: ‘Come here, Janet, to me; Will ye gie me my faith and troth, And love, as I gae thee?’ 72C.36	‘Ye shall hae your faith and troth, Wi God’s blessing and mine;’ And twenty times she kissd his mouth, Her father looking on. 72C.37	Then out it speaks him gay Gilbert: ‘Come here, Margaret, to me; Will ye gie me my faith and troth, And love, as I gae thee?’ 72C.38	‘Yes, ye shall get your faith and troth, Wi God’s blessing and mine;’ And twenty times she kissd his mouth, Her father looking on. 72C.39	‘Ye’ll take aff your twa black hats, Lay them down on a stone, That nane may ken that ye are clerks Till ye are putten down.’ 72C.40	The bonny clerks they died that morn, Their loves died lang ere noon; Their father and mother for sorrow died, They all died very soon. 72C.41	These six souls went up to heaven, I wish sae may we a’! The mighty mayor went down to hell, For wrong justice and law.
 
72D: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford
 
72D.1	OH I will tell a tale of woe, Which makes my heart richt sair; The Clerk’s two sons of Oxenfoord Are too soon gone to lair. 72D.2	They thought their father’s service mean, Their mother’s no great affair; But they would go to fair Berwick, To learn [some] unco lair. 72D.3	They had not been in fair Berwick A twelve month and a day, Till the clerk’s two sons of Oxenfoord With the mayor’s two daughters lay. 72D.4	This word came to the mighty mayor, As he hunted the rae, That the clerks two sons of Oxenfoord With his two daughters lay. 72D.5	‘If they have lain with my daughters, The heirs of all my land, I make a vow, and will keep it true, To hang them with my hand.’ 72D.6	When he was certain of the fact, An angry man was he, And he has taken these two brothers, And hanged them on the tree. 72D.7	Word it has come to Oxenfoord’s clerk, Ere it was many day, That his two sons sometime ago With the mayor’s two daughters lay. 72D.8	‘O saddle a horse to me,’ he cried, ‘O do it quick and soon, That I may ride to fair Berwick, And see what can be done.’ 72D.9	But when he came to fair Berwick A grieved man was he, When that he saw his two bonnie sons Both hanging on the tree. 72D.10	‘O woe is me,’ the clerk cried out, ‘This dismal sight to see, All the whole comfort of my life Dead hanging on the tree!’ 72D.11	He turned his horse’s head about, Making a piteous moan, And all the way to Oxenfoord Did sad and grievously groan. 72D.12	His wife did hastily cry out, ‘You only do I see; What have you done with my two sons, You should have brought to me?’ 72D.13	‘I put them to some higher lair, And to a deeper scule; You will not see your bonnie sons Till the haly days of Yule. 72D.14	‘And I will spend my days in grief, Will never laugh nor sing; There’s never a man in Oxenfoord Shall hear my bridle ring.’


 
73A: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73A.1	LORD THOMAS and Fair Annet Sate a’ day on a hill; Whan night was cum, and sun was sett, They had not talkt their fill. 73A.2	Lord Thomas said a word in jest, Fair Annet took it ill: ‘A, I will nevir wed a wife Against my ain friends’ will.’ 73A.3	‘Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife, A wife wull neir wed yee:’ Sae he is hame to tell his mither, And knelt upon his knee. 73A.4	‘O rede, O rede, mither,’ he says, ‘A gude rede gie to mee; O sall I tak the nut-browne bride, And let Fair Annet bee?’ 73A.5	‘The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear, Fair Annet she has gat nane; And the little beauty Fair Annet haes O it wull soon be gane.’ 73A.6	And he has till his brother gane: ‘Now, brother, rede ye mee; A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, And let Fair Annet bee?’ 73A.7	‘The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, The nut-browne bride has kye; I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride, And cast Fair Annet bye.’ I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride, And cast Fair Annet bye.’ 73A.8	‘Her oxen may dye i the house, billie, And her kye into the byre, And I sall hae nothing to mysell Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.’ 73A.9	And he has till his sister gane: ‘Now, sister, rede ye mee; O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, And set Fair Annet free?’ 73A.10	‘I’se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas, And let the browne bride alane; Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace, What is this we brought hame!’ 73A.11	‘No, I will tak my mither’s counsel, And marrie me owt o hand; And I will tak the nut-browne bride, Fair Annet may leive the land.’ 73A.12	Up then rose Fair Annet’s father, Twa hours or it wer day, And he is gane into the bower Wherein Fair Annet lay. 73A.13	‘Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,’ he says, ‘Put on your silken sheene; Let us gae to St. Marie’s kirke, And see that rich weddeen.’ 73A.14	‘My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, And dress to me my hair; ‘My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, And dress to me my hair; Whaireir yee laid a plait before, See yee lay ten times mair. 73A.15	‘My maids, gae to my dressing-room, And dress to me my smock; The one half is o the holland fine, The other o needle-work.’ 73A.16	The horse Fair Annet rade upon, He amblit like the wind; Wi siller he was shod before, Wi burning gowd behind. 73A.17	Four and twanty siller bells Wer a’ tyed till his mane, And yae tift o the norland wind, They tinkled ane by ane. 73A.18	Four and twanty gay gude knichts Rade by Fair Annet’s side, And four and twanty fair ladies, As gin she had bin a bride. 73A.19	And whan she cam to Marie’s kirk, She sat on Marie’s stean: The cleading that Fair Annet had on It skinkled in their een. 73A.20	And whan she cam into the kirk, She shimmerd like the sun; The belt that was about her waist Was a’ wi pearles bedone. 73A.21	She sat her by the nut-browne bride, And her een they wer sae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride, Whan Fair Annet drew near. 73A.22	He had a rose into his hand, He gae it kisses three, And reaching by the nut-browne bride, Laid it on Fair Annet’s knee. 73A.23	Up than spak the nut-browne bride, She spak wi meikle spite: ‘And whair gat ye that rose-water, That does mak yee sae white?’ 73A.24	‘O I did get the rose-water Whair ye wull neir get nane, For I did get that very rose-water Into my mither’s wame.’ 73A.25	The bride she drew a long bodkin Frae out her gay head-gear, And strake Fair Annet unto the heart, That word spak nevir mair. 73A.26	Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale, And marvelit what mote bee; But whan he saw her dear heart’s blude, A’ wood-wroth wexed hee. 73A.27	He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, That was sae sharp and meet, And drave it into the nut-browne bride, That fell deid at his feit. 73A.28	‘Now stay for me, dear Annet,’ he sed, ‘Now stay, my dear,’ he cry’d; Then strake the dagger untill his heart, And fell deid by her side. 73A.29	Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa, Fair Annet within the quiere, And o the tane thair grew a birk, The other a bonny briere. 73A.30	And ay they grew, and ay they threw, As they wad faine be neare; And by this ye may ken right weil They were twa luvers deare.
 
73B: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73B.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie Sat a’ day on yon hill; Though they had sat til the leventh o June, They wad na got their fill. 73B.2	But Willie spak a word amiss, Fair Annie took it ill: ‘I’ll neer marry a tocherless lass Agen my ain friends’ will.’ 73B.3	Then on she lap, and awa she gat, As fast as she could hie: ‘Fare ye weel now, Sweet Willie, It’s fare ye weel a wee.’ 73B.4	Then he is gane to his father’s ha, And tirled at the pin; Then up and rase his father proud. And loot Sweet Willie in. 73B.5	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, father dear, Yea both of us into ane; Whether sall I marry Fair Annie, Or bring the brown bride hame?’ 73B.6	‘The brown bride she has houses and land, And Annie she has nane; Sae on my blessing, my auld son, Bring ye Brown Bride hame.’ 73B.7	Then he is to his mither’s bouer, And tirled at the pin; Then up and rose his mother dear To let Sweet Willie in. 73B.8	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, mother dear, Yea baith o us into ane; Whether sall I marry Fair Annie, Or bring the brown bride hame?’ 73B.9	‘The brown bride she has gowd and gear, Fair Annie she has nane; And for my blessing, my auld son, Bring ye Brown Bride hame.’ 73B.10	Then he is to his sister’s bouer, And tirled at the pin; And wha sae ready as his sister dear To let her brither in. 73B.11	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, sister fair, Us baith yea into ane; Whether sall I marry Fair Annie, Or bring the brown bride hame?’ 73B.12	‘The brown bride she has horse and kye, And Annie she has nane; But for my love, my brither dear, Bring hame the fair woman. 73B.13	‘Your horse may dee into the staw, The kye into the byre, And ye’ll hae nocht but a howther o dirt, To feed about your fire.’ 73B.14	Then he is to Fair Annie’s bouer, And tirled at the pin; And wha sae ready as Fair Annie To let Sweet Willie in. 73B.15	‘You’re welcome here to me, Willie, You’re welcome here to me:’ ‘I’m na welcome to thee, Annie, I’m na welcome to thee, For I’m come to bid ye to my wedding, It’s gey sad news to thee.’ 73B.16	‘It’s gey sad news to me, Willie, The saddest ye could tell; It’s gey sad news to me, Willie, That shoud been bride mysel.’ 73B.17	Then she is to her father gane, And bowed low on her knee: . . . . . . . . . . 73B.18	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, father dear, Us baith yea into ane; Whether sall I gang to Willie’s wedding, Or sall I stay at hame?’ 73B.19	‘Whare ane will be your frien, Annie, Twenty will be your fae;’ ‘But prove it gude, or prove it bad, To Willie’s wedding I’ll gae. 73B.20	‘I’ll na put on the grisly black, Nor yet the dowie green, But I’ll put on a scarlet robe To sheen like onie queen.’ 73B.21	She’s orderd the smiths to the smithy, To shoe her a riding steed; She has orderd the tailors to her bouer, To dress her a riding weed. 73B.22	She has calld her maries to her bour, To lay gowd on her hair: ‘Whare e’er ye put ae plait before, See ye lay ten times mair.’ 73B.23	The steed Fair Annie rade upon, He bounded like the wind; Wi silver he was shod before, Wi burning gowd behind. 73B.24	And four and twenty siller bells War ti d til his mane; Wi ae blast o the norland wind They tinkled ane by ane. 73B.25	And whan she cam unto the place, And lichted on the green, Ilka ane that did her see Thought that she was a queen. 73B.26	‘Is this your bride, Sweet Willie?’ she said, ‘I think she’s wondrous wan; Ye micht have had as fair a bride As eer the sun sheend on.’ 73B.27	‘O haud your tongue, Fair Annie,’ he said, ‘Wi your talk let me abee; For better I loe your little finger Than the brown bride’s haill bodie.’ 73B.28	Then out and spak the nut-brown bride, And she spak out of spite: ‘O whare gat ye the water, Annie, That washd your face sae white?’ 73B.29	‘O I gat een the water,’ quo she, ‘Whare ye will neer get nane; It’s I gat een the water,’ quo she, ‘Aneath yon marble stane.’ 73B.30	Then out and spake the nut-brown bride, And she spak yet again: ‘O whare gat ye the claith, Annie, That dried your face sae clean?’ 73B.31	‘O I gat een the claith,’ quo she, ‘Whare ye will neer get nane; It’s I gat een the claith,’ quo she, ‘Aneath yon bouer o bane.’ 73B.32	The brown bride had a little penknife, Which she kept secret there; She stabbd Fair Annie to the heart, A deep wound and a sair. 73B.33	It’s out and spak he Sweet Willie, And he spak yet again: ‘O what’s the matter wi thee, Annie, That ye do look sae wan?’ 73B.34	‘Oh are ye blind, Willie?’ she said, ‘Or do ye no weel see? I think ye micht see my heart’s blude, Come rinning by my knee.’ 73B.35	Then Willie took a little sword, Which he kept secret there, And strak the brown bride to the heart, A word she neer spak mair. 73B.36	And after that a’ this was dune, He drew it through the strae, And through his ain fair bodie He causd the cauld iron gae. 73B.37	The last words that Sweet Willie spak, His heart was almaist gane; ‘May never a young man like me Have sic a sad wedding. 73B.38	‘For gear will come, and gear will gang, And gear’s ae but a lend, And monie a ane for warld’s gear A silly brown bride brings hame.’ And monie a ane for warld’s gear A silly brown bride brings hame.’ 73B.39	Sweet Willie was buried in Mary’s kirk, And Annie in Mary’s quire, And out o the ane there grew a birk, And out o the ither a brier. 73B.40	And ae they grew, and ae they threw, Until the twa did meet, That ilka ane micht plainly see They were true lovers sweet.
 
73C: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73C.1	‘COME read my rede, O mother dear, Come riddle it all in one; O whether will I take Fair Annie, Or bring the brown bride home?’ 73C.2	‘The brown, brown bride has kye and ewes, Fair Annie she has none; She has nothing but a bonny, bonny face, And that’ll soon be gone.’ 73C.3	‘Where will I get a pretty little boy, That’ll rin my errands soon, That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower, And bid her to my wedding?’ 73C.4	‘Here am I, a pretty little boy, That’ll rin your errands soon, That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower, And bid her to your wedding.’ 73C.5	‘Forbid her to put on her silks so black, Or yet her silks so brown; But she must put on her suddled silks, That she wears up and down. 73C.6	‘Forbid her to put on her silks so green, Or yet her sils so gray; But she must put on her suddled silks, That she wears every day.’ 73C.7	When he gade to Fair Annie’s bower, He tirled at the pin; So ready was Fair Annie hersell To open and let him in. 73C.8	‘What news, what news, my little boy? What news hast thou to me?’ ‘You must prepare for Lord Thomas’ wedding, And that’s bad news for thee.’ 73C.9	‘Good news, good news,’ Fair Annie says, ‘Good news is it for me, For me to be bride and him bridegroom, And that’s good news for me.’ 73C.10	‘He forbids thee to put on thy silks so black, Or yet thy silks so brown; But thou must put on thy suddled silks, That thou wears up and down. 73C.11	‘He forbids you to put on thy silks so green, Or yet thy silks so gray; But thou must on thy suddled silks, That thou wears every day.’ 73C.12	‘There are smiths into my smiddy-bour That’ll dress to me a steed, There are tailors in my tailor-house That’ll dress to me a weed. 73C.13	‘There are maidens in my maiden-bower That’ll lay gold in my hair, And where eer there were ane link before, It shall be nine times mair.’ 73C.14	Then Annie got herself attired, In all things very fine, With red ribbons, and silks so fair, That owre her shoulders shine. 73C.15	When she came to Lord Thomas’ yett, She shined amang them a’, And the buttons on Lord Thomas’ coat Brusted and brak in twa. 73C.16	‘Brown, brown is your steed,’ she says, ‘But browner is your bride; But gallant is that handkerchy That hideth her din hide.’ 73C.17	‘O hold thy peace, Fair Annie,’ he says, ‘Speak not of that to me, For happy is that bonny, bonny lad That leads his life with thee.’ 73C.18	Then out bespoke the brown, brown bride, And she spoke out with spite: ‘O whare gets thou that water-cherry, That washes thee so white?’ 73C.19	‘I got in my father’s garden, Below an olive tree, And although thou war to seek long seven years That water thou’ll never see. 73C.20	‘Tho thou hast got Lord Thomas’ hand That water thou’ll neer see; For thou’s sunbrunt from thy mother’s womb, And thou’ll never be like me.’ * * * * *
 
73D: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73D.1	LORD THOMAS he was a bold forrester, And a chaser of the king’s deer; Fair Ellinor was a fair woman, And Lord Thomas he loved her dear. 73D.2	‘Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,’ he said, ‘And riddle us both as one, Whether I shall marry Fair Ellinor, And let the brown girl alone.’ 73D.3	‘The brown girl she has got houses and lands, And Fair Ellinor she has got none; Therefore I charge you on my blessing To bring me the brown girl home.’ 73D.4	And as it befell on a high holidaye, As many did more beside, Lord Thomas he went to Fair Ellinor, That should have been his bride. 73D.5	But when he came to Fair Ellinor’s bower, He knocked there at the ring; But who was so ready as Fair Ellinor For to let Lord Thomas in. 73D.6	‘What news, what news, Lord Thomas,’ she said, ‘What news hast thou brought unto me?’ ‘I am come to bid thee to my wedding, And that is bad news to thee.’ 73D.7	‘Oh God forbid, Lord Thomas,’ she said, ‘That such a thing should be done; I thought to have been thy bride my own self, And you to have been the brid’s-groom. 73D.8	‘Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,’ she sayd, ‘And riddle it all in one; Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas’s wedding, Or whether I shall tarry at home.’ 73D.9	‘There’s many that are your friends, daughter, And many that are your fo; Therefore I charge you on my blessing, To Lord Thomas’s wedding don’t go.’ 73D.10	‘There’s many that are my friends, mother, If a thousand more were my foe, Betide my life, betide my death, To Lord Thomas’s wedding I’le go.’ 73D.11	She cloathed herself in gallant attyre, And her merry men all in green, And as they rid thorough everye towne, They took her to have been a queene. 73D.12	But when she came to Lord Thomas’s gate, She knocked there at the ring; But who was so ready as Lord Thomas To lett Fair Ellinor in. 73D.13	‘Is this your bride?’ Fair Ellin she sayd, ‘Methinks she looks wondrous browne; Thou mightest have had as fair a woman As ever trod on the ground.’ 73D.14	‘Despise her not, Fair Ellin,’ he sayd, ‘Despise her not now unto mee; For better I love thy little finger Than all her whole body.’ 73D.15	This browne bride had a little penknife, That was both long and sharp, And betwixt the short ribs and the long Prickd Fair Ellinor to the heart. 73D.16	‘Oh Christ now save thee,’ Lord Thomas he said, ‘Methinks thou lookst wondrous wan; Thou wast usd for to look with as fresh a colour As ever the sun shin’d on.’ 73D.17	‘Oh art thou blind, Lord Thomas?’ she sayd, ‘Or canst thou not very well see? Oh dost thou not see my own heart’s blood Runs trickling down my knee?’ 73D.18	Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side, As he walked about the hall; He cut off his bride’s head from her shoulders, And he threw it against the wall. 73D.19	He set the hilte against the ground, And the point against his heart; There was never three lovers that ever met More sooner they did depart.
 
73E: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73E.1	Sweet Willie and Fair Annie Sat a’ day on a hill, And though they had sitten seven year, They neer wad had their fill. 73E.2	Sweet Willie said a word in haste, And Annie took it ill: ‘I winna wed a tocherless maid, Against my parents’ will.’ 73E.3	‘Ye’re come o the rich, Willie, And I’m come o the poor; I’m oer laigh to be your bride, And I winna be your whore.’ 73E.4	O Annie she’s gane till her bower, And Willie down the den, And he’s come till his mither’s bower, By the lei light o the moon. 73E.5	‘O sleep ye, wake ye, mither?’ he says, ‘Or are ye the bower within?’ ‘I sleep richt aft, I wake richt aft; What want ye wi me, son? 73E.6	‘Whare hae ye been a’ nicht, Willie? O wow, ye’ve tarried lang!’ ‘I have been courtin Fair Annie, And she is frae me gane. 73E.7	‘There is twa maidens in a bower; Which o them sall I bring hame? The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows, And Fair Annie has nane.’ 73E.8	‘It’s an ye wed the nut-brown maid, I’ll heap gold wi my hand; But an ye wed her Fair Annie, I’ll straik it wi a wand. 73E.9	‘The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows, And Fair Annie has nane; And Willie, for my benison, The nut-brown maid bring hame.’ 73E.10	‘O I sall wed the nut-brown maid, And I sall bring her hame; But peace nor rest between us twa, Till death sinder’s again. 73E.11	‘But, alas, alas!’ says Sweet Willie, ‘O fair is Annie’s face!’ ‘But what’s the matter, my son Willie? She has nae ither grace.’ 73E.12	‘Alas, alas!’ says Sweet Willie, ‘But white is Annie’s hand!’ ‘But what’s the matter, my son Willie? She hasna a fur o land.’ 73E.13	‘Sheep will die in cots, mither, And owsen die in byre; And what’s this warld’s wealth to me, An I get na my heart’s desire? 73E.14	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy, That wad fain win hose and shoon, That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower, Wi the lei light o the moon? 73E.15	‘Ye’ll tell her to come to Willie’s weddin, The morn at twal at noon; Ye’ll tell her to come to Willie’s weddin, The heir o Duplin town. 73E.16	‘She manna put on the black, the black, Nor yet the dowie brown, But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white, And her bonny locks hangin down.’ 73E.17	He is on to Annie’s bower, And tirled at the pin, And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel To open and let him in. 73E.18	‘Ye are bidden come to Willie’s weddin, The morn at twal at noon; Ye are bidden come to Willie’s weddin, The heir of Duplin town. 73E.19	‘Ye manna put on the black, the black, Nor yet the dowie brown, But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white, And your bonny locks hangin down.’ 73E.20	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin, The morn at twal at noon; It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin, But I rather the mass had been mine. 73E.21	‘Maidens, to my bower come, And lay gold on my hair; And whare ye laid ae plait before, Ye’ll now lay ten times mair. 73E.22	‘Taylors, to my bower come, And mak to me a weed; And smiths, unto my stable come, And shoe to me a steed.’ 73E.23	At every tate o Annie’s horse mane There hang a silver bell, And there came a wind out frae the south, Which made them a’ to knell. 73E.24	And whan she came to Mary-kirk, And sat down in the deas, The light that came frae Fair Annie Enlightend a’ the place. 73E.25	But up and stands the nut-brown bride, Just at her father’s knee: ‘O wha is this, my father dear, That blinks in Willie’s ee?’ ‘O this is Willie’s first true-love, Before he loved thee.’ 73E.26	‘If that be Willie’s first true-love, He might hae latten me be; She has as much gold on ae finger As I’ll wear till I die. 73E.27	‘O whare got ye that water, Annie, That washes you sae white?’ ‘I got it in my mither’s wambe, Whare ye’ll neer get the like. 73E.28	‘For ye’ve been washd in Dunny’s well, And dried on Dunny’s dyke, And a’ the water in the sea Will never wash ye white.’ 73E.29	Willie’s taen a rose out o his hat, Laid it in Annie’s lap: . . . . . ‘Hae, wear it for my sake.’ 73E.30	‘Tak up and wear your rose, Willie, And wear’t wi mickle care; For the woman sall never bear a son That will make my heart sae sair.’ 73E.31	Whan night was come, and day was gane, And a’ man boun to bed, Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride In their chamber were laid. 73E.32	They werena weel lyen down, And scarcely fa’n asleep, Whan up and stands she Fair Annie, Just up at Willie’s feet. 73E.33	‘Weel brook ye o your brown, brown bride, Between ye and the wa; And sae will I o my winding sheet, That suits me best ava. 73E.34	‘Weel brook ye o your brown, brown bride, Between ye and the stock; And sae will I o my black, black kist, That has neither key nor lock.’ 73E.35	Sad Willie raise, put on his claise, Drew till him his hose and shoon, And he is on to Annie’s bower, By the lei light o the moon. 73E.36	The firsten bower that he came till, There was right dowie wark; Her mither and her three sisters Were makin to Annie a sark. 73E.37	The nexten bower that he came till, There was right dowie cheir; Her father and her seven brethren Were makin to Annie a bier. 73E.38	The lasten bower that he came till, . . . . . . . . . . And Fair Annie streekit there. 73E.39	He’s lifted up the coverlet, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73E.40	‘It’s I will kiss your bonny cheek, And I will kiss your chin, And I will kiss your clay-cald lip, But I’ll never kiss woman again. 73E.41	‘The day ye deal at Annie’s burial The bread but and the wine; Before the morn at twall o’clock, They’ll deal the same at mine.’ 73E.42	The tane was buried in Mary’s kirk, The tither in Mary’s quire, And out o the tane there grew a birk, And out o the tither a brier. 73E.43	And ay they grew, and ay the drew, Untill they twa did meet, And every ane that past them by Said, Thae’s been lovers sweet!
 
73F: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73F.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie, As they sat on yon hill, If they hed sat frae morn till even, They hed no talked their fill. * * * * * 73F.2	Willie’s dune him hame again, As fast as gang could he: ‘An askin, an askin, my mother, And I pray ye’ll grant it me. 73F.3	‘Oh will I merry the nut-brown maid, Wi her oxen and her kye? Or will I merry my Fair Annie, That hes my heart for aye?’ 73F.4	‘Oh if ye merry your Fair Annie, Your mither’s malison you’ll wun; But if ye merry the nut-brown may, Ye will get her blessin.’ 73F.5	‘Oh voe’s me, mother,’ Willie said, ‘For Annie’s bonny face!’ ‘Little metter o that, my son Willie, When Annie hesna grace.’ 73F.6	‘Oh voe’s me, mither,’ Willie said, ‘For Annie’s bonny han!’ ‘And what’s the metter, son Willie, When Annie hesna lan? 73F.7	‘But ye will merry the nut-brown may, Wi her oxen and her kye; But ye will merry the nut-brown may, For she hes my hert for aye.’ 73F.8	Out and spak his sister Jane, Where she sat be the fire: ‘What’s the metter, brother Willie? Tack ye your heart’s desire. 73F.9	‘The oxen may die into the pleuch, The cow drown i the myre; And what’s the metter, brother Willie? Tak ye your heart’s desire.’ 73F.10	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy, That will wun hose and shune, That will run on to Anny’s bower, And come right sune again?’ 73F.11	‘Ye’ll bid her come to Willie’s weddin, The morn is the day; Ye’ll bid her come to Willie’s weddin, And no make no delay. 73F.12	‘Ye’ll forbid her to put on the black, the black, Or yet the dowie brown; But the white silk and the reed skarlet, That will shine frae town to town.’ 73F.13	He is on to Anie’s bower, And tirled at the pin, And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel To let the ladie in. 73F.14	‘Ye’r bidden to come to Willie’s weddin, The morn is the day; Ye’r bidden come to Willie’s weddin, And no mack no delay. 73F.15	‘Ye’r forbidden to put on the black, the black, Or yet the dowie brown; But the white silk and the red scarlet, That will shine frae town to town. 73F.16	‘Ye’r forbidden to put on the black, the black, Or yet the dowie gray; But the white silk and the red scarlet, That will shine frae brae to brae.’ 73F.17	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin, Gif the morn be the day; It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin, And no mack no delay.’ 73F.18	Annie’s steed was silver shod, And golden graithed behin; At every teet o her horse mane A silver bell did ring. 73F.19	When Annie was in her sadle set, She glanced like the moon; There was as much gould abov her brow Would buy an earldom. 73F.20	When Annie was on her sadel set, She glanced like the fire; There was as much gould above her brow Was worth a yearl’s hire. 73F.21	Annie gaed in the heigh, heigh hill, And Willie the dowie glen; Annie alane shone brighter Than Willie and a’ his men. 73F.22	‘Oh wha is that, my ane Willie, That glances in your ee?’ ‘Oh it is Annie, my first fore love, Come till see you and me.’ 73F.23	‘Oh far got ye that water, Annie, That washes ye so wan?’ ‘Oh I got it aneth yon marble stane, Where ye will nere get nane. 73F.24	‘Ye’ve been brunt sare anent the sun, And rocket i the reek; And tho ye wad wash till doom’s day, Ye wad never be so white.’ 73F.25	‘If this be Annie, your first fore love, Come our weddin to see, She has by far owr brent a brow To lat ye bide by me.’ 73F.26	When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men bun to bed, Sweet Willie and his nut-brown bride In ae chamber were laid. 73F.27	The hedna weel layn down, layn down, But nor hed fallen asleep, When up and started Fair Annie, And stud at Willie’s feet. 73F.28	‘Vo be to you, nut-brown bride, Wi yer oxen and your sheep! It is Annie, my first fore love, And I fear sair she is dead. 73F.29	‘Vo be te you, nut-brown bride, An ill death you betide! For you’ve parted me and my first fore love, And I fear death is her guide. 73F.30	‘You’ll seddle to me the black, the black, You’ll seddle to me the brown, Till I ride on to Annie’s bower And see how she is bune.’ 73F.31	When he came to Fair Annie’s bower, And lighted and gaed in, . . . . . . . . . . . 73F.32	Her father was at her heed, her heed, Her mother at her feet, Her sister she was at her side, Puttin on her winding sheet. 73F.33	‘It’s kiss will I yer cheek, Annie, And kiss will I your chin, And I will kiss your wan, wan lips, Tho there be no breath within. 73F.34	‘Ye birl, ye birle at my luve’s wake The white bread and the wine, And or the morn at this same time Ye’ll brile the same at mine.’ 73F.35	They birled, they birled at Annies wake The white bread and the wine, And ere the morn at that same time At his they birled the same. 73F.36	The one was buried at Mary’s kirk, The other at Mary’s quire, And throw the one there sprang a birk, And throw the other a brier. 73F.37	And ay at every year’s ane They grew them near and near, And every one that passed them by Said, They be lovers dear.
 
73G: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73G.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie, They sat on yon hill, And frae the morning till night This twa neer talked their fill. 73G.2	Willie spak a word in jest, And Ann took it ill: ‘We’s court na mare maidens, Against our parent’s will.’ 73G.3	‘It’s na against our parent’s will,’ Fair Annie she did say, . . . . . . . . . . 73G.4	Willie is hame to his bower, To his book all alane, And Fair Annie is to her bower, To her book and her seam. 73G.5	Sweet Willie is to his mother dear, Fell low down on his knee: ‘An asking, my mother dear, And ye grant it to me; O will I marry the nut-brown may, An lat Fair Annie gae?’ 73G.6	‘The nut-brown may has ousen, Willie, The nut-brown may has key; An ye will winn my blessing, Willie, And latt Fair Annie be.’ 73G.7	He did him to his father dear, Fell low down on his knee: ‘An asking, my father, An ye man grant it me.’ 73G.8	‘Ask on, my ae son Willie, Ye’r sur yer askin’s free; Except it is to marry her Fair Annie, And that manna be.’ 73G.9	Out spak his little sister, As she [sat] by the fire: ‘The ox-leg will brack in the plough, And the cow will drown in the mire. 73G.10	‘An Willie will ha nathing But the dam to sitt by the fire; Fair Annie will sit in her beagly bower, An winn a earl’s hire.’ 73G.11	‘Fair faa ye, my little sister, A guid dead mat ye die! An ever I hae goud, Well tochered sall ye be.’ 73G.12	He’s awa to Fair Annie, As fast as gan could he: ‘O will ye come to my marriage? The morn it is to be.’ 73G.13	‘O I will come to yer marriage, The morn, gin I can win.’ . . . . . . . . . . 73G.14	Annie did her to her father dear, Fell down on her knee: ‘An askin, my father, And ye man grant it me; Lat me to Sweet Willie’s marriage, The morn it is to be.’ 73G.15	‘Yer horse sall be siller shod afore, An guid red goud ahin, An bells in his mane, To ring against the win.’ 73G.16	She did her to her mother dear, Fell down on her knee: ‘Will ye lat me to Willie’s marriage? The morn it is to be;’ ‘I’ll lat ye to Willie’s marriage, An we the morn see.’ 73G.17	Whan Annie was in her saddle set She flam’d against the fire; The girdle about her sma middle Wad a won an earl’s hire. 73G.18	Whan they came to Mary kirk, And on to Mary quire, ‘O far gat ye that watter, Ann, That washes ye sae clear?’ 73G.19	‘I got it in my father’s garden, Aneth a marbell stane; . . . . . . . . . . 73G.20	‘O whar gat ye that water, Annie, That washes ye sae fite?’ ‘I gat it in my mother’s womb, Whar ye[’s] never get the like. 73G.21	‘For ye ha been christned wi moss-water, An roked in the reak, An ser brunt in yer mither’s womb, For I think ye’ll neer be fite.’ 73G.22	The nut-brown bride pat her hand in . . . at Annie[’s] left ear, And gin her . . . . A deep wound and a sare. 73G.23	Than . . Annie ged on her horse back, An fast away did ride, But lang or cock’s crowing, Fair Annie was dead. 73G.24	Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung, An a’ man boun to bed, Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride In a chamber were laid. 73G.25	But up and wakend him Sweet Willie Out of his dreary dream: ‘I dreamed a dream this night, God read a’ dream to guid! 73G.26	‘That Fair Annies bowr was full of gentlemen, An herself was dead; But I will on to Fair Annie, An si’t if it be guid.’ 73G.27	Seven lang mile or he came near, He heard a dolefull chear, Her father and her seven brithern, Walking at her bier; The half of it guid red goud, The other silver clear. 73G.28	‘Ye deal at my love’s leak The white bread an the wine; But on the morn at this time Ye’s dee the like at mine.’ 73G.29	The ane was buried at Mary kirk, The ither at Mary quire; Out of the ane grew a birk, Out of the ither a briar. 73G.30	An aye the langer that they grew, They came the ither near, An by that ye might a well kent They were twa lovers dear.
 
73H: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73H.1	FAIR ANNIE and Sweet Willie, As they talked on yon hill, Though they had talked a lang summer day, They wad na hae talked their fill. 73H.2	‘If you would be a good woman, Annie, An low leave a’ your pride, In spite of a’ my friends, Annie, I wad mak you my bride.’ 73H.3	‘Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie, An thin, thin lie mine; An little wad a’ your friends think O sic a kin as mine. 73H.4	‘Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie, Down by the coving-tree; An little wad a’ your friends think O sic a bride as me. 73H.5	‘O Fair Annie, O Fair Annie, This nicht ye’ve said me no; But lang or ever this day month I’ll make your heart as sore.’ 73H.6	It’s Willie he went home that night, An a sick man lay he down; An ben came Willie’s auld mither, An for nae gude she came. * * * * * 73H.7	‘It’s if ye marry Fair Annie, My malison ye’s hae; But if ye marry the nut-brown may, My blessin an ye’s hae.’ 73H.8	‘Mother, for your malison, An mother, for your wis, It’s I will marry the nut-brown may, . . . . . 73H.9	. . . . . . . . . . It’s up an spak his sister, . . . . . 73H.10	‘The owsen may hang in the pleugh, The kye drown in the myre, An he’ll hae naething but a dirty drab To sit doun by the fire.’ * * * * * 73H.11	‘Where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoon, That will rin on to Annie’s bower, An haste him back again?’ 73H.12	‘It’s I have run your errands, Willie, An happy hae I been; It’s I will rin your errands, Willie, Wi the saut tears in my een.’ 73H.13	‘When ye come to Annie’s bower, She will be at her dine; And bid her come to Willie’s weddin, On Monday in good time. 73H.14	‘Tell her neither to put on the dowie black, Nor yet the mournfu brown, But the gowd sae reed, and the silver white, An her hair weel combed down. 73H.15	‘Tell her to get a tailor to her bower, To shape for her a weed, And a smith to her smithy, To shoe for her a steed. 73H.16	‘To be shod wi silver clear afore, An gold graithed behind, An every foot the foal sets down, The gold lie on the ground.’ 73H.17	It’s when he came to Annie’s bower, It’s she was at her dine: ‘Ye’re bidden come to Willie’s weddin, On Monday in good time. 73H.18	‘You’re neither to put on the dowie black, Nor get the mournfu brown, But the gowd sae reid, an the silver white, An yere hair well combed doun. 73H.19	‘You’re to get a tailor to your bower, To shape for you a weed, And likewise a smith to your smithy, To shoe for you a steed. 73H.20	‘To be shod with silver clear afore, An gold graithed behind, An every foot the foal sets down, The gold lie on the ground.’ 73H.21	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin, I rather it had been mine; It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin, On Monday in good time. 73H.22	‘It’s I’ll send to Willie a toweld silk, To hing below his knee. An ilka time he looks on it, He’ll hae gude mind o me. * * * * * 73H.23	‘An askin, father, an askin, An I hope you will grant me; For it is the last askin That ever I’ll ask of thee.’ 73H.24	‘Ask me, Annie, gold,’ he said, ‘An ask me, Annie, fee, But dinna ask me Sweet Willie, Your bedfellow to be.’ 73H.25	‘It’s I will ask you gold, father, Sae will I ask you fee, But I needna ask you Sweet Willie, My bedfellow to be. 73H.26	‘For I am bidden to Willie’s weddin, On Monday in good time, . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 73H.27	On every tait o her horse’s mane A siller bell did hing, An on every tait o her horse’s tail A golden bell did ring. 73H.28	Twal and twal rade her afore, An twal an twal ahind, An twal an twal on every side, To hold her frae the wind. 73H.29	Fair Annie shined mair on the top o the hill Than Willie did in the glen; Fair Annie shined mair on the heid o the hill Than Willie wi a’ his men. 73H.30	Whan she came to Mary’s kirk, She lighted on the stane; An when she came to the kirk-door, She bade the bride gae in. 73H.31	‘Clear, clear is your day, Willie, But brown, brown is your bride; Clear, clear is her lawn curches, But weel dunned is her hide.’ 73H.32	‘Where got ye yon water, Annie, That has made you so white?’ ‘I got it in my father’s garden, Below yon hollan dyke. 73H.33	‘But ye hae been washed i the moss water, An rocked in the reek; Ye hae been brunt in your mither’s wame, An ye will neer be white.’ 73H.34	‘Whatna fool were ye, Willie, To lay your love on me; She’s mair gowd on her heid this day Than I’ll wear till I die!’ 73H.35	‘I’ve laid nae love on you, brown may, I’ve laid nae love on you; I’ve mair love for Fair Annie this day Than I’ll hae for you till I dee.’ * * * * * 73H.36	‘If you will neither eat nor drink, You’ll see good game an play;’ But she turned her horse head to the hill, An swift she rode away. * * * * * 73H.37	When they were all at supper set, . . . . . Till he went to Fair Annie’s bower, By the ley licht o the mune. 73H.38	An when he came to Annie’s bower, Annie was lying deid, An seven o Annie’s sisters an sisters’ bairns Were sewing at Annie’s weed. 73H.39	‘It’s I will take your hand, Annie, Since ye wald neer take mine; The woman shall never have the hand That I’ll touch after thine. 73H.40	‘An I will kiss your mouth, Annie, Since ye will never kiss mine; The woman shall never have the lips That I’ll kiss after thine. * * * * * 73H.41	. . . . . . . . . . ‘As much breid ye deal at Annie’s dairgie Tomorrow ye’s deal at mine.’
 
73[I]: Lord Thomas and Annet
 
73[I].1	Fair Annie an Sweet Willie Sat a’ day on yon hill; Whan day was gane an night was comd, They hadna said their fill. 73[I.2]	Willie spak but ae wrang word, An Annie took it ill: ‘I’ll never marry a fair woman Against my friends’s will.’ 73[I.3]	Annie spak but ae wrang word, An Willy lookit down: ‘If I binna gude eneugh for yer wife, I’m our-gude for yer loun.’ 73[I.4]	Willie’s turnd his horse’s head about, He’s turnd it to the broom, An he’s away to his father’s bower, I the ae light o the moon. 73[I.5]	Whan he cam to his father’s bower, [He tirlt at the pin; Nane was sae ready as his father To rise an let him in.] 73[I.6]	‘An askin, an askin, dear father, An askin I’ll ask thee;’ ‘Say on, say on, my son Willie, Whatever your askin be.’ 73[I.7]	‘O sall I marry the nit-brown bride, Has corn, caitle an kye, Or sall I marry Fair Annie, Has nought but fair beauty?’ 73[I.8]	‘Ye ma sit a gude sate, Willy, Wi corn, caitle an kye; But ye’ll but sit a silly sate Wi nought but fair beauty.’ 73[I.9]	Up than spak his sister’s son, Sat on the nurse’s knee, Sun-bruist in his mother’s wame, Sun-brunt on his nurse’s knee: 73[I.10]	‘O yer hogs will die out i the field, Yer kye ill die i the byre; An than, whan a’ yer gear is gane, A fusom fag by yer fire! But a’ will thrive at is wi you An ye get yer heart’s desire.’ 73[I.11]	Willie’s turnd his horse’s head about, He’s away to his mother’s bour, etc. 73[I.12]	‘O my hogs ill die out i the field, My kye die i the byre, An than, whan a’ my gear is gane, A fusom fag bi my fire! But a’ will thrive at is wi me Gin I get my heart’s desire.’ 73[I.13]	Willie’s, etc., He’s awae to his brother’s bower, etc. 73[I.14]	"] "] "] "] sister’s bower, etc. 73[I.15]	Than Willie has set his wadin-day Within thirty days an three, An he has sent to Fair Annie His waddin to come an see. 73[I.16]	The man that gade to Fair Annie Sae weel his errant coud tell: ‘The morn it’s Willie’s wadin-day, Ye maun be there yer sell.’ 73[I.17]	’Twas up an spak her aged father, He spak wi muckle care; ‘An the morn be Willie’s wadin-day, I wate she maun be there. 73[I.18]	‘Gar take a steed to the smiddie, Caw on o it four shoon; Gar take her to a merchant’s shop, Cut off for her a gown.’ 73[I.19]	She wadna ha ’t o the red sae red, Nor yet o the grey sae grey, But she wad ha ’t o the sky couler That she woor ilka day. * * * * * * * 73[I.20]	There war four-an-twontie gray goss-hawks A flaffin their wings sae wide, To flaff the stour thra off the road That Fair Annie did ride. 73[I.21]	The[re] war four-a-twontie milk-white dows A fleein aboon her head, An four-an-twontie milk-white swans Her out the gate to lead. 73[I.22]	Whan she cam to St Marie’s kirk, She lightit on a stane; The beauty o that fair creature Shone oer mony ane. 73[I.23]	’Twas than out cam the nit-brown bride, She spak wi muckle spite; ‘O where gat ye the water, Annie, That washes you sae white?’ 73[I.24]	‘I gat my beauty Where ye was no to see; I gat it i my father’s garden, Aneath an apple tree. 73[I.25]	‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said, ‘An ye ma wash i syke, But an ye wad wash till doomsday Ye neer will be as white. 73[I.26]	‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said, ‘An ye ma wash i the sea, But an ye soud wash till doomsday Ye’ll neer be as white as me. 73[I.27]	‘For I gat a’ this fair beauty Where ye gat never none, For I gat a’ this fair beauty Or ever I was born.’ 73[I.28]	It was than out cam Willie, Wi hats o silks and flowers; He said, Keep ye thae, my Fair Annie, An brook them weel for yours.’ 73[I.29]	‘Na, keep ye thae, Willie,’ she said, ‘Gie them to yer nit-brown bride; Bid her wear them wi mukle care, For woman has na born a son Sal mak my heart as sair.’ 73[I.30]	Annie’s luppen on her steed An she has ridden hame, Than Annie’s luppen of her steed An her bed she has taen. 73[I.31]	When mass was sung, an bells war rung, An a’ man bound to bed, An Willie an his nit-brown bride I their chamber war laid. 73[I.32]	They war na weel laid in their bed, Nor yet weel faen asleep, Till up an startit Fair Annie, Just up at Willie’s feet. 73[I.33]	‘How like ye yer bed, Willie? An how like ye yer sheets? An how like ye yer nut-brown bride, Lies in yer arms an sleeps?’ 73[I.34]	‘Weel eneugh I like my bed, Annie, Weel eneugh I like my sheets; But wae be to the nit-brown bride Lies in my arms an sleeps!’ 73[I.35]	Willie’s ca’d on his merry men a’ To rise an pit on their shoon; ‘An we’ll awae to Annie’s bower, Wi the ae light o the moon.’ 73[I.36]	An whan he cam to Annie’s bower, He tirlt at the pin; Nane was sae ready as her father To rise an let him in. 73[I.37]	There was her father a[n] her se’en brethren A makin to her a bier, Wi ae stamp o the melten goud, Another o siller clear. 73[I.38]	When he cam to the chamber-door Where that the dead lay in, There was her mother an six sisters A makin to her a sheet, Wi ae drap o . . . . Another o silk sae white. 73[I.39]	‘Stand by, stand by now, ladies a’, Let me look on the dead; The last time that I kiss[t] her lips They war mair bonny red.’ 73[I.40]	‘Stand by, stand by now, Willie,’ they said, ‘An let ye her alane; Gin ye had done as ye soud done, She wad na there ha lien.’ 73[I.41]	‘Gar deal, gar deal at Annie’s burrial The wheat bread an the wine, For or the morn at ten o clock Ye’s deal’d as fast at mine.’


 
74A: Fair Margaret and Sweet William
 
74A.1	As it fell out on a long summer’s day, Two lovers they sat on a hill; They sat together that long summer’s day, And could not talk their fill. 74A.2	‘I see no harm by you, Margaret, Nor you see none by me; Before tomorrow eight a clock A rich wedding shall you see.’ 74A.3	Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window, A combing of her hair, And there she spy’d Sweet William and his bride, As they were riding near. 74A.4	Down she layd her ivory comb, And up she bound her hair; She went her way forth of her bower, But never more did come there. 74A.5	When day was gone, and night was come, And all men fast asleep, Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret, And stood at William’s feet. 74A.6	‘God give you joy, you two true lovers, In bride-bed fast asleep; Loe I am going to my green grass grave, And am in my winding-sheet.’ 74A.7	When day was come, and night was gone, And all men wak’d from sleep, Sweet William to his lady said, My dear, I have cause to weep. 74A.8	‘I dreamd a dream, my dear lady; Such dreams are never good; I dreamd my bower was full of red swine, And my bride-bed full of blood.’ 74A.9	‘Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord, They never do prove good, To dream thy bower was full of swine, And [thy] bride-bed full of blood.’ 74A.10	He called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three, Saying, I’ll away to Fair Margaret’s bower, By the leave of my lady. 74A.11	And when he came to Fair Margaret’s bower, He knocked at the ring; So ready was her seven brethren To let Sweet William in. 74A.12	He turned up the covering-sheet: ‘Pray let me see the dead; Methinks she does look pale and wan, She has lost her cherry red. 74A.13	‘I’ll do more for thee, Margaret, Than any of thy kin; For I will kiss thy pale wan lips, Tho a smile I cannot win.’ 74A.14	With that bespeak her seven brethren, Making most pitious moan: ‘You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, And let our sister alone.’ 74A.15	‘If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, I do but what is right; For I made no vow to your sister dear, By day or yet by night. 74A.16	‘Pray tell me then how much you’ll deal Of your white bread and your wine; So much as is dealt at her funeral today Tomorrow shall be dealt at mine.’ 74A.17	Fair Margaret dy’d today, today, Sweet William he dy’d the morrow; Fair Margaret dy’d for pure true love, Sweet William he dy’d for sorrow. 74A.18	Margaret was buried in the lower chancel, Sweet William in the higher; Out of her breast there sprung a rose, And out of his a brier. 74A.19	They grew as high as the church-top, Till they could grow no higher, And then they grew in a true lover’s knot, Which made all people admire. 74A.20	There came the clerk of the parish, As you this truth shall hear, And by misfortune cut them down, Or they had now been there.
 
74B: Fair Margaret and Sweet William
 
74B.1	SWEET WILLIAM would a wooing ride, His steed was lovely brown; A fairer creature than Lady Margaret Sweet William could find none. 74B.2	Sweet William came to Lady Margaret’s bower, And knocked at the ring, And who so ready as Lady Margaret To rise and to let him in. 74B.3	Down then came her father dear, Clothed all in blue: ‘I pray, Sweet William, tell to me What love’s between my daughter and you?’ 74B.4	‘I know none by her,’ he said, ‘And she knows none by me; Before tomorrow at this time Another bride you shall see.’ 74B.5	Lady Margaret at her bower-window, Combing of her hair, She saw Sweet William and his brown bride Unto the church repair. 74B.6	Down she cast her iv’ry comb, And up she tossd her hair, She went out from her bowr alive, But never so more came there. 74B.7	When day was gone, and night was come, All people were asleep, In glided Margaret’s grimly ghost, And stood at William’s feet. 74B.8	‘How d’ye like your bed, Sweet William? How d’ye like your sheet? And how d’ye like that brown lady, That lies in your arms asleep?’ 74B.9	‘Well I like my bed, Lady Margaret, And well I like my sheet; But better I like that fair lady That stands at my bed’s feet.’ 74B.10	When night was gone, and day was come, All people were awake, The lady waket out of her sleep, And thus to her lord she spake. 74B.11	‘I dreamd a dream, my wedded lord, That seldom comes to good; I dreamd that our bowr was lin’d with white swine, And our brid-chamber of blood.’ 74B.12	He called up his merry men all, By one, by two, by three, ‘We will go to Lady Margaret’s bower, With the leave of my wedded lady.’ 74B.13	When he came to Lady Margaret’s bower, He knocked at the ring, And who were so ready as her brethren To rise and let him in. 74B.14	‘Oh is she in the parlor,’ he said, ‘Or is she in the hall? Or is she in the long chamber, Amongst her merry maids all?’ 74B.15	‘She’s not in the parlor,’ they said, ‘Nor is she in the hall; But she is in the long chamber, Laid out against the wall.’ 74B.16	‘Open the winding sheet,’ he cry’d, ‘That I may kiss the dead; That I may kiss her pale and wan Whose lips used to look so red.’ 74B.17	Lady Margaret [died] on the over night, Sweet William died on the morrow; Lady Margaret die for pure, pure love, Sweet William died for sorrow. 74B.18	On Margaret’s grave there grew a rose, On Sweet William’s grew a briar; They grew till they joind in a true lover’s knot, And then they died both together.
 
74C: Fair Margaret and Sweet William
 
 
 74C.1	As Margaret stood at her window so clear,
 	A combing back her hair,
 	She saw Sweet William and his gay bride
 	Unto the church draw near.
 74C.2	Then down she threw her ivory comb,
 	She turned back her hair;
 	There was a fair maid at that window,
 	She’s gone, she’ll come no more there.
 74C.3	In the night, in the middle of the night,
 	When all men were asleep,
 	There walkd a ghost, Fair Margaret’s ghost,
 	And stood at his bed’s feet.
 74C.4	Sweet William he dremed a dream, and he said,
 	‘I wish it prove for good;
 	My chamber was full of wild men’s wine,
 	And my bride-bed stood in blood.’
 74C.5	Then he calld up his stable-groom,
 	To saddle his nag with speed:
 	‘This night will I ride to Fair Margaret’s bowr,
 	With the leave of my lady.
 74C.6	‘Oh is Fair Margaret in the kitchen?
 	Or is she in the hall?
 	. . . . .
 	. . . .
 74C.7	‘No, she is not in the kitchen,’ they cryed,
 	‘Nor is she in the hall;
 	But she is in the long chamber,
 	Laid up against the wall.’
 74C.8	Go with your right side to Newcastle,
 	And come with your left side home,
 	There you will see those two lovers
 	Lie printed on one stone.

 


 
75A: Lord Lovel
 
75A.1	‘AND I fare you well, Lady Ouncebell, For I must needs be gone, And this time two year I’ll meet you again, To finish the loves we begun.’ 75A.2	‘That is a long time, Lord Lovill,’ said she, ‘To live in fair Scotland;’ ‘And so it is, Lady Ouncebell, To leave a fair lady alone.’ 75A.3	He had not been in fair Scotland Not half above half a year, But a longin mind came into his head, Lady Ouncebell he woud go see her. 75A.4	He called up his stable-groom, To sadle his milk-white stead; Refrain:	Dey down, dey down, dey down dery down, 75A.4	I wish Lord Lovill good speed. 75A.5	He had not been in fair London Not half above half a day, But he heard the bells of the high chapel ring, They rang with a ceserera. 75A.6	He asked of a gentleman, That set there all alone, What made the bells of the high chapel ring, The ladys make all their moan. 75A.7	‘One of the king’s daughters are dead,’ said he, ‘Lady Ouncebell was her name; She died for love of a courtous young night, Lord Lovill he was the same.’ 75A.8	He caused her corps to be set down, And her winding sheet undone, And he made a vow before them all He’d never kiss wowman again. 75A.9	Lady Ouncebell died on the yesterday, Lord Lovill on the morrow; Lady Ouncebell died for pure true love, Lord Lovill died for sorrow. 75A.10	Lady Ouncebell was buried in the high chancel, Lord Lovill in the choir; Lady Ouncebell’s breast sprung out a sweet rose, Lord Lovill’s a bunch of sweet brier. 75A.11	They grew till they grew to the top of the church, And then they could grow no higher; They grew till they grew to a true-lover’s not, And then they tyed both together. 75A.12	An old wowman coming by that way, And a blessing she did crave, To cut of a bunch of that true-lover’s not, And buried them both in one grave.
 
75B: Lord Lovel
 
75B.1	LORD LAVEL he stands at his stable-door, Kaiming his milk-white steed; And by and cam Fair Nancybelle, And wished Lord Lavel good speed. 75B.2	‘O whare are ye going, Lord Lavel?’ she said, ‘I pray ye tell to me:’ ‘O I am going to merry England, To win your love aff me.’ 75B.3	‘And when will ye return again?’ she said, ‘Lord Lavel, pray tell to me:’ ‘Whan seven lang years are past and gane, Fair Nancybelle, I’ll return to thee.’ 75B.4	‘’Tis too lang, Lord Lavel,’ she said, ‘’Tis too lang for me; ’Tis too long, Lord Lavel,’ she said, ‘A true lover for to see.’ * * * * * 75B.5	He had na been in merry England A month but barely three, Till languishing thoughts cam into his mind, And Nancybelle fain wad he see. 75B.6	He rade, and he rade, alang the hieway, Till he cam to yonder toun; He heard the sound o a fine chapel-bell, And the ladies were mourning roun. 75B.7	He rade, and he rade, alang the hieway, Till he cam to yonder hall; He heard the sound o a fine chapel-bell, And the ladies were mourning all. 75B.8	He asked wha it was that was dead, The ladies did him tell: They said, It is the king’s daughter, Her name is Fair Nancybelle; She died for the love of a courteous young knicht, His name is Lord Lavel. 75B.9	‘O hast thou died, Fair Nancybelle, O hast thou died for me! O hast thou died, Fair Nancybelle! Then I will die for thee.’ 75B.10	Fair Nancybelle died, as it might be, this day, Lord Lavel he died tomorrow; Fair Nancybelle died with pure, pure love, Lord Lavel he died with sorrow. 75B.11	Lord Lavel was buried in Mary’s kirk, Nancybelle in Mary’s quire; And out o the ane there grew a birk, Out the other a bonny brier. 75B.12	And ae they grew, and ae they threw, Until they twa did meet, That ilka ane might plainly see They war twa lovers sweet.
 
75C: Lord Lovel
 
 
 75C.1	LORD TRAVELL stands in his stable-door,
 	Dressing his milk-white steed,
 	An bye comes Lady Ounceville:
 	‘I wish you muckle speed.
 75C.2	‘Oh whar are ye gaun, Lord Travell?’ she says,
 	‘Whar are gaun frae me?’
 	‘I am gaun to London town,
 	Some strange things for to see.’
 75C.3	‘Whan will ye be back, Lord Travell?’ she says,
 	‘Whan will ye be back to me?’
 	‘I will be back in seven lang years,
 	To wed my gay ladie.’
 75C.4	‘Oh that is too lang for me,’ she says,
 	‘Oh that is too lang for me;
 	Oh that is too lang for me,’ she says,
 	‘To wed thy gay ladie.’
 75C.5	He hadna been in London town
 	A week but only three,
 	When a boding voice thirld in his ear,
 	That Scotland he maun see.
 75C.6	He rade an he rode alang the highway,
 	Till he cam to yon little town:
 	‘Oh is there ony body dead?
 	The bells they mak sic a sound.’
 75C.7	He rade an he rode alang the highway,
 	Till he cam to yon little town:
 	‘Oh is there ony body dead?
 	The folk gae mournin round.’
 75C.8	‘Oh yes indeed, there is ane dead,
 	Her name is Ounceville;
 	An she has died for a courteous knicht,
 	His name is Lord Travell.’
 75C.9	‘Oh hand ye aboot, ye gentlemen,
 	The white bread an the wine,
 	For the morn’s nicht aboot this time
 	Ye’ll do the same for mine!’

 
 
75D: Lord Lovel
 
 
 75D.1	LORD LOVEL stands at his stable-door,
 	Mounted upon a grey steed,
 	And bye cam Ladie Nanciebel,
 	And wishd Lord Lovel much speed.
 75D.2	‘O whare are ye going, Lord Lovel?
 	My dearest, tell unto me:’
 	‘I am going a far journey,
 	Some strange countrey to see.
 75D.3	‘But I’ll return in seven long years,
 	Lady Nanciebel to see:’
 	‘Oh seven, seven, seven long years,
 	They are much too long for me.’
 	* * * * *
 75D.4	He was gane about a year away,
 	A year but barely ane,
 	Whan a strange fancy cam intil his head
 	That faire Nanciebel was gane.
 75D.5	It’s then he rade, and better rade,
 	Untill he cam to the toun,
 	And there he heard a dismal noise,
 	For the church bells au did soun.
 75D.6	He asked what the bells rang for;
 	They said, It’s for Nanciebel;
 	She died for a discourteous squire,
 	And his name is Lord Lovel.
 75D.7	The lid of the coffin he opened up,
 	The linens he faulded doun,
 	And ae he kissd her pale, pale lips,
 	And the tears cam trinkling doun.
 75D.8	‘Weill may I kiss these pale, pale lips,
 	For they will never kiss me;
 	I’ll mak a vow, and I’ll keep it true,
 	That I’ll neer kiss ane but thee.’
 75D.9	Lady Nancie died on Tuesday’s nicht,
 	Lord Lovel upon the niest day;
 	Lady Nancie died for pure, pure love,
 	Lord Lovel for deep sorraye.

 
 
75E: Lord Lovel
 
75E.1	‘NOW fare ye well, Lady Oonzabel, For I must needs be gone, To visit the king of fair Scotland, Oh I must be up and ride.’ 75E.2	So he called unto him his little foot-page, To saddle his milk-white steed; Refrain:	Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down, 75E.2	How I wish my Lord Lovel good speed! 75E.3	He had not been in fair Scotland, Not passing half a year, When a lover-like thought came into his head, Lady Oonzabel he would go see her. 75E.4	So he called unto him his little foot-page, To saddle his milk-white steed; Refrain:	Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down, 75E.4	How I wish my Lord Lovel good speed. 75E.5	He had not been in fair England, Not passing half a day, When the bells of the high chappel did ring, And they made a loud sassaray. 75E.6	He asked of an old gentleman Who was sitting there all alone, Why the bells of the high chappel did ring, And the ladies were making a moan. 75E.7	‘Oh, the king’s fair daughter is dead,’ said he; ‘Her name’s Lady Oonzabel; And she died for the love of a courteous young knight, And his name it is Lord Lovel.’ * * * * * 75E.8	He caused the bier to be set down, The winding sheet undone, And drawing forth his rapier bright, Through his own true heart did it run. 75E.9	Lady Oonzabel lies in the high chappel, Lord Lovel he lies in the quier; And out of the one there grew up a white rose, And out of the other a brier. 75E.10	And they grew, and they grew, to the high chappel top; They could not well grow any higher; And they twined into a true lover’s knot, So in death they are joined together.
 
75F: Lord Lovel
 
 
 75F.1	AS LORD LOVEL was at the stable-door,
 	Mounting his milk-white steed,
 	Who came by but poor Nancy Bell,
 	And she wished Lovel good speed.
 75F.2	‘O where are ye going, Lord Lovel?’ she said,
 	‘How long to tarry from me?’
 	‘Before six months are past and gone,
 	Again I’ll return to thee.’
 75F.3	He had not been a twelvemonth away,
 	A twelvemonth and a day,
 	Till Nancy Bell grew sick and sad,
 	She pined and witherd away.
 75F.4	The very first town that he came to,
 	He heard the death-bell knell;
 	The very next town that he came to,
 	They said it was Nancy Bell.
 75F.5	He orderd the coffin to be broke open,
 	The sheet to be turned down,
 	And then he kissd her cold pale lips,
 	Till the tears ran tricklin down.
 75F.6	The one was buried in St. John’s church,
 	The other in the choir;
 	From Nancy Bell sprang a bonny red rose,
 	From Lord Lovel a bonny briar.
 75F.7	They grew, and they grew, to the height o the church,
 	To they met from either side,
 	And at the top a true lover’s knot
 	Shows that one for the other had died.

 
 
75G: Lord Lovel
 
75G.1	LORD REVEL he stands in his stable-door, He was dressing a milk-white steed; A lady she stands in her bour-door, A dressin with haste an speed. 75G.2	‘O where are you goin, Lord Revel,’ she said, ‘Where are you going from me?’ ‘It’s I am going to Lonnon toun, That fair city for to see.’ 75G.3	‘When will you be back, Lord Revel?’ she said, ‘When will you be back to me?’ ‘I will be back in the space of three years, To wed you, my gey ladie.’ 75G.4	‘That’s too long a time for me,’ she said, ‘That’s too long a time for me; For I’ll be dead long time ere that, For want of your sweet companie.’ 75G.5	He had not been in Lonnon toun A month but barely three, When word was brought that Isabell Was sick, an like to dee. 75G.6	He had not been in Lonnon toun A year but barely ane, When word was brought from Lonnon toun That Isabell was gane. 75G.7	He rode an he rode along the high way, Till he came to Edenborrow toon: Is there any fair lady dead,’ said he, ‘That the bells gie such a tone?’ 75G.8	‘Oh yes, there’s a ladie, a very fine ladie, Her name it is Isabell; She died for the sake of a young Scottish knight, His name it is Lord Revel.’ 75G.9	‘Deal well, deal well at Isabell’s burial The biscuit and the beer, An gainst the morrow at this same time You’ll aye deal mair and mair. 75G.10	‘Deal well, deal well at Isabell’s burial The white bread and the wine, An gainst the morn at this same time You’ll deal the same at mine.’ 75G.11	They dealt well, dealt weel at Isabell’s burial The biscuit an the beer, And gainst the morn at that same time They dealt them mair an mair. 75G.12	They dealt weel, dealt weel at Isabell’s burial The white bread an the wine, An gainst the morn at that same time They dealt the same again.
 
75H: Lord Lovel
 
75H.1	LORD LOVEL he stood at his castle-gate, Combing his milk-white steed, When up came Lady Nancy Belle, To wish her lover good speed, speed, To wish her lover good speed. 75H.2	‘Where are you going, Lord Lovel?’ she said, ‘Oh where are you going?’ said she; ‘I’m going, my Lady Nancy Belle, Strange countries for to see.’ 75H.3	‘When will you be back, Lord Lovel?’ she said, ‘Oh when will you come back?’ said she; ‘In a year or two, or three, at the most, I’ll return to my fair Nancy.’ 75H.4	But he had not been gone a year and a day, Strange countries for to see, When languishing thoughts came into his head, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see. 75H.5	So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London town, And there he heard St Pancras bells, And the people all mourning round. 75H.6	‘Oh what is the matter?’ Lord Lovel he said, ‘Oh what is the matter?’ said he; ‘A lord’s lady is dead,’ a woman replied, ‘And some call her Lady Nancy.’ 75H.7	So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, And the shroud he turned down, And there he kissed her clay-cold lips, Till the tears came trickling down. 75H.8	Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today, Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow; Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow. 75H.9	Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras church, Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, And out of her lover’s a briar. 75H.10	They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too, And then they could grow no higher; So there they entwined in a true-lover’s knot, For all lovers true to admire.
 
75I: Lord Lovel
 
75I.1	There came a ghost to Helen’s bower, Wi monny a sigh and groan: ‘O make yourself ready, at Wednesday at een, Fair Helen, you must be gone.’ 75I.2	‘O gay Death, O gallant Death, Will you spare my life sae lang Untill I send to merry Primrose, Bid my dear lord come hame?’ 75I.3	‘O gay Helen, O galant Helen, I winna spare you sae lang; But make yoursell ready, again Wednesday at een, Fair Helen, you must be gane.’ 75I.4	‘O where will I get a bonny boy, That would win hose and shoon, That will rin fast to merry Primrose, Bid my dear lord come soon?’ 75I.5	O up and speak a little boy, That would win hose and shoon: ‘Aft have I gane your errants, lady, But by my suth I’ll rin.’ 75I.6	When he came to broken briggs He bent his bow and swam, And when he came to grass growing He cast off his shoon and ran. 75I.7	When he came to merry Primrose, His lord he was at meat: ‘O my lord, kend ye what I ken, Right little wad ye eat.’ 75I.8	‘Is there onny of my castles broken doun, Or onny of my towers won? Or is Fair Helen brought to bed Of a doughter or a son?’ 75I.9	‘There’s nane of [your] castles broken doun, Nor nane of your towers won, Nor is Fair Helen brought to bed Of a doghter or a son.’ 75I.10	‘Gar sadle me the black, black steed, Gar sadle me the brown; Gar sadle me the swiftest horse Eer carried man to town.’ 75I.11	First he bursted the bonny black, And then he bursted the brown, And then he bursted the swiftest steed Eer carried man to town. 75I.12	He hadna ridden a mile, a mile, A mile but barelins ten, When he met four and twenty gallant knights, carrying a dead coffin. 75I.13	‘Set down, set down Fair Helen’s corps, Let me look on the dead;’ And out he took a little pen-knife, And he screeded the winding-sheet. 75I.14	O first he kist her rosy cheek, And then he kist her chin, And then he kist her coral lips, But there’s nae life in within. 75I.15	‘Gar deal, gar deal the bread,’ he says, ‘The bread bat an the wine, And at the morn at twelve o’clock Ye’s gain as much at mine.’ 75I.16	The tane was buried in Mary’s kirk, The tother in Mary’s choir, And out of the tane there sprang a birch, And out of the tother a briar. 75I.17	The tops of them grew far sundry, But the roots of them grew neer, And ye may easy ken by that They were twa lovers dear.
 
75[J]: Lord Lovel
 
 
 75[J].1	Lord Lovel was standing at his stable-door,
 	Kaiming down his milk-white steed,
 	When by came Lady Anzibel,
 	Was wishing Lord Lovel good speed, good speed,
 	Was wishing Lord Lovel good speed.
 75[J.2]	‘O where are you going, Lord Lovel?’ she said,
 	‘O where are you going?’ said she:
 	‘I’m going unto England,
 	And there a fair lady to see.’
 75[J.3]	‘How long will you stay, Lord Lovel?’ she said,
 	‘How long will you stay?’ says she:
 	‘O three short years will soon go by,
 	And then I’ll come back to thee.’

 


 
76A: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
76A.1	FAIR ISABELL of Rochroyall, She dreamed where she lay, She dreamd a dream of her love Gregory, A litle before the day. 76A.2	O huly, huly rose she up, And huly she put on, And huly, huly she put on The silks of crimsion. 76A.3	‘Gar sadle me the black,’ she sayes, ‘Gar sadle me the broun; Gar sadle me the swiftest steed That ever rode the toun. 76A.4	‘Gar shoe him with the beat silver, And grind him with the gold; Gar put two bells on every side, Till I come to some hold.’ 76A.5	She had not rode a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Till that she spyed a companie Come rakeing oere the lee. 76A.6	‘O whether is this the first young may, That lighted and gaed in; Or is this the second young may, That neer the sun shined on? Or is this Fair Isabell of Roch Royall, Banisht from kyth and kin.’ 76A.7	‘O I am not the first young may, That lighted and gaed in; Nor neither am I the second young may, That neer the sun shone on; 76A.8	‘But I’m Fair Isabell of Roch Royall Banisht from kyth and kin; I’m seeking my true-love Gregory, And I woud I had him in.’ 76A.9	‘O go your way to yon castle, And ride it round about, And there you’ll find Love Gregory; He’s within, without any doubt.’ 76A.10	O she’s away to yon castle, She’s tirled at the pin: ‘O open, open, Love Gregory, And let your true-love in.’ 76A.11	‘If you be the lass of the Rochroyall, As I trow not you be, You will tell me some of our love-tokens, That was betwixt you and me.’ 76A.12	‘Have you not mind, Love Gregory, Since we sat at the wine; When we changed the rings off our fingers, And ay the worst fell mine? 76A.13	‘Mine was of the massy gold, And thine was of the tin; Mine was true and trusty both, And thine was false within.’ 76A.14	If you be [the] lass of the Roch Royall, As I trow not you be, You will tell me some other love-token That was betwixt you and me.’ 76A.15	‘Have you not mind, Love Gregory, Since we sat at the wine, We changed the smocks off our two backs, And ay the worst fell mine? 76A.16	‘Mine was of the holland fine, And thine was course and thin; So many blocks have we two made, And ay the worst was mine.’ 76A.17	‘Love Gregory, he is not at home, But he is to the sea; If you have any word to him, I pray you leave’t with me.’ * * * * * 76A.18	‘O who will shoe my bony foot? Or who will glove my hand? Or who will bind my midle jimp With the broad lilly band? 76A.19	‘Or who will comb my bony head With the red river comb? Or who will be my bairn’s father Ere Gregory he come home?’ 76A.20	‘O I’s gar shoe thy bony foot, And I’s gar glove thy hand, And I’s gar bind thy midle jimp With the broad lilly band. 76A.21	‘And I’s gar comb thy bony head With the red river comb; But there is none to be thy bairn’s father Till Love Gregory he come home. 76A.22	‘I’ll set my foot on the ship-board, God send me wind and more! For there’s never a woman shall bear a son Shall make my heart so sore.’ 76A.23	‘I dreamed a dream now since yestreen, That I never dreamed before; I dreamd that the lass of the Rochroyall Was knocking at the door.’ 76A.24	‘Ly still, ly still, my dear son, Ly still, and take a sleep; For it’s neither ane hour, nor yet a half, Since she went from the gate.’ 76A.25	‘O wo be to you, ill woman, And ane ill death mott you die! For you might have come to my bed-side, And then have wakened me. 76A.26	‘Gar sadle me the black,’ he sayes, ‘Gar sadle me the broun; Gar sadle me the swiftest steed That ever rode the toun. 76A.27	‘Gar shoe him with the beat silver, Gar grind him with the gold; Cause put two bells on every side, Till I come to some hold.’ 76A.28	They sadled him the black, the black, So did they him the broun; So did they him the swiftest steed That ever rode to toun. 76A.29	They shoed him with the beat silver, They grind him with the gold; They put two bells on every side, Till he came to some hold. 76A.30	He had not rode a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Till that he spyed her comely corps Come raking oere the lee. 76A.31	‘Set doun, set doun these comely corps, Let me look on the dead:’ And out he’s ta’en his little pen-knife, And slitted her winding sheet. 76A.32	And first he kist her cheek, her cheek, And then he kist her chin; And then he kist her rosy lips, But there was no breath within. 76A.33	‘Gar deall, gar deall for my love sake The spiced bread and the wine; For ere the morn at this time So shall you deall for mine. 76A.34	‘Gar deall, gar deall for my love sake The pennys that are so small; For ere the morn at this time, So shall you deall for all.’ 76A.35	The one was buried in Mary kirk, The other in Mary quire; Out of the one there sprung a birk, Out of the other a bryar; So thus you may well know by that They were two lovers dear.
 
76B: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
76B.1	‘O WHA will shoe thy bonny feet? Or wha will glove thy hand? Or wha will lace thy midle jimp, With a lang, lang London whang? 76B.2	‘And wha will kame thy bonny head, With a tabean brirben kame? And wha will be my bairn’s father, Till Love Gregory come hame?’ 76B.3	‘Thy father’ll shoe his bonny feet, Thy mither’ll glove his hand; Thy brither will lace his middle jimp, With a lang, lang London whang. 76B.4	‘Mysel will kame his bonny head, With a tabean brirben kame; And the Lord will be the bairn’s father, Till Love Gregory come hame.’ 76B.5	Then she’s gart build a bonny ship, It’s a’ cored oer with pearl, And at every needle-tack was in’t There hang a siller bell. 76B.6	And she’s awa . . . To sail upon the sea; She’s gane to seek Love Gregory, In lands whereer he be. 76B.7	She hadna saild a league but twa, O scantly had she three, Till she met with a rude rover, Was sailing on the sea. 76B.8	‘O whether is thou the Queen hersel, Or ane o her maries three? Or is thou the lass of Lochroyan, Seeking Love Gregory?’ 76B.9	‘O I am not the Queen hersell, Nor ane o her maries three; But I am the lass o Lochroyan, Seeking Love Gregory. 76B.10	‘O sees na thou yone bonny bower? It’s a’ cored oer with tin; When thou hast saild it round about, Love Gregory is within.’ 76B.11	When she had saild it round about, She tirled at the pin: ‘O open, open, Love Gregory, Open, and let me in! For I am the lass of Lochroyan, Banisht frae a’ my kin.’ 76B.12	‘If thou be the lass of Lochroyan, As I know no thou be, Tell me some of the true tokens That past between me and thee.’ 76B.13	‘Hast thou na mind, Love Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We changed the rings aff ither’s hands, And ay the best was mine? 76B.14	‘For mine was o the gude red gould, But thine was o the tin; And mine was true and trusty baith, But thine was fa’se within. 76B.15	‘If thou be the lass of Lochroyan, As I know na thou be, Tell me some mair o the true tokens Past between me and thee.’ 76B.16	‘And has na thou na mind, Love Gregory, As we sat on yon hill, Thou twin’d me of my [maidenhead,] Right sair against my will? 76B.17	‘Now open, open, Love Gregory, Open, and let me in! For the rain rains on my gude cleading, And the dew stands on my chin.’ 76B.18	Then she has turnd her round about: ‘Well, since that it be sae, Let never woman that has born a son Hae a heart sae full of wae. 76B.19	‘Take down, take down that mast o gould, Set up a mast of tree; For it dinna become a forsaken lady To sail so royallie.’ 76B.20	‘I dreamt a dream this night, mother, I wish it may prove true, That the bonny lass of Lochroyan Was at the gate just now.’ 76B.21	‘Lie still, lie still, my only son, And sound sleep mayst thou get, For it’s but an hour or little mair Since she was at the gate.’ 76B.22	Awa, awa, ye wicket woman, And an ill dead may ye die! Ye might have ither letten her in, Or else have wakened me. 76B.23	‘Gar saddle to me the black,’ he said, ‘Gar saddle to me the brown; Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed That is in a’ the town.’ 76B.24	Now the first town that he cam to, The bells were ringing there; And the neist toun that he cam to, Her corps was coming there. 76B.25	‘Set down, set down that comely corp, Set down, and let me see Gin that be the lass of Lochroyan, That died for love o me.’ 76B.26	And he took out the little penknife That hang down by his gare, And he’s rippd up her winding-sheet, A lang claith-yard and mair. 76B.27	And first he kist her cherry cheek, And syne he kist her chin, And neist he kist her rosy lips; There was nae breath within. 76B.28	And he has taen his little penknife, With a heart that was fou sair, He has given himself a deadly wound, And word spake never mair.
 
76C: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
76C.1	* * * * SHE sailed west, she sailed east, She sailed mony a mile, Until she cam to Lord Gregor’s yett, And she tirled at the pin. 76C.2	‘It’s open, open, Lord Gregory, Open, and let me in; For the rain drops on my gouden hair, And drops upon your son.’ 76C.3	‘Are you the Queen of Queensberry? Or one of the marys three? Or are you the lass of Ruchlaw hill, Seeking Lord Gregory?’ 76C.4	‘I’m not the Queen of Queensberry, Nor one of the marys three; But I am the bonny lass of Ruchlawhill, Seeking Lord Gregory.’ 76C.5	‘Awa, awa, ye fause thief, I will not open to thee Till you tell me the first token That was tween you and me.’ 76C.6	‘Do not you mind, Lord Gregory, When we birled at the wine, We changed the rings of our fingers, And ay the best was mine? 76C.7	‘For mine was true and trusty goud, But yours it was of tin; Mine was of the true and trusty goud, But yours was fause within.’ 76C.8	She turned about her bonny ship, Awa then did she sail: ‘The sun shall never shine on man That made my heart so sare.’ 76C.9	Then up the old mother she got, And wakened Lord Gregory: ‘Awa, awa, ye fause gudeson, A limmer was seeking thee.’ 76C.10	‘It’s woe be to you, witch-mother, An ill death may you die! For you might hae set the yet open, And then hae wakened me.’ 76C.11	It’s up he got, and put on his clothes, And to the yet he ran; The first sight of the ship he saw, He whistled and he sang. 76C.12	But whan the bonny ship was out o sight, He clapped his hands and ran, . . . . . . . . . . 76C.13	The first kirktoun he cam to, He heard the death-bell ring, The second kirktoun he cam to, He saw her corpse come in. 76C.14	‘Set down, set down this bonny corpse, That I may look upon; If she died late for me last night, I’ll die for her the morn. 76C.15	‘Be merry, merry, gentlemen, Be merry at the bread and wine; For by the morn at this time o day You’ll drink as much at mine.’ 76C.16	The one was buried in Mary’s isle, The other in Mary’s quire; Out of the one there grew a thorn, And out of the other a brier. 76C.17	And aye they grew, and aye they blew, Till their twa taps did meet; And every one that passed thereby Might see they were lovers sweet.
 
76D: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
76D.1	‘O WHA will shoe my fu fair foot? An wha will glove my han? An wha will lace my middle gimp Wi the new made London ban? 76D.2	‘Or wha will kemb my yallow hair, Wi the new made silver kemb? Or wha’ll be father to my young bairn, Till Love Gregor come hame?’ 76D.3	Her father shoed her fu fair foot, Her mother glovd her han; Her sister lac’d her middle gimp Wi the new made London ban. 76D.4	Her brother kembd her yallow hair, Wi the new made silver kemb, But the king o heaven maun father her bairn, Till Love Gregor come hame. 76D.5	‘O gin I had a bony ship, An men to sail wi me, It’s I would gang to my true-love, Since he winna come to me.’ 76D.6	Her father’s gien her a bonny ship, An sent her to the stran; She’s tane her young son in her arms, An turnd her back to the lan. 76D.7	She had na been o the sea saillin About a month or more, Till landed has she her bonny ship Near her true-love’s door. 76D.8	The night was dark, an the win blew caul, An her love was fast asleep, An the bairn that was in her twa arms Fu sair began to weep. 76D.9	Long stood she at her true-love’s door, An lang tirld at the pin; At length up gat his fa’se mither, Says, Wha’s that woud be in? 76D.10	‘O it is Anny of Roch-royal, Your love, come oer the sea, But an your young son in her arms; So open the door to me.’ 76D.11	‘Awa, awa, you ill woman, You’ve na come here for gude, You’re but a witch, or wile warlock, Or mermaid o the flude.’ 76D.12	‘I’m na a witch, or wile warlock, Nor mermaiden,’ said she; ‘I’m but Fair Anny o Roch-royal; O open the door to me.’ 76D.13	‘O gin ye be Anny o Roch-royal, As [I] trust not ye be, What taiken can ye gie that ever I kept your company?’ 76D.14	‘O dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,’ she says, ‘Whan we sat at the wine, How we changed the napkins frae our necks, It’s na sae lang sin syne? 76D.15	‘An yours was good, an good enough, But nae sae good as mine; For yours was o the cumbruk clear, But mine was silk sae fine. 76D.16	‘An dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,’ she says, ‘As we twa sat at dine, How we changed the rings frae our fingers, But ay the best was mine? 76D.17	‘For yours was good, an good enough, Yet nae sae good as mine; For yours was of the good red gold, But mine o the diamonds fine. 76D.18	‘Sae open the door now, Love Gregor, An open it wi speed, Or your young son that is in my arms For cauld will soon be dead.’ 76D.19	‘Awa, awa, you ill woman, Gae frae my door for shame; For I hae gotten another fair love, Sae ye may hye you hame.’ 76D.20	‘O hae you gotten another fair love, For a’ the oaths you sware? Then fair you well now, fa’se Gregor, For me you’s never see mair.’ 76D.21	O heely, heely gi’d she back, As the day began to peep; She set her foot on good ship-board, An sair, sair did she weep. 76D.22	Love Gregor started frae his sleep, An to his mither did say, I dreamd a dream this night, mither, That maks my heart right wae. 76D.23	‘I dreamd that Anny of Roch-royal, The flowr o a’ her kin, Was standin mournin at my door, But nane would lat her in.’ 76D.24	‘O there was a woman stood at the door, Wi a bairn intill her arms, But I woud na lat her within the bowr, For fear she had done you harm.’ 76D.25	O quickly, quickly raise he up, An fast ran to the stran, An there he saw her Fair Anny, Was sailin frae the lan. 76D.26	An ‘Heigh, Anny!’ an ‘Hou, Anny! O Anny, speak to me!’ But ay the louder that he cried Anny, The louder roard the sea. 76D.27	An ‘Heigh, Anny!’ an ‘Hou, Anny! O Anny, winna you bide?’ But ay the langer that he cried Anny, The higher roard the tide. 76D.28	The win grew loud, an the sea grew rough, An the ship was rent in twain, An soon he saw her Fair Anny Come floating oer the main. 76D.29	He saw his young son in her arms, Baith tossd aboon the tide; He wrang his hands, than fast he ran, An plung’d i the sea sae wide. 76D.30	He catchd her by the yallow hair, An drew her to the strand, But cauld an stiff was every limb Before he reachd the land. 76D.31	O first he kissd her cherry cheek, An then he kissd her chin; An sair he kissd her ruby lips, But there was nae breath within. 76D.32	O he has mournd oer Fair Anny Till the sun was gaing down, Then wi a sigh his heart it brast, An his soul to heaven has flown.
 
76E: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
76E.1	‘O WHA will shoe my fu fair foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will lace my middle jimp, Wi the new made London band? 76E.2	‘And wha will kaim my yellow hair, Wi the new made silver kaim? And wha will father my young son, Till Love Gregor come hame?’ 76E.3	‘Your father will shoe your fu fair foot, Your mother will glove your hand; Your sister will lace your middle jimp Wi the new made London band. 76E.4	‘Your brother will kaim your yellow hair, Wi the new made silver kaim; And the king of heaven will father your bairn, Till Love Gregor come haim.’ 76E.5	‘But I will get a bonny boat, And I will sail the sea, For I maun gang to Love Gregor, Since he canno come hame to me.’ 76E.6	O she has gotten a bonny boat, And sailld the sa’t sea fame; She langd to see her ain true-love, Since he could no come hame. 76E.7	‘O row your boat, my mariners, And bring me to the land, For yonder I see my love’s castle, Closs by the sa’t sea strand.’ 76E.8	She has taen her young son in her arms, And to the door she’s gone, And lang she’s knocked and sair she ca’d, But answer got she none. 76E.9	‘O open the door, Love Gregor,’ she says, ‘O open, and let me in; For the wind blaws thro my yellow hair, And the rain draps oer my chin.’ 76E.10	‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman, You’r nae come here for good; You’r but some witch, or wile warlock, Or mer-maid of the flood.’ 76E.11	‘I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock, Nor mer-maid of the sea, I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal; O open the door to me.’ 76E.12	‘Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal-+- And I trust ye are not she-+- Now tell me some of the love-tokens That past between you and me.’ 76E.13	‘O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor, When we sat at the wine, How we changed the rings frae our fingers? And I can show thee thine. 76E.14	‘O yours was good, and good enneugh, But ay the best was mine; For yours was o the good red goud, But mine o the dimonds fine. 76E.15	‘But open the door now, Love Gregor, O open the door I pray, For your young son that is in my arms Will be dead ere it be day.’ 76E.16	‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman, For here ye shanno win in; Gae drown ye in the raging sea, Or hang on the gallows-pin.’ 76E.17	When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Then it raise him Love Gregor, And sair, sair did he weep. 76E.18	‘O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear, The thoughts o it gars me greet, That Fair Annie of Rough Royal Lay cauld dead at my feet.’ 76E.19	‘Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal That ye make a’ this din, She stood a’ last night at this door, But I trow she was no in.’ 76E.20	‘O wae betide ye, ill woman, An ill dead may ye die! That ye woudno open the door to her, Nor yet woud waken me.’ 76E.21	O he has gone down to yon shore-side, As fast as he could fare; He saw Fair Annie in her boat, But the wind it tossd her sair. 76E.22	‘Hey, Annie!’ and ‘How, Annie! O Annie, winna ye bide?’ But ay the mair that he cried Annie, The braider grew the tide. 76E.23	And ‘Hey, Annie!’ and ‘How, Annie! Dear Annie, speak to me!’ But ay the louder he cried Annie, The louder roard the sea. 76E.24	The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, And dashd the boat on shore; Fair Annie floats on the raging sea, But her young son raise no more. 76E.25	Love Gregor tare his yellow hair, And made a heavy moan; Fair Annie’s corpse lay at his feet, But his bonny young son was gone. 76E.26	O cherry, cherry was her cheek, And gowden was her hair, But clay cold were her rosey lips, Nae spark of life was there. 76E.27	And first he’s kissd her cherry cheek, And neist he’s kissed her chin; And saftly pressd her rosey lips, But there was nae breath within. 76E.28	‘O wae betide my cruel mother, And an ill dead may she die! For she turnd my true-love frae my door, When she came sae far to me.’
 
76F: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
 
 76F.1	‘O WHA will lace my steys, mother?
 	O wha will gluve my hand?
 	O wha will be my bairn’s father,
 	While my luve cums to land?’
 76F.2	‘O sall I lace your steys, dochter,
 	O sall I gluve your hand;
 	And God will be your bairn’s father,
 	While your luve cums to land.’
 76F.3	Now she’s gard build a bonie schip,
 	Forbidden she wad nae be;
 	She’s gane wi four score mariners,
 	Sailand the salt, salt sea.
 76F.4	They had nae saild but twenty legues,
 	Bot twenty legues and three,
 	When they met wi the ranke robers,
 	And a’ their companie.
 76F.5	‘Now whether are ye the Queen hersell?
 	For so ye weel micht bee,
 	Or are ye the lass o the Ruch Royal,
 	Seekand Lord Gregorie?’
 76F.6	‘O I am neither the Queen,’ she sed,
 	‘Nor sick I seem to be;
 	But I am the lass o the Ruch Royal,
 	Seekand Lord Gregorie.’
 	* * * * *
 76F.7	And when she saw the stately tower,
 	Shynand sae cleere and bricht,
 	Whilk proud defies the jawing wave,
 	Built on a rock a hicht,
 76F.8	Sche sailed it round, and sailed it sound,
 	And loud, loud cried she,
 	‘Now break, now break, ye fairy charms,
 	And let the prisoner free.’

 
 
76G: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
76G.1	IT fell on a Wodensday, Love Gregory’s taen the sea, And he has left his lady Janet, And a weary woman was she. 76G.2	But she had na been in child-bed A day but barely three, Till word has come to Lady Janet Love Gregory she would never see. 76G.3	She’s taen her mantle her middle about, Her cane into her hand, And she’s awa to the salt-sea side, As fast as she could gang. 76G.4	‘Whare will I get a curious carpenter, Will make a boat to me? I’m going to seek him Love Gregory, In’s lands where eer he be.’ 76G.5	‘Here am I, a curious carpenter, Will make a boat for thee, And ye may seek him Love Gregory, But him ye’ll never see.’ 76G.6	She sailed up, she sailed down, Thro many a pretty stream, Till she came to that stately castle, Where Love Gregory lay in. 76G.7	‘Open, open, Love Gregory, O open, and lat me in; Your young son is in my arms, And shivering cheek and chin.’ 76G.8	‘Had awa, ye ill woman, Had far awa frae me; Ye’re but some witch, or some warlock, Or the mermaid, troubling me. 76G.9	‘My lady she’s in Lochranline, Down by Lochlearn’s green; This day she wadna sail the sea, For goud nor warld’s gain. 76G.10	‘But if ye be my lady Janet, As I trust not well ye be, Come tell me oer some love-token That past ’tween thee an me.’ 76G.11	‘Mind on, mind on now, Love Gregory, Since we sat at the wine; The rings that were on your fingers, I gied thee mine for thine. 76G.12	‘And mine was o the good red goud, Yours o the silly tin, And mine’s been true, and very true, But yours had a fause lynin. 76G.13	‘But open, open, Love Gregory, Open, and let me in; Your young son is in my arms, He’ll be dead ere I win in.’ 76G.14	‘Had awa, ye ill woman, Had far awa frae me; Ye’re but some witch, or some warlock, Or the mermaid, troubling me. 76G.15	‘But if ye be my lady Janet, As I trust not well ye be; Come tell me o’er some love-token That past tween thee and me.’ 76G.16	‘Mind on, mind on, Love Gregory, Since we sat at the wine; The shifts that were upon your back, I gave thee mine for thine. 76G.17	‘And mine was o the good holland, And yours o the silly twine, And mine’s been true, and very true, But yours had fause lynin.’ * * * * *
 
76H: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
76H.1	‘OH who’ll comb my yellow locks, With the brown berry comb? And who’ll be the child’s father, Until Gregory comes home?’ 76H.2	‘OH . . . . . And God will be the child’s father, Until Gregory comes home.’ * * * * * 76H.3	‘The dew wets my yellow locks, The rain wets my skin, The babe’s cold in my arms, Oh Gregory, let me in!’ 76H.4	‘Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim, As I suppose you not to be, Come tell me the last token Between you and me.’ Refrain:	The dew wets, etc. 76H.5	‘Oh Gregory, don’t you remember One night on the hill, When we swapped rings off each other’s hands, Sorely against my will?’ Mine was of the beaten gold, Yours was but black tin.’ Refrain:	The dew wets, etc. 76H.6	‘Oh if you be the lass of aughrim, As I suppose you not to be, Come tell me the last token Between you and me.’ Refrain:	The dew wets, etc. 76H.7	‘Oh Gregory don’t you remember One night on the hill, When we swapped smocks off each other’s backs, Sorely against my will? Mine was of the holland fine, Yours was but Scotch cloth.’ Refrain:	The dew wets, etc. 76H.8	‘Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim, As I suppose you not to be, Come tell me the last token Between you and me.’ Refrain:	The dew wets, etc. 76H.9	‘Oh Gregory, don’t you remember, In my father’s hall, When you had your will of me? And that was worse than all.’ . . . . . . . . . . Refrain:	The dew wets, etc.
 
76I: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
 
 76I.1	‘OH open the door, Lord Gregory,
 	Oh open, and let me in;
 	The rain rains on my scarlet robes,
 	The dew drops oer my chin.’
 76I.2	‘If you are the lass that I lovd once,
 	As I true you are not she,
 	Come give me some of the tokens
 	That past between you and me.’
 76I.3	‘Ah wae be to you, Gregory,
 	An ill death may you die!
 	You will not be the death of one,
 	But you’ll be the death of three.
 76I.4	‘Oh don’t you mind, Lord Gregory,
 	’Twas down at yon burn-side
 	We changed the ring of our fingers,
 	And I put mine on thine?’

 
 
76J: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
 
 76J.1	‘O WHA will shoe my pretty little foot?
 	And wha will glove my hand?
 	And who will lace my middle jimp
 	Wi this lang London whang?
 76J.2	‘And wha will comb my yellow, yellow hair,
 	Wi this fine rispen kame?
 	And wha will be my bairn’s father,
 	Till Lord Gregory come hame?’

 
 
76K: The Lass of Roch Royal
 
 
 76K.1	‘O OPEN the door, Love Gregory,
 	O open, and let me in;
 	The wind blows through my yellow hair,
 	And the dew draps oer my chin.’

 


 
77A: Sweet William’s Ghost
 
77A.1	THERE came a ghost to Margret’s door, With many a grievous groan, And ay he tirled at the pin, But answer made she none. 77A.2	‘Is that my father Philip, Or is’t my brother John? Or is’t my true-love, Willy, From Scotland new come home?’ 77A.3	‘’Tis not thy father Philip, Nor yet thy brother John; But ’tis thy true-love, Willy, From Scotland new come home. 77A.4	‘O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, I pray thee speak to me; Give me my faith and troth, Margret, As I gave it to thee.’ 77A.5	‘Thy faith and troth thou’s never get, Nor yet will I thee lend, Till that thou come within my bower, And kiss my cheek and chin.’ 77A.6	‘If I shoud come within thy bower, I am no earthly man; And shoud I kiss thy rosy lips, Thy days will not be lang. 77A.7	‘O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, I pray thee speak to me; Give me my faith and troth, Margret, As I gave it to thee.’ 77A.8	‘Thy faith and troth thou’s never get, Nor yet will I thee lend, Till you take me to yon kirk, And wed me with a ring.’ 77A.9	‘My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard, Afar beyond the sea, And it is but my spirit, Margret, That’s now speaking to thee.’ 77A.10	She stretchd out her lilly-white hand, And, for to do her best, ‘Hae, there’s your faith and troth, Willy, God send your soul good rest.’ 77A.11	Now she has kilted her robes of green A piece below her knee, And a’ the live-lang winter night The dead corp followed she. 77A.12	‘Is there any room at your head, Willy? Or any room at your feet? Or any room at your side, Willy, Wherein that I may creep?’ 77A.13	‘There’s no room at my head, Margret, There’s no room at my feet; There’s no room at my side, Margret, My coffin’s made so meet.’ 77A.14	Then up and crew the red, red cock, And up then crew the gray: ‘Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret, That you were going away.’ 77A.15	No more the ghost to Margret said, But, with a grievous groan, Evanishd in a cloud of mist, And left her all alone. 77A.16	‘O stay, my only true-love, stay,’ The constant Margret cry’d; Wan grew her cheeks, she closd her een, Stretchd her soft limbs, and dy’d.
 
77B: Sweet William’s Ghost
 
77B.1	WHAN bells war rung, an mass was sung, A wat a’ man to bed were gone, Clark Sanders came to Margret’s window, With mony a sad sigh and groan. 77B.2	‘Are ye sleeping, Margret,’ he says, ‘Or are ye waking, presentlie? Give me my faith and trouthe again, A wat, trew-love, I gied to thee.’ 77B.3	‘Your faith and trouth ye’s never get, Nor our trew love shall never twain, Till ye come with me in my bower, And kiss me both cheek and chin.’ 77B.4	‘My mouth it is full cold, Margret, It has the smell now of the ground; And if I kiss thy comely mouth, Thy life-days will not be long. 77B.5	‘Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf, I wat the wild fule boded day; Gie me my faith and trouthe again, And let me fare me on my way.’ 77B.6	‘Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get, Nor our trew love shall never twin, Till ye tell me what comes of women Awat that dy’s in strong traveling.’ 77B.7	‘Their beds are made in the heavens high, Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee, Well set about wi gilly-flowers, A wat sweet company for to see. 77B.8	‘O cocks are crowing a merry midd-larf, A wat the wilde foule boded day; The salms of Heaven will be sung, And ere now I’le be misst away.’ 77B.9	Up she has tain a bright long wand, And she has straked her trouth thereon; She has given [it] him out at the shot-window, Wi many a sad sigh and heavy groan. 77B.10	‘I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret, And I thank you hartilie; Gine ever the dead come for the quick, Be sure, Margret, I’ll come again for thee.’ 77B.11	It’s hose an shoon an gound alane She clame the wall and followed him, Untill she came to a green forest, On this she lost the sight of him. 77B.12	‘Is their any room at your head, Sanders? Is their any room at your feet? Or any room at your twa sides? Whare fain, fain woud I sleep.’ 77B.13	‘Their is na room at my head, Margret, Their is na room at my feet; There is room at my twa sides, For ladys for to sleep. 77B.14	‘Cold meal is my covering owre, But an my winding sheet; My bed it is full low, I say, Down among the hongerey worms I sleep. 77B.15	‘Cold meal is my covering owre, But an my winding sheet; The dew it falls na sooner down Then ay it is full weet.’
 
77C: Sweet William’s Ghost
 
77C.1	LADY MARJORIE, Lady Marjorie, Sat sewing her silken seam; By her came a pale, pale ghost, With many a sich and mane. 77C.2	‘Are ye my father, the king?’ she says, ‘Or are ye my brother John? Or are you my true-love, Sweet William, From England newly come?’ 77C.3	‘I’m not your father, the king,’ he says, ‘No, no, nor your brother John; But I’m your true love, Sweet William, From England that’s newly come.’ 77C.4	‘Have ye brought me any scarlets so red? Or any silks so fine? Or have ye brought me any precious things, That merchants have for sale?’ 77C.5	‘I have not brought you any scarlets sae red, No, no, nor the silks so fine; But I have brought you my winding-sheet, Oer many’s the rock and hill. 77C.6	‘O Lady Marjory, Lady Marjory, For faith and charitie, Will you give to me my faith and troth, That I gave once to thee?’ 77C.7	‘O your faith and troth I’ll not give thee, No, no, that will not I, Until I get one kiss of your ruby lips, And in my arms you come [lye].’ 77C.8	‘My lips they are so bitter,’ he says, ‘My breath it is so strong, If you get one kiss of my ruby lips, Your days will not be long. 77C.9	‘The cocks they are crowing, Marjory,’ he says, ‘The cocks they are crawing again; It’s time the deid should part the quick, Marjorie, I must be gane.’ 77C.10	She followed him high, she followed him low, Till she came to yon church-yard; O there the grave did open up, And young William he lay down. 77C.11	‘What three things are these, Sweet William,’ she says, ‘That stands here at your head?’ ‘It’s three maidens, Marjorie,’ he says, ‘That I promised once to wed.’ 77C.12	‘What three things are these, Sweet William,’ she says, ‘That stands here at your side?’ ‘It is three babes, Marjorie,’ he says, ‘That these three maidens had.’ 77C.13	‘What three things are these, Sweet William,’ she says, ‘That stands here at your feet?’ It is three hell-hounds, Marjorie,’ he says, ‘That’s waiting my soul to keep.’ 77C.14	She took up her white, white hand, And she struck him in the breast, Saying, Have there again your faith and troth, And I wish your soul good rest.
 
77D: Sweet William’s Ghost
 
77D.1	LADY MARGARET was in her wearie room, Sewin her silken seam, And in cam Willie, her true-love, Frae Lundin new come hame. 77D.2	‘O are ye my father Philip, Or are ye my brither John? Or are ye my true-love, Willie, Frae London new come home?’ 77D.3	‘I’m nae your father Philip, Nor am I your brother John; But I am your true-love, Willie, An I’m nae a levin man. 77D.4	‘But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat, An let me pass on my way; For the bells o heaven will be rung, An I’ll be mist away.’ 77D.5	‘Yere faith and troth ye’se never get, Till ye tell me this ane; Till ye tell me where the women go That hang themsell for sin.’ 77D.6	‘O they gang till the low, low hell, Just by the devil’s knee; It’s a’ clad ower wi burnin pitch, A dreadfu sicht to see.’ 77D.7	‘But your faith and troth ye’se never get, Till you tell me again; Till you tell me where the children go That die without a name.’ 77D.8	‘O they gang till the high, high heaven, Just by our Saviour’s knee, An it’s a’ clad ower wi roses red, A lovelie sicht to see. 77D.9	‘But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat, And let me pass on my way; For the psalms o heaven will be sung, An I’ll be mist away.’ 77D.10	‘But your faith and troth yese never get Till ye tell me again; Till ye tell me where the women go That die in child-beddin.’ 77D.11	‘O they gang till the hie, hie heaven, Just by our Saviour’s knee, And every day at twal o clock They’re dipped oer the head. 77D.12	‘But gie me my faith and troth, Margret, And let me pass on my way; For the gates o heaven will be shut, And I’ll be mist away.’ 77D.13	Then she has taen a silver key, Gien him three times on the breast; Says, There’s your faith and troth, Willie, I hope your soul will rest. 77D.14	‘But is there room at your head, Willie? Or is there room at your feet? Or is there room at any o your sides, To let in a lover sweet?’ 77D.15	‘There is nae room at my head, Margrat, There’s nae room at my feet, But there is room at baith my sides, To lat in a lover sweet.’
 
77E: Sweet William’s Ghost
 
77E.1	‘AS May Margret sat in her bouerie, In her bouer all alone, At the very parting o midnicht She heard a mournfu moan. 77E.2	‘O is it my father? O is it my mother? Or is it my brother John? Or is it Sweet William, my ain true-love, To Scotland new come home?’ 77E.3	‘It is na your father, it is na your mother, It is na your brother John; But it is Sweet William, your ain true-love, To Scotland new come home.’ 77E.4	‘Hae ye brought me onie fine things, Onie new thing for to wear? Or hae ye brought me a braid o lace, To snood up my gowden hair?’ 77E.5	‘I’ve brought ye na fine things at all, Nor onie new thing to wear, Nor hae I brought ye a braid of lace, To snood up your gowden hair. 77E.6	‘But Margaret, dear Margaret, I pray ye speak to me; O gie me back my faith and troth, As dear as I gied it thee.’ 77E.7	‘Your faith and troth ye sanna get, Nor will I wi ye twin, Till ye come within my bouer, And kiss me, cheek and chin.’ 77E.8	‘O should I come within your bouer, I am na earthly man; If I should kiss your red, red lips, Your days wad na be lang. 77E.9	‘O Margaret, dear Margaret, I pray ye speak to me; O gie me back my faith and troth, As dear as I gied it thee.’ 77E.10	‘Your faith and troth ye sanna get, Nor will I wi ye twin, Till ye tak me to yonder kirk, And wed me wi a ring.’ 77E.11	‘My banes are buried in yon kirk-yard, It’s far ayont the sea; And it is my spirit, Margaret, That’s speaking unto thee.’ 77E.12	‘Your faith and troth ye sanna get, Nor will I twin wi thee, Till ye tell me the pleasures o heaven, And pains of hell how they be.’ 77E.13	‘The pleasures of heaven I wat not of, But the pains of hell I dree; There some are hie hangd for huring, And some for adulterie.’ 77E.14	‘Then Margret took her milk-white hand, And smoothd it on his breast: ‘Tak your faith and troth, William, God send your soul good rest!’
 
77F: Sweet William’s Ghost
 
77F.1	WHEN seven years were come and gane, Lady Margaret she thought lang; And she is up to the hichest tower, By the lee licht o the moon. 77F.2	She was lookin oer her castle high, To see what she might fa, And there she saw a grieved ghost, Comin waukin oer the wa. 77F.3	‘O are ye a man of mean,’ she says, ‘Seekin ony o my meat? Or are you a rank robber, Come in my bower to break?’ 77F.4	‘O I’m Clerk Saunders, your true-love, Behold, Margaret, and see, And mind, for a’ your meikle pride, Sae will become of thee.’ 77F.5	‘Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true-love, This meikle marvels me; O wherein is your bonny arms, That wont to embrace me?’ 77F.6	‘By worms they’re eaten, in mools they’re rotten, Behold, Margaret, and see, And mind, for a’ your mickle pride, Sae will become o thee.’ * * * * * * * * * * 77F.7	‘O, bonny, bonny sang the bird, Sat on the coil o hay; But dowie, dowie was the maid That followd the corpse o clay. 77F.8	‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders? Is there ony room at your feet? Is there ony room at your twa sides, For a lady to lie and sleep?’ 77F.9	‘There is nae room at my head, Margaret, As little at my feet; There is nae room at my twa sides, For a lady to lie and sleep. 77F.10	‘But gae hame, gae hame now, May Margaret, Gae hame and sew your seam; For if ye were laid in your weel made bed, Your days will nae be lang.’
 
77G: Sweet William’s Ghost
 
 
 	* * * *
 77G.1	BUT plait a wand o bonny birk,
 	And lay it on my breast,
 	And shed a tear upon my grave,
 	And wish my saul gude rest.
 77G.2	‘And fair Margret, and rare Margret,
 	And Margret o veritie,
 	Gin eer ye love another man,
 	Neer love him as ye did me.’
 77G.3	Then up and crew the milk-white cock,
 	And up and crew the grey;
 	The lover vanishd in the air,
 	And she gaed weeping away.

 


 
78A: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78A.1	‘THE wind doth blow today, my love,
 	And a few small drops of rain;
 	I never had but one true-love,
 	In cold grave she was lain.
 78A.2	‘I’ll do as much for my true-love
 	As any young man may;
 	I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave
 	For a twelvemonth and a day.’
 78A.3	The twelvemonth and a day being up,
 	The dead began to speak:
 	‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
 	And will not let me sleep?’
 78A.4	‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,
 	And will not let you sleep;
 	For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,
 	And that is all I seek.’
 78A.5	‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;
 	But my breath smells earthy strong;
 	If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
 	Your time will not be long.
 78A.6	‘’Tis down in yonder garden green,
 	Love, where we used to walk,
 	The finest flower that ere was seen
 	Is withered to a stalk.
 78A.7	‘The stalk is withered dry, my love,
 	So will our hearts decay;
 	So make yourself content, my love,
 	Till God calls you away.’

 
 
78B: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78B.1	‘HOW cold the wind do blow, dear love,
 	And see the drops of rain!
 	I never had but one true-love,
 	In the green wood he was slain.
 78B.2	‘I would do as much for my own true-love
 	As in my power doth lay;
 	I would sit and mourn all on his grave
 	For a twelvemonth and a day.’
 78B.3	A twelvemonth and a day being past,
 	His ghost did rise and speak:
 	‘What makes you mourn all on my grave?
 	For you will not let me sleep.’
 78B.4	‘It is not your gold I want, dear love,
 	Nor yet your wealth I crave;
 	But one kiss from your lily-white lips
 	Is all I wish to have.
 78B.5	‘Your lips are cold as clay, dear love,
 	Your breath doth smell so strong;’
 	‘I am afraid, my pretty, pretty maid,
 	Your time will not be long.’

 
 
78C: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78C.1	‘COLD blows the wind oer my true-love,
 	Cold blow the drops of rain;
 	I never, never had but one sweetheart,
 	In the greenwood he was slain.
 78C.2	‘I did as much for my true-love
 	As ever did any maid;
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	* * * * *
 78C.3	‘One kiss from your lily-cold lips, true-love,
 	One kiss is all I pray,
 	And I’ll sit and weep all over your grave
 	For a twelvemonth and a day.’
 78C.4	‘My cheek is as cold as the clay, true-love,
 	My breath is earthy and strong;
 	And if I should kiss your lips, true-love,
 	Your life would not be long.’

 
 
78D: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78D.1	‘PROUD BOREAS makes a hideous noise,
 	Loud roars the fatal fleed;
 	I loved never a love but one,
 	In church-yard she lies dead.
 78D.2	‘But I will do for my love’s sake
 	What other young men may;
 	I’ll sit and mourn upon her grave,
 	A twelvemonth and a day.’
 78D.3	A twelvemonth and a day being past,
 	The ghost began to speak:
 	‘Why sit ye here upon my grave,
 	And will not let me sleep?’
 78D.4	‘One kiss of your lily-white lips
 	Is all that I do crave;
 	And one kiss of your lily-white lips
 	Is all that I would have.’
 78D.5	‘Your breath is as the roses sweet,
 	Mine as the sulphur strong;
 	If you get one kiss of my lips,
 	Your days would not be long.
 78D.6	‘Mind not ye the day, Willie,
 	Sin you and I did walk?
 	The firstand flower that we did pu
 	Was witherd on the stalk.’
 78D.7	‘Flowers will fade and die, my dear,
 	Aye as the tears will turn;
 	And since I’ve lost my own sweet-heart,
 	I’ll never cease but mourn.’
 78D.8	‘Lament nae mair for me, my love,
 	The powers we must obey;
 	But hoist up one sail to the wind,
 	Your ship must sail away.’

 
 
78[E]: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78[E].1	‘Cold blows the wind over my true love,
 	Cold blows the drops of rain;
 	I never, never had but one sweet-heart,
 	In the green wood he was slain.
 78[E.2]	‘But I’ll do as much for my true love
 	As any young girl can do;
 	I’ll sit and I’ll weep by his grave-side
 	For a twelvemonth and one day.’
 78[E.3]	When the twelvemonth’s end and one day was past,
 	This young man he arose:
 	‘What makes you weep by my grave-side
 	For twelve months and one day?’
 78[E.4]	‘Only one kiss from your lily cold lips,
 	One kiss is all I crave;
 	Only one kiss from your lily cold lips,
 	And return back to your grave.’
 78[E.5]	‘My lip is cold as the clay, sweet-heart,
 	My breath is earthly strong;
 	If you should have a kiss from my cold lip,
 	Your days will not be long.’
 78[E.6]	‘Go fetch me a note from the dungeon dark,
 	Cold water from a stone;
 	There I’ll sit and weep for my true love
 	For a twelvemonth and one day.
 78[E.7]	‘Go dig me a grave both long, wide and deep;
 	I will lay down in it and take one sleep,
 	For a twelvemonth and one day;
 	I will lay down in it and take a long sleep,
 	For a twelvemonth and a day.’

 
 
78[F]: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78[F].1	‘Cold blows the wind over my true love,
 	Cold blow the drops of rain;
 	I never, never had but one true love,
 	And in Camvile he was slain.
 78[F.2]	‘I’ll do as much for my true love
 	As any young girl may;
 	I’ll sit and weep down by his grave
 	For twelve months and one day.’
 78[F.3]	But when twelve months were come and gone,
 	This young man he arose:
 	‘What makes you weep down by my grave?
 	I can’t take my respose.’
 78[F.4]	‘One kiss, one kiss, of your lily-white lips,
 	One kiss is all I crave;
 	One kiss, one kiss, of your lily-white lips,
 	And return back to your grave.’
 78[F.5]	‘My lips they are as cold as my clay,
 	My breath is heavy and strong;
 	If thou wast to kiss my lily-white lips,
 	Thy days would not be long.
 78[F.6]	‘O don’t you remember the garden-grove
 	Where we was used to walk?
 	Pluck the finest flower of them all,
 	’Twill wither to a stalk.’
 78[F.7]	‘Go fetch me a nut from a dungeon deep,
 	And water from a stone,
 	And white milk from a maiden’s breast
 	[That babe bare never none].’

 
 
78[G]: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78[G].1	‘Cold blows the wind to-day, sweetheart,
 	Cold are the drops of rain;
 	The first truelove that ever I had
 	In the green wood he was slain.
 78[G.2]	‘’Twas down on the garden-green, sweetheart,
 	Where you and I did walk;
 	The fairest flower that in the garden grew
 	Is witherd to a stalk.
 78[G.3]	‘The stalk will bear no leaves, sweetheart,
 	The flowers will neer return,
 	And since my truelove is dead and gone,
 	What can I do but mourn?’
 78[G.4]	A twelvemonth and a day being gone,
 	The spirit rose and spoke:
 	. . . . . . .
 	. . . . . . .
 78[G.5]	‘My body is clay-cold, sweetheart,
 	My breath smells heavy and strong,
 	And if you kiss my lily-white lips
 	Your time will not be long.’

 
 
78[Ha]: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78[Ha].1	‘Cold blows the wind tonight, sweet-heart,
 	Cold are the drops of rain;
 	The very first love that ever I had
 	In greenwood he was slain.
 78[Ha.2]	‘I’ll do as much for my sweet-heart
 	As any young woman may;
 	I’ll sit and mourn on his grave-side
 	A twelve-month and a day.’
 78[Ha.3]	A twelve-month and a day being up,
 	The ghost began to speak:
 	‘Why sit you here by my grave-side
 	And will not let me sleep?
 78[Ha.4]	‘What is it that you want of me,
 	Or what of me would have?’
 	‘A kiss from off your lily-white lips,
 	And that is all I crave!’
 78[Ha.5]	‘Cold are my lips in death, sweet-heart,
 	My breath is earthy strong;
 	To gain a kiss of my cold lips,
 	Your time would not be long.
 78[Ha.6]	‘If you were not my own sweet-heart,
 	As now I know you be,
 	I’d tear you as the withered leaves
 	That grew on yonder tree.’
 78[Ha.7]	‘O don’t you mind the garden, love,
 	Where you and I did walk?
 	The fairest flower that blossomd there
 	Is withered on the stalk.
 	* * * * * * *
 78[Ha.8]	‘And now I’ve mourned upon his grave
 	A twelvemonth and a day,
 	We’ll set our sails before the wind
 	And so we’ll sail away.’

 
 
78[Hb]: The Unquiet Grave
 
78[Hb].1	Cold blows the wind to-night, my love, Cold are the drops of rain; The very first love that ever I had In greenwood he was slain. 78[Hb.2]	‘I’ll do as much for my true-love As any young woman may; I’ll sit and mourn upon his grave A twelve-month and a day.’ 78[Hb.3]	When a twelve-month and a day were up, His body straight arose: ‘What brings you weeping oer my grave That I get no respose?’ 78[Hb.4]	‘O think upon the garden, love, Where you and I did walk; The fairest flower that blossomd there Is withered on the stalk. 78[Hb.5]	‘The stalk will bear no leaves, sweet-heart, The flower will neer return, And my true-love is dead, is dead, And i do naught but mourn.’ 78[Hb.6]	‘What is it that you want of me And will not let me sleep? Your salten tears they trickle down And wet my winding-sheet.’ 78[Hb.7]	‘What is it that I want of thee, O what of thee in grave? A kiss from off your lily-white lips, And that is all I crave.’ 78[Hb.8]	‘Cold are my lips in death, sweet-heart, My breath is earthy strong; If you do touch my clay-cold lips, Your time will not be long.’ 78[Hb.9]	‘Cold though your lips in death, sweet-heart, One kiss is all I crave; I care not, if I kiss but thee, That I should share thy grave.’ 78[Hb.10]	‘Go fetch me a light from dungeon deep, Wring water from a stone, And likewise milk from a maiden’s breast That never maid hath none. (read babe had.) * * * * * * * 78[Hb.11]	‘Now if you were not true in word, As now I know you be, I’d tear you as the withered leaves Are torn from off the tree.’
 
78[Hc]: The Unquiet Grave
 
 
 78[Hc].1	‘It’s for to meet the falling drops,
 	Cold fall the drops of rain;
 	The last true-love, etc.
 78[Hc.2]	‘I’ll do as much for my fair love
 	as any,’ etc.
 the	rest "[almost exactly"] as b.

 


 
79A: The Wife of Usher’s Well
 
79A.1	THERE lived a wife at Usher’s Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them oer the sea. 79A.2	They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely ane, Whan word came to the carline wife That her three sons were gane. 79A.3	They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, Whan word came to the carlin wife That her sons she’d never see. 79A.4	‘I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fashes in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me, In earthly flesh and blood.’ 79A.5	It fell about the Martinmass, When nights are lang and mirk, The carlin wife’s three sons came hame, And their hats were o the birk. 79A.6	It neither grew in syke nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheugh; But at the gates o Paradise, That birk grew fair eneugh. * * * * * 79A.7	‘Blow up the fire, my maidens, Bring water from the well; For a’ my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well.’ 79A.8	And she has made to them a bed, She’s made it large and wide, And she’s taen her mantle her about, Sat down at the bed-side. * * * * * 79A.9	Up then crew the red, red cock, And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said, ’Tis time we were away. 79A.10	The cock he hadna crawd but once, And clappd his wings at a’, When the youngest to the eldest said, Brother, we must awa. 79A.11	‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin worm doth chide; Gin we be mist out o our place, A sair pain we maun bide. 79A.12	‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear! Fareweel to barn and byre! And fare ye weel, the bonny lass Fareweel to barn and byre! And fare ye weel, the bonny lass That kindles my mother’s fire!’
 
79B: The Wife of Usher’s Well
 
 
 79B.1	THE hallow day o Yule are come,
 	The nights are lang an dark,
 	An in an cam her ain twa sons,
 	Wi their hats made o the bark.
 79B.2	‘O eat an drink, my merry men a’,
 	The better shall ye fare,
 
 	For my twa sons the are come hame
 	To me for evermair.’
 79B.3	She has gaen an made their bed,
 	An she’s made it saft an fine,
 	An she’s happit them wi her gay mantel,
 	Because they were her ain.
 79B.4	O the young cock crew i the merry Linkeum,
 	An the wild fowl chirpd for day;
 	The aulder to the younger did say,
 	Dear brother, we maun away.
 79B.5	‘Lie still, lie still a little wee while,
 	Lie still but if we may;
 	For gin my mother miss us away
 	She’ll gae mad or it be day.’
 79B.6	O it’s they’ve taen up their mother’s mantel,
 	An they’ve hangd it on the pin:
 	‘O lang may ye hing, my mother’s mantel,
 	Or ye hap us again!’

 
 
79[C]: The Wife of Usher’s Well
 
79[C].1	There was a widow-woman lived in far Scotland, And in far Scotland she did live, And all her cry was upon sweet Jesus, Sweet Jesus so meek and mild. 79[C.2]	Then Jesus arose one morning quite soon, And arose one morning betime, And away he went to far Scotland, And to see what the good woman want. 79[C.3]	And when he came to far Scotland, . . . . . . . Crying, What, O what, does the good woman want, That is calling so much on me? 79[C.4]	‘It’s you go rise up my three sons, Their names, Joe, Peter, and John, And put breath in their breast, And clothing on their backs, And immediately send them to far Scotland, That their mother may take some rest.’ 79[C.5]	Then he went and rose up her three sons, Their names, Joe, Peter, and John, And did immediately send them to far Scotland, That their mother may take some rest. 79[C.6]	Then she made up a supper so neat, As small, as small, as a yew-tree leaf, But never one bit they could eat. 79[C.7]	Then she made up a bed so soft, The softest that ever was seen, And the widow-woman and her three sons They went to bed to sleep. 79[C.8]	There they lay; about the middle of the night, Bespeaks the youngest son: ‘The white cock he has crowed once, The second has, so has the red.’ 79[C.9]	And then bespeaks the eldest son: ‘I think, I think it is high time For the wicked to part from their dead.’ 79[C.10]	Then they laid [ led] her along a green road, The greenest that ever was seen, Until they came to some far chaperine, Which was builded of lime and sand; Until they came to some far chaperine, Which was builded with lime and stone. 79[C.11]	And then he opened the door so big, And the door so very wide; Said he to her three sons, Walk in! But told her to stay outside. 79[C.12]	‘Go back, go back!’ sweet Jesus replied, ‘Go back, go back!’ says he; ‘For thou hast nine days to repent For the wickedness that thou hast done.’ 79[C.13]	Nine days then was past and gone, And nine days then was spent, Sweet Jesus called her once again, And took her to heaven with him.


 
80: Old Robin of Portingale
 
80.1	GOD let neuer soe old a man Marry soe yonge a wiffe As did Old Robin of Portingale; He may rue all the dayes of his liffe. 80.2	Ffor the maiors daughter of Lin, God wott, He chose her to his wife, And thought to haue liued in quiettnesse With her all the dayes of his liffe. 80.3	They had not in their wed-bed laid, Scarcly were both on sleepe, But vpp shee rose, and forth shee goes To Sir Gyles, and fast can weepe. 80.4	Saies, Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles? Or be not you within? . . . . . . . . . . 80.5	‘But I am waking, sweete,’ he said, ‘Lady, what is your will?’ ‘I haue vnbethought me of a wile, How my wed lord we shall spill. 80.6	‘Four and twenty knights,’ she sayes, ’That dwells about this towne, Eene four and twenty of my next cozens, Will helpe to dinge him downe.’ 80.7	With that beheard his litle foote-page, As he was watering his masters steed; Soe s . . . . . His verry heart did bleed. 80.8	He mourned, sikt, and wept full sore; I sweare by the holy roode, That teares he for his master wept Were blend water and bloude. 80.9	With that beheard his deare master, As [he] in his garden sate; Says, Euer alacke, my litle page, What causes thee to weepe? 80.10	‘Hath any one done to thee wronge, Any of thy fellowes here? Or is any of thy good friends dead, Which makes thee shed such teares? 80.11	‘Or if it be my head-kookes-man, Greiued againe he shalbe, Nor noe man within my howse Shall doe wrong vnto thee.’ 80.12	‘But it is not your head-kookes-man, Nor none of his degree; But [f]or to morrow, ere it be noone, You are deemed to die. 80.13	‘And of that thanke your head-steward, And after, your gay ladie:’ ‘If it be true, my litle foote-page, Ile make thee heyre of all my land.’ 80.14	‘If it be not true, my deare master, God let me neuer thye:’ ‘If it be not true, thou litle foot-page, A dead corse shalt thou be.’ 80.15	He called downe his head-kookes-man, Cooke in kitchen super to dresse: ‘All and anon, my deare master, Anon att your request.’ 80.16	. . . . . . . . . . ‘And call you downe my faire lady, This night to supp with mee.’ 80.17	And downe then came that fayre lady, Was cladd all in purple and palle; The rings that were vpon her fingers Cast light thorrow the hall. 80.18	‘What is your will, my owne wed lord, What is your will with mee?’ ‘I am sicke, fayre lady, Sore sicke, and like to dye.’ 80.19	‘But and you be sicke, my owne wed lord, Soe sore it greiueth mee; But my fiue maydens and my selfe Will goe and make your bedd. 80.20	’!and at the wakening of your first sleepe You shall haue a hott drinke made, And at the wakening of your next sleepe Your sorrowes will haue a slake.’ 80.21	He put a silke cote on his backe, Was thirteen inches folde, And put a steele cap vpon his head, Was gilded with good red gold. 80.22	And he layd a bright browne sword by his side, And another att his feete, And full well knew Old Robin then Whether he shold wake or sleepe. 80.23	And about the middle time of the night Came twenty four good knights in; Sir Gyles he was the formost man, Soe well he knew that ginne. 80.24	Old Robin, with a bright browne sword, Sir Gyles head he did winne; Soe did he all those twenty four, Neuer a one went quicke out [agen]. 80.25	None but one litle foot-page, Crept forth at a window of stone, And he had two armes when he came in, And [when he went out he had none]. 80.26	Vpp then came that ladie light, With torches burning bright; Shee thought to haue brought Sir Gyles a drinke, But shee found her owne wedd knight. 80.27	And the first thinge that this ladye stumbled vpon Was of Sir Gyles his foote; Sayes, Euer alacke, and woe is me, Here lyes my sweete hart-roote! 80.28	And the second thing that this ladie stumbled on Was of Sir Gyles his head; Sayes, Euer alacke, and woe is me, Heere lyes my true-loue deade! 80.29	Hee cutt the papps beside he[r] brest, And bad her wish her will; And he cutt the eares beside her heade, And bade her wish on still. 80.30	‘Mickle is the mans blood I haue spent, To doe thee and me some good;’ Sayes, Euer alacke, my fayre lady, I think that I was woode! 80.31	He calld then vp his litle foote-page, And made him heyre of all his land, . . . . . . . . . . 80.32	And he shope the crosse in his right sholder, Of the white flesh and the redd, And he went him into the holy land, Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.


 
81A: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81A.	it fell one holy-day, Refrain:	Hay downe As many be in the yeare, When young men and maids together did goe, Their mattins and masse to heare, 81A.2	Little Musgrave came to the church-dore; The preist was at private masse; But he had more minde of the faire women Then he had of our lady[’s] grace. 81A.3	The one of them was clad in green, Another was clad in pall, And then came in my lord Bernard’s wife, The fairest amonst them all. 81A.4	She cast an eye on Little Musgrave, As bright as the summer sun; And then bethought this Little Musgrave, This lady’s heart have I woonn. 81A.5	Quoth she, I have loved thee, Little Musgrave, Full long and many a day; ‘So have I loved you, fair lady, Yet never word durst I say.’ 81A.6	‘I have a bower at Buckelsfordbery, Full daintyly it is deight; If thou wilt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave, Thou’s lig in mine armes all night.’ 81A.7	Quoth he, I thank yee, faire lady, This kindnes thou showest to me; But whether it be to my weal or woe, This night I will lig with thee. 81A.8	With that he heard, a little tyn page, By this ladye’s coach as he ran: ‘All though I am my ladye’s foot-page, Yet I am Lord Barnard’s man. 81A.9	‘My lord Barnard shall knowe of this, Whether I sink or swim;’ And ever where the bridges were broake He laid him downe to swimme. 81A.10	‘A sleepe or wake, thou Lord Barnard, As thou art a man of life, For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery, A bed with thy own wedded wife.’ 81A.11	‘If this be true, thou little tinny page, This thing thou tellest to me, Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery I freely will give to thee. 81A.12	‘But if it be a ly, thou little tinny page, This thing thou tellest to me, On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery Then hanged shalt thou be.’ 81A.13	He called up his merry men all: ‘Come saddle me my steed; This night must I to Buckellsfordbery, For I never had greater need.’ 81A.14	And some of them whistld, and some of them sung, And some these words did say, And ever when my lord Barnard’s horn blew, ‘Away, Musgrave, away!’ 81A.15	‘Methinks I hear the thresel-cock, Methinks I hear the jaye; Methinks I hear my lord Barnard, And I would I were away.’ 81A.16	‘Lye still, lye still, thou Little Musgrave, And huggell me from the cold; ’Tis nothing but a shephard’s boy, A driving his sheep to the fold. 81A.17	‘Is not thy hawke upon a perch? Thy steed eats oats and hay; And thou a fair lady in thine armes, And wouldst thou bee away?’ 81A.18	With that my lord Barnard came to the dore, And lit a stone upon; He plucked out three silver keys, And he opend the dores each one. 81A.19	He lifted up the coverlett, He lifted up the sheet: ‘How now, how now, thou Littell Musgrave, Doest thou find my lady sweet?’ 81A.20	‘I find her sweet,’ quoth Little Musgrave, ‘The more ’tis to my paine; I would gladly give three hundred pounds That I were on yonder plaine.’ 81A.21	‘Arise, arise, thou Littell Musgrave, And put thy cloth s on; It shall nere be said in my country I have killed a naked man. 81A.22	‘I have two swords in one scabberd, Full deere they cost my purse; And thou shalt have the best of them, And I will have the worse.’ 81A.23	The first stroke that Little Musgrave stroke, He hurt Lord Barnard sore; The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke, Little Musgrave nere struck more. 81A.24	With that bespake this faire lady, In bed whereas she lay: ‘Although thou’rt dead, thou Little Musgrave, Yet I for thee will pray. 81A.25	‘And wish well to thy soule will I, So long as I have life; So will I not for thee, Barnard, Although I am thy wedded wife.’ 81A.26	He cut her paps from off her brest; Great pitty it was to see That some drops of this ladie’s heart’s blood Ran trickling downe her knee. 81A.27	‘Woe worth you, woe worth, my mery men all You were nere borne for my good; Why did you not offer to stay my hand, When you see me wax so wood? 81A.28	‘For I have slaine the bravest sir knight That ever rode on steed; So have I done the fairest lady That ever did woman’s deed. 81A.29	‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Barnard cryd, ‘To put these lovers in; But lay my lady on the upper hand, For she came of the better kin.’
 
81B: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
* * * * * 81B.1	. . . . . . . . . . ‘Ffor this same night att [Bucklesfeildberry] Litle Musgreue is in bed with thy wife.’ 81B.2	‘If it be trew, thou litle foote-page, This tale thou hast told to mee, Then all my lands in Buckle[s]feildberry I’le freely giue to thee. 81B.3	‘But if this be a lye, thou little foot-page, This tale thou hast told to mee, Then on the highest tree in Bucklesfeildberry All hanged that thou shalt bee.’ 81B.4	Saies, Vpp and rise, my merrymen all, And saddle me my good steede, For I must ride to Bucklesfeildberry; God wott I had neuer more need! 81B.5	But some they whistled, and some th’z sunge, And some they thus cold say, When euer as Lord Barnetts horne blowes, ‘Away, Musgreue, away!’ 81B.6	‘Mie thinkes I heare the throstlecocke, Me thinkes I heare the iay, Me thinkes I heare Lord Barnetts horne, Away, Musgreue, away!’ 81B.7	‘But lie still, lie still, Litle Musgreue, And huddle me from the cold, For it is but some sheaperds boy, Is whistling sheepe ore the mold. 81B.8	‘Is not thy hauke vpon a pearch, Thy horsse eating corne and hay? And thou, a gay lady in thine armes, And yett thou wold goe away!’ 81B.9	By this time Lord Barnett was come to the dore, And light vpon a stone, And he pulled out three silver kayes, And opened the dores euery one. 81B.10	And first he puld the couering downe, And then puld downe the sheete; Saies, How now? How now, Litle Musgreue? Dost find my gay lady sweet? 81B.11	‘I find her sweete,’ saies Litle Musgreue, ‘The more is my greefe and paine;’ . . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 81B.12	. . . . . . . . . ‘Soe haue I done the fairest lady That	euer wore womans weede. 81B.13	‘Soe haue I done a heathen child, Which full sore greiueth mee, For which Ile repent all the dayes of my life, And god be with them all three!’
 
81C: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81C.1	AS it fell on a light holyday, As many more does in the yeere, Little Mousgrove would to the church and pray, To see the faire ladyes there. 81C.2	Gallants there were of good degree, For beauty exceeding faire, Most wonderous lovely to the eie, That did to that church repaire. 81C.3	Some came downe in red velvet, And others came downe in pall, But next came downe my Lady Barnet, The fairest amongst them all. 81C.4	She cast a looke upon Little Mousgrove, As bright as the summer’s sunne; Full well perceived then Little Mousgrove Lady Barnet’s love he had wonne. 81C.5	Then Lady Barnet most meeke and mild Saluted this Little Mousgrove, Who did repay her kinde courtesie With favour and gentle love. 81C.6	‘I have a bower in merry Barnet, Bestrowed with cowslips sweet; If that it please you, Little Mousgrove, In love me there to meete, 81C.7	‘Within mine armes one night to sleepe, For you my heart have wonne, You need not feare my suspicious lord, For he from home is gone.’ 81C.8	‘Betide me life, betide me death, This night I will sleepe with thee, And for thy sake I’le hazzard my breath, So deare is thy love to me.’ 81C.9	‘What shall wee doe with our little foot-page, Our counsell for to keepe, And watch for feare Lord Barnet comes, Whilest wee together doe sleepe?’ 81C.10	‘Red gold shall be his hier,’ quoth he, ‘And silver shall be his fee, If he our counsell safely doe keepe, That I may sleepe with thee.’ 81C.11	‘I will have non of your gold,’ said he, ‘Nor none of your silver fee; If I should keepe your counsell, sir, ’Twere great disloyaltie. 81C.12	‘I will not be false unto my lord, For house nor yet for land; But if my lady doe prove untrue, Lord Barnet shall understand.’ 81C.13	Then swiftly runnes the little foot-page, Unto his lord with speed, Who then was feasting with his deare friends, Not dreaming of this ill deede. 81C.14	Most speedily the page did haste, Most swiftly did he runne, And when he came to the broken bridge He lay on his brest and swumme. 81C.15	The page did make no stay at all, But went to his lord with speed, That he the truth might say to him Concerning this wicked deed. 81C.16	He found his lord at supper then, Great merriment there they did keepe: ‘My lord,’ quoth he, ’This night, on my word, Mousgrove with your lady does sleepe.’ 81C.17	‘If this be true, my little foot-page, And true as thou tellest to me, My eldest daughter I’le give to thee, And wedded thou shalt be.’ 81C.18	‘If this be a lye, my little foot-page, And a lye as thou tellest to mee, A new paire of gallowes shall straight be set, And hanged shalt thou be.’ 81C.19	‘If this be a lye, my lord,’ said he, ‘A lye that you heare from me, Then never stay a gallowes to make, But hang me up on the next tree.’ 81C.20	Lord Barnet then cald up his merry men, Away with speed he would goe; His heart was so perplext with griefe, The truth of this he must know. 81C.21	‘Saddle your horses with speed,’ quoth he, ‘And saddle me my white steed; If this be true as the page hath said, Mousgrove shall repent this deed.’ 81C.22	He charg’d his men no noise to make, As they rode all along on the way; ‘Nor winde no hornes,’ quoth he,’on your life, Lest our comming it should betray.’ 81C.23	But one of the men, that Mousgrove did love, And respected his friendship most deare, To give him knowledge Lord Barnet was neere, Did winde his bugle most cleere. 81C.24	And evermore as he did blow, ‘Away, Mousgrove, and away; For if I take thee with my lady, Then slaine thou shalt be this day.’ 81C.25	‘O harke, fair lady, your lord is neere, I heare his little horne blow; And if he finde me in your armes thus, Then slaine I shall be, I know.’ 81C.26	‘O lye still, lye still, Little Mousgrove, And keepe my backe from the cold; I know it is my father’s shepheard, Driving sheepe to the pinfold.’ 81C.27	Mousgrove did turne him round about, Sweete slumber his eyes did greet; When he did wake, he then espied Lord Barnet at his bed’s feete. 81C.28	‘O rise up, rise up, Little Mousgrove, And put thy cloth s on; It shall never be said in faire England I slew a naked man. 81C.29	‘Here’s two good swords,’ Lord Barnet said, ‘Thy choice, Mousgrove, thou shalt make; The best of them thy selfe shalt have, And I the worst will take.’ 81C.30	The first good blow that Mousgrove did strike, He wounded Lord Barnet sore; The second blow that Lord Barnet gave, Mousgrove could strike no more. 81C.31	He tooke his lady by the white hand, All love to rage did convert, That with his sword, in most furious sort, He pierst her tender heart. 81C.32	‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Barnet cryde, ‘Prepare to lay us in; My lady shall lie on the upper side, Cause she’s of the better kin.’ 81C.33	Then suddenly he slue himselfe, Which grieves his friends full sore; The deaths of these thra worthy wights With teares they did deplore. 81C.34	This sad mischance by lust was wrought; Then let us call for grace, That we may shun this wicked vice, And mend our lives apace.
 
81D: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81D.1	THERE were four and twenty gentlemen A playing at the ba, And lusty Lady Livingstone Cuist her ee out oure them a’. 81D.2	She cuist her ee on Lord Barnard, He was baith black and broun; She cuist her ee on Little Musgrave, As bricht as the morning sun. 81D.3	. . . . . . . . . . . ‘What’ll I gie ye, my Little Musgrave, Ae nicht wi me to sleep?’ 81D.4	‘Ae nicht wi you to sleep,’ he says, ‘O that wad breed meikle strife; For the ring on your white finger Shows you Lord Barnard’s wife.’ 81D.5	‘O Lord Barnard he is gane frae hame, He’ll na return the day; He has tane wi him a purse o goud, For he’s gane hind away.’ 81D.6	Up startit then the wylie foot-page, . . . . . ‘What will ye gie to me,’ he said, ‘Your council for to keep?’ 81D.7	‘O goud sall be my little boy’s fee, And silver sall be his hire; But an I hear a word mair o this, He sall burn in charcoal fire.’ 81D.8	But the wylie foot-page to the stable went, Took out a milk-white steed, And away, away, and away he rade, Away wi meikle speed. 81D.9	It’s whan he cam to the water-side, He smoothd his breist and swam, And whan he cam to gerss growing, He set down his feet and ran. 81D.10	‘Whan he cam to Lord Barnard’s towr Lord Barnard was at meat; He said, ‘If ye kend as meikle as me, It’s little wad ye eat.’ 81D.11	‘Are onie o my castles brunt?’ he says, ‘Or onie my towrs won? Or is my gay ladie broucht to bed, Of a dochter or a son?’ 81D.12	‘There is nane o your castles brunt, Nor nane o your towrs won; Nor is your gay ladie broucht to bed, Of a dochter or a son. 81D.13	‘But Little Musgrave, that gay young man, Is in bed wi your ladie, . . . . . . . . . . 81D.14	‘If this be true ye tell to me, It’s goud sall be your fee; But if it be fause ye tell to me, I’se hang ye on a tree.’ * * * * * 81D.15	Whan they cam to yon water-side, They smoothd their breists and swam; And whan they cam to gerss growing, They sat doun their feet and ran. * * * * * 81D.16	‘How do ye like my sheets?’ he said, ‘How do ye like my bed? And how do ye like my gay ladie, Wha’s lying at your side?’ 81D.17	‘O I do like your sheets,’ he said, ‘Sae do I like your bed; But mair do I like your gay ladie, Wha’s lying at my side.’ 81D.18	‘Get up, get up, young man,’ he said, ‘Get up as swith’s ye can; Let it never be said that Lord Barnard Slew in bed a nakit man.’ * * * * * 81D.19	‘How do ye like his bluidy cheeks? Or how do ye like me?’ ‘It’s weill do I like his bluidy cheeks, Mair than your haill bodie.’ 81D.20	Then she has kissd his bluidy cheeks, It’s oure and oure again,’ . . . . . . . . . . .
 
81E: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81E.1	FOUR and twenty gay ladies Were playing at the ba, And [out] came Lord Barnaby’s lady, The fairest o them a’. 81E.2	She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave, And he on her again; She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave, As they twa lovers had been. 81E.3	‘I have a hall in Mulberry, It stands baith strong and tight; If you will go to there with me, I’ll lye with you all night.’ 81E.4	‘To lye with you, madam,’ he says, ‘Will breed both sturt and strife; I see by the rings on your fingers You are Lord Barnaby’s wife.’ 81E.5	‘Lord Barnaby’s to the hunting gone, And far out oer the hill, And he will not return again Till the evening tide untill.’ 81E.6	They were not well lain down, Nor yet well fallen asleep, Till up started Lord Barnaby’s boy, Just up at their bed-feet. 81E.7	She took out a little penknife, Which hung down low by her gair: ‘If you do not my secret keep, A word ye’s neer speak mair.’ 81E.8	The laddie gae a blythe leer look, A blythe leer look gave he, And he’s away to Lord Barnaby, As fast as he can hie. * * * * * 81E.9	‘If these tidings binna true, These tidings ye tell to me, A gallows-tree I’ll gar be made And hanged ye shall be. 81E.10	‘But if these tidings are true, These tidings ye tell me, The fairest lady in a’ my court I’ll gar her marry thee.’ 81E.11	He’s taen out a little horn, He blew baith loue and sma, And aye the turning o the tune ‘Away, Musgrave, awa!’ 81E.12	They were not well lain down, Nor yet well fallen asleep, Till up started Lord Barnaby, Just up at their bed-feet. 81E.13	‘O how like ye my blankets, Musgrave? And how like ye my sheets? And how like ye my gay lady, So sound in your arms that sleeps?’ 81E.14	‘Weel I like your blankets, Sir, And far better yere sheets; And better far yere gay lady, So sound in my arms that sleeps.’ 81E.15	‘Get up, get up, now, Little Musgrave, And draw to hose and sheen; It’s neer be said in my country I’d fight a naked man. 81E.16	‘There is two swords into my house, And they cost me right dear; Take you the best, and I the worst, I’ll fight the battle here.’ 81E.17	The first stroke that Lord Barnaby gave, It was baith deep and sore; The next stroke that Lord Barnaby gave, A word he never spoke more. 81E.18	He’s taen out a rappier then, He’s struck it in the straw, And thro and thro his lady’s sides He gard the cauld steel gae. 81E.19	‘I am not sae wae for Little Musgrave, As he lys cauld and dead; But I’m right wae for his lady, For she’ll gae witless wud. 81E.20	‘I’m not sae wae for my lady, For she lies cauld and dead; But I’m right wae for my young son, Lies sprawling in her blood.’ 81E.21	First crew the black cock, And next crew the sparrow; And what the better was Lord Barnaby? He was hanged on the morrow.
 
81F: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81F.1	‘I HAVE a tower in Dalisberry, Which now is dearly dight, And I will gie it to Young Musgrave, To lodge wi me a’ night.’ 81F.2	‘To lodge wi thee a’ night, fair lady, Wad breed baith sorrow and strife; For I see by the rings on your fingers You’re good Lord Barnaby’s wife.’ 81F.3	‘Lord Barnaby’s wife although I be, Yet what is that to thee? For we’ll beguile him for this ae night, He’s on to fair Dundee. 81F.4	‘Come here, come here, my little foot-page, This gold I will give thee, If ye will keep thir secrets close ’Tween Young Musgrave and me. 81F.5	‘But here I hae a little pen-knife, Hings low down by my gare; Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close, Ye’ll find it wonder sair.’ 81F.6	Then she’s taen him to her chamber, And down in her arms lay he; The boy coost aff his hose and shoon, And ran to fair Dundee. 81F.7	When he cam to the wan water, He slackd his bow and swam, And when he cam to growin grass, Set down his feet and ran. 81F.8	And when he cam to fair Dundee, Wad neither chap nor ca, But set his braid bow to his breast, And merrily jumpd the wa. 81F.9	‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, Waken, and come away!’ ‘What ails, what ails my wee foot-page, He cries sae lang ere day? 81F.10	‘O is my bowers brent, my boy? Or is my castle won? Or has the lady that I loe best Brought me a daughter or son?’ 81F.11	‘Your ha’s are safe, your bowers are safe, And free frae all alarms, But, oh! the lady that ye loe best Lies sound in Musgrave’s arms.’ 81F.12	‘Gae saddle to me the black,’ he cried, ‘Gae saddle to me the gray; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, To hie me on my way.’ 81F.13	‘O lady, I heard a wee horn toot, And it blew wonder clear; And ay the turning o the note, Was, Barnaby will be here! 81F.14	‘I thought I heard a wee horn blaw, And it blew loud and high; And ay at ilka turn it said, Away, Musgrave, away!’ 81F.15	‘Lie still, my dear, lie still, my dear, Ye keep me frae the cold; For it is but my father’s shepherds, Driving their flocks to the fold.’ 81F.16	Up they lookit, and down they lay, And they’re fa’en sound asleep; Till up stood good Lord Barnaby, Just close at their bed-feet. 81F.17	‘How do you like my bed, Musgrave? And how like ye my sheets? And how like ye my fair lady, Lies in your arms and sleeps?’ 81F.18	‘Weel like I your bed, my lord, And weel like I your sheets, But ill like I your fair lady, Lies in my arms and sleeps. 81F.19	‘You got your wale o se’en sisters, And I got mine o five; Sae tak ye mine, and I’s tak thine, And we nae mair sall strive.’ 81F.20	‘O my woman’s the best woman That ever brak world’s bread, And your woman’s the worst woman That ever drew coat oer head. 81F.21	‘I hae twa swords in ae scabbert, They are baith sharp and clear; Tak ye the best, and I the warst, And we’ll end the matter here. 81F.22	‘But up, and arm thee, Young Musgrave, We’ll try it han to han; It’s neer be said o Lord Barnaby, He strack at a naked man.’ 81F.23	The first straik that Young Musgrave got, It was baith deep and sair, And down he fell at Barnaby’s feet, And word spak never mair. * * * * * 81F.24	‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Barnaby cried, ‘A grave to lay them in; My lady shall lie on the sunny side, Because of her noble kin.’ 81F.25	But oh, how sorry was that good lord, For a’ his angry mood, Whan he beheld his ain young son All weltring in his blood!
 
81G: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81G.1	LORD BARNARDRR’rrS awa to the green wood, To hunt the fallow deer; His vassals a’ are gane wi him, His companies to bear. 81G.2	His lady wrate a braid letter, And seald it wi her hand, And sent if aff to Wee Messgrove, To come at her command. 81G.3	When Messgrove lookt the letter on, A waefu man was he; Sayin, Gin I’m gript wi Lord Barnard’s wife, Sure hanged I will be. 81G.4	When he came to Lord Barnard’s castel He tinklit at the ring, And nane was so ready as the lady hersell To let Wee Messgrove in. 81G.5	‘Welcome, welcome, Messgrove,’ she said, ‘You’re welcome here to me; Lang hae I loed your bonnie face, And lang hae ye loed me. 81G.6	‘Lord Barnard is a hunting gane, I hope he’ll neer return, And ye sall sleep into his bed, And keep his lady warm.’ 81G.7	‘It cannot be,’ Messgrove he said, ‘I ween it cannot be; Gin Lord Barnard suld come hame this nicht, What would he do to me?’ 81G.8	‘Ye naething hae to fear, Messgrove,
Ye naething hae to fear; I’ll set my page without the gate, To watch till morning clear.’ 81G.9	But wae be to the wee fut-page, And an ill death mat he die! For he’s awa to the green wood, As hard as he can flee. 81G.10	And whan he to the green wood cam, ’Twas dark as dark could bee, And he fand his maister and his men Asleep aneth a tree. 81G.11	‘Rise up, rise up, maister,’ he said, ‘Rise up, and speak to me; Your wife’s in bed wi Wee Messgrove, Rise up richt speedilie.’ 81G.12	‘Gin that be true ye tell to me, A lord I will mak thee; But gin it chance to be a lie, Sure hanged ye sall be.’ 81G.13	‘It is as true, my lord,’ he said, ‘As ever ye were born; Messgrove’s asleep in your lady’s bed, All for to keep her warm.’ 81G.14	He mounted on his milk-white steed, He was ane angry man; And he reachd his stately castell gate Just as the day did dawn. 81G.15	He put his horn unto his mouth, And he blew strong blasts three; Sayin, He that’s in bed with anither man’s wife, He suld be gaun awa. 81G.16	Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove, A frichtit man was he; ‘I hear Lord Barnard’s horn,’ he said, ‘It blaws baith loud and hie.’ 81G.17	‘Lye still, lye still, my Wee Messgrove, And keep me frae the cauld; ’Tis but my father’s shepherd’s horn, A sounding in the fauld.’ 81G.18	He put his horn unto his mouth, And he blew loud blasts three; Saying, He that’s in bed wi anither man’s wife, ’Tis time he was awa. 81G.19	Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove, A frichtit man was he: ‘Yon surely is Lord Barnard’s horn, And I maun een gae flee.’ 81G.20	‘Lye still, lye still, Messgrove,’ she said, ‘And keep me frae the cauld; ’Tis but my father’s shepherd’s horn, A sounding in the fauld.’ 81G.21	And ay Lord Barnard blew and blew, Till he was quite wearie; Syne he threw down his bugle horn, And up the stair ran he. 81G.22	‘How do you like my blankets, Sir? How do you like my sheets? How do ye like my gay ladie, That lies in your arms asleep?’ 81G.23	‘Oh weel I like your blankets, Sir, And weel I like your sheet; But wae be to your gay ladie, That lyes in my arms asleep!’ 81G.24	‘I’ll gie you ae sword, Messgrove, And I will take anither; What fairer can I do, Messgrove, Altho ye war my brither?’ 81G.25	The firsten wound that Messgrove gat, It woundit him richt sair; And the second wound that Messgrove gat, A word he neer spak mair. 81G.26	‘Oh how do ye like his cheeks, ladie? Or how do ye like his chin? Or how do ye like his fair bodie, That there’s nae life within?’ 81G.27	‘Oh weel I like his cheeks,’ she said, ‘And weel I like his chin; And weel I like his fair bodie, That there’s nae life within.’ 81G.28	‘Repeat these words, my fair ladie, Repeat them ower agane, And into a basin of pure silver I’ll gar your heart’s bluid rin.’ 81G.29	‘Oh weel I like his cheeks,’ she said, ‘And weel I like his chin; And better I like his fair bodie Than a’ your kith and kin.’ 81G.30	Syne he took up his gude braid sword, That was baith sharp and fine, And into a basin of pure silver Her heart’s bluid he gart rin. 81G.31	‘O wae be to my merrie men, And wae be to my page, That they didna hald my cursed hands When I was in a rage!’ 81G.32	He leand the halbert on the ground, The point o’t to his breast, Saying, Here are three sauls gaun to heaven, I hope they’ll a’ get rest.
 
81H: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81H.1	LITTLE MUSGROVE is to the church gone, Some ladies for to sply; Doun came one drest in black, And one came drest in brown, And down and came Lord Barlibas’ lady, The fairest in a’ the town. 81H.2	‘I know by the ring that’s on your finger That you’r my Lord Barlibas’ lady:’ ‘Indeed I am the Lord Barlibas’ lady, And what altho I bee?’ * * * * * 81H.3	‘Money shall be your hire, foot-page, And gold shall be your fee; You must not tell the secrets That’s between Musgrove and me.’ 81H.4	‘Money shall not be hire,’ he said, ‘Nor gold shall be my fee; But I’ll awa to my own liege lord, With the tidings you’ve told to me.’ 81H.5	When he cam to the broken brig, He coost aff his clothes and he swimd, And when he cam to Lord Barlibas’ yett, He tirled at the pin. 81H.6	‘What news, what news, my little foot-page? What news have ye brocht to me? Is my castle burnt?’ he said, ‘Or is my tower tane? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a daughter or son?’ 81H.7	‘Your castle is not burnt,’ he says, ‘Nor yet is your tower tane, Nor yet is your lady brocht to bed, Of a daughter or a son; But Little Musgrove is lying wi her, Till he thinks it is time to be gane.’ 81H.8	‘O if the news be a lie,’ he says, ‘That you do tell unto me, I’ll ca up a gallows to my yard-yett, And hangd on it thou shalt be. 81H.9	‘But if the news be true,’ he says, ‘That you do tell unto me, I have a young fair dochter at hame, Weel wedded on her you shall be.’ 81H.10	He called upon his merry men, By thirties and by three: ‘Put aff the warst, put on the best, And come along with me.’ 81H.11	He put a horn to his mouth, And this he gard it say: ‘The man that’s in bed wi Lord Barlibas’ lady, It’s time he were up and away.’ 81H.12	‘What does yon trumpet mean?’ he sayd, ‘Or what does yon trumpet say? I think it says, the man that’s in bed wi Lord Barlibas’ lady, It’s time he were up and away.’ 81H.13	‘O lie you still, my Little Musgrove, And cover me from the cold, For it is but my father’s sheepherd, That’s driving his sheep to the fold.’ 81H.14	. . . . . . In a little while after that, Up started good Lord Barlibas, At Little Musgrove his feet. 81H.15	‘How do you like my blankets?’ he says, ‘Or how do you like my sheets? Or how do you like mine own fair lady, That lies in your arms and sleeps?’ 81H.16	‘I like your blankets very well, And far better your sheets; But woe be to this wicked woman, That lies in my arms and sleeps!’ 81H.17	‘Rise up, rise up, my Little Musgrove, Rise up, and put your clothes on; It’s neer be said on no other day That I killed a naked man. 81H.18	‘There is two swords in my chamber, I wot they cost me dear; Take you the best, give me the warst, We’ll red the question here.’ 81H.19	The first stroke that Lord Barlibas struck, He dang Little Musgrove to the ground; The second stroke that Lord Barlibas gave Dang his lady in a deadly swound. 81H.20	‘Gar mak, gar mak a coffin,’ he says, ‘Gar mak it wide and long, And lay my lady at the right hand, For she’s come of the noblest kin.’
 
81I: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81I.1	‘ITRR’rrS gold shall be your hire,’ she says, ‘And silver shall be your fee, If you will keep the secrets Between Little Sir Grove and me.’ 81I.2	‘Tho gold should be my hire,’ he says, ‘And silver should be my fee, It’s I’ll not keep the secret Betwixt Little Sir Grove and thee.’ 81I.3	Up he rose, and away he goes, And along the plain he ran, And when he came to Lord Bengwill’s castle, He tinkled at the pin; And who was sae ready as Lord Bengwill himsell To let his little page in. 81I.4	‘Is any of my towers burnt?’ he said, ‘Or any of my castles taen? Or is Lady Bengwill brought to bed, Of a daughter or a son?’ 81I.5	‘It’s nane of your towers are burnt,’ he said, ‘Nor nane of your castles taen; But Lady Bengwill and Little Sir Grove To merry bed they are gane.’ 81I.6	‘If this be true that you tell me, Rewarded you shall be; And if it’s a lie that you tell me, You shall be hanged before your ladie’s een. 81I.7	‘Get saddled to me the black,’ he says, ‘Get saddled to me the brown; Get saddled to me the swiftest steed That ever man rode on.’ 81I.8	The firsten town that he cam to, He blew baith loud and schill, And aye the owre-word o the tune Was, ‘Sir Grove, I wish you well.’ 81I.9	The nexten town that he came to, He blew baith loud and long, And aye the owre-word of the tune Was ‘Sir Grove, it is time to be gone.’ 81I.10	‘Is yon the sound of the hounds?’ he says, ‘Or is yon the sound of the deer? But I think it’s the sound of my brother’s horn, That sound sae schill in my ear.’ 81I.11	‘Lye still, lye still, Sir Grove,’ she says, ‘And keep a fair lady from cold; It’s but the sound of my father’s herd-boys, As they’re driving the sheep to the fold.’ 81I.12	They lay down in each other’s arms, And they fell fast asleep, And neer a one of them did wake Till Lord Bengwill stood at their feet. 81I.13	‘How do you love my soft pillow? Or how do you love my sheets? Or how do you love my fair lady, That lies in your arms and sleeps?’ 81I.14	‘Full well I love your soft pillow, Far better I love your sheets; But woe be to your fair lady, That lies in my arms and sleeps!’ 81I.15	‘Rise up, rise up, Sir Grove,’ he says, ‘Some clothes there put you upon; Let it never be said in fair England I fought with a naked man.’ 81I.16	‘Oh where shall I go, or where shall I fly, Or where shall I run for my life? For you’ve got two broadswords into your hand, And I have never a knife.’ 81I.17	‘You shall take the one sword,’ he says, ‘And I shall take the other, And that is as fair I’m sure to day As that you are my born brother.’ 81I.18	‘Hold your hand, hold your hand, my brother dear, You’ve wounded me full sore; You may get a mistress in every town, But a brother you’ll never get more.’ 81I.19	The very first stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him, He wounded him full sore; The very next stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him, A word he never spoke more. 81I.20	He’s lifted up Lady Bengwill, And set her on his knee, Saying, Whether do you love Little Sir Grove Better than you do me? 81I.21	‘Full well I love your cherry cheeks, Full well I love your chin, But better I love Little Sir Grove, where he lies, Than you and all your kin.’ * * * * * 81I.22	‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Bengwill cried, ‘To put these lovers in, And put Lady Bengwill uppermost, For she’s come of the noblest kin.’
 
81J: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81J.1	FOUR and twenty ladies fair Was playing at the ba, And out cam the lady, Barnabas’ lady, The flower amang them a’. 81J.2	She coost an ee on Little Mossgrey, As brisk as any sun, And he coost anither on her again, And they thocht the play was won. 81J.3	‘What would you think, Little Mossgrey, To lye wi me this nicht? Good beds I hae in Barnabey, If they were ordered richt.’ 81J.4	‘Hold thy tongue, fair lady,’ he says, ‘For that would cause much strife; For I see by the rings on your fingers That you’re Lord Barnabas’ wife.’ 81J.5	‘Lord Barnabas’ lady indeed I am, And that I’ll let you ken, But he’s awa to the king’s court, And I hope he’ll neer come hame.’ 81J.6	Wi wrapped arms in bed they lay Till they fell both asleep, When up and starts Barnabas’ boy, And stood at their bed-feet. 81J.7	‘How likes thou the bed, Mossgrey? Or how likes thou the sheets? Or how likes thou my master’s lady, Lyes in thy arms and sleeps?’ 81J.8	‘Weel I love the bed,’ he said, ‘And far better the sheets; But foul may fa your master’s lady, Lies in my arms and sleeps!’ 81J.9	She pulled out a rusty sword, Was sticking by the stroe; Says, Tell no tidings of me, my boy, Or thou’ll neer tell no moe. 81J.10	He’s awa to the king’s court, As fast as he can dree; He’s awa to the king’s court, For to tell Barnaby. 81J.11	‘Are there any of my biggins brunt? Or any of my young men slain? Or is my lady brocht to bed, Of a dochter or a son?’ 81J.12	‘There is none of your biggings brunt, There’s none of your young men slain; But Little Mossgrey and your lady They are both in a bed within.’ 81J.13	‘If that be true, my bonnie boy, Thou tellest unto me, I have not a dochter but only one, And married ye shall be. 81J.14	‘But if it be a lie, my bonnie boy, You’re telling unto me, On the highest tree of Balisberry, Thereon I’ll gar hang thee.’ 81J.15	There was a man in the king’s court Had a love to Little Mossgrey; He took a horn out of his pocket, And blew both loud and hie: ‘He that’s in bed wi Barnabas’ lady, It’s time he were away!’ 81J.16	‘Oh am I not the maddest man Ere lay in a woman’s bed! I think I hear his bridle ring, But and his horse feet tread.’ 81J.17	‘Lye still, lye still, Little Mossgrey, And keep me from the cold; It’s but my father’s small sheep-herd, Calling his sheep to the fold.’ 81J.18	With wrapped arms in bed they lay Till they fell both asleep, Till up and darts Barnabas himsell, And stood at their bed-fit. 81J.19	‘How likest thou the bed, Mossgrey? And how loves thou the sheets? And how loves thou my lady fair, Lyes in your arms and sleeps?’ 81J.20	‘Well I love your bed,’ he says, ‘And far better your sheets; But foul may fa your lady fair, Lyes in my arms and sleeps!’ 81J.21	‘Rise, O rise, Little Mossgrey, Put on your hose and shoon; I’ll neer hae’t said in a far countrie I killed a naked man.’ 81J.22	Slowly, slowly rose he up, And slowly put he on, And slowly down the stairs he goes, And thinking to be slain. 81J.23	‘Here’s two swords,’ Barnabas said, ‘I wad they cost me dear; Tak thou the best, I’ll tak the warst, We’ll try the battle here.’ 81J.24	The first stroke that Mossgrey got, It was baith sharp and sore; And the next stroke his lady got, One word she neer spak more. 81J.25	word she neer spak more. 81J.25	‘Ye’ll mak a coffin large and wide, And lay this couple in; And lay her head on his right hand, She’s come o the highest kin.’
 
81K: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81K.1	ITRR’rrS four and twenty bonny boys Were playin at the ba, And out it cums Lord Barnet’s ladie, And playit out ower them a’. 81K.2	And aye she shot it’s Little Mousgray, As clear as any sun: ‘O what wad ye gie, it’s Little Mousgray, It’s in O my arms to won?’ 81K.3	‘For no, for no, my gay ladie, For no, that maunna be; For well ken I by the rings on your fingers, Lord Barnet’s ladie are ye.’ 81K.4	When supper was over, and mass was sung, And a’ man boun for bed, It’s Little Mousgray and that lady In ae chamber was laid. 81K.5	It’s up and starts her little foot-page, Just up at her bed-feet: ‘Hail weel, hail weel, my little foot-page, Hail well this deed on me, An ever I lee my life to brook, I’se pay you well your fee.’ 81K.6	Out it spaks it’s Little Mousgray: ‘I think I hear a horn blaw; She blaws baith loud and shill at ilka turning of the tune, Mousgray, gae ye your wa!’ 81K.7	‘Lie still, lie still, it’s Little Mousgray, Had the caul win frae my back; It’s bat my father’s proud shepherds, The’re huntin their hogs to the fauld.’ 81K.8	O up it starts the bold Barnet: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81K.9	‘Win up, win up, it’s Little Mousgray, Draw ti your stockins and sheen; I winna have it for to be said I killed a naked man. 81K.10	‘There is two swords in my scabbart, They cost me many a pun; Tak ye the best, and I the warst, And we sall to the green.’ 81K.11	‘The firsten strok Lord Barnet strak, He wound Mousgray very sore; The nexten stroke Lord Barnet strak, Mousgray spak never more. 81K.12	O he’s taen out a lang, lang brand, And stripped it athwart the straw, And throch and throu his ain ladie And he’s gart it cum and ga. 81K.13	There was nae main made for that ladie, In bower whar she lay dead! But a’ was for her bonny young son, Lay blobberin amang the bluid.
 
81L: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81L.1	FOUR and twenty handsome youths Were a’ playing at the ba, When forth it came him Little Munsgrove, The flower out ower them a’. 81L.2	At times he lost, at times he wan, Till the noon-tide o the day, And four an twenty gay ladies Went out to view the play. 81L.3	Some came down in white velvet, And other some in green; Lord Burnett’s lady in red scarlet, And shin’d like ony queen. 81L.4	Some came down in white velvet, And other some in pale; Lord Burnett’s lady in red scarlet, Whose beauty did excell. 81L.5	She gae a glance out ower them a’, As beams dart frae the sun; She fixed her eyes on Little Munsgrove, For him her love lay on. 81L.6	‘Gude day, gude day, ye handsome youth, God make ye safe and free; What woud ye gie this day, Munsgrove, For ae night in bower wi me?’ 81L.7	‘I darena for my lands, lady, I darena for my life; I ken by the rings on your fingers Ye are Lord Burnett’s wife.’ 81L.8	‘It woud na touch my heart, Munsgrove, Nae mair than ’twoud my tae, To see as much o his heart’s blood As twa brands coud let gae. 81L.9	‘I hae a bower in fair Strathdon, And pictures round it sett, And I hae ordered thee, Munsgrove, In fair Strathdon to sleep.’ 81L.10	Her flattering words and fair speeches, They were for him too strong, And she’s prevailed on Little Munsgrove With her to gang along. 81L.11	When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And a’ man bound for bed, Little Munsgrove and that lady In ae chamber were laid. 81L.12	‘O what hire will ye gie your page, If he the watch will keep, In case that your gude lord come hame When we’re fair fast asleep?’ 81L.13	‘Siller, siller’s be his wage, And gowd shall be his hire; But if he speak ae word o this, He’ll die in a burning fire.’ 81L.14	‘The promise that I make, Madam, I will stand to the same; I winna heal it an hour langer Than any master comes hame.’ 81L.15	She’s taen a sharp brand in her hand, Being in the tidive hour; He ran between her and the door, She never saw him more. 81L.16	Where he found the grass grow green, He slacked his shoes an ran, And where he found the brigs broken, He bent his bow an swam. 81L.17	Lord Burnett ower a window lay, Beheld baith dale and down; And he beheld his ain foot-page Come hastening to the town. 81L.18	‘What news, what news, my little wee boy, Ye bring sae hastilie?’ ‘Bad news, bad news, my master,’ he says, ‘As ye will plainly see.’ 81L.19	‘Are any of my biggins brunt, my boy? Or are my woods hewed down? Or is my dear lady lighter yet, O dear daughter or son?’ 81L.20	‘There are nane o your biggins brunt, master, Nor are your woods hewn down; Nor is your lady lighter yet, O dear daughter nor son. 81L.21	‘But ye’ve a bower in fair Strathdon, And pictures round it sett, Where your lady and Little Munsgrove In fair Strathdon do sleep.’ 81L.22	‘O had your tongue! why talk you so About my gay ladye? She is a gude and chaste woman As in the North Countrie.’ 81L.23	‘A word I dinna lie, my lord, A word I dinna lie; And if ye winna believe my word, Your ain twa een shall see.’ 81L.24	‘Gin this be a true tale ye tell, That ye have tauld to me, I’ll wed you to my eldest daughter, And married you shall be. 81L.25	‘But if it be a fause story That ye hae tauld to me, A high gallows I’ll gar be built, And hanged shall ye be.’ 81L.26	He’s called upon his landlady, The reckoning for to pay, And pulled out twa hands fou o gowd; Says, We’ll reckon anither day. 81L.27	He called upon his stable-groom, To saddle for him his steed, And trampled ower yon rocky hills Till his horse hoofs did bleed. 81L.28	There was a man in Lord Burnett’s train Was ane o Munsgrove’s kin, And aye as fast as the horsemen rade, Sae nimbly’s he did rin. 81L.29	He set a horn to his mouth, And he blew loud and sma, And aye at every sounding’s end, ‘Awa, Munsgrove, awa!’ 81L.30	Then up it raise him Little Munsgrove, And drew to him his sheen; ‘Lye still, lye still,’ the lady she cried, ‘Why get ye up sae seen?’ 81L.31	‘I think I hear a horn blaw, And it blaws loud and sma; And aye at every sounding’s end, Awa, Munsgrove, awa!’ 81L.32	‘Lye still, lye still, ye Little Munsgrove, Had my back frae the wind; It’s but my father’s proud shepherd, Caing his hogs to town.’ 81L.33	‘I think I hear a horn blaw, And it blaws loud and shrill, And aye at every sounding’s end Bids Munsgrove take the hill.’ 81L.34	‘Lye still, my boy, lye still, my sweet, Had my back frae the cauld; It’s but the sugh o the westlin wind, Blawing ower the birks sae bauld.’ 81L.35	He turned him right and round about, And he fell fast asleep; When up it started Lord Burnett, And stood at their bed-feet. 81L.36	‘Is’t for love o my blankets, Munsgrove? Or is’t for love o my sheets? Or is’t for love o my gay lady? Sae soun in your arms she sleeps!’ 81L.37	‘It’s nae for love o your blankets, my lord, Nor yet for love o your sheets; But wae be to your gay ladye, Sae soun in my arms she sleeps!’ 81L.38	‘Win up, win up, ye Little Munsgrove, Put all your armour an; It’s never be said anither day I killed a naked man. 81L.39	‘I hae twa brands in ae scabbard, Cost me merks twenty-nine; Take ye the best, gie me the warst, For ye’re the weakest man.’ 81L.40	The firs an stroke that Munsgrove drew Wounded Lord Burnett sair; The next an stroke Lord Burnett drew, Munsgrove he spake nae mair. 81L.41	He turned him to his ladye then, And thus to her said he: ‘All the time we’ve led our life I neer thought this o thee. 81L.42	‘How like ye now this well-faird face, That stands straight by your side? Or will ye hate this ill-faird face, Lyes weltering in his blude?’ 81L.43	‘O better love I this well-faird face, Lyes weltering in his blude, Then eer I’ll do this ill-faird face, That stands straight by my side.’ 81L.44	Then he’s taen out a sharp dagger, It was baith keen and smart, And he has wounded that gay ladye A deep wound to the heart. 81L.45	‘A grave, a grave,’ cried Lord Burnett, ‘To bury these two in; And lay my ladye in the highest flat, She’s chiefest o the kin. 81L.46	‘A grave, a grave,’ said Lord Burnett, ‘To bury these two in; Lay Munsgrove in the lowest flat, He’s deepest in the sin. 81L.47	‘Ye’ll darken my windows up secure, Wi staunchions round about, And there is not a living man Shall eer see me walk out. 81L.48	‘Nae mair fine clothes my body deck, Nor kame gang in my hair, Nor burning coal nor candle light Shine in my bower mair.’
 
81M: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
 
 81M.1	IT fell upon a Martinmas time,
 	When the nobles were a’ drinking wine,
 	That Little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did go,
 	For to see the ladies come in.

 
 
81N: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
 
 81N.1	‘HOW do you like my rug?’ he said,
 	‘And how do you like my sheets?
 	And how do you like my false ladie,
 	That lies in your arms asleep?’
 81N.2	‘Well I like your rug my lord,
 	And well I like your sheets;
 	But better than all your fair ladie,
 	That lies in my arms asleep.’

 
 
81[O]: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
 
81[O].1	There was four-and-twenty ladies Assembled at a ball, And who being there but the king’s wife, The fairest of them all. 81[O.2]	She put her eye on the Moss Groves, Moss Groves put his eye upon she: ‘How would you like, my little Moss Groves, One night to tarry with me?’ 81[O.3]	‘To sleep one night with you, fair lady, It would cause a wonderful sight; For I know by the ring upon your hand You are the king’s wife.’ 81[O.4]	‘If I am the king’s wife, I mean him to beguile; For he has gone on a long distance, And won’t be back for a while.’ 81[O.5]	Up spoke his brother, An angry man was he; ‘Another night I’ll not stop in the castle Till my brother I’ll go see.’ 81[O.6]	When he come to his brother, He was in a hell of a fright: ‘Get up, get up, brother dear! There’s a man in bed with your wife.’ 81[O.7]	‘If it’s true you tell unto me, A man I’ll make of thee; If it’s a lie you tell unto me, It’s slain thou shalt be.’ 81[O.8]	When he came to his hall, The bells begun to ring, And all the birds upon the bush They begun to sing. 81[O.9]	‘How do you like my covering-cloths? And how do you like my sheets? How do you like my lady fair, All night in her arms to sleep?’ 81[O.10]	‘Your covering-cloths I like right well, Far better than your sheets; Far better than all your lady fair, All night in her arms to sleep.’ 81[O.11]	‘Get up, get up now, little Moss Groves, Your clothing do put on; It shall never be said in all England That I drew on a naked man. 81[O.12]	‘There is two swords all in the castle That cost me very dear; You take the best, and I the worst, And let’s decide it here.’ 81[O.13]	The very first blow Moss Groves he gave, He wounded the king most sore; The very first blow the king gave him, Moss Groves he struck no more. 81[O.14]	She lifted up his dying head And kissed his cheek and chin: ‘I’d sooner have you now, little Moss Groves, Than all their castles or kings.’


 
82: The Bonny Birdy
 
82.1	THERE was a knight, in a summer’s night, Was riding oer the lee, diddle An there he saw a bonny birdy, Was singing upon a tree. diddle 82.1b	O wow for day! diddle An dear gin it were day! diddle Gin it were day, an gin I were away! For I ha na lang time to stay. diddle 82.2	‘Make hast, make hast, ye gentle knight, What keeps you here so late? Gin ye kent what was doing at hame, I fear you woud look blate.’ 82.3	‘O what needs I toil day an night, My fair body to kill, Whan I hae knights at my comman, An ladys at my will?’ 82.4	‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye gentle knight, Sa loud’s I hear you lee; Your lady’s a knight in her arms twa That she lees far better nor the.’ 82.5	‘Ye lee, you lee, you bonny birdy, How you lee upo my sweet! I will tak out my bonny bow, An in troth I will you sheet.’ 82.6	‘But afore ye hae your bow well bent, An a’ your arrows yare, I will flee till another tree, Whare I can better fare.’ 82.7	‘O whare was you gotten, and whare was ye clecked? My bonny birdy, tell me:’ ‘O I was clecked in good green wood, My bonny birdy, tell me:’ ‘O I was clecked in good green wood, Intill a holly tree; A gentleman my nest herryed, An ga me to his lady. 82.8	‘Wi good white bread an farrow-cow milk He bade her feed me aft, An ga her a little wee simmer-dale wanny, To ding me sindle and saft. 82.9	‘Wi good white bread an farrow-cow milk I wot she fed me nought, But wi a little wee simmer-dale wanny She dang me sair an aft: Gin she had deen as ye her bade, I woudna tell how she has wrought.’ 82.10	The knight he rade, and the birdy flew, The live-lang simmer’s night, Till he came till his lady’s bowr-door, Then even down he did light: The birdy sat on the crap of a tree, An I wot it sang fu dight. 82.11b	‘O wow for day! diddle An dear gin it were day! diddle Gin it were day, an gin I were away! For I ha na lang time to stay.’ diddle 82.12	‘What needs ye lang for day, diddle. An wish that you were away? diddle Is no your hounds i my cellar, Eating white meal an gray?’ diddle 82.12b	O wow, etc. 82.13	‘Is nae your steed in my stable, Eating good corn an hay? An is nae your hawk i my perch-tree, Just perching for his prey? An is nae yoursel i my arms twa? Then how can ye lang for day?’ 82.14b	‘O wow for day! diddle An dear gin it were day! diddle ??	‘O wow for day! diddle An dear gin it were day! diddle ??	‘O wow for day! diddle An dear gin it were day! diddle For he that’s in bed wi anither man’s wife Has never lang time to stay.’ diddle 82.15	Then out the knight has drawn his sword, An straiked it oer a strae, An thro and thro the fa’se knight’s waste He gard cauld iron gae: An I hope ilk ane sal sae be servd That treats ane honest man sae.


 
83A: Child Maurice
 
83A.1	CHILDE MAURICE hunted ithe siluer wood, He hunted itt round about, And noebodye that he found therin, Nor none there was with-out. 83A.2	. . . . . . . . . . . And he tooke his siluer combe in his hand, To kembe his yellow lockes. 83A.3	He sayes, Come hither, thou litle foot-page, That runneth lowlye by my knee, Ffor thou shalt goe to Iohn Stewards wiffe And pray her speake with mee. 83A.4	’. . . . . . . . . . . I, and greete thou doe that ladye well, Euer soe well froe mee. 83A.5	‘And, as itt falls, as many times As knotts beene knitt on a kell, Or merchant men gone to leeue London, Either to buy ware or sell. 83A.6	‘And, as itt falles, as many times As any hart can thinke, Or schoole-masters are in any schoole-house, Writting with pen and inke: Ffor if I might, as well as shee may, This night I wold with her speake. 83A.7	‘And heere I send her a mantle of greene, As greene as any grasse, And bidd her come to the siluer wood, To hunt with Child Maurice. 83A.8	‘And there I send her a ring of gold, A ring of precyous stone, And bidd her come to the siluer wood, Let for no kind of man.’ 83A.9	One while this litle boy he yode, Another while he ran, Vntill he came to Iohn Stewards hall, I-wis he neuer blan. 83A.10	And of nurture the child had good, Hee ran vp hall and bower free, And when he came to this lady faire, Sayes, God you saue and see! And when he came to this lady faire, Sayes, God you saue and see! And when he came to this lady faire, Sayes, God you saue and see! 83A.11	‘I am come from Ch[i]ld Maurice, A message vnto thee; And Child Maurice, he greetes you well, And euer soe well from mee. 83A.12	‘And, as itt falls, as oftentimes As knotts beene knitt on a kell, Or marchant-men gone to leeue London, Either for to buy ware or sell. 83A.13	‘And as oftentimes he greetes you well As any hart can thinke, Or schoolemasters [are] in any schoole, Wryting with pen and inke. 83A.14	‘And heere he sends a mantle of greene, As greene as any grasse, And he bidds you come to the siluer wood, To hunt with Child Maurice. 83A.15	‘And heere he sends you a ring of gold, A ring of the precyous stone; He prayes you to come to the siluer wood, Let for no kind of man.’ 83A.16	‘Now peace, now peace, thou litle foot-page, Ffor Christes sake, I pray thee! Ffor if my lord heare one of these words, Thou must be hanged hye!’ 83A.17	Iohn Steward stood vnder the castle-wall, And he wrote the words euerye one, . . . . . . . . . . . 83A.18	And he called vnto his hors-keeper, ‘Make readye you my steede!’ I, and soe hee did to his chamberlaine, ‘Make readye thou my weede!’ 83A.19	And he cast a lease vpon his backe, And he rode to the siluer wood, And there he sought all about, About the siluer wood. 83A.20	And there he found him Child Maurice Sitting vpon a blocke, With a siluer combe in his hand, Kembing his yellow locke[s.] * * * * * 83A.21	But then stood vp him Child Maurice, And sayd these words trulye: ‘I doe not know your ladye,’ he said, ‘If that I doe her see.’ 83A.22	that I doe her see.’ 83A.22	He sayes, How now, how now, Child Maurice? Alacke, how may this bee? Ffor thou hast sent her loue-tokens, More now then two or three. 83A.23	‘Ffor thou hast sent her a mantle of greene, As greene as any grasse, And bade her come to the siluer woode, To hunt with Child Maurice. 83A.24	‘And thou [hast] sent her a ring of gold, A ring of the precyous stone, And bade her come to the siluer wood, Let for no kind of man.’ 83A.25	‘And by my faith, now, Child Maurice, The tone of vs shall dye!’ ‘Now be my troth,’ sayd Child Maurice, ‘And that shall not be I.’ And soe fast he smote att Iohn Steward, 83A.26	But hee pulled forth a bright browne sword, And dryed itt on the grasse, And the first good stroke Iohn Stewart stroke, I-wisse he neuer [did] rest. 83A.27	Then hee pulled forth his bright browne sword, And dryed itt on his sleeue, And the first good stroke Iohn Stewart stroke, Child Maurice head he did cleeue. 83A.28	And he pricked itt on his swords poynt, Went singing there beside, And he rode till he came to that ladye faire, Wheras this ladye lyed. 83A.29	And sayes, Dost thou know Child Maurice head, If that thou dost itt see? And lapp itt soft, and kisse itt offt, Ffor thou louedst him better than mee.’ 83A.30	But when shee looked on Child Maurice head, Shee neuer spake words but three: ‘I neuer beare no child but one, And you haue slaine him trulye.’ 83A.31	Sayes, Wicked be my merrymen all, I gaue meate, drinke, and clothe! But cold they not haue holden me When I was in all that wrath! 83A.32	‘Ffor I haue slaine one of the curteousest knights That	euer bestrode a steed, Soe haue I done one [of] the fairest ladyes That	euer bestrode a steed, Soe haue I done one [of] the fairest ladyes That	euer ware womans weede!’
 
83B: Child Maurice
 
 
 83B.Tharrt	euer ware womans weede!’

 
 
83B: Child Maurice
 
83B.1	CHILD NORYCE is a clever young man, He wavers wi the wind; His horse was silver-shod before, With the beaten gold behind. 83B.2	He called to his little man John, Saying, You don’t see what I see; For O yonder I see the very first woman That ever loved me. 83B.3	‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he said, ‘Lined with the silver grey; You may tell her to come to the merry greenwood, To speak to Child Nory. 83B.4	‘Here is a ring, a ring,’ he says, ‘It’s all gold but the stane; You may tell her to come to the merry greenwood, And ask the leave o nane.’ 83B.5	‘So well do I love your errand, my master, But far better do I love my life; O would ye have me go to Lord Barnard’s castle, To betray away his wife?’ 83B.6	‘O don’t I give you meat,’ he says, ‘And don’t I pay you fee? How dare you stop my errand?’ he says; ‘My orders you must obey.’ 83B.7	O when he came to Lord Bernard’s castle, He tinkled at the ring; Who was as ready as Lord Barnard himself To let this little boy in? 83B.8	‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says, ‘Lined with the silver grey; You are bidden to come to the merry greenwood, To speak to Child Nory. 83B.9	‘Here is a ring, a ring,’ he says, ‘It’s all gold but the stane; You are bidden to come to the merry greenwood, And ask the leave o nane.’ 83B.10	Lord Barnard he was standing by, And an angry man was he: ‘O little did I think there was a lord in the world My lady loved but me!’ 83B.11	O he dressed himself in the holland smock, And garments that was gay, And he is away to the merry green-wood, To speak to Child Nory. 83B.12	Child Noryce sits on yonder tree, He whistles and he sings: ‘O wae be to me,’ says Child Noryce, ‘Yonder my mother comes!’ 83B.13	Child Noryce he came off the tree, His mother to take off the horse: ‘Och alace, alace,’ says Child Noryce, ‘My mother was neer so gross!’ 83B.14	Lord Barnard he had a little small sword, That hung low down by his knee; He cut the head off Child Noryce, And put the body on a tree. 83B.15	And when he came home to his castell, And to his ladie’s hall, He threw the head into her lap, Saying, Lady, there’s a ball! 83B.16	She turned up the bloody head, She kissed it frae cheek to chin: ‘Far better do I love this bloody head Than all my royal kin. 83B.17	‘When I was in my father’s castel, In my virginity, There came a lord into the North, Gat Child Noryce with me.’ 83B.18	‘O wae be to thee, Lady Margaret,’ he sayd, ‘And an ill death may you die; For if you had told me he was your son, He had neer been slain by me.’
 
83C: Child Maurice
 
83C.1	BOB NORICE is to the grein-wud gane, He is awa wi the wind; His horse is siller-shod afore, In the shynand gowd ahind. 83C.2	He said unto his wee boy John, I sie what ye dinna sie; I see the [first] woman that I eer luvit, Or ever luvit me. 83C.3	‘Gae tak to hir this pair o gluvis, They’re o the siller-gray, And tell her to cum to the merrie grein-wud An speik to Bob Norice. 83C.4	‘Gae tak to her this gay gowd ring, And it’s aw gowd but the stane, And tell her to cum to the merrie grein-wud, And ask the leive o nane. 83C.5	‘Gae tak to her this braw manteil, It’s a’ silk but the sleive, And tell her to cum to the merrie green-wud, And ax nae bauld Barnet’s leive.’ 83C.6	‘I daurna gang to Lord Barnet’s castel, I daurna gang for my lyfe; I daurna gang to Lord Barnet’s castell, To twyne him o his wife.’ 83C.7	‘Do I nae pay you gowd?’ he said, ‘Do I nae pay you fee? How daur you stand my bidding, Sir, Whan I bid you to flee?’ 83C.8	‘Gif I maun gang to Lord Barnet’s castel, Sae sair agane my will, I vow a vow, and I do protest, It sall be dune for ill.’ 83C.9	But whan he came to Lord Barnet’s castel He tinklet at the ring; Tha war nane sae ready as Lord Barnet himsell To let the wee calland in. 83C.10	‘What news, what news, my bonnie wee boy? What news hae ye to me?’ ‘Nae news, nae news, Lord Barnet,’ he said, ‘But you ladie I fain would see. 83C.11	‘Here is a pair o gluves to her, Thay’r o the silver gray; And tell her to cum to the merrie green-wud, And speik to Bob Norice. 83C.12	‘Here is a gay gowd ring to her, It’s aw gowd but the stane; And she maun cum to the merrie green-wud, And speir the leive o nane. 83C.13	‘Here is a gay manteil to her, It’s aw silk but the sleive; And she maun cum to the merrie grein-wud, And ask not bauld Barnet’s leive.’ 83C.14	Then out bespack the yellow nurse, Wi the babie on her knee, Sayand, Gif thay be cum frae Bob Norice, They are welcum to me. 83C.15	‘O haud your tung, ye yellow nurse, Aloud an I heir ye lie; For they’re to Lord Barnet’s lady, I trew that this be she.’ 83C.16	Lord Barnet’s to a dressing-room, And buskt him in woman’s array, And he’s awa to the merrie green-wud, To speik to Bob Norrice. 83C.17	Bob Norrice he sits on a tree, He is whissland and singand; Says, Merrie, merrie may my hert be, I see my mither cumand. 83C.18	Bob Norice he cam doun frae the trie, To help his mother to licht fra her horss; ‘Och alace, alace,’ says Bob Norice, ‘My mither was neer sae gross!’ 83C.19	mither was neer sae gross!’ 83C.19	Lord Barnet had a not-brown sword, That hung down by his knee, And he has cut Bob Norice heid Aff frae his fair bodie. 83C.20	He tuke the bluidy head in his hand, And he brocht it to the ha, And flang it into his lady’s lap, Sayand, Lady, there is a ba! 83C.21	She took the bluidy heid in her hand, And kisst it frae cheik to chin, Sayand, Better I lyke that weil faurit face Nor aw my royal kin. 83C.22	‘Whan I was in my father’s bour, A’ in my dignity, An Englis lord a visit came, Gat Bob Norice wi me.’ 83C.23	Then out bespak Lord Barnet syne, And a wae, wae man was he, Sayand, Gif I had kent he was your son, He wuld neer been killit be me.
 
83D: Child Maurice
 
83D.1	GILL MORICE stood in stable-door, With red gold shined his weed; A bonnie boy him behind, Dressing a milk-white steed. 83D.2	‘Woe’s me for you, maister, Your name it waxes wide; It is not for your rich, rich robes, Nor for your meikle pride, But all is for yon lord’s ladie, She lives on Ithan side.’ 83D.3	‘Here’s to thee, my bonnie wee boy, That I pay meat and fee; You will run on to Ithan side An errand unto me.’ 83D.4	‘If ye gar me that errand run, Sae sair against my will, I’ll make a vow, and keep it true, I’ll do your errand ill.’ 83D.5	‘I fear nae ill of thee, boy, I fear nae ill of thee; I fearna ill of my bonnie boy, My sister’s son are ye. 83D.6	‘Ye’ll tak here this green manteel, It’s lined with the frieze; Ye’ll bid her come to gude green-wood, To talk with Gill Morice. 83D.7	‘Ye’ll tak here this sark o silk, Her ain hand sewed the sleeve; Ye’ll bid her come to gude green-wood, And ask not Burnard’s leave.’ 83D.8	When he gade to Ithan side They were hailing at the ba, And four and twenty gay ladyes They lookd ower castle wa. And four and twenty gay ladyes They lookd ower castle wa. 83D.9	‘God mak you safe, you ladies all, God mak you safe and sure; But Burnard’s lady amang you all, My errand is to her. 83D.10	‘Ye’ll tak here this green manteel, It’s a’ lined wi the frieze; Ye’re bidden come to gude green-wood And speak to Gill Morice. 83D.11	‘Ye’ll tak here this sark of silk, Your ain hand sewed the sleeve; Ye’re bidden come to gude green-wood, And ask not Burnard’s leave.’ 83D.12	Up it stood the little nurice, She winked with her ee: ‘Welcome, welcome, bonnie boy, With luve-tidings to me. 83D.13	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye false nurice, Sae loud’s I hear ye lie; It’s to the lady of the house, I’m sure ye are not shee.’ 83D.14	Then out and spoke him bold Burnard, Behind the door stood he: ‘I’ll go unto gude green-wood, And see what he may be. 83D.15	‘Come, bring to me the gowns of silk, Your petticoats so small, And I’ll go on to gude green-wood, I’ll try with him a fall.’ 83D.16	Gill Morice stood in gude green-wood, He whistled and he sang: ‘I think I see the woman come That I have loved lang.’ 83D.17	‘What now, what now, ye Gill Morice, What now, and how do ye? How lang hae ye my lady luved? This day come tell to me.’ 83D.18	‘First when I your lady loved, In green-wood amang the thyme, I wot she was my first fair love Or ever she was thine. 83D.19	‘First when I your lady loved, In green-wood amang the flouirs, I wot she was my first fair love Or ever she was yours.’ 83D.20	He’s taen out a lang, lang brand That he was used to wear, And he’s taen aff Gill Morice head, And put it on a spear: The soberest boy in a’ the court Gill Morice head did bear. 83D.21	He’s put it in a braid basin, And brocht it in the ha, And laid it in his lady’s lap; Said, Lady, tak a ba! 83D.22	‘Play ye, play ye, my lady,’ he said, ‘Play ye frae ha to bower; Play ye wi Gill Morice head, He was your paramour! 83D.23	‘He was not my paramour, He was my son indeed; I got him in my mother’s bower, And in my maiden -weed. 83D.24	‘I got him in my mother’s bower, Wi meikle sin and shame; I brocht him up in good green-wood, Got mony a shower o rain. 83D.25	‘But I will kiss his bluidy head, And I will clap his chin; I’ll make a vow, and keep it true, I’ll never kiss man again. 83D.26	‘Oftimes I by his cradle sat, And fond to see him sleep; But I may walk about his grave, And fond to see him sleep; But I may walk about his grave, The saut tears for to weep.’ 83D.27	‘Bring cods, bring cods to my ladye, Her heart is full of wae;’ ‘None of your cods, Burnet,’ she says, ‘But lay me on the strae.’ 83D.28	‘Pox on you, my lady fair, That wudna telled it me; If I had known he was your son, He had not been slain by me; And for ae penny ye wud hae gien I wud hae gien him three.’ And for ae penny ye wud hae gien I wud hae gien him three.’ 83D.29	‘Keep weel your land, Burnet,’ she said, ‘Your land and white monie; There’s land eneuch in Norroway Lies heirless I wot the day.’ 83D.30	The one was killed in the mornin air, His mother died at een, And or the mornin bells was rung The threesome were a’ gane.
 
83E: Child Maurice
 
83E.1	CHIELD MORRICE was an earl’s son, His name it waxed wide; It was nae for his parentage, Nor yet his meikle pride, But it was for a lady gay, That lived on Carron side. 83E.2	‘O Willie, my man, my errand gang, And you maun rin wi speed; When other boys run on their feet, On horseback ye shall ride. 83E.3	‘O master dear, I love you weel, And I love you as my life, But I will not go to Lord Barnard’s ha, For to tryst forth his wife. 83E.4	‘For the baron he’s a man of might, He neer could bide a taunt, And ye shall see or it be late How meikle ye’ll hae to vaunt.’ 83E.5	‘O you must rin my errand, Willie, And you must rin wi speed, And if you don’t obey my high command I’ll gar your body bleed. 83E.6	‘And here it is a gay manteel, It’s a’ gowd but the hem; Bid her come speak to Chield Morice, Bring naebody but her lane. 83E.7	‘And here it is a holland smock, her own hand sewed the sleeve; Bid her come speak to Chield Morice, Ask not the baron’s leave.’ 83E.8	‘Since I must run this errand for you, So sore against my will, I’ve made a vow, and I’ll keep it true, It shall be done for ill.’ 83E.9	For he did not ask the porter’s leave, Tho he stood at the gate, But straight he ran to the big hall, Where great folk sat at meat. 83E.10	‘Good hallow, gentle sir and dame, My errand canno wait; Dame, ye must go speak to Chield Morice, Before it be too late. 83E.11	‘And here it is a gay manteel, It’s a’ goud but the hem; Ye must come speak to Child Morice, Bring nae body but your lane. 83E.12	‘And here it is a holland smock, Your ain hand sewed the sleeve; You must come speak to Chield Morice, Ask not the baron’s leave.’ 83E.13	O aye she stamped wi her foot, And winked wi her ee, But a’ that she could say or do, Forbidden he wad na be. 83E.14	‘It’s surely to my bouir-woman, It canna be to me:’ ‘I brocht it to Lord Barnard’s lady, And I trow that thou art she.’ 83E.15	Out then spak the wylie nurse, Wi the bairn just on her knee: ‘If this be come fra Chield Morice, It’s dear welcome to me.’ 83E.16	‘Thou lies, thou lies, thou wylie nurse, Sae loud’s I hear thee lie; I brought it to Lord Barnard’s lady, And I trow thou binna she.’ I brought it to Lord Barnard’s lady, And I trow thou binna she.’ 83E.17	Then up and rose him the bold baron, And an angry man was he; He took the table wi his foot, And keppd it wi his knee, Till silver cup and ezar dish In flinders they did flee. 83E.18	‘Go gring me one of thy cleeding, That hings upon the pin, And I’ll awa to the good green-wood, And crack wi your leman.’ 83E.19	‘I would have you stay at home, Lord Barnard, I would have you stay at home; Never wyte a man for violence douce That never thought you wrong.’ 83E.20	And when he to the green-wood went, No body saw he there But Chield Morice, on a milk-white steed, Combing down his yellow hair. 83E.21	Chield Morice sat in the gay green-wood, He whistled and he sang: ‘O what means a’ thir folks coming? My mother tarries lang.’ 83E.22	mother tarries lang.’ 83E.22	‘No wonder, no wonder, Chield Morice,’ he said, ‘My lady loved thee weel; For the whitest bit of my body Is blacker than thy heel. 83E.23	‘But nevertheless now, Chield Morice, For a’ thy gay beautie, O nevertheless, Chield Morice, Thy head shall go with me.’ 83E.24	He had a rapier by his side, Hung low down by his knee; He struck Chield Morrice on the neck, Till aff his head did flee. 83E.25	Then he’s taen up that bloody head, And stuck it on a spear, And the meanest man in a’ his train Gat Chield Morice head to bear. 83E.26	The lady looked owre the castle-wa, Wi meikle dool and down, And there she saw Chield Morice head, Coming trailing to the town. 83E.27	But he’s taen up this bluidy head, And dashed it gainst the wa: ‘Come down, come down, you ladies fair, And play at this foot-ba.’ 83E.28	Then she’s taen up this bluidy head, And an ill deid may thou die! And she kissed it both cheek and chin: ‘I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head Than a’ thy earldom. ‘I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head Than a’ thy earldom. ‘I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head Than a’ thy earldom. 83E.29	‘I got him in my father’s bouir, Wi meikle sin and shame, And I brought him up in gay green-wood, Beneath the heavy rain. 83E.30	‘Many a day have I rockd thy cradle, And fondly seen thee sleep, But now I’ll go about thy grave, And sore, sore will I weep.’ 83E.31	‘O woe be to thee, thou wild woman, And an ill deid may thou die! For if ye had tauld me he was your son, He should hae ridden and gane wi me.’ 83E.32	‘O hold your tongue, you bold baron, And an ill death may ye die! He had lands and rents enew of his ain, He needed nane fra thee.’ 83E.33	‘Then I’ll curse the hand that did the deed, The heart that thought him ill, The feet that carried me speedilie This comely youth to kill.’ 83E.34	This lady she died gin ten o’clock, Lord Barnard died gin twall, And bonnie boy now, Sweet Willie, What’s come o him I canna tell.
 
83F: Child Maurice
 
 
 83F.at’s	come o him I canna tell.

 
 
83F: Child Maurice
 
83F.1	GIL MORRICE was an erles son, His name it waxed wide; It was nae for his great riches, Nor yet his mickle pride, Bot it was for a lady gay, That livd on Carron side. 83F.2	‘Whair sall I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoen, That will gae to Lord Barnard’s ha, And bid his lady cum? 83F.3	‘And ye maun rin errand, Willie, And ye may rin wi pride; When other boys gae on their foot, On horseback ye sall ride.’ 83F.4	‘O no! Oh no! my master dear, I dare nae for my life; I’ll no gae to the bauld baron’s, For to triest furth his wife.’ 83F.5	‘My bird Willie, my boy Willie, My dear Willie,’ he sayd, ‘How can ye strive against the stream? For I sall be obeyd.’ 83F.6	‘Bot, O my master dear,’ he cry’d, ‘In grene-wod ye’re your lain; Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ye rede, For fear ye should be tain.’ Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ye rede, For fear ye should be tain.’ 83F.7	fear ye should be tain.’ 83F.7	fear ye should be tain.’ 83F.7	‘Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha, Bid hir cum here wi speid; If ye refuse my heigh command, I’ll gar your body bleid. 83F.8	‘Gae bid hir take this gay mantel, ’Tis a’ gowd but the hem; Bid hir cum to the gude grene-wode, And bring nane bot hir lain. 83F.9	‘And there it is, a silken sarke, Hir ain hand sewd the sleive; And bid her cum to Gill Morice, Speir nae bauld baron’s leave.’ 83F.10	‘Yes, I will gae your black errand, Though it be to your cost; Sen ye by me will nae be warnd, In it ye sall find frost. 83F.11	‘The baron he’s a man of might, He neir could bide to taunt; As ye will see, before it’s nicht, How sma ye hae to vaunt. 83F.12	‘And sen I maun your errand rin, Sae sair against my will, I’se mak a vow, and keip it trow, It sall be done for ill.’ 83F.13	And when he came to broken brigue, He bent his bow and swam; And when [he] came to grass growing, Set down his feet and ran. 83F.14	And when he came to Barnard’s ha, Would neither chap nor ca, Bot set his bent bow to his breist, And lichtly lap the wa. 83F.15	He wauld nae tell the man his errand, Though he stude at the gait; Bot straiht into the ha he cam, Whair they were set at meit. 83F.16	‘Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame, My message winna waite; Dame, ye maun to the gude grene-wod, Before that it be late. 83F.17	‘Ye’re bidden tak this gay mantel, ’Tis a’ gowd bot the hem; You maun gae to the gude grene-wode, Evn by your sel alane. 83F.18	‘And there it is, a silken sarke, Your ain hand sewd the sleive; Ye maun gae speik to Gill Morice, Speir nae bauld baron’s leave.’ 83F.19	The lady stamped wi hir foot, And winked wi hir ee; But a’ that she coud say or do, Forbidden he wad nae bee. 83F.20	‘It’s surely to my bowr-woman; It neir could be to me:’ ‘I brocht it to Lord Barnard’s lady; I trow that ye be she.’ 83F.21	Then up and spack the wylie nurse, The bairn upon hir knee: ‘If it be cum frae Gill Morice, It’s deir welcum to mee.’ 83F.22	‘Ye leid, ye leid, ye filthy nurse, Sae loud’s I heire ye lee; I brocht it to Lord Barnard’s lady; I trow ye be nae shee.’ 83F.23	Then up and spack the bauld baron, An angry man was hee; He’s tain the table wi his foot, Sae has he wi his knee, Till siller cup and ezar dish In flinders he gard flee. 83F.24	‘Gae bring a robe of your cliding, That hings upon the pin, And I’ll gae to the gude grene-wode, And speik wi your lemman.’ 83F.25	‘O bide at hame, now, Lord Barnard, I warde ye bide at hame; Neir wyte a man for violence That neir wate ye wi nane.’ 83F.26	Gil Morice sate in gude grene-wode, He whistled and he sang: ‘O what mean a’ the folk coming? My mother tarries lang.’ 83F.27	The baron came to the grene-wode, Wi mickle dule and care, And there he first spied Gill Morice, Kameing his yellow hair. 83F.28	‘Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice, My lady loed thee weel; The fairest part of my body Is blacker than thy heel. 83F.29	‘Yet neir the less now, Gill Morice, For a’ thy great bewty, Ye’s rew the day ye eir was born; That head sall gae wi me.’ 83F.30	Now he has drawn his trusty brand, And slaited on the strae, And thro Gill Morice fair body He’s gard cauld iron gae. 83F.31	And he has tain Gill Morice head, And set it on a speir; The meanest man in a’ his train Has gotten that head to bear. 83F.32	And he has tain Gill Morice up, Laid him across his steid, And brocht him to his painted bowr, And laid him on a bed. 83F.33	The lady sat on castil-wa, Beheld baith dale and doun, And there she saw Gill Morice head Cum trailing to the toun. 83F.34	‘Far better I loe that bluidy head, Bot and that yellow hair, Than Lord Barnard, and a’ his lands, As they lig here and thair.’ 83F.35	And she has tain hir Gill Morice, And kissd baith mouth and chin: ‘I was once as fow of Gill Morice As the hip is o the stean. 83F.36	‘I got ye in my father’s house, Wi mickle sin and shame; I brocht thee up in gude green-wode, Under the heavy rain. 83F.37	‘Oft have I by thy cradle sitten, And fondly seen thee sleip; Bot now I gae about thy grave, The saut tears for to weip.’ 83F.38	And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik, And syne his bluidy chin: ‘O better I loe my Gill Morice Than a’ my kith and kin!’ 83F.39	‘Away, away, ye ill woman, And an il deith mait ye dee! Gin I had kend he’d bin your son, He’d neir bin slain for mee.’
 
83G: Child Maurice
 
 
 83G.1	GIL MORRICE sat in silver wood,
 	He whistled and he sang:
 	‘Whar sall I get a bonny boy
 	My errand for to gang?’
 83G.2	He ca’d his foster-brither Willie:
 	‘Come, win ye hose and shoon,
 	And gae unto Lord Barnard’s ha,
 	And bid his lady come.’
 	* * * * *
 83G.3	And she has taen the bloody head,
 	And cast it i the brim,
 	Syne gathered up her robes o green,
 	And fast she followed him.

 


 
84A: Bonny Barbara Allen
 
84A.1	IT was in and about the Martinmas time, When the green leaves were a falling, That Sir John Gra+eme, in the West Country, Fell in love with Barbara Allan. 84A.2	He sent his men down through the town, To the place where she was dwelling: ‘O haste and come to my master dear, Gin ye be Barbara Allan.’ 84A.3	O hooly, hooly rose she up, To the place where he was lying, And when she drew the curtain by, ‘Young man, I think you’re dying.’ And when she drew the curtain by, ‘Young man, I think you’re dying.’ 84A.4	‘O it’s I’m sick, and very, very sick, And ’tis a’ for Barbara Allan:’ ‘O the better for me ye’s never be, Tho your heart’s blood were a spilling. 84A.5	‘O dinna ye mind, young man,’ said she, ‘When ye was in the tavern a drinking, That ye made the healths gae round and round, And slighted Barbara Allan?’ 84A.6	He turnd his face unto the wall, And death was with him dealing: ‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, And death was with him dealing: ‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, And be kind to Barbara Allan.’ 84A.7	And slowly, slowly raise she up, And slowly, slowly left him, And sighing said, she coud not stay, Since death of life had reft him. 84A.8	She had not gane a mile but twa, When she heard the dead-bell ringing, And every jow that the dead-bell geid, It cry’d, Woe to Barbara Allan! 84A.9	‘O mother, mother, make my bed! O make it saft and narrow! Since my love died for me to-day, I’ll die for him to-morrow.’
 
84B: Bonny Barbara Allen
 
84B.1	IN SCARLET TOWN, where I was bound, There was a fair maid dwelling, Whom I had chosen to be my own, And her name it was Barbara Allen. 84B.2	All in the merry month of May, When green leaves they was springing, This young man on his death-bed lay, For the love of Barbara Allen. 84B.3	He sent his man unto her then, To the town where she was dwelling: ‘You must come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen. 84B.4	‘For death is printed in his face, And sorrow’s in him dwelling, And you must come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen.’ 84B.5	your name be Barbara Allen.’ 84B.5	‘If death be printed in his face, And sorrow’s in him dwelling, Then little better shall he be For bonny Barbara Allen.’ 84B.6	So slowly, slowly she got up, And so slowly she came to him, And all she said when she came there, Young man, I think you are a dying. 84B.7	He turnd his face unto her then: ‘If you be Barbara Allen, My dear,’ said he, ’Come pitty me, As on my death-bed I am lying.’ 84B.8	‘If on your death-bed you be lying, What is that to Barbara Allen? I cannot keep you from [your] death; So farewell,’ said Barbara Allen. 84B.9	He turnd his face unto the wall, And death came creeping to him: ‘Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all, And adieu to Barbara Allen!’ 84B.10	And as she was walking on a day, She heard the bell a ringing, And it did seem to ring to her ‘Unworthy Barbara Allen.’ 84B.11	She turnd herself round about, And she spy’d the corps a coming: ‘Lay down, lay down the corps of clay, That I may look upon him.’ 84B.12	And all the while she looked on, So loudly she lay laughing, While all her friends cry’d [out] amain, So loudly she lay laughing, While all her friends cry’d [out] amain, ‘Unworthy Barbara Allen!’ 84B.13	When he was dead, and laid in grave, Then death came creeping to she: ‘O mother, mother, make my bed, For his death hath quite undone me. 84B.14	‘A hard-hearted creature that I was, To slight one that lovd me so dearly; I wish I had been more kinder to him, The time of his life when he was near me.’ 84B.15	So this maid she then did dye, And desired to be buried by him, And repented her self before she dy’d, That ever she did deny him.
 
84C: Bonny Barbara Allen
 
84C.1	IT fell about the Lammas time, When the woods grow green and yellow, There came a wooer out of the West A wooing to Barbara Allan. 84C.2	‘It is not for your bonny face, Nor for your beauty bonny, But it is all for your tocher good Nor for your beauty bonny, But it is all for your tocher good I come so far about ye.’ 84C.3	ome so far about ye.’ 84C.3	‘If it be not for my comely face, Nor for my beauty bonnie, My tocher good ye’ll never get paid Down on the board before ye.’ 84C.4	‘O will ye go to the Highland hills, To see my white corn growing? Or will ye go to the river-side, To see my boats a rowing?’ 84C.5	O he’s awa, and awa he’s gone, And death’s within him dealing, And it is all for the sake of her, And death’s within him dealing, And it is all for the sake of her, His bonnie Barbara Allan. 84C.6	O he sent his man unto the house, Where that she was a dwelling: ‘O you must come my master to see, If you be Barbara Allan.’ 84C.7	So slowly aye as she put on, And so stoutly as she gaed till him, And so slowly as she could say, ‘I think, young man, you’re lying.’ 84C.8	‘O I am lying in my bed, And death within me dwelling; And it is all for the love of thee, My bonny Barbara Allan.’ 84C.9	She was not ae mile frae the town, Till she heard the dead-bell ringing: ‘Och hone, oh hone, he’s dead and gone, For the love of Barbara Allan!’


 
85A: Lady Alice
 
 
 85A.1	LADY ALICE was sitting in her bower-window,
 	Mending her midnight quoif,
 	And there she saw as fine a corpse
 	As ever she saw in her life.
 85A.2	‘What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall?
 	What bear ye on your shoulders?’
 	‘We bear the corpse of Giles Collins,
 	An old and true lover of yours.’
 85A.3	‘O lay him down gently, ye six men tall,
 	All on the grass so green,
 	And tomorrow, when the sun goes down,
 	Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen.
 85A.4	‘And bury me in Saint Mary’s church,
 	All for my love so true,
 	And make me a garland of marjoram,
 	And of lemon-thyme, and rue.’
 85A.5	Giles Collins was buried all in the east,
 	Lady Alice all in the west,
 	And the roses that grew on Giles Collins’s grave,
 	They reached Lady Alice’s breast.
 85A.6	The priest of the parish he chanced to pass,
 	And he severed those roses in twain;
 	Sure never were seen such true lovers before,
 	Nor eer will there be again.

 
 
85B: Lady Alice
 
 
 85B.1	GILES COLLINS he said to his old mother,
 	Mother, come bind up my head,
 	And sent to the parson of our parish,
 	For tomorrow I shall be dead. dead,
 	For tomorrow I shall be dead.
 85B.2	His mother she made him some water-gruel,
 	And stirrd it round with a spoon;
 	Giles Collins he ate up his water-gruel,
 	And died before ’twas noon.
 85B.3	Lady Anna was sitting at her window,
 	Mending her night-robe and coif;
 	She saw the very prettiest corpse
 	She’d seen in all her life.
 85B.4	‘What bear ye there, ye six strong men,
 	Upon your shoulders so high?’
 	‘We bear the body of Giles Collins,
 	Who for love of you did die.’
 85B.5	‘Set him down, set him down,’ Lady Anna she cry’d,
 	‘On the grass that grows so green;
 	Tomorrow, before the clock strikes ten,
 	My body shall lye by hisn.’
 85B.6	Lady Anna was buried in the east,
 	Giles Collins was buried in the west;
 	There grew a lilly from Giles Collins
 	That touchd Lady Anna’s breast.
 85B.7	There blew a cold north-easterly wind,
 	And cut this lilly in twain,
 	Which never there was seen before,
 	And it never will again.

 
 
85[C]: Lady Alice
 
85[C].1	Giles Collin he said to his mother one day, Oh, mother, come bind up my head! For tommorow morning before it is day I’m sure I shall be dead. 85[C.2]	‘Oh, mother, oh, mother, if I should die, And I am sure I shall, I will not be buried in our churchyard, But under Lady Alice’s wall.’ 85[C.3]	His mother she made him some water-gruel, And stirred it up with a spoon; Giles Collin he ate but one spoonful, And died before it was noon. 85[C.4]	Lady Alice was sitting in her window, All dressed in her night-coif; She saw as pretty a corpse go by As ever she’d seen in her life. 85[C.5]	‘What bear ye there, ye six tall men? What bear ye on your shourn?’ ‘We bear the body of Giles Collin, Who was a true lover of yourn.’ 85[C.6]	‘Down with him, down with him, upon the grass, The grass that grows so green; For tomorrow morning before it is day My body shall lie by him.’ 85[C.7]	Her mother she made her some plum-gruel, With spices all of the best; Lady Alice she ate but one spoonful, And the doctor he ate up the rest. 85[C.8]	Giles Collin was laid in the lower chancel, Lady Alice all in the higher; There grew up a rose from Lady Alice’s breast, And from Giles Collin’s a briar. 85[C.9]	And they grew, and they grew, to the very church-top, Until they could grow no higher, And twisted and twined in a true-lover’s knot, Which made all the parish admire.


 
86A: Young Benjie
 
86A.1	OF a’ the maids o fair Scotland The fairest was Marjorie, And young Benjie was her ae true-love, And a dear true-love was he. 86A.2	And wow! but they were lovers dear, And loved fu constantlie; But ay the mair, when they fell out, The sairer was their plea. 86A.3	And they hae quarrelled on a day, Till Marjorie’s heart grew wae, And she said she’d chuse another luve, And let Young Benjie gae. 86A.4	And he was stout, and proud-hearted, And thought o’t bitterlie, And he’s gaen by the wan moon-light To meet his Marjorie. 86A.5	‘O open, open, my true-love, ‘O open, open, my true-love, ‘I dare na open, Young Benjie, My three brother are within.’ 86A.6	‘Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd, Sae loud’s I hear ye lie; As I came by the Lowden banks, They bade gude een to me. 86A.7	‘But fare ye weel, my ae fause love, That I hae loved sae lang! It sets ye chuse another love, And let Young Benjie gang.’ 86A.8	Then Marjorie turned her round about, The tear blinding her ee: ‘I darena, darena let thee in, But I’ll come down to thee.’ 86A.9	Then saft she smiled, and said to him, O what ill hae I done? He took her in his armis twa, And threw her oer the linn. 86A.10	The stream was strang, the maid was stout, And laith, laith to be dang, But ere she wan the Lowden banks Her fair colour was wan. 86A.11	Then up bespak her eldest brother, ‘O see na ye what I see?’ And out then spak her second brother, ‘It’s our sister Marjorie!’ 86A.12	Out then spak her eldest brother, ‘O how shall we her ken?’ And out then spak her youngest brother, ‘There’s a honey-mark on her chin.’ 86A.13	Then they’ve taen up the comely corpse, And laid it on the grund: ‘O wha has killed our ae sister, And how can he be found? 86A.14	‘The night it is her low lykewake, The morn her burial day, And we maun watch at mirk midnight, And hear what she will say.’ 86A.15	Wi doors ajar, and candle-light, And torches burning clear, The streikit corpse, till still midnight, They waked, but naething hear. 86A.16	About the middle o the night The cocks began to craw, And at the dead hour o the night The corpse began to thraw. 86A.17	‘O wha has done the wrang, sister, Or dared the deadly sin? Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout, As thraw ye oer the linn?’ 86A.18	‘Young Benjie was the first ae man I laid my love upon; He was sae stout and proud-hearted, He threw me oer the linn.’ 86A.19	‘Sall we Young Benjie head, sister? Sall we Young Benjie hang? Or sall we pike out his twa gray een, And punish him ere he gang?’ 86A.20	‘Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers, Ye mauna Benjie hang, But ye maun pike out his twa gray een, And punish him ere he gang. 86A.21	‘Tie a green gravat round his neck, And lead him out and in, And the best ae servant about your house To wait Young Benjie on. 86A.22	‘And ay, at every seven year’s end, Ye’ll tak him to the linn; For that’s the penance he maun drie, To scug his deadly sin.’
 
86B: Young Benjie
 
86B.1	‘O COME along wi me, brother, Now come along wi me; ‘O COME along wi me, brother, Now come along wi me; And we’ll gae seek our sister Maisry, Into the water o Dee.’ 86B.2	The eldest brother he stepped in, He stepped to the knee; Then out he jumpd upo the bank, Says, This water’s nae for me. 86B.3	The second brother he stepped in, He stepped to the quit; Then out he jumpd upo the bank, Says, This water’s wondrous deep. 86B.4	When the third brother stepped in, He stepped to the chin; Out he got, and forward wade, For fear o drowning him. 86B.5	The younges brother he stepped in, Took’s sister by the hand; Said, Here she is, my sister Maisry, Wi the hinny-draps on her chin. 86B.6	‘O if I were in some bonny ship, And in some strange countrie, For to find out some conjurer, To gar Maisry speak to me!’ 86B.7	Then out it speaks an auld woman, As she was passing by: ‘Ask of your sister what you want, And she will speak to thee.’ 86B.8	‘O sister, tell me who is the man That did your body win? And who is the wretch, tell me, likewise, That threw you in the lin?’ 86B.9	‘O Bondsey was the only man That did my body win; And likewise Bondsey was the man That threw me in the lin.’ 86B.10	‘O will we Bondsey head, sister? Or will we Bondsey hang? Or will we set him at our bow-end, Lat arrows at him gang?’ 86B.11	‘Ye winna Bondsey head, brothers, Nor will ye Bondsey hang; But ye’ll take out his twa grey een, Make Bondsey blind to gang. 86B.12	‘Ye’ll put to the gate a chain o gold, A rose garland gar make, And ye’ll put that in Bondsey’s head, A’ for your sister’s sake.’


 
87A: Prince Robert
 
87A.1	PRINCE ROBERT has wedded a gay ladye, He has wedded her with a ring; Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye, But he daur na bring her hame. 87A.2	‘Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear, Your blessing now grant to me!’ ‘Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse, And you’ll get nae blessing frae me.’ 87A.3	She has called upon her waiting-maid, To fill a glass of wine; She has called upon her fause steward, To put rank poison in. 87A.4	She has put it to her roudes lip, And to her roudes chin; She has put it to her fause, fause mouth, But the never a drop gaed in. 87A.5	He has put it to his bonny mouth, And to his bonny chin, He’s put it to his cherry lip, And sae fast the rank poison ran in. 87A.6	‘O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother, Your ae son and your heir; O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother, And sons you’ll never hae mair. 87A.7	‘O where will I get a little boy, That will win hose and shoon, To rin sae fast to Darlinton, And bid Fair Eleanor come? 87A.8	Then up and spake a little boy, That wad win hose and shoon, ‘O I’ll away to Darlinton, And bid Fair Eleanor come.’ 87A.9	O he has run to Darlinton, And tirled at the pin; And wha was sae ready as Eleanor’s sell To let the bonny boy in? 87A.10	‘Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour, She’s made it baith gude and fine; Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour, And ye maun cum till her and dine.’ 87A.11	It’s twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town, The langest that ever were gane; But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light, And she cam linkin in. 87A.12	But when she came to Sillertoun town, And into Sillertoun ha, The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning, And they were weeping a’. 87A.13	‘O where is now my wedded lord, And where now can he be? O where is now my wedded lord? For him I canna see.’ 87A.14	‘Your wedded lord is dead,’ she says, ‘And just gane to be laid in the clay; Your wedded lord is dead,’ she says, ‘And just gane to be buried the day. 87A.15	‘Ye’se get nane o his gowd, ye’se get nane o his gear, Ye’se get nae thing frae me; Ye’se na get an inch o his gude broad land, Tho your heart suld burst in three.’ 87A.16	‘I want nane o his gowd, I want nane o his gear, I want nae land frae thee; But I’ll hae the ring that’s on his finger, For them he did promise to me.’ 87A.17	‘Ye’se na get the ring that’s on his finger, Ye’se na get them frae me; Ye’se na get the ring that’s on his finger, An your heart suld burst in three.’ 87A.18	She’s turn’d her back unto the wa, And her face unto a rock, And there, before the mother’s face, Her very heart it broke. 87A.19	The tane was buried in Marie’s kirk, The tother in Marie’s quair, And out o the tane there sprang a birk, And out o the tother a brier. 87A.20	And thae twa met, and thae twa plat, The birk but and the brier, And by that ye may very weel ken They were twa lovers dear.
 
87B: Prince Robert
 
87B.1	IT’S fifty miles to Sittingen’s Rocks, As eer was ridden or gane; And Earl Robert has wedded a wife, But he dare na bring her hame. And Earl Robert has wedded a wife, But he dare na bring her hame. 87B.2	His mother, she called to her waiting-maid, To bring her a pint o wine: ‘For I dinna weel ken what hour of the day That my son Earl Robert shall dine.’ 87B.3	She’s put it to her fause, fause cheek, But an her fause, fause chin; She’s put it to her fause, fause lips, But never a drap went in. 87B.4	But he’s put it to his bonny cheek, Aye and his bonny chin; He’s put it to his red rosy lips, And the poison went merrily doun. 87B.5	‘O where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoon, That will gang quickly to Sittingen’s Rocks, And bid my lady come?’ 87B.6	It’s out then speaks a bonny boy, To Earl Robert was something akin: ‘Many a time have I ran thy errand, But this day wi the tears I’ll rin.’ 87B.7	Bat when he came to Sittingin’s Rocks, To the middle of a’ the ha, There were bells a ringing, and music playing, And ladies dancing a’. 87B.8	‘What news, what news, my bonny boy? What news have ye to me? Is Earl Robert in very good health, And the ladies of your countrie?’ 87B.9	‘O Earl Robert’s in very good health, And as weel as a man can be; But his mother this night has a drink to be druken, And at it you must be.’ 87B.10	She called to her waiting-maid, To bring her a riding-weed, And she called to her stable-groom, To saddle her milk-white steed, 87B.11	But when she came to Earl Robert’s bouir, To the middle of a’ the ha, There were bells a ringing, and sheets doun hinging, And ladies mourning a’. 87B.12	‘I’ve come for none of his gold,’ she said, ‘Nor none of his white monie, Excepting a ring of his smallest finger, If that you will grant me.’ 87B.13	‘Thou’ll not get none of his gold,’ she said, ‘Nor none of his white monie; Thou’ll not get a ring of his smallest finger, Tho thy heart should break in three.’ 87B.14	She set her foot unto a stane, Her back unto a tree; She set her foot unto a stane, And her heart did break in three. 87B.15	The one was buried in Mary’s kirk, The other in Mary’s quire; Out of the one there grew a birk, From the other a bonnie brier. 87B.16	And these twa grew, and these twa threw, Till their twa craps drew near; So all the warld may plainly see That they loved each other dear.
 
87C: Prince Robert
 
87C.1	LORD ROBERT and Mary Florence, They were twa children young; They were scarse seven years of age Till love began to spring. 87C.2	Lord Robert loved Mary Florence, And she lovd him above power; But he durst not for his cruel mother Bring her unto his bower. 87C.3	It was nineteen miles to Strawberry Castle, As good as ever was rode or gane, But the lord being light, and the steed being swift, Lord Robert was hame gin noon. 87C.4	‘A blessing, a blessing, dear mother,’ he cries, ‘A blessing I do crave!’ ‘A blessing, a blessing, my son Lord Robert, And a blessing thou shalt have.’ 87C.5	She called on her chamber-maid To fill up a glass of wine, And so clever was her cursed fingers To put the rank poison in. 87C.6	‘O wae be to you, mother dear,’ he cries, ‘For working such a wae; For poisoning of your son Lord Robert, And children you have nae mae. 87C.7	‘O where will I get a pretty little boy That’ll rin him my errands sune? That will rin unto Strawberry Castle, And tell Mary Florence to cum?’ 87C.8	‘Here am I, a pretty little boy, Your eldest sister’s son, That will rin unto Strawberry Castle, And tell Mary Florence to come.’ 87C.9	When he came unto Strawberry Castle He tirled at the pin, And so ready was Mary Florence hersell To open and let him in. 87C.10	‘What news, what news, my pretty little boy? What news hast thou brocht here?’ With sichin and sabbin and wringing his hands, No message he could refer. 87C.11	‘The news that I have gotten,’ he says, ‘I cannot weel declair; But my grandmother has prepard a feast, And fain she would hae thee thair.’ 87C.12	She called on her stable-groom To dress her swiftest steed; For she knew very weel by this pretty little boy That Lord Robert was dead. 87C.13	And when she came to Knotingale Castle She tirled at the pin, And so ready was Lord Robert’s mother To open and let her in. 87C.14	‘What news, what news, Mary Florence?’ she says, ‘What news has thou to me?’ ‘I came to see your son Lord Robert, And fain would I him see. 87C.15	‘I came not for his gude red gold, Nor for his white monie, But for the ring on his wee finger, And fain would I it see.’ 87C.16	‘That ring thou cannot see, Mary Florence, That ring thou’ll never see; For death was so strong in Lord Robert’s breast That the gold ring burst in three.’ 87C.17	She has set her foot unto a stone, Her back unto a tree; Before she left Knotingale Castle Her heart it brak in three.
 
87D: Prince Robert
 
 
 87D.1	PRINCE ROBERT he has wedded a wife,
 	An he daurna bring her hame;
 	The queen . . . .
 	His mither was much to blame.
 	* * * * *
 87D.2	‘It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither,
 	I dinna ken what it is here,
 	To like your wife better than your mither,
 	That . . . bought you sae dear.’
 87D.3	She called upon her best marie,
 	An tippet her wi a ring,
 	To bring to her the rank poison,
 	To gie Prince Robert a dram.
 87D.4	She put it to her cheek, her cheek,
 	She put it to her chin;
 	She put it to her fause, fause lips,
 	But neer a drap gaed in.
 87D.5	She put it to his cheek, his cheek,
 	She put it to his chin;
 	She put it to his rosy lips,
 	An the rank poison gaed in.
 87D.6	‘Whare will I get a bonnie boy,
 	Wha will win meat an fee,
 	Wha will rin on to . . . bower,
 	Bring my gude ladie to me?’
 87D.7	‘Here am I, a bonnie boy,
 	Willin to win meat an fee,
 	Wha will rin on to . . . bower,
 	An bring your gude ladie.’
 87D.8	‘Whan you come to broken brig,
 	Tak aff your coat an swim;
 	An whan you come to grass growin,
 	Tak aff your shoon an rin.’
 87D.9	An whan he cam to broken brig,
 	He coost his coat an swam,
 	An whan he cam to grass growin,
 	Set doon his feet an ran.
 87D.10	An whan he cam to the ladie’s bower,
 	He fand her a’ her lane,
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	* * * * *
 87D.11	An syne she kissed his wan, wan lips,
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .

 


 
88A: Young Johnstone
 
88A.1	THE knight stands in the stable-door, As he was for to ryde, When out then came his fair lady, Desiring him to byde. 88A.2	‘How can I byde? how dare I byde? How can I byde with thee? Have I not killd thy ae brother? Thou hadst nae mair but he.’ 88A.3	‘If you have killd my ae brother, Alas, and woe is me! But if I save your fair body, The better you’ll like me.’ 88A.4	She’s tane him to her secret bower, Pinnd with a siller pin, And she’s up to her highest tower, To watch that none come in. 88A.5	She had na well gane up the stair, And entered in her tower, When four and twenty armed knights Came riding to the door. 88A.6	‘Now God you save, my fair lady, I pray you tell to me, Saw you not a wounded knight Come riding by this way?’ 88A.7	‘Yes, bloody, bloody was his sword, And bloody were his hands; But if the steed he rides be good, He’s past fair Scotland’s strands. 88A.8	‘Light down, light down then, gentlemen, And take some bread and wine; The better you will him pursue When you shall lightly dine.’ 88A.9	‘We thank you for your bread, lady, We thank you for your wine; I would gie thrice three thousand pounds Your fair body was mine.’ 88A.10	Then she’s gane to her secret bower, Her husband dear to meet; But he drew out his bloody sword, And wounded her sae deep. 88A.11	‘What aileth thee now, good my lord? What aileth thee at me? Have you not got my father’s gold, But and my mother’s fee?’ 88A.12	‘Now live, now live, my fair lady, O live but half an hour, There’s neer a leech in fair Scotland But shall be at thy bower.’ 88A.13	‘How can I live? how shall I live? How can I live for thee? See you not where my red heart’s blood Runs trickling down my knee?’
 
88B: Young Johnstone
 
88B.1	YOUNG Johnstone and the young Colnel Sat drinking at the wine: ‘O gin ye wad marry my sister, It’s I wad marry thine.’ 88B.2	‘I wadna marry your sister For a’ your houses and land; But I’ll keep her for my leman, When I come oer the strand. 88B.3	‘I wadna marry your sister For a’ your gowd so gay; But I’ll keep her for my leman, When I come by the way.’ 88B.4	Young Johnstone had a little small sword, Hung low down by his gair, And he stabbed it through the young Colnel, That word he neer spak mair. 88B.5	But he’s awa to his sister’s bower, He’s tirled at the pin: ‘Where hae ye been, my dear brither, Sae late a coming in?’ ‘I hae been at the school, sister, Learning young clerks to sing.’ 88B.6	‘I’ve dreamed a dreary dream this night, I wish it may be for good; They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, And the young Colnel was dead.’ 88B.7	‘Hawks and hounds they may seek me, As I trow well they be; For I have killed the young Colnel, And thy own true-love was he.’ 88B.8	‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel, O dule and wae is me! But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows, And hae nae power to flee.’ 88B.9	And he’s awa to his true-love’s bower, He’s tirled at the pin: ‘Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone, Sae late a coming in?’ ‘It’s I hae been at the school,’ he says, ‘Learning young clerks to sing.’ 88B.10	‘I have dreamed a dreary dream,’ she says, ‘I wish it may be for good; They were seeking you with hawks and hounds, And the young Colnel was dead.’ 88B.11	‘Hawks and hounds they may seek me, As I trow well they be; For I hae killed the young Colnel, And thy ae brother was he.’ 88B.12	‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel, O dule and wae is me! But I care the less for the young Colnel, If thy ain body be free. 88B.13	‘Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone, Come in and take a sleep; And I will go to my casement, And carefully I will thee keep.’ 88B.14	He had not weel been in her bower-door, No not for half an hour, When four and twenty belted knights Came riding to the bower. 88B.15	‘Well may you sit and see, lady, Well may you sit and say; Did you not see a bloody squire Come riding by this way?’ 88B.16	‘What colour were his hawks?’ she says, ‘What colour were his hounds? What colour was the gallant steed, That bore him from the bounds?’ 88B.17	‘Bloody, bloody were his hawks, And bloody were his hounds; But milk-white was the gallant steed, That bore him from the bounds. 88B.18	‘Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks, And bloody were his hounds; And milk-white was the gallant steed, That bore him from the bounds. 88B.19	‘Light down, light down now, gentlemen, And take some bread and wine; And the steed be swift that he rides on, He’s past the brig o Lyne.’ 88B.20	‘We thank you for your bread, fair lady, We thank you for your wine; But I wad gie thrice three thousand pound That bloody knight was taen.’ 88B.21	‘Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone, Lie still and take a sleep; For thy enemies are past and gone, And carefully I will thee keep.’ 88B.22	But Young Johnstone had a little wee sword, Hung low down by his gair, And he stabbed it in fair Annet’s breast, A deep wound and a sair. 88B.23	‘What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone? What aileth thee at me? Hast thou not got my father’s gold, Bot and my mither’s fee?’ 88B.24	‘Now live, now live, my dear ladye, Now live but half an hour, And there’s no a leech in a’ Scotland But shall be in thy bower.’ 88B.25	‘How can I live? how shall I live? Young Johnstone, do not you see The red, red drops o my bonny heart’s blood Rin trinkling down my knee? 88B.26	‘But take thy harp into thy hand, And harp out owre you plain, And neer think mair on thy true-love Than if she had never been.’ 88B.27	He hadna weel been out o the stable, And on his saddle set, Till four and twenty broad arrows Were thrilling in his heart.
 
88C: Young Johnstone
 
88C.1	SWEET WILLIAM and the young Colnel One day was drinking wine: ‘It’s I will marry your sister, If ye will marry mine.’ 88C.2	‘I will not marry your sister, Altho her hair be brown; But I’ll keep her for my liberty-wife, As I ride thro the town.’ 88C.3	William, having his two-edged sword, He leaned quite low to the ground, And he has given the young Colnel A deep and a deadly wound. 88C.4	He rade, he rade, and awa he rade, Till he came to his mother’s bower; ‘O open, open, mother,’ he says, ‘And let your auld son in. 88C.5	‘For the rain rains owre my yellow hair, And the dew draps on my chin, And trembling stands the gallant steed That carries me from the ground.’ 88C.6	‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says, ‘What harm now hast thou done?’ ‘Oh I hae killed the young Colnel, And his heart’s blood sair does run.’ 88C.7	‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel, Nae shelter ye’ll get frae me; May the two-edged sword be upon your heart, That never hath power to flee!’ 88C.8	He rade, he rade, and awa he rade, Till he came to his sister’s bower; ‘Oh open, open, sister,’ he says, ‘And let your brother in. 88C.9	‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair, And the dew draps on my chin, And trembling stands the gallant steed That carries me from the ground.’ 88C.10	‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says, ‘What harm now hast thou done?’ ‘Oh I have killed the young Colnel, And his heart’s blood sair doth run.’ 88C.11	‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel, Nae shelter ye’ll get frae me; May the two-edged sword be upon your heart, That never hath power to flee!’ 88C.12	He rade, he rade, and awa he rade, Till he came to his true-love’s bower; ‘Oh open, oh open, my true-love,’ he says, ‘And let your sweetheart in. 88C.13	‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair, And the dew draps on my chin, And trembling stands the gallant steed That carries me from the ground.’ 88C.14	‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says, ‘What harm now hast thou done?’ ‘Oh I hae killed thy brother dear, And his heart’s blood sair doth run.’ 88C.15	‘If ye hae killed my brother dear, It’s oh and alace for me! But between the blankets and the sheets It’s there I will hide thee!’ 88C.16	She’s taen him by the milk-white hand, She’s led him thro chambers three, Until she came to her own chamber: ‘It’s there I will hide thee. 88C.17	‘Lye down, lye down, Sweet William,’ she says, ‘Lye down and take a sleep; It’s owre the chamber I will watch, Thy fair bodie to keep.’ 88C.18	She had not watched at the chamber-door An hour but only three, Till four and twenty belted knichts Did seek his fair bodie. 88C.19	‘O did you see the hunt?’ she says, ‘Or did you see the hounds? Or did you see that gallant steed, That last rade thro the town?’ 88C.20	‘What colour was the fox?’ they said, ‘What colour was the hounds? What colour was the gallant steed, That’s far yont London toun?’ 88C.21	‘O dark grey was the fox,’ she said, ‘And light grey was the hounds, But milk-white was the gallant steed That’s far yont London town.’ 88C.22	‘Rise up, rise up, Sweet William,’ she says, ‘Rise up, and go away; For four and twenty belted knights Were seeking thy bodye.’ 88C.23	Sweet William, having his two-edged sword, He leaned it quite low to the ground, And he has given his own true-love A deep and deadly wound. 88C.24	‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says, ‘What harm now have I done? I never harmed a hair of your head Since ever this love began.’ 88C.25	‘Oh live, oh live, my own true-love, Oh live but half an hour, And the best doctor in London town Shall come within thy bower.’ 88C.26	‘How can I live? how shall I live? How can I live half an hour? For don’t you see my very heart’s blood All sprinkled on the floor?’ 88C.27	William, having his two-edged sword, He leaned it quite low to the ground, And he has given his own bodie A deep and deadly wound.
 
88D: Young Johnstone
 
88D.1	JOHNSTON HEY and Young Caldwell Were drinking o the wine: ‘O will ye marry my sister? And I will marry thine.’ 88D.2	‘I winna marry your sister, Altho her locks are broun; But I’ll make her my concubine, As I ride through the toun.’ 88D.3	Syne Johnston drew a gude braid sword, That hang down by his knee, And he has run the Young Caldwell Out through the fair bodie. 88D.4	Up he gat, and awa he rade, By the clear light o the moon, Until he came to his mother’s door, And there he lichtit doun. 88D.5	‘Whare hae ye been, son Willie,’ she said, ‘Sae late and far in the night?’ ‘O I hae been at yon new slate house, Hearing the clergy speak.’ 88D.6	‘I dreamd a dream, son Willie,’ she said, ‘I doubt it bodes nae gude; That your ain room was fu o red swine, And your bride’s bed daubd wi blude.’ 88D.7	‘To dream o blude, mither,’ he said, ‘It bodeth meikle ill; And I hae slain a Young Caldwell, And they’re seeking me to kill.’ 88D.8	‘Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell, Alace and wae is me! But gin your fair body’s free frae skaith, The easier I will be.’ 88D.9	Up he gat, and awa he rade, By the clear licht o the mune, Until he cam to his sister’s bower, And there he lichtit doun. 88D.10	‘Whare hae ye been, brither,’ she said, ‘Sae late and far in the night?’ ‘O I hae been in yon new slate house, Hearing the clergy speak.’ 88D.11	‘I dreamd a dream, brither,’ she said, ‘I doubt it bodes nae gude; I dreamd the ravens eat your flesh, And the lions drank your blude.’ 88D.12	‘To dream o blude, sister,’ he said, ‘It bodeth meikle ill; And I hae slain a Young Caldwell, And they’re seeking me to kill.’ 88D.13	‘Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell, Alace and wae is me! To be torn at the tail o wild horses Is the death I weet ye’ll die.’ 88D.14	Up he gat, and awa he rade, By the clear light o the mune, Untill he cam to his true-love’s bower, And there he lichtit doun. 88D.15	‘Whare hae ye been, Love Willie,’ she said, ‘Sae late and far in the night?’ ‘O I hae been in yon new sklate house, Hearing the clergy speak.’ 88D.16	‘I dreamd a dream, Willie,’ she said, ‘I doubt it bodes nae gude; I dreamd the ravens ate your flesh, And the lions drank your blude.’ 88D.17	‘To dream o ravens, love,’ he said, ‘Is the loss o a near friend; And I hae killed your brither dear, And for it I’ll be slain.’ 88D.18	‘Gin ye hae slain my ae brither, Alace and wae is me! But gin your fair body’s free frae skaith, The easier I will be. 88D.19	‘Lye doun, lye doun, Love Willie,’ she said, ‘Lye doun and tak a sleep; And I will walk the castel wa, Your fair bodie to keep.’ 88D.20	He laid him doun within her bowr, She happit him wi her plaid, And she’s awa to the castle-wa, To see what would betide. 88D.21	She hadna gane the castle round A time but only three, Till four and twenty beltit knichts Cam riding ower the lea. 88D.22	And whan they came unto the gate, They stude and thus did say: ‘O did ye see yon bludie knicht, As he rade out this way?’ 88D.23	‘What colour was his hawk?’ she said, ‘What colour was his hound? What colour was the gudely steed The bludie knicht rade on?’ 88D.24	‘Nut-brown was his hawk,’ they said, ‘And yellow-fit was his hound, And milk-white was the goodly steed The bluidie knicht rade on.’ 88D.25	‘Gin nut-brown was his hawk,’ she said, ‘And yellow-fit was his hound, And milk-white was the gudely steed, He’s up to London gone.’ 88D.26	They spurrd their steeds out ower the lea, They being void o fear; Syne up she gat, and awa she gade, Wi tidings to her dear. 88D.27	‘Lye still, lye still, Love Willie,’ she said, ‘Lye still and tak your sleep;’ Syne he took up his good braid sword, And wounded her fu deep. 88D.28	‘O wae be to you, Love Willie,’ she said, ‘And an ill death may ye die! For first ye slew my ae brither, And now ye hae killd me.’ 88D.29	‘Oh live, oh live, true-love,’ he said, ‘Oh live but ae half hour, And there’s not a docter in a’ London But sall be in your bower.’ 88D.30	‘How can I live, Love Willie,’ she said, ‘For the space of half an hour? Dinnae ye see my clear heart’s blood A rinnin down the floor? 88D.31	‘Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark, And rive’t frae gare to gair, And stap it in my bleeding wounds; They’ll may be bleed nae mair.’ 88D.32	Syne he took aff her holland sark, And rave’t frae gare to gair, And stappit it in her bleeding wounds, But aye they bled the mair. 88D.33	‘Gae dress yoursell in black,’ she said, ‘And gae whistling out the way, And mourn nae mair for your true-love When she’s laid in the clay.’ 88D.34	He leaned his halbert on the ground, The point o’t to his breast, Saying, Here three sauls [’s] gaun to heaven; I hope they’ll a’ get rest.
 
88E: Young Johnstone
 
88E.1	LORD JOHN stands in his stable door, Says he, I will gae ride, His lady, in her bigly bower? Desired him to bide. 88E.2	‘How can I bide? how can I bide? How shall I bide wi thee? When I hae killd your ae brother; You hae nae mair but he.’ 88E.3	‘If ye hae killd my ae brother, Alas, and wae is me! If ye be well yoursell, my love, The less matter will be. 88E.4	‘Ye’ll do you to yon bigly bower, And take a silent sleep, And I’ll watch in my highest tower, Your fair body to keep.’ 88E.5	She has shut her bigly bower, All wi a silver pin, And done her to the highest tower, To watch that nane come in. 88E.6	But as she looked round about, To see what she could see, There she saw nine armed knights Come riding oer the lea. 88E.7	‘God make you safe and free, lady, God make you safe and free! Did you see a bludy knight Come riding oer the lea?’ 88E.8	‘O what like was his hawk, his hawk? And what like was his hound? If his steed has ridden well, He’s passd fair Scotland’s strand. 88E.9	‘Come in, come in, gude gentlemen, And take white bread and wine; And aye the better ye’ll pursue, The lighter that ye dine.’ 88E.10	‘We thank you for your bread, lady, We thank you for the wine, And I woud gie my lands sae broad Your fair body were mine.’ 88E.11	She has gane to her bigly bower, Her ain gude lord to meet; A trusty brand he quickly drew, Gae her a wound sae deep. 88E.12	‘What harm, my lord, provokes thine ire To wreak itself on me, When thus I strove to save thy life, Yet served for sic a fee?’ 88E.13	‘Ohon, alas, my lady gay, To come sae hastilie! I thought it was my deadly foe, Ye had trysted into me. 88E.14	‘O live, O live, my gay lady, The space o ae half hour, And nae a leech in a’ the land But I’se bring to your bower.’ 88E.15	‘How can I live? how shall I live? How can I live for thee? Ye see my blude rin on the ground, My heart’s blude by your knee. 88E.16	‘O take to flight, and flee, my love, O take to flight, and flee! I woudna wish your fair body For to get harm for me.’ 88E.17	‘Ae foot I winna flee, lady, Ae foot I winna flee; I’ve dune the crime worthy o death, It’s right that I shoud die. 88E.18	‘O deal ye well at my love’s lyke The beer but an the wine; For ere the morn, at this same time, Ye’ll deal the same at mine.’
 
88F: Young Johnstone
 
 
 88F.1	AS WILLIE and the young Colnel
 	Were drinking at the wine,
 	‘O will ye marry my sister?’ says Will,
 	‘And I will marry thine.’

 


 
89A: Fause Foodrage
 
89A.1	KING EASTER has courted her for her gowd, King Wester for her fee, King Honor for her lands sae braid, And for her fair body. 89A.2	They had not been four months married, As I have heard them tell, Until the nobles of the land Against them did rebel. 89A.3	And they cast kaivles them amang, And kaivles them between, And they cast kaivles them amang Wha shoud gae kill the king. 89A.4	O some said yea, and some said nay, Their words did not agree; Till up it gat him Fa’se Footrage, And sware it shoud be he. 89A.5	When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ man boon to bed, King Honor and his gay ladie In a hie chamer were laid. 89A.6	Then up it raise him Fa’se Footrage, While a’ were fast asleep, And slew the porter in his lodge, That watch and ward did keep. 89A.7	O four and twenty silver keys Hang hie upon a pin, And ay as a door he did unlock, He has fastend it him behind. 89A.8	Then up it raise him King Honor, Says, What means a’ this din! Now what’s the matter, Fa’se Footrage? O wha was’t loot you in? 89A.9	‘O ye my errand well shall learn Before that I depart;’ Then drew a knife baith lang and sharp And pierced him thro the heart. 89A.10	Then up it got the Queen hersell, And fell low down on her knee: ‘O spare my life now, Fa’se Footrage! For I never injured thee. 89A.11	‘O spare my life now, Fa’se Footrage! Until I lighter be, And see gin it be lad or lass King Honor has left me wi.’ 89A.12	‘O gin it be a lass,’ he says, ‘Well nursed she shall be; But gin it be a lad-bairn, He shall be hanged hie. 89A.13	‘I winna spare his tender age, Nor yet his hie, hie kin; But as soon as eer he born is, He shall mount the gallows-pin.’ 89A.14	O four and twenty valiant knights Were set the Queen to guard, And four stood ay at her bower-door, To keep baith watch and ward. 89A.15	But when the time drew till an end That she should lighter be, She cast about to find a wile To set her body free. 89A.16	O she has birled these merry young men Wi strong beer and wi wine, Until she made them a’ as drunk As any wallwood swine. 89A.17	‘O narrow, narrow is this window, And big, big am I grown!’ Yet thro the might of Our Ladie Out at it she has won. 89A.18	She wanderd up, she wanderd down, She wanderd out and in, And at last, into the very swines’ stye, The Queen brought forth a son. 89A.19	Then they cast kaivles them amang Wha should gae seek the Queen, And the kaivle fell upon Wise William, And he’s sent his wife for him. 89A.20	O when she saw Wise William’s wife, The Queen fell on her knee; ‘Win up, win up, madame,’ she says, ‘What means this courtesie?’ 89A.21	‘O out of this I winna rise Till a boon ye grant to me, To change your lass for this lad-bairn King Honor left me wi. 89A.22	‘And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawke Well how to breast a steed, And I shall learn your turtle-dow As well to write and read. 89A.23	‘And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawke To wield baith bow and brand, And I shall learn your turtle-dow To lay gowd wi her hand. 89A.24	‘At kirk or market where we meet, We dare nae mair avow But, Dame how does my gay gose-hawk? Madame, how does my dow?’ 89A.25	When days were gane, and years came on, Wise William he thought long; Out has he taen King Honor’s son, A hunting for to gang. 89A.26	It sae fell out at their hunting, Upon a summer’s day, That they cam by a fair castle, Stood on a sunny brae. 89A.27	‘O dinna ye see that bonny castle, Wi wa’s and towers sae fair? Gin ilka man had back his ain, Of it you shoud be heir.’ 89A.28	‘How I shoud be heir of that castle In sooth I canna see, When it belongs to Fa’se Footrage, And he’s nae kin to me.’ 89A.29	‘O gin ye shoud kill him Fa’se Footrage, You woud do what is right; For I wot he killd your father dear, Ere ever you saw the light. 89A.30	‘Gin you should kill him Fa’se Footrage, There is nae man durst you blame; For he keeps your mother a prisoner, And she dares no take you hame.’ 89A.31	The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawke, Says, What may a’ this mean! ‘My boy, you are King Honor’s son, And your mother’s our lawful queen.’ 89A.32	‘O gin I be King Honor’s son, By Our Ladie I swear, This day I will that traytour slay, And relieve my mother dear.’ 89A.33	He has sent his bent bow till his breast, And lap the castle-wa, And soon he’s siesed on Fa’se Footrage, Wha loud for help gan ca. 89A.34	‘O hold your tongue now, Fa’se Footrage, Frae me you shanno flee;’ Syne pierced him through the foul fa’se heart, And set his mother free. 89A.35	And he has rewarded Wise William Wi the best half of his land, And sae has he the turtle-dow Wi the truth of his right hand.
 
89B: Fause Foodrage
 
89B.1	THE Eastmure king, and the Westmure king, And the king of Onorie, They have all courted a pretty maid, And guess wha she micht be. 89B.2	The Eastmure king courted her for gold, And the Westmure king for fee, The king of Onore for womanheid, And for her fair beautie. 89B.3	The Eastmure king swore a solemn oath, He would keep it till May, That he would murder the king of Onore, Upon his wedding day. 89B.4	When bells was rung, and psalms was sung, And all men boune for sleep, Up and started the Eastmure king At the king of Onore’s head. 89B.5	He has drawn the curtains by-+- Their sheets was made of dorn-+- And he has murdered the king of Onore, As innocent as he was born. 89B.6	This maid she awak’d in the middle of the night, Was in a drowsy dream; She found her bride’s-bed swim with blood, Bot and her good lord slain. 89B.7	‘What will the court and council say What will they say to me? What will the court and council say But this night I’ve murderd thee?’ 89B.8	Out and speaks the Eastmure king: ‘Hold your tongue, my pretty may, And come along with me, my dear, And that court ye’ll never see.’ 89B.9	He mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a gray; She turnd her back against the court, And weeping rode away. 89B.10	‘Now if you be with child,’ he says, ‘As I trew well you be, If it be of a lassie-bairn, I’ll give her nurses three. 89B.11	‘If it be a lassie-bairn, If you please she’ll get five; But if it be a bonnie boy, I will not let him live.’ 89B.12	Word is to the city gone, And word is to the town, And word is to the city gone, She’s delivered of a son. 89B.13	But a poor woman in the town In the same case does lye, Wha gived to her her woman-child, Took awa her bonnie boy. 89B.14	At kirk or market, whereer they met, They never durst avow, But ‘Thou be kind to my boy,’ she says, ‘I’ll be kind to your bonnie dow.’ 89B.15	This boy was sixteen years of age, But he was nae seventeen, When he is to the garden gone, To slay that Eastmure king. 89B.16	‘Be aware, be aware, thou Eastmure king, Be aware this day of me; For I do swear and do declare Thy botcher I will be.’ 89B.17	‘What aileth thee, my bonnie boy? What aileth thee at me? I’m sure I never did thee wrang; Thy face I neer did see.’ 89B.18	‘Thou murdered my father dear, When scarse conceived was I; Thou murdered my father dear, When scarse conceived was me:’ So then he slew that Eastmure king, Beneath that garden tree.
 
89C: Fause Foodrage
 
 
 89C.1	EASTMURE king, and Westmuir king,
 	And king o Luve, a’ three,
 	It’s they coost kevils them amang,
 	Aboot a gay ladie.
 89C.2	Eastmuir king he wan the gowd,
 	An Wastmuir king the fee,
 	But king o Luve, wi his lands sae broad,
 	He’s won the fair ladie.
 89C.3	Thae twa kings, they made an aith,
 	That, be it as it may,
 	They wad slay him king o Luve,
 	Upon his waddin day.
 89C.4	Eastmuir king he brak his aith,
 	An sair penance did he;
 	But Wastmuir king he made it oot,
 	An an ill deid mat he dee!

 


 
90A: Jellon Grame
 
90A.1	O JELLON GRAME sat in Silver Wood, He whistled and he sang, And he has calld his little foot-page, His errand for to gang. 90A.2	‘Win up, my bonny boy,’ he says, ‘As quick as eer you may; For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower, Before the break of day.’ 90A.3	The boy he’s buckled his belt about, And thro the green-wood ran, And he came to the ladie’s bower-door, Before the day did dawn. 90A.4	‘O sleep ye, or wake ye, Lillie Flower? The red run’s i the rain:’ ‘I sleep not aft, I wake right aft; Wha’s that that kens my name?’ 90A.5	‘Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood, But I fear you’ll never win hame; Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood, And speak wi Jellon Grame.’ 90A.6	‘O I will gang to Silver Wood, Though I shoud never win hame; For the thing I most desire on earth Is to speak wi Jellon Grame.’ 90A.7	She had no ridden a mile, a mile, A mile but barely three, Ere she came to a new made grave, Beneath a green oak tree. 90A.8	O then up started Jellon Grame, Out of a bush hard bye: ‘Light down, light down now, Lillie Flower, For it’s here that ye maun ly.’ 90A.9	She lighted aff her milk-white steed, And knelt upon her knee: ‘O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame! For I’m nae prepar’d to die. 90A.10	‘Your bairn, that stirs between my sides, Maun shortly see the light; But to see it weltring in my blude Woud be a piteous sight.’ 90A.11	‘O shoud I spare your life,’ he says, ‘Until that bairn be born, I ken fu well your stern father Woud hang me on the morn.’ 90A.12	‘O spare my life now, Jellon Grame! My father ye neer need dread; I’ll keep my bairn i the good green wood, Or wi it I’ll beg my bread.’ 90A.13	He took nae pity on that ladie, Tho she for life did pray; But pierced her thro the fair body, As at his feet she lay. 90A.14	He felt nae pity for that ladie, Tho she was lying dead; But he felt some for the bonny boy, Lay weltring in her blude. 90A.15	Up has he taen that bonny boy, Gien him to nurices nine, Three to wake, and three to sleep, And three to go between. 90A.16	And he’s brought up that bonny boy, Calld him his sister’s son; He thought nae man would eer find out The deed that he had done. 90A.17	But it sae fell out upon a time, As a hunting they did gay, That they rested them in Silver Wood, Upon a summer-day. 90A.18	Then out it spake that bonny boy, While the tear stood in his eye, ‘O tell me this now, Jellon Grame, And I pray you dinna lie. 90A.19	‘The reason that my mother dear Does never take me hame? To keep me still in banishment Is baith a sin and shame.’ 90A.20	‘You wonder that your mother dear Does never send for thee; Lo, there’s the place I slew thy mother, Beneath that green oak tree.’ 90A.21	Wi that the boy has bent his bow, It was baith stout and lang, And through and thro him Jellon Grame He’s gard an arrow gang. 90A.22	Says, Lye you thare now, Jellon Grame, My mellison you wi; The place my mother lies buried in Is far too good for thee.
 
90B: Jellon Grame
 
90B.1	WORD has come to May Margerie, In her bower where she sat: ‘You are bid come to good green-wood, To make your love a shirt.’ 90B.2	‘I wonder much,’ said May Margerie, ‘At this message to me; There is not a month gone of this year But I have made him three.’ 90B.3	Then out did speak her mother dear, A wise woman was she; Said, Stay at home, my daughter May, They seek to murder thee. 90B.4	‘O I’ll cast off my gloves, mother, And hang them up, I say; If I come never back again, They will mind you on May. 90B.5	‘Go saddle my horseback,’ she said, ‘It’s quick as ever you may, And we will ride to good green-wood; It is a pleasant day.’ 90B.6	And when she came to good green-wood, It’s through it they did ride; Then up did start him Hind Henry, Just at the lady’s side. 90B.7	Says, Stop, O stop, you May Margerie, Just stop I say to thee; The boy that leads your bridle reins Shall see you red and blue. 90B.8	It’s out he drew a long, long brand, And stroked it ower a strae, And through and through that lady’s sides He made the cauld weapon gae. 90B.9	Says, Take you that now, May Margerie, Just take you that from me, Because you love Brown Robin, And never would love me. 90B.10	There was less pity for that lady, When she was lying dead, As was for her bony infant boy, Lay swathed amang her bleed. 90B.11	The boy fled home with all his might, The tear into his ee: ‘They have slain my lady in the wood, With fear I’m like to die.’ 90B.12	Her sister’s ran into the wood, With greater grief and care, Sighing and sobbing all the way, Tearing her cloaths and hair. 90B.13	Says, I’ll take up that fair infant, And lull him on my sleeve; Altho his father should wish me woe, His mother to me was leeve. 90B.14	Now she has taken the infant up, And she has brought him hame, And she has called him Brown Robin, That was his father’s name. 90B.15	And when he did grow up a bit, She put him to the lair, And of all the youths was at that school None could with him compare. 90B.16	And it fell once upon a day A playtime it was come, And when the rest went from the school, Each one to their own home, 90B.17	He hied him unto good green-wood, And leapt from tree to tree; It was to pull a hollin wand, To play his ownself wi. 90B.18	And when he thus had passed his time, To go home he was fain, He chanced to meet him Hind Henry, Where his mother was slain. 90B.19	‘O how is this,’ the youth cried out, ‘If it to you is known, How all this wood is growing grass, And on that small spot grows none?’ 90B.20	‘Since you do wonder, bonnie boy, I shall tell you anon; That is indeed the very spot I killed your mother in.’ 90B.21	He catched hold of Henry’s brand, And stroked it ower a strae, And thro and thro Hind Henry’s sides He made the cauld metal gae. 90B.22	Says, Take you that, O Hind Henry, O take you that from me, For killing of my mother dear, And her not hurting thee.
 
90C: Jellon Grame
 
90C.1	WHEN spring appeard in all its bloom, And flowers grew fresh and green, As May-a-Roe she set her down, To lay gowd on her seam. 90C.2	But word has come to that lady, At evening when ’twas dark, To meet her love in gude greenwood, And bring to him a sark. 90C.3	‘That’s strange to me,’ said May-a-Roe, ‘For how can a’ this be? A month or twa is scarcely past Sin I sent my lovie three.’ 90C.4	Then May-a-Roe lap on her steed, And quickly rade away; She hadna ridden but hauf a mile, Till she heard a voice to say: 90C.5	‘Turn back, turn back, ye ventrous maid, Nae farther must ye go; For the boy that leads your bridle rein Leads you to your overthrow.’ 90C.6	But a’ these words she neer did mind, But fast awa did ride; And up it starts him Hynde Henry, Just fair by her right side. 90C.7	‘Ye’ll tarry here, perfidious maid, For by my hand ye’se dee; Ye married my brother, Brown Robin, Whan ye shoud hae married me.’ 90C.8	‘O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry, O mercy have on me! For I am eight months gane wi child, Therefore ye’ll lat me be.’ 90C.9	‘Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid, Nae mercy is for thee; You married my brother, Brown Robin, Whan ye shoud hae married me.’ 90C.10	‘Ye will bring here the bread, Henry, And I will bring the wine, And ye will drink to your ain love, And I will drink to mine.’ 90C.11	‘I winna bring here the bread, fair maid, Nor yet shall ye the wine, Nor will I drink to my ain love, Nor yet shall ye to thine.’ 90C.12	‘O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry, Until I lighter be! Hae mercy on your brother’s bairn, Tho ye hae nane for me.’ 90C.13	‘Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid, Nae mercy is for thee; Such mercy unto you I’ll gie As what ye gae to me.’ 90C.14	Then he’s taen out a trusty brand, And stroakd it ower a strae, And thro and thro her fair body He’s gart cauld iron gae. 90C.15	Nae meen was made for that lady, For she was lying dead; But a’ was for her bonny bairn, Lay spartling by her side. 90C.16	Then he’s taen up the bonny bairn, Handled him tenderlie, And said, Ye are o my ain kin, Tho your mother ill used me. 90C.17	He’s washen him at the crystal stream, And rowd him in a weed, And namd him after a bold robber Who was calld Robin Hood. 90C.18	Then brought to the next borough’s town, And gae him nurses three; He grew as big in ae year auld As some boys woud in three. 90C.19	Then he was sent to guid squeel-house, To learn how to thrive; He learnd as muckle in ae year’s time As some Boys would in five. 90C.20	‘But I wonder, I wonder,’ said little Robin, ‘Gin eer a woman bare me; For mony a lady spiers for the rest, But nae ane spiers for me. 90C.21	‘I wonder, I wonder,’ said little Robin, ‘Were I of woman born; Whan ladies my comrades do caress, They look at me wi scorn.’ 90C.22	It fell upon an evening-tide, Was ae night by it lane, Whan a’ the boys frae guid squeel-house Were merrily coming hame, 90C.23	Robin parted frae the rest, He wishd to be alane; And when his comrades he dismist, To guid greenwood he’s gane. 90C.24	When he came to guid greenwood, He clamb frae tree to tree, To pou some o the finest leaves, Ffor to divert him wi. 90C.25	He hadna pu’d a leaf, a leaf, Nor brake a branch but ane, Till by it came him Hynde Henry, And bade him lat alane. 90C.26	‘You are too bauld a boy,’ he said, ‘Sae impudent you be, As pu the leaves that’s nae your ain, Or yet to touch the tree.’ 90C.27	‘O mercy, mercy, gentleman, O mercy hae on me! For if that I offence hae done, It was unknown to me.’ 90C.28	‘Nae boy comes here to guid greenwood But pays a fine to me; Your velvet coat, or shooting-bow, Which o them will ye gie?’ 90C.29	‘My shooting-bow arches sae well, Wi it I canno part; Lest wer’t to send a sharp arrow To pierce you to the heart.’ 90C.30	He turnd him right and round about, His countenance did change: ‘Ye seem to be a boy right bauld; Why can ye talk sae strange? 90C.31	‘I’m sure ye are the bauldest boy That ever I talkd wi; As for your mother, May-a-Roe, She was neer sae bauld to me.’ 90C.32	‘O, if ye knew my mother,’ he said, ‘That’s very strange to me; And if that ye my mother knew, It’s mair than I coud dee.’ 90C.33	‘Sae well as I your mother knew, Ance my sweet-heart was she; Because to me she broke her vow, This maid was slain by me.’ 90C.34	‘O, if ye slew my mother dear, As I trust ye make nae lie, I wyte ye never did the deed That better paid shall be.’ 90C.35	‘O mercy, mercy, little Robin, O mercy hae on me!’ ‘Sic mercy as ye pae my mother, Sic mercy I’ll gie thee. 90C.36	‘Prepare yourself, perfidious man, For by my hand ye’se dee; Now come’s that bluidy butcher’s end Took my mother frae me.’ 90C.37	Then he hae chosen a sharp arrow, That was baith keen and smart, And let it fly at Hynde Henry, And piercd him to the heart. 90C.38	These news hae gaen thro Stirling town, Likewise thro Hunting-ha; At last it reachd the king’s own court, Amang the nobles a’. 90C.39	When the king got word o that, A light laugh then gae he, And he’s sent for him little Robin, To come right speedilie. 90C.40	He’s putten on little Robin’s head A ribbon and gowden crown, And made him ane o’s finest knights, For the valour he had done.
 
90D: Jellon Grame
 
 
 90D.1	* * * *
 	D’YE mind, d’ye mind, Lady Margerie,
 	When we handed round the beer?
 	Seven times I fainted for your sake,
 	And you never dropt a tear.
 90D.2	‘D’ye mind, d’ye mind, Lady Margerie,
 	When we handed round the wine?
 	Seven times I fainted for your sake,
 	And you never fainted once for mine.’
 	* * * * *
 90D.3	And he’s taen the baby out of her womb
 	And thrown it upon a thorn:
 	‘Let the wind blow east, let the wind blow west,
 	The cradle will rock its lone.’
 	* * * * *
 90D.4	But when brother Henry’s cruel brand
 	Had done the bloody deed,
 	The silver-buttons flew off his coat,
 	And his nose began to bleed.
 	* * * * *
 90D.5	‘O I have been killing in the silver wood
 	What will breed mickle woe;
 	I have been killing in the silver wood
 	A dawdy and a doe.’
 	* * * * *

 


 
91A: Fair Mary of Wallington
 
91A.1	WHEN we were silly sisters seven, sisters were so fair, Five of us were brave knights’ wives, and died in childbed lair. 91A.2	Up then spake Fair Mary, marry woud she nane; If ever she came in man’s bed, the same gate wad she gang. 91A.3	‘Make no vows, Fair Mary, for fear they broken be; Here’s been the Knight of Wallington, asking good will of thee.’ 91A.4	‘If here’s been the knight, mother, asking good will of me, Within three quarters of a year you may come bury me.’ 91A.5	When she came to Wallington, and into Wallington hall, There she spy’d her mother dear, walking about the wall. 91A.6	‘You’re welcome, daughter dear, to thy castle and thy bowers;’ ‘I thank you kindly, mother, I hope they’ll soon be yours.’ 91A.7	She had not been in Wallington three quarters and a day, Till upon the ground she could not walk, she was a weary prey. 91A.8	She had not been in Wallington three quarters and a night, Till on the ground she coud not walk, she was a weary wight. 91A.9	‘Is there neer a boy in this town, who’ll win hose and shun, That will run to fair Pudlington, and bid my mother come?’ 91A.10	Up then spake a little boy, near unto a-kin; ‘Full oft I have your errands gone, but now I will it run.’ 91A.11	Then she calld her waiting-maid to bring up bread and wine: ‘Eat and drink, my bonny boy, thou’ll neer eat more of mine. 91A.12	‘Give my respects to my mother, [as] she sits in her chair of stone, And ask her how she likes the news, of seven to have but one. 91A.13	[‘Give my respects to my mother, as she sits in her chair of oak, And bid her come to my sickening, or my merry lake-wake.] 91A.14	‘Give my love to my brother William, Ralph, and John, And to my sister Betty fair, and to her white as bone. 91A.15	‘And bid her keep her maidenhead, be sure make much on’t, For if eer she come in man’s bed, the same gate will she gang.’ 91A.16	Away this little boy is gone, as fast as he could run; When he came where brigs were broke, he lay down and swum. 91A.17	When he saw the lady, he said, Lord may your keeper be! ‘What news, my pretty boy, hast thou to tell to me?’ 91A.18	‘Your daughter Mary orders me, as you sit in a chair of stone, To ask you how you like the news, of seven to have but one. 91A.19	‘Your daughter gives commands, as you sit in a chair of oak, And bids you come to her sickening, or her merry lake-wake. 91A.20	‘She gives command to her brother William, Ralph, and John, [And] to her sister Betty fair, and to her white as bone. 91A.21	‘She bids her keep her maidenhead, be sure make much on’t, for if eer she came in man’s bed, the same gate woud she gang.’ 91A.22	She kickt the table with her foot, she kickt it with her knee, The silver plate into the fire, so far she made it flee. 91A.23	Then she calld her waiting-maid to bring her riding-hood, So did she on her stable-groom to bring her riding-steed. 91A.24	‘Go saddle to me the black [the black,] go saddle to me the brown, Go saddle to me the swiftest steed that eer rid [to] Wallington.’ 91A.25	When they came to Wallington, and into Wallington hall, There she spy’d her son Fenwick, walking about the wall. 91A.26	‘God save you, dear son, Lord may your keeper be! Where is my daughter fair, that used to walk with thee?’ 91A.27	He turnd his head round about, the tears did fill his ee: ‘’Tis a month,’ he said, ‘Since she took her chambers from me.’ 91A.28	She went on . . . and there were in the hall Four and twenty ladies, letting the tears down fall. 91A.29	Her daughter had a scope into her cheek and into her chin, All to keep her life till her dear mother came. 91A.30	‘Come take the rings off my fingers, the skin it is so white, And give them to my mother dear, for she was all the wite. 91A.31	‘Come take the rings off my fingers, the veins they are so red, Give them to Sir William Fenwick, I’m sure his heart will bleed.’ 91A.32	She took out a razor that was both sharp and fine, And out of her left side has taken the heir of Wallington. 91A.33	There is a race in Wallington, and that I rue full sare; Tho the cradle it be full spread up, the bride-bed is left bare.
 
91B: Fair Mary of Wallington
 
91B.1	‘WHEN we were sisters seven, An five of us deyd wi child, And there is nane but you and I, Mazery, And we’ll go madens mild.’ 91B.2	But there came knights, and there came squiers, An knights of high degree; She pleasd hersel in Levieston, They wear a comly twa. 91B.3	He has bought her rings for her fingers, And garlands for her hair, The broochis till her bosome braid; What wad my love ha mair? And he has brought her on to Livingston, And made her lady thear. 91B.4	She had na been in Liveingston A twelvemonth and a day, Till she was as big wi bairn As ony lady could gae. 91B.5	The knight he knocked his white fingers, The goude rings flew in twa: ‘Halls and bowers they shall go wast Ere my bonny love gie awa!’ 91B.6	The knight he knocked his white fingers, The goude rings flew in foure: ‘Halls and bowers they shall go waste Eren my bonny lady gie it ore!’ 91B.7	The knight he knocked his white fingers, The lady[s] sewed and sung; It was to comfort Lady Mazery, But her life-days wear na long. 91B.8	‘O whare will I get a bonny boy, That will win both hoos and shoon, That will win his way to Little Snoddown, To my mother, the Queen?’ 91B.9	Up and stands a bonny boy, Goude yellow was his hair; I wish his mother mickle grace at him, And his trew-love mickle mare. 91B.10	‘Here am I a bonny boy, That will win baith hoos an shoon, That will win my way to Little Snoddown, To thy mother, the Queen.’ 91B.11	‘Here is the rings frae my fingers, The garlonds frae my hair, The broches fray my bosom braid; Fray me she’ll nere get mare. 91B.12	‘Here it is my weeding-goun, It is a’ goude but the hem; Gi it to my sister Allen, For she is left now bird her lane. 91B.13	‘When you come whare brigs is broken, Ye’l bent your bow and swim; An when ye come whare green grass grows, Ye’l slack your shoon and run. 91B.14	‘But when you come to yon castle, Bide neither to chap nor ca, But you’l set your bent bow to your breast, And lightly loup the wa, And gin the porter be half-gate, Ye’ll be ben throw the ha! 91B.15	O when he came whare brigs was broken, He bent his bow and swam; An when he came where green grass grows, He slackd his shoon an ran. 91B.16	And when he came to yon castel, He stayed neither to chap no ca’l, But bent his bow unto his breast, And lightly lap the wa’l; And gin the porter was hafe-gate, He was ben throw the ha’l. 91B.17	‘O peace be to you, ladys a’l! As ye sit at your dine Ye ha little word of Lady Mazery, For she drees mickel pine. 91B.18	‘Here is the rings frae her fingers, The garlands frae her hair, The broches frae her bosome brade; Fray her ye’l nere get mare. 91B.19	‘Here it is her weeding-goun, It is a’ goude but the hem; Ye’ll ge it to her sister Allen, For she is left bird her lane.’ 91B.20	She ca’d the table wi her foot, And coped it wi her tae, Till siller cups an siller cans Unto the floor did gae. 91B.21	‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny boy, Ye wash, and come to dine; It does not fit a bonny boy His errant for to tine. 91B.22	‘Ge saddle to me the black, the black, Ge saddle to me the brown, Ge saddle to me the swiftest steed That ever rid frae a town.’ 91B.23	The first steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny black; He was a good steed, an a very good steed, But he tiyrd eer he wan the slack. 91B.24	The next steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny brown; He was a good steed, an a very good steed, But he tiyird ere he wan the town. 91B.25	The next steed they saddled to her, He was the bonny white; Fair fa the mair that fo’d the fole That carried her to Mazeree[’s] lear! 91B.26	As she gaed in at Leivingston, Thair was na mickel pride; The scobs was in her lovely mouth, And the razer in her side. 91B.27	‘O them that marrys your daughter, lady, I think them but a foole; A married man at Martimass, An a widdow the next Yule!’ 91B.28	‘O hold your toung now, Livingston, Let all your folly abee; I bear the burden in my breast, Mun suffer them to dee.’ 91B.29	Out an speaks her Bird Allen, For she spake ay through pride; ‘That man shall near be born,’ she says, ‘That shall ly down by my side.’ 91B.30	‘O hold your toung now, Bird Allen, Let all your folly abee; For you shall marry a man,’ she says, ‘Tho ye shoud live but rathes three.’
 
91C: Fair Mary of Wallington
 
91C.1	‘O WE were sisters seven, Maisry, And five are dead wi child; There is nane but you and I, Maisry, And we’ll go maidens mild.’ 91C.2	She hardly had the word spoken, And turnd her round about, When the bonny Earl of Livingston Was calling Maisry out. 91C.3	Upon a bonny milk-white steed, That drank out o the Tyne, And a’ was for her Lady Maisry, To take her hyne and hyne. 91C.4	Upon a bonny milk-white steed, That drank out o the Tay, And a’ was for her Lady Maisry, To carry her away. 91C.5	She had not been at Livingston A twelve month and a day, Until she was as big wi bairn As any ladie coud gae. 91C.6	She calld upon her little foot-page, Says, Ye maun run wi speed, And bid my mother come to me, For of her I’ll soon have need. 91C.7	‘See, there is the brootch frae my hause-bane, It is of gowd sae ried; Gin she winna come when I’m alive, Bid her come when I am dead.’ 91C.8	But ere she wan to Livingston, As fast as she coud ride, The gaggs they were in Maisry’s mouth, And the sharp sheers in her side. 91C.9	Her good lord wrang his milk-white hands, Till the gowd rings flaw in three: ‘Let ha’s and bowers and a’ gae waste, My bonny love’s taen frae me!’ 91C.10	‘O hold your tongue, Lord Livingston, Let a’ your mourning be; For I bare the bird between my sides, Yet I maun thole her to die.’ 91C.11	Then out it spake her sister dear, As she sat at her head: ‘That man is not in Christendoom Shall gar me die sicken dead.’ 91C.12	‘O hold your tongue, my ae daughter, Let a’ your folly be, For ye shall be married ere this day week Tho the same death you should die.’
 
91D: Fair Mary of Wallington
 
 
 91D.1	‘HERE it is was sisters seven,
 	And five is died with child;
 	Was non but you and I, Hellen,
 	And we’se be maidens mild.’
 91D.2	They hadna been maidens o bonny Snawdon
 	A twalvemonth and a day,
 	When lairds and lords a courting came,
 	Seeking Mary away.
 91D.3	The bonny laird of Livingstone,
 	He liket Mary best;
 	He gae her a ring, a royal ring,
 	And he wedded her at last.
 91D.4	She hed na been lady o Livingstone
 	A twalvemonth and a day,
 	When she did go as big wi bairn
 	As iver a woman could be.
 	* * * * *
 91D.7	The knights were wringin their white fingers,
 	And the ladys wer tearin their hair;
 	It was a’ for the lady o Livingstone,
 	For a word she never spake mare.
 91D.8	Out and spake her sister Hellen,
 	Where she sat by her side;
 	‘The man shall never be born,’ she said,
 	‘Shall ever make me his bride.
 91D.9	‘The man,’ she said, ’That would merry me,
 	I’de count him but a feel,
 	To merry me at Whitsunday,
 	And bury me at Yele.’
 91D.10	Out and spak her mother dear,
 	Whare she sat by the fire:
 	‘I bare this babe now from my side,
 	Maun suffer her to die.
 91D.11	‘And I have six boys now to my oyes,
 	And none of them were born,
 	But a hole cut in their mother’s side,
 	And they from it were shorne.’
 91D.12	. . . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . . .
 	. . . . .

 
 
91E: Fair Mary of Wallington
 
91E.1	‘ARISE, arise, dochter,’ she said, ‘My bidding to obey; The bravest lord in all Scotland This night asked you of me.’ 91E.2	‘O haud your tongue, mother,’ she said, ‘These words they do me wrang; For gin I lye in a man’s bed, My days will no be lang. 91E.3	‘There were seven sisters o us a’, We were a’ clad in white; And five of them were married, And in child-bed they died.’ 91E.4	‘Ye shall not be drest in black, Nor sall ye be in broun; But ye’se be drest in shining gowd, To gae glittering thro the town. 91E.5	‘Your father sall ride before you,’ she said, ‘And your brother sall ride ahin; Your horses fore-feet siller shod, And his hind anes wi gowd shall shine. 91E.6	‘Wi four and twenty buirdlie men Atween ye and the wun, And four and twenty bonnie mays Atween ye and the sun. 91E.7	‘Four and twenty milk-white geese, Stretching their wings sae wide, Blawing the dust aff the high-way, That Mild Mary may ride.’ 91E.8	They took to them their milk-white steeds, Set her upon a grey, And wi a napkin in her hand Weeping she rade away. 91E.9	O they rade on that lee-lang nicht, And part o the neist day also, And syne she saw her auld good mother Stand in the gates below. 91E.10	‘You’r welcome, welcome, dochter,’ she said, ‘To your biggins and your bowers;’ ‘I thank ye kindly, mither,’ she said, ‘But I doubt they’ll sune be yours.’ * * * * *
 
91F: Fair Mary of Wallington
 
91F.1	‘O WE were seven brave sisters, Five of us died wi child, And nane but you and I, Maisry, so we’ll gae maidens mild.’ 91F.2	‘O had your tongue, now Lady Margaret, Let a’ your folly be; I’ll gar you keep your true promise To the lad ayont the sea.’ 91F.3	‘O there is neither lord nor knight My love shall ever won, Except it be Lord Darlington, And here he winna come.’ 91F.4	But when the hour o twall was past, And near the hour o one, Lord Darlington came to the yetts, Wi thirty knights and ten. 91F.5	Then he has wedded Lady Margaret, And brought her oer the sea, And there was nane that lived on earth Sae happy as was she. 91F.6	But when nine months were come and gane Strong travailling took she, And nae physician in the land Could ease her maladie. 91F.7	‘Where will I get a little wee boy, Will won baith meat and fee, That will gae on to Seaton’s yetts, Bring my mother to me?’ 91F.8	‘O here am I, a little wee boy, That will won meat and fee, That will gae on to Seaton’s yetts, And bring your mother to thee.’ 91F.9	Then he is on to Seaton’s yetts, As fast as gang could he; Says, Ye must come to Darlington, Your daughter for to see. 91F.10	But when she came to Darlington, Where there was little pride, The scobbs were in the lady’s mouth, The sharp sheer in her side. 91F.11	Darlington stood on the stair, And gart the gowd rings flee: ‘My ha’s and bowers and a’ shall gae waste, If my bonny love die for me.’ 91F.12	‘O had your tongue, Lord Darlington, Let a’ your folly be; I boor the bird within my sides, I’ll suffer her to die. 91F.13	‘But he that marries my daughter, I think he is a fool; If he marries her at Candlemas, She’ll be frae him ere Yule. 91F.14	‘I had seven ance in companie, This night I go my lane; And when I come to Clyde’s water, I wish that I may drown.’
 
91[G]: Fair Mary of Wallington
 
91[G].1	‘We was sisters, we was seven, Five of us dayed we child, An you an me, Burd Ellen, Sall live maidens mild.’ 91[G.2]	Ther came leards, and ther came lords, An knights of high degree, A’ courting Lady Messry, Bat it widne deei. 91[G.3]	Bat the bonny lord of Livenston, He was flour of them a’, The bonny lord of Livenston, He stole the lady awaa. 91[G.4]	Broad was the horses hoves That dumped the water of Clide, An a’ was for honor of that gay lady That day she was Livenston’s bride. 91[G.5]	Fan she came to Livenston Mukell mirth was ther; The knights knaked ther whit fingers The ladys curled ther hear. 91[G.6]	She had no ben in Livenston A tuall-month an a day, Till she was as big we bearn As a lady coud gaa. 91[G.7]	She had ne ben in Livenston A tuall-month an a hour, Till for the morning of the may The couldne ane come near her bour. 91[G.8]	‘Far will I gett a bonny boy That will rean my earend shoun, That will goo to leve London, To my mother, the quin?’ 91[G.9]	‘Hear am I, a bonny boy Will rin yer earend sune, That will rin on to fair London, To yer mother, the quin.’ 91[G.10]	‘Hear is the bruch fra my breast-bane, The garlands fra my hear; Ye ge that to my mider, Fra me she’ll never gett mare. 91[G.11]	‘Hear is the rosses fra my shoun, The ribbons fra my hear; Ye gee that to my mider, Fra me she’ll never gett mare. 91[G.12]	‘Hear is my briddel-stand, It is a’ goud to the heam; Ye gie that to Burd Ellen, Forbed her to marry men. 91[G.13]	‘Ye bid them and ye pray them bath, If they will dou it for my sake, If they be not att my death, To be att my leak-wake. 91[G.14]	‘Ye bid them and ye pray them baith, If they will dou it for my name, If they be not att my leak-wake, To be att my birrien.’ 91[G.15]	Fan he came to grass grouen, He strated his bou an rane, An fan he came to brigs broken He slaked his bou an swam. 91[G.16]	An fan he came to yon castell, He bad nether to chap nor caa, But sait his bent bou to his breast An lightly lap the waa; Or the porter was att the gate, The boy was in the haa. 91[G.17]	‘Mukell meatt is on yer table, lady, A littil of it is eaten, Bat the bonny lady of Livenston Ye have her clean forgotten.’ 91[G.18]	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye bonny boy, Sae loud as I hear ye lie; Mukell ha I sold the [meatt], An littel hae I bought, Batt the bonny lady of Livenston Gass never out of my thought. 91[G.19]	‘Mukell have I bought, bonny boy, An littel haa I sale, Bat the bonny lady of Livenston She couls my heart fue cale.’ 91[G.20]	‘Hear is the ribbings fra her hear, The roses fra her shoun; I was bidden gie that to her midder, To her midder, the quin. 91[G.21]	‘Hear is the bruch fra her breast-bean, The garlands frae her hear; I was bidden gee that to her mother, Fra her she’ll never gett mare. 91[G.22]	‘Hear is her bridell-stand, The’r a’ goud to the heam; I was bidden ga that to Burd Ellen, Forbid her to marry man. 91[G.23]	‘She bids ye on she prays ye bath, Gin yee’ll di et for her sake, If ye be not att her death, To be att her leak-wake. 91[G.24]	‘She bids yee an she prays ye bath, Gine ye’ll dou et for her name, If ye be not att her leak-wake, To be at her burrien.’ 91[G.25]	‘Garr saddell to me the blak, Saddle to me the broun, Gar saddel to me the suiftest stead That ever read fraa a toun, Till I gaa to Livenston An see hou Measry fairs.’ 91[G.26]	The first stead was saddled to her, It was the bonny black; She spured him aftt and she spared him na, An she tayened him at a slap. 91[G.27]	The neast stead that was saddled to her Was the berrey-broun; She spured him aftt an she spared him not, An she tayned him att a toun. 91[G.28]	The neast an steed that was saddled to her, It was the milk-white: ‘Fair faa the mear that folled the foll Had me to Meassry’s leak!’ 91[G.29]	Fan she came to Livenston, Mukel dolle was ther; The knights wrang ther whit fingers, The ladys tore ther hear. 91[G.30]	The knights they wrang ther whit fingers, The rings they flue in four: ‘Latt haas an tours an a’ doun fau! My dear thing has gine it our.’ 91[G.31]	Our spak him Livenston, An a sorry man was he; ‘I had rader lost the lands of Livenston, Afor my gay lady.’ 91[G.32]	‘Had yer toung nou, Livenston, An latt yer folly be; I bare the burd in my bosom, I man thole to see her diee.’ 91[G.33]	Fan she came to her doughter’s boure, Ther was littel pride; The scoups was in her doughter’s mouth, An the sharp shirrs in her side. 91[G.34]	Out spake her Burd Ellen, An she spake ay threu pride; The wife sall never bear the sin Sall lay doun by my side. 91[G.35]	‘Had your toung nou, Burd Ellen, Ye latt yer folly a be; Dinn ye mind that ye promised yer love To him that is ayond the seaa?’ 91[G.36]	‘Hold yer toung, my mother, Ye speak just leak a fooll; Tho I wer marred att Martimes, I wad be dead or Yeull.’ 91[G.37]	‘I have five bonny oyes att heam, Ther was never ane of them born, Bat every ane of them Out of ther midder’s sides shorn.’


 
92A: Bonny Bee Hom
 
92A.1	BY Arthur’s Dale as late I went I heard a heavy moan; I heard a ladie lammenting sair, And ay she cried Ohone! 92A.2	‘Ohon, alas! what shall I do, Tormented night and day! I never loved a love but ane, And now he’s gone away. 92A.3	‘But I will do for my true-love What ladies woud think sair; For seven year shall come and go Ere a kaim gang in my hair. 92A.4	‘There shall neither a shoe gang on my foot, Nor a kaim gang in my hair, Nor eer a coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower nae mair.’ 92A.5	She thought her love had been on the sea, Fast sailling to Bee Hom; But he was in a quiet chamer, Hearing his ladie’s moan. 92A.6	‘Be husht, be husht, my ladie dear, I pray thee mourn not so; For I am deep sworn on a book To Bee Hom for to go.’ 92A.7	She has gien him a chain of the beaten gowd, And a ring with a ruby stone: ‘As lang as this chain your body binds, Your blude can never be drawn. 92A.8	‘But gin this ring shoud fade or fail, Or the stone shoud change its hue, Be sure your love is dead and gone, Or she has proved untrue.’ 92A.9	He had no been at Bonny Bee Hom A twelve month and a day, Till, looking on his gay gowd ring, The stone grew dark and gray. 92A.10	‘O ye take my riches to Bee Hom, And deal them presentlie, To the young that canna, the auld that maunna, And the blind that does not see.’ 92A.11	Now death has come into his bower, And split his heart in twain; So their twa souls flew up to heaven, And there shall ever remain.
 
92B: Bonny Bee Hom
 
92B.1	IN Lauderdale I chanc’d to walk, And heard a lady’s moan, Lamenting for her dearest dear, And aye she cried, Ohon! 92B.2	‘Sure never a maid that eer drew breath Had harder fate than me; I’d never a lad but one on earth, They forc’d him to the sea. 92B.3	‘The ale shall neer be brewin o malt, Neither by sea nor land, That ever mair shall cross my hause, Till my love comes to hand. 92B.4	‘A handsome lad, wi shoulders broad, Gold yellow was his hair; None of our Scottish youths on earth That with him could compare.’ 92B.5	She thought her love was gone to sea, And landed in Bahome; But he was in a quiet chamber, Hearing his lady’s moan. 92B.6	‘Why make ye all this moan, lady? Why make ye all this moan? For I’m deep sworn on a book, I must go to Bahome. 92B.7	‘Traitors false for to subdue Oer seas I’ll make me boun, That have trepand our kind Scotchmen, Like dogs to ding them down.’ 92B.8	‘Weell, take this ring, this royal thing, Whose virtue is unknown; As lang’s this ring’s your body on, Your blood shall neer be drawn. 92B.9	‘But if this ring shall fade or stain, Or change to other hue, Come never mair to fair Scotland, If ye’re a lover true.’ 92B.10	Then this couple they did part, With a sad heavy moan; The wind was fair, the ship was rare, They landed in Bahome. 92B.11	But in that place they had not been A month but barely one, Till he lookd on his gay gold ring, And riven was the stone. 92B.12	Time after this was not expir’d A month but scarcely three, Till black and ugly was the ring, And the stone was burst in three. 92B.13	‘Fight on, fight on, you merry men all, With you I’ll fight no more; I will gang to some holy place, Pray to the King of Glore.’ 92B.14	Then to the chapel he is gone, And knelt most piteouslie, For seven days and seven nights, Till blood ran frae his knee. 92B.15	‘Ye’ll take my jewels that’s in Bahome, And deal them liberallie, To young that cannot, and old that mannot, The blind that does not see. 92B.16	‘Give maist to women in child-bed laid, Can neither fecht nor flee; I hope she’s in the heavens high, That died for love of me.’ 92B.17	The knights they wrang their white fingers, The ladies tore their hair; The women that neer had children born, In swoon they down fell there. 92B.18	But in what way the knight expir’d, No tongue will eer declare; So this doth end my mournful song, From me ye’ll get nae mair.


 
93A: Lamkin
 
93A.1	IT’S Lamkin was a mason good As ever built wi stane; He built Lord Wearie’s castle, But payment got he nane. 93A.2	‘O pay me, Lord Wearie, come, pay me my fee:’ ‘I canna pay you, Lamkin, For I maun gang oer the sea.’ 93A.3	‘O pay me now, Lord Wearie, Come, pay me out o hand:’ ‘I canna pay you, Lamkin, Unless I sell my land.’ 93A.4	‘O gin ye winna pay me, I here sall mak a vow, Before that ye come hame again, ye sall hae cause to rue.’ 93A.5	Lord Wearie got a bonny ship, to sail the saut sea faem; Bade his lady weel the castle keep, ay till he should come hame. 93A.6	But the nourice was a fause limmer as eer hung on a tree; She laid a plot wi Lamkin, whan her lord was oer the sea. 93A.7	She laid a plot wi Lamkin, when the servants were awa, Loot him in at a little shot-window, and brought him to the ha. 93A.8	‘O whare’s a’ the men o this house, that ca me Lamkin?’ ‘They’re at the barn-well thrashing; ’twill be lang ere they come in.’ 93A.9	‘And whare’s the women o this house, that ca me Lamkin?’ ‘They’re at the far well washing; ’twill be lang ere they come in.’ 93A.10	‘And whare’s the bairns o this house, that ca me Lamkin?’ ‘They’re at the school reading; ’twill be night or they come hame.’ 93A.11	‘O whare’s the lady o this house, that ca’s me Lamkin?’ ‘She’s up in her bower sewing, but we soon can bring her down.’ 93A.12	Then Lamkin’s tane a sharp knife, that hang down by his gaire, And he has gien the bonny babe A deep wound and a sair. 93A.13	Then Lamkin he rocked, and the fause nourice sang, Till frae ilkae bore o the cradle the red blood out sprang. 93A.14	Then out it spak the lady, as she stood on the stair: ‘What ails my bairn, nourice, that he’s greeting sae sair? 93A.15	‘O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the pap!’ ‘He winna still, lady, for this nor for that.’ 93A.16	‘O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the wand!’ ‘He winna still, lady, for a’ his father’s land.’ 93A.17	‘O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the bell!’ ‘He winna still, lady, till ye come down yoursel.’ 93A.18	O the firsten step she steppit, she steppit on a stane; But the neisten step she steppit, she met him Lamkin. 93A.19	‘O mercy, mercy, Lamkin, hae mercy upon me! Though you’ve taen my young son’s life, Ye may let mysel be.’ 93A.20	‘O sall I kill her, nourice, or sall I lat her be?’ ‘O kill her, kill her, Lamkin, for she neer was good to me.’ 93A.21	‘O scour the bason, nourice, and mak it fair and clean, For to keep this lady’s heart’s blood, For she’s come o noble kin.’ 93A.22	‘There need nae bason, Lamkin, lat it run through the floor; What better is the heart’s blood o the rich than o the poor?’ 93A.23	But ere three months were at an end, Lord Wearie came again; But dowie, dowie was his heart when first he came hame. 93A.24	‘O wha’s blood is this,’ he says, ’That lies in the chamer?’ ‘It is your lady’s heart’s blood; ’tis as clear as the lamer.’ 93A.25	‘And wha’s blood is this,’ he says, ’That lies in my ha?’ ‘It is your young son’s heart’s blood; ’tis the clearest ava.’ 93A.26	O sweetly sang the black-bird that sat upon the tree; But sairer grat Lamkin, when he was condemnd to die. 93A.27	And bonny sang the mavis, Out o the thorny brake; But sairer grat the nourice, when she was tied to the stake.
 
93B: Lamkin
 
93B.1	BALANKIN was as gude a mason as eer picked a stane; He built up Prime Castle, but payment gat nane. 93B.2	The lord said to his lady, when he was going abroad, O beware of Balankin, for he lyes in the wood. 93B.3	The gates they were bolted, baith outside and in; At the sma peep of a window Blankin crap in. 93B.4	‘Good morrow, good morrow,’ said Lambert Linkin: ‘Good morrow to yoursell, sir,’ said the false nurse to him. 93B.5	‘O where is your good lord?’ said Lambert Linkin: ‘He’s awa to New England, to meet with his king.’ 93B.6	‘O where is his auld son?’ said Lambert Linkin: ‘He’s awa to buy pearlings, Gin our lady lye in.’ 93B.7	‘Then she’ll never wear them,’ said Lambert Linkin: ‘And that is nae pity,’ said the false nurse to him. 93B.8	‘O where is your lady?’ said Lambert Linkin: ‘She’s in her bower sleeping,’ said the false nurse to him. 93B.9	‘How can we get at her?’ said Lambert Linkin: ‘Stab the babe to the heart, wi a silver bokin.’ 93B.10	‘That would be a pity,’ said Lambert Linkin: ‘No pity, no pity,’ said the false nurse to him. 93B.11	Balankin he rocked, and the false nurse she sang, Till all the tores of the cradle wi the red blood down ran. 93B.12	‘O still my babe, nurice, O still him wi the knife!’ ‘He’ll no be still, lady, tho I lay doun my life.’ 93B.13	‘O still my babe, nurice, O still him wi the kame!’ ‘He’ll be no still, lady, till his daddy come hame.’ 93B.14	‘O still my babe, nurice, O still him wi the bell!’ ‘He’ll no be still, lady, till ye come doun yoursell.’ 93B.15	‘It’s how can I come down, this cauld winter nicht, Without eer a coal, or a clear candle-licht?’ 93B.16	‘There’s two smocks in your coffer, as white as a swan; Put one of them about you, it will shew you licht down.’ 93B.17	She took ane o them about her, and came tripping doun; But as soon as she viewed, Balankin was in. 93B.18	‘Good morrow, good morrow,’ said Lambert Linkin: ‘Good morrow to yoursell, sir, said the lady to him. 93B.19	‘O save my life, Balankin, till my husband come back, And I’ll gie you as much red gold as you’ll hold in your hat.’ 93B.20	‘I’ll not save your life, lady, till your husband come back, Tho you would give me as much red gold as I could hold in a sack. 93B.21	‘Will I kill her?’ quo Balankin, ’will I kill her, or let her be?’ ‘You may kill her,’ said the false nurse, ’She was neer good to me; And ye’ll be laird of the castle, and I’ll be ladie.’ 93B.22	Then he cut aff her head fram her lily breast-bane, And he hung’t up in the kitchen, it made a’ the ha shine. 93B.23	The lord sat in England, a drinking the wine: ‘I wish a’ may be weel with my lady at hame; For the rings of my fingers the’re now burst in twain!’ 93B.24	He saddled his horse, and he came riding doun, But as soon as he viewed, Balankin was in. 93B.25	He had na weel stepped twa steps up the stair, Till he saw his pretty young son lying dead on the floor. 93B.26	He had not weel stepped other twa up the stair, Till he saw his pretty lady lying dead in despair. 93B.27	He hanged Balankin out over the gate, And he burnt the fause nurice, being under the grate.
 
93C: Lamkin
 
93C.1	LAMERLINKIN, as gude a mason as eer laid a stane, Built a house to Lord Arran, but entrance had nane. 93C.2	Says the lord to his lady, when going abroad, Take care of Lamerlinkin, wha bides in the wood. 93C.3	‘I care not for Lamkin, nor none of his kin; My house is plastered outside, and bolted within.’ 93C.4	The gates they were locked, baith outside and in, But there was a wee hole that let Lamkin creep in. 93C.5	‘Good woman, good woman,’ said Lamerlinkin: ‘Good woman, good woman,’ said the fause nurse to him. 93C.6	‘Where’s the lord o this house? is he not within?’ ‘He’s up in Old England, he’s dining wi the king.’ 93C.7	‘Where’s the lady of this house? or is she not within?’ ‘She’s up in her high room, and cannot come down.’ 93C.8	‘Where is the maids o this house? or are they not within?’ ‘They are at the well washing, and cannot get in.’ 93C.9	‘Where is the men o this house? or are they not within?’ ‘They are at the barn threshing, and cannot win hame.’ 93C.10	‘O what will I do, to mak her come doun?’ ‘We’ll kill her auld son, to mak her come doun.’ 93C.11	He took out a pen-knife, baith pointed and sharp, And he stabbed the babie three times in the heart. 93C.12	Lamerlinkin did rock, and the fause nurse did sing; Ower the four-cornered cradle the red blood did spring. 93C.13	‘O please my babie, nurse, O please him wi wands!’ ‘He’ll no be pleased, madam, for a’ his father’s lands.’ 93C.14	‘O please my babie, nurse, O please him wi keys!’ ‘He’ll no be pleased, madam, let me do what I please.’ 93C.15	‘O please my babie, nurse, O please him with bells!’ ‘He’ll no be pleased, madam, till you come down yoursell. 93C.16	‘How can I come doun this cold frosty night, Without coal or candle for to shew me light?’ 93C.17	‘The gold rings on your finger are bright as the sun; You may see to cum doun the stair with the light o them.’ 93C.18	O then she came doun the stair, stepping step by step; So ready was Lamkin to grip her in his lap. 93C.19	‘Save my life, Lamkin, till five minutes break, And I’ll give thee gold, the fu o a peck.’ 93C.20	‘I’ll no save your life, till five minutes break, Tho thou should give me gold, the fu of a sack.’ 93C.21	‘O Jeany, O Jeany, O scour the bason clean, That your lady’s noble blood may be kepped clean.’ 93C.22	‘O no, no, no, Lambkin, my heart will be sare; O take my life, Lambkin, let my lady go.’ * * * * * 93C.23	He sent for the false nurse, to give her her fee; All the fee that he gave her was to hang her on a tree. 93C.24	sent for Lamerlinkin, to give him his hire; All the hire that he gave him was to burn him in the fire.
 
93D: Lamkin
 
93D.1	SAID the lord to his lady, Beware of Rankin; For I am going to England, to wait on the king. 93D.2	‘No fears, no fears,’ said the lady, said she, ‘For the doors shall be bolted, and the windows pindee. 93D.3	‘Go bar all the windows, both outside and in; Don’t leave a window open, to let Bold Rankin in.’ 93D.4	She has barred all the windows, both outside and in; But she left one of them open, to let Bold Rankin in. 93D.5	‘O where is the master of this house?’ said Bold Rankin; ‘He’s up in Old England.’ said the false nurse to him. 93D.6	‘O where is the mistress of this house?’ said Bold Rankin; ‘She’s up in the chamber sleeping,’ said the false nurse to him. 93D.7	‘O how shall we get her down?’ said Bold Rankin; ‘By piercing the baby,’ said the false nurse to him. 93D.8	‘Go please the baby, nursy, go please it with a bell;’ ‘It will not be pleased, madam, till you come down yoursel.’ 93D.9	‘How can I come down stairs, so late into the night, Without coal or candle, to shew me the light? 93D.10	‘There is a silver bolt lies on the chest-head; Give it to the baby, give it sweet milk and bread.’ 93D.11	She rammed the silver bolt up the baby’s nose, Till the blood it came trinkling down the baby’s fine clothes. 93D.12	‘Go please the baby, nursie, go please it with the bell:’ ‘It will not please, madam, till you come down yoursel. 93D.13	‘It will neither please with breast-milk, nor yet with pap; But I pray, loving lady, Come and roll it in your lap.’ 93D.14	The first step she stepit, she steppit on a stone; And the next step she stepit, she met Bold Rankin. 93D.15	‘O rankin, O Rankin, spare me till twelve o’clock, And I will give you as many guineas as you can carry on your back.’ 93D.16	‘What care I for as many guineas as seeds into a sack, When I cannot keep my hands off your lily-white neck?’ 93D.17	‘O will I kill her, nursie, or let her abee?’ ‘O kill her,’ said the false nurse, ’She was never good to me.’ 93D.18	‘Go scour the bason, lady, both outside and in, To hold your mother’s heart’s blood, sprung from a noble kin.’ 93D.19	‘To hold my mother’s heart’s blood would make my heart full woe; O rather kill me, Rankin, and let my mother go.’ 93D.20	‘Go scour the bason, servants, both outside and in, To hold your lady’s heart’s blood, sprung from a noble kin.’ 93D.21	‘To hold my lady’s heart’s blood would make my heart full woe; O rather kill me, Rankin, and let my lady go.’ 93D.22	‘Go scour the bason, nursy, both outside and in, To hold your lady’s heart’s blood, sprung from a noble kin.’ 93D.23	‘To hold my lady’s heart’s blood would make my heart full glad; Ram in the knife, Bold Rankin, and gar the blood to shed. 93D.24	‘She’s none of my comrades, she’s none of my kin; Ram in the knife, Bold Rankin, and gar the blood rin.’ 93D.25	‘O will I kill her, nursy, or let her abee?’ ‘O kill her,’ said the false nurse, ’She was never good to me.’ * * * * * 93D.26	‘I wish my wife and family may be all well at home; For the silver buttons of my coat they will not stay on.’ 93D.27	As Betsy was looking oer her window so high, She saw her dear father come riding by. 93D.28	‘O father, dear father, don’t put the blame on me It was false nurse and Rankin that killed your lady.’ 93D.29	O wasn’t that an awful sight, when he came to the stair, To see his fairest lady lie bleeding there! 93D.30	The false nurse was burnt on the mountain hill-head, And Rankin was boiled in a pot full of lead.
 
93E: Lamkin
 
93E.1	LAMBKIN was as good a mason as ever laid stone; He builded Lord Montgomery’s castle, but payment got none. 93E.2	He builded the castle without and within; But he left an open wake for himself to get in. 93E.3	Lord Montgomery said to his lady, when he went abroad, Take care of Bold Lambkin, for he is in the wood. 93E.4	‘Gar bolt the gate, nourice, without and within, Leave not the wake open, to let Bold Lambkin in.’ 93E.5	She bolted the gates, without and within, But she left the wake open, to let Bold Lambkin in. 93E.6	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’ says Bold Lambkin then; ‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’ says the false nurse to him. 93E.7	‘Where is Lord Montgomery? or where is he gone?’ ‘He is gone up to England, to wait on the king! 93E.8	‘Where are the servants? and where are they gone?’ ‘They are all up to England, to wait upon him.’ 93E.9	‘Where is your lady? or where is she gone?’ ‘She is in her bower sitting, and sewing her seam.’ 93E.10	‘O what shall we do for to make her come down?’ ‘We’ll kill the pretty baby, that’s sleeping so sound.’ 93E.11	Lambkin he rocked, and the false nurse she sung, And she stabbed the babe to the heart with a silver bodkin. 93E.12	‘O still my babe, nourice, O still him with the pap:’ ‘He’ll no be stilled, madam, for this nor for that.’ 93E.13	‘O still my babe, nourice, go still him with the keys:’ ‘He’ll no be stilled, madam, let me do what I please.’ 93E.14	‘O still my babe, nourice, go still him with the bell:’ ‘He’ll no be stilled, madam, till you come down yoursel.’ 93E.15	‘How can I come down, this cold winter night, When there’s neither coal burning, nor yet candle-light?’ 93E.16	‘The sark on your back is whiter than the swan; Come down the stair, lady, by the light of your hand.’ 93E.17	The lady she cam down the stair trip for trap; Who so ready as Bold Lambkin to meet her in the dark? 93E.18	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’ said Bold Lambkin then; ‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’ said the lady to him. 93E.19	‘O where is Lord Montgomery? or where is he gone?’ ‘O he is up to England, to wait on the king.’ 93E.20	‘O where are your servants? or where are they gone?’ ‘They are all up to England, to wait upon him. 93E.21	‘I’ll give you as much gold, Lambkin, as you’ll put in a peck, If you’ll spare my life till my lord comes back.’ 93E.22	‘Tho you would [give] me as much as I could put in a sack, I would not spare thy life till thy lord comes back.’ 93E.23	Lord Montgomery sate in England, drinking with the king; The buttons flew off his coat, all in a ring. 93E.24	‘God prosper, God prosper my lady and son! For before I get home they will all be undone.’
 
93F: Lamkin
 
93F.1	SAID my lord to his ladye, as he mounted his horse, (bis) Take care of Long Lankyn, who lies in the moss. (bis) 93F.2	Said my lord to his ladye, as he rode away, Take care of Long Lankyn, who lies in the clay. 93F.3	Let the doors be all bolted, and the windows all pinned, And leave not a hole for a mouse to creep in. 93F.4	Then he kissed his fair ladye, and he rode away; He must be in London before break of day. 93F.5	The doors were all bolted, and the windows were pinned, All but one little window, where Long Lankyn crept in. 93F.6	‘Where is the lord of this house?’ said Long Lankyn: ‘He is gone to fair London,’ said the false nurse to him. 93F.7	‘Where is the ladye of this house?’ said Long Lankyn: ‘She’s asleep in her chamber,’ said the false nurse to him. 93F.8	‘Where is the heir of this house?’ said Long Lankyn: ‘He’s asleep in his cradle,’ said the false nurse to him. * * * * * 93F.9	‘We’ll prick him, and prick him, all over with a pin, And that will make your ladye to come down to him.’ 93F.10	So she pricked him and pricked, all over with a pin, And the nurse held a basin for the blood to run in. 93F.11	‘Oh nurse, how you sleep! Oh nurse, how you snore! And you leave my little son Johnstone to cry and to roar.’ 93F.12	‘I’ve tried him with suck, and I’ve tried him with pap; So come down, my fair ladye, and nurse him in your lap.’ 93F.13	‘Oh nurse, how you sleep! Oh nurse, how you snore! And you leave my little son Johnstone to cry and to roar.’ 93F.14	‘I’ve tried him with apples, I’ve tried him with pears; So come down, my fair ladye, and rock him in your chair.’ 93F.15	‘How can I come down, ’tis so late in the night, When there’s no candle burning, nor fire to give light?’ 93F.16	‘You have three silver mantles as bright as the sun; So come down, my fair ladye, by the light of one.’ * * * * * 93F.17	‘Oh spare me, Long Lankyn, oh spare me till twelve o’clock, You shall have as much gold as you can carry on your back.’ 93F.18	‘If I had as much gold as would build me a tower,’ . . . . . . . . . . 93F.19	‘Oh spare me, Long Lankyn, oh spare me one hour, You shall have my daughter Betsy, she is a sweet flower.’ 93F.20	‘Where is your daughter Betsy? she may do some good; She can hold the silver basin, to catch your heart’s blood.’ * * * * * 93F.21	Lady Betsy was sitting in her window so high, And she saw her father, as he was riding by. 93F.22	‘Oh father, oh father, don’t lay the blame on me; ’Twas the false nurse and Long Lankyn that killed your ladye.’ * * * * * 93F.23	Then Long Lankyn was hanged on a gallows so high, And the false nurse was burnt in a fire just by.
 
93G: Lamkin
 
93G.1	THE lord said to his ladie, as he mounted his horse, Beware of Long Lonkin, that lies in the moss. 93G.2	The lord said to his ladie, as he rode away, Beware of Long Lonkin, that lies in the clay. 93G.3	‘What care I for Lonkin, or any of his gang? My doors are all shut, and my windows penned in.’ 93G.4	There were six little windows, and they were all shut, But one little window, and that was forgot. 93G.5	. . . . . . . . . . And at that little window long Lonkin crept in. 93G.6	‘Where’s the lord of the hall?’ says the Lonkin: ‘He’s gone up to London,’ says Orange to him. 93G.7	‘Where’s the men of the hall?’ says the Lonkin: ‘They’re at the field ploughing,’ says Orange to him. 93G.8	‘Where’s the maids of the hall?’ says the Lonkin: ‘They’re at the well washing,’ says Orange to him. 93G.9	‘Where’s the ladies of the hall?’ says the Lonkin: ‘They’re up in their chambers,’ says Orange to him. 93G.10	‘How shall we get them down?’ says the Lonkin: ‘Prick the babe in the cradle,’ says Orange to him. 93G.11	‘Rock well my cradle, and bee-ba my son; You shall have a new gown when the lord he comes home.’ 93G.12	Still she did prick it, and bee-ba she cried: ‘Come down, dearest mistress, and still your own child.’ 93G.13	‘Oh still my child, Orange, still him with a bell:’ ‘I can’t still him, ladie, till you come down yoursell.’ * * * * * 93G.14	‘Hold the gold basin, for your heart’s blood to run in,’ . . . . . . . . . . 93G.15	‘To hold the gold basin, it grieves me full sore; Oh kill me, dear Lonkin, and let my mother go.’
 
93H: Lamkin
 
93H.1	BAULD RANKIN was as gude a mason as eer biggit wi stane; He has biggit a bonny castle, but siller he gat nane. * * * * * 93H.2	‘Gae bar the gates,’ the lady said, ’gae bar them out and in; Leave not a door open, lest Rankin should come in.’ 93H.3	They’ve bard them on the outer side, sae hae they on the in; But left the cellar-door open, and Bauld Rankin crap in. 93H.4	‘Where’s a’ the women o the house?’ says Bauld Rankin: ‘They’re at the well washing,’ says the fause nurse to him. 93H.5	‘Where’s a’ the men of this house?’ says the Bauld Rankin: ‘They are at the barn thrashing,’ says the fause nurse to him. 93H.6	‘Where’s the lady of this house?’ says the Bauld Rankin: ‘She’s in the chamber, sleeping,’ says the fause nurse to him. 93H.7	‘How will we get her wakent? how will we get her down?’ ‘We’ll pierce the baby’s heart’s blood,’ says the fause nurse to him. * * * * * 93H.8	‘Come, please the babe, nurse, come please it wi the keys:’ ‘It’ll no be pleased, madam, tho I’ll down on my knees.’ 93H.9	‘Come, please the babe, nurse, come, please it wi the knife:’ ‘It’ll no be pleased, madam, should I lay down my life.’ 93H.10	‘Come, please the babe, nurse, come, please it wi the bell:’ ‘It’ll no be pleased, madam, till ye come down yoursel.’ 93H.11	‘How can I come down, how can I come, sae late in the night, And neither coal nor candle, for to shew me light?’ 93H.12	The first step she steppit, she steppit on a stane; The next step she steppit, she met the Bauld Rankin. 93H.13	‘O spare my life, Rankin, O spare it most dear! I’ll gie you as monie guineas as birds in the air. 93H.14	‘O spare my life, Rankin, O save it most sweet! I’ll gie you as monie guineas as there’s stanes in the street.’ * * * * * 93H.15	‘I wish my wife and bairns may be all well at hame; For the buttons on my waistcoat they winna bide on. 93H.16	‘I wish my wife and family may be all well at home; For the rings upon my fingers they winna bide on.’ * * * * * 93H.17	He has kindled a big bane-fire, in the middle o the closs, And he has burned Bauld Rankin, likewise the fause nurse.
 
93I: Lamkin
 
93I.1	LANCKIN was as guid a mason as ever did use stane; He biggit Lord Murray’s house, an payment neer got nane. 93I.2	It fell ance on a day Lord Murray went frae hame, An Lankin came to the fause nourice, . . . . . * * * * * 93I.3	‘O still my bairn, nourice, still him wi the knife:’ ‘He winna still, lady, Tho I should lay down my life.’ 93I.4	‘O still my bairn, nurice, still him wi the bell:’ ‘He winna still, lady, till ye come down yersel.’ 93I.5	The first [step she steppit], she came on the marble stane; The next step [she steppit], she met him Lankin. 93I.6	‘O spare my life, Lankin, an I’ll gie ye a peck o goud; An that dinna please ye, I’ll heap it wi my hand.’ 93I.7	‘O will I kill the lady, nurice, or will I lat her be?’ ‘O kill her, Lankin, she was never guid to me.’ 93I.8	‘O wanted ye yer meat, nurice? or wanted ye yer fee? Or wanted ye the othir bounties ladys are wont to gie?’ 93I.9	. . . . . . . . . . ‘O kill her, Lankin, she was never guid to me.’ 93I.10	‘Gae wash a bason, nurice, an ye wash it clean, To cape this ladie’s blood; she is come o high kine.’ 93I.11	‘I winna wash a bason, nor will I wash it clean, To cape this ladie’s blood, tho she’s come o high kine.’ * * * * * 93I.12	Bonny sang yon bird, as he sat upon the tree, But sare grat Lankin. for he was hangit hie. 93I.13	Bonny sang the bird, that sat upon the hill, But sare grat the nurice, whan the caudron gan to boil. 93I.14	. . . . . Lankin was hangit hie, And the fause nourice burnt in the caudron was she.
 
93J: Lamkin
 
93J.1	O LAMMIKIN was as good a mason as ever bigget stane; He’s bigget Lord Erley’s castle, but money he got nane. 93J.2	It fell out upon a time Lord Earley went from home; He left his lady in his castle, but and his young son. * * * * * 93J.3	‘Where is the lord o this house, that calls me Lammikin?’ ‘He’s on the sea sailing, he will not come home.’ 93J.4	‘Where are the men o this house, that call me Lammikin?’ ‘They are at the barn threshing, they will not come in.’ 93J.5	‘Where are the maids of this house, that call me Lammikin?’ ‘They are at the well washing, they will not come in.’ 93J.6	‘Where is the lady o this house, that calls me Lammikin?’ ‘She’s in her room shewing, she will not come down.’ 93J.7	‘How shall we contrive for to make her come down?’ ‘We’ll stick her dear infant, and make her come down.’ 93J.8	O Lammikin he rocket, and the fause nurice sung, While out o the cradle the infant’s blude sprung. 93J.9	‘O still my bairn, nurice,’ the lady did cry: ‘He will not still, lady, for you nor for I.’ 93J.10	‘O still my bairn, nurice, still him wi the wan:’ ‘He will not still, lady, for a’ his father’s lan.’ 93J.11	‘Oh still my bairn, nurice, still him wi the keys:’ ‘Oh he winna still, lady, for a’ his father’s leys.’ 93J.12	‘Oh still my bairn, nurice, still him wi the bell:’ ‘Oh he winna still, lady, till ye come down yersell.’ 93J.13	The firsten step that lady stepped, it was upon a stone; The nexten step that lady stepped, she saw him Lammikin. 93J.14	The nexten step that lady stepped was in her own child’s blood, . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 93J.15	‘Oh will I kill her, nurice, or will I let her be?’ ‘Kill her, dear Lammikin, she was never gude to me.’ 93J.16	‘Oh wanted you meat, nurice? or wanted you fee? Or wanted you anything that a lady can gie?’ 93J.17	‘I wanted no meat, lady, nor wanted I fee, But I wanted mony a thing that a lady could gie.’ * * * * *
 
93K: Lamkin
 
 
 93K.1	MY lord said to my lady,
 	when he went from home,
 	Take care of Long Longkin,
 	he lies in the lone.
 93K.2	My lady said to my lord,
 	when he went abroad,
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 93K.3	‘I care not for Longkin,
 	nor none of his kin,
 	For my gate’s fast barrd,
 	and my windows shut in.’
 93K.4	My lord was not gone
 	many miles from the place,
 	Until the false Longkin
 	came straight to the place.
 	* * * * *
 93K.5	‘Pinch the bairn, nourry,
 	pinch it very sore,
 	Untill the mother
 	shall come down below.’
 93K.6	‘Still the bairn, nury,
 	still it with the pap:’
 	‘It wont be stilld, madam,
 	with neither this nor that.’
 93K.7	‘Still the bairn, nury,
 	still it with a bell:’
 	‘It wont be stilld, madam,
 	till you cum down yoursell.’
 	* * * * *
 93K.8	‘Come down, Lady Betty,
 	the flower of all your kin,
 	And see your mother’s heart’s blood,
 	so freely running.
 93K.9	Down came Lady Betty,
 	her heart full of woe:
 	‘Oh take my life, Longkin,
 	and let my mother go.’
 93K.10	‘Come down, Lady Nelly,
 	the flower of all your kin,
 	And see your sister’s heart’s blood,
 	so freely running.’
 93K.11	Down came Lady Nelly,
 	her heart full of woe:
 	‘Oh take my life, Longkin,
 	and let my sister go.’
 93K.12	‘Come down, Lady Jenny, etc.

 
 
93L: Lamkin
 
 
 93L.1	* * * *
 	‘O WHERE’S the men of this house?’
 	quo the Lamkin:
 	‘They’re in the barn threshing,’
 	quo the false nurse within.
 93L.2	‘O where’s the women of the house?’
 	quo the Lamkin:
 	‘They’re at the well washing,’
 	quo the false nurse within.
 93L.3	‘O where’s the lord of this house?’
 	quo the Lamkin:
 	‘He’s in the wood hunting,’
 	quo the false nurse within.
 93L.4	‘O where’s the lady of the house?’
 	quo the Lamkin:
 	‘She’s in her bower dressing,’
 	quo the false nurse within.
 	* * * * *
 93L.5	‘O please my babie, nourrice,
 	O please him with the keys:’
 	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
 	let me do what I please.’
 93L.6	‘O please my babie, nourrice,
 	O please him with the bell:’
 	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
 	till ye come down yoursell.’
 	* * * * *
 93L.7	There was blood in the chaumer,
 	and blood in the ha,
 	And blood in his ladie’s room,
 	which he liked warst of a’.
 	* * * * *

 
 
93M: Lamkin
 
 
 93M.1	* * * *
 	BUT it fell out upon a day
 	Lord Wearie was to gae frae hame,
 	And he has left his lady gay
 	In his castell to stay her lane.
 	* * * * *
 93M.2	Lamkin rocked,
 	and fausse nourice sang,
 	And a’ the four tors o the cradle
 	red blood sprang.
 93M.3	‘O still my bairn, nourice,
 	O still him wi the wan:
 	‘He winna still, lady,
 	for a’ his father’s lan.’
 93M.4	‘O still my bairn, nourice,
 	O still him wi the keys:
 	‘He winna still, lady,
 	for a’ his father’s leys.’
 93M.5	‘O still my bairn, nourice,
 	O still him wi the pap:’
 	‘He winna still, lady,
 	for this nor for that.’
 93M.6	‘O still my bairn, nourice,
 	O still him wi the bell:
 	‘He winna still, lady,
 	untill ye cum down yersell.’
 93M.7	The firsten step she steppet,
 	she stepped on a stane,
 	And the nexten step she stepped,
 	she keppit him fause Lamkin.
 93M.8	The thirden step she steppit,
 	she saw her young son’s red blood run on,
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 93M.9	‘Ye’ve killed my bairn, Lamkin,
 	but lat mysell be;
 	Ye’se be as weel payit a mason
 	as was ever payd a fee.’

 
 
93N: Lamkin
 
 
 93N.1	LAMKIN was as gude a mason
 	as ever biggit stone;
 	He biggit Laird Earie’s house,
 	and payment he got none.
 93N.2	O it fell ance upon a day
 	Laird Earie went from home,
 	And Lamkin came cravin
 	his lady alone.
 93N.3	‘O far’s the laird o this place?
 	O neerice, tell me:’
 	‘He’s on the sea sailin,
 	O Lamkin,’ said she.
 93N.4	‘O far’s the lady o this place?
 	neerice, tell me:’
 	‘She’s up the stair dressin,
 	O Lamkin,’ said she.
 93N.5	‘O far’s the bairns o this place?
 	neerice, tell me:’
 	‘The’re at the scheel . .
 	O Lamkin,’ said she.
 	‘O will I get a word o her,
 	neerice?’ said he.
 	* * * * *
 93N.6	The first step that lady steppet
 	she steppd on a stone;
 	The next step that lady stept
 	she met wi Lamkin.
 	* * * * *
 93N.7	Ere the basin was washen,
 	or haf made clean,
 	The ladie’s heart-bleed
 	was rinnin in the reem.

 
 
93O: Lamkin
 
 
 93O.1	* * * *
 	‘YOU have two bright diamonds,
 	as bright as the stars,
 	Put one on each finger,
 	they’ll show you doun stairs.’
 93O.2	The first step this lady took,
 	she dreaded no harm;
 	But the second step this lady took,
 	she was in Lammikin’s arms.
 93O.3	‘Will I kill her, nursie,
 	or will I let her be?’
 	‘Oh yes, kill her, Lammikin,
 	she was never gude to me.’
 93O.4	‘How can [ye] say so, nursie?
 	how can ye say so?
 	For your head neer did ache
 	but my heart it was sore.
 93O.5	‘Oh spare my life, nursie,
 	oh spare my life, spare;
 	Ye’ll have as mony gowd guineas
 	as there’s birds in the air.
 93O.6	‘O spare my life, nursie,
 	till my lord comes back;
 	Ye’ll have as mony gowd guineas
 	as the fou of a sack.’
 93O.7	‘Oh yes kill her and . .
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 93O.8	‘Go scour the silver basin,
 	go scour it fine,
 	For our lady’s heart’s blude
 	is gentle to tine.
 93O.9	‘Go scour the silver skewer,
 	oh scour it richt fine,
 	For our lady’s heart’s blude
 	is gentle to tine.’

 
 
93P: Lamkin
 
 
 93P.1	A BETTER mason than Lammikin
 	nevir builded wi the stane,
 	Wha builded Lord Weire’s castill,
 	but wages nevir gat nane.
 	* * * * *
 93P.2	They stecked doors, they stecked yates,
 	close to the cheik and the chin;
 	They stecked them a’ but a little wickit,
 	and Lammikin crap in.
 93P.3	‘Now where’s the lady of this castle?
 	nurse, tell to Lammikin:’
 	‘She’s sewing up intill her bowir,’
 	the fals nourrice she sung.
 93P.4	‘What sall we do, what sall we say,
 	to gar her cum there down?’
 	‘We’ll nip the baby in the cradle,
 	the fals nourrice she sung.
 93P.5	Lammikin nipped the bonie babe,
 	while loud fals nourice sings;
 	Lammikin nipped the bony babe,
 	while hich the red blude springs.
 93P.6	‘O gentil nourice, please my babe,
 	O please him wi the keys:’
 	‘He’ll no be pleased, gay lady,
 	gin I’d sit on my knees.’
 93P.7	‘Gude gentil nourice, please my babe,
 	O please him wi a knife:’
 	‘He winna be pleased, mistress myne,
 	gin I wad lay down my lyfe.’
 93P.8	‘Sweet nourice, loud, loud cries my babe,
 	O please him wi the bell:’
 	‘He winna be pleased, gay lady,
 	till ye cum down yoursell.’

 
 
93Q: Lamkin
 
93Q.1	LAMMIKIN was as gude a mason as ever hewed a stane; He biggit Lord Weire’s castle, but payment gat he nane. * * * * * 93Q.2	‘Where are the lads o this castle?’ says the Lammikin: ‘They are a’ wi Lord Weire, hunting,’ the false nourice did sing. 93Q.3	‘Where are the lasses o this castle?’ says the Lammikin: ‘They are a’ out at the washing,’ the false nourice did sing. 93Q.4	‘But where’s the lady o this house?’ says the Lammikin: ‘She is in her bower sewing,’ the false nourice did sing. 93Q.5	‘Is this the bairn o this house?’ says the Lammikin: ‘The only bairn Lord Weire aughts,’ the false nourice did sing. * * * * * 93Q.6	‘Still my bairn, nourice, O still him if ye can:’ ‘He will not still, madam, for a’ his father’s lan.’ 93Q.7	‘O gentle nourice, still my bairn, O still him wi the keys:’ ‘He will not still, fair lady, let me do what I please.’ 93Q.8	‘O still my bairn, kind nourice, O still him wi the ring:’ ‘He will not still, my lady, let me do any thing.’ * * * * * 93Q.9	The first step she stepped, she stepped on a stane; The next step she stepped, she met the Lammikin. * * * * * 93Q.10	‘O nourice, wanted ye your meat? or wanted ye your fee? Or wanted ye for any thing a fair lady could gie?’ 93Q.11	‘I wanted for nae meat, ladie, I wanted for nae fee; But I wanted for a hantle a fair lady could gie.’ * * * * * 93Q.12	‘I wish a’ may be weel,’ he says, ’wi my ladie at hame; For the rings upon my fingers are bursting in twain.’ * * * * * 93Q.13	‘There’s bluid in my nursery, there’s bluid in my ha, There’s bluid in my fair lady’s bower, an that’s warst of a’.’ 93Q.14	O sweet, sweet sang the birdie, upon the bough sae hie, But little cared false nourice for that, for it was her gallows-tree. * * * * *
 
93R: Lamkin
 
 
 93R.1	WHEN Sir Guy and his train
 	gaed to hunt the wild boar,
 	He gard bar up his castle,
 	behind and before.
 93R.2	And he bade his fair lady
 	guard weel her young son,
 	For wicked Balcanqual
 	great mischief had done.
 93R.3	So she closed a’ the windows,
 	without and within,
 	But forgot the wee wicket,
 	and Balcanqual crap in.
 	* * * * *
 93R.4	Syne Balcanqual he rocked,
 	and fause nourice sang,
 	Till through a’ the cradle
 	the baby’s blood sprang.
 93R.5	‘O please the bairn, nourice,
 	and please him wi the keys:’
 	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
 	for a’ thet he sees.’
 93R.6	And Balcanqual ay rocked,
 	while fause nourice sang,
 	And through a’ the cradle
 	the baby’s blood ran.
 93R.7	‘Please the bairn, nourice,
 	and please him wi the knife:’
 	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
 	tho I’d gie my life.’
 93R.8	And Balcanqual still rocked,
 	and fause nourice sang,
 	While through a’ the cradle
 	the baby’s blood ran.
 93R.9	‘Now please the bairn, nourice,
 	and please him wi the bell:’
 	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
 	till ye come yoursell.’
 93R.10	Down came this fair lady,
 	tripping down the stair,
 	To see her sick bairn,
 	but returned never mair.
 93R.11	‘Now scour the bason, Jenny,
 	and scour’t very clean,
 	To haad this lady’s blood,
 	for she’s of noble kin.’
 	* * * * *

 
 
93S: Lamkin
 
 
 93S.1	LAMBKIN was as brave a builder
 	as eer built a stane,
 	And he built Lord Cassillis house,
 	an for payment he gat nane.
 93S.2	My lord said to my lady,
 	when he went abroad,
 	Tak care o fause Lamkin,
 	for he sleeps in the wood.

 
 
93T: Lamkin
 
93T.1	‘WHERE is the lord? or is he within?’ ‘He’s gone to New England, to dine with the king.’ 93T.2	‘Where is his horses? or where is his men?’ ‘They’re gone to New England, to wait upon him.’ 93T.3	‘Where is his lady? or is she within?’ ‘She’s in her bedchamber, all in her lying in.’ 93T.4	‘Can I get at her, with thousands of lands? Can I get at her, to make her understand?’ 93T.5	‘You cannot get at her, with thousands of lands; You cannot get at her, to make her understand.’ 93T.6	‘Lady, come down, and please your child,’ . . . . . . . . . . 93T.7	‘Can’t you please my child with white bread and breast-wine?’ ‘O lady, come down, and please him awhile.’ 93T.8	‘How can I go down, this cold winter’s night, Without a fire in the kitchen, or candle to light?’ 93T.9	‘You’ve got nine bright lamps, just as bright as the king; Lady, come down, and light one of them.’ 93T.10	. . . . . . . . . . False Lantin he took her so brave in his arms. 93T.11	Saying, Where is your friend, or where is your foe, That will hold the gold basin, your heart’s blood to flow? 93T.12	‘My nurse is not my friend, my nurse is my foe; She’ll hold the gold basin, my heart’s blood to flow. 93T.13	‘O spare my life for one summer’s day, And I’ll give you as much money as there’s sand in the sea.’ 93T.14	‘I’ll not spare your life for one summer’s day, And I wont have as much money as there’s sand in the sea.’ 93T.15	‘O spare me my life until one o’clock, And I’ll give you Queen Betsie, the flower of the flock.’ 93T.16	‘O mama, dear mama, then please him awhile; My dada is coming, he’s dressed in great style.’ 93T.17	False Lantin he heard the words from the high, Saying, Your mama is dead, and away I will fly. 93T.18	‘O dada, dear dada, do not blame me, ’Tis nurse and false Lantin betrayed your ladie.’ 93T.19	‘I’ll bury my mama against the wall, And I’ll bury my baba, white all, white all.’
 
93U: Lamkin
 
 
 93U.1	AS my lord and my lady
 	were out walking one day,
 	Says my lord to my lady,
 	Beware of Lamkin.
 93U.2	‘O why should I fear him,
 	or any such man,
 	When my doors are well barrd,
 	and my windows well pinnd?’
 	* * * * *
 93U.3	‘O keep your gold and silver,
 	it will do you some good;
 	It will buy you a coffin,
 	when you are dead.’
 93U.4	There’s blood in the kitchen,
 	and blood in the hall,
 	And the young Mayor of England
 	lies dead by the wall.

 
 
93V: Lamkin
 
 
 93V.1	I WALD be very sorry
 	to wash a basin clean,
 	To haud my mither’s heart’s blude,
 	that’s comin, an I ken.

 
 
93[W]: Lamkin
 
 
 93[W.1]	* * * *
 	And it was weel built,
 	without and within,
 	Except a little hole,
 	to let Bloody Lambkin come in.
 	* * * *
 93[W.2]	He stabbed her young son,
 	with the silver bodkin,
 	Till oot o the cradle
 	the reed blude did rin.
 93[W.3]	‘Oh still my babe, nourrice,
 	still him wi the keys:’
 	‘He’ll no be still, madam,
 	let me do what I please.’
 93[W.4]	‘Oh still my babe, nourrice,
 	still him wi the knife:’
 	‘He’ll no be still, madam,
 	na, no for my life.’
 93[W.5]	‘Oh still my babe, still my babe,
 	still him wi the bell:’
 	‘He’ll no be still, madam,
 	till ye come down yoursel.’
 93[W.6]	‘How can I come down,
 	his cold frosty night?
 	I have neither coal nor candle,
 	for to show me light!’
 	* * * *
 93[W.7]	‘O haud your tongue, nourrice,
 	sae loud as ye lee;
 	Ye’d neer a cut finger
 	but I pitied thee.’

 
 
93[X]: Lamkin
 
93[X].1	Lamkin was as good a mason As ever liftit stane; He built to the laird o Lariston, But payment gat he nane. 93[X.2]	Oft he came, an ay he came, To that good lord’s yett, But neither at dor nor window Ony entrance could get. 93[X.3]	Till ae wae an weary day Early he came, An it fell out on that day That good lord was frae hame. 93[X.4]	He bade steek dor an window, An prick them to the gin, Nor leave a little wee hole, Else Lamkin wad be in. 93[X.5]	Noorice steekit dor an window, She steekit them to the gin; But she left a little wee hole That Lamkin might win in. 93[X.6]	‘O where’s the lady o this house?’ Said cruel Lamkin; ‘She’s up the stair sleepin,’ Said fause noorice then. 93[X.7]	‘How will we get her down the stair?’ Said cruel Lamkin; ‘We’l stogg the baby i the cradle,’ Said fause noorice then. 93[X.8]	He stoggit, and she rockit, Till a’ the floor swam, An a’ the tors o the cradle Red wi blude ran. 93[X.9]	‘O still my son, noorise, O still him wi the kane;’ ‘He winna still, madam, Till Lariston come hame.’ 93[X.10]	‘O still my son, noorice, O still him wi the knife;’ ‘I canna still him, madam, If ye sude tak my life.’ 93[X.11]	‘O still my soon, noorice, O still him wi the bell;’ ‘He winna still, madam, Come see him yoursel.’ 93[X.12]	Wae an weary rase she up, Slowly pat her on Her green claethin o the silk, An slowly came she down. 93[X.13]	The first step she steppit, It was on a stone; The first body she saw Was cruel Lamkin. 93[X.14]	‘O pity, pity, Lamkin, Hae pity on me!’ ‘Just as meikle pity, madam, As ye paid me o my fee.’ 93[X.15]	‘I’ll g’ ye a peck o good red goud, Streekit wi the wand; An if that winna please ye, I’ll heap it wi my hand. 93[X.16]	‘An if that winna please ye, O goud an o fee, I’ll g’ ye my eldest daughter, Your wedded wife to be.’ 93[X.17]	‘Gae wash the bason, lady, Gae wash’t an mak it clean, To kep your mother’s heart’s-blude, For she’s of noble kin.’ 93[X.18]	‘To kep my mother’s heart’s-blude I wad be right wae; O tak mysle, Lamkin, An let my mother gae.’ 93[X.19]	‘Gae wash the bason, noorice, Gae wash’t an mak it clean, To kep your lady’s heart’s-blude, For she’s o noble kin.’ 93[X.20]	‘To wash the bason, Lamkin, I will be right glad, For mony, mony bursen day About her house I’ve had.’ 93[X.21]	But oh, what dule an sorrow Was about that lord’s ha, When he fand his lady lyin As white as driven snaw! 93[X.22]	O what dule an sorrow Whan that good lord cam in, An fand his young son murderd, I the chimley lyin!
 
93[Y]: Lamkin
 
93[Y].1	Lie in your room, my wife, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93[Y.2]	‘You’ll fasten doors and windows, you’ll fasten them out an in, For if you leave ae window open Lammikin will come in.’ 93[Y.3]	They’ve fastened doors an windows, they’ve fastened them out an in, But they have left ae window open, and Lammikin cam in. 93[Y.4]	‘O where are a’ the women that dwell here within?’ ‘They’re at the well washin, and they will not come in.’ 93[Y.5]	‘O where are a’ the men that dwell here within?’ ‘They’re at the . . . . , and they will not come in.’ 93[Y.6]	‘O where is the lady that dwells here within?’ ‘She’s up the stair dressin, and she will not come doun.’ 93[Y.7]	‘It’s what will we do to mak her come doun? We’ll rock the cradle, nourrice, an mak her come doun.’ 93[Y.8]	They [hae] rocked the cradle to mak her come doun, . . . . . . the red bluid out sprung. 93[Y.9]	‘O still the bairn, nourrice, O still him wi the bell:; ‘He winna still, my lady, till ye come doun yersel.’ 93[Y.10]	The first step she steppit, it was upon a stane; The next step she steppit, she keppit Lammikin. 93[Y.11]	‘O mercy, mercy, Lammikin, hae mercy upo me! Tho ye hae killed my young son, ye may lat mysel abee.’ 93[Y.12]	‘O it’s will I kill her, nourrice, or will I lat her be?’ ‘O kill her, kill her, Lammikin, she neer was gude to me.’ 93[Y.13]	‘O it’s wanted ye your meat? or wanted ye your fee?’ . . . . . . . . . . . . 93[Y.14]	‘I wanted not my meat, I wanted not my fee, But I wanted some bounties That ladies can gie.’


 
94: Young Waters
 
94.1	ABOUT Yule, when the wind blew cule, And the round tables began, A there is cum to our king’s court Mony a well-favourd man. 94.2	The queen luikt owre the castle-wa, Beheld baith dale and down, And then she saw Young Waters Cum riding to the town. 94.3	His footmen they did rin before, His horsemen rade behind; Ane mantel of the burning gowd Did keip him frae the wind. 94.4	Gowden-graithd his horse before, And siller-shod behind; The horse Young Waters rade upon Was fleeter than the wind. 94.5	Out then spake a wylie lord, Unto the queen said he, ‘O tell me wha’s the fairest face Rides in the company?’ 94.6	‘I’ve sene lord, and I’ve sene laird, And knights of high degree, But a fairer face than Young Waters Mine eyne did never see.’ 94.7	Out then spack the jealous king, And an angry man was he: ‘O if he had been twice as fair, You micht have excepted me.’ 94.8	‘You’re neither laird nor lord,’ she says, ‘Bot the king that wears the crown; There is not a knight in fair Scotland But to thee maun bow down.’ 94.9	For a’ that she could do or say, Appeasd he wad nae bee, Bot for the words which she had said, Young Waters he maun dee. 94.10	They hae taen Young Waters, And put fetters to his feet; They hae taen Young Waters, And thrown him in dungeon deep. 94.11	‘Aft I have ridden thro Stirling town In the wind bot and the weit; Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town Wi fetters at my feet. 94.12	t have I ridden thro Stirling town In the wind bot and the rain; Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town Neir to return again.’ 94.13	They hae taen to the heiding-hill His young son in his craddle, And they hae taen to the heiding-hill His horse bot and his saddle. 94.14	They hae taen to the heiding-hill His lady fair to see, And for the words the queen had spoke Young Waters he did dee.


 
95A: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
95A.1	* * * * ‘O GOOD Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own father, Come riding by the stile. 95A.2	‘Oh father, oh father, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee! To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree.’ 95A.3	‘None of my gold now you shall have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.’ 95A.4	‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own mother, Come riding by the stile. 95A.5	‘Oh mother, oh mother, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree!’ 95A.6	‘None of my gold now shall you have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.’ 95A.7	‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own brother, Come riding by the stile. 95A.8	‘Oh brother, oh brother, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree!’ 95A.9	‘None of my gold now shall you have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.’ 95A.10	‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own sister, Come riding by the stile. 95A.11	‘Oh sister, oh sister, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree!’ 95A.12	‘None of my gold now shall you have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.’ 95A.13	‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while! Methinks I see my own true-love, Come riding by the stile. 95A.14	‘Oh true-love, oh true-love, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To save my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree.’ 95A.15	‘Some of my gold now you shall have, And likewise of my fee, For I am come to see you saved, And saved you shall be.’
 
95B: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
95B.1	‘ITRR’rrS hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says, ‘O hold your hand for a while! For yonder I see my father a coming, Riding many’s the mile. 95B.2	‘Have you any gold, father?’ she says, ‘Or have you any fee? Or did you come to see your own daughter a hanging, Like a dog, upon a tree?’ 95B.3	‘I have no gold, daughter,’ he says, ‘Neither have I any fee; But I am come to see my ain daughter hanged, And hanged she shall be.’ 95B.4	‘Hey the broom, and the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cauthery Knowes! I wish I were at hame again, Milking my ain daddie’s ewes. 95B.5	‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says, ‘O hold your hand for a while! For yonder I see my own mother coming, Riding full many a mile. 95B.6	‘Have you any gold, mother?’ she says, ‘Or have you any fee? Or did you come to see your own daughter hanged, Like a dog, upon a tree?’ 95B.7	‘I have no gold, daughter,’ she says, ‘Neither have I any fee; But I am come to see my own daughter hanged, And hanged she shall be.’ 95B.8	‘Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom, The broom o the Cauthery Knowes! I wish I were at hame again, Milking my ain daddie’s ewes. 95B.9	‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says, ‘O hold your hand for a while! For yonder I see my ae brother a coming, Riding many’s the mile. 95B.10	‘Have you any gold, brother?’ she says, ‘Or have you any fee? Or did you come to see your ain sister a hanging, Like a dog, upon a tree?’ 95B.11	‘I have no gold, sister,’ he says, ‘Nor have I any fee’ But I am come to see my ain sister hanged, And hanged she shall be.’ 95B.12	‘Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom, The broom o the Cathery Knowes! I wish I were at hame again, Milking my ain daddie’s ewes. 95B.13	‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says, ‘O hold your hand for a while! For yonder I see my own true-love coming, Riding full many a mile. 95B.14	‘Have you any gold, my true-love?’ she says, ‘Or have you any fee? Or have you come to see your own love hanged, Like a dog, upon a tree?’ * * * * *
 
95C: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95C.1	‘HOLD up thy hand, most righteous judge,
 	Hold up thy hand a while!
 	For here I see my own dear father,
 	Come tumbling over the stile.
 95C.2	‘Oh hast thou brought me silver or gold,
 	Or jewels, to set me free?
 	Or hast thou come to see me hung?
 	For hanged I shall be.
 95C.3	‘If I could get out of this prickly bush,
 	That prickles my heart so sore,
 	If I could get out of this prickly bush,
 	I’d never get in it no more.’
 95C.4	‘Oh I have brought nor silver nor gold,
 	Nor jewels, to set thee free;
 	But I have come to see thee hung,
 	For hanged thou shall be.
 	* * * * *
 95C.5	‘It’s I have brought thee silver and gold,
 	And jewels, to set thee free;
 	I have not come to see thee hung,
 	For hanged thou shall not be.’
 95C.6	‘Now I have got out of this prickly bush,
 	That prickled my heart so sore,
 	And I have got out of this prickly bush,
 	I’ll never get in it no more.’

 
 
95D: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95D.1	. . . . .
 	‘O had your hand a while!
 	For yonder comes my father,
 	I’m sure he’l borrow me.
 95D.2	‘O some of your goud, father,
 	An of your well won fee!
 	To save me [frae the high hill],
 	[And] frae the gallow-tree.’
 95D.3	‘Ye’se get nane of my goud,
 	Nor of my well won fee,
 	For I would gie five hundred poun
 	To see ye hangit hie.’
 95D.4	. . . . .
 	‘O had yer hand a while!
 	Yonder is my love Willie,
 	Sure he will borrow me.
 95D.5	‘O some o your goud, my love Willie,
 	An some o yer well won fee!
 	To save me frae the high hill,
 	And frae the gallow-tree.’
 95D.6	‘Ye’se get a’ my goud,
 	And a’ my well won fee,
 	To save ye fra the headin-hill,
 	And frae the gallow-tree.’

 
 
95E: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95E.1	‘HOLD your hands, ye justice o peace,
 	Hold them a little while!
 	For yonder comes my father and mother,
 	That’s travelld mony a mile.
 95E.2	‘Gie me some o your gowd, parents,
 	Some o your white monie,
 	To save me frae the head o yon hill,
 	Yon greenwood gallows-tree.’
 95E.3	‘Ye’ll get nane o our gowd, daughter,
 	Nor nane o our white monie,
 	For we have travelld mony a mile,
 	This day to see you die.’
 95E.4	‘Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,
 	Hold them a little while!
 	For yonder comes him Warenston,
 	The father of my chile.
 95E.5	‘Give me some o your gowd, Warenston,
 	Some o your white monie,
 	To save me frae the head o yon hill,
 	Yon greenwood gallows-tree.’
 95E.6	‘I bade you nurse my bairn well,
 	And nurse it carefullie,
 	And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry,
 	And my body your fee.’
 95E.7	He’s taen out a purse o gowd,
 	Another o white monie,
 	And he’s tauld down ten thousand crowns,
 	Says, True-love, gang wi me.

 
 
95F: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95F.TOP,	stop, . . .
 	. . . . .
 	I think I see my father coming,
 	. . . . .
 95F.2	‘O hae ye brocht my silken cloak,
 	Or my golden key?
 	Or hae ye come to see he hanged,
 	On this green gallows-tree?’
 95F.3	‘I’ve neither brocht your silken cloak,
 	Nor your golden key,
 	But I have come to see you hanged,
 	On this green gallows-tree.’
 	* * * * *
 95F.4	‘I’ve neither brocht your silken cloak,
 	Nor your golden key,
 	But I am come to set you free
 	From this green gallows-tree.’

 
 
95G: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95G.ANGMAN,	hangman, stop a minute,
 	. . . . .
 	I think I see my father coming,
 	. . . . .
 95G.2	‘Father, father, have you found the key,
 	And have you come to set me free?
 	Or have you come to see me hanged,
 	Upon this gallows-tree?’
 	* * * * *
 95G.3	‘I have not come to see you hanged,
 	Upon the gallows-tree,
 	For I have found the golden key,’
 	. . . . .

 
 
95H: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95H.TOP,	stop! . . .
 	. . . . .
 	I think I see my mother coming,
 	. . . . .
 95H.2	‘Oh mother, hast brought my golden ball,
 	And come to set me free?
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 95H.3	‘I’ve neither brought thy golden ball,
 	Nor come to set thee free,
 	But I have come to see thee hung,
 	Upon this gallows-tree.’
 95H.4	‘Stop, stop! . . .
 	. . . . .
 	I think I see my father coming,
 	. . . . .
 95H.5	‘O father, hast brought my golden ball,
 	And come to set me free?
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 95H.6	‘I’ve neither brought thy golden ball,
 	Nor come to set thee free,
 	But I have come to see thee hung,
 	Upon this gallows-tree.’
 95H.7	‘Stop, stop! . . .
 	. . . . .
 	I see my sweet-heart coming,
 	. . . . .
 95H.8	‘Sweet-heart, hast brought my golden ball,
 	And come to set me free?
 	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 95H.9	‘Aye, I have brought thy golden ball,
 	And come to set thee free;
 	I have not come to see thee hung,
 	Upon this gallows-tree.’

 
 
95[I]: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95[I].1	‘Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,’ she says,
 	‘Yet hold it a little while;
 	Methinks I see my ain dear father
 	Coming wandering many a mile.
 95[I.2]	‘O have you brought me gold, father?
 	Or have you brought me fee?
 	Or are you come to save my life
 	From off this gallows-tree?’
 95[I.3]	‘I have not brought you gold, daughter,
 	Nor have I brought you fee,
 	But I am come to see you hangd,
 	As you this day shall be.’
 	* * * * *
 95[I.4]	‘I have not brought you gold, true-love,
 	Nor yet have I brought fee,
 	But I am come to save thy life
 	From off this gallows-tree.’
 95[I.5]	‘Gae hame, gae hame, father,’ she says,
 	‘Gae hame and saw yer seed;
 	And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,
 	But the thistle and the weed.
 95[I.6]	‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,
 	Gae hame and brew yer yill;
 	And I wish the girds may a’ loup off,
 	And the Deil spill a’ yer yill.
 95[I.7]	‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,
 	Gae hame and lie with yer wife;
 	And I wish that the first news I may hear
 	That she has tane your life.
 95[I.8]	‘Gae hame, gae hame, sister,’ she says,
 	‘Gae hame and sew yer seam;
 	I wish that the needle-point may break,
 	And the craws pyke out yer een.’

 
 
95[J]: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95[J].1	‘Hold up, hold up your hands so high!
 	Hold up your hands so high!
 	For I think I see my own father
 	Coming over yonder stile to me.
 95[J.2]	‘Oh father, have you got any gold for me?
 	Any money for to pay me free?
 	To keep my body from the cold clay ground,
 	And my neck from the gallows-tree?’
 95[J.3]	‘Oh no, I’ve got no gold for thee,
 	No money for to pay thee free,
 	For I’ve come to see thee hangd this day,
 	And hang d thou shalt be.’
 95[J.4]	‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,
 	Come prick my heart so sore;
 	I ever I get from the gallows-tree,
 	I’ll never get there any more.’
 	* * * * *
 95[J.5]	‘Oh yes, I’ve got some gold for thee,
 	Some money for to pay thee free;
 	I’ll save thy body from the cold clay ground,
 	And thy neck from the gallows-tree.’
 95[J.6]	‘Oh the briers, prickly briers,
 	Don’t prick my heart any more;
 	For now I’ve got from the gallows’tree
 	I’ll never get there any more.’

 
 
95[K]: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
 
 
 95[K].1	‘O hangman, hold thy hand,’ he cried,
 	‘O hold thy hand awhile,
 	For I can see my own dear father
 	Coming over yonder stile.
 95[K.2]	‘O father, have you brought me gold?
 	Or will you set me free?
 	Or be you come to see me hung,
 	All on this high gallows-tree?’
 95[K.3]	‘No, I have not brought thee gold,
 	And I will not set thee free,
 	But I am come to see thee hung,
 	All on this high gallows-tree.’
 95[K.4]	‘Oh, the prickly bush, the prickly bush,
 	It pricked my heart full sore;
 	If ever I get out of the prickly bush,
 	I’ll never get in any more.’
 95[K.5]	‘Yes, I have brought thee gold,’ she cried,
 	‘And I will set thee free,
 	And I am come, but not to see thee hung
 	All on this high gallous-tree.’
 	‘Oh, the prickly bush,’ etc.

 


 
96A: The Gay Goshawk
 
96A.1	‘O WELLRR’rrS me o my gay goss-hawk, That he can speak and flee; He’ll carry a letter to my love, Bring back another to me.’ 96A.2	‘O how can I your true-love ken, Or how can I her know? Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth, Nor wi my eyes her saw.’ 96A.3	‘O well sal ye my true-love ken, As soon as you her see; For, of a’ the flowrs in fair Englan, The fairest flowr is she. 96A.4	‘At even at my love’s bowr-door There grows a bowing birk, An sit ye down and sing thereon, As she gangs to the kirk. 96A.5	‘An four-an-twenty ladies fair Will wash and go to kirk, But well shall ye my true-love ken, For she wears goud on her skirt. 96A.6	‘An four and twenty gay ladies Will to the mass repair, But well sal ye my true-love ken, For she wears goud on her hair.’ 96A.7	O even at that lady’s bowr-door There grows a bowin birk, And she set down and sang thereon, As she ged to the kirk. 96A.8	‘O eet and drink, my marys a’, The wine flows you among, Till I gang to my shot-window, An hear yon bonny bird’s song. 96A.9	‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The song ye sang the streen, For I ken by your sweet singin You’re frae my true-love sen.’ 96A.10	O first he sang a merry song, An then he sang a grave, An then he peckd his feathers gray, To her the letter gave. 96A.11	‘Ha, there’s a letter frae your love, He says he sent you three; He canna wait your love langer, But for your sake he’ll die. 96A.12	‘He bids you write a letter to him; He says he’s sent you five; He canno wait your love langer, Tho you’re the fairest woman alive.’ 96A.13	‘Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread, And brew his bridal-ale, An I’ll meet him in fair Scotlan Lang, lang or it be stale.’ 96A.14	She’s doen her to her father dear, Fa’n low down on her knee: ‘A boon, a boon, my father dear, I pray you, grant it me.’ 96A.15	‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter, An granted it sal be; Except ae squire in fair Scotlan, An him you sall never see.’ 96A.16	‘The only boon, my father dear, That I do crave of the, Is, gin I die in southin lands, In Scotland to bury me. 96A.17	‘An the firstin kirk that ye come till, Ye gar the bells be rung, An the nextin kirk that ye come till, Ye gar the mess be sung. 96A.18	‘An the thirdin kirk that ye come till, You deal gold for my sake, An the fourthin kirk that ye come till, You tarry there till night.’ 96A.19	She is doen her to her bigly bowr, As fast as she coud fare, An she has tane a sleepy draught, That she had mixed wi care. 96A.20	She’s laid her down upon her bed, An soon she’s fa’n asleep, And soon oer every tender limb Cauld death began to creep. 96A.21	Whan night was flown, an day was come, Nae ane that did her see But thought she was as surely dead As ony lady coud be. 96A.22	Her father an her brothers dear Gard make to her a bier; The tae half was o guide red gold, The tither o silver clear. 96A.23	Her mither an her sisters fair Gard work for her a sark; The tae half was o cambrick fine, The tither o needle wark. 96A.24	The firstin kirk that they came till, They gard the bells be rung, An the nextin kirk that they came till, They gard the mess be sung. 96A.25	The thirdin kirk that they came till, They dealt gold for her sake, An the fourthin kirk that they came till, Lo, there they met her make! 96A.26	‘Lay down, lay down the bigly bier, Lat me the dead look on;’ Wi cherry cheeks and ruby lips She lay an smil’d on him. 96A.27	‘O ae sheave o your bread, true-love, An ae glass o your wine, For I hae fasted for your sake These fully days is nine. 96A.28	‘Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers, Gang hame and sound your horn; An ye may boast in southin lans Your sister’s playd you scorn.’
 
96B: The Gay Goshawk
 
96B.1	OUT then spoke the king of Scotland, And he spak wondrous clear: Where will I get a boy, and a pretty little boy, That will my tidings bear? 96B.2	Out then spak a pretty little bird, As it sat on a brier: What will ye gie me, king of Scotland, he said, If I your tidings will bear? 96B.3	‘One wing of the beaten gowd, And another of the silver clear; It’s all unto thee, my pretty little bird, If thou my tidings will bear.’ 96B.4	The bird flew high, the bird flew low, This bird flew to and fro, Until that he came to the king of England’s dochter, Who was sitting in her bower-window. 96B.5	‘Here is a gift, a very rare gift, And the king has sent you three; He says if your father and mother winna let, You may come privately. 96B.6	‘Here is a gift, and a very rare gift, The king has sent you five; He says he will not wait any longer on you, If there be another woman alive.’ 96B.7	She’s away to her mother dear, Made a low beck on her knee: ‘What is your asking of me, daughter? Queen of Scotland you never shall be.’ 96B.8	‘That’s not my asking of thee, mother, That’s not my asking of thee; But that if I die in merry England, In Scotland you will bury me.’ 96B.9	She’s awa to her father dear, Made a low beck on her knee: ‘What is your asking of me, daughter? Queen of Scotland you never shall be.’ 96B.10	‘That’s not my asking of thee, father, That’s not my asking of thee; But that if I die in merry England, In Scotland you will bury me.’ 96B.11	She walked to and fro, She walked up and down, But ye wud na spoken three words to an end Till she was in a deep swoon. 96B.12	Out then spoke an auld witch-wife, And she spoke random indeed: Honoured madam, I would have you to try Three drops of the burning lead. 96B.13	Her mother went weeping round and round, She dropped one on her chin; ‘Och and alace,’ her mother did say, ‘There is no breath within!’ 96B.14	Her mother went weeping round and round, She dropt one on her briest; ‘Och and alace,’ her mother did cry, ‘For she’s died without a priest!’ 96B.15	Her mother went weeping round and round, She dropped one on her toe; ‘Och and alace,’ her mother did cry, ‘To Scotland she must goe! 96B.16	‘Call down, call down her sisters five, To make to her a smock; The one side of the bonny beaten gold, And the other of the needle-work. 96B.17	‘Call down, call down her brothers seven, To make for her a bier; The one side of the bonny beaten gold, And the other of the silver clear.’ 96B.18	Many a mile by land they went, And many a league by sea, Until that they came to the king of Scotland, Who was walking in his own valley. 96B.19	‘Here is a gift, and a very rare gift, And you to have made her your own; But now she is dead, and she’s new come from her steed, And she’s ready to lay in the ground.’ 96B.20	O he has opened the lid of the coffin, And likewise the winding sheet, And thrice he has kissed her cherry, cherry cheek, And she smiled on him full sweet. 96B.21	‘One bit of your bread,’ she says, ‘And one glass of your wine; It’s all for you and your sake I’ve fasted long days nine. 96B.22	‘One glass of your wine,’ she says, ‘And one bit of your bread; For it’s all for you and for your sake I suffered the burning lead. 96B.23	‘Go home, go home, my brothers seven, You may go blow your horn; And you may tell it in merry England That your sister has given you the scorn. 96B.24	‘Go home, go home, my brothers seven, Tell my sisters to sew their seam; And you may tell it in merry England That your sister she is queen.’
 
96C: The Gay Goshawk
 
96C.1	‘O WELL is me, my jolly goshawk, That ye can speak and flee, For ye can carry a love-letter To my true-love from me.’ 96C.2	‘O how can I carry a letter to her, When her I do not knaw? I bear the lips to her never spake, And the eyes that her never saw.’ 96C.3	‘The thing of my love’s face is white It’s that of dove or maw; The thing of my love’s face that’s red Is like blood shed on snaw. 96C.4	‘And when you come to the castle, Light on the bush of ash, And sit you there and sing our loves, As she comes from the mass. 96C.5	‘And when she goes into the house, Sit ye upon the whin; And sit you there and sing our loves, As she goes out and in.’ 96C.6	And when he flew to that castel, He lighted on the ash; And there he sat and sang their loves, As she came from the mass. 96C.7	And when she went into the house, He flew unto the whin; And there he sat and sang their loves, As she went out and in. 96C.8	‘Come hither, come hither, my maidens all, And sip red wine anon, Till I go to my west window, And hear a birdie’s moan.’ 96C.9	She’s gone unto her west window, And fainly aye it drew, And soon into her white silk lap The bird the letter threw. 96C.10	‘Ye’re bidden send your love a send, For he has sent you twa; And tell him where he can see you, Or he cannot live ava.’ 96C.11	‘I send him the rings from my white fingers, The garlands off my hair; I send him the heart that’s in my breast: What would my love have mair? And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland, Ye’ll bid him meet me there.’ 96C.12	She hied her to her father dear, As fast as gang could she: ‘An asking, an asking, my father dear, An asking ye grant me; That, if I die in fair England, In Scotland bury me. 96C.13	‘At the first kirk of fair Scotland, You cause the bells be rung; At the second kirk of fair Scotland, You cause the mass be sung. 96C.14	‘At the third kirk of fair Scotland, You deal gold for my sake; And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, O there you’ll bury me at. 96C.15	‘And now, my tender father dear, This asking grant you me;’ ‘Your asking is but small,’ he said, ‘Weel granted it shall be.’ 96C.16	She hied her to her mother dear, As fast as gang could she: ‘An asking, an asking, my mother dear, An asking ye grant me; That if I die in fair England In Scotland bury me. 96C.17	‘And now, my tender mother dear, This asking grant you me;’ ‘Your asking is but small,’ she said, ‘Weel granted it shall be.’ 96C.18	She hied her to her sister dear, As fast as gang could she: ‘An asking, an asking, my sister dear, An asking ye grant me; That if I die in fair England, In Scotland bury me. 96C.19	‘And now, my tender sister dear, This asking grant you me:’ ‘Your asking is but small,’ she said, ‘Weel granted it shall be.’ 96C.20	She hied her to her seven brothers, As fast as gang could she: ‘An asking, an asking, my brothers seven, An asking ye grant me; That if I die in fair England, In Scotland ye bury me. 96C.21	‘And now, my tender brothers dear, This asking grant you me:’ ‘Your asking is but small,’ they said, ‘Weel granted it shall be.’ 96C.22	Then down as dead that lady drapd, Beside her mother’s knee; Then out it spoke an auld witch-wife, By the fire-side sat she. 96C.23	Says, Drap the hot lead on her cheek, And drop it on her chin, And drop it on her rose-red lips, And she will speak again: For much a lady young will do, To her true-love to win. 96C.24	They drapd the het lead on her cheek, So did they on her chin; They drapt it on her red-rose lips, But they breathed none again. 96C.25	Her brothers they went to a room, To make to her a bier; The boards of it was cedar wood, And the plates ow it gold so clear. 96C.26	Her sisters they went to a room, To make to her a sark; The cloth of it was satin fine, She bids you meet her there.’ And the steeking silken wark. 96C.27	‘But well is me, my jolly goshawk, That ye can speak and flee; Come shew to my any love-tokens That you have brought to me.’ 96C.28	‘She sends you the rings from her fingers, The garlands from her hair; She sends you the heart within her breast; And what would you have mair? And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, She bids you meet her there.’ 96C.29	‘Come hither, all my merry young men, And drink the good red wine; For we must on to fair Scotland, To free my love frae pine.’ 96C.30	At the first kirk of fair Scotland, They gart the bells be rung; At the second kirk of fair Scotland, They gart the mass be sung. 96C.31	At the third kirk of fair Scotland, They dealt gold for her sake; And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland Her true-love met them at. 96C.32	‘Set down, set down the corpse,’ he said, ‘Till I look on the dead; The last time that I saw her face, She ruddy was and red; But now, alas, and woe is me! She’s wallowit like a weed.’ 96C.33	He rent the sheet upon her face, A little above her chin; With lily-white cheeks, and lemin een, She lookt and laughd to him. 96C.34	‘Give me a chive of your bread, my love, A bottle of your wine; For I have fasted for your love These long days nine; There’s not a steed in your stable But would have been dead ere syne. 96C.35	‘Go home, go home, my seven brothers, Go home and blow the horn; For you can say in the south of England Your sister gave you a scorn. 96C.36	‘I came not here to fair Scotland To lye amang the meal; But I came here to fair Scotland To wear the silks so weel. 96C.37	‘I came not here to fair Scotland To ly amang the dead; But I came here to fair Scotland To wear the gold so red.’
 
96D: The Gay Goshawk
 
96D.1	‘O WHERERR’rrLL I get a pretty little bird That’ll go my errand soon, That will fly to the Queen of England’s dochter, And bid my trew-luve come?’ 96D.2	‘Here am I, a pretty little bird, That’ll go your errands soon, That will fly to the Queen of England’s daughter, And bid your trew-luve come.’ 96D.3	This wee birdie’s taken its flight, And it’s flown owre the sea, Until it cam to the Queen of England’s daughter; She’s sitting in her bower-windie. 96D.4	Then out bespoke these nine ladies, As they sat in a ring: ‘O we’ll awa to the west window, To hear this birdie sing.’ 96D.5	This wee birdie’s taken its flight, And it’s flown owre them a’, And at the lady’s left shoulder It loot a letter fa. 96D.6	She has taken the letter up, And read it speedilie: ‘O mother, the queen, O mother, the queen, Grant this request to me; Whenever I do chance for to die, In Scotland gar bury me.’ * * * * * 96D.7	‘Bring to me the red, red lead, And rub it on her chin; It’s Oh and alace for my dochter Janet! But there is not a breath within. 96D.8	‘Bring to me the red, red lead, And rub it on her toe; It’s Oh and alace for my daughter Janet! To Scotland she must go.’ 96D.9	‘Rise up, rise up, ye seven sisters, And make her winding sheet, With the one side of the beaten gold, And the other o the needle-wark. 96D.10	‘Rise up, rise up, ye seven brethren, And make her carriage-bier, With the one side of the beaten gold, And the other o the silver clear.’ 96D.11	‘They’ve carried east, they’ve carried west, They’ve carried her high and low, Until that they came to the king of Scotland, Was sitting in his bower-window. 96D.12	‘Here is a token of your trew-love, And here is a token come down, For she is dead, and she’s ready to be buried, And she wants to be laid in your ground.’ 96D.13	He’s taen out his mickle knife, And tore her winding sheet, And there she lay like the crimson red, And she smiled in his face so sweet. 96D.14	‘Go home, go home, you seven brethren, Go home and saw your corn, For she if fit for the queen of Scotland now, And she’s gien you the scorn. 96D.15	‘Go home, go home, you seven sisters, Go home and sew your seam, For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now, And she’s ready to be my queen.’
 
96E: The Gay Goshawk
 
96E.1	‘O WALY, waly, my gay goss-hawk, Gin your feathering be sheen!’ ‘And waly, waly, my master dear, Gin ye look pale and lean! 96E.2	‘O have ye tint at tournament Your sword, or yet your spear? Or mourn ye for the southern lass, Whom you may not win near?’ 96E.3	‘I have not tint at tournament My sword, nor yet my spear, But sair I mourn for my true-love, Wi mony a bitter tear. 96E.4	‘But weel’s me on ye, my gay goss-hawk, Ye can baith speak and flee; Ye sall carry a letter to my love, Bring an answer back to me.’ 96E.5	‘But how sall I your true-love find, Or how suld I her know? I bear a tongue neer wi her spake, An eye that neer her saw.’ 96E.6	‘O weel sall ye my true-love ken, Sae sune as ye her see, For of a’ the flowers of fair England, The fairest flower is she. 96E.7	‘The red that’s on my true-love’s cheik Is like blood-drops on the snaw; The white that is on her breast bare Like the down o the white sea-maw. 96E.8	‘And even at my love’s bouer-door There grows a flowering birk, And ye maun sit and sing thereon, As she gangs to the kirk. 96E.9	‘And four-and-twenty fair ladyes Will to the mass repair, But weel may ye my ladye ken, The fairest ladye there.’ 96E.10	Lord William has written a love-letter, Put it under his pinion gray, And he is awa to southern land, As fast as wings can gae. 96E.11	And even at that ladye’s bour There grew a flowering birk, And he sat down and sang thereon, As she gaed to the kirk. 96E.12	And weel he kent that ladye feir Amang her maidens free, For the flower that springs in May morning Was not sae sweet as she. 96E.13	[He lighted at the ladye’s yate, And sat him on a pin, And sang fu sweet the notes o love, Till a’ was cosh within.] 96E.14	And first he sang a low, low note, And syne he sang a clear, And aye the oerword of the sang Was, Your love can no win here. 96E.15	‘Feast on, feast on, my maidens a’, The wine flows you amang, While I gang to my shot-window, And hear yon bonny bird’s sang. 96E.16	‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The sang ye sung yestreen; For weel I ken by your sweet singing Ye are frae my true-love sen.’ 96E.17	O first he sang a merry sang, And syne he sang a grave, And syne he peckd his feathers gray, To her the letter gave. 96E.18	‘Have there a letter from Lord William; He says he’s sent ye three; He canna wait your love langer, But for your sake he’ll die.’ 96E.19	‘Gae bid him bake his bridal bread, And brew his bridal ale, And I sall meet him at Mary’s kirk, Lang, lang ere it be stale.’ 96E.20	The lady’s gane to her chamber, And a moanfu woman was she, As gin she had taen a sudden brash, And were about to die. 96E.21	‘A boon, a boon, my father deir, A boon I beg of thee!’ ‘Ask not that paughty Scotish lord, For him you neer shall see. 96E.22	‘But, for your honest asking else, Weel granted it shall be:’ ‘Then, gin I die in southern land, In Scotland gar bury me. 96E.23	‘And the first kirk that ye come to, Ye’s gar the mass be sung, And the next kirk that ye come to, Ye’s gar the bells be rung. 96E.24	‘And when ye come to St Mary’s kirk, Ye’s tarry there till night:’ And so her father pledged his word, And so his promise plight. 96E.25	She has taen her to her bigly bour, As fast as she could fare, And she has drank a sleepy draught, That she had mixed wi care. 96E.26	And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek, That was sae bright of blee, And she seemed to be as surely dead As any one could be. 96E.27	They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd, They drapt it on her chin; ‘And ever alas,’ her mother cried, ‘There is nae life within!’ 96E.28	They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd, They drapt it on her breast-bane; ‘Alas,’ her seven bauld brothers said, ‘Our sister’s dead and gane!’ 96E.29	Then up arose her seven brethren, And hewd to her a bier; They hewd it frae the solid aik, Laid it oer wi silver clear. 96E.30	Then up and gat her seven sisters, And sewed to her a kell, And every steek that they pat in Sewd to a siller bell. 96E.31	The first Scots kirk that they cam to, They gard the bells be rung; The next Scots kirk that they cam to, They gard the mass be sung. 96E.32	But when they cam to St Mary’s kirk, There stude spearmen all on raw, And up and started Lord William, The chieftane amang them a’. 96E.33	‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said, ‘Let me looke her upon:’ But as soon as Lord William touched her hand, Her colour began to come. 96E.34	She brightened like the lily-flower, Till her pale colour was gone; With rosy cheek, and ruby lip, She smiled her love upon. 96E.35	‘A morsel of your bread, my lord, And one glass of your wine, For I hae fasted these three lang days, All for your sake and mine. 96E.36	‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers, Gae hame and blaw your horn; I trow you wad hae gien me the skaith, But I’ve gien you the scorn. 96E.37	‘Ah woe to you, you light woman, An ill death may you die! For we left father and mother at hame Breaking their hearts for thee.’
 
96F: The Gay Goshawk
 
 
 96F.1	* * * *
 	SHE got three drops of boiling lead,
 	And dropped them on her hand:
 	‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
 	I’d rather all my land!’
 96F.2	She got three drops of boiling lead,
 	And dropped them on her chin:
 	‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
 	There is no life within!’
 96F.3	She got three drops of boiling lead,
 	And dropped them on her toe:
 	‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
 	To fair Scotland you must go!’
 	* * * * *
 96F.4	‘Give me a cake of the new made bread,
 	And a cup of the new made wine,
 	For for your sake, Lord Thomas,’ she said,
 	‘I fasted those days nine.’

 
 
96G: The Gay Goshawk
 
96G.1	WHEN grass grew green on Lanark plains, And fruit and flowers did spring, A Scottish squire in cheerfu strains, Sae merrily thus did sing: 96G.2	‘O well fails me o my parrot That he can speak and flee; For he will carry love-letters Between my love and me. 96G.3	‘And well fails me o my parrot He can baith speak and gang; And he will carry love-letters To the maid in South England.’ 96G.4	‘O how shall I your love find out? Or how shall I her know? When my tongue with her never spake, Nor my eyes her ever saw.’ 96G.5	‘O what is red of her is red As blude drappd on the snaw; And what is white o her is white As milk, or the sea-maw. 96G.6	‘Even before that lady’s yetts You’ll find a bowing birk; And there ye’ll sit, and sing thereon, Till she gaes to the kirk. 96G.7	‘Then even before that lady’s yetts You’ll find a bowing ash; And ye may sit and sing thereon, Till she comes frae the mass. 96G.8	‘And even before that lady’s window You’ll find a bed o tyme; And ye may sit and sing thereon, Till she sits down to dine. 96G.9	‘Even abeen that lady’s window There’s fixd a siller pin; And a’ these words that I tell you, Ye’ll sit and sing therein. 96G.10	‘Ye’ll bid her send her love a letter, For he has sent her five; And he’ll never send anither ane, To nae woman alive. 96G.11	‘Ye’ll bid her send her love a letter, For he has sent her seven; And he’ll never send anither send, To nae maid under heaven.’ 96G.12	This little bird then took his flight, Beyond the raging sea, And lighted at that lady’s yetts, On tower o gowd sae hie. 96G.13	Even before that lady’s yetts He found a bowing birk; And there he sat, and sang thereon, Till she went to the kirk. 96G.14	Even before that lady’s yetts He found a bowing ash; And then he sat and sang thereon, Till she came frae the mass. 96G.15	Even before that lady’s window He found a bed o tyme; And then he sat and sang thereon, Till she sat down to dine. 96G.16	Even abeen that lady’s window Was fixd a siller pin; And a’ the word that were tauld him, He sat and sang them in. 96G.17	‘You’re bidden send your love a letter, For he has sent you five; Or he’ll never send anither send, To nae woman alive. 96G.18	‘You’re bidden send your love a letter, For he has sent you seven; And he’ll never send anither send, To nae maid under heaven.’ 96G.19	‘Sit in the hall, good ladies all, And drink the wine sae red, And I will to yon small window, And hear you bridie’s leed. 96G.20	‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The sang ye sung just now;’ ‘I’ll sing nae mair, ye lady fair, My errand is to you.’ 96G.21	‘If ye be my true-lovie’s bird, Sae well’s I will you ken; You will gae in at my gown-sleeve, Come out at my gown-hem.’ 96G.22	‘That I am come frae your true-love, You soon shall see right plain; And read these lines below my wing, That I hae brought frae him.’ 96G.23	When she looked these lines upon, She read them, and she leuch: ‘O well fails me, my true-love, now, O this I hae eneuch. 96G.24	‘Here is the broach on my breast-bane, The garlings frae my hair, Likewise the heart that is within; What woud my love hae mair? 96G.25	‘The nearest kirk in fair Scotland, Ye’ll bid him meet me there:’ She has gane to her dear father, Wi heart perplexd and sair. 96G.26	When she came to her auld father, Fell low down on her knee: ‘An asking, asking, father dear, I pray you grant it me.’ 96G.27	‘Ask what you will, my dear daughter, And I will grant it thee; Unless to marry yon Scottish squire; That’s what shall never be.’ 96G.28	‘O that’s the asking, father,’ she said, ‘That I’ll neer ask of thee; But if I die in South England, In Scotland ye’ll bury me.’ 96G.29	h5The asking’s nae sae great, daughter, But granted it shall be; And tho ye die in South England, In Scotland we’ll bury thee.’ 96G.30	She has gane to her step-mother, Fell low down on her knee: ‘An asking, asking, mother dear, I pray you grant it me.’ 96G.31	‘Ask what ye please, my lily-white dove, And granted it shall be:’ ‘If I die in South England, In Scotland bury me.’ 96G.32	‘Had these words spoke been in again, I woud not granted thee; You hae a love in fair Scotland, Sae fain’s you woud be tee.’ 96G.33	She scarce was to her chamber gane Nor yet was well set down, Till on the sofa where she sat Fell a deadly swoon. 96G.34	Her father and her seven brithers, They made for her a bier; The one half o ’t was gude red gowd, The other siller clear. 96G.35	Her seven sisters were employed In making her a sark; The one half o ’t was cambric fine, The other needle-wark. 96G.36	Then out it speaks her auld step-dame, Sat on the sofa’s end: Ye’ll drap the het lead on her cheek, Sae do you on her chin; For women will use mony a wile Their true-loves for to win. 96G.37	Then up it raise her eldest brither, Into her bower he’s gane; Then in it came her youngest brither, The het leed to drap on. 96G.38	He drapt it by her cheek, her cheek, Sae did he by her chin; Sae did he by her comely hause; He knew life was therein. 96G.39	The bier was made wi red gowd laid, Sae curious round about; A private entrance there contriv’d, That her breath might win out. 96G.40	The first an kirk in fair Scotland, They gard the bells be rung; The niest an kirk in fair Scotland, They causd the mass be sung. 96G.41	The third an kirk in fair Scotland, They passd it quietly by; The fourth an kirk in fair Scotland, Clerk Sandy did them spy. 96G.42	‘O down ye’ll set this corpse o clay, Lat me look on the dead; For I may sigh, and say, alas! For death has nae remeid.’ 96G.43	Then he has cut her winding sheet A little below her chin, And wi her sweet ruby lips She sweetly smil’d on him. 96G.44	‘Gie me a sheave o your white bread, A bottle o your wine; For I hae fasted for your sake Fully these lang days nine. 96G.45	‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers, Gae hame and blaw your trumpet; And ye mat tell to your step-dame This day she is affronted. 96G.46	‘I camna here to fair Scotland To lye amo the dead; But came to be Clerk Sandy’s wife, And lay gowd on my head. 96G.47	‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers, Gae hame and blaw your horn; And ye may tell in fair England In Scotland ye got the scorn. 96G.48	‘I came not here to fair Scotland To mix amang the clay; But came to be Clerk Sandy’s wife, And wear gowd to my tae.’ 96G.49	‘Sin ye hae gien us this ae scorn, We shall gie you anither; Ye sall hae naething to live upon But the bier that brought you hither.’
 
96[H]: The Gay Goshawk
 
96[H].1	Lord William was walkin i the garden green, Viewin the roses red, An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk, Was fleein aboon his head. 96[H.2]	‘O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk, As ye hae wings to flee, Then ye wad carry a luve-letter Atween my love an me.’ 96[H.3]	‘But how can I your true-love ken? Or how can I her know? Or how can I your true-love ken, The face I never saw?’ 96[H.4]	‘Ye may esily my love ken Amang them ye never saw; The red that’s on o my love’s cheek Is like bluid drapt on the snaw.’ * * * * * * * 96[H.5]	‘O what will be my meat, master? An what’ll be my fee? An what will be the love-tokens That ye will send wi me?’ 96[H.6]	‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss, A kiss, aye, will I three; If ever she come [to] fair Scotland, My wedded wife she’s be. 96[H.7]	‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss, A kiss, aye, will I twae; An ever she come to fair Scotland, I the red gold she sall gae.’ * * * * * * * 96[H.8]	The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh, An south aneath the sun, Untill it cam, etc. 96[H.9]	‘Sit still, sit still, my six sisters, An sew your silken seam, Till I gae to my bower-window An hear yon Scottish bird sing.’ 96[H.10]	Than she flew high, an she flew leugh, An’ far aboon the wa; She drapit to that ladie’s side, An loot the letter fa. 96[H.11]	‘What news, what news, my bonnie burd? An what word carry ye? An what are a’ the love-tokens My love has sent to me?’ 96[H.12]	‘O ye may send your love a kiss, For he has sent ye three; Ye hae the heart within his buik, What mair can he send thee?’ 96[H.13]	‘O I will send my love a kiss, A kiss, I, will I three; If I can win to fair Scotland, His wedded wife I’ll be. 96[H.14]	‘O I will send my love a kiss, An the caim out o my hair; He has the hart that’s in my buik, What can I send him mair? 96[H.15]	‘An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd, An tell my love frae me, If [I] be na there gin Martinmas, Gin Yool I there will be.’ * * * * * * * 96[H.16]	’Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie, An ill deed may she die! ‘Yer daughter Janet’s taen her bed, An she’ll do nought but die.’ 96[H.17]	‘An askin, an askin, dear father, An askin I crave o thee; If I should die just at this time, In Scotland burry me.’ 96[H.18]	‘There’s room eneugh in wide England To burry thee an me; But sould ye die, my dear daughter, I Scotland I’ll burry thee.’ 96[H.19]	She’s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen, She’s warnd them ane an a’, To mak a kist wi three windows, The cauler air to blaw. 96[H.20]	‘O will ye gae, my six sisters, An sew to me a sheet, The tae half o the silk sae fine, The tother o cambric white.’ 96[H.21]	Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc. 96[H.22]	Then said her cruel step-minnie, Take ye the boilin lead An some o ’t drap on her bosom; We’ll see gif she be dead. 96[H.23]	Then boilin lead than they hae taen An drappit on her breast; ‘Alas! alas!’ than her father he cried, ‘For she’s dead without the priest!’ 96[H.24]	She neither chatterd in her teeth Nor shivert wi her chin; ‘Alas! alas!’ her father cried, ‘For there nae life within!’ * * * * * * * 96[H.25]	‘It’s nine lang days, an nine lang nights, She’s wantit meat for me; But for nine days, nine langer nights, Her face ye salna see.’ 96[H.26]	He’s taen the coffin wi his fit, Gar it in flinders flie, etc. 96[H.27]	‘Fetch me,’ she said, a+e cake o yer bread An a wi drap o your wine, For luve o you an for your sake I’ve fastit lang nights nine.’ 96[H.28]	’Twas up then spak an eldrin knight, A grey-haird knight was he; ‘Now ye hae left yer auld father, For you he’s like to die. 96[H.29]	‘An ye hae left yer sax sisters Lamentin a’ for you; I wiss that this, my dear ladie, Ye near may hae to rue.’ 96[H.30]	‘Commend me to my auld father, If eer ye come him niest; But nought say to my ill step-minnie, Gard burn me on the breist. 96[H.31]	‘Commend me to my six sisters, If ye gang bak again; But nought say to my ill step-minnie, Gard burn me on the chin. 96[H.32]	‘Commend me to my brethren bald, An ever ye them see; If ever they come to fair Scotland They’s fare nae war than me. 96[H.33]	‘For I cam na to fair Scotland To lie amang the dead, But I cam down to fair Scotland To wear goud on my head. 96[H.34]	‘Nor did I come to fair Scotland To rot amang the clay, But I cam to fair Scotland To wear goud ilka day.’


 
97A: Brown Robin
 
97A.1	THE king but an his nobles a’ Sat birling at the wine; He would ha nane but his ae daughter To wait on them at dine. 97A.2	She’s servd them butt, she’s servd them ben, Intill a gown of green, But her ee was ay on Brown Robin, That stood low under the rain. 97A.3	She’s doen her to her bigly bowr, As fast as she coud gang, An there she’s drawn her shot-window, An she’s harped an she sang. 97A.4	‘There sits a bird i my father’s garden, An O but she sings sweet! I hope to live an see the day Whan wi my love I’ll meet.’ 97A.5	‘O gin that ye like me as well As your tongue tells to me, What hour o the night, my lady bright, At your bowr sal I be?’ 97A.6	‘Whan my father an gay Gilbert Are baith set at the wine, O ready, ready I will be To lat my true-love in.’ 97A.7	O she has birld her father’s porter Wi strong beer an wi wine, Until he was as beastly drunk As ony wild-wood swine: She’s stown the keys o her father’s yates An latten her true-love in. 97A.8	Whan night was gane, an day was come, An the sun shone on their feet, Then out it spake him Brown Robin, I’ll be discoverd yet. 97A.9	Then out it spake that gay lady: My love, ye need na doubt; For wi ae wile I’ve got you in, Wi anither I’ll bring you out. 97A.10	She’s taen her to her father’s cellar, As fast as she can fare; She’s drawn a cup o the gude red wine, Hung ’t low down by her gare; An she met wi her father dear Just coming down the stair. 97A.11	‘I woud na gi that cup, daughter, That ye hold i your han For a’ the wines in my cellar, An gantrees whare the stan.’ 97A.12	‘O wae be to your wine, father, That ever’t came oer the sea; ’T’ is pitten my head in sick a steer I my bowr I canna be.’ 97A.13	‘Gang out, gang out, my daughter dear, Gang out an tack the air; Gang out an walk i the good green wood, An a’ your marys fair.’ 97A.14	Then out it spake the proud porter-+- Our lady wishd him shame-+- ‘We’ll send the marys to the wood, But we’ll keep our lady at hame.’ 97A.15	‘There’s thirty marys i my bowr, There’s thirty o them an three; But there’s nae ane amo them a’ Kens what flowr gain for me.’ 97A.16	She’s doen her to her bigly bowr, As fast as she could gang, An she has dresst him Brown Robin Like ony bowr-woman. 97A.17	The gown she pat upon her love Was o the dainty green, His hose was o the saft, saft silk, His shoon o the cordwain fine. 97A.18	She’s pitten his bow in her bosom, His arrow in her sleeve, His sturdy bran her body next, Because he was her love. 97A.19	Then she is unto her bowr-door, As fast as she coud gang; But out it spake the proud porter-+- Our lady wishd him shame-+- ‘We’ll cout our marys to the wood, An we’ll cout them back again.’ 97A.20	The firsten mary she sent out Was Brown Robin by name; Then out it spake the king himsel, ‘This is a sturdy dame.’ 97A.21	O she went out in a May morning, In a May morning so gay, But she came never back again, Her auld father to see.
 
97B: Brown Robin
 
97B.1	A FEATHERD fowl’s in your orchard, father, O dear, but it sings sweet! What would I give, my father dear, That bonnie bird to meet!’ What would I give, etc. 97B.2	‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary, Let a’ your folly be; There’s six Scots lords tomorrow, child, That will a’ dine wi me, And ye maun serve tham a’, Mary, As ’twere for meat and fee.’ 97B.3	She served them up, sae has she down, The footmen a’ the same, But her mind was aye on Love Robbie, Stood out below the rain. 97B.4	A hundred pun o pennies roun, Tied in a towel so sma, She has gien to him Love Robbie, Out oer the castle-wa; Says, Tak ye that, my love Robbie And mysel ye may hae. 97B.5	A hundred pun o pennies roun, Tied in a napkin white, She has gien to him Love Robbie, Out oer the garden-dyke; Says, Tak ye that, my Love Robbie, And mysel gin ye like. 97B.6	‘If this be true ye tell to me, As your tongue woudna lee, I shall be in your bigly bower Before the clock strike three; I shall be in your bigly bower, Dressd like a gay ladye.’ 97B.7	When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And all men bound for bed, Love Robbie came to Mary’s bower, Dressd like a comely maid. 97B.8	They had not kissd nor love clapp d, As lovers when they meet, Till sighing said he Love Robbie, My life, my life I doubt. 97B.9	‘Your life, your life, you Love Robbie, Your life you needna doubt; For it was wiles brought in Robbie, And wiles will lat him out.’ 97B.10	Then in it came her father dear, And stood upon the floor, And she filld the cup of good red wine, Said, Father, will ye drink more? 97B.11	‘O better I love the cup, Mary, The cup that’s in your hand, Than all my barrels full of wine, On the gantrees where they stand.’ 97B.12	‘O woe be to your wine, father, It eer came oer the sea! If I getna the air o good greenwood O I will surely dee.’ 97B.13	‘There’s seven maries in your bower, There’s seven o them and three, And I’ll send them to good greenwood, For flowers to shortsome thee.’ 97B.14	‘There’s seven maries in my bower, There’s seven o them and three, But there’s nae a mary mang them a’ Can pu flowers to shortsome me:’ ‘Then by my sooth,’ said her father dear, ‘Let yoursel gang them wi.’ 97B.15	She dressd hersel in the royal red, Love Robbie was in dainty green; Love Robbie’s brand was about his middle, And he shone like ony queen. 97B.16	The firsten ane that took the floor, Love Robbie was that ane: ‘Now by my sooth,’ said the proud porter, ‘She is a sonsie dame; I would not care now very much To turn her in again.’ 97B.17	‘I’d fain see any woman or man, Of high or low degree, Would turn a mary in again That once came out with me.’ 97B.18	They had not been in good greenwood, Pu’d a flower but only three, Till the porter stood behind a bush, And shot him Love Robbie. 97B.19	Now word has come to her father dear, In the chamber where he lay, Lady Mary’s sick in good greenwood, And cannot come away. 97B.20	He’s taen his mantle him about, His cane into his han, And he is on to good greenwood, As fast as he could gang. 97B.21	‘O want you fish out o the fleed, Or whale out o the sea? Or is there any one alive This day has angerd thee?’ 97B.22	‘I want not fish out o the fleed, Nor whale out o the sea; But woe be to your proud porter, Sae sair’s he’s angerd me! He’s shot the fairest flower this day, That would hae comfort me.’ 97B.23	‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary, Let a’ your folly be; Tomorrow ere I eat or drink High hang d shall he be.’
 
97C: Brown Robin
 
97C.1	‘THERE is a bird in my father’s orchard, And dear, but it sings sweet! I hope to live to see the day This bird and I will meet.’ 97C.2	‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mally, Let a’ your folly be; What bird is that in my orchard Sae shortsome is to thee? 97C.3	‘There are four-an-twenty noble lords The morn shoud dine wi me; And ye maun serve them a’, Mally, Like one for meat and fee.’ 97C.4	She servd the nobles all as one, The horsemen much the same; But her mind was aye to Brown Robyn, Beneath the heavy rain. 97C.5	Then she’s rowd up a thousand pounds Intil a servit white, And she gae that to Brown Robyn, Out ower the garden-dyke: Says, Take ye that, my love Robyn, And mysell gin ye like. 97C.6	‘If this be true, my dame,’ he said, ‘That ye hae tauld to me, About the hour o twall at night, At your bower-door I’ll be.’ 97C.7	But ere the hour o twall did chap, And lang ere it was ten, She had hersell there right and ready To lat Brown Robyn in. 97C.8	They hadna kissd nor love clapped Till the birds sang on the ha; ‘O,’ sighing says him Brown Robyn, ‘I wish I were awa!’ 97C.9	They hadna sitten muckle langer Till the guards shot ower the way; Then sighing says him Brown Robyn, ‘I fear my life this day.’ 97C.10	‘O had your tongue, my love Robyn, Of this take ye nae doubt; It was by wiles I brought you in, By wiles I’ll bring you out.’ 97C.11	Then she’s taen up a cup o wine, To her father went she; ‘O drink the wine, father,’ she said, ‘O drink the wine wi me.’ 97C.12	‘O well love I the cup, daughter, But better love I the wine; And better love I your fair body Than a’ the gowd in Spain.’ 97C.13	‘Wae be to the wine, father, That last came ower the sea; Without the air o gude greenwood, There’s nae remeid for me.’ 97C.14	‘Ye’ve thirty maries in your bower, Ye’ve thirty and hae three; Send ane o them to pu a flower, Stay ye at hame wi me.’ 97C.15	‘I’ve thirty maries in my bower, I’ve thirty o them and nine; But there’s nae a marie amo them a’ That kens my grief and mind. 97C.16	‘For they may pu the nut, the nut, And sae may they the slae, But there’s nane amo them a’ that kens The herb that I woud hae.’ 97C.17	‘Well, gin ye gang to gude greenwood, Come shortly back again; Ye are sae fair and are sae rare, Your body may get harm.’ 97C.18	She dressd hersell into the red, Brown Robyn all in green, And put his brand across his middle, He was a stately dame. 97C.19	The first ane stepped ower the yett, It was him Brown Robyn; ‘By my sooth,’ said the proud porter, ‘This is a stately dame. 97C.20	‘O wi your leave, lady,’ he said, ‘And leave o a’ your kin, I woudna think it a great sin To turn that marie in.’ 97C.21	‘O had your tongue, ye proud porter, Let a’ your folly be; Ye darena turn a marie in That ance came forth wi me.’ 97C.22	‘Well shall I call your maries out, And as well shall I in; For I am safe to gie my oath That marie is a man.’ 97C.23	Soon she went to gude greenwood, And soon came back again; ‘Gude sooth,’ replied the proud porter, ‘We’ve lost our stately dame.’ 97C.24	‘My maid’s faen sick in gude greenwood, And sick and liken to die; The morn before the cocks do craw, That marie I maun see.’ 97C.25	Out it spake her father then, Says, Porter, let me know If I will cause her stay at hame, Or shall I let her go? 97C.26	‘She says her maid’s sick in the wood, And sick and like to die; I really think she is too gude Nor ever woud make a lie.’ 97C.27	Then he whispered in her ear, As she was passing by, ‘What will ye say if I reveal What I saw wi my eye?’ 97C.28	‘If ought ye ken about the same, O heal that well on me, And if I live or brook my life, Rewarded ye shall be.’ 97C.29	Then she got leave o her father To gude greenwood again, And she is gane wi Brown Robyn, But ’twas lang ere she came hame. 97C.30	O then her father began to mourn, And thus lamented he: ‘O I woud gie ten thousand pounds My daughter for to see.’ 97C.31	‘If ye will promise,’ the porter said, ‘To do nae injury, I will find out your daughter dear, And them that’s gane her wi.’ 97C.32	Then he did swear a solemn oath, By a’ his gowd and land, Nae injury to them’s be dune, Whether it be maid or man. 97C.33	The porter then a letter wrote, And seald it wi his hand, And sent it to that lady fair, For to return hame. 97C.34	When she came to her father’s ha, He received her joyfullie, And married her to Brown Robyn; Now a happy man was he. 97C.35	She hadna been in her father’s ha A day but barely three, Till she settled the porter well for life, Wi gowd and white monie.


 
98A: Brown Adam
 
98A.1	O WHA woud wish the win to blaw, Or the green leaves fa therewith? Or wha wad wish a leeler love Than Brown Adam the Smith? 98A.2	His hammer’s o the beaten gold, His study’s o the steel, His fingers white are my delite, He blows his bellows well. 98A.3	But they ha banishd him Brown Adam Frae father and frae mither, An they ha banishd him Brown Adam Frae sister and frae brither. 98A.4	And they ha banishd Brown Adam Frae the flowr o a’ his kin; An he’s biggit a bowr i the good green wood Betwen his lady an him. 98A.5	O it fell once upon a day Brown Adam he thought lang, An he woud to the green wood gang, To hunt some venison. 98A.6	He’s ta’en his bow his arm oer, His bran intill his han, And he is to the good green wood, As fast as he coud gang. 98A.7	O he’s shot up, an he’s shot down, The bird upo the briar, And he’s sent it hame to his lady, Bade her be of good cheer. 98A.8	O he’s shot up, an he’s shot down, The bird upo the thorn, And sent it hame to his lady, And hee’d be hame the morn. 98A.9	Whan he came till his lady’s bowr-door He stood a little foreby, And there he heard a fu fa’se knight Temptin his gay lady. 98A.10	O he’s taen out a gay gold ring, Had cost him mony a poun: ‘O grant me love for love, lady, An this sal be your own.’ 98A.11	‘I loo Brown Adam well,’ she says, ‘I wot sae does he me; An I woud na gi Brown Adam’s love For nae fa’se knight I see.’ 98A.12	Out has he ta’en a purse of gold, Was a’ fu to the string: ‘Grant me but love for love, lady, An a’ this sal be thine.’ 98A.13	‘I loo Brown Adam well,’ she says, ‘An I ken sae does he me; An I woudna be your light leman For mair nor ye coud gie.’ 98A.14	Then out has he drawn his lang, lang bran, And he’s flashd it in her een: ‘Now grant me love for love, lady, Or thro you this sal gang!’ 98A.15	‘O,’ sighing said that gay lady, ‘Brown Adam tarrys lang!’ Then up it starts Brown Adam, Says, I’m just at your han. 98A.16	He’s gard him leave his bow, his bow, He’s gard him leave his bran; He’s gard him leave a better pledge, Four fingers o his right han.
 
98B: Brown Adam
 
 
 98B.1	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	For wha ere had a lealer luve
 	Than Broun Edom the smith?
 98B.2	His studie was o the beaten gowd,
 	His hammer o the pith;
 	His cords waur o the gude green silk,
 	That blew his bellows with.
 98B.3	It fell out ance upon a time
 	Broun Edom he thoucht lang,
 	That he wald gae to see his luve,
 	By the le licht o the mune.

 
 
98C: Brown Adam
 
98C.1	O WHA woud wish the win to blaw, The green leaves fa therewith? O wha would wish a leeler luve Than Brown Adam the Smith? 98C.2	O he forsook the royal court, And knights and lords sae gude, And he is to the black smithy, To learn to shoe a steed. 98C.3	His hammer-shaft o gude red gowd, His studdy o the steel, His fingers whyte, and maids’ delight, And blaws his bellows weel. 98C.4	He being a favourite with the king Caused him get mony a fae, And sae their plots they did contrive To work him grief and wae. 98C.5	Of treason then he was accused By his fause enemie, Which caused the king to make a vow That banishd he shoud be. 98C.6	Then banishd hae they Brown Adam, Frae father and frae mither, And banished hae they him Brown Adam Frae sister and frae brither. 98C.7	And they hae banishd him Brown Adam, The flower o a’ his kin; He built a bower in gude green wood, For his true love and him. 98C.8	But it fell ance upon a day The king’s young son thought lang, And minded him on Brown Adam, Oft rade on his right han. 98C.9	Then he sent for him Brown Adam, To shoe his milk-white steed, That he might see him ance in court, Mang knights o noble bleed. 98C.10	When Brown Adam he read these lines, A light laugh then gae hee: ‘What’s this that’s made their hearts to fa, They lang sae sair for mee?’ 98C.11	Then out it speaks his gay ladye: Brown Adam, bide wi mee; For if ye gang to court, I fear Your face I’ll never see. 98C.12	‘Cheer up your heart, my ain true-love, Let naething cause your grief; Though I be absent for some days, Ye seen will get relief.’ 98C.13	Then he has kissd his gay ladye, And rade alang the lay, And hunted a’ the wild birds there, As he rade on the way. 98C.14	He shot the bunting o the bush, The linnet o the brier, And sent them on to gude green wood, His ladye’s heart to cheer. 98C.15	He shot the bunting o the bush, The linnet o the wand, And sent them on to his ladye, Forbade her to think lang. 98C.16	He shot the bunting o the bush, The linnet o the thorn, And sent them on to his ladye, Said he’d be hame the morn. 98C.17	A thought then came into his mind, As he rade on the way, Some evil in his absence might Befa his ladye gay. 98C.18	Now when he had the prince’ steed shod, And bound again to ryde, He turned his horse to Ringlewood; Some days he meant to byde. 98C.19	But when he turned to Ringlewood; Ae foot’s horse woudna ryde; Whan he turned to his luver’s bower, He flew like ony glyde. 98C.20	When he drew near to his luve’s bower, There he alighted down, For the hearing o his great horse tramp Ere he wan to the town. 98C.21	Whan he came to his luver’s bower, He heard a dolefu din; He wasna aware o a fu fause knight, His true-love’s bower within. 98C.22	He bound his steed to his ain stall, And gae him corn and hay, And listened at a shott-window, To hear what he would say. 98C.23	The first and thing the knight drew out, It was a coffer fine; It was as fu o gude black silk, Make ladyes for to shine. 98C.24	‘Ye are too lack o luve, ladye, And that’s a hatefu thing; Luve me, and lat Brown Adam be, And a’ this shall be thine.’ 98C.25	‘O well I like Brown Adam,’ she said, ‘I wyte hee hates nae mee; I winna forsake him Brown Adam For a’ your gifts an thee.’ 98C.26	The next and thing the knight drew out, It was a coffer small; It was as fou o shambo gluves, Woud had her hands frae caul. 98C.27	‘Ye are too lack o luve, ladye, An that’s a hatefu thing; Luve me, an lat Brown Adam be, An a’ this shall be thine.’ 98C.28	‘O well like I Brown Adam,’ she said, ‘I’m sure he hates nae me; I winna forsake him Brown Adam For a’ your gifts an thee.’ 98C.29	The next and thing the knight drew out It was a coffer fine; It was as fu of gude red gowd As a guinnea coud get in. 98C.30	‘You are too lack o luve, ladye, And that’s a hatefu thing; Luve me, and lat Brown Adam be, And a’ this shall be thine.’ 98C.31	‘O well I like Brown Adam,’ she said, ‘I’m sure hee hates nae mee; I winna forsake him Brown Adam For a’ the gowd ye’ll gie.’ 98C.32	Then his mild mood did quickly change, And grew mair fierce and cruel, And then drew out a trusty brand, Which made her heart to pruel. 98C.33	‘Since I by you am slighted sae, Since I frae you maun part, I swear a vow before I gae, That this shall pierce your heart.’ 98C.34	‘But still I like Brown Adam,’ she said, ‘I wat hee hates nae mee; And if he knew my troubles now At my call woud hee be. 98C.35	‘Although he were sax miles awa, He’d seen be at my han; But wae is me, sae may I say, Brown Adam tarries lang!’ 98C.36	He hit the door then wi his foot, Made a’ the bands to flee: ‘Cheer up your heart, my luve Janet, Your love’s nae far frae thee.’ 98C.37	Then he drew out a trusty brand, And chassd him thro the ha; The knight jumpd to a shott-window, And woud hae been awa. 98C.38	‘Stay still, stay still,’ Brown Adam said, ‘Make nae sic haste frae mee’ You or I maun rue the race That I came ower the lee.’ 98C.39	Then frae the knight he’s taen a wad, His mantle and his brand; Likewise he’s taen anither wad, His sword and his sword-hand. 98C.40	He threw him ower the shott-window, Bade him lie there wi care, And never come back to gude green wood To marr fair ladies mair. 98C.41	‘O I am brown,’ said Brown Adam, ‘And I was never whyte; But my love has robes o different hues, To wear at her delyght. 98C.42	‘Her kirchies be o cambricks fine, Wi gowd pinnd to the chin; Her robes shall be o the scarlet hue She shall gang daily in.’


 
99A: Johnie Scott
 
99A.1	O JOHNEY was as brave a knight As ever saild the sea, An he’s done him to the English court, To serve for meat and fee. 99A.2	He had nae been in fair England But yet a little while, Untill the kingis ae daughter To johney proves wi chil. 99A.3	O word’s come to the king himsel, In his chair where he sat, That his ae daughter was wi bairn To Jack, the Little Scott. 99A.4	‘Gin this be true that I do hear, As I trust well it be, Ye pit her into prison strong, An starve her till she die.’ 99A.5	O Johney’s on to fair Scotland, A wot he went wi speed, An he has left the kingis court, A wot good was his need. 99A.6	O it fell once upon a day That Johney he thought lang, An he’s gane to the good green wood, As fast as he coud gang. 99A.7	‘O whare will I get a bonny boy, To rin my errand soon, That will rin into fair England, An haste him back again?’ 99A.8	O up it starts a bonny boy, Gold yallow was his hair, I wish his mither meickle joy, His bonny love mieckle mair. 99A.9	‘O here am I, a bonny boy, Will rin your errand soon; I will gang into fair England, An come right soon again.’ 99A.10	O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam; An whan he came to the green grass growan, He slaikid his shoone an ran. 99A.11	Whan he came to yon high castzel, He ran it roun about, An there he saw the king’s daughter, At the window looking out. 99A.12	‘O here’s a sark o silk, lady, Your ain han sewd the sleeve; You’r bidden come to fair Scotlan, Speer nane o your parents leave. 99A.13	‘Ha, take this sark o silk, lady, Your ain han swed the gare; You’re bidden come to good green wood, Love Johney waits you there.’ 99A.14	She’s turnd her right and roun about, The tear was in her ee: ‘How can I come to my true-love, Except I had wings to flee? 99A.15	‘Here am I kept wi bars and bolts, Most grievous to behold; My breast-plate’s o the sturdy steel, Instead of the beaten gold. 99A.16	‘But tak this purse, my bonny boy, Ye well deserve a fee, An bear this letter to my love, An tell him what you see.’ 99A.17	Then quickly ran the bonny boy Again to Scotlan fair, An soon he reachd Pitnachton’s towrs, An soon found Johney there. 99A.18	He pat the letter in his han An taul him what he sa, But eer he half the letter read, He loote the tears doun fa. 99A.19	‘O I will gae back to fair Englan, Tho death shoud me betide, An I will relieve the damesel That lay last by my side.’ 99A.20	Then out it spake his father dear, My son, you are to blame; An gin you’r catchd on English groun, I fear you’ll neer win hame. 99A.21	Then out it spake a valiant knight, Johny’s best friend was he; I can commaun five hunder men, An I’ll his surety be. 99A.22	The firstin town that they came till, They gard the bells be rung; An the nextin town that they came till, They gard the mess be sung. 99A.23	The thirdin town that they came till, They gard the drums beat roun; The king but an his nobles a’, Was startld at the soun. 99A.24	Whan they came to the king’s palace They rade it roun about, An there they saw the king himsel, At the window looking out. 99A.25	‘Is this the Duke o Albany, Or James, the Scottish king? Or are ye some great foreign lord, That’s come a visiting?’ 99A.26	‘I’m nae the Duke of Albany, Nor James, the Scottish king; But I’m a valiant Scottish knight, Pitnachton is my name.’ 99A.27	‘O if Pitnachton be your name, As I trust well it be, The morn, or I tast meat or drink, You shall be hanged hi.’ 99A.28	Then out it spake the valiant knight That came brave Johney wi; Behold five hunder bowmen bold, Will die to set him free. 99A.29	Then out it spake the king again, An a scornfu laugh laugh he; I have an Italian i my house Will fight you three by three. 99A.30	‘O grant me a boon,’ brave Johney cried; ‘Bring your Italian here; Then if he fall beneath my sword, I’ve won your daughter dear.’ 99A.31	Then out it came that Italian, An a gurious ghost was he; Upo the point o Johney’s sword This Italian did die. 99A.32	Out has he drawn his lang, lang bran, Struck it across the plain: ‘Is there any more o your English dogs That you want to be slain?’ 99A.33	‘A clark, a clark,’ the king then cried, ‘To write her tocher free;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ says Love Johney, ‘To marry my love and me. 99A.34	‘I’m seeking nane o your gold,’ he says, ‘Nor of your silver clear; I only seek your daughter fair, Whose love has cost her dear.’
 
99B: Johnie Scott
 
99B.1	JOHNNYRR’rrS into England gane, Three quarters of a year; Johnny’s into England gane, The king’s banner to bear. 99B.2	He had na been in England lang, But and a little while, Untill the king’s daughter To Johnny gaes wi child. 99B.3	Word is to the kitchin gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king’s palace, Amang the nobles a’. 99B.4	Word’s gane to the king’s palace, The palace where she sat, That his ae daughter gaes wi child To Jock, the Little Scot. 99B.5	‘If she be wi child,’ he says, ‘As I trow well she be, I’ll put her into strang prison, And hang her till she die.’ 99B.6	But up and spak young Johnny, And O he spake in time: Is there never a bony boy here Will rin my errand soon? 99B.7	That will gae to yon castle, And look it round about? And there he’ll see a fair lady, The window looking out. 99B.8	Up then spak a bony boy, And a bony boy was he: I’ll run thy errand, Johnny, he said, Untill the day I die. 99B.9	‘Put on your gown o silk, madam, And on your hand a glove, And gang into the good green-wood, To Johnny, your true-love.’ 99B.10	‘The fetters they are on my feet, And O but they are cauld! My bracelets they are sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold. 99B.11	‘But I will write a lang letter, And seal it tenderlie, And I will send to my true-love, Before that I do die.’ 99B.12	The first look that Johnny lookd, A loud laughter gae he; But the next look that Johnny gae, The tear blinded his ee. 99B.13	He says, I’ll into England gae, Whatever may betide, And a’ to seek a fair woman That sud hae been my bride. 99B.14	But up and speaks his father, And O he spak in time: If that ye into England gae, I’m feerd ye neer come hame. 99B.15	But up then speaks our gude Scotch king, And a brisk young man was he: He’s hae five hunder o my life-guard, To bear him companie. 99B.16	When Johnny was on saddle set, And seemly for to see, There was not a married man Into his companie. 99B.17	When Johnny sat on saddle-seat, And seemly to behold, The hair that hang on Johnny’s head Was like the threads o gold. 99B.18	When he cam to . . . He gard the bells a’ ring, Untill the king and a’ his court Did marvel at the thing. 99B.19	‘Is this the brave Argyle,’ he said, ‘That’s landed and come hame? Is this the brave Argyle,’ he said, ‘Or James, our Scottish king?’ 99B.20	‘It’s no the brave Argyle,’ they said, ‘That’s landed and come hame; But it is a brave young Scottish knight, McNaughtan is his name.’ 99B.21	‘If McNaughtan be his name,’ he says, ‘As I trow weel it be, The fairest lady in a’ my court Gangs wi child to thee.’ 99B.22	‘If that she be wi child,’ he says, ‘As I wat weel she be, I’ll mak it lord o a’ my land, And her my gay lady.’ 99B.23	‘I have a champion in my court Will fight you a’ by three;’ But up then speaks a brisk young man, And a brisk young man was he: I will fight to my life’s end, Before poor Johnny die. 99B.24	The king but and his nobles a’ Went out into the plain, The queen but and her maidens a’, To see young Johnny slain. 99B.25	The first wound that Johnny gae the champion Was a deep wound and sair; The next wound that he gae the champion, He never spak mair. 99B.26	‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnny cries, ‘To wed me and my love;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried, ‘To sign her tocher gude.’ 99B.27	‘I’ll hae nane o your goud,’ he says, ‘I’ll hae nane o your gear, But a’ I want is my true-love, For I hae bought her dear.’ 99B.28	He took out a little goat-horn, And blew baith loud and shill; The victry’s into Scotland gane, Tho sair against their will.
 
99C: Johnie Scott
 
99C.1	O JOHNIERR’rrS to the hunting gone, Unto the woods sae wild, And Earl Percy’s old daughter To Johnie goes with child. 99C.2	O word is to the kitchen gone, And word is to the ha, And word is to the highest towers, Amang the nobles a’. 99C.3	‘If she be with child,’ her father said, ‘As woe forbid it be, I’ll put her into a prison strong, And try the veritie.’ 99C.4	‘But if she be with child,’ her mother said, ‘As woe forbid it be, I’ll put her intil a dungeon dark, And hunger her till she die.’ 99C.5	Then she has wrote a braid letter, And sealed it wi her hand, And sent T to the merry green wood, Wi her own boy at command. 99C.6	The first line of the letter he read, His heart was full of joy; But he had not read a line past two Till the salt tears blind his eye. 99C.7	‘O I must up to England go, What ever me betide, For to relieve that fair ladie That lay last by my side.’ 99C.8	Out and spak his father then, And he spak all in time: Johnie, if ye to England go, I fear ye’ll neer return. 99C.9	But out and spak his uncle then, And he spak bitterlie: Five hundred of my good life-guards Shall go along with thee. 99C.10	When they were mounted on their steeds, They were comely to behold; The hair that hung owre Johnie’s shoulders Was like the yellow gold. 99C.11	The first town that they came to, They made the bells to ring; And when they rode the town all owre, They made the trumpets sound. 99C.12	When they came to Earl Percy’s gates, They rode them round about, And who saw he but his own true-love, At a window looking out! 99C.13	‘The doors they are bolted with iron and steel, The windows round about; My feet they are in fetters strong; And how can I get out? 99C.14	‘My garters they are of the lead, And oh but they be cold! My breast-plate’s of the beaten steel, Instead of beaten gold.’ 99C.15	But when they came to Earl Percy’s yett, They tirled at the pin; None was so ready as Earl Percy To open and let them in. 99C.16	‘Art thou the King of Aulsberry, Or art thou the King of Spain? Or art thou one of our gay Scots lords, McNachtan by thy name?’ 99C.17	‘I’m not the King of Aulsberry, Nor yet the King of Spain; But I am one of our gay Scots lords, Johnie Scot I am called by name.’ 99C.18	‘If Johnnie Scot be thy name,’ he said, ‘As I trow weel it be, The fairest lady in a’ our court Gaes big with child to thee.’ 99C.19	‘If she be with child,’ fair Johnie said, ‘As I trow weel she be, I’ll make it heir owre a’ my land, And her my gay ladie.’ 99C.20	‘But if she be with child,’ her father said, ‘As I trow weel she be, Tomorrow morn again eight o clock High hanged thou shalt be.’ 99C.21	But out and spak his uncle then, And he spak bitterlie: Before that we see Johnie Scot slain, We’ll a’ fight till we die. 99C.22	‘But is there ever a Tailliant about your court, That will fight duels three? Before that I be hanged or slain, On the Tailliant’s sword I’ll die.’ 99C.23	But some is to the good green wood, And some is to the plain, Either to see fair Johnie hanged, Or else to see him slain. 99C.24	And they began at eight o clock of the morning, And they fought on till three, Till the Tailliant, like a swallow swift, Owre Johnie’s head did flee. 99C.25	But Johnie being a clever young boy, He wheeled him round about, And on the point of Johnie’s broad sword The Tailliant he slew out. 99C.26	‘A priest, a priest,’ fair Johnie cried, ‘To wed my love and me;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried, ‘To sum the tocher free.’ 99C.27	‘I’ll have non of your gold,’ fair Johnie said, ‘Nor none of your white monie; But I will have my own fair bride, For I vow that I’ve bought her dear.’ 99C.28	He’s taen his true-love by the hand, He led her up the plain: ‘Have you any more of your English dogs You want for to have slain?’ 99C.29	He took a little horn out of his pocket, He blew it baith loud and shill, And honour’s into Scotland gone, In spite of England’s skill.
 
99D: Johnie Scott
 
99D.1	O JOHNNIE Scot walks up and down Among the woods sae wild; Who but the Earl of Percy’s ae daughter To him goes big with child! 99D.2	O word is to the kitchen gone, And word’s gone to the hall, And word is to King Henry gane, And amongst his nobles all. 99D.3	O Johnnie’s called his waiting-man, His name was Germanie: ‘O thou must to fair England go, Bring me that fair ladie.’ 99D.4	He rode till he came to Earl Percy’s gate, He tirled at the pin; ‘O who is there?’ said the proud porter, ‘But I daurna let thee in.’ 99D.5	So he rade up, and he rode down, Till he rode it round about; Then he saw her at a wee window, Where she was looking out. 99D.6	‘O thou must go to Johnnie Scot, Unto the woods so green, In token of thy silken shirt, Thine own hand sewed the seam.’ 99D.7	‘How can I go to Johnnie Scot? Or how can I get out? My breast plate’s o the hard, hard iron, With fetters round about. 99D.8	‘But I will write a lang letter, And give it unto thee, And thou must take that to Johnnie Scot, See what answer he sends to me.’ 99D.9	When Johnnie looked the letter upon A sorry man was he; He had not read one line but two Till the saut tear did blind his ee. 99D.10	‘O I must to fair England go, Whatever me betide, All for to fight for that gay ladie That last lay by my side.’ 99D.11	O out and spoke his father then, And he spoke well in time: O if you to fair England go, I doubt your coming home. 99D.12	‘O no, O no,’ said good King James, ‘Before such a thing shall be, I’ll send five hundred of my life-guards, To bear Johnnie company.’ 99D.13	When they were all on saddle set, Most pleasant to behold, The hair that hung over Johnnie’s neck Was like the links of gold. 99D.14	When they were all marching away, Most beautiful to see, There was not so much as a married man In Johnnie’s company. 99D.15	O Johnnie was the foremost man In the company that did ride; King James he was the second man, Wi his rapier by his side. 99D.16	They rode till they came to Earl Percy’s yate, They tirled at the pin: ‘O who is there?’ said the proud porter; ‘But I daurnot let thee in. 99D.17	‘Is it the Duke of York,’ he said, ‘Or James, our Scotish king? Or is it one of the Scotish lords, From hunting new come home?’ 99D.18	‘It’s not the Duke of York,’ he said, ‘Nor James, our Scotish king; But it is one of the Scotish lords, Earl Hector is my name.’ 99D.19	When Johnnie came before the king, He fell low down on his knee: ‘O the brawest lady in a’ my court With child goes big to thee.’ 99D.20	‘O if she be with child,’ Johnnie said, ‘As I trew well she be, I will make it heir of all my land, And her my gay ladie.’ 99D.21	‘But if she be with child,’ said the king, ‘As I trew well she be, Before the morn at ten o clock High hanged thou shalt be.’ 99D.22	‘O no, O no,’ said good King James, ‘Before such a thing shall be, Before that Johnnie Scot be hanged, We’ll a’ fight till we die.’ 99D.23	‘But there is a Talliant in my court, Of men he will fight five; Go bring them out to the green wood, See wha will gain the prize.’ 99D.24	Lords and ladies flocked all, They flocked all amain, They flocked all to the green wood, To see poor Johnnie slain. 99D.25	This Talliant he could find no way To be poor Johnnie’s dead, But, like unto a swallow swift, He jumped oer Johnnie’s head. 99D.26	But Johnnie was a clever man, Cunning and crafty withal, And up on the top of his braid sword He made this Talliant fall. 99D.27	‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnnie cried, ‘To marry my love and me;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried, ‘To sum the tocher free.’ 99D.28	‘I’ll take none of your gold,’ Johnnie said, ‘Nor none of your other gear, But I’ll just have my own true-love, This day I’ve won her dear.’
 
99E: Johnie Scott
 
99E.1	MCNAUCHTONRR’rrS unto England gane, The king’s banner to bear: ‘O do you see yon castle, boy? It’s walled round about; There you will spy a fair ladye, In the window looking out.’ 99E.2	‘Here is a silken sark, fair lady, Thine own hand sewed the sleeve, And thou must go to yon green wood, To Johnnie thy true-love.’ 99E.3	‘The castle it is high, my boy, And walled round about; My feet are in the fetters strong, And how can I get out? 99E.4	‘My garters o the gude black iron, And they are very cold; My breast plate’s of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold. 99E.5	‘But had I paper, pen and ink, And candle at my command, It’s I would write a lang letter To John in fair Scotland.’ 99E.6	The first line that Johnnie looked on, A loud, loud lauch leuch he; The second line that Johnnie looked on, The tear did blind his ee. 99E.7	Says, I must unto England go, Whatever me betide, For to relieve my own fair lady, That lay last by my side. 99E.8	Then up and spoke Johnnie’s auld mither, A well spoke woman was she: If you do go to England, Johnnie, I may take farewell o thee. 99E.9	Then up and spoke Johnnie’s old father, A well spoke man was he: It’s twenty-four of my gay troop Shall go along with thee. 99E.10	When Johnie was on saddle set, Right comely to be seen, There was not so much as a married man In Johnie’s companie; There was not so much as a married man, Not a one only but ane. 99E.11	The first gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the bells be rung; The next gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the psalms be sung. 99E.12	The next gude toun that Johnie came to, He made the drums beat round, Till the king and all his merry men A-marvelled at the sound. 99E.13	‘Are you the Duke of Mulberry, Or James, our Scotish king? Are you the Duke of Mulberry, From Scotland new come home?’ 99E.14	‘I’m not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James, our Scotish king; But I am a true Scotishman, McNaughtoun is my name.’ 99E.15	‘If McNaughtoun be your name,’ he said, ‘As I trew well it be, The fairest lady in a’ my court She goes with child to thee. 99E.16	‘If McNauchton be your name,’ he said, ‘As I trew well it be, Tomorrow morn by eight o clock O hanged you shall be.’ 99E.17	O Johnie had a bonnie little boy, His name was Germany: ‘Before that we be all hanged, my sovereign, We’ll fight you till we die.’ 99E.18	‘Say on, say on, my bonnie little boy, It is well spoken of thee, For there is a campioun in my court Shall fight you three by three.’ 99E.19	Next morning about eight o’clock The king and his merry men, The queen and all her maidens fair, Came whistling down the green, To see the cruel fight begin, And see poor Johnnie slain. 99E.20	y fought on, and Johnie fought on, Wi swords of tempered steel, Until the drops of red, red blood Ran prinkling down the field. 99E.21	They fought on, and Johnie fought on, They fought so manfullie They left not a man alive in all the king’s court, Not a man only but three. 99E.22	‘A priest, a priest,’ poor Johnie cries, ‘To wed my love and me;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king did cry, ‘To write her portion free.’ 99E.23	‘I’ll have none of your gold,’ he says, ‘Nor none of your white money, But I will have mine own fair lady, Who has been dear to me.’ 99E.24	Johnie put a horn unto his mouth, He blew it wondrous schill; The sound is unto Scotland gane, Sair against all their will. 99E.25	He put his horn to his mouth, He blew it ower again, And aye the sound the horn cried, ‘McNaughtoun’s cure to them!’
 
99F: Johnie Scott
 
99F.1	WORD has to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word has to the king himsell, In the chamber where he sat, That his ae daughter gaes wi bairn To bonnie Johnie Scot. 99F.2	Word has to the kitchen gane, And word has to the ha, And word has to the queen hersell, In the chamber where she sat, That her ae dochter gaes wi bairn To bonnie Johnie Scot. 99F.3	‘O if she be wi bairn,’ he says, ‘As I trew well she be, We’ll put her in a prison strang, And try her verity.’ 99F.4	‘O if she be wi bairn,’ she says, ‘As I trew weel she be, We’ll put her in a dungeon dark, And hunger her till she die.’ 99F.5	Now she has written a letter, And sealed it with her hand, And sent it unto Johnie Scot, To come at her command. 99F.6	The first lang line that he looked to, He laughed at the same; The neist lang line that he did read, The tears did blin his een. 99F.7	‘Once more to England I must go, May God be my sure guide! And all to see that lady fair That last lay by my side.’ 99F.8	Then out bespoke our Scotish king, And he spoke manfullie: I and three thousand of my guards Will bear you companye. 99F.9	They all were mounted on horseback, So gallantly they rode; The hair that hung owre Johnie’s shoulders Was like the links of goud. 99F.10	When they came to the king of England’s gate, They knocked at the pin; So ready was the king himsell To open and let them in. 99F.11	‘Are you the Duke [of York],’ he says, ‘Or are ye the King of Spain? Or are ye some of the gay Scots boys, From hunting now come hame?’ 99F.12	‘I am not the Duke of York,’ he says, ‘Nor yet the King of Spain; But I am one of the gay Scots boys, From hunting just come hame.’ 99F.13	‘If you are one of the Scots boys, As I trew weel you be, The fairest lady in my hall Gaes big wi child to thee.’ 99F.14	‘Then if she be wi bairn,’ he says, ‘As I trew weel she be, I’ll make him heir of a’ my gear, And her my fair ladye.’ 99F.15	‘If she be wi bairn,’ her father says, ‘As I trew weel she be, Before the morn at ten o’clock High hanged thou shall be.’ 99F.16	Then out bespake our Scotish king, And he spoke manfullie: Before that Johnie Scott be slain, We’ll all fight till we die. 99F.17	‘I have a Talliant in my house We’ll fight your men by three;’ ‘Bring out your trooper,’ Johnie says, ‘For fain I would him see.’ 99F.18	Some gade unto the high mountain, Some gade unto the plain, Some at high windows looked out, To see poor Johnie slain. 99F.19	The Talliant he fought on a while, Thinking of Johnie would retire, And then he, like a swallow swifte, Owre Johnie’s head did flee. 99F.20	But Johnie was a clever man, And turned about with speed, And on the edge of his broadsword He slew the Talliant dead. 99F.21	Then he has brought the lady out, And sat her on a dapple-gray, And being mounted on before, They briskly rode away. 99F.22	Now the honour unto Scotland came, In spite of England’s skill; The honour unto Scotland came In spite of England’s will.
 
99G: Johnie Scott
 
99G.1	JOHNIE SCOTTRR’rrS a hunting gone, To England woods so wild, Until the king’s old dochter dear She goes to him with child. 99G.2	‘If she be with bairn,’ her mother says, ‘As I trew weel she be, We’ll put her in a dark dungeon, And hunger her till she die.’ 99G.3	‘If she be with bairn,’ her father says, ‘As oh forbid she be! We’ll put her in a prison strong, And try the veritie.’ 99G.4	The king did write a long letter, Sealed it with his own hand, And he sent it to Johnie Scot, To speak at his command. 99G.5	When Johnie read this letter long, The tear blindit his ee: ‘I must away to Old England; King Edward writes for me.’ 99G.6	Out and spak his mother dear, She spoke aye in time: Son, if thou go to Old England, I fear thou’ll neer come hame. 99G.7	Out and spoke a Scotish prince, And a weel spoke man was he: Here’s four and twenty o my braw troops, To bear thee companie. 99G.8	Away they gade, awa they rade, Away they rade so slie; There was not a maried man that day In Johnie’s companie. 99G.9	The first good town that they passed thro, They made their bells to ring; The next good town that they passed thro, They made their music sing. 99G.10	The next gude town that they passed thro, They made their drums beat round, The king and a’ his gay armies Admiring at the sound. 99G.11	When they came to the king’s court, They travelled round about, And there he spied his own true-love, At a window looking out. 99G.12	‘O fain wald I come down,’ she says, ‘Of that ye needna dout; But my garters they’re of cauld, cauld iron, And I can no win out. 99G.13	‘My garters they’re of cauld, cauld iron, And it is very cold; My breast-plate is of sturdy steel, Instead o beaten gold.’ 99G.14	Out and spoke the king himsell, And an angry man was he: The fairest lady in a’ my court, She goes with child to thee. 99G.15	‘If your old doughter be with child, As I trew weel she be, I’le make it heir of a’ my land, And her my gay lady.’ 99G.16	‘There is a Talliant in my court, This day he’s killed three; And gin the morn by ten o’clock He’ll kill thy men and thee.’ 99G.17	Johnie took sword into his hand, And walked cross the plain; There was many a weeping lady there, To see young Johnie slain. 99G.18	The Talliant, never knowing this, Now he’ll be Johnie’s dead, But, like unto a swallow swift, He flew out owre his head. 99G.19	Johnie was a valliant man, Weel taught in war was he, And on the point of his broad sword The Talliant stickit he. 99G.20	Johnie took sword into his hand, And walked cross the plain: ‘Are there here any moe of your English dogs That’s wanting to be slain? 99G.21	‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnie cries, ‘To wed my bride and me;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried, ‘To tell her tocher wi.’ 99G.22	‘I’m wanting none of your gold,’ he says, ‘As little of your gear; But give me just mine own true-love, I think I’ve won her dear.’ 99G.23	Johnie sets horn into his mouth, And he blew loud and schrill; The honour it’s to Scotland come, Sore against England’s will.
 
99H: Johnie Scott
 
99H.1	‘WHERE will I gett a bony boy, That would fain win hose and shoon, That will go on to yon palace, And hast him back again?’ 99H.2	‘Here am I, a bony boy, That would fain win hose and shoon, That will go on to yon palace, And haste me back again.’ 99H.3	‘When you come to yon palace, You’l run it round about; There you’l see a gay lady, At the window looking out. 99H.4	‘Give hir this shirt of silk, Hir own hand sewed the slive, And bid her come to good green woods, Spear no hir parents’ leave. 99H.5	‘Give hir this shirt of silk, boy, Hir own hand sewed the gare; You’l bid her come to good green woods, Love Johny, I’ll meet hir there.’ 99H.6	When he came to yon palace, He ran it round about, And there he saw a gay lady, At the window looking out. 99H.7	‘Take here this shirt of silk, lady, Your own hand sewed the slive; You’re biden come to good green woods, Spire no your parents’ leave. 99H.8	‘Take here this shirt of silk, lady, Your own hand sewed the gare; You’re biden come to good green woods, Love Johny’ll meet you there.’ 99H.9	‘The staunchens they are strong, boy, Dear, vow but they are stout! My feet they are in strong fetters, And how shall I win out? 99H.10	‘My garters is of the cold iron, Dear, vow but they are cold! And three splits of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten goold. 99H.11	‘But I will write a braud leter, And sign it with my hand, And I will send it to Love Johny, Weel may he understand.’ 99H.12	And she has wrote [a] braud leter, And signd it with hir hand, And sent it on to Love Jony, Weel did he understand. 99H.13	When he got this letter, A light laugh did he gie; But or he read it half down through, The salt tears blinded ’s ee. 99H.14	Says, I’ll awa to fair England, What ever may betide, And all is for the fair lady That lay close by my side. 99H.15	Out it spoke Jony’s mother, And she spoke ay through pride; Says, If ye go to fair England, Sir, better to you bide. 99H.16	When Jony was on his sadle set, And seemly to behold, Every tet o Love Jony’s hair Was like the threads of goold. 99H.17	When Jony was on his sadle set, And seemly for to see, There was not a maried man In a’ Jony’s company. 99H.18	The first town that they came till, They gard the bells be rung; The next town that they came till, They gard the mess bee sung. 99H.19	When they came to the king’s palace, The drums they did beat round, And the quien and her marys all Amased at the sound. 99H.20	‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry, Or James, our Scottish king? Or is it any noble lord That’s going a visiting?’ 99H.21	‘It’s not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James, our Scottish king; But it is Jack, the Little Scot, And Auchney is his name.’ 99H.22	‘If Auchney bee your name,’ he said, ‘As I trust weel it be, The fairest lady in all my court She goes with bairn to the.’ 99H.23	‘If she be with bairn,’ he said, ‘As I doubt not nor she be, I will make it heir oer all my land, And hir my gay lady.’ 99H.24	The king he swore a solemn oath, And a solemn oath swore he, ‘The morn, before I eat or drink, High hanged he shall be!’ * * * * * 99H.25	The king and his nobles all Went out into the plain, And the quen and hir marys all, To see Love Johny slain. 99H.26	They fought up, and they fought down, With swords of temperd steel, But not a drop of Johny’s blood In that day he did spill. 99H.27	Out they brought the Itilian, And a greecy ghost was he, But by the edge o Love Johny’s sword That Itilian did die. 99H.28	Johny’s taen his neat drawn sword, And stript it to the stran: ‘Is there any more of your English dogs That wants for to be slain?’ 99H.29	‘A clerck, a clerck,’ now says the king, ‘To sign her tocher free;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ said Love Johny, ‘To mary my dear and me. 99H.30	‘I fought not for your goold, your goold, I fought not for your gear, But I fought for my rose Mary, And vow! I’ve bought hir dear.’
 
99I: Johnie Scott
 
99I.1	JOHNIE is up to London gane, Three quarters o the year, And he is up to London gane, The king’s banner for to bear. 99I.2	He had na been in fair London A twalmonth and a day, Till the king’s ae daughter To Johnie gangs wi child. 99I.3	O word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king himsel Amang his nobles a’. * * * * * 99I.4	She has wrote a braid letter, She has wrote it tenderly, And she’s wrote a braid letter, To lat her Johnie see 99I.5	That her bower is very high, It’s aw weel walled about; Her feet are in the fetters strang, Her body looking out. 99I.6	Her garters are of cauld iron, And they are very cold; Her breist-plate is o the sturdy steel, Instead o the beaten gold. 99I.7	Whan he lookit the letter on, A licht lauch gaed he; But eer he read it til an end, The tear blindit his ee. 99I.8	‘I maun up to London gang, Whatever me betide, And louse that lady out o prison strang; She lay last by my side.’ 99I.9	Up spak Johnie’s ae best man, That stood by Johnie’s knie: Ye’ll get twenty four o my best men, To bear ye companie. 99I.10	When Johnie was in his saddle set, A pleasant sicht to see, There was na ae married man In Johnie’s companie. 99I.11	The first toun that he cam till, He made the mass be sung; The niest toun that he cam till, He made the bells be rung. 99I.12	When he cam to fair London, He made the drums gae round; The king and his nobles aw They marvelld at the sound. 99I.13	‘Is this the Duke of Winesberry, For James, the Scotish king; Or is it a young gentleman, That wants for to be in?’ 99I.14	‘It’s na the Duke of Winesberry, Nor James, the Scotish king; But it is a young gentleman, Buneftan is his name.’ 99I.15	Up spak the king himsel, An angry man was he: The morn eer I eat or drink Hie hangit sall he be. 99I.16	Up spak Johnie’s ae best man, That stood by Johnie’s knie: Afore our master he be slain We’ll aw fecht till we die. 99I.17	Up spak the king himsel, And up spak he: I have an Italian in my court That will fecht ye manifullie. 99I.18	‘If ye hae an Italian in your court, Fu fain wad I him see; If ye hae an Italian in your court, Ye may bring him here to me.’ 99I.19	The king and his nobles aw Went tripping doun the plain, Wi the queen and her maries aw, To see fair Johnie slain. 99I.20	Even anent the prison-door The battle did begin; . . . . . . . . 99I.21	They foucht up, and they foucht doun, Wi swerds o tempered steel, Til Johnie wi his gude braidswerd Made the Italian for to yield. 99I.22	He has kickd him with his foot, And he has kickd him oure the plain: ‘Onie mair Italians in your court Ye want for to be slain?’ 99I.23	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king cried, ‘To sign her tocher-fee;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnie said, ‘To marry her and me. 99I.24	‘For I want nane o your gowd, Nor nane o your weel won fee; I only want your fair dochter, I have won her mannfullie.’
 
99J: Johnie Scott
 
99J.1	O word is to the queen hersel, In parlour whare she sat, That the king’s dochter goes wi child To Jock, that little Scot. 99J.2	O word is to the king himsel, And an angry man was he; Says, I will put her in cold prison, And hunger her till she dee. 99J.3	The ladie was laid in cold prison, By the king, a grievous man; And up and starts a little boy, Upon her window-stane. 99J.4	Says, Here’s a silken shift, ladye, Your ane hand sewed the sleeve, And ye maun gang to yon greenwud, And of your freends speir na leave. 99J.5	‘My bouer is very hie,’ said the lady, ‘And it’s wondrous hie round about; My feet are lockit in the iron fetters, And how can I get out? 99J.6	‘But I will write a braid letter, And seal it tenderlie, And send it to yon greenwud, And let young Johnie see.’ 99J.7	O Johnie’s to his father gane, And til him did say, O I maun up to London, father, And fecht for that lady gay. 99J.8	His father spak but ae word, Says, I speak it in time; For an ye gang to London, Johnie, I fear your coming hame. 99J.9	And out and spak anither youth, And a pretty youth was he: Afore I see young Johnie dung I’ll fecht for him till I dee. * * * * * 99J.10	He has wallowd it, he has wallowd it, He’s wallowd it again; Cries, Onie mae o your English dogs That wants for to be slain? 99J.11	He set the horn until his mouth, And he has blawn baith loud and shill; The victor’s doun to Scotland gane, Richt sair against their will.
 
99K: Johnie Scott
 
99K.1	JOHNIERR’rrS up to England gane, Three quarters o a year; Johnie’s up to England gane, The king’s banner to bear. 99K.2	He had not in fair England been A month ’twas barely ane, When the fairest lady o the court To Johnie wi child is gane. 99K.3	Word is to the kitchen gane, And word’s gane to the ha; Word’s gane to the high, high rooms, Among the nobles a’. 99K.4	And word o’t to the king is gane, In the chamber where he sat, His only daughter goes wi child To Johnie, the Little Scot. 99K.5	‘O if she be wi child,’ he says, ‘As I trow weel she be, I’ll lock her up in strong prison, And punish her till she dee.’ 99K.6	Then she has wrote a long letter, And seald it without a blot, And she has sent it to fair Scotland, To Johnie, the Little Scot. 99K.7	The first line that he did read, In laughter loud was he; But or he gat the hindmost read The tear blindit his ee. 99K.8	‘Get ready for me the black, black steed, Get ready for me the brown, And saddle to me the swiftest horse Eer carried man to town.’ 99K.9	Whan he cam to Edinburgh town, He made the bells to ring, And when he cam to merry Carlisle, He made the monks to sing. 99K.10	When he cam to the king’s gates, He made his drums beat round; The king bot and his nobles a’ They wonderd at the sound. 99K.11	‘Is this [the] King of France,’ he cried, ‘Or is’t the King of Spain? Or is it Johnie, the Little Scot, That’s wanting to be slain?’ 99K.12	‘It’s neither the King of France,’ he said, ‘Nor is’t the King of Spain; But it is Johnie, the Little Scot, That’s come to claim his ain.’ * * * * * 99K.13	They foucht it ance, they foucht it twice, They foucht it oure again, Till draps o blood, like draps o rain, War rinning to the plain. 99K.14	Then Johnie drew a nut-brown brand, And strook it oure the plain, Saying, Are there onie mae o your Englishmen That’s wanting to be slain? 99K.15	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried, ‘To sign her tocher-fee;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnie cried, ‘To marry my love and me. 99K.16	‘I’ll hae nane o your gowd,’ he says, ‘As little o your gear; But I’ll hae her, my ain true-love, For I’m sure I’ve coft her dear.’
 
99L: Johnie Scott
 
99L.1	JOHNNIE SCOTTRR’rrS a hunting gane, To England’s woods sae wild; The fairest flower of all England To Johnnie provd big with child. 99L.2	It’s word’s going up, and word’s going down, Going to the king’s bower, That his dear daughter was with child, That was his daily flower. 99L.3	‘If she be with child, As I suppose she be, I’ll put her into prison strong, And hunger her till she die.’ 99L.4	The king he wrote a letter broad, And sealed it with his hands, And sent it down to Johnnie Scott, In Scotland where he stands. 99L.5	The first line that Johnnie lookd on, A merry man was he; The next line that he lookd on, The salt tears blinded his eye. 99L.6	Out then spoke his old father, Who neer spoke out of time: And if you go to England, son, I doubt your coming home. 99L.7	Out then spoke our Scottish James, Sitting low by Johnnie’s knee: Fifteen score of my life-guards Shall ride in your company. 99L.8	When Johnnie came to the king’s court He rode it round about, And there he spied his own true-love, From the jail-window looking out. 99L.9	‘Come down, true-love,’ said Johnnie Scott, ‘And now you’ll ride behind me; Before I leave fair England Some life shall die for thee.’ 99L.10	‘My feet are in the fetters strong, I’m belted round about; My breastplate is of the stubborn steel, Instead of beaten gold.’ 99L.11	When Johnnie came to the king’s bower He tinkled at the ring; Who was so ready as the king himself To let proud Johnnie in! 99L.12	‘Are ye the Duke of Marlborough,’ he said, ‘Or James, our Scottish king? Or are you my bastard son, From Scotland new come home?’ 99L.13	‘I’m not the Duke of Marlborough,’ he said, ‘Nor James, our Scottish king; But I am just a good Scotch lad, And Johnnie Scott’s my name.’ 99L.14	‘If you be Johnnie Scott,’ says he, ‘As I suppose you be, The fairest flower in all England Is big with child by thee.’ 99L.15	‘If she be big with child,’ said he, ‘As I hope her to be, I’ll make it heir of all my lands, And she my gay lady.’ 99L.16	‘O no,’ then the king he crys, ‘There’s no such thing will be; There is an Italian in my court, And by his hands ye’ll die.’ 99L.17	‘I’ll stand my ground,’ says Johnnie Scott, ‘I’ll stand it till I die; I’ll stand my ground,’ says Johnnie Scott, ‘One foot I’d scorn to fly.’ 99L.18	When the Italian was brought out, A fearsome sight was he; Between his brows three women’s spang, His shoulders was yards three. 99L.19	As Johnnie, being a crafty lad, Well tried at the sword was he, Upon the point of his broad sword He made the Italian die.
 
99M: Johnie Scott
 
99M.1	LORD JOHNNIERR’rrS up to England gane, Three quarters of an year; Lord Johnnie’s up to England gone, The king’s banner to bear. 99M.2	He had not been in fair England, Three quarters he was not, Till the king’s eldest daughter Goes with child to Lord Johnnie Scott. 99M.3	Word has to the kitchen gone, And word’s gone to the hall, And word’s gone to the high, high room, Among the nobles all. 99M.4	And word has gaen to the king himsel, In his chamber where he sat, That his eldest daughter goes wi child To good Lord Johnnie Scott. 99M.5	‘Gin that be true,’ the king replied, ‘As I suppose it be, I’ll put her in a prison strong, And starve her till she die.’ * * * * * 99M.6	‘O where will I get a little page, That will win baith hose and shoon, And run into fair Scotland, And tell my love to come?’ * * * * * 99M.7	‘What news, what news, my little page? What news hae ye brought to me?’ ‘Bad news, bad news, my master dear, The king’s daughter maun die. 99M.8	‘Here is a shirt, O master dear, Her ain hand sewd the sleeve; She bad me run and tell ye this, And ask nae person’s leave. 99M.9	‘They have her in a prison strong, And in a dungeon deep; Her feet are in the fetters strong, And they’ve left her to weep. 99M.10	‘Her feet are in the cold, cold iron, Instead of beaten gold; Her garters are of the cauld, cauld iron, And O but they are cold!’ * * * * * 99M.11	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king did cry, ‘To cry the toucher-fee;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ Lord Johnnie cry’d, ‘To join my love and me. 99M.12	‘I want none of your gold,’ he said, ‘Nor as little want I a fee; But I do want your daughter dear, My wedded wife to be.’
 
99N: Johnie Scott
 
99N.1	LORD JOHN he’s on to England gone, To England gone is he; Love John he’s on to England gone, The king’s banneret to be. 99N.2	He hadna been in fair England O but a little while, Till faen in love wi the king’s daughter, And to him she’s with chile. 99N.3	Now word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the king’s high court, And that was warst of a’. 99N.4	Out then spake the king himsell, An angry man was he: I’ll put her in prison strong, And starve her till she die. 99N.5	Love John he’s on to Scotland gone, I wat he’s on wi speed; Love John he’s on to Scotland gone, And as good was his need. 99N.6	He hadna been in fair Scotland But a very short tide, Till he minded on the damsel That lay last by his side. 99N.7	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy, Will win baith meat and fee, That will run on to fair England, And haste him back to me?’ 99N.8	‘O here am I, a bonny boy, Will win baith meat and fee, That will run on to fair England, And haste him back to thee.’ 99N.9	‘Where ye find the grass grow green, Ye’ll slack your shoes and rin; And when ye find the brigs broken, Ye’ll bend your bow and swim. 99N.10	‘And when ye come to the king’s high court, Ye’ll rin it round about, And there ye’ll see a lady gay, At a window looking out. 99N.11	‘Bid her take this shirt of silk, Her ain hand sewed the sleeve; Bid her come to good green-wood, At her parents spier nae leave. 99N.12	‘Bid her take this shirt of silk, Her ain hand sewed the gair; Bid her come to good green-wood, Love John he waits her there.’ 99N.13	Where he found the grass grow green, He slackd his shoes and ran; Where he fan the brigs broken, He bent his bow and swam. 99N.14	When he came to the king’s high court, He ran it round about; And there he saw the lady gay, At the window looking out. 99N.15	‘Ye’re bidden take this shirt of silk, Yere ain hand sewed the sleeve; Ye’re bidden come to good green-wood, At your parents spier nae leave. 99N.16	‘Ye’re bidden take this shirt of silk, Yere ain hand sewed the gair; Ye’re bidden come to good green-wood, Love John he waits you there.’ 99N.17	‘My feet are in the fetters strong, Instead of silken sheen; My breast-plate’s of the cold iron, Instead of gold so fine. 99N.18	‘But I will write a broad letter, And seal it with my hand, And send it off to my Love Johnny, And let him understand.’ 99N.19	The first line that he looked on, A loud laughter laught he; But ere he read it to the end, The tear blinded his ee. 99N.20	‘O I will on to fair England, Whatever me betide, For to relieve the damsel That lay last by my side.’ 99N.21	Out it spake his father dear, A noble lord was he: If ye gang to England, Johnny, Ye’ll neer come back to me. 99N.22	Out it spake a noble lord, A noble lord, I wat, was he: Fifteen of our Scottish lords Will bear his honour companie. 99N.23	The first town that they eer came till, They gart the bells be rung; The next town that they came till, They gart the mass be sung. 99N.24	And when they came to the king’s court, They gart the trumpet soun, Till the king and all his merry young men Did marvel at the tune. 99N.25	‘Is this the Duke of Marlborough, Or James, the Scottish king? Or is it else some Scottish lord, Come here a visiting?’ 99N.26	‘It’s not the Duke of Marlborough, Nor James, the Scottish king: It is Love John of fair Scotland, Come here a visiting.’ 99N.27	‘If this be John of fair Scotland, He’s dearly welcome to me; The morn ere he eat or drink, High hanged he shall be.’ 99N.28	He’s taen his broadsword in his hand, And stripd it oer a stane; Then thro and thro the king’s high court With broadsword now is gane. 99N.29	They fought it up, they fought it down, Till they were weary men, When the blood, like drops of rain, Came trickling down the plain. 99N.30	Out it spake the king himsel, Ane angry man was he: I have ane Italian within my court Will fight ye three and three. 99N.31	Out it came that ae Italian, As pale as death was he, And on the point of Johnny’s sword That ae Italian did die. 99N.32	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried, ‘And seal her tocher wi;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ Lord John he cried, ‘That we may married be. 99N.33	‘For I want neither gold,’ he said, ‘Nor do I want your gear; But I do want my ain true-love, For I have bought her dear.’
 
99O: Johnie Scott
 
 
 99O.1	* * * *
 	out then spak his auld faither,
 	And a blythe auld man was he,
 	Saying, I’ll send five hunner o my brisk young men,
 	To bear Johnie companie.
 99O.2	And when they were on saddle set,
 	They were a pleasant sight for to see,
 	For there was na ae married man
 	In a’ Johnie’s companie.
 99O.3	And when they were on saddle set,
 	They were a pleasant sight to behold,
 	For the hair that hung down Johnie’s back
 	Was like the links of gold.
 99O.4	And when they came to Newcastle,
 	They reined their horses about;
 	Wha did he see but his ain Jeanie,
 	At a window looking out!
 99O.5	‘Come doun, come doun, Jeanie,’ he says,
 	‘Come doun, come doun to me;’
 	‘I canna come doun, Johnie,’ she says,
 	‘For King Edward has bolted me.
 99O.6	‘My stockings are o the heavy iron,
 	I feel them very cold;
 	And my breast-plate’s o the sturdy steel,
 	Instead of beaten gold.’
 	* * * * *
 99O.7	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	‘I’ll make it heir o a’ my lands,
 	And her my gay lady.’
 99O.8	‘There is an Italian in this court;
 	This day he has slain knights three;
 	And before tomorrow at eight o’clock
 	The Italian will slay thee.’

 
 
99P: Johnie Scott
 
 
 99P.1	JOHNIERR’rrS up to England gone,
 	Three quarters of a year;
 	Johnie’s up to England gone,
 	The king’s banner to bear.
 99P.2	He hadna been in fair England
 	A month but only three,
 	The king he had but one dochter,
 	And she fell in love with he.
 99P.3	And word is up, and word is down,
 	And word is to the ha,
 	And word is to the king’s court gane,
 	Amang the nobles a’.
 99P.4	Now word is to the king himsell,
 	On throne where he did sit,
 	That his ae dochter goes wi child
 	To John that little Scot.

 
 
99[Q]: Johnie Scott
 
99[Q].1	Young Johnie’s up to England gane Three quarters of a year; Young Johnie’s up to England gane, The king’s banner for to bear. 99[Q.2]	But he had not in England been The one half of the time Till the fairest laidy in all the court Was going with child to him. 99[Q.3]	Word unto the kitchen’s gane, And word’s to the hall, And word unto the court has gane, Among the nobles all. 99[Q.4]	And word unto the chamber’s gane, The place where the king sat, That his only daughter is with child To Johnie, the little Scott. 99[Q.5]	‘If this be true,’ then sais the king, ‘As I true well it be, I’ll put hir in a strong castle, And hungre hir till she dee.’ 99[Q.6]	Hir breast-plate was made of iron, In place of the beaten gold, A belt of steel about hir waist, And O but she was cold! 99[Q.7]	‘O where will I get a pritty little boy, That will win hoes ahd shoon, That will go doun to yonder lee And tell young Johnie to come?’ 99[Q.8]	‘Here am I, a pritty little boy, That will win hoes ahd shoon, And I’ll go doun to yonder lee And tell young Johnie to come.’ 99[Q.9]	She has wrote a brod letter, And seald it tenderly, And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott, That lay on yonder lee. 99[Q.10]	When Johnie first the letter got, A blith, blith man was be; But or he read the half of it The salt teer blind Johnie’s ee. 99[Q.11]	‘I will go to fair England,’ says he, ‘What ever may betide, For to releave that gay laidy Who last lay by my side.’ 99[Q.12]	Up then spoke his old mother, A sorrifull woman was she; ‘If you go to England, John, I’ll never see you mare.’ 99[Q.13]	Up then spoke Johnie’s father, His head was growing gray; ‘If you go to England, John, O fair you well for me!’ 99[Q.14] up then spoke Johnie’s uncle, Our Scottish king was he; ‘Five hundred of my merry men Shall bear you company.’ 99[Q.15]	When Johnie was mounted on his steed He looked wondorous bold, The hair that oer his shouldiers hang Like threeds of yellow gold. 99[Q.16]	‘Now come along with me, my men, O come along with me, We’l blow thier castles in the air, And set free my gay laidy.’ 99[Q.17]	The first gay town that they came to, Made mass for to be sung; The nixt gay town that they came to, Made bells for to be rung.’ 99[Q.18]	But when they came to London town, They made the drums beat round, Who made the king and all his court To wonder at the sound. 99[Q.19]	‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry, Or James the Scottish king? Or is it a young gentleman To England new come home?’ 99[Q.20]	‘It is not the Duke of Mulberry, Nor James the Scottish [king]; But is a young gentleman, MacNaughten is his name.’ 99[Q.21]	‘If MacNaughten be your name,’ says the king, ‘As I true well it be, Before the morn at eight o clock Dead hanged you shall be.’ 99[Q.22]	Up bespoke one of Johnie’s little boys, And a well-spoke boy was he; ‘Before we see our master hangd, We’l all fight till we dee.’ 99[Q.23]	‘Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy, That is well spoke of thee; But I have a champian in my bower That will fight you three by three.’ 99[Q.24]	Up then spoke Johnie himself, And he spoke manfully; ‘If it please your Majesty, May I this champian see?’ 99[Q.25]	The king and all his nobles then Rode down unto the plain, The queen and all [her] gay marries, To see young Johnie slain. 99[Q.26]	When the champian came out of the bower, He looked at Johnie with disdain; But upon the tope of Johnie’s brodsword This champian soon was slain. 99[Q.27]	He fought on, and Johnie fought on, With swords of tempered steel, And ay the blood like dropes of rain Came trinkling down thier hiel. 99[Q.28]	The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave, He brought him till his knee; The nixt stroke that Johnie gave, He clove his head in twa. 99[Q.29]	He swapt his sword on every side, And turned him on the plain: ‘Have you any more of your English dogs That wants for to be slain?’ 99[Q.30]	‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king he crys, ‘I’ll seal her taucher free;’ ‘A priest, a priest!’ the queen she crys, ‘For weded they shall be.’ 99[Q.31]	‘I’ll have none of your [gold],’ say[s] he, ‘Nor any of your white money; But I will have my ain true-love; This day she has cost me dear.’
 
99[R]: Johnie Scott
 
99[R].1	Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone Three quarters of an year; Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone, The king’s banner to bear. 99[R.2]	He had not been in fair England, Three quarters he was not, Till the king’s eldest daughter Goes with child to Lord Jonnie Scott. 99[R.3]	Word is to the kitchen gone, And word’s gone to the hall, And word’s gone to the high, high room, Among the nobles all. 99[R.4]	Word’s gone to the king himsel, In the chamber where he sat, That his eldest daughter goes with child To Lord Jonnie Scott. 99[R.5]	‘If that be true,’ the king replied, ‘As I suppose it be, I’ll put her in a prison strong, And starve her till she die.’ 99[R.6]	‘O where will I get a little boy, That has baith hose and shoon, That will run into fair Scotland, And tell my love to come?’ 99[R.7]	‘O here is a shirt, little boy, Her own hand sewed the sleeve; Tell her to come to good greenwood, Not ask her father’s leave.’ 99[R.8]	‘What news, what news, my little boy? What news have ye brought to me?’ ‘No news, no news, my master dear, But what I will tell thee. 99[R.9]	‘O here is a shirt, madam, Your awn hand sewed the sleeve; You must gang to good greenwood, Not ask your parents’ leave.’ 99[R.10]	‘My doors they are all shut, little boy, My windows round about; My feet is in the fetters strong, And I cannot get out. 99[R.11]	‘My garters are of the black, black iron, And O but they are cold! My breast-plate’s o the strong, strong steel, Instead of beaten gold. 99[R.12]	‘But tell him for to bide away, And not come near to be, For there’s a champion in my father’s ha Will fight him till he dee.’ 99[R.13]	‘What news, what news, my little boy? What news have ye to me?’ ‘No news, no news, my master dear, But what I will tell thee. 99[R.14]	‘Her doors they are all shut, kind sir, Her windows round about; Her feet are in the fetters strong, And she cannot get out. 99[R.15]	‘Her garters are of the black, black iron, And O but they are cold! Her breast-plate’s of the strong, strong steel, Instead of beaten gold. 99[R.16]	‘She bids you for to bide away, And not go near to see, For there’s a champion in her father’s house Will fight you till you die.’ 99[R.17]	Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie’s mother, But she spoke out of time; ‘O if you go to fair England I fear you will be slain.’ 99[R.18]	But up nd spoke a little boy, Just at Lord Jonnie’s knee, ‘Before you lose your ain true-love, We’ll a’ fight till we die.’ 99[R.19]	The first church-town that they came to, They made the bells be rung; The next church-town that they came to, The[y] gard the mass be sung. 99[R.20]	The next church-town that they came to, They made the drums go through; The king and all his nobles stood Amazing for to view. 99[R.21]	‘Is this any English gentleman, Or James our Scottish king? Or is it a Scottish gentleman, To England new come in?’ 99[R.22]	‘No, ’tis no English gentleman, Nor James the Scottish king; But is is a Scottish gentleman, Lord Jonnie is my name.’ 99[R.23]	‘If Lord Jonnie be your name, As I suppose it be, I have a champion in my hall Will fight you till you die.’ 99[R.24]	‘O go fetch out that gurrley fellow, Got fetch him out to me; Before I lose my ain true-love, We’ll all fight till we die.’ 99[R.25]	Then out and came that gurrly fellow, A gurrly fellow was he, With twa lang sclasps between his eyes, His shoulders there were three. 99[R.26]	The king and all his nobles stood To see the battle gained; The queen and all her maries stood To see Lord Jonnie slain. 99[R.27]	The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave, He wounded very sore; The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave, The champion could fight no more. 99[R.28]	He’s taen a whistle out from his side, He’s blawn a blast loud and shill: ‘Is there any more of your English dogs To come here and be killed?’ 99[R.29]	‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king did say, ‘To cry her toucher free;’ ‘A priest, a priest!’ Lord Jonnie [did] cry ‘To wed my love and me. 99[R.30]	’Twas for none of your monnie I fought, Nor for none of your world’s gear; But it was for my own true-love; I think I’ve bought her dear.’
 
99[S]: Johnie Scott
 
99[S].1	O Johny’s up thro England gane Three quarters of a year, An Johny’s up thro England gane, The king’s banner to bear. 99[S.2]	He had not been in London town But a very little while Till the fairest lady in the court By Johny gaes wi child. 99[S.3]	But word is to the kitchin gane, An word’s gane to the ha, An word’s gane to yon high, high court, Amang our nobles a’. 99[S.4]	An when the king got wit o that An angry man was he: ‘On the highest tree in a’ the wood High hangit shall he be! 99[S.5]	‘An for the lady, if it’s true, As I do fear it be, I’ll put her in yon castle strong, An starve her till she die.’ 99[S.6]	But Johny had a clever boy, A clever boy was he, O Johny had a clever boy, His name was Gregory. 99[S.7]	‘O run, my boy, to yon castle, All windows round about, An there you’l see a fair lady, At a window looking out. 99[S.8]	Ye maun bid her take this silken sark-+- Her ain hand sewd the gare-+- An bid her come to the green wood, For Johny waits her there.’ 99[S.9]	Away he ran to yon castle, All windows round about, Where he espy’d a lady fair, At a window looking out. 99[S.10]	‘O madam, there’s a silken sark-+- Your ain hand sewd the gare-+- An haste ye to the good green wood, For Johny waits you there.’ 99[S.11]	‘O I’m confin’d in this castle, Though lighted round about; My feet are bound with fetters strong, That I cannot win out. 99[S.12]	‘My gartens are of stubborn ern, Alas! baith stiff and cold; My breastplate of the sturdy steel, Instead of beaten gold. 99[S.13]	‘Instead of silken stays, my boy, With steel I’m lac’d about; My feet are bound with fetters strong, And how can I get out? 99[S.14]	‘But tell him he must stay at home, Nor venture here for me; Else an Italian in our court Must fight him till he die.’ 99[S.15]	When Johny he got wit o that, An angry man was he: ‘But I will gae wi a’ my men My dearest dear to see.’ 99[S.16]	But up then spake a noble lord, A noble lord was he; ‘The best of a’ my merry men Shall bear you company.’ 99[S.17]	But up then spake his auld mother, I wat wi meikle pain; ‘If ye will gae to London, son, Ye’l neer come back again.’ 99[S.18]	But Johny turnd him round about, I wat wi meikle pride: ‘But I will gae to London town, Whatever may betide.’ 99[S.19]	When they were a’ on horseback set, How comely to behold! For a’ the hairs o Johny’s head Did shine like threads o gold. 99[S.20]	The first ae town that they gaed through, They gart the bells be rung, But the neist town that they gaed through They gart the mass be sung. 99[S.21]	But when they gaed to London town The trumpets loud were blown, Which made the king and a’ his court To marvel at the sound. 99[S.22]	‘Is this the Duke of Morebattle? Or James the Scottish king?’ ‘No, sire, I’m a Scottish lord, McNaughten is my name.’ 99[S.23]	‘If you be that young Scottish lord, As I believe you be, The fairest lady in my court She gaes wi child by thee.’ 99[S.24]	‘And if she be with child by me, As I think sae may be, It shall be heir of a’ my land, And she my gay lady.’ 99[S.25]	‘O no, O no,’ the king reply’d, ‘That thing can never be, Fore ere the morn at ten o clock I’ll slay thy men an thee. 99[S.26]	‘A bold Italian in my court Has vanquishd Scotchmen three, And ere the morn at ten o clock I’m sure he will slay thee.’ 99[S.27]	But up the spake young Johny’s boy, A clever boy was he; ‘O master, ere that you be slain, There’s mae be slain than thee.’ 99[S.28]	The king and all his court appeard Neist morning on the plain, The queen and all her ladies came To see youn[g] Johny slain. 99[S.29]	Out then stepd the Italian bold, And they met on the green; Between his shoulders was an ell, A span between his een. 99[S.30]	When Johny in the list appeard, Sae young and fair to see, A prayer staw frae ilka heart, A tear frae ilka ee. 99[S.31]	And lang they fought, and sair they fought, Wi swords o temperd steel, Until the blood like draps o rain Came trickling to their heal. 99[S.32]	But Johny was a wannle youth, And that he weel did show; For wi a stroke o his broad sword He clove his head in two. 99[S.33]	‘A priest, a priest!’ then Johny cry’d, ‘To wed my love and me;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king reply’d, ‘To write her tocher free.’
 
99[T]: Johnie Scott
 
99[T].1	Johnny’s gane up to fair England Three quarters of a year, And Johny’s gane up to fair England, The king’s broad banner to bear. 99[T.2]	He had not been in fair England, Even but a little while, When that the king’s ae dochter To Johnny gaes wi child. 99[T.3]	And word is gane to the kitchen, And word’s gane to the ha, And word’s gane to the high, high court, Amang the nobles a’. 99[T.4]	And word is gane unto the king, In the chair where he sat, That his ae dochter’s wi bairn To John the little Scott. 99[T.5]	‘If that I thought she is wi bairn, As I true weel she be, I’ll put her up in high prison, And hunger her till she die.’ 99[T.6]	‘There is a silken sark, Johnny, My ain sell sewed the gare, And if ye come to tak me hence Ye need nae taken mare. 99[T.7]	‘For I am up in high prison, And O but it is cold! My garters are o the cold, cold iron, In place o the beaten gold.’ 99[T.8]	‘Is this the Duke o York?’ they said, ‘Or James the Scottish king? Or is it John the little Scott, Frae Scotland new come hame?’ 99[T.9]	‘I have an Italian in my bower, This day he has eaten three; Before I either eat or sleep The fourth man ye shall be.’ 99[T.10]	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Between his een there was two spans, His shoulders ells were three. 99[T.11]	Johnny drew forth his good braid glaive And slate it on the plain: ‘Is there any more of your Italian dogs That wanteth to be slain?’ 99[T.12]	‘A clerk, a clerk!’ her father cry’d ‘To register this deed;’ ‘A priest, a priest!’ her mother cry’d, ‘To marry them wi speed.’


 
100A: Willie o Winesberry
 
100A.1	THE king he hath been a prisoner, A prisoner lang in Spain, O And Willie o the Winsbury Has lain lang wi his daughter at hame. O 100A.2	‘What aileth thee, my daughter Janet, Ye look so pale and wan? Have ye had any sore sickness, Or have ye been lying wi a man? Or is it for me, your father dear, And biding sae lang in Spain?’ 100A.3	‘I have not had any sore sickness, Nor yet been lying wi a man; But it is for you, my father dear, In biding sae lang in Spain.’ 100A.4	‘Cast ye off your berry-brown gown, Stand straight upon the stone, That I may ken ye by yere shape, Whether ye be a maiden or none.’ 100A.5	She’s coosten off her berry-brown gown, Stooden straight upo yon stone; Her apron was short, and her haunches were round, Her face it was pale and wan. 100A.6	‘Is it to a man o might, Janet? Or is it to a man of fame? Or is it to any of the rank robbers That’s lately come out o Spain?’ 100A.7	‘It is not to a man of might,’ she said, ‘Nor is it to a man of fame; But it is to William of Winsburry; I could lye nae langer my lane.’ 100A.8	The king’s called on his merry men all, By thirty and by three: ‘Go fetch me William of Winsbury, For hanged he shall be.’ 100A.9	But when he cam the king before, He was clad o the red silk; His hair was like to threeds o gold. And his skin was as white as milk. 100A.10	‘It is nae wonder,’ said the king, ‘That my daughter’s love ye did win; Had I been a woman, as I am a man, My bedfellow ye should hae been. 100A.11	‘Will ye marry my daughter Janet, By the truth of thy right hand? I’ll gie ye gold, I’ll gie ye money, And I’ll gie ye an earldom o land.’ 100A.12	‘Yes, I’ll marry yere daughter Janet, By the truth of my right hand; But I’ll hae nane o yer gold, I’ll hae nane o yer money, Nor I winna hae an earldom o land. 100A.13	‘For I hae eighteen corn-mills, Runs all in water clear, And there’s as much corn in each o them As they can grind in a year.’
 
100B: Willie o Winesberry
 
 
 100B.*	* * *
 	‘WHAT aileth ye, my dochter Dysmill,
 	Ye look sae pale and wan?
 	Hae ye had ony sair sickness,
 	Or ill luve wi a man?
 100B.2	‘Cast aff, cast aff your bony brown goun,
 	And lay’t down on the stane,
 	And I sall tell ye ay or no
 	Ye hae layn wi a man.’
 100B.3	She has taen aff her bony brown gown,
 	She has laid it on the stane;
 	Her waist was big, her side was round,
 	Her fair colour was gane.
 100B.4	‘Now is it to a man of micht,
 	Or to a man of mean?
 	Or is it to the ranke robber
 	That robs upon the main?’
 100B.5	‘O it’s nor to a man of micht,
 	Nor to a man of mean;
 	But it’s to Willie Winchberrie,
 	That came frae France and Spain.’
 100B.6	The king he’s turnd him round about,
 	An angry man was he:
 	‘Gar bring to me your fals leman,
 	Wha sall high hanged be.’
 100B.7	Then Dysmill turnd her round about,
 	The tear blinded her ee:
 	‘Gin ye begin to hang, father,
 	Ye maun begin wi mee.’
 100B.8	When Willie he cam to the king,
 	His coat was o the silk;
 	His hair was like the thread o gowd,
 	His skin white as the milk.
 100B.9	‘Ne wonder, ne wonder,’ quoth the king,
 	‘My dochter shoud like ye;
 	Gin ye were a woman, as ye’re a man,
 	My bedfellow ye sould be.
 100B.10	‘Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,
 	By the truth o your right hand?
 	Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,
 	And be a lord o the land?’

 
 
100C: Willie o Winesberry
 
100C.1	THE king has been long seven years away, Long seven years away frae hame; Our king has been long seven years away, A hunting oer in Spain. * * * * * 100C.2	‘What aileth thee, my ae daughter, Thou lookst so pale and wan? Hast thou had any sore sickness, Or hast thou loved man?’ 100C.3	‘I have not had any sore sickness, To make me look sae wan; But it is for your own majestie, You staid sae lang in Spain.’ 100C.4	‘Cast aff, cast aff thy silken gown, And lay it on yon stane, And I’ll tell to thee if with child you be, Or if ye be with nane.’ 100C.5	She’s casten aff her costly gown, That’s made o the silk sae fine; Her stays were sae strait she could na loot, And her fair colour was wan. 100C.6	‘Oh is it to any mighty man? Or any lord of fame? Or is it to the rank robbers That I sent out o Spain?’ 100C.7	‘It is no to the rank robbers That you sent out o Spain; But it is to Thomas of Winsbury, For I dought na lie my lane.’ 100C.8	‘If it be to Lord Thomas,’ he says, ‘It’s hanged shall he be:’ ‘If you hang Thomas of Winsbury, You’ll get na mair gude o me.’ 100C.9	The king’s called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and three; Lord Thomas should hae been the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he. 100C.10	‘No wonder, no wonder,’ the king he said, ‘My daughter loved thee; For wert thou a woman, as thou art a man, My bedfellow thou shouldst be. 100C.11	‘O will you marry my daughter dear, By the faith of thy right hand? And thou shalt reign, when I am dead, The king over my whole land.’ 100C.12	‘I will marry your daughter dear, With my heart, yea and my hand; But it never shall be that Lord Winsbury Shall rule oer fair Scotland.’ 100C.13	He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself on a dapple-grey, And made her a lady of as much land She could ride in a whole summer day.
 
100D: Willie o Winesberry
 
 
 100D.1	THERE was a lady fine and gay,
 	She was so neat and trim;
 	She went unto her own garden-wall,
 	To see her own ships come in.
 100D.2	And there she spied her daughter Jane,
 	Who lookd so pale and wan:
 	‘What, have you had some long sickness,
 	Or lain with some young man?’
 100D.3	‘No, I have had no long sickness,
 	Nor lain with no young man:’
 	Her petticoats they were so short,
 	She was full nine months gone.
 100D.4	‘Oh is it by some nobleman?
 	Or by some man of fame?
 	Or is it by Johnny Barbary,
 	That’s lately come from Spain?’
 100D.5	‘No, it is by no nobleman,
 	Nor by no man of fame;
 	But it is by Johnny Barbary,
 	That’s lately come from Spain.’
 100D.6	Then she calld down her merry men,
 	By one, by two, by three;
 	Johnny Barbary used to be the first,
 	But now the last came he.
 100D.7	‘Oh will you take my daughter Jane,
 	And wed her out of hand?
 	And you shall dine and sup with me,
 	And be heir of my land.’
 100D.8	‘Yes, I will take your daughter Jane,
 	And wed her out of hand;
 	And I will dine and sup with you,
 	But I do not want your land.’
 100D.9	Then she calld down her merry men,
 	With a shrill and a pleasant voice:
 	‘Come, let us all now mery be,
 	Since she has made such a happy choice.’

 
 
100E: Willie o Winesberry
 
 
 100E.*	* * *
 	‘OH daughter, oh daughter,’ her father he said,
 	‘What makes you look so pale?
 	. . . . .
 	Or are you in love with any man?’
 100E.2	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	‘But if it be one of my own sailor lads,
 	High hanged he shall be.’
 100E.3	Johnnie Barbour he cam doun the stair,
 	His shirt was of the silk;
 	His two bonnie black een were rolling in his head,
 	And his skin was as white as milk.
 100E.4	‘Oh are you ready to marry my daughter,
 	And take her by the hand,
 	And to eat and drink with me at the table,
 	And be heir of all my land?’
 100E.5	‘Oh it’s I am ready to marry your daughter,
 	And take her by the hand,
 	And to eat and drink with her at the table,
 	And to fight for all your land.’

 
 
100F: Willie o Winesberry
 
100F.1	OUR king hath been a poor prisoner, And a poor prisoner in Spain; O When seven long years was past and gone, Our Scotish king came hame.O 100F.2	As he was riding along the way, He met with his dear dochter: ‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter dear, Thou looks so pale and wan? 100F.3	‘Have ye had any sore sickness, Or have ye lovd a man? Or is it for me, my dochter dear, I have been so long in Spain?’ 100F.4	‘I have had no sore sickness, Nor yet have I loved a man; But it is for you, my father dear, Thou’ve been so long in Spain.’ 100F.5	‘Cast aff, cast aff thy brown silk gown, And spread it on yonder stone, And I will tell you by and by Whether thou art a maid or none.’ 100F.6	She’s coosten off her brown silk gown, And spread it on yonder stone, And her belly was big, and her face pale and wan, And she was about half gone. 100F.7	‘Is it to a man o micht? Or to a man of fame? Or is it to one of the rank rebels That I sent out of Spain?’ 100F.8	‘It is not to a man of micht, Nor to a man of fame, Nor yet to one of the rank rebels That ye sent out o Spain; But it is to Willie o Winsberry, Thy very own serving-man.’ 100F.9	‘If it be to Willie o Winsberry, As I trew well it be, Gin the morn at ten o the clock It’s hanged shall he be.’ 100F.10	As the king was riding up the gate He met Willie clothed in scarlet red, And his hair was as yellow as the beam, beam gold, And his breast as white as milk. 100F.11	‘No wonder, no wonder,’ quo the king, ‘My dochter luvit thee; For if thou was a woman, as thou’rt a man, My bedfellow thou should be.’ 100F.12	The king called down his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three; Sweet Willie should ha been the foremost man, But the hindmost man drew he. 100F.13	‘Will you take my dochter Jean, By the faith of her richt hand? And you shall sup and dine with me, And heir the third part of my land.’ 100F.14	‘I will take your dochter Jean, By the faith of her richt hand, And I will sup and dine with you, But a fig for all your land; For I’ve as much land in Winsberry As we’ll ride in a long summer’s day.’
 
100G: Willie o Winesberry
 
100G.1	SEVEN years the king he staid Into the land of Spain, And seven years True Thomas was His daughter’s chamberlain. 100G.2	But it fell ance upon a day The king he did come home; She baked and she benjed ben, And did him there welcome. 100G.3	‘What aileth you, my daughter Janet, You look sae pale and wan? There is a dreder in your heart, Or else you love a man.’ 100G.4	‘There is no dreder in my heart, Nor do I love a man; But it is for your lang byding Into the land of Spain.’ 100G.5	‘Ye’ll cast aff your bonny brown gown, And lay it on a stone, And I’ll tell you, my jelly Janet, If ever ye lovd a man.’ 100G.6	She’s cast aff her bonny brown gown, And laid it on a stone; Her belly was big, her twa sides high, Her colour it was quite gane. 100G.7	‘Is it to a man o the might, Janet, Or is it till a man o the main? Or is it to one o my poor soldiers, That I brought hame frae Spain?’ 100G.8	‘It’s not till a man o the might,’ she says, ‘Nor yet to a man o the main; But it’s to Thomas o Winsbury, That cannot longer len.’ 100G.9	‘O where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, That will go for him True Thomas, And bring him in to me? For the morn, ere I eat or drink, High hanged shall he be.’ 100G.10	She’s turnd her right and round about, The tear blinded her ee: ‘If ye do any ill to True Thomas, Ye’se never get gude o me.’ 100G.11	When Thomas came before the king He glanced like the fire; His hair was like the threads o gold, His eyes like crystal clear. 100G.12	‘It was nae wonder, my daughter Janet, Altho ye loved this man; If he were a woman, as he is a man, My bed-fellow he would been. 100G.13	‘O will ye marry my daughter Janet? The truth’s in your right hand; Ye’s hae some o my gold, and some o my gear, And the twalt part o my land.’ 100G.14	‘It’s I will marry your daughter Janet; The truth’s in my right hand; I’ll hae nane o your gold, nor nane o your gear, I’ve enough in my own land. 100G.15	‘But I will marry your daughter Janet With thirty ploughs and three, And four and twenty bonny breast-mills, And a’ on the water o Dee.’
 
100H: Willie o Winesberry
 
100H.1	IT fell upon a time, when the proud king of France Went a hunting for five months and more, That his dochter fell in love with Thomas of Winesberrie, From Scotland newly come oer. 100H.2	Whan her father cam hame frae hunting the deer, And his dochter before him cam, Her belly it was big, and her twa sides round, And her fair colour was wan. 100H.3	‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter Janet? What makes thee to look sae wan? Ye’ve either been sick, and very, very sick, Or else ye hae lain wi a man.’ 100H.4	’re welcome, ye’re welcome, dear father,’ she says, ‘Ye’re welcome hame to your ain, For I hae been sick, and very, very sick, Thinking lang for your coming hame. 100H.5	‘O pardon, O pardon, dear father,’ she says, ‘A pardon ye’ll grant me:’ ‘Na pardon, na pardon, my dochter,’ he says, ‘Na pardon I’ll grant thee. 100H.6	‘O is it to a man of micht, Or to a man of mean? Or is it to onie of thae rank robbers That I sent hame frae Spain?’ 100H.7	‘It is not to a man of micht, Nor to a man of mean; But it is to Thomas o Winesberrie, And for him I suffer pain.’ 100H.8	‘If it be to Thomas o’ Winesberrie, As I trust well it be, Before I either eat or drink, Hie hangit sall he be.’ 100H.9	When this bonnie boy was brought afore the king, His claithing was o the silk, His fine yellow hair hang dangling doun, And his skin was like the milk. 100H.10	‘Na wonder, na wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says, ‘My dochter fell in love wi thee, For if I war a woman, as I am a man, My bed-fellow ye shoud be. 100H.11	‘Then will ye marry my dochter Janet, To be heir to a’ my land? O will ye marry my dochter Janet, Wi the truth o your richt hand?’ 100H.12	‘I will marry your dochter Janet, Wi the truth o my richt hand; I’ll hae nane o your gowd, nor yet o your gear, I’ve eneuch in fair Scotland. 100H.13	‘But I will marry your dochter Janet, I care na for your land, For she’s be a queen, and I a king, Whan we come to fair Scotland.’
 
100I: Willie o Winesberry
 
100I.1	IT fell upon a time that the proud king of France Went a hunting for five months and more; His daughter fell in love with Lord Winsberry, Who from Scotland was newly come oer. 100I.2	‘You’re welcome, welcome, dear father,’ she said, ‘You’re welcome again to your own; For I have been sick, and very, very sick, Thinking long for your coming home.’ 100I.3	‘Put off, put off your gown of green,’ he says, ‘And spread it on yonder green, And tell them from me that in mourning you are, Or that he have lain with a man.’ 100I.4	She’s put off her gown of green, And spread it on the strand; Her haunches were round, and her belly was big, From her face the colour is gone. 100I.5	‘O is it to a man of might,’ he says, ‘Or is it to a man that’s mean? Or is it to one of those rank rebels, That lately from Scotland came?’ 100I.6	‘O it is to a man of might,’ she says, ‘It is not to one that is mean; It is to Lord Thomas of Winsberry, And for him I must suffer pain.’ 100I.7	The king called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three: ‘Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry, For tomorrow he shall die.’ 100I.8	They sought him up, they sought him down, As fast as fast could be; There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry, Sitting under an orange tree. 100I.9	‘Get up, get up, Lord Thomas,’ they said, ‘Get up, and bound your way; For the king has sworn by his honoured crown That tomorrow is thy dying-day.’ 100I.10	‘O what have I robbd, or what have I stolen, Or what have I killed or slain, That I should be afraid to speak to your king? For I have done him no wrong.’ 100I.11	Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair, His cloathing was of the silk; His fine yellow hair hung dangling down, His skin was white as the milk. 100I.12	And when he came before the king He kneeled down on his knee; Says, What is your will with me, my liege, What is your will with me? 100I.13	‘I think no wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says, ‘That my daughter fell in love with thee; If thou wert a woman, as thou art a man, My bed-fellow thou wouldst be. 100I.14	‘Will ye marry my daughter Jean, By the faith of thy right hand? Thou’se have part of my gold, part of my gear, And a third part of my land.’ 100I.15	‘Yes, I will marry thy daughter Jean, By the faith of my right hand; I’ll have none of your gold, none of your gear; I have enough in fair Scotland.’ 100I.16	He has mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself on a dapple-grey; He’s got as much land in fair Scotland As they can ride in a summer’s day.


 
101A: Willie o Couglas Dale
 
101A.1	O WILLY was as brave a lord As ever saild the sea, And he has gane to the English court, To serve for meat and fee. 101A.2	He had nae been at the kingis court A twelvemonth and a day, Till he longd for a sight o the king’s daughter, But ane he coud never see. 101A.3	O it fell ance upon a day To the green wood she has gane, An Willy he has followd her, With the clear light o the moon. 101A.4	He looted him low, by her did go, Wi his hat intill his hand: ‘O what’s your will wi me, Sir Knight? I pray keep your hat on.’ 101A.5	‘O I am not a knight, Madam, Nor never thinks to be; For I am Willy o Douglassdale, An I serve for meat and fee.’ 101A.6	‘O I’ll gang to my bowr,’ she says, ‘An sigh baith even an morn That ever I saw your face, Willy, Or that ever ye was born. 101A.7	‘O I’ll gang to my bowr,’ she says, ‘An I’ll pray baith night an day, To keep me frae your tempting looks, An frae your great beauty.’ 101A.8	O in a little after that He keepit Dame Oliphant’s bowr, As the love that passd between this twa, It was like paramour. 101A.9	‘O narrow, narrow’s my gown, Willy, That wont to be sae wide; An short, short is my coats, Willy, That wont to be sae side; An gane is a’ my fair colour, An low laid is my pride. 101A.10	‘But an my father get word of this, He’ll never drink again; An gin my mother get word of this, In her ain bowr she’ll go brain; An gin my bold brothers get word this, I fear, Willy, you’ll be slain.’ 101A.11	‘O will you leave your father’s court, An go along wi me? I’ll carry you unto fair Scotland, And mak you a lady free.’ 101A.12	She pat her han in her pocket An gae him five hunder poun: ‘An take you that now, Squire Willy, Till awa that we do won.’ 101A.13	Whan day was gane, and night was come, She lap the castle-wa; But Willy kepit his gay lady, He was laith to let her fa. 101A.14	Whan night was gane, an day come in, An lions gaed to their dens, An ay the lady followd him, An the tears came hailing down. 101A.15	‘O want ye ribbons to your hair? Or roses to your shoone? Or want ye as meickle dear bought love As your ain heart can contain?’ 101A.16	‘I want nae ribbons to my hair, Nor roses till my shoone; An Ohone, alas, for dear bought love! I have mair nor I can contain.’ 101A.17	O he’s pu’d the oak in good green wood, An he’s made to her a fire; He coverd it oer wi withred leaves, An gard it burn thro ire. 101A.18	He made a bed i the good green wood, An he’s laid his lady down, An he’s coverd her oer wi fig-tree leaves, But an his ain night-gown. 101A.19	‘O had I a bunch o yon red roddins, That grows in yonder wood, But an a drink o water clear, I think it woud do me good.’ 101A.20	He’s pu’d her a bunch o yon red roddins, That grew beside yon thorn, But an a drink o water clear, Intill his hunting-horn. 101A.21	He’s bent his bow, and shot the deer, An thro the green wood gane, An ere that he came back again His lady took travailing. 101A.22	‘O up ye tak that horn,’ she says, ‘An ye blaw a blast for me; Gin my father be in good green wood, Sae seen’s he’ll come me ti.’ 101A.23	‘O gin there be a man on earth That ye loo better nor me, Ye blaw the horn yoursel,’ he says, ‘For it’s never be blawn by me.’ 101A.24	O he’s bent his bow, an shot the deer, An thro the green wood has he gane, An lang or he came back again His lady bare him a son. 101A.25	O up has he tane his bonny young son, An washn him wi the milk, An up has he tane his gay lady, An rowd her i the silk. 101A.26	He’s bent his bow, and shot the deer, An thro the green wood has he gane, Till he met wi a well-fard may, Her father’s flock feeding. 101A.27	‘Ye leave your father’s flock feeding, An go along wi me; I’ll carry you to a lady fair, Will gi you both meat and fee.’ 101A.28	O whan she came the lady before, She’s fa’n down on her knee: ‘O what’s your will wi me, my dame? An a dame you seem to be.’ 101A.29	‘O I’m Dame Oliphant, the king’s daughter, Nae doubt but ye’ve heard o me; Will you leave your father’s flock feeding, An go to Scotlan wi me? 101A.30	‘An ye sal get a nouriship Intill an earldome, An I will gar provide for the To marry some brave Scotsman.’ 101A.31	The may she keepit the bonny boy, An Willy led his lady, Untill they took their fair shippin, Then quickly hame came they. 101A.32	The win was fair, an the sea was clear, An they a’ wan safe to lan; He’s haild her lady of Douglassdale, Himsel the lord within.
 
101B: Willie o Couglas Dale
 
101B.1	WILLIE was an earl’s ae son, And an earl’s ae son was he, But he thought his father lack to sair, And his mother of low degree. 101B.2	But he is on to fair England, To sair for meat an fee, And all was for Dame Oliphant, A woman of great beauty. 101B.3	He hadna been in fair England A month but barely ane, Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant Gied him a gay gold ring. 101B.4	He hadna been in fair England A month but barely four, Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant Gied him a red rose flower, Well set about with white lilies, Like to the paramour. 101B.5	It fell ance upon a day Dame Oliphant thought lang, And she gaed on to good green wood, As fast as she could gang. 101B.6	As Willie stood in his chamber-door, And as he thought it good, There he beheld Dame Oliphant, As she came thro the wood. 101B.7	He’s taen his bow his arm oer, His sword into his hand, And he is on to good green wood, As fast as he could gang. 101B.8	And there he found Dame Oliphant, Was lying sound asleep, And aye the sounder she did sleep The nearer he did creep. 101B.9	But when she wakend from her sleep An angry maid was she, Crying, Had far away frae me, young man, Had far away frae me! For I fear ye are the Scottish knight That beguiles young ladies free. 101B.10	‘I am not the Scottish knight, Nor ever thinks to be; I am but Willie o Douglass Dale, That serves for meat an fee.’ 101B.11	‘If ye be Willie o Douglass Dale, Ye’re dearly welcome to me; For oft in my sleep have I thought on You and your merry winking ee.’ 101B.12	But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew, And the lions took the hill, And Willie he gaed hame again, To his hard task and till; And likewise did Dame Oliphant, To her book and her seam. 101B.13	Till it fell ance upon a day Dame Oliphant thought lang, And she went on to Willie’s bower-yates, As fast as she could gang. 101B.14	‘O are ye asleep now, Squire Willie? O are you asleep?’ said she; O waken, waken, Squire Willie, O waken, and speak to me. 101B.15	‘For the gowns that were oer wide, Willie, They winna meet on me, And the coats that were oer side, Willie, They winna come to my knee; And if the knights of my father’s court get word, I’m sure they’ll gar you die.’ * * * * * 101B.16	But she’s taen a web of the scarlet, And she tare it fine an sma, And even into Willie’s arms She leapt the castle-wa; And Willie was wight and well able, And he keept her frae a fa. 101B.17	But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew, And the lions took the hill, And Willie’s ladie followed him, And the tears did twinkle still. 101B.18	‘O want ye ribbons to your hair? Or roses to your sheen? Or want ye chains about your neck? Ye’se get mair ere that be deen.’ 101B.19	‘I want not ribbons to my hair, Nor roses to my sheen, And there’s mair chains about my neck Nor ever I’ll see deen; But I have as much dear bought love As my heart can contain.’ 101B.20	‘Will ye go to the cards or dice? Or to the table ee? Or to a bed, so well down spread, And sleep till it be day?’ 101B.21	I’ve mair need of the roddins, Willie, That grow on yonder thorn; Likewise a drink o Marywell water, Out of your grass-green horn. 101B.22	‘I’ve mair need of a fire, Willie, To had me frae the cauld; Likewise a glass of your red wine, Ere I bring my son to the fauld.’ 101B.23	He’s got a bush o roddins till her, That grows on yonder thorn; Likewise a drink o Marywell water, Out of his grass-green horn. 101B.24	He carried the match in his pocket That kindled to her the fire, Well set about wi oaken spells, That leamd oer Lincolnshire. 101B.25	And he has bought to his lady The white bread and the wine; And the milk he milked from the goats, He fed his young son on. 101B.26	Till it fell ance upon a day Dame Oliphant thought lang: ‘O gin ye hae a being, Willie, I pray ye hae me hame.’ 101B.27	He’s taen his young son in his arms, His lady by the hand, And they’re down thro good green wood, As fast as they could gang. 101B.28	Till they came to a shepherd-may, Was feeding her flocks alone; Said, Will ye gae alang wi me, And carry my bonny young son? 101B.29	The gowns that were shapen for my back, They shall be sewd for thine; And likewise I’ll gar Squire Willie Gie you a braw Scotsman. 101B.30	When they came on to Willie’s bower-yates, And far beyont the sea, She was haild the lady o Douglass Dale, And Willie an earl to be: Likewise the maid they brought awa, She got a braw Scotsman.
 
101C: Willie o Couglas Dale
 
101C.1	SWEET Sir William of Douglas Dale, A knight’s ae son was he; He dreamed of dear Dame Oliphant, Lang ere he did her see. 101C.2	He dreamed a woman of great beauty Gave him a red rose flower, Well busket about wi the lillies white, Just like the paramour. 101C.3	O sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale, A knight’s ae son was he, And he is on to the king’s high court, To serve for meat and fee. * * * * * 101C.4	Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold, Tied in a towal so white, And that she has given her Lord William, Out oer the castle-dyke. 101C.5	Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold, Tied in a towel sae sma, And that she has given her own true-love, Out ore the castle-wa. 101C.6	She rowed hersell in a robe o silk, To loup the castle-wa; He ceppet her in his armes twa, And he let not her get a fa. * * * * * 101C.7	The cocks do craw, and the day does daw, And the wild fowl bodes on hill; The lassie she followed her Sweet William, And let the tears down fall. * * * * * 101C.8	‘O want you ribbons to your hair? Or roses to your sheen? Or want ye as much of feel daft love As your heart can contain?’ 101C.9	‘I want nor ribbons to my hair, Nor roses to my sheen; I’ve got as much o dear bought love As my heart can contain.’ * * * * * 101C.10	He carried a flint in his pocket, And he strack to her a fire, And he buskit it roun wi the leaves o oak, And gart it burn wi ire. 101C.11	He’s taen his big coat him about, And his gun into his hand, And he has gone to good green wood, To kill some venison. 101C.12	He’s taen his big coat him about, And his gun into his han, But lang ere he came back again She bare his dear young son. 101C.13	He rowed her in his muckle coat, But in his good night-gown, And he fed her wi the good goat-milk, Till she was well able to gang. 101C.14	He’s taen his young son in his arm, His lady in his hand, And they are down thro good green wood, As fast as they can gang. 101C.15	And they came to a shepherd’s daughter, Was feeding at her sheep; Says, Will ye go to Douglass Dale, Wi my yong son to keep? 101C.16	O I will gee you gold, maiden, And I will gee you fee, Gin ye will go to Douglas Dale, Wi my yong son and me. 101C.17	She’s taen his young son in her arm, And kissed baith cheek and chin; Says, I will go to Douglas Dale, As fast as I can win. 101C.18	He’s taen his big coat him about, And his lady in his hand, And they are off to Douglas Dale, As fast as they can gang. 101C.19	And when they came to Douglas Dale A happy man was he, For his lady, and his young son, And his nurse, a’ three.
 
101[D]: Willie o Couglas Dale
 
101[D].1	Willie was a rich man’s son, A rich man’s son was he; Hee thought his father lake to sair, An his mother of mine digree, An he is on to our English court, To serve for meatt an fee. 101[D.2]	He hadno ben in our king’s court A tuall-month an a day, Till he fell in love we Mary, Dem [Ele]fon, An a great buity was she. 101[D.3]	He hadno ben in our king’s court A tuall-month an a houre, Till he dreamed a lady of buty bright Gave him a rosey flour. 101[D.4]	The lady touk her mantell her about, Her gooun-teall in her hand, An she is on to gued grean woud, As fast as she could gang. 101[D.5]	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . An ther she spayed a gellant knight, Kamen his yallou hear. 101[D.6]	‘What is yer name, sir knight? For a knight I am sure ye be;’ ‘I am called Willie of Duglas Dall, Did ye never hear of me?’ ‘If ye be Willie of Duglass Daill, I afft have heard of thee.’ 101[D.7]	‘What is yer name, ye lovely dame? For a lady I trou ye be;’ ‘I am called Mary, Dem Elefond, Did ye never hear of me?’ 101[D.8]	‘In ye be Mary, Dem Elefon, As I trust well ye be, . . . . . . . My heart ye haa ye we.’ 101[D.9]	The lady was fair an rear, The knight’s heart had she; The knight was tall an straght withall, The lady’s hart had he. 101[D.10]	It fell ance upon a day Dem Elofen thought lang, An she is on to Willie’s bour, As fast as she could gang. 101[D.11]	‘Narrou is my pettecot, Willie, It ance was saa wide, An narrou is my stays, Willie, Att ance wer saa wide, An paill is my chikes, Willie, An laigh, laigh is my pride. 101[D.12]	’. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . An the knights of my father’s court gat word of this, I feer they wad gare ye diee.’ 101[D.13]	He touke . . . . . . . . . The lady by the hand, An they are one to gued green woud, As fast as they coud gang. 101[D.14]	It fell ance upon a day Strong travileng came her tell, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101[D.15]	‘Ye take your boue on yer shoulder, Yer arrous in yer hand, An ye gaa farr throu green woud, An shout some veneson. 101[D.16]	‘Fan ye hear me loud cray, Bide far awaa fra me, Bat fan ye hear me laying still Ye may come back an see.’ 101[D.17]	Fan he hard her loud cray, He bad far awaa, Bat fan he heard her laying still He did come an see, An he got her An her young son her wee. 101[D.18]	He milked the goats, An feed his young son wee, And he made a fire of the oken speals, An warmed his lady wee. 101[D.19]	It fell ance upon a day The lady though[t] lang: ‘An ye haa any place in fair Scotland, Willie, I wiss ye wad haa me hame.’ 101[D.20]	’. . . . . . . I ha lands an reants saa friee, The bonny lands of Duglass Daill, They a’ lay bread an friee.’ 101[D.21]	He’s taen the knight-bairn in his arms, His lady by the hand, An he is out throu gued green woud, As fast as they coud gang. 101[D.22]	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Till they came to a maid kepping her goats, . . . . . . . . 101[D.23]	‘Hall , ye maid, For a maid ye seem to be; Will ye live your goats kepping An goo we me? 101[D.24]	‘I cannot live my father, I canno live my midder, Nor yet my brethren three; I cannot live my goats kepping, An goo along we the. 101[D.25]	‘Fatt is your name, ye lovely dame? For a lady I am shour ye be;’ ‘I am called Mary, Dem Elifond, Did ye nver hear of me?’ 101[D.26]	‘If ye be Mary, Dem Elifond, As I trust weel ye be, I will live my goats kepping An goo along we the. 101[D.27]	‘For I will live my father, an I ill live my mother, An my brothers three, An I will live my goats, An go along we thee.’ 101[D.28]	The maid touke the knight-bairn in her ar[m]s, An his lady took he, An they are to gued ship-bourd, And took God to be ther foresteed, an didne fear to droun. 101[D.29]	An they landed att Duglas Dalle, Far the lands was briad an frie, An the knight-bairn was Black Sir James of Duglas Dall, An a gallant knight was hee.


 
102A: Willie and Earl Richard’s Daughter
 
102A.1	O WILLIERR’rrS large o limb and lith, And come o high degree, And he is gane to Earl Richard, To serve for meat and fee. 102A.2	Earl Richard had but ae daughter, Fair as a lily-flower, And they made up their love-contract Like proper paramour. 102A.3	It fell upon a simmer’s nicht, Whan the leaves were fair and green, That Willie met his gay ladie Intil the wood alane. 102A.4	‘O narrow is my gown, Willie, That wont to be sae wide; And gane is a’ my fair colour, That wont to be my pride. 102A.5	‘But gin my father should get word What’s past between us twa, Before that he should eat or drink, He’d hang you oer that wa. 102A.6	‘But ye’ll come to my bower, Willie, Just as the sun gaes down, And kep me in your arms twa, And latna me fa down.’ 102A.7	O whan the sun was now gane down, He’s doen him till her bower, And there, by the lee licht o the moon, Her window she lookit oer. 102A.8	Intill a robe o red scarlet She lap, fearless o harm; And Willie was large o lith and limb, And keepit her in his arm. 102A.9	And they’ve gane to the gude green wood, And, ere the night was deen, She’s born to him a bonny young son, Amang the leaves sae green. 102A.10	Whan night was gane, and day was come, And the sun began to peep, Up and raise the Earl Richard Out o his drowsy sleep. 102A.11	He’s ca’d upon his merry young men, By ane, by twa, and by three: ‘O what’s come o my daughter dear, That she’s nae come to me? 102A.12	‘I dreamt a dreary dream last night, God grant it come to gude! I dreamt I saw my daughter dear Drown in the saut sea flood. 102A.13	‘But gin my daughter be dead or sick, Or yet be stown awa, I mak a vow, and I’ll keep it true, I’ll hang ye ane and a’!’ 102A.14	They sought her back, they sought her fore, They sought her up and down; They got her in the gude green wood, Nursing her bonny young son. 102A.15	He took the bonny boy in his arms, And kist him tenderlie; Says, Though I would your father hang, Your mother’s dear to me. 102A.16	He kist him oer and oer again: ‘My grandson I thee claim, And Robin Hood in gude green wood, And that shall be your name.’ 102A.17	And mony ane sings o grass, o grass, And mony ane sings o corn, And mony ane sings o Robin Hood Kens little whare he was born. 102A.18	It wasna in the ha, the ha, Nor in the painted bower, But it was in the gude green wood, Amang the lily-flower.
 
102B: Willie and Earl Richard’s Daughter
 
102B.1	MONY ane talks o the grass, the grass, And mony ane o the corn, And mony ane talks o gude Robin Hood Kens little whar he was born. 102B.2	He was gotten in a earl’s ha, And in a lady’s bower, And born into gude greenwood, Thro mony cauld winter’s shower. 102B.3	His father was the earl’s own steward, Sprung frae sma pedigree; His mother, Earl Huntingdon’s ae daughter, For he had nane else but she. 102B.4	When nine months were near an end, And eight months they were gone, The lady’s cheeks wi tears were wet, And thus she made her moan: 102B.5	‘What shall I say, my love Archibald, This day for you and me? I will be laid in cauld irons, And ye’ll be hanged on tree.’ 102B.6	‘What aileth my love Clementina? What gars you mourn sae sair?’ ‘You know,’ said she, ‘I’m with child to thee, These eight lang months and mair.’ 102B.7	‘Will ye gae to my mother’s bower, Stands on yon stately green? Or will ye gae to the gude greenwood, Where ye will not be seen?’ 102B.8	‘I winna gang to your mother’s bower, Stands on yon stately green; But I will on to gude greenwood, For I will not be seen.’ 102B.9	He’s girt his sword down by his side, Took his lady by the hand, And they are on thro gude greenwood, As fast as they could gang. 102B.10	With slowly steps these couple walkd, About miles scarcely three. When this lady, being sair wearied out, Lay down beneath a tree. 102B.11	‘O for a few of yon junipers, To cheer my heart again, And likewise for a gude midwife, To ease me of my pain!’ 102B.12	‘I’ll bring to you yon junipers, To cheer your heart again, And I’ll be to you a gude midwife, To ease you of your pain.’ 102B.13	‘Had far awa frae me, Archibald, For this will never dee; That’s nae the fashion o our land, And it’s nae be used by me. 102B.14	‘Ye’ll take your small-sword by your side, Your buckler and your bow, And ye’ll gae down thro gude greenwood, And hunt the deer and roe. 102B.15	‘You will stay in gude greenwood, And with the chase go on, Until yon white hind pass you by, Then straight to me ye’ll come.’ 102B.16	He’s girt his sword then by his side, His buckler and his bow, And he is on thro gude greenwood, To hunt the deer and roe. 102B.17	And in the greenwood he did stay, And with the chase gaed on, Until the white hind passd him by, Then to his love he came. 102B.18	He girt his sword then by his side, Fast thro greenwood went he, And there he found his love lie dead, Beneath the green oak tree. 102B.19	The sweet young babe that she had born Right lively seemed to be; ‘Ohon, alas!’ said young Archibald, ‘A mournful scene to me! 102B.20	‘Altho my sweet babe is alive, This does increase my woe; How to nourish a motherless babe Is mair than I do know.’ 102B.21	He looked east, he looked west, To see what he could see, Then spied the Earl o Huntingdon, And mony a man him wi. 102B.22	Then Archibald fled from the earl’s face, Among the leaves sae green, That he might hear what might be said, And see, and nae be seen. 102B.23	The earl straight thro the greenwood came, Unto the green oak tree, And there he saw his daughter dead, Her living child her wi. 102B.24	Then he’s taen up the little boy, Rowed him in his gown-sleeve; Said, Tho your father’s to my loss, Your mother’s to me leave. 102B.25	And if ye live until I die, My bowers and lands ye’se heir; You are my only daughter’s child; But her I never had mair. 102B.26	Ye’se hae all kinds of nourishment, And likewise nurses three; If I knew where the fause knave were, High hanged should he be. 102B.27	His daughter he buried in gude church-yard, All in a mournful mood, And brought the boy to church that day, And christend him Robin Hood. 102B.28	This boy was bred in the earl’s ha Till he became a man, But loved to hunt in gude greenwood, To raise his noble fame.
 
102C: Willie and Earl Richard’s Daughter
 
 
 102C.1	MONY ane speaks o grass, o grass,
 	And mony mare o corn,
 	And mony ane sings o Robin Heed
 	Kens little whare he was born.
 102C.2	He was born in good green wood,
 	At the fut o yon olive tree;
 	His father was a knight’s ae son,
 	And his mother a lady free.

 


 
103A: Rose the Red and White Lily
 
103A.1	O ROSE the Red and White Lilly, Their mother dear was dead, And their father married an ill woman, Wishd them twa little guede. 103A.2	Yet she had twa as fu fair sons As eer brake manis bread, And the tane of them loed her White Lilly, An the tither lood Rose the Red. 103A.3	O biggit ha they a bigly bowr, And strawn it oer wi san, And there was mair mirth i the ladies’ bowr Than in a’ their father’s lan. 103A.4	But out is spake their step-mother, Wha stood a little foreby: I hope to live and play the prank Sal gar your loud sang ly. 103A.5	She’s calld upon her eldest son: Come here, my son, to me; It fears me sair, my eldest son, That ye maun sail the sea. 103A.6	‘Gin if fear you sair, my mither dear, Your bidding I maun dee; But never war to Rose the Red Than ye ha been to me.’ 103A.7	‘O had your tongue, my eldest son, For sma sal be her part; You’ll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth Gin your very fair heart should break.’ 103A.8	She’s calld upon her youngest son: Come here, my son, to me; It fears me sair, my youngest son, That ye maun sail the sea. 103A.9	‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear, Your bidding I maun dee; But be never war to White Lilly Than ye ha been to me.’ 103A.10	‘O haud your tongue, my youngest son, For sma sall be her part; You’ll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth Tho your very fair heart should break.’ 103A.11	When Rose the Red and White Lilly Saw their twa loves were gane, Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang, And tane up the still mournin; And their step-mother stood listnin by, To hear the ladies’ mean. 103A.12	Then out it spake her White Lilly: My sister, we’ll be gane; Why should we stay in Barnsdale, To waste our youth in pain? 103A.13	Then cutted ha they their green cloathing A little below their knee, An sae ha they there yallow hair, A little aboon there bree; An they’ve doen them to haely chapel, Was christened by Our Lady. 103A.14	There ha they chang’d their ain twa names, Sae far frae ony town, An the tane o them hight Sweet Willy, An the tither o them Roge the Roun. 103A.15	Between this twa a vow was made, An they sware it to fulfil; That at three blasts o a bugle-horn, She’d come her sister till. 103A.16	Now Sweet Willy’s gane to the kingis court, Her true-love for to see, An Roge the Roun to good green wood, Brown Robin’s man to be. 103A.17	As it fell out upon a day They a’ did put the stane, Full seven foot ayont them a’ She gard the puttin-stane gang. 103A.18	She leand her back against an oak, And gae a loud Ohone! Then out it spake him Brown Robin, But that’s a woman’s moan! 103A.19	‘O ken ye by my red rose lip? Or by my yallow hair? Nor ken ye by my milk-white breast? For ye never saw it bare?’ 103A.20	ken no by your red rose lip, Nor by your yallow hair; Nor ken I by your milk-white breast, For I never saw it bare; But come to your bowr whaever sae likes, Will find a lady there.’ 103A.21	‘O gin ye come to my bowr within, Thro fraud, deceit, or guile, Wi this same bran that’s in my han, I swear I will the kill.’ 103A.22	‘But I will come thy bowr within, An spear nae leave,’ quoth he; ‘An this same bran that’s i my han I sall ware back on the.’ 103A.23	About the tenth hour of the night The ladie’s bower-door was broken, An eer the first hour of the day The bonny knave-bairn was gotten. 103A.24	When days were gane, and months were run, The lady took travailing, And sair she cry’d for a bowr-woman, For to wait her upon. 103A.25	Then out it spake him Brown Robin: Now what needs a’ this din? For what coud any woman do But I coud do the same? 103A.26	‘’Twas never my mither’s fashion,’ she says, ‘Nor sall it ever be mine, That belted knights shoud eer remain Where ladies dreed their pine. 103A.27	‘But ye take up that bugle-horn, An blaw a blast for me; I ha a brother in the kingis court Will come me quickly ti.’ 103A.28	‘O gin ye ha a brither on earth That ye love better nor me, Ye blaw the horn yoursel,’ he says, ‘For ae blast I winna gie.’ 103A.29	She’s set the horn till her mouth, And she’s blawn three blasts sae shrill; Sweet Willy heard i the kingis court, And came her quickly till. 103A.30	Then up it started Brown Robin, An an angry man was he: ‘There comes nae man this bowr within But first must fight wi me.’ 103A.31	O they hae fought that bowr within Till the sun was gaing down, Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red Came hailing to the groun. 103A.32	She leand her back against the wa, Says, Robin, let a’ be; For it is a lady born and bred That’s foughten sae well wi thee. 103A.33	O seven foot he lap a back; Says, Alas, and wae is me! I never wishit in a’ my life, A woman’s blude to see; An a’ for the sake of ae fair maid Whose name was White Lilly. 103A.34	Then out it spake her White Lilly, An a hearty laugh laugh she: She’s lived wi you this year an mair, Tho ye kentna it was she. 103A.35	Now word has gane thro a’ the lan, Before a month was done, That Brown Robin’s man, in good green wood, Had born a bonny young son. 103A.36	The word has gane to the kingis court, An to the king himsel; ‘Now, by my fay,’ the king could say, ‘The like was never heard tell!’ 103A.37	Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, An a hearty laugh laugh he: I trow some may has playd the loun, And fled her ain country. 103A.38	‘Bring me my steed,’ then cry’d the king, ‘My bow and arrows keen; I’l ride mysel to good green wood, An see what’s to be seen.’ 103A.39	‘An’t please your grace,’ said Bold Arthur, ‘My liege, I’ll gang you wi, An try to fin a little foot-page, That’s strayd awa frae me.’ 103A.40	O they’ve hunted i the good green wood The buck but an the rae, An they drew near Brown Robin’s bowr, About the close of day. 103A.41	Then out it spake the king in hast, Says, Arthur, look an see Gin that be no your little foot-page That leans against yon tree. 103A.42	n Arthur took his bugle-horn, An blew a blast sae shrill; Sweet Willy started at the sound, An ran him quickly till. 103A.43	‘O wanted ye your meat, Willy? Or wanted ye your fee? Or gat ye ever an angry word, That ye ran awa frae me?’ 103A.44	‘I wanted nought, my master dear; To me ye ay was good; I came but to see my ae brother, That wons in this green wood.’ 103A.45	Then out it spake the king again, Says, Bonny boy, tell to me Wha lives into yon bigly bowr, Stands by yon green oak tree? 103A.46	‘O pardon me,’ says Sweet Willy, ‘My liege, I dare no tell; An I pray you go no near that bowr, For fear they do you fell.’ 103A.47	‘O haud your tongue, my bonny boy, For I winna be said nay; But I will gang that bowr within, Betide me weel or wae.’ 103A.48	They’ve lighted off their milk-white steeds, An saftly enterd in, An there they saw her White Lilly, Nursing her bonny yong son. 103A.49	‘Now, by the rood,’ the king coud say, ‘This is a comely sight; I trow, instead of a forrester’s man, This is a lady bright!’ 103A.50	Then out it spake her Rose the Red, An fell low down on her knee: O pardon us, my gracious liege, An our story I’ll tell thee. 103A.51	Our father was a wealthy lord, That wond in Barnsdale; But we had a wicked step-mother, That wrought us meickle bale. 103A.52	Yet she had twa as fu fair sons As ever the sun did see, An the tane o them lood my sister dear, An the tither sayd he lood me. 103A.53	Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, As by the king he stood: Now, by the faith o my body, This shoud be Rose the Red! 103A.54	Then in it came him Brown Robin, Frae hunting o the deer, But whan he saw the king was there, He started back for fear. 103A.55	The king has taen him by the hand, An bade him naithing dread; Says, Ye maun leave the good green wood, Come to the court wi speed. 103A.56	Then up he took White Lilly’s son, An set him on his knee; Says, Gin ye live to wiald a bran, My bowman ye sall bee. 103A.57	The king he sent for robes of green, An girdles o shinning gold; He gart the ladies be arrayd Most comely to behold. 103A.58	They’ve done them unto Mary Kirk, An there gat fair wedding, An fan the news spread oer the lan, For joy the bells did ring. 103A.59	Then out it spake her Rose the Red, An a hearty laugh laugh she: I wonder what would our step-dame say, Gin she this sight did see!
 
103B: Rose the Red and White Lily
 
103B.1	NOW word is gane thro a’ the land, Gude seal that it sae spread! To Rose the Red and White Lillie, Their mither dear was dead. 103B.2	Their father’s married a bauld woman, And brought her ower the sea, Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons, Intill her companie. 103B.3	They fixd their eyes on those ladies, On shipboard as they stood, And sware, if ever they wan to land, These ladies they woud wed. 103B.4	But there was nae a quarter past, A quarter past but three, Till these young luvers a’ were fond O other’s companie. 103B.5	The knights they harped i their bower, The ladies sewd and sang; There was mair mirth in that chamer Than a’ their father’s lan. 103B.6	Then out it spak their step-mither, At the stair-foot stood she: I’m plagued wi your troublesome noise! What makes your melodie? 103B.7	O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud, White Lillie, your voice is strang; But gin I live and brook my life, I’se gar you change your sang. 103B.8	‘We maunna change our loud, loud song For nae duke’s son ye’ll bear; We winna chnage our loud, loud song, But aye we’ll sing the mair. 103B.9	‘We never sung the sang, mither, But we’ll sing ower again; We’ll take our harps into our hands, And we’ll harp, and we’ll sing.’ 103B.10	She’s calld upon her twa young sons, Says, Boun ye for the sea; Let Rose the Red and White Lillie Stay in their bower wi me. 103B.11	‘O God forbid,’ said her eldest son, ‘Nor lat it ever be, Unless ye were as kind to our luves As gin we were them wi.’ 103B.12	‘Yet never the less, my pretty sons, Ye’ll boun you for the faem; Let Rose the Red and White Lillie Stay in their bowers at hame.’ 103B.13	‘O when wi you we came alang, We felt the stormy sea, And where we go, ye neer shall know, Nor shall be known by thee.’ 103B.14	Then wi her harsh and boisterous word She forc’d these lads away, While Rose the Red and White Lillie Still in their bowers did stay. 103B.15	But there was not a quarter past, A quarter past but ane, Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed, White Lillie’s claithing grew thin. 103B.16	Wi bitter usage every day, The ladies they thought lang; ‘Ohon, alas!’ said Rose the Red, ‘She’s gard us change our sang. 103B.17	‘But we will change our own fu names, And we’ll gang frae the town, Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie To Nicholas and Roger Brown. 103B.18	‘And we will cut our green claithing A little aboon our knee, And we will on to gude greenwood, Twa bauld bowmen to be.’ 103B.19	‘Ohon, alas!’ said White Lillie, ‘My fingers are but sma, And tho my hands woud wield the bow, They winna yield at a’.’ 103B.20	‘O had your tongue now, White Lillie, And lat these fears a’ be; There’s naething that ye’re awkward in But I will learn thee.’ 103B.21	Then they are on to gude greenwood, As fast as gang coud they; O then they spied him Robin Hood, Below a green aik tree. 103B.22	‘Gude day, gude day, kind sir,’ they said, ‘God make you safe and free:’ ‘Gude day, gude day,’ said Robin Hood, ‘What is your wills wi me?’ 103B.23	‘Lo here we are, twa banishd knights, Come frae our native hame; We’re come to crave o thee service, Our king will gie us nane.’ 103B.24	‘If ye be twa young banishd knights, Tell me frae what countrie:’ ‘Frae Anster town into Fifeshire; Ye know it as well as we.’ 103B.25	‘If a’ be true that ye hae said, And tauld just now to me, Ye’re welcome, welcome, every one; Your master I will be. 103B.26	‘Now ye shall eat as I do eat, And lye as I do lye; Ye salna wear nae waur claithing Nor my young men and I.’ 103B.27	Then they went to a ruinous house, And there they enterd in, And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood, And Roger wi Little John. 103B.28	But it fell ance upon a day They were at the putting-stane, Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a’, As they stood on the green. 103B.29	She hit the stane then wi her foot, And kepd it wi her knee, And spaces three aboon them a’ I wyte she gard it flee. 103B.30	She sat her back then to a tree, And gae a loud Ohon! A lad spak in the companie, I hear a woman’s moan. 103B.31	‘How know you that, young man?’ she said, ‘How know you that o me? Did eer ye see me in that place Ae foot my ground to flee? 103B.32	‘Or know ye by my cherry cheeks? Or by my yellow hair? Or by the paps on my breast-bane? Ye never saw them bare.’ 103B.33	‘I know not by your cherry cheeks, Nor by your yellow hair; But I know by your milk-white chin, On it there grows nae hair. 103B.34	‘I never saw you in that cause Ae foot your ground to flee; I’ve seen you stan wi sword in han Mang men’s blood to the knee. 103B.35	‘But if I come your bower within, By night, or yet by day, I shall know before I go If ye be man or may.’ 103B.36	‘O if you come my bower within, By night, or yet by day, As soon’s I draw my trusty brand, Nae lang ye’ll wi me stay.’ 103B.37	But he is haunted to her bower, Her bigly bower o stane, Till he has got her big wi bairn, And near sax months she’s gane. 103B.38	Whan three mair months were come and gane, They gaed to hunt the hynde; She wont to be the foremost ane, But now stayd far behynd. 103B.39	Her luver looks her in the face, And thus to her said he; I think your cheeks are pale and wan; Pray, what gaes warst wi thee? 103B.40	O want ye roses to your breast? Or ribbons to your sheen? Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luve As your heart can conteen? 103B.41	‘I want nae roses to my breast, Nae ribbons to my sheen; Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve As my heart can conteen. 103B.42	‘I’d rather hae a fire behynd, Anither me before, A gude midwife at my right side, Till my young babe be bore.’ 103B.43	‘I’ll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane, Bring wine in a green horn; I’ll be midwife at your right side, Till your young babe be born.’ 103B.44	‘That was neer my mither’s custom, Forbid that it be mine! A knight stan by a lady bright Whan she drees a’ her pine. 103B.45	‘There is a knight in gude greenwood, If that he kent o me, Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn Sae soon’s he woud come me tee.’ 103B.46	‘If there be a knight in gude greenwood Ye like better than me, If ance he come your bower within, Ane o us twa shall dee.’ 103B.47	She set a horn to her mouth, And she blew loud and shrill; Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn Brave Roger came her till. 103B.48	‘Wha’s here sae bauld,’ the youth replied, ‘Thus to encroach on me?’ ‘O here I am,’ the knight replied, ‘Hae as much right as thee.’ 103B.49	Then they fought up the gude greenwood, Sae did they down the plain; They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords, Till they were bleedy men. 103B.50	Then out it spak the sick woman, Sat under the greenwood tree; O had your han, young man, she said, She’s a woman as well as me. 103B.51	Then out it speaks anither youth, Amang the companie; Gin I had kent what I ken now, ’Tis for her I woud dee. 103B.52	‘O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red, An ill death mat ye dee! Altho ye tauld upo yoursell, Ye might hae heald on me.’ 103B.53	‘O for her sake I was content For to gae ower the sea; For her I left my mither’s ha, Tho she proves fause to me.’ 103B.54	But whan these luvers were made known, They sung right joyfullie, Nae blyther was the nightingale, Nor bird that sat on tree. 103B.55	Now they hae married these ladies, Brought them to bower and ha; And now a happy life they lead; I wish sae may we a’.
 
103C: Rose the Red and White Lily
 
103C.1	THE king has wedded an ill woman, Into some foreign land; His daughters twa, that stood in awe, They bravely sat and sang. 103C.2	Then in became their step-mother, Sae stately steppin ben: ‘O gin I live and bruik my life, I’ll gar ye change your tune.’ 103C.3	‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; ??	‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; ??	‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; ??	‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie, But we will sing again; And ye neer boor that son, ladie, But we will sing again; And ye neer boor that son, ladie, We wad lay our love on. 103C.4	‘But we will cow our yellow locks A little abune our bree, And we will on to gude greenwud, And serve for meat and fee. 103C.5	‘And we will kilt our gay claithing A little below the knee, And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see. And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see. And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see. And we will on to gude greenwud, Gif Robin Hood we see. 103C.6	‘And we will change our ain twa names, When we gae frae the toun; The tane we will call Nicholas, The tither Rogee Roun.’ 103C.7	Then they hae cowd their yellow locks A little abune their bree, And they are on to gude greenwud, To serve for meat and fee. 103C.8	And they hae kilt their gay claithing A little below their knee, And they are on to gud greenwud, Gif Robin Hood they see. 103C.9	And they hae chang’d thair ain twa names, Whan they gaed frae the toun; The tane they’ve called Nicholas, The tither Rogee Roun. 103C.10	And they hae staid in gude greenwud, And never a day thoucht lang, Till it fell ance upon a day That Rogee sang a sang. 103C.11	‘Whan we were in our father’s bouer, We sewd the silken seam; But now we walk the gude greenwud, And bear anither name. 103C.12	‘When we were in our father’s ha, We wore the beaten gold; But now we wear the shield sae sharp; Alas, we’ll die with cold!’ 103C.13	Then up bespak him Robin Hood, As he to them drew near: ‘Instead of boys to carry the bow, Two ladies we’ve got here.’ 103C.14	So they had not been in gud greenwud A twalmonth and a day, Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairn As onie lady could gae. 103C.15	‘O wae be to my stepmother, That garrd me leave my hame! For I’m wi bairn to Robin Hood, And near nine month is gane. 103C.16	‘O wha will be my bouer-woman? Na bouer-woman is here; O wha will be my bouer-woman, Whan that sad time draws near?’ 103C.17	Then up bespak him Robin Hood, At the foot o yon greenwud tree: O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun, For married ye sall be. 103C.18	The tane was wedded to Robin Hood, And the tither to Little John; And it was a’ owing to their stepmother, That garrd them leave their hame.


 
104A: Prince Heathen
 
 
 104A.1	LADY MARGERY MAY sits in her bower,
 	Sewing at her seem;
 	By there comes a heathen knight,
 	From her her maidenhead has tane.
 104A.2	He has put her in a tower strong,
 	With double locks on fifty doors:
 	‘Lady Margery May, will you ga now?’
 	‘O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.
 104A.3	‘I am asking, you heathen knight;
 	What I am asking will you grant to me?
 	Will ye let one of your waitmen
 	A drink of your well bring to me?’
 104A.4	‘Meat nor drink you shall never get,
 	Nor out of that shall you never come,
 	Meat nor drink shall you never get,
 	Until you bear to me daughter or son.’
 104A.5	Thus time drew on, and further on,
 	For travail came this young lady to;
 	She travailed up, so did she down,
 	But lighter could she never be.
 104A.6	‘An asking, an asking, you heathen knight;
 	An asking will you grant to me?
 	Will you give me a scread of silk,
 	For to row your young son wi?’
 104A.7	He took the horse-sheet in his hand,
 	The tears came twinkling down:
 	‘Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?’
 	‘O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.’
 104A.8	‘I’ll wash my young son with the milk,
 	I will dry my young son with the silk;
 	For hearts will break, and bands will bow;
 	So dear will I love my lady now!’

 
 
104B: Prince Heathen
 
104B.1	LADY MARGARET sat in her bower-door, Sewing at her silken seem, When by it came Prince Heathen then, An gae to her a gay gold ring. 104B.2	He turnd about, an gied a bow; She said, Begone, I love na you; When he sware by his yellow hair That he woud gar her greet fu sair. 104B.3	But she sware by her milk-white skin Prince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane: But she sware by her milk-white skin Prince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane: Refrain:	‘O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’ ‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you. 104B.4	He’s taen her in his arms twa, Laid her between him an the wa, An ere he let her free again, Her maidenhead frae her he’s taen. Refrain:	‘O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’ ‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’ 104B.5	‘I killd your father in his bed, And your gay mother by his side, And your seven brothers, ane by ane, And they were seven pretty men. Refrain:	O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’ ‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’ 104B.6	‘I’ll put you in a vault o stone, Where five an thirty locks hing on; Naebody there then shall you see, For I will keep the keys wi me. Refrain:	O bonny may, winna ye greet now?’ ‘Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.’ 104B.7	‘He’s put her in a vault o stone, Where five an thirty locks hing on; Naebody there coud eer her see, Prince Heathen kept the keys him wi. Refrain:	But ae she cried, What shall I do! The heathenish dog has gart me rue. 104B.8	Prince heathen from the mountains came, Attended by his armed men, And he’s gane to the bonny may, And to the prison where she lay: Refrain:	‘O bonny may, what do you now?’ ‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.’ 104B.9	‘I’ll take you out upon the green, Where women ye shall neer see ane, But only me and my young men, Till ye bring daughter hame or son. Refrain:	O bonny may, what do you now?’ ‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.’ 104B.10	He’s taen her out upon the green, Where she saw women never ane, But only him and ’s merry young men, Till she brought hame a bonny young son. Refrain:	‘O bonny may, what do you now?’ ‘Ye heathenish dog, dying for you. 104B.11	‘A drink, a drink, frae Prince Heathen’s hand, Though it were frae yon cauld well strong!’ ‘O neer a drap, Prince Heathen,’ said one, ‘Till ye row up your bonny young son.’ ‘How can I row up my bonny young son.’ When I hae naething to row him in?’ 104B.12	‘I will lend you my horse’s sheet, That will row him baith head and feet.’ As soon’s she took it in her han, Tears oer her cheeks down rapping ran. Refrain:	‘O bonny may, ye do greet now:’ ‘Ye heathenish dog, but nae for you. 104B.13	‘But a’ is for my bonny young son; Your sheets are rough to row him in; Ohon, alas, sair may I rue That eer I saw such rogues as you!’ 104B.14	‘Ye’ll row my young son in the silk, An ye will wash him wi the milk, An lay my lady very saft, That I may see her very aft.’ When hearts are broken, bands will bow; Sae well’s he loved his lady now!


 
105: The Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington
 
105.1	THERE was a youth, and a well belovd youth, And he was a esquire’s son, He loved the bayliff’s daughter dear, That lived in Islington. 105.2	She was coy, and she would not believe That he did love her so, No, nor at any time she would Any countenance to him show. 105.3	But when his friends did understand His fond and foolish mind, They sent him up to fair London, An apprentice for to bind. 105.4	And when he had been seven long years, And his love he had not seen, ‘Many a tear have I shed for her sake When she little thought of me.’ 105.5	All the maids of Islington Went forth to sport and play; All but the bayliff’s daughter dear; She secretly stole away. 105.6	She put off her gown of gray, And put on her puggish attire; She’s up to fair London gone, Her true-love to require. 105.7	As she went along the road, The weather being hot and dry, There was she aware of her true-love, At length came riding by. 105.8	She stept to him, as red as any rose, And took him by the bridle-ring: ‘I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny, To ease my weary limb.’ 105.9	‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Where that thou wast born?’ ‘At Islington, kind sir,’ said she, Where I have had many a scorn.’ 105.10	‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Whether thou dost know The bailiff’s daughter of Islington?’ ‘She’s dead, sir, long ago.’ 105.11	‘Then will I sell my goodly steed, My saddle and my bow; I will into some far countrey, Where no man doth me know.’ 105.12	‘O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth! She’s alive, she is not dead; Here she standeth by thy side, And is ready to be thy bride.’ 105.13	‘O farewel grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times and more! For now I have seen my own true-love, That I thought I should have seen no more.’


 
106: The Famous Flower of Serving Men
 
106.1	YOU beautious ladies, great and small, I write unto you one and all, Whereby that you may understand What I have suffered in this land. 106.2	I was by birth a lady fair, My father’s chief and onely heir, But when my good old father dy’d, Then was I made a young knight’s bride. But when my good old father dy’d, Then was I made a young knight’s bride. But when my good old father dy’d, Then was I made a young knight’s bride. 106.3	And then my love built me a bower, Bedeckt with many a fragrant flower; A braver bower you never did see Then my true-love did build for me. 106.4	But there came thieves late in the night, They rob’d my bower, and slew my knight, And after that my knight was slain, I could no longer there remain. 106.5	ould no longer there remain. 106.5	My servants all from me did flye, In the midst of my extremity, And left me by my self alone, In the midst of my extremity, And left me by my self alone, With a heart more cold then any stone. 106.6	Yet, though my heart was full of care, Heaven would not suffer me to despair; Wherefore in hast I chang’d my name From Fair Elise to Sweet William. 106.7	And therewithal I cut my hair, And drest my self in man’s attire, My doublet, hose, and bever-hat, And a golden band about my neck. 106.8	With a silver rapier by my side, So like a gallant I did ride; The thing that I delighted on, Was for to be a serving-man. 106.9	for to be a serving-man. 106.9	for to be a serving-man. 106.9	Thus in my sumptuous man’s array, I bravely rode along the way; And at the last it chanced so That I unto the king’s court did go. 106.10	Then to the king I bowed full low, My love and duty for to show, And so much favour I did crave My love and duty for to show, And so much favour I did crave My love and duty for to show, And so much favour I did crave My love and duty for to show, And so much favour I did crave My love and duty for to show, And so much favour I did crave That I a serving-man’s place might have. 106.11	‘Stand up, brave youth, the king replyd, ‘Thy service shall not be denyd; But tell me first what thou canst do; Thou shalt be fitted thereunto. 106.12	‘Wilt thou be usher of my hall, To wait upon my nobles all? Or wilt thou be taster of my wine, To wait on me when I shall dine? 106.13	‘Or wilt thou be my chamberlain, To make my bed both soft and fine? Or wilt thou be one of my guard? And I will give thee thy reward.’ 106.14	Sweet William, with a smiling face, Said to the king, If’t please your grace To show such favour unto me, Your chamberlain I fain would be. 106.15	The king then did the nobles call, To ask the counsel of them all, Who gave consent Sweet William he The king’s own chamberlain should be. 106.16	Now mark what strange things come to pass: As the king one day a hunting was, With all his lords and noble train, Sweet William did at home remain. 106.17	Sweet William had no company then With him at home but an old man; And when he saw the coast was clear, He took a lute which he had there. And when he saw the coast was clear, He took a lute which he had there. And when he saw the coast was clear, He took a lute which he had there. 106.18	took a lute which he had there. 106.18	Upon the lute Sweet William plaid, And to the same he sung and said, With a pleasant and most noble voice, Which made the old man to rejoyce: 106.19	‘My father was as brave a lord As ever Europe did afford; ??	‘My father was as brave a lord As ever Europe did afford; My mother was a lady bright, My husband was a valiant knight. My mother was a lady bright, My husband was a valiant knight. My mother was a lady bright, My husband was a valiant knight. 106.20	‘And I my self a lady gay, Bedeckt with gorgious rich array; The bravest lady in the land Had not more pleasures to command. 106.21	‘I had my musick every day, Harmonious lessons for to play; I had my virgins fair and free, Harmonious lessons for to play; I had my virgins fair and free, Continually to wait on me. I had my virgins fair and free, Continually to wait on me. 106.22	‘But now, alas! my husband’s dead, And all my friends are from me fled; My former joys are past and gone, For now I am a serving-man.’ My former joys are past and gone, For now I am a serving-man.’ 106.23	At last the king from hunting came, And presently upon the same He called for the good old man, And thus to speak the king began. 106.24	‘What news, what news, old man?’ quod he; ‘What news hast thou to tell to me?’ ‘Brave news,’ the old man he did say; ‘Sweet William is a lady gay.’ 106.25	‘If this be true thou tellest me I’le make thee a lord of high degree; But if thy words do prove a lye, Thou shalt be hanged up presently.’ 106.26	But when the king the truth had found, His joys did more and more abound; According as the old man did say, Sweet William was a lady gay. 106.27	Therefore the king without delay Put on her glorious rich array, And upon her head a crown of gold, Which was most famous to behold. 106.28	And then, for fear of further strife, He took Sweet William for his wife; The like before was never seen, A serving-man to be a queen.


 
107A: Will Steward and John
 
107A.1	ADLATTS parke is wyde and broad, And grass growes greene in our countrye; ??	ADLATTS parke is wyde and broad, And grass growes greene in our countrye; Eche man can gett the loue of his ladye, But alas, I can gett none of mine! 107A.2	Itt’s by two men I sing my song, Their names is William Stewart and Iohn; William he is the elder brother, But Iohn hee is the wiser man. 107A.3	But William he is in care-bed layd, And for the loue of a faire ladye; If he haue not the loue of the Erle of Mar’s daughter, In faith for loue that he must dye. 107A.4	faith for loue that he must dye. 107A.4	Then Iohn was sorry for his brother, To see him lye and languish soe: ‘What do you mourne for, brother?’ he saies, ‘I pray you tell to me your woe. 107A.5	‘Doe [you] mourne for gold, brother?’ he saies, ‘Or doe you mourne for fee? Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye, ‘Or doe you mourne for fee? Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye, You neuer saw her with your eye?’ Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye, You neuer saw her with your eye?’ Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye, You neuer saw her with your eye?’ Or doe you mourne for a likesome ladye, You neuer saw her with your eye?’ 107A.6	‘I doe not mourne for gold,’ he saies, ‘Nor I doe not mourne for any fee; But I doe mourne for a likesome ladye, I neere blinke on her with mine eye.’ 107A.7	‘But when haruest is gotten, my deere brother-+- All this is true that I tell thee-+- Gentlemen, they loue hunting well, And giue wight-men their cloth and fee. 107A.8	‘Then I’le goe a wooing for thy sake, In all the speed that I can gone, And for to see this likesome ladye, And hope to send thee good tydings home.’ 107A.9	Iohn Stewart is gone a wooing for his brother, Soe farr into faire Scottland, And left his brother in mikle feare, Vntill he heard the good tydand. 107A.10	And when he came to the Erle of Mar’s his house, Soe well he could his curtesye, And when he came before the erle, He kneeled low downe vpon his knee. 107A.11	‘O rise vp, rise vp, Iohn Steward, Rise vp, now, I doe bidd thee; ??	‘O rise vp, rise vp, Iohn Steward, Rise vp, now, I doe bidd thee; How doth thy father, Iohn Stewart, And all the lords in his countrye?’ 107A.12	‘And itt please you, my lord, my father is dead; My brother and I cannott agree; My brother and I am fallen att discord, And I am come to craue a service of thee.’ 107A.13	‘O welcome, welcome, Iohn Stewart, A welcome man thou art to me; I’le make thee chamberlaine to my daughter, And for to tend of that ladye soe free. 107A.14	‘And if thou wilt haue a better office, Aske, and thou shall haue itt of mee; And where I giue other men a penny of wage, Inffaith, Iohn, thou shalt haue three.’ 107A.15	And then bespake him Iohn Stewart, And these were the words said hee: There is no office in your court This day that better pleaseth mee. 107A.16	The Ffryday is gone, the Sunday is come-+- All this is true that I doe say-+- And to the church that they be gone, Iohn Stewart and the lady gay. 107A.17	And as they did come home againe-+- I-wis itt was a meeten mile-+- Iohn Stewart and the lady gay. They thought itt but a [little] while. 107A.18	‘I am a messenger, ladye,’ he saies, ‘I am a messenger to thee:’ ‘O speake for thy selfe, Iohn Stewart,’ shee saies, ‘A welcome man that thou shalt bee.’ 107A.19	‘Nay, by my faith,’ saies Iohn Stewart, ‘Which euer, alas that may not bee! He hath a higher degree in honour, Allas, ladye, then euer I! 107A.20	‘He is a lord now borne by birth, And an erle affter his father doth dye; His haire is yellow, his eyes beene gray; All this is true that I tell yee. 107A.21	‘He is fine in the middle, and small in the wast, And pleasant in a woman’s eye; And more nor this, he dyes for your loue, Therefore, lady, show some pittye.’ 107A.22	‘If this be soe,’ then saies the lady, ‘If this be true that thou tells mee, By my faith then, Iohn Stewart, I can loue him hartilye. 107A.23	‘Bidd him meete me att St Patr[i]cke’s Church On Sunday after St Andrew’s day; The flower of Scottland will be there, And then begins our summer’s play. 107A.24	‘And bidd him bring with him a hundred gunners, And rawnke ryders lett them bee, And lett them bee of the rankest ryders That	be to be found in that countrye. 107A.25	‘They best and worst, and all in like, Bidd him cloth them in one liuerye; And for his men, greene is the best, And greene now lett their liueryes bee. 107A.26	‘And clothe himselfe in scarlett redd, That	is soe seemlye for to see; Ffor scarlett is a faire coulour, And pleasant allwayes in a woman’s eye. 107A.27	‘He must play sixteene games att ball, Against the men of this countrye, And if he winn the greater part, Then I shall love him more tenderlye.’ 107A.28	What the lady said, Iohn Stewart writt, And to Argyle Castle sent it hee; And [when] Willie Steward saw the letter, Fforth of care-bed then lope hee. 107A.29	Hee mustered together his merry men all, Hee mustered them soe louelilye; Hee thought hee had had scarson halfe a hundred, Then had hee eleuen score and three. 107A.30	He chose forth a hundred of the best That	were to be found in that countrye, He cladd them all in one coulour, And greene i-wis their liueryes bee. 107A.31	He cladd himselfe in scarlett redd, That	is soe seemelye for to see; Ffor scarlett is a faire coulor, And seemlye in a woman’s eye. 107A.32	And then towards Patricke Church he went, With all his men in braue array, To gett a sight, if he might, And speake with his lady gay. 107A.33	When they came to Patricke’s churche, Shee kneeled downe by her mother trulye: ‘O mother, if itt please you to giue me leaue, The Stewart’s horsse faine wold I see.’ 107A.34	‘I’le giue you leaue, my deere daughter, And I and my maide will goe with yee:’ The lady had rather haue gone her selfe Then haue had her mother’s companye. 107A.35	When they came before Willie Steward, Soe well hee cold his curtesye: ‘I wold kisse your daughter, ladye,’ he said, ‘And if your will that soe itt bee.’ 107A.36	The ladye’s mother was content To doe a straunger that curtesye; And when Willie had gotten a kisse, I-wis shee might haue teemed him three. 107A.37	Sixteen games were plaid that day there-+- This is the truth as I doe say-+- Willie Stewart and his merry men, Th carryed twelue of them away. 107A.38	And when they games that they were done, And all they folkes away were gone But the Erle of Marr and William Stewart, The erle wold needs haue William home. 107A.39	And when they came vnto the erle’s howse, They walked to a garden greene; Ffor to confferr of their bussines, Into the garden they be gone. 107A.40	‘I loue your daughter,’ saies William Stewart, ‘But I cannott tell whether she loueth mee:’ ‘Marry, God defend,’ saies the Erle of Mar, ’That euer soe that itt shold bee! 107A.41	‘I had rather a gallowes there was made, And hange thee for my daughter’s sake; I had rather a fyer were made att a stake, And burne thee for my daughter’s sake! 107A.42	‘To chamber, to chamber, gay ladye,’ he saies, ‘In the deuill’s name now I bidd thee! And thou gett thee not to the chamber soone, I’le beate thee before the Stewart’s eye.’ 107A.43	And then bespake William Stewart, These were the words said hee: ‘If thou beate thy daughter for my sake, Thou’st beate a hundred men and mee.’ 107A.44	Then bespake Iohn Stewart-+- Lord! an angry man was hee-+- ‘O churle, if thou wouldest not haue macht with my brother, Thou might haue answerd him curteouslye.’ 107A.45	‘O hold thy peace, Iohn Stewart, And chamber thy words now, I bidd thee; If thou chamber not thy words soone, Thou’st loose a good service; soe shalt thou doe me.’ 107A.46	‘Marry! hang them that cares,’ saies Iohn Stewart, ‘Either for thy service or for thee; Services can I haue enoughe, But brethren wee must euer bee.’ 107A.47	William Stewart and his brother Iohn, To Argyle Castle gon they bee; And when Willye came to Argyle Castle, Into care-bedd then lope hee. 107A.48	A parlaiment att Edenborrow was made, The king and his nobles all mett there; Th sent for William Stewart and Iohn, To come amongst the other peeres. 107A.49	Their clothing was of scarlett redd, That	was soe seemelye for to see; Blacke hatts, white feathers plewed with gold, And sett all on their heads trulye. 107A.50	Their stockings were of twisted silke, With garters fringed about with gold; Their shoes were of the cordevine, And all was comelye to behold. 107A.51	And when they came to Edenborrowe, They called for Iohn Stewart and Willie: ‘I answer in a lord’s roome,’ saies Will Stewart, ‘But an erle I hope to bee.’ 107A.52	‘Come downe, come downe,’ saies the Lord of Marr, ‘I knew not what was thy degree:’ ‘O churle, if I might not haue macht with thy daughter, Itt had not beene long of my degree. 107A.53	‘My father, hee is the king his brother, And then the king is vnckle to me; O churle, if I might not haue macht with thy daughter, Itt had not beene long of my degree.’ 107A.54	‘O hold your peace,’ then sayd the king, ‘Cozen William, I doe bidd thee; Infaith, cozen William, he loues you the worsse Because you are a-kinn to mee. 107A.55	‘I’le make thee an erle with a siluer wande, And adde more honors still to thee; Thy brother Iohn shall be a lord, Of the best att home in his countrye. 107A.56	‘Thy brother Kester shalbe a knight, Lands and liuings I will him giue, And still hee shall liue in court with mee, And I’le maintaine him whilest he doth liue.’ 107A.57	And when the parlaiment was done, And all the folkes away were gone, Willye Stewart and Iohn his brother, To Argyle Castle they be gone. 107A.58	But when they came to Argyle Castle, That was soe farr in that countrye, He thought soe much then of his loue That	into care-bedd then lope hee. 107A.59	Iohn Stewart did see his brother soe ill, Lord in his heart that hee was woe! ‘I will goe wooing for thy sake Againe yonder gay ladye to. 107A.60	‘I’le cloth my selfe in strange array, In a beggar’s habbitt I will goe, That	when I come before the Erle of Marr My clothing strange he shall not knowe.’ 107A.61	Iohn hee gott on a clouted cloake, Soe meete and low then by his knee, With four garters vpon one legg, Two aboue, and towe below trulye. 107A.62	‘But if thou be a beggar, brother, Thou art a beggar that is vnknowne; Ffor thou art one of the stoutest beggars That	euer I saw since I was borne. 107A.63	‘Heere, geeue the lady this gay gold ringe, A token to her that well is knowne; And if shee but aduise itt well, Shee’le know some time itt was her owne.’ 107A.64	‘Stay, by my faith, I goe not yett,’ Iohn Stewart he can replye; ‘I’le haue my bottle full of beere, The best that is in thy butterye. 107A.65	‘I’le haue my sachell filld full of meate, I am sure, brother, [it] will doe noe harme; Ffor, before I come to the Erle of Marr’s his house, My lipps, I am sure, they wilbe warme.’ 107A.66	And when he came to the Erle of Marr’s house, By chance itt was of the dole-day; But Iohn cold find no place to stand, Vntill he came to the ladye gaye. 107A.67	But many a beggar he threw downe, And made them all with weeping say, He is the devill, hee is no beggar, That	is come forth of some strange countrye. 107A.68	And now the dole that itt is delte, And all the beggars he gon away, Sauing Iohn Stewart, that seemed a beggar, And the ladye that was soe gay. 107A.69	by my clothes you may thinke that I bee; As by my clothes you may thinke that I bee; I am your servant, Iohn Stewart, And I am sent a messenger to thee.’ 107A.70	‘But if thou be Iohn Stewart, As I doe thinke that thou bee, Avayle thy capp, avayle thy hoode, And I will stand and speake to thee. 107A.71	‘How doth thy brother, Iohn Stewart, And all the lords in his countrye?’ ‘O fye vpon thee, wicked woman! My brother he doth the worsse for thee.’ 107A.72	With that the teares stood in her eyes; O lord, shee wept soe tenderlye! Sais, Ligg the blame vnto my father; I pray you, Iohn Stewart, lay itt not to mee. 107A.73	Comend me to my owne true-loue, That	liues soe farr in the North countrye, And bidd him meete me att Martingsdale, That	liues soe farr in the North countrye, And bidd him meete me att Martingsdale, Ffullye w[i]thin these dayes three. 107A.74	Hang them, sais the lady gay, That	letts their father witting bee! I’le proue a ladye full of loue, And be there by the sunn be a quarter highe. 107A.75	And bidd him bring with him a hundred gunners, And ranke riders lett them bee; Lett them be of the rankest ryders That	be to be found in that countrye. 107A.76	The best and worse, and all in like, Bidd him clothe them in one liuerye; And for his men, greene is the best, And greene now lett their lyueryes bee. 107A.77	And cloth himselfe in scarlett redd, That	is soe seemelye for to see; For scarlett is a faire coulor, And pleasant in a woman’s eye. 107A.78	What they lady sayd, Iohn Stewart writt, To Argyle Castle sent itt hee; His bagg and his dish and showing horne, Unto three beggars he gaue them all three. 107A.79	And when Willie Stewart saw the letter, Fforth of care-bed then lope hee; He thought himselfe as lustye and sound As any man in that countrye. 107A.80	He mustered together his merrymen all, He mustered them soe louinglye; He thought he had had scarce halfe a hundred, Then had hee eleuen score and three. 107A.81	He chose forth a hundred of the best That	were to be found in that companye, And presentlye they tooke their horsse, And to Martingsdale posted hee. 107A.82	And when he came to Martingsdale, He found his loue staying there trulye, For shee was a lady true of loue, And was there by [the] sunn was a qwarter highe. 107A.83	Shee kisst William Stewart and his brother Iohn, Soe did shee part of his merry men: ‘If the churle, thy father, hee were here, He shold not haue thee backe againe.’ 107A.84	They sent for preist, they sent for clarke, And they were marryed there with speede; William tooke the lady home with him, And they liued together long time indeed. 107A.85	And in twelue monthe soe they wrought, The lady shee was great with childe; The sent Iohn Stewart to the Erle off Marre, To come and christen the barne soe milde. 107A.86	‘And if this be soe,’ sayes the Erle of Marre, ‘Iohn Stewart, as thou tells mee, I hope in God you haue marryed my daughter, And put her bodye to honestye.’ 107A.87	‘Nay, by my faith,’ then saies Iohn Stewart, ‘Ffor euer alas that shall not bee; Ffor now wee haue put her body to shame, Thou’st haue her againe hame to thee.’ 107A.88	‘I had rather make thee Erle of Marre, And marry my daughter vnto thee; For by my faith,’ sais the Erle of Marr, ‘Her marryage is marrd in our countrye.’ 107A.89	‘If this be soe,’ then sais Iohn Stewart, ‘A marryage soone that thou shalt see; Ffor my brother William, my father’s heyre, Shall marry thy daughter before thine eye.’ 107A.90	They sent for preist, th sent for clarke, And marryed there they were with speed; And William Stewart is Erle of Marr, And his father-in-law dwells with him indeed.
 
107B: Will Steward and John
 
 
 107B.1	‘SPEAK for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
 	‘Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
 	‘Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
 	‘And soon an answer I will gie to thee;
 	The highest service I can give thee
 	Is to wait on my daughter Ailly.
 107B.2	’. . . . .
 
 	. . . . .
 	If ever I gie a man a penny wage,
 	I’m sure, John Stewart, ye shall hae three.’
 107B.3	‘I speak not for mysell,’ John Stewart he did say,
 	‘I speak for a lord of a higher degree;
 	The message is from my brother William,
 	Your loving daughter’s husband to be.’
 107B.4	’. . . . . .
 	. . . . . .
 NN3	i’ll rather beat fair Ailly in my leather bang,
 	As lang as she can either stand or gang.’
 107B.5	. . . . .
 	. . . . .
 	‘Ye hadna beat her before my face
 	Or ye’ll beat three hundred men and me.’
 107B.6	When william came to Mulbery Hall,
 	He kissd the ladies one and all;
 	But when he cam to fair Ailly,
 	She thought he might hae gaen her twa or three.
 107B.7	Between the kitchen and the garden
 	It is calld a measured mile;
 	That lady and that lord fell into discourse,
 	And they thought they rode it in a short while.
 	Chorus: Tring dilly, tring dilly, tring ding dido,
 	Tring dilly, tring dilly, dolo dee.

 


 
108: Christopher White
 
108.1	AS I walked forth one morninge, By one place that pleased mee, Wherin I heard a wandering wight, Sais, Christopher White is good companye. 108.2	I drew me neere, and very neere, Till I was as neere as neere cold bee; Loth I was her councell to discreene, Because I wanted companye. 108.3	‘Say on, say on, thou well faire mayd, Why makest thou moane soe heauilye?’ Sais, All is for one wandering wight, Is banished forth of his owne countrye. 108.4	‘I am the burgesse of Edenburrow, Soe am I more of townes three; I haue money and gold great store, Come, sweet wench, and ligg thy loue on mee.’ 108.5	The merchant pulled forth a bagg of gold Which had hundreds two or three; Sais, Euery day throughout the weeke I’le comt as much downe on thy knee. 108.6	‘O merchant, take thy gold againe, A good liuing ’twill purchase thee; If I be false to Christopher White, Merchant, I cannott be true to thee.’ 108.7	Sais, I haue halls, soe haue I bowers, Sais, I haue shipps sayling on the sea; I ame the burgess of Edenburrowe; Come, sweete wench, ligge thy loue on mee. 108.8	Come on, come, thou well faire mayde, Of our matters lett vs goe throughe, For to-morrowe I’le marry thee, And thy dwelling shalbe in Edenburrough. 108.9	The lady shee tooke this gold in her hand, The teares th fell fast from her eye; Sais, Siluer and gold makes my hart to turne, And makes me leaue good companye. 108.10	They had not beene marryed Not ouer monthes two or three, But tydings came to Edenburrowe That	all the merchants must to the sea. 108.11	Then as this lady sate in a deske, Shee made a loue-letter full round; She mad a lettre to Christopher White, And in itt shee put a hundred pound. 108.12	She lin’d the letter with gold soe red, And mony good store in itt was found; Shee sent itt to Christopher White, That	was soe far in the Scotts ground. 108.13	Shee bade him then frankely spend, And looke that hee shold merry bee, And bid him come to Edenburrowe, Now all the merchants be to the sea. 108.14	But Christopher came to leeue London, And there he kneeled lowly downe, And there hee begd his pardon then, Of our noble king that ware the crowne. 108.15	But when he came to his true-loue’s house, Which was made both of lime and stone, Shee tooke him by the lily-white hand, Sais, True-loue, you are welcome home! 108.16	Welcome, my honey, welcome, my ioy, Welcome, my true-loue; home to mee! Ffor thou art hee that will lengthen my dayes, And I know thou art good companye. 108.17	Christopher, I am a merchant’s wiffe; Christopher, the more shall be your gaine; Siluer and gold you shall haue enough, Of the merchant’s gold that is in Spaine. 108.18	‘But if you be a merchant’s wiffe, Something t’o much you are to blame; I will thee reade a loue-letter Shall sture thy stumpes, thou noble dame.’ 108.19	‘Althoug I be a marchant’s wiffe, . . . shall . . mine . and g . . . . . Into England I’le goe with the.’ 108.20	They packet vp both siluer and plate, Siluer and gold soe great plentye, And they be gon into Litle England, And the marchant must them neuer see. 108.21	And when the merchants they came home, Their wiues to eche other can say, Heere hath beene good Christopher White, And he hath tane thy wiffe away. 108.22	They haue packett vp spoone and plate, Siluer and gold great plenty, And they be gon into Litle England, And them againe thow must neuer see. 108.23	‘I care nott for my siluer and gold, Nor for my plate soe great plentye, But I mourne for that like-some ladye That	Christopher White hath tane from mee. 108.24	‘But one thing I must needs confesse, This lady shee did say to me, If shee were false to Christopher White, Shee cold neuer be true to mee. 108.25	‘All young men a warning take, A warning, looke, you take by mee; Looke that you loue your old loues best, For infaith they are best companye.’


 
109A: Tom Potts
 
109A.1	all you lords of Scottland faire, And ladyes alsoe, bright of blee, There is a ladye amongst them all, Of her report you shall heare of me. 109A.2	Of her bewtye shee is soe bright, And of her colour soe bright of blee; Shee is daughter to the Lord Arrndell, His heyre apparrant for to bee. 109A.3	le see that bryde,’ Lord Phenix sayes, ’That is a ladye of hye degree, And iff I like her countenance well, The heyre of all my land shee’st bee 109A.4	To that ladye fayre Lord Phenix came, And to that like-some dame said hee, Now God thee saue, my ladye faire, The heyre of all my land tho’st bee. 109A.5	‘Leaue of your suite,’ the ladye sayd; ‘You are a lord of honor free; You may gett ladyes enowe att home, And I haue a lour in mine owne countrye. 109A.6	‘I haue a louer true of mine owne, A servinge-man of a small degree; Thomas a Pott, itt is his name, He is the first loue that euer I had, and the last that hee shalbee.’ 109A.7	‘Giue Thomas a Pott then be his name, I wott I ken him soe readilye; I can spend forty pounds by weeke, And hee cannott spend pounds three.’ 109A.8	d giue you good of your gold,’ said the ladye, Hee was the first loue that euer I had, ‘And alsoe, sir, of your fee! Hee was the first lour that euer I had, And the last, sir, shall hee bee.’ 109A.9	With that Lord Phenix was sore amoued; Vnto her father then went hee; Hee told her father how itt was proued, How that his daughter’s mind was sett. 109A.10	‘Thou art my daughter,’ the Erle of Arrndell said, ‘They heyre of all my land to bee; Thou’st be bryde to the Lord Phenix, Daughter, giue thou’le be heyre to mee.’ 109A.11	For lacke of her loue this ladye must lose, Her foolish wooing lay all aside; The day is appoynted, and freinds are agreede; Shee is forcte to be the Lord Phenix bryde. 109A.12	With that the lady began to muse-+- A greeued woman, God wott, was shee-+- How shee might Lord Phenix beguile, And scape vnmarryed from him that day. 109A.13	Shee called to her her litle foote-page, To Iacke her boy, soe tenderlye; Sayes, Come thou hither, thou litle foote-page, For indeed I dare trust none but thee. 109A.14	To Strawberry Castle, boy, thou must goe, To Thomas Pott there as hee can bee, And giue him here this letter faire, And on Guilford Greene bidd him meete me. 109A.15	Looke thou marke his contenance well, And his colour tell to mee; And hye thee fast, and come againe, And forty shillings I will giue thee. 109A.16	For if he blush in his face, Then in his hart hee’se sorry bee; Then lett my father say what hee will, For false to Potts I’le neuer bee. 109A.17	And giue hee smile then with his mouth, Then in his heart hee’le merry be; Then may hee gett him a loue where-euer he can, For small of his companye my part shalbe. 109A.18	Then one while that the boy hee went, Another while, God wott, rann hee, And when hee came to Strawberry Castle, There Thomas Potts hee see. 109A.19	Then he gaue him this letter faire, And when he began then for to reade, They boy had told him by word of mouth His loue must be the Lord Phenix bryde. 109A.20	With that, Thomas a Pott began to blushe, The teares trickeled in his eye: ‘Indeed this letter I cannot reede, Nor neuer a word to see or spye. 109A.21	‘I pray thee, boy, to me thou’le be trew, And heer’s fiue marke I will giue thee; And all these words thou must peruse, And tell thy lady this from mee. 109A.22	‘Tell her by faith and troth shee is mine owne, By some part of promise, and soe itt’s be found; Lord Phenix shall neuer marry her, by night nor day, And bidd that ladye for mee pray; Without he can winn her with his hand. 109A.23	‘On Gilford Greene I will her meete, And bidd that ladye for mee pray; For there I’le loose my liffe soe sweete, Or else the wedding I will stay.’ 109A.24	Then backe againe the boy he went, As fast againe as he cold hye; The ladye mett him fiue mile on the way: ‘Why hast hou stayd soe long?’ saies shee. 109A.25	‘Boy,’ said the ladye, ’Thou art but younge; To please my mind thou’le mocke and scorne; I will not beleeue thee on word of mouth, Vnlesse on this booke thou wilt be sworne.’ 109A.26	‘Marry, by this booke,’ the boy can say, ‘As Christ himselfe be true to mee, Thomas Pott cold not his letter reade For teares trickling in his eye.’ 109A.27	‘If this be true,’ the ladye sayd, ‘Thou bonny boy, thou tells to mee, Forty shillings I did thee promise, But heere’s ten pounds I’le giue itt thee. 109A.28	‘All my maids,’ the lady sayd, ’That this day doe waite on mee, Wee will fall downe vpon our knees, For Thomas Pott now pray will wee. 109A.29	‘If his fortune be now for to winn-+- Wee will pray to Christ in Trinytye-+- I’le make him the flower of all his kinn, Ffor they Lord of Arrundale he shalbe.’ 109A.30	Now lett vs leaue talking of this ladye faire, In her prayer good where shee can bee; And I’le tell you hou Thomas Pott For ayd to his lord and master came hee. 109A.31	And when hee came Lord Iockye before, He kneeled him low downe on his knee; Saies, Thou art welcome, Thomas Pott, Thou art allwayes full of thy curtesye. 109A.32	Has thou slaine any of thy fellowes, Or hast thou wrought me some villanye? ‘Sir, none of my fellowes I haue slaine, Nor I haue wrought you noe villanye. 109A.33	‘But I haue a loue in Scottland faire, I doubt I must lose her through pouertye; If you will not beleeue me by word of mouth, Behold the letter shee writt vnto mee.’ 109A.34	When Lord Iockye looked the letter vpon, The tender words in itt cold bee, ‘Thomas Pott, take thou no care, Thou’st neuer loose her throughe pouertye. ‘Thomas Pott, take thou no care, Thou’st neuer loose her throughe pouertye. 109A.35	‘Thou shalt have forty pounds a weeke, In gold and siluer thou shalt rowe, And Harbye towne I will thee allowe As longe as thou dost meane to wooe. 109A.36	‘Thou shalt haue fortye of thy fellowes faire, And forty horsse to goe with thee, And forty speares of the best I haue, And I my-selfe in thy companye.’ 109A.37	‘I thanke you, master,’ sayd Thomas Pott, ‘Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee; I wold not for a thousand pounds Take one man in my companye.’ 109A.38	‘Why then, God be with thee, Thomas Pott! Thou art well knowen and proued for a man; Looke thou shedd no guiltlesse bloode, Nor neuer confound no gentlman. 109A.39	‘But looke thou take with him some truce, Apoint a place of lybertye; Lett him provide as well as hee cann, And as well provided thou shalt bee.’ 109A.40	And when Thomas Pott came to Gilford Greene, And walked there a litle beside, Then was hee ware of the lord Phenix, And with him Ladye Rozamund his bryde. 109A.41	Away by the bryde rode Thomas of Pott, But noe word to her that he did say; ??	Away by the bryde rode Thomas of Pott, But noe word to her that he did say; But when he came Lord Phenix before, He gaue him the right time of the day. 109A.42	‘O thou art welcome, Thomas a Potts, How fares they lord and master att home, Thou serving-man, welcome to mee! How fares they lord and master att home, And all the ladyes in thy cuntrye?’ 109A.43	‘Sir, my lord and my master is in verry good health, I wott I ken itt soe readylye; I pray you, will you ryde to one outsyde, A word or towe to talke with mee. 109A.44	‘You are a nobleman,’ sayd Thomas a Potts, ‘Yee are a borne lord in Scottland free; You may gett ladyes enowe att home; You shall neuer take my loue from mee.’ 109A.45	‘Away, away, thou Thomas a Potts! Thou seruing-man, stand thou a-side! I wott there’s not a serving-man this day, I know, can hinder mee of my bryde.’ 109A.46	‘If I be but a seruing-man,’ sayd Thomas, ‘And you are a lord of honor free, A speare or two I’le with you runn, Before I’le loose her thus cowardlye.’ 109A.47	‘On Gilford Greene,’ Lord Phenix saies, ‘I’le thee meete; Neither man nor boy shall come hither with mee;’ ‘And as I am a man,’ said Thomas a Pott, ‘I’le haue as few in my companye.’ 109A.48	With that the wedding-day was stayd, The bryde went vnmarryed home againe; Then to her maydens fast shee loughe, And in her hart shee was full faine. 109A.49	‘But all my mayds,’ they ladye sayd, ’That this day doe waite on mee, Wee will fall downe againe vpon our knees, For Thomas a Potts now pray will wee. 109A.50	‘If his fortune be for to winn-+- Wee’le pray to Christ in Trynitye-+- I’le make him the flower of all his kinn, For the lord of Arrundale he shalbe.’ 109A.51	Now let vs leaue talking of this lady fayre, In her prayers good where shee can bee; I’le tell you the troth how Thomas a Potts For aide to his lord againe came hee. 109A.52	And when he came to Strawberry Castle, To try for his ladye he had but one weeke; Alacke, for sorrow hee cannott forbeare, For four dayes then he fell sicke. 109A.53	With that his lord and master to him came, Sayes, I pray thee, Thomas, tell mee without all doubt, Whether hast thou gotten the bonny ladye, Or thou man gange the ladye withoute. 109A.54	‘Marry, master, yett that matter is vntryde; Within two dayes tryed itt must bee; He is a lord, and I am but a seruing-man, I doubt I must loose her through pouertye.’ ‘Why, Thomas a Pott, take thou no care; Thou’st neuer loose her through pouertye. 109A.55	‘Thou shalt haue halfe my land a yeere, And that will raise thee many a pound; Before thou shalt loose thy bonny ladye, Thou shalt drop angells with him to the ground. 109A.56	‘And thou shalt haue forty of thy fellowes faire, And forty horsses to goe with thee, And forty speres of the best I haue, And I my-selfe in thy companye.’ 109A.57	‘I thanke you, master,’ sayd Thomas a Potts, ‘But of one thinge, sir, I wold be faine; If I shold loose my bonny ladye, How shall I increase your goods againe?’ 109A.58	‘Why, if thou winn thy lady faire, Thou maye well forth for to pay mee; If thou loose thy lady, thou hast losse enoughe; Not one penny I will aske thee.’ 109A.59	‘Master, you haue thirty horsses in one hold, You keepe them ranke and royallye; There’s an old horsse, -+-for him you doe not care-+- This day wold sett my lady free. 109A.60	’That is a white, with a cutt tayle, Ffull sixteen yeeres of age is hee; Giffe you wold lend me that old horsse, Then I shold gett her easilye.’ 109A.61	‘Thou takes a foolish part,’ the Lord Iockye sayd, ‘And a foolish part thou takes on thee; Thou shalt haue a better then euer he was, That	forty pounds cost more nor hee.’ 109A.62	‘O master, those horsses beene wild and wicked, And litle they can skill of the old traine; Giffe I be out of my saddle cast, They beene soe wild they’le neuer be tane againe. 109A.63	‘Lett me haue age, sober and wise; Itt is a part of wisdome, you know itt plaine; If I be out of my sadle cast, Hee’le either stand still or turne againe.’ 109A.64	‘Thou shalt haue that horsse with all my hart, And my cote-plate of siluer free, And a hundred men att thy backe, For to fight if neede shalbee.’ 109A.65	‘I thanke you, master,’ said Thomas a Potts, ‘Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee; As you are a lord off honor borne, Let none of my fellowes know this of mee. 109A.66	‘Ffor if they wott of my goinge, I wott behind me they will not bee; Without you keepe them vnder a locke, Vppon that greene I shall them see.’ 109A.67	And when Thomas came to Gilford Greene, And walked there some houres three, Then was he ware of the Lord Phenix, And four men in his companye. 109A.68	‘You haue broken your vow,’ sayd Thomas a Pott, ‘Your vowe that you made vnto mee; You said you wold come your selfe alone, And you haue brought more then two or three.’ 109A.69	‘These are my waiting-men,’ Lord Phenix sayd, ’That euery day doe waite on mee; Giffe any of these shold att vs stirr, My speare shold runn throwe his bodye.’ 109A.70	‘I’le runn noe race,’ said Thomas Potts, ‘Till that this othe heere made may bee: If the one of vs be slaine, The other forgiuen that hee may bee.’ 109A.71	‘I’le make a vow,’ Lord Phenix sayes, ‘My men shall beare wittnesse with thee, Giffe thou slay mee att this time, Neuer the worsse beloued in Scottland thou shalt bee.’ 109A.72	Then they turned their horsses round about, To run the race fore egarlye; Lord Phenix he was stiffe and stout, He has runn Thomas quite thorrow the thye. 109A.73	And beere Thomas out of his saddle faire; Vpon the ground there did hee lye; He saies, For my liffe I doe not care, But for the loue of my ladye. 109A.74	But shall I lose my ladye faire? I thought shee shold haue beene my wiffe; I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ryde not away, For with thee I will loose my liffe. 109A.75	Tho Thomas a Potts was a seruing-man, He was alsoe a phisityan good; He clapt his hand vpon his wound, With some kind of words he stauncht the blood. 109A.76	Then into his sadle againe hee leepe; The blood in his body began to warme; He mist Lord Phenix bodye there, But he run him quite throw the brawne of the arme. 109A.77	And he bore him quite out of his saddle faire; Vpon the ground there did he lye; He said, I pray thee, Lord Phenix, rise and fight, Or else yeeld this ladye sweete to mee. 109A.78	‘To fight with thee,’ quoth Phenix, ‘I cannott stand. Nor for to fight, I cannott, sure; Thou hast run me through the brawne of the arme; Noe longer of thy spere I cannott endure. 109A.79	‘Thou’st haue that ladye with all my hart, Sith itt was like neuer better to proue, Nor neuer a noble-man this day, That	will seeke to take a pore man’s loue.’ 109A.80	‘Why then, be of good cheere,’ saies Thomas Pott, ‘Indeed your bucher I’le neuer bee, For I’le come and stanche your bloode, Giff any thankes you’le giue to mee.’ 109A.81	As he was stanching the Phenix blood, These words Thomas a Pott cann to him proue: ‘I’le neuer take a ladye of you thus, But here I’le giue you another choice. 109A.82	‘Heere is a lane of two miles longe; Att either end sett wee will bee; The ladye shall sitt vs betweene, And soe will wee sett this ladye free.’ 109A.83	‘If thou’le doe soe,’ Lord Phenix sayes, ‘Thomas a Pott, as thou dost tell mee, Whether I gett her or goe without her, Heere’s forty pounds I’le giue itt thee.’ 109A.84	And when the ladye there can stand, A woman’s mind that day to proue, ‘Now, by my faith,’ said this ladye faire, ‘This day Thomas a Pott shall haue his owne loue.’ 109A.85	Toward Thomas a Pott the lady shee went, To leape behind him hastilye; ‘Nay, abyde a while,’ sayd Lord Phenix, ‘Ffor better yett proued thou shalt bee. 109A.86	‘Thou shalt stay heere with all thy maids-+- In number with thee thou hast but three-+- Thomas a Pott and I’le goe beyond yonder wall, There the one of vs shall dye.’ 109A.87	And when they came beyond the wall, The one wold not the other nye; Lord Phenix he had giuen his word With Thomas a Pott neuer to fight. 109A.88	‘Giue me a choice,’ Lord Phenix sayes, ‘Thomas a Pott, I doe pray thee; Lett mee goe to yonder ladye faire, To see whether shee be true to thee.’ 109A.89	And when hee came that ladye too, Vnto that likesome dame sayd hee, Now God thee saue, thou ladye faire, The heyre of all my land thou’st bee. 109A.90	Ffor this Thomas a Potts I haue slaine; He hath more than deadlye wounds two or three; ??	Ffor this Thomas a Potts I haue slaine; He hath more than deadlye wounds two or three; Thou art mine owne ladye, he sayd, And marryed together wee will bee. 109A.91	The ladye said, If Thomas a Potts this day thou haue slaine, Thou hast slaine a better man than euer was thee; And I’le sell all the state of my lande But thou’st be hanged on a gallow-tree. 109A.92	With that they lady shee fell in a soone; A greeued woman, I wott, was shee; Lord Phenix hee was readye there, Tooke her in his armes most hastilye. 109A.93	‘O Lord, sweete, and stand on thy feete, This day Thomas a Pott aliue can bee; I’le send for thy father, the Lord of Arrundale, And marryed together I will you see: Giffe hee will not maintaine you well, Both gold and land you shall haue from me.’ 109A.94	‘I’le see that wedding,’ my Lord of Arrundale said, ‘Of my daughter’s loue that is soe faire; And sith itt will no better be, Of all my land Thomas a Pott shall be my heyre.’ 109A.95	‘Now all my maids,’ the ladye said, ‘And ladyes of England, faire and free, Looke you neuer change your old loue for no new, Nor neuer change for no pouertye. 109A.96	‘Ffor I had a louer true of mine owne, A seruing-man of a small degree; Ffrom Thomas a Pott I’le turne his name, And the Lord of Arrundale hee shall bee.’
 
109B: Tom Potts
 
109B.1 OF all the lords in Scotland fair, And ladies that been so bright of blee, There is a noble lady among them all, And report of her you shall hear by me. 109B.2 For of her beauty she is bright, And of her colour very fair; She’s daughter to Lord Arundel, And of her colour very fair; She’s daughter to Lord Arundel, Approvd his parand and his heir. 109B.3 ‘I’le see this bride,’ Lord Phenix said, ‘That lady of so bright a blee, And if I like her countenance well, The heir of all my lands she’st be.’ 109B.4 But when he came the lady before, Before this comely maid came he, ‘O God thee save, thou lady sweet, My heir and parand thou shalt be.’ 109B.5 ‘Leave off your suit,’ the lady said, ‘As you are a lord of high degree; And I have a lord in mine own country. 109B.6 ‘For I have a lover true of mine own, A serving-man of low degree, One Tommy Pots it is his name, My first love and last that ever shall be.’ 109B.7 ‘If that Tom Pots is his name, I do ken him right verily; I am able to spend fourty pounds a week, Where he is not able to spend pounds three.’ 109B.8 ‘God give you good of your gold,’ she said, ‘And ever God give you good of your fee; Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had, And I do mean him the last to be.’ 109B.9 With that Lord Phenix soon was movd; Towards the lady did he threat; He told her father, and so it was provd, How his daughter’s mind was set. 109B.10 ‘O daughter dear, thou art my own, The heir of all my lands to be; Thou shalt be bride to the Lord Phenix, If that thou mean to be heir to me.’ 109B.11 ‘O father dear, I am your own, And at your command I needs must be; But bind my body to whom you please, My heart, Tom Pots, shall go with thee.’ 109B.12 Alas! the lady her fondness must leave, And all her foolish wooing lay aside; The time is come, her friends have appointed, That she must be Lord Phenix bride. 109B.13 With that the lady began to weep; She knew not well then what to say, How she might Lord Phenix deny, And escape from marriage quite away. 109B.14 See calld unto her little foot-page, Saying, I can trust none but thee; Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair, And bid him on Guilford Green meet me. 109B.15 For I must marry against my mind, Or in faith well proved it shall be; And tell to him I am loving and kind, And wishes him this wedding to see. 109B.16 But see that thou note his countenance well, And his colour, and shew it to me; And go thy way and hie thee again, And forty shillings I will give thee. 109B.17 For if he smile now with his lips, His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart; Then may I seek another true-love, For of Tom Pots small is my part. 109B.18 But if he blush now in his face, Then in his heart he will sorry be; Then to his vow he hath some grace, And false to him I will never be. 109B.19 Away this lacky-boy he ran, And a full speed forsooth went he, ?? Away this lacky-boy he ran, And a full speed forsooth went he, Till he came to Strawberry Castle, And there Tom Pots came he to see. 109B.20 He gave him the letter in his hand; Before that he began to read, He told him plainly by word of mouth, His love was forc’d to be Lord Phenix bride. 109B.21 When he lookd on the letter fair, The salt tears blemished his eye; Says, I cannot read this letter fair, Nor never a word to see or spy. 109B.22 My little boy, be to me true, Here is five marks I will give thee; And all these words I must peruse, And tell my lady this from me. 109B.23 By faith and troth she is my own, By some part of promise, so it’s to be found; Lord Phenix shall not have her night nor day, Except he can win her with his own hand. 109B.24 On Guilford Green I will her meet; Say that I wish her for me to pray; For there I’le lose my life so sweet, Or else the wedding I mean to stay. 109B.25 Away this lackey-boy he ran, Even as fast as he could hie; The lady she met him two miles of the way; Says, Why hast thou staid so long, my boy? 109B.26 My little boy, thou art but young, It gives me at heart thou’l mock and scorn; I’le not believe thee by word of mouth, Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn. 109B.27 ‘Now by this book,’ the boy did say, ‘And Jesus Christ be as true to me, Tom Pots could not read the letter fair, Nor never a word to spy or see. 109B.28 ‘He says, by faith and troth you are his own, By some part of promise, so it’s to be found; Lord Phenix shall not have you night nor day, Except he win you with his own hand. 109B.29 ‘On Guilford Green he will you meet; He wishes you for him to pray; For there he’l lose his life so sweet, Or else the wedding he means to stay.’ 109B.30 ‘If this be true, my little boy, These tidings which thou tellest to me, Forty shillings I did thee promise, Here is ten pounds I will give thee. 109B.31 ‘My maidens all,’ the lady said, ‘That ever wish me well to prove, Now let us all kneel down and pray That Tommy Pots may win his love. 109B.32 ‘If it be his fortune the better to win, As I pray to Christ in Trinity, I’le make him the flower of all his kin, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’ 109B.33 Let’s leave talking of this lady fair, In prayers full good where she may be; Now let us talk of Tommy Pots; To his lord and master for aid went he. 109B.34 But when he came Lord Jockey before, He kneeled lowly on his knee: ‘What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art so full of courtesie? 109B.35 ‘What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art so full of courtesie? Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair, Or wrought to me some villany.’ 109B.36 ‘I have slain none of my fellows fair, Nor wrought to you no villany, But I have a love in Scotland fair, And I fear I shall lose her with poverty. 109B.37 ‘If you’l not believe me by word of mouth, But read this letter, and you shall see, Here by all these suspitious words That she her own self hath sent to me.’ 109B.38 But when he had read the letter fair, Of all the suspitious words in it might be, ‘O Tommy Pots, take thou no care, Thou’st never lose her with poverty. 109B.39 ‘For thou’st have forty pounds a week, In gold and silver thou shalt row, And Harvy Town I will give thee As long as thou intendst to wooe. 109B.40 ‘Thou’st have forty of thy fellows fair, And forty horses to go with thee, Forty of the best spears I have, And I my self in thy company.’ 109B.41 ‘I thank you, master,’ said Tommy Pots, ‘That proffer is too good for me; But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side, My own hands shall set her free. 109B.42 ‘God be with you, master,’ said Tommy Pots, ‘Now Jesus Christ you save and see; If ever I come alive again, Staid the wedding it shall be.’ 109B.43 ‘O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art well proved for a man; See never a drop of blood thou spil, Nor yonder gentleman confound. 109B.44 ‘See that some truce with him you take, And appoint a place of liberty; Let him provide him as well as he can, As well provided thou shalt be.’ 109B.45 But when he came to Guilford Green, And there had walkt a little aside, There was he ware of Lord Phenix come, And Lady Rosamond his bride. 109B.46 Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went, But never a word to her did say, Till he the Lord Phenix came before; He gave him the right time of the day. 109B.47 ‘O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots, Thou serving-man of low degree; How doth thy lord and master at home, And all the ladies in that countrey?’ 109B.48 ‘My lord and master is in good health, I trust since that I did him see; Will you walk with me to an out-side, Two or three words to talk with me? 109B.49 ‘You are a noble man,’ said Tom, ‘And born a lord in Scotland free; You may have ladies enough at home, And never take my love from me.’ 109B.50 ‘Away, away, thou Tommy Pots; Thou serving-man, stand thou aside; It is not a serving-man this day That can hinder me of my bride.’ 109B.51 ‘If I be a serving-man,’ said Tom, ‘And you a lord of high degree, A spear or two with you I’le run, Before I’le lose her cowardly. 109B.52 ‘Appoint a place, I will thee meet, Appoint a place of liberty; For there I’le lose my life so sweet, Or else my lady I’le set free.’ 109B.53 ‘On Guilford Green I will thee meet; No man nor boy shall come with me:’ ‘As I am a man,’ said Tommy Pots, ‘I’le have as few in my company.’ 109B.54 And thus staid the marriage was, The bride unmarried went home again; Then to her maids fast did she laugh, And in her heart she was full fain. 109B.55 ‘My maidens all,’ the lady said, ‘That ever wait on me this day, Now let us all kneel down, And for Tommy Pots let us all pray. 109B.56 ‘If it be his fortune the better to win, As I trust to God in Trinity, I’le make him the flower of all his kin, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’ 109B.57 When Tom Pots came home again, To try for his love he had but a week; For sorrow, God wot, he need not care, For four days that he fel sick. 109B.58 With that his master to him came, Says, Pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if tho doubt Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady, Or thou must go thy love without. 109B.59 ‘O master, yet it is unknown; Within these two days well try’d it must be; He is a lord, I am but a serving-man, I fear I shall lose her with poverty.’ 109B.60 ‘I prethee, Tom Pots, get thee on thy feet; My former promises kept shall be; As I am a lord in Scotland fair, Thou’st never lose her with poverty. 109B.61 ‘For thou’st have the half of my lands a year, And that will raise thee many a pound; Before thou shalt out-braved be, Thou shalt drop angels with him on the ground.’ 109B.62 ‘I thank you, master,’ said Tommy Pots, ‘Yet there is one thing of you I would fain; If that I lose my lady sweet, How I’st restore your goods again?’ 109B.63 ‘If that thou win the lady sweet, Thou mayst well forth, thou shalt pay me; If thou loosest thy lady, thou losest enough; Thou shalt not pay me one penny.’ 109B.64 ‘You have thirty horses in one close, You keep them all both frank and free; Amongst them all there’s an old white horse This day would set my lady free. 109B.65 ‘That is an old horse with a cut tail, Full sixteen years of age is he; If thou wilt lend me that old horse, Then could I win her easily.’ 109B.66 ‘That’s a foolish opinion,’ his master said, ‘And a foolish opinion thou tak’st to thee; Thou’st have a better then ever he was, Though forty pounds more it cost me.’ 109B.67 ‘O your choice horses are wild and tough, And little they can skill of their train; If I be out of my saddle cast, They are so wild they’l ner be tain.’ 109B.68 ‘Thou’st have that horse,’ his master said, ‘If that one thing thou wilt tell me; Why that horse is better than any other, I pray thee, Tom Pots, shew thou to me.’ 109B.69 ‘That horse is old, of stomach bold, And well can he skill of his train; If I be out of my saddle cast, He’l either stand still or turn again.’ 109B.70 ‘Thou’st have the horse with all my heart, And my plate-coat of silver free; An hundred men to stand at thy back, To fight if he thy master be.’ 109B.71 ‘I thank you master,’ said Tommy Pots; ‘That proffer is too good for me; I would not, for ten thousand pounds, Have man or boy in my company. 109B.72 ‘God be with you master,’ said Tommy Pots; ‘Now, as you are a man of law, One thing let me crave at your hand; Let never a one of my fellows know. 109B.73 ‘For if that my fellows they did wot, Or ken of my extremity, Except you keep them under a lock, Behind me I am sure they would not be.’ 109B.74 But when he came to Guilford Green, He waited hours two or three; There he was ware of Lord Phenix come, And four men in his company. 109B.75 ‘You have broken your vow,’ said Tommy Pots, ‘The vow which you did make to me; You said you would bring neither man nor boy, And now has brought more than two or three.’ 109B.76 ‘These are my men,’ Lord Phenix said, ‘Which every day do wait on me; [If] any of these dare proffer to strike, I’le run my spear through his body.’ 109B.77 ‘I’le run no race now,’ said Tommy Pots, ‘Except now this may be; If either of us be slain this day, The other shall forgiven be.’ 109B.78 ‘I’le make that vow with all my heart, My men shall bear witness with me; And if thou slay me here this day, In Scotland worse belovd thou never shalt be.’ 109B.79 They turnd their horses thrice about, To run the race so eagerly; Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout, And ran Tom Pots through the thick o th’ thigh. 109B.80 He bord him out of the saddle fair, Down to the ground so sorrowfully: ‘For the loss of my life I do not care, But for the loss of my fair lady. 109B.81 ‘Now for the loss of my lady sweet, Which once I thought to have been my wife, I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away, For with thee I would end my life.’ 109B.82 Tom Pots was but a serving-man, But yet he was a doctor good; He bound his handkerchief on his wound, And with some kind of words he stancht his blood. 109B.83 He leapt into his saddle again, The blood in his body began to warm; He mist Lord Phenix body fair, And ran him through the brawn of the arm. 109B.84 He bord him out of his saddle fair, Down to the ground most sorrowfully; Says, Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight, Or yield my lady unto me. 109B.85 ‘Now for to fight I cannot tell, And for to fight I am not sure; Thou hast run me throw the brawn o th’ arm, That with a spear I may not endure. 109B.86 ‘Thou’st have the lady with all my heart; It was never likely better to prove With me, or any nobleman else, That would hinder a poor man of his love.’ 109B.87 ‘Seeing you say so much,’ said Tommy Pots, ‘I will not seem your butcher to be; But I will come and stanch your blood, If any thing you will give me.’ 109B.88 As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood, Lord, in his heart he did rejoyce! ‘I’le not take the lady from you thus, But of her you’st have another choice. 109B.89 ‘Here is a lane of two miles long; At either end we set will be; The lady shall stand us among, Her own choice shall set her free.’ 109B.90 ‘If thou’l do so,’ Lord Phenix said, ‘To lose her by her own choice it’s honesty; Chuse whether I get her or go her without, Forty pounds I will give thee.’ 109B.91 But when they in that lane was set, The wit of a woman for to prove, ‘By the faith of my body,’ the lady said, ‘Then Tom Pots must needs have his love.’ 109B.92 Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie, To get on behind him hastily; ‘Nay stay, nay stay,’ Lord Phenix said, ‘Better proved it shall be. 109B.93 ‘Stay you with your maidens here-+- In number fair they are but three-+- Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall, That one of us two be proved to dye.’ 109B.94 But when they came behind the wall, The one came not the other nigh; For the Lord Phenix had made a vow, That with Tom Pots he would never fight. 109B.95 ‘O give me this choice,’ Lord Phenix said, ‘To prove whether true or false she be, And I will go to the lady fair, And tell her Tom Pots slain is he.’ 109B.96 When he came from behind the wall, With his face all bloody as it might be, ‘O lady sweet, thou art my own, For Tom Pots slain have I. 109B.97 ‘Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots, And given him death’s wounds two or three; O lady sweet, thou art my own; Of all loves, wilt thou live with me?’ 109B.98 ‘If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots, And given him death’s wounds two or three, I’le sell the state of my father’s lands But hanged shall Lord Phenix be.’ 109B.99 With that the lady fell in a swound, For a grieved woman, God wot, was she; Lord Phenix he was ready then To take her up so hastily. 109B.100	‘O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet, Tom Pots alive this day may be; I’le send for thy father, Lord Arundel, And he and I the wedding will see. 109B.101	‘I’le send for thy father, Lord Arundel, And he and I the wedding will see; If he will not maintain you well, Both lands and livings you’st have of me.’ 109B.102	‘I’le see this wedding,’ Lord Arundel said, ‘Of my daughter’s luck that is so fair; Seeing the matter will be no better, Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir.’ 109B.103	With that the lady began for to smile, For a glad woman, God wot, was she; ‘Now all my maids,’ the lady said, ‘Example you may take by me. 109B.104	‘But all the ladies of Scotland fair, And lasses of England that well would prove, Neither marry for gold nor goods, Nor marry for nothing but only love. 109B.105	‘For I had a lover true of my own, A serving-man of low degree; Now from Tom Pots I’le change his name, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’
 
109C: Tom Potts
 
109C.1 IN Scotland there are ladies fair, There’s ladies of honor and high degree, Refrain:	Hey down, down a down derry But one excels above all the rest, And the Earl of Arundel’s daughter is she. Refrain:	With hey down, derry down, Lang derry down derry 109C.2 Both knights and lords of great account Comes thither a wooing for this ladie’s sake: It fell on a day that Earl Arundell said, Daughter, which of these lords will you take? 109C.3 Or which of them now likes thee best? Speak truth to me, but do not lie; Speak truth to me, and do not jest, Who must heir my livings when as I die? 109C.4 Lord Fenix is a lord of high degree, And hath both lands and livings free; I tell thee, daughter, thou shalt him have, If thou wilt take any counsell at me. 109C.5 With that the young lady fell down of her knee, And trickling tears ran down her eye: ‘As you are my father, and loves me dear, My heart is set where it must be. 109C.6 ‘On a serving-man which is so poor, For all he hath is but pounds three; He was the first lover that ere I had, And the last I mean him for to be.’ 109C.7 With that her father was sore offended, And fast he rode at that same tide, Untill he to the Lord Fenix came, And fast he rode at that same tide, 109C.8 The yong ladie cald up Jack, her foot-boy: ‘I dare trust no man alive but thee; Thou must go my errand to Strawberry Castle, To the place where Tomy o’th Potts doth lye. 109C.9 ‘And carry this letter, in parchment fair, That I have sealed with mine own hand; And when Tomey looks this letter upon, Be sure his countenance thou understand. 109C.10 ‘And if he either laugh or smile, He is not sorry at his heart; I must seek a new love where I will, For small of Tomey must be my part. 109C.11 ‘But if he wax red in the face, And tricling tears fall from his eyes, Then let my father say what he will, For true to Tomey I’le be always. 109C.12 ‘And thou must tell him by word of mouth, If this letter cannot be read at that tyde, That this day sennight, and no longer hence, I must be Lord William Fenix bride.’ 109C.13 The boy took leave of his lady gay, And to Strawberry Castle he did him fast hie; A serving-man did guide him the way To the place where Tomey o’th Pots did lie. 109C.14 ‘O Christ thee save, good Tomey o’th Pots, And Christ thee save as I thee see; Come read this letter, Tomey o’th Potts, As thy true-love hath sent to thee.’ 109C.15 Then Tomey he waxed red in the face, And trickling tears ran down his eyes; But never a letter could he read, If he should be hanged on th’gallow-tree. 109C.16 ‘Shee bid me tell you by word of mouth, If this letter could not be read at this tide, That this day sennight, and no longer hence, She must be Lord William Fenix bride.’ 109C.17 ‘Now in faith,’ said Tomey, ’She is mine own, As all hereafter shall understand; Lord Fenix shall not marry her, by night or day, Unless he win her by his own hand. 109C.18 ‘For on Gilforth Green I will her meet, And if she love me, bid her for me pray; And there I will lose my life so sweet, Or else her wedding I will stay.’ 109C.19 He cald this boy unto accounts; Think whether he loved this lady gay! He gave him forty shilling for his message, And all he had was but pounds three. 109C.20 The boy took his leave of Tomey o’th Potts, Fearing that he had staid too late; The young lady did wait of his comming, And met him five miles out of the gate. 109C.21 ‘O boney boy, thou art not of age, Therefore thou canst both mock and scorn; I will not beleeve what my love hath said, Unlesse thou on this book be sworn.’ 109C.22 ‘Now, in faith, gay lady, I will not lye,’ And kist the book full soon did he: ‘One letter he could not read at that time, If he should have been hangd at gallo-tree. 109C.23 ‘He said in faith you are his own, As all hereafter shall understand; Lord Fenix shall not marry you by night or day, Unlesse he winn you with his own hand. 109C.24 ‘For on Gilforth Green he will you meet, And if you love him, you must for him pray; And there he will lose his life so sweet, Or else your wedding he will stay.’ 109C.25 Let us leave talking of the boy, That with his gay lady is turned home; Now let us go talk of Tomey o’th Potts, And how to his master he is gone. 109C.26 When Tomey came his master before, He kneeled down upon his knee: ‘What tidings hast thou brought, my man, As that thou makes such courtesie?’ 109C.27 ‘O Christ you save, dear master,’ he said, ‘And Christ you save as I you see; For God’s love, master, come read me this letter, Which my true love hath sent to me.’ 109C.28 His master took this letter in hand, And looked ore it with his eye; ‘In faith, I am fain, my man,’ he said, ‘As thou hast a lady so true to thee.’ 109C.29 ‘I have a lady true to me, And false to her I’le never be; But ere this day sennight, and no longer hence, I must lose my love through povertie. 109C.30 ‘Lord Fenix he will her have, Because he hath more wealth then I:’ ‘Now hold thy tongue, my man,’ he said, ‘For before that day many a one shall die. 109C.31 ‘O Tomey,’ said he, ‘I love thee well, And something for thee I will doo; For Strawberry Castle shall be thine own So long as thou dost mean to woo. 109C.32 ‘One half of my lands I’le give thee a year, The which will raise thee many a pound; Before that thou lose thy bonny sweet-hart, Thou shalt drop angels with him to the ground. 109C.33 ‘I have thirty steeds in my stable strong, Which any of them is good indeed, And a bunch of spears hangs them among, And a nag to carry thee swift with speed. 109C.34 ‘My sute of armour thou shalt put on-+- So well it becomes thy fair body-+- And when thou comst on Gilford Green Thou’ll look more like a lord then he. 109C.35 ‘My men shall all rise and with thee go, And I my self with thee will ride; And many a bloody wound will we make Before that thou shalt lose thy bride.’ 109C.36 ‘Now Christ reward you, dear master,’ he said, ‘For the good will you bear to me; But I trust to God, in a little space, With my own hands to set her free. 109C.37 ‘I’le none of your horses, master,’ he said, ‘For they cannot well skill of their trade; None but your gray nag that hath a cut tail, For hee’ll either stand or turn again. 109C.38 ‘One spear, master, and no more, No more with me that I will take, And if that spear it will not serve my turn, I’le suffer death for my true-love’s sake.’ 109C.39 Early in the morning, when day did spring, On Gilforth Green betime was he; There did he espie Lord Fenix comming, And with him a royall company. 109C.40 Gold chains about their necks threescore, Full well might seem fine lords to ride; The young lady followed far behind, Sore against her will that she was a bride. 109C.41 There Tomey passed this lady by, But never a word to her did say; Then straight to Lord Fenix he is gone, And gives him the right time of the day. 109C.42 ‘O Christ you save, Lord Fenix,’ he said, ‘And Christ you save as I you see;’ ‘Thou art welcome, Tomey o’th Potts,’ he said, ‘A serving-man into our company. 109C.43 ‘O how doth thy master, Tomy o’th Potts? Tell me the truth and do not lye;’ ‘My master is well,’ then Tomey replide, ‘I thank my lord, and I thank not thee. 109C.44 ‘O Christ you save Lord Fenix,’ he said, ‘And Christ you save as I you see; You may have choyce of ladies enough, And not take my true-love from me.’ 109C.45 With that Lord Fenix was sore offended, And fast away he rode at that tide; ‘God forbid,’ Lord Fenix he said, ‘A serving-man should hold me from my bride!’ 109C.46 But afterward Tomey did him meet, As one that came not thither to flye, And said, Lord Fenix, take thou my love, For I will not lose her cowardly. 109C.47 ‘O meet me here tomorrow,’ he said; ‘As thou art a man, come but thy sell; And if that I come [with] any more, The divell fetch my soul to hell.’ 109C.48 And so this wedding-day was staid, The lady and lords they turned home; The lady made merry her maidens among, And said, Tomey I wish thou may win thy own. 109C.49 Early in the morning, when day did spring, On Gilforth Green betime was he; He waited long for Lord Fenix comming, But Lord William Fenix he could not see. 109C.50 He waited long and very long, Untill the sun waxed very high; There was he ware of Lord Fenix coming, And with him other men three. 109C.51 ‘Thou art a false thief, Lord Fenix,’ he said, Thou promisedst me to come by thy self, And thou hast brought other men three. 109C.52 ‘But in regard I call thee thief, Because thou hast broken promise with me, I vow, and you were as many more, Forsaken sure you should not be.’ 109C.53 ‘These are my men,’ Lord Fenix said, ‘That every day do wait on me; If any of them do strike a stroke, In faith then hanged he shall be.’ 109C.54 They fetcht a race and rode about, And then they met full eagerly; Lord Fenix away by Tomey’s body glowd, And he ran him quite thorow the thigh. 109C.55 Out of his saddle bore him he did, And laid his body on the ground; His spear he ran thorow Tomey’s thigh, In which he made a grievous wound. 109C.56 But Tomey quickly start up again; For as he was a physitian good, He laid his hand upon the wound, And quickly he did stanch the blood. 109C.57 Full lightly he leaped to his saddle again, Forth of it long he did not stay; For he weighed more of the ladie’s love Then of any life he had that day. 109C.58 They fetched a race and rode about, The blood in Tomey’s body began to warm; He away by Lord Fenix body glowde, And he ran him quite through the arm. 109C.59 Out of his saddle bore him he hath, Of from his steed that mounted so high; ‘Now rise and fight, Lord Fenix,’ he said, ‘Or else yeeld the lady unto me.’ 109C.60 ‘I’ll yeeld the lady unto thee; My arm no more my spear will guide; It was never better likely to prove, To hold a poor seving-man from his bride.’ 109C.61 ‘But if thou wilt thus deal then with me, Lest of this matter should rise any voice, That I have gotten the victory, Then thou shalt have another choice. 109C.62 ‘Yonder is a lane of two miles long; At either end then stand will we; Wee’l set the lady in the midst, And whether she come to, take her, for me.’ 109C.63 ‘If thou wilt thus deal,’ said Fenix then, ‘Thou’ll save my credit and honor high; And whether I win her, or go without her, I’le be willing to give ten pounds to thee.’ 109C.64 There was a lane of two miles long; The lady was set in the middle that tide; She laught and made merry her maids among, And said, Tomey o’th Pots, now I’le be thy bride. 109C.65 Now all you ladies of high degree, And maides that married yet would be, Marry no man for goods or lands, Unlesse you love him faithfully. 109C.66 For I had a love of my own, she said, At Strawberrie Castle there lived he; I’le change his name from Tomey o’th Pots, And the yong Earl of Arundell now he shall be.


 
110A: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110A.1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter Came triping on the way, And there she met a courteous knight, Which caused her to stay Refrain:	Sing trang sil do lee 110A.2 ‘Good morrow to you, beautious maid,’ These words pronounced he; ‘O I shall dye this day,’ he said, ‘If I have not my will of thee.’ 110A.3 ‘The Lord forbid,’ the maid reply’d, ‘That such a thing should be, That ever such a courteous yong knight Should dye for love of me.’ 110A.4 He took her by the middle so small, And laid her down on the plain, And after he had had his will, He took her up again. 110A.5 ‘Now you have had your wil, good sir, And put my body thus to shame, Even as you are a courteous knight, Tel me what is your name.’ 110A.6 ‘Some men do call me Jack, sweet heart, And some do call me John, But when I come to the king’s [fair] court, They call me Sweet William.’ 110A.7 He set his foot in the stirrop, And away then did he ride; She tuckt her kirtle about her middle, And run close by his side. 110A.8 But when she came to the broad water, She set her brest and swom, And when she was got out again, She took her heels and run. 110A.9 He never was the courteous knight To say, Fair maid, will you ride? Nor she never was so loving a maid To say, Sir Knight, abide. 110A.10 But when she came to the king’s fair court, She knocked at the ring; So ready was the king himself To let his fair maid in. 110A.11 ‘O Christ you save, my gracious leige, Your body christ save and see! You have got a knight within your court This day hath robbed me. 110A.12 ‘What hath he robbed thee of, fair maid? Of purple or of pall? Or hath he took thy gay gold ring, From off thy finger small?’ 110A.13 ‘He hath not robbed me, my liege, Of purple nor of pall; But he hath got my maidenhead, Which grieves me worst of all.’ 110A.14 ‘Now if he be a batchelor, His body I’le give to thee; But if he be a married man, High hanged shall he be.’ 110A.15 He called down his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three; Sweet William was us’d to be the first, But now the last comes hee. 110A.16 He brought her down full forty pound, Ty’d up with[in] a glove: ‘Fair maid, I give the same to the, And seek another love.’ 110A.17 ‘O I’le have none of your gold,’ she said, ‘Nor I’le have none of your fee; But I must have your fair body The king hath given me.’ 110A.18 Sweet William ran and fetcht her then Five hundred pound in gold, Saying, Fair maid, take this unto thee; Thy fault will never be told. 110A.19 ‘’Tis not your gold that shall me tempt,’ These words then answered she, ‘But I must have your own body; So the king hath granted me.’ 110A.20 ‘Would I had drank the fair water When I did drink the wine, That ever any shepherd’s daughter Should be a fair lady of mine! 110A.21 ‘Would I had drunk the puddle-water When I did drink the ale, That ever any shepherd’s daughter Should have told me such a tale!’ 110A.22 ‘A shepheard’s daughter as I was, You might have let me be; I’d never come to the king’s fair court To have craved any love of thee.’ 110A.23 He set her on a milk-white steed, And himselfe upon a gray; He hung a bugle about his neck, And so they rode away. 110A.24 But when they came unto the place Where marriage rites were done, She provd her selfe a duke’s daughter, And he but a squire’s son. 110A.25 ‘Now you have married me, sir knight, Your pleasures may be free; If you make me lady of one good town, I’le make you lord of three.’ 110A.26 ‘Accursed be the gold,’ he said, ‘If thou hadst not bin true, That should have parted thee from me, To have chang’d thee for a new.’ 110A.27 Their hearts being then so linked fast, And joyning hand in hand, He had both purse and person too, And all at his command.
 
110B: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110B.1 THERE was a shepherd’s dochter Kept sheep upon yon hill, And by cam a gay braw gentleman, And wad hae had his will. 110B.2 He took her by the milk-white hand, And laid her on the ground, And whan he got his will o her He lift her up again. 110B.3 ‘O syne ye’ve got your will o me, Your will o me ye’ve taen, ’Tis all I ask o you, kind sir, Is to tell to me your name.’ 110B.4 ‘Sometimes they call me Jack,’ he said, ‘Sometimes they call me John, But whan I am in the king’s court, My name is Wilfu Will.’ 110B.5 Then he loup on his milk-white steed, And straught away he rade, And she did kilt her petticoats, And after him she gaed. 110B.6 He never was sae kind as say, O lassie, will ye ride? Nor ever had she the courage to say, O laddie, will ye bide! 110B.7 Until they cam to a wan water, Which was called Clyde, And then he turned about his horse, Said, Lassie, will ye ride? 110B.8 ‘I learned it in my father’s hall, I learned it for my weel, That whan I come to deep water, I can swim as it were an eel. 110B.9 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower, I learned it for my better, That whan I come to broad water, I can swim like ony otter.’ 110B.10 He plunged his steed into the ford, And straught way thro he rade, And she set in her lilly feet, And thro the water wade. 110B.11 And whan she cam to the king’s court, She tirled on the pin, And wha sae ready’s the king himsel To let the fair maid in? 110B.12 ‘What is your will wi me, fair maid? What is your will wi me?’ ‘There is a man into your court This day has robbed me.’ 110B.13 ‘O has he taen your gold,’ he said, ‘Or has he taen your fee? Or has he stown your maidenhead, The flower of your bodye?’ 110B.14 ‘He has na taen my gold, kind sir, Nor as little has he taen my fee, But he has taen my maidenhead, The flower of my bodye.’ 110B.15 ‘O gif he be a married man, High hangit shall he be, But gif he be a bachelor, His body I’ll grant thee.’ 110B.16 ‘Sometimes they call him Jack,’ she said, ‘Sometimes they call him John, But whan he’s in the king’s court, His name is Sweet William.’ 110B.17 ‘There’s not a William in a’ my court, Never a one but three, And one of them is the Queen’s brother; I wad laugh gif it war he.’ 110B.18 The king called on his merry men, By thirty and by three; Sweet Willie, wha used to be foremost man, Was the hindmost a’ but three. 110B.19 O he cam cripple, and he cam blind, Cam twa-fald oer a tree: ‘O be he cripple, or be he blind, This very same man is he.’ 110B.20 ‘O whether will ye marry the bonny may, Or hang on the gallows-tree?’ ‘O I will rather marry the bonny may, Afore that I do die.’ 110B.21 But he took out a purse of gold, Weel locked in a glove: ‘O tak ye that, my bonny may, And seek anither love.’ 110B.22 ‘O I will hae none o your gold,’ she says, ‘Nor as little ony of your fee, But I will hae your ain body, The king has granted me.’ 110B.23 O he took out a purse of gold, A purse of gold and store; ‘O tak ye that, fair may,’ he said, ‘Frae me ye’ll neer get mair.’ 110B.24 ‘O haud your tongue, young man,’ she says, ‘And I pray you let me be; For I will hae your ain body, The king has granted me.’ 110B.25 He mounted her on a bonny bay horse, Himsel on the silver grey; He drew his bonnet out oer his een, He whipt and rade away. 110B.26 O whan they cam to yon nettle bush, The nettles they war spread: ‘O an my mither war but here,’ she says, ‘These nettles she wad sued.’ 110B.27 ‘O an I had drank the wan water Whan I did drink the wine, That eer a shepherd’s dochter Should hae been a love o mine!’ 110B.28 ‘O may be I’m a shepherd’s dochter, And may be I am nane; But you might hae ridden on your ways, And hae let me alane.’ 110B.29 O whan they cam unto yon mill, She heard the mill clap: . . . . . . . . . . 110B.30 ‘Clap on, clap on, thou bonny mill, Weel may thou, I say, For mony a time thou’s filled my pock Wi baith oat-meal and grey.’ 110B.31 ‘O an I had drank the wan water Whan I did drink the wine, That eer a shepherd’s dochter Should hae been a love o mine!’ 110B.32 ‘O may be I’m a shepherd’s dochter, And may be I am nane; But you might hae ridden on your ways, And hae let me alane. 110B.33 ‘But yet I think a fitter match Could scarcely gang thegither Than the King of France’s auld dochter And the Queen of Scotland’s brither.’
 
110C: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110C.1 THERE was a shepherd’s dochter Kept sheep on yonder hill; Bye cam a knicht frae the High College, And he wad hae his will. 110C.2 Whan he had got his wills o her, His will as he has taen: ‘Wad ye be sae gude and kind As tell to me your name?’ 110C.3 ‘Some ca’s me Jock, some ca’s me John, Some disna ken my name, But whan I’m into the king’s court, Mitchcock is my name.’ 110C.4 ‘Mitchcock! hey!’ the lady did say, And spelt it oure again; ‘If that’s your name in the Latin tongue, Earl Richard is your name!’ 110C.5 O jumpt he upon his horse, And said he wad go ride; Kilted she her green claithing, And said she wad na bide. 110C.6 The knicht rade on, the lady ran, A live-lang simmer’s day, Till they cam to a wan water Was calld the river Tay. 110C.7 ‘Jump on behind, ye weill-faurd may, Or do ye chuse to ride?’ ‘No thank ye, sir,’ the lady said, ‘I rather chuse to wade;’ And afore that he was mid-water, She was at the ither side. 110C.8 ‘Turn back, turn back, ye weill-faurd may, My heart will brak in three:’ ‘And sae did mine in yon bonny hill-side, Whan ye wad [na] lat me be.’ 110C.9 ‘Whare gat ye that gay claithing This day I see on thee?’ ‘My mither was a gude milk-nurse, And a gude nourice was she; She nursd the Earl of Stockford’s daughter, And gat aw this to me.’ 110C.10 Whan she cam to the king’s court, She rappit wi a ring; Sae ready as the king himsel Was to let the lady in! 110C.11 ‘There is a knicht into your court This day has robbed me:’ ‘O has he taen your gowd,’ he says, ‘Or has he taen your fee?’ 110C.12 ‘He has na taen my gowd,’ she says, ‘Nor yet has he my fee; But he has taen my maiden-head, The flowr o my fair bodie.’ 110C.13 Then out bespak the queen hersel, Wha sat by the king’s knee: There’s na a knicht in aw our court Wad hae dune that to thee, Unless it war my brither, Earl Richard, And forbid it it war he! 110C.14 Wad ye ken your love, Amang a hunder men? ‘I wad,’ said the bonnie ladie, ‘Amang five hunder and ten.’ 110C.15 The king made aw his merry men pass, By ane, by twa, and three; Earl Richard us’d to be the first man, But he was hinmost man that day. 110C.16 He cam hauping on ane foot, And winking with ae ee; But ‘Ha! ha!’ said the bonnie ladie, ‘That same young man are ye.’ 110C.17 He’s taen her up to a hie towr-head And offerd her hunder punds in a glove: ‘Gin ye be a courteous maid, Ye’ll choice anither love.’ 110C.18 ‘What care I for your hunder pund? Na mair than ye wad for mine; What’s a hunder pund to me, To a marriage wi a king!’ 110C.19 Whan the marriage it was oure, And ilk ane took them horse, ‘It never set a beggar’s brat At nae knicht’s back to be.’ 110C.20 The ladie met wi a beggar-wife, And gied her half o crown: ‘Tell aw your neebours, whan ye gang hame, That Earl Richard’s your gude-son.’ 110C.21 ‘O hold your tongue, ye beggar’s brat, My heart will brak in three;’ ‘And sae did mine on yon bonny hill-side, Whan ye wad na let me be.’ 110C.22 Whan she cam to yon nettle-dyke, . . . . . ‘An my auld mither she was here, Sae weill as she wad ye pu. 110C.23 ‘She wad boil ye weill, and butter ye weill, And sup till she war fu, And lay her head upon her dish-doup, And sleep like onie sow.’ 110C.24 Whan she cam to Earl Richard’s house, The sheets war holland fine: ‘O haud awa thae linen sheets, And bring to me the linsey clouts I hae been best used in.’ 110C.25 [‘Awa, awa wi your siller spoons, Haud them awa frae me; It would set me better to feed my flocks Wi the brose-cap on my knee: Sae bring to me the gude ram’s horn, The spoons I’ve been used wi.’] 110C.26 ‘Hold your tongue, ye beggar’s brat, My heart will brak in three;’ ‘And sae did mine on yon bonnie hillside, Whan ye wadna lat me be.’ 110C.27 ‘I wish I had drank the well-water Whan first I drank the wine! Never a shepherd’s dochter Wad hae been a love o mine. 110C.28 ‘O I wish I’d drank the well-water Whan first I drank the beer, That ever a shepherd’s dochter Shoud hae been my only dear!’ * * * * * 110C.29 ‘Ye’ll turn about, Earl Richard, And mak some mair o me; An ye mak me lady o ae puir plow, I can mak ye laird o three.’ 110C.30 ‘If ye be the Earl of Stockford’s dochter, As I’ve taen some thouchts ye be, Aft hae I waited at your father’s yett, But your face I coud never see.’
 
110D: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110D.* * * * AND he was never sae discreet As bid her loup on and ride, And she was neer sae meanly bred As for to bid him bide. 110D.2 And whan she cam to yon water, It was running like a flude: ‘I’ve learned it in my mither’s bouer, I’ve learned it for my gude, That I can soum this wan water Like a fish in a flude. 110D.3 ‘I’ve learned it in my father’s bouer, I’ve learned it for my better, And I will soum this wan water As tho I was ane otter.’ * * * * * 110D.4 ‘Gude day, gude day, my liege the king, Gude day, gude day, to thee;’ ‘Gude day,’ quoth he, ’My lady fair, What want ye wi me?’ * * * * * 110D.5 ‘Gin he be a single man, His bodie I’ll gie thee; But gin he be a married man, I’ll hang him on a tree.’ * * * * * 110D.6 He’s powd out a hundred punds, Weel lockit in a glove; . . . . . . . . 110D.7 ‘I’ll hae nane o your gowd,’ she said, ‘Nor either o your fee; But I will hae your ain bodie The king has granted me.’ 110D.8 ‘O was ye gentle gotten, maid? Or was ye gentle born? Or hae ye onie gerss growing? Or hae ye onie corn? 110D.9 ‘Or hae ye onie lands or rents, Lying at libertie? Or hae ye onie education, To dance alang wi me?’ 110D.10 ‘I was na gentle gotten, madam, Nor was I gentle born; Neither hae I gerss growing, Nor hae I onie corn. 110D.11 ‘I have na onie lands or rents, Lying at libertie; Nor hae I onie education, To dance alang wi thee.’ 110D.12 He lap on ae milk-white steed, And she lap on anither, And then the twa rade out the way Like sister and like brither. 110D.13 And whan she cam to Tyne’s water, She wililie did say, Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne’s water, With thee I bid gude-day. 110D.14 Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne’s water, To you I bid gud-een, Whare monie a day I hae filld my pock, Baith at midnicht and at een. * * * * * 110D.15 Whan they cam to her father’s yett, She tirled on the pin; And an auld belly-blind man was sitting there, As they war entering in. 110D.16 ‘The meetest marriage,’ the belly-blind did cry, ‘Atween the ane and the ither, Atween the Earl of Stockford’s dochter And the Queen o England’s brither.’
 
110E: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110E.1 EARL RICHARD, once upon a day, And all his valiant men so wight, He did him down to Barnisdale, Where all the land is fair and light. 110E.2 He was aware of a damosel-+- I wot fast on she did her bound-+- With towers of gold upon her head, As fair a woman as could be found. 110E.3 He said, Busk on you, fair ladye, The white flowers and the red; For I would give my bonnie ship To get your maidenhead. 110E.4 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, And drown you in the sea; For all this would not mend the miss That ye would do to me.’ ‘The miss is not so great, ladye; Soon mended it might be. 110E.5 ‘I have four an twenty mills in Scotland, Stands on the water of Tay; You’ll have them, and as much flour As they’ll grind in a day.’ 110E.6 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, And drown you in the sea; For all that would not mend the miss That ye would do to me.’ ‘The miss is not so great, ladye; Soon mended it will be. 110E.7 ‘I have four an twenty milk-white cows, All calved in a day; You’ll have them, and as much haind grass As they all on can gae.’ 110E.8 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive, And drown you in the sea; For all that would not mend the miss That ye would do to me.’ ‘The miss is not so great, ladye; Soon mended it might be. 110E.9 ‘I have four an twenty milk-white steeds, All foaled in one year; You’ll have them, and as much red gold As all their backs can bear.’ 110E.10 She turned her right and round about, And she swore by the mold; ‘I would not be your love,’ said she, ‘For that church full of gold.’ 110E.11 He turned him right and round about, And he swore by the mess; Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be, And gold ye shall have less. 110E.12 She turned her right and round about, And she swore by the moon; ‘I would not be your love,’ says she, ‘For all the gold in Rome.’ 110E.13 He turned him right and round about, And he swore by the moon; Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be, And gold ye shall have none. 110E.14 He caught her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, And there has taken his will of her, Wholly without her leave. 110E.15 The ladye frownd, and sadly blushd, And oh, but she thought shame! Says, If you are a knight at all, You surely will tell me your name. 110E.16 ‘In some places they call me Jack, In other some they call me John; But when into the queen’s court, O then Lithcock it is my name!’ 110E.17 ‘Lithcock! Lithcock!’ the ladye said, And oft she spelt it ower again; ‘Lithcock! it’s Latin,’ the ladye said, ‘Richard’s the English of that name.’ 110E.18 The knight he rode, the ladye ran, A live-long summer’s day, Till they came to the wan water That all men do call Tay. 110E.19 He set his horse head to the water, Just thro it for to ride, And the ladye was as ready as him The waters for to wade. 110E.20 For he had never been as kind-hearted As to bid the ladye ride, And she had never been so low-hearted As for to bid him bide. 110E.21 But deep into the wan water There stands a great big stone; He turned his wight horse head about, Said Ladye fair, will ye loup on? 110E.22 She’s taken the wand was in her hand And struck it on the faem, And before he got the middle-stream The ladye was on dry land: ‘By help of God and our Lady, My help lyes not in your hand! 110E.23 ‘I learned it from my mother dear, Few are there that have learned better, When I come to deep water, I can swim thro like ony otter. 110E.24 ‘I learned it from my mother dear, I find I learnd it for my weel, When I come to a deep water, I can swim thro like ony eel.’ 110E.25 ‘Turn back, turn back, you ladye fair, You know not what I see; There is a ladye in that castle That will burn you and me.’ ‘Betide me weel, betide me wae, That ladye I will see.’ 110E.26 She took a ring from her finger, And gave it the porter for his fee; Says, Take you that, my good porter, And bid the queen speak to me. 110E.27 And when she came before the queen, There she fell low down on her knee; Says, There is a knight into your court This day has robbed me. 110E.28 ‘O has he robbed you of your gold, Or has he robbed you of your fee?’ ‘He has not robbed me of my gold, He has not robbed me of my fee; He has robbed me of my maidenhead, The fairest flower of my bodie.’ 110E.29 ‘There is no knight in all my court, That thus has robbed thee, But you’ll have the truth of his right hand, Or else for your sake he’ll die: 110E.30 ‘Tho it were Earl Richard, my own brother, And, Oh, forbid that it be!’ Then sighing said the ladye fair, I wot the same man is he. 110E.31 The queen called on her merry men, Even fifty men and three; Earl Richard used to be the first man, But now the hindmost man was he. 110E.32 He’s taken out one hundred pounds, And told it in his glove; Says, Take you that, my ladye fair, And seek another love. 110E.33 ‘Oh, no! oh, no!’ the ladye cried, ‘That’s what shall never be; I’ll have the truth of your right hand, The queen it gave to me.’ 110E.34 [‘I wish I’d drunken your water, sister, When I did drink thus of your ale, That for a carl’s fair daughter It does me gar dree all this bale!] 110E.35 ‘I wish I had drunk of your water, sister, When I did drink your wine, That for a carle’s fair daughter It does gar me dree all this pine!’ 110E.36 ‘May be I am a carle’s daughter, And may be never nane; When ye met me in the greenwood, Why did you not let me alane?’ 110E.37 ‘Will you wear the short clothes, Or will you wear the side? Or will you walk to your wedding, Or will you till it ride?’ 110E.38 ‘I will not wear the short clothes, But I will wear the side; I will not walk to my wedding, But I to it will ride.’ 110E.39 When he was set upon the horse, The lady him behin, Then cauld and eerie were the words The twa had them between. 110E.40 She said, Good e’en, ye nettles tall, Just there where ye grow at the dyke; If the auld carline my mother were here, Sae weel’s she would your pates pyke! 110E.41 How she would stap you in her poke-+- I wot at that she wadna fail-+- And boil ye in her auld brass pan, And of ye make right good kail! 110E.42 And she would meal you with millering, That she gathers at the mill, And make you thick as ony daigh: And when the pan was brimful, 110E.43 Would mess you up in scuttle-dishes, Syne bid us sup till we were fou, Lay down her head upon a poke, Then sleep and snore like ony sow. 110E.44 ‘Away, away, you bad woman! For all your vile words grieveth me; When you hide so little for yourself, I’m sure ye’ll hide far less for me. 110E.45 ‘I wish I had drunk your water, sister, When that I did drink of your wine, Since for a carle’s fair daughter, It aye gars me dree all this pine.’ 110E.46 ‘May be I am a carle’s daughter, And may be never nane; When ye met me in the good greenwood, Why did you not let me alane? 110E.47 ‘Gude een, gude een, ye heather-berries, As ye’re growing on yon hill; If the auld carline and her bags were here, I wot she would get meat her fill. 110E.48 ‘Late, late at night, I knit our pokes, With even four an twenty knots; And in the morn at breakfast time I’ll carry the keys of an earl’s locks. 110E.49 ‘Late, late at night, I knit our pokes, With even four an twenty strings; And if you look to my white fingers, They have as many gay gold rings.’ 110E.50 ‘Away, away, ye ill woman! So sore your vile words grieveth me; When you hide so little for yourself, I’m sure ye’ll hide far less for me. 110E.51 ‘But if you are a carle’s daughter, As I take you to be, How did you get the gay cloathing In greenwood ye had on thee? 110E.52 ‘My mother, she’s a poor woman, She nursed earl’s chidren three, And I got them from a foster-sister, For to beguile such sparks as thee.’ 110E.53 ‘But if you be a carle’s daughter, As I believe you be, How did you learn the good Latin In greenwood ye spoke to me?’ 110E.54 ‘My mother, she’s a mean woman, She nursd earl’s children three; I learnt it from their chaplain, To beguile such sparks as ye.’ 110E.55 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And all men bound for bed, Then Earl Richard and this ladye In ae bed they were laid. 110E.56 He turned his face unto the stock, And she her’s to the stane, And cauld and dreary was the love That was these twa between. 110E.57 Great mirth was in the kitchen, Likewise intill the ha, But in his bed lay Earl Richard, Wiping the tears awa. 110E.58 He wept till he fell fast asleep, Then slept till light was come; Then he did hear the gentlemen That talked in the room: 110E.59 Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match, Betwixt the ane and ither, The king of Scotland’s fair dochter And the queen of England’s brither? 110E.60 ‘And is she the king o Scotland’s fair dochter? This day, O weel is me! For seven times has my steed been saddled, To come to court with thee; And with this witty lady fair, How happy must I be!’
 
110F: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110F.1 EARL LITHGOW he’s a hunting gane, Upon a summer’s day, And he’s fa’en in with a weel-far’d maid, Was gathering at the slaes. 110F.2 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve; He led her to the foot of a tree, At her he spierd nae leave. 110F.3 The lassie being well learned, She turned her right around; Says, Will ye be as good, kind sir, As tell to me your name? 110F.4 ‘Whiles they call me Jack,’ he says, ‘And whiles they call me John; But when I’m in the queen’s high court, Earl Litchcock is my name.’ 110F.5 The lassie being well learned, She spelld it ower again; Says, Litchcock is a Latin word, But Lithgow is your name. 110F.6 The lassie being well learned, She spelld it ower again; Says, Lithgow is a gentle word, But Richard is your name. 110F.7 She has kilted her green claithing A little abeen her knee; The gentleman rode, and the lassie ran, Till at the water o Dee. 110F.8 When they were at the water o Dee, And at the narrow side, He turned about his high horse head, Says, Lassie, will ye ride? 110F.9 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower, I wish I had learned it better, When I came to this wan water, To swim like ony otter. 110F.10 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower, I wish I had learned it weel, That when I came to a wan water, To swim like ony eel.’ 110F.11 She has kilted her green claithing A little abeen her knee; The gentleman rode, the lassie swam, Thro the water o Dee: Before he was at the middle o the water, At the other side was she. 110F.12 She sat there and drest hersell, And sat upon a stone; There she sat to rest hersell, And see how he’d come on. 110F.13 ‘How mony miles hae ye to ride? How mony hae I to gang?’ ‘I’ve thirty miles to ride,’ he says, ‘And ye’ve as mony to gang.’ 110F.14 ‘If ye’ve thirty miles to ride,’ she says, ‘And I’ve as mony to gae, Ye’ll get leave to gang yoursell; It will never be gane by me.’ 110F.15 She’s gane to the queen’s high court, And knocked at the pin; Who was sae ready as the proud porter, To let this lady in! 110F.16 She’s put her hand in her pocket, And gien him guineas three: ‘Ye will gang to the queen hersell, And tell her this frae me. 110F.17 ‘There is a lady at your yetts Can neither card nor spin; But she can sit in a lady’s bower, And lay gold on a seam.’ 110F.18 He’s gane ben thro ae lang room, And he’s gane ben thro twa, Till he came to a lang, lang trance, And then came to the ha. 110F.19 When he came before the queen, Sat low down on his knee: ‘Win up, win up, my proud porter, What makes this courtesie?’ 110F.20 ‘There is a lady at your yetts Can neither card nor spin; But she can sit in a lady’s bower, And lay gold on a seam.’ 110F.21 ‘If there is a lady at my yetts That cannot card nor spin, Ye’ll open my yetts baith wide and braid, And let this lady in.’ 110F.22 Now she has gane ben thro ae room, And she’s gane ben thro twa, And she gaed ben a lang, lang trance, Till she came to the ha. 110F.23 When she came before the queen, Sat low down on her knee: ‘Win up, win up, my fair woman, What makes such courtesie?’ 110F.24 ‘My errand it’s to thee, O queen, My errand it’s to thee; There is a man within your courts This day has robbed me.’ 110F.25 ‘O has he taen your purse, your purse, Or taen your penny-fee? Or has he taen your maidenhead, The flower of your bodie?’ 110F.26 He hasna taen my purse, my purse, Nor yet my penny-fee, But he has taen my maidenhead, The flower of my bodi’ 110F.27 ‘It is if he be a batchelor, Your husband he shall be; But if he be a married man, High hanged he shall be. 110F.28 ‘Except it be my brother, Litchcock, I hinna will it be he;’ Sighd and said that gay lady, That very man is he. 110F.29 She’s calld on her merry men a’, By ane, by twa, by three; Earl Litchcock used to be the first, But the hindmost man was he. 110F.30 He came cripple on the back, Stane blind upon an ee; And sighd and said Earl Richard, I doubt this calls for me. 110F.31 He’s laid down a brand, a brand, And next laid down a ring; It’s thrice she minted to the brand, But she’s taen up the ring: There’s not a knight in a’ the court, But calld her a wise woman. 110F.32 He’s taen out a purse of gold, And tauld it on a stane; Says, Take ye that, my fair woman, And ye’ll frae me be gane. 110F.33 ‘I will hae nane o your purse[s] o gold, That ye tell on a stane; But I will hae yoursell,’ she says, ‘Another I’ll hae nane.’ 110F.34 He has taen out another purse, And tauld it in a glove; Says, Take ye that, my fair woman, And choice another love. 110F.35 ‘I’ll hae nane o your purses o gold, That ye tell in a glove; But I will hae yoursell,’ she says, ‘I’ll hae nae ither love.’ 110F.36 But he’s taen out another purse, And tauld it on his knee; Said, Take ye that, ye fair woman, Ye’ll get nae mair frae me. 110F.37 ‘I’ll hae nane o your purses o gold, That ye tell on your knee; But I will hae yoursell,’ she says, ‘The queen has granted it me.’ 110F.38 ‘O will ye hae the short claithing, Or will ye hae the side? Or will ye gang to your wedding, Or will ye to it ride?’ 110F.39 ‘I winna hae the short claithing, But I will hae the side; I winna gang to my wedding, But to it I will ride.’ 110F.40 The first town that they came till They made the mass be sung, And the next town that they came till They made the bells be rung. 110F.41 And the next town that they came till He bought her gay claithing, And the next town that they came till They held a fair wedding. 110F.42 When they came to Mary-kirk, The nettles grew on the dyke: ‘If my auld mither, the carlin, were here, Sae well’s she would you pyke. 110F.43 ‘Sae well’s she would you pyke,’ she says, ‘She woud you pyke and pou, And wi the dust lyes in the mill Sae woud she mingle you. 110F.44 ‘She’d take a speen intill her hand, And sup ere she be fou, Syne lay her head upon a sod, And snore like ony sow.’ 110F.45 When she came to yon mill-dams, Says, Well may ye clap; I wyte my minnie neer gaed by you Wanting mony a lick. 110F.46 He’s drawn his hat out ower his face, Muckle shame thought he; She’s driven her cap out ower her locks, And a light laugh gae she. 110F.47 When they were wedded, and well bedded, And hame at dinner set, Then out it spake our bride hersell, And she spake never blate. 110F.48 Put far awa your china plates, Put them far awa frae me, And bring to me my humble gockies, That I was best used wi. 110F.49 Put far awa your siller speens, Had them far awa frae me, And bring to me my horn cutties, That I was best used wi. 110F.50 When they were dined and well served, And to their dancing set, Out it spake our bride again, For she spake never blate. 110F.51 If the auld carlin, my mither, were here, As I trust she will be, She’ll fear the dancing frae us a’, And gar her meal-bags flee. 110F.52 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men bound for rest, Earl Richard and the beggar’s daughter In ae chamber were placed. 110F.53 ‘Had far awa your fine claithing, Had them far awa frae me, And bring to me my fleachy clouts, That I was best used wi. 110F.54 ‘Had far awa your holland sheets, Had them far awa frae me, And bring to me my canvas clouts, That I was best used wi. 110F.55 ‘Lay a pock o meal beneath my head, Another aneath my feet, A pock o seeds beneath my knees, And soundly will I sleep.’ 110F.56 ‘Had far awa, ye carlin’s get, Had far awa frae me; I disna set a carlin’s get My bed-fellow to be.’ 110F.57 ‘It’s may be I’m a carlin’s get, And may be I am nane; But when ye got me in good greenwood, How letna you me alane?’ 110F.58 ‘It is if you be a carlin’s get, As I trust well ye be, Where got ye all the gay claithing You brought to greenwood with thee?’ 110F.59 ‘My mother was an auld nourice, She nursed bairns three; And whiles she got, and whiles she staw. And she kept them a’ for me; And I put them on in good greenwood, To beguile fause squires like thee.’ 110F.60 It’s out then spake the Billy-Blin, Says, I speak nane out of time; If ye make her lady o nine cities, She’ll make you lord o ten. 110F.61 Out it spake the Billy-Blin, Says, The one may serve the other; The King of Gosford’s ae daughter, And the Queen of Scotland’s brother. 110F.62 ‘Wae but worth you, Billy-Blin, An ill death may ye die! My bed-fellow he’d been for seven years Or he’d kend sae muckle frae me.’ 110F.63 ‘Fair fa ye, ye Billy-Blin, And well may ye aye be! In my stable is the ninth horse I’ve killd, Seeking this fair ladie: Now we’re married, and now we’re bedded, And in each other’s arms shall lie.’
 
110G: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110G.1 JOJANET has to the greenwood gane, Wi a’ her maidens free, . . . . . . . . . . * * * * * 110G.2 ‘Some ca me Jack, some ca me John, Some ca me Jing-ga-lee, But when I am in the queen’s court Earl Hitchcock they ca me.’ 110G.3 ‘Hitchcock, Hitchcock,’ Jo Janet she said, An spelled it ower agane, ‘Hitchcock it’s a Latin word; Earl Richard is your name.’ 110G.4 But when he saw she was book-learned, Fast to his horse hied he; But she kilted up her gay claithing, An fast, fast followed she. 110G.5 Aye he rade, an aye she ran, The live-lang simmer’s day, Till they came to the wan water, An a’ men call it Tay. 110G.6 She has tane the narrow fuird, An he has tane the wide, An ere he was in the middle-water, Jo Janet was at the ither side. 110G.7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . As swift as eel or otter. 110G.8 An when she cam to the queen’s court She tirled at the pin, An wha sae ready as the queen hersel To let Jo Janet in! 110G.9 . . . . . . . . . . ‘There is a knicht into your court This day has robbed me.’ 110G.10 ‘Has he robbed you o your gold, fair may, Or robbed you o your fee? Or robbed you o your maidenhead, The flower o your bodie?’ 110G.11 ‘He has nae robbed me o my gold,’ she said, ‘Nor o my weel won fee, But he has robbed me o my maidenhead, The flower o my bodie.’ 110G.12 ‘It’s if he be a married knight, It’s hanged he shall be; But if he be a single knight, It’s married ye sall be. 110G.13 ‘There’s but three knichts into my court This day hae been frae me, An ane is Earl Richard, my brither, An I hope it is na he:’ Then sichin said Jo Janet, The very same man is he. 110G.14 The queen has called on her merry men By thirty and by three; He wont to be the foremost man, But hinmost in cam he. 110G.15 ‘If this your tricks abroad, Richard, Is this your tricks abroad, Wheneer ye meet a bonny may To lay her on the road?’ * * * * * 110G.16 But he took out a purse o gold, . . . . . Says, Tak you that, my bonny may, An seek nae mair o me. 110G.17 ‘I winna hae your gold,’ she said, ‘I winna hae your fee; I’ll hae the troth o your right hand The queen has promised me.’ * * * * * 110G.18 As they rade bye yon bonny mill-town Sae fair’s the nettles grew; Quoth she, If my auld mither were here, Sae finely’s she wad you pu. 110G.19 She wad you nip, she wad you clip, Sae finely’s she wad you pu, An pit you on in a wee, wee pat, An sup till she were fu, Syne rowe her heid in her gown-tail, An sleep like ony soo. 110G.20 He drew his hat down ower his broos, An a doon look gae he, But she threw her locks out ower her cocks, An nae ways dung was she. 110G.21 ‘It’s if ye be a beggar’s brat, As I dout na but ye be, It’s where gat ye the gay claithing That hings down to your knee?’ 110G.22 ‘My mither was nurse to Earl Marshall’s dother, An a fine lady is she, An aye when she gets new claithing She casts the auld to me:’ An sichin said Earl Richard, My ain true-love is she! 110G.23 But if you be a beggar’s brat, As I doutna but ye be, Where got ye the Latin words Ye said in greenwood to me? 110G.24 ‘My mither was a bad woman, She served sic men as thee, An a’ the gear at ever she got She waired it a’ on me, An learned me weel the Latin tongue, To beguile sic sparks as thee.’ 110G.25 ‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman, An ill death mat ye dee! . . . . . . . . 110G.26 When they were a’ at supper set, An siller spoons gaen roun, It’s, ‘Haud awa yer siller spoons, Haud them far awa frae me, An bring to me a guid ramshorn, The thing I’m best used wi.’ 110G.27 An when they were at supper set, An the ale-caup gaen about, She took it in her arms twa, An sae clean’s she lickit it oot. 110G.28 He drew his hat doun ower his broos, An a doun look gae he, But she threw her locks out ower her cocks, An nae ways dung was she. 110G.29 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, An a’ men boun to bed, Earl Richard an Jo Janet In ae bed they were laid. 110G.30 He turned his face unto the stock, An sair, sair did he weep; She turned her face unto the wa, An sound she fell asleep. 110G.31 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Billie Blin stood up at their bed-feet. 110G.32 Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match Atween the tane and the tither, The Earl Marshall[’s] ae dother An the Queen o Scotland’s brither? 110G.33 ‘Wae be to you for an ill woman, An ill death mat ye dee! For mony’s the mare and mare’s foal I’ve bursten seekin thee.’ 110G.34 . . . a cup o wine, Quoth, Here’s to thee and me! If ye mak me lady o ae puir pleugh, I’ll mak ye lord o three.
 
110H: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110H.1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter, Kept sheep on yonder hill; There came a knight o courage bright, And he wad have his will. Diddle, ’C.. 110H.2 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, Gien her a gown o green; ‘O take you that, fair may,’ he says, ‘There’s nae mair o me to be seen.’ 110H.3 ‘Since ye have taen your wills o me, Your wills o me you’ve taen, Since ye have taen your wills o me, Pray tell to me your name.’ 110H.4 ‘O some they call me Jack, lady, And others call me John; But when I’m in the king’s court, Sweet William is my name.’ 110H.5 She’s kilted up her green clothing A little below her knee, And she is to the king’s court, As fast as she could gae. 110H.6 And when she came unto the king, She knelt low on her knee: ‘There is a man into your court This day has robbed me.’ 110H.7 ‘Has he robbd you of your gold,’ he says, ‘Or of your white monie? Or robbed you of the flowery branch, The flower of your bodie?’ 110H.8 ‘He has not robbd me of my gold,’ she says, ‘Nor of my white monie, But he’s robbd me of the flowery branch, The flower of my bodie.’ 110H.9 ‘O if he be a bond-man, High hanged shall he be; But if he be a free man, He’se well provide for thee.’ 110H.10 The king’s called on his nobles all, By thirty and by three; Sweet William should have been the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he. 110H.11 ‘Do you not mind yon shepherd’s daughter, You met on yonder hill? When a’ her flocks were feeding round, Of her you took your will.’ 110H.12 And he’s taen out a purse o gold, And tied up in a glove; ‘Take you that, fair may,’ he says, ‘And choice for you a love.’ 110H.13 O he’s taen out three hundred pounds, Tied up in a purse; ‘See, take you that, fair may,’ he says, ‘And that will pay the nurse.’ 110H.14 ‘I’ll neither have your gold,’ she says, ‘Nor yet your white monie, But I will have the king’s grant, That he has granted me.’ 110H.15 Then he’s taen her on a milk-white steed, Himsell upon another, And to his castle they have rode, Like sister and like brother. 110H.16 O ilka nettle that they came to, ‘O well mote you grow! For mony a day’s my minny and me Pilkit at your pow.’ 110H.17 O ilka mill that they came to, ‘O well mote you clack! For monie a day’s my minnie and me Buckled up our lap.’ * * * * * 110H.18 ‘You’re the king of England’s ae brother, I trust well that you be; I’m the Earl of Stampford’s ae daughter, And he has nae mair but me.’ 110H.19 O saw you eer such a near marriage, Between the one and the other, The Earl of Stampford’s ae daughter, And the King of England’s brother!
 
110I: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110I.1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter, Kept flocks on yonder hill, And by there cam a courteous knight, Wud fain and hae his will. * * * * * 110I.2 ‘Some do ca me Jock,’ he said, ‘And some do ca me John, But when I do ride i the king’s high court, Gulelmus is my name.’ * * * * * 110I.3 And when she came to the kinges court She tirled at the pin, And wha was there but the king himsel, To lat this fair maid in! 110I.4 ‘Now Christ you save, my lord,’ she said, ‘Now Christ you save and see; There is a knicht into your court This day has robbed me. 110I.5 ‘He’s na robbed me o my silken purse, Nor o my white money, But he’s robbed me o my maidenheid, The flower o my bodie.’ 110I.6 ‘O gin he be a single man, Weel married sall ye be, But an he be a married man, He’s hang upon a tree.’ 110I.7 Then he called up his merry men a’, By one, by two, and by three, And William should a been the first, But the hindmost man was he. 110I.8 And he cam hirplin on a stick, And blin upon an ee, But sighand said that gay ladie, That same man robbed me. * * * * * 110I.9 ‘Gin I had drunk the wan water, When I did drink the wine, A cairdman’s daughter Should never be a true-love o mine.’ 110I.10 ‘Maybe I’m a cairdman’s daughter, And maybe I am nane; But when ye did come to good green wood, Ye sud hae latten me alane.’ 110I.11 She set upon a milk-white steed, An himsel on a dapple grey, An she had as much lan in fair Scotlan ’S ye cud ride in a lang simmer’s day.
 
110J: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110J.* * * * ‘SOME ca’ss me James, some ca’as me John, I carena what they ca me, But when I [am] at hame in my ain country, It’s Lispcock that they ca me.’ 110J.2 The lassie being well beuk-learned, She spelled it ower again; Says, Lispcock in a Latin beuk Spells Erl Richard in plain. 110J.3 . . . . . . . . . . The lassie kilted up her green claithing, And fast, fast followed on. 110J.4 Till they cam till a wide water, . . . . . He’s turned his hie horse head about, Says, Lassie will ye ride? 110J.5 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower, I wish I’d learned it better, Whanever I cam to any wide water, To soum like ony otter.’ 110J.6 The laird he chused the ford to ride, The ladie the pot to swim, And or the laird was half water, The ladie was on dry lan. 110J.7 O he rade on to yon hie castell, He rade it richt and roun about; The laird gaed in at ae back-door, But the ladie beet to knock. 110J.8 Out it cam the proud porter, Wi his hat into his han, . . . . . . . . . . 110J.9 She’s pitten her hand in her pocket, Pulld out guineas three, And that she’s given to the proud porter, To cause her to get entrance there. 110J.10 The proud porter ran up the stair, O fifteen steps he made but three: ‘The prettiest lady stands at yer yetts That ever my een did see.’ 110J.11 . . . . . . . . . . ‘Goe doun, goe doun, you proud porter, Cause her to cum up to me.’ 110J.12 When she gaed in before the queen, She fell low down on her knee: ‘There is a man into your courts This day has robbed me.’ 110J.13 ‘Has he robbed you o your fine clothing, Or o your white monie? Or taen frae you your maidenhead, The flower o your bodie?’ 110J.14 ‘He hasna robbed me o my fine clothing, Nor o my white monie, But he’s taen frae me my maidenhead, The flower o my bodie.’ 110J.15 ‘O gin he be a married man, High hanged sall he be; And gin he be a batchelere, Well wedded shall ye be.’ 110J.16 O she has called in her merry young men, By thirties and by threes; Earl Richard should hae been the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he. 110J.17 He cam limpin on a staff, And blinkin on an ee, And sichand says that gay ladie, That samen man is he. * * * * *
 
110K: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110K.1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter, Kept sheep on yonder hill; O by comes a courtier, And fain wud hae his will. Refrain:	We’ll go no more a roving, A roving in the night, We’ll go no more a roving, Let the moon shine neer so bright. O we’ll go [no] more a roving. 110K.2 He took her by the middle so small, And by the grass-green sleeve; He bended her body unto the ground, And of her parents he askd no leave. 110K.3 ‘Now since you’ve got your will o me, And brought my fair bodie to shame, All the request I ask of you is, Pray tell me what’s your name.’ 110K.4 ‘O some do call me Jack,’ he says, ‘And some do call me John, But when I am in the king’s court, My name is Sweet William.’ 110K.5 She took her petticoats by the band, Her mantle oer her arm, And she’s awa to the king’s court, As fast as she could run. 110K.6 When she came to the king’s court, She tinkled at the ring; Who was so ready as the king himsel To let this fair maid in! 110K.7 And when she came before the king, She kneeled low by his knee; ‘What’s this? what’s this, fair maid,’ he says, ‘What’s this you ask of me?’ 110K.8 . . . . . . . . . . ‘There is a knight into your court This day has robbed me.’ 110K.9 ‘If he robbed you of your gold,’ he said, ‘It’s hanged he must be; If he’s robbed you of your maidenhead, His body I grant to thee.’ 110K.10 ‘He’s not robbed me of my gold,’ she said, ‘Nor of my white money, But he’s robbed me of my maidenhead, The flower of my bodie.’ 110K.11 He’s called down his merry men all, By one, by two, by three; John used to be the foremost man, But the hindmost man was he. 110K.12 He took a long purse of gold And wrapped it in a glove: ‘Here’s to thee, my dearest dear, Go seek some other love.’ 110K.13 ‘I’ll have none of your gold,’ she says, ‘Nor any of your white money, But I’ll just have your own bodie The king has granted to me.’ 110K.14 ‘I wish I was drinking the well-water When I drank of the ale, Before a shepherd’s daughter Would tell me such a tale.’ 110K.15 He got her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a grey, Then on a day . . . This couple rode away. 110K.16 It’s when they were coming by the nettle-bush, She said, So well may you grow! For many a day my mammy and me Hae pickled at your pow. 110K.17 When they cam by the mill-door, she said, So well may you clatter! For many a day my mammy and me Pickled at your happer. 110K.18 When they came to the king’s court, They reckoned up their kin; She was a king’s one dochter, And he but a blacksmith’s son.
 
110L: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
 
 110L.*	 * * *
 	 ‘I LEARNED it in my father’s bower,
 	 And I learned it for the better,
 	 That every water I coudna wade,
 	 I swam it like an otter,
 	 With my low silver ee.
 110L.2	 ‘I learned it in my father’s bower,
 	 And I learned it for my weel,
 	 That every water I coudna wade,
 	 I swam it like an eel.’
 	 * * * * *
 110L.3	 And he cam hirpling on a stick,
 	 And leaning on a tree:
 	 ‘Be he cripple, or be he blind,
 	 The same man is he.’

 
 
110[M]: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110[M].1	There was a shepherd’s daughter Kept hogs upo yon hill, By cam her a gentle knight, And he would hae his will. 110[M.2]	Whan his will o her he had, [His will] as he had taen, ‘Kind sir, for yer courtesy, Will ye tell me yer name?’ 110[M.3]	‘Some they ca me Jock,’ he says, ‘And some they ca me John; But whan ’m in our king’s court Hitchcock is my name.’ 110[M.4]	They lady being well book-read She spelt it oer again: ‘Hitchcock in our king’s court Is Earl Richard at hame.’ 110[M.5]	He pat his leg out-oer his steed And to the get he’s gane; She keltit up her green clothing, And fast, fast followed him. 110[M.6]	‘Turn back, turn back, ye carl’s daughter, And dinna follow me; It sets na carl’s daughters Kings’ courts for to see.’ 110[M.7]	‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane, But whan ye gat me in free forest Ye might ha latten’s alane.’ 110[M.8]	Whan they cam to yon wan water That a’ man does call Clyde, He looket oer his left shuder, Says, Fair may, will ye ride? 110[M.9]	‘I learnt it in my mother’s bowr, I wis I had learnt it better, Whan I cam to wan water To soom as does the otter.’ 110[M.10]	Or the knight was i the middle o the water, The lady she was oer; She took out a came o gold, To came down her yellow hair. 110[M.11]	‘Whar gat ye that, ye cerl’s daughter? I pray ye tell to me:’ ‘I got it fra my mither,’ she says, ‘To beguil sick chaps as thee.’ 110[M.12]	Whan they cam to our king’s court, He rade it round about, And he gade in at a shot-window, And left the lady without. 110[M.13]	She gade to our king hersel, She fell low down upon her knee: ‘There is a knight into your court This day has robbed me.’ 110[M.14]	‘Has he robbd ye o your goud? Or o yer well-won fee? Or o yer maidenhead, The flower o yer body?’ 110[M.15]	‘He has na robbd me o my goud, For I ha nane to gee; But he has robbd me o my maidenhead, The flower o my body.’ 110[M.16]	‘O wud ye ken the knight,’ he says, ‘If that ye did him see?’ ‘I wud him ken by his well-fared face And the blyth blink o his ee.’ 110[M.17]	‘An he be a married man, High hanged sall he be, And an he be a free man, Well wedded to him ye’s be, Altho it be my brother Richie, And I wiss it be no he.’ 110[M.18]	The king called on his merry young men, By ane, by twa, by three; Earl Richmond had used to be the first, But the hindmost was he. 110[M.19]	By that ye mith ha well kent That the quilty man was he; She took him by the milk-white hand, Says, This same ane is he. 110[M.20]	There was a brand laid down to her, A brand but an a ring, Three times she minted to the brand, But she took up the ring; A’ that was in our king’s court Countet her a wise woman. 110[M.21]	‘I’ll gi ye five hundred pounds, To mak yer marriage we, An ye’l turn back, ye cerl’s daughter, And fash nae mere wi me.’ 110[M.22]	‘Gae keep yer five hundred pounds To mak yer merriage we, For I’ll hae nathing but yersel The king he promised me.’ 110[M.23]	‘I’ll gae ye one thousand pounds To mak yer marriage we, An ye’l turn back, ye cerl’s daughter, And fash nae mere wi me.’ 110[M.24]	‘Gae keep yer one thousand pounds, To mak yer merriage we, For I’ll hae nathing but yersel The king he promised me.’ 110[M.25]	He took her down to yon garden, And clothed her in the green; Whan she cam up again, Sh[e] was fairer than the queen. 110[M.26]	They gad on to Mary kirk, and on to Mary quire, The nettles they grew by the dyke: ‘O, an my mither wer her[e], So clean as she wud them pick!’ 110[M.27]	‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says, ‘Whan I drank the ale, That ony cerl’s daughter Sud tell me sick a tale.’ 110[M.28]	‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane; But whan ye gat me in free forest Ye might ha latten’s alane. 110[M.29]	‘Well mat this mill be, And well mat the gae! Mony a day they ha filled me pock O the white meal and the gray.’ 110[M.30]	‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says, ‘When I drank the ale, That ony cerl’s daughter Sud tell me sick a tale.’ 110[M.31]	‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane; But whan ye gat me in free forest Ye might ha latten’s alane. 110[M.32]	‘Tak awa yer siller spoons, Tak awa fra me, An gae me the gude horn spoons, It’s what I’m used tee. 110[M.33]	‘O an my mukle dish wer here, And sine we hit were fu, I wud sup file I am saerd, An sine lay down me head and sleep wi ony sow.’ 110[M.34]	‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says, ‘Whan I drank the ale, That any cerl’s daughter Sud tell me sick a tale.’ 110[M.35]	‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane, But whan ye gat me in free forest, Ye might ha latten’s alane.’ 110[M.36]	He took his hat in oer his face, The tear blindit his ee; She threw back her yellow locks, And a light laughter leugh she. 110[M.37]	‘Bot an ye be a beggar geet, As I trust well ye be, Whar gat ye their fine clothing Yer body was covered we?’ 110[M.38]	‘My mother was an ill woman, And an ill woman was she; She gat them . . . . Fra sic chaps as thee.’ 110[M.39]	Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung, And aa man bound to bed, Earl Richard and the carl’s daughter In a chamer were laid. 110[M.40]	‘Lie yont, lie yont, ye carl’s daughter, Yer hot skin burns me; It sets na carl’s daughters In earls’ beds to be.’ 110[M.41]	‘Perhaps I am a carl’s daughter, Perhaps I am nane; But whan ye gat me in free forest Ye might ha latten’s alane.’ 110[M.42]	Up it starts the Belly Blin, Just at their bed-feet. 110[M.43]	‘I think it is a meet marrige Atween the taen and the tither, The Earl of Hertford’s ae daughter And the Queen of England’s brither.’ 110[M.44]	‘An this be the Earl of Hertford’s ae daughter, As I trust well it be, Mony a gude horse ha I ridden For the love o thee.’
 
110[N]: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
110[N].1	Ther was a sheperd’s daughter Keeped hogs upon yon hill, An by came [t]her a gentell knight, An he wad haa his will. 110[N.2]	Fan his will Of her he had taiin, ‘Kind sir, for your curtisy, Will ye tell me yer name?’ 110[N.3]	‘Some they caa me Joke, An some caa me John, Bat fan I am in our king’s court Hichkoke is my name.’ 110[N.4]	The lady bieng well book-read She spealled it our agen: ‘Hichkoke in Latin Is Earl Richerd att heam.’ 110[N.5]	He patt his liag out-our his stead An to the gate has gain; She kilted up her green clathing An fast folloued she. 110[N.6]	‘Turn back, ye carl’s dother, An dinn follou me; It setts no carl’s dothers King’s courts to see.’ 110[N.7]	‘Perhaps I am a carle’s dother, Perhaps I am nean, Bat fan ye gat me in free forest Ye sud haa latten alean.’ 110[N.8]	Fan they came to yon wan water That a’ man cas Clide, He luked our his left shoulder, Says, Fair maid, will ye ride? 110[N.9]	‘I learned it in my mother’s bour, I watt I learned it well, Fan I came to wan water To soum as dos the eall. 110[N.10]	‘I learned it in my mother’s bour, I wiss I had learned it better, Fan I came to wan watter To sume as dos the otter.’ 110[N.11]	She touk a golden comb, Combed out her yallou hear, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110[N.12]	‘Far gatt ye that, ye carl’s dother, I pray ye tell to me;’ ‘I gatt it fra my mither,’ she says, ‘To begulle sick sparks as ye.’ 110[N.13]	‘Gin ye be a carl’s gett, As I trou well ye be, Far gatt ye a’ that fine clothing, To cloath yer body we?’ 110[N.14]	‘My mother was an ill woman, An ill woman was she, An she gatt a’ that fine clathing, Frae sick chaps as ye.’ 110[N.15]	Fan they came to our king’s court, She fell lou doun on her knee: ‘Win up, ye fair may, What may ye want we me?’ ‘Ther is a knight in your court This day has robbed me.’ 110[N.16]	‘Has he robbed you of your goud? Or of your whit monie? Or of your meadnhead, The flour of your body?’ 110[N.17]	‘He has no robbed me of my goud, Nor yet of my fiee, Bat he has robed me of my madinhead, The flour of my body.’ 110[N.18]	‘Wad ye keen the knight, If ye did him see?’ ‘I wad keen him well by his well-fared face An the blieth blink of his eay.’ An sighan says the king, I wiss it bin my brother Richie! 110[N.19]	The king called on his merry men a’, By an, by tua, by three; Earl Richerd had ay ben the first, Bat the last man was he. 110[N.20]	By that ye might a well kent The gulty man was he; She took him by the hand, Says, That same is hee. 110[N.21]	Ther was a brand laid doun to her, A brand batt an a ring, Three times she minted to the brand, Bat she took up the ring; A’ that was in the court ’S counted her a wise woman. 110[N.22]	‘I will gee ye five hundred pound, To make yer marrage we, An ye gie hame, ye carl’s dother, An fash na mare we me.’ 110[N.23]	‘Ye keep yer five hundred pound, To make yer marreg we, For I will ha nathing bat yer sell, The king he promised me.’ 110[N.24]	‘I ill gee ye a thousand poun, To make yer marrage we, An ye gae hame, ye carl’s gett, An fash na mare we me.’ 110[N.25]	‘Ye keep yer thousand pound, To make yer marreg we, For I ill ha nathing batt yer sell, The king he promised me.’ 110[N.26]	He toke her doun An clothed her in green; Fan she cam up, She was fairer then the quin. 110[N.27]	Fan they gaid to Mary Kirk, The nettels grue by dike: ‘O gin my midder war hear, Sai clean as she wad them peak!’ 110[N.28]	He drue his hat out-our his eayn, The tear blinded his eay; She drue back her yallou loaks, An a light laughter luke she. 110[N.29]	Fan she came by yon mill-toun, . . . . . . ‘O well may the mill goo, An well matt she be! For aften ha ye filled my poke We the whit meall an the gray.’ 110[N.30]	‘I wiss I had druken the water Fan I drank the aill, Or any carl’s dother Suld ha tald me siken a teall.’ 110[N.31]	‘Perhaps I am a carl’s dother, Perhaps I am nean; Fan ye gatt me in frie forest, Ye sud ha latten alean. * * * * * * 110[N.32]	‘Take awa yer silver spons, Far awa fra me, An ye gee me t[he] ram-horn [s]pons, Them I am best used we. 110[N.33]	‘Ye take awa yer tabel-cloths, Far awa fra me, An ye gee me a mukell dish I am best used we. 110[N.34]	‘For if I had my mukel dish hear, An sayn an it war fou, I wad sup till I war sared, An sayn lay doun my head an slep like ony sou. 110[N.35]	‘Ye take away yer hollan shits, Far awa fra me, An ye bring me a cannas, It’s the thing I ben eased we.’ 110[N.36]	Fan bells wer rung, an mess was sung, An a’ man boun to bed, Earl Richerd an the carl’s dother In a bed [were laid]. 110[N.37]	‘Lay yond, lay yond, ye carl’s dother, Your hot skin . . me; It setts na carl’s dothers In earls’ beds to be.’ 110[N.38]	‘Perhaps I am a carl’s dother, Perhaps I am nean; Bat fan ye gat me in free forest Ye might a latten alean.’ 110[N.39]	Up starts the Bellie Blind, Att ther bed-head: ‘I think it is a meatt marrage Betuen the ane an the eather, The Earl of Heartfourds ae daughter An the Quien of England’s brother.’ 110[N.40]	‘If this be the Earl of Heartfourd’s ae doughter, As I trust well it be, Mony a gued hors have I redden For the love of the.’
 
110[O]: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
 
 110[O].1	There was a shepherd’s daughter
 	 Who kept sheep on yon hill;
 	 There came a young man riding by,
 	 Who swore he’d have his will.
 110[O.1b]	Fol lol lay
 	 Fol lol di diddle lol di day
 110[O.2]	He took her by the lilly-white hand
 	 And by her silken sleeve,
 110[O.3]	Or tell to me your name.
 110[O.4]	‘Oh, some they call me Jack, sweetheart,
 	 And some they call me Will,
 	 But when I ride the king’s high-gate
 	 My name is sweet William.’
 110[O.4.j]	But name,

 
 
110[P]: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
 
 
 110[P].1	’Tis said a shepherd’s ae daughter
 	 Kept sheep upon a hill,
 	 An by there cam a courteous knight,
 	 An he wad hae his will.
 110[P.2]	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand
 	 An by the grass-green sleeve,
 	 He’s laid her doon at the fit o a bush,
 	 An neer ance speired her leave.

 


 
111: Crow and Pie
 
111.1 THROUGHE a forest as I can ryde, To take my sporte yn an mornyng, I cast my eye on euery syde, I was ware of a bryde syngynge. 111.2 I sawe a faire mayde come rydyng; I speake to hur of loue, I trowe; She answered me all yn scornyng, And sayd, The crowe shall byte yow. 111.3 ‘I pray yow, damesell, scorne me nott; To wyn your loue ytt ys my wyll; For your loue I haue dere bought, And I wyll take good hede thertyll.’ 111.4 ‘Nay, for God, ser, that I nyll; I tell the, Jenken, as I trowe, Thou shalt nott fynde me suche a gyll; Therfore the crowe shall byte yow.’ 111.5 He toke then owt a good golde ryng, A purse of velweytt, that was soo fyne: ‘Haue ye thys, my dere swetyng, With that ye wylbe lemman myn.’ 111.6 ‘Be Cryst, I dare nott, for my dame, To dele with hym that I doo nott knowe; For soo I myght dyspyse my name; Therfore the crow shall byte yow.’ 111.7 He toke hur abowte the mydell small, That was soo faire of hyde and hewe; He kyssed hur cheke as whyte as whall, And prayed hur that she wolde vpon hym rewe. 111.8 She scornyd hym, and callyd hym Hew; His loue was as a paynted blowe: ‘To-day me, to-morrowe a newe; Therfore the crow shall byte yow.’ 111.9 He toke hur abowte the mydell small, And layd hur downe vpon the grene; Twys or thrys he served hur soo withall, He wolde nott stynt yet, as I wene. 111.10 ‘But sythe ye haue i-lyen me bye, Ye wyll wedde me now, as I trowe:’ ‘I wyll be aduysed, Gyll,’ sayd he, ‘For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.’ 111.11 ‘But sythe ye haue i-leyn me by, And brought my body vnto shame, Some of your good ye wyll part with me, Or elles, be Cryst, ye be to blame.’ 111.12 ‘I wylbe aduysed,’ he sayde; ‘THe wynde ys wast that thow doyst blowe; I haue a-noder that most be payde; Therfore the pye hathe pecked yow.’ 111.13 ‘Now sythe ye haue i-leyn me bye, A lyttle thyng ye wyll tell; In case that I with chylde be, What ys your name? Wher doo ye dwell?’ 111.14 ‘At Yorke, at London, at Clerkenwell, At Leycester, Cambryge, at myrye Brystowe; Some call me Rychard, Robart, Jacke, and Wyll; For now the pye hathe peckyd yow. 111.15 ‘But, all medons, be ware be rewe, And lett no man downe yow throwe; For and yow doo, ye wyll ytt rewe, For then the pye wyll pecke yow.’ 111.16 ‘Farewell, corteor, ouer the medoo, Pluke vp your helys, I yow beshrew! Your trace, wher so euer ye ryde or goo, Crystes curse goo wythe yow! 111.17 ‘Thoughe a knave hathe by me layne, Yet am I noder dede nor slowe; I trust to recouer my harte agayne, And Crystes curse goo wythe yow!’


 
112A: Blow Away the Morning Dew
 
112A.1 YONDER comes a courteous knight, Lustely raking ouer the lay; He was well ware of a bonny lasse, As she came wandring ouer the way. Refrain:	Then she sang downe a downe, hey downe derry (bis) 112A.2 ‘Ioue you speed, fayre lady,’ he said, ‘Among the leaues that be so greene; If I were a king, and wore a crowne, Full soone, fair lady, shouldst thou be a queen. 112A.3 ‘Also Ioue saue you, faire lady, Among the roses that be so red; If I haue not my will of you, Full soone, faire lady, shall I be dead.’ 112A.4 Then he lookt east, then hee lookt west, Hee lookt north, so did he south; He could not finde a priuy place, For all lay in the diuel’s mouth. 112A.5 ‘If you will carry me, gentle sir, A mayde vnto my father’s hall, Then you shall haue your will of me, Vnder purple and vnder paule.’ 112A.6 He set her vp vpon a steed, And him selfe vpon another, And all the day he rode her by, As though they had been sister and brother. 112A.7 When she came to her father’s hall, It was well walled round about; She yode in at the wicket-gate, And shut the foure-eard foole without. 112A.8 ‘You had me,’ quoth she, ‘abroad in the field, Among the corne, amidst the hay, Where you might had your will of mee, For, in good faith, sir, I neuer said nay. 112A.9 ‘Ye had me also amid the field, Among the rushes that were so browne, Where you might had your will of me, But you had not the face to lay me downe.’ 112A.10 He pulled out his nut-browne sword, And wipt the rust off with his sleeue, And said, Ioue’s curse come to his heart That any woman would beleeue! 112A.11 When you haue you owne true-loue A mile or twaine out of the towne, Spare not for her gay clothing, But lay her body flat on the ground.
 
112B: Blow Away the Morning Dew
 
 
 112B.1	 THERE was a knight, and he was young,
 	 A riding along the way, sir,
 	 And there he met a lady fair,
 	 Among the cocks of hay, sir.
 112B.2	 Quoth he, Shall you and I, lady,
 	 Among the grass lye down a?
 	 And I will have a special care
 	 Of rumpling of your gown a.
 112B.3	 ‘If you will go along with me
 	 Unto my father’s hall, sir,
 	 You shall enjoy my maidenhead,
 	 And my estate and all, sir.’
 112B.4	 So he mounted her on a milk-white steed,
 	 Himself upon another,
 	 And then they rid upon the road,
 	 Like sister and like brother.
 112B.5	 And when she came to her father’s house,
 	 Which was moated round about, sir,
 	 She stepped streight within the gate,
 	 And shut this young knight out, sir.
 112B.6	 ‘Here is a purse of gold,’ she said,
 	 ‘Take if for your pains, sir;
 	 And I will send my father’s man
 	 To go home with you again, sir.
 112B.7	 ‘And if you meet a lady fair,
 	 As you go thro the next town, sir,
 	 You must not fear the dew of the grass,
 	 Nor the rumpling of her gown, sir.
 112B.8	 ‘And if you meet a lady gay,
 	 As you go by the hill, sir,
 	 If you will not when you may,
 	 You shall not when you will, sir.’

 
 
112C: Blow Away the Morning Dew
 
112C.1 THERE was a knight was drunk with wine A riding along the way, sir, And there he did meet with a lady fine, And among the cocks of hay, sir. 112C.2 One favour he did crave of her, And askd her to lay her down, sir, But he had neither cloth nor sheet, To keep her from the ground, sir. 112C.3 ‘There is a great dew upon the grass, And if you shoud lay me down, sir, You would spoil my gay clothing, That has cost me many a pound, sir.’ 112C.4 ‘I have a cloak of scarlet red, I’ll lay it under you, love, So you will grant me my request That I shall ask of you, love.’ 112C.5 ‘And if you’ll go to my father’s hall, That is moated all round about, sir, There you shall have your will of me, Within, sir, and without, sir. 112C.6 ‘Oh yonder stands my milk-white steed, And among the cocks of hay, sir; If the king’s pinner should chance to come, He’ll take my steed away, sir.’ 112C.7 ‘I have a ring upon my finger, It’s made of the finest gold, love, And it shall serve to fetch your steed Out of the pinner’s fold, love.’ 112C.8 ‘And if you’ll go to my father’s house, Round which there’s many a tree, sir, There you shall have your chamber free, And your chamberlain I’ll be, sir.’ 112C.9 He sate her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon another, And then they rid along the way, Like sister and like brother. 112C.10 But when she came to her father’s house, Which was moated all round about, sir, She slipd herself within the gate, And she lockd the knight without, sir. 112C.11 ‘I thank you, kind knight, for seeing me here, And bringing me home a maiden, sir, But you shall have two of my father’s men For to set you as far back again, sir.’ 112C.12 He drew his sword out of his scabbard, And whet it upon his sleeve, sir, Saying, Cursed be to evry man That will a maid believe, sir! 112C.13 She drew her handkerchief out of her pocket, And threw it upon the ground, sir, Saying, Thrice cursed be to evry maid That will believe a man, sir! 112C.14 We have a tree in our garden, Some call it of rosemary, sir; There’s crowing-cocks in our town, That will make a capon of you, sir. 112C.15 We have a flower in our garden, Some call it a marygold, sir, And he that would not when he might, He shall not when he would, sir. 112C.16 But if you chance for to meet a maid, A little below the town, sir, You must not fear her gay cloathing, Nor the wrinkling of her gown, sir. 112C.17 And if you chance for to meet a maid, A little below the hill, sir, You need not fear her screeking out, For she quickly will lye still, sir. 112C.18 The baffld knight was by the lass Ingeniously outwitted, And since that time it came to pass He was again well fitted. 112C.19 As he was riding cross a plain, In boots, spurs, hat and feather, He met that lady fair again; They talkd a while together. 112C.20 He said, Tho you did serve me so, And cunningly decoy me, Yet now, before you further go, I must and will enjoy thee. 112C.21 RR’rrtwas near a spacious river’s side, Where rushes green were growing, And Neptune’s silver streams did glide, Four fathom waters flowing. 112C.22 The lady blushd like scarlet red, And trembled at this stranger: ‘How shall I guard my maidenhead From this approaching danger!’ 112C.23 With a lamenting sigh, said she, To dye I now am ready; Must this dishonour fall on me? A most unhappy lady! 112C.24 He from his saddle did alight, In gaudy rich attire, And cried, I am a noble knight, Who do your charms admire. 112C.25 He took the lady by the hand, Who seemingly consented, And woud no more disputing stand: She had a plot invented. 112C.26 How she might baffle him again, With much delight and pleasure, And eke unspotted still remain, With her pure virgin treasure. 112C.27 ‘Look yonder, good sir knight, I pray: Methinks I do discover, Well mounted on a dapple-grey, My true, entire lover.’ 112C.28 The knight, he standing on the brink Of the deep floating river, Thought she, Thou now shalt swim or sink; Choose which you fancy rather. 112C.29 Against his back the lady run; The waters strait he sounded; He cry’d out, Love, what have you done! Help! help! or I am drowned. 112C.30 Said she, Sir knight, farewel, adieu; You see what comes of fooling; That is the fittest place for you, Whose courage wanted cooling. 112C.31 ‘Love help me out, and I’ll forgive This fault which you’ve committed; ‘No, no,’ says she, ’Sir, as I live, I think you’re finely fitted.’ 112C.32 She rid home to her father’s house, For speedy expedition, While the gay knight was soakd like souce, In a sad wet condition. 112C.33 1 When he came mounted to the plain He was in rich attire, Yet when he back returnd again He was all muck and mire. Yet when he back returnd again He was all muck and mire. 112C.34 A solemn vow he there did make, Just as he came from swiming, He’d love no lady, for her sake, Nor any other women. 112C.35 The baffld knight was foold once more, You’ll find by this pleasant ditty, For she whose charms he did adore Was wonderful sharp and witty. 112C.36 Returning from her father’s park, Just close by a summer bower, She chanc’d to meet her angry spark, Who gave her a frowning lower. 112C.37 The thoughts of what she twice had done Did cause him to draw his rapier, And at the lady then he run, And thus he began to vapour: 112C.38 ‘You chousd me at your father’s gate, Then tumbld me into the river; I seek for satisfaction straight; Shall I be a fool forever?’ 112C.39 He came with resolution bent That evening to enjoy her, And if she did not give consent, That minute he would destroy her. 112C.40 ‘I pray, sir knight, and why so hot Against a young silly woman? Such crimes as these might be forgot; For merry intrigues are common.’ 112C.41 ‘What! do you count it mirth,’ he cry’d, ‘To tumble me in and leave me? What if I drowned there had dy’d? A dangerous jest, believe me. 112C.42 ‘Well, if I pardon you this day Those injuries out of measure, It is because without delay I mean to enjoy the pleasure.’ 112C.43 ‘Your suit,’ she said, ’is not deny’d, But think of your boots of leather, And let me pull them off,’ she cry’d, ‘Before we lye down together.’ 112C.44 He set him down upon the grass, And violets so sweet and tender; Now by this means it came to pass That she did his purpose hinder. 112C.45 For having pulld his boots half-way, She cry’d, I am now your betters; You shall not make of me your prey; Sit there, like a thief in fetters. 112C.46 Now finding she had servd him so, He rose and began to grumble; Yet he could neither stand nor go, But did like a cripple tumble. 112C.47 The boots stuck fast, and would not stir; His folly she soon did mention, And laughing said, I pray, kind sir, How like you my new invention? 112C.48 My laughing fit you must excuse; You are but a stingless nettle; You’d neer a stood for boots or shooes, Had you been a man of mettle. 112C.49 Farewel, sir knight, ’tis almost ten; I fear neither wind nor weather; I’ll send my father’s serving-men To pull off your boots of leather. 112C.50 She laughed outright, as well she might, With merry conceits of scorning, And left him there to sit all night, Untill the approaching morning. 112C.51 The fourth part of the baffld knight The lady hath fairly acted; She did his love and kindness slight, Which made him almost distracted. 112C.52 She left him in her father’s park, Where nothing but deer could hear him; While he lay rouling in the dark, There’s never a soul came near him. 112C.53 Until the morning break of day, And being warm summer weather, A shepherd chanc’d to come that way, Who pulld on his boots of leather. 112C.54 Then mounting on his milk-white steed, He, shaking his ears, was ready, And whip and spur he rid with speed To find out this crafty lady. 112C.55 ‘If once this lady I come nigh She shall be released by no man: Why shoud so brave a knight as I Be foold by a silly woman! 112C.56 ‘Three times she has affronted me, In crimes which I cannot pardon; But if I an’t revengd,’ said he, ‘Let me not be worth a farthing. 112C.57 ‘I value not her beauty fair, Tho once I did dote upon her; This trusty sword shall now repair My baffled, blasted honour.’ 112C.58 Unto her father’s house he came, Which every side was moated; The fair sweet youthful charming dame, His angry brows she noted. 112C.59 Thought she, I’ll have the other bout, And tumble him in the river; And let the Devil help him out, Or there he shall soak for ever. 112C.60 He will not let me live at rest, Although I have often foild him; Therefore once more, I do protest, With flattering I’ll beguile him. 112C.61 The bridge was drawn, the gates lockd fast, So that he could no ways enter; She smil’d to him, and cry’d at last, Sir knight, if you please to venture, 112C.62 A plank lies over the moat hard by, Full seventeen foot in measure; There’s no body now at home but I; Therefore we’ll take our pleasure. 112C.63 This word she had no sooner spoke, But straight he was tripping over; The plank was sawd, and snapping broke; He provd an unhappy lover.
 
112D: Blow Away the Morning Dew
 
112D.1 THERE was a shepherd’s son Kept sheep upon a hill; He laid his pipe and crook aside, And there he slept his fill. Refrain:	Sing, Fal deral, etc. 112D.2 He looked east, he looked west, Then gave an under-look, And there he spyed a lady fair, Swimming in a brook. 112D.3 He raisd his head frae his green bed, And then approachd the maid; ‘Put on your claiths, my dear,’ he says, ‘And be ye not afraid. 112D.4 ‘RR’rrtis fitter for a lady fair To sew her silken seam Than to get up in a May morning And strive against the stream.’ 112D.5 ‘If you’ll not touch my mantle, And let my claiths alane, Then I’ll give you as much money As you can carry hame.’ 112D.6 ‘O I’ll not touch your mantle, And I’ll let your claiths alane; But I’ll tak you out of the clear water, My dear, to be my ain.’ 112D.7 And when she out of the water came, He took her in his arms: ‘Put on your claiths, my dear,’ he says, ‘And hide those lovely charms.’ 112D.8 He mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon anither, And all along the way they rode, Like sister and like brither. 112D.9 When she came to her father’s yate She tirled at the pin, And ready stood the porter there, To let this fair maid in. 112D.10 And when the gate was opened, So nimbly’s she whipt in; ‘Pough! you’re a fool without,’ she says, ‘And I’m a maid within. 112D.11 ‘Then fare ye well, my modest boy, I thank you for your care; But had you done what you should do, I neer had left you there.’ 112D.12 ‘Oh I’ll cast aff my hose and shoon, And let my feet gae bare, And gin I meet a bonny lass, Hang me if her I spare.’ 112D.13 ‘In that do as you please,’ she says, ‘But you shall never more Have the same opportunity;’ With that she shut the door. 112D.14 There is a gude auld proverb, I’ve opten heard it told, He that would not when he might, He should not when he would.
 
112E: Blow Away the Morning Dew
 
112E.1 THERE was a knight, was drunk with wine, Came riding along the way, sir; He would have had a lady gay Amang the quiles of hay, sir. 112E.2 ‘What if I should lay thee down, Amang the quiles of hay, maid? Sheets nor blankets have I none, To keep thy cloathing clean, maid.’ 112E.3 ‘The wind blaws east, the wind blaws west, The wind blaws owre yon thorn, sir; Weel may I wash my cloathing clear, And dry them on the morn, sir.’ 112E.4 ‘What if I should lay thee down, Amang the rigs of corn, maid? Then the king’s life-guard will come, And steal our steeds away, maid.’ 112E.5 ‘I have ten gold rings on my hand, They’re all gold but the stone, sir; I’ll give them to the king’s life-guard, If he’ll let our steeds alone, sir. 112E.6 ‘But see you not yon sunny bank, Over yon lily lea, sir, Where you and I may crack a while, And never one may see, sir?’ 112E.7 He was on a milk-white steed, And she was on another, And all the live-long winter night They rode like sister and brother. 112E.8 When they came to that sunny bank, He began to lay her down, sir; ‘O no, O no, kind sir,’ she says, ‘Ye’ll ruffle all my gown, sir. 112E.9 ‘My gown it cost my father dear, RR’rrtwas	many a mark and pound, sir; And if that ye do lay me down, Ye’ll ruffle all my gown, sir. 112E.10 ‘But see ye na yon fair castel, Over yon lily lea, sir, Where you and I may crack a while, And never one may see, sir?’ 112E.11 He was on a milk-white steed, And she was on another, And all the live-long winter night They rode like sister and brother. 112E.12 When they came to that fair castel, She was at her father’s yet, sir; She jumped in at her father’s door, And left this knight without, sir. 112E.13 She says, I am a maid within, You’re but a knave without, sir; There were neer a butcher’s son Put me in so much doubt, sir. 112E.14 ‘Oh if I had thee out,’ he said, ‘But two miles from the town, maid, I would lay thee down,’ he said, ‘And never mind thy gown, maid.’ 112E.15 ‘There is a flower in my father’s garden, The name o’t marigold, sir, And he that would not when he might, He shall not when he wold, sir. 112E.16 ‘But when eer ye meet a pretty maid, And two miles from a town, sir, Ye may lay her down,’ she says, And never mind her gown, sir. 112E.17 ‘Ye’re like unto my father’s steed; He’s standing in the lone, sir; He hings his head above the sheaf, But daur not venture on, sir. 112E.18 ‘When eer ye meet a pretty maid, And two miles from the town, sir, Ye may lay her down,’ she says, ‘And never mind her gown, sir. 112E.19 ‘There is a cock in my father’s flock, He wears a double comb, sir, He claps his wings, but craweth not; I fear you be like him, sir. 112E.20 ‘But when eer you meet a pretty maid, And two miles from a town, sir, You may lay her down,’ she said, ‘And never mind her gown, sir.’


 
113: The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry
 
 
 113.1	 AN eartly nourris sits and sing,
 	 And aye she sings, Ba, lily wean!
 	 Little ken I my bairnis father,
 	 Far less the land that he staps in.
 113.2	 Then ane arose at her bed-fit,
 	 An a grumly guest I’m sure was he:
 	 ‘Here am I, thy bairnis father,
 	 Although that I be not comelie.
 113.3	 ‘I am a man, upo the lan,
 	 An I am a silkie in the sea;
 	 And when I’m far and far frae lan,
 	 My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.’
 113.4	 ‘It was na weel,’ quo the maiden fair,
 	 ‘It was na weel, indeed,’ quo she,
 	 ‘That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie
 	 Suld hae come and aught a bairn to me.’
 113.5	 Now he has taen a purse of goud,
 	 And he has pat it upo her knee,
 	 Sayin, Gie to me my little young son,
 	 An tak thee up thy nourris-fee.
 113.6	 An it sall come to pass on a simmer’s day,
 	 When the sin shines het on evera stane,
 	 That I will tak my little young son,
 	 An teach him for to swim the faem.
 113.7	 An thu sall marry a proud gunner,
 	 An a proud gunner I’m sure he’ll be,
 	 An the very first schot that ere he schoots,
 	 He’ll schoot baith my young son and me.

 


 
114A: Johnie Cock
 
114A.1 JOHNY he has risen up i the morn, Calls for water to wash his hands; But little knew he that his bloody hounds Were bound in iron bands. bands Were bound in iron bands 114A.2 Johny’s mother has gotten word o that, And care-bed she has taen: ‘O Johny, for my benison, I beg you’l stay at hame; For the wine so red, and the well baken bread, My Johny shall want nane. 114A.3 ‘There are seven forsters at Pickeram Side, At Pickeram where they dwell, And for a drop of thy heart’s bluid They wad ride the fords of hell.’ 114A.4 Johny he’s gotten word of that, And he’s turnd wondrous keen; He’s put off the red scarlett, And he’s put on the Lincolm green. 114A.5 With a sheaf of arrows by his side, And a bent bow in his hand, He’s mounted on a prancing steed, And he has ridden fast oer the strand. 114A.6 He’s up i Braidhouplee, and down i Bradyslee, And under a buss o broom, And there he found a good dun deer, Feeding in a buss of ling. 114A.7 Johny shot, and the dun deer lap, And she lap wondrous wide, Until they came to the wan water, And he stemd her of her pride. 114A.8 He ’as taen out the little pen-knife, ’Twas full three quarters long, And he has taen out of that dun deer The liver bot and the tongue. 114A.9 They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the blood, And the blood it was so sweet, Which caused Johny and his bloody hounds To fall in a deep sleep. 114A.10 By then came an old palmer, And an ill death may he die! For he’s away to Pickram Side, As fast as he can drie. 114A.11 ‘What news, what news?’ says the Seven Forsters, ‘What news have ye brought to me?’ ‘I have noe news,’ the palmer said, ‘But what I saw with my eye. 114A.12 ‘High up i Bradyslee, low down i Bradisslee, And under a buss of scroggs, O there I spied a well-wight man, Sleeping among his dogs. 114A.13 ‘His coat it was of light Lincolm, And his breeches of the same, His shoes of the American leather, And gold buckles tying them.’ 114A.14 Up bespake the Seven Forsters, Up bespake they ane and a’: O that is Johny o Cockleys Well, And near him we will draw. 114A.15 O the first y stroke that they gae him, They struck him off by the knee; Then up bespake his sister’s son: ’O the next ’ll gar him die!’ 114A.16 ‘O some they count ye well-wight men, But I do count ye nane; For you might well ha wakend me, And askd gin I wad be taen. 114A.17 ‘The wildest wolf in aw this wood Wad not ha done so by me; She’d ha wet her foot ith wan water, And sprinkled it oer my brae, And if that wad not ha wakend me, She wad ha gone and let me be. 114A.18 ‘O bows of yew, if ye be true, In London, where ye were bought, Fingers five, get up belive, Manhuid shall fail me nought.’ 114A.19 He has killd the Seven Forsters, He has killd them all but ane, And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side, To carry the bode-words hame. 114A.20 ‘Is there never a boy in a’ this wood That will tell what I can say; That will go to Cockleys Well, Tell my mither to fetch me away?’ 114A.21 There was a boy into that wood, That carried the tidings away, And many ae was the well-wight man At the fetching o Johny away.
 
114B: Johnie Cock
 
114B.1 FIFTEEN foresters in the Braid alow, And they are wondrous fell; To get a drop of Johnny’s heart-bluid, They would sink a’ their souls to hell. 114B.2 Johnny Cock has gotten word of this, And he is wondrous keen; He[’s] custan off the red scarlet, And on the Linkum green. 114B.3 And he is ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till he came to yon wan water, And there Johnny Cock did lie. 114B.4 They have ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till they met wi’ an old palmer, Was walking along the way. 114B.5 ‘What news, what news, old palmer? What news have you to me?’ ‘Yonder is one of the proudest wed sons That ever my eyes did see.’ * * * * * 114B.6 He’s taen out a horn from his side, And he blew both loud and shrill, Till a’ the fifteen foresters Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn. 114B.7 They have sworn a bluidy oath, And they swore all in one, That there was not a man among them a’ Would blaw such a blast as yon. 114B.8 And they have ridden oer muir and muss, And over mountains high, Till they came to yon wan water, Where Johnny Cock did lie. 114B.9 They have shotten little Johnny Cock, A little above the ee: . . . . . ‘For doing the like to me. 114B.10 ‘There’s not a wolf in a’ the wood Woud ’ha’ done the like to me; ’She’d ha’ dipped her foot in coll water, And strinkled above my ee, And if I would not have waked for that, ’She’d ha’ gane and let me be. 114B.11 ‘But fingers five, come here, [come here,] And faint heart fail me nought, And silver strings, value me sma things, Till I get all this vengeance rowght!’ 114B.12 He ha[s] shot a’ the fifteen foresters, Left never a one but one, And he broke the ribs a that ane’s side, And let him take tiding home. 114B.13 ’. . . a bird in a’ the wood Could sing as I could say, It would go in to my mother’s bower, And bid her kiss me, and take me away.’
 
114C: Johnie Cock
 
 
 114C.1	 JOHNNY COCK, in a May morning,
 	 Sought water to wash his  hands,
 	 And he is awa to louse his dogs,
 	 That’s tied wi iron bans.
 	 That’s tied wi iron bans.
 114C.2	 His coat it is of the light Lincum green,
 	 And his breiks are of the same;
 	 His shoes are of the American leather,
 	 Silver buckles tying them.
 114C.3	 ’He’ hunted up, and so did ’he’ down,
 	 Till ’he’ came to yon bush of scrogs,
 	 And then to yon wan water,
 	 Where he slept among his dogs.
 	 * * * * *
 114C.4	 Johnny Cock out-shot a’ the foresters,
 	 And out-shot a the three;
 	 Out shot a’ the foresters,
 	 Wounded Johnny aboun the bree.
 114C.5	 ‘Woe be to you, foresters,
 	 And an ill death may you die!
 	 For there would not a wolf in a’ the wood
 	 Have done the like to me.
 114C.6	 ‘For’ ’twould ha’ put its foot in the coll water
 	 And ha strinkled it on my bree,
 	 And gin that would not have done,
 	 Would have gane and lett me be.
 114C.7	 ‘I often took to my mother
 	 The dandoo and the roe,
 	 But now I’l take to my mother
 	 Much sorrow and much woe.
 114C.8	 ‘I often took to my mother
 	 The dandoo and the hare,
 	 But now I’l take to my mother
 	 Much sorrow and much care.’

 
 
114D: Johnie Cock
 
114D.1 UP Johnie raise in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he has calld for his gude gray hunds, That lay bund in iron bands. bands That lay bund in iron bands 114D.2 ‘Ye’ll busk, ye’ll busk my noble dogs, Ye’ll busk and mak them boun, For I’m going to the Braidscaur hill, To ding the dun deer doun.’ 114D.3 Whan Johnie’s mither gat word o that, On the very bed she lay, Says, Johnie, for my malison, I pray ye at hame to stay. 114D.4 Your meat sall be of the very, very best, Your drink sall be the same, And ye will win your mither’s benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame. 114D.5 But Johnie has cast aff the black velvet, And put on the Lincoln twine, And he is on to gude greenwud, As fast as he could gang. 114D.6 His mither’s counsel he wad na tak, He’s aff, and left the toun, He’s aff unto the Braidscaur hill, To ding the dun deer doun. 114D.7 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And he lookit aneath the sun, And there he spied the dun deer sleeping, Aneath a buss of whun. 114D.8 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he’s scaithed him in the side, And atween the water and the wud He laid the dun deer’s pride. 114D.9 They ate sae meikle o the venison, And drank sae meikle o the blude, That Johnie and his twa gray hunds Fell asleep in yonder wud. 114D.10 By ther cam a silly auld man, And a silly auld man was he, And he’s aff to the proud foresters, As fast as he could dree. 114D.11 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man? What news? come tell to me:’ ‘I heard na news, I speird na news But what my een did see. 114D.12 ‘As I cam in by Braidisbanks, And doun amang the whuns, The bonniest youngster eer I saw Lay sleepin amang his hunds. 114D.13 ‘His cheeks war like the roses red, His neck was like the snaw; His sark was o the holland fine, And his jerkin lac’d fu braw.’ 114D.14 Up bespak the first forester, The first forester of a’: O this is Johnie o Cockerslee; Come draw, lads, we maun draw. 114D.15 Up bespak the niest forester, The niest forester of a’: An this be Johnie o Cockerslee, To him we winna draw. 114D.16 The first shot that they did shoot, They woundit him on the bree; Up bespak the uncle’s son, ‘The niest will gar him die.’ 114D.17 The second shot that eer they shot, It scaithd him near the heart; ‘I only wauken,’ Johnie cried, ‘Whan first I find the smart. 114D.18 ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs, Stand stout, and dinna flee; Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds, And we will gar them die.’ 114D.19 He has killed six o the proud foresters, And wounded the seventh sair: He laid his leg out owre his steed, Says, I will kill na mair. 114D.20 ‘Oh wae befa thee, silly auld man, An ill death may thee dee! Upon thy head be a’ this blude, For mine, I ween, is free.’
 
114E: Johnie Cock
 
114E.1 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he has calld for his gud gray hunds, That lay bund in iron bands. bands That lay bund in iron bands 114E.2 ‘Ye’ll busk, ye’ll busk my noble dogs, Ye’ll busk and mak them boun, For I’m gaing to the Broadspear hill, To ding the dun deer doun.’ 114E.3 Whan Johnie’s mither heard o this, She til her son has gane: ‘Ye’ll win your mither’s benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame. 114E.4 ‘Your meat sall be o the very, very best, And your drink o the finest wine; And ye will win your mither’s benison, Gin ye wad stay at hame.’ 114E.5 His mither’s counsel he wad na tak, Nor wad he stay at hame; But he’s on to the Broadspear hill, To ding the dun deer doun. 114E.6 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, And a little below the sun, And there he spied the dun deer lying sleeping, Aneath a buss o brume. 114E.7 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, And he has woundit him in the side, And atween the water and the wud He laid the dun deer’s pride. 114E.8 They ate sae meikle o the venison, And drank sae meikle o the blude, That Johnie and his twa gray hunds Fell asleep in yonder wud. 114E.9 By ther cam a silly auld man, A silly auld man was he, And he’s aff to the proud foresters, To tell what he did see. 114E.10 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man, What news? come tell to me:’ ‘Na news, na news,’ said the silly auld man, ‘But what mine een did see. 114E.11 ‘As I cam in by yon greenwud, And doun amang the scrogs, The bonniest youth that ere I saw Lay sleeping atween twa dogs. 114E.12 ‘The sark that he had on his back Was o the holland sma, And the coat that he had on his back Was laced wi gowd fu braw.’ 114E.13 Up bespak the first forester, The first forester ava: ‘An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir, It’s time we war awa.’ 114E.14 Up bespak the niest forester, The niest forester ava: ‘An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir, To him we winna draw.’ 114E.15 The first shot that they did shoot, They woundit him on the thie; Up bespak the uncle’s son, The niest will gar him die. 114E.16 ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs, Stand stout, and dinna flee; Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds, And we will mak them dee.’ 114E.17 He has killed six o the proud foresters, And he has woundit the seventh sair; He laid his leg out oure his steed, Says, I will kill na mair.
 
114F: Johnie Cock
 
114F.1 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning, Called for water to wash his hands: ‘Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs, That are bound wi iron bands.’ 114F.2 When Johnie’s mother gat word o that, Her hands for dule she wrang: ‘O Johnie, for my bennison, To the grenewood dinna gang! 114F.3 ‘Eneugh ye hae o the gude wheat-bread, And eneugh o the blude-red wine, And therefore for nae vennison, Johnie, I pray ye, stir frae hame.’ 114F.4 But Johnie’s buskt up his gude bend bow, His arrows, ane by ane, And he has gane to Durrisdeer, To hunt the dun deer down. 114F.5 As he came down by Merriemass, And in by the benty line, There has he espied a deer lying, Aneath a bush of ling. 114F.6 Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap, And he wounded her on the side, But atween the water and the brae, His hounds they laid her pride. 114F.7 And Johnie has bryttled the deer sae weel That he’s had out her liver and lungs, And wi these he has feasted his bludey hounds As if they had been erl’s sons. 114F.8 They eat sae much o the vennison, And drank sae much o the blude, That Johnie and his bludey hounds Fell asleep as they had been dead. 114F.9 And by there came a silly auld carle, An ill death mote he die! For he’s awa to Hislinton, Where the Seven Foresters did lie. 114F.10 ‘What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle? What news bring ye to me?’ ‘I bring nae news,’ said the gray-headed carle, ‘Save what these eyes did see. 114F.11 ‘As I came down by Merriemass, And down amang the scroggs, The bonniest childe that ever I saw Lay sleeping amang his dogs. 114F.12 ‘The shirt that was upon his back Was o the holland fine; The doublet which was over that Was o the Lincome twine. 114F.13 ‘The buttons that were on his sleeve Were o the gowd sae gude; The gude graie hounds he lay amang, Their mouths were dyed wi blude.’ 114F.14 Then out and spak the first forester, The heid man ower them a’: If this be Johnie o Breadislee, Nae nearer will we draw. 114F.15 But up and spak the sixth forester, His sister’s son was he: If this be Johnie o Breadislee, We soon shall gar him die. 114F.16 The first flight of arrows the foresters shot, They wounded him on the knee; And out and spak the seventh forester, The next will gar him die. 114F.17 Johnie’s set his back against an aik, His fute against a stane, And he has slain the Seven Foresters, He has slain them a’ but ane. 114F.18 He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side, But and his collar bane; He’s laod him twa-fald ower his steed, Bade him carry the tidings hame. 114F.19 ‘O is there na a bonnie bird Can sing as I can say, Could flee away to my mother’s bower, And tell to fetch Johnie away?’ 114F.20 The starling flew to his mother’s window-stane, It whistled and it sang, And aye the ower-word o the tune Was, Johnie tarries lang! 114F.21 They made a rod o the hazel-bush, Another o the slae-thorn tree, And mony, mony were the men At fetching our Johnie. 114F.22 Then out and spake his auld mother, And fast her teirs did fa; Ye wad nae be warnd, my son Johnie, Frae the hunting to bide awa. 114F.23 ‘Aft hae I brought to Breadislee The less gear and the mair, But I neer brought to Breadislee What grieved my heart sae sair. 114F.24 ‘But wae betyde that silly auld carle, An ill death shall he die; For the highest tree on Merriemass Shall be his morning’s fee.’ 114F.25 Now Johnie’s gude bend bow is broke, And his gude graie dogs are slain, And his bodie lies dead in Durrisdeer, And his hunting it is done.
 
114G: Johnie Cock
 
114G.1 JOHNNIE BRAD, on a May mornin, Called for water to wash his hands, An there he spied his twa blude-hounds, Waur bound in iron bands. bands Waur bound in iron bands 114G.2 Johnnie’s taen his gude bent bow, Bot an his arrows kene, An strippit himsel o the scarlet red, An put on the licht Lincoln green. 114G.3 Up it spak Johnnie’s mither, An’ a wae, wae woman was she: I beg you bide at hame, Johnnie, I pray be ruled by me. 114G.4 Baken bread ye sall nae lack, An wine you sall lack nane; Oh Johnnie, for my benison, I beg you bide at hame! 114G.5 He has made a solemn aith, Atween the sun and the mune, That he wald gae to the gude green wood, The dun deer to ding doon. 114G.6 He luiket east, he luiket wast, An in below the sun, An there he spied the dun deer, Aneath a bush o brume. 114G.7 The firsten shot that Johnnie shot, He wounded her in the side; The nexten shot that Johnnie shot, I wat he laid her pride. 114G.8 He’s eaten o the venison, An drunken o the blude, Until he fell as sound asleep As though he had been dead. 114G.9 Bye there cam a silly auld man, And a silly auld man was he, An he’s on to the Seven Foresters, As fast as he can flee. 114G.10 ‘As I cam in by yonder haugh, An in among the scroggs, The bonniest boy that ere I saw Lay sleepin atween his dogs.’ * * * * * 114G.11 The firsten shot that Johnnie shot, He shot them a’ but ane, An he flang him owre a milk-white steed, Bade him bear tidings hame.
 
114H: Johnie Cock
 
114H.1 JOHNNIE raise up in a May morning, Calld for water to wash his hands, And he’s commant his bluidy dogs To be loosd frae their iron bands. bands To be loosd frae their iron bands 114H.2 ‘Win up, win up, my bluidy dogs, Win up, and be unbound, And we will on to Bride’s Braidmuir, And ding the dun deer down.’ 114H.3 When his mother got word o that, Then she took bed and lay; Says, Johnnie, my son, for my blessing, Ye’ll stay at hame this day. 114H.4 There’s baken bread and brown ale Shall be at your command; Ye’ll win your mither’s blythe blessing, To the Bride’s Braidmuir nae gang. 114H.5 Mony are my friends, mither, Though thousands were my foe; Betide me life, betide me death, To the Bride’s Braidmuir I’ll go. 114H.6 The sark that was on Johnnie’s back Was o the cambric fine; The belt that was around his middle Wi pearlins it did shine. 114H.7 The coat that was upon his back Was o the linsey brown; And he’s awa to the Bride’s Braidmuir, To ding the dun deer down. 114H.8 Johnnie lookd east, Johnnie lookd west, And turnd him round and round, And there he saw the king’s dun deer, Was cowing the bush o brune. 114H.9 Johnnie shot, and the dun deer lap, He wounded her in the side; Between him and yon burnie-bank, Johnnie he laid her pride. 114H.10 He ate sae muckle o the venison, He drank sae muckle bleed, Till he lay down between his hounds, And slept as he’d been dead. 114H.11 But by there came a stane-auld man, An ill death mat he dee! For he is on to the Seven Foresters, As fast as gang could he. 114H.12 ‘What news, what news, ye stane-auld man? What news hae ye brought you wi?’ ‘Nae news, nae news, ye seven foresters, But what your eyes will see. 114H.13 ‘As I gaed i yon rough thick hedge, Amang yon bramly scroggs, The fairest youth that eer I saw Lay sleeping between his dogs. 114H.14 ‘The sark that was upon his back Was o the cambric fine; The belt that was around his middle Wi pearlins it did shine.’ 114H.15 Then out it speaks the first forester: Whether this be true or no, O if it’s Johnnie o Cocklesmuir, Nae forder need we go. 114H.16 Out it spake the second forester, A fierce fellow was he: Betide me life, betide me death, This youth we’ll go and see. 114H.17 As they gaed in yon rough thick hedge, And down yon forest gay, They came to that very same place Where John o Cockis he lay. 114H.18 The first an shot they shot at him, They wounded him in the thigh; Out spake the first forester’s son: By the next shot he maun die. 114H.19 ‘O stand ye true, my trusty bow, And stout steel never fail! Avenge me now on all my foes, Who have my life i bail.’ 114H.20 Then Johnnie killd six foresters, And wounded the seventh sair; Then drew a stroke at the stane-auld man, That words he neer spake mair. 114H.21 His mother’s parrot in window sat, She whistled and she sang, And aye the owerturn o the note, ‘Young Johnnie’s biding lang.’ 114H.22 When this reached the king’s own ears, It grievd him wondrous sair; Says, I’d rather they’d hurt my subjects all Than Johnnie o Cocklesmuir. 114H.23 ‘But where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, Will gang the morn to Johnnie’s castle, See how the cause may be.’ 114H.24 Then he’s calld Johnnie up to court, Treated him handsomelie, And now to hunt in the Bride’s Braidmuir, For life has license free.
 
114I: Johnie Cock
 
 
 114I.1	 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning,
 	 Called for water to wash his hands, hands
 	 And he is awa to Braidisbanks,
 	 To ding the dun deer down. down
 	 To ding the dun deer down
 114I.2	 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,
 	 And it’s lang before the sun,
 	 And there he did spy the dun deer lie,
 	 Beneath a bush of brume.
 114I.3	 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
 	 And he’s woundit her in the side;
 	 Out then spake his sister’s son,
 	 ‘And the neist will lay her pride.’
 	 * * * * *
 114I.4	 They’ve eaten sae meikle o the gude venison,
 	 And they’ve drunken sae muckle o the blude,
 	 That they’ve fallen into as sound a sleep
 	 As gif that they were dead.
 	 * * * * *
 114I.5	 ‘It’s doun, and it’s doun, and it’s doun, doun,
 	 And it’s doun amang the scrogs,
 	 And there ye’ll espy twa bonnie boys lie,
 	 Asleep amang their dogs.’
 	 * * * * *
 114I.6	 They waukened Johnie out o his sleep,
 	 And he’s drawn to him his coat:
 	 ‘My fingers five, save me alive,
 	 And a stout heart fail me not!’
 	 * * * * *

 
 
114J: Johnie Cock
 
 
 114J.1	 HIS coat was o the scarlet red,
 	 His vest was o the same;
 	 His stockings were o the worset lace,
 	 And buckles tied to the same.
 114J.2	 Out then spoke one, out then spoke two,
 	 Out then spoke two or three;
 	 Out spoke the master forester,
 	 ‘It’s Johnie o Braidislee.
 114J.3	 ‘If this be true, thou silly auld man,
 	 Which you tell unto me,
 	 Five hundred pounds of yearly rent
 	 It shall not pay your fee.’
 	 * * * * *
 114J.4	 ‘O wae be to you seven foresters!
 	 I wonder ye dinna think shame,
 	 You being  seven sturdy men,
 	 And I but a man my lane.
 114J.5	 ‘Now fail me not, my ten fingers,
 	 That are both long and small!
 	 Now fail me not, my noble heart!
 	 For in thee I trust for all.
 114J.6	 ‘Now fail me not, my good bend bow,
 	 That was in London coft!
 	 Now fail me not, my golden string,
 	 Which my true lover wrocht!’
 	 * * * * *
 114J.7	 He has tossed him up, he has tossed him doun,
 	 He has broken his collar-bone;
 	 He has tied him to his bridle reins,
 	 Bade him carry the tidings home.

 
 
114K: Johnie Cock
 
 
 114K.1	 ‘THERE ’s no a bird in a’ this foreste
 	 Will do as meikle for me
 	 As dip its wing in the wan water
 	 An straik it on my ee-bree.’

 
 
114L: Johnie Cock
 
 
 114L.1	 BUT aye at ilka ae mile’s end
 	 She fand a cat o clay,
 	 An written upon the back o it
 	 ‘Tak your son Johnnie Brod away.’

 
 
114M: Johnie Cock
 
 
 114M.1	 ‘O busk ye, O busk ye, my three bluidy hounds,
 	 O busk ye, and go with me,
 	 For there’s seven foresters in yon forest,
 	 And them I want to see.’  see
 	 And them I want to see

 


 
115A: Robyn and Gandeleyn
 
115A.1 I HERDE a carpyng of a clerk, Al at y+oone wodes ende, Of gode Robyn and Gandeleyn; Was ther non other thynge. Robynn lyth in grene wode bowndyn 115A.2 Stronge theuys wern tho chylderin non, But bowmen gode and hende; He wentyn to wode to getyn hem fleych, If God wold it hem sende. 115A.3 Al day wentyn tho chylderin too, And fleych fowndyn he non, Til it were a-geyn euyn; THe chylderin wold gon hom. 115A.4 Half an honderid of fat falyf der He comyn a-y+oon, And alle he wern fayr and fat i-now, But markyd was ther non: ‘Be dere God,’ seyde gode Robyn, ‘Here of we xul haue on.’ 115A.5 Robyn bent his joly bowe, RRther	in he set a flo; THe fattest der of alle THe herte he clef a to. 115A.6 He hadde not the der i-flawe, Ne half out of the hyde, There cam a schrewde arwe out of the west, RRthat	felde Robertes pryde. 115A.7 Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and west, Be euery syde: ‘Hoo hat myn mayster slayin? Ho hat don this dede? Xal I neuer out of grene wode go Til I se [his] sydis blede.’ 115A.8 Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and lokyd west, And sowt vnder the sunne; He saw a lytil boy He clepyn Wrennok of Donne. 115A.9 A good bowe in his hond, A brod arwe ther ine, And fowre and twenti goode arwys, Trusyd in a thrumme: ‘Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn, Her-of thu xalt han summe. 115A.10 ‘Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn, Her of thu gyst plente:’ ‘Euer on for an other,’ seyde Gandeleyn; ‘Mysaunter haue he xal fle. 115A.11 ‘Qwer-at xal our marke be?’ Seyde Gandeleyn: ‘Eueryche at otheris herte,’ Seyde Wrennok ageyn. 115A.12 Ho xal y+oeue the ferste schote?’ Seyde Gandeleyn: ‘And I xul y+oeue the on be-forn,’ Seyde Wrennok ageyn. 115A.13 Wrennok schette a ful good schote, And he schet not to hye; THrow the sanchothis of his bryk; It towchyd neyther thye. 115A.14 ‘Now hast thu y+oouyn me on be-forn,’ Al thus to Wrennok seyde he, ‘And throw the myy+ot of our lady A bettere I xal y+oeue the.’ 115A.15 Gandeleyn bent his goode bowe, And set ther in a flo; He schet throw his grene certyl, His herte he clef on too. 115A.16 ‘Now xalt thu neuer y+oelpe, Wrennok, At ale ne at wyn, RRthat	thu hast slawe goode Robyn, And his knaue Gandeleyn. 115A.17 ‘Now xalt thu neuer y+oelpe, Wrennok, At wyn ne at ale, RRthat	thu hast slawe goode Robyn, And Gandeleyn his knaue.’ Robyn lyy+oth in grene wode bowndyn


 
116A: Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough and William of Cloudesly
 
116A.1 MERY it was in grene forest, Amonge the leues grene, Where that men walke both east and west, Wyth bowes and arrowes kene, 116A.2 To ryse the dere out of theyr denne; Suche sightes as hath ofte bene sene, As by th[r]e yemen of the north countrey, By them it is as I meane. 116A.3 The one of them hight Adam Bel, The other Clym of the Clough, The thyrd was William of Cloudesly, An archer good ynough. 116A.4 They were outlawed for venyson, These thre yemen euerechone; They swore them brethen vpon a day, To Englysshe-wood for to gone. 116A.5 Now lith and lysten, gentylmen, And that of myrthes loueth to here: Two of them were single men, The third had a wedded fere. 116A.6 Wyllyam was the wedded man, Muche more then was hys care: He sayde to hys brethen vpon a day, To carelel he would fare, 116A.7 For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife, And with hys chyldren thre: ‘By my trouth,’ sayde Adam Bel, ‘Not by the counsell of me. 116A.8 ‘For if ye go to Caerlel, brother, And from thys wylde wode wende, If the justice mai you take, Your lyfe were at an ende.’ 116A.9 ‘If that I come not to morowe, brother, By pryme to you agayne, Truste not els but that I am take, Or else that I am slayne.’ 116A.10 He toke hys leaue of hys brethen two, And to Carlel he is gone; There he knocked at hys owne wyndowe, Shortlye and anone. 116A.11 ‘Wher be you, fayre Alyce, my wyfe, And my chyldren three? Lyghtly let in thyne husbande, Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’ 116A.12 ‘Alas!’ then sayde fayre Alyce, And syghed wonderous sore, ‘Thys place hath ben besette for you Thys halfe yere and more.’ 116A.13 ‘Now am I here,’ sayde Cloudesle, ‘I woulde that I in were; Now feche vs meate and drynke ynoughe, And let vs make good chere.’ 116A.14 She feched him meat and drynke plenty, Lyke a true wedded wyfe, And pleased hym with that she had, Whome she loued as her lyfe. 116A.15 There lay an old wyfe in that place, A lytle besyde the fyre, Whych Wyllyam had found, of cherytye, More then seuen yere. 116A.16 Up she rose, and walked full styll, Euel mote she spede therefoore! For she had not set no fote on ground In seuen yere before. 116A.17 She went vnto the justice hall, As fast as she could hye: ‘Thys nyght is come vn to thys town Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’ 116A.18 Thereof the iustice was full fayne, And so was the shirife also: ‘Thou shalt not trauaile hether, dame, for nought; Thy meed thou shalt haue or thou go.’ 116A.19 They gaue to her a ryght good goune, Of scarlat it was, as I heard say[n]e; She toke the gyft, and home she wente, And couched her doune agayne. 116A.20 They rysed the towne of mery Carlel, In all the hast that they can, And came thronging to Wyllyames house, As fast [as] they might gone. 116A.21 Theyr they besette that good yeman, Round about on euery syde; Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes, That heytherward they hyed. 116A.22 Alyce opened a shot-wyndow, And loked all about; She was ware of the justice and the shrife bothe, Wyth a full great route. 116A.23 ‘Alas! treason,’ cryed Alyce, ‘Euer wo may thou be! Go into my chambre, my husband,’ she sayd, ‘Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesle.’ 116A.24 He toke hys sweard and hys bucler, Hys bow and hy[s] chyldren thre, And wente into hys strongest chamber, Where he thought surest to be. 116A.25 Fayre Alice folowed him as a louer true, With a pollaxe in her hande: ‘He shalbe deade that here cometh in Thys dore, whyle I may stand.’ 116A.26 Cloudesle bent a wel good bowe, That was of trusty tre, He smot the justise on the brest, That hys arrowe brest in thre. 116A.27 ‘God’s curse on his hartt,’ saide William, ‘Thys day thy cote dyd on; If it had ben no better then myne, It had gone nere thy bone.’ 116A.28 ‘Yelde the, Cloudesle,’ sayd the justise, ‘And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro:’ ‘Gods curse on hys hart,’ sayde fair Al[i]ce, ‘That my husband councelleth so.’ 116A.29 ‘Set fyre on the house,’ saide the sherife, ‘Syth it wyll no better be, And brenne we therin William,’ he saide, ‘Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.’ 116A.30 They fyred the house in many a place, The fyre flew vpon hye; ‘Alas!’ than cryed fayr Alice, ‘I se we shall here dy.’ 116A.31 William openyd hys backe wyndow, That was in hys chambre on hye, And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe, And hys chyldren thre. 116A.32 ‘Haue here my treasure,’ sayde William, ‘My wyfe and my chyldren thre; For Christes loue do them no harme, But wreke you all on me.’ 116A.33 Wyllyam shot so wonderous well, Tyll hys arrowes were all go, And the fyre so fast vpon hym fell, That hys bo[w]stryng brent in two. 116A.34 The spercles brent and fell hym on, Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle; But than was he a wofull man, and sayde, Thys is a cowardes death to me. 116A.35 ‘Leuer I had,’ sayde Wyllyam, ‘With my sworde in the route to renne, Then here among myne ennemyes wode Thus cruelly to bren.’ 116A.36 He toke hys sweard and hys buckler, And among them all he ran; Where the people were most in prece, He smot downe many a man. 116A.37 There myght no man stand hys stroke, So fersly on them he ran; Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him, And so toke that good yeman. 116A.38 There they hym bounde both hand and fote, And in depe dongeon hym cast; ‘Now, Cloudesle,’ sayde the hye justice, ‘Thou shalt be hanged in hast.’ 116A.39 ‘One vow shal I make,’ sayde the sherife, ‘A payre of new galowes shall I for the make, And al the gates of Caerlel shalbe shutte, There shall no man come in therat. 116A.40 ‘Then shall not helpe Clim of the Cloughe, Nor yet Adam Bell, Though they came with a thousand mo, Nor all the deuels in hell.’ 116A.41 Early in the mornyng the justice vprose, To the gates fast gan he gon, And commaunded to be shut full cloce Lightile euerychone. 116A.42 Then went he to the market-place, As fast as he coulde hye; A payre of new gallous there dyd he vp set, Besyde the pyllory. 116A.43 A lytle boy stod them amonge, And asked what meaned that gallow-tre; They sayde, To hange a good yeaman, Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 116A.44 That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard, And kept fayre Alyce swyne; Full oft he had sene Cloudesle in the wodde, And geuen hym there to dyne. 116A.45 He went out of a creues in the wall, And lightly to the woode dyd gone; There met he with these wyght yonge men, Shortly and anone. 116A.46 ‘Alas!’ then sayde that lytle boye, ‘Ye tary here all to longe; Cloudesle is taken and dampned to death, All readye for to honge.’ 116A.47 ‘Alas!’ then sayde good Adam Bell, ‘That euer we see thys daye! He myght her with vs haue dwelled, So ofte as we dyd him praye. 116A.48 ‘He myght haue taryed in grene foreste, Under the shadowes sheene, And haue kepte both hym and vs in reaste, Out of trouble and teene.’ 116A.49 Adam bent a ryght good bow, A great hart sone had he slayne; ‘Take that, chylde,’ he sayde, ’To thy dynner, And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.’ 116A.50 ‘Now go we hence,’ sayed these wight yong men, ‘Tary we no longer here; We shall hym borowe, by Gods grace, Though we bye it full dere.’ 116A.51 To Caerlel went these good yemen, In a mery mornyng of Maye: Her is a fyt of Cloudesli, And another is for to saye. 116A.52 And when they came to mery Caerlell, In a fayre mornyng-tyde, They founde the gates shut them vntyll, Round about on euery syde. 116A.53 ‘Alas!’ than sayd good Adam Bell, ‘That euer we were made men! These gates be shyt so wonderly well, That we may not come here in.’ 116A.54 Than spake Clymme of the Cloughe: With a wyle we wyll vs in brynge; Let vs say we be messengers, Streyght comen from oure kynge. 116A.55 Adam sayd, I haue a lettre wryten wele, Now let vs wysely werke; We wyll say we haue the kynges seale, I holde the porter no clerke. 116A.56 Than Adam Bell bete on the gate, With str’okes greate and stronge; The porter herde suche a noyse therate, And to the gate faste he thronge. 116A.57 ‘Who is there nowe,’ sayd the porter, ‘That maketh all this knockynge? ‘We be two messengers,’ sayd Clymme of the Clo[ughe], ‘Be comen streyght frome oure kynge.’ 116A.58 ‘We haue a lettre,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘To the justyce we must it brynge; Let vs in, oure message to do, That we were agayne to our kynge.’ 116A.59 ‘Here cometh no man in,’ sayd the porter, ‘By hym that dyed on a tre, Tyll a false thefe be hanged, Called Wyllyam of Clowdysle.’ 116A.60 Than spake that good [yeman Clym of the Cloughe, And swore by Mary fre, If that we stande long wythout, Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be.] 116A.61 [Lo here] we haue got the kynges seale; [What! l]ordane, arte thou wode? [The p]orter had wende it had been so, [And l]yghtly dyd of his hode. 116A.62 ‘[Welco]me be my lordes seale,’ sayd he, ‘[For] that shall ye come in:’ [He] opened the gate ryght shortly, [An] euyll openynge for hym! 116A.63 ‘[N]owe we are in,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘[T]herof we are full fayne; [But] Cryst knoweth that herowed hell, [H]ow we shall come oute agayne.’ 116A.64 ‘[Had] we the keys,’ sayd Clym of the Clowgh, ‘Ryght well than sholde we spede; [Than] myght we come out well ynough, [Whan] we se tyme and nede.’ 116A.65 [They] called the porter to a councell, [And] wronge hys necke in two, [And] kest hym in a depe dongeon, [And] toke the keys hym fro. 116A.66 ‘[N]ow am I porter,’ sayd Adam Bell; ‘[Se], broder, the keys haue we here; [The] worste porter to mery Carlell, [That ye] had this hondreth yere. 116A.67 ow] wyll we oure bow s bende, [Into the t]owne wyll we go, [For to delyuer our dere] broder, [Where he lyeth in care and wo.’ 116A.68 Then they bent theyr good yew bowes, And loked theyr stringes were round;] The market-place of mery Carlyll, They beset in that stounde. 116A.69 And as they loked them besyde, A payre of newe galowes there they se, And the iustyce, with a quest of swerers, That had iuged Clowdysle there hanged to be. 116A.70 And Clowdysle hymselfe lay redy in a carte, Fast bounde bothe fote and hande, And a strong rope aboute his necke, All redy for to be hangde. 116A.71 The iustyce called to hym a ladde; Clowdysles clothes sholde he haue, To take the mesure of that good yoman, And therafter to make his graue. 116A.72 ‘I haue sene as greate a merueyll,’ sayd Clowd[esle], ‘As bytwene this and pryme, He that maketh thys graue for me, Hymselfe may lye therin.’ 116A.73 ‘Thou spekest proudely,’ sayd the iustyce; ‘I shall hange the with my hande:’ Full well that herde his bretheren two, There styll as they dyd stande. 116A.74 Than Clowdysle cast hys eyen asyde, And sawe hys bretheren stande, At a corner of the market-place, With theyr good bowes bent in theyr hand, Redy the iustyce for to chase. 116A.75 ‘I se good comforte,’ sayd Clowdysle, ‘Yet hope I well to fare; If I myght haue my handes at wyll, [Ryght l]ytell wolde I care.’ 116A.76 [Than b]espake good Adam Bell, [To Clym]me of the Clowgh so fre; [Broder], se ye marke the iustyce well; [Lo yon]der ye may him se. 116A.77 [And at] the sheryf shote I wyll, [Stron]gly with an arowe kene; [A better] shotte in mery Carlyll, [Thys se]uen yere was not sene. 116A.78 [They lo]used theyr arowes bothe at ones, [Of no] man had they drede; [The one] hyt the iustyce, the other the sheryf, [That b]othe theyr sydes gan blede. 116A.79 [All men] voyded, that them stode nye, [Whan] the iustyce fell to the grounde, [And the] sheryf fell nyghe hym by; [Eyther] had his deth s wounde. 116A.80 [All the c]ytezeyns fast gan fle, [They du]rste no lenger abyde; [There ly]ghtly they loused Clowdysle, [Where he] with ropes lay tyde. 116A.81 [Wyllyam] sterte to an offycer of the towne, [Hys axe] out his hande he wronge; [On eche] syde he smote them downe, [Hym tho]ught he had taryed to longe. 116A.82 [Wyllyam] sayd to his bretheren two, [Thys daye] let vs togyder lyue and deye; [If euer you] haue nede as I haue nowe, [The same] shall ye fynde by me. 116A.83 [They] shyt so well in that tyde, For theyr strynges were of sylke full sure, That they kepte the stretes on euery syde; That batayll dyd longe endure. 116A.84 They fought togyder as bretheren true, Lyke hardy men and bolde; Many a man to the grounde they threwe, And made many an hert colde. 116A.85 But whan theyr arowes were all gone, Men presyd on them full fast; They drewe theyr swerd s than anone, And theyr bow s from them caste. 116A.86 They wente lyghtly on theyr waye, With swerdes and buckelers rounde; By that it was the myddes of the daye, They had made many a wounde. 116A.87 There was many a noute-horne in Carlyll blowen, And the belles backwarde dyd they rynge; Many a woman sayd alas, And many theyr handes dyd wrynge. 116A.88 The mayre of Carlyll forth come was, And with hym a full grete route; These thre yomen dredde hym full sore, For theyr lyu s stode in doubte. 116A.89 The mayre came armed, a full greate pace, With a polaxe in his hande; Many a stronge man with hym was, There in that stoure to stande. 116A.90 The mayre smote at Clowdysle with his byll, His buckeler he brast in two; Full many a yoman with grete yll, ‘[Al]as, treason!’ they cryed for wo. ‘[Ke]pe we the gates fast,’ they bad, ‘[T]hat these traytours theroute not go.’ 116A.91 But all for nought was that they wrought, For so fast they downe were layde Tyll they all thre, that so manfully fought, Were goten without at a brayde. 116A.92 ‘Haue here your keys,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘Myne offyce I here forsake; Yf ye do by my councell, A new porter ye make.’ 116A.93 He threwe the keys there at theyr hedes, And bad them evyll to thryue, And all that letteth ony good yoman To come and comforte his wyue. 116A.94 Thus be these good yomen gone to the wode, As lyght as lefe on lynde; They laughe and be mery in theyr mode, Theyr enemyes were farre behynde. 116A.95 Whan they came to Inglyswode, Under theyr trysty-tre, There they founde bow s full gode, And arow s greate plent . 116A.96 ‘So helpe me God,’ sayd Adam Bell, And Clymme of the Clowgh so fre, ‘I wolde we were nowe in mery Carlell, [Be]fore that fayre meyn .’ 116A.97 They set them downe and made good chere, And eate an[d dr]anke full well: Here is a fytte [of] these wyght yongemen, And another I shall you tell. 116A.98 As they sat in Inglyswode, Under theyr trysty-tre, Them thought they herde a woman [wepe], But her they myght not se. 116A.99 Sore syghed there fayre Alyce, and sayd, Alas that euer I se this daye! For now is my dere husbonde slayne, Alas and welawaye! 116A.100	Myght I haue spoken wyth hys dere breth[eren], With eyther of them twayne, [To shew to them what him befell] My herte were out of payne. 116A.101	Clowdysle walked a lytell besyde, And loked vnder the grene wodde lynde; He was ware of his wyfe and his chyldre[n thre], Full wo in herte and mynde. 116A.102	‘Welcome, wyfe,’ than sayd Wyllyam, ‘Unto this trysty-tre; I had wende yesterdaye, by swete Sai[nt John], Thou sholde me neuer haue se.’ 116A.103	‘Now wele is me,’ she sayd, ’That [ye be here], My herte is out of wo:’ ‘Dame,’ he sayd, ’Be mery and glad, And thanke my bretheren two.’ 116A.104	‘Here of to speke,’ sayd Ad[am] Bell, ‘I-wys it [is no bote]; The me[at that we must supp withall, It runneth yet fast on fote.’ 116A.105	Then went they down into a launde, These noble archares all thre, Eche of the]m slewe a harte of grece, [The best t[hey coude there se. 116A.106	‘[Haue here the] best, Alyce my wyfe,’ [Sayde Wyllya]m of Clowdysle, ‘[By cause ye so] boldely stode me by, [Whan I w]as slayne full nye.’ 116A.107	[Than they] wente to theyr souper, [Wyth suc]he mete as they had, [And than]ked God of theyr fortune; [They we]re bothe mery and glad. 116A.108	[And whan] they had souped well, [Certayne] withouten leace, [Clowdysle] sayde, We wyll to oure kynge, [To get v]s a chartre of peace. 116A.109	[Alyce shal] be a soiournynge, [In a nunry] here besyde; [My tow sonn]es shall with her go, [And ther the]y shall abyde. 116A.110	[Myne eldest so]ne shall go with me, [For hym haue I] no care, [And he shall breng] you worde agayne [How that we do fare. 116A.111	Thus be these wig]ht men to London gone, [As fast as they ma]ye hye, [Tyll they came to the kynges] palays, There they woulde ned s be. 116A.112	And whan they came to the kyng s courte, Unto the pallace gate, Of no man wold they aske leue, But boldly went in therat. 116A.113	They preced prestly into the hall, Of no man had they dreade; The porter came after and dyd them call, And with them began to [chyde.] 116A.114	The vssher sayd, Yemen, what wolde ye haue? I praye you tell me; Ye myght thus make offycers shent: Good syrs, of whens be ye? 116A.115	‘Syr, we be outlawes of the forest, Certayne withouten leace, And hyther we be come to our kynge, To get vs a charter of peace.’ 116A.116	And whan they came before our kynge, As it was the lawe of the lande, They kneled downe without lettynge, And eche helde vp his hande. 116A.117	They sayd, Lorde, we beseche you here, That ye wyll graunte vs grace, For we haue slayne your fatte falowe dere, In many a sondry place. 116A.118	‘What is your names?’ than sayd our kynge, ‘Anone that you tell me:’ They sayd, Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, And Wylliam of Clowdesle. 116A.119	‘Be ye those theues,’ than sayd our kynge, ‘That men haue told of to me? Here to God I make a vowe, Ye shall be hanged all thre. 116A.120	‘Ye shall be dead without mercy, As I am kynge of this lande:’ He commanded his officers euerichone Fast on them to lay hand. 116A.121	There they toke these good yemen, And arested them all thre: ‘So may I thryue,’ sayd Adam Bell, ‘Thys game lyketh not me. 116A.122	‘But, good lorde, we beseche you nowe, That ye wyll graunte vs grace, In so moche as we be to you commen; Or elles that we may fro you passe, 116A.123	‘With suche weapons as we haue here, Tyll we be out of your place; And yf we lyue this hondred yere, We wyll aske you no grace.’ 116A.124	‘Ye speke proudly,’ sayd the kynge, ‘Ye shall be hanged all thre:’ ‘That were great pity,’ sayd the quene, ‘If any grace myght be. 116A.125	‘My lorde, whan I came fyrst in to this lande, To be your wedded wyfe, The fyrst bone that I wolde aske, Ye wolde graunte me belyfe. 116A.126	‘And I asked you neuer none tyll nowe, Therfore, good lorde, graunte it me:’ ‘Nowe aske it, madame,’ sayd the kynge, ‘And graunted shall it be.’ 116A.127	‘Than, good lorde, I you beseche, The yemen graunte you me:’ ‘Madame, ye myght haue asked a bone That sholde haue ben worthe them thre. 116A.128	‘Ye myght haue asked towres and towne[s], Parkes and forestes plentie:’ ‘None so pleasaunt to mi pay,’ she said, ‘Nor none so lefe to me.’ 116A.129	‘Madame, sith it is your desyre, Your asking graunted shalbe; But I had leuer haue geuen you Good market-town s thre.’ 116A.130	The quene was a glad woman, And sayd, Lord, gramarcy; I dare vndertake for them That true men shall they be. 116A.131	But, good lord, speke som mery word, That comfort they may se: ‘I graunt you grace,’ then said our king, ‘Wasshe, folos, and to meate go ye.’ 116A.132	They had not setten but a whyle, Certayne without lesynge, There came messengers out of the north, With letters to our kyng. 116A.133	And whan the came before the kynge, The kneled downe vpon theyr kne, And sayd, Lord, your offycers grete you wel, Of Caerlel in the north cuntre. 116A.134	‘How fare[th] my justice,’ sayd the kyng, ‘And my sherife also?’ ‘Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge, And many an officer mo.’ 116A.135	‘Who hath them slayne?’ sayd the kyng, ‘Anone thou tell me:’ ‘Adam Bel, and Clime of the Clough, And wyllyam of Cloudesle.’ 116A.136	‘Alas for rewth!’ then sayd our kynge, ‘My hart is wonderous sore; I had leuer [th]an a thousand pounde I had knowne of thys before. 116A.137	‘For I haue y-graunted them grace, And that forthynketh me; But had I knowne all thys before, They had ben hanged all thre.’ 116A.138	The kyng opened the letter anone, Hym selfe he red it tho, And founde how these thre outlawes had slaine Thre hundred men and mo. 116A.139	Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe, And the mayre of Caerlel towne; Of all the constables and catchipolles Alyue were left not one. 116A.140	The baylyes and the bedyls both, And the sergeauntes of the law, And forty fosters of the fe These outlawes had y-slaw; 116A.141	And broken his parks, and slaine his dere; Ouer all they chose the best; So perelous outlawes as they were Walked not by easte nor west. 116A.142	When the kynge this letter had red, In hys harte he syghed sore; ‘Take vp the table,’ anone he bad, ‘For I may eate no more.’ 116A.143	The kyng called hys best archars, To the buttes with hym to go; ‘I wyll se these felowes shote,’ he sayd, ‘That in the north haue wrought this wo.’ 116A.144	The kynges bowmen buske them blyue, And the quenes archers also, So dyd these thre wyght yemen, Wyth them they thought to go. 116A.145	There twyse or thryse they shote about, For to assay theyr hande; There was no shote these thre yemen shot That any prycke might them stand. 116A.146	Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesle; By God that for me dyed, I hold hym neuer no good archar That shuteth at buttes so wyde. 116A.147	‘Wherat?’ then sayd our kyng, ‘I pray thee tell me:’ ‘At suche a but, syr,’ he sayd, ‘As men vse in my countree.’ 116A.148	Wyllyam wente into a fyeld, And his to brothren with him; There they set vp to hasell roddes, Twenty score paces betwene. 116A.149	‘I hold him an archar,’ said Cloudesle, ‘That yonder wande cleueth in two:’ ‘Here is none suche,’ sayd the kyng, ‘Nor none that can so do.’ 116A.150	‘I shall assaye, syr,’ sayd Cloudesle, ‘Or that I farther go:’ Cloudesle, with a bearyng arow, Claue the wand in to. 116A.151	‘Thou art the best archer,’ then said the king, ‘Forsothe that euer I se:’ ‘And yet for your loue,’ sayd Wylliam, ‘I wyll do more maystry. 116A.152	‘I haue a sonne is seuen yere olde; He is to me full deare; I wyll hym tye to a stake, All shall se that be here; 116A.153	‘And lay an apple vpon hys head, And go syxe score paces hym fro, And I my selfe, with a brode arow, Shall cleue the apple in two.’ 116A.154	‘Now hast the,’ then sayd the kyng; ‘By him that dyed on a tre, But yf thou do not as thou hest sayde, Hanged shalt thou be. 116A.155	‘And thou touche his head or gowne, In syght that men may se, By all the sayntes that be in heaven, I shall hange you all thre.’ 116A.156	‘That I haue promised,’ said William, ‘I wyl it neuer forsake;’ And there euen before the kynge, In the earth he droue a stake; 116A.157	And bound therto his eldest sonne, And bade hym stande styll therat, And turned the childes face fro him, Because he shuld not sterte. 116A.158	An apple vpon his head he set, And then his bowe he bent; Syxe score paces they were outmet, And thether Cloudesle went. 116A.159	There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe; Hys bowe was great and longe; He set that arrowe in his bowe, That was both styffe and stronge. 116A.160	He prayed the people that was there That they would styll stande; ‘For he that shooteth for such a wager, Behoueth a stedfast hand.’ 116A.161	Muche people prayed for Cloudesle, That hys lyfe saued myght be, And whan he made hym redy to shote, There was many a wepynge eye. 116A.162	Thus Clowdesle clefte the apple in two, That many a man it se; ‘Ouer goddes forbode,’ sayd the kynge, ‘That thou sholdest shote at me! 116A.163	‘I gyue the .xviii. pens a daye, And my bowe shalte thou bere, And ouer all the north countree I make the chefe rydere.’ 116A.164	‘And I gyue the .xii. pens a day,’ sayd the que[ne], ‘By God and by my faye; Come fetche thy payment whan thou wylt, No man shall say the naye. 116A.165	‘Wyllyam, I make the gentylman Of clothynge and of fee, And thy two brethren yemen of my chambr[e], For they are so semely to se. 116A.166	‘Your sone, for he is tendre of age, Of my wine-seller shall he be, And whan he commeth to mann s state, Better auaunced shall he be. 116A.167	‘And, Wylliam, brynge me your wyfe,’ sayd th[e quene]; Me longeth sore here to se; She shall be my chefe gentylwoman, And gouerne my nursery.’ 116A.168	The yemen thanked them full courteysly, And sayd, To Rome streyght wyll we wende, [Of all the synnes that we haue done To be assoyled of his hand. 116A.169	So forth]e be gone these good yemen, [As fast a]s they myght hye, [And aft]er came and dwelled with the kynge, [And dye]d good men all thre. 116A.170	[Thus e]ndeth the lyues of these good yemen, [God sen]de them eternall blysse, [And all] that with hande-bowe shoteth, [That of] heuen they may neuer mysse!


 
117A: The Gest of Robyn Hode