The English and Scottish Popular Ballads. By FRANCIS JAMES CHILD. 1882-1898.

117A.1 LYTHE and listin, gentilmen, That be of frebore blode; I shall you tel of a gode yeman, His name was Robyn Hode. 117A.2 Robyn was a prude outlaw, [Whyles he walked on grounde; So curteyse an outlawe] as he was one Was never non founde. 117A.3 Robyn stode in Bernesdale, And lenyd hym to a tre; And bi hym stode Litell Johnn, A gode yeman was he. 117A.4 And alsoo dyd gode Scarlok, And Much, the miller’s son; There was none ynch of his bodi But it was worth a grome. 117A.5 Than bespake Lytell Johnn All vntoo Robyn Hode: Maister, and ye wolde dyne betyme It wolde doo you moche gode. 117A.6 Than bespake hym gode Robyn: To dyne haue I noo lust, Till that I haue som bolde baron, Or som vnkouth gest. 117A.7 . . . . . . . That may pay for the best, Or som knyght or [som] squyer, That dwelleth here bi west. 117A.8 A gode maner than had Robyn; In londe where that he were, Euery day or he wold dyne Thre messis wolde he here. 117A.9 The one in the worship of the Fader, And another of the Holy Gost, The thirde of Our der Lady, That he loued allther moste. 117A.10 Robyn loued Oure der Lady; For dout of dydly synne, Wolde he neuer do compani harme That any woman was in. 117A.11 ‘Maistar,’ than sayde Lytil Johnn, ‘And we our borde shal sprede, Tell vs wheder that we shal go, And what life that we shall lede. 117A.12 ‘Where we shall take, where we shall leue, Where we shall abide behynde; Where we shall robbe, where we shal reue, Where we shal bete and bynde.’ 117A.13 ‘Therof no force,’ than sayde Robyn; ‘We shall do well inowe; But loke ye do no husbonde harme, That tilleth with his ploughe. 117A.14 ‘No more ye shall no gode yeman That walketh by gren -wode shawe; Ne no knyght ne no squyer That wol be a gode felawe. 117A.15 ‘These bisshoppes and these archebishoppes, Ye shall them bete and bynde; The hy sherif of Notyingham, Hym holde ye in your mynde.’ 117A.16 ‘This worde shalbe holde,’ sayde Lytell Johnn, ‘And this lesson we shall lere; It is fer dayes ; God sende vs a gest, That we were at oure dynere!’ 117A.17 ‘Take thy gode bowe in thy honde,’ sayde Rob[yn]; ‘Late Much wende with the; And so shal Willyam Scarlo[k], And no man abyde with me. 117A.18 ‘And walke vp to the Saylis, And so to Watlingr Stret[e], And wayte after some vnkuth gest, Vp chaunce ye may them mete. 117A.19 ‘Be he erle, or ani baron, Abbot, or ani knyght, Bringhe hym to lodge to me; His dyner shall be dight.’ 117A.20 They wente vp to the Saylis, These yeman all thre; They loked est, they loke[d] weest; They myght no man see. 117A.21 But as they loked in to Bernysdale, Bi a dern strete, Than came a knyght ridinghe; Full sone they gan hym mete. 117A.22 All dreri was his semblaunce, And lytell was his pryde; His one fote in the styrop stode, That othere wauyd beside. 117A.23 His hode hanged in his iyn two; He rode in symple aray; A soriar man than he was one Rode neuer in somer day. 117A.24 Litell Johnn was full curteyes, And sette hym on his kne: ‘Welcom be ye, gentyll knyght, Welcom ar ye to me. 117A.25 ‘Welcom be thou to gren wode, Hend knyght and fre; My maister hath abiden you fastinge, Syr, al these our s thre.’ 117A.26 ‘Who is thy maister?’ sayde the knyght; Johnn sayde, Robyn Hode; ‘He is [a] gode yoman,’ sayde the knyght, ‘Of hym haue I herde moche gode. 117A.27 ‘I graunte,’ he sayde, ’with you to wende, My bretherne, all in fere; My purpos was to haue dyned to day At Blith or Dancastere.’ 117A.28 Furth than went this gentyl knight, With a carefull chere; The teris oute of his iyen ran, And fell downe by his lere. 117A.29 They brought hym to the lodg -dore; Whan Robyn hym gan see, Full curtesly dyd of his hode And sette hym on his knee. 117A.30 ‘Welcome, sir knight,’ than sayde Robyn, ‘Welcome art thou to me; I haue abyden you fastinge, sir, All these ouris thre.’ 117A.31 Than answered the gentyll knight, With word s fayre and fre; God the saue, goode Robyn, And all thy fayre meyn . 117A.32 They wasshed togeder and wyped bothe, And sette to theyr dynere; Brede and wyne they had right ynoughe, And noumbles of the dere. 117A.33 Swannes and fessauntes they had full gode, And foules of the ryuere; There fayled none so litell a birde That euer was bred on bryre. 117A.34 ‘Do gladly, sir knight,’ sayde Robyn; ‘Gramarcy, sir,’ sayde he; ‘Suche a dinere had I nat Of all these wekys thre. 117A.35 ‘If I come ageyne, Robyn, Here by thys contr , As gode a dyner I shall the make As that thou haest made to me.’ 117A.36 ‘Gramarcy, knyght,’ sayde Robyn; ‘My dyner whan that I it haue, I was neuer so gredy, bi dere worthy God, My dyner for to craue. 117A.37 ‘But pay or ye wende,’ sayde Robyn; ‘Me thynketh it is gode ryght; It was neuer the maner, by dere worthi God, A yoman to pay for a knyhht.’ 117A.38 ‘I haue nought in my coffers,’ saide the knyght, ‘That I may profer for shame:’ ‘Litell Johnn, go loke,’ sayde Robyn, ‘Ne let nat for no blame. 117A.39 ‘Tel me truth,’ than saide Robyn, ‘So God haue parte of the:’ ‘I haue no more but ten shelynges,’ sayde the knyght, ‘So God haue parte of me.’ 117A.40 If thou hast no more,’ sayde Robyn, ‘I woll nat one peny; And yf thou haue nede of any more, More shall I lend the. 117A.41 ‘Go nowe furth, Littell Johnn, The truth tell thou me; If there be no more but ten shelinges, No peny that I se.’ 117A.42 Lyttell Johnn sprede downe hys mantell Full fayre vpon the grounde, And there he fonde in the knyght s cofer But euen halfe [a] pounde. 117A.43 Littell Johnn let it lye full styll, And went to hys maysteer [full] lowe; ‘What tidyng s, Johnn?’ sayde Robyn; ‘Sir, the knyght is true inowe.’ 117A.44 ‘Fyll of the best wine,’ sayde Robyn, ‘The knyght shall begynne; Moche wonder thinketh me Thy clot[h]ynge is so thin[n]e. 117A.45 ‘Tell me [one] worde,’ sayde Robyn, ‘And counsel shal it be; I trowe thou warte made a knyght of force, Or ellys of yemanry. 117A.46 ‘Or ellys thou hast bene a sori husbande, And lyued in stroke and stryfe; An okerer, or ellis a lechoure,’ sayde Robyn, ‘Wyth wronge hast led thy lyfe.’ 117A.47 ‘I am none of those,’ sayde the knyght, ‘By God that mad me; An hundred wynter here before Myn auncetres knyghtes haue be. 117A.48 ‘But oft it hath befal, Robyn, A man hath be disgrate; But God that sitteth in heuen aboue May amende his state. 117A.49 ‘Withyn this two yere, Robyne,’ he sayde, ‘My neghbours well it knowe, Foure hundred pounde of gode money Ful well than myght I spende. 117A.50 ‘Nowe haue I no gode,’ saide the knyght, ‘God hath shaped such an ende, But my chyldren and my wyfe, Tyll God yt may amende.’ 117A.51 ‘In what maner,’ than sayde Robyn, ‘Hast thou lorne thy rychesse?’ ‘For my great foly,’ he sayde, ‘And for my kynd[ ]nesse. 117A.52 ‘I hade a sone, forsoth, Robyn, That shulde hau[e] ben myn ayre, Whanne he was twenty wynter olde, In felde wolde iust full fayre. 117A.53 ‘He slewe a knyght of Lancaster, And a squyer bolde; For to saue hym in his ryght My godes both sette and solde. 117A.54 ‘My londes both sette to wedde, Robyn, Vntyll a certayn day, To a ryche abbot here besyde Of Seynt Mari Abbey.’ 117A.55 ‘What is the som?’ sayde Robyn; ‘Trouth than tell thou me;’ ‘Sir,’ he sayde, ’Foure hundred pounde; The abbot told it to me.’ 117A.56 ‘Nowe and thou lese thy lond,’ sayde Robyn, ‘What woll fall of the?’ ‘Hastely I wol me buske,’ sayd the knyght, ‘Ouer the salt see, 117A.57 ‘And se w[h]ere Criste was quyke and dede, On the mount of Caluer ; Fare wel, frende, and haue gode day; It may no better be.’ 117A.58 Teris fell out of hys iyen two; He wolde haue gone hys way: ‘Farewel, frende, and haue gode day; I ne haue no more to pay.’ 117A.59 ‘Where be thy frend s?’ sayde Robyn: ‘Syr, neuer one wol me knowe; While I was ryche ynowe at home Great boste than wolde they blowe. 117A.60 ‘And nowe they renne away fro me, As bestis on a rowe; They take no more hede of me Thanne they had me neuer sawe.’ 117A.61 For ruthe thanne wept Litell Johnn, Scarlok and Muche in fere; ‘Fyl of the best wyne,’ sayde Robyn, ‘For here is a symple chere. 117A.62 ‘Hast thou any frende,’ sayde Robyn, ‘Thy borowe that wold be?’ ‘I haue none,’ than sayde the knyght, ‘But God that dyed on tree.’ 117A.63 ‘Do away thy iapis,’ than sayde Robyn, ‘Thereof wol I right none; Wenest thou I wolde haue God to borowe, Peter, Poule, or Johnn? 117A.64 ‘Nay, by hym that me made, And shope both sonne and mone, Fynde me a better borowe,’ sayde Robyn, ‘Or money getest thou none.’ 117A.65 ‘I haue none other,’ sayde the knyght, ‘The sothe for to say, But yf yt be Our der Lady; She fayled me neuer or thys day.’ 117A.66 ‘By dere worthy God,’ sayde Robyn, ‘To seche all Englonde thorowe, Yet fonde I neuer to my pay A moche better borowe. 117A.67 ‘Come nowe furth, Litell Johnn, And go to my tresour , And bringe me foure hundered pound, And loke well tolde it be.’ 117A.68 Furth than went Litell Johnn, And Scarlok went before; He tolde oute foure hundred pounde By eight and twenty score. 117A.69 ‘Is thys well tolde?’ sayde [litell] Much; Johnn sayde, ‘What gre[ue]th the? It is almus to helpe a gentyll knyght, That is fal in pouert . 117A.70 ‘Master,’ than sayde Lityll John, ‘His clothinge is full thynne; Ye must gyue the knight a lyueray, To lappe his body therin. 117A.71 ‘For ye haue scarlet and grene, mayster, And man[y] a riche aray; Ther is no marchaunt in mery Englond So ryche, I dare well say.’ 117A.72 ‘Take hym thre yerdes of euery colour, And loke well mete that it be;’ Lytell Johnn toke none other mesure But his bow -tree. 117A.73 And at euery handfull that he met He lep d foot s three; ‘What deuyll s drapar,’ sayid litell Muche, ‘Thynkest thou for to be?’ 117A.74 Scarlok stode full stil and loughe, And sayd, By God Almyght, Johnn may gyue hym gode mesure, For it costeth hym but lyght. 117A.75 ‘Mayster,’ than said Litell Johnn To gentill Robyn Hode, ‘Ye must giue the knig[h]t a hors, To lede home this gode.’ 117A.76 ‘Take hym a gray coursar,’ sayde Robyn, ‘And a saydle newe; He is Oure Ladye’s messangere; God graunt that he be true.’ 117A.77 ‘And a gode palfray,’ sayde lytell Much, ‘To mayntene hym in his right;’ ‘And a peyre of bot s,’ sayde Scarlock, ‘For he is a gentyll knight.’ 117A.78 ‘What shalt thou gyue hym, Litell John?’ said Robyn; ‘Sir, a peyre of gilt sporis clene, To pray for all this company; God bringe hym out of tene.’ 117A.79 ‘Whan shal mi day be,’ said the knight, ‘Sir, and your wyll be?’ ‘This day twelue moneth,’ saide Robyn, ‘Vnder this gren -wode tre. 117A.80 ‘It were greate sham ,’ sayde Robyn, ‘A knight alone to ryde, Without squyre, yoman, or page, To walk by his syde. 117A.81 ‘I shall the lende Litell John, my man, For he shalbe thy knaue; In a yema[n]’s stede he may the stande, If thou greate ned haue.’ 117A.82 Now is the knight gone on his way; This game hym thought full gode; Whanne he loked on Bernesdale He blessyd Robyn Hode. 117A.83 And whanne he thought on Bernysdale, On Scarlok, Much, and Johnn, He blyssyd them for the best company That euer he in come. 117A.84 Then spake that gentyll knyght, To Lytel Johan gan he saye, To-morrowe I must to Yorke toune, To Saynt Mary abbay. 117A.85 And to the abbot of that place Foure hondred pounde I must pay; And but I be there vpon this nyght My londe is lost for ay. 117A.86 The abbot sayd to his couent, There he stode on grounde, This day twelfe moneth came there a knyght And borowed foure hondred pounde. 117A.87 [He borowed foure hondred pounde,] Upon all his lond fre; But he come this ylk day Dysheryte shall he be. 117A.88 ‘It is full erely,’ sayd the pryoure, ‘The day is not yet ferre gone; I had leuer to pay an hondred pounde, And lay downe anone. 117A.89 ‘The knyght is ferre beyonde the see, In Englonde is his ryght, And suffreth honger and colde, And many a sory nyght. 117A.90 ‘It were grete pyt ,’ said the pryoure, ‘So to haue his londe; And ye be so lyght of your consyence, Ye do to hym moch wronge.’ 117A.91 ‘Thou arte euer in my berde,’ sayd the abbot, ‘By God and Saynt Rycharde;’ With that cam in a fat-heded monke, The heygh selerer. 117A.92 ‘He is dede or hanged,’ sayd the monke, ‘By God that bought me dere, And we shall haue to spende in this place Foure hondred pounde by yere.’ 117A.93 The abbot and the hy selerer Stert forthe full bolde, The [hye] iustyce of Englonde The abbot there dyde holde. 117A.94 The hy iustyce and many mo Had take in to they[r] honde Holy all the knyght s det, To put that knyght to wronge. 117A.95 They demed the knyght wonder sore, The abbot and his meyn : ‘But he come this ylk day Dysheryte shall he be.’ 117A.96 ‘He wyll not come yet,’ sayd the iustyce, ‘Idare well vndertake;’ But in sorowe tym for them all The knyght came to the gate. 117A.97 Than bespake that gentyll knyght Untyll his meyn : Now put on your symple wedes That ye brought fro the see. 117A.98 [They put on their symple wedes,] They came to the gates anone; The porter was redy hymselfe, And welcomed them euerychone. 117A.99 ‘Welcome, syr knyght,’ sayd the porter; ‘My lorde to mete is he, And so is many a gentyll man, For the loue of the.’ 117A.100 The porter swore a full grete othe, RR’Brry God that mad me, Here be the best coresed hors That euer yet sawe I me. 117A.101 ‘Lede them in to the stable,’ he sayd, ‘That eased myght they be;’ ‘They shall not come therin,’ sayd the knyght, ‘By God that dyed on a tre.’ 117A.102 Lord s were to mete isette In that abbotes hall; The knyght went forth and kneled downe, And salued them grete and small. 117A.103 ‘Do gladly, syr abbot,’ sayd the knyght, ‘I am come to holde my day:’ The fyrst word the abbot spake, ‘Hast thou brought my pay?’ 117A.104 ‘Not one peny,’ sayd the knyght, ‘By God that maked me;’ ‘Thou art a shrewed dettour,’ sayd the abbot; ‘Syr iustyce, drynke to me. 117A.105 ‘What doost thou here,’ sayd the abbot, ‘But thou haddest brought thy pay?’ ‘For God,’ than sayd the knyght, ‘To pray of a lenger daye.’ 117A.106 ‘Thy daye is broke,’ sayd the iustyce, ‘Londe getest thou none:’ ‘Now, good syr iustyce, be my frende, And fende me of my fone!’ 117A.107 ‘I am holde with the abbot,’ sayd the iustyce, ‘Both with cloth and fee :’ ‘Now, good syr sheryf, be my frende!’ ‘Nay, for God,’ sayd he. 117A.108 ‘Now, good syr abbot, be my frende, For thy curteys , And holde my lond s in thy honde Tyll I haue made the gree! 117A.109 ‘And I wyll be thy true seruaunte, And trewely seru the, Tyl ye haue foure hondred pounde Of money good and free.’ 117A.110 The abbot sware a full grete othe, ‘By God that dyed on a tree, Get the londe where thou may, For thou getest none of me.’ 117A.111 ‘By dere worthy God,’ then sayd the knyght, ‘That all this world wrought, But I haue my londe agayne, Full dere it shall be bought. 117A.112 ‘God, that was of a mayden borne, Leue vs well to spede! For it is good to assay a frende Or that a man haue nede.’ 117A.113 The abbot lothely on hym gan loke, And vylaynesly hym gan call; ‘Out,’ he sayd, ’Thou fals knyght, Spede the out of my hall!’ 117A.114 ‘Thou lyest,’ then sayd the gentyll knyght, ‘Abbot, in thy hal; False knyght was I neuer, By God that made vs all.’ 117A.115 Vp then stode that gentyll knyght, To the abbot sayd he, To suffre a knyght to knele so longe, Thou canst no curteysye. 117A.116 In ioust s and in tournement Full ferre than haue I be, And put my selfe as ferre in prees As ony that euer I se. 117A.117 ‘What wyll ye gyue more,’ sayd the iustice, ‘And the knyght shall make a releyse? And elles dare I safly swere Ye holde neuer your londe in pees.’ 117A.118 ‘An hondred pounde,’ sayd the abbot; The justice sayd, Gyue hym two; ‘Nay, be God,’ sayd the knyght, ‘Yit gete ye it not so. 117A.119 ‘Though ye wolde gyue a thousand more, Yet were ye neuer the nere; Shall there neuer be myn heyre Abbot, iustice, ne frere.’ 117A.120 He stert hym to a borde anone, Tyll a table rounde, And there he shoke oute of a bagge Euen four hundred pound. 117A.121 ‘Haue here thi golde, sir abbot,’ saide the knight, ‘Which that thou lentest me; Had thou ben curtes at my comynge, Rewarded shuldest thou haue be.’ 117A.122 The abbot sat styll, and ete no more, For all his ryall fare; He cast his hede on his shulder, And fast began to stare. 117A.123 ‘Take me my golde agayne,’ saide the abbot, ‘Sir iustice, that I toke the:’ ‘Not a peni,’ said the iustice, ‘Bi Go[d, that dy]ed on tree.’ 117A.124 ‘Sir [abbot, and ye me]n of lawe, Now haue I holde my daye; Now shall I haue my londe agayne, For ought that you can saye.’ 117A.125 The knyght stert out of the dore, Awaye was all his care, And on he put his good clothynge, The other he lefte there. 117A.126 He wente hym forth full mery syngynge, As men haue tolde in tale; His lady met hym at the gate, At home in Verysdale. 117A.127 ‘Welcome, my lorde,’ sayd his lady; ‘Syr, lost is all your good?’ ‘Be mery, dame,’ sayd the knyght, ‘And pray for Robyn Hode, 117A.128 ‘That euer his soul be in blysse: He holpe me out of tene; Ne had be his kynd nesse, Beggers had we bene. 117A.129 ‘The abbot and I accorded ben, He is serued of his pay; The god yoman lent it me, As I cam by the way.’ 117A.130 This knight than dwelled fayre at home, The sothe for to saye, Tyll he had gete four hundred pound, Al redy for to pay. 117A.131 He purueyed him an hundred bowes, The stryng s well ydyght, An hundred shefe of arow s gode, The hedys burneshed full bryght; 117A.132 And euery arowe an ell longe, With pecok wel idyght, Inocked all with whyte siluer; It was a semely syght. 117A.133 He purueyed hym an [hondreth men], Well harness[ed in that stede], And hym selfe in that same sete, And clothed in whyte and rede. 117A.134 He bare a launsgay in his honde, And a man ledde his male, And reden with a lyght songe Vnto Bernysdale. 117A.135 But as he went at a brydge ther was a wrastelyng, And there taryed was he, And there was all the best yemen Of all the west countree. 117A.136 A full fayre game there was vp set, A whyte bulle vp i-pyght, A grete courser, with sadle and brydil, With golde burnyssht full bryght. 117A.137 A payre of gloues, a rede golde rynge, A pype of wyne, in fay; What man that bereth hym best i-wys The pryce shall bere away. 117A.138 There was a yoman in that place, And best worthy was he, And for he was ferre and frembde bested, Slayne he shulde haue be. 117A.139 The knight had ruthe of this yoman, In plac where he stode; He sayde that yoman shulde haue no harme, For loue of Robyn Hode. 117A.140 The knyght presed in to the place, An hundreth folowed hym [free], With bow s bent and arow s sharpe, For to shende that companye. 117A.141 They shulderd all and made hym rome, To wete what he wolde say; He toke the yeman bi the hande, And gaue hym al the play . 117A.142 He gaue hym fyue marke for his wyne, There it lay on the molde, And bad it shulde be set a broche, Drynk who so wolde. 117A.143 Thus longe taried this gentyll knyght, Tyll that play was done; So longe abode Robyn fastinge, Thre hour s after the none. 117A.144 Lyth and lystyn, gentilmen, All that nowe be here; Of Litell Johnn, that was the knight s man, Goode myrth ye shall here. 117A.145 It was vpon a mery day That yonge men wolde go shete; Lytell Johnn fet his bowe anone, And sayde he wolde them mete. 117A.146 Thre tymes Litell Johnn shet aboute, And alway he slet the wande; The proud sherif of Notingham By the mark s can stande. 117A.147 The sherif swore a full greate othe: ‘By hym that dyede on a tre, This man is the best arsch re That euer yet sawe I [me.] 117A.148 ‘Say me nowe, wight yonge man, What is nowe thy name? In what countre were thou borne, And where is thy wonynge wane?’ 117A.149 ‘In Holdernes, sir, I was borne, I-wys al of my dame; Men cal me Reynolde Gren lef Whan I am at home.’ 117A.150 ‘Sey me, Reyno[l]de Gren lefe, Wolde thou dwell with me? And euery yere I woll the gyue Twenty marke to thy fee.’ 117A.151 ‘I haue a maister,’ sayde Litell Johnn, ‘A curteys knight is he; May ye leu gete of hym, The better may it be.’ 117A.152 The sherif gate Litell John Twelue moneth s of the knight; Therfore he gaue him right anone A gode hors and a wight. 117A.153 Nowe is Litell John the sherif s man, God lende vs well to spede! But alwey thought Lytell John To quyte hym wele his mede. 117A.154 ‘Nowe so God me help ,’ sayde Litell John, ‘And by my true leutye, I shall be the worst seruaunt to hym That euer yet had he.’ 117A.155 fell vpon a Wednesday The sherif on huntynge was gone, And Litel Iohn lay in his bed, And was foriete at home. 117A.156 Therfore he was fastinge Til it was past the none; ‘Gode sir stuarde, I pray to the, Gyue me my dynere,’ saide Litell John. 117A.157 ‘It is longe for Gren lefe Fastinge thus for to be; Therfor I pray the, sir stuarde, Mi dyner gif me.’ 117A.158 ‘Shalt thou neuer ete ne drynke,’ saide the stuarde, ‘Tyll my lorde be come to towne:’ ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide Litell John, ‘I had leuer to crake thy crowne.’ 117A.159 The boteler was full vncurteys, There he stode on flore; He start to the botery And shet fast the dore. 117A.160 Lytell Johnn gaue the boteler suche a tap His backe went nere in two; Though he liued an hundred ier, The wors shuld he go. 117A.161 He sporned the dore with his fote; It went open wel and fyne; And there he made large lyueray, Bothe of ale and of wyne. 117A.162 ‘Sith ye wol nat dyne,’ sayde Litell John, ‘I shall gyue you to drinke; And though ye lyue an hundred wynter, On Lytel Johnn ye shall thinke.’ 117A.163 Litell John ete, and Litel John drank, The whil that he wolde; The sherife had in his kechyn a coke, A stoute man and a bolde. 117A.164 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ saide the coke, ‘Thou arte a shrewde hynde In ani hous for to dwel, For to ask thus to dyne.’ 117A.165 And there he lent Litell John God[ ] strokis thre; ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Lytell John, ‘These strokis lyked well me. 117A.166 ‘Thou arte a bolde man and hardy, And so thinketh me; And or I pas fro this place Assayed better shalt thou be.’ 117A.167 Lytell Johnn drew a ful gode sworde, The coke toke another in hande; They thought no thynge for to fle, But stifly for to stande. 117A.168 There they faught sore togedere Two myl way and well more; Myght neyther other harme done, The mountnaunce of an owre. 117A.169 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell Johnn, And by my true lewt , Thou art one of the best sworde-men That euer yit sawe I [me.] 117A.170 ‘Cowdest thou shote as well in a bowe, To gren wode thou shuldest with me, And two times in the yere thy clothinge Chaunged shuld be; 117A.171 ‘And euery yere of Robyn Hode Twenty merke to thy fe:’ ‘Put vp thy swerde,’ saide the coke, ‘And felow s woll we be.’ 117A.172 Thanne he fet to Lytell Johnn The nowmbles of a do, Gode brede, and full gode wyne; They ete and drank theretoo. 117A.173 And when they had dronkyn well, Theyre trouth s togeder they plight That they wo[l]de be with Robyn That ylk sam nyght. 117A.174 They dyd them to the tresoure-hows, As fast as they myght gone; The lokk s, that were of full gode stele, They brake them euerichone. 117A.175 They toke away the siluer vessell, And all that they mig[h]t get; Pecis, masars, ne sponis, Wolde thei not forget. 117A.176 Also [they] toke the god pens, Thre hundred pounde and more, And did them st[r]eyte to Robyn Hode, Under the gren wode hore. 117A.177 ‘God the saue, my der mayster, And Criste the saue and se!’ And thanne sayde Robyn to Litell Johnn, Welcome myght thou be. 117A.178 ‘Also be that fayre yeman Thou bryngest there with the; What tydyng s fro Noty[n]gham? Lytill Johnn, tell thou me.’ 117A.179 ‘Well the gretith the proud sheryf, And sende[th] the here by me His coke and his siluer vessell, And thre hundred pounde and thre.’ 117A.180 ‘I make myne avowe to God,’ sayde Robyn, ‘And to the Trenyt , It was neuer by his gode wyll This gode is come to me.’ 117A.181 Lytyll Johnn there hym bethought On a shrewde wyle; Fyue myle in the forest he ran, Hym happed all his wyll. 117A.182 Than he met the proud sheref, Huntynge with houndes and horne; Lytell Johnn coude of curtesye, And knelyd hym beforne. 117A.183 ‘God the saue, my der mayster, And Criste the saue and se!’ ‘Reynolde Gren lefe,’ sayde the shryef, ‘Where hast thou nowe be?’ 117A.184 ‘I haue be in this forest; A fayre syght can I se; It was one of the fayrest syghtes That euer yet sawe I me. 117A.185 ‘Yonder I sawe a ryght fayre harte, His coloure is of grene; Seuen score of dere vpon a herde Be with hym all bydene. 117A.186 ‘Their tynd s are so sharpe, maister, Of sexty, and well mo, That I durst not shote for drede, Lest they wolde me slo.’ 117A.187 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde the shyref, ‘That syght wolde I fayne se:’ ‘Buske you thyderwarde, mi der mayster, Anone, and wende with me.’ 117A.188 The sherif rode, and Litell Johnn Of fote he was smerte, And whane they came before Robyn, ‘Lo, sir, here is the mayster-herte.’ 117A.189 Still stode the proud sherief, A sory man was he; ‘Wo the worthe, Raynolde Gren lefe, Thou hast betrayed nowe me.’ 117A.190 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Litell Johnn, ‘Mayster, ye be to blame; I was mysserued of my dynere Whan I was with you at home.’ 117A.191 Sone he was to souper sette, And serued well with siluer white, And whan the sherif sawe his vessell, For sorowe he myght nat ete. 117A.192 ‘Make glad chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode, ‘Sherif, for charit , And for the loue of Litill Johnn Thy lufe I graunt to the.’ 117A.193 Whan they had souped well, The day was al gone; Robyn commaunde[d] Litell Johnn To drawe of his hosen and his shone; 117A.194 His kirtell, and his cote of pie, That was fured well and fine, And to[ke] hym a grene mantel, To lap his body therin. 117A.195 Robyn commaundyd his wight yonge men, Vnder the gren -wode tree, They shulde lye in that same sute, That the sherif myght them see. 117A.196 All nyght lay the proud sherif In his breche and in his [s]chert; No wonder it was, in gren wode, Though his syd s gan to smerte. 117A.197 ‘Make glade chere,’ sayde Robyn Hode, ‘Sheref, for charit ; For this is our ordre i-wys, Vnder the gren -wode tree.’ 117A.198 ‘This is harder order,’ sayde the sherief, ‘Than any ankir or frere; For all the golde in mery Englonde I wolde nat longe dwell her.’ 117A.199 ‘All this twelue monthes,’ sayde Robin, ‘Thou shalt dwell with me; I shall the tech , proud sherif, An outlaw for to be.’ 117A.200 ‘Or I be here another nyght,’ sayde the sherif, ‘Robyn, nowe pray I the, Smyte of mijn hede rather to-morowe, And I forgyue it the. 117A.201 ‘Lat me go,’ than sayde the sherif, ‘For saynt charit , And I woll be the best[ ] frende That euer yet had ye.’ 117A.202 ‘Thou shalt swere me an othe,’ sayde Robyn, ‘On my bright bronde; Shalt thou neuer awayte me scathe, By water ne by lande. 117A.203 ‘And if thou fynde any of my men, By nyght or [by] day, Vpon thyn oth thou shalt swere To helpe them tha[t] thou may.’ 117A.204 Nowe hathe the sherif sworne his othe, And home he began to gone; He was as full of gren wode As euer was hepe of stone. 117A.205 The sherif dwelled in Notingham; He was fayne he was agone; And Robyn and his mery men Went to wode anone. 117A.206 ‘Go we to dyner,’ sayde Littell Johnn; Robyn Hode sayde, Nay; For I drede Our Lady be wroth with me, Foe she sent me nat my pay. 117A.207 ‘Haue no doute, maister,’ sayde Litell Johnn; ‘Yet is nat the sonne at rest; For I dare say, and sauely swere, The knight is true and truste.’ 117A.208 ‘Take thy bowe in thy hande,’ sayde Robyn, ‘Late Much wende with the, And so shal Wyllyam Scarlok, And no man abyde with me. 117A.209 ‘And walke vp vnder the Sayles, And to Watlynge-strete, And wayte after some vnketh gest; Vp-chaunce ye may them mete. 117A.210 ‘Whether he be messengere, Or a man that myrth s can, Of my good he shall haue some, Yf he be a por man.’ 117A.211 Forth then stert Lytel Johan, Half in tray and tene, And gyrde hym with a full good swerde, Under a mantel of grene. 117A.212 They went vp to the Sayles, These yemen all thre; They loked est, they loked west, They myght no man se. 117A.213 But as [t]he[y] loked in Bernysdale, By the hy waye, Than were they ware of two blacke monkes, Eche on a good palferay. 117A.214 Then bespake Lytell Johan, To Much he gan say, I dare lay my lyfe to wedde, That [these] monkes haue brought our pay. 117A.215 ‘Make glad chere,’ sayd Lytell Johan, ‘And frese your bowes of ewe, And loke your hert s be seker and sad, Your stryng s trusty and trewe. 117A.216 ‘The monke hath two and fifty [men,] And seuen somers full stronge; There rydeth no bysshop in this londe So ryally, I vnderstond. 117A.217 ‘Brethern,’ sayd Lytell Johan, ‘Here are no more but we thre; But we bryng them to dyner, Our mayster dare we not se. 117A.218 ‘Bende your bowes,’ sayd Lytell Johan, ‘Make all yon prese to stonde; The formost monke, his lyfe and his deth Is closed in my honde. 117A.219 ‘Abyde, chorle monke,’ sayd Lytell Johan, ‘No ferther that thou gone; Yf thou doost, by dere worthy God, Thy deth is in my honde. 117A.220 ‘And euyll thryfte on thy hede,’ sayd Lytell Johan, ‘Ryght vnder thy hatt s bonde; For thou hast made our mayster wroth, He is fastynge so longe.’ 117A.221 ‘Who is your mayster?’ sayd the monke; Lytell Johan sayd, Robyn Hode; ‘He is a stronge thefe,’ sayd the monke, ‘Of hym herd I neuer good.’ 117A.222 ‘Thou lyest,’ than sayd Lytell Johan, ‘And that shall rew the; He is a yeman of the forest, To dyne he hath bod the.’ 117A.223 Much was redy with a bolte, Redly and anone, He set the monke to-fore the brest, To the grounde that he can gone. 117A.224 Of two and fyfty wyght yonge yemen There abode not one, Saf a lytell page and a grome, To lede the somers with Lytel Johan. 117A.225 They brought the monke to the lodg -dore, Whether he were loth or lefe, For to speke with Robyn Hode, Maugre in theyr tethe. 117A.226 Robyn dyde adowne his hode, The monke whan that he se; The monke was not so curt yse, His hode then let he be. 117A.227 ‘He is a chorle, mayster, by dere worthy God,’ Than sayd Lytell Johan: ‘Thereof no force,’ sayd Robyn, ‘For curteysy can he none. 117A.228 ‘How many men,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Had this monke, Johan?’ ‘Fyfty and two whan that we met, But many of them be gone.’ 117A.229 ‘Let blowe a horne,’ sayd Robyn, ‘That felaushyp may vs knowe;’ Seuen score of wyght yemen Came pryckynge on a rowe. 117A.230 And euerych of them a good mantell Of scarlet and of raye; All they came to good Robyn, To wyte what he wolde say. 117A.231 They made the monke to wasshe and wype, And syt at his denere, Robyn Hode and Lytell Johan They serued him both in-fere. 117A.232 ‘Do gladly, monke,’ sayd Robyn. ‘Gramercy, syr,’ sayd he. ‘Where is your abbay, whan ye are at home, And who is your avow ?’ 117A.233 ‘Saynt Mary abbay,’ sayd the monke, ‘Though I be symple here.’ ‘In what offyce?’ sayd Robyn: ‘Syr, the hy selerer.’ 117A.234 ‘Ye be the more welcome,’ sayd Robyn, ‘So euer mote I the; Fyll of the best wyne,’ sayd Robyn, ’This monke shall drynke to me. 117A.235 ‘But I haue grete meruayle,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Of all this long day; I drede Our Lady be wroth with me, She sent me not my pay.’ 117A.236 ‘Haue no doute, mayster,’ sayd Lytell Johan, ‘Ye haue no nede, I saye; This monke it hath brought, I dare well swere, For he is of her abbay.’ 117A.237 ‘And she was a borowe,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Betwene a knyght and me, Of a lytell money that I hym lent, Under the g’Rene-wode tree. 117A.238 ‘And yf thou hast that syluer ibrought, I pray the let me se; And I shall help the eftsones, Yf thou haue nede to me.’ 117A.239 The monke swore a full grete othe, With a sory chere, ‘Of the borowehode thou spekest to me, Herde I neuer ere.’ 117A.240 ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Monke, thou art to blame; For God is holde a ryghtwys man, And so is his dame. 117A.241 ‘Thou toldest with thyn own tonge, Thou may not say nay, How thou arte her seruaunt, And seruest her euery day. 117A.242 ‘And thou art made her messengere, My money for to pay; Therfore I cun the mor thanke Thou arte come at thy day. 117A.243 ‘What is in your cofers?’ sayd Robyn, ‘Trewe than tell thou me:’ ‘Syr,’ he sayd, ’Twenty marke, Al so mote I the.’ 117A.244 ‘Yf there be no more,’ sayd Robyn, ‘I wyll not one peny; Yf thou hast myster of ony more, Syr, more I shall lende to the. 117A.245 ‘And yf I fynd [more,’ sayd] Robyn, ‘I-wys thou shalte it for gone; For of thy spendynge-syluer, monke, Thereof wyll I ryght none. 117A.246 ‘Go nowe forthe, Lytell Johan, And the trouth tell thou me; If there be no more but twenty marke, No peny that I se.’ 117A.247 Lytell Johan spred his mantell downe, As he had done before, And he tolde out of the monk s male Eyght [hondred] pounde and more. 117A.248 Lytell Johan let it lye full styll, And went to his mayster in hast; ‘Syr,’ he sayd, ’The monke is trewe ynowe, Our Lady hath doubled your cast.’ 117A.249 ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn-+--+- ‘Monke, what tolde I the?-+--+- Our Lady is the trewest woman That euer yet founde I me. 117A.250 ‘By dere worthy God,’ sayd Robyn, ‘To seche all Englond thorowe, Yet founde I neuer to my pay A moche better borowe. 117A.251 ‘Fyll of the best wyne, and do hym drynke,’ sayd Robyn, ‘And grete well thy lady hende, And yf she haue nede to Robyn Hode, A frende she shall hym fynde. 117A.252 ‘And yf she nedeth ony more syluer, Come thou agayne to me, And, by this token she hath me sent, She shall haue such thre.’ 117A.253 The monke was goynge to London ward, There to holde grete mote, The knyght that rode so hye on hors, To brynge hym vnder fote. 117A.254 ‘Whether be ye away?’ sayd Robyn: ‘Syr, to maners in this londe, Too reken with our reues, That haue done moch wronge.’ 117A.255 ‘Come now forth, Lytell Johan, And harken to my tale; A better yemen I knowe none, To seke a monk s male.’ 117A.256 ‘How moch is in yonder other corser?’ sayd Robyn, ‘The soth must we see:’ ‘By Our Lady,’ than sayd the monke, ‘That were no curteysye, 117A.257 ‘To bydde a man to dyner, And syth hym bete and bynde.’ ‘It is our old maner,’ sayd Robyn, ‘To leue but lytell behynde.’ 117A.258 The monke toke the hors with spore, No lenger wolde he abyde: ‘Ask to drynk ,’ than sayd Robyn, ‘Or that ye forther ryde.’ 117A.259 ‘Nay, for God,’ than sayd the monke, ‘Me reweth I cam so nere; For better chepe I myght haue dyned In Blythe or in Dankestere.’ 117A.260 ‘Grete well your abbot,’ sayd Robyn, ‘And your pryour, I you pray, And byd hym send me such a monke To dyner euery day.’ 117A.261 Now lete we that monke be styll, And speke we of that knyght: Yet he came to holde his day, Whyle that it was lyght. 117A.262 He dyde him streyt to Bernysdale, Under the gren -wode tre, And he founde there Robyn Hode, And all his mery meyn . 117A.263 The knyght lyght doune of his good palfray; Robyn whan he gan see, So curteysly he dyde adoune his hode, And set hym on his knee. 117A.264 ‘God the sau , Robyn Hode, And all this company:’ ‘Welcome be thou, gentyll knyght, And ryght welcome to me.’ 117A.265 Than bespake hym Robyn Hode, To that knyght so fre: What ned dryueth the to gren wode? I praye the, syr knyght, tell me. 117A.266 ‘And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght, Why hast thou be so longe?’ ‘For the abbot and the hy iustyce Wolde haue had my londe.’ 117A.267 ‘Hast thou thy londe [a]gayne?’ sayd Robyn; ‘Treuth than tell thou me:’ ‘Ye, for God,’ sayd the knyght, ‘And that thanke I God and the. 117A.268 ‘But take not a grefe,’ sayd the knyght, ’That I haue be so longe; I came by a wrastelynge, And there I holpe a por yeman, With wronge was put behynde.’ 117A.269 ‘Nay, for God,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Syr knyght, that thanke I the; What man that helpeth a good yeman, His frende than wyll I be.’ 117A.270 ‘Haue here foure hondred pounde,’ than sayd the knyght, ‘The whiche ye lent to me; And here is also twenty marke For your curteysy.’ 117A.271 ‘Nay, for God,’ than sayd Robyn, ‘Thou broke it well for ay; For Our Lady, by her [hy ] selerer, Hath sent to me my pay. 117A.272 ‘And yf I toke it i-twyse, A shame it were to me; But trewely, gentyll knyght, Welcom arte thou to me.’ 117A.273 Whan Robyn had tolde his tale, He leugh and had good chere: ‘By my trouthe,’ then sayd the knyght, ‘Your money is redy here.’ 117A.274 ‘Broke it well,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Thou gentyll knyght so fre; And welcome be thou, ge[n]tyll knyght, Under my trystell-tre. 117A.275 ‘But what shall these bow s do?’ sayd Robyn, ‘And these arow s ifedred fre?’ ‘By God,’ than sayd the knyght, ‘A por present to the.’ 117A.276 ‘Come now forth, Lytell Johan, And go to my treasur , And brynge me there foure hondred pounde; The monke ouer-tolde it me. 117A.277 ‘Haue here foure hondred pounde, Thou gentyll knyght and trewe, And bye hors and harnes good, And gylte thy spores all newe. 117A.278 ‘And yf thou fayle ony spendynge, Com to Robyn Hode, And by my trouth thou shalt none fayle, The whyles I haue any good. 117A.279 ‘And broke well thy foure hondred pound, Whiche I lent to the, And make thy selfe no more so bare, By the counsell of me.’ 117A.280 Thus than holpe hym good Robyn, The knyght all of his care: God, that syt in heuen hye, Graunte vs well to fare! 117A.281 Now hath the knyght his leue i-take, And wente hym on his way; Robyn Hode and his mery men Dwelled styll full many a day. 117A.282 Lyth and lysten, gentil men, And herken what I shall say, How the proud[ ] sheryfe of Notyngham Dyde crye a full fayre play; 117A.283 That all the best archers of the north Sholde come vpon a day, And [he] that shoteth allther best The game shall bere a way. 117A.284 He that shoteth allther best, Furthest fayre and lowe, At a payre of fynly buttes, Under the gren -wode shawe, 117A.285 A ryght good arowe he shall haue, The shaft of syluer whyte, The hede and the feders of ryche red golde, In Englond is none lyke. 117A.286 This than herde good Robyn, Under his trystell-tre: ‘Make you redy, ye wyght yonge men; That shotynge wyll I se. 117A.287 ‘Buske you, my mery yonge men, Ye shall go with me; And I wyll wete the shryu s fayth, Trewe and yf he be.’ 117A.288 Whan they had theyr bowes i-bent, Theyr takles fedred fre, Seuen score of wyght yonge men Stode by Robyns kne. 117A.289 Whan they cam to Notyngham, The buttes were fayre and longe; Many was the bolde archere That shoted with bow s stronge. 117A.290 ‘There shall but syx shote with me; The other shal kepe my he[ue]de, And stand with good bow s bent, That I be not desceyued.’ 117A.291 The fourth outlawe his bowe gan bende, And that was Robyn Hode, And that behelde the proud[ ] sheryfe, All by the but [as] he stode. 117A.292 Thry s Robyn shot about, And alway he slist the wand, And so dyde good Gylberte Wyth the whyt hande. 117A.293 Lytell Johan and good Scatheloke Were archers good and fre; Lytell Much and good Reynolde, The worste wolde they not be. 117A.294 Whan they had shot aboute, These archours fayre and good, Euermore was the best, For soth, Robyn Hode. 117A.295 Hym was delyuered the good arowe, For best worthy was he; He toke the yeft so curteysly, To gren wode wolde he. 117A.296 They cryed out on Robyn Hode, And grete horn s gan they blowe: ‘Wo worth the, treason!’ sayd Robyn, ‘Full euyl thou art to knowe. 117A.297 ‘And wo be thou! thou proud sheryf, Thus gladdynge thy gest; Other wyse thou behot me In yonder wylde forest. 117A.298 ‘But had I the in gren wode, Under my trystell-tre, Thou sholdest leue me a better wedde Than thy trewe lewt .’ 117A.299 Full many a bow there was bent, And arow s let they glyde; Many a kyrtell there was rent, And hurt many a syde. 117A.300 The outlawes shot was so stronge That no man myght them dryue, And the proud[ ] sheryf s men, They fled away full blyue. 117A.301 Robyn sawe the busshement to-broke, In gren wode he wolde haue be; Many an arowe there was shot Amonge that company. 117A.302 Lytell Johan was hurte full sore, With an arowe in his kne, That he myght neyther go nor ryde; It was full grete pyt . 117A.303 ‘Mayster,’ then sayd Lytell Johan, ‘If euer thou loue[d]st me, And for that ylk lord s loue That dyed vpon a tre, 117A.304 ‘And for the medes of my seruyce, That I haue serued the, Lete neuer the proud sheryf Alyue now fynd me. 117A.305 ‘But take out thy brown swerde, And smyte all of my hede, And gyue me wound s depe and wyde; No lyfe on me be lefte.’ 117A.306 ‘I wolde not that,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Johan, that thou were slawe, For all the golde in mery Englonde, Though it lay now on a rawe.’ 117A.307 ‘God forbede,’ sayd Lytell Much, ‘That dyed on a tre, That thou sholdest, Lytell Johan, Parte our company.’ 117A.308 Up he toke hym on his backe, And bare hym well a myle; Many a tyme he layd hym downe, And shot another whyle. 117A.309 n was there a fayre castell, A lytell within the wode; Double-dyched it was about, And walled, by the rode. 117A.310 And there dwelled that gentyll knyght, Syr Rychard at the Lee, That Robyn had lent his good, Under the gren -wode tree. 117A.311 In he toke good Robyn, And all his company: ‘Welcome be thou, Robyn Hode, Welcome arte thou to me; 117A.312 ‘And moche [I] thanke the of thy confort, And of thy curteysye, And of thy gret kynd nesse, Under the gren -wode tre. 117A.313 ‘I loue no man in all this worlde So much as I do the; For all the proud[ ] sheryf of Notyngham, Ryght here shalt thou be. 117A.314 ‘Shyt the gates, and drawe the brydge, And let no man come in, And arme you well, and make you redy, And to the walles ye wynne. 117A.315 ‘For one thynge, Robyn, I the behote; Iswere by Saynt Quyntyne, These forty dayes thou wonnest with me, To soupe, ete, and dyne.’ 117A.316 Bordes were layde, and clothes were spredde, Redely and anone; Robyn Hode and his mery men To met can they gone. 117A.317 Lythe and lysten, gentylmen, And herkyn to your songe; Howe the proud shyref of Notyngham, And men of armys stronge, 117A.318 Full fast cam to the hy shyref, The contr vp to route, And they besette the knyght s castell, The wall s all aboute. 117A.319 The proud shyref loude gan crye, And sayde, Thou traytour knight, Thou kepest here the kynges enemys, Agaynst the lawe and right. 117A.320 ‘Syr, I wyll auowe that I haue done, The dedys that here be dyght, Vpon all the land s that I haue, As I am a trew knyght. 117A.321 ‘Wende furth, sirs, on your way, And do no more to me Tyll ye wyt oure kyng s wille, What he wyll say to the.’ 117A.322 The shyref thus had his answere, Without any lesynge; [Fu]rth he yede to London towne, All for to tel our kinge. 117A.323 Ther he telde him of that knight, And eke of Robyn Hode, And also of the bolde archars, That were soo noble and gode. 117A.324 ‘He wyll auowe that he hath done, To mayntene the outlawes stronge; He wyll be lorde, and set you at nought, In all the northe londe.’ 117A.325 ‘I wil be at Notyngham,’ saide our kynge, ‘Within this fourteenyght, And take I wyll Robyn Hode, And so I wyll that knight. 117A.326 ‘Go nowe home, shyref,’ sayde our kynge, ‘And do as I byd the; And ordeyn gode archers ynowe, Of all the wyd contr .’ 117A.327 The shyref had his leue i-take, And went hym on his way, And Robyn Hode to gren wode, Vpon a certen day. 117A.328 And Lytel John was hole of the arowe That shot was in his kne, And dyd hym streyght to Robyn Hode, Vnder the grene-wod tree. 117A.329 Robyn Hode walked in the forest, Vnder the leuys grene; The proud shyref of Notyngham Thereof he had grete tene. 117A.330 The shyref there fayled of Robyn Hode, He myght not haue his pray; Than he awayted this gentyll knyght, Bothe by nyght and day. 117A.331 Euer he wayted the gentyll knyght, Syr Richarde at the Lee, As he went on haukynge by the ryuer-syde, And let [his] hauk s flee. 117A.332 Toke he there this gentyll knight, With men of armys stronge, And led hym to Notyngham warde, Bounde bothe fote and hande. 117A.333 The sheref sware a full grete othe, Bi hym that dyed on rode, He had leuer than an hundred pound That he had Robyn Hode. 117A.334 This harde the knyght s wyfe, A fayr lady and a free; She set hir on a gode palfrey, To gre’Ne wode anone rode she. 117A.335 Whanne she cam in the forest, Vnder the gren -wode tree, Fonde she there Robyn Hode, And al his fayre men . 117A.336 ‘God the sau , god Robyn, And all thy company; For Our der Ladyes sake, A bon graunte thou me. 117A.337 ‘Late neuer my wedded lorde Shamefully slayne be; He is fast bowne to Notingham warde, For the loue of the.’ 117A.338 Anone than saide goode Robyn To that lady so fre, What man hath your lorde [i-]take? . . . . . . 117A.339 . . . . . . ‘For soth as I the say; He is nat yet thre myl s Passed on his way.’ 117A.340 Vp than sterte gode Robyn, As man that had ben wode: ‘Buske you, my mery men, For hym that dyed on rode. 117A.341 ‘And he that this sorowe forsaketh, By hym that dyed on tre, Shall he neuer in gren wode No lenger dwel with me.’ 117A.342 Sone there were gode bow s bent, Mo than seuen score; Hedge ne dyche spared they none That was them before. 117A.343 ‘I make myn auowe to God,’ sayde Robyn, ‘The sherif wolde I fayne see; And if I may hym take, I-quyte shall it be.’ 117A.344 And whan they came to Notingham, They walked in the strete; And with the proud sherif i-wys Son can they mete. 117A.345 ‘Abyde, thou proud sherif,’ he sayde, ‘Abyde, and speke with me; Of some tidinges of oure kinge I wolde fayne here of the. 117A.346 ‘This seuen yere, by dere worthy God, Ne yede I this fast on fote; I make myn auowe to God, thou proud sherif, It is nat for thy gode.’ 117A.347 Robyn bent a full goode bowe, An arrowe he drowe at wyll; He hit so the proud sherife Vpon the grounde he lay full still. 117A.348 And or he myght vp aryse, On his fete to stonde, He smote of the sherifs hede With his bright[ ] bronde. 117A.349 ‘Lye thou there, thou proud sherife, Euyll mote thou cheue! There myght no man to the truste The whyles thou were a lyue.’ 117A.350 His men drewe out theyr bryght swerdes, That were so sharpe and kene, And layde on the sheryues men, And dryued them downe bydene. 117A.351 Robyn stert to that knyght, And cut a two his bonde, And toke hym in his hand a bowe, And bad hym by hym stonde. 117A.352 ‘Leue thy hors the behynde, And lerne for to renne; Thou shalt with me to gren wode, Through myr , mosse, and fenne. 117A.353 ‘Thou shalt with me to gren wode, Without ony leasynge, Tyll that I haue gete vs grace Of Edwarde, our comly kynge.’ 117A.354 The kynge came to Notynghame, With knyght s in grete araye, For to take that gentyll knyght And Robyn Hode, and yf he may. 117A.355 He asked men of that countr After Robyn Hode, And after that gentyll knyght, That was so bolde and stout. 117A.356 Whan they had tolde hym the case Our kynge vnderstode ther tale, And seased in his honde The knyght s lond s all. 117A.357 All the passe of Lancasshyre He went both ferre and nere, Tyll he came to Plomton Parke; He faylyd many of his dere. 117A.358 There our kynge was wont to se Herd s many one, He coud vnneth fynde one dere, That bare ony good horne. 117A.359 The kynge was wonder wroth withall, And swore by the Trynyt , ‘I wolde I had Robyn Hode, With eyen I myght hym se. 117A.360 ‘And he that wolde smyte of the knyght s hede, And brynge it to me, He shall haue the knyght s londes, Syr Rycharde at the Le. 117A.361 ‘I gyue it hym with my charter, And sele it [with] my honde, To haue and holde for euer more, In all mery Englonde.’ 117A.362 Than bespake a fayre olde knyght, That was treue in his fay: A, my leeg lorde the kynge, One worde I shall you say. 117A.363 There is no man in this countr May haue the knyght s londes, Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde of gone, And bere a bowe in his hondes, 117A.364 That he ne shall lese his hede, That is the best ball in his hode: Giue it no man, my lorde the kynge, That ye wyll any good. 117A.365 Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge In Notyngham, and well more; Coude he not here of Robyn Hode, In what countr that he were. 117A.366 But alway went good Robyn By halke and eke by hyll, And alway slewe the kyng s dere, And welt them at his wyll. 117A.367 Than bespake a proude fostere, That stode by our kyng s kne; Yf ye wyll se good Robyn, Ye must do after me. 117A.368 Take fyue of the best knyght s That be in your lede, And walke downe by yon abbay, And gete you monk s wede. 117A.369 And I wyll be your led s-man, And lede you the way, And or ye come to Notyngham, Myn hede then dare I lay, 117A.370 That ye shall mete with good Robyn, On lyue yf that he be; Or ye come to Notyngham, With eyen ye shall hym se. 117A.371 Full hast[ ]ly our kynge was dyght, So were his knyght s fyue, Euerych of them in monk s wede, And hasted them thyder blyve. 117A.372 Our kynge was grete aboue his cole, A brode hat on his crowne, Ryght as he were abbot-lyke, They rode up in-to the towne. 117A.373 Styf bot s our kynge had on, Forsoth as I you say; He rode syngynge to gren wode, The couent was clothed in graye. 117A.374 His male-hors and his gret somers Folowed our kynge behynde, Tyll they came to gren wode, A myle vnder the lynde. 117A.375 There they met with good Robyn, Stondynge on the waye, And so dyde many a bolde archere, For soth as I you say. 117A.376 Robyn toke the kyng s hors, Hast ly in that stede, And sayd, Syr abbot, by your leue, A whyle ye must abyde. 117A.377 ‘We be yemen of this foreste, Vnder the gren -wode tre; We lyue by our kyng s dere, [Other shyft haue not wee.] 117A.378 ‘And ye haue chyrches and rent s both, And gold full grete plent ; Gyue vs some of your spendynge, For saynt[ ] charyt .’ 117A.379 Than bespake our cumly kynge, Anone than sayd he; I brought no more to gren wode But forty pounde with me. 117A.380 I haue layne at Notyngham This fourtynyght with our kynge, And spent I haue full moche good, On many a grete lordynge. 117A.381 And I haue but forty pounde, No more than haue I me; But yf I had an hondred pounde, I wolde vouch it safe on the. 117A.382 Robyn toke the forty pounde, And departed it in two partye; Halfendell he gaue his mery men, And bad them mery to be. 117A.383 Full curteysly Robyn gan say; Syr, haue this for your spendyng; We shall mete another day; ‘Gramercy,’ than sayd our kynge. 117A.384 ‘But well the greteth Edwarde, our kynge, And sent to the his seale, And byddeth the com to Notyngham, Both to mete and mele’ 117A.385 He toke out the brod targe, And sone he lete hym se; Robyn coud his courteysy, And set hym on his kne. 117A.386 ‘I loue no man in all the worlde So well as I do my kynge; Welcome is my lord s seale; And, monke, for thy tydynge, 117A.387 ‘Syr abbot, for thy tydynges, To day thou shalt dyne with me, For the loue of my kynge, Under my trystell-tre.’ 117A.388 Forth he lad our comly kynge, Full fayre by the honde; Many a dere there was slayne, And full fast dyghtande. 117A.389 Robyn toke a full grete horne, And loude he gan blowe; Seuen score of wyght yonge men Came redy on a rowe. 117A.390 All they kneled on theyr kne, Full fayre before Robyn: The kynge sayd hym selfe vntyll, And swore by Saynt Austyn, 117A.391 ‘Here is a wonder semely syght; Me thynketh, by Godd s pyne, His men are more at his byddynge Then my men be at myn.’ 117A.392 Full hast[ ]ly was theyr dyner idyght, And therto gan they gone; They serued our kynge with al theyr myght, Both Robyn and Lytell Johan. 117A.393 Anone before our kynge was set The fatt venyson, The good whyte brede, the good rede wyne, And therto the fyne ale and browne. 117A.394 ‘Make good chere,’ said Robyn, ‘Abbot, for charyt ; And for this ylk tydynge, Blyssed mote thou be. 117A.395 ‘Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede, Or thou hens wende; Than thou may enfourme our kynge, Whan ye togyder lende.’ 117A.396 Up they stert all in hast, Theyr bow s were smartly bent; Our kynge was neuer so sore agast, He wende to haue be shente. 117A.397 Two yerd s there were vp set, Thereto gan they gange; By fyfty pase, our kynge sayd, The merk s were to longe. 117A.398 On euery syde a rose-garlonde, They shot vnder the lyne: ‘Who so fayleth of the rose-garlonde,’ sayd Robyn, ‘His takyll he shall tyne, 117A.399 ‘And yelde it to his mayster, Be it neuer so fyne; For no man wyll I spare, So drynke I ale or wyne: 117A.400 ‘And bere a buffet on his hede, I-wys ryght all bare:’ And all that fell in Robyns lote, He smote them wonder sare. 117A.401 Twyse Robyn shot aboute, And euer he cleued the wande, And so dyde good Gylberte With the Whyt Hande. 117A.402 Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke, For nothynge wolde they spare; When they fayled of the garlonde, Robyn smote them full sore. 117A.403 At the last shot that Robyn shot, For all his frend s fare, Yet he fayled of the garlonde Thre fyngers and mare. 117A.404 Than bespake good Gylberte, And thus he gan say; ‘Mayster,’ he sayd, ’your takyll is lost, Stande forth and take your pay.’ 117A.405 ‘If it be so,’ sayd Robyn, ‘That may no better be, Syr abbot, I delyuer the myn arowe, I pray the, syr, serue thou me.’ 117A.406 ‘It falleth not for myn ordre,’ sayd our kynge, ‘Robyn, by thy leue, For to smyte no good yeman, For doute I sholde hym greue.’ 117A.407 ‘Smyte on boldely,’ sayd Robyn, ‘I giue the larg leue:’ Anone our kynge, with that worde, He folde vp his sleue, 117A.408 And sych a buffet he gaue Robyn, To grounde he yede full nere: ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Thou arte a stalworthe frere. 117A.409 ‘There is pith in thyn arme,’ sayd Robyn, ‘I trowe thou canst well shete:’ Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode Togeder gan they mete. 117A.410 Robyn beheld our comly kynge Wystly in the face, So dyde Syr Rycharde at the Le, And kneled downe in that place. 117A.411 And so dyde all the wylde outlawes, Whan they se them knele: ‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde, Now I knowe you well. 117A.412 ‘Mercy then, Robyn,’ sayd our kynge, ‘Vnder your trystyll-tre, Of thy goodnesse and thy grace, For my men and me!’ 117A.413 ‘Yes, for God,’ sayd Robyn, ‘And also God me saue, I ask mersy, my lorde the kynge, And for my men I craue.’ 117A.414 ‘Yes, for God,’ than sayd our kynge, ‘And therto sent I me, With that thou leue the gren wode, And all thy company; 117A.415 ‘And come home, syr, to my courte, And there dwell with me.’ ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn, ‘And ryght so shall it be. 117A.416 ‘I wyll come to your courte, Your seruyse for to se, And brynge with me of my men Seuen score and thre. 117A.417 ‘But me lyk well your seruyse, I [wyll] come agayne full soone, And shote at the donn dere, As I am wonte to done.’ 117A.418 ‘Haste thou ony gren cloth,’ sayd our kynge, ‘That thou wylte sell nowe to me?’ ‘Ye, for God,’ sayd Robyn, ‘Thyrty yerd s and thre.’ 117A.419 ‘Robyn,’ sayd our kynge, ‘Now pray I the, Sell me some of that cloth, To me and my meyn .’ 117A.420 ‘Yes, for God,’ then sayd Robyn, ‘Or elles I were a fole; Another day ye wyll me clothe, I trowe, ayenst the Yole.’ 117A.421 The kynge kest of his col then, A grene garment he dyde on, And euery knyght also, i-wys, Another had full sone. 117A.422 Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene, They keste away theyr graye; ‘Now we shall to Notyngham,’ All thus our kynge gan say. 117A.423 They bente theyr bowes, and forth they went, Shotynge all in-fere, Towarde the towne of Notyngham, Outlawes as they were. 117A.424 Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder, For soth as I you say, And they shote plucke-buffet, As they went by the way. 117A.425 And many a buffet our kynge wan Of Robyn Hode that day, And nothynge spared good Robyn Our kynge in his pay. 117A.426 ‘So God me help ,’ sayd our kynge, ‘Thy game is nought to lere; I sholde not get a shote of the, Though I shote all this yere.’ 117A.427 All the people of Notyngham They stode and behelde; They sawe nothynge but mantels of grene That couered all the felde. 117A.428 Than euery man to other gan say, I drede our kynge be slone; Com Robyn Hode to the towne, i-wys On lyue he lefte neuer one.’ 117A.429 Full hast[ ]ly they began to fle, Both yemen and knaues, And olde wyues that myght euyll goo, They hypped on theyr staues. 117A.430 The kynge l[o]ughe full fast, And commaunded them agayne; When they se our comly kynge, I-wys they were full fayne. 117A.431 They ete and dranke, and made them glad, And sange with not s hye; Than bespake our comly kynge To Syr Rycharde at the Lee. 117A.432 He gaue hym there his londe agayne, A good man he bad hym be; Robyn thanked our comly kynge, And set hym on his kne. 117A.433 Had robyn dwelled in the kyng s courte But twelue monethes and thre, That [he had] spent an hondred pounde, And all his mennes fe. 117A.434 In euery place where Robyn came Euer more he layde downe, Both for knyght s and for squyres, To gete hym grete renowne. 117A.435 By than the yere was all agone He had no man but twayne, Lytell Johan and good Scathlocke, With hym all for to gone. 117A.436 Robyn sawe yonge men shote Full fayre vpon a day; ‘Alas!’ than sayd good Robyn, ‘My welthe is went away. 117A.437 ‘Somtyme I was an archere good, A styffe and eke a stronge; I was compted the best archere That was in mery Englonde. 117A.438 ‘Alas!’ then sayd good Robyn, ‘Alas and well a woo! Yf I dwele lenger with the kynge, Sorowe wyll me sloo.’ 117A.439 Forth than went Robyn Hode Tyll he came to our kynge: ‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde, Graunte me myn askynge. 117A.440 ‘I made a chapell in Bernysdale, That semely is to se, It is of Mary Magdaleyne, And thereto wolde I be. 117A.441 ‘I myght neuer in this seuen nyght No tyme to slepe ne wynke, Nother all these seuen dayes Nother ete ne drynke. 117A.442 ‘Me longeth sore to Bernysdale, I may not be therfro; Barefote and wolwarde I haue hyght Thyder for to go.’ 117A.443 ‘Yf it be so,’ than sayd our kynge, ‘It may no better be, Seuen nyght I gyue the leue, No lengre, to dwell fro me.’ 117A.444 ‘Gramercy, lorde,’ then sayd Robyn, And set hym on his kne; He toke his leu full courteysly. To gren wode then went he. 117A.445 Whan he came to gren wode, In a mery mornynge, There he herde the not s small Of byrd s mery syngynge. 117A.446 ‘It is ferre gone,’ sayd Robyn, ‘That I was last here; Me lyste a lytell for to shote At the donn dere.’ 117A.447 Robyn slewe a full grete harte; His horne than gan he blow, That all the outlawes of that forest That horne coud they knowe, 117A.448 And gadred them togyder, In a lytell throwe. Seuen score of wyght yonge men Came redy on a rowe, 117A.449 And fayre dyde of theyr hodes, And set them on theyr kne: ‘Welcome,’ they sayd, ’our [der ] mayster, Under this gren -wode tre. 117A.450 Robyn dwelled in gren wode Twenty yere and two; For all drede of Edwarde our kynge, Agayne wolde he not goo. 117A.451 Yet he was begyled, i-wys, Through a wycked woman, The pryoresse of Kyrk sly, That nye was of hys kynne: 117A.452 For the loue of a knyght, Syr Roger of Donkesly, That was her own speciall; Full euyll mot they the! 117A.453 They toke togyder theyr counsell Robyn Hode for to sle, And how they myght best do that dede, His banis for to be. 117A.454 Than bespake good Robyn, In place where as he stode, ‘To morow I muste to Kyrke[s]ly, Craftely to be leten blode.’ 117A.455 Syr Roger of Donkestere, By the pryoresse he lay, And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode, Through theyr fals playe. 117A.456 Cryst haue mercy on his soule, That dyed on the rode! For he was a good outlawe, And dyde pore men moch god.

118A: Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne

Name: The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, part 2 of 2
Author: Francis James Child

118A.1 WHEN shawes beene sheene, and shradds full fayre, And leeues both large and longe, Itt is merrry, walking in the fayre forrest, To heare the small birds songe. 118A.2 The woodweele sang, and wold not cease, Amongst the leaues a lyne: And it is by two wight yeomen, By deare God, that I meane. * * * * * 118A.3 ‘Me thought they did mee beate and binde, And tooke my bow mee froe; If I bee Robin a-liue in this lande, I’le be wrocken on both them towe.’ 118A.4 ‘Sweauens are swift, master,’ quoth Iohn, ‘As the wind that blowes ore a hill; Ffor if itt be neuer soe lowde this night, To-morrow it may be still.’ 118A.5 ‘Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all, Ffor Iohn shall goe with mee; For I’le goe seeke yond wight yeomen In greenwood where the bee.’ 118A.6 Th cast on their gowne of greene, A shooting gone are they, Vntill they came to the merry greenwood, Where they had gladdest bee; There were the ware of [a] wight yeoman, His body leaned to a tree. 118A.7 A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, Had beene many a mans bane, And he was cladd in his capull-hyde, Topp, and tayle, and mayne. 118A.8 ‘Stand you still, master,’ quoth Litle Iohn, ‘Vnder this trusty tree, And I will goe to yond wight yeoman, To know his meaning trulye.’ 118A.9 ‘A Iohn, by me thou setts noe store, And that’s a farley thinge; How offt send I my men beffore, And tarry my-selfe behinde? 118A.10 ‘It is noe cunning a knaue to ken, And a man but heare him speake; And itt were not for bursting of my bowe, Iohn, I wolde thy head breake.’ 118A.11 But often words they breeden bale, That parted Robin and Iohn; Iohn is gone to Barn[e]sdale, The gates he knowes eche one. 118A.12 And when hee came to Barnesdale, Great heauinesse there hee hadd; He found two of his fellowes Were slaine both in a slade, 118A.13 And Scarlett a foote flyinge was, Ouer stockes and stone, For the sheriffe with seuen score men Fast after him is gone. 118A.14 ‘Yett one shoote I’le shoote,’ sayes Litle Iohn, ‘With Crist his might and mayne; I’le make yond fellow that flyes so fast To be both glad and faine. 118A.15 Iohn bent vp a good veiwe bow, And fetteled him to shoote; The bow was made of a tender boughe, And fell downe to his foote. 118A.16 ‘Woe worth thee, wicked wood,’ sayd Litle Iohn, ‘That ere thou grew on a tree! Ffor this day thou art my bale, My boote when thou shold bee!’ 118A.17 This shoote it was but loosely shott, The arrowe flew in vaine, And it mett one of tne sheriffes men; Good William a Trent was slaine. 118A.18 It had beene better for William a Trent To hange vpon a gallowe Then for to lye in the greenwoode, There slaine with an arrowe. 118A.19 And it is sayd, when men be mett, Six can doe more then three: And they haue tane Litle Iohn, And bound him fast to a tree. 118A.20 ‘Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,’ quoth the sheriffe, ‘And hanged hye on a hill:’ ‘But thou may fayle,’ quoth Litle Iohn, ‘If itt be Christs owne will.’ 118A.21 Let vs leaue talking of Litle Iohn, For hee is bound fast to a tree, And talke of Guy and Robin Hood, In the green woode where they bee. 118A.22 How these two yeomen together they mett, Vnder the leaues of lyne, To see what marchandise they made Euen at that same time. 118A.23 ‘Good morrow, good fellow,’ quoth Sir Guy; ‘Good morrow, good fellow,’ quoth hee; ‘Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand, A good archer thou seems to bee.’ 118A.24 ‘I am wilfull of my way,’ quoth Sir Guye, ‘And of my morning tyde:’ ‘I’le lead thee through the wood,’ quoth Robin, ‘Good fellow, I’le be thy guide.’ 118A.25 ‘I seeke an outlaw,’ quoth Sir Guye, ‘Men call him Robin Hood; I had rather meet with him vpon a day Then forty pound of golde.’ 118A.26 ‘If you tow mett, itt wold be seene whether were better Afore yee did part awaye; Let vs some other pastime find, Good fellow, I thee pray. 118A.27 Let vs some other masteryes make, And wee will walke in the woods euen; Wee may chance mee[t] with Robin Hoode Att some vnsett steven.’ 118A.28 They cutt them downe the summer shroggs Which grew both vnder a bryar, And sett them three score rood on twinn, To shoote the prickes full neare. 118A.29 ‘Leade on, good fellow,’ sayd Sir Guye, ‘Lead on, I doe bidd thee:’ ‘Nay, by my faith,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘The leader thou shalt bee.’ 118A.30 The first good shoot that Robin ledd Did not shoote an inch the pricke froe; Guy was an archer good enoughe, But he cold neere shoote soe. 118A.31 The second shoote Sir Guy shott, He shott within the garlande; But Robin Hoode shott it better then hee, For he cloue the good pricke-wande. 118A.32 ‘Gods blessing on thy heart!’ sayes Guye, ‘Goode fellow, thy shooting is goode; For an thy hart be as good as thy hands, Thou were better then Robin Hood. 118A.33 ‘Tell me thy name, good fellow,’ quoth Guy, RR’rrvnder the leaues of lyne:’ ‘Nay, by my faith,’ quoth good Robin, ‘Till thou haue told me thine.’ 118A.34 ‘I dwell by dale and downe,’ quoth Guye, ‘And I haue done many a curst turne; And he that calles me by my right name Calles me Guye of good Gysborne.’ 118A.35 ‘My dwelling is in the wood,’ sayes Robin; ‘By thee I set right nought; My name is Robin Hood of Barnesdale, A fellow thou has long sought.’ 118A.36 He that had neither beene a kithe nor kin Might haue seene a full fayre sight, To see how together these yeomen went, With blades both browne and bright. 118A.37 To haue seene how these yeomen together foug[ht], Two howers of a summers day; Itt was neither Guy nor Robin Hood That fettled them to flye away. 118A.38 Robin was reacheles on a roote, And stumbled at that tyde, And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all, And hitt him ore the left side. 118A.39 ‘Ah, deere Lady!’ sayd Robin Hoode, ‘Thou art both mother and may! I thinke it was neuer mans destinye To dye before his day.’ 118A.40 Robin thought on Our Lady deere, And soone leapt vp againe, And thus he came with an awkwarde stroke; Good Sir Guy hee has slayne. 118A.41 He tooke Sir Guys head by the hayre, And sticked itt on his bowes end; ‘Thou hast beene traytor all thy liffe, Which thing must haue an ende.’ 118A.42 Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, And nicked Sir Guy in the face, That hee was neuer on a woman borne Cold tell who Sir Guy was. 118A.43 Saies, Lye there, lye there, good Sir Guye, And with me be not wrothe; If thou haue had the worse stroakes at my hand, Thou shalt haue the better cloathe. 118A.44 Robin did off his gowne of greene, Sir Guye hee did it throwe; And hee put on that capull-hyde, That cladd him topp to toe. 118A.45 ‘The bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne, And with me now I’le beare; Ffor now I will goe to Barn[e]sdale, To see how my men doe fare.’ 118A.46 Robin sett Guyes horne to his mouth, A lowd blast in it he did blow; That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham, As he leaned vnder a lowe. 118A.47 ‘Hearken! hearken!’ sayd the sheriffe, ‘I heard noe tydings but good; For yonder I heare Sir Guyes horne blowe, For he hath slaine Robin Hoode. 118A.48 ‘For yonder I heare Sir Guyes horne blow, Itt blowes soe well in tyde, For yonder comes that wighty yeoman, Cladd in his capull-hyde. 118A.49 ‘Come hither, thou good Sir Guy, Aske of mee what thou wilt haue:’ ‘I’le none of thy gold,’ sayes Robin Hood, ‘Nor I’le none of itt haue. 118A.50 ‘But now I haue slaine the master,’ he sayd, ‘Let me goe strike the knaue; This is all the reward I aske, Nor noe other will I haue.’ 118A.51 ‘Thou art a madman,’ said the shiriffe, ‘Thou sholdest haue had a knights fee; Seeing thy asking [hath] beene soe badd, Well granted it shall be.’ 118A.52 But Litle Iohn heard his master speake, Well he knew that was his steuen; ‘Now shall I be loset,’ quoth Litle Iohn, ‘With Christs might in heauen.’ 118A.53 Robin hee hyed him towards Litle Iohn, Hee thought hee wold loose him beliue; The sheriffe and all his companye Fast after him did driue. 118A.54 ‘Stand abacke! stand abacke!’ sayd Robin; ‘Why draw you mee soe neere? Itt was neuer the vse in our countrye One’s shrift another shold heere.’ 118A.55 But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe, And losed Iohn hand and foote, And gaue him Sir Guyes bow in his hand, And bade it be his boote. 118A.56 But Iohn tooke Guyes bow in his hand-+--+- His arrowes were rawstye by the roote-+--+-; The sherriffe saw Litle Iohn draw a bow And fettle him to shoote. 118A.57 Towards his house in Nottingam He fled full fast away, And soe did all his companye, Not one behind did stay. 118A.58 But he cold neither soe fast goe, Nor away soe fast runn, But Litle Iohn, with an arrow broade, Did cleaue his heart in twinn.

119A: Robin Hood and the Monk

119A.1 IN somer, when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and long, Hit is full mery in feyre foreste To here the foulys song: 119A.2 To se the dere draw to the dale, And leve the hilles hee, And shadow hem in the lev s grene, Vnder the grene-wode tre. 119A.3 Hit befel on Whitsontide, Erly in a May mornyng, The son vp feyre can shyne, And the briddis mery can syng. 119A.4 ‘This is a mery mornyng,’ seid Litull John, ‘Be hym that dyed on tre; A more mery man then I am one Lyves not in Cristiant . 119A.5 ‘Pluk vp thi hert, my dere mayster,’ Litull John can sey, ‘And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme In a mornyng of May.’ 119A.6 ‘Y+Oe, on thyng greves me,’ seid Robyn, ‘And does my hert mych woo; RRthat I may not no solem day To mas nor matyns goo. 119A.7 ‘Hit is a fourtnet and more,’ seid he, ‘Syn I my sauyour see; To day wil I to Notyngham,’ seid Robyn, ‘With the myght of mylde Marye.’ 119A.8 Than spake Moche, the mylner sun, Euer more wel hym betyde! ‘Take twelue of thi wyght y+oemen, Well weppynd, be thi side. Such on wolde thi selfe slon, RRthat twelue dar not abyde.’ 119A.9 ‘Of all my mery men,’ seid Robyn, ‘Be my feith I wil non haue, But Litull John shall beyre my bow, Til that me list to drawe.’ 119A.10 ‘RRthou shall beyre thin own,’ seid Litull Jon, ‘Maister, and I wyl beyre myne, And we well shete a peny,’ seid Litull Jon, ‘Vnder the grene-wode lyne.’ 119A.11 ‘I wil not shete a peny,’ seyd Robyn Hode, ‘In feith, Litull John, with the, But euer for on as thou shetis,’ seide Robyn, ‘In feith I holde the thre.’ 119A.12 Thus shet thei forth, these y+oemen too, Bothe at buske and brome, Til Litull John wan of his maister Fiue shillings to hose and shone. 119A.13 A ferly strife fel them betwene, As they went bi the wey; Litull John seid he had won fiue shillings, And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay. 119A.14 With that Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jon, And smote hym with his hande; Litul Jon waxed wroth therwith, And pulled out his bright bronde. 119A.15 ‘Were thou not my maister,’ seid Litull John, ‘RRthou shuldis by hit ful sore; Get the a man wher thou w[ilt], For thou getis me no more.’ 119A.16 THen Robyn goes to Notyngham, Hym selfe mornyng allone, And Litull John to mery Scherwode, The pathes he knew ilkone. 119A.17 Whan Robyn came to Notyngham, Sertenly withouten layn, He prayed to God and myld Mary To bryng hym out saue agayn. 119A.18 He gos in to Seynt Mary chirch, And kneled down before the rode; Alle that euer were the church within Beheld wel Robyn Hode. 119A.19 Beside hym stod a gret-hedid munke, I pray to God woo he be! Fful sone he knew gode Robyn, As sone as he hym se. 119A.20 Out at the durre he ran, Fful sone and anon; Alle the y+oatis of Notyngham He made to be sparred euerychon. 119A.21 ‘Rise vp,’ he seid, ’thou prowde schereff, Buske the and make the bowne; I haue spyed the kynggis felon, Ffor sothe he is in this town. 119A.22 ‘I haue spyed the false felon, As he stondis at his masse; Hit is long of the,’ seide the munke, ‘And euer he fro vs passe. 119A.23 ‘RRthis traytur name is Robyn Hode, Vnder the grene-wode lynde; He robbyt me onys of a hundred pound, Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.’ 119A.24 Vp then rose this prowde shereff, And radly made hym y+oare; Many was the moder son To the kyrk with hym can fare. 119A.25 In at the durres thei throly thrast, With staves ful gode wone; ‘Alas, alas!’ seid Robyn Hode, ‘Now mysse I Litull John.’ 119A.26 But Robyn toke out a too-hond sworde, RRthat hangit down be his kne; RRther as the schereff and his men stode thyckust, Thedurwarde wolde he. 119A.27 Thryes thorowout them he ran then, For sothe as I yow sey, And woundyt mony a moder son, And twelue he slew that day. 119A.28 His sworde vpon the schireff hed Sertanly he brake in too; ‘THe smyth that the made,’ seid Robyn, ‘I pray to God wyrke hym woo! 119A.29 ‘Ffor now am I weppynlesse,’ seid Robyn, ‘Alasse! agayn my wylle; But if I may fle these traytors fro, I wot thei wil me kyll.’ 119A.30 Robyn in to the church ran, Throout hem euerilkon, * * * * * 119A.31 Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede, And lay stil as any stone; Non of theym were in her mynde But only Litull Jon9 119A.32 ‘Let be your rule,’ seid Litull Jon, ‘Ffor his luf that dyed on tre, Y+Oe that shulde be duy+oty men; Het is gret shame to se. 119A.33 ‘Oure maister has bene hard bystode And y+oet scapyd away; Pluk vp your hertis, and leve this mone, And harkyn what I shal say. 119A.34 ‘He has seruyd Oure Lady many a day, And y+oet wil, securly; RRtherfor I trust in hir specialy No wyckud deth shal he dye. 119A.35 ‘RRtherfor be glad,’ seid Litul John, ‘And let this mournyng be; And I shal be the munkis gyde, With the myght of mylde Mary. 119A.36 . . . . ‘We will go but we too; And I mete hym,’ seid Litul John, . . . 119A.37 ‘Loke that y+oe kepe wel owre tristil-tre, Vnder the levys smale, And spare non of this venyson, RRthat gose in thys vale.’ 119A.38 Fforthe then went these y+oemen too, Litul John and Moche on fere, And lokid on Moch emys hows, THe hye way lay full nere. 119A.39 Litul John stode at a wyndow in the mornyng, And lokid forth at a stage; He was war wher the munke came ridyng, And with hym a litul page. 119A.40 ‘Be my feith,’ seid Litul John to Moch, ‘I can the tel tithyngus gode; I se wher the munke cumys rydyng, I know hym be his wyde hode.’ 119A.41 They went in to the way, these y+oemen bothe, As curtes men and hende; THei spyrred tithyngus at the munke, As they hade bene his frende. 119A.42 ‘Ffro whens come y+oe?’ seid Litull Jon, ‘Tel vs tithyngus, I yow pray, Off a false owtlay, [callid Robyn Hode,] Was takyn y+oisterday. 119A.43 ‘He robbyt me and my felowes bothe Of twenti marke in serten; If that false owtlay be takyn, Ffor sothe we wolde be fayn.’ 119A.44 ‘So did he me,’ seid the munke, ‘Of a hundred pound and more; I layde furst hande hym apon, Y+Oe may thonke me therfore.’ 119A.45 ‘I pray God thanke you,’ seid Litull John, ‘And we wil when we may; We wil go with you, with your leve, And bryng yow on your way. 119A.46 ‘Ffor Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow, I tell you in certen; If thei wist y+oe rode this way, In feith y+oe shulde be slayn.’ 119A.47 As thei went talking be the way, The munke and Litull John, John toke the munkis horse be the hede, Fful sone and anon. 119A.48 Johne toke the munkis horse be the hed, Ffor sothe as I yow say; So did Much the litull page, Ffor he shulde not scape away. 119A.49 Be the golett of the hode John pulled the munke down; John was nothyng of hym agast, He lete hym falle on his crown. 119A.50 Litull John was so[re] agrevyd, And drew owt his swerde in hye; This munke saw he shulde be ded, Lowd mercy can he crye. 119A.51 ‘He was my maister,’ seid Litull John, ‘RRthat thou hase browy+ot in bale; Shalle thou neuer cum at our kyng, Ffor to telle hym tale.’ 119A.52 John smote of the munkis hed, No longer wolde he dwell; So did Moch the litull page, Ffor ferd lest he wolde tell. 119A.53 RRther thei beryed hem bothe, In nouther mosse nor lyng, And Litull John and Much infere Bare the letturs to oure kyng. 119A.54 . . . . He knelid down vpon his kne: ‘God y+oow saue, my lege lorde, Ihesus yow saue and se! 119A.55 ‘God yow saue, my lege kyng!’ To speke John was full bolde; He gaf hym the letturs in his hond, The kyng did hit vnfold. 119A.56 THe kyng red the letturs anon, And seid, So mot I the, RRther was neuer y+ooman in mery Inglond I longut so sore to se. 119A.57 ‘Wher is the munke that these shuld haue brouy+ot?’ Oure kyng can say: ‘Be my trouth,’ seid Litull John, ‘He dyed after the way.’ 119A.58 THe kyng gaf Moch and Litul Jon Twenti pound in sertan, And made theim y+oemen of the crown, And bade theim go agayn. 119A.59 He gaf John the seel in hand, The sheref for to bere, To bryng Robyn hym to, And no man do hym dere. 119A.60 n toke his leve at oure kyng, THe sothe as I yow say; THe next way to Notyngham To take, he y+oede the way. 119A.61 Whan John came to Notyngham The y+oatis were sparred ychon; John callid vp the porter, He answerid sone anon. 119A.62 ‘What is the cause,’ seid Litul Jon, ‘RRthou sparris the y+oates so fast?’ ‘Because of Robyn Hode,’ seid [the] porter, ‘In depe prison is cast. 119A.63 ‘John and Moch and Wyll Scathlok, Ffor sothe as I yow say, THei slew oure men vpon our wallis, And sawten vs euery day.’ 119A.64 Litull John spyrred after the schereff, And sone he hym fonde; He oppyned the kyngus priue seell, And gaf hym in his honde. 119A.65 Whan the scheref saw the kyngus seell, He did of his hode anon: ‘Wher is the munke that bare the letturs?’ He seid to Litull John. 119A.66 ‘He is so fayn of hym,’ seid Litul John, ‘Ffor sothe as I yow say, He has made hym abot of Westmynster, A lorde of that abbay.’ 119A.67 The scheref made John gode chere, And gaf hym wyne of the best; At nyy+ot thei went to her bedde, And euery man to his rest. 119A.68 When the scheref was on slepe, Dronken of wyne and ale, Litul John and Moch for sothe Toke the way vnto the jale. 119A.69 Litul John callid vp the jayler, And bade hym rise anon; He seyd Robyn Hode had brokyn prison, And out of hit was gon. 119A.70 The porter rose anon sertan, As sone as he herd John calle; Litul John was redy with a swerd, And bare hym to the walle. 119A.71 ‘Now wil I be porter,’ seid Litul John, ‘And take the keyes in honde:’ He toke the way to Robyn Hode, And sone he hym vnbonde. 119A.72 He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond, His hed [ther]with for to kepe, And ther as the walle was lowyst Anon down can thei lepe. 119A.73 Be that the cok began to crow, The day began to spryng; The scheref fond the jaylier ded, The comyn bell made he ryng. 119A.74 He made a crye thoroout al the tow[n], Wheder he be y+ooman or knave, RRthat cowthe bryng hym Robyn Hode, His warison he shuld haue. 119A.75 ‘Ffor I dar neuer,’ said the scheref, ‘Cum before oure kyng; Ffor if I do, I wot serten Ffor sothe he wil me heng.’ 119A.76 The scheref made to seke Notyngham, Bothe be strete and stye, And Robyn was in mery Scherwode, As liy+ot as lef on lynde. 119A.77 Then bespake gode Litull John, To Robyn Hode can he say, I haue done the a gode turne for an euyll, Quyte the whan thou may. 119A.78 ‘I haue done the a gode turne,’ seid Litull John, ‘Ffor sothe as I yow say; I haue brouy+ot the vnder grene-wode lyne; Ffare wel, and haue gode day.’ 119A.79 ‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Robyn Hode, ‘So shall hit neuer be; I make the maister,’ seid Robyn Hode, ‘Off alle my men and me.’ 119A.80 ‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Litull John, ‘So shalle hit neuer be; But lat me be a felow,’ seid Litull John, ‘No noder kepe I be.’ 119A.81 Thus John gate Robyn Hod out of prison, Sertan withoutyn layn; Whan his men saw hym hol and sounde, Ffor sothe they were full fayne. 119A.82 They filled in wyne, and made hem glad, Vnder the levys smale, And y+oete pastes of venyson, THat gode was with ale. 119A.83 Than worde came to oure kyng How Robyn Hode was gon, And how the scheref of Notyngham Durst neuer loke hym vpon. 119A.84 Then bespake oure cumly kyng, In an angur hye: Litull John hase begyled the schereff, In faith so hase he me. 119A.85 Litul John has begyled vs bothe, And that full wel I se; Or ellis the schereff of Notyngham Hye hongut shulde he be. 119A.86 ‘I made hem y+oemen of the crowne, And gaf hem fee with my hond; I gaf hem grith,’ seid oure kyng, ‘Thorowout all mery Inglond. 119A.87 ‘I gaf theym grith,’ then seid oure kyng; ‘I say, so mot I the, Ffor sothe soch a y+oeman as he is on In all Inglond ar not thre. 119A.88 ‘He is trew to his maister,’ seid our kyng; ‘I sey, be swete Seynt John, He louys better Robyn Hode Then he dose vs ychon. 119A.89 ‘Robyn Hode is euer bond to hym, Bothe in strete and stalle; Speke no more of the mater,’ seid oure kyng, ‘But John has begyled vs alle.’ 119A.90 Thus endys the talkyng of the munke And Robyn Hode i-wysse; God, that is euer a crowned kyng, Bryng vs all to his blisse!

120A: Robin Hood’s Death

120A.1 ‘I WILL neuer eate oor drinke,’ Robin Hood said, ‘Nor meate will doo me noe good, Till I haue beene at merry Churchlees, My vaines for to let blood.’ 120A.2 ‘That I reade not,’ said Will Scarllett, ‘Master, by the assente of me, Without halfe a hundred of your best bowmen You take to goe with yee. 120A.3 ‘For there a good yeoman doth abide Will be sure to quarrell with thee, And if thou haue need of vs, master, In faith we will not flee.’ 120A.4 ‘And thou be feard, thou William Scarlett, Att home I read thee bee:’ ‘And you be wrothe, my deare master, You shall neuer heare more of mee.’ * * * * * 120A.5 ‘For there shall noe man with me goe, Nor man with mee ryde, And Litle Iohn shall be my man, And beare my benbow by my side.’ 120A.6 ‘You’st beare your bowe, master, your selfe, And shoote for a peny with mee:’ ‘To that I doe assent,’ Robin Hood sayd, ‘And soe, Iohn, lett it bee.’ 120A.7 They two bolde children shotten together, All day theire selfe in ranke, Vntill they came to blacke water, And over it laid a planke. 120A.8 Vpon it there kneeled an old woman, Was banning Robin Hoode; ‘Why dost thou bann Robin Hoode?’ said Robin, . . . . * * * * * 120A.9 . . . . ‘To giue to Robin Hoode; Wee weepen for his deare body, That this day must be lett bloode.’ 120A.10 ‘The dame prior is my aunts daughter, And nie vnto my kinne; I know shee wold me noe harme this day, For all the world to winne.’ 120A.11 Forth then shotten these children two, And they did neuer lin, Vntill they came to merry Churchlees, To merry Churchlee[s] with-in. 120A.12 And when they came to merry Churchlees, They knoced vpon a pin; Vpp then rose dame prioresse, And lett good Robin in. 120A.13 Then Robin gaue to dame prioresse Twenty pound in gold, And bad her spend while that wold last, And shee shold haue more when shee wold. 120A.14 And downe then came dame prioresse, Downe she came in that ilke, With a pair off blood-irons in her hands, Were wrapped all in silke. 120A.15 ‘Sett a chaffing-dish to the fyer,’ said dame prioresse, ‘And stripp thou vp thy sleeue:’ I hold him but an vnwise man That will noe warning leeve. 120A.16 Shee laid the blood-irons to Robin Hoods vaine, Alacke, the more pitye! And pearct the vaine, and let out the bloode, That full red was to see. 120A.17 And first it bled, the thicke, thicke bloode, And afterwards the thinne, And well then wist good Robin Hoode Treason there was within. 120A.18 ‘What cheere my master?’ said Litle Iohn; ‘In faith, Iohn, litle goode;’ . . . . . . . . * * * * * 120A.19 ‘I haue upon a gowne of greene, Is cut short by my knee, And in my hand a bright browne brand That will well bite of thee.’ 120A.20 But forth then of a shot-windowe Good Robin Hood he could glide; Red Roger, with a grounden glaue, Thrust him through the milke-white side. 120A.21 But Robin was light and nimble of foote, And thought to abate his pride, Ffor betwixt his head and his shoulders He made a wound full wide. 120A.22 Says, Ly there, ly there, Red Roger, The doggs they must thee eate; ‘For I may haue my houzle,’ he said, ‘For I may both goe and speake. 120A.23 ‘Now giue me mood,’ Robin said to Litle Iohn, ‘Giue me mood with thy hand; I trust to God in heauen soe hye My houzle will me bestand.’ 120A.24 ‘Now giue me leaue, giue me leaue, master,’ he said, ‘For Christs loue giue leaue to me, To set a fier within this hall, And to burne vp all Churchlee.’ 120A.25 ‘That I reade not,’ said Robin Hoode then, ‘Litle Iohn, for it may not be; If I shold doe any widow hurt, at my latter end, God,’ he said, ’wold blame me; 120A.26 ‘But take me vpon thy backe, Litle Iohn, And beare me to yonder streete, And there make me a full fayre graue, Of grauell and of greete. 120A.27 ‘And sett my bright sword at my head, Mine arrowes at my feete, And lay my vew-bow by my side, My met-yard wi . .

120B: Robin Hood’s Death

120B.1 WHEN Robin Hood and Little John Down a down a down a down Went oer yon bank of broom, Said Robin Hood bold to Little John, We have shot for many a pound. Hey, etc. 120B.2 But I am not able to shoot one shot more, My broad arrows will not flee; But I have a cousin lives down below, Please God, she will bleed me. 120B.3 Now Robin he is to fair Kirkly gone, As fast as he can win; But before he came there, as we do hear, He was taken very ill. 120B.4 And when he came to fair Kirkly-hall, He knockd all at the ring, But none was so ready as his cousin herself For to let bold Robin in. 120B.5 ‘Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin,’ she said, ‘And drink some beer with me?’ ‘No, I will neither eat nor drink, Till I am blooded by thee.’ 120B.6 ‘Well, I have a room, cousin Robin,’ she said, ‘Which you did never see, And if you please to walk therein, You blooded by me shall be.’ 120B.7 She took him by the lily-white hand, And led him to a private room, And there she blooded bold Robin Hood, While one drop of blood would run down. 120B.8 She blooded him in a vein of the arm, And locked him up in the room; Then did he bleed all the live-long day, Until the next day at noon. 120B.9 He then bethought him of a casement there, Thinking for to get down; But was so weak he could not leap, He could not get him down. 120B.10 He then bethought him of his bugle-horn, Which hung low down to his knee; He set his horn unto his mouth, And blew out weak blasts three. 120B.11 Then Little John, when hearing him, As he sat under a tree, ‘I fear my master is now near dead, He blows so wearily.’ 120B.12 Then Little John to fair Kirkly is gone, As fast as he can dree; But when he came to Kirkly-hall, He broke locks two or three: 120B.13 Until he came bold Robin to see, Then he fell on his knee; ‘A boon, a boon,’ cries Little John, ‘Master, I beg of thee.’ 120B.14 ‘What is that boon,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Little John, [thou] begs of me?’ ‘It is to burn fair Kirkly-hall, And all their nonnery.’ 120B.15 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘That boon I’ll not grant thee; I never hurt woman in all my life, Nor men in woman’s company. 120B.16 ‘I never hurt fair maid in all my time, Nor at mine end shall it be; But give me my bent bow in my hand, And a broad arrow I’ll let flee; And where this arrow is taken up, There shall my grave digged be. 120B.17 ‘Lay me a green sod under my head, And another at my feet; And lay my bent bow by my side, Which was my music sweet; And make my grave of gravel and green, Which is most right and meet. 120B.18 ‘Let me have length and breadth enough, With a green sod under my head; That they may say, when I am dead Here lies bold Robin Hood.’ 120B.19 These words they readily granted him, Which did bold Robin please: And there they buried bold Robin Hood, Within the fair Kirkleys.

121A: Robin Hood and the Potter

121A.1 IN schomer, when the leves spryng, The bloschoms on euery bowe, So merey doyt the berdys syng Yn wodys merey now. 121A.2 Herkens, god yemen, Comley, corteys, and god, On of the best that yeuer bare bowe, Hes name was Roben Hode. 121A.3 Roben Hood was the yeman’s name, That was boyt corteys and fre; Ffor the loffe of owre ladey, All wemen werschepyd he. 121A.4 Bot as the god yeman stod on a day, Among hes mery maney, He was ware of a prowd potter, Cam dryfyng owyr the ley. 121A.5 ‘Yonder comet a prod potter,’ seyde Roben, ‘That long hayt hantyd this wey; He was neuer so corteys a man On peney of pawage to pay.’ 121A.6 ‘Y met hem bot at Went-breg,’ seyde Lytyll John, ‘And therefore yeffell mot he the! Seche thre strokes he me gafe, Yet by my seydys cleffe they. 121A.7 ‘Y ley forty shillings,’ seyde Lytyll John, ‘To pay het thes same day, Ther ys nat a man among hus all A wed schall make hem ley.’ 121A.8 ‘Here ys forty shillings,’ seyde Roben, ‘More, and thow dar say, RRthat y schall make that prowde potter, A wed to me schall he ley.’ 121A.9 There thes money they leyde, They toke het a yeman to kepe; Roben beffore the potter he breyde, A[nd] bad hem stond stell. 121A.10 Handys apon hes hors he leyde, And bad the potter stonde foll stell; The potter schorteley to hem seyde, Ffelow, what ys they well? 121A.11 ‘All thes thre yer, and more, potter,’ he seyde, ‘Thow hast hantyd thes wey, Yet were tow neuer so cortys a man On peney of pauage to pay.’ 121A.12 ‘What ys they name,’ seyde the potter, ‘Ffor pauage thow aske of me?’ ‘Roben Hod ys mey name, A wed schall thow leffe me.’ 121A.13 ‘Wed well y non leffe,’ seyde the potter, ‘Nor pavag well y non pay; Awey they honde fro mey hors! Y well the tene eyls, be mey fay.’ 121A.14 The potter to hes cart he went, He was not to seke; A god to-hande staffe therowt he hent, Beffore Roben he leppyd. 121A.15 Roben howt with a swerd bent, A bokeler en hes honde; The potter to Roben he went, And seyde, Ffelow, let mey hors go. 121A.16 Togeder then went thes to yemen, Het was a god seyt to se; Thereof low Robyn hes men, There they stod onder a tre. 121A.17 Leytell John to hes felowhe[s] seyde, ‘Yend potter well steffeley stonde:’ The potter, with a acward stroke, Smot the bokeler owt of hes honde. 121A.18 A[nd] ar Roben meyt get het agen Hes bokeler at hes fette, The potter yn the neke hem toke, To the gronde sone he yede. 121A.19 t saw Roben hes men, As thay stod onder a bow; ‘Let vs helpe owre master,’ seyde Lytell John, ‘Yonder potter,’ seyde he, ls well hem slo.’ 121A.20 Thes yemen went with a breyde, To ther mast[er] they cam. Leytell John to hes mast[er] seyde, He haet the wager won? 121A.21 ‘Schall y haffe yowre forty shillings,’ seyde Lytl John, ‘Or ye, master, schall haffe myne?’ ‘Yeff they were a hundred,’ seyde Roben, ‘Y feythe, they ben all theyne.’ 121A.22 ‘Het ys fol leytell cortesey,’ seyde the potter, ‘As y haffe harde weyse men saye, Yeffe a pore yeman com drywyng on the wey, To let hem of hes gorney.’ 121A.23 ‘Be mey trowet, thow seys soyt,’ seyde Roben, ‘Thow seys god yeme[n]rey; And thow dreyffe forthe yeuery day, Thow schalt neuer be let for me. 121A.24 ‘Y well prey the, god potter, A felischepe well thow haffe? Geffe me they clothyng, and thow schalt hafe myne; Y well go to Notynggam.’ 121A.25 ‘Y gra[n]t thereto,’ seyde the potter, ‘Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode; Bot thow can sell mey pottys well, Com ayen as thow yode.’ 121A.26 ‘Nay, be mey trowt,’ seyde Roben, ‘And then y bescro mey hede, Yeffe y bryng eny pottys ayen, And eney weyffe well hem chepe.’ 121A.27 Than spake Leytell John, And all hes felowhes heynd, ‘Master, be well ware of the screffe of Notynggam, Ffor he ys leytell howr frende.’ 121A.28 ‘Heyt war howte!’ seyde Roben, Ffelowhes, let me a lone; Thorow the helpe of Howr Ladey, To Notynggam well y gon.’ 121A.29 Robyn went to Notynggam, Thes pottys for to sell; The potter abode with Robens men, There he fered not eylle. 121A.30 Tho Roben droffe on hes wey, So merey ower the londe: Her es more, and affter ys to saye, The best ys beheynde. 121A.31 When Roben cam to Notynggam, The soyt yef y scholde saye, He set op hes hors anon, And gaffe hem hotys and haye. 121A.32 Yn the medys of the towne, There he schowed hes ware; ‘Pottys! pottys!’ he gan crey foll sone, ‘Haffe hansell for the mare!’ 121A.33 Ffoll effen agenest the screffeys gate Schowed he hes chaffare; Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow, And chepyd fast of hes ware. 121A.34 Yet, ‘Pottys, gret chepe!’ creyed Robyn, ‘Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde;’ And all that say hem sell Seyde he had be no potter long. 121A.35 The pottys that were werthe pens feyffe, He solde tham for pens thre; Preveley seyde man and weyffe, ‘Ywnder potter schall neuer the.’ 121A.36 Thos Roben solde foll fast, Tell he had pottys bot feyffe; Op he hem toke of hes care, And sende hem to the screffeys weyffe. 121A.37 Thereof sche was foll fayne, ‘Gereamarsey, SER,’ than seyde sche; ‘When ye com to thes contre ayen, Y schall bey of the[y] pottys, so mot y the.’ 121A.38 ‘Ye schall haffe of the best,’ seyde Roben, And sware be the Treneyt ; Ffoll corteysley [sc]he gan hem call, ‘Com deyne with the screfe and me.’ 121A.39 ‘God amarsey,’ seyde Roben, ‘Yowre bedyng schall be doyn;’ A mayden yn the pottys gan bere, Roben and the screffe weyffe folowed anon. 121A.40 Whan Roben yn to the hall cam, The screff sone he met; The potter cowed of corteysey, And sone the screffe he gret. 121A.41 ‘Lo, ser, what thes potter hayt geffe yow and me; Ffeyffe pottys smalle and grete!’ ‘He ys foll wellcom,’ seyd the screffe; ‘Let os was, and go to mete.’ 121A.42 As they sat at her methe, With a nobell chere, To of the screffes men gan speke Off a gret wager; 121A.43 Off a schotyng, was god and feyne, Was made the thother daye, Off forty shillings, the soyt to saye, Who scholde thes wager wen. 121A.44 Styll than sat thes prowde potter, Thos than thowt he; As y am a trow cerstyn man, Thes schotyng well y se. 121A.45 Whan they had fared of the best, With bred and ale and weyne, To the bottys the made them prest, With bowes and boltys foll feyne. 121A.46 The screffes men schot foll fast, As archares that weren godde; There cam non ner ney the marke Bey halffe a god archares bowe. 121A.47 Stell then stod the prowde potter, Thos than seyde he; And y had a bow, be the rode, On schot scholde yow se. 121A.48 ‘Thow schall haffe a bow,’ seyde the screffe, ‘The best that thow well cheys of thre; Thou semyst a stalward and a stronge, Asay schall thow be.’ 121A.49 The screffe commandyd a yeman that stod hem bey Affter bowhes to weynde; The best bow that the yeman browthe Roben set on a stryng. 121A.50 ‘Now schall y wet and thow be god, And polle het op to they nere;’ ‘So god me helpe,’ seyde the prowde potter, ‘THys ys bot rygy+ot weke gere.’ 121A.51 To a quequer Roben went, A god bolt owthe he toke; So ney on to the marke he went, He fayled not a fothe. 121A.52 All they schot abowthe agen, The screffes men and he; Off the marke he welde not fayle, He cleffed the preke on thre. 121A.53 The screffes men thowt gret schame The potter the mastry wan; The screff lowe and made god game, And seyde, Potter, thow art a man. 121A.54 . . . . . . . . Thow art worthey to bere a bowe Yn what plas that thow goe. 121A.55 ‘Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe, Ffor soyt,’ he seyde, a+end that a godde; Yn mey cart ys the bow That gaffe me Robyn Hode.’ 121A.56 ‘Knowest thow Robyn Hode?’ seyde the screffe, ‘Potter, y prey the tell thow me;’ ‘A hundred torne y haffe schot with hem, Vnder hes tortyll-tre.’ 121A.57 ‘Y had leuer nar a hundred ponde,’ seyde the screffe, ‘And sware be the Trenit , . . . . RRthat the fals outelawe stod be me.’ 121A.58 ‘And ye well do afftyr mey red,’ seyde the potter, ‘And boldeley go with me, And to morow, or we het bred, Roben Hode well we se.’ 121A.59 ‘Y wel queyt the,’ kod the screffe, ‘Y swere be God of meythe;’ Schetyng thay left, and hom they went, Her soper was reddy deythe. 121A.60 Vpon the morow, when het was day, He boskyd hem forthe to reyde; The potter hes cart forthe gan ray, And wolde not leffe beheynde. 121A.61 He toke leffe of the screffys wyffe, And thankyd her of all thyng: ‘Dam, for mey loffe and ye well thys were, Y geffe yow here a golde ryng.’ 121A.62 ‘Gramarsey,’ seyde the weyffe, ‘Ser, god eylde het the; The screffes hart was neuer so leythe, The feyre foreyst to se. 121A.63 And when he cam yn to the foreyst, Yonder the leffes grene, Berdys there sange on bowhes prest, Het was gret goy to se. 121A.64 ‘Here het ys merey to be,’ seyde Roben, ‘Ffor a man that had hawt to spende; Be mey horne I schall awet Yeff Roben Hode be here.’ 121A.65 Roben set hes horne to hes mowthe, And blow a blast that was foll god; RRthat herde hes men that there stode, Ffer downe yn the wodde. 121A.66 ‘I her mey master blow,’ seyde Leytell John, . . . . . . . . They ran as thay were wode. 121A.67 Whan thay to thar master cam, Leytell John wold not spare; ‘Master, how haffe yow fare yn Notynggam? How haffe yow solde yowre ware?’ 121A.68 ‘Ye, be mey trowthe, Leyty[ll] John, Loke thow take no care; Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggam, Ffor all howre chaffare.’ 121A.69 ‘He ys foll wellcom,’ seyde Lytyll John, ‘Thes tydyng ys foll godde; The screffe had leuer nar a hundred ponde He had [neuer sene Roben Hode.] 121A.70 ‘[Had I] west that befforen, At Notynggam when we were, Thow scholde not com yn feyre forest Of all thes thowsande eyre.’ 121A.71 ‘That wot y well,’ seyde Roben, ‘Y thanke God that ye be here; Thereffore schall ye leffe yowre hors with hos, And all yowre hother gere.’ 121A.72 ‘That fend I Godys forbod,’ kod the screffe, ‘So to lese mey godde; . . . . . . . 121A.73 ‘Hether ye cam on hors foll hey, And hom schall ye go on fote; And gret well they weyffe at home, The woman ys foll godde. 121A.74 schall her sende a wheyt palffrey, Het ambellet be mey fey, . . . . . . . 121A.75 schall her sende a wheyt palffrey, Het hambellet as the weynde; Nere for the loffe of yowre weyffe, Off more sorow scholde yow seyng.’ 121A.76 s parted Robyn Hode and the screffe; To Nptynggam he toke the waye; Hes weyffe feyre welcomed hem hom, And to hem gan sche saye: 121A.77 Seyr, how haffe yow fared yn grene foreyst? Haffe ye browt Roben hom? ‘Dam, the deyell spede hem, bothe bodey and bon; Y haffe hade a foll gret skorne. 121A.78 ‘Of all the god that y haffe lade to grene wod, He hayt take het fro me; All bot thes feyre palffrey, That he hayt sende to the.’ 121A.79 With that sche toke op a lowde lawhyng, And swhare be hem that deyed on tre, ‘Now haffe yow payed for all the pottys That Roben gaffe to me. 121A.80 ‘Noe ye be com hom to Notynggam, Ye schall haffe god ynowe;’ Now speke we of Roben Hode, And of the pottyr ondyr the grene bowhe. 121A.81 ‘Potter, what was they pottys worthe To Notynggam that y ledde with me?’ ‘They wer worthe to nobellys,’ seyde he, ‘So mot y treyffe or the; So cowde y [haffe] had for tham, And y had there be.’ 121A.82 ‘Thow schalt hafe ten ponde,’ seyde Roben, ‘Of money feyre and fre; And yeuer whan thow comest to grene wod, Wellcom, potter, to me.’ 121A.83 Thes partyd Robyn, the screffe, and the potter, Ondernethe the grene-wod tre; God haffe mersey on Roben Hodys solle, And saffe all god yemanrey!

122A: Robin Hood and the Butcher

122A.1 BUT Robin he walkes in the g[reene] forrest, As merry as bird on boughe, But he that feitches good Robins head, Hee’le find him game enoughe. 122A.2 But Robine he walkes in the greene forrest, Vnder his trusty-tree; Sayes, Hearken, hearken, my merrymen all, What tydings is come to me. 122A.3 The sheriffe he hath made a cry, Hee’le have my head i-wis; But ere a tweluemonth come to an end I may chance to light on his. 122A.4 Robin he marcht in the greene forrest, Vnder the greenwood scray, And there he was ware of a proud bucher, Came driuing flesh by the way. 122A.5 The bucher he had a cut-taild dogg, And at Robins face he flew; But Robin he was a good sword, The bucher’s dogg he slew. 122A.6 ‘Why slayes thou my dogg?’ sayes the bucher, ‘For he did none ill to thee; By all the saints that are in heaven Thou shalt haue buffetts three.’ 122A.7 He tooke his staffe then in his hand, And he turnd him round about: ‘Thou hast a litle wild blood in thy head, Good fellow, thou’st haue it letten out.’ 122A.8 ‘He that does that deed,’ sayes Robin, ‘I’le count him for a man; But that while will I draw my sword, And fend it if I can.’ 122A.9 But Robin he stroke att the bloudy bucher, In place were he did stand, * * * * * 122A.10 ‘I [am] a younge bucher,’ sayes Robin, ‘You fine dames am I come amonge; But euer I beseech you, good Mrs Sheriffe, You must see me take noe wronge.’ 122A.11 ‘Thou art verry welcome,’ said Master Sherriff’s wiffe, ‘Thy inne heere up [to] take; If any good fellow come in thy companie, Hee’st be welcome for thy sake.’ 122A.12 Robin called for ale, soe did he for wine, And for it he did pay: ‘I must to my markett goe,’ says Robin, ‘For I hold time itt of the day.’ 122A.13 But Robin is to the markett gone, Soe quickly and beliue, He sold more flesh for one peny Then othe[r] buchers did for fiue. 122A.14 The drew about the younge bucher, Like sheepe into a fold; Yea neuer a bucher had sold a bitt Till Robin he had all sold. 122A.15 When Robin Hood had his markett made, His flesh was sold and gone; Yea he had receiued but a litle mony, But thirty pence and one. 122A.16 Seaven buchers, the garded Robin Hood, Ffull many time and oft; Sayes, We must drinke with you, brother bucher, It’s custome of our crafte. 122A.17 ‘If that be the custome of your crafte, As heere you tell to me. Att four of the clocke in the afternoone At the sheriffs hall I wilbe.’ * * * * * 122A.18 . . . . ‘If thou doe like it well; Yea heere is more by three hundred pound Then thou hast beasts to sell.’ 122A.19 Robyn sayd naught, the more he thought: ‘Mony neere comes out of time; If once I catch thee in the greene forest, That mony it shall be mine.’ 122A.20 But on the next day seuen butchurs Came to guard the sheriffe that day; But Robin he was the whigh[t]est man, He led them all the way. 122A.21 He led them into the greene forest, Vnder the trusty tree; Yea, there were harts, and ther were hynds, and staggs with heads full high. 122A.22 Yea, there were harts and there were hynds, And many a goodly fawne; ‘Now praised be God,’ says bold Robin, ‘All these they be my owne. 122A.23 ‘These are my horned beasts,’ says Robin, ‘Master Sherriffe, which must make the stake;’ ‘But euer alacke, now,’ said the sheriffe, ‘That tydings comes to late!’ 122A.24 Robin sett a shrill horne to his mouth, And a loud blast he did blow, And then halfe a hundred bold archers Came rakeing on a row. 122A.25 But when the came befor bold Robin, Even there the stood all bare: ‘You are welcome, master, from Nottingham: How haue you sold your ware?’ * * * * * 122A.26 . . . . . . . . . . . . It proues bold Robin Hood. 122A.27 ‘Yea, he hath robbed me of all my gold And siluer that euer I had; But that I had a verry good wife at home, I shold haue lost my head. 122A.28 ‘But I had a verry good wife at home, Which made him gentle cheere, And therfor, for my wifes sake, I shold haue better favor heere. 122A.29 ‘But such favor as he shewed me I might haue of the devills dam, That will rob a man of all he hath, And send him naked home.’ 122A.30 ‘That is very well done,’ then dsays his wiffe, ‘Itt is well done, I say; You might haue tarryed att Nottingham, Soe fayre as I did you pray.’ 122A.31 ‘I haue learned wisdome,’ sayes the sherriffe, ‘And, wife, I haue learned of thee; But if Robin walke easte, or he walke west, He shall neuer be sought for me.’

122B: Robin Hood and the Butcher

122B.1 COME, all you brave gallants, and listen a while, With hey down, down, an a down That are in the bowers within; For of Robin Hood, that archer good, A song I intend for to sing. 122B.2 Upon a time it chanc d so Bold Robin in forrest did spy A jolly butcher, with a bonny fine mare, With his flesh to the market did hye. 122B.3 ‘Good morrow, good fellow,’ said jolly Robin, ‘What food hast? tell unto me; And thy trade to me tell, and where thou dost dwell, For I like well thy company.’ 122B.4 The butcher he answered jolly Robin: No matter where I dwell; For a butcher I am, and to Notingham I am going, my flesh to sell. 122B.5 ‘What is [the] price of thy flesh?’ said jolly Robin, ‘Come, tell it soon unto me; And the price of thy mare, be she never so dear, For a butcher fain would I be.’ 122B.6 ‘The price of my flesh,’ the butcher repli’d, ‘I soon will tell unto thee; With my bonny mare, and they are not dear, Four mark thou must give unto me.’ 122B.7 ‘Four mark I will give thee,’ saith jolly Robin, ‘Four mark it shall be thy fee; Thy mony come count, and let me mount, For a butcher I fain would be.’ 122B.8 Now Robin is to Notingham gone, His butcher’s trade for to begin; With good intent, to the sheriff he went, And there he took up his inn. 122B.9 When other butchers they opened their meat, Bold Robin he then begun; But how for to sell he knew not well, For a butcher he was but young. 122B.10 When other butchers no meat could sell, Robin got both gold and fee; For he sold more meat for one peny Than others could do for three. 122B.11 But when he sold his meat so fast, No butcher by him could thrive; For he sold more meat for one peny Than others could do for five. 122B.12 Which made the butchers of Notingham To study as they did stand, Saying, surely he was some prodigal, That had sold his father’s land. 122B.13 The butchers they stepped to jolly Robin, Acquainted with him for to be; ‘Come, brother,’ one said, ’we be all of one trade, Come, will you go dine with me?’ 122B.14 ‘Accurst of his heart,’ said jolly Robin, ‘That a butcher doth deny; I will go with you, my brethren true, And as fast as I can hie.’ 122B.15 But when to the sheriff’s house they came, To dinner they hied apace, And Robin he the man must be Before them all to say grace. 122B.16 ‘Pray God bless us all,’ said jolly Robin, ‘And our meat within this place; A cup of sack so good will nourish our blood, And so do I end my grace. 122B.17 ‘Come fill us more wine,’ said jolly Robin, ‘Let us merry be while we do stay; For wine and good cheer, be it never so dear, I vow I the reckning will pay. 122B.18 ‘Come, brother[s], be merry,’ said jolly Robin, ‘Let us drink, and never give ore; For the shot I will pay, ere I go my way, If it cost me five pounds and more.’ 122B.19 ‘This is a mad blade,’ the butchers then said; Saies the sheriff, He is some prodigal, That some land has sold, for silver and gold, And now he doth mean to spend all. 122B.20 ‘Hast thou any horn-beasts,’ the sheriff repli’d, ‘Good fellow, to sell unto me?’ ‘Yes, that I have, good Master Sheriff, I have hundreds two or three. 122B.21 ‘And a hundred aker of good free land, If you please it to see; And I’le make you as good assurance of it As ever my father made me.’ 122B.22 The sheriff he saddled a good palfrey, With three hundred pound in gold, And away he went with bold Robin Hood, His horned beasts to behold. 122B.23 Away then the sheriff and Robin did ride, To the forrest of merry Sherwood; Then the sheriff did say, God bless us this day From a man they call Robin Hood! 122B.24 But when that a little further they came, Bold Robin he chanc d to spy A hundred head of good red deer, Come tripping the sheriff full nigh. 122B.25 ‘How like you my hornd beasts, good Master Sheriff; They be fat and fair for to see;’ ‘I tell thee, good fellow, I would I were gone, For I like not thy company.’ 122B.26 Then Robin he set his horn to his mouth, And blew but blasts three; Then quickly anon there came Little John, And all his company. 122B.27 ‘What is your will?’ then said Little John, ‘Good master come tell it to me;’ ‘I have brought hither the sheriff of Notingham, This day to dine with thee.’ 122B.28 ‘He is welcome to me,’ then said Little John, ‘I hope he will honestly pay; I know he has gold, if it be but well told, Will serve us to drink a whole day.’ 122B.29 Then Robin took his mantle from his back, And laid it upon the ground, And out of the sheriffe[’s] portmantle He told three hundred pound. 122B.30 Then Robin he brought him thorow the wood, And set him on his dapple gray: ‘O have me commended to your wife at home;’ So Robin went laughing away.

123A: Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar

123A.1 BUT how many merry monthes be in the yeere? There are thirteen, I say; The midsummer moone is the merryest of all, Next to the merry month of May. 123A.2 In May, when mayds beene fast weepand, Young men their hands done wringe, * * * * * 123A.3 ‘I’le . pe . . . Over may noe man for villanie:’ ‘I’le never eate nor drinke,’ Robin Hood sa[id], ‘Till I that cutted friar see.’ 123A.4 He builded his men in a brake of fearne, A litle from that nunery; Sayes, If you heare my litle horne blow, Then looke you come to me. 123A.5 When Robin came to Fontaines Abey, Wheras that fryer lay, He was ware of the fryer where he stood, And to him thus can he say. 123A.6 A payre of blacke breeches the yeoman had on, His coppe all shone of steele, A fayre sword and a broad buckeler Beseemed him very weell. 123A.7 ‘I am a wet weary man,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Good fellow, as thou may see; Wilt beare [me] over this wild water, Ffor sweete Saint Charity?’ 123A.8 The fryer bethought him of a good deed; He had done none of long before; He hent up Robin Hood on his backe, And over he did him beare. 123A.9 But when he came over that wild water, A longe sword there he drew: ‘Beare me backe againe, bold outlawe, Or of this thou shalt have enoughe.’ 123A.10 Then Robin Hood hent the fryar on his back, And neither sayd good nor ill; Till he came ore that wild water, The yeoman he walked still. 123A.11 Then Robin Hood wett his fayre greene hoze, A span aboue his knee; S[ay]s, Beare me ore againe, thou cutted f[ryer] * * * * * 123A.12 . . . . . . . . . . . good bowmen [C]ame raking all on a rowe. 123A.13 ‘I beshrew thy head,’ said the cutted friar, ‘Thou thinkes I shall be shente; I thought thou had but a man or two, And thou hast [a] whole conuent. 123A.14 ‘I lett thee haue a blast on thy horne, Now giue me leaue to whistle another; I cold not bidd thee noe better play And thou wert my owne borne brother.’ 123A.15 ‘Now fute on, fute on, thou cutted fryar, I pray God thou neere be still; It is not the futing in a fryers fist That can doe me any ill.’ 123A.16 The fryar sett his neave to his mouth, A loud blast he did blow; Then halfe a hundred good bandoggs Came raking all on a rowe. 123A.17 . . . . . . . . ‘Euery dogg to a man,’ said the cutted fryar, ‘And I my selfe to Robin Hood.’ 123A.18 ‘Over God’s forbott,’ said Robin Hood, ‘That euer that soe shold bee; I had rather be mached with three of the tikes Ere I wold be matched on thee. 123A.19 ‘But stay thy tikes, thou fryar,’ he said, ‘And freindshipp I’le haue with thee; But stay thy tikes, thou fryar,’ he said, ‘And saue good yeomanry.’ 123A.20 The fryar he sett his neave to his mouth, A lowd blast he did blow; The doggs the coucht downe eiery one, They couched downe on a rowe. 123A.21 ‘What is thy will, thou yeoman?’ he said, ‘Haue done and tell it me;’ ‘If that thou will goe to merry greenwood, * * * * *

123B: Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar

123B.1 IN summer time, when leaves grow green, And flowers are fresh and gay, Robin Hood and his merry men Were disposed to play. 123B.2 Then some would leap, and some would run, And some would use artillery: ‘Which of you can a good bow draw, A good archer to be? 123B.3 ‘Which of you can kill a buck? Or who can kill a do? Or who can kill a hart of greece, Five hundred foot him fro?’ 123B.4 Will Scadlock he killd a buck, And midge he killd a do, And Little John killd a hart of greece, Five hundred foot him fro. 123B.5 ‘God’s blessing on thy heart,’ said Robin Hood, ‘That hath [shot] such a shot for me; I would ride my horse an hundred miles, To finde one could match with thee.’ 123B.6 That causd Will Scadlock to laugh, He laughed full heartily: ‘There lives a curtal frier in Fountains Abby Will beat both him and thee. 123B.7 ‘That curtal frier in Fountains Abby Well can a strong bow draw; He will beat you and your yeomen, Set them all on a row.’ 123B.8 Robin Hood took a solemn oath, It was by Mary free, That he would neither eat nor drink Till the frier he did see. 123B.9 Robin Hood put on his harness good, And on his head a cap of steel, Broad sword and buckler by his side, And they became him weel. 123B.10 He took his bow into his hand, It was made of a trusty tree, With a sheaf of arrows at his belt, To the Fountains Dale went he. 123B.11 And comming unto Fountain[s] Dale, No further would he ride; There was he aware of a curtal frier, Walking by the water-side. 123B.12 The fryer had on a harniss good, And on his head a cap of steel, Broad sword and buckler by his side, And they became him weel. 123B.13 Robin Hood lighted off his horse, And tied him to a thorn: ‘Carry me over the water, thou curtal frier, Or else thy life’s forlorn.’ 123B.14 The frier took Robin Hood on his back, Deep water he did bestride, And spake neither good word nor bad, Till he came at the other side. 123B.15 Lightly leapt Robin Hood off the friers back; The frier said to him again, Carry me over this water, fine fellow, Or it shall breed thy pain. 123B.16 Robin Hood took the frier on’s back, Deep water he did bestride, And spake neither good word nor bad, Till he came at the other side. 123B.17 Lightly leapt the fryer off Robin Hoods back; Robin Hood said to him again, Carry me over this water, thou curtal frier, Or it shall breed thy pain. 123B.18 The frier took Robin Hood on’s back again, And stept up to the knee; Till he came at the middle stream, Neither good nor bad spake he. 123B.19 And coming to the middle stream, There he threw Robin in: ‘And chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fellow, Whether thou wilt sink or swim.’ 123B.20 Robin Hood swam to a bush of broom, The frier to a wicker wand; Bold Robin Hood is gone to shore, And took his bow in hand. 123B.21 One of his best arrows under his belt To the frier he let flye; The curtal frier, with his steel buckler, He put that arrow by. 123B.22 ‘Shoot on, shoot on, thou fine fellow, Shoot on as thou hast begun; If thou shoot here a summers day, Thy mark I will not shun.’ 123B.23 Robin Hood shot passing well, Till his arrows all were gone; They took their swords and steel bucklers, And fought with might and maine; 123B.24 From ten oth’ clock that day, Till four ith’ afternoon; Then Robin Hood came to his knees, Of the frier to beg a boon. 123B.25 ‘A boon, a boon, thou curtal frier, I beg it on my knee; Give me leave to set my horn to my mouth, And to blow blasts three.’ 123B.26 ‘That will I do,’ said the curtal frier, ‘Of thy blasts I have no doubt; I hope thou’lt blow so passing well Till both thy eyes fall out.’ 123B.27 Robin Hood set his horn to his mouth, He blew but blasts three; Half a hundred yeomen, with bows bent, Came raking over the lee. 123B.28 ‘Whose men are these,’ said the frier, ‘That come so hastily?’ ‘These men are mine,’ said Robin Hood; ‘Frier, what is that to thee?’ 123B.29 ‘A boon, a boon,’ said the curtal frier, ‘The like I gave to thee; Give me leave to set my fist to my mouth, And to whute whutes three.’ 123B.30 ‘That will I do,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Or else I were to blame; Three whutes in a friers fist Would make me glad and fain.’ 123B.31 The frier he set his fist to his mouth, And whuted whutes three; Half a hundred good ban-dogs Came running the frier unto. 123B.32 ‘Here’s for every man of thine a dog, And I my self for thee:’ ‘Nay, by my faith,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘Frier, that may not be.’ 123B.33 Two dogs at once to Robin Hood did go, The one behind, the other before; Robin Hoods mantle of Lincoln green Off from his back they tore. 123B.34 And whether his men shot east or west, Or they shot north or south, The curtal dogs, so taught they were, They kept their arrows in their mouth. 123B.35 ‘Take up thy dogs,’ said Little John, ‘Frier, at my bidding be;’ ‘Whose man art thou,’ said the curtal frier, ‘Comes here to prate with me?’ 123B.36 ‘I am Little John, Robin Hoods man, Frier, I will not lie; If thou take not up thy dogs soon, I’le take up them and thee.’ 123B.37 Little John had a bow in his hand, He shot with might and main; Soon half a score of the friers dogs Lay dead upon the plain. 123B.38 ‘Hold thy hand, good fellow,’ said the curtal frier, ‘Thy master and I will agree; And we will have new orders taken, With all the haste that may be.’ 123B.39 ‘If thou wilt forsake fair Fountains Dale, And Fountains Abby free, Every Sunday throughout the year, A noble shall be thy fee. 123B.40 ‘And every holy day throughout the year, Changed shall thy garment be, If thou wilt go to fair Nottingham, And there remain with me.’ 123B.41 This curtal frier had kept Fountains Dale Seven long years or more; There was neither knight, lord, nor earl Could make him yield before.

124A: The Jolly Pindar of Wakefield

124A.1 IN Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder, In Wakefield, all on a green; In Wakefield, all on a green; 124A.2 ‘There is neither knight nor squire,’ said the pinder, ‘Nor baron that is so bold, ‘Nor baron that is so bold, Dare make a trespasse to the town of Wakefield, But his pledge goes to the pinfold.’ But his pledge goes to the pinfold.’ 124A.3 All this beheard three witty young men, ’Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John; With that they spyed the jolly pinder, As he sate under a thorn. 124A.4 ‘Now turn again, turn again,’ said the pinder, ‘For a wrong way have you gone; For you have forsaken the king his highway, And made a path over the corn.’ 124A.5 ‘O that were great shame,’ said jolly Robin, ‘We being three, and thou but one:’ The pinder leapt back then thirty good foot, ’Twas thirty good foot and one. 124A.6 He leaned his back fast unto a thorn, And his foot unto a stone, And there he fought a long summer’s day, A summer’s day so long, Till that their swords, on their broad bucklers, Were broken fast unto their hands. * * * * * 124A.7 ‘Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And my merry men euery one; For this is one of the best pinders That ever I try’d with sword. 124A.8 ‘And wilt thou forsake thy pinder his craft, And live in [the] green wood with me? . . . . . . . . 124A.9 ‘At Michaelmas next my covnant comes out, When every man gathers his fee; I’le take my blew blade all in my hand, And plod to the green wood with thee.’ 124A.10 ‘Hast thou either meat or drink,’ said Robin Hood, ‘For my merry men and me? . . . . . . . . 124A.11 ‘I have both bread and beef,’ said the pinder, ‘And good ale of the best;’ ‘And that is meat good enough,’ said Robin Hood, ‘For such unbidden guest. 124A.12 wilt thou forsake the pinder his craft, And go to the green wood with me? Thou shalt have a livery twice in the year, The one green, the other brown [shall be].’ 124A.13 ‘If Michaelmas day were once come and gone And my master had paid me my fee, Then would I set as little by him As my master doth set by me.’

124B: The Jolly Pindar of Wakefield

 
 124B.*	 * * *
 	 ‘BUT hold y . . hold y . . . ’ says Robin,
 	 ‘My merrymen, I bid yee,
 	 For this [is] one of the best pindars
 	 That euer I saw with mine eye.
 124B.2	 ‘But hast thou any meat, thou iolly pindar,
 	 For my merrymen and me?’
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 124B.3	 ‘But I haue bread and cheese,’ sayes the pindar,
 	 ‘And ale all on the best:’
 	 ‘That’s cheere good enoughe,’ said Robin,
 	 ‘For any such vnbidden guest.
 124B.4	 ‘But wilt be my man?’ said good Robin,
 	 ‘And come and dwell with me?
 	 And twise in a yeere thy clothing [shall] be changed
 	 If my man thou wilt bee,
 	 The tone shall be of light Lincolne greene,
 	 The tother of Picklory.’
 124B.5	 ‘Att Michallmas comes a well good time,
 	 When men haue gotten in their fee;
 	 I’le sett as litle by my master
 	 As he now setts by me,
 	 I’le take my benbowe in my hande,
 	 And come into the grenwoode to thee.’

125A: Robin Hood and Little John

125A.1 WHEN Robin Hood was about twenty years old, With a hey down down and a down He happend to meet Little John, A jolly brisk blade, right fit for the trade, For he was a lusty young man. 125A.2 Tho he was calld Little, his limbs they were large, And his stature was seven foot high; Where-ever he came, they quak’d at his name, For soon he would make them to fly. 125A.3 How they came acquainted, I’ll tell you in brief, If you will but listen a while; For this very jest, amongst all the rest, I think it may cause you to smile. 125A.4 Bold Robin Hood said to his jolly bowmen, Pray tarry you here in this grove; And see that you all observe well my call, While thorough the forest I rove. 125A.5 We have had no sport for these fourteen long days, Therefore now abroad will I go; Now should I be beat, and cannot retreat, My horn I will presently blow. 125A.6 Then did he shake hands with his merry men all, And bid them at present good b’w’ye; Then, as near a brook his journey he took, A stranger he chancd to espy. 125A.7 They happend to meet on a long narrow bridge, And neither of them would give way; Quoth bold Robin Hood, and sturdily stood, I’ll show you right Nottingham play. 125A.8 With that from his quiver an arrow he drew, A broad arrow with a goose-wing: The stranger reply’d, I’ll liquor thy hide, If thou offerst to touch the string. 125A.9 Quoth bold Robin Hood, Thou dost prate like an ass, For were I to bend but my bow, I could send a dart quite thro thy proud heart, Before thou couldst strike me one blow. 125A.10 ‘Thou talkst like a coward,’ the stranger reply’d; ‘Well armed with a long bow you stand, To shoot at my breast, while I, I protest, Have nought but a staff in my hand.’ 125A.11 ‘The name of a coward,’ quoth Robin, ‘I scorn, Wherefore my long bow I’ll lay by; And now, for thy sake, a staff will I take, The truth of thy manhood to try.’ 125A.12 Then Robin Hood stept to a thicket of trees, And chose him a staff of ground-oak; Now this being done, away he did run To the stranger, and merrily spoke: 125A.13 Lo! see my staff, it is lusty and tough, Now here on the bridge we will play; Whoever falls in, the other shall win The battel, and so we’ll away. 125A.14 ‘With all my whole heart,’ the stranger reply’d; ‘I scorn in the least to give out;’ This said, they fell to’t without more dispute, And their staffs they did flourish about. 125A.15 And first Robin he gave the stranger a bang, So hard that it made his bones ring: The stranger he said, This must be repaid, I’ll give you as good as you bring. 125A.16 So long as I’m able to handle my staff, To die in your debt, friend, I scorn: Then to it each goes, and followd their blows, As if they had been threshing of corn. 125A.17 The stranger gave Robin a crack on the crown, Which caused the blood to appear; Then Robin, enrag’d, more fiercely engag’d, And followd his blows more severe. 125A.18 So thick and so fast dic he lay it on him, With a passionate fury and ire, At every stroke, he made him to smoke, As if he had been all on fire. 125A.19 O then into fury the stranger he grew, And gave him a damnable look, And with it a blow that laid him full low, And tumbld him into the brook. 125A.20 ‘I prithee, good fellow, O where art thou now?’ The stranger, in laughter, he cry’d; Quoth bold Robin Hood, Good faith, in the flood, And floating along with the tide. 125A.21 I needs must acknowledge thou art a brave soul; With thee I’ll no longer contend; For needs must I say, thou hast got the day, Our battel shall be at an end. 125A.22 Then unto the bank he did presently wade, And pulld himself out by a thorn; Which done, at the last, he blowd a loud blast Straitway on his fine bugle-horn. 125A.23 The eccho of which through the vallies did fly, At which his stout bowmen appeard, All cloathed in green, most gay to be seen; So up to their master they steerd. 125A.24 ‘O what’s the matter?’ quoth William Stutely; ‘Good master, you are wet to the skin:’ ‘No matter,’ quoth he; ’The lad which you see, In fighting, hath tumbld me in.’ 125A.25 ‘He shall not go scot-free,’ the others reply’d; So strait they were seizing him there, To duck him likewise; but Robin Hood cries, He is a stout fellow, forbear. 125A.26 There’s no one shall wrong thee, friend, be not afraid; These bowmen upon me do wait; There’s threescore and nine; if thou wilt be mine, Thou shalt have my livery strait. 125A.27 And other accoutrements fit for a man; Speak up, jolly blade, never fear; I’ll teach you also the use of the bow, To shoot at the fat fallow-deer. 125A.28 ‘O here is my hand,’ the stranger reply’d, ‘I’ll serve you with all my whole heart; My name is John Little, a man of good mettle; Nere doubt me, for I’ll play my part.’ 125A.29 His name shall be alterd,’ quoth William Stutely, ‘And I will his godfather be; Prepare then a feast, and none of the least, For we will be merry,’ quoth he. 125A.30 They presently fetchd in a brace of fat does, With humming strong liquor likewise; They lovd what was good; so, in the greenwood, This pretty sweet babe they baptize. 125A.31 He was, I must tell you, but seven foot high, And, may be, an ell in the waste; A pretty sweet lad; much feasting they had; Bold Robin the christning grac’d. 125A.32 With all his bowmen, which stood in a ring, And were of the Notti[n]gham breed; Brave Stutely comes then, with seven yeomen, And did in this manner proceed. 125A.33 ‘This infant was called John Little,’ quoth he, ‘Which name shall be changed anon; The words we’ll transpose, so where-ever he goes, His name shall be calld Little John.’ 125A.34 They all with a shout made the elements ring, So soon as the office was ore; To feasting they went, with true merriment, And tippld strong liquor gillore. 125A.35 Then Robin he took the pretty sweet babe, And cloathd him from top to the toe In garments of green, most gay to be seen, And gave him a curious long bow. 125A.36 ‘Thou shalt be an archer as well as the best, And range in the greenwood with us; Where we’ll not want gold nor silver, behold, While bishops have ought in their purse. 125A.37 ‘We live here like squires, or lords of renown, Without ere a foot of free land; We feast on good cheer, with wine, ale and beer, And evry thing at our command.’ 125A.38 Then musick and dancing did finish the day; At length, when the sun waxed low, Then all the whole train the grove did refrain, And unto their caves they did go. 125A.39 And so ever after, as long as he livd, Altho he was proper and tall, Yet nevertheless, the truth to express, Still Little John they did him call.

126A: Robin Hood and the Tanner

126A.1 IN Nottingham there lives a jolly tanner, With a hey down down a down down His name is Arthur a Bland; There is nere a squire in Nottinghamshire Dare bid bold Arthur stand. 126A.2 With a long pike-staff upon his shoulder, So well he can clear his way; By two and by three he makes them to flee, For he hath no list to stay. 126A.3 And as he went forth, in a summer’s morning, Into the forrest of merry Sherwood, To view the red deer, that range here and there, There met he with bold Robin Hood. 126A.4 As soon as bold Robin Hood did him espy, He thought some sport he would make; Therefore out of hand he bid him to stand, And thus to him he spake: 126A.5 Why, what art thou, thou bold fellow, That ranges so boldly here? In sooth, to be brief, thou lookst like a thief, That comes to steal our king’s deer. 126A.6 For I am a keeper in this forrest; The king puts me in trust To look to his deer, that range here and there, Therefore stay thee I must. 126A.7 ‘If thou beest a keeper in this forrest, And hast such a great command, Yet thou must have more partakers in store, Before thou make me to stand.’ 126A.8 ‘Nay, I have no more partakers in store, Or any that I do need; But I have a staff of another oke graff, I know it will do the deed.’ 126A.9 ‘For thy sword and thy bow I care not a straw, Nor all thine arrows to boot; If I get a knop upon thy bare scop, Thou canst as well shite as shoote.’ 126A.10 ‘Speak cleanly, good fellow,’ said jolly Robin, ‘And give better terms to me; Else I’le thee correct for thy neglect, And make thee more mannerly.’ 126A.11 ‘Marry gep with a wenion!’ quoth Arthur a Bland, ‘Art thou such a goodly man? I care not a fig for thy looking so big; Mend thou thyself where thou can.’ 126A.12 Then Robin Hood he unbuckled his belt, He laid down his bow so long; He took up a staff of another oke graff, That was both stiff and strong. 126A.13 ‘I’le yield to thy weapon,’ said jolly Robin, ‘Since thou wilt not yield to mine; For I have a staff of another oke graff, Not half a foot longer then thine. 126A.14 ‘But let me measure,’ said jolly Robin, ‘Before we begin our fray; For I’le not have mine to be longer then thine, For that will be called foul play.’ 126A.15 ‘I pass not for length,’ bold Arthur reply’d, ‘My staff is of oke so free; Eight foot and a half, it will knock down a calf, And I hope it will knock down thee.’ 126A.16 Then Robin Hood could no longer forbear; He gave him such a knock, Quickly and soon the blood came down, Before it was ten a clock. 126A.17 Then Arthur he soon recovered himself, And gave him such a knock on the crown, That on every hair of bold Robin Hoods head, The blood came trickling down. 126A.18 Then Robin Hood raged like a wild bore, As soon as he saw his own blood; Then Bland was in hast, he laid on so fast, As though he had been staking of wood. 126A.19 And about, and about, and about they went, Like two wild bores in a chase; Striving to aim each other to maim, Leg, arm, or any other place. 126A.20 And knock for knock they lustily dealt, Which held for two hours and more; That all the wood rang at every bang, They ply’d their work so sore. 126A.21 ‘Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And let our quarrel fall; For here we may thresh our bones into mesh, And get no coyn at all. 126A.22 ‘And in the forrest of merry Sherwood Hereafter thou shalt be free:’ ‘God-a-mercy for naught, my freedom I bought, I may thank my good staff, and not thee.’ 126A.23 ‘What tradesman art thou?’ said jolly Robin, ‘Good felow, I prethee me show: And also me tell in what place thou dost dwel, For both these fain would I know.’ 126A.24 ‘I am a tanner,’ bold Arthur reply’d, ‘In Nottingham long have I wrought; And if thou’lt come there, I vow and do swear I will tan thy hide for naught.’ 126A.25 ‘God a mercy, good fellow,’ said jolly Robin, ‘Since thou art so kind to me; And if thou wilt tan my hide for naught, I will do as much for thee. 126A.26 ‘But if thou’lt forsake thy tanners trade, And live in green wood with me, My name’s Robin Hood, I swear by the rood I will give thee both gold and fee.’ 126A.27 ‘If thou be Robin Hood,’ bold Arthur reply’d, ‘As I think well thou art, Then here’s my hand, my name’s Arthur a Bland, We two will never depart. 126A.28 ‘But tell me, O tell me, where is Little John? Of him fain would I hear; For we are alide by the mothers side, And he is my kinsman near.’ 126A.29 Than Robin Hood blew on the beaugle horn, He blew full lowd and shrill, But quickly anon appeard Little John, Come tripping down a green hill. 126A.30 ‘O what is the matter?’ then said Little John, ‘Master, I pray you tell; Why do you stand with your staff in your hand? I fear all is not well.’ 126A.31 ‘O man, I do stand, and he makes me to stand, The tanner that stands thee beside; He is a bonny blade, and master of his trade, For soundly he hath tand my hide.’ 126A.32 ‘He is to be commended,’ then said Little John, ‘If such a feat he can do; If he be so stout, we will have a bout, And he shall tan my hide too.’ 126A.33 ‘Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood, ‘For as I do understand, He’s a yeoman good, and of thine own blood, For his name is Arthur a Bland.’ 126A.34 Then Little John threw his staff away, As far as he could it fling, And ran out of hand to Arthur a Bland, And about his neck did cling. 126A.35 With loving respect, there was no neglect, They were neither nice nor coy, Each other did face, with a lovely grace, And both did weep for joy. 126A.36 Then Robin Hood took them both by the hand, And danc’d round about the oke tree; RR’Frror three merry men, and three merry men, And three merry men we be. 126A.37 ‘And ever hereafter, as long as I live, We three will be all one; The wood shall ring, and the old wife sing, Of Robin Hood, Arthur, and John.’

127A: Robin Hood and the Tinker

127A.1 IN summer time, when leaves grow green, Down a down a down And birds sing on every tree, Hey down a down a down Robin Hood went to Nottingham, Down a down a down As fast as hee could dree. Hey down a down a down 127A.2 And as hee came to Nottingham A Tinker he did meet, And seeing him a lusty blade, He did him kindly greet. 127A.3 ‘Where dost thou live?’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘I pray thee now mee tell; Sad news I hear there is abroad, I fear all is not well.’ 127A.4 ‘What is that news?’ the Tinker said; ‘Tell mee without delay; I am a tinker by my trade, And do live at Banbura.’ 127A.5 ‘As for the news,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘It is but as I hear; Two tinkers they were set ith’ stocks, For drinking ale and bear.’ 127A.6 ‘If that be all,’ the Tinker said, ‘As I may say to you, Your news it is not worth a fart, Since that they all bee true. 127A.7 ‘For drinking of good ale and bear, You wil not lose your part:’ ‘No, by my faith,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘I love it with all my heart. 127A.8 ‘What news abroad?’ quoth Robin Hood; ‘Tell mee what thou dost hear; Being thou goest from town to town, Some news thou need not fear.’ 127A.9 ‘All the news,’ the Tinker said, ‘I hear, it is for good; It is to seek a bold outlaw, Which they call Robin Hood. 127A.10 ‘I have a warrant from the king, To take him where I can; If you can tell me where hee is, I will make you a man. 127A.11 ‘The king will give a hundred pound That hee could but him see; And if wee can but now him get, It will serve you and mee.’ 127A.12 ‘Let me see that warrant,’ said Robin Hood; ‘I’le see if it bee right; And I will do the best I can For to take him this night.’ 127A.13 ‘That will I not,’ the Tinker said; ‘None with it I will trust; And where hee is if you’l not tell, Take him by force I must.’ 127A.14 But Robin Hood perceiving well How then the game would go, ‘If you will go to Nottingham, Wee shall find him I know.’ 127A.15 The Tinker had a crab-tree staff, Which was both good and strong; Robin hee had a good strong blade, So they went both along. 127A.16 And when they came to Nottingham, There they both tooke one inn; And they calld for ale and wine, To drink it was no sin. 127A.17 But ale and wine they drank so fast That the Tinker hee forgot What thing he was about to do; It fell so to his lot 127A.18 That while the Tinker fell asleep, Hee made then haste away, And left the Tinker in the lurch, For the great shot to pay. 127A.19 But when the Tinker wakened, And saw that he was gone, He calld then even for his host, And thus hee made his moan. 127A.20 ‘I had a warrant from the king, Which might have done me good, That is to take a bold outlaw, Some call him Robin Hood. 127A.21 ‘But now my warrant and mony’s gone, Nothing I have to pay; And he that promised to be my friend, He is gone and fled away.’ 127A.22 ‘That friend you tell on,’ said the host, ‘They call him Robin Hood; And when that first hee met with you, He ment you little good.’ 127A.23 ‘Had I known it had been hee, When that I had him here, Th’ one of us should have tri’d our strength Which should have paid full dear. 127A.24 ‘In the mean time I must away; No longer here I’le bide; But I will go and seek him out, What ever do me betide. 127A.25 ‘But one thing I would gladly know, What here I have to pay;’ ‘Ten shillings just,’ then said the host; ‘I’le pay without delay. 127A.26 ‘Or elce take here my working-bag, And my good hammer too; And if that I light but on the knave, I will then soon pay you.’ 127A.27 ‘The onely way,’ then said the host, ‘And not to stand in fear, Is to seek him among the parks, Killing of the kings deer.’ 127A.28 The Tinker hee then went with speed, And made then no delay, Till he had found then Robin Hood, That they might have a fray. 127A.29 At last hee spy’d him in a park, Hunting then of the deer; ‘What knave is that,’ quoth Robin Hood, RR’Trrhat doth come mee so near?’ 127A.30 ‘No knave, no knave,’ the Tinker said, ‘And that you soon shall know; Whether of us hath done most wrong, My crab-tree staff shall show.’ 127A.31 Then Robin drew his gallant blade, Made then of trusty steel; But the Tinker laid on him so fast That he made Robin reel. 127A.32 Then Robins anger did arise; He fought full manfully, Vntil hee made the Tinker Almost then fit to fly. 127A.33 With that they had a bout again, They ply’d their weapons fast; The Tinker threshed his bones so sore He made him yeeld at last. 127A.34 ‘A boon, a boon,’ Robin hee cryes, ‘If thou wilt grant it mee;’ ‘Before I do it,’ the Tinker said, ‘I’le hang thee on this tree.’ 127A.35 But the Tinker looking him about, Robin his horn did blow; Then came unto him Little John, And William Scadlock too. 127A.36 ‘What is the matter,’ quoth Little John, ‘You sit in th’ highway side?’ ‘Here is a Tinker that stands by, That hath paid well my hide.’ 127A.37 ‘That Tinker,’ then said Little John, ‘Fain that blade I would see, And I would try what I could do, If hee’l do as much for mee.’ 127A.38 But Robin hee then wishd them both They should the quarrel cease, ‘That henceforth wee may bee as one, And ever live in peace. 127A.39 ‘And for the jovial Tinker’s part, A hundred pound I’le give, In th’ year to maintain him on, As long as he doth live. 127A.40 ‘In manhood hee is a mettle man, And a mettle man by trade; I never thought that any man Should have made me so fraid. 127A.41 ‘And if hee will bee one of us, Wee will take all one fare, And whatsoever wee do get, He shall have his full share.’ 127A.42 So the Tinker was content With them to go along, And with them a part to take, And so I end my song.

128A: Robin Hood and the Newly Revived

128A.1 COME listen a while, you gentlemen all, With a hey down down a down down That are in this bower within, For a story of gallant bold Robin Hood I purpose now to begin. 128A.2 ‘What time of the day?’ quoth Robin Hood then; Quoth Little John, ’Tis in the prime; ‘Why then we will to the green wood gang, For we have no vittles to dine.’ 128A.3 As Robin Hood walkt the forrest along-+--+- It was in the mid of the day-+--+- There was he met of a deft young man As ever walkt on the way. 128A.4 His doublet it was of silk, he said, His stockings like scarlet shone, And he walkt on along the way, To Robin Hood then unknown. 128A.5 A herd of deer was in the bend, All feeding before his face: ‘Now the best of ye I’le have to my dinner, And that in a little space.’ 128A.6 Now the stranger he made no mickle adoe, But he bends and a right good bow, And the best buck in the herd he slew, Forty good yards him full froe. 128A.7 ‘Well shot, well shot,’ quoth Robin Hood then, ‘That shot it was shot in time; And if thou wilt accept of the place, Thou shalt be a bold yeoman of mine.’ 128A.8 ‘Go play the chiven,’ the stranger said, ‘Make haste and quickly go; Or with my fist, be sure of this, I’le give thee buffets store.’ 128A.9 ‘Thou hadst not best buffet me,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘For though I seem forlorn, Yet I can have those that will take my part, If I but blow my horn.’ 128A.10 ‘Thou wast not best wind thy horn,’ the stranger said, ‘Beest thou never so much in hast, For I can draw out a good broad sword, And quickly cut the blast.’ 128A.11 Then Robin Hood bent a very good bow, To shoot, and that he would fain; The stranger he bent a very good bow, To shoot at bold Robin again. 128A.12 ‘O hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘To shoot it would be in vain; For if we should shoot the one at the other, The one of us may be slain. 128A.13 ‘But let’s take our swords and our broad bucklers, And gang under yonder tree:’ ‘As I hope to be sav’d,’ the stranger said, ‘One foot I will not flee.’ 128A.14 Then Robin Hood lent the stranger a blow Most scar’d him out of his wit; ‘Thou never felt blow,’ the stranger he said, ‘That shall be better quit.’ 128A.15 The stranger he drew out a good broad sword, And hit Robin on the crown, That from every haire of bold Robins head The blood ran trickling down. 128A.16 ‘God a mercy, good fellow!’ quoth Robin Hood then, ‘And for this thou hast done; Tell me, good fellow, what thou art, Tell me where thou doest woon.’ 128A.17 The stranger then answered bold Robin Hood, I’le tell thee where I did dwell; In Maxfield was I bred and born, My name is Young Gamwell. 128A.18 For killing of my own fathers steward, I am forc’d to this English wood, And for to seek an vncle of mine; Some call him Robin Hood. 128A.19 ‘But art thou a cousin of Robin Hoods then? The sooner we should have done:’ ‘As I hope to be sav’d,’ the stranger then said, ‘I am his own sisters son.’ 128A.20 But, Lord! what kissing and courting was there, When these two cousins did greet! And they went all that summers day, And Little John did meet. 128A.21 But when they met with Little John, He there unto [him] did say, O master, where have you been, You have tarried so long away? 128A.22 ‘I met with a stranger,’ quoth Robin Hood then, ‘Full sore he hath beaten me:’ ‘Then I’le have a bout with him,’ quoth Little John, ‘And try if he can beat me.’ 128A.23 [no], oh no,’ quoth Robin Hood then, ‘Little John, it may [not] be so; For he’s my own dear sisters son, And cousins I have no mo. 128A.24 ‘But he shall be a bold yeoman of mine, My chief man next to thee; And I Robin Hood, and thou Little John, And Scarlet he shall be: 128A.25 ‘And wee’l be three of the bravest outlaws That is in the North Country.’ If you will have any more of bold Robin Hood, In his second part it will be.

129A: Robin Hood and the Prince of Aragon

129A.1 NOW Robin Hood, Will Scadlock and Little John Are walking over the plain, With a good fat buck which Will Scadlock With his strong bow had slain. 129A.2 ‘Jog on, jog on,’ cries Robin Hood, ‘The day it runs full fast; For though my nephew me a breakfast gave, I have not yet broke my fast. 129A.3 ‘Then to yonder lodge let us take our way, I think it wondrous good, Where my nephew by my bold yeomen Shall be welcomd unto the green wood.’ 129A.4 With that he took the bugle-horn, Full well he could it blow; Streight from the woods came marching down One hundred tall fellows and mo. 129A.5 ‘Stand, stand to your arms!’ crys Will Scadlock, ‘Lo! the enemies are within ken:’ With that Robin Hood he laughd aloud, Crys, They are my bold yeomen. 129A.6 Who, when they arriv’d and Robin espy’d, Cry’d, Master, what is your will? We thought you had in danger been, Your horn did sound so shrill. 129A.7 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘The danger is past and gone; I would have you to welcome my nephew here, That hath paid me two for one.’ 129A.8 In feasting and sporting they passed the day, Till Phoebus sunk into the deep; Then each one to his quarters hy’d, His guard there for to keep. 129A.9 Long had they not walked within the green wood, But Robin he was espy’d Of a beautiful damsel all alone, That on a black palfrey did ride. 129A.10 Her riding-suit was of sable hew black, Sypress over her face, Through which her rose-like cheeks did blush, All with a comely grace. 129A.11 ‘Come, tell me the cause, thou pritty one,’ Quoth Robin, a+end tell me aright, From whence thou comest, and whither thou goest, All in this mournful plight?’ 129A.12 ‘From London I came,’ the damsel reply’d, ‘From London upon the thames, Which circled is, O grief to tell! Besieg’d with forraign arms. 129A.13 ‘By the proud Prince of Aragon, Who swears by his martial hand To have the princess for his spouse, Or else to waste this land: 129A.14 ‘Except that champions can be found That dare fight three to three, Against the prince and giants twain, Most horrid for to see: 129A.15 ‘Whose grisly looks, and eyes like brands, Strike terrour where they come, With serpents hissing on their helms, Instead of feathered plume. 129A.16 ‘The princess shall be the victors prize, The king hath vowd and said, And he that shall the conquest win Shall have her to his bride. 129A.17 ‘Now we are four damsels sent abroad, To the east, west, north, and south, To try whose fortune is so good To find these champions forth. 129A.18 ‘But all in vaine we have sought about; Yet none so bold there are That dare adventure life and blood, To free a lady fair.’ 129A.19 ‘When is the day?’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘Tell me this and no more:’ ‘On Midsummer next,’ the damsel said, ‘Which is June the twenty-four.’ 129A.20 With that the teares trickled down her cheeks, And silent was her tongue; With sighs and sobs she took her leave, Away her palfrey sprung. 129A.21 This news struck Robin to the heart, He fell down on the grass; His actions and his troubled mind Shewd he perplexed was. 129A.22 ‘Where lies your grief?’ quoth Will Scadlock, ‘O master, tell to me; If the damsels eyes have piercd your heart, I’ll fetch her back to thee.’ 129A.23 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘She doth not cause my smart; But it is the poor distressed princess That wounds me to the heart. 129A.24 ‘I will go fight the giants all To set the lady free:’ ‘The devil take my soul,’ quoth Little John, ‘If I part with thy company.’ 129A.25 ‘Must I stay behind?’ quoth Will Scadlock; ‘No, no, that must not be; I’le make the third man in the fight, So we shall be three to three.’ 129A.26 These words cheerd Robin at the heart, Joy shone within his face; Within his arms he huggd them both, And kindly did imbrace. 129A.27 Quoth he, We’ll put on mothly gray, With long staves in our hands, A scrip and bottle by our sides, As come from the Holy Land. 129A.28 So may we pass along the high-way; None will ask from whence we came, But take us pilgrims for to be, Or else some holy men. 129A.29 Now they are on their journey gone, As fast as they may speed, Yet for all haste, ere they arriv’d, The princess forth was led: 129A.30 To be deliverd to the prince, Who in the list did stand, Prepar’d to fight, or else receive His lady by the hand. 129A.31 With that he walkt about the lists, With giants by his side: ‘Bring forth,’ said he, ’your champions, Or bring me forth my bride. 129A.32 ‘This is the four and twentieth day, The day prefixt upon; Bring forth my bride, or London burns, I swear by Acaron.’ 129A.33 Then cries the king, and queen likewise, Both weeping as they speak, Lo! we have brought our daughter dear, Whom we are forcd to forsake. 129A.34 With that stept out bold Robin Hood, Crys, My liege, it must not be so; Such beauty as the fair princess Is not for a tyrants mow. 129A.35 The prince he then began to storm; Crys, Fool, fanatick, baboon! How dares thou stop my valours prize? I’ll kill thee with a frown. 129A.36 ‘Thou tyrant Turk, thou infidel,’ Thus Robin began to reply, ‘Thy frowns I scorn; lo! here’s my gage, And thus I thee defie. 129A.37 ‘And for these two Goliahs there, That stand on either side, Here are two little Davids by, That soon can tame their pride.’ 129A.38 Then did the king for armour send, For lances, swords, and shields: And thus all three in armour bright Came marching to the field. 129A.39 The trumpets began to sound a charge, Each singled out his man; Their arms in pieces soon were hewd, Blood sprang from every vain. 129A.40 The prince he reacht Robin a blow-+--+- He struck with might and main-+--+- Which forcd him to reel about the field, As though he had been slain. 129A.41 ‘God-a-mercy,’ quoth Robin, ’For that blow! The quarrel shall soon be try’d; This stroke shall shew a full divorce Betwixt thee and thy bride.’ 129A.42 So from his shoulders he’s cut his head, Which on the ground did fall, And grumbling sore at Robin Hood, To be so dealt withal. 129A.43 The giants then began to rage, To see their prince lie dead: ‘Thou’s be the next,’ quoth Little John, ‘Unless thou well guard thy head.’ 129A.44 With that his faulchion he whirld about-+--+- It was both keen and sharp-+--+- He clove the giant to the belt, And cut in twain his heart. 129A.45 Will Scadlock well had playd his part, The giant he had brought to his knee; Quoth he, The devil cannot break his fast, Unless he have you all three. 129A.46 So with his faulchion he run him through, A deep and gashly wound; Who damd and foamd, cursd and blasphemd, And then fell to the ground. 129A.47 Now all the lists with cheers were filld, The skies they did resound, Which brought the princess to herself, Who was faln in a swound. 129A.48 The king and queen and princess fair Came walking to the place, And gave the champions many thanks, And did them further grace. 129A.49 ‘Tell me,’ quoth the king, ’whence you are, That thus disguised came, Whose valour speaks that noble blood Doth run through every vain.’ 129A.50 ‘A boon, a boon,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘On my knees I beg and crave:’ ‘By my crown,’ quoth the king, ‘I grant; Ask what, and thou shalt have.’ 129A.51 ‘Then pardon I beg for my merry men, Which are within the green wood, For Little John, and Will Scadlock, And for me, bold Robin Hood.’ 129A.52 ‘Art thou Robin Hood?’ then quoth the king; ‘For the valour you have shewn, Your pardons I doe freely grant, And welcome every one. 129A.53 ‘The princess I promised the victors prize; She cannot have you all three:; ‘She shall chuse,’ quoth Robin; saith Little John, Then little share falls to me. 129A.54 Then did the princess view all three, With a comely lovely grace, Who took Will Scadlock by the hand, Quoth, Here I make my choice. 129A.55 With that a noble lord stept forth, Of Maxfield earl was he, Who lookt Will Scadlock in the face, Then wept most bitterly. 129A.56 Quoth he, I had a son like thee, Whom I lovd wondrous well; But he is gone, or rather dead; His name is Young Gamwell. 129A.57 Then did Will Scadlock fall on his knees, Cries, Father! father! here, Here kneels your son, your Young Gamwell You said you lovd so dear. 129A.58 But, lord! what imbracing and kissing was there, When all these friends were met! They are gone to the wedding, and so to bedding, And so I bid you good night.

130A: Robin Hood and the Scotchman

 
 130A.1	 THEN bold Robin Hood to the north he would go,
 	 With a hey down down a down down
 	 With valour and mickle might,
 	 With sword by his side, which oft had been tri’d,
 	 To fight and recover his right.
 130A.2	 The first that he met was a bony bold Scot,
 	 His servant he said he would be;
 	 ‘No,’ quoth Robin Hood, ’it cannot be good,
 	 For thou wilt prove false unto me.
 130A.3	 ‘Thou hast not bin true to sire nor cuz:’
 	 ‘Nay, marry,’ the Scot he said,
 	 ‘As true as your heart, I’le never part,
 	 Gude master, be not afraid.’
 	 * * * * *
 130A.4	 Then Robin Hood turnd his face to the east;
 	 ‘Fight on my merry men stout,
 	 Our cause is good,’ quoth brave Robin Hood,
 	 ‘And we shall not be beaten out.’
 130A.5	 The battel grows hot on every side,
 	 The Scotchman made great moan;
 	 Quoth Jockey, Gude faith, they fight on each side;
 	 Would I were with my wife Ione!
 130A.6	 The enemy compast brave Robin about,
 	 ’Tis long ere the battel ends;
 	 Ther’s neither will yeeld nor give up the field,
 	 For both are supplied with friends.
 	 * * * * *
 130A.7	 This song it was made in Robin Hoods dayes;
 	 Let’s pray unto Iove above
 	 To give us true peace, that mischief may cease,
 	 And war may give place unto love.

130B: Robin Hood and the Scotchman

 
 130B.1	 NOW bold Robin Hood to the north would go,
 	 With valour and mickle might,
 	 With sword by his side, which oft had been try’d,
 	 To fight and recover his right.
 130B.2	 The first that he met was a jolly stout Scot,
 	 His servant he said he would be;
 	 ‘No,’ quoth Robin Hood, ’it cannot be good,
 	 For thou wilt prove false unto me.
 130B.3	 ‘Thou hast not been true to sire or cuz;’
 	 ‘Nay, marry,’ the Scot he said,
 	 ‘As true as your heart, I never will part;
 	 Good master, be not afraid.’
 130B.4	 ‘But eer I employ you,’ said bold Robin Hood,
 	 ‘With you I must have a bout;’
 	 The Scotchman reply’d, Let the battle be try’d,
 	 For I know I will beat you out.
 130B.5	 Thus saying, the contest did quickly begin,
 	 Which lasted two hours and more;
 	 The blows Sawney gave bold Robin so brave
 	 The battle soon made him give oer.
 130B.6	 ‘Have mercy, thou Scotchman,’ bold Robin Hood cry’d,
 	 ‘Full dearly this boon have I bought;
 	 We will both agree, and my man you shall be,
 	 For a stouter I never have fought.’
 130B.7	 Then Sawny consented with Robin to go,
 	 To be of his bowmen so gay;
 	 Thus ended the fight, and with mickle delight
 	 To Sherwood they hasted away.

131A: Robin Hood and the Ranger

131A.1 WHEN Ph’qbus had melted the sickles of ice, With a hey down, &c. And likewise the mountains of snow, Bold Robin Hood he would ramble to see, To frolick abroad with his bow. 131A.2 He left all his merry men waiting behind, Whilst through the green vallies he passd; There did he behold a forester bold, Who cry’d out, Friend, whither so fast? 131A.3 ‘I’m going,’ quoth Robin, ’To kill a fat buck, For me and my merry men all; Besides, eer I go, I’ll have a fat doe, Or else it shall cost me a fall.’ 131A.4 ‘You’d best have a care,’ said the forester then, ‘For these are his majesty’s deer; Before you shall shoot, the thing I’ll dispute, For I am head-forester here.’ 131A.5 ‘These thirteen long summers,’ quoth Robin, ‘I’m sure, My arrows I here have let fly, Where freely I range; methinks it is strange, You should have more power than I. 131A.6 ‘This forest,’ quoth Robin, ‘I think is my own, And so are the nimble deer too; Therefore I declare, and solemnly swear, I wont be affronted by you.’ 131A.7 The forester he had a long quarter-staff, Likewise a broad sword by his side; Without more ado, he presently drew, Declaring the truth should be try’d. 131A.8 Bold Robin Hood had a sword of the best, Thus, eer he would take any wrong, His courage was flush, he’d venture a brush, And thus they fell to it ding dong. 131A.9 The very first blow that the forester gave, He made his broad weapon cry twang; ’Twas over the head, he fell down for dead, O that was a damnable bang! 131A.10 But Robin soon did recover himself, And bravely fell to it again; The very next stroke their weapons were broke, Yet never a man there was slain. 131A.11 At quarter-staff then they resolved to play, Because they would have t’other bout; And brave Robin Hood right valiantly stood, Unwilling he was to give out. 131A.12 Bold Robin he gave him very hard blows, The other returnd them as fast; At every stroke their jackets did smoke, Three hours the combat did last. 131A.13 length in a rage the bold forester grew And cudgeld bold Robin so sore That he could not stand, so shaking his hand, He said, Let us freely give oer. 131A.14 Thou art a brave fellow, I needs must confess I never knew any so good; Thou’rt fitting to be a yeoman for me, And range in the merry green wood. 131A.15 I’ll give thee this ring as a token of love, For bravely thou’st acted thy part; That man that can fight, in him I delight, And love him with all my whole heart. 131A.16 Then Robin Hood setting his horn to his mouth, A blast he merrily blows; His yeomen did hear, and strait did appear, A hundred, with trusty long bows. 131A.17 Now Little John came at the head of them all, Cloathd in a rich mantle of green; And likewise the rest were gloriously drest, A delicate sight to be seen. 131A.18 ‘Lo, these are my yeomen,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And thou shalt be one of the train; A mantle and bow, a quiver also, I give them whom I entertain.’ 131A.19 The forester willingly enterd the list, They were such a beautiful sight; Then with a long bow they shot a fat doe, And made a rich supper that night. 131A.20 What singing and dancing was in the green wood, For joy of another new mate! With mirth and delight they spent the long night, And liv’d at a plentiful rate. 131A.21 forester neer was so merry before As then he was with these brave souls, Who never would fail, in wine, beer, or ale, To take off their cherishing bowls. 131A.22 Then Robin Hood gave him a mantle of green, Broad arrows, and a curious long bow; This done, the next day, so gallant and gay, He marched them all on a row. 131A.23 Quoth he, My brave yeomen, be true to your trust, And then we may range the woods wide: They all did declare, and solemnly swear, They’d conquer, or die by his side.

132A: The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood

132A.1 THERE chanced to be a pedlar bold, A pedlar bold he chanced to be; He rolled his pack all on his back, And he came tripping oer the lee. Down a down a down a down, Down a down a down 132A.2 By chance he met two troublesome blades, Two troublesome blades they chanced to be; The one of them was bold Robin Hood, And the other was Little John so free. 132A.3 ‘O pedlar, pedlar, what is in thy pack? Come speedilie and tell to me:’ ‘I’ve several suits of the gay green silks, And silken bow-strings two or three.’ 132A.4 ‘If you have several suits of the gay green silk, And silken bow-strings two or three, Then it’s by my body,’ cries Little John, ‘One half your pack shall belong to me.’ 132A.5 ‘O nay, o nay,’ says the pedlar bold, ‘O nay, o nay, that never can be; For there’s never a man from fair Nottingham Can take one half my pack from me.’ 132A.6 Then the pedlar he pulled off his pack, And put it a little below his knee, Saying, If you do move me one perch from this, My pack and all shall gang with thee. 132A.7 Then Little John he drew his sword, The pedlar by his pack did stand; They fought until they both did sweat, Till he cried, Pedlar, pray hold your hand! 132A.8 Then Robin Hood he was standing by, And he did laugh most heartilie; Saying, I could find a man, of a smaller scale, Could thrash the pedlar and also thee. 132A.9 ‘Go you try, master,’ says Little John, ‘Go you try, master, most speedilie, Or by my body,’ says Little John, ‘I am sure this night you will not know me.’ 132A.10 Then Robin Hood he drew his sword, And the pedlar by his pack did stand; They fought till the blood in streams did flow, Till he cried, Pedlar, pray hold your hand! 132A.11 Pedlar, pedlar, what is thy name? Come speedilie and tell to me: ‘My name! my name I neer will tell, Till both your names you have told to me.’ 132A.12 ‘The one of us is bold Robin Hood, And the other Little John so free:’ ‘Now,’ says the pedlar, ’it lays to my good will, Whether my name I chuse to tell to thee. 132A.13 ‘I am Gamble Gold of the gay green woods, And travelled far beyond the sea; For killing a man in my father’s land From my country I was forced to flee.’ 132A.14 ‘If you are Gamble Gold of the gay green woods, And travelled far beyond the sea, You are my mother’s own sister’s son; What nearer cousins then can we be?’ 132A.15 They sheathed their swords with friendly words, So merrilie they did agree; They went to a tavern, and there they dined, And bottles cracked most merrilie.

133A: Robin Hood and the Beggar, I

133A.1 COME light and listen, you gentlemen all, Hey down, down, and a down That mirth do love for to hear, And a story true I’le tell unto you, If that you will but draw near. 133A.2 In elder times, when merriment was, And archery was holden good, There was an outlaw, as many did know, Which men called Robin Hood. 133A.3 Vpon a time it chanced so Bold Robin was merry disposed, His time to spend he did intend, Either with friends or foes. 133A.4 Then he got vp on a gallant brave steed, The which was worth angels ten; With a mantle of green, most brave to be seen, He left all his merry men. 133A.5 And riding towards fair Nottingham, Some pastime for to spy, There was he aware of a jolly beggar As ere he beheld with his eye. 133A.6 An old patcht coat the beggar had on, Which he daily did vse for to wear; And many a bag about him did wag, Which made Robin Hood to him repair. 133A.7 ‘God speed, God speed,’ said Robin Hood, ‘What countryman? tell to me:’ ‘I am Yorkeshire, sir; but, ere you go far, Some charity give vnto me.’ 133A.8 ‘Why, what wouldst thou have?’ said Robin Hood, ‘I pray thee tell vnto me:’ ‘No lands nor livings,’ the beggar he said, ‘But a penny for charitie.’ 133A.9 ‘I have no money,’ said Robin Hood then, ‘But, a ranger within the wood, I am an outlaw, as many do know, My name it is Robin Hood. 133A.10 ‘But yet I must tell thee, bonny beggar, That a bout with [thee] I must try; Thy coat of gray, lay down I say, And my mantle of green shall lye by.’ 133A.11 ‘Content, content,’ the beggar he cry’d, ‘Thy part it will be the worse; For I hope this to give thee the rout, And the have at thy purse.’ 133A.12 The beggar he had a mickle long staffe, And Robin had a nut-brown sword; So the beggar drew nigh, and at Robin let fly, But gave him never a word. 133A.13 ‘Fight on, fight on,’ said Robin Hood then, ‘This game well pleaseth me;’ For every blow that Robin did give, The beggar gave buffets three. 133A.14 And fighting there full hard and sore, Not far from Nottingham town, They never fled, till from Robin[’s] head The blood came trickling down. 133A.15 ‘O hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood then, ‘And thou and I will agree;’ ‘If that be true,’ the beggar he said, ‘Thy mantle come give vnto me.’ 133A.16 ‘Nay a change, a change,’ cri’d Robin Hood; ‘Thy bags and coat give me, And this mantle of mine I’le to thee resign, My horse and my braverie.’ 133A.17 When Robin Hood had got the beggars clothes, He looked round about; ‘Methinks,’ said he, ‘I seem to be A beggar brave and stout. 133A.18 ‘For now I have a bag for my bread, So have I another for corn; I have one for salt, and another for malt, And one for my little horn. 133A.19 ‘And now I will a begging goe, Some charitie for to find:’ And if any more of Robin you’l know, In this second part it’s behind. 133A.20 Now Robin he is to Nottingham bound, With his bags hanging down to his knee, His staff, and his coat, scarce worth a groat, Yet merrilie passed he. 133A.21 As Robin he passed the streets along, He heard a pittifull cry; Three brethren deer, as he did hear, Condemned were to dye. 133A.22 n Robin he highed to the sheriffs [house], Some reliefe for to seek; He skipt, and leapt, and capored full high, As he went along the street. 133A.23 But when to the sheriffs doore he came, There a gentleman fine and brave, ‘Thou beggar,’ said he, ’Come tell vnto me What is it that thou wouldest have?’ 133A.24 ‘No meat, nor drink,’ said Robin Hood then, ‘That I come here to crave; But to beg the lives of yeomen three, And that I fain would have.’ 133A.25 ‘That cannot be, thou bold beggar, Their fact it is so cleer; I tell to thee, hanged they must be, For stealing of our kings deer.’ 133A.26 But when to the gallows they did come, There was many a weeping eye: ‘O hold your peace,’ said Robin then, ‘For certainly they shall not dye.’ 133A.27 Then Robin he set his horn to his mouth, And he blew but blastes three, Till a hundred bold archers brave Came kneeling down to his knee. 133A.28 ‘What is your will, master?’ they said, ‘We are here at your command:’ ‘Shoot east, shoot west,’ said Robin Hood then, ‘And look that you spare no man.’ 133A.29 Then they shot east, and they shot west; Their arrows were so keen The sheriffe he, and his companie, No longer must be seen. 133A.30 Then he stept to these brethren three, And away he had them tane; But the sheriff was crost, and many a man lost, That dead lay on the plain. 133A.31 And away they went into the merry green wood, And sung with a merry glee, And Robin took these brethren good To be of his yeomandrie.

134A: Robin Hood and the Beggar, II

134A.1 LYTH and listen, gentlemen, That’s come of high born blood; I’ll tell you of a brave booting That befel Robin Hood. 134A.2 Robin Hood upon a day, He went forth him alone, And as he came from Barnesdale Into a fair evening, 134A.3 He met a beggar on the way, That sturdily could gang; He had a pike-staff in his hand, That was baith stark and strang. 134A.4 A clouted cloak about him was, That held him from the cold; The thinnest bit of it, I guess, Was more than twenty fold. 134A.5 His meal-pock hang about his neck, Into a leathern fang, Well fasteneg with a broad buckle, That was both stark and strang. 134A.6 He had three hats upon his head, Together sticked fast; He cared neither for wind nor weet, In lands wherever he past. 134A.7 Good Robin coost him in his way, To see what he might be; If any beggar had money, He thought some part had he. 134A.8 ‘Tarry, tarry,’ good Robin says, ‘Tarry, and speak with me;’ He heard him as he heard [him] not, And fast his way can hie. 134A.9 ‘It be’s not so,’ says good Robin, ‘Nay, thou must tarry still;’ ‘By my troth,’ says the bold beggar, ‘Of that I have no will. 134A.10 RR’rrit is far to my lodging-house, And it is growing late; If they have supt ere I come in, I will look wondrous blate.’ 134A.11 ‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin, ‘I see well by thy fare, If thou chear well to thy supper, Of mine thou takes no care; 134A.12 ‘Who wants my dinner all the day, And wots not where to lie, And should I to the tavern go, I want money to buy. 134A.13 ‘Sir, thou must lend me some money, Till we two meet again:’ The beggar answerd cankerdly, I have no money to lend. 134A.14 Thou art as young a man as I, And seems to be as sweer; If thou fast till thou get from me, Thou shalt eat none this year. 134A.15 ‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin, ‘Since we are sembled so, If thou have but a small farthing, I’ll have it ere thou go. 134A.16 Therefore, lay down thy clouted cloak, And do no longer stand, And loose the strings of all thy pocks: I’ll ripe them with my hand. 134A.17 ‘And now to thee I make a vow, If thou make any din, I shall see if a broad arrow Can pierce a beggar’s skin.’ 134A.18 The beggar smil’d, and answer made: Far better let me be; Think not that I will be afraid For thy nip crooked tree. 134A.19 Or that I fear thee any whit For thy curn nips of sticks; I know no use for them so meet As to be pudding-pricks. 134A.20 Here I defy thee to do me ill, For all thy boistrous fare; Thou’s get nothing from me but ill, Would thou seek it evermair. 134A.21 Good Robin bent his noble bow-+--+- He was an angry man-+--+- And in it set a broad arrow; Yet er ’twas drawn a span, 134A.22 The beggar, with his noble tree, Reacht him so round a rout That his bow and his broad arrow In flinders flew about. 134A.23 Good Robin bound him to his brand, But that provd likewise vain; The beggar lighted on his hand With his pike-staff again. 134A.24 I wot he might not draw a sword For forty days and more; Good Robin could not speak a word, His heart was never so sore. 134A.25 He could not fight, he could not flee, He wist not what to do; The beggar, with his noble tree, Laid lusty flaps him to. 134A.26 He paid good Robin back and side, And beft him up and down, And with his pike-staff still on laid Till he fell in a swoon. 134A.27 ‘Fy! stand up, man,’ the beggar said, ‘’Tis shame to go to rest; Stay still till thou get thy mony [told], I think it were the best. 134A.28 ‘And syne go to the tavern-house, And buy both wine and ale; Hereat thy friends will crack full crouse, Thou has been at a dale.’ 134A.29 Good Robin answerd never a word, But lay still as a stane; His cheeks were white as any clay, And closed were his eyne. 134A.30 The beggar thought him dead but fail, And boldly bownd away; I would you had been at the dale, And gotten part of the play. 134A.31 Now three of Robin’s men, by chance, Came walking on the way, And found their master in a trance, On ground where he did lie. 134A.32 Up have they taken good Robin, Making a piteous bier, Yet saw they no man there at whom They might the matter spear. 134A.33 They looked him all round about, But wounds on him saw none, Yet at his mouth came bocking out The blood of a good vein. 134A.34 Cold water they have taken syne, And cast into his face; Then he began to lift his eyne, And spake within short space. 134A.35 ‘Tell us, dear master,’ says his men, ‘How with you stands the case?’ Good Robin sighd ere he began To tell of his disgrace. 134A.36 ‘I have been watchman in this wood Near hand this forty year, Yet I was never so hard bestead As you have found me here. 134A.37 ‘A beggar with a clouted cloak, In whom I feard no ill, Hath with a pike-staff clawed my back; I fear ’t shall never be well. 134A.38 ‘See, where he goes out oer yon hill, With hat upon his head; If ever you lovd your master well, Go now revenge this deed. 134A.39 ‘And bring him back again to me, If it lie in your might, That I may see, before I die, Him punisht in my sight. 134A.40 ‘And if you may not bring him back, Let him not go loose on; For to us all it were great shame If he escapt again.’ 134A.41 ‘One of us shall with you remain, Because you’re ill at ease; The other two shall bring him back, To use him as you please.’ 134A.42 ‘Now, by my troth,’ says good Robin, ‘I trow there’s enough said; If he get scouth to weild his tree, I fear you’ll both be paid.’ 134A.43 ‘Be ye not feard, our good master, That we two can be dung With any blutter base beggar, That hath nought but a rung. 134A.44 ‘His staff shall stand him in no stead; That you shall shortly see; But back again he shall be led, And fast bound shall he be, To see if you will have him slain, Or hanged on a tree.’ 134A.45 ‘But cast you slily in his way, Before he be aware, And on his pike-staff first lay hands; You’ll speed the better far.’ 134A.46 Now leave we Robin with his man, Again to play the child, And learn himself to stand and gang By haulds, for all his eild. 134A.47 Now pass we to the bold beggar, That raked oer the hill, Who never mended his pace no more Nor he had done no ill. 134A.48 The young men knew the country well, So soon where he would be, And they have taken another way, Was nearer by miles three. 134A.49 They rudely ran with all their might, Spar’d neither dub nor mire, They stirred neither at laigh nor hight, No travel made them tire, 134A.50 Till they before the beggar wan, And coost them in his way; A little wood lay in a glen, And there they both did stay. 134A.51 They stood up closely by a tree, In ilk side of the gate, Until the beggar came them to, That thought not of such fate. 134A.52 And as he was betwixt them past, They leapt upon him baith; The one his pike-staff gripped fast, They feared for its scaith. 134A.53 The other he held in his sight A drawn dirk to his breast, And said, False carl, quit thy staff, Or I shall be thy priest. 134A.54 His pike-staff they have taken him frae, And stuck it in the green; He was full leath to let [it] gae, If better might have been. 134A.55 The beggar was the feardest man Of one that ever might be; To win away no way he can, Nor help him with his tree. 134A.56 He wist not wherefore he was tane, Nor how many was there; He thought his life-days had been gone, And grew into despair. 134A.57 ‘Grant me my life,’ the beggar said, ‘For him that died on tree, And take away that ugly knife, Or then for fear I’ll die. 134A.58 ‘I grievd you never in all my life, By late nor yet by ayre; Ye have great sin,if ye should slay A silly poor beggar.’ 134A.59 ‘Thou lies, false lown,’ they said again, ‘By all that may be sworn; Thou hast near slain the gentlest man That ever yet was born. 134A.60 ‘And back again thou shalt be led, And fast bound shalt thou be, To see if he will have thee slain, Or hanged on a tree.’ 134A.61 The beggar then thought all was wrong; They were set for his wrack; He saw nothing appearing then But ill upon worse back. 134A.62 Were he out of their hands, he thought, And had again his tree, He should not be had back for nought, With such as he did see. 134A.63 Then he bethought him on a wile, If it could take effect, How he the young men might beguile, And give them a begeck. 134A.64 Thus for to do them shame or ill His beastly breast was bent; He found the wind grew something shril, To further his intent. 134A.65 He said, Brave gentlemen, be good, And let the poor man be; When ye have taken a beggar’s blood, It helps you not a flee. 134A.66 It was but in my own defence, If he hath gotten skaith; But I will make a recompence, Much better for you baith. 134A.67 If ye will set me safe and free, And do me no danger, An hundred pounds I will you give, And much more good silver, 134A.68 That I have gathered these many years, Under this clouted cloak, And hid up wonder privately, In bottom of my pock. 134A.69 The young men to a council yeed, And let the beggar gae; They wist how well he had no speed From them to run away. 134A.70 They thought they would the money take, Come after what so may, And then they would not bring him back, But in that part him slay. 134A.71 By that good Robin would not know That they had gotten coin; It would content him for to show That there they had him slain. 134A.72 They said, False carl, soon have done And tell forth that money; For the ill turn thou hast done ’Tis but a simple fee. 134A.73 And yet we will not have thee back, Come after what so may, If thou will do that which thou spake, And make us present pay. 134A.74 O then loosd his clouted cloak, And spread it on the ground, And thereon he laid many a pock, Betwixt them and the wind. 134A.75 He took a great bag from his hase; It was near full of meal; Two pecks in it at least there was, And more, I wot full well. 134A.76 Upon his cloak he laid it down, The mouth he opend wide, To turn the same he made him bown, The young men ready spy’d. 134A.77 In every hand he took a nook Of that great leathern meal, And with a fling the meal he shook Into their faces hail. 134A.78 Wherewith he blinded them so close A stime they could not see; And then in heart he did rejoice, And clapt his lusty tree. 134A.79 He thought, if he had done them wrong In mealing of their cloaths, For to strike off the meal again With his pike-staff he goes. 134A.80 Or any one of them could red their eyne, Or yet a glimmering could see, Ilk ane of them a dozen had, Well laid on with the tree. 134A.81 The young men were right swift of foot, And boldly ran away; The beggar could them no more hit, For all the haste he may. 134A.82 ‘What ails this haste?’ the beggar said, ‘May ye not tarry still, Until your money be receivd? I’ll pay you with good will. 134A.83 ‘The shaking of my pocks, I fear, Hath blown into your eyne; But I have a good pike-staff here Will ripe them out full clean.’ 134A.84 The young men answerd neer a word, They were dumb as a stane; In the thick wood the beggar fled, Eer they riped their eyne. 134A.85 And syne the night became so late, To seek him was but vain: But judge ye, if they looked blate When they came home again. 134A.86 Good Robin speard how they had sped; They answerd him, Full ill; ‘That cannot be,’ good Robin says; ‘Ye have been at the mill. 134A.87 ‘The mill is a meatrif place, They may lick what they please; Most like ye have been at that art, Who would look to your cloaths.’ 134A.88 They hangd their heads, and droped down, A word they could not speak: Robin said, Because I fell a-swoon, I think you’ll do the like. 134A.89 Tell on the matter, less and more, And tell me what and how Ye have done with the bold beggar I sent you for right now. 134A.90 And then they told him to an end, As I have said before, How that the beggar did them blind, What misters process more. 134A.91 And how he lin’d their shoulders broad With his great trenchen tree, And how in the thick wood he fled, Eer they a stime could see. 134A.92 And how they scarcely could win home, Their bones were beft so sore: Good Robin cry’d, Fy! out, for shame! We’re sham’d for evermore. 134A.93 Altho good Robin would full fain Of his wrong revenged be, He smil’d to see his merry young men Had gotten a taste of the tree.

135A: Robin Hood and the Shepherd

135A.1 ALL gentlemen and yeomen good, Down a down a down a down I wish you to draw near; For a story of gallant brave Robin Hood Vnto you I wil declare. Down, etc. 135A.2 As Robin Hood walkt the forrest along, Some pastime for to spie, There was he aware of a jolly shepherd, That on the ground did lie. 135A.3 ‘Arise, arise,’ cryed jolly Robin, ‘And now come let me see What is in thy bag and bottle, I say; Come tell it unto me.’ 135A.4 ‘What’s that to thee, thou proud fellow? Tell me as I do stand What thou hast to do with my bag and bottle? Let me see thy command.’ 135A.5 ‘My sword, which hangeth by my side, Is my command I know; Come, and let me taste of thy bottle, Or it may breed thee wo.’ 135A.6 ‘Tut, the devil a drop, thou proud fellow, Of my bottle thou shalt see, Untill thy valour here be tried, Whether thou wilt fight or flee.’ 135A.7 ‘What shall we fight for?’ cries bold Robin Hood; ‘Come tell it soon to me; Here is twenty pounds in good red gold; Win it, and take it thee.’ 135A.8 The Shepherd stood all in a maze, And knew not what to say: ‘I have no money, thou proud fellow, But bag and bottle I’le lay.’ 135A.9 ‘I am content, thou shepherd-swain, Fling them down on the ground; But it will breed thee mickle pain, To win my twenty pound.’ 135A.10 ‘Come draw thy sword, thou proud fellow, Thou stands too long to prate; This hook of mine shall let thee know A coward I do hate.’ 135A.11 So they fell to it, full hardy and sore; It was in a summers day; From ten till four in the afternoon The Shepherd held him play. 135A.12 Robins buckler proved his chief defence, And saved him many a bang, For every blow the Shepherd gave Made Robins sword cry twang. 135A.13 y a sturdy blow the Shepherd gave, And that bold Robin found, Till the blood ran trickling from his head; Then he fell to the ground. 135A.14 ‘Arise, arise, thou proud fellow, And thou shalt have fair play, If thou wilt yield, before thou go, That I have won the day.’ 135A.15 ‘A boon, a boon,’ cried bold Robin; ‘If that a man thou be, Then let me take my beaugle-horn, And blow but blasts three.’ 135A.16 ‘To blow three times three,’ the Shepherd said, ‘I will not thee deny; For if thou shouldest blow till to-morrow morn, I scorn one foot to fly.’ 135A.17 Then Robin set his horn to his mouth, And he blew with mickle main, Until he espied Little John Come tripping over the plain. 135A.18 ‘O who is yonder, thou proud fellow, That comes down yonder hill?’ ‘Yonder is Little John, bold Robin Hoods man, Shall fight with thee thy fill.’ 135A.19 ‘What is the matter?’ saies Little John, ‘Master, come tell to me:’ ‘My case is great,’ saies Robin Hood, ‘For the Shepherd hath conquered me.’ 135A.20 ‘I am glad of that,’ cries Little John, ‘Shepherd, turn thou to me; For a bout with thee I mean to have, Either come fight or flee.’ 135A.21 ‘With all my heart, thou proud fellow, For it never shall be said That a shepherds hook of thy sturdy look Will one jot be dismaid.’ 135A.22 So they fell to it, full hardy and sore, Striving for victory; ‘I will know,’ saies John, re we give ore, Whether thou wilt fight or flye.’ 135A.23 The Shepherd gave John a sturdy blow, With his hook under the chin; ‘Beshrew thy heart,’ said Little John, ‘Thou basely dost begin.’ 135A.24 ‘Nay, that’s nothing,’ said the Shepherd; ‘Either yield to me the day, Or I will bang thee back and sides, Before thou goest thy way. 135A.25 ‘What? dost thou think, thou proud fellow, That thou canst conquer me? Nay, thou shalt know, before thou go, I’le fight before I’le flee.’ 135A.26 With that to thrash Little John like mad The Shepherd he begun; ‘Hold, hold,’ cryed bold Robin Hood, ‘And I’le yield the wager won.’ 135A.27 ‘With all my heart,’ said Little John, ‘To that I will agree; For he is the flower of shepherd-swains, The like I never did see.’ 135A.28 Thus have you heard of Robin Hood, Also of Little John, How a shepherd-swain did conquer them; The like did never none.

136A: Robin Hood’s Delight

136A.1 THERE is some will talk of lords and knights, Doun a doun a doun a doun And some of yeoman good, But I will tell you of Will Scarlock, Little John and Robin Hood. Doun a doun a doun a doun 136A.2 They were outlaws, as ’tis well known, And men of a noble blood; And many a time was their valour shown In the forrest of merry Sheerwood. 136A.3 Vpon a time it chanced so, As Robin Hood would have it be, They all three would a walking go, Some pastime for to see. 136A.4 And as they walked the forest along, Upon a midsummer day, There was they aware of three keepers, Clade all in green aray. 136A.5 With brave long faucheons by their sides, And forest-bills in hand, They calld aloud to those bold outlaws, And charged them to stand. 136A.6 ‘Why, who are you,’ cry’d bold Robin, ‘That speaks so boldly here?’ ‘We three belong to King Henry, And are keepers of his deer.’ 136A.7 ‘The devil thou art!’ sayes Robin Hood, ‘I am sure that it is not so; We be the keepers of this forest, And that you soon shall know. 136A.8 ‘Come, your coats of green lay on the ground, And so will we all three, And take your swords and bucklers round, And try the victory.’ 136A.9 ‘We be content,’ the keepers said, RR’rrwe be three, and you no less; Then why should we be of you afraid, And we never did transgress?’ 136A.10 ‘Why, if you be three keepers in this forest, Then we be three rangers good, And we will make you to know, before you do go, You meet with bold Robin Hood.’ 136A.11 ‘We be content, thou bold outlaw, Our valour here to try, And we will make you know, before we do go, We will fight before we will fly. 136A.12 ‘Then, come draw your swords, you bold outlaws, And no longer stand to prate, But let us try it out with blows, For cowards we do hate. 136A.13 ‘Here is one of us for Will Scarlock, And another for Little John, And I my self for Robin Hood, Because he is stout and strong.’ 136A.14 So they fell to it full hard and sore; It was on a midsummers day; From eight a clock till two and past, They all shewed gallant play. 136A.15 There Robin, and Will, and Little John, They fought most manfully, Till all their winde was spent and gone, Then Robin aloud did cry: 136A.16 ‘O hold, O hold,’ cries bold Robin, ‘I see you be stout men; Let me blow one blast on my bugle-horn, Then I’le fight with you again.’ 136A.17 ‘That bargain’s to make, bold Robin Hood, Therefore we it deny; Though a blast upon thy bugle-horn Cannot make us fight nor fly. 136A.18 ‘Therefore fall on, or else be gone, And yield to us the day: It shall never be said that we were afraid Of thee, nor thy yeomen gay.’ 136A.19 ‘If that be so,’ cries bold Robin, ‘Let me but know your names, And in the forest of merry Sheerwood I shall extol your fames.’ 136A.20 ‘And with our names,’ one of them said, ‘What hast thou here to do? Except that you will fight it out, Our names thou shalt not know.’ 136A.21 ‘We will fight no more,’ sayes bold Robin, ‘You be men of valour stout; Come and go with me to Nottingham, And there we will fight it out. 136A.22 ‘With a but of sack we will bang it out, To see who wins the day; And for the cost, make you no doubt I have gold and money to pay 136A.23 ‘And ever after, so long as we live, We all will brethren be; For I love those men with heart and hand That will fight, and never flee.’ 136A.24 So away they went to Nottingham, With sack to make amends; For three dayes space they wine did chase, And drank themselves good friends.

137A: Robin Hood and the Pedlars

137A.1 WILL you heare a tale of Robin Hood, Will Scarlett, and Little John? Now listen awhile, it will make you smile, As before it hath many done. 137A.2 They were archers three, of hie degree, As good as ever drewe bowe; Their arrowes were long and their armes were strong, As most had cause to knowe. 137A.3 But one sommers day, as they toke their way Through the forrest of greene Sherwood, To kill the kings deare, you shall presently heare What befell these archers good. 137A.4 They were ware on the roade of three peddlers with loade, Ffor each had his packe, Ffull of all wares for countrie faires, Trusst up upon his backe. 137A.5 A good oke staffe, a yard and a halfe, Each one had in his hande; And they were all bound to Nottingham towne, As you shall understand. 137A.6 ‘Yonder I see bolde peddlers three,’ Said Robin to Scarlett and John; ‘We’le search their packes upon their backes Before that they be gone. 137A.7 ‘Holla, good fellowes!’ quod Robin Hood, ‘Whither is it ye doe goe? Now stay and rest, for that is the best, ’Tis well ye should doe soe.’ 137A.8 ‘Noe rest we neede, on our roade we speede, Till to Nottingham we get:’ ‘Thou tellst a lewde lye,’ said Robin, ’For I Can see that ye swinke and swet.’ 137A.9 The peddlers three crosst over the lee, They did not list to fight: ‘I charge you tarrie,’ quod Robin, ’For marry, This is my owne land by right. 137A.10 ‘This is my manner and this is my parke, I would have ye for to knowe; Ye are bolde outlawes, I see by cause Ye are so prest to goe.’ 137A.11 The peddlers three turned round to see Who it might be they herd; Then agen went on as they list to be gone, And never answered word. 137A.12 n toke Robin Hood an arrow so good, Which he did never lacke, And drew his bowe, and the swift arrowe Went through the last peddlers packe. 137A.13 Ffor him it was well on the packe it fell, Or his life had found an ende; And it pierst the skin of his backe within, Though the packe did stand his frend. 137A.14 Then downe they flung their packes eche one, And stayde till Robin came: Quod Robin, I saide ye had better stayde; Good sooth, ye were to blame. 137A.15 ‘And who art thou? by S. Crispin, I vowe I’le quickly cracke thy head!’ Cried Robin, Come on, all three, or one; It is not so soone done as said. 137A.16 My name, by the roode, is Robin Hood, And this is Scarlett and John; It is three to three, ye may plainelie see, Soe now, brave fellowes, laye on. 137A.17 The first peddlars blowe brake Robins bowe That he had in his hand; And Scarlett and John, they eche had one That they unneath could stand. 137A.18 ‘Now holde your handes,’ cride Robin Hood, ‘Ffor ye have got oken staves; But tarie till wee can get but three, And a fig for all your braves.’ 137A.19 Of the peddlers the first, his name Kit o Thirske, Said, We are all content; Soe eche tooke a stake for his weapon, to make The peddlers to repent. 137A.20 Soe to it they fell, and their blowes did ring well Uppon the others backes; And gave the peddlers cause to wish They had not cast their packes. 137A.21 Yet the peddlers three of their blowes were so free That Robin began for to rue; And Scarlett and John had such loade laide on It made the sunne looke blue. 137A.22 At last Kits oke caught Robin a stroke That made his head to sound; He staggerd, and reelde, till he fell on the fielde, And the trees with him went round. 137A.23 RR’Nrrow holde your handes,’ cride Little John, And soe did Scarlett eke; ‘Our maister is slaine, I tell you plaine, He never more will speake.’ 137A.24 ‘Now, heaven forefend he come to that ende,’ Said Kit, ‘I love him well; But lett him learne to be wise in turne, And not with pore peddlers mell. 137A.25 ‘In my packe, God wot, I a balsame have got That soone his hurts will heale;’ And into Robin Hoods gaping mouth He presentlie powrde some deale. 137A.26 ‘Now fare you well, tis best not to tell How ye three peddlers met; Or if ye doe, prithee tell alsoe How they made ye swinke and swett.’ 137A.27 Poore Robin in sound they left on the ground, And hied them to Nottingham, While Scarlett and John Robin tended on, Till at length his senses came. 137A.28 Noe soone[r], in haste, did Robin Hood taste The balsame he had tane, Than he gan to spewe, and up he threwe The balsame all againe. 137A.29 And scarlett and John, who were looking on Their maister as he did lie, Had their faces besmeard, both eies and beard, Therewith most piteously. 137A.30 Thus ended that fray; soe beware alwaye How ye doe challenge foes; Looke well aboute they are not to stoute, Or you may have worst of the blowes.

138A: Robin Hood and Allen a Dale

138A.1 COME listen to me, you gallants so free, All you that loves mirth for to hear, And I will you tell of a bold outlaw, That lived in Nottinghamshire. That lived in Nottinghamshire. 138A.2 As Robin Hood in the forrest stood, All under the green-wood tree, There was he ware of a brave young man, As fine as fine might be. 138A.3 The youngster was clothed in scarlet red, In scarlet fine and gay, And he did frisk it over the plain, And chanted a roundelay. 138A.4 As Robin Hood next morning stood, Amongst the leaves so gay, There did he espy the same young man Come drooping along the way. 138A.5 The scarlet he wore the day before, It was clean cast away; And every step he fetcht a sigh, ‘Alack and a well a day!’ 138A.6 Then stepped forth brave Little John, And Nick the millers son, Which made the young man bend his bow, When as he see them come. 138A.7 ‘Stand off, stand off,’ the young man said, ‘What is your will with me?’ ‘You must come before our master straight, Vnder yon green-wood tree.’ 138A.8 And when he came bold Robin before, Robin askt him courteously, O hast thou any money to spare For my merry men and me? 138A.9 ‘I have no money,’ the young man said, ‘But five shillings and a ring; And that I have kept this seven long years, To have it at my wedding. 138A.10 ‘Yesterday I should have married a maid, But she is now from me tane, And chosen to be an old knights delight, Whereby my poor heart is slain.’ 138A.11 ‘What is thy name?’ then said Robin Hood, ‘Come tell me, without any fail:’ ‘By the faith of my body,’ then said the young man, ‘My name it is Allin a Dale.’ 138A.12 ‘What wilt thou give me,’ said Robin Hood, ‘In ready gold or fee, To help thee to thy true-love again, And deliver her unto thee?’ 138A.13 ‘I have no money,’ then quoth the young man, ‘No ready gold nor fee, But I will swear upon a book Thy true servant for to be.’ 138A.14 ‘How many miles is it to thy true-love? Come tell me without any guile:’ ‘By the faith of my body,’ then said the young man, ‘It is but five little mile.’ 138A.15 Then Robin he hasted over the plain, He did neither stint nor lin, Vntil he came unto the church Where Allin should keep his wedding. 138A.16 ‘What dost thou do here?’ the bishop he said, ‘I prethee now tell to me:’ ‘I am a bold harper,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘And the best in the north countrey.’ 138A.17 ‘O welcome, O welcome,’ the bishop he said, ‘That musick best pleaseth me;’ ‘You shall have no musick,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘Till the bride and the bridegroom I see.’ 138A.18 With that came in a wealthy knight, Which was both grave and old, And after him a finikin lass, Did shine like glistering gold. 138A.19 ‘This is no fit match,’ quoth bold Robin Hood, ‘That you do seem to make here; For since we are come unto the church, The bride she shall chuse her own dear.’ 138A.20 Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth, And blew blasts two or three; When four and twenty bowmen bold Came leaping over the lee. 138A.21 And when they came into the church-yard, Marching all on a row, The first man was Allin a Dale, To give bold Robin his bow. 138A.22 ‘This is thy true-love,’ Robin he said, ‘Young Allin, as I hear say; And you shall be married at this same time, Before we depart away.’ 138A.23 ‘That shall not be,’ the bishop he said, ‘For thy word shall not stand; They shall be three times askt in the church, As the law is of our land.’ 138A.24 Robin Hood pulld off the bishops coat, And put it upon Little John; ‘By the faith of my body,’ then Robin said, This cloath doth make thee a man.’ 138A.25 When Little John went into the quire, The people began for to laugh; He askt them seven times in the church, Least three times should not be enough. 138A.26 o gives me this maid,’ then said Little John; Quoth Robin, That do I, And he that doth take her from Allin a Dale Full dearly he shall her buy. 138A.27 And thus having ended this merry wedding, The bride lookt as fresh as a queen, And so they returnd to the merry green wood, Amongst the leaves so green.

139A: Robin Hood’s Progress to Nottingham

139A.1 ROBIN HOOD hee was and a tall young man, Derry derry down And fifteen winters old, And Robin Hood he was a proper young man, Of courage stout and bold. Hey down derry derry down 139A.2 Robin Hood he would and to fair Nottingham, With the general for to dine; There was he ware of fifteen forresters, And a drinking bear, ale, and wine. 139A.3 ‘What news? What news?’ said bold Robin Hood; ‘What news, fain wouldest thou know? Our king hath provided a shooting-match:’ ‘And I’m ready with my bow.’ 139A.4 ‘We hold it in scorn,’ then said the forresters, ‘That ever a boy so young Should bear a bow before our king, That’s not able to draw one string.’ 139A.5 ‘I’le hold you twenty marks,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘By the leave of Our Lady, That I’le hit a mark a hundred rod, And I’le cause a hart to dye.’ 139A.6 ‘We’l hold you twenty mark,’ then said the forresters, ‘By the leave of Our Lady, Thou hitst not the marke a hundred rod, Nor causest a hart to dye.’ 139A.7 Robin Hood he bent up a noble bow, And a broad arrow he let flye, He hit the mark a hundred rod, And he caused a hart to dy. 139A.8 Some said hee brake ribs one or two, And some said hee brake three; The arrow within the hart would not abide, But it glanced in two or three. 139A.9 The hart did skip, and the hart did leap, And the hart lay on the ground; ‘The wager is mine,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘If ’twere for a thousand pound.’ 139A.10 ‘The wager’s none of thine,’ then said the forresters, ‘Although thou beest in haste; Take up thy bow, and get thee hence, Lest wee thy sides do baste.’ 139A.11 Robin Hood hee took up his noble bow, And his broad arrows all amain, And Robin Hood he laught, and begun to smile, As hee went over the plain. 139A.12 Then Robin Hood hee bent his noble bow, And his broad arrows he let flye, Till fourteen of these fifteen forresters Vpon the ground did lye. 139A.13 He that did this quarrel first begin Went tripping over the plain; But Robin Hood he bent his noble bow, And hee fetcht him back again. 139A.14 ‘You said I was no archer,’ said Robin Hood, ‘But say so now again;’ With that he sent another arrow That split his head in twain. 139A.15 ‘You have found mee an archer,’ saith Robin Hood, ‘Which will make your wives for to wring, And wish that you had never spoke the word, That I could not draw one string.’ 139A.16 The people that lived in fair Nottingham Came runing out amain, Supposing to have taken bold Robin Hood, With the forresters that were slain. 139A.17 Some lost legs, and some lost arms, And some did lose their blood, But Robin Hood hee took up his noble bow, And is gone to the merry green wood. 139A.18 They carryed these forresters into fair Nottingham, As many there did know; They digd them graves in their church-yard, And they buried them all a row.

140A: Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires

140A.* * * * . . . . . . . . In faith thou shal[t] haue mine, And twenty pound in thy purse, To spend att ale and wine.’ 140A.2 ‘Though your clothes are of light Lincolne green, And mine gray russett and torne, Yet it doth not you beseeme To doe an old man scorne.’ 140A.3 ‘I scorne thee not, old man,’ says Robin, ‘By the faith of my body; Doe of thy clothes, thou shalt haue mine, For it may noe better bee.’ 140A.4 But Robin did on this old mans hose, The were torne in the wrist; ‘When I looke on my leggs,’ said Robin, ‘Then for to laugh I list.’ 140A.5 But Robin did on the old mans shooes, And the were cliitt full cleane; ‘Now, by my faith,’ sayes Litle Iohn, ‘These are good for thornes keene.’ 140A.6 But Robin did on the old mans cloake, And it was torne in the necke; ‘Now, by my faith,’ said William Scarlett, ‘Heere shold be set a specke.’ 140A.7 But Robin did on this old mans hood, Itt gogled on his crowne; ‘When I come into Nottingham,’ said Robin, RR’Mrry hood it will lightly downe. 140A.8 ‘But yonder is an outwood,’ said Robin, ‘An outwood all and a shade, And thither I reede you, my merrymen all, The ready way to take. 140A.9 ‘And when you heare my litle horne blow, Come raking all on a rowte . . . . . . . . * * * * * 140A.10 But Robin he lope, and Robin he threw, He lope over stocke and stone; But those that saw Robin Hood run Said he was a liuer old man. 140A.11 [Then Robin set his] horne to his mowth, A loud blast cold h[e] blow; Ffull three hundred bold yeomen Came rakinge all on a row. 140A.12 But Robin cast downe his baggs of bread, Soe did he his staffe with a face, And in a doublet of red veluett This yeoman stood in his place. 140A.13 ‘But bend your bowes, and stroke your strings, Set the gallow-tree aboute, And Christs cursse on his heart,’ said Robin, ‘That spares the sheriffe and the sergiant!’ 140A.14 When the sheriffe see gentle Robin wold shoote, He held vp both his hands; Sayes, Aske, good Robin, and thou shalt haue, Whether it be house or land. 140A.15 ‘I will neither haue house nor land,’ said Robin, ‘Nor gold, nor none of thy fee, But I will haue those three squires To the greene forest with me. 140A.16 ‘Now marry, Gods forbott,’ said the sheriffe, ‘That euer that shold bee; For why, they be the kings felons, They are all condemned to dye.’ 140A.17 ‘But grant me my askinge,’ said Robin, ‘Or by the faith of my body Thou shalt be the first man Shall flower this gallow-tree.’ 140A.18 ‘But I wi[ll haue t]hose three squires . . . .

140B: Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires

140B.1 THERE are twelve months in all the year, As I hear many men say, But the merriest month in all the year Is the merry month of May. 140B.2 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, With a link a down and a day, And there he met a silly old woman, Was weeping on the way. 140B.3 ‘What news? what news, thou silly old woman? What news hast thou for me?’ Said she, There’s three squires in Nottingham town To-day is condemned to die. 140B.4 ‘O have they parishes burnt?’ he said, ‘Or have they ministers slain? Or have they robbed any virgin, Or with other men’s wives have lain?’ 140B.5 ‘They have no parishes burnt, good sir, Nor yet have ministwrs slain, Nor have they robbed any virgin, Nor with other men’s wives have lain.’ 140B.6 ‘O what have they done?’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘I pray thee tell to me:’ ‘It’s for slaying of the king’s fallow deer, Bearing their long bows with thee.’ 140B.7 ‘Dost thou not mind, old woman,’ he said, ‘Since thou made me sup and dine? By the truth of my body,’ quoth bold Robin Hood, ‘You could not tell it in better time.’ 140B.8 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, With a link a down and a day, And there he met a silly old palmer, Was walking along the highway. 140B.9 ‘What news? what news, thou silly old man? What news, I do thee pray?’ Said he, Three squires in Nottingham town Are condemnd to die this day. 140B.10 ‘Come change thy apparel with me, old man, Come change thy apparel for mine; Here is forty shillings in good silver, Go drink it in beer or wine.’ 140B.11 ‘O thine apparel is good,’ he said, ‘And mine is ragged and torn; Whereever you go, wherever you ride, Laugh neer an old man to scorn.’ 140B.12 ‘Come change thy apparel with me, old churl, Come change thy apparel with mine; Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold, Go feast thy brethren with wine.’ 140B.13 Then he put on the old man’s hat, It stood full high on the crown: ‘The first bold bargain that I come at, It shall make thee come down.’ 140B.14 Then he put on the old man’s cloak, Was patchd black, blew, and red; He thought no shame all the day long To wear the bags of bread. 140B.15 Then he put on the old man’s breeks, Was patchd from ballup to side; ‘By the truth of my body,’ bold Robin can say, ‘This man lovd little pride.’ 140B.16 Then he put on the old man’s hose, Were patchd from knee to wrist; ‘By the truth of my body,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘I’d laugh if I had any list.’ 140B.17 Then he put on the old man’s shoes, Were patchd both beneath and aboon; Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath, It’s good habit that makes a man. 140B.18 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, With a link a down and a down, And there he met with the proud sheriff, Was walking along the town. 140B.19 ‘O save, O save, O sheriff,’ he said, ‘O save, and you may see! And what will you give to a silly old man To-day will your hangman be?’ 140B.20 me suits, some suits,’ the sheriff he said, ‘Some suits I’ll give to thee; Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen To-day’s a hangman’s fee.’ 140B.21 Then Robin he turns him round about, And jumps from stock to stone; ‘By the truth of my body,’ the sheriff he said, ‘That’s well jumpt, thou nimble old man.’ 140B.22 ‘I was neer a hangman in all my life, Nor yet intends to trade; But curst be he,’ said bold Robin, ‘That first a hangman was made. 140B.23 ‘I’ve a bag for meal, and a bag for malt, And a bag for barley and corn; A bag for bread, and a bag for beef, And a bag for my little small horn. 140B.24 ‘I have a horn in my pocket, I got it from Robin Hood, And still when I set it to my mouth, For thee it blows little good.’ 140B.25 O wind thy horn, thou proud fellow, Of thee I have no doubt; I wish that thou give such a blast Till both thy eyes fall out.’ 140B.26 The first loud blast that he did blow, He blew both loud and shrill; A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood’s men Came riding over the hill. 140B.27 The next loud blast that he did give, He blew both loud and amain, And quickly sixty of Robin Hood’s men Came shining over the plain. 140B.28 ‘O who are yon,’ the sheriff he said, ‘Come tripping over the lee?’ ‘The’re my attendants,’ brave Robin did say, ‘They’ll pay a visit to thee.’ 140B.29 They took the gallows from the slack, They set it in the glen, They hangd the proud sheriff on that, Releasd their own three men.

140C: Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires

140C.1 BOLD Robin Hood ranging the forest all round, The forest all round ranged he; O there did he meet with a gay lady, She came weeping along the highway. 140C.2 ‘Why weep you, why weep you?’ bold Robin he said, ‘What, weep you for gold or fee? Or do you weep for your maidenhead, That is taken from your body?’ 140C.3 ‘I weep not for gold,’ the lady replyed, ‘Neither do I weep for fee; Nor do I weep for my maidenhead, That is taken from my body.’ 140C.4 ‘What weep you for then?’ said jolly Robin, ‘I prithee come tell unto me;’ ‘Oh! I do weep for my three sons, For they are all condemned to die.’ 140C.5 ‘What church have they robbed?’ said jolly Robin, ‘Or parish-priest have they slain? What maids have they forced against their will? Or with other men’s wives have lain?’ 140C.6 ‘No church have they robbd,’ this lady replied, ‘Nor parish-priest have they slain; No maids have they forc’d against their will, Nor with other men’s wives have lain.’ 140C.7 ‘What have they done then?’ said jolly Robin, ‘Come tell me most speedily:’ ‘Oh! it is for killing the king’s fallow deer, And they are all condemned to die.’ 140C.8 ‘Get you home, get you home,’ said jolly Robin, ‘Get you home most speedily, And I will unto fair Nottingham go, For the sake of the squires all three.’ 140C.9 Then bold Robin Hood for Nottingham goes, For Nottingham town goes he, O there did he meet with a poor beggar-man, He came creeping along the highway. 140C.10 ‘What news, what news, thou old beggar-man? What news, come tell unto me:’ ‘O there is weeping and wailing in fair Nottingham, For the death of the squires all three.’ 140C.11 This beggar-man had a coat on his back, ’Twas neither green, yellow, nor red; Bold Robin Hood thought ’twas no disgrace To be in a beggar-man’s stead. 140C.12 ‘Come, pull off thy coat, you old beggar-man, And you shall put on mine; And forty good shillings I’ll give thee to boot, Besides brandy, good beer, ale and wine.’ 140C.13 Bold Robin Hood then unto Nottingham came, Unto Nottingham town came he; O there did he meet with great master sheriff, And likewise the squires all three. 140C.14 ‘One boon, one boon,’ says jolly Robin, ‘One boon I beg on my knee; That, as for the deaths of these three squires, Their hangman I may be.’ 140C.15 ‘Soon granted, soon granted,’ says great master sheriff, ‘Soon granted unto thee; And you shall have all their gay cloathing, Aye, and all their white money.’ 140C.16 ‘O I will have none of their gay cloathing, Nor none of their white money, But I’ll have three blasts on my bugle-horn, That their souls to heaven may flee.’ 140C.17 Then Robin Hood mounted the gallows so high, Where he blew loud and shrill, Till an hundred and ten of Robin Hood’s men They came marching all down the green hill. 140C.18 ‘Whose men are they all these?’ says great master sheriff, ‘Whose men are they? tell unto me:’ ‘O they are mine, but none of thine, And they’re come for the squires all three.’ 140C.19 ‘O take them, O take them,’ says great master sheriff, ‘O take them along with thee; For there’s never a man in all Nottingham Can do the like of thee.’

141A: Robin Hood Rescuing Will Stutly

141A.1 WHEN Robin Hood in the green-wood livd, Derry derry down Vnder the green-wood tree, Tidings there came to him with speed, Tidings for certainty, Hey down derry derry down 141A.2 That Will Stutly surprized was, And eke in prison lay; Three varlets that the sheriff had hired Did likely him betray. 141A.3 I, and to-morrow hanged must be, To-morrow as soon as it is day; But before they could this victory get, Two of them did Stutly slay. 141A.4 When Robin Hood he heard this news, Lord! he was grieved sore, I, and unto his merry men [said], Who altogether swore, 141A.5 That Will Stutly should rescued be, And be brought safe again; Or elde should many a gallant wight For his sake there be slain. 141A.6 He cloathed himself in scarlet then, His men were all in green; A finer show, throughout the world, In no place could be seen. 141A.7 Good lord! it was a gallant sight To see them all on a row; With every man a good broad sword, And eke a good yew bow. 141A.8 Forth of the green wood are they gone, Yea, all couragiously, Resolving to bring Stutly home, Or every man to die. 141A.9 And when they came the castle neer, Whereas Will Stutly lay, ‘I hold it good,’ saith Robin Hood, ‘Wee here in ambush stay, 141A.10 ‘And send one forth some news to hear, To yonder palmer fair, That stands under the castle-wall; Some news he may declare.’ 141A.11 With that steps forth a brave young man, Which was of courage bold; Thus hee did say to the old man: I pray thee, palmer old, 141A.12 Tell me, if that thou rightly ken, When must Will Stutly die, Who is one of bold Robins men, And here doth prisoner lie? 141A.13 ‘Alack, alass,’ the palmer said, ‘And for ever wo is me! Will Stutly hanged must be this day, On yonder gallows-tree. 141A.14 ‘O had his noble master known, Hee would some succour send; A few of his bold yeomandree Full soon would fetch him hence.’ 141A.15 ‘I, that is true,’ the young man said; ‘I, that is true,’ said hee; ‘Or, if they were neer to this place, They soon would set him free. 141A.16 ‘But fare thou well, thou good old man, Farewell, and thanks to thee; If Stutly hanged be this day, Revengd his death will be.’ 141A.17 He was no sooner from the palmer gone, But the gates was opened wide, And out of the castle Will Stutly came, Guarded on every side. 141A.18 When hee was forth from the castle come, And saw no help was nigh, Thus he did say unto the sheriff, Thus he said gallantly: 141A.19 Now seeing that I needs must die, Grant me one boon, says he; For my noble master nere had man That yet was hangd on the tree. 141A.20 Give me a sword all in my hand, And let mee be unbound, And with thee and thy men I’le fight, Vntill I lie dead on the ground. 141A.21 But his desire he would not grant, His wishes were in vain; For the sheriff had sworn he hanged should be, And not by the sword be slain. 141A.22 ‘Do but unbind my hands,’ he saies, ‘I will no weapons crave, And if I hanged be this day, Damnation let me have.’ 141A.23 ‘O no, O no,’ the sheriff he said, ‘Thou shalt on the gallows die, I, and so shall thy master too, If ever in me it lie.’ 141A.24 ‘O dastard coward!’ Stutly cries, ‘Thou faint-heart pesant slave! If ever my master do thee meet, Thou shalt thy paiment have. 141A.25 ‘My noble master thee doth scorn, And all thy cowardly crew; Such silly imps unable are Bold Robin to subdue.’ 141A.26 But when he was to the gallows come, And ready to bid adiew, Out of a bush leaps Little John, And steps Will Stutly to. 141A.27 ‘I pray thee, Will, before thou die, Of thy dear friends take leave; I needs must borrow him a while, How say you, master sheriff?’ 141A.28 ‘Now, as I live,’ the sheriff he said, ‘That varlet will I know; Some sturdy rebell is that same, Therefore let him not go.’ 141A.29 With that Little John so hastily Away cut Stutly’s bands, And from one of the sheriff his men, A sword twicht from his hands. 141A.30 ‘Here, Will, here, take thou this same, Thou canst it better sway; And here defend thy self a while, For aid will come straight way.’ 141A.31 And there they turnd them back to back, In the middle of them that day, Till Robin Hood approached neer, With many an archer gay. 141A.32 With that an arrow by them flew, I wist from Robin Hood; ‘Make haste, make haste,’ the sheriff he said, ‘Make haste, for it is good.’ 141A.33 The sheriff is gone; his doughty men Thought it no boot to stay, But, as their master had them taught, They run full fast away. 141A.34 ‘O stay, O stay,’ Will Stutly said, ‘Take leave ere you depart; You nere will catch bold Robin Hood Vnless you dare him meet.’ 141A.35 ‘O ill betide you,’ quoth Robin Hood, ‘That you so soon are gone; My sword may in the scabbord rest, For here our work is done.’ 141A.36 ‘I little thought when I came here, When I came to this place, For to have met with Little John, Or seen my masters face.’ 141A.37 Thus Stutly was at liberty set, And safe brought from his foe; ‘O thanks, O thanks to my master, Since here it was not so.’ 141A.38 ‘And once again, my fellows, We shall in the green woods meet, Where we will make our bow-strings twang, Musick for us most sweet.’

142A: Little John a Begging

142A.* * * * . . . . . . . . . . beggar,’ he sayes, ‘With none such fellows as thee.’ 142A.2 ‘I am not in iest,’ said Litle Iohn, ‘I sweare all by the roode; Change with mee,’ said Little Iohn, ‘And I will giue thee some boote.’ 142A.3 But he has gotten on this old mans gowne, It reacht not to his wrist; ‘Christ’s curse on’s hart,’ said Litle Iohn, ‘That thinkes my gowne amisse.’ 142A.4 But he has gotten on this old mans shoes, Are clouted nine fold about; ‘Beshrew his hart,’ said Litle Iohn, ‘That bryer or thorne does doubt. 142A.5 ‘Wilt teach me some phrase of thy begging?’ says Iohn; ‘I pray thee, tell it mee, How I may be as beggar-like As any in my companie.’ 142A.6 ‘Thou must goe two foote on a staffe, The third upon a tree; Full loud that thou must cry and fare, When nothing ayleth thee.’ 142A.7 But Iohn he walket the hills soe high, Soe did [he] the hills soe browne; The ready way that he could take Was towards Nottingham towne. 142A.8 But as he was on the hills soe high, He mett with palmers three; Sayes, God you saue, my brethren all, Now God you saue and see! 142A.9 This seuen yeere I haue you sought; Before I cold neuer you see! Said they, Wee had leuer such a cankred carle Were neuer in our companie. 142A.10 But one of them tooke Litle Iohn on his head, The blood ran over his eye; Little Iohn turned him twise about . . . . * * * * * 142A.11 ‘If I . . . . As I haue beene but one day, I shold haue purcchased three of the best churches That stands by any highway.’

142B: Little John a Begging

142B.1 ALL you that delight to spend some time With a hey down down a down down A merry song for to sing, Vnto me draw neer, and you shall hear How Little John went a begging. 142B.2 As Robin Hood walked the forrest along, And all his yeomandree, Sayes Robin, Some of you must a begging go, And, Little John, it must be thee. 142B.3 Sayes John, If I must a begging go, I will have a palmers weed, With a staff and coat, and bags of all sort, The better then I shall speed. 142B.4 Come, give me now a bag for my bread, And another for my cheese, And one for a peny, when as I get any, That nothing I may leese. 142B.5 Now Little John he is a begging gone, Seeking for some relief; But of all the beggers he met on the way, Little John he was the chief. 142B.6 But as he was walking himself alone, Four beggers he chanced to spy, Some deaf, and some blind, and some came behind; Says John, Here’s brave company! 142B.7 ‘Good-morrow,’ said John, ’My brethren dear, Good fortune I had you to see; Which way do you go? pray let me know, For I want some company. 142B.8 ‘O what is here to do?’ then said Little John, ‘Why rings all these bells?’ said he; ‘What dog is a hanging? come, let us be ganging, That we the truth may see.’ 142B.9 ‘Here is no dog a hanging,’ then one of them said, ‘Good fellow, we tell unto thee; But here is one dead wil give us cheese and bred, And it may be one single peny.’ 142B.10 ‘We have brethren in London,’ another he said, ‘So have we in Coventry, In Barwick and Dover, and all the world over, But nere a crookt carril like thee. 142B.11 ‘Therefore stand thee back, thou crooked carel, And take that knock on the crown;’ ‘Nay,’ said Little John, ‘I’le not yet be gone, For a bout will I have with you round. 142B.12 ‘Now have at you all,’ then said Little John, ‘If you be so full of your blows; Fight on, all four, and nere give ore, Whether you be friends or foes.’ 142B.13 John nipped the dumb, and made him to rore, And the blind that could not see, And he that a cripple had been seven years, He made him run faster then he. 142B.14 And flinging them all against the wall, With many a sturdie bang, It made John sing, to hear the gold ring, Which against the walls cryed twang. 142B.15 Then he got out of the beggers cloak Three hundred pound in gold; ‘Good fortune had I,’ then said Little John, ‘Such a good sight to behold.’ 142B.16 But what found he in a beggers bag, But three hundred pound and three? ‘If I drink water while this doth last, Then an ill death may I dye! 142B.17 d my begging-trade I will now give ore, My fortune hath bin so good; Therefore I’le not stay, but I will away To the forrest of merry Sherwood.’ 142B.18 And when to the forrest of Sherwood he came, He quickly there did see His master good, bold Robin Hood, And all his company. 142B.19 ‘What news? What news?’ then said Robin Hood, ‘Come, Little John, tell unto me; How hast thou sped with thy beggers trade? For that I fain would see.’ 142B.20 ‘No news but good,’ then said Little John, ‘With begging ful wel I have sped; Six hundred and three I have here for thee, In silver and gold so red.’ 142B.21 Then Robin took Little John by the hand, And danced about the oak-tree: ‘If we drink water while this doth last, Then an il death may we die!’ 142B.22 So to conclude my merry new song, All you that delight it to sing, ’Tis of Robin Hood, that archer good, And how Little John went a begging.

143A: Robin Hood and the Bishop

143A.1 COME, gentlemen all, and listen a while, Hey down down an a down And a story I’le to you unfold; I’le tell you how Robin Hood served the Bishop, When he robbed him of his gold. 143A.2 As it fell out on a sun-shining day, When Phebus was in his prime, Then Robin Hood, that archer good, In mirth would spend some time. 143A.3 And as he walked the forrest along, Some pastime for to spy, There was he aware of a proud bishop, And all his company. 143A.4 ‘O what shall I do?’ said Robin Hood then, ‘If the Bishop he doth take me, No mercy he’l show unto me, I know, But hanged I shall be.’ 143A.5 Then Robin was stout, and turnd him about, And a little house there he did spy; And to an old wife, for to save his life, He loud began for to cry. 143A.6 ‘Why, who art thou?’ said the old woman, ‘Come tell it to me for good:’ ‘I am an out-law, as many do know, My name it is Robin Hood. 143A.7 ‘And yonder’s the Bishop and all his men, And if that I taken be, Then day and night he’l work me spight, And hanged I shall be.’ 143A.8 ‘If thou be Robin Hood,’ said the old wife, ‘As thou dost seem to be, I’le for thee provide, and thee I will hide From the Bishop and his company. 143A.9 ‘For I well remember, one Saturday night Thou bought me both shoos and hose; Therefore I’le provide thy person to hide, And keep thee from thy foes.’ 143A.10 ‘Then give me soon thy coat of gray, And take thou my mantle of green; Thy spindle and twine to me resign, And take thou my arrows so keen.’ 143A.11 And when that Robin Hood was so araid, He went straight to his company; With his spindle and twine, he oft lookt behind For the Bishop and his company. 143A.12 ‘O who is yonder,’ quoth Little John, ‘That now comes over the lee? An arrow I will at her let flie, So like an old witch looks she.’ 143A.13 ‘O hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin then, ‘And shoot not thy arrows so keen; I am Robin Hood, thy master good, And quickly it shall be seen,’ 143A.14 The Bishop he came to the old womans house, And he called with furious mood, ‘Come let me soon see, and bring unto me, That traitor Robin Hood.’ 143A.15 The old woman he set on a milk-white steed, Himselfe on a dapple-gray, And for joy he had got Robin Hood, He went laughing all the way. 143A.16 But as they were riding the forrest along, The Bishop he chanc’d for to see A hundred brave bow-men bold Stand under the green-wood tree. 143A.17 ‘O who is yonder,’ the Bishop then said, ‘That’s ranging within yonder wood?’ ‘Marry,’ says the old woman, ‘I think it to be A man calld Robin Hood.’ 143A.18 ‘Why, who art thou,’ the Bishop he said, ‘Which I have here with me?’ ‘Why, I am an old woman, thou cuckoldly bishop; Lift up my leg and see.’ 143A.19 ‘Then woe is me,’ the Bishop he said, ‘That ever I saw this day!’ He turnd hum about, but Robin so stout Calld him, and bid him stay. 143A.20 Then Robin took hold of the Bishops horse, And ty’d him fast to a tree; Then Little John smil’d his master upon, For joy of that company. 143A.21 Robin Hood took his mantle from ’s back, And spread it upon the ground, And out of the Bishops portmantle he Soon told five hundred pound. 143A.22 ‘So now let him go,’ said Robin Hood; Said Little John, That may not be; For I vow and protest he shall sing us a mass Before that he goe from me. 143A.23 Then Robin Hood took the Bishop by the hand, And bound him fast to a tree, And made him sing a mass, God wot, To him and his yeomandree. 143A.24 And then they brought him through the wood, And set him on his dapple-gray, And gave the tail within his hand, And bade him for Robin Hood pray.

144A: Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford

144A.1 SOME they will talk of bold Robin Hood, And some of barons bold, But I’ll tell you how he servd the Bishop of Hereford, When he robbed him of his gold. 144A.2 As it befel in merry Barnsdale, And under the green-wood tree, The Bishop of Hereford was to come by, With all his company. 144A.3 ‘Come, kill a venson,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘Come, kill me a good fat deer; The Bishop of Hereford is to dine with me to-day, And he shall pay well for his cheer. 144A.4 ‘We’ll kill a fat venson,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘And dress it by the highway-side; And we will watch the Bishop narrowly, Lest some other way he should ride.’ 144A.5 Robin Hood dressd himself in shepherd’s attire, With six of his men also; And, when the Bishop of Hereford came by, They about the fire did go. 144A.6 ‘O what is the matter?’ then said the Bishop, ‘Or for whom do you make this a-do? Or why do you kill the king’s venson, When your company is so few?’ 144A.7 ‘We are shepherds,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘And we keep sheep all the year, And we are disposed to be merry this day, And to kill of the king’s fat deer.’ 144A.8 ‘You are brave fellows!’ said the Bishop, ‘And the king of your doings shall know; Therefore make haste and come along with me, For before the king you shall go.’ 144A.9 ‘O pardon, O pardon,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘O pardon, I thee pray! For it becomes not your lordship’s coat To take so many lives away.’ 144A.10 ‘No pardon, no pardon,’ says the Bishop, ‘No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste, and come along with me, For before the king you shall go.’ 144A.11 Then Robin set his back against a tree, And his foot against a thorn, And from underneath his shepherd’s coat He pulld out a bugle-horn. 144A.12 He put the little end to his mouth, And a loud blast did he blow, Till threescore and ten of bold Robin’s men Came running all on a row; 144A.13 All making obeysance to bold Robin Hood; ’Twas a comely sight for to see: ‘What is the matter, master,’ said Little John, ‘That you blow so hastily?’ 144A.14 ‘O here is the Bishop of Hereford, And no pardon we shall have:’ ‘Cut off his head, master,’ said Little John, ‘And throw him into his grave.’ 144A.15 ‘O pardon, O pardon,’ said the Bishop, ‘O pardon, I thee pray! For if I had known it had been you, I’d have gone some other way.’ 144A.16 ‘No pardon, no pardon,’ said Robin Hood, ‘No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste and come along with me, For to merry Barnsdale you shall go.’ 144A.17 Then Robin he took the Bishop by the hand, And led him to merry Barnsdale; He made him to stay and sup with him that night, And to drink wine, beer, and ale. 144A.18 ‘Call in the reckoning,’ said the Bishop, ‘For methinks it grows wondrous high:’ ‘Lend me your purse, Bishop,’ said Little John, ‘And I’ll tell you bye and bye.’ 144A.19 Then Little John took the bishop’s cloak, And spread it upon the ground, And out of the bishop’s portmantua He told three hundred pound. 144A.20 ‘Here’s money enough, master,’ said Little John, ‘And a comely sight ’tis to see; It makes me in charity with the Bishop, Tho he heartily loveth not me.’ 144A.21 Robin Hood took the Bishop by the hand, And he caused the music to play, And he made the Bishop to dance in his boots, And glad he could so get away.

144B: Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford

144B.1 SOME talk of lords, and some talk of lairds, And some talk of barrons bold, But I’ll tell you a story of bold Robin Hood, How he robbed the Bishop of his gold. 144B.2 ‘Cause kill us a venison,’ sayes Robin Hood, ‘And we’ll dress it by the high-way side, And we will watch narrowly for the Bishop, Lest some other way he do ride.’ 144B.3 ‘Now who is this,’ sayes the Bishop, ‘That makes so boldly here To kill the king’s poor small venison, And so few of his company here?’ 144B.4 ‘We are shepherds,’ says Robin Hood, ‘And do keep sheep all the year; And we thought it fit to be merry on a day, And kill one of the king’s fallow deer.’ 144B.5 ‘Thou art a bold fellow,’ the Bishop replyes, ‘And your boldness you do show; Make hast, make hast, and go along with me, For the king of your doings shall know.’ 144B.6 He leand his back unto a brae, His foot against a thorn, And out from beneath his long shepherds coat He pulled a blowing-horn. 144B.7 He put his horn in to his mouth, And a snell blast he did blow, Till four and twenty of bold Robins men Came riding up all in a row. 144B.8 ‘Come, give us a reckoning,’ says the Bishop, ‘For I think you drink wondrous large:’ ‘Come, give me your purse,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘And I will pay all your charge.’ 144B.9 He pulled off his long shepherds coat, And he spread it on the ground, And out of the Bishops long trunk-hose, He pulled a hundred pound. 144B.10 ‘O master,’ quoth Little John, ‘It’s a very bony sight for to see; It makes me to favour the Bishop, Tho in heart he loves not me.’ 144B.11 ‘Come, sing us a mass,’ sayes bold Robin Hood, ‘Come, sing us a mass all anon; Come, sing us a mass,’ sayes bold Robin Hood, ‘Take a kick in the a--se, and be gone.’

145A: Robin Hood and Queen Katherine

145A.1 NOW list you, lithe you, gentlemen, A while for a litle space, And I shall tell you how Queene Katterine Gott Robin Hood his grace. 145A.2 Gold taken from the kings harbengers Seldome times hath beene seene, . . . . . . . . * * * * * 145A.3 . . . . ‘Queene Katherine, I say to thee;’ ‘That’s a princly wager,’ quoth Queene Katherine, ‘Betweene your grace and me. 145A.4 ‘Where must I haue mine archers?’ says Queene Katherine; ‘You haue the flower of archery:’ ‘Now take your choice, dame,’ he sayes, ‘Thorow out all England free. 145A.5 ‘Yea from North Wales to Westchester, And also to Couentry; And when you haue chosen the best you can, The wager must goe with mee.’ 145A.6 ‘If that prooue,’ says Queene Katherine, ‘Soone that wilbe tride and knowne; Many a man counts of another mans pursse, And after looseth his owne.’ 145A.7 The queene is to her palace gone, To her page thus shee can say: Come hither to me, Dicke Patrinton, Trusty and trew this day. 145A.8 Thou must bring me the names of my archers all, All strangers must they bee, Yea from North Wales to West Chester, And alsoe to Couentrie. 145A.9 Commend me to Robin Hood, says Queene Katherine, And alsoe to Litle John, And specially to Will Scarlett, Ffryar Tucke and Maid Marryan. 145A.10 Robin Hood we must call Loxly, And Little John the Millers sonne; Thus wee then must change their names, They must be strangers euery one. 145A.11 Commend mee to Robin Hood, sayes Queene Katherine, And marke, page, what I say; In London they must be with me [Vpon St Georges day.] * * * * * 145A.12 . . . . ‘These words hath sent by me; Att London you must be with her Vpon St Georg[e]s day. 145A.13 ‘Vpon St Georg[e]s day att noone Att London needs must you bee; Shee wold not misse your companie For all the gold in Cristinty. 145A.14 ‘Shee hath tane a shooting for your sake, The greatest in Christentie, And her part you must needs take Against her prince, Henery. 145A.15 ‘Shee sends you heere her gay gold ring A trew token for to bee; And, as you are [a] banisht man, Shee trusts to sett you free.’ 145A.16 ‘And I loose that wager,’ says bold Robin Hoode, ‘I’le bring mony to pay for me; And wether that I win or loose, On my queenes part I will be.’ 145A.17 In sommer time when leaues grow greene, And flowers are fresh and gay, Then Robin Hood he deckt his men Eche one in braue array. 145A.18 He deckt his men in Lincolne greene, Himselfe in scarlett red; Fayre of theire brest then was it seene When his siluer armes were spread. 145A.19 With hattis white and fethers blacke, And bowes and arrowes keene, And thus he ietted towards louly London, To present Queene Katherine. 145A.20 But when they cam to louly London, They kneeled vpon their knee; Sayes, God you saue, Queene Katherine, And all your dignitie! * * * * * 145A.21 . . . . . . of my guard,’ Thus can King Henry say, ‘And those that wilbe of Queene Katerines side, They are welcome to me this day.’ 145A.22 ‘Then come hither to me, Sir Richard Lee, Thou art a knight full good; Well it is knowen from thy pedygree Thou came from Gawiins blood. 145A.23 ‘Come hither, Bishopp of Hereford,’ quoth Queene Katherine-+--+- A good preacher I watt was hee-+--+- ‘And stand thou heere vpon a odd side, On my side for to bee.’ 145A.24 ‘I like not that,’ sayes the bishopp then, ‘By faikine of my body, For if I might haue my owne will, On the kings I wold bee.’ 145A.25 ‘What will thou be[t] against vs,’ says Loxly then, ‘And stake it on the ground?’ ‘That will I doe, fine fellow,’ he says, ‘And it drawes to fiue hundreth pound.’ 145A.26 ‘There is a bett,’ says Loxly then; ‘Wee’le stake it merrily;’ But Loxly knew full well in his mind And whose that gold shold bee. 145A.27 Then the queenes archers they shot about Till it was three and three; Then the lady’s gaue a merry shout, Sayes, Woodcocke, beware thine eye! 145A.28 ‘Well, gam and gam,’ then quoth our king, ‘The third three payes for all;’ Then Robine rounded with our queene, Says, The kings part shall be small. 145A.29 Loxly puld forth a broad arrowe, He shott it vnder hand, . . s vnto . . . . * * * * * 145A.30 . . . . ‘For once he vndidd mee; If I thought it had beene bold Robin Hoode, I wold not haue betted one peny. 145A.31 ‘Is this Robin Hood?’ says the bishopp againe; ‘Once I knew him to soone; He made me say a masse against my will, Att two a clocke in the afternoone. 145A.32 ‘He bound me fast vnto a tree, Soe did he my merry men; He borrowed ten pound against my will, But he neuer paid me againe.’ 145A.33 ‘What and if I did?’ says bold Robin Hood, ‘Of that masse I was full faine; In recompence, befor king and queene Take halfe of thy gold againe.’ 145A.34 ‘I thanke thee for nothing,’ says the bishopp, ‘Thy large gift to well is knowne, That will borrow a mans mony against his will, And pay him againe with his owne.’ 145A.35 ‘What if he did soe?’ says King Henery, ‘For that I loue him neuer the worsse; Take vp thy gold againe, bold Robin Hood, And put [it] in thy pursse. 145A.36 ‘If thou woldest leaue thy bold outlawes, And come and dwell with me, Then I wold say thou art welcome, bold Robin Hood, The flower of archery.’ 145A.37 ‘I will not leaue my bold outlawes For all the gold in Christentie; In merry Sherwood I’le take my end, Vnder my trusty tree. 145A.38 ‘And gett your shooters, my leeig[e], where you will, For in faith you shall haue none of me; And when Queene Katherine puts up her f[inger] Att her Graces commandement I’le bee.’

145B: Robin Hood and Queen Katherine

145B.1 GOLD tane from the kings harbengers, Down a down a down As seldome hath been seen, Down a down a down And carried by bold Robin Hood For a present to the queen. Down a down a down 145B.2 ‘If that I live a year to an end,’ Thus gan Queen Katherin say, ‘Bold Robin Hood, I will be thy friend, And all thy yeomen gay.’ 145B.3 The queen is to her chamber gone, As fast as she can wen; She cals unto her lovely page, His name was Richard Patringten. 145B.4 ‘Come hither to mee, thou lovely page, Come thou hither to mee; For thou must post to Notingham, As fast as thou canst dree. 145B.5 ‘And as thou goest to Notingham, Search all those English wood; Enquire of one good yeoman or another That can tell thee of Robin Hood.’ 145B.6 Sometimes he went, sometimes hee ran, As fast as he could win; And when hee came to Notingham, There he took up his inne. 145B.7 And when he came to Notingham, And had took up his inne, He calls for a pottle of Renish wine, And drank a health to his queen. 145B.8 There sat a yeoman by his side; ‘Tell mee, sweet page,’ said hee, ‘What is thy business or the cause, So far in the North Country?’ 145B.9 ‘This is my business and the cause, Sir, I’le tell it you for good, To inquire of one good yeoman or another To tell mee of Robin Hood.’ 145B.10 ‘I’le get my horse betime in the morn, By it be break of day, And I will shew thee bold Robin Hood, And all his yeomen gay.’ 145B.11 When that he came at Robin Hoods place, Hee fell down on his knee: ‘Queen Katherine she doth greet you well, She greets you well by mee. 145B.12 ‘She bids you post to fair London court, Not fearing any thing; For there shall be a little sport, And she hath sent you her ring.’ 145B.13 Robin took his mantle from his back-+--+- It was of the Lincoln green-+--+- And sent it by this lovely page, For a present unto the queen. 145B.14 In summer time, when leaves grow green, It is a seemly sight to see How Robin Hood himself had drest, And all his yeomandry. 145B.15 He cloathed his men in Lincoln green, And himself in scarlet red, Black hats, white feathers, all alike; Now bold Robin Hood is rid. 145B.16 And when he came at Londons court, Hee fell downe on his knee: ‘Thou art welcome, Locksly,’ said the queen, ‘And all thy good yeomendree.’ 145B.17 The king is into Finsbury field, Marching in battel ray, And after follows bold Robin Hood, And all his yeomen gay. 145B.18 ‘Come hither, Tepus,’ said the king, ‘Bow-bearer after mee, Come measure mee out with this line How long our mark shall be.’ 145B.19 ‘What is the wager?’ said the queen, ‘That must I now know here:’ ‘Three hundred tun of Renish wine, Three hundred tun of beer. 145B.20 ‘Three hundred of the fattest harts That run on Dallom lee; That’s a princely wager,’ said the king, ‘That needs must I tell thee.’ 145B.21 With that bespake one Clifton then, Full quickly and full soon; ‘Measure no mark for us, most soveraign leige, Wee’l shoot at sun and moon.’ 145B.22 ‘Ful fifteen score your mark shall be, Ful fifteen score shall stand;’ ‘I’le lay my bow,’ said Clifton then, ‘I’le cleave the willow wand.’ 145B.23 With that the kings archers led about, While it was three and none; With that the ladies began to shout, Madam, your game is gone! 145B.24 ‘A boon, a boon,’ Queen Katherine cries, ‘I crave on my bare knee; Is there any knight of your privy counsel Of Queen Katherines part will be? 145B.25 ‘Come hither to mee, Sir Richard Lee, Thou art a knight full good; For I do know by thy pedigree Thou springst from Goweres blood. 145B.26 ‘Come hither to me, thou Bishop of Herefordshire’-+--+- For a noble priest was he-+--+- ‘By my silver miter,’ said the bishop then, ‘I’le not bet one peny. 145B.27 ‘The king has archers of his own, Full ready and full light, And these be strangers every one, No man knows what they height.’ 145B.28 ‘What wilt thou bet,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Thou seest our game the worse?’ ‘By my silver miter,’ said the bishop then, ‘All the mony within my purse.’ 145B.29 ‘What is in thy purse?’ said Robin Hood, ‘Throw it down on the ground;’ ‘Fifteen score nobles,’ said the bishop then, ‘It’s neer an hundred pound.’ 145B.30 Robin Hood took his bagge from his side, And threw it down on the green; William Scadlocke went smiling away, ‘I know who this mony must win.’ 145B.31 With that the queens archers led about, While it was three and three; With that the ladies gave a shout, ‘Woodcock, beware thyn ee!’ 145B.32 ‘It is three and three, now,’ said the king, ‘The next three pays for all;’ Robin Hood went and whispered to the queen, ‘The kings part shall be but small.’ 145B.33 Robin Hood he led about, He shot it under hand, And Clifton, with a bearing arrow, He clave the willow wand. 145B.34 And little Midge, the Miller’s son, Hee shot not much the worse; He shot within a finger of the prick; ‘Now, bishop, beware thy purse!’ 145B.35 ‘A boon, a boon,’ Queen Katherine cries, ‘I crave on my bare knee,-+--+- That you will angry be with none That is of my party.’ 145B.36 ‘They shall have forty days to come, And forty days to go, And three times forty to sport and play; Then welcome friend or fo.’ 145B.37 ‘Then thou art welcome, Robin Hood,’ said the queen, ‘And so is Little John, So is Midge, the Miller’s son; Thrice welcome every one.’ 145B.38 ‘Is this Robin Hood?’ the king now said; ‘For it was told to mee That he was slain in the pallace-gate, So far in the North Country.’ 145B.39 ‘Is this Robin Hood,’ said the bishop then, ‘As I see well to be? Had I knowne that had been that bold outlaw, I would not have bet one peny. 145B.40 ‘Hee took me late one Saturday at night, And bound mee fast to a tree, And made mee sing a mass, God wot, To him and his yeomendree.’ 145B.41 ‘What and if I did?’ says Robin Hood, ‘Of that mass I was full fain; For recompense to thee,’ he says, ‘Here’s half thy gold again.’ 145B.42 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ saies Little John, ‘Master, that shall not be; We must give gifts to the kings officers; That gold will serve thee and mee.’

145C: Robin Hood and Queen Katherine

145C.1 STOUT Robin Hood, a most lusty out-law, As ever yet lived in this land, As ever yet lived in this land. His equal I’m sure you never yet saw, So valiant was he of his hand, So valiant was he of his hand. 145C.2 No archers could ever compare with these three, Although from us they are gone; The like was never, nor never will be, To Robin Hood, Scarlet and John. 145C.3 Many stout robberies by these men were done, Within this our kingdom so wide; Vpon the highway much treasure they have won, No one that his purse ere deny’d. 145C.4 Great store of money they from the kings men Couragiously did take away; Vnto fair Queen Katherine they gave it again, Who to them these words did say. 145C.5 If that I live but another fair year, Kind Robin Hood, said the fair queen, The love for this courtesie that I thee bear, Assure thy self it shall be seen. 145C.6 Brave Robin Hood courteously thanked her Grace, And so took leave of the queen; He with his bold archers then hied him apace, In summer time, to the woods green. 145C.7 ‘Now wend we together, my merry men all, To the green wood to take up our stand:’ These archers were ready at Robin Hoods call, With their bent bows all in their hand. 145C.8 ‘Come, merrily let us now valiantly go With speed unto the green wood, And there let us kill a stout buck or a do, For our master, Robin Hood.’ 145C.9 At London must now be a game of shooting, Where archers should try their best skill; It was so commanded by their gracious king; The queen then thought to have her will. 145C.10 Her little foot-page she sent with all speed, To find out stout Robin Hood, Who in the North bravely did live, as we read, With his bow-men in the green wood. 145C.11 When as this young page unto the North came, He staid under a hill at his inn; Within the fair town of sweet Nottingham, He there to enquire did begin. 145C.12 The page then having enquired aright The way unto Robin Hoods place, As soon as the page had obtained of him sight, He told him strange news from her Grace. 145C.13 ‘Her Majestie praies you to haste to the court,’ And therewithall shewd him her ring; We must not delay his swift haste to this sport, Which then was proclaimd by the king. 145C.14 Then Robin Hood hies him with all speed he may, With his fair men attired in green, And towards fair London he then takes his way; His safety lay all on the queen. 145C.15 Now Robin Hood welcome was then to the court, Queen Katharine so did allow; Now listen, my friends, and my song shal report How the queen performed her vow. 145C.16 The king then went marching in state with his peers To Finsbury field most gay, Where Robin Hood follows him, void of all fears, With his lusty brave shooters that day. 145C.17 The king did command that the way should be Straight mete with a line that was good; The answer was made to him presently, By lusty bold Robin Hood. 145C.18 ‘Let there be no mark measured,’ then said he soon; ‘I,’ so said Scarlet and John, ‘For we will shoot to the sun or the moon; We scorn to be outreacht with none.’ 145C.19 ‘What shall the wager be?’ then said the queen, ‘Pray tell me before you begin:’ ‘Three hundred tuns of good wine shall be seen, And as much of strong bear for to win. 145C.20 ‘Three hundred of lusty fat bucks, sweet, beside, Shall now be our royal lay:’ Quoth Robin Hood, What ere does betide, I’le bear this brave purchase away. 145C.21 ‘Full fifteenscore,’ saith the king, ’it shall be;’ Then straight did the bow-men begin, And Robin Hoods side gave them leave certainly A while some credit to win. 145C.22 The royal queen Katharine aloud cried she, Is here no lord, nor yet knight, That will take my part in this bold enmity? Sir Robert Lee, pray do me right. 145C.23 Then to the bold Bishop of Herefordshire Most mildly spoke our good queen; But he straight refused to lay any more, Such ods on their parties were seen. 145C.24 ‘What wilt thou bet, seeing our game is the worse?’ Unto him then said Robin Hood: ‘Why then,’ quoth the bishop, a+ell that’s in my purse;’ Quoth Scarlet, That bargain is good. 145C.25 ‘A hundred good pounds there is in the same,’ The bishop unto him did say; Then said Robin Hood, Now here’s for the game, And to bear this your money away. 145C.26 Then did the kings archer his arrows command Most bravely and with great might, But brave jolly Robin shot under his hand, And then did hit the mark right. 145C.27 And Clifton he then, with his arrow so good, The willow-wood cleaved in two; The Miller’s young son came not short, by the rood, His skill he most bravely did show. 145C.28 Thus Robin Hood and his crew won the rich prize, From all archers that there could be; Then loudly unto the king Queen Katherine cries, Forgive all my company! 145C.29 The king then did say, that for forty daies, Free leave then to come or go, For any man there, though he got the praise, ‘Be he friend,’ quoth he, ’or be he foe.’ 145C.30 Then quoth the queen, Welcome thou art, Robin Hood, And welcome, brave bow-men all three; Then straight quoth the king, I did hear, by the rood, That slain he was in the countrey. 145C.31 ‘Is this Robin Hood?’ the bishop did say, ‘Is this Robin Hood certainly? He made me to say him mass last Saturday, To him and his bold yeomendry.’ 145C.32 ‘Well,’ quoth Robin Hood, ’in requital thereof, Half thy gold I give unto thee;’ ‘Nay, nay,’ then said Little John in a scoff, ‘’Twill serue us ith’ North Countrey.’ 145C.33 Then Robin Hood pardon had straight of the king, And so had they every one; The fame of these days most loudly does ring, Of Robin Hood, Scarlet and John. 145C.34 Great honours to Robin Hood after were done, As stories for certain do say; The king made him Earl of fair Huntington, Whose fame will never decay. 145C.35 Thus have you heard the fame of these men, Good archers they were every one; We never shal see the like shooters again As Robin Hood, Scarlet and John.

146A: Robin Hood’s Chase

146A.1 COME you gallants all, to you I do call, With a hey down down a down down That now is within this place, For a song I will sing of Henry the king, How he did Robin Hood chase. 146A.2 Queen Katherine she a match then did make, As plainly doth appear, For three hundred tun of good red wine, And three hundred tun of beer. 146A.3 But yet her archers she had to seek, With their bows and arrows so good; But her mind it was bent, with a good intent, To send for bold Robin Hood. 146A.4 But when bold Robin Hood he came there, Queen Katherine she did say, Thou art welcome, Locksley, said the queen, And all thy yeomen gay. 146A.5 For a match at shooting I have made, And thou my part must be: ‘If I miss the mark, be it light or dark, Then hanged I will be.’ 146A.6 But when the game came to be playd, Bold Robin he then drew nigh; With his mantle of green, most brave to be seen, He let his arrows fly. 146A.7 And when the game it ended was, Bold Robin wan it with a grace, But after, the king was angry with him, And vowed he would him chase. 146A.8 What though his pardon granted was While he with them did stay, But yet the king was vexed at him When as he was gone his way. 146A.9 Soon after the king from the court did hie, In a furious angry mood, And often enquire, both far and near, After bold Robin Hood. 146A.10 But when the king to Nottingham came, Bold Robin was then in the wood; ‘O come now,’ said he, a+end let me see Who can find me bold Robin Hood.’ 146A.11 But when that Robin Hood he did hear The king had him in chase, Then said Little John, Tis time to be gone, And go to some other place. 146A.12 Then away they went from merry Sherwood, And into Yorkshire he did hie, And the king did follow, with a hoop and a hallow, But could not come him nigh. 146A.13 Yet jolly Robin he passed along, He [went] straight to Newcastle town, And there stayed he hours two or three, And then he for Berwick was gone. 146A.14 When the king he did see how Robin did flee, He was vexed wondrous sore; With a hoop and a hallow he vowed to follow, And take him, or never give ore. 146A.15 ‘Come now, let’s away,’ then cries Little John, ‘Let any man follow that dare; To Carlile wee’l hie with our company, And so then to Lancaster.’ 146A.16 From Lancaster then to Chester they went, And so did king Henery; But Robin away, for he durst not stay, For fear of some treachery. 146A.17 Saies Robin, Come, let us to London go, To see our noble queens face; It may be she wants our company, Which makes the king so us chase. 146A.18 When Robin he came Queen Katherine before, He fell upon his knee: ‘If it please your Grace, I am come to this place, To speak with king Henery.’ 146A.19 Queen Katherine she answered bold Robin again, The king is gone to merry Sherwood; And when he went he to me did say He would go seek Robin Hood. 146A.20 RR’Trrhen fare you well, my gracious queen, For to sherwood I will hie apace; For fain would I see what he would with me, If I could but meet his Grace.’ 146A.21 But when King Henery he came home, Full weary, and vexed in mind, When he did hear Robin had been there, He blamed Dame Fortune unkind. 146A.22 ‘You are welcome home,’ Queen Katherine cried, ‘Henry, my soveraign liege; Bold Robin Hood that archer good, Your person hath been to seek.’ 146A.23 But when King Henry he did hear That Robin had been there him to seek, This answer he gave, He’s a cunning knave, For I have sought him this whole three weeks. 146A.24 ‘A boon! a boon!’ Queen Katherine cried, ‘I beg it here on your Grace, To pardon his life, and seek no more strife:’ And so endeth Robin Hoods chase.

147A: Robin Hood’s Golden Prize

147A.1 I HAVE heard talk of bold Robin Hood, Derry derry down And of brave Little John, Of Fryer Tuck, and Will Scarlet, Loxley, and Maid Marion. Hey down derry derry down 147A.2 But such a tale as this before I think there was never none; For Robin Hood disguised himself, And to the wood is gone. 147A.3 Like to a fryer, bold Robin Hood Was accoutered in his array; With hood, gown, beads and cricifix, He past upon the way. 147A.4 He had not gone [past] miles two or three, But it was his chance to spy Two lusty priests, clad all in black, Come riding gallantly. 147A.5 ‘Benedicete,’ then said Robin Hood, ‘Some pitty on me take; Cross you my hand with a silver groat, For Our dear Ladies sake. 147A.6 ‘For I have been wandring all this day, And nothing could I get; Not so much as one poor cup of drink, Nor bit of bread to eat.’ 147A.7 ‘Now, by my holydame,’ the priests repli’d, ‘We never a peny have; For we this morning have been robd, And could no mony save.’ 147A.8 ‘I am much afraid,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘That you both do tell a lye; And now before that you go hence, I am resolvd to try.’ 147A.9 When as the priests heard him say so, Then they rode away amain; But Robin Hood betook him to his heels, And soon overtook them again. 147A.10 Then Robin Hood laid hold of them both, And pulld them down from their horse: ‘O spare us, fryer!’ the priests cry’d out, ‘On us have remorse!’ 147A.11 ‘You said you had no mony,’ quoth he, ‘Wherefore, without delay, We three will fall down on our knees, And for mony we will pray.’ 147A.12 The priests they could not him gainsay, But down they kneeled with speed; ‘Send us, O send us,’ then quoth they, ‘Some mony to serve our need.’ 147A.13 The priests did pray with mournful chear, Sometimes their hands did wring, Sometimes they wept and cried aloud, Whilst Robin did merrily sing. 147A.14 When they had been praying an hours space, The priests did still lament; Then quoth bold Robin, Now let’s see What mony heaven hath us sent. 147A.15 We will be sharers now all alike Of the mony that we have; And there is never a one of us That his fellows shall deceive. 147A.16 The priests their hands in their pockets put, But mony would find none: ‘We’l search our selves,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Each other, one by one.’ 147A.17 Then Robin took pains to search them both, And he found good store of gold; Five hundred peeces presently Vpon the grass was told. 147A.18 ‘Here is a brave show,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Such store of gold to see, And you shall each one have a part, Cause you prayed so heartily.’ 147A.19 He gave them fifty pound a-peece, And the rest for himself did keep; The priests durst not speak one word, Bur they sighed wondrous deep. 147A.20 With that the priests rose up from their knees, Thinking to have parted so; ‘Nay, stay,’ said Robin Hood, ’one thing more I have to say ere you go. 147A.21 ‘You shall be sworn,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘Vpon this holy grass, That you will never tell lies again, Which way soever you pass. 147A.22 ‘The second oath that you here must take, All the days of your lives You never shall tempt maids to sin, Nor lye with other mens wives. 147A.23 ‘The last oath you shall take, it is this, Be charitable to the poor; Say you have met with a holy fryer, And I desire no more.’ 147A.24 He set them upon their horses again, And away then they did ride; And hee returnd to the merry green-wood, With great joy, mirth and pride.

148A: The Noble Fisherman or Robin Hood’s Preferment

148A.1 IN summer time, when leaves grow green, When they doe grow both green and long, Of a bould outlaw, calld Robin Hood, It is of him I sing this song. 148A.2 When the lilly leafe and the elephant Doth bud and spring with a merry good cheere, This outlaw was weary of the wood-side, And chasing of the fallow deere. 148A.3 ‘The fishermen brave more mony have Then any merchant, two or three; Therefore I will to Scarborough goe, That I a fisherman brave may be.’ 148A.4 This outlaw calld his merry men all, As they sate under the green-wood tree: ‘If any of you have gold to spend, I pray you heartily spend it with me. 148A.5 ‘Now,’ quoth Robin, I’le to Scarborough goe, It seemes to be a very faire day;’ Who tooke up his inne at a widdow-womans house, Hard by upon the water gray. 148A.6 Who asked of him, Where wert thou borne? Or tell to me, where dost thou fare? ‘I am a poore fisherman,’ saith he then, ‘This day intrapped all in care.’ 148A.7 ‘What is thy name, thou fine fellow? I pray thee heartily tell to me;’ ‘In mine own country where I was borne, Men called me Simon over the Lee.’ 148A.8 ‘Simon, Simon,’ said the good wife, The outlaw was ware of her courtesie, And rejoyed he had got such a dame. 148A.9 ‘Simon, wilt thou be my man? And good round wages I’le give thee; I have as good a ship of mine owne As any sayle upon the sea. 148A.10 ‘Anchors and planks thou shalt want none, Masts and ropes that are so long;’ ‘And if that you thus furnish me,’ Said Simon, ’Nothing shall goe wrong.’ 148A.11 They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle, More of a day then two or three; When others cast in their baited hooks, The bare lines into the sea cast he. 148A.12 ‘It will be long,’ said the master then, ‘Ere this great lubber do thrive on the sea; I’le assure you he shall have no part of our fish, For in truth he is of no part worthy.’ 148A.13 ‘O woe is me,’ said Simon then, ‘This day that ever I came here! I wish I were in Plomton Parke, In chasing of the fallow deere. 148A.14 ‘For every clowne laughs me to scorne, And they by me set nought at all; If I had them in Plomton Park, I would set as little by them all.’ 148A.15 They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle, More of a day then two or three; But Simon spied a ship of warre, That sayld towards them most valourously. 148A.16 ‘O woe is me,’ said the master then, ‘This day that ever I was borne! For all our fish we have got to-day Is every bit lost and forlorne. 148A.17 ‘For your French robbers on the sea, They will not spare of us one man, But carry us to the coast of France, And ligge us in the prison strong.’ 148A.18 But Simon said, Doe not feare them, Neither, master, take you no care; Give me my bent bow in my hand, And never a Frenchman will I spare. 148A.19 ‘Hold thy peace, thou long lubber, For thou art nought but braggs and boast; If I should cast the over-board, There were nothing but a lubber lost.’ 148A.20 Simon grew angry at these words, And so angry then was he That he tooke his bent bow in his hand, And to the ship-hatch goe doth he. 148A.21 ‘Master, tye me to the mast,’ saith he, ‘That at my mark I may stand fair, And give me my bended bow in my hand, And never a Frenchman will I spare.’ 148A.22 He drew his arrow to the very head, And drew it with all might and maine, And straightway, in the twinkling of an eye, Doth the Frenchmans heart the arow gain. 148A.23 The Frenchman fell downe on the ship-hatch, And under the hatches down below; Another Frenchman that him espy’d The dead corps into the sea doth throw. 148A.24 ‘O master, loose me from the mast,’ he said, ‘And for them all take you no care, And give me my bent bow in my hand, And never a Frenchman will I spare.’ 148A.25 Then streight [they] did board the Frenchmans ship, They lying all dead in their sight; They found within the ship of warre Twelve thousand pound of money bright. 148A.26 ‘The one halfe of the ship,’ said Simon then, ‘I’le give to my dame and children small; The other halfe of the ship I’le bestow On you that are my fellowes all.’ 148A.27 But now bespake the master then, For so, Simon, it shall not be; For you have won her with your own hand, And the owner of it you shall bee. 148A.28 ‘It shall be so, as I have said; And, with this gold, for the opprest An habitation I will build, Where they shall live in peace and rest.’

149A: Robin Hood’s Birth, Breeding, Valor and Marriage

149A.1 KIND gentlemen, will you be patient awhile? Ay, and then you shall hear anon A very good ballad of bold Robin Hood, And of his man, brave Little John. 149A.2 In Locksly town, in Nottinghamshire, In merry sweet Locksly town, There bold Robin Hood he was born and was bred, Bold Robin of famous renown. 149A.3 The father of Robin a forester was, And he shot in a lusty long bow, Two north country miles and an inch at a shot, As the Pinder of Wakefield does know. 149A.4 For he brought Adam Bell, and Clim of the Clugh, And William a Clowdesle To shoot with our forrester for forty mark, And the forrester beat them all three. 149A.5 His mother was neece to the Coventry knight, Which Warwickshire men call Sir Guy; For he slew the blue bore that hangs up at the gate, Or mine host of The Bull tells a lye. 149A.6 Her brother was Gamwel, of Great Gamwel Hall, And a noble house-keeper was he, Ay, as ever broke bread in sweet Nottinghamshire, And a squire of famous degree. 149A.7 The mother of Robin said to her husband, My honey, my love, and my dear, Let Robin and I ride this morning to Gamwel, To taste of my brothers good cheer. 149A.8 And he said, I grant thee thy boon, gentle Joan, Take one of my horses, I pray; The sun is a rising, and therefore make haste, For to-morrow is Christmas-day. 149A.9 Then Robin Hoods fathers grey gelding was brought, And sadled and bridled was he; God wot, a blew bonnet, his new suit of cloaths, And a cloak that did reach to his knee. 149A.10 She got on her holiday kirtle and gown, They were of a light Lincoln green; The cloath was homespun, but for colour and make It might a beseemed our queen. 149A.11 And then Robin got on his basket-hilt sword, And his dagger on his tother side, And said, My dear mother, let’s haste to be gone, We have forty long miles to ride. 149A.12 When Robin had mounted his gelding so grey, His father, without any trouble, Set her up behind him, and bad her not fear, For his gelding had oft carried double. 149A.13 And when she was settled, they rode to their neighbours, And drank and shook hands with them all; And then Robin gallopt, and never gave ore, Till they lighted at Gamwel Hall. 149A.14 And now you may think the right worshipful squire Was joyful his sister to see; For he kist her and kist her, and swore a great oath, Thou art welcome, kind sister, to me. 149A.15 To-morrow, when mass had been said in the chappel, Six tables were coverd in the hall, And in comes the squire, and makes a short speech, It was, Neighbours, you’re welcome all. 149A.16 But not a man here shall taste my March beer, Till a Christmas carrol he sing: Then all clapt their hands, and they shouted and sung, Till the hall and the parlour did ring. 149A.17 Now mustard and braun, roast beef and plumb pies, Were set upon every table: And noble George Gamwel said, Eat and be merry, And drink too, as long as you’re able. 149A.18 When dinner was ended, his chaplain said grace, And, ‘Be merry, my friends,’ said the squire; ‘It rains, and it blows, but call for more ale, And lay some more wood on the fire. 149A.19 ‘And now call ye Little John hither to me, For Little John is a fine lad At gambols and juggling, and twenty such tricks As shall make you merry and glad.’ 149A.20 When Little John came, to gambols they went, Both gentleman, yeoman and clown; And what do you think? Why, as true as I live, Bold Robin Hood put them all down. 149A.21 And now you may think the right worshipful squire Was joyful this sight for to see; For he said, Cousin Robin, thou’st go no more home, But tarry and dwell here with me. 149A.22 Thou shalt have my land when I dye, and till then Thou shalt be the staff of my age; ‘Then grant me my boon, dear uncle,’ said Robin, ‘That Little John may be my page.’ 149A.23 And he said, Kind cousin, I grant thee thy boon; With all my heart, so let it be; ‘Then come hither, Little John,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Come hither, my page, unto me. 149A.24 ‘Go fetch my bow, my longest long bow, And broad arrows, one, two, or three; For when it is fair weather we’ll into Sherwood, Some merry pastime to see.’ 149A.25 When Robin Hood came into merry Sherwood, He winded his bugle so clear, And twice five and twenty good yeomen and bold Before Robin Hood did appear. 149A.26 ‘Where are your companions all?’ said Robin Hood, ‘For still I want forty and three;’ Then said a bold yeoman, Lo, yonder they stand, All under a green-wood tree. 149A.27 As that word was spoke, Clorinda came by; The queen of the shepherds was she; And her gown was of velvet as green as the grass, And her buskin did reach to her knee. 149A.28 Her gait it was graceful, her body was straight, And her countenance free from pride; A bow in her hand, and quiver and arrows Hung dangling by her sweet side. 149A.29 Her eye-brows were black, ay, and so was her hair, And her skin was as smooth as glass; Her visage spoke wisdom, and modesty too; Sets with Robin Hood such a lass! 149A.30 Said Robin Hood, Lady fair, whither away? O whither, fair lady, away? And she made him answer, To kill a fat buck; For to-morrow is Titbury day. 149A.31 Said Robin Hood, Lady fair, wander with me A little to yonder green bower; There sit down to rest you, and you shall be sure Of a brace or a lease in an hour. 149A.32 And as we were going towards the green bower, Two hundred good bucks we espy’d; She chose out the fattest that was in the herd, And she shot him through side and side. 149A.33 ‘By the faith of my body,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘I never saw woman like thee; And comst thou from east, ay, or comst thou from west, Thou needst not beg venison of me. 149A.34 ‘However, along to my bower you shall go, And taste of a forresters meat:’ And when we come thither, we found as good cheer As any man needs for to eat. 149A.35 For there was hot venison, and warden pies cold, Cream clouted, with honey-combs plenty; And the sarvitors they were, beside Little John, Good yeomen at least four and twenty. 149A.36 Clorinda said, Tell me your name, gentle sir; And he said, ’Tis bold Robin Hood: Squire Gamwel’s my uncle, but all my delight Is to dwell in the merry Sherwood. 149A.37 For ’tis a fine life, and ’tis void of all strife. ‘So ’tis, sir,’ Clorinda reply’d; ‘But oh,’ said bold Robin, ’How sweet would it be, If Clorinda would be my bride!’ 149A.38 She blusht at the motion; yet, after a pause Said, Yes, sir, and with all my heart; ‘Then let’s send for a priest,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And be married before we do part.’ 149A.39 But she said, It may not be so, gentle sir, For I must be at Titbury feast; And if Robin Hood will go thither with me, I’ll make him the most welcome guest. 149A.40 Said Robin Hood, Reach me that buck, Little John, For I’ll go along with my dear; Go bid my yeomen kill six brace of bucks, And meet me to-morrow just here. 149A.41 Before we had ridden five Staffordshire miles, Eight yeomen, that were too bold, Bid Robin Hood stand, and deliver his buck; A truer tale never was told. 149A.42 ‘I will not, faith!’ said bold Robin: ’Come, John, Stand to me, and we’ll beat em all:’ Then both drew their swords, an so cut em and slasht em That five of them did fall. 149A.43 The three that remaind calld to Robin for quarter, And pitiful John beggd their lives; When John’s boon was granted, he gave them good counsel, And so sent them home to their wives. 149A.44 This battle was fought near to Titbury town, When the bagpipes bated the bull; I am king of the fidlers, and sware ’tis a truth, And I call him that doubts it a gull. 149A.45 For I saw them fighting, and fidld the while, And Clorinda sung, Hey derry down! The bumpkins are beaten, put up thy sword,Bob, And now let’s dance into the town. 149A.46 Before we came to it, we heard a strange shouting, And all that were in it lookd madly; For some were a bull-back, some dancing a morris, And some singing Arthur-a-Bradly. 149A.47 And there we see Thomas, our justices clerk, And Mary, to whom he was kind; For Tom rode before her, and calld Mary, Madam, And kist her full sweetly behind. 149A.48 And so may your worships. But we went to dinner, With Thomas and Mary and Nan; They all drank a health to Clorinda, and told her Bold Robin Hood was a fine man. 149A.49 When dinner was ended, Sir Roger, the parson Of Dubbridge, was sent for in haste; He brought his mass-book, and he bade them take hands, And he joynd them in marriage full fast. 149A.50 And then, as bold Robin Hood and his sweet bride Went hand in hand to the green bower, The birds sung with pleasure in merry Sherwood, And ’twas a most joyful hour. 149A.51 And when Robin came in the sight of the bower, ‘Where are my yeomen?’ said he; And Little John answered, Lo, yonder they stand, All under the green-wood tree. 149A.52 Then a garland they brought her, by two and by two, And plac’d them upon the bride’s head; The music struck up, and we all fell to dance, Till the bride and the groom were a-bed. 149A.53 And what they did there must be counsel to me, Because they lay long the next day, And I had haste home, but I got a good piece Of the bride-cake, and so came away. 149A.54 Now out, alas! I had forgotten to tell ye That marryd they were with a ring; And so will Nan Knight, or be buried a maiden, And now let us pray for the king: 149A.55 That he may get children, and they may get more, To govern and do us some good; And then I’ll make ballads in Robin Hood’s bower, And sing em in merry Sherwood.

150A: Robin Hood and Maid Marian

150A.1 A BONNY fine maid of a noble degree, With a hey down down a down down Maid Marian calld by name, Did live in the North, of excellent worth, For she was a gallant dame. 150A.2 For favour and face, and beauty most rare, Queen Hellen shee did excell; For Marian then was praisd of all men That did in the country dwell. 150A.3 ’Twas neither Rosamond nor Jane Shore, Whose beauty was clear and bright, That could surpass this country lass, Beloved of lord and knight. 150A.4 The Earl of Huntington, nobly born, That came of noble blood, To Marian went, with a good intent, By the name of Robin Hood. 150A.5 With kisses sweet their red lips meet, For shee and the earl did agree; In every place, they kindly imbrace, With love and sweet unity. 150A.6 But fortune bearing these lovers a spight, That soon they were forced to part, To the merry green wood then went Robin Hood, With a sad and sorrowfull heart. 150A.7 And Marian, poor soul, was troubled in mind, For the absence of her friend; With finger in eye, shee often did cry, And his person did much commend. 150A.8 Perplexed and vexed, and troubled in mind, Shee drest her self like a page, And ranged the wood to find Robin Hood, The bravest of men in that age. 150A.9 With quiver and bow, sword, buckler, and all, Thus armed was Marian most bold, Still wandering about to find Robin out, Whose person was better then gold. 150A.10 But Robin Hood, hee himself had disguisd, And Marian was strangly attir’d, That they provd foes, and so fell to blowes, Whose vallour bold Robin admir’d. 150A.11 They drew out their swords, and to cutting they went, At least an hour or more, That the blood ran apace from bold Robins face, And Marian was wounded sore. 150A.12 ‘O hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And thou shalt be one of my string, To range in the wood with bold Robin Hood, To hear the sweet nightingall sing.’ 150A.13 When Marian did hear the voice of her love, Her self shee did quickly discover, And with kisses sweet she did him greet, Like to a most loyall lover. 150A.14 When bold Robin Hood his Marian did see, Good lord, what clipping was there! With kind imbraces, and jobbing of faces, Providing of gallant cheer. 150A.15 For Little John took his bow in his hand, And wandring in the wood, To kill the deer, and make good chear, For Marian and Robin Hood. 150A.16 A stately banquet the[y] had full soon, All in a shaded bower, Where venison sweet they had to eat, And were merry that present hour. 150A.17 Great flaggons of wine were set on the board, And merrily they drunk round Their boules of sack, to strengthen the back, Whilst their knees did touch the ground. 150A.18 First Robin Hood began a health To Marian his onely dear, And his yeomen all, both comly and tall, Did quickly bring up the rear. 150A.19 For in a brave veine they tost off the[ir] bouls, Whilst thus they did remain, And every cup, as they drunk up, They filled with speed again. 150A.20 At last they ended their merryment, And went to walk in the wood, Where Little John and Maid Marian Attended on bold Robin Hood. 150A.21 In sollid content together they livd, With all their yeomen gay; They livd by their hands, without any lands, And so they did many a day. 150A.22 But now to conclude, an end I will make In time, as I think it good, For the people that dwell in the North can tell Of Marian and bold Robin Hood.

151A: The King’s Disguise, and Friendship with Robin Hood

151A.1 KING RICHARD hearing of the pranks Of Robin Hood and his men, He much admir’d, and more desir’d, To see both him and them. 151A.2 Then with a dozen of his lords To Nottingham he rode; When he came there, he made good cheer, And took up his abode. 151A.3 He having staid there some time, But had no hopes to speed, He and his lords, with [free] accord, All put on monk’s weeds. 151A.4 From Fountain-abby they did ride, Down to barnsdale; Where Robin Hood prepar d stood All company to assail. 151A.5 The king was higher then the rest, And Robin thought he had An abbot been whom he did spleen; To rob him he was glad. 151A.6 He took the king’s horse by the head, ‘Abbot,’ says he, ‘abide; I am bound to rue such knaves as you, That live in pomp and pride.’ 151A.7 ‘But we are messengers from the king,’ The king himself did say; ‘Near to this place his royal Grace To speak with thee does stay.’ 151A.8 ‘God save the king,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And all that wish him well; He that does deny his sovereignty, I wish he was in hell.’ 151A.9 ‘O thyself thou curses,’ says the king, ‘For thou a traitor art:’ ‘Nay, but that you are his messenger, I swear you lie in heart. 151A.10 ‘For I never yet hurt any man That honest is and true; But those that give their minds to live Upon other men’s due. 151A.11 ‘I never hurt the husbandman, That use to till the ground; Nor spill their blood that range the wood To follow hawk or hound. 151A.12 ‘My chiefest spite to clergy is, Who in these days bear a great sway; With fryars and monks, with their fine sprunks, I make my chiefest prey. 151A.13 ‘But I am very glad,’ says Robin Hood, ‘That I have met you here; Come, before we end, you shall, my friend, Taste of our green-wood cheer.’ 151A.14 The king did then marvel much, And so did all his men; They thought with fear, what kind of cheer Robin would provide for them. 151A.15 Robin took the king’s horse by the head, And led him to the tent; ‘Thou would not be so usd,’ quoth he, ‘But that my king thee sent. 151A.16 ‘Nay, more than that,’ said Robin Hood, ‘For good king Richard’s sake, If you had as much gold as ever I told, I would not one penny take.’ 151A.17 Then Robin set his horn to his mouth, And a loud blast he did blow, Till a hundred and ten of Robin Hood’s men Came marching all of a row. 151A.18 And when they came bold Robin before, Each man did bend his knee; ‘O,’ thought the king, ‘’tis a gallant thing, And a seemly sight to see.’ 151A.19 Within himself the king did say, These men of Robin Hood’s More humble be than mine to me; So the court may learn of the woods. 151A.20 So then they all to dinner went, Upon a carpet green; Black, yellow, red, finely mingl d, Most curious to be seen. 151A.21 Venison and fowls were plenty there, With fish out of the river: King Richard swore, on sea or shore, He neer was feasted better. 151A.22 Then Robin takes a can of ale: ‘Come, let us now begin; Come, every man shall have his can; Here’s a health unto the king.’ 151A.23 The king himself drank to the king, So round about it went; Two barrels of ale, both stout and stale, To pledge that health were spent. 151A.24 And after that, a bowl of wine In his hand took Robin Hood; ‘Until I die, I’ll drink wine,’ said he, ‘While I live in the green-wood. 151A.25 ‘Bend all your bows,’ said Robin Hood, ‘And with the grey goose wing Such sport now shew as you would do In the presence of the king.’ 151A.26 They shewd such brave archery, By cleaving sticks and wands, That the king did say, Such men as they Live not in many lands. 151A.27 ‘Well, Robin Hood,’ then says the king, ‘If I could thy pardon get, To serve the king in every thing Wouldst thou thy mind firm set?’ 151A.28 ‘Yes, with all my heart,’ bold Robin said, So they flung off their hoods; To serve the king in every thing, They swore they would spend their bloods. 151A.29 ‘For a clergyman was first my bane, Which makes me hate them all; But if you’ll be so kind to me, Love them again I shall.’ 151A.30 The king no longer could forbear, For he was movd with ruth; [‘Robin,’ said he, ‘I now tell thee The very naked truth.] 151A.31 ‘I am the king, thy sovereign king, That appears before you all;’ When Robin see that it was he, Strait then he down did fall. 151A.32 ‘Stand up again,’ then said the king, ‘I’ll thee thy pardon give; Stand up, my friend; who can contend, When I give leave to live?’ 151A.33 So they are all gone to Nottingham, All shouting as they came; But when the people them did see, They thought the king was slain, 151A.34 And for that cause the outlaws were come, To rule all as they list; And for to shun, which way to run The people did not wist. 151A.35 The plowman left the plow in the fields, The smith ran from his shop; Old folks also, that scarce could go, Over their sticks did hop. 151A.36 The king soon let them understand He had been in the green wood, And from that day, for evermore, He’d forgiven Robin Hood. 151A.37 When the people they did hear, And the truth was known, They all did sing, ‘God save the king! Hang care, the town’s our own!’ 151A.38 ‘What’s that Robin Hood?’ then said the sheriff; ‘That varlet I do hate; Both me and mine he causd to dine, And servd us all with one plate.’ 151A.39 ‘Ho, ho,’ said Robin, ‘I know what you mean; Come, take your gold again; Be friends with me, and I with thee, And so with every man. 151A.40 ‘Now, master sheriff, you are paid, And since you are beginner, As well as you give me my due; For you neer paid for that dinner. 151A.41 ‘But if that it should please the king So much your house to grace To sup with you, for to speak true, [I] know you neer was base.’ 151A.42 The sheriff could not [that] gain say, For a trick was put upon him; A supper was drest, the king was guest, But he thought ’twould have undone him. 151A.43 They are all gone to London court, Robin Hood, with all his train; He once was there a noble peer, And now he’s there again. 151A.44 Many such pranks brave Robin playd While he lived in the green wood: Now, my friends, attend, and hear an end Of honest Robin Hood.

152A: Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow

152A.1 WHEN as the sheriff of Nottingham Was come, with mickle grief, He talkd no good of Robin Hood, That strong and sturdy thief. Fal lal dal de 152A.2 So unto London-road he past, His losses to unfold To King Richard, who did regard The tale that he had told. 152A.3 ‘Why,’ quoth the king, ’what shall I do? Art thou not sheriff for me? The law is in force, go take thy course Of them that injure thee. 152A.4 ‘Go get thee gone, and by thyself Devise some tricking game For to enthral yon rebels all; Go take thy course with them.’ 152A.5 So away the sheriff he returnd, And by the way he thought Of the words of the king, and how the thing To pass might well be brought. 152A.6 For within his mind he imagined That when such matches were, Those outlaws stout, without [all] doubt, Would be the bowmen there. 152A.7 So an arrow with a golden head And shaft of silver white, Who won the day should bear away For his own proper right. 152A.8 Tidings came to brave Robin Hood, Under the green-wood tree: ‘Come prepare you then, my merry men, We’ll go yon sport to see.’ 152A.9 With that stept forth a brave young man, David of Doncaster: ‘Master,’ said he, ’Be ruld by me, From the green-wood we’ll not stir. 152A.10 ‘To tell the truth, I’m well informed Yon match is a wile; The sheriff, I wiss, devises this Us archers to beguile.’ 152A.11 ‘O thou smells of a coward,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Thy words does not please me; Come on’t what will, I’ll try my skill At yon brave archery.’ 152A.12 O then bespoke brave Little John: Come, let us thither gang; Come listen to me, how it shall be That we need not be kend. 152A.13 Our mantles, all of Lincoln green, Behind us we will leave; We’ll dress us all so several They shall not us perceive. 152A.14 One shall wear white, another red, One yellow, another blue; Thus in disguise, to the exercise We’ll gang, whateer ensue. 152A.15 Forth from the green-wood they are gone, With hearts all firm and stout, Resolving [then] with the sheriff’s men To have a hearty bout. 152A.16 So themselves they mixed with the rest, To prevent all suspicion; For if they should together hold They thought [it] no discretion. 152A.17 So the sheriff looking round about, Amongst eight hundred men, But could not see the sight that he Had long expected then. 152A.18 Some said, If Robin Hood was here, And all his men to boot, Sure none of them could pass these men, So bravely they do shoot. 152A.19 ‘Ay,’ quoth the sheriff, and scratchd his head, ‘I thought he would have been here; I thought he would, but, tho he’s bold, He durst not now appear.’ 152A.20 O that word grieved Robin Hood to the heart; He vex d in his blood; Eer long, thought he, thou shalt well see That here was Robin Hood. 152A.21 Some cried, Blue jacket! another cried, Brown! And the third cried, Brave Yellow! But the fourth man said, Yon man in red In this place has no fellow. 152A.22 For that was Robin Hood himself, For he was cloathd in red; At every shot the prize he got, For he was both sure and dead. 152A.23 So the arrow with the golden head And shaft of silver white Brave Robin Hood won, and bore with him For his own proper right. 152A.24 These outlaws there, that very day, To shun all kind of doubt, By three or four, no less no more, As they went in came out. 152A.25 Until they all assembled were Under the green-wood shade, Where they report, in pleasant sport, What brave pastime they made. 152A.26 Says Robin Hood, All my care is, How that yon sheriff may Know certainly that it was I That bore his arrow away. 152A.27 Says Little John, My counsel good Did take effect before, So therefore now, if you’ll allow, I will advise once more. 152A.28 ‘Speak on, speak on,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Thy wit’s both quick and sound; [I know no man amongst us can For wit like thee be found.’] 152A.29 ‘This I advise,’ said Little John; ‘That a letter shall be pend, And when it is done, to Nottingham You to the sheriff shall send.’ 152A.30 ‘That is well advised,’ said Robin Hood, ‘But how must it be sent?’ ‘Pugh! when you please, it’s done with ease, Master, be you content. 152A.31 ‘I’ll stick it on my arrow’s head, And shoot it into the town; The mark shall show where it must go, When ever it lights down.’ 152A.32 The project it was full performd; The sheriff that letter had; Which when he read, he scratchd his head, And rav’d like one that’s mad. 152A.33 So we’ll leave him chafing in his grease, Which will do him no good; Now, my friends, attend, and hear the end Of honest Robin Hood.

153A: Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight

153A.1 WHEN Robin Hood, and his merry men all, Derry, etc. Had reigned many years, The king was then told they had been too bold To his bishops and noble peers. Hey, etc. 153A.2 Therefore they called a council of state, To know what was best to be done For to quell their pride, or else, they reply’d, The land would be over-run. 153A.3 Having consulted a whole summers day, At length it was agreed That one should be sent to try the event, And fetch him away with speed. 153A.4 Therefore a trusty and worthy knight The king was pleasd to call, Sir William by name; when to him he came, He told him his pleasure all. 153A.5 ‘Go you from hence to bold Robin Hood, And bid him, without more a-do, Surrender himself, or else the proud elf Shall suffer with all his crew. 153A.6 ‘Take here a hundred bowmen brave, All chosen men of might, Of excellent art for to take thy part, In glittering armour bright.’ 153A.7 Then said the knight, My sovereign liege, By me they shall be led; I’ll venture my blood against bold Robin Hood, And bring him alive or dead. 153A.8 One hundred men were chosen straight, As proper as eer men saw; On Midsummer-day the marched away, To conquer that brave outlaw. 153A.9 With long yew bows and shining spears, They marchd in mickle pride, And never delayd, or halted, or stayd, Till they came to the greenwood-side. 153A.10 Said he to his archers, Tarry here; Your bows make ready all, That, if need should be, you may follow me; And see you observe my call. 153A.11 ‘I’ll go in person first,’ he cry’d, ‘With the letters of my good king, Both signd and seald, and if he will yield, We need not draw one string.’ 153A.12 He wanderd about till at length he came To the tent of Robin Hood; The letter he shews; bold Robin arose, And there on his guard he stood. 153A.13 ‘They’d have me surrender,’ quoth bold Robin Hood, ‘And lie at their mercy then; But tell them from me, that never shall be, While I have full seven-score men.’ 153A.14 Sir William the knight, both hardy and bold, Did offer to seize him there, Which William Locksly by fortune did see, And bid him that trick forbear. 153A.15 Then Robin Hood set his horn to his mouth, And blew a blast or twain, And so did the knight, at which there in sight The archers came all amain. 153A.16 Sir William with care he drew up his men, And plac’d them in battle array; Bold Robin, we find, he was not behind; Now this was a bloody fray. 153A.17 The archers on both sides bent their bows, And the clouds of arrows flew; The very first flight, that honoured knight Did there bid the world adieu. 153A.18 Yet nevertheless their fight did last From morning till almost noon; Both parties were stout, and loath to give out; This was on the last [day] of June. 153A.19 At length they went off; one part they went To London with right good will; And Robin Hood he to the green-wood tree, And there he was taken ill. 153A.20 He sent for a monk, who let him blood, And took his life away; Now this being done, his archers they run, It was not a time to stay. 153A.21 Some got on board and crossd the seas, To Flanders, France, and Spain, And others to Rome, for fear of their doom, But soon returnd again. 153A.22 Thus he that never feard bow nor spear Was murderd by letting of blood; And so, loving friends, the story doth end Of valiant bold Robin Hood. 153A.23 There’s nothing remains but his epitaph now, Which, reader, here you have; To this very day, and read it you may, As it was upon his grave.

153A.Epi.: Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight

 
 153A.Epi..1	Robin, Earl of Huntington,
 	 Lies under this little stone.
 	 No archer was like him so good;
 	 His wildness nam’d him Robin Hood.
 	 Full thirteen years, and something more,
 	 These northern parts he vexed sore.
 	 Such outlaws as he and his men
 	 May England never know again!

154A: A True Tale of Robin Hood

154A.1 BOTH gentlemen, or yeomen bould, Or whatsoever you are, To have a stately story tould, Attention now prepare. 154A.2 It is a tale of Robin Hood, Which I to you will tell, Which being rightly understood, I know will please you well. 154A.3 This Robbin, so much talked on, Was once a man of fame, Instiled Earle of Huntington, Lord Robert Hood by name. 154A.4 In courtship and magnificence, His carriage won him prayse, And greater favor with his prince Than any in his dayes. 154A.5 In bounteous liberality He too much did excell, And loved men of quality More than exceeding well. 154A.6 His great revennues all he sould For wine and costly cheere; He kept three hundred bowmen bold, He shooting loved so deare. 154A.7 No archer living in his time With him might well compare; He practisd all his youthfull prime That exercise most rare. 154A.8 At last, by his profuse expence, He had consumd his wealth, And being outlawed by his prince, In woods he livd by stealth. 154A.9 The abbot of Saint Maries rich, To whom he mony ought, His hatred to this earle was such That he his downefall wrought. 154A.10 So being outlawed, as ’tis told, He with a crew went forth Of lusty cutters, stout and bold, And robbed in the North. 154A.11 Among the rest, one Little John, A yeoman bold and free, Who could, if it stood him upon, With ease encounter three. 154A.12 One hundred men in all he got, With whom, the story sayes, Three hundred common men durst not Hold combate any wayes. 154A.13 They Yorkshire woods frequented much, And Lancashire also, Wherein their practises were such That they wrought mickle woe. 154A.14 None rich durst travell to and fro, Though nere so strongly armd, But by these theeves, so strong in show, They still were robd and harmd. 154A.15 His chiefest spight to the clergie was, That lived in monstrous pride; No one of them he would let passe Along the high-way side, 154A.16 But first they must to dinner goe, And afterwards to shrift: Full many a one he served so, Thus while he livd by theft. 154A.17 monkes nor fryers he would let goe, Without paying their fees: If they thought much to be usd so, Their stones he made them leese. 154A.18 For such as they the country filld With bastards in those dayes; Which to prevent, these sparkes did geld All that came by their wayes. 154A.19 But Robbin Hood so gentle was, And bore so brave a minde, If any in distresse did passe, To them he was so kinde 154A.20 That he would give and lend to them, To helpe them at their neede: This made all poore men pray for him, And wish he well might speede. 154A.21 The widdow and the fatherlesse He would send meanes unto, And those whom famine did oppresse Found him a friendly foe. 154A.22 Nor would he doe a woman wrong, But see her safe conveid; He would protect with power strong All those who crav’d his ayde. 154A.23 The abbot of Saint Maries then, Who him undid before, Was riding with two hundred men, And gold and silver store. 154A.24 But Robbin Hood upon him set With his couragious sparkes, And all the coyne perforce did get, Which was twelve thousand markes. 154A.25 He bound the abbot to a tree, And would not let him passe Before that to his men and he His lordship had sayd masse. 154A.26 Which being done, upon his horse He set him fast astride, And with his face towards his ar-- He forced him to ride. 154A.27 His men were faine to be his guide, For he rode backward home; The abbot, being thus villifide, Did sorely chafe and fume. 154A.28 Thus Robbin Hood did vindicate His former wrongs receivd; For ’twas this covetous prelate That him of land bereavd. 154A.29 The abbot he rode to the king With all the haste he could, And to his Grace he every thing Exactly did unfold. 154A.30 And sayd if that no course were tane, By force or stratagem, To take this rebell and his traine, No man should passe for them. 154A.31 The king protested by and by Unto the abbot then That Robbin Hood with speed should dye, With all his merry men. 154A.32 But ere the king did any send, He did another feate, Which did his Grace much more offend; The fact indeed was great. 154A.33 in a short time after that, The kings receivers went Towards London with the coyne they got, For ’s highnesse northerne rent. 154A.34 Bold Robbin Hood and Little John, With the rest of their traine, Not dreading law, set them upon, And did their gold obtaine. 154A.35 The king much moved at the same, And the abbots talke also, In this his anger did proclaime, And sent word to and fro, 154A.36 That whosoere, alive or dead, Could bring him Robbin Hood, Should have one thousand markes, well payd In gold and silver good. 154A.37 This promise of the king did make Full many yeomen bold Attempt stout Robbin Hood to take, With all the force they could. 154A.38 But still when any came to him, Within the gay greene wood, He entertainement gave to them, With venison fat and good. 154A.39 And shewd to them such martiall sport, With his long bow and arrow, That they of him did give report, How that it was great sorow, 154A.40 That such a worthy man as he Should thus be put to shift, Being late a lord of high degree, Of living quite bereft. 154A.41 The king, to take him, more and more Sent men of mickle might, But he and his still beate them sore, And conquered them in fight. 154A.42 Or else, with love and courtesie, To him he won their hearts: Thus still he livd by robbery, Throughout the northerne parts. 154A.43 And all the country stood in dread Of Robbin Hood and ’s men; For stouter lads nere livd by bread, In those dayes nor since then. 154A.44 The abbot which before I nam’d Sought all the meanes he could To have by force this rebell tane, And his adherents bold. 154A.45 Therefore he armd five hundred men, With furniture compleate, But the outlawes slew halfe of them, And made the rest retreate. 154A.46 The long bow and the arrow keene They were so usd unto That still they kept the forest greene, In spight o th’ proudest foe. 154A.47 Twelve of the abbots men he tooke, Who came him to have tane, When all the rest the field forsooke; These he did entertaine 154A.48 With banquetting and merriment, And, having usd them well, He to their lord them safely sent, And willd them him to tell 154A.49 That if he would be pleasd at last To beg of our good king That he might pardon what was past, And him to favour bring, 154A.50 He would surrender backe agen The money which before Was taken by him and his men, From him and many more. 154A.51 Poore men might safely passe by him, And some that way would chuse, For well they knew that to helpe them He evermore did use. 154A.52 But where he knew a miser rich, That did the poore oppresse, To feele his coyne his hand did itch; Hee’de have it, more or lesse. 154A.53 And sometimes, when the high-way fayld, Then he his courage rouses; He and his men have oft assayld Such rich men in their houses. 154A.54 So that, through dread of Robbin then And his adventurous crew, The mizers kept great store of men, Which else maintaynd but few. 154A.55 King Richard, of that name the first, Sirnamed Cuer de Lyon, Went to defeate the Pagans curst, Who kept the coasts of Syon. 154A.56 The bishop of Ely, chancelor, Was left as vice-roy here, Who like a potent emperor, Did proudly domminere. 154A.57 Our chronicles of him report That commonly he rode With a thousand horse from court to court, Where he would make abode. 154A.58 He, riding downe towards the north, With his aforesayd traine, Robbin and his did issue forth, Them all to entertaine. 154A.59 And, with the gallant gray-goose wing, They shewed to them such play, That made their horses kicke and fling, And downe their riders lay. 154A.60 Full glad and faine the bishop was, For all his thousand men, To seeke what meanes he could to passe From out of Robbins ken. 154A.61 Two hundred of his men were kil’d, And fourscore horses good; Thirty, who did as captives yeeld, Were carryed to the greene wood. 154A.62 Which afterwards were ransomed, For twenty markes a man; The rest set spurres to horse, and fled To th’ town of Warrington. 154A.63 The bishop, sore enraged then, Did, in King Richards name, Muster a power of northerne men, These outlawes bold to tame. 154A.64 But Robbin, with his courtesie, So wonne the meaner sort, That they were loath on him to try What rigor did import. 154A.65 So that bold Robbin and his traine Did live unhurt of them, Vntill King Richard came againe From faire Jerusalem. 154A.66 And then the talke of Robbin Hood His royall eares did fill; His Grace admir’d that ith’ greene wood He thus continued still. 154A.67 So that the country farre and neare Did give him great applause; For none of them neede stand in feare, But such as broke the lawes. 154A.68 He wished well unto the king, And prayed still for his health, And never practised any thing Against the common wealth. 154A.69 Onely, because he was undone By th’ crewell clergie then, All meanes that he could thinke upon To vexe such kinde of men 154A.70 He enterprized, with hatefull spleene; In which he was to blame, For fault of some, to wreeke his teene On all that by him came. 154A.71 With wealth which he by robbery got Eight almes-houses he built, Thinking thereby to purge the blot Of blood which he had spilt. 154A.72 Such was their blinde devotion then, Depending on their workes; Which, it ’twere true, we Christian men Inferiour were to Turkes. 154A.73 But, to speak true of Robbin Hood, And wrong him not a iot, He never would shed any mans blood That him invaded not. 154A.74 Nor would he iniure husbandmen, That toyld at cart and plough; For well he knew, were ’t not for them, To live no man knew how. 154A.75 The king in person, with some lords, To Notingham did ride, To try what strength and skill affords To crush these outlawes pride. 154A.76 And, as he once before had done, He did againe proclaime, That whosoere would take upon To bring to Notingham, 154A.77 Or any place within the land, Rebellious Robbin Hood, Should be preferd in place to stand With those of noble blood. 154A.78 When Robbin Hood heard of the same, Within a little space, Into the towne of Notingham A letter to his Grace 154A.79 He shot upon an arrow-head, One evening cunningly; Which was brought to the king, and read Before his Maiestie. 154A.80 The tennour of this letter was, That Robbin would submit, And be true leigeman to his Grace, In any thing that’s fit, 154A.81 So that his Highnesse would forgive Him and his merry men all; If not, he must i th’ greene wood live, And take what chance did fall. 154A.82 The king would faine have pardoned him, But that some lords say, This president will much condemne Your Grace another day. 154A.83 While that the king and lords did stay Debating on this thing, Some of these outlawes fled away Unto the Scottish king. 154A.84 For they supposed, if he were tane, Or to the king did yeeld, By th’ commons all the rest on ’s traine Full quickely would be quelld. 154A.85 Of more than full a hundred men But forty tarryed still, Who were resolvd to sticke to him, Let fortune worke her will. 154A.86 If none had fled, all for his sake Had got their pardon free; The king to favour meant to take His merry men and he. 154A.87 But ere the pardon to him came, This famous archer dy’d: His death, and manner of the same, I’le presently describe. 154A.88 For, being vext to thinke upon His followers revolt, In melancholly passion He did recount their fault. 154A.89 ‘Perfideous traytors!’ sayd he then, ‘In all your dangers past Have I you guarded as my men To leave me thus at last?’ 154A.90 This sad perplexity did cause A fever, as some say, Which him unto confusion drawes, Though by a stranger way. 154A.91 This deadly danger to prevent, He hide him with all speede Vnto a nunnery, with intent For his healths sake to bleede. 154A.92 A faithlesse fryer did pretend In love to let him blood; But he by falshood wrought the end Of famous Robbin Hood . 154A.93 The fryer, as some say, did this To vindicate the wrong Which to the clergie he and his Had done by power strong. 154A.94 Thus dyed he by trechery, That could not dye by force; Had he livd longer, certainely, King Richard, in remorse, 154A.95 Had unto favour him receavd; He brave men elevated; ’Tis pitty he was of life bereavd By one which he so hated. 154A.96 A treacherous leech this fryer was, To let him bleed to death; And Robbin was, me thinkes, an asse, To trust him with his breath. 154A.97 His corpes the priores of the place, The next day that he dy’d, Caused to be buried, in mean case, Close by the high-way side. 154A.98 And over him she caused a stone To be fixed on the ground; An epitaph was set thereon, Wherein his name was found. 154A.99 The date o th’ yeare, and day also, Shee made to be set there, That all who by the way did goe Might see it plaine appeare 154A.100 That such a man as Robbin Hood Was buried in that place; And how he lived in the greene wood, And robd there for a space. 154A.101 It seems that although the clergie he Had put to mickle woe, He should not quite forgotten be, Although he was their foe. 154A.102 This woman, though she did him hate, Yet loved his memory; And thought it wondrous pitty that His fame should with him dye. 154A.103 This epitaph, as records tell, Within this hundred yeares By many was discerned well, But time all things outweares. 154A.104 His followers, when he was dead, Were some received to grace; The rest to forraigne countries fled, And left their native place. 154A.105 Although his funerall was but meane, This woman had in minde Least his fame should be buried cleane From those that came behind. 154A.106 For certainely, before nor since, No man ere understood, Vnder the reigne of any prince, Of one like Robbin Hood. 154A.107 Full thirteene yeares, and something more, These outlawes lived thus, Feared of the rich, loved of the poore, A thing most marvelous. 154A.108 A thing impossible to us This story seemes to be; None dares be now so venturous; But times are chang’d, we see. 154A.109 We that live in these latter dayes Of civill government, If neede be, have a hundred wayes Such outlawes to prevent. 154A.110 In those dayes men more barbarous were, And lived lesse in awe; Now, God be thanked! people feare More to offend the law. 154A.111 No roaring guns were then in use, They dreampt of no such thing; Our English men in fight did chuse The gallant gray-goose wing. 154A.112 In which activity these men, Through practise, were so good, That in those dayes non equald them, Specially Robbin Hood. 154A.113 So that, it seemes, keeping in caves, In woods and forrests thicke, Thei’d beate a multitude with staves, Their arrowes did so pricke. 154A.114 And none durst neare unto them come, Unlesse in courtesie; All such he bravely would send home, With mirth and iollity. 154A.115 Which courtesie won him such love, As I before have told; ’Twas the cheefe cause that he did prove More prosperous than he could. 154A.116 Let us be thankefull for these times Of plenty, truth, and peace, And leave our great and horrid crimes, Least they cause this to cease. 154A.117 I know there’s many fained tales Of Robbin Hood and ’s crew; But chronicles, which seldome fayles, Reports this to be true. 154A.118 Let none then thinke this a lye, For, if ’twere put to th’ worst, They may the truth of all discry I th’ raigne of Richard the first. 154A.119 If any reader please to try, As I direction show, The truth of this brave history, Hee’l finde it true I know. 154A.120 And I shall thinke my labour well Bestowed, to purpose good, When ’t shall be sayd that I did tell True tales of Robbin Hood.

154A.Epi.: A True Tale of Robin Hood

 
 154A.Epi..1	Robert Earle of Huntington
 	 Lies under this little stone.
 	 No archer was like him so good:
 	 His wildnesse named him Robbin Hood.
 	 Full thirteene yeares, and something more,
 	 These northerne parts he vexed sore.
 	 Such out-lawes as he and his men
 	 May England never know agen.

155A: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

155A.1 FOUR and twenty bonny boys Were playing at the ba, And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh, And he playd oer them a’. 155A.2 He kickd the ba with his right foot, And catchd it wi his knee, And throuch-and-thro the Jew’s window He gard the bonny ba flee. 155A.3 He’s doen him to the Jew’s castell, And walkd it round about; And there he saw the Jew’s daughter, At the window looking out. 155A.4 ‘Throw down the ba, ye Jew’s daughter, Throw down the ba to me!’ ‘Never a bit,’ says the jew’s daughter, ‘Till up to me come ye.’ 155A.5 ‘How will I come up? How can I come up? How can I come to thee? For as ye did to my auld father, The same ye’ll do to me.’ 155A.6 She’s gane to her father’s garden, And pu’d an apple red and green; ’Twas a’ to wyle him sweet Sir Hugh, And to entice him in. 155A.7 She’s led him in through ae dark door, And sae has she thro nine; She’s laid him on a dressing-table, And stickit him like a swine. 155A.8 And first came out the thick, thick blood, And syne came out the thin, And syne came out the bonny heart’s blood; There was nae mair within. 155A.9 She’s rowd him in a cake o lead, Bade him lie still and sleep; She’s thrown him in Our Lady’s draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep. 155A.10 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ the bairns came hame, When every lady gat hame her son, The Lady Maisry gat nane. 155A.11 She’s taen her mantle her about, Her coffer by the hand, And she’s gane out to seek her son, And wanderd oer the land. 155A.12 She’s doen her to the Jew’s castell, Where a’ were fast asleep: ‘Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak.’ 155A.13 She’s doen her to the Jew’s garden, Thought he had been gathering fruit: ‘Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak.’ 155A.14 She neard Our Lady’s deep draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep: ‘Whareer ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak.’ 155A.15 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear, Prepare my winding-sheet, And at the back o merry Lincoln The morn I will you meet.’ 155A.16 Now Lady Maisry is gane hame, Made him a winding sheet, And at the back o merry Lincoln The dead corpse did her meet. 155A.17 And a’ the bells of merry Lincoln Without men’s hands were rung, And a’ the books o merry Lincoln Were read without man’s tongue, And neer was such a burial Sin Adam’s days begun.

155B: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

155B.1 THE rain rins doun through Mirry-land toune, Sae dois it doune the Pa; Sae dois the lads of Mirry-land toune, Whan they play at the ba. 155B.2 Than out and cam the Jewis dochter, Says, Will ye cum in and dine? ‘I winnae cum in, I cannae cum in, Without my play-feres nine.’ 155B.3 Scho powd an apple reid and white, To intice the young thing in: Scho powd an apple white and reid, And that the sweit bairne did win. 155B.4 And scho has taine out a little pen-knife, And low down by her gair; Scho has twin’d the yong thing and his life, A word he nevir spak mair. 155B.5 And out and cam the thick, thick bluid, And out and cam the thin, And out and cam the bonny herts bluid; Thair was nae life left in. 155B.6 Scho laid him on a dressing-borde, And drest him like a swine, And laughing said, Gae nou and pley With your sweit play-feres nine. 155B.7 Scho rowd him in a cake of lead, Bade him lie stil and sleip; Scho cast him in a deip draw-well, Was fifty fadom deip. 155B.8 Whan bells wer rung, and mass was sung, And every lady went hame, Than ilka lady had her yong sonne, Bot Lady Helen had nane. 155B.9 Scho rowd hir mantil hir about, And sair, sair gan she weip, And she ran into the Jewis castel, Whan they wer all asleip. 155B.10 ‘My bonny Sir Hew, my pretty Sir Hew, I pray thee to me speik:’ ‘O lady, rinn to the deip draw-well, Gin ye your sonne wad seik.’ 155B.11 Lady Helen ran to the deip draw-well, And knelt upon her kne: ‘My bonny Sir Hew, an ye be here, I pray thee speik to me.’ 155B.12 ‘The lead is wondrous heavy, mither, The well is wondrous deip; A keen pen-knife sticks in my hert, A word I dounae speik. 155B.13 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my mither deir, Fetch me my windling sheet, And at the back o Mirry-land toun, It’s thair we twa sall meet.’

155C: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

155C.1 FOUR and twenty bonny boys War playing at the ba; Then up and started sweet Sir Hew, The flower amang them a’. 155C.2 He hit the ba a kick wi’s fit, And kept it wi his knee, That up into the Jew’s window He gart the bonny ba flee. 155C.3 ‘Cast doun the ba to me, fair maid, Cast doun the ba to me;’ ‘O neer a bit o the ba ye get Till ye cum up to me. 155C.4 ‘Cum up, sweet Hew, cum up, dear Hew, Cum up and get the ba;’ ‘I canna cum, I darna cum, Without my play-feres twa.’ 155C.5 ‘Cum up, sweet Hew, cum up, dear Hew, Cum up and play wi me;’ ‘I canna cum, I darna cum, Without my play-feres three.’ 155C.6 She’s gane into the Jew’s garden, Where the grass grew lang and green; She powd an apple red and white, To wyle the young thing in. 155C.7 She wyl’d him into ae chamber, She wyl’d him into twa, She wyl’d him to her ain chamber, The fairest o them a’. 155C.8 She laid him on a dressing-board, Where she did sometimes dine; She put a penknife in his heart, And dressed him like a swine. 155C.9 Then out and cam the thick, thick blude, Then out and cam the thin; Then out and cam the bonny heart’s blude, Where a’ the life lay in. 155C.10 She rowd him in a cake of lead, Bad him lie still and sleep; She cast him in the Jew’s draw-well, Was fifty fadom deep. 155C.11 She’s tane her mantle about her head, Her pike-staff in her hand, And prayed Heaven to be her guide Unto some uncouth land. 155C.12 His mither she cam to the Jew’s castle, And there ran thryse about: ‘O sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.’ 155C.13 She cam into the Jew’s garden, And there ran thryse about; RR’rro sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.’ 155C.14 She cam unto the Jew’s draw-well, And there ran thryse about: ‘O sweet Sir Hew, gif ye be here, I pray ye to me speak.’ 155C.15 ‘How can I speak, how dare I speak, How can I speak to thee? The Jew’s penknife sticks in my heart, I canna speak to thee. 155C.16 ‘Gang hame, gang hame, O mither dear, And shape my winding sheet, And at the birks of Mirryland town There you and I shall meet.’ 155C.17 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men bound for bed, Every mither had her son, But sweet Sir Hew was dead.

155D: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

155D.1 ARR’rr the boys of merry Linkim War playing at the ba, An up it stands him sweet Sir Hugh, The flower amang them a’. 155D.2 He keppit the ba than wi his foot, And catchd it wi his knee, And even in at the Jew’s window He gart the bonny ba flee. 155D.3 ‘Cast out the ba to me, fair maid, Cast out the ba to me!’ ‘Ah never a bit of it,’ she says, ‘Till ye come up to me. 155D.4 ‘Come up, sweet Hugh, come up, dear Hugh, Come up and get the ba’!’ ‘I winna come up, I mayna come [up], Without my bonny boys a’.’ 155D.5 ‘Come up, sweet Hugh, come up, dear Hugh, Come up and speak to me!’ ‘I mayna come up, I winna come up, Without my bonny boys three.’ 155D.6 She’s taen her to the Jew’s garden, Where the grass grew lang and green, She’s pu’d an apple reid and white, To wyle the bonny boy in. 155D.7 She’s wyl’d him in thro ae chamber, She’s wyl’d him in thro twa, She’s wyl’d him till her ain chamber, The flower out owr them a’. 155D.8 She’s laid him on a dressin-board, Whare she did often dine; She stack a penknife to his heart, And dressd him like a swine. 155D.9 She rowd him in a cake of lead, Bade him lie still and sleep; She threw him i the Jew’s draw-well, ’Twas fifty fathom deep. 155D.10 Whan bells was rung, and mass was sung, An a’ man bound to bed, Every lady got hame her son, But sweet Sir Hugh was dead.

155E: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

155E.1 YESTERDAY was brave Hallowday, And, above all days of the year, The schoolboys all got leave to play, And little Sir Hugh was there. 155E.2 He kicked the ball with his foot, And kepped it with his knee, And even in at the Jew’s window He gart the bonnie ba flee. 155E.3 Out then came the Jew’s daughter: ‘Will ye come in and dine?’ ‘I winna come in, and I canna come in, Till I get that ball of mine. 155E.4 ‘Throw down that ball to me, maiden, Throw down the ball to me!’ ‘I winna throw down your ball, Sir Hugh, Till ye come up to me.’ 155E.5 She pu’d the apple frae the tree, It was baith red and green; She gave it unto little Sir Hugh, With that his heart did win. 155E.6 She wiled him into ae chamber, She wiled him into twa, She wiled him into the third chamber, And that was warst o’t a’. 155E.7 She took out a little penknife, Hung low down by her spare, She twined this young thing o his life, And a word he neer spak mair. 155E.8 And first came out the thick, thick blood, And syne came out the thin, And syne came out the bonnie heart’s blood, There was nae mair within. 155E.9 She laid him on a dressing-table, She dressd him like a swine; Says, Lie ye there, my bonnie Sir Hugh, Wi yere apples red and green! 155E.10 She put him in a case of lead, Says, Lie ye there and sleep! She threw him into the deep draw-well, Was fifty fathom deep. 155E.11 A schoolboy walking in the garden Did grievously hear him moan; He ran away to the deep draw-well, And fell down on his knee. 155E.12 Says, Bonnie Sir Hugh, and pretty Sir Hugh, I pray you speak to me! If you speak to any body in this world, I pray you speak to me. 155E.13 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And every body went hame, Then every lady had her son, But Lady Helen had nane. 155E.14 She rolled her mantle her about, And sore, sore did she weep; She ran away to the Jew’s castle, When all were fast asleep. 155E.15 She cries, Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh, I pray you speak to me! If you speak to any body in this world, I pray you speak to me. 155E.16 ‘Lady Helen, if ye want your son, I’ll tell ye where to seek; Lady Helen, if ye want your son, He’s in the well sae deep.’ 155E.17 She ran away to the deep draw-well, And she fell down on her knee, Saying, Bonnie Sir Hugh, O pretty Sir Hugh, I pray ye speak to me! If ye speak to any body in the world, I pray ye speak to me. 155E.18 ‘Oh the lead it is wondrous heavy, mother, The well it is wondrous deep; The little penknife sticks in my throat, And I downa to ye speak. 155E.19 ‘But lift me out o this deep draw-well, And bury me in yon churchyard; . . . . . . . . 155E.20 ‘Put a Bible at my head,’ he says, ‘And a Testament at my feet, And pen and ink at every side, And I’ll lie still and sleep. 155E.21 ‘And go to the back of Maitland town, Bring me my winding sheet; For it’s at the back of Maitland town That you and I shall meet.’ 155E.22 O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom that makes full sore, A woman’s mercy is very little, But a man’s mercy is more.

155F: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

155F.1 ’TWAS on a summer’s morning Some scholars were playing at ball, When out came the Jew’s daughter And leand her back against the wall. 155F.2 She said unto the fairest boy, Come here to me, Sir Hugh; ‘No! I will not,’ said he, ‘Without my playfellows too.’ 155F.3 She took an apple out of her pocket, And trundled it along the plain, And who was readiest to lift it Was little Sir Hugh again. 155F.4 She took him by the milk-white han, An led him through many a hall, Until they came to one stone chamber, Where no man might hear his call. 155F.5 She set him in a goolden chair, And jaggd him with a pin, And called for a goolden cup To houl his heart’s blood in. 155F.6 She tuk him by the yellow hair, An also by the feet, An she threw him in the deep draw-well; It was fifty fadom deep. 155F.7 Day bein over, the night came on, And the scholars all went home; Then every mother had her son, But little Sir Hugh’s had none. 155F.8 She put a mantle about her head, Tuk a little rod in her han, An she says, Sir Hugh, if I fin you here, I will bate you for stayin so long. 155F.9 First she went to the Jew’s door, But they were fast asleep; An then she went to the deep draw-well, That was fifty fadom deep. 155F.10 She says, Sir Hugh, if you be here, As I suppose you be, If ever the dead or quick arose, Arise and spake to me. 155F.11 ‘Yes, mother dear, I am here, I know I have staid very long; But a little penknife was stuck in my heart, Till the stream ran down full strong. 155F.12 ‘And mother dear, when you go home, Tell my playfellows all That I lost my life by leaving them, When playing that game of ball. 155F.13 ‘And ere another day is gone, My winding-sheet prepare, And bury me in the green churchyard, Where the flowers are bloomin fair. 155F.14 ‘Lay my Bible at my head, My Testament at my feet; the earth and worms shall be my bed, Till Christ and I shall meet.’

155G: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155G.	 Baltimore.
 	 IT rains, it rains in old Scotland,
 	 And down the rain does fa,
 	 And all the boys in our town
 	 Are out a playing at ba.
 155G.2	 ‘You toss your balls too high, my boys,
 	 You toss your balls too low;
 	 You’ll toss them into the Jew’s garden,
 	 Wherein you darst not go.’
 155G.3	 Then out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
 	 All dressed in red and green:
 	 ‘Come in, come in, my pretty little boy,
 	 And get your ball again.’
 155G.4	 ‘I winna come in, and I canna come in,
 	 Without my playmates all,
 	 And without the will of my mother dear,
 	 Which would cause my heart’s blood to fall.’
 155G.5	 She shewed him an apple as green as grass,
 	 She shewed him a gay gold ring,
 	 She shewed him a cherry as red as blood,
 	 Which enticed the little boy in.
 155G.6	 She took him by the lily-white hand,
 	 And led him into the hall,
 	 And laid him on a dresser-board,
 	 And that was the worst of all.
 155G.7	 She laid the Bible at his head,
 	 The Prayer-Book at his feet,
 	 And with a penknife small
 	 She stuck him like a sheep.
 155G.8	 Six pretty maids took him by the head,
 	 And six took him by the feet,
 	 And threw him into a deep draw-well,
 	 That was eighteen fathoms deep.
 	 * * * * *
 155G.9	 ‘The lead is wondrous heavy, mother,
 	 The well is wondrous deep,
 	 A keen pen-knife sticks in my heart,
 	 And nae word more can I speak.’

155H: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155H.1	 IT rains, it rains in fair Scotland,
 	 It rains both great and small
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 155H.2	 He tossed the ball so high, so low,
 	 He tossed the ball so low,
 	 He tossed it over the Jew’s garden-wall,
 	 Where no none dared to go.
 155H.3	 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
 	 All dressed in apple-green;
 	 Said she, My dear little boy, come in,
 	 And pick up your ball again.
 155H.4	 ‘I dare not come, I will not come,
 	 I dare not come at all;
 	 For if I should, I know you would
 	 Cause my blood to fall.’
 155H.5	 She took him by the lily-white hand,
 	 And led him thro the kitchen;
 	 And there he saw his own dear maid
 	 A roasting of a chicken.
 155H.6	 She put him in a little chair,
 	 And pinned him with a pin,
 	 And then she called for a wash-basin,
 	 To spill his life blood in.
 155H.7	 ‘O put the Bible at my head,
 	 And the Testament at my feet,
 	 And when my mother calls for me,
 	 You may tell her I’m gone to sleep.’

155I: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155I.1	 the recitation of an aged lady.
 	 IT rains, it rains in merry Scotland,
 	 It rains both great and small,
 	 And all the children in merry Scotland
 	 Are playing at the ball.
 155I.2	 They toss the ball so high, so high,
 	 They toss the ball so low,
 	 They toss the ball in the Jew’s garden,
 	 Where the Jews are sitting a row.
 155I.3	 Then up came one of the Jew’s daughters,
 	 Cloathed all in green:
 	 ‘Come hither, come hither, my pretty Sir Hugh,
 	 And fetch thy ball again.’
 155I.4	 ‘I durst not come, I durst not go,
 	 Without my play-fellowes all;
 	 For if my mother should chance to know,
 	 She’d cause my blood to fall.’
 	 * * * * *
 155I.5	 She laid him upon the dresser-board,
 	 And stuck him like a sheep;
 	 She laid the Bible at his head,
 	 The Testament at his feet,
 	 The Catechise-Book in his own heart’s blood,
 	 With a penknife stuck so deep.
 	 * * * * *

155J: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

155J.1 IT rains, it rains in merry Scotland, Both little, great and small, And all the schoolfellows in merry Scotland Must needs go play at ball. 155J.2 They tossd the ball so high, so high, With that it came down so low; They tossd it over the old Jew’s gates, And broke the old Jew’s window. 155J.3 The old Jew’s daughter she came out, Was clothed all in green: ‘Come hither, come hither, you young Sir Hugh, And fetch your ball again.’ 155J.4 ‘I dare not come, nor I will not come, Without my schoolfellows come all; For I shall be beaten when I go home For losing of my ball.’ 155J.5 She ’ticed him with an apple so red, And likewise with a fig; She threw him over the dresser-board, And sticked him like a pig. 155J.6 The first came out the thickest of blood, The second came out so thin, The third came out the child’s heart-blood, Where all his life lay in. 155J.7 ‘O spare my life! O spare my life! O spare my life!’ said he; ‘If ever I live to be a young man, I’ll do as good chare for thee.’ 155J.8 ‘I’ll do as good chare for thy true love As ever I did for the king; I will scour a basin as bright as silver To let your heart-blood run in.’ 155J.9 When eleven o’clock was past and gone, And all the school-fellows came home, Every mother had her own child But young Sir Hugh’s mother had none. 155J.10 She went up Lincoln and down Lincoln, And all about Lincoln street, With her small wand in her right hand, Thinking of her child to meet. 155J.11 She went till she came to the old Jew’s gate, She knocked with the ring; Who should be so ready as the old Jew herself To rise and let her in! 155J.12 ‘What news, fair maid? what news, fair maid? What news have you brought to me? . . . . . . . . . 155J.13 ‘Have you seen any of my child today, Or any of the rest of my kin?’ ‘No, I’ve seen none of your child today, Nor none of the rest of your kin.’

155K: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155K.1	 IT hails, it rains, in Merry-Cock land,
 	 It hails, it rains, both great and small,
 	 And all the little children in Merry-Cock land
 	 They have need to play at ball.
 155K.2	 They tossd the ball so high,
 	 They tossd the ball so low,
 	 Amongst all the Jews’ cattle,
 	 And amongst the Jews below.
 155K.3	 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
 	 Dressed all in green;
 	 ‘Come, my sweet Saluter,
 	 And fetch the ball again.’
 155K.4	 ‘I durst not come, I must not come,
 	 Unless all my little playfellows come along;
 	 For if my mother sees me at the gate,
 	 She’ll cause my blood to fall.
 155K.5	 ‘She showd me an apple as green as grass,
 	 She showd me a gay gold ring;
 	 She showd me a cherry as red as blood,
 	 And so she entic’d me in
 155K.6	 ‘She took me in the parlor,
 	 She took me in the kitchen,
 	 And there I saw my own dear nurse,
 	 A picking of a chicken.
 155K.7	 ‘She laid me down to sleep,
 	 With a Bible at my head and a Testament at my feet;
 	 And if my playfellows come to quere for me,
 	 Tell them I am asleep.’

155L: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155L.1	 IT rains, it hails in merry Lincoln,
 	 It rains both great and small,
 	 And all the boys and girls today
 	 Do play at pat the ball.
 155L.2	 They patted the ball so high, so high,
 	 They patted the ball so low,
 	 They patted it into the Jew’s garden,
 	 Where all the Jews do go.
 155L.3	 Then out it spake the Jew’s daughter,
 	 As she leant over the wall;
 	 ‘Come hither, come hither, my pretty playfellow,
 	 And I’ll give you your  ball.’
 155L.4	 She tempted him [in] with apple so red,
 	 But that wouldnt tempt him in;
 	 She tempted him in with sugar so sweet,
 	 And so she got him in.
 155L.5	 Then she put forth her lilly-white hand,
 	 And led him through the hall:
 	 ‘This way, this way, my pretty play-fellow,
 	 And you shall have your ball.’
 155L.6	 She led him on through one chamber,
 	 And so she did through nine,
 	 Until she came to her own chamber,
 	 Where she was wont to dine,
 	 And she laid him on a dressing-board,
 	 And sticket him like a swine.
 155L.7	 Then out it came the thick, thick blood,
 	 And out it came the thin,
 	 And out it came the bonnie heart’s blood,
 	 There was no more within.

155M: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155M.1	 DOWN in merry, merry Scotland
 	 It rained both hard and small;
 	 Two little boys went out one day,
 	 All for to play with a ball.
 155M.2	 They tossed it up so very, very high,
 	 They tossed it down so low;
 	 They tossed it into the Jew’s garden,
 	 Where the flowers all do blow.
 155M.3	 Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
 	 Dress d in green all:
 	 ‘If you come here, my fair pretty lad,
 	 You shall have your ball.’
 155M.4	 She showed him an apple as green as grass;
 	 The next thing was a fig;
 	 The next thing a cherry as red as blood,
 	 And that would ’tice him in.
 155M.5	 set him on a golden chair,
 	 And gave him sugar sweet;
 	 Laid him on some golden chest of drawers,
 	 Stabbed him like a sheep.
 155M.6	 ‘Seven foot Bible
 	 At my head and my feet;
 	 If my mother pass by me,
 	 Pray tell her I’m asleep.’

155N: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

155N.1 IT was on a May, on a midsummer’s day, When it rained, it did rain small; And little Harry Hughes and his playfellows all Went out to play the ball. 155N.2 He knocked it up, and he knocked it down, He knocked it oer and oer; The very first kick little Harry gave the ball, He broke the duke’s windows all. 155N.3 She came down, the youngest duke’s daughter, She was dressed in green: ‘Come back, come back, my pretty little boy, And play the ball again.’ 155N.4 ‘I wont come back, and I daren’t come back, Without my playfellows all; And if my mother she should come in, She’d make it the bloody ball.’ 155N.5 She took an apple out of her pocket, And rolled it along the plain; Little Harry Hughes picked up the apple, And sorely rued the day. 155N.6 She takes him by the lily-white hand, And leads him from hall to hall, Until she came to a little dark room, That no one could hear him call. 155N.7 She sat herself on a golden chair, Him on another close by, And there’s where she pulled out her little penknife, That was both sharp and fine. 155N.8 Little Harry Hughes had to pray for his soul, For his days were at an end; She stuck her penknife in little Harry’s heart, And first the blood came very thick, and then came very thin. 155N.9 She rolled him in a quire of tin, That was in so many a fold; She rolled him from that to a little draw-well, That was fifty fathoms deep. 155N.10 ‘Lie there, lie there, little Harry,’ she cried, ‘And God forbid you to swim, If you be a disgrace to me, Or to any of my friends.’ 155N.11 The day passed by, and the night came on, And every scholar was home, And every mother had her own child, But poor Harry’s mother had none. 155N.12 She walked up and down the street, With a little sally rod in her hand, And God directed her to the little draw-well, That was fifty fathoms deep. 155N.13 ‘If you be there, little Harry,’ she said, ‘And God forbid you to be, Speak one word to your own dear mother, That is looking all over for thee.’ 155N.14 ‘This I am, dear mother,’ he cried, ‘And lying in great pain, With a little penknife lying close to my heart, And the duke’s daughter has me slain. 155N.15 ‘Give my blessing to my schoolfellows all, And tell them to be at the church, And make my grave both large and deep, And my coffin of hazel and green birch. 155N.16 ‘Put my Bible at my head, My busker (?) at my feet, My little prayer-book at my right side, And sound will be my sleep.’

155O: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155O.1	 IT rains, it rains, in merry Scotland,
 	 It rains both great and small,
 	 And all the children in merry Scotland
 	 Must needs play at ball.
 155O.2	 They toss the ball so high,
 	 And they toss the ball so low;
 	 They toss it into the Jew’s garden,
 	 Where the Jews sate all of a row.
 155O.3	 . . . .
 	 A-dress d all in green:
 	 ‘Come in, come in, my pretty lad,
 	 And you shall have your ball again.’
 155O.4	 ‘They set me in a chair of state,
 	 And gave me sugar sweet;
 	 They laid me on a dresser-board,
 	 And stuck me like a sheep.
 155O.5	 ‘Oh lay a Bible at my head,
 	 And a Prayer-Book at my feet!
 	 In the well that they did throw me in,
 	 Full five-and-fifty feet deep.’

155P: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155P.1	 HE tossed the ball so high, so high,
 	 He tossed the ball so low,
 	 He tossed the ball in the Jew’s garden,
 	 And the Jews were all below.
 155P.2	 Oh then out came the Jew’s daughter,
 	 She was dressed all in green:
 	 ‘Come hither, come hither, my sweet pretty fellow,
 	 And fetch your ball again.’

155Q: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155Q.1	 ARR’rr the bairns o Lincolnshire
 	 Were learning at the school,
 	 And every Saturday at een
 	 They learnt their lessons weel.
 155Q.2	 The Jew’s dochter sat in her bower-door,
 	 Sewing at her seam;
 	 She spied a’ the bonnie bairns,
 	 As they cam out and hame.

155R: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155R.1	 IT was in the middle o the midsimmer tyme,
 	 When the scule weans playd at the ba, ba,
 	 Out and cam the Jew’s tochter,
 	 And on little Sir Hew did ca, ca,
 	 And on little Sir Hew did ca.

155[S]: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155[S].1	It rained so high, it rained so low,
 	 . . . . . . .
 	 In the Jew’s garden all below.
 155[S.2]	Out came a Jew,
 	 All cloth d in green,
 	 Saying, Come hither, come hither, my sweet little boy,
 	 And fetch your ball again.
 155[S.3]	‘I won’t come hither, I shan’t come hither,
 	 Without my school-fellows all;
 	 My mother would beat me, my father would kill me,
 	 And cause my blood to pour.
 155[S.4]	‘He showed me an apple as green as grass,
 	 He showed me a gay gold ring,
 	 He showed me a cherry as red as blood,
 	 And that enticed me in.
 155[S.5]	‘He enticed me into the parlour,
 	 He enticed me into the kitchen,
 	 And there I saw my own dear sister,
 	 A picking of a chicken.
 155[S.6]	‘He set me in a golden chair
 	 And gave me sugar sweet;
 	 He laid me on a dresser-board,
 	 And stabbed me like a sheep.
 155[S.7]	‘With a Bible at my head,
 	 A Testament at my feet,
 	 A prayer-book at the side of me,
 	 And a penknife in so deep.
 155[S.8]	‘If my mother should enquire for me,
 	 Tell her I’m asleep;
 	 Tell her I’m at heaven’s gate,
 	 Where her and I shall meet.’

155[T]: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155[T].1	Easter Day was a holiday,
 	 Of all days in the year,
 	 And all the little schoolfellows went out to play,
 	 Bat Sir William was not there.
 155[T.2]	Mammma went to the Jew’s wife’s house,
 	 And knocked at the ring,
 	 Saying, Little Sir William, if you are there,
 	 Oh, let your mother in!
 155[T.3]	The Jew’s wife opened the door and said,
 	 He is not here to-day;
 	 He is with the little schoolfellows out on the green,
 	 Playing some pretty play.
 155[T.4]	Mamma went to the Boyne water,
 	 That is so wide and deep,
 	 Saying, Little Sir William, if you are there,
 	 Oh, pity your mother’s weep!
 155[T.5]	‘How can I pity your weep, mother,
 	 And I so long in pain?
 	 For the little penknife sticks close in my heart,
 	 And the Jew’s wife has me slain.
 155[T.6]	‘Go home, go home, my mother dear,
 	 And prepare my winding sheet,
 	 For tomorrow morning before eight o’clock
 	 You with my body shall meet.
 155[T.7]	‘And lay my Prayer-Book at my head,
 	 And my grammar at my feet,
 	 That all the little schoolfellows as they pass by
 	 May read them for my sake.’

155[U]: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

 
 155[U].1	You toss your ball so high,
 	 You toss your ball so low,
 	 You toss your ball into the Jew’s garden,
 	 Where the pretty flowers grow.
 155[U.2]	Out came one of the Jew’s daughters,
 	 Dressed all in green:
 	 ‘Come hither, pretty little dear,
 	 And fetch your ball again.’
 155[U.3]	She showed him a rosy-cheeked apple,
 	 She showed him a gay gold ring,
 	 She showed him a cherry as red as blood,
 	 And that enticed him in.
 155[U.4]	She set him in a golden chair,
 	 She gave him kisses sweet,
 	 She threw him down a darksome well,
 	 More than fifty feet deep.

156A: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

156A.1 QUEEN ELENOR was a sick woman, And afraid that she should dye; Then she sent for two fryars of France, For to speak with them speedily. 156A.2 The King calld down his nobles all, By one, by two, and by three, And sent away for Earl Martial, For to speak with him speedily. 156A.3 When that he came before the King, He fell on his bended knee; A boon, a boon! our gracious king, That you sent so hastily.’ 156A.4 ‘I’ll pawn my living and my lands, My septer and my crown, That whatever Queen Elenor says, I will not write it down. 156A.5 ‘Do you put on one fryar’s coat, And I’ll put on another, And we will to Queen Elenor go, one fryar like another.’ 156A.6 Thus both attired then they go; When they came to Whitehall, The bells they did ring, and the quiristers sing, And the torches did light them all. 156A.7 When that they came before the Queen, They fell on their bended knee: ‘A boon, a boon! our gracious queen, That you sent so hastily.’ 156A.8 ‘Are you two fryars of France?’ she said, ‘Which I suppose you be; But if you are two English fryars, Then hanged you shall be.’ 156A.9 ‘We are two fryars of France,’ they said, ‘As you suppose we be; We have not been at any mass Since we came from the sea.’ 156A.10 ‘The first vile thing that ere I did I will to you unfold; Earl Martial had my maidenhead, Underneath this cloath of gold.’ 156A.11 at is a vile sin,’ then said the king, ‘God may forgive it thee!’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial, With a heavy heart then spoke he. 156A.12 ‘The next vile thing that ere I did To you I’ll not deny; I made a box of poyson strong, To poyson King Henry.’ 156A.13 ‘That is a vile sin,’ then said the King, ‘God may forgive it thee!’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial, ‘And I wish it so may be.’ 156A.14 ‘The next vile thing that ere I did To you I will discover; I poysoned Fair Rosamond, All in fair Woodstock bower.’ 156A.15 ‘That is a vile sin,’ then said the King, ‘God may forgive it thee!’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial, ‘And I wish it so may be.’ 156A.16 ‘Do you see yonders little boy, A tossing of that ball? That is Earl Martial[’s] eldest son, And I love him the best of all. 156A.17 ‘Do you see yonders little boy, A catching of the ball? That is King Henry’s son,’ she said, ‘And I love him the worst of all. 156A.18 ‘His head is like unto a bull, His nose is like a boar;’ ‘No matter for that,’ King Henry said, ‘I love him the better therefore.’ 156A.19 The King pulld of his fryar’s coat, And appeard all in red; She shriekd and she cry’d, she wrong her hands, And said she was betrayd. 156A.20 The King lookd over his left shoulder, And a grim look looked he, And said,Earl Martial, but for my oath, Then hanged shouldst thou be.

156B: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

156B.1 OUR queen’s sick, an very sick, She’s sick an like to die; She has sent for the friars of France, To speak wi her speedilie. 156B.2 ‘I’ll put on a friar’s robe, An ye’ll put on anither, An we’ll go to Madam the Queen, Like friars bath thegither.’ 156B.3 ‘God forbid,’ said Earl Marishall, ‘That ever the like shud be, That I beguile Madam the Queen! I wad be hangit hie.’ 156B.4 The King pat on a friar’s robe, Earl Marishall on anither; They’re on to the Queen, Like friars baith thegither. 156B.5 ‘Gin ye be the friars of France, As I trust well ye be-+--+- But an ye be ony ither men, Ye sall be hangit hie.’ 156B.6 The King he turnd him roun, An by his troth sware he, We hae na sung messe Sin we came frae the sea. 156B.7 ‘The first sin ever I did, An a very great sin ’twas tee, I gae my maidenhead to Earl Marishall, Under the greenwood tree.’ 156B.8 RR’Trrhat was a sin, an a very great sin, But pardond it may be;’ ‘Wi mendiment,’ said Earl Marishall, But a heavy heart had he. 156B.9 ‘The next sin ever I did, An a very great sin ’twas tee, I poisened Lady Rosamond, An the King’s darling was she.’ 156B.10 ‘That was a sin, an a very great sin, But pardond it may be;’ ‘Wi mendiment,’ said King Henry, But a heavy heart had he. 156B.11 ‘The next sin ever I did, An a very great sin ’twas tee, I keepit poison in my bosom seven years, To poison him King Henrie.’ 156B.12 ‘That was a sin, an a very great sin, But pardond it may be;’ ‘Wi mendiment,’ said King Henry, But a heavy heart had he. 156B.13 ‘O see na ye yon bonny boys, As they play at the ba? An see na ye Lord Marishal’s son? I lee him best of a’. 156B.14 ‘But see na ye King Henry’s son? He’s headit like a bull, and backit like a boar, I like him warst awa:’ ‘And by my sooth,’ says him King Henry, ‘I like him best o the twa.’ 156B.15 The King he turned him roun, Pat on the coat o goud, . . . . The Queen turnd the King to behold. 156B.16 . . . . . . . . ‘Gin I hadna sworn by the crown and sceptre roun, Earl Marishal sud been gart die.’

156C: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

156C.1 THE Queen’s faen sick, and very, very sick, Sick, and going to die, And she’s sent for twa friars of France, To speak with her speedilie. 156C.2 The King he said to the Earl Marischal, To the Earl Marischal said he, The Queen she wants twa friars frae France, To speak with her presentlie. 156C.3 Will ye put on a friar’s coat, And I’ll put on another, And we’ll go in before the Queen, Like friars both together. 156C.4 ‘But O forbid,’ said the Earl Marischal, ‘That I this deed should dee! For if I beguile Eleanor our queen, She will gar hang me hie.’ 156C.5 The King he turned him round about, An angry man was he; He’s sworn by his sceptre and his sword Earl Marischal should not die. 156C.6 The King has put on a friar’s coat, Earl Marischal on another, And they went in before the Queen, Like friars both together. 156C.7 ‘O, if ye be twa friars of France, Ye’re dearly welcome to me; But if ye be twa London friars, I will gar hang you hie.’ 156C.8 ‘Twa friars of France, twa friars of France, Twa friars of France are we, And we vow we never spoke to a man Till we spake to Your Majesty.’ 156C.9 ‘The first great sin that eer I did, And I’ll tell you it presentlie, Earl Marischal got my maidenhead, When coming oer the sea.’ 156C.10 ‘That was a sin, and a very great sin, But pardoned it may be;’ ‘All that with amendment,’ said Earl Marischal, But a quacking heart had he. 156C.11 ‘The next great sin that eer I did, I’ll tell you it presentlie; I carried a box seven years in my breast, To poison King Henrie.’ 156C.12 ‘O that was a sin, and a very great sin, But pardoned it may be;’ ‘All that with amendment,’ said Earl Marischal, But a quacking heart had he. 156C.13 ‘The next great sin that eer I did, I’ll tell you it presentlie; I poisoned the Lady Rosamond, And a very good woman was she. 156C.14 ‘See ye not yon twa bonny boys, As they play at the ba? The eldest of them is Marischal’s son, And I love him best of a’; The youngest of them is Henrie’s son, And I love him none at a’ 156C.15 ‘For he is headed like a bull, a bull, He is backed like a boar;’ ‘Then by my sooth,’ King Henrie said, ‘I love him the better therefor.’ 156C.16 The King has cast off his friar’s coat, Put on a coat of gold; The Queen she’s turned her face about, She could not’s face behold. 156C.17 The King then said to Earl Marischal, To the Earl Marischal said he, Were it not for my sceptre and sword, Earl Marischall, ye should die.

156D: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

156D.1 THE queen of England she has fallen sick, Sore sick, and like to die; And she has sent for twa French priests, To bear her companie. 156D.2 The King he has got word o this, And an angry man was he; And he is on to the Earl-a-Marshall, As fast as he can gae. 156D.3 ‘Now you’ll put on a priest’s robe, And I’ll put on anither, And we will on unto the Queen, Like twa French priests thegither.’ 156D.4 ‘No indeed!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall, ‘That winna I do for thee, Except ye swear by your sceptre and crown Ye’ll do me nae injurie.’ 156D.5 The King has sworn by his sceptre and crown He’ll do him nae injurie, And they are on unto the Queen, As fast as they can gae. 156D.6 ‘O, if that ye be twa French priests, Ye’re welcome unto me; But if ye be twa Scottish lords, High hanged ye shall be. 156D.7 ‘The first sin that I did sin, And that to you I’ll tell, I sleeped wi the Earl-a-Marshall, Beneath a silken bell. 156D.8 ‘And wasna that a sin, and a very great sin? And I pray ye pardon me;’ ‘Amen, and amen!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall, And a wearied man was he. 156D.9 ‘The neist sin that I did sin, And that to you I’ll tell, I keeped the poison seven years in my bosom, To poison the King himsel. 156D.10 ‘And wasna that a sin, and a very great sin? And I pray ye pardon me;’ ‘Amen, and amen!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall, And a wearied man was he. 156D.11 ‘O see ye there my seven sons, A’ playing at the ba? There’s but ane o them the King’s himsel, And I like him warst of a’. 156D.12 ‘He’s high-backed, and low-breasted, And he is bald withal;’ ‘And by my deed,’ and says the King, ‘I like him best mysel! 156D.13 ‘O wae betide ye, Earl-a-Marshall, And an ill death may ye die! For if I hadna sworn by my sceptre and crown, High hanged ye should be.’

156E: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

156E.1 THE Queen fell sick, and very, very sick, She was sick, and like to dee, And she sent for a friar oure frae France, Her confessour to be. 156E.2 King Henry, when he heard o that, An angry man was he, And he sent to the Earl Marshall, Attendance for to gie. 156E.3 ‘The Quen is sick,’ King Henry cried, ‘And wants to be beshriven; She has sent for a friar oure frae France, By the rude, he were better in heaven! 156E.4 ‘But tak you a friar’s guise, The voice and gesture feign, And when she has the pardon crav’d, Respond to her, Amen! 156E.5 ‘And I will be a prelate old, And sit in a corner dark, To hear the adventures of my spouse, My spouse, and her haly spark.’ 156E.6 ‘My liege, my liege, how can I betray My mistress and my queen? O swear by the rude that no damage From this shall be gotten or gien!’ 156E.7 ‘I swear by the rude,’ quoth King Henry, ‘No damage shall be gotten or gien; Come, let us spare no cure nor care For the conscience o the Queen.’ * * * * * 156E.8 ‘O fathers, O fathers, I’m very,very sick, I’m sick, and like to dee; Some ghostly comfort to my poor soul O tell if ye can gie!’ 156E.9 ‘Confess, confess,’ Earl Marshall cried, ‘And you shall pardoned be;’ ‘Confess, confess,’ the King replied, ‘And we shall comfort gie.’ 156E.10 ‘Oh, how shall I tell the sorry, sorry tale! How can the tale be told! I playd the harlot wi the Earl Marshall, Beneath yon cloth of gold. 156E.11 ‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin? But I hope it will pardoned be;’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall, And a very feart heart had he. 156E.12 ‘O down i the forest, in a bower, Beyond yon dark oak-tree, I drew a penknife frae my pocket To kill King Henerie. 156E.13 ?? , wasna that a sin, and a very great sin? But I hope it will pardoned be;’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall, And a very feart heart had he. 156E.14 ‘O do you see yon pretty little boy, That’s playing at the ba? He is the Earl Marshall’s only son, And I loved him best of a’. 156E.15 ‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin? But I hope it will pardoned be;’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall, And a very feart heart had he. 156E.16 ‘And do you see yon pretty little girl, That’s a’ beclad in green? She’s a friar’s daughter, oure in France, And I hoped to see her a queen. 156E.17 ‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin? But I hope it will pardoned be;’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall, And a feart heart still had he. 156E.18 ‘O do you see yon other little boy, That’s playing at the ba? He is King Henry’s only son, And I like him warst of a’. 156E.19 ‘He’s headed like a buck,’ she said, ‘And backed like a bear;’ ‘Amen!’ quoth the King, in the King’s ain voice, ‘He shall be my only heir.’ 156E.20 The King lookd over his left shoulder, An angry man was he: ‘An it werna for the oath I sware, Earl Marshall, thou shouldst dee.’

156F: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

156F.1 QUEENE ELEANOR was a sick woman, And sick just like to die, And she has sent for two fryars of France, To come to her speedilie. And she has sent, etc. 156F.2 The King called downe his nobles all, By one, by two, by three: ‘Earl Marshall, I’ll go shrive the Queene, And thou shalt wend with mee.’ 156F.3 ‘A boone, a boone!’ quoth Earl Marshall, And fell on his bended knee, ‘That whatsoever the Queene may say, No harm thereof may bee.’ 156F.4 ‘O you’ll put on a gray-friar’s gowne, And I’ll put on another, And we will away to fair London town, Like friars both together.’ 156F.5 ‘O no, O no, my liege, my king, Such things can never bee; For if the Queene hears word of this, Hanged she’ll cause me to bee.’ 156F.6 ‘I swear by the sun, I swear by the moon, And by the stars so hie, And by my sceptre and my crowne, The Earl Marshall shall not die.’ 156F.7 The King’s put on a gray-friar’s gowne, The Earl Marshall’s put on another, And they are away to fair London towne, Like fryars both together. 156F.8 When that they came to fair London towne, And came into Whitehall, The bells did ring, and the quiristers sing, And the torches did light them all. 156F.9 And when they came before the Queene, They kneeled down on their knee: ‘What matter, what matter, our gracious queene, You’ve sent so speedilie?’ 156F.10 ‘O, if you are two fryars of France, It’s you that I wished to see; But if you are two English lords, You shall hang on the gallowes-tree.’ 156F.11 ‘O we are not two English lords, But two fryars of France we bee, And we sang the Song of Solomon, As we came over the sea.’ 156F.12 ‘Oh, the first vile sin I did commit Tell it I will to thee; I fell in love with the Earl Marshall, As he brought me over the sea.’ 156F.13 ‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ quoth the King, ‘But pardond it must bee;’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall, With a heavie heart spake hee. 156F.14 ‘Oh, the next sin that I did commit I will to you unfolde; Earl Marshall had my virgin dower, Beneath this cloth of golde.’ 156F.15 ‘Oh, that was a vile sin,’ said the King, ‘May God forgive it thee!’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ groaned the Earl Marshall, And a very frightened man was hee. 156F.16 ‘Oh, the next sin that I did commit Tell it I will to thee; I poisoned a lady of noble blood, For the sake of King Henrie.’ 156F.17 ‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ said the King, ‘But pardoned it shall bee;’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall, And still a frightened man was he. 156F.18 ‘Oh, the next sin that ever I did Tell it I will to thee; I have kept strong poison this seven long years, To poison King Henrie.’ 156F.19 ‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ said the King, ‘But pardoned it must bee;’ ‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall, And still a frightened man was hee. 156F.20 ‘O don’t you see two little boys, Playing at the football? O yonder is the Earl Marshall’s son, And I like him best of all. 156F.21 ‘O don’t you see yon other little boy, Playing at the football? O that one is King Henrie’s son, And I like him worst of all. 156F.22 ‘His head is like a black bull’s head, His feet are like a bear;’ ‘What matter! what matter!’ cried the King, ‘He’s my son, and my only heir.’ 156F.23 The King plucked off his fryar’s gowne, And stood in his scarlet so red; The Queen she turned herself in bed, And cryed that she was betrayde. 156F.24 The King lookt oer his left shoulder, And a grim look looked he; ‘Earl Marshall,’ he said, ’But for my oath, Thou hadst swung on the gallowes-tree.’

156[G]: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

156[G].1 The queen of England she is seek, And seek and like to dee; She has sent for friers out of France, To bespeek hir speed[i]ly. 156[G.2] The king has cald on his merrymen, By thirtys and by threes; Earl Marshall should have been the formest man, But the very last man was he. 156[G.3] ‘The queen of England s[h]e is seek, And seek and like to dee, And she has sent for friers out of France, To bespeek hir speedyly. 156[G.4] ‘But I will put on a frier’s weeg, And ye’l put on another, And we’ll away to Quenn Helen gaits, Like friers both together.’ 156[G.5] ‘O no, no,’ says Earl Marshall, ‘For this it must not be; For if the queen get word of that, High hanged I will be.’ 156[G.6] ‘But I will swear by my septer and crown, And by the seas so free, I will swear by my septer and crown, Earl Marshall, thow’s no dee.’ 156[G.7] So he has put on a frier’s wig, And the king has put on another, And they are away to Queen Helen gaits, Like friers both together. 156[G.8] When they came to Queen Helen gaits, They tirled at the pin; There was non so ready as the queene herself To open and let them in. 156[G.9] ‘O are you two Scottish dogs?-+- And hanged you shall be-+- Or are [you] friers come out of France, To bespeek me speedily?’ 156[G.10] ‘We are not two Scottish dogs, Nor hanged we shall be; For we have not spoken a wrong word Since we came over the sea.’ 156[G.11] ‘Well then, the very first that ever I sind I freely confess to thee; Earl Marshall took my maidenhead Below yon greenwood tree.’ 156[G.12] ‘That is a sin, and very great sin, But the Pope will pardon thee;’ ‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall, But a feert, feert heart had he. 156[G.13] ‘The very next sin that ever I sind I freely confess to thee; I had [poisen] seven years in my breast To poisen King Hendry.’ 156[G.14] ‘That is a sin, and very great sin, But the Pope forgiveth thee;’ ‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall, But a feert, feert heart had he. 156[G.15] ‘The very next sin that ever I sind I freely confess to thee; I poisened one of my court’s ladies, Was far more fairer than me.’ 156[G.16] ‘That is a sin, and a very great sin, But the Pope forgiveth thee;’ ‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall, But a feert, feert heart had he. 156[G.17] ‘Do you see yon bony boys, Playing at the baw? The oldest of them is Earl Marshall’s, And I like him best of all.’ 156[G.18] ‘That is a sin, and very great sin, But the Pope forgiveth thee;’ ‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall, But a feert, feert heart had he. 156[G.19] ‘Do ye see two bony [boys], Playing at the baw? The youngest of them is King Hendry’s, And I like him worst of all. 156[G.20] ‘Because he is headed like a bull, And his nose is like a boar;’ ‘What is the matter?’ says King Henry, ‘For he shall be my heir.’ 156[G.21] Now he put off his frier’s wig, And drest himself [in] red; She wrung hir hands, and tore hir hair, And s[w]ore she was betraid. 156[G.22] ‘Had I not sworn by my septer and crown, And by the seas so free, Had I not sworn by my septer and crown, Earl Marshall, thowst have died.’

157A: Gude Wallace

157A.1 ‘HAD we a king,’ said Wallace then, ‘That our kind Scots might live by their own! But betwixt me and the English blood I think there is an ill seed sown.’ 157A.2 Wallace him over a river lap, He lookd low down to a linn; He was war of a gay lady Was even at the well washing. 157A.3 ‘Well mot ye fare, fair madam,’ he said, ‘And ay well mot ye fare and see! Have ye any tidings me to tell, I pray you’ll show them unto me.’ 157A.4 RR’rri have no tidings you to tell, Nor yet no tidings you to ken; But into that hostler’s house There’s fifteen of your Englishmen. 157A.5 ‘And they are seeking Wallace there, For they’ve ordained him to be slain:’ ‘O God forbid!’ said Wallace then, ‘For he’s oer good a kind Scotsman. 157A.6 RR’Brrut had I money me upon, And evn this day, as I have none, Then would I to that hostler’s house, And evn as fast as I could gang.’ 157A.7 She put her hand in her pocket, She told him twenty shillings oer her knee; Then he took off both hat and hood, And thankd the lady most reverently. 157A.8 ‘If eer I come this way again, Well paid [your] money it shall be;’ Then he took off both hat and hood, And he thankd the lady most reverently. 157A.9 He leand him twofold oer a staff, So did he threefold oer a tree, And he’s away to the hostler’s house, Even as fast as he might dree. 157A.10 When he came to the hostler’s house, He said, Good-ben be here! quoth he: An English captain, being deep load, He asked him right cankerdly, 157A.11 Where was you born, thou crooked carle, And in what place, and what country? ’Tis I was born in fair Scotland, A crooked carle although I be.’ 157A.12 The English captain swore by th’ rood, ‘We are Scotsmen as well as thee, And we are seeking Wallace; then To have him merry we should be.’ 157A.13 ‘The man,’ said Wallace, ’ye’re looking for, I seed him within these days three; And he has slain an English captain, And ay the fearder the rest may be.’ 157A.14 ‘I’d give twenty shillings,’ said the captain, ‘To such a crooked carle as thee, If you would take me to the place Where that I might proud Wallace see.’ 157A.15 ‘Hold out your hand,’ said Wallace then, ‘And show your money and be free, For tho you’d bid an hundred pound, I never bade a better bode’[, said he]. 157A.16 He struck the captain oer the chafts, Till that he never chewed more; He stickd the rest about the board, And left them all a sprawling there. 157A.17 ‘Rise up, goodwife,’ said Wallace then, ‘And give me something for to eat; For it’s near two days to an end Since I tasted one bit of meat.’ 157A.18 His board was scarce well covered, Nor yet his dine well scantly dight, Till fifteen other Englishmen Down all about the door did light. 157A.19 ‘Come out, come out,’ said they, ‘Wallace!’ then, ‘For the day is come that ye must die;’ And they thought so little of his might, But ay the fearder they might be. 157A.20 The wife ran but, the gudeman ran ben, It put them all into a fever; Then five he sticked where they stood, And five he trampled in the gutter. 157A.21 And five he chased to yon green wood, He hanged them all out-oer a grain; And gainst the morn at twelve o’clock, He dined with his kind Scottish men.

157B: Gude Wallace

157B.1 ‘I WISH we had a king,’ says Wallace, ‘That Scotland might not want a head; In England and in Scotland baith, I’m sure that some have sowed ill seed.’ 157B.2 Wallace he oer the water did luke, And he luked law down by a glen, And he was aware of a gay lady, As she was at the well washing. 157B.3 ‘Weel may ye save, fair lady!’ he says, ‘Far better may ye save and see! If ye have ony tidings to tell, I pray cum tell them a’ to me.’ 157B.4 ‘I have no tidings you to tell, And as few tidings do I ken; But up and to yon ostler-house Are just gane fifteen gentlemen. 157B.5 ‘They now are seeking Gude Wallace, And ay they’re damning him to hang;’ ‘Oh God forbid,’ says Wallace then, ‘I’m sure he is a true Scotsman. 157B.6 ‘Had I but ae penny in my pocket, Or in my company ae baubee, I woud up to yon ostler-house, A’ these big gentlemen to see.’ 157B.7 She pat her hand into her pocket, She powd out twenty shillings and three: ‘If eer I live to come this way, Weel payed shall your money be.’ 157B.8 He leaned him twafold oer a staff, Sae did he twafold oer a tree, And he’s gane up to the ostler-house, A’ these fine gentlemen to see. 157B.9 When he cam up among them a’, He bad his benison be there; The captain, being weel buke-learnd, Did answer him in domineer. 157B.10 ‘Where was ye born, ye cruked carl, Or in what town, or what countree?’ ‘O I was born in fair Scotland, A cruked carl although I be.’ 157B.11 The captain sware by the root of his sword, Saying, I’m a Scotsman as weel as thee; Here’s twenty shillings of English money To such a cruked carl as thee, If thou’ll tell me of that Wallace; He’s ay the creature I want to see. 157B.12 ‘O hawd your hand,’ says Wallace then, ‘I’m feard your money be not gude; If ’twere as muckle and ten times mair, It should not bide another bode.’ 157B.13 He’s taen the captain alang the chaps, A wat he never chawed mair; The rest he sticked about the table, And left them a’ a sprawling there. 157B.14 ‘Gude wife,’ he said, ’For my benison, Get up and get my dinner dight; For it is twa days till an end Syne I did taste ane bit of meat.’ 157B.15 Dinner was not weel made ready, Nor yet upon the table set, When fifteen other Englishmen Alighted all about the yate. 157B.16 ‘Come out, come out now, Wallace,’ they say, ‘For this is the day ye are to dee; Ye trust sae mickle in God’s might, And ay the less we do fear thee.’ 157B.17 The gude wife ran but, the gude man ran ben, They pat the house all in a swither; Five sune he sticked where he stude, And five he smitherd in a gutter. 157B.18 Five he chac’d to the gude green-wood, And hanged them a’ out-oer a pin; And at the morn at eight o’clock He din’d with his men at Lough-mabin.

157C: Gude Wallace

157C.1 ‘O FOR my ain king,’ quo Gude Wallace, ‘The rightfu king of fair Scotland! Between me and my soverign blude I think I see some ill seed sawn.’ 157C.2 Wallace out over yon river he lap, And he has lighted low down on yon plain, And he was aware of a gay ladie, As she was at the well washing. 157C.3 ‘What tydins, what tydins, fair lady?’ he says, ‘What tydins hast thou to tell unto me? What tydins, what tydins, fair lady?’ he says, ‘What tydins hae ye in the south countrie?’ 157C.4 ‘Low down in yon wee ostler-house There is fyfteen Englishmen, And they are seekin for Gude Wallace, It’s him to take and him to hang.’ 157C.5 ‘There’s nocht in my purse,’ quo Gude Wallace, There’s nocht, not even a bare pennie; But I will down to yon wee ostler-house, Thir fyfteen Englishmen to see.’ 157C.6 And when he cam to yon wee ostler-house He bad bendicite be there; . . . . . . . . 157C.7 ‘Where was ye born, auld crookit carl? Where was ye born, in what countrie?’ ‘I am a true Scot born and bred, And an auld crookit carl just sic as ye see.’ 157C.8 ‘I wad gie fifteen shillings to onie crookit carl, To onie crookit carl just sic as ye, If ye will get me Gude Wallace; For he is the man I wad very fain see.’ 157C.9 He hit the proud captain alang the chafft-blade, That never a bit o meal he ate mair; And he sticket the rest at the table where they sat, And he left them a’ lyin sprawlin there. 157C.10 ‘Get up, get up, gudewife,’ he says, ‘And get to me some dinner in haste; For it will soon be three lang days Sin I a bit o meat did taste.’ 157C.11 The dinner was na weel readie, Nor was it on the table set, Till other fifteen Englishmen Were a’ lighted about the yett. 157C.12 ‘Come out, come out now, Gude Wallace! This is the day that thou maun die:’ ‘I lippen nae sae little to God,’ he says, ‘Altho I be but ill wordie.’ 157C.13 The gudewife had an auld gudeman; By Gude Wallace he stiffly stood; Till ten o the fyfteen Englishmen Before the door lay in their blude. 157C.14 The other five to the greenwood ran, And he hangd these five upon a grain, And on the morn, wi his merry men a’, He sat at dine in Lochmaben town.

157D: Gude Wallace

157D.1 ‘I WISH we had our king,’ quo Gude Wallace, ‘An ilka true Scotsman had his nawn; For between us an the southron louns I doubt some ill seed has been sawn.’ 157D.2 Wallace he owre the water gaed, An looked low down by a glen, An there he saw a pretty, pretty maid, As she was at the well washin. 157D.3 ‘O weel may ye wash, my bonny, bonny maid! An weel may ye saep, an me to see! If ye have ony tidins to tell, I pray you tell them unto me.’ 157D.4 ‘I have no tidins for to tell, Nor ony uncos do I ken; But up into yon little alehouse An there sits fyfteen Englishmen. 157D.5 ‘An ay they are speakin o Gude Wallace, An ay they are doomin him to hang:’ ‘O forbid!’ quo Gude Wallace, ‘He’s owre truehearted a Scotsman. 157D.6 ‘Had I but a penny in my pouch, As I have not a single bawbee, I would up into yon little alehouse, An ay thae southron blades to see.’ 157D.7 She’s put her hand into her pouch, An counted him out pennies three; ‘If ever I live to come back this way, Weel paid the money it shall be.’ 157D.8 He’s taen a staff into his hand, An leand himsel outowre a tree, An he’s awa to yon little alehouse, An ay the southron louns to see. 157D.9 When he gaed in to that little alehouse, He bad his bennison be there; The captain answered him [in] wrath, He answerd him with domineer. 157D.10 ‘O whare was ye born, ye crooked auld carle? An how may this your dwellin be?’ ‘O I was born in fair Scotland, A crooked carle altho I be.’ 157D.11 ‘O I would een gie twenty shillins To ony sic crooked carle as thee That wad find me out Gude Wallace; For ay that traitor I lang to see.’ 157D.12 ‘Haud out your hand,’ quo Gude Wallace, ‘I doubt your money be not gude; If ye’ll gie ither twenty shillins, It neer shall bide ye anither bode.’ 157D.13 He’s taen the captain outowre the jaws, Anither word spak he neer mair; An five he sticket whare they sat, The rest lay scramblin here an there. 157D.14 ‘Get up, get up, gudewife,’ he says, ‘An get some meat ready for me, For I hae fasted this three lang days; A wat right hungry I may be.’ 157D.15 The meat it wasna weel made ready, Nor as weel on the table set, Till there cam fyfteen Englishmen An lighted a’ about the yett. 157D.16 The gudewife ran but, the gudeman ran ben; It put them a’ in sic a stoure That five he sticket whare they sat, An five lay sprawlin at the door. 157D.17 An five are to the greenwood gane, An he’s hangd them a’ outowre a tree, An before the mornin at twal o clock He dined wi his men at Loch Marie.

157E: Gude Wallace

157E.1 WILLIE WALLACE the water lap, And lighted low down in a glen; There he came to a woman washing, And she had washers nine or ten. 157E.2 ‘O weel may ye wash!’ said Willie Wallace, ‘O weel may ye wash!’ said fair Willie, ‘And gin ye have any tidings to tell, I pray ye tell them unto me.’ 157E.3 ‘I have nae tidings for to tell, And as few will I let ye ken; But down into yon hosteler-ha Lies fifteen English gentlemen.’ 157E.4 ‘O had I ae penny in my pocket, O had I yet ane bare bawbee, I would go to yon hosteler-ha, All for these Englishmen to see. 157E.5 ‘O wil ye len me ane pennie, Or will ye len me a bare bawbee, I would go to yon hosteler-ha, All for these Englishmen to see.’ 157E.6 She’s put her hand into her pocket, And she’s gaen him out guineas three, And he’s away to yon ostler-ha, All for these Englishmen to see. 157E.7 Before he came to the hosteler-ha, He linkit his armour oer a tree; These Englishmen, being weel book-learned, They said to him, Great Dominie! 157E.8 Where was ye born, ye crookit carle? Where was ye born, or in what countrie? ‘In merry Scotland I was born, A crookit carle altho I be.’ 157E.9 ‘Here’s fifteen shillings,’ one of them said, ‘Here’s other fifteen I’ll gie to thee, If you will tell me where the traitor Willie Wallace is, Or where away thou thinks he’ll be.’ 157E.10 ‘Pay down, pay down your money,’ he said, ‘Pay down, pay down richt speedilie, For if your answer be not good, You shall have the downfall of Robin Hood,’[said he]. 157E.11 He struck the captain on the jaw, He swore that he would chow nae mair cheese; He’s killed all the rest with his good broadsword, And left them wallowing on their knees. 157E.12 ‘Go cover the table,’ said Willie Wallace, ‘Go cover the table, get me some meat, For it is three days and rather mair Since I did either drink or eat.’ 157E.13 They had not the table weel covered, Nor yet the candle weel gaen licht, Till fifteen other Englishmen They a’ down at the door did light. 157E.14 ‘Come out, come out, Willie Wallace,’ they said. ‘Come out, come out, and do not flee, For we have sworn by our good broadswords That this is the nicht that you sall dee.’ 157E.15 He’s killed five with his good broadsword, He’s drowned other five in the raging sea, And he’s taen other five to the merry greenwood, And hanged them oer the highest tree.

157F: Gude Wallace

157F.1 WALLACE in the high highlans, Neither meat nor drink got he; Said, fa me life, or fa me death, Now to some town I maun be. 157F.2 He’s put on his short claiding, And on his short claiding put he; Says, Fa me life, or fa me death, Now to Perth-town I maun be. 157F.3 He steped oer the river Tay, I wat he steped on dry land; He was aware of a well-fared maid, Was washing there her lilie hands. 157F.4 ‘What news, what news, ye well-fared maid? What news hae ye this day to me?’ ‘No news, no news, ye gentle knight, No news hae I this day to thee, But fifteen lords in the hostage-house Waiting Wallace for to see.’ 157F.5 ‘If I had but in my pocket The worth of one single pennie, I would go to the hostage-house, And there the gentlemen to see.’ 157F.6 She put her hand in her pocket, And she has pulld out half-a-crown; Says, Take ye that, ye belted knight, ’Twill pay your way till ye come down. 157F.7 As he went from the well-fared maid, A beggar bold I wat met he, Was coverd wi a clouted cloak, And in his hand a trusty tree. 157F.8 ‘What news, what news, ye silly auld man? What news hae ye this day to gie?’ ‘No news, no news, ye belted knight, No news hae I this day to thee, But fifteen lords in the hostage-house Waiting Wallace for to see.’ 157F.9 ‘Ye’ll lend me your clouted cloak, That covers you frae head to shie, And I’ll go to the hostage-house, Asking there for some supplie.’ 157F.10 Now he’s gone to the West-muir wood, And there he’s pulld a trusty tree; And then he’s on to the hostage gone, Asking there for charitie. 157F.11 n the stair the captain comes, Aye the poor man for to see: ‘If ye be a captain as good as ye look, Ye’ll give a poor man some supplie; If ye be a captain as good as ye look, A guinea this day ye’ll gie to me.’ 157F.12 ‘Where were ye born, ye crooked carle? Where were ye born, in what countrie?’ In fair Scotland I was born, Crooked carle that I be.’ 157F.13 ‘I would give you fifty pounds, Of gold and white monie, I would give you fifty pounds, If the traitor Wallace ye’d let me see.’ 157F.14 ‘Tell down your money,’ said Willie Wallace, ‘Tell down your money, if it be good; I’m sure I have it in my power, And never had a better bode. 157F.15 ‘Tell down your money,’ said Willie Wallace, ‘And let me see if it be fine; I’m sure I have it in my Ower To bring the traitor Wallace in.’ 157F.16 The money was told on the table, Silver bright of pounds fiftie; ‘Now here I stand,’ said Willie Wallace, ‘And what hae ye to say to me?’ 157F.17 He slew the captain where he stood, The rest they did quack and roar; He slew the rest around the room, And askd if there were any more. 157F.18 ‘Come, cover the table,’ said Willie Wallace, ‘Come, cover the table now, make haste; For it will soon be three lang days Sin I a bit o meat did taste.’ 157F.19 The table was not well covered, Nor yet was he set down to dine, Till fifteen more of the English lords Surrounded the house where he was in. 157F.20 The guidwife she ran but the floor, And aye the guidman he ran ben; From eight o clock till four at noon He has killd full thirty man. 157F.21 He put the house in sick a swither That five o them he sticket dead, Five o them he drownd in the river, And five hung in the West-muir wood. 157F.22 Now he is on to the North-Inch gone, Where the maid was washing tenderlie; ‘Now by my sooth,’ said Willie Wallace, ‘It’s been a sair day’s wark to me.’ 157F.23 He’s put his hand in his pocket, And he has pulld out twenty pounds; Says, Take ye that, ye weel-fared maid, For the gude luck of your half-crown.

157G: Gude Wallace

157G.1 WOUD ye hear of William Wallace, An sek him as he goes, Into the lan of Lanark, Amang his mortal faes? 157G.2 There was fyften English sogers Unto his ladie cam, Said, Gie us William Wallace, That we may have him slain. 157G.3 Woud ye gie William Wallace, That we may have him slain, And ye’s be wedded to a lord, The best in Christendeem. 157G.4 ‘This verra nicht at seven, Brave Wallace will come in, And he’ll come to my chamber-door, Without or dread or din.’ 157G.5 The fyften English sogers Around the house did wait, And four brave southron foragers Stood hie upon the gait. 157G.6 That verra nicht at seven Brave Wallace he came in, And he came to his ladie’s bouir, Withouten dread or din. 157G.7 When she beheld him Wallace, She star’d him in the face; ‘Ohon, alas!’ said that ladie, ‘This is a woful case. 157G.8 ‘For I this nicht have sold you, This nicht you must be taen, And I’m to be wedded to a lord, The best in christendeem.’ 157G.9 ‘Do you repent,’ said Wallace, ‘The ill you’ve dane to me?’ ‘Ay, that I do,’ said that ladie, ‘And will do till I die. 157G.10 ‘Ay, that I do,’ said that ladie, ‘And will do ever still, And for the ill I’ve dane to you, Let me burn upon a hill.’ 157G.11 ‘Now God forfend,’ says brave Wallace, ‘I shoud be so unkind; Whatever I am to Scotland’s faes, I’m aye a woman’s friend. 157G.12 ‘Will ye gie me your gown, your gown, Your gown but and your kirtle, Your petticoat of bonny brown, And belt about my middle? 157G.13 ‘I’ll take a pitcher in ilka hand, And do me to the well; They’ll think I’m one of your maidens, Or think it is yoursell.’ 157G.14 She has gien him her gown, her gown, Her petticoat and kirtle, Her broadest belt, wi silver clasp, To bind about his middle. 157G.15 He’s taen a pitcher in ilka hand, And dane him to the well; They thought him one of her maidens, They kend it was nae hersell. 157G.16 Said one of the southron foragers, See ye yon lusty dame? I woud nae gie muckle to thee, neebor, To bring her back agen. 157G.17 Then all the southrons followd him, And sure they were but four; But he has drawn his trusty brand, And slew them pair by pair. 157G.18 He threw the pitchers frae his hands, And to the hills fled he, Until he cam to a fair may, Was washin on yon lea. 157G.19 ‘What news, what news, ye weel-far’d may? What news hae ye to gie?’ ‘Ill news, ill news,’ the fair may said, ‘Ill news I hae to thee. 157G.20 ‘There is fyften English sogers Into that thatched inn, Seeking Sir William Wallace; I fear that he is slain.’ 157G.21 ‘Have ye any money in your pocket? Pray lend it unto me, And when I come this way again, Repaid ye weel shall be.’ 157G.22 She[’s] put her hand in her pocket, And taen out shillings three; He turnd him right and round about, And thankd the weel-far’d may. 157G.23 He had not gone a long rig length, A rig length and a span, Until he met a bold beggar, As sturdy as coud gang. 157G.24 ‘What news, what news, ye bold beggar? What news hae ye to gie?’ ‘O heavy news,’ the beggar said, ‘I hae to tell to thee. 157G.25 ‘There is fyften English sogers, I heard them in yon inn, Vowing to kill him Wallace; I fear the chief is slain.’ 157G.26 ‘Will ye change apparell wi me, auld man? Change your apparell for mine? And when I come this way again, Ye’ll be my ain poor-man.’ 157G.27 When he got on the beggar’s coat, The pike-staff in his hand, He’s dane him down to yon tavern, Where they were drinking wine. 157G.28 ‘What news, what news, ye staff-beggar? What news hae ye to gie?’ ‘I hae nae news, I heard nae news, As few I’ll hae frae thee.’ 157G.29 think your coat is ragged, auld man; But woud you wages win, And tell where William Wallace is, We’ll lay gold in your hand.’ 157G.30 ‘Tell down, tell down your good red gold, Upon the table-head, And ye sall William Wallace see, Wi the down-come of Robin Hood.’ 157G.31 They had nae tauld the money down, And laid it on his knee, When candles, lamps, and candlesticks, He on the floor gard flee. 157G.32 he had drawn his trusty brand, And slew them one by one, Then sat down at the table-head, And called for some wine. 157G.33 The goodwife she ran but, ran but, The goodman she ran ben, The verra bairns about the fire Were a’ like to gang brain. 157G.34 ‘Now if there be a Scotsman here, He’ll come and drink wi me; But if there be an English loun, It is his time to flee.’ 157G.35 The goodman was an Englishman, And to the hills he ran; The goodwife was a scots woman, And she came to his hand.

157H: Gude Wallace

157H.1 WALLACE wight, upon a night, Came riding oer the linn, And he is to his leman’s bower, And tirld at the pin. 157H.2 ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, lady?’ he said, ‘Ye’ll rise, lat me come in.’ ‘O wha’s this at my bower-door, That knocks, and knows my name?’ ‘My name is William Wallace, Ye may my errand ken.’ 157H.3 ‘The truth to you I will rehearse, The secret I’ll unfold; Into your enmies’ hands this night I fairly hae you sold.’ 157H.4 ‘If that be true ye tell to me, Do ye repent it sair?’ ‘O that I do,’ she said, ’dear Wallace, And will do evermair! 157H.5 ‘The English did surround my house, And forced me theretill; But for your sake, my dear Wallace, I coud burn on a hill.’ 157H.6 Then he gae her a loving kiss, The tear droppd frae his ee; Says, Fare ye well for evermair, Your face nae mair I’ll see. 157H.7 She dressd him in her ain claithing, And frae her house he came; Which made the Englishmen admire, To see this stalwart dame. 157H.8 He is to Saint Johnston gane, And there he playd him well; For there he saw a well-far’d may, Was washing at a well. 157H.9 ‘What news, wnat news, ye well-far’d may? What news hae ye to me? What news, what news, ye well-far’d may, All from your north countrie?’ 157H.10 ‘See ye not yon tavern-house, That stands on yonder plain? This very day have landet in it Full fifteen Englishmen; 157H.11 search of Wallace, our dear champion, Ordaining that he shoud dee.’ ‘Then on my troth,’ said Wallace wight, ‘These Englishmen I’se see.’

157[I]: Gude Wallace

157[I].1 ‘I wish I had a king,’ brave Wallace he said, ‘That every brave Scotsman might leave by his oun, For between me and my sovreign leige I think I see some ill [seed] sowen.’ 157[I.2] Brave Wallace out-oer yon river he lap, And he lighted low down on the plain, And he came to a gay lady, As she was at the well washing. 157[I.3] ‘Some tidings, some tidings,’ brave Wallace he said, ‘Some tidings ye most tell unto me; Now since we are met here togither on the plain, Some tidings ye most tell unto me.’ 157[I.4] ‘O go ye down to yon wee ale-house, And there is fifeteen Englishmen, And they are seeking for good Wallace, And him to take and him for to hang.’ 157[I.5] ‘I wish I had a penny in my pocket,’ he says, ‘Or although it were but a bare baubee, And I wad away to the wee ale-house, The fifeteen Englishmen to see.’ 157[I.6] She’s put hir hand in hir left pocket, And fifeteen shillings to him she told down: ‘If ever I live to come back this way, The money’s be well paid agein.’ 157[I.7] He louted twafauld oer a stick, And he louted threefauld oer a tree, And he’es gane awa to the wee ale-house, The fifeteen Englishmen to see. 157[I.8] When he came to the wee ale-house, He walked ben, says, Decencey be there! The Engilish proud captain he awnsered him, And he awnsered him with a graid domineer. 157[I.9] ‘Why, where wast thou born, thou old crooked carle? Where and of what country?’ ‘I am a true Scotsman bred and born, And an auld crooked carle, just sic as ye may see.’ 157[I.10] ‘I wad gee fifeteen shillings,’ the captain he said, ‘To an auld crooked carle, just sic a ane as thee, If ye wad tell me of Willie Wallace, For he’s the man I wad fain see.’ 157[I.11] ‘O hold your hand,’ brave Wallace he said, ‘And let me see if yeer coin be good; If ye wad give fifeteen shillings more, Ye never bade a better boad.’ 157[I.12] He’s tean the captain out-oer the chaft-blade, Till a bitt of meat he never did eat mair; He stickit a’ the reste as the sat aroun the table, And he left them all a spraulling there. 157[I.13] ‘Get up, get up, goodwife,’ he says, ‘Get up and get me some denner in haste, For it is now three days and nights Since a bit of meat my mouth did taste.’ 157[I.14] The denner was not well made ready, Nor was it on the table sett, Till other fifeteen English men Were a’ perading about the yett. 157[I.15] ‘Come out, come out now, Wallace,’ they crys, ‘For this is the place ye’es sure for [to] die;’ ‘I lippen not sae little to good,’ he says, ‘Although I be but ill-wordie.’ 157[I.16] The goodman ran butt, the goodwife ran ben, They put the house in such a fever! Five of them he sticket where they stood, And other five he smoddered in the gitter. 157[I.17] Five of them he folowd to the merry greenwood, And these five he hangt on a grain, And gin the morn at ten o’clock He was wi his mirry men at Lochmaben.

158A: High Spencer’s Feats in France

158A.1 THE court is kept att leeue London, And euermore shall be itt; The King sent for a bold embassador, And Sir Hugh Spencer that he hight. 158A.2 ‘Come hither, Spencer,’ saith our kinge, ‘And come thou hither vnto mee; I must make thee an embassadour Betweene the king of Ffrance and mee. 158A.3 ‘Thou must comend me to the king of Ffrance, And tell him thus and now from mee, I wold know whether there shold be peace in his land, Or open warr kept still must bee. 158A.4 ‘Thou’st haue thy shipp at thy comande, Thou’st neither want for gold nor fee; Thou’st haue a hundred armed men, All att thy bidding for to bee.’ 158A.5 The wind itt serued, and they sayled, And towards Ffrance thus they be gone; The wind did bring them safe to shore, And safelye landed euerye one. 158A.6 The Ffrenchmen lay on the castle-wall, The English souldiers to behold: ‘You are welcome, traitors, out of England; The heads of you are bought and sold.’ 158A.7 With that spake proud Spencer: My leege, soe itt may not bee; I am sent an embassador Ffrom our English king to yee. 158A.8 The king of England greetes you well, And hath sent this word by mee; He wold know whether there shold be peace in your land, Or open warres kept still must bee. 158A.9 ‘Comend me to the English kinge, And tell this now from mee; There shall neuer peace be kept in my land While open warres kept there may bee.’ 158A.10 With that came downe the queene of Ffrance, And an angry woman then was shee; Saies, Itt had beene as fitt now for a king To be in his chamber with his ladye, Then to be pleading with traitors out of England, Kneeling low vppon their knee. 158A.11 But then bespake him proud Spencer, For noe man else durst speake but hee: You haue not wiped your mouth, madam, Since I heard you tell a lye. 158A.12 ‘O hold thy tounge, Spencer!’ shee said, ‘I doe not come to plead with thee; Darest thou ryde a course of warr With a knight that I shall put to thee?’ 158A.13 ‘But euer alacke!’ then Spencer sayd, ‘I thinke I haue deserued Gods cursse; Ffor I haue not any armour heere, Nor yett I haue noe iusting-horsse.’ 158A.14 ‘Thy shankes,’ quoth shee, ’Beneath the knee Are verry small aboue the shinne Ffor to doe any such honourablle deeds As the Englishmen say thou has done. 158A.15 ‘Thy shankes beene small aboue thy shoone, And soe the beene aboue thy knee; Thou art to slender euery way Any good iuster for to bee.’ 158A.16 ‘But euer alacke,’ said Spencer then, ‘For one steed of the English countrye!’ With that bespake and one Ffrench knight, This day thou’st haue the choyce of three. 158A.17 The first steed he feiched out, I-wis he was milke-white; The first foot Spencer in stirropp sett, His backe did from his belly tyte. 158A.18 The second steed that he feitcht out, I-wis that hee was verry browne; The second foot Spencer in stirropp settt, That horsse and man and all fell downe. 158A.19 The third steed that he feitched out, I-wis that he was verry blacke; The third foote Spencer into the stirropp sett, He leaped on to the geldings backe. 158A.20 ‘But euer alacke,’ said Spencer then, ‘For one good steed of the English countrye! Goe feitch me hither my old hacneye, That I brought with me hither beyond the sea.’ 158A.21 But when his hackney there was brought, Spencer a merry man there was hee; Saies, With the grace of God and St George of England, The feild this day shall goe with mee. 158A.22 ‘I haue noe forgotten,’ Spencer sayd, ‘Since there was feild foughten att Walsingam, When the horsse did heare the trumpetts sound, He did beare ore both horsse and man.’ 158A.23 The day was sett, and togetther they mett, With great mirth and melodye, With minstrells playing, and trumpetts soundinge, With drumes striking loud and hye. 158A.24 The first race that Spencer run, I-wis hee run itt wonderous sore; He [hitt] the knight vpon his brest, But his speare itt burst, and wold touch noe more. 158A.25 ‘But euer alacke,’ said Spencer then, ‘For one staffe of the English countrye! Without you’le bind me three together,’ Quoth hee, ’They’le be to weake for mee.’ 158A.26 With that bespake him the Ffrench knight, Sayes, Bind him together the whole thirtye, For I haue more strenght in my to hands Then is in all Spencers bodye. 158A.27 ‘But proue att parting,’ Spencer sayes, ‘Ffrench knight, here I tell itt thee; For I will lay thee five to four The bigger man I proue to bee.’ 158A.28 But the day was sett, and together they mett, With great mirth and melodye, With minstrells playing, and trumpetts soundinge, With drummes strikeing loud and hye. 158A.29 The second race that Spencer run, I-wis hee ridd itt in much pride, And he hitt the knight vpon the brest, And draue him ore his horsse beside. 158A.30 But he run thorrow the Ffrench campe; Such a race was neuer run beffore; He killed of King Charles his men Att hand of thirteen or fourteen score. 158A.31 But he came backe againe to the K[ing], And kneeled him downe vpon his knee; Saies, A knight I haue slaine, and a steed I haue woone, The best that is in this countrye. 158A.32 ‘But nay, by my faith,’ then said the King, ‘Spencer, soe itt shall not bee; I’le haue that traitors head of thine, To enter plea at my iollye.’ 158A.33 But Spencer looket him once about, He had true bretheren left but four; He killed ther of the Kings gard About twelve or thirteen score. 158A.34 ‘But hold thy hands,’ the King doth say, ‘Spencer, now I doe pray thee; And I will goe into litle England, Vnto that cruell kinge with thee.’ 158A.35 ‘Nay, by my faith,’ Spencer sayd, ‘My leege, for soe itt shall not bee; For an you sett foot on English ground, You shall be hanged vpon a tree.’ 158A.36 ‘Why then, comend [me] to that Englishe kinge, And tell him thus now from mee, That there shall neuer be open warres kept in my land Whilest peace kept that there may bee.’

158B: High Spencer’s Feats in France

158B.1 OUR king lay at Westminster, as oft times he had done, And he sent for Hugh Spencer, to come to him anon. 158B.2 Then in came Hugh Spencer, low kneeling on his knee: ‘What’s the matter, my liege, you sent so speedily for me?’ 158B.3 ‘Why you must go ambassadour to France now, to see Whether peace shall be taken, aye, or open wars must be.’ 158B.4 ‘Who shall go with me?’ says Hugh Spencer, he: ‘That shall Hugh Willoughby and John of Atherly.’ ‘O then,’ says Hugh Spencer, ’we’ll be a merry company.’ 158B.5 When they came before the French king, they kneeled low on the knee: ‘O rise up, and stand up, whose men soer you be.’ 158B.6 The first that made answer was Hugh Spencer, he: ‘We are English ambassadours, come hither to see Whether peace shall be taken, aye, or open wars must be.’ 158B.7 Then spoke the French king, and he spoke courteously: The last time peace was broken, it was neer along of me. 158B.8 For you sunk my ships, slew my men, and thus did ye; And the last time peace was broken, it was neer along of me. 158B.9 Then in came Queen Maude, and full as ill was she: ‘A chamber of presence is better for thee, Then amongst English shepherds, low bending on the knee.’ 158B.10 The first that made answer was Hugh Spencer, he: ‘We are no English shepherds, Queen Maude, I tell thee, But we’re knights, and knights fellows, the worst man in our company.’ 158B.11 O then spoke Queen Maude, and full as ill was she: Thou shouldst be Hugh Spencer, thou talkst so boldly. 158B.12 And if thou beest Hugh Spencer, as well thou seemst to be, I’ve oft heard of thy justling, and some of it would fain see. 158B.13 I have a steed in my stable that thou canst not ride; I have a spear in my keeping that thou canst not guide; And I have a knight in my realm that thou darest not abide. 158B.14 Then Spencer askd Willoughby and John of Atherly Whether he should take this justling in hand, aye, or let be. 158B.15 O then spoke Hugh Willoughby and John of Atherly: If you won’t take it [in] hand, why turn it unto we. 158B.16 ‘It shall neer be said in England,’ says Hugh Spencer, he, ‘That I refused a good justling and turned it to ye. 158B.17 ‘Alas,’ says Hugh Spencer, ’Full sore may I moan, I have nought here but an ambler, my good steed’s at home.’ 158B.18 Then spoke a French knight, and he spoke courteously: I have thirty steeds in my stables, the best of them take to thee. 158B.19 ‘Gramercy,’ says Spencer, ‘aye, and gramercy; If eer thou comest to England, well rewarded shalt thou be.’ 158B.20 The first steed they brought him, he was a milk-white: ‘Take that away,’ says Spencer, ’For I do not him like.’ 158B.21 The next steed they brought him, he was a good dun: ‘Take that away,’ says Spencer, ’For he’s not for my turn.’ 158B.22 The next steed they brought him, he was a dapple-grey: ‘Take that away,’ says Spencer, ’For he is not used to the way.’ 158B.23 The next steed they brought him, he was a coal-black; His eyes burnt in his head, as if fire were in flax; ‘Come saddle me that horse,’ says Spencer, ’For I’ll have none but that.’ 158B.24 When that horse was saddled, and Spencer got on, With his spear at his foot, O he was portly man! 158B.25 ‘Now I am on that steede-back that I could not ride, That spear in my keeping that I could not guide, Come shew me that French knight that I dare not abide.’ 158B.26 ‘It is a sign by thy sharp shin, ay, and thy cropped knee, That are no fit match to justle with me:’ ‘Why it makes no matter,’ says Spencer, ’you hear no brags of me.’ 158B.27 The first time they rode together, now Sir Hugh and he, He turnd him in his saddle like an apple on a tree. 158B.28 The next time they rode together, now Sir Hugh and he, He lit upon his breast-plate, and he broke his spear in three. 158B.29 ‘A spear now,’ says Spencer, a+e spear now get me:’ ’ thou shalt have one,’ says Willoughby, ’if in France one there be.’ 158B.30 ‘O tye two together, and the stronger they’l be, For the French is the better, and the better shall be:’ ‘Why it makes no matter,’ says Spencer, ’you hear no brags of me.’ 158B.31 The next time they rode together, now Sir Hugh and he, He threw him fifteen foot from his saddle, and he broke his back in three: ‘Now I have slain thy justler, Queen Maude, I tell thee.’ 158B.32 O then spoke Queen Maude, and full as ill was she: If thou’st slain my justler, by the Kings laws thou’st dye. 158B.33 ‘It shall neer be said in England,’ says Hugh Spencer, he; ‘It shall neer be said in England,’ says Hugh Willoughby; 158B.34 ‘It shall neer be said in England,’ says John of Atherly, ‘That a queen of another nation eer had her will of we.’ 158B.35 They laid their heads together, and their backs to the wall; There were four score of the Queen’s guards, and they slew them all. 158B.36 Then spoke the French king, and he spoke courteously: O hold thy hand, Spencer, I dearly pray thee. 158B.37 Thou art sharp as thy spear, and as fierce as thy steed, And the stour of thy lilly-white hand makes my heart bleed. 158B.38 Thou hadst twenty ships hither, thou’st have twenty away; Then hold thy hand, Spencer, I dearly thee pray.

158C: High Spencer’s Feats in France

158C.1 IT fell about the Martinmas time The wind blew loud and cauld, And all the knichts of fair Scotland They drew them to sum hald. 158C.2 Unless it was him young Sir Hugh, And he beet to sail the sea, Wi a letter between twa kings, to see an they wald lat down the wars, And live and lat them be. 158C.3 On Friday shipped he, and lang Ere Wodensday at noon In fair France landed he, . . . 158C.4 He fell down before the King, On his bare knees: ‘Gude mak ye safe and soun;’ ‘Fat news o your contrie?’ he says. 158C.5 ‘The news o our countrie,’ he says, ‘Is but news brought over the sea, To see an ye’ll lat down the wars, And live and lat them be.’ 158C.6 ‘Deed no,’ he says; ‘I’m but an auld man indeed, But I’ll no lat down the wars, And live and lat them be.’ 158C.7 It’s out it spak the Queen hersel: I have a shepherd’s sin Would fight an hour wi you; ‘And by my seeth,’ says young Sir Hugh, ‘That sight fain would I see.’ 158C.8 The firsten steed that he drew out, He was the penny-gray; He wad hae ridden oer meel or mor A Leve-lang summer’s day. 158C.9 O girths they brak, and great horse lap, But still sat he on he: ‘A girth, a girth,’ says young Sir Hugh, ‘A girth for charity!’ ‘O every girth that you shall have, Its gude lord shall hae three.’ 158C.10 The nexten steed that he drew out, He was the penny-brown; He wad hae ridden oer meel or mor As ever the dew drap down. 158C.11 O bridles brak, and great horse lap, But still sat he on he: ‘A bridle, a bridle,’ says young Sir Hugh, ‘A bridle for charitie!’ ‘O every bridle that you shall have, And its gude lord shall have three.’ 158C.12 The nexten steed that he drew out He was the raven-black; His een was glancin in his head Like wild-fire in a slack; ‘Get here a boy,’ says young Sir Hugh, ‘Cast on the saddle on that.’ 158C.13 O brands there brak, and great horse lap, But still sat he on he: ‘A brand, a brand,’ says young Sir Hugh, ‘A brand for charitie!’ ‘O every brand that you sall have, And its gude lord sall have three.’ 158C.14 He gave him a dep unto the heart, And over the steed fell he: ‘I rather had gane you money,’ she says, ‘And free lands too, That ye had foughten an hour wi him, And than had latten him be.’ 158C.15 ‘If ye hae ony mair shepherd’s sins,’ he says, ‘Or cooks i your kitchie, Or ony mair dogs to fell, Ye’ll bring them here to me; And gin they be a true-hearted Scotsman, They’ll no be scorned by thee.’

159A: Durham Field

159A.1 LORDINGES, listen, and hold you still; Hearken to me a litle; I shall you tell of the fairest battell That euer in England beffell. 159A.2 For as it befell in Edward the Thirds dayes, In England, where he ware the crowne, Then all the cheefe chiualry of England They busked and made them bowne. 159A.3 y chosen all the best archers That in England might be found, And all was to fight with the king of Ffrance, Within a litle stounde. 159A.4 And when our king was ouer the water, And on the salt sea gone, Then tydings into Scotland came That all England was gone. 159A.5 Bowes and arrowes they were all forth, At home was not left a man But shepards and millers both, And priests with shauen crownes. 159A.6 Then the king of Scotts in a study stood, As he was a man of great might; He sware he wold hold his parlament in leeue London, If he cold ryde there right. 159A.7 Then bespake a squier, of Scottland borne, And sayd, My leege, apace, Before you come to leeue London, Full sore you’le rue that race. 159A.8 Ther beene bold yeomen in merry England, Husbandmen stiffe and strong; Sharpe swords they done weare, Bearen bowes and arrowes longe. 159A.9 The King was angrye at that word; A long sword out he drew, And there befor his royall companye His owne squier hee slew. 159A.10 Hard hansell had the Scottes that day, That wrought them woe enoughe, For then durst not a Scott speake a word Ffor hanging att a boughe. 159A.11 ‘The Earle of Anguish, where art thou? In my coate-armor thou shalt bee, And thou shalt lead the forward Thorrow the English countrye. 159A.12 ‘Take thee Yorke,’ then sayd the King, ‘In stead wheras it doth stand; I’le make thy eldest sonne after thee Heyre of all Northumberland. 159A.13 ‘The Earle of Vaughan, where be yee? In my coate-armor thou shalt bee; The high Peak and Darbyshire I giue it thee to thy fee.’ 159A.14 Then came in famous Douglas, Saies, What shall my meede bee? And I’le lead the vawward, lord, Thorow the English countrye. 159A.15 ‘Take thee Worster,’ sayd the King, ‘Tuxburye, Killingworth, Burton vpon Trent; Doe thou not say another day But I haue giuen thee lands and rent. 159A.16 ‘Sir Richard of Edenborrow, where are yee? A wise man in this warr! I’le giue thee Bristow and the shire The time that wee come there. 159A.17 ‘My lord Nevill, where beene yee? You must in this warres bee; I’le giue thee Shrewsburye,’ saies the King, ‘And Couentrye faire and free. 159A.18 ‘My lord of Hambleton, where art thou? Thou art of my kin full nye; I’le giue thee Lincolne and Lincolneshire, And that’s enouge for thee.’ 159A.19 By then came in William Douglas, As breeme as any bore; He kneeled him downe vpon his knees, In his hart he sighed sore. 159A.20 Saies, I haue serued you, my louelye leege, This thirty winters and four, And in the Marches betweene England and Scottland I haue beene wounded and beaten sore. 159A.21 For all the good service that I haue done, What shall my meed bee? And I will lead the vanward Thorrow the English countrye. 159A.22 ‘Aske on, Douglas,’ said the king, ‘And granted it shall bee:’ ‘Why then, I aske litle London,’ saies William Douglas, ‘Gotten giff that it bee.’ 159A.23 The King was wrath, and rose away, Saies, Nay, that cannot bee! For that I will keepe for my cheefe chamber, Gotten if it bee. 159A.24 But take thee North Wales and Weschaster, The cuntrye all round about, And rewarded thou shalt bee, Of that take thou noe doubt. 159A.25 Fiue score knights he made on a day, And dubbd them with his hands; Rewarded them right worthilye With the townes in merry England. 159A.26 And when the fresh knights they were made, To battell the buske them bowne; Iames Douglas went before, And he thought to haue wonnen him shoone. 159A.27 But the were mett in a morning of May With the comminaltye of litle England; But there scaped neuer a man away, Through the might of Christ s hand. 159A.28 But all onely Iames Douglas; In Durham in the feild An arrow stroke him in the thye; Fast flinge[s he] towards the King. 159A.29 The King looked toward litle Durham, Saies, All things is not well! For Iames Dowglas beares an arrow in his thye, The head of it is of steele. 159A.30 ‘How now Iames?’ then said the King, ‘How now, how may this bee? And where beene all thy merrymen That thou tooke hence with thee?’ 159A.31 ‘But cease, my king,’ saies Iames Douglas, ‘Aliue is not left a man!’ ‘Now by my faith,’ saies the king of Scottes, ‘That gate was euill gone. 159A.32 ‘But I’le reuenge thy quarrell well, And of that thou may be faine; For one Scott will beate fiue Englishmen, If the meeten them on the plaine.’ 159A.33 ‘Now hold your tounge,’ saies Iames Douglas, ‘For in faith that is not soe; For one English man is worth fiue Scotts, When they meeten together thoe. 159A.34 ‘For they are as egar men to fight As a faulcon vpon a pray; Alas! if euer the winne the vanward, There scapes noe man away.’ 159A.35 ‘O peace thy talking,’ said the King, ‘They bee but English knaues, But shepards and millers both, And preists with their staues.’ 159A.36 The King sent forth one of his heralds of armes To vew the Englishmen: ‘Be of good cheere,’ the herald said, ‘For against one wee bee ten.’ 159A.37 ‘Who leades those ladds?’ said the king of Scottes, ‘Thou herald, tell thou mee:’ The herald said, The Bishopp of Durham Is captaine of that companye. 159A.38 ‘For the Bishopp hath spred the King’s banner, And to battell he buskes him bowne:’ ‘I sweare by St. Andrewes bones,’ saies the King, ‘I’le rapp that preist on the crowne.’ 159A.39 The King looked towards litle Durham, And that hee well beheld, That the Earle Percy was well armed, With his battell-axe entred the feild. 159A.40 The King looket againe towards litle Durham, Four ancyents there see hee; There were to standards, six in a valley, He cold not see them with his eye. 159A.41 My Lord of Yorke was one of them, My Lord of Carlile was the other, And my Lord Ffluwilliams, The one came with the other. 159A.42 The Bishopp of Durham commanded his men, And shortlye he them bade, That neuer a man shold goe to the feild to fight Till he had serued his God. 159A.43 Fiue hundred preists said masse that day In Durham in the feild, And afterwards, as I hard say, They bare both speare and sheeld. 159A.44 The Bishopp of Durham orders himselfe to fight, With his battell-axe in his hand; He said, This day now I will fight As long as I can stand! 159A.45 ‘And soe will I,’ sayd my Lord of Carlile, ‘In this faire morning gay;’ ‘And soe will I,’ said my Lord Ffluwilliams, ‘For Mary, that myld may.’ 159A.46 Our English archers bent their bowes Shortlye and anon; They shott ouer the Scottish oast And scantlye toucht a man. 159A.47 ‘Hold downe your hands,’ sayd the Bishopp of Durham, ‘My archers good and true:’ The second shoote that the shott, Full sore the Scottes itt rue. 159A.48 The Bishopp of Durham spoke on hye, That both partyes might heare: ‘Be of good cheere, my merrymen all, The Scotts flyen, and changen there cheere.’ 159A.49 But as the saidden, soe the didden, They fell on heap s hye; Our Englishmen laid on with their bowes, As fast as they might dree. 159A.50 The king of Scotts in a studye stood Amongst his companye; An arrow stoke him thorrow the nose, And thorrow his armorye. 159A.51 The King went to a marsh-side And light beside his steede; He leaned him downe on his sword-hilts, To let his nose bleede. 159A.52 There followed him a yeaman of merry England, His name was Iohn of Coplande: ‘Yeeld thee, traytor!’ saies Coplande then, ‘Thy liffe lyes in my hand.’ 159A.53 ‘How shold I yeeld me,’ sayes the King, ‘And thou art noe gentleman?’ ‘Noe, by my troth,’ sayes Copland there, ‘I am but a poore yeaman. 159A.54 ‘What art thou better then I, Sir King? Tell me if that thou can! What art thou better then I, Sir King, Now we be but man to man?’ 159A.55 The King smote angerly at Copland then, Angerly in that stonde; And then Copland was a bold yeaman, And bore the King to the ground. 159A.56 He sett the King upon a palfrey, Himselfe upon a steede; He tooke him by the bridle-rayne, Towards London he can him lead. 159A.57 And when to London that he came, The King from Ffrance was new come home, And there unto the king of Scottes He sayd these words anon. 159A.58 ‘How like you my shepards and my millers? My priests with shaven crownes?’ ‘By my fayth, they are the sorest fighting men That ever I mett on the ground. 159A.59 ‘There was never a yeaman in merry England But he was worth a Scottish knight:’ ‘I, by my troth,’ said King Edward, and laughe, ‘For you fought all against the right.’ 159A.60 But now the prince of merry England, Worthilye under his sheelde, Hath taken the king of Ffrance, At Poytiers in the feelde. 159A.61 The prince did present his father with that food, The louely king off Ffrance, And forward of his iourney he is gone: God send us all good chance! 159A.62 ‘You are welcome, brother!’ sayd the king of Scotts, to the king of Ffrance, ‘For I am come hither to soone; Christ leeve that I had taken my way Unto the court of Roome!’ 159A.63 ‘And soe wold I,’ said the king of Ffrance, ‘When I came over the streame, That I had taken my iourney Unto Ierusalem!’ 159A.64 Thus ends the battell of faire Durham, In one morning of May, The battell of Cressey, and the battle of Potyers, All within one month s day. 159A.65 Then was welthe and welfare in mery England, Solaces, game, and glee, And every man loved other well, And the King loved good yeomanrye. 159A.66 But God that made the grasse to growe, And leaves on greenwoode tree, Now save and keepe our noble king, And maintaine good yeomanry!

160A: The Knight of Liddesdale

 
 160A.1	 The Countesse of Douglas out of her boure she came,
 	 And loudly there that she did call:
 	 ‘It is for the Lord of Liddesdale
 	 That I let all these teares downe fall.’

161A: The Battle of Otterburn

161A.1 YT fell abowght the Lamasse tyde, Whan husbondes wynnes ther haye, The dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd hym to ryde, In Ynglond to take a praye. 161A.2 The yerlle of Fyffe, wythowghten stryffe, He bowynd hym over Sulway; The grete wolde ever to-gether ryde; That raysse they may rewe for aye. 161A.3 Over Hoppertope hyll they cam in, And so down by Rodclyffe crage: Vpon Grene Lynton they lyghted dowyn, Styrande many a stage. 161A.4 And boldely brente Northomberlond, And haryed many a towyn; They dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange, To batell that were not bowyn. 161A.5 Than spake a berne vpon the bent, Of comforte that was not colde, And sayd, We haue brente Northomberlond, We haue all welth in holde. 161A.6 Now we haue haryed all Bamborowe schyre, All the welth in the worlde haue wee, I rede we ryde to Newe Castell, So styll and stalworthlye. 161A.7 Vpon the morowe, when it was day, The standerds schone full bryght; To the Newe Castell the toke the waye, And thether they cam full ryght. 161A.8 Syr Henry Perssy laye at the New Castell, I tell yow wythowtten drede; He had byn a march-man all hys dayes, And kepte Barwyke vpon Twede. 161A.9 To the Newe Castell when they cam, The Skottes they cryde on hyght, ‘Syr Hary Perssy, and thou byste within, Com to the fylde, and fyght. 161A.10 ‘For we haue brente Northomberlonde, Thy erytage good and ryght, And syne my logeyng I haue take Wyth my brande dubbyd many a knyght.’ 161A.11 Syr Harry Perssy cam to the walles, The Skottyssch oste for to se, And sayd, And thou hast brente Northomberlond, Full sore it rewyth me. 161A.12 Yf thou hast haryed all Bamborowe schyre, Thow hast done me grete envye; For the trespasse thow hast me done, The tone of vs schall dye. 161A.13 ‘Where schall I byde the?’ sayd the Dowglas, ‘Or where wylte thow com to me?’ ‘At Otterborne, in the hygh way, [T]her mast thow well logeed be. 161A.14 ‘[T]he roo full rekeles ther sche rinnes, [T]o make the game a[nd] glee; ‘T]he fawken and the fesaunt both, Among the holtes on hye. 161A.15 ‘Ther mast thow haue thy welth at wyll, Well looged ther mast be; Yt schall not be long or I com the tyll,’ Sayd Syr Harry Perssye. 161A.16 ‘Ther schall I byde the,’ sayd the Dowglas, ‘By the fayth of my bodye:’ ‘Thether schall I com,’ sayd Syr Harry Perssy, ‘My trowth I plyght to the.’ 161A.17 A pype of wyne he gaue them over the walles, For soth as I yow saye; Ther he mayd the Dowglasse drynke, And all hys ost that daye. 161A.18 The Dowglas turnyd hym homewarde agayne, For soth withowghten naye; He toke hys logeyng at Oterborne, Vpon a Wedynsday. 161A.19 And ther he pyght hys standerd dowyn, Hys getting more and lesse, And syne he warned hys men to goo To chose ther geldynges gresse. 161A.20 A Skottysshe knyght hoved vpon the bent, A wache I dare well saye; So was he ware on the noble Perssy, In the dawnyng of the daye. 161A.21 He prycked to hys pavyleon-dore, As faste as he myght ronne; ‘Awaken, Dowglas,’ cryed the knyght, ‘For hys love that syttes in trone. 161A.22 ‘Awaken, Dowglas,’ cryed the knyght, ‘For thow maste waken wyth wynne; Yender haue I spyed the prowde Perssye, And seven stondardes wyth hym.’ 161A.23 ‘Nay by my trowth,’ the Dowglas sayed, ‘It ys but a fayned taylle; He durst not loke on my brede banner For all Ynglonde so haylle. 161A.24 ‘Was I not yesterdaye at the Newe Castell, That stondes so fayre on Tyne? For all the men the Perssy had, He coude not garre me ones to dyne.’ 161A.25 He stepped owt at his pavelyon-dore, To loke and it were lesse: ‘Araye yow, lordynges, one and all, For here bygynnes no peysse. 161A.26 ‘The yerle of Mentaye, thow arte my eme, The fowarde I gyve to the: The yerlle of Huntlay, cawte and kene, He schall be wyth the. 161A.27 ‘The lorde of Bowghan, in armure bryght, On the other hand he schall be; Lord Jhonstoune and Lorde Maxwell, They to schall be wyth me. 161A.28 ‘Swynton, fayre fylde vpon your pryde! To batell make yow bowen Syr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde, Syr Jhon of Agurstone!’ 161A.29 The Perssy cam byfore hys oste, Wych was ever a gentyll knyght; Vpon the Dowglas lowde can he crye, ‘I wyll holde that I haue hyght. 161A.30 ‘For thou haste brente Northomberlonde, And done me grete envye; For thys trespasse thou hast me done, The tone of vs schall dye.’ 161A.31 The Dowglas answerde hym agayne, Wyth grett wurdes vpon hye, And sayd, I haue twenty agaynst thy one, Byholde, and thou maste see. 161A.32 Wyth that the Perssy was grevyd sore, For soth as I yow saye; He lyghted dowyn vpon his foote, And schoote hys horsse clene awaye. 161A.33 Euery man sawe that he dyd soo, That ryall was euer in rowght; Euery man schoote hys horsse hym froo, And lyght hym rowynde abowght. 161A.34 Thus Syr Hary Perssye toke the fylde, For soth as I yow saye; Jhesu Cryste in hevyn on hyght Dyd helpe hym well that daye. 161A.35 But nyne thowzand, ther was no moo, The cronykle wyll not layne; Forty thowsande of Skottes and fowre That day fowght them agayne. 161A.36 But when the batell byganne to ioyne, In hast ther cam a knyght; The letters fayre furth hath he tayne, And thus he sayd full ryght: 161A.37 ‘My lorde your father he gretes yow well, Wyth many a noble knyght; He desyres yow to byde That he may see thys fyght. 161A.38 ‘The Baron of Grastoke ys com out of the west, Wyth hym a noble companye; All they loge at your fathers thys nyght, And the batell fayne wolde they see.’ 161A.39 ‘For Jhesus love,’ sayd Syr Harye Perssy, ‘That dyed for yow and me, Wende to my lorde my father agayne, And saye thow sawe me not wyth yee. 161A.40 ‘My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh knyght, It nedes me not to layne, That I schulde byde hym vpon thys bent, And I haue hys trowth agayne. 161A.41 ‘And if that I w[e]ynde of thys growende, For soth, onfowghten awaye, He wolde me call but a kowarde knyght In hys londe another daye. 161A.42 ‘Yet had I lever to be rynde and rente, By Mary, that mykkel maye, Then ever my manhood schulde be reprovyd Wyth a Skotte another day. 161A.43 ‘Wherfore schote, archars, for my sake, And let scharpe arowes flee; Mynstrells, playe vp for your waryson, And well quyt it schall bee. 161A.44 ‘Euery man thynke on hys trewe-love, And marke hym to the Trenite; For to God I make myne avowe Thys day wyll I not flee.’ 161A.45 The blodye harte in the Dowglas armes, Hys standerde stode on hye, That euery man myght full well knowe; By syde stode starr s thre. 161A.46 The whyte lyon on the Ynglyssh perte, For soth as I yow sayne, The lucettes and the cressawntes both; The Skottes favght them agayne. 161A.47 Vpon Sent Androwe lowde can they crye, And thrysse they schowte on hyght, And syne merked them one owr Ynglysshe men, As I haue tolde yow ryght. 161A.48 Sent George the bryght, owr ladyes knyght, To name they were full fayne; Owr Ynglyssh men they cryde on hyght, And thrysse the schowtte agayne. 161A.49 Wyth that scharpe arowes bygan to flee, I tell yow in sertayne; Men of armes byganne to joyne, Many a dowghty man was ther slayne. 161A.50 The Perssy and the Dowglas mette, That ether of other was fayne; They swapped together whyll that the swette, Wyth swordes of fyne collayne: 161A.51 Tyll the bloode from ther bassonnettes ranne, As the roke doth in the rayne; ‘Yelde the to me,’ sayd the Dowglas, ‘Or elles thow schalt be slayne. 161A.52 ‘For I see by thy bryght bassonet, Thow arte sum man of myght; And so I do by thy burnysshed brande; Thow arte an yerle, or elles a knyght.’ 161A.53 ‘By my good faythe,’ sayd the noble Perssye, ‘Now haste thow rede full ryght; Yet wyll I never yelde me to the, Whyll I may stonde and fyght.’ 161A.54 They swapped together whyll that they swette, Wyth sword s scharpe and long; Ych on other so faste thee beette, Tyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn. 161A.55 The Perssy was a man of strenghth, I tell yow in thys stounde; He smote the Dowglas at the sword s length That he felle to the growynde. 161A.56 The sworde was scharpe, and sore can byte, I tell yow in sertayne; To the harte he cowde hym smyte, Thus was the Dowglas slayne. 161A.57 The stonderdes stode styll on eke a syde, Wyth many a grevous grone; Ther the fowght the day, and all the nyght, And many a dowghty man was slayne. 161A.58 Ther was no freke that ther wolde flye, But styffely in stowre can stond, Ychone hewyng on other whyll they myght drye, Wyth many a bayllefull bronde. 161A.59 Ther was slayne vpon the Skott s syde, For soth and sertenly, Syr James a Dowglas ther was slayne, That day that he cowde dye. 161A.60 The yerlle of Mentaye he was slayne, Grysely groned vpon the growynd; Syr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde, Syr Jhon of Agurstoune. 161A.61 Syr Charll s Morrey in that place, That never a fote wold flee; Syr Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was, Wyth the Dowglas dyd he dye. 161A.62 Ther was slayne vpon the Skott s syde, For soth as I yow saye, Of fowre and forty thowsande Scottes Went but eyghtene awaye. 161A.63 Ther was slayne vpon the Ynglysshe syde, For soth and sertenlye, A gentell knight, Syr Jhon Fechewe, Yt was the more pety. 161A.64 Syr James Hardbotell ther was slayne, For hym ther hartes were sore; The gentyll Lovell ther was slayne, That the Perssys standerd bore. 161A.65 Ther was slayne vpon the Ynglyssh perte, For soth as I yow saye, Of nyne thowsand Ynglyssh men Fyve hondert cam awaye. 161A.66 The other were slayne in the fylde; Cryste kepe ther sowlles from wo! Seyng ther was so fewe fryndes Agaynst so many a foo. 161A.67 Then on the morne they mayde them beerys Of byrch and haysell graye; Many a wydowe, wyth wepyng teyres, Ther makes they fette awaye. 161A.68 Thys fraye bygan at Otterborne, Bytwene the nyght and the day; Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyffe, And the Perssy was lede awaye. 161A.69 Then was ther a Scottysh prisoner tayne, Syr Hewe Mongomery was hys name; For soth as I yow saye, He borowed the Perssy home agayne. 161A.70 Now let vs all for the Perssy praye To Jhesu most of myght, To bryng hys sowlle to the blysse of heven, For he was a gentyll knyght.

161B: The Battle of Otterburn

161B.1 IT fell and about the Lammas time, When husbandmen do win their hay, Earl Douglass is to the English woods, And a’ with him to fetch a prey. 161B.2 He has chosen the Lindsays light, With them the gallant Gordons gay, And the Earl of Fyfe, withouten strife, And Sir Hugh Montgomery upon a grey. 161B.3 They have taken Northumberland, And sae hae they the north shire, And the Otter Dale, they hae burnt it hale, And set it a’ into fire. 161B.4 Out then spake a bonny boy, That servd ane o Earl Douglass kin; Methinks I see an English host, A-coming branken us upon. 161B.5 ‘If this be true, my little boy, And it be troth that thou tells me, The brawest bower in Otterburn This day shall be thy morning-fee. 161B.6 ‘But if it be fase, my little boy, But and a lie that thou tells me, On the highest tree that’s in Otterburn With my ain hands I’ll hing thee high.’ 161B.7 The boy’s taen out his little penknife, That hanget low down by his gare, And he gaed Earl Douglass a deadly wound, Alack! a deep wound and a sare. 161B.8 Earl Douglas said to Sir Hugh Montgomery, Take thou the vanguard o the three, And bury me at yon braken-bush, That stands upon yon lilly lee. 161B.9 Then Percy and Montgomery met, And weel a wot they warna fain; They swaped swords, and they twa swat, And ay the blood ran down between. 161B.10 ‘O yield thee, yield thee, Percy,’ he said, ‘Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low;’ ‘Whom to shall I yield,’ said Earl Percy, ‘Now I see it maun be so?’ 161B.11 ‘O yield thee to yon braken-bush, That grows upon yon lilly lee; . . . . . . . . 161B.12 ‘I winna yield to a braken-bush, Nor yet will I unto a brier; But I would yield to Earl Douglass, Or Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he was here.’ 161B.13 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, He stuck his sword’s point in the ground, And Sir Hugh Montgomery was a courteous knight, And he quickly broght him by the hand. 161B.14 This deed was done at Otterburn, About the breaking of the day; Earl Douglass was buried at the braken-bush, And Percy led captive away.

161C: The Battle of Otterburn

161C.1 IT fell about the Lammas tide, When the muir-men win their hay, The doughty Douglas bound him to ride Into England, to drive a prey. 161C.2 He chose the Gordons and the Gra+emes, With them the Lindesays, light and gay; But the Jardines wald not with him ride, And they rue it to this day. 161C.3 And he has burnd the dales of Tyne, And part of Bambrough shire, And three good towers on Reidswire fells, He left them all on fire. 161C.4 And he marchd up to Newcastle, And rode it round about: ‘O wha’s the lord of this castle? Or wha’s the lady o’t?’ 161C.5 But up spake proud Lord Percy then, And O but he spake hie! I am the lord of this castle, My wife’s the lady gay. 161C.6 ‘If thou’rt the lord of this castle, Sae weel it pleases me, For, ere I cross the Border fells, The tane of us shall die.’ 161C.7 He took a lang spear in his hand, Shod with the metal free, And for to meet the Douglas there He rode right furiouslie. 161C.8 But O how pale his lady lookd, Frae aff the castle-wa, When down before the Scottish spear She saw proud Percy fa. 161C.9 ‘Had we twa been upon the green, And never an eye to see, I wad hae had you, flesh and fell; But your sword sall gae wi me.’ 161C.10 ‘But gae ye up to Otterbourne, And, wait there dayis three, And, if I come not ere three dayis end, A fause knight ca ye me.’ 161C.11 ‘The Otterbourne’s a bonnie burn; ’Tis pleasant there to be; But there is nought at Otterbourne To feed my men and me. 161C.12 ‘The deer rins wild on hill and dale, The birds fly wild from tree to tree; But there is neither bread nor kale To fend my men and me. 161C.13 ‘Yet I will stay at Otterbourne, Where you shall welcome be; And, if ye come not at three dayis end, A fause lord I’ll ca thee.’ 161C.14 ‘Thither will I come,’ proud Percy said, ‘By the might of Our Ladye;’ ‘There will I bide thee,’ said the Douglas, ‘My troth I plight to thee.’ 161C.15 They lighted high on Otterbourne, Upon the bent sae brown; They lighted high on Otterbourne, And threw their pallions down. 161C.16 And he that had a bonnie boy, Sent out his horse to grass; And he that had not a bonnie boy, His ain servant he was. 161C.17 But up then spake a little page, Before the peep of dawn: ‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, For Percy’s hard at hand.’ 161C.18 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud! Sae loud I hear ye lie: For Percy had not men yestreen To dight my men and me. 161C.19 ‘But I have dreamd a dreary dream, Beyond the Isle of Sky; I saw a dead man win a fight, And I think that man was I.’ 161C.20 He belted on his guid braid sword, And to the field he ran, But he forgot the helmet good, That should have kept his brain. 161C.21 When Percy with the Douglas met, I wat he was fu fain; They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, And the blood ran down like rain. 161C.22 But Percy with his good broad sword, That could so sharply wound, Has wounded Douglas on the brow, Till he fell to the ground. 161C.23 Then he calld on his little foot-page, And said, Run speedilie, And fetch my ain dear sister’s son, Sir Hugh Montgomery. 161C.24 ‘My nephew good,’ the Douglas said, ‘What recks the death of ane! Last night I dreamd a dreary dream, And I ken the day’s thy ain. 161C.25 ‘My wound is deep; I fain would sleep; Take thou the vanguard of the three, And hide me by the braken-bush, That grows on yonder lilye lee. 161C.26 ‘O bury me by the braken-bush, Beneath the blooming brier; Let never living mortal ken That ere a kindly Scot lies here.’ 161C.27 He lifted up that noble lord, Wi the saut tear in his ee; He hid him in the braken-bush, That his merrie men might not see. 161C.28 The moon was clear, the day drew near, The spears in flinders flew, But mony a gallant Englishman Ere day the Scotsmen slew. 161C.29 The Gordons good, in English blood They steepd their hose and shoon; The Lindsays flew like fire about, Till all the fray was done. 161C.30 The Percy and Montgomery met, That either of other were fain; They swapped swords, and they twa swat, And aye the blood ran down between. 161C.31 ‘Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy,’ he said, ‘Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low!’ ‘To whom must I yield,’ quoth Earl Percy, ‘Now that I see that it must be so?’ 161C.32 ‘Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, Nor yet shalt thou yield to me; But yield thee to the braken-bush, That grows upon yon lilye lee.’ 161C.33 ‘I will not yield to a braken-bush, Nor yet will I yield to a brier; But I would yield to Earl Douglas, Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here.’ 161C.34 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, He struck his sword’s point in the gronde; The Montgomery was a courteous knight, And quickly took him by the honde. 161C.35 This deed was done at the Otterbourne, About the breaking of the day; Earl Douglas was buried at the braken-bush, And the Percy led captive away.

161D: The Battle of Otterburn

 
 161D.1	 THEN out an spak a little wee boy,
 	 And he was near o Percy’s kin:
 	 Methinks I see the English host
 	 A coming branking us upon.
 161D.2	 Wi nine waggons scaling wide,
 	 And seven banners bearing high;
 	 It was do any living gude
 	 To see their bonny colours fly.

161E: The Battle of Otterburn

 
 161E.1	 ‘O YIELD thee to yon braken-bush,
 	 That grows upon yon lilly lie;
 	 For there lies aneth yon braken-bush
 	 What aft has conquered mae than thee.’

162A: The Hunting of the Cheviot

162A.1 THE Pers owt off Northombarlonde, and avowe to God mayd he That he wold hunte in the mowntayns off Chyviat within days thre, In the magger of dought Dogles, and all that euer with him be. 162A.2 The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat he sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away: ‘Be my feth,’ sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn, ‘I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.’ 162A.3 The[n] the Pers owt off Banborowe cam, with him a myghtee meany, With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and bone; and bone; the wear chosen owt of shyars thre. 162A.4 This begane on a Monday at morn, in Cheviat the hillys so he; The chylde may rue that ys vn-born, it wos the mor pitt . 162A.5 The dryvars thorowe the woodees went, for to reas the dear; Bomen byckarte vppone the bent with ther browd aros cleare. 162A.6 Then the wyld thorowe the woodees went, on euery syd shear; Greahondes thorowe the grevis glent, for to kyll thear dear. 162A.7 This begane in Chyviat the hyls abone, yerly on a Monnyn-day; Be that it drewe to the oware off none, a hondrith fat hartees ded ther lay. 162A.8 The blewe a mort vppone the bent, the semblyde on sydis shear; To the quyrry then the Pers went, to se the bryttlynge off the deare. 162A.9 He sayd, It was the Duglas promys this day to met me hear; But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament; a great oth the Pers swear. 162A.10 At the laste a squyar off Northomberlonde lokyde at his hand full ny; He was war a the doughetie Doglas commynge, with him a myghtt meany. 162A.11 h with spear, bylle, and brande, yt was a myghtti sight to se; Hardyar men, both off hart nor hande, wear not in Cristiant . 162A.12 The wear twenti hondrith spear-men good, withoute any feale; The wear borne along be the watter a Twyde, yth bowndees of Tividale. 162A.13 ‘Leave of the brytlyng of the dear,’ he sayd, a+end to your bo’ys lock ye tayk good hede; For neuer sithe ye wear on your mothars borne had ye neuer so mickle nede.’ 162A.14 The dougheti Dogglas on a stede, he rode alle his men beforne; His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede; a boldar barne was never born. 162A.15 ‘Tell me whos men ye ar,’ he says, ’or whos men that ye be: Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Chyviat chays, in the spyt of myn and of me.’ 162A.16 The first mane that ever him an answear mayd, yt was the good lord Pers : ‘We wyll not tell the whoys men we ar,’ he says, ’Nor whos men that we be; But we wyll hounte hear in this chays, in the spyt of thyne and of the. 162A.17 ‘The fattiste hartees in all Chyviat we haue kyld, and cast to carry them away:’ ‘Be my troth,’ sayd the doughet Dogglas agay[n], ’therfor the ton of vs shal de this day.’ 162A.18 Then sayd the dought Doglas unto the lord Pers : ‘To kyll alle thes giltles men, alas, it wear great pitt ! 162A.19 But, Pers, thowe art a lord of lande, I am a yerle callyd within my contr ; Let all our men vppone a parti stande, and do the battell off the and of me.’ 162A.20 ‘Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne,’ sayd the lorde Pers, ’who-so-euer ther-to says nay! Be my troth, doughtte Doglas,’ he says, ’Thow shalt neuer se that day. 162A.21 ‘Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France, nor for no man of a woman born, But, and fortune be my chance, I dar met him, on man for on.’ 162A.22 Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde, Richard Wytharyngton was him nam; ‘It shal neuer be told in Sothe-Ynglonde,’ he says, ’To Kyng Herry the Fourth for sham. 162A.23 ‘I wat youe byn great lordees twaw, I am a poor squyar of lande; I wylle neuer se my captayne fyght on a fylde, and stande my selffe and loocke on, But whylle I may my weppone welde, I wylle not [fayle] both hart and hande.’ 162A.24 That day, that day, that dredfull day! the first fit here I fynde; And youe wyll here any mor a the hountynge a the Chyviat, yet ys ther mor behynde. 162A.25 The Yngglyshe men hade ther bowys yebent, ther hartes wer good yenoughe; The first off arros that the shote off, seven skore spear-men the sloughe. 162A.26 Yet byddys the yerle Doglas vppon the bent, a captayne good yenoughe, And that was sene verament, for he wrought hom both woo and wouche. 162A.27 The Dogglas partyd his ost in thre, lyk a cheffe cheften off pryde; With suar spears off myghtt tre, the cum in on euery syde; 162A.28 Thrughe our Yngglyshe archery gave many a wounde fulle wyde; Many a doughet the garde to dy, which ganyde them no pryde. 162A.29 The Ynglyshe men let ther bo’ys be, and pulde owt brandes that wer brighte; It was a hevy syght to se bryght swordes on basnites lyght. 162A.30 Thorowe ryche male and myneyeple, many sterne the strocke done streght; Many a freyke that was fulle fre, ther vndar foot dyd lyght. 162A.31 At last the Duglas and the Pers met, lyk to captayns of myght and of mayne; The swapte toghethar tylle the both swat, with swordes that wear of fyn myllan. 162A.32 Thes worth freckys for to fyght, ther-to the wear fulle fayne, Tylle the bloode owte off thear basnetes sprente, as euer dyd heal or ra[y]n. 162A.33 ‘Yelde the, Pers,’ sayde the Doglas, a+end i feth I shalle the brynge Wher thowe shalte haue a yerls wagis of Jamy our Skottish kynge. 162A.34 ‘Thoue shalte haue thy ransom fre, I hight the hear this thinge; For the manfullyste man yet art thowe that euer I conqueryd in filde fighttynge.’ 162A.35 ‘Nay,’ sayd the lord Pers, ‘I tolde it the beforne, That I wolde neuer yeldyde be to no man of a woman born.’ 162A.36 With that ther cam an arrowe hastely, forthe off a myghtt wane; Hit hathe strekene the yerle Duglas in at the brest-bane. 162A.37 Thorowe lyvar and longees bathe the sharpe arrowe ys gane, That neuer after in all his lyffe-days he spayke mo wordees but ane: That was, Fyghte ye, my myrry men, whyllys ye may, for my lyff-days ben gan. 162A.38 The Pers leanyde on his brande, and sawe the Duglas de; He tooke the dede mane by the hande, and sayd, Wo ys me for the! 162A.39 ‘To haue savyde thy lyffe, I wolde haue partyde with my landes for years thre, For a better man, of hart nare of hande, was nat in all the north contr .’ 162A.40 Off all that se a Skottishe knyght, was callyd Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry; He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght, he spendyd a spear, a trusti tre. 162A.41 He rod vppone a corsiare throughe a hondrith archery: He neuer stynttyde, nar neuer blane, tylle he cam to the good lord Pers . 162A.42 He set vppone the lorde Pers a dynte that was full soare; With a suar spear of a myghte tre clean thorow the body he the Pers ber, 162A.43 A the tothar syde that a man myght se a large cloth-yard and mare: Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Cristiant then that day slan wear ther. 162A.44 An archar off Northomberlonde say slean was the lord Pers ; He bar a bende bowe in his hand, was made off trusti tre. 162A.45 An arow that a cloth-yarde was lang to the harde stele halyde he; A dynt that was both sad and soar he sat on Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry. 162A.46 The dynt yt was both sad and sar that he of Monggomberry sete; The swane-fethars that his arrowe bar with his hart-blood the wear wete. 162A.47 Ther was neuer a freake wone foot wolde fle, but still in stour dyd stand, Heawyng on yche othar, whylle the myghte dre, with many a balfull brande. 162A.48 This battell begane in Chyviat an owar befor the none, And when even-songe bell was rang, the battell was nat half done. 162A.49 The tocke . . on ethar hande be the lyght off the mone; Many hade no strenght for to stande, in Chyviat the hillys abon. 162A.50 Of fifteen hondrith archars of Ynglonde went away but seuenti and thre; Of twenti hondrith spear-men of Skotlonde, but even five and fifti. 162A.51 But all wear slayne Cheviat within; the hade no streng[th]e to stand on hy; The chylde may rue that ys unborne, it was the mor pitt . 162A.52 Thear was slayne, withe the lord Pers, Ser Johan of Agerstone, Ser Rogar, the hinde Hartly, Ser Wyllyam, the bolde Hearone. 162A.53 Ser Jorg, the worth Loumle, a knyghte of great renowen, Ser Raff, the ryche Rugbe, with dyntes wear beaten dowene. 162A.54 For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, that euer he slayne shulde be; For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to, yet he knyled and fought on hys kny. 162A.55 Ther was slayne, with the dougheti Duglas, Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry, Ser Dauy Lwdale, that worth was, his sistars son was he. 162A.56 Ser Charls a Murr in that place, that neuer a foot wolde fle; Ser Hewe Maxwelle, a lorde he was, with the Doglas dyd he dey. 162A.57 So on the morrowe the mayde them byears off birch and hasell so g[r]ay; Many wedous, with wepyng tears, cam to fache ther makys away. 162A.58 Tivydale may carpe off care, Northombarlond may mayk great mon, For towe such captayns as slayne wear thear on the March-parti shall neuer be non. 162A.59 Word ys commen to Eddenburrowe, to Jamy the Skottishe kynge, That dougheti Duglas, lyff-tenant of the Marches, Marches, he lay slean Chyviot within. 162A.60 His handd s dyd he weal and wryn7 he sayd, Alas, and woe ys me! Such an othar captayn Skotland within, he sayd, ye-feth shuld neuer be. 162A.61 Worde ys commyn to lovly Londone, till the fourth Harry our kynge, That lord Pers, leyff-tenante of the Marchis, he lay slayne Chyviat within. 162A.62 ‘God haue merci on his solle,’ sayde Kyng Harry, ’good lord, yf thy will it be! I haue a hondrith captayns in Ynglonde,’ he sayd, a+es good as euer was he: But, Pers, and I brook my lyffe, thy deth well quyte shall be.’ 162A.63 As our noble kynge mayd his avowe, lyke a noble prince of renowen, For the deth of the lord Pers he dyde the battell of Hombyll-down; 162A.64 Wher syx and thritt Skottishe knyghtes on a day wear beaten down; Glendale glytteryde on ther armor bryght, over castille, towar, and town. 162A.65 This was the hontynge off the Cheviat, that tear begane this spurn; Old men that knowen t8e grownde well yenoughe call it the battell of Otterburn. 162A.66 At Otterburn begane this spurne, vppone a Monnynday; Ther was the dought Doglas slean, the Pers neuer went away. 162A.67 Ther was neuer a tym on the Marche-part s sen the Doglas and the Pers met, But yt ys mervele and the rede blude ronne not, as the reane doys in the stret. 162A.68 Ihesue Crist our balys bete, and to the blys vs brynge! Thus was the hountynge of the Chivyat: God send vs alle good endyng!

162B: The Hunting of the Cheviot

162B.1 GOD prosper long our noble king, our liffes and saftyes all! A woefull hunting once there did in Cheuy Chase befall. 162B.2 To driue the deere with hound and horne Erle Pearcy took the way: The child may rue that is vnborne the hunting of that day! 162B.3 The stout Erle of Northumberland a vow to God did make His pleasure in the Scottish woods three sommers days to take, 162B.4 The cheefest harts in Cheuy C[h]ase to kill and beare away: These tydings to Erle Douglas came in Scottland, where he lay. 162B.5 Who sent Erle Pearcy present word he wold prevent his sport; The English erle, not fearing that, did to the woods resort, 162B.6 With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, all chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of neede to ayme their shafts arright. 162B.7 The gallant greyhound[s] swiftly ran to chase the fallow deere; On Munday they began to hunt, ere daylight did appeare. 162B.8 And long before high noone the had a hundred fat buckes slaine; Then hauing dined, the drouyers went to rouze the deare againe. 162B.9 The bowmen mustered on the hills, well able to endure; Theire backsids all with speciall care that day were guarded sure. 162B.10 The hounds ran swiftly through the woods the nimble deere to take, That with their cryes the hills and dales an eccho shrill did make. 162B.11 Lord Pearcy to the querry went to veiw the tender deere; Quoth he, Erle Douglas promised once this day to meete me heere; 162B.12 But if I thought he wold not come, noe longer wold I stay. With that a braue younge gentlman thus to the erle did say: 162B.13 ‘Loe, yonder doth Erle Douglas come, hys men in armour bright; Full twenty hundred Scottish speres all marching in our sight. 162B.14 ‘All men of pleasant Tiuydale, fast by the riuer Tweede:’ ‘O ceaze your sportts!’ Erle Pearcy said, a+end take your bowes with speede. 162B.15 ‘And now with me, my countrymen, your courage forth advance! For there was neuer champion yett, in Scottland nor in Ffrance, 162B.16 ‘That euer did on horsbacke come, [but], and if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man, with him to breake a spere.’ 162B.17 Erle Douglas on his milke-white steede, most like a baron bold, Rode formost of his company, whose armor shone like gold. 162B.18 ‘Shew me,’ sayd hee, ’whose men you bee that hunt soe boldly heere, That without my consent doe chase and kill my fallow deere.’ 162B.19 The first man that did answer make was noble Pearcy hee, Who sayd, Wee list not to declare nor shew whose men wee bee; 162B.20 ‘Yett wee will spend our deerest blood thy cheefest harts to slay.’ Then Douglas swore a solempne oathe, and thus in rage did say: 162B.21 ‘Ere thus I will outbraued bee, one of vs tow shall dye; I know thee well, an erle thou art; Lord Pearcy, soe am I. 162B.22 ‘But trust me, Pearcye, pittye it were, and great offence, to kill Then any of these our guiltlesse men, for they haue done none ill. 162B.23 ‘Let thou and I the battell trye, and set our men aside:’ ‘Accurst bee [he!]’ Erle Pearcye sayd, ’By whome it is denyed.’ 162B.24 Then stept a gallant squire forth-+- Witherington was his name-+- Who said, ‘I wold not haue it told to Henery our king, for shame, 162B.25 ‘That ere my captaine fought on foote, and I stand looking on. You bee two Erles,’ quoth Witheringhton, and I a squier alone; 162B.26 ‘I’le doe the best that doe I may, while I haue power to stand; While I haue power to weeld my sword, I’le fight with hart and hand.’ 162B.27 Our English archers bent their bowes; their harts were good and trew; Att the first flight of arrowes sent, full foure score Scotts the slew. 162B.28 To driue the deere with hound and horne, Dauglas bade on the bent; Two captaines moued with mickle might, their speres to shiuers went. 162B.29 They closed full fast on euerye side, noe slacknes there was found, But many a gallant gentleman lay gasping on the ground. 162B.30 O Christ! it was great greeue to see how eche man chose his spere, And how the blood out of their brests did gush like water cleare. 162B.31 At last these two stout erles did meet, like captaines of great might; Like lyons woode they layd on lode; the made a cruell fight. 162B.32 The fought vntill they both did sweat, with swords of tempered steele, Till blood downe their cheekes like raine the trickling downe did feele. 162B.33 ‘O yeeld thee, Pearcye!’ Douglas sayd, a+end in faith I will thee bringe Where thou shall high advanced bee by Iames our Scottish king. 162B.34 ‘Thy ransome I will freely giue, and this report of thee, Thou art the most couragious knight [that ever I did see.]’ 162B.35 ‘Noe, Douglas!’ quoth Erle Percy then, ’Thy profer I doe scorne; I will not yeelde to any Scott that euer yett was borne!’ 162B.36 With that there came an arrow keene, out of an English bow, Which stroke Erle Douglas on the brest a deepe and deadlye blow. 162B.37 Who neuer sayd more words then these: Fight on, my merry men all! For why, my life is att [an] end, lord Pearcy sees my fall. 162B.38 Then leauing liffe, Erle Pearcy tooke the dead man by the hand; Who said, ‘Erle Dowglas, for thy life, wold I had lost my land! 162B.39 ‘O Christ! my verry hart doth bleed for sorrow for thy sake, For sure, a more redoubted knight mischance cold neuer take.’ 162B.40 A knight amongst the Scotts there was which saw Erle Douglas dye, Who streight in hart did vow revenge vpon the Lord Pearcye. 162B.41 Sir Hugh Mountgomerye was he called, who, with a spere full bright, Well mounted on a gallant steed, ran feircly through the fight, 162B.42 And past the English archers all, without all dread or feare, And through Erle Percyes body then he thrust his hatfull spere. 162B.43 With such a vehement force and might his body he did gore, The staff ran through the other side a large cloth-yard and more. 162B.44 Thus did both these nobles dye, whose courage none cold staine; An English archer then perceiued the noble erle was slaine. 162B.45 He had [a] good bow in his hand, made of a trusty tree; An arrow of a cloth-yard long to the hard head haled hee. 162B.46 Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye his shaft full right he sett; The grey-goose-winge that was there-on in his harts bloode was wett. 162B.47 This fight from breake of day did last till setting of the sun, For when the rung the euening-bell the battele scarse was done. 162B.48 With stout Erle Percy there was slaine Sir Iohn of Egerton, Sir Robert Harcliffe and Sir William, Sir Iames, that bold barron. 162B.49 And with Sir George and Sir Iames, both knights of good account, Good Sir Raphe Rebbye there was slaine, whose prowesse did surmount. 162B.50 For Witherington needs must I wayle as one in dolefull dumpes, For when his leggs were smitten of, he fought vpon his stumpes. 162B.51 And with Erle Dowglas there was slaine Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, And Sir Charles Morrell, that from feelde one foote wold neuer flee; 162B.52 Sir Roger Heuer of Harcliffe tow, his sisters sonne was hee; Sir David Lambwell, well esteemed, but saved he cold not bee. 162B.53 And the Lord Maxwell, in like case, with Douglas he did dye; Of twenty hundred Scottish speeres, scarce fifty-fiue did flye. 162B.54 Of fifteen hundred Englishmen went home but fifty-three; The rest in Cheuy Chase were slaine, vnder the greenwoode tree. 162B.55 Next day did many widdowes come their husbands to bewayle; They washt their wounds in brinish teares, but all wold not prevayle. 162B.56 Theyr bodyes, bathed in purple blood, the bore with them away; They kist them dead a thousand times ere the were cladd in clay. 162B.57 The newes was brought to Eddenborrow, where Scottlands king did rayne, That braue Erle Douglas soddainlye was with an arrow slaine. 162B.58 ‘O heauy newes!’ King Iames can say; ‘Scottland may wittenesse bee I haue not any captaine more of such account as hee.’ 162B.59 Like tydings to King Henery came, within as short a space, That Pearcy of Northumberland was slaine in Cheuy Chase. 162B.60 ‘Now God be with him!’ said our king, ’Sith it will noe better bee; I trust I haue within my realme fiue hundred as good as hee. 162B.61 ‘Yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say but I will vengeance take, And be revenged on them all for braue Erle Percyes sake.’ 162B.62 This vow the king did well performe after on Humble-downe; In one day fifty knights were slayne, with lords of great renowne. 162B.63 And of the rest, of small account, did many hundreds dye: Thus endeth the hunting in Cheuy Chase, made by the Erle Pearcye. 162B.64 God saue our king, and blesse this land with plentye, ioy, and peace, And grant hencforth that foule debate twixt noble men may ceaze!

163A: The Battle of Harlaw

163A.1 AS I cam in by Dunidier, An doun by netherha, There was fifty thousand Hielanmen A-marching to Harlaw. Wi a dree dree dradie drumtie dree. 163A.2 As I cam on, an farther on, An doun an by Balquhain, Oh there I met Sir James the Rose, Wi him Sir John the Gryme. 163A.3 ‘O cam ye frae the Hielans, man? An cam ye a’ the wey? Saw ye Macdonell an his men, As they cam frae the Skee?’ 163A.4 ‘Yes, me cam frae ta Hielans, man, An me cam a’ ta wey, An she saw Macdonell and his men, As they cam frae ta Skee.’ 163A.5 ‘Oh was ye near Macdonell’s men? Did ye their numbers see? Come, tell to me, John Hielanman, What micht their numbers be?’ 163A.6 ‘Yes, me was near, an near eneuch, An me their numbers saw; There was fifty thousan Hielanmen A-marchin to Harlaw.’ 163A.7 ‘Gin that be true,’ says James the Rose, ‘We’ll no come meikle speed; We’ll cry upo our merry men, And lichtly mount our steed.’ 163A.8 ‘Oh no, oh no,’ says John the Gryme, ‘That thing maun never be; The gallant Grymes were never bate, We’ll try phat we can dee.’ 163A.9 As I cam on, an farther on, An doun an by Harlaw, They fell fu close on ilka side; Sic fun ye never saw. 163A.10 They fell fu close on ilka side, Sic fun ye never saw; For Hielan swords gied clash for clash, At the battle o Harlaw. 163A.11 The Hielanmen, wi their lang swords, They laid on us fu sair, An they drave back our merry men Three acres breadth and mair. 163A.12 Brave Forb s to his brither did say, Noo brither, dinna ye see? They beat us back on ilka side, An we’se be forced to flee. 163A.13 ‘Oh no, oh no, my brither dear, That thing maun never be; Tak ye your good sword in your hand, An come your wa’s wi me.’ 163A.14 ‘Oh no, oh no, my brither dear, The clans they are ower strang, An they drive back our merry men, Wi swords baith sharp an lang.’ 163A.15 Brave Forb s drew his men aside, Said, Tak your rest a while, Until I to Drumminnor send, To fess my coat o mail. 163A.16 The servan he did ride, An his horse it did na fail, For in twa hours an a quarter He brocht the coat o mail. 163A.17 Then back to back the brithers twa Gaed in amo the thrang, An they hewed doun the Hielanmen, Wi swords baith sharp and lang. 163A.18 Macdonell, he was young an stout, Had on his coat o mail, An he has gane oot throw them a’, To try his han himsell. 163A.19 The first ae straik that Forb s strack, He garrt Macdonell reel, An the neist ae straik that Forb s strack, The great Macdonell fell. 163A.20 An siccan a lierachie I’m sure ye never saw As wis amo the Hielanmen, When they saw Macdonell fa. 163A.21 An whan they saw that he was deid, They turnd an ran awa, An they buried him in Leggett’s Den, A large mile frae Harlaw. 163A.22 They rade, they ran, an some did gang, They were o sma record; But Forb s an his merry men, They slew them a’ the road. 163A.23 On Monanday, at mornin, The battle it began, On Saturday, at gloamin, Ye’d scarce kent wha had wan. 163A.24 An sic a weary buryin I’m sure ye never saw As wis the Sunday after that, On the muirs aneath Harlaw. 163A.25 Gin ony body speer at you For them ye took awa, Ye may tell their wives and bairnies They’re sleepin at Harlaw.

163B: The Battle of Harlaw

 
 163B.1	 AS I cam thro the Garrioch land,
 	 And in by Over Ha,
 	 There was sixty thousan Highland men
 	 Marching to Harlaw.
 163B.11	 The Highland men, with their broad sword,
 	 Pushd on wi might and power,
 	 Till they bore back the red-coat lads
 	 Three furlongs long, and more.
 163B.15	 Lord Forb s calld his men aside,
 	 Says, Take your breath awhile,
 	 Until I send my servant now
 	 To bring my coat o mail.

164A: King Henry Fifth’s Conquest of France

164A.1 AS our king lay musing on his bed, He bethought himself upon a time Of a tribute that was due from France, Had not been paid for so long a time. Fal, lal, etc. 164A.2 He called for his lovely page, His lovely page then called he, Saying, You must go to the king of France, To the king of France, sir, ride speedily. 164A.3 O then went away this lovely page, This lovely page then away went he; And when he came to the king of France, Low he fell down on his bended knee. 164A.4 ‘My master greets you, worthy sir; Ten ton of gold that is due to he, That you will send him his tribute home, Or in French land you soon will him see.’ 164A.5 ‘Your master’s young and of tender years, Not fir to come into my degree, And I will send him three tennis-balls, That with them he may learn to play.’ 164A.6 O then returned this lovely page, This lovely page then returned he, And when he came to our gracious king, Low he fell down on his bended knee. 164A.7 ‘What news, what news, my trusty page? What is the news you have brought to me?’ ‘I have brought such news from the king of France That you and he will never agree. 164A.8 ‘He says you’re young and of tender years, Not fit to come into his degree, And he will send you three tennis-balls, That with them you may learn to play.’ 164A.9 ‘Recruit me Cheshire and Lancashire, And Derby Hills that are so free; No marryd man nor no widow’s son; For no widow’s curse shall go with me.’ 164A.10 They recruited Cheshire and Lancashire, And Derby Hills that are so free; No marryd man, nor no widow’s son; Yet there was a jovial bold company. 164A.11 O then we marchd into the French land, With drums and trumpets so merrily; And then bespoke the king of France, ‘Lo, yonder comes proud King Henry.’ 164A.12 The first shot that the Frenchmen gave, They killd our Englishmen so free; We killd ten thousand of the French, And the rest of them they ran away. 164A.13 And then we marched to Paris gates, With drums and trumpets so merrily: O then bespoke the king of France, ‘The Lord have mercy on my men and me! 164A.14 ‘O I will send him his tribute home, Ten ton of gold that is due to he, And the finest flower that is in all France To the Rose of England I will give free.’

165A: Sir John Butler

165A.1 BUT word is come to Warrington, And Busye Hall is laid about; Sir Iohn Butler and his merry men Stand in full great doubt. 165A.2 When they came to Busye Hall Itt was the merke midnight, And all the bridges were vp drawen, And neuer a candle-light. 165A.3 There they made them one good boate, All of one good bull skinn; William Sauage was one of the first That euer came itt within. 165A.4 Hee sayled ore his merrymen, By two and two together, And said itt was as good a bote As ere was made of lether. 165A.5 ‘Waken yoi, waken you, deare father! God waken you within! For heere is your vnckle Standlye Come your hall within.’ 165A.6 ‘If that be true, Ellen Butler, These tydings you tell mee, A hundred pound in good redd gold This night will not borrow mee.’ 165A.7 Then came downe Ellen Butler And into her fathers hall, And then came downe Ellen Butler, And shee was laced in pall. 165A.8 ‘Where is thy father, Ellen Butler? Haue done, and tell itt mee:’ ‘My father is now to London ridden, As Christ shall haue part of mee.’ 165A.9 ‘Now nay, now nay, Ellen Butler, Ffor soe itt must not bee; Ffor ere I goe forth of this hall, Your father I must see.’ 165A.10 The sought that hall then vp and downe Theras Iohn Butler lay; The sought that hall then vp and downe Theras Iohn Butler lay. 165A.11 Ffaire him Ffall, litle Holcrofft! Soe merrilye he kept the dore, Till that his head from his shoulders Came tumbling downe the floore. 165A.12 ‘Yeeld thee, yeelde thee, Iohn Butler! Yeelde thee now to mee!’ ‘I will yeelde me to my vnckle Stanlye, And neere to false Peeter Lee.’ 165A.13 ‘A preist, a preist,’ saies Ellen Butler, ‘To housle and to shriue! A preist, a preist,’ sais Ellen Butler, ‘While that my father is a man aliue!’ 165A.14 Then bespake him William Sauage, A shames death may hee dye! Sayes, He shall haue no other preist But my bright sword and mee. 165A.15 The Ladye Butler is to London rydden, Shee had better haue beene att home; Shee might haue beggd her owne marryed lord Att her good brother Iohn. 165A.16 And as shee lay in leeue London, And as shee lay in her bedd, Shee dreamed her owne marryed lord Was swiminnge in blood soe red. 165A.17 Shee called vp her merry men all, Long ere itt was day; Saies, Wee must ryde to Busye Hall, With all speed that wee may. 165A.18 Shee matt with three Kendall men, Were ryding by the way: ‘Tydings, tydings, Kendall men, I pray you tell itt mee!’ 165A.19 ‘Heauy tydings, deare madam; Ffrom you wee will not leane; The worthyest knight in merry England, Iohn Butler, Lord! hee is slaine!’ 165A.20 ‘Ffarewell, farwell, Iohn Butler! Ffor thee I must neuer see: Ffarewell, farwell, Busiye Hall! For thee I will neuer come nye.’ 165A.21 Now Ladye Butler is to London againe, In all the speed might bee, And when shee came before her prince, Shee kneeled low downe on her knee. 165A.22 ‘A boone, a boone, my leege!’ shee sayes, ‘Ffor Gods loue grant itt mee!’ ‘What is thy boone,Lady Butler? Or what wold thou haue of mee? 165A.23 ‘What is thy boone, Lady Butler? Or what wold thou haue of mee?’ ‘That false Peeres of Lee, and my brother Stanley, And William Sauage, and all, may dye.’ 165A.24 ‘Come you hither, Lady Butler, Come you ower this stone; Wold you haue three men for to dye, All for the losse off one? 165A.25 ‘Come you hither, Lady Butler, With all the speed you may; If thou wilt come to London, Lady Butler, Thou shalt goe home Lady Gray.’

166A: The Rose of England

166A.1 THROUGHOUT a garden greene and gay, A seemlye sight itt was to see How flowers did flourish fresh and gay, And birds doe sing melodiouslye. 166A.2 In the midst of a garden there sprange a tree, Which tree was of a mickle price, And there vppon sprang the rose soe redd, The goodlyest that euer sprange on rise. 166A.3 This rose was faire, fresh to behold, Springing with many a royall lance; A crowned king, with a crowne of gold, Ouer England, Ireland, and of Ffrance. 166A.4 Then in came a beast men call a bore, And he rooted this garden vpp and downe; By the seede of the rose he sett noe store, But afterwards itt wore the crowne. 166A.5 Hee tooke the branches of this rose away, And all in sunder did them teare, And he buryed them vnder a clodd of clay, Swore they shold neuer bloome nor beare. 166A.6 Then came in an egle gleaming gay, Of all faire birds well worth the best; He took the branche of the rose away, And bore itt to Latham to his nest. 166A.7 But now is this rose out of England exiled, This certaine truth I will not laine; But if itt please you to sitt a while, I’le tell you how the rose came in againe. 166A.8 Att Milford Hauen he entered in; To claime his right, was his delight; He brought the blew bore in with him, To encounter with the bore soe white. 166A.9 The[n] a messenger the rose did send To the egles nest, and bidd him hye: ‘To my father, the old egle, I doe [me] comend, His aide and helpe I craue speedylye.’ 166A.10 Saies, I desire my father att my cominge Of men and mony att my need, And alsoe my mother of her deer blessing; The better then I hope to speede. 166A.11 And when the messenger came before thold egle, He kneeled him downe vpon his knee; Saith, Well greeteth you my lord the rose, He hath sent you greetings here by me. 166A.12 Safe from the seas Christ hath him sent, Now he is entered England within: ‘Let vs thanke God,’ the old egle did say, ‘He shall be the flower of all his kine. 166A.13 ‘Wend away, messenger, with might and maine; Itt’s hard to know who a man may trust; I hope the rose shall flourish againe, And haue all things att his owne lust.’ 166A.14 Then Sir Rice ap Thomas drawes Wales with him; A worthy sight itt was to see, How the Welchmen rose wholy with him, And shogged them to Shrewsburye. 166A.15 Att that time was baylye in Shrewsburye One Master Mitton, in the towne; The gates were strong, and he mad them fast, And the portcullis he lett downe. 166A.16 And throug a garrett of the walls, Ouer Severne these words said hee; ‘Att these gates no man enter shall;’ But he kept him out a night and a day. 166A.17 These words Mitton did Erle Richmond tell (I am sure the chronicles of this will not lye); But when lettres came from Sir William Stanley of the Holt castle, Then the gates were opened presentlye. 166A.18 Then entred this towne the noble lord, The Erle Richmond, the rose soe redd; The Erle of Oxford, with a sword, Wold haue smitt of the bailiffes head. 166A.19 ‘But hold your hand,’ saies Erle Richmond, ‘Ffor his loue that dyed vpon a tree! Ffor if wee begin to head so soone, In England wee shall beare no degree.’ 166A.20 ‘What offence haue I made thee,’ sayd Erle Richmonde, ‘That thou kept me out of my towne?’ ‘I know no king,’ sayd Mitton then, ‘But Richard now, that weares the crowne.’ 166A.21 ‘Why, what wilt thou say,’ said Erle Richmonde, ‘When I haue put King Richard downe?’ ‘Why, then Ile be as true to you, my lord, After the time that I am sworne.’ 166A.22 ‘Were itt not great pitty,’ sayd Erle Richmond, ‘That such a man as this shold dye, Such loyall service by him done? (The cronickles of this will not lye.) 166A.23 ‘Thou shalt not be harmed in any case;’ He pardone[d] him presentlye; They stayd not past a night and a day, But towards Newport did they hye. 166A.24 But [at] Attherston these lords did meete; A worthy sight itt was to see, How Erle Richmond tooke his hatt in his hand, And said, Cheshire and Lancashire, welcome to me! 166A.25 But now is a bird of the egle taken; Ffrom the white bore he cannot flee; Therfore the old egle makes great moane, And prayes to God most certainly. 166A.26 ‘O stedfast God, verament,’ he did say, ‘Thre persons in one god in Trinytye, Saue my sonne, the young egle, this day Ffrom all false craft and trecherye!’ 166A.27 Then the blew bore the vanward had; He was both warry and wise of witt; The right hand of them he tooke, The sunn and wind of them to gett. 166A.28 Then the egle followed fast vpon his pray, With sore dints he did them smyte; The talbott he bitt wonderous sore, Soe well the vnicorne did him quite. 166A.29 And then came in the harts head; A worthy sight itt was to see, The iacketts that were of white and redd, How they laid about them lustilye. 166A.30 But now is the feirce feeld foughten and ended, And the white bore there lyeth slaine, And the young egle is preserued, And come to his nest againe. 166A.31 But now this garden flourishes freshly and gay, With fragrant flowers comely of hew, And gardners itt doth maintaine; I hope they will proue iust and true. 166A.32 Our king, he is the rose soe redd, That now does flourish fresh and gay: Confound his foes, Lord, wee beseeche, And loue His Grace both night and day!

167A: Andrew Bartin

167A.1 As itt beffell in m[i]dsumer-time, When burds singe sweetlye on euery tree, Our noble king, King Henery the Eighth, Ouer the riuer of Thames past hee. 167A.2 Hee was no sooner ouer the riuer, Downe in a forrest to take the ayre, But eighty merchants of London cittye Came kneeling before King Henery there. 167A.3 ‘O yee are welcome, rich merchants, [Good saylers, welcome unto me!’] They swore by the rood the were saylers good, But rich merchants they cold not bee. 167A.4 ‘To Ffrance nor Fflanders dare we nott passe, Nor Burdeaux voyage wee dare not fare, And all for a false robber that lyes on the seas, And robb[s] vs of our merchants-ware.’ 167A.5 King Henery was stout, and he turned him about, And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might, ‘I thought he had not beene in the world throughout That durst haue wrought England such vnright.’ 167A.6 But euer they sighed, and said, alas! Vnto King Harry this answere againe: ‘He is a proud Scott that will robb vs all If wee were twenty shipps and hee but one.’ 167A.7 The king looket ouer his left shoulder, Amongst his lords and barrons soe free: ‘Haue I neuer lord in all my realme Will feitch yond traitor vnto mee?’ 167A.8 ‘Yes, that dare I!’ sayes my lord Chareles Howard, Neere to the king wheras hee did stand; ‘If that Your Grace will giue me leaue, My selfe wilbe the only man.’ 167A.9 ‘Thou shalt haue six hundred men,’ saith our king, ‘And chuse them out of my realme soe free; Besids marriners and boyes, To guide the great shipp on the sea.’ 167A.10 ‘I’le goe speake with Sir Andrew,’ sais Charles, my lord Haward ‘Vpon the sea, if hee be there; I will bring him and his shipp to shore, Or before my prince I will neuer come neere.’ 167A.11 The first of all my lord did call, A noble gunner hee was one; This man was three score yeeres and ten, And Peeter Simon was his name. 167A.12 ‘Peeter,’ sais hee, ‘I must sayle to the sea, To seeke out an enemye; God be my speed!’ Before all others I haue chosen thee; Of a hundred guners thoust be my head.’ 167A.13 ‘My lord,’ sais hee, ’if you haue chosen mee Of a hundred gunners to be the head, Hange me att your maine-mast tree If I misse my marke past three pence bread.’ 167A.14 The next of all my lord he did call, A noble bowman hee was one; In Yorekeshire was this gentleman borne, And William Horsley was his name. 167A.15 RR’Hrrorsley,’ sayes hee, ‘I must sayle to the sea, To seeke out an enemye; God be my speede! Before all others I haue chosen thee; Of a hundred bowemen thoust be my head.’ 167A.16 ‘My lord,’ sais hee, ’if you haue chosen mee Of a hundred bowemen to be the head, Hang me att your mainemast-tree If I misse my marke past twelue pence bread.’ 167A.17 With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold, This noble Howard is gone to the sea On the day before midsummer-euen, And out att Thames mouth sayled they. 167A.18 They had not sayled dayes three Vpon their iourney they tooke in hand, But there they mett with a noble shipp, And stoutely made itt both stay and stand. 167A.19 ou must tell me thy name,’ sais Charles, my lord Haward, ‘Or who thou art, or from whence thou came, Yea, and where thy dwelling is, To whom and where thy shipp does belong.’ 167A.20 ‘My name,’ sayes hee, ’is Henery Hunt, With a pure hart and a penitent mind; I and my shipp they doe belong Vnto the New-castle that stands vpon Tine.’ 167A.21 ‘Now thou must tell me, Harry Hunt, As thou hast sayled by day and by night, Hast thou not heard of a stout robber? Men calls him Sir Andrew Bartton, knight.’ 167A.22 But euer he sighed, and sayd, Alas! Ffull well, my lord, I know that wight; He robd me of my merchants ware, And I was his prisoner but yesternight. 167A.23 As I was sayling vppon the sea, And [a] Burdeaux voyage as I did fare, He clasped me to his archborde, And robd me of all my merchants-ware. 167A.24 And I am a man both poore and bare, And euery man will haue his owne of me, And I am bound towards London to fare, To complaine to my prince Henerye. 167A.25 ‘That shall not need,’ sais my lord Haward; ‘If thou canst lett me this robber see, Ffor euery peny he hath taken thee froe, Thou shalt be rewarded a shilling,’ quoth hee. 167A.26 ‘Now God forefend,’ saies Henery Hunt, ‘My lord, you shold worke soe farr amisse! God keepe you out of that traitors hands! For you wott full litle what a man hee is. 167A.27 ‘Hee is brasse within, and steele without, And beames hee beares in his topcastle stronge; His shipp hath ordinance cleane round about; Besids, my lord, hee is verry well mand. 167A.28 ‘He hath a pinnace, is deerlye dight, Saint Andrews crosse, that is his guide; His pinnace beares nine score men and more, Besids fifteen cannons on euery side. 167A.29 ‘If you were twenty shippes, and he but one, Either in archbord or in hall, He wold ouercome you euerye one, And if his beames they doe downe fall.’ 167A.30 ‘This is cold comfort,’ sais my Lord Haward, ‘To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea; I’le bring him and his shipp to shore, Or else into Scottland hee shall carrye mee.’ 167A.31 ‘Then you must gett a noble gunner, my lord, That can sett well with his eye, And sinke his pinnace into the sea, And soone then ouercome will hee bee. 167A.32 ‘And when that you haue done this, If you chance Sir Andrew for to bord, Lett no man to his topcastle goe; And I will giue you a glasse, my lord, 167A.33 ‘And then you need to feare no Scott, Whether you sayle by day or by night; And to-morrow, by seuen of the clocke, You shall meete with Sir Andrew Bartton, knight. 167A.34 ‘I was his prisoner but yester night, And he hath taken mee sworne,’ quoth hee; ‘I trust my L[ord] God will me forgiue And if that oath then broken bee. 167A.35 ‘You must lend me sixe peeces, my lord,’ quoth hee, ‘Into my shipp, to sayle the sea, And to-morrow, by nine of the clocke, Your Honour againe then will I see.’ * * * * * 167A.36 And the hache-bord where Sir Andrew lay Is hached with gold deerlye dight: ‘Now by my faith,’ sais Charles, my lord Haward, ‘Then yonder Scott is a worthye wight! 167A.37 ‘Take in your ancyents and your standards, Yea that no man shall them see, And put me forth a white willow wand, As merchants vse to sayle the sea.’ 167A.38 But they stirred neither top nor mast, But Sir Andrew they passed by: ‘Whatt English are yonder,’ said Sir Andrew, ‘That can so litle curtesye? 167A.39 ‘I haue beene admirall ouer the sea More then these yeeres three; There is neuer an English dog, nor Portingall, Can passe this way without leaue of mee. 167A.40 t now yonder pedlers, they are past, Which is no litle greffe to me: Ffeich them backe,’ sayes Sir Andrew Bartton, ‘They shall all hang att my maine-mast tree.’ 167A.41 With that the pinnace itt shott of, That my Lord Haward might itt well ken; Itt stroke downe my lords foremast, And killed fourteen of my lord his men. 167A.42 ‘Come hither, Simon!’ sayes my lord Haward, ‘Looke that thy words be true thou sayd; I’le hang thee att my maine-mast tree If thou misse thy marke past twelue pence bread.’ 167A.43 Simon was old, but his hart itt was bold; Hee tooke downe a peece, and layd itt full lowe; He put in chaine yeards nine, Besids other great shott lesse and more. 167A.44 With that hee lett his gun-shott goe; Soe well hee settled itt with his eye, The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe, Hee see his pinnace sunke in the sea. 167A.45 When hee saw his pinace sunke, Lord! in his hart hee was not well: ‘Cutt my ropes! itt is time to be gon! I’le goe feitch yond pedlers backe my selfe!’ 167A.46 When my lord Haward saw Sir Andrew loose, Lord! in his hart that hee was faine: ‘Strike on your drummes! spread out your ancyents! Sound out your trumpetts! sound out amaine!’ 167A.47 ‘Ffight on, my men!’ sais Sir Andrew Bartton; ‘Weate, howsoeuer this geere will sway, Itt is my lord Adm[i]rall of England Is come to seeke mee on the sea.’ 167A.48 Simon had a sonne; with shott of a gunn-+--+- Well Sir Andrew might itt ken-+--+- He shott itt in att a priuye place, And killed sixty more of Sr Andrews men. 167A.49 Harry Hunt came in att the other syde, And att Sir Andrew hee shott then; He droue downe his formast-tree, And killed eighty more of Sir Andriwes men. 167A.50 ‘I haue done a good turne,’ sayes Harry Hunt; ‘Sir Andrew is not our kings freind; He hoped to haue vndone me yesternight, But I hope I haue quitt him well in the end.’ 167A.51 ‘Euer alas!’ sayd Sir Andrew Barton, ‘What shold a man either thinke or say? Yonder false theeffe is my strongest enemye, Who was my prisoner but yesterday. 167A.52 ‘Come hither to me, thou Gourden good, And be thou readye att my call, And I will giue thee three hundred pound If thou wilt lett my beames downe fall.’ 167A.53 With that hee swarued the maine-mast tree, Soe did he itt with might and maine; Horseley, with a bearing arrow, Stroke the Gourden through the braine. 167A.54 And he fell into the haches againe, And sore of this wound that he did bleed; Then word went throug Sir Andrews men, That the Gourden hee was dead. 167A.55 ‘Come hither to me, Iames Hambliton, Thou art my sisters sonne, I haue no more; I will giue [thee] six hundred pound If thou will lett my beames downe fall.’ 167A.56 With that hee swarued the maine-mast tree, Soe did hee itt with might and maine: Horseley, with another broad arrow, Strake the yeaman through the braine. 167A.57 That hee fell downe to the haches againe; Sore of his wound that hee did bleed; Couetousness getts no gaine, Itt is verry true, as the Welchman sayd. 167A.58 But when hee saw his sisters sonne slaine, Lord! in his heart hee was not well: ‘Goe feitch me downe my armour of proue, Ffor I will to the topcastle my-selfe. 167A.59 ‘Goe feitch me downe my armour of prooffe, For itt is guilded with gold soe cleere; God be with my brother, Iohn of Bartton! Amongst the Portingalls hee did itt weare.’ 167A.60 But when hee had his armour of prooffe, And on his body hee had itt on, Euery man that looked att him Sayd, Gunn nor arrow hee neede feare none. 167A.61 ‘Come hither, Horsley!’ sayes my lord Haward, ‘And looke your shaft that itt goe right; Shoot a good shoote in the time of need, And for thy shooting thoust be made a knight.’ 167A.62 ‘I’le doe my best,’ sayes Horslay then, ‘Your Honor shall see beffore I goe; If I shold be hanged att your mainemast, I haue in my shipp but arrowes tow.’ 167A.63 But att Sir Andrew hee shott then; Hee made sure to hitt his marke; Vnder the spole of his right arme Hee smote Sir Andrew quite throw the hart. 167A.64 Yett from the tree hee wold not start, But hee clinged to itt with might and maine; Vnder the coller then of his iacke, He stroke Sir Andrew thorrow the braine. 167A.65 ‘Ffight on my men,’ sayes Sir Andrew Bartton, ‘I am hurt, but I am not slaine; I’le lay mee downe and bleed a-while, And then I’le rise and fight againe. 167A.66 ‘Ffight on my men,’ sayes Sir Andrew Bartton, ‘These English doggs they bite soe lowe; Ffight on for Scottland and Saint Andrew Till you heare my whistle blowe!’ 167A.67 But when the cold not heare his whistle blow, Sayes Harry Hunt, I’le lay my head You may bord yonder noble shipp, my lord, For I know Sir Andrew hee is dead. 167A.68 With that they borded this noble shipp, Soe did they itt with might and maine; The found eighteen score Scotts aliue, Besids the rest were maimed and slaine. 167A.69 My lord Haward tooke a sword in his hand, And smote of Sir Andrews head; The Scotts stood by did weepe and mourne, But neuer a word durst speake or say. 167A.70 He caused his body to be taken downe, And ouer the hatch-bord cast into the sea, And about his middle three hundred crownes: ‘Whersoeuer thou lands, itt will bury thee.’ 167A.71 With his head they sayled into England againe, With right good will, and force and main, And the day beffore Newyeeres euen Into Thames mouth they came againe. 167A.72 My lord Haward wrote to King Heneryes grace, With all the newes hee cold him bring: ‘Such a Newyeeres gifft I haue brought to your Gr[ace] As neuer did subiect to any king. 167A.73 ‘Ffor merchandyes and manhood, The like is nott to be found; The sight of these wold doe you good, Ffor you haue not the like in your English ground.’ 167A.74 But when hee heard tell that they were come, Full royally hee welcomed them home; Sir Andrews shipp was the kings Newyeeres guifft; A brauer shipp you neuer saw none. 167A.75 Now hath our king Sir Andrews shipp, Besett with pearles and precyous stones; Now hath England two shipps of warr, Two shipps of warr, before but one. 167A.76 ‘Who holpe to this?’ sayes King Henerye, ‘That I may reward him for his paine:’ ‘Harry Hunt, and Peeter Simon, William Horseleay, and I the same.’ 167A.77 ‘Harry Hunt shall haue his whistle and chaine, And all his iewells, whatsoeuer they bee, And other rich giffts that I will not name, For his good service he hath done mee. 167A.78 ‘Horslay, right thoust be a knight, Lands and liuings thou shalt haue store; Howard shalbe erle of Nottingham, And soe was neuer Howard before. 167A.79 ‘Now, Peeter Simon, thou art old; I will maintaine thee and thy sonne; Thou shalt haue fiue hundred pound all in gold Ffor the good service that thou hast done.’ 167A.80 Then King Henerye shiffted his roome; In came the Queene and ladyes bright; Other arrands they had none But to see Sir Andrew Bartton, knight. 167A.81 But when they see his deadly face, His eyes were hollow in his head; ‘I wold giue a hundred pound,’ sais King Henerye, ‘The man were aliue as hee is dead! 167A.82 ‘Yett for the manfull part that hee hath playd, Both heere and beyond the sea, His men shall haue halfe a crowne a day To bring them to my brother, King Iamye.’

167B: Andrew Bartin

167B.1 WHEN Flora, with her fragrant flowers, Bedeckt the earth so trim and gay, And Neptune, with his dainty showers, Came to present the month of May, 167B.2 King Henry would a progress ride; Over the river of Thames past he, Unto a mountain-top also Did walk, some pleasure for to see. 167B.3 Where forty merchants he espy’d, With fifty sail, come towards him, Who then no sooner were arriv’d, But on their knees did thus complain. 167B.4 ‘An ’t please Your Grace, we cannot sail To France no voyage, to be sure, But Sir Andrew Barton makes us quail, And robs us of our merchant-ware.’ 167B.5 Vext was the king, and turned him, Said to the lords of high degree, Have I ner a lord within my realm Dare fetch that traytor unto me? 167B.6 To him repli’d Lord Charles Howard: I will, my liege, with heart and hand; If it please you grant me leave, he said, I will perform what you command. 167B.7 To him then spake King Henry: I fear, my lord, you are too young. ‘No whit at all, my liege,’ quoth he; ‘I hope to prove in valour strong. 167B.8 ‘The Scottish knight I vow to seek, In what place soever he be, And bring a shore, with all his might, Or into Scotland he shall carry me.’ 167B.9 ‘A hundred men,’ the king then said, ‘Out of my realm shall chosen be, Besides sailors and ship-boys To guide a great ship on the sea. 167B.10 ‘Bow-men and gunners of good skill Shall for this service chosen be, And they at thy command and will In all affairs shall wait on thee.’ 167B.11 Lord Howard calld a gunner then Who was the best in all the realm; His age was threescore years and ten, And Peter Simon was his name. 167B.12 My lord calld then a bow-man rare, Whose active hands had gained fame, A gentleman born in Yorkshire, And William Horsly was his name. 167B.13 ‘Horsly,’ quoth he, ‘I must to sea, To seek a traytor, with great speed; Of a hundred bow-men brave,’ quoth he, ‘I have chosen thee to be the head.’ 167B.14 ‘If you, my lord, have chosen me Of a hundred men to be the head, Upon the main-mast I’le hanged be, If twelve-score I miss one shillings breadth.’ 167B.15 Lord Howard then, of courage bold, Went to the sea with pleasant chear, Not curbd with winters piercing cold, Though it was the stormy time of the year. 167B.16 Not long he had been on the sea, No more in days then number three, Till one Henry Hunt he there espied, A merchant of Newcastle was he. 167B.17 To him Lord Howard cald out amain, And strictly charged him to stand; Demanding then from whence he came, Or where he did intend to land. 167B.18 The merchant then made him answer soon, With heavy heart and careful mind, ‘My lord, my ship it doth belong Unto Newcastle upon Tine.’ 167B.19 ‘Canst thou shew me,’ the lord did say, ‘As thou didst sail by day and night, A Scottish rover on the sea, His name is Andrew Barton, knight?’ 167B.20 Then to him the merchant sighd and said, With grieved mind and well a way, ‘But over well I know that wight, I was his prisoner but yesterday. 167B.21 ‘As I, my lord, did pass from France, A Burdeaux voyage to take so far, I met with Sir Andrew Barton thence, Who robd me of my merchant-ware. 167B.22 ‘And mickle debts, God knows, I owe, And every man did crave his own; And I am bound to London now, Of our gracious king to beg a boon.’ 167B.23 ‘Shew me him,’ said [Lord] Howard then, ‘Let me but once the villain see, And one penny he hath from the tane, I’le double the same with shillings three.’ 167B.24 ‘Now, God forbid,’ the merchant said; ‘I fear your aim that you will miss; God bless you from his tyranny, For little you know what man he is. 167B.25 ‘He is brass within and steel without, His ship most huge and mighty strong, With eighteen pieces strong and stout, He carrieth on each side along. 167B.26 ‘With beams for his top-castle, As also being huge and high, That neither English nor Portugal Can pass Sir Andrew Barton by.’ 167B.27 ‘Hard news thou shewst,’ then said the lord, ‘To welcome strangers to the sea; But, as I said, I’le bring him aboard, Or into Scotland he shall carry me.’ 167B.28 The merchant said, If you will do so, Take counsel, then, I pray withal: Let no man to his top-castle go, Nor strive to let his beam[s] down fall. 167B.29 ‘Lend me seven pieces of ordnance then, Of each side of my ship,’ quoth he, ‘And to-morrow, my lord, twixt six and seven, Again I will Your Honour see. 167B.30 ‘A glass I’le set that may be seen Whether you sail by day or night; And to-morrow, be sure, before seven, You shall see Sir Andrew Barton, knight.’ 167B.31 The merchant set my lord a glass, So well apparent in his sight That on the morrow, as his promise was, He saw Sir Andrew Barton, knight. 167B.32 The lord then swore a mighty oath, ‘Now by the heavens that be of might, By faith, believe me, and by troth, I think he is a worthy knight. 167B.33 ‘Fetch me my lyon out of hand,’ Saith the lord, ’with rose and streamer high; Set up withal a willow-wand, That merchant-like I [may] pass by.’ 167B.34 Thus bravely did Lord Howard pass, And did on anchor rise so high; No top-sail at all he cast, But as his foe he did him defie. 167B.35 Sir Andrew Barton seeing him Thus scornfully to pass by, As though he cared not a pin For him and all his company, 167B.36 Then called he his men amain, ‘Fetch back yon pedler now,’ quoth he, ‘And against this way he comes again I’le teach him well his courtesie.’ 167B.37 A piece of ordnance soon was shot By this proud pirate fiercely then Into Lord Howards middle deck, Which cruel shot killd fourteen men. 167B.38 He calld then Peter Simon, he; ‘Look now thy word do stand in stead, For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast If thou miss twelve score one penny breadth.’ 167B.39 Then Peter Simon gave a shot Which did Sir Andrew mickle scare, In at his deck it came so hot, Killd fifteen of his men of war. 167B.40 ‘Alas!’ then said the pyrate stout, ‘I am in danger now, I see; This is some lord, I greatly doubt, That is set on to conquer me.’ 167B.41 Then Henry Hunt, with rigor hot, Came bravely on the other side, Who likewise shot in at his deck, And kild fifty of his men beside. 167B.42 Then ‘Out, alas!’ Sir Andrew cri’d, ‘What may a man now think or say! Yon merchant thief that pierceth me, He was my prisoner yesterday.’ 167B.43 Then did he on Gordion call, Unto top-castle for to go, And bid his beams he should let fall, ‘For I greatly fear an overthrow.’ 167B.44 The lord cald Horsly now in hast: ‘Look that thy word stand now in stead, For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast If thou miss twelve score one Shillings breadth.’ 167B.45 Then up [the] mast-tree swarved he, This stout and mighty Gordion; But Horsly, he most happily Shot him under the collar-bone. 167B.46 Then calld he on his nephew then, Said, Sisters sons I have no mo; Three hundred pound I will give thee, If thou wilt to top-castle go. 167B.47 Then stoutly he began to climb, From off the mast scornd to depart; But Horsly soon prevented him, And deadly piercd him to the heart. 167B.48 His men being slain, then up amain Did this proud pyrate climb with speed, For armour of proof he had put on, And did not dint of arrow dread. 167B.49 ‘Come hither, Horsly,’ said the lord, ‘See thine arrow aim aright; Great means to thee I will afford, And if you speed, I’le make you a knight.’ 167B.50 Sir Andrew did climb up the tree, With right good will and all his main; Then upon the breast hit Horsly he, Till the arrow return again. 167B.51 Then Horsly spied a private place, With a perfect eye, in a secret part; His arrow swiftly flew apace, And smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 167B.52 ‘Fight on, fight on, my merry men all, A little I am hurt, yet not slain; I’le but lie down and bleed a while, And come and fight with you again. 167B.53 ‘And do not,’ he said, ’Fear English rogues, And of your foes stand not in awe, But stand fast by St Andrews cross, Until you hear my whistle blow.’ 167B.54 They never heard his whistle blow, Which made them [all] sore afraid: Then Horsly said, My lord, aboard, For now Sir Andrew Barton’s dead. 167B.55 Thus boarded they this gallant ship, With right good will and all their main, Eighteen score Scots alive in it, Besides as many more were slain. 167B.56 The lord went where Sir Andrew lay, And quickly thence cut off his head: ‘I should forsake England many a day, If thou wert alive as thou art dead.’ 167B.57 Thus from the wars Lord Howard came, With mickle joy and triumphing; The pyrates head he brought along For to present unto our king: 167B.58 Who briefly then to him did say, Before he knew well what was done, ‘Where is the knight and pyrate gay? That I my self may give the doom.’ 167B.59 ‘You may thank God,’ then said the lord, ‘And four men in the ship,’ quoth he, ‘That we are safely come ashore, Sith you had never such an enemy: 167B.60 ‘That is Henry Hunt, and Peter Simon, William Horsly, and Peters son; Therefore reward them for their pains, For they did service at their turn.’ 167B.61 To the merchant then the king did say, ‘In lue of what he hath from the tane, I give to the a noble a day, Sir Andrews whistle and his chain: 167B.62 ‘To Peter Simon a crown a day, And half-a-crown a day to Peters son, And that was for a shot so gay, Which bravely brought Sir Andrew down. 167B.63 ‘Horsly, I will make thee a knight, And in Yorkshire thou shalt dwell: Lord Howard shall Earl Bury hight, For this title he deserveth well. 167B.64 ‘Seven shillings to our English men, Who in this fight did stoutly stand, And twelve pence a-day to the Scots, till they Come to my brother kings high land.’

168A: Flodden Field

168A.1 KING JAMIE hath made a vow, Keepe it well if he may! That he will be at lovely London Upon Saint James his day. 168A.2 ‘Upon Saint James his day at noone, At faire London will I be, And all the lords in merrie Scotland, They shall dine there with me.’ 168A.3 Then bespake good Queene Margaret, The teares fell from her eye: ‘Leave off these warres, most noble king, Keepe your fidelitie. 168A.4 ‘The water runnes swift and wondrous deepe, From bottome unto the brimme; My brother Henry hath men good enough; England is hard to winne.’ 168A.5 ‘Away,’ quoth he, ’with this silly foole! In prison fast let her lie: For she is come of the English bloud, And for these words she shall dye.’ 168A.6 With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard, The queenes chamberlaine that day: ‘If that you put Queene Margaret to death, Scotland shall rue it alway.’ 168A.7 Then in a rage King Jamie did say, ‘Away with this foolish mome! He shall be hanged, and the other be burned, So soone as I come home.’ 168A.8 At Flodden Field the Scots came in, Which made our English men faine; At Bramstone Greene this battaile was seene, There was King Jamie slaine. 168A.9 Then presently the Scots did flie, Their cannons they left behind; Their ensignes gay were won all away, Our souldiers did beate them blinde. 168A.10 To tell you plaine, twelve thousand were slaine That to the fight did stand, And many prisoners tooke that day, The best in all Scotland. 168A.11 That day made many [a] fatherlesse child, And many a widow poore, And many a Scottish gay lady Sate weeping in her bower. 168A.12 Jack with a feather was lapt all in leather, His boastings were all in vaine; He had such a chance, with a new morrice-dance, He never went home againe.

169A: Johnie Armstrong

169A.1 THERE dwelt a man in faire Westmerland, Ionn Armestrong men did him call, He had nither lands nor rents coming in, Yet he kept eight score men in his hall. 169A.2 He had horse and harness for them all, Goodly steeds were all milke-white; O the golden bands an about their necks, And their weapons, they were all alike. 169A.3 Newes then was brought unto the king That there was sicke a won as hee, That liv d lyke a bold out-law, And robb d all the north country. 169A.4 The king he writt an a letter then, A letter which was large and long; He sign d it with his owne hand, And he promised to doe him no wrong. 169A.5 When this letter came Ionn untill, His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree: ‘Never was I sent for before any king, My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee. 169A.6 ‘And if wee goe the king before, I would we went most orderly; Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak, Laced with silver laces three. 169A.7 ‘Every won of you shall have his velvett coat, Laced with silver lace so white; O the golden bands an about your necks, Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke.’ 169A.8 By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock, Towards Edenburough gon was hee, And with him all his eight score men; Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see! 169A.9 When Ionn came befower the king, He fell downe on his knee; ‘O pardon, my soveraigne leige,’ he said, ‘O pardon my eight score men and mee!’ 169A.10 ‘Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong, For thy eight score men nor thee; For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock, Both thou and them shall hang on the gallow-tree.’ 169A.11 But Ionn looke’d over his left shoulder, Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee! Saying, Asking grace of a graceles face-+--+- Why there is none for you nor me. 169A.12 But Ionn had a bright sword by his side, And it was made of the mettle so free, That had not the king, stept his foot aside, He had smitten his head from his faire bodd . 169A.13 Saying, Fight on, my merry men all, And see that none of you be taine; For rather then men shall say we were hange’d, Let them report how we were slaine. 169A.14 Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose, And so besett poore Ionn rounde, That fowerscore and tenn of Ionn s best men Lay gasping all upon the ground. 169A.15 Then like a mad man Ionn laide about, And like a mad man then fought hee, Untill a falce Scot came Ionn behinde, And runn him through the faire boddee. 169A.16 Saying, Fight on, my merry men all, And see that none of you be taine; For I will stand by and bleed but awhile, And then will I come and fight againe. 169A.17 Newes then was brought to young Ionn Armestrong, As he stood by his nurses knee, Who vowed if ere he live’d for to be a man, O the treacherous Scots revengd hee’d be.

169B: Johnie Armstrong

169B.1 IS there never a man in all Scotland, From the highest state to the lowest degree, That can shew himself now before the king? Scotland is so full of their traitery. 169B.2 Yes, there is a man in Westmerland, And John Armstrong some do him call; He has no lands nor rents coming in, Yet he keeps eightscore men within his hall. 169B.3 He has horse and harness for them all, And goodly steeds that be milk-white, With their goodly belts about their necks, With hats and feathers all alike. 169B.4 The king he writ a lovely letter, With his own hand so tenderly, And has sent it unto John Armstrong, To come and speak with him speedily. 169B.5 When John he looked the letter upon, Then, Lord! he was as blithe as a bird in a tree: ‘I was never before no king in my life, My father, my grandfather, nor none of us three. 169B.6 ‘But seeing we must [go] before the king, Lord! we will go most valiantly; You shall every one have a velvet coat, Laid down with golden laces three. 169B.7 ‘And you shall every one have a scarlet cloak, Laid down with silver laces five, With your golden belts about your necks, With hats [and] brave feathers all alike.’ 169B.8 But when John he went from Guiltknock Hall! The wind it blew hard, and full sore it did rain: ‘Now fare you well, brave Guiltknock Hall! I fear I shall never see thee again.’ 169B.9 Now John he is to Edenborough gone, And his eightscore men so gallantly, And every one of them on a milk-white steed, With their bucklers and swords hanging down to the knee. 169B.10 But when John he came the king before, With his eightscore men so gallant to see, The king he moved his bonnet to him; He thought he had been a king as well as he. 169B.11 ‘O pardon, pardon, my soveraign leige, Pardon for my eightscore men and me! For my name it is John Armstrong, And a subject of yours, my leige,’ said he. 169B.12 ‘Away with thee, thou false traitor! No pardon I will grant to thee, But, to-morrow before eight of the clock, I will hang thy eightscore men and thee.’ 169B.13 O how John looked over his left shoulder! And to his merry men thus said he: I have asked grace of a graceless face, No pardon here is for you nor me. 169B.14 Then John pulld out a nut-brown sword, And it was made of mettle so free; Had not the king moved his foot as he did, John had taken his head from his body. 169B.15 ‘Come, follow me, my merry men all, We will scorn one foot away to fly; It never shall be said we were hung like doggs; No, wee’l fight it out most manfully.’ 169B.16 Then they fought on like champions bold-+--+- For their hearts was sturdy, stout, and free-+--+- Till they had killed all the kings good guard; There was none left alive but onely three. 169B.17 But then rise up all Edenborough, They rise up by thousands three; Then a cowardly Scot came John behind, And run him thorow the fair body. 169B.18 Said John, Fight on, my merry men all, I am a little hurt, but I am not slain; I will lay me down for to bleed a while, Then I’le rise and fight with you again. 169B.19 Then they fought on like mad men all, Till many a man lay dead on the plain; For they were resolved, before they would yield, That every man would there be slain. 169B.20 So there they fought couragiously, ’Till most of them lay dead there and slain, But little Musgrave, that was his foot-page, With his bonny grissell got away untain. 169B.21 But when he came up to Guiltknock Hall, The lady spyed him presently: ‘What news, what news, thou little foot-page? What news from thy master and his company?’ 169B.22 ‘My news is bad, lady,’ he said, ‘Which I do bring, as you may see; My master, John Armstrong, he is slain, And all his gallant company. 169B.23 ‘Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny grisel! Full oft thou hast fed at the corn and hay, But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine, And thy sides shall be spurred no more, I say.’ 169B.24 O then bespoke his little son, As he was set on his nurses knee: ‘If ever I live for to be a man, My fathers blood revenged shall be.’

169C: Johnie Armstrong

169C.1 SUM speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds, And siclyke men of hie degrie; Of a gentleman I sing a sang, Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie. 169C.2 The king he wrytes a luving letter, With his ain hand sae tenderly: And he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang, To cum and speik with him speidily. 169C.3 The Eliots and Armstrangs did convene, They were a gallant company: ‘We’ill ryde and meit our lawful king, And bring him safe to Gilnockie. 169C.4 ‘Make kinnen and capon ready, then, And venison in great plenty; We’ill welcome hame our royal king; I hope he’ill dyne at Gilnockie!’ 169C.5 They ran their horse on the Langum howm, And brake their speirs with mekle main; The ladys lukit frae their loft-windows, ‘God bring our men weil back again!’ 169C.6 When Johny came before the king, With all his men sae brave to see, The king he movit his bonnet to him; He weind he was a king as well as he. 169C.7 ‘May I find grace, my sovereign liege, Grace for my loyal men and me? For my name it is Johny Armstrang, And subject of yours, my liege,’ said he. 169C.8 ‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang! Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be! I grantit never a traytors lyfe, And now I’ll not begin with thee.’ 169C.9 ‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king, And a bony gift I will give to thee; Full four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids, Were a’ foald in a yeir to me. 169C.10 ‘I’ll gie thee all these milk-whyt steids, That prance and nicher at a speir, With as mekle gude Inglis gilt As four of their braid backs dow beir.’ 169C.11 ‘Away, away, thou traytor strang! Out o’ my sicht thou mayst sune be! I grantit never a traytors lyfe, And now I’ll not begin with thee.’ 169C.12 ‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king, And a bony gift I’ll gie to thee; Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills, That gang throw a’ the yeir to me. 169C.13 ‘These four-and-twenty mills complete Sall gang for thee throw all the yeir, And as mekle of gude reid wheit As all their happers dow to bear.’ 169C.14 ‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang! Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be! I grantit never a traytors lyfe, And now I’ll not begin with thee.’ 169C.15 ‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king, And a great gift I’ll gie to thee; Bauld four-and-twenty sisters sons, Sall for the fecht, tho all sould flee.’ 169C.16 ‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang! Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be! I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, And now I’ll not begin with thee.’ 169C.17 ‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king, And a brave gift I’ll gie to thee; All betwene heir and Newcastle town Sall pay thair yeirly rent to thee.’ 169C.18 ‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang! Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be! I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, And now I’ll not begin with thee.’ 169C.19 ‘Ye lied, ye lied, now, king,’ he says, ‘Althocht a king and prince ye be, For I luid naithing in all my lyfe, I dare well say it, but honesty; 169C.20 ‘But a fat horse, and a fair woman, Twa bony dogs to kill a deir: But Ingland suld haif found me meil and malt, Gif I had livd this hundred yeir! 169C.21 ‘Scho suld haif found me meil and malt, And beif and mutton in all plentie; But neir a Scots wyfe could haif said That eir I skaithd her a pure flie. 169C.22 ‘To seik het water beneth cauld yce, Surely it is a great folie; I haif asked grace at a graceless face, But there is nane for my men and me. 169C.23 ‘But had I kend, or I came frae hame, How thou unkynd wadst bene to me, I wad haif kept the border-syde, In spyte of all thy force and thee. 169C.24 ‘Wist Englands king that I was tane, O gin a blyth man wald he be! For anes I slew his sisters son, And on his breist-bane brak a tree.’ 169C.25 John wore a girdle about his midle, Imbroiderd owre with burning gold, Bespangled with the same mettle, Maist beautifull was to behold. 169C.26 Ther hang nine targats at Johnys hat, And ilk an worth three hundred pound: ‘What wants that knave that a king suld haif, But the sword of honour and the crown! 169C.27 ‘O whair gat thou these targats, Johnie, That blink sae brawly abune thy brie?’ ‘I gat them in the field fechting, Wher, cruel king, thou durst not be. 169C.28 ‘Had I my horse, and my harness gude, And ryding as I wont to be, It sould haif bene tald this hundred yeir The meiting of my king and me. 169C.29 ‘God be withee, Kirsty, my brither, Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun! Lang mayst thou live on the border-syde Or thou se thy brither ryde up and doun. 169C.30 ‘And God be withee, Kirsty, my son, Whair thou sits on thy nurses knee! But and thou live this hundred yeir, Thy fathers better thoult never be. 169C.31 ‘Farweil, my bonny Gilnock-Hall, Whair on Esk-syde thou standest stout! Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair, I wald haif gilt thee round about.’ 169C.32 John murdred was at Carlinrigg, And all his galant companie; But Scotlands heart was never sae wae, To see sae mony brave men die. 169C.33 Because they savd their country deir Frae Englishmen; nane were sae bauld, Whyle Johnie livd on the border-syde, Nane of them durst cum neir his hald.

170A: The Death of Queen Jane

 
 170A.1	 QUEEN JANE was in labour full six weeks and more,
 	 And the women were weary, and fain would give oer:
 	 ‘O women, O women, as women ye be,
 	 Rip open my two sides, and save my baby!’
 170A.2	 ‘O royal Queen Jane, that thing may not be;
 	 We’ll send for King Henry to come unto thee.’
 	 King Henry came to her, and sate on her bed:
 	 ‘What ails my dear lady, her eyes look so red?’
 170A.3	 ‘O royal King Henry, do one thing for me:
 	 Rip open my two sides, and save my baby!’
 	 ‘O royal Queen Jane, that thing will not do;
 	 If I lose your fair body, I’ll lose your baby too.’
 170A.4	 She wept and she waild, and she wrung her hands sore;
 	 O the flour of England must flurish no more!
 	 She wept and she waild till she fell in a swoond,
 	 They opend her two sides, and the baby was found.
 170A.5	 The baby was christened with joy and much mirth,
 	 Whilst poor Queen Jane’s body lay cold under earth:
 	 There was ringing and singing and mourning all day,
 	 The princess Eliz[abeth] went weeping away.
 170A.6	 The trumpets in mourning so sadly did sound,
 	 And the pikes and the muskets did trail on the ground.
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .

170B: The Death of Queen Jane

170B.1 QUEEN JEANIE, Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks and more, Till women and midwives had quite gien her oer: ‘O if ye were women as women should be, Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me.’ 170B.2 The doctor was called for and set by her bedside: ‘What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem so red?’ ‘O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me, To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?’ 170B.3 ‘Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that’s the thing I’ll neer do, To rip up your two sides to save your babie:’ Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks and more, Till midwives and doctors had quite gien her oer. 170B.4 ‘O if ye were doctors as doctors should be, Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry to me:’ King Henry was called for, and sat by her bedside, ‘What aileth thee, Jeanie? what aileth my bride?’ 170B.5 ‘King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for me, To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?’ ‘Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that’s what I’ll never do, To rip up your two sides to save your babie.’ 170B.6 But with sighing and sobbing she’s fallen in a swoon, Her side it was ript up, and her babie was found; At this bonie babie’s christning there was meikle joy and mirth, But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the earth. 170B.7 Six and six coaches, and six and six more, And royal King Henry went mourning before; O two and two gentlemen carried her away, But royal King Henry went weeping away. 170B.8 O black were their stockings, and black were their bands, And black were the weapons they held in their hands; O black were their mufflers, and black were their shoes, And black were the cheverons they drew on their luves. 170B.9 They mourned in the kitchen, and they mournd in the ha, But royal King Henry mournd langest of a’: Farewell to fair England, farewell for evermore! For the fair flower of England will never shine more.

170C: The Death of Queen Jane

 
 170C.1	 QUEEN JEANY has traveld for three days and more,
 	 Till the ladies were weary, and quite gave her oer:
 	 ‘O ladies, O ladies, do this thing for me,
 	 To send for King Henry, to come and see me.’
 170C.2	 King Henry was sent for, and sat by her bedside:
 	 ‘Why weep you, Queen Jeany? your eyes are so red.’
 	 ‘O Henry, O Henry, do this one thing for me,
 	 Let my side straight be opend, and save my babie!’
 170C.3	 ‘O Jeany, O Jeany, this never will do,
 	 It will leese thy sweet life, and thy young babie too.’
 	 She wept and she wailed, till she fell in a swoon:
 	 Her side it was opened, the babie was found.
 170C.4	 Prince Edward was christened with joy and with mirth,
 	 But the flower of fair England lies cold in the earth.
 	 O black was King Henry, and black were his men,
 	 And black was the steed that King Henry rode on.
 170C.5	 And black were the ladies, and black were their fans,
 	 And black were the gloves that they wore on their hands,
 	 And black were the ribbands they wore on their heads,
 	 And black were the pages, and black were the maids.
 	 * * * * *
 170C.6	 The trumpets they sounded, the cannons did roar,
 	 But the flower of fair England shall flourish no more.
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .

170D: The Death of Queen Jane

 
 170D.1	 QUEEN JANE was in travail for six weeks or more,
 	 Till the women grew tired and fain would give oer:
 	 ‘O women, O women, good wives if ye be,
 	 Go send for King Henrie, and bring him to me!’
 170D.2	 King Henrie was sent for, he came with all speed,
 	 In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the head:
 	 ‘King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie you be,
 	 Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me!’
 170D.3	 The surgeon was sent for, he came with all speed,
 	 In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the head;
 	 He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep slept she,
 	 Then her right side was opened, and the babe was set free.
 170D.4	 The babe it was christened, and put out and nursed,
 	 While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the dust.
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 170D.5	 So black was the mourning, and white were the wands,
 	 Yellow, yellow the torches they bore in their hands;
 	 The bells they were muffled, and mournful did play,
 	 While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the clay.
 170D.6	 Six knights and six lords bore her corpse through the grounds,
 	 Six dukes followed after, in black mourning gownds;
 	 The flower of Old England was laid in cold clay,
 	 Whilst the royal King Henrie came weeping away.

170E: The Death of Queen Jane

 
 170E.1	 ‘YE midwives and women-kind, do one thing for me;
 	 Send for my mother, to come and see me.’
 170E.2	 Her mother was sent for, who came speedilie:
 	 ‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’
 170E.3	 ‘O mother, dear mother, do one thing for me;
 	 O send for King Henry, to come and see me.’
 170E.4	 King Henry was sent for, who came speedilie:
 	 ‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’
 170E.5	 ‘King Henry, King Henry, do one thing for me;
 	 O send for a doctor, to come and see me.’
 170E.6	 The doctor was sent for, who came speedilie:
 	 ‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’
 170E.7	 ‘O doctor, oh doctor, do one thing for me;
 	 Open my left side, and let my babe free.’
 170E.8	 He opened her left side, and then all was oer,
 	 And the best flower in England will flourish no more.

170F: The Death of Queen Jane

 
 170F.1	 QUEEN JANE lies in labour six weeks or more,
 	 Till the women were tired, go see her no more:
 	 ‘Oh women, oh women, if women you be,
 	 You’ll send for King Henry, to come and see me.
 170F.2	 ‘Oh King Henry, King Henry, if King Henry you be,
 	 You’ll send for the doctor, to come and see me:
 	 Oh doctor, oh doctor, if a doctor you be,
 	 You’ll open my right side, and save my baby.’
 170F.3	 They churchd her, they chimed her, they dug her her grave,
 	 They buried her body, and christend her babe.

170G: The Death of Queen Jane

 
 170G.1	 QUEEN JEANIE was in labour full three days and more,
 	 Till a’ the good women was forced to gie her oer:
 	 ‘O guide women, gude women, gude women,’ quo she,
 	 ‘Will ye send for King Henry, to come and see me?’
 	 Wi weeping and wailing, lamenting full sore,
 	 That the flower of all England should flourish no more.
 170G.2	 King Henry was sent for, who came in great speed,
 	 Standing weeping and wailing at Queen Jeanie’s bedside;
 	 Standing weeping and wailing, etc.
 170G.3	 ‘O King Henry, King Henry, King Henry,’ quo she,
 	 ‘Will ye send for my mother  . .

170[H]: The Death of Queen Jane

 
 170[H].1	Queen Jane, O! Queen Jane, O! what a lady was she !
 	 And six weeks and a day in labour was she;
 	 Queen Jane was in labour for six weeks and more,
 	 Till the women grew weary and fain would give oer.
 167[H.2]	‘O women, O women, good wives as ye be,
 	 Go send for King Henry and bring him to me.’
 	 King Henry was sent for, and to her he came:
 	 ‘Dear lady, fair lady, your eyes they look dim.’
 167[H.3]	King Henry came to her, he came in all speed,
 	 In a gown of red velvet, from the heel to the head:
 	 ‘King Henry, King Henry, if kind you will be,
 	 Send for a good doctor, and let him come to me.’
 167[H.4]	The doctor was sent for, he came with all speed,
 	 In a gown of black velvet from the heel to the head;
 	 The doctor was sent for and to her he came:
 	 ‘Dear lady, fair lady, your labour’s in vain.’
 167[H.5]	‘Dear doctor, dear doctor, will you do this for me?
 	 O open my right side, and save my baby:’
 	 Then out spake King Henry, That never can be,
 	 I’d rather lose the branches than the top of the tree.
 167[H.6]	The doctor gave a caudle, the death-sleep slept she,
 	 Then her right side was opened and the babe was set free;
 	 The babe it was christened, and put out and nursd,
 	 But the royal Queen Jane lay cold in the dust.

170[I]: The Death of Queen Jane

 
 170[I].1	Queen Jeanie was in labor for seven weeks in summer,
 	 The women all being tired and quite gave her over:
 	 ‘O women, dear women, if women you be,
 	 Send for my mother to come and see me.’
 170[I.2]	Her mother was sent for and instantly came,
 	 Knelt down at the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:
 	 ‘O mother, dear mother, if mother you be,
 	 Send for my father to come and see me.’
 170[I.3]	The father was sent for and instantly came,
 	 Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:
 	 ‘O father, dear father, if father you be,
 	 Send for King Henry to come and see me.’
 170[I.4]	King Henry was sent for and instantly came,
 	 Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:
 	 ‘O Henry, King Henry, if Henry you be,
 	 Send for the doctor to come and see me.’
 170[I.5]	The doctor was sent for and instantly came,
 	 Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:
 	 ‘O doctor, dear doctor, if doctor you be,
 	 Open my left side and let the babe free.’
 170[I.6]	Her left side was opened, the young prince was found:
 	 ‘O doctor, dear doctor, lay me down on the ground.’
 170[I.7]	Her bones were all broken and laid at her feet,
 	 And they anointed her body with the ointment so sweet,
 	 And ay as they weeped they wrung their hands sore,
 	 For the fair flower of England will flourish no more.

171A: Thomas Cromwell

 
 171A.*	 * * *
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 	 ‘Ffor if your boone be askeable,
 	 Soone granted it shalbe:
 171A.2	 ‘If it be not touching my crowne,’ he said,
 	 ‘Nor hurting poore comminaltye.’
 	 ‘Nay, it is not touching your crowne,’ shee sayes,
 	 ‘Nor hurting poore cominaltye,
 171A.3	 ‘But I begg the death of Thomas Cromwell,
 	 For a false traitor to you is hee.’
 	 ‘Then feitch me hither the Earle of Darby
 	 And the Earle of Shrewsbury,
 171A.4	 ‘And bidde them bring Thomas Cromawell;
 	 Let’s see what he can say to mee;’
 	 For Thomas had woont to haue carryed his head vp,
 	 But now he hanges it vppon his knee.
 171A.5	 ‘How now? How now?’ the king did say,
 	 ‘Thomas, how is it with thee?’
 	 ‘Hanging and drawing, O king!’ he saide;
 	 ‘You shall neuer gett more from mee.’

172A: Musselburgh Field

 
 172A.1	 ON the tenth day of December,
 	 And the fourth yeere of King Edwards raigne,
 	 Att Musleboorrowe, as I remember,
 	 Two goodly hosts there mett on a plaine.
 172A.2	 All that night they camped there,
 	 Soe did the Scotts, both stout and stubborne;
 	 But "[wellaway,"] it was their song,
 	 For wee haue taken them in their owne turne.
 172A.3	 Over night they carded for our English mens coates;
 	 They fished before their netts were spunn;
 	 A white for sixpence, a red for two groates;
 	 Now wisdome wold haue stayed till they had been woone.
 172A.4	 Wee feared not but that they wold fight,
 	 Yett itt was turned vnto their owne paine;
 	 Thoe against one of vs that they were eight,
 	 Yett with their owne weapons wee did them beat.
 172A.5	 On the twelfth day in the morne
 	 The made a face as the wold fight,
 	 But many a proud Scott there was downe borne,
 	 And many a ranke coward was put to flight.
 172A.6	 But when they heard our great gunnes cracke,
 	 Then was their harts turned into their hose;
 	 They cast down their weapons, and turned their backes,
 	 They ran soe fast  that the fell on their nose.
 172A.7	 The Lord Huntley, wee had him there;
 	 With him hee brought ten thousand men,
 	 Yett, God bee thanked, wee made them such a banquett
 	 That none of them returned againe.
 172A.8	 Wee chased them to D[alkeith]
 	 * * * * *

173A: Mary Hamilton

173A.1 WORDRR’rrS gane to the kitchen, And word’s gane to the ha, That Marie Hamilton gangs wi bairn To the hichest Stewart of a’. 173A.2 He’s courted her in the kitchen, He’s courted her in the ha, He’s courted her in the laigh cellar, And that was warst of a’. 173A.3 She’s tyed it in her apron And she’s thrown it in the sea; Says, Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe! You’l neer get mair o me. 173A.4 Down them cam the auld queen, Goud tassels tying her hair: ‘O marie, where’s the bonny wee babe That I heard greet sae sair?’ 173A.5 ‘There never was a babe intill my room, As little designs to be; It was but a touch o my sair side, Come oer my fair bodie.’ 173A.6 ‘O Marie, put on your robes o black, Or else your robes o brown, For ye maun gang wi me the night, To see fair Edinbro town.’ 173A.7 ‘I winna put on my robes o black, Nor yet my robes o brown; But I’ll put on my robes o white, To shine through Edinbro town.’ 173A.8 When she gaed up the Cannogate, She laughd loud laughters three; But whan she cam down the Cannogate The tear blinded her ee. 173A.9 When she gaed up the Parliament stair, The heel cam aff her shee; And lang or she cam down again She was condemnd to dee. 173A.10 When she cam down the Cannogate, The Cannogate sae free, Many a ladie lookd oer her window, Weeping for this ladie. 173A.11 ‘Ye need nae weep for me,’ she says, ‘Ye need nae weep for me; For had I not slain mine own sweet babe, This death I wadna dee. 173A.12 ‘Bring me a bottle of wine,’ she says, ‘The best that eer ye hae, That I may drink to my weil-wishers, And they may drink to me. 173A.13 ‘Here’s a health to the jolly sailors, That sail upon the main; Let them never let on to my father and mother But what I’m coming hame. 173A.14 ‘Here’s a health to the jolly sailors, That sail upon the sea; Let them never let on to my father and mother That I cam here to dee. 173A.15 ‘Oh little did my mother think, The day she cradled me, What lands I was to travel through, What death I was to dee. 173A.16 ‘Oh little did my father think, The day he held up me, What lands I was to travel through, What death I was to dee. 173A.17 ‘Last night I washd the queen’s feet, And gently laid her down; And a’ the thanks I’ve gotten the nicht To be hangd in Edinbro town! 173A.18 ‘Last nicht there was four Maries, The nicht there’l be but three; There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton, And Marie Carmichael, and me.’

173B: Mary Hamilton

173B.1 THERE were ladies, they lived in a bower, And oh but they were fair! The youngest o them is to the king’s court, To learn some unco lair. 173B.2 She hadna been in the king’s court A twelve month and a day, Till of her they could get na wark, For wantonness and play. 173B.3 Word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word is up to Madame the Queen, And that is warst of a’, That Mary Hamilton has born a bairn, To the hichest Stewart of a’. 173B.4 ‘O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton, O rise, and tell to me What thou did with thy sweet babe We sair heard weep by thee.’ 173B.5 ‘Hold your tongue, madame,’ she said, ‘And let your folly be; It was a shouir o sad sickness Made me weep sae bitterlie.’ 173B.6 ‘O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton, O rise, and tell to me What thou did with thy sweet babe We sair heard weep by thee.’ 173B.7 ‘I put it in a piner-pig, And set it on the sea; I bade it sink, or it might swim, It should neer come hame to me.’ 173B.8 ‘O rise,O rise, Mary Hamilton, Arise, and go with me; There is a wedding in Glasgow town This day we’ll go and see.’ 173B.9 She put not on her black clothing, She put not on her brown, But she put on the glistering gold, To shine thro Edinburgh town. 173B.10 As they came into Edinburgh town, The city for to see, The bailie’s wife and the provost’s wife Said, Och an alace for thee! 173B.11 Gie never alace for me,’ she said, ‘Gie never alace for me; It’s all for the sake of my poor babe, This death that I maun die.’ 173B.12 As they gaed up the Tolbuith stair, The stair it was sae hie, The bailie’s son and the provost’s son Said, Och an alace for thee! 173B.13 ‘Gie never alace for me,’ she said, ‘Gie never alace for me! It’s all for the sake of my puir babe, This death I maun die. 173B.14 ‘But bring to me a cup,’ she says, ‘A cup bot and a can, And I will drink to all my friends, And they’ll drink to me again. 173B.15 re’s to you all, travellers, Who travels by land or sea; Let na wit to my father nor mother The death that I must die. 173B.16 ‘Here’s to you all, travellers, That travels on dry land; Let na wit to my father nor mother But I am coming hame. 173B.17 ‘Little did my mother think, First time she cradled me, What land I was to travel on, Or what death I would die. 173B.18 ‘Little did my mother think, First time she tied my head, What land I was to tread upon, Or whare I would win my bread. 173B.19 ‘Yestreen Queen Mary had four Maries, This night she’ll hae but three; She had Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton, And Mary Carmichael, and me. 173B.20 ‘Yestreen I wush Queen Mary’s feet, And bore her till her bed; This day she’s given me my reward, This gallows-tree to tread. 173B.21 ‘Cast off, cast off my goun,’ she said, ‘But let my petticoat be, And tye a napkin on my face, For that gallows I downa see.’ 173B.22 By and cum the king himsell, Lookd up with a pitiful ee: ‘Come down, come down, Mary Hamilton, This day thou wilt dine with me.’ 173B.23 ‘Hold your tongue, my sovereign leige, And let your folly be; An ye had a mind to save my life, Ye should na shamed me here.’

173C: Mary Hamilton

173C.1 THERE lived a lord into the west, And he had dochters three, And the youngest o them is to the king’s court, To learn some courtesie. 173C.2 She was not in the king’s court A twelvemonth and a day, Till she was neither able to sit nor gang, Wi the gaining o some play. 173C.3 She went to the garden, To pull the leaf aff the tree, To tak this bonnie babe frae her breast, But alas it would na do! 173C.4 She rowed it in her handkerchief, And threw it in the sea: ‘O sink ye, swim ye, wee wee babe! Ye’ll get nae mair o me.’ 173C.5 Word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, That Mary Myle she goes wi child To the highest Steward of a’. 173C.6 Down and came the queen hersell, The queen hersell so free: ‘O mary Myle, whare is the child That I heard weep for thee?’ 173C.7 ‘O hold your tongue now, Queen,’ she says, ‘O hold your tongue so free! For it was but a shower o the sharp sickness, I was almost like to die.’ 173C.8 ‘O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Myle, O busk, and go wi me; O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Mile, It’s Edinburgh town to see.’ 173C.9 ‘I’ll no put on my robes o black, No nor yet my robes [o] brown; But I’ll put on my golden weed, To shine thro Edinburgh town.’ 173C.10 When she went up the Cannongate-side, The Cannongate-side so free, Oh there she spied some ministers’ lads, Crying Och and alace for me! 173C.11 ‘Dinna cry och and alace for me! Dinna cry o[c]h and alace for me! For it’s all for the sake of my innocent babe That I come here to die.’ 173C.12 When she went up the Tolbooth-stair, The lap cam aff her shoe; Before that she came down again, She was condemned to die. 173C.13 ‘O all you gallant sailors, That sail upon the sea, Let neither my father nor mother know The death I am to die! 173C.14 ‘O all you gallant sailors, That sail upon the faem, Let neither my father nor mother know But I am coming hame! 173C.15 ‘Little did my mother know, The hour that she bore me, What lands I was to travel in, What death I was to die. 173C.16 ‘Little did my father know, When he held up my head, What lands I was to travel in, What was to be my deid. 173C.17 ‘Yestreen I made Queen Mary’s bed, Kembed doun her yellow hair; Is this the reward I am to get, To tread this gallows-stair!’

173D: Mary Hamilton

173D.1 THERE lives a knight into the north, And he had daughters three; The ane of them was a barber’s wife, The other a gay ladie. 173D.2 And the youngest of them is to Scotland gane, The queen’s Mary to be, And a’ that they could say or do, Forbidden she woudna be. 173D.3 The prince’s bed it was sae saft, The spices they were sae fine, That out of it she couldna lye While she was scarse fifteen. 173D.4 She’s gane to the garden gay To pu of the savin tree; But for a’ that she could say or do, The babie it would not die. 173D.5 She’s rowed it in her handkerchief, She threw it in the sea; Says, Sink ye, swim ye, my bonnie babe! For ye’ll get nae mair of me. 173D.6 Queen Mary came tripping down the stair, Wi the gold strings in her hair: ‘O whare’s the little babie,’ she says, ‘That I heard greet sae sair?’ 173D.7 ‘O hold your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame, Let all those words go free! It was mysell wi a fit o the sair colic, I was sick just like to die.’ 173D.8 ‘O hold your tongue, Mary Hamilton, Let all those words go free! O where is the little babie That I heard weep by thee?’ 173D.9 ‘I rowed it in my handkerchief, And threw it in the sea; I bade it sink, I bade it swim, It would get nae mair o me.’ 173D.10 ‘O wae be to thee, Marie Hamilton, And an ill deid may you die! For if ye had saved the babie’s life It might hae been an honour to thee. 173D.11 ‘Busk ye, busk ye, Marie Hamilton, O busk ye to be a bride! For I am going to Edinburgh toun, Your gay wedding to bide. 173D.12 ‘You must not put on your robes of black, Nor yet your robes of brown; But you must put on your yellow gold stuffs, To shine thro Edinburgh town.’ 173D.13 ‘I will not put on my robes of black, Nor yet my robes of brown; But I will put on my yellow gold stuffs, To shine thro Edinburgh town,’ 173D.14 As she went up the Parliament Close, A riding on her horse, There she saw many a cobler’s lady, Sat greeting at the cross. 173D.15 ‘O what means a’ this greeting? I’m sure its nae for me; For I’m come this day to Edinburgh town Weel wedded for to be.’ 173D.16 When she gaed up the Parliament stair, She gied loud lauchters three; But ere that she came down again, She was condemned to die. 173D.17 ‘O little did my mother think, The day she prinned my gown, That I was to come sae far frae hame To be hangid in Edinburgh town. 173D.18 ‘O what’ll my poor father think, As he comes thro the town, To see the face of his Molly fair Hanging on the gallows-pin! 173D.19 ‘Here’s a health to the marineres, That plough the raging main! Let neither my mother nor father know But I’m coming hame again! 173D.20 ‘Here’s a health to the sailors, That sail upon the sea! Let neither my mother nor father ken That I came here to die! 173D.21 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, This night she’ll hae but three; There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, And Mary Carmichael, and me.’ 173D.22 ‘O hald your tongue, Mary Hamilton, Let all those words go free! This night eer ye be hanged Ye shall gang hame wi me.’ 173D.23 ‘O hald your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame, Let all those words go free! For since I have come to Edinburgh toun, It’s hanged I shall be, And it shall neer be said that in your court I was condemned to die.’

173E: Mary Hamilton

173E.1 ‘MY father was the Duke of York, My mother a lady free, Mysell a dainty damsell, Queen Mary sent for me. 173E.2 ‘Yestreen I washd Queen Mary’s feet, Kam’d down her yellow hair, And lay a’ night in the young man’s bed, And I’ll rue t for evermair. 173E.3 ‘The queen’s kale was aye sae het, Her spice was aye sae fell, Till they gart me gang to the young man’s bed, And I’d a’ the wyte mysell. 173E.4 ‘I was not in the queen’s service A twelvemonth but barely ane, Ere I grew as big wi bairn As ae woman could gang. 173E.5 ‘But it fell ance upon a day, Was aye to be it lane, I did take strong travilling As ever yet was seen.’ 173E.6 Ben it came the queen hersell, Was a’ gowd to the hair; ‘O where’s the bairn, Lady Maisry, That I heard greeting sair?’ 173E.7 it came the queen hersell, Was a’ gowd to the chin: ‘O where’s the bairn, Lady Maisry, That I heard late yestreen.’ 173E.8 ‘There is no bairn here,’ she says, ‘Nor never thinks to be; ’Twas but a stoun of sair sickness That ye heard seizing me.’ 173E.9 They sought it out, they sought it in, They sought it but and ben, But between the bolster and the bed They got the baby slain. 173E.10 ‘Come busk ye, busk ye, Lady Maisdry, Come busk, an go with me; For I will on to Edinburgh, And try the verity.’ 173E.11 She woud not put on the black, the black, Nor yet wad she the brown, But the white silk and the red scarlet, That shin’d frae town to town. 173E.12 As she gaed down thro Edinburgh town The burghers’ wives made meen, That sic a dainty damsel Sud ever hae died for sin. 173E.13 Make never meen for me,’ she says, RR’Mrrake never meen for me; Seek never grace frae a graceless face, For that ye’ll never see.’ 173E.14 As she gaed up the Tolbooth stair, A light laugh she did gie; But lang ere she came down again She was condemned to die. 173E.15 ‘A’ you that are in merchants-ships, And cross the roaring faem, Hae nae word to my father and mother, But that I’m coming hame. 173E.16 ‘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. 173E.17 ‘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.’ 173E.18 ‘Ye’ll get nane o our gowd, daughter, Nor nane o our white monie; For we hae travelld mony a mile, This day to see you die.’ 173E.19 ‘Hold your hands, ye justice o peace, Hold them a little while! For yonder comes him Warenston, The father of my chile. 173E.20 ‘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.’ 173E.21 ‘I bade you nurse my bairn well, And nurse it carefullie, And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry, And my body your fee.’ 173E.22 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.

173F: Mary Hamilton

173F.1 my father was the Duke of York, My mother a lady free, Mysel a dainty demosell, Queen Mary sent for me. 173F.2 The queen’s meat, it was sae sweet, Her colthing was sae rare, It made me lang for Sweet Willie’s bed, An I’ll rue it ever maer. 173F.3 Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, And Lady Livinston, three, We’ll never meet in Queen Mary’s bower, Now Maries tho ye be. 173F.4 Queen Mary sat in her bower, Sewing her silver seam; She thought she heard a baby greet, But an a lady meen. 173F.5 She threw her needle frae her, Her seam out of her hand, An she is on to Lady Mary’s bower, As fast as she could gang. 173F.6 ‘Open your door, Lady Mary,’ she says, ‘And lat me come in; For I hear baby greet, But an a lady meen.’ 173F.7 ‘There is na bab in my bower, madam, Nor never thinks to be, But the strong pains of gravel This night has seized me.’ 173F.8 She pat her fit to the door, But an her knee, Baith of brass and iron bands In flinders she gard flee. 173F.9 She pat a hand to her bed-head, An ither to her bed-feet, An bonny was the bab Was blabbering in its bleed. 173F.10 ‘Wae worth ye, Lady Mary, An ill dead sall ye die! For an ye widna kept the bonny bab, Ye might ha sen’t to me.’ 173F.11 ‘Lay na the wate on me, madam, Lay na the wate on me! For my fas love bare the brand at his side That gared my barrine die.’ 173F.12 ‘Get up, Lady Beaton, get up, Lady Seton, And Lady Livinstone three, An we will on to Edinburgh, An try this gay lady.’ 173F.13 As she came to the Cannongate, The burgers’ wives they cryed Hon ohon, ochree! . . . . . . 173F.14 ‘O had you still, ye burgers’ wives, An make na meen for me; Seek never grace of a graceless face, For they hae nane to gie. 173F.15 ‘Ye merchants and ye mariners, That trade upon the sea, O dinna tell in my country The dead I’m gaen to die! 173F.16 ‘Ye merchants and ye mariners, That sail upo the faeme, O dinna tell in my country But that I’m comin hame! 173F.17 ‘Little did my father think, Whan he brought me our the sea, That he wad see me yellow locks Hang on a gallow’s tree. 173F.18 ‘Little did my mither think Whan she brought me fra hame, That she maught see my yellow loks Han[g] on a gallow-pin. 173F.19 ‘O had your hand a while! . . . For yonder comes my father, I’m sure he’l borrow me. 173F.20 ‘O some of your goud, father, An of your well won fee, To save me [frae the high hill] [And ] frae the gallow-tree!’ 173F.21 ‘Ye’s get nane of my goud, Nor of my well won fee, For I would gie five hundred pown To see ye hangit hie.’ 173F.22 ‘O had yer hand a while! . . . Yonder is my love Willie, Sure he will borrow me. 173F.23 ‘O some o your goud, my love Willie, An some o yer well won fee, To save me frae the high hill, And fra the gallow-tree!’ 173F.24 ‘Ye’s get a’ my goud, And a’ my well won fee, To save ye fra the headin-hill, And frae the gallow-tree.’

173G: Mary Hamilton

173G.1 O MARY HAMILTON to the kirk is gane, Wi ribbons in her hair; An the king thoct mair o Marie Then onie that were there. 173G.2 Mary Hamilton’s to the preaching gane, Wi ribbons on her breast; An the king thocht mair o Marie Than he thocht o the priest. 173G.3 Syne word is thro the palace gane, I heard it tauld yestreen, The king loes Mary Hamilton Mair than he loes his queen. 173G.4 A sad tale thro the town is gaen, A sad tale on the morrow; Oh Mary Hamilton has born a babe, An slain it in her sorrow! 173G.5 And down then cam the auld queen, Goud tassels tied her hair: ‘What did ye wi the wee wee bairn That I heard greet sae sair?’ 173G.6 ‘There neer was a bairn into my room, An as little designs to be; ’Twas but a stitch o my sair side, Cam owre my fair bodie.’ 173G.7 ‘Rise up now, Marie,’ quo the queen, ‘Rise up, an come wi me, For we maun ride to Holyrood, A gay wedding to see.’ 173G.8 The queen was drest in scarlet fine, Her maidens all in green; An every town that they cam thro Took Marie for the queen. 173G.9 But little wist Marie Hamilton, As she rode oure the lea, That she was gaun to Edinbro town Her doom to hear and dree. 173G.10 When she cam to the Netherbow Port, She laughed loud laughters three; But when she reached the gallows-tree, The tears blinded her ee. 173G.11 ‘Oh aften have I dressed my queen, An put gowd in her hair; The gallows-tree is my reward, An shame maun be my share! 173G.12 ‘Oh aften hae I dressed my queen, An saft saft made her bed; An now I’ve got for my reward The gallows-tree to tread! 173G.13 ‘There’s a health to all gallant sailors, That sail upon the sea! Oh never let on to my father and mither The death that I maun dee! 173G.14 ‘An I charge ye, all ye mariners, When ye sail owre the main, Let neither my father nor mither know But that I’m comin hame. 173G.15 ‘Oh little did my mither ken, That day she cradled me, What lands I was to tread in, Or what death I should dee. 173G.16 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The nicht she’ll hae but three; There’s Marie Seaton, an Marie Beaton, An Marie Carmichael, an me.’

173H: Mary Hamilton

173H.1 ‘WHAN I was a babe, and a very little babe, And stood at my mither’s knee, Nae witch nor warlock did unfauld The death I was to dree. 173H.2 ‘But my mither was a proud woman, A proud woman and a bauld; And she hired me to Queen Mary’s bouer, When scarce eleven years auld. 173H.3 ‘O happy, happy is the maid, That’s born of beauty free! It was my dimpling rosy cheeks That’s been the dule o me; And wae be to that weirdless wicht, And a’ his witcherie!’ 173H.4 Word’s gane up and word’s gane doun, An word’s gane to the ha, That Mary Hamilton was wi bairn, An na body kend to wha. 173H.5 But in and cam the queen hersel, Wi gowd plait on her hair: Says, Mary Hamilton, whare is the babe That I heard greet sae sair? 173H.6 ‘There is na babe within my bouer, And I hope there neer will be; But it’s me wi a sair and sick colic, And I’m just like to dee.’ 173H.7 But they looked up, they looked down, Atween the bowsters and the wa, It’s there they got a bonnie lad-bairn, But its life it was awa. 173H.8 ‘Rise up, rise up, Mary Hamilton, Rise up, and dress ye fine, For you maun gang to Edinbruch, And stand afore the nine. 173H.9 ‘Ye’ll no put on the dowie black, Nor yet the dowie brown; But ye’ll put on the robes o red, To sheen thro Edinbruch town.’ 173H.10 ‘I’ll no put on the dowie black, Nor yet the dowie brown; But I’ll put on the robes o red, To sheen thro Edinbruch town.’ 173H.11 As they gaed thro Edinbruch town, And down by the Nether-bow, There war monie a lady fair Siching and crying, Och how! 173H.12 ‘O weep nae mair for me, ladies, Weep nae mair for me! Yestreen I killed my ain bairn, The day I deserve to dee. 173H.13 ‘What need ye hech and how, ladies? What need ye how for me? Ye never saw grace at a graceless face, Queen Mary has nane to gie.’ 173H.14 ‘Gae forward, gae forward,’ the queen she said, ‘Gae forward, that ye may see; For the very same words that ye hae said Sall hang ye on the gallows-tree.’ 173H.15 As she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs, She gied loud lauchters three; But or ever she cam down again, She was condemnd to dee. 173H.16 ‘O tak example frae me, Maries, O tak example frae me, Nor gie your luve to courtly lords, Nor heed their witchin’ ee. 173H.17 ‘But wae be to the Queen hersel, She micht hae pardond me; But sair she’s striven for me to hang Upon the gallows-tree. 173H.18 ‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, The nicht she’ll hae but three; There was Mary Beatoun, Mary Seaton, And Mary Carmichael, and me. 173H.19 ‘Aft hae I set pearls in her hair, Aft hae I lac’d her gown, And this is the reward I now get, To be hangd in Edinbruch town! 173H.20 ‘O a’ ye mariners, far and near, That sail ayont the faem, O dinna let my father and mither ken But what I am coming hame! 173H.21 ‘O a’ ye mariners, far and near, That sail ayont the sea, Let na my father and mither ken The death I am to dee! 173H.22 ‘Sae, weep na mair for me. ladies, Weep na mair for me; The mither that kills her ain bairn Deserves weel for to dee.’

173I: Mary Hamilton

173I.1 MARIE HAMILTON’s to the kirk gane, Wi ribbons in her hair; The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton Than ony that were there. 173I.2 Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane, Wi ribbons on her breast; The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton Then he listend to the priest. 173I.3 Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane, Wi gloves upon her hands; The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton, Than the queen and a’ her lands. 173I.4 She hadna been about the king’s court A month, but barely one, Till she was beloved by a’ the king’s court, And the king the only man. 173I.5 She hadna been about the king’s court A month, but barely three, Till frae the king’s court Marie Hamilton, Marie Hamilton durstna be. 173I.6 The king is to the Abbey gane, To pu the Abbey-tree, To scale the babe frae Marie’s heart, But the thing it wadna be. 173I.7 O she has rowd it in her apron, And set it on the sea: ‘Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe! Ye’s get nae mair o me.’ 173I.8 Word is to the kitchen gane, And word is to the ha, And word is to the noble room, Amang the ladyes a’, That Marie Hamilton’s brought to bed, And the bonny babe’s mist and awa. 173I.9 Scarcely had she lain down again, And scarcely fa’en asleep, When up then started our gude queen, Just at her bed-feet, Saying, Marie Hamilton, where’s your babe? For I am sure I heard it greet. 173I.10 ‘O no, O no, my noble queen, Think no such thing to be! ’Twas but a stitch into my side, And sair it troubles me.’ 173I.11 ‘Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton, Get up and follow me; For I am going to Edinburgh town, A rich wedding for to see.’ 173I.12 O slowly, slowly raise she up, And slowly put she on, And slowly rode she out the way, Wi mony a weary groan. 173I.13 The queen was clad in scarlet, Her merry maids all in green, And every town that they cam to, They took Marie for the queen. 173I.14 ‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen, Ride hooly now wi me! For never, I am sure, a wearier burd Rade in your cumpanie.’ 173I.15 But little wist Marie Hamilton, When she rade on the brown, That she was gaen to Edinburgh town, And a’ to be put down. 173I.16 ‘Why weep ye so, ye burgess-wives, Why look ye so on me? O I am going to Edinburgh town A rich wedding for to see!’ 173I.17 When she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs, The corks frae her heels did flee; And lang or eer she cam down again She was condemnd to die. 173I.18 When she cam to the Netherbow Port, She laughed loud laughters three; But when she cam to the gallows-foot, The tears blinded her ee. 173I.19 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, And Marie Carmichael, and me. 173I.20 ‘O often have I dressed my queen, And put gold upon her hair; But now I’ve gotten for my reward The gallows to be my share. 173I.21 ‘Often have I dressd my queen, And often made her bed; But now I’ve gotten for my reward The gallows-tree to tread. 173I.22 ‘I charge ye all, ye mariners, When ye sail ower the faem, Let neither my father nor mother get wit But that I’m coming hame! 173I.23 ‘I charge ye all, ye mariners, That sail upon the sea, Let neither my father nor mother get wit This dog’s death I’m to die! 173I.24 For if my father and mother got wit, And my bold brethren three, O mickle wad be the gude red blude This day wad be spilt for me! 173I.25 ‘O little did my mother ken, That day she cradled me, The lands I was to travel in, Or the death I was to die!’

173J: Mary Hamilton

173J.1 My mother was a proud, proud woman, A proud, proud woman and a bold; She sent me to Queen Marie’s bour, When scarcely eleven years old. 173J.2 Queen Marie’s bread it was sae sweet, An her wine it was sae fine, That I hae lien in a young man’s arms, An I rued it aye synsyne. 173J.3 Queen Marie she cam doon the stair, Wi the goud kamis in her hair: ‘Oh whare oh whare is the wee wee babe I heard greetin sae sair?’ 173J.4 ‘It’s no a babe, a babie fair, Nor ever intends to be; But I mysel, wi a sair colic, Was seek and like to dee.’ 173J.5 They socht the bed baith up an doon, Frae the pillow to the straw, An there they got the wee wee babe, But its life was far awa. 173J.6 ‘Come doon, come doon, Marie Hamilton, Come doon and speak to me; . . . . . . . . 173J.7 ‘You’ll no put on your dowie black, Nor yet your dowie broun; But you’ll put on your ried, ried silk, To shine through Edinborough toun.’ * * * * * 173J.8 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The nicht she’ll hae but three; There was Marie Bethune, an Marie Seaton, An Marie Carmichael, an me. 173J.9 ‘Ah, little did my mother ken, The day she cradled me, The lands that I sud travel in, An the death that I suld dee.’ 173J.10 Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The nicht she has but three; For the bonniest Marie amang them a’ Was hanged upon a tree.

173K: Mary Hamilton

 
 173K.1	 QUEEN MARY had four serving-maids,
 	 As braw as braw could be,
 	 But ane o them has fa’n wi bairn,
 	 And for it she maun die.
 173K.2	 But whan the babie it was born,
 	 A troubled woman was she;
 	 She rowed it up in a handkerchief,
 	 And flang it in the sea.
 173K.3	 Out then spoke a bonnie wee burd,
 	 And it spak sharp and keen:
 	 ‘O what did ye do wi your wee babie,
 	 Ye had in your arms yestreen?’
 173K.4	 ‘O I tyed it up in a napkin,
 	 And flang it in the sea;
 	 I bade it sink, I bade it soom,
 	 ’Twad get nae mair o me.’
 173K.5	 Out and spak King Henrie,
 	 And an angry man was he:
 	 ‘A’ for the drowning o that wee babe
 	 High hanged ye shall be.’
 	 * * * * *
 173K.6	 ‘I’ll no put on a goun o black,
 	 Nor yet a goun o green,
 	 But I’ll put on a goun o gowd,
 	 To glance in young men’s een.
 173K.7	 ‘O gin ye meet my father or mother,
 	 Ye may tell them frae me,
 	 ’Twas for the sake o a wee wee bairn
 	 That I came here to die.
 173K.8	 ‘Yestreen four Maries made Queen Mary’s bed,
 	 This nicht there’ll be but three,
 	 A Mary Beaton, a Mary Seaton,
 	 A Mary Carmichael, and me.
 173K.9	 ‘O what will my three brithers say,
 	 When they come hame frae see,
 	 When they see three locks o my yellow hair
 	 Hinging under a gallows-tree!’

173L: Mary Hamilton

 
 173L.1	 DOUN and cam the queen hersell,
 	 Wi the goud links in her hair:
 	 ‘O what did ye do wi the braw lad bairn
 	 That I heard greet sae sair?
 173L.2	 ‘There was never a babe into my room,
 	 Nor ever intends to be;
 	 It was but a fit o the sair colic,
 	 That was like to gar me die.’
 173L.3	 Doun and cam the king himsell,
 	 And an angry man was he:
 	 ‘If ye had saved that braw child’s life,
 	 It might hae been an honour to thee.’
 173L.4	 They socht the chamer up and doun,
 	 And in below the bed,
 	 And there they fand a braw lad-bairn
 	 Lying lapperin in his blood.
 173L.5	 She rowed it up in her apron green,
 	 And threw it in the sea:
 	 ‘Een sink or swim, you braw lad bairn!
 	 Ye’ll neer get mair o me.’
 	 * * * * *
 173L.6	 When she gaed up the Cannogate,
 	 She gied loud lauchters three;
 	 But or she cam to the Cowgate Head
 	 The tears did blind her ee.
 173L.7	 ‘Come a’ ye jovial sailors,
 	 That sail upon the sea,
 	 Tell neither my father nor mother
 	 The death that I’m to die!
 173L.8	 ‘Come a’ ye jovial sailors,
 	 That sail upon the main,
 	 See that ye tell baith my father and mother
 	 That I’m coming sailing hame!
 173L.9	 ‘My father he’s the Duke of York,
 	 And my mother’s a gay ladie,
 	 And I mysell a pretty fair lady,
 	 And the king fell in love with me.’

173M: Mary Hamilton

 
 173M.1	 THEN down cam Queen Marie,
 	 Wi gold links in her hair,
 	 Saying, Marie Mild, where is the child,
 	 That I heard greet sae sair?
 173M.2	 ‘There was nae child wi me, madam,
 	 There was nae child wi me;
 	 It was but me in a sair cholic,
 	 When I was like to die.’
 173M.3	 ‘I’m not deceived,’ Queen Marie said,
 	 ‘No, no, indeed not I!
 	 So Marie Mild, where is the child?
 	 For sure I heard it cry.’
 173M.4	 She turned down the blankets fine,
 	 Likewise the Holland sheet,
 	 And underneath, there strangled lay
 	 A lovely baby sweet.
 173M.5	 ‘O cruel mother,’ said the queen,
 	 ‘Some fiend possessed thee;
 	 But I will hang thee for this deed,
 	 My Marie tho thou be!’
 	 * * * * *
 173M.6	 When she cam to the Netherbow Port
 	 She laught loud laughters three;
 	 But when she cam to the gallows-foot,
 	 The saut tear blinded her ee.
 173M.7	 ‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,
 	 The night she’ll hae but three;
 	 There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beaton,
 	 And Marie Carmichael, and me.
 173M.8	 ‘Ye mariners, ye mariners,
 	 That sail upon the sea,
 	 Let not my father or mother wit
 	 The death that I maun die!
 173M.9	 ‘I was my parents’ only hope,
 	 They neer had ane but me;
 	 They little thought when I left hame,
 	 They should nae mair me see!’

173N: Mary Hamilton

 
 173N.1	 THE streen the queen had four Maries,
 	 This nicht she’ll hae but three;
 	 There’s Mary Heaton, an Mary Beaton,
 	 An Mary Michel, an me,
 	 An I mysel was Mary Mild,
 	 An flower oer a’ the three.
 173N.2	 Mary’s middle was aye sae neat,
 	 An her clothing aye sae fine,
 	 It caused her lie in a young man’s airms,
 	 An she’s ruet it aye sin syne.
 173N.3	 She done her doon yon garden green,
 	 To pull the deceivin tree,
 	 For to keep back that young man’s bairn,
 	 But forward it would be.
 173N.4	 ‘Ye winna put on the dowie black,
 	 Nor yet will ye the broon,
 	 But ye’ll put on the robes o red,
 	 To shine through Edinburgh toon.’
 173N.5	 She hasna pitten on the dowie black,
 	 Nor yet has she the broon,
 	 But she’s pitten on the robes o red,
 	 To shine thro Edinburgh toon.
 173N.6	 When she came to the mariners’ toon,
 	 The mariners they were playin,
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 173N.7	 ‘Ye needna play for me, mariners,
 	 Ye needna play for me;
 	 Ye never saw grace in a graceless face,
 	 For there’s nane therein to be.
 173N.8	 ‘Seven years an I made Queen Mary’s bed,
 	 Seven years an I combed her hair,
 	 An a hansome reward noo she’s gien to me,
 	 Gien me the gallows-tows to wear!
 173N.9	 ‘Oh little did my mither think,
 	 The day she cradled me,
 	 What road I’d hae to travel in,
 	 Or what death I’d hae to dee!’

173O: Mary Hamilton

 
 173O.1	 THERE lived a lord into the south,
 	 And he had dochters three,
 	 And the youngest o them went to the king’s court,
 	 To learn some courtesie.
 173O.2	 She rowd it in a wee wee clout
 	 . . .
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 173O.3	 She rowd it in a wee wee clout
 	 And flang’t into the faem,
 	 Saying, sink ye soon, my bonny babe!
 	 I’ll go a maiden hame.
 173O.4	 ‘O woe be to you, ye ill woman,
 	 An ill death may ye die!
 	 Gin ye had spared the sweet baby’s life,
 	 It might hae been an honour to thee.’
 173O.5	 She wadna put on her gowns o black,
 	 Nor yet wad she o brown,
 	 But she wad put on her gowns o gowd,
 	 To glance through Embro town.
 173O.6	 ‘Come saddle not to me the black,’ she says,
 	 ‘Nor yet to me the brown,
 	 But come saddle to me the milk-white steed,
 	 That I may ride in renown.’

173P: Mary Hamilton

 
 173P.1	 MY father’s the duke of Argyll,
 	 My mither’s a lady gay,
 	 And I mysel am a dainty dame,
 	 And the king desired me.
 173P.2	 schawd [me] up, he schawed me doun,
 	 He schawd me to the ha;
 	 He schawd me to the low cellars,
 	 And that was waurst of a’.

173Q: Mary Hamilton

 
 173Q.1	 THE Duke of York was my father,
 	 My mother a lady free,
 	 Myself a dainty damosell,
 	 Queen Marie sent for me.
 173Q.2	 The queen’s meat it was sae sweet,
 	 Her cleiding it was sae rare,
 	 It gart me grien for sweet Willie,
 	 And I’ll rue it evermair.

173R: Mary Hamilton

 
 173R.1	 LITTLE did my mother think,
 	 That day she cradled me,
 	 What land I was to travel in,
 	 Or what death I should die!

173[S]: Mary Hamilton

173[S].1 There lived a lord into the South, An he had daughters three; The youngest o them’s gaen to the king’s court, To learn some courtesie. 173[S.2] She had na been in the king’s court A twelvemonth an a day, When word is thro the kitchen gaen, An likewise thro the ha, That Mary Moil was gane wi child To the highest steward of a’. 173[S.3] She rowd it into a basket An flang ’t into the sea, Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe, Ye’se neer get mair o me. 173[S.4] She rowd it into a basket An flang ’t into the faem, Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe, I’se gang a maiden hame. 173[S.5] O whan the news cam to the king An angry man was he; He has taen the table wi his foot, An in flinders gart it flie. 173[S.6] ‘O woe be to you, ye ill woman, An ill death may ye die! Gin ye had spared the sweet baby’s life, It might have been an honour to thee. 173[S.7] ‘O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Moil, O busk, and gang wi me, For agen the morn at ten o clock A rare sight ye sall see.’ 173[S.8] She wadna put on her gown o black, Nor yet wad she o brown, But she wad put on her gown o gowd, To glance thro Embro town. 173[S.9] O whan she cam to the Netherbow Port She gied loud laughters three, But whan she cam to the gallows-foot The tear blinded her ee. 173[S.10] Saying, O ye mariners, mariners, That sail upon the sea, Let not my father nor mother to wit The death that I maun die. 173[S.11] ‘For little did father or mother wit, The day they cradled me, What foreign lands I should travel in, Or what death I should die. 173[S.12] ‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Mary Seton, an Mary Beaton, An Mary Carmichael, an me.’

173[T]: Mary Hamilton

173[T].1 There was a duke, and he dwelt in York, And he had daughters three; One of them was an hostler-wife, And two were gay ladies. 173[T.2] O word’s gane to Queen Mary’s court, As fast as it coud gee, That Mary Hamilton’s born a bairn, And the baby they coud na see. 173[T.3] Then came the queen and a’ her maids, Swift tripping down the stair: ‘Where is the baby, Mary, That we heard weep sae sair?’ 173[T.4] ‘O say not so, Queen Mary, Nor bear ill tales o me, For this is but a sore sickness That oft times troubles me.’ 173[T.5] They sought it up, they sought it down, They sought it below the bed, And there the[y] saw the bonny wee babe, Lying wallowing in its bluid. 173[T.6] ‘Now busk ye, busk ye, Mary Hamilton, Busk ye and gang wi me, For I maun away to Edinbro town, A rich wedding to see.’ 173[T.7] Mary wad na put on the black velvet, Nor yet wad put on the brown, But she’s put on the red velvet, To shine thro Edinbro town. 173[T.8] When she came unto the town, And near the Tolbooth stair, There stood many a lady gay, Weeping for Mary fair. 173[T.9] ‘O haud yeer tongue[s], ye ladys a’, And weep na mair for me! O haud yeer tongues, ye ladys a’, For it’s for my fault I dee. 173[T.10] ‘The king he took me on his knee And he gae three drinks to me, And a’ to put the babie back, But it wad na gang back for me. 173[T.11] ‘O ye mariners, ye mariners a’, That sail out-owr the sea, Let neither my father nor mother get wit What has become o me! 173[T.12] ‘Let neither my father nor mother ken, Nor my bauld brethren three, For muckle wad be the gude red bluid That wad be shed for me. 173[T.13] ‘Aft hae I laced Queen Mary’s back, Aft hae I kaimed her hair, And a’ the reward she’s gein to me ’s The gallows to be my heir. 173[T.14] ‘Yestreen the queen had four Marys, The night she’l hae but three; There was Mary Seatoun, and Mary Beatoun, An Mary Carmichal, an me.’

173[U]: Mary Hamilton

173[U].1 ‘My father was the Duke of York, My mother a gay ladye, And I myself a daintie dame; The queen she sent for me. 173[U.2] ‘But the queen’s meat it was sae sweet, And her clothing was sae rare, It made me long for a young man’s bed, And I rued it evermair.’ 173[U.3] But worid is up, and word is down, Amang the ladyes a’, That Marie’s born a babe sin yestreen, That babe it is awa. 173[U.4] But the queen she gat wit of this, She calld for a berry-brown gown, And she’s awa to Marie’s bower, The bower that Marie lay in. 173[U.5] ‘Open your door, my Marie,’ she says, ‘My bonny and fair Marie; They say you have born a babe sin yestreen, That babe I fain wad see.’ 173[U.6] ‘It is not sae wi me, madam, It is not sae wi me; It is but a fit of my sair sickness, That oft times troubles me.’ 173[U.7] ‘Get up, get up, my Marie,’ she says, ‘My bonny and fair Marie, And we’ll away to Edinburgh town, And try the verity.’ 173[U.8] Slowly, slowly, gat she up, And slowly pat she on, And slowly went she to that milk-steed, To ride to Edinburgh town. 173[U.9] But when they cam to Edinburgh, And in by the Towbooth stair, There was mony a virtuous ladye Letting the tears fa there. 173[U.10] ‘Why weep ye sae for me, madams? Why weep ye sae for me? For sin ye brought me to this town This death ye gar me die.’ 173[U.11] When she cam to the Netherbow Port, She gae loud laughters three; But when she cam to the gallows-foot The tear blinded her ee. 173[U.12] ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beatoun, And Marie Carmichael, and me. 173[U.13] ‘My love he was a pottinger, Mony drink he gae me, And a’ to put back that bonnie babe, But alas! it wad na do. 173[U.14] ‘I pat that bonny babe in a box, And set it on the sea; O sink ye, swim ye, bonny babe! Ye’s neer get mair o me. 173[U.15] ‘O all ye jolly sailors, That sail upon the sae, Let neither my father nor mother ken The death that I maun die. 173[U.16] ‘But if my father and mother kend The death that I maun die, O mony wad be the good red guineas That wad be gien for me.’

173[V]: Mary Hamilton

173[V].1 ‘My father was the Duke of York, My mother the gay ladie, An I myself a maiden bright, An the queen desired me.’ 173[V.2] But there word gane to the kitchen, There’s word gane to the ha, That Mary mild she gangs wi child To the uppermost stewart of a’. 173[V.3] Than they sought but, and they sou[ght] ben, They sought aneath the bed, An there the fand the bonnie lad-bairn, Lyin lappin in his blood. 173[V.4] ‘Gae buss ye, Marie Hamilton, Gae buss ye, buss ye bra, For ye maun away to Edin[brough] town, The queen’s birthday . . ’.’ 173[V.5] She wadna put on her black, bla[ck] silk, Nor wad she put on the brown, But she pat on the glisterin stufs, To glister in Edinbrough town. 173[V.6] An whan she cam to the water-gate Loud laughters gae she three, But whan she cam to the Netherbow Port The tear blinded Marie’s ee 173[V.7] ’Twas up than spak Queen Marie’s nurse, An a sorry woman was she: ‘Whae sae clever o fit and ready o wit Has telld sic news o thee!’ 173[V.8] ‘Oft have I Queen Marie’s head Oft have I caimd her hair, An a’ the thanks I’ve gotten for that Is the gallows to be my heir! 173[V.9] ‘Oft have I dressd Queen Marie’s head, An laid her in her bed, An a’ the thanks I’ve gotten for that Is the green gallows-tree to tread! 173[V.10] ‘O spare, O spare, O judge,’ she cried, ‘O spair a day for me!’ ‘There is nae law in our land, ladie, To let a murderer be.’ 173[V.11] ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Marie Seaton, and Ma[rie] Bea[ton], An Marie Carmichael, an me. 173[V.12] ‘O if my father now but kend The death that I’m to die, O muckle, muckle wad be the red gowd That he wad gie for me. 173[V.13] ‘An if my brothers kend the death That I am now to die, O muckle, muckle wad be the red blood That wad be shed for me.’

173[W]: Mary Hamilton

173[W].1 There lived a man in the North Countree And he had doghters three; The youngest o them’s to Edinbourgh gaen, Ane o the queen’s Marys to be. 173[W.2] Queen Mary’s bread it was sae white, And her wine it ran sae clear, It shewed her the way to the butler’s bed, And I wait she’s bought dear. 173[W.3] For Mary’s to the garden gaen, To eat o the saven tree, And a’ ’s to pit her young son back, But back he wad na be. 173[W.4] So Mary’s to her chamber gaen, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173[W.5] Queen Mary she came down the stair, And a’ her maids afore her: ‘Oh, Mary Miles, where is the child That I have heard greet sae sore O?’ 173[W.6] ‘There is no child with me, madam, There is no child with me; It was only a bit of a cholick I took, And I thought I was gawen to dee.’ 173[W.7] So they looked up, and they looked down, And they looked beneath the bed-foot, And there they saw a bonnie boy, Lying weltering in his blood. 173[W.8] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Since that you have killed your own dear child, The same death you shall dee.’ 173[W.9] When Mary came afore the court, A loud laugh laughed she; But when she came to the [gallows-]fit The tear blinded her ee. * * * * * * * 173[W.10] ‘O wha will comb Queen Mary’s heed? Or wha will brade her hair? And wha will lace her middle sae jimp Whan [I] am nae langer there? 173[W.11] ‘Yestreen the queen [had] four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Mary Seaten, and Mary Beaten, And Mary Carmichal, and me. * * * * * * * 173[W.12] ‘I’ll not put on my robes of black, Nor yet my robes of brown, But I’ll put on a shining braw garb, That will shine thro Edinbourgh town.’ * * * * * * * 173[W.13] Oh, whan she came to the Cannongate, The Cannongate sae hee, There mony a lord and belted knight Was grieved for her beautee. * * * * * * * 173[W.14] And whan she came to [the] Hee Town, The Hee Town sae hee, * * * * * * *

173[X]: Mary Hamilton

173[X].1 There livd a lord in the West Country, And he had daughters three; The youngest o them’s to the queen’s court, To learn some courtesy. 173[X.2] She hadna been at the queen’s court A year but and a day Till she has fa’n as big wi child, As big as she coud gae. 173[X.3] She’s gane into the garden To pu the sycamore tree, And taen the bony bairn in her arms And thrown it in the sea. 173[X.4] She rowd it in her apron And threw it in the sea: ‘Gae sink or soom, my bony sweet babe, Ye’ll never get mair o me.’ 173[X.5] Then in an came Queen Mary, Wi gowd rings on her hair: ‘O Mary mild, where is the child That I heard greet sae sair?’ 173[X.6] ‘It wasna a babe, my royal liege, Last night that troubled me, But it was a fit o sair sickness, And I was lyken to dee.’ 173[X.7] ‘O hold yere tongue, Mary Hamilton, Sae loud as I hear ye lee! For I’ll send you to Enbro town, The verity to see.’ 173[X.8] She wadna put on the ribbons o black, Nor yet wad she the brown, But she wad put on the ribbons o gowd, To gae glittring through Enbro town. 173[X.9] As she rade up the Sands o Leith, Riding on a white horse, O little did she think that day To die at Enbro Corss! 173[X.10] As she rade up the Cannongate, She leugh loud laughters three, And mony a lord and lady said, ‘Alas for that lady!’ 173[X.11] ‘Ye needna say Oh, ye needna cry Eh, Alas for that lady! Ye’ll neer see grace in a graceless face, As little ye’ll see in me.’ 173[X.12] When she came to the Netherbow Port, She leugh loud laughters three, But ere she came to the gallows-foot The tear blinded her eie; Saying, Tye a white napkin owr my face, For that gibbet I downa see. 173[X.13] ‘O hold yere hand, Lord Justice! O hold it a little while! I think I see my ain true-love Come wandring mony a mile. 173[X.14] ‘O have ye brought me ony o my gowd? Or ony o my weel-won fee? Or are ye come to see me hangd, Upon this gallows-tree?’ 173[X.15] ‘O I hae brought ye nane o yere gowd, Nor nane o yere weel-won fee, But I am come to see ye hangd, And hangit ye shall be.’ 173[X.16] ‘O all ye men and mariners, That sail for wealth or fame, Let never my father or mother get wit But what I’m coming hame. 173[X.17] ‘O all ye men and mariners, That sail upon the sea, Let never my father or mother get wit The death that I maun dee. 173[X.18] ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The night she’ll hae but three; There was Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton, And Mary Carmichael, and me.’

173[Y]: Mary Hamilton

173[Y].1 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Marys, The night she’ll hae but three; She had Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, And Mary Carmichael, and me. 173[Y.2] ‘My feather was the Duke of York, My mother a gay lady, And I mysell a bonnie young may, And the king fell in love we me. 173[Y.3] ‘The king’s kisses they were so sweet, And his wine it was so strong, That I became a mother Before fifteen years old.’ 173[Y.4] ‘O tell the truth now, Mary, And sett this matter right; What hae ye made o the babey Was greeting yesternight?’ 173[Y.5] ‘O I will tell you, madam the queen, I winna tell a lie; I put it in a bottomless boat And bad it sail the sea.’ 173[Y.6] ‘Ye lie, ye lie now, Mary, Sae loud’s I hear you lie! You wasnae out o the palace, So that coud never be.’ 173[Y.7] ‘Weel I will tell you, madam, Though it should gar me weep; I stabbd it we my little pen-knife, And bad it take a sleep.’ 173[Y.8] When she came up the Netherbow, She geed loud laughters three; But when she came out o the Parliament Close The tear blinded her ee. 173[Y.9] ‘O little does my feather ken The death I am to die, Or muckel wad be the red, red gould Wad be payed doun for me. 173[Y.10] ‘O little does my mother think The death that I am to die, Or monie wad be the saut, saut tears That she wad shed for me. 173[Y.11] ‘O never lett my brothers ken The death that I am to die, For muckel wad be the red, red blood That wad be shed for me. 173[Y.12] ‘Aft hae I washd the king’s bonnie face, Kaimd doun his yellow hair, And this is a’ the reward he’s geen me, The gallows to be my share.’

173[Z]: Mary Hamilton

 
 173[Z].1	‘Buss ye, bonny Marie Hamilton,
 	 Buss and gae wi me,
 	 For ye maun gae to Edinborough,
 	 A great wedding to see.’
 173[Z.2]	‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,
 	 Ride hooly now wi me,
 	 For never, I’m sure, a wearier bride
 	 Rode in your cumpany.’
 173[Z.3]	Little wist Marie Hamilton,
 	 When she rode on the brown,
 	 That she was gawn to Edinborough,
 	 And a’ to be put down.
 173[Z.4]	When she came to the Council stairs,
 	 She ga loud laughters three;
 	 But or that she came down again
 	 She was condemmd to dee.
 173[Z.5]	‘O ye mariners, mariners, mariners,
 	 When ye sail oer the faem,
 	 Let never my father nor mother to wit
 	 But I’m just coming hame.
 173[Z.6]	‘Let never my father nor mother to wit,
 	 Nor my bauld brether[en] three,
 	 Or meckle wad be the red, red gowd
 	 This day be gien for me.
 173[Z.7]	‘Let never my father or mother to wit,
 	 Nor my bauld brethren three,
 	 Or meckle war the red, red blude
 	 This day wad fa for me.’

173[Aa]: Mary Hamilton

 
 173[Aa].1	Oft hae I kaimd Queen Mary’s head,
 	 An oft hae I curld her hair,
 	 An now I hae gotten for my reward
 	 A gallows to be heir.’

173[Bb]: Mary Hamilton

 
 173[Bb].1	Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
 	 But the nicht she’ll hae but three;
 	 There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,
 	 And Mary Carmichell, and me.
 173[Bb.2]	Oh little did my mither think,
 	 At nicht when she cradled me,
 	 That I wad sleep in a nameless grave
 	 And hang on the gallows-tree.
 	 Yestreen, etc.
 173[Bb.3]	They’ll tie a kerchief round my een,
 	 And they’ll na let me see t’ dee,
 	 And they’ll spread my story thro a’ the land,
 	 Till it reaches my ain countrie.
 173[Bb.4]	I wish I micht sleep in the auld kirkyard,
 	 Beneath the hazel tree,
 	 Where aft we played in the long simmer nichts,
 	 My brithers and sisters and me.

174A: Earl Bothwell

174A.1 WOE worth thee, woe worth thee, false Scottlande! Ffor thou hast euer wrought by a sleight; For the worthyest prince that euer was borne, You hanged vnder a cloud by night. 174A.2 The Queene of France a letter wrote, And sealed itt with hart and ringe, And bade him come Scottland within, And shee wold marry him and crowne him king. 174A.3 To be a king, itt is a pleasant thing, To bee a prince vnto a peere; But you haue heard, and so haue I too, A man may well by gold to deere. 174A.4 There was an Italyan in that place, Was as wel beloued as euer was hee; Lord David was his name, Chamberlaine vnto the queene was hee. 174A.5 Ffor if the king had risen forth of his place, He wold haue sitt him downe in the cheare, And tho itt beseemed him not soe well, Altho the king had beene present there. 174A.6 Some lords in Scottland waxed wonderous wroth, And quarrelld with him for the nonce; I shall you tell how itt beffell, Twelue daggers were in him all att once. 174A.7 When this queene see the chamberlaine was slaine, For him her cheeks shee did weete, And made a vow for a twelue month and a day The king and shee wold not come in one sheete. 174A.8 Then some of the lords of Scottland waxed wrothe, And made their vow vehementlye, ‘For death of the queenes chamberlaine The king himselfe he shall dye.’ 174A.9 They strowed his chamber ouer with gunpowder, And layd greene rushes in his way; Ffor the traitors thought that night The worthy king for to betray. 174A.10 To bedd the worthy king made him bowne, To take his rest, that was his desire; He was no sooner cast on sleepe, But his chamber was on a blasing fyer. 174A.11 Vp he lope, and a glasse window broke, He had thirty foote for to fall; Lord Bodwell kept a priuy wach Vnderneath his castle-wall: ‘Who haue wee heere?’ sayd Lord Bodwell; ‘Answer me, now I doe call.’ 174A.12 ‘King Henery the Eighth my vnckle was; Some pitty show for his sweet sake! Ah, Lord Bodwell, I know thee well; Some pitty on me I pray thee take!’ 174A.13 ‘I’le pitty thee as much,’ he sayd, ‘And as much favor I’le show to thee As thou had on the queene’s chamberlaine That day thou deemedst him to dye.’ 174A.14 Through halls and towers this king they ledd, Through castles and towers that were hye, Through an arbor into an orchard, And there hanged him in a peare tree. 174A.15 When the gouernor of Scottland he heard tell That the worthye king he was slaine, He hath banished the queene soe bitterlye That in Scottland shee dare not remaine. 174A.16 But shee is fled into merry England, And Scottland to a side hath laine, And through the Queene of Englands good grace Now in England shee doth remaine.

175A: The Rising in the North

175A.1 LISTEN liuely lordings all, And all that beene this place within: If you’le giue eare vnto my songe, I will tell you how this geere did begin. 175A.2 It was the good Erle Of Westmorlande, A noble erle was call d hee, And he wrought treason against the crowne; Alas, itt was the more pittye! 175A.3 And soe itt was the Erle of Northumberland, Another good noble erle was hee; They tooken both vpon one part, Against the crowne they wolden bee. 175A.4 Earle Pearcy is into his garden gone, And after walkes his awne ladye: ‘I heare a bird sing in my eare That I must either fight or flee.’ 175A.5 ‘God forbidd,’ shee sayd, ’good my lord, That euer soe that it shalbee! But goe to London to the court, And faire fall truth and honestye!’ 175A.6 ‘But nay, now nay, my ladye gay, That euer it shold soe bee; My treason is knowen well enoughe; Att the court I must not bee.’ 175A.7 ‘But goe to the court yet, good my lord, Take men enowe with thee; If any man will doe you wronge, Your warrant they may bee.’ 175A.8 ‘But nay, now nay, my lady gay, For soe itt must not bee; If I goe to the court, ladye, Death will strike me, and I must dye.’ 175A.9 ‘But goe to the court yett, [good] my lord, I my-selfe will ryde with thee; If any man will doe you wronge, Your borrow I shalbee.’ 175A.10 ‘But nay, now nay, my lady gay, For soe it must not bee; For if I goe to the court, ladye, Thou must me neuer see. 175A.11 ‘But come hither, thou litle foot-page, Come thou hither vnto mee, For thou shalt goe a message to Master Norton, In all the hast that euer may bee. 175A.12 Comend me to that gentleman; Bring him here this letter from mee, And say, I pray him earnestlye That hee will ryde in my companye.’ 175A.13 But one while the foote-page went, Another while he rann; Vntill he came to Master Norton, The foot-page, neuer blanne. 175A.14 And when he came to Master Nortton, He kneeled on his knee, And tooke the letter betwixt his hands, And lett the gentleman it see. 175A.15 And when the letter itt was reade, Affore all his companye, I-wis, if you wold know the truth, There was many a weeping eye. 175A.16 He said, Come hither, Kester Nortton, A fine fellow thou seemes to bee; Some good councell, Kester Nortton, This day doe thou giue to mee. 175A.17 ‘Marry, I’le giue you councell, father, If you’le take councell att me, That if you haue spoken the word, father, That backe againe you doe not flee.’ 175A.18 ‘God a mercy! Christopher Nortton, I say, God a mercye! If I doe liue and scape with liffe, Well advanced shalt thou bee. 175A.19 ‘But come you hither, my nine good sonnes, In mens estate I thinke you bee; How many of you, my children deare, On my part that wilbe?’ 175A.20 But eight of them did answer soone, And spake full hastilye; Sayes, We wilbe on your part, father, Till the day that we doe dye. 175A.21 ‘But God a mercy! my children deare, And euer I say God a mercy! And yett my blessing you shall haue, Whether-soeuer I liue or dye. 175A.22 ‘But what sayst thou, thou Ffrancis Nortton, Mine eldest sonne and mine heyre trulye? Some good councell, Ffrancis Nortton, This day thou giue to me.’ 175A.23 ‘But I will giue you councell, father, If you will take councell att mee; For if you wold take my councell, father, Against the crowne you shold not bee.’ 175A.24 ‘But fye vpon thee, Ffrancis Nortton! I say fye vpon thee! When thou was younge and tender af age I made full much of thee.’ 175A.25 ‘But your head is white, father,’ he sayes, ‘And your beard is wonderous gray; Itt were shame for your countrye If you shold rise and flee away.’ 175A.26 ‘But fye vpon thee, thou coward Ffrancis! Thou neuer tookest that of mee! When thou was younge and tender of age I made too much of thee.’ 175A.27 ‘But I will goe with you, father,’ quoth hee; ‘Like a naked man will I bee; He that strikes the first stroake against the crowne, An ill death may hee dye!’ 175A.28 But then rose vpp Master Nortton, that esquier, With him a full great companye; And then the erles they comen downe To ryde in his companye. 175A.29 Att Whethersbye the mustered their men, Vpon a full fayre day; Thirteen thousand there were seene To stand in battel ray. 175A.30 The Erle of Westmoreland, he had in his ancyent The dunn bull in sight most hye, And three doggs with golden collers Were sett out royallye. 175A.31 The Erle of Northumberland, he had in his ancyent The halfe moone in sight soe hye, As the Lord was crucifyed on the crosse, And set forth pleasantlye. 175A.32 And after them did rise good Sir George Bowes, After them a spoyle to make; The erles returned backe againe, Thought euer that knight to take. 175A.33 This barron did take a castle then, Was made of lime and stone; The vttermost walls were ese to be woon; The erles haue woon them anon. 175A.34 But tho they woone the vttermost walls, Quickly and anon, The innermust walles the cold not winn; The were made of a rocke of stone. 175A.35 But newes itt came to leeue London, In all the speede that euer might bee; And word it came to our royall queene Of all the rebells in the north countrye. 175A.36 Shee turned her grace then once about, And like a royall queene shee sware; Sayes, I will ordaine them such a breake-fast As was not in the north this thousand yeere! 175A.37 Shee caused thirty thousand men to be made, With horsse and harneis all quicklye; And shee caused thirty thousand men to be made, To take the rebells in the north countrye. 175A.38 They tooke with them the false Erle of Warwicke, Soe did they many another man; Vntill they came to Yorke castle, I-wis they neuer stinted nor blan. * * * * * 175A.39 . . . . . . . . ‘Spread thy ancyent, Erle of Westmoreland! The halfe-moone faine wold wee see!’ 175A.40 But the halfe-moone is fled and gone, And the dun bull vanished awaye; And Ffrancis Nortton and his eight sonnes Are fled away most cowardlye. 175A.41 Ladds with mony are counted men, Men without mony are counted none; But hold your tounge! why say you soe? Men wilbe men when mony is gone.

176A: Northumberland Betrayed by Douglas

176A.1 NOW list and lithe, you gentlemen, And I’st tell you the veretye, How they haue dealt with a banished man, Driuen out of his countrye. 176A.2 When as hee came on Scottish ground, As woe and wonder be them amonge! Ffull much was there traitorye The wrought the Erle of Northumberland. 176A.3 When they were att the supper sett, Beffore many goodly gentlemen, The fell a flouting and mocking both, And said to the Erle of Northumberland: 176A.4 ‘What makes you be soe sad, my lord, And in your mind soe sorrowffullye? In the north of Scottland to-morrow there’s a shooting, And thither thou’st goe, my Lord Percye. 176A.5 ‘The buttes are sett, and the shooting is made, And there is like to be great royaltye, And I am sworne into my bill Thither to bring my Lord Pearcy.’ 176A.6 ‘I’le giue thee my hand, Douglas,’ he sayes, ‘And be the faith in my bodye, If that thou wilt ryde to the worlds end, I’le ryde in thy companye.’ 176A.7 And then bespake the good ladye, Marry a Douglas was her name: ‘You shall byde here, good English lord; My brother is a traiterous man. 176A.8 ‘He is a traitor stout and stronge, As I’st tell you the veretye; For he hath tane liuerance of the Erle, And into England he will liuor thee.’ 176A.9 ‘Now hold thy tounge, thou goodlye ladye, And let all this talking bee; Ffor all the gold that’s in Loug Leuen, William wold not liuor mee. 176A.10 ‘It wold breake truce betweene England and Scottland, And freinds againe they wold neuer bee, If he shold liuor a bani[s]ht erle, Was driuen out of his owne countrye.’ 176A.11 ‘Hold your tounge, my lord,’ shee sayes, ‘There is much falsehood them amonge; When you are dead, then they are done, Soone they will part them freinds againe. 176A.12 ‘If you will giue me any trust, my lord, I’le tell you how you best may bee; You’st lett my brother ryde his wayes, And tell those English lords, trulye, 176A.13 ‘How that you cannot with them ryde, Because you are in an ile of the sea; Then, ere my brother come againe, To Edenborrow castle I’le carry thee. 176A.14 ‘I’le liuor you vnto the Lord Hume, And you know a trew Scothe lord is hee, For he hath lost both land and goods In ayding of your good bodye.’ 176A.15 ‘Marry, I am woe, woman,’ he sayes, ‘That any freind fares worse for mee; For where one saith it is a true tale, Then two will say it is a lye. 176A.16 ‘When I was att home in my [realme], Amonge my tennants all trulye, In my time of losse, wherin my need stoode, They came to ayd me honestlye. 176A.17 ‘Therfore I left a many a child fatherlese, And many a widdow to looke wanne; And therfore blame nothing, ladye, But the woeffull warres which I began.’ 176A.18 ‘If you will giue me noe trust, my lord, Nor noe credence you will giue mee, And you’le come hither to my right hand, Indeed, my lorid, I’le lett you see.’ 176A.19 Saies, I neuer loued noe witchcraft, Nor neuer dealt with treacherye, But euermore held the hye way; Alas, that may be seene by mee! 176A.20 ‘If you will not come your selfe, my lord, You’le lett your chamberlaine goe with mee, Three words that I may to him speake, And soone he shall come againe to thee.’ 176A.21 When Iames Swynard came that lady before, Shee let him see thorrow the weme of her ring How many there was of English lords To wayte there for his master and him. 176A.22 ‘But who beene yonder, my good ladye, That walkes soe royallye on yonder greene?’ ‘Yonder is Lord Hunsden, Iamye,’ she saye[d], ‘Alas, hee’le doe you both tree and teene!’ 176A.23 ‘And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye, That walkes soe royallye him beside?’ ‘Yond is Sir William Drurye, Iamy,’ shee sayd, ‘And a keene captain hee is, and tryde.’ 176A.24 ‘How many miles is itt, thou good ladye, Betwixt yond English lord and mee?’ ‘Marry, thrise fifty mile, Iamy,’ shee sayd, ‘And euen to seale and by the sea. 176A.25 ‘I neuer was on English ground, Nor neuer see itt with mine eye, But as my witt and wisedome serues, And as [the] booke it telleth mee. 176A.26 ‘My mother, shee was a witch woman, And part of itt shee learned mee; Shee wold let me see out of Lough Leuen What they dyd in London cytye.’ 176A.27 ‘But who is yonde, thou good laydye, That comes yonder with an osterne face?’ ‘Yond’s Sir Iohn Forster, Iamye,’ shee sayd; ‘Methinkes thou sholdest better know him then I.’ ‘Euen soe I doe, my goodlye ladye, And euer alas, soe woe am I!’ 176A.28 He pulled his hatt ouer his eyes, And, Lord, he wept soe tenderlye! He is gone to his master againe, And euen to tell him the veretye. 176A.29 ‘Now hast thou beene with Marry, Iamy,’ he sayd, ‘Euen as thy tounge will tell to mee; But if thou trust in any womans words, Thou must refraine good companye.’ 176A.30 ‘It is noe words, my lord,’ he sayes; ‘Yonder the men shee letts me see, How many English lords there is Is wayting there for you and mee. 176A.31 ‘Yonder I see the Lord Hunsden, And hee and you is of the third degree; A greater enemye, indeed, my Lord, In England none haue yee.’ 176A.32 ‘And I haue beene in Lough Leven The most part of these yeeres three: Yett had I neuer noe out-rake, Nor good games that I cold see. 176A.33 ‘And I am thus bidden to yonder shooting By William Douglas all trulye; Therfore speake neuer a word out of thy mouth That thou thinkes will hinder mee.’ 176A.34 Then he writhe the gold ring of his fingar And gaue itt to that ladye gay; Sayes, That was a legacye left vnto mee In Harley woods where I cold bee. 176A.35 ‘Then farewell hart, and farewell hand, And farwell all good companye! That woman shall neuer beare a sonne Shall know soe much of your priuitye.’ 176A.36 ‘Now hold thy tounge, ladye,’ hee sayde, ‘And make not all this dole for mee, For I may well drinke, but I’st neuer eate, Till againe in Lough Leuen I bee.’ 176A.37 He tooke his boate att the Lough Leuen, For to sayle now ouer the sea, And he hath cast vpp a siluer wand, Saies, Fare thou well, my good ladye! The ladye looked ouer her left sholder; In a dead swoone there fell shee. 176A.38 ‘Goe backe againe, Douglas!’ he sayd, ‘And I will goe in thy companye, For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane, And euer, alas, shee will but dye! 176A.39 ‘If ought come to yonder ladye but good, Then blamed sore that I shall bee, Because a banished man I am, And driuen out of my owne countrye.’ 176A.40 ‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes, ‘And lett all such talking bee; There’s ladyes enow in Lough Leuen And for to cheere yonder gay ladye.’ 176A.41 ‘And you will not goe your selfe, my lord, You will lett my chamberlaine go with mee; Wee shall now take our boate againe, And soone wee shall ouertake thee.’ 176A.42 ‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes, ‘And lett now all this talking bee; Ffor my sister is craftye enoughe For to beguile thousands such as you and mee.’ 176A.43 When they had sayled fifty myle, Now fifty mile vpon the sea, Hee had forgotten a message that hee Shold doe in Lough Leuen trulye: Hee asked, how farr it was to that shooting That William Douglas promised mee. 176A.44 ‘Now faire words makes fooles faine, And that may be seene by thy master and thee; Ffor you may happen think itt soone enoughe When-euer you that shooting see.’ 176A.45 Iamye pulled his hatt now ouer his browe, I wott the teares fell in his eye; And he is to his master againe, And for to tell him the veretye. 176A.46 ‘He sayes fayre words makes fooles faine, And that may be seene by you and mee, Ffor wee may happen thinke itt soone enoughe When-euer wee that shooting see. 176A.47 ‘Hold vpp thy head, Iamye,’ the erle sayd, ‘And neuer lett thy hart fayle thee; He did itt but to proue thee with, And see how thow wold take with death trulye.’ 176A.48 When they had sayled other fifty mile, Other fifty mile vpon the sea, Lord Peercy called to him, himselfe, And sayd, Douglas, what wilt thou doe with mee? 176A.49 ‘Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord, That you may goe as a shipp att sea; Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe, That you may pricke her while shee’le awaye.’ 176A.50 ‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth, ‘That thou needest to floute mee? For I was counted a horsseman good Before that euer I mett with thee. 176A.51 ‘A false Hector hath my horsse, And euer an euill death may hee dye! And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres And all the geere belongs to mee.’ 176A.52 When the had sayled other fifty mile, Other fifty mile vpon the sea, The landed low by Barwicke-side; A deputed lord landed Lord Percye.

177A: The Earl of Westmoreland

177A.1 ‘HOW long shall fortune faile me now, And keepe me heare in deadlye dreade? How long shall I in bale abide, In misery my life to leade? 177A.2 ‘To fall from my rose, it was my chance; Such was the Queene of England free; I tooke a lake, and turned my backe, On Bramaball More shee caused my flye. 177A.3 ‘One gentle Armstrong that I doe ken, Alas, with thee I dare not mocke! Thou dwellest soe far on the west border, Thy name is called the Lord Iocke.’ 177A.4 Now hath Armstrong taken noble Nevill, And as one Martinfield did Profecye; He hath taken the Lord Dakers, A lords sonne of great degree. 177A.5 He hath taken old Master Nortton, And sonnes four in his companye; Hee hath taken another gentleman, Called Iohn of Carnabie. 177A.6 Then bespake him Charles Nevill; To all his men, I wott, sayd hee, Sayes, I must into Scottland fare; Soe nie the borders is noe biding for me. 177A.7 When he came to Humes Castle, And all his noble companye; The Lord Hume halched them right soone, Saying, Banished men, welcome to mee! 177A.8 They had not beene in Humes Castle Not a month and dayes three, But the regent of Scottland and he got witt That banished men there shold be. 177A.9 ‘I’le write a letter,’ sayd the regent then, ‘And send to Humes Castle hastilye, To see whether Lord Hume wilbe soe good To bring the banished men vnto mee. 177A.10 ‘That lord and I haue beene att deadlye fuyde, And hee and I cold neuer agree; Writting a letter, that will not serue; The banished men must not speake with me. 177A.11 ‘But I will send for the garrison of Barwicke, That they will come all with speede, And with them will come a noble captaine, Which is called Captain Reade.’ 177A.12 Then the Lord Hume he got witt They wold seeke vnto Nevill, where he did lye; He tooke them out of the castle of Hume, And brought them into the castle of Camelye. 177A.13 Then bespake him Charles Nevill, To all his men, I wott, spoke hee, Sayes, I must goe take a noble shippe, And wee’le be marriners vpon the sea. 177A.14 I’le seeke out fortune where it doth lye; In Scottland there is noe byding for mee; Then the tooke leaue with fayre Scottland, For they are sealing vpon the sea. 177A.15 They had not sayled vpon the sea Not one day and monthes three, But they were ware of a Noble shippe, That fiue topps bare all soe hye. 177A.16 Then Nevill called to Martinfeeld, Sayd, Martinffeeld, come hither to mee; Some good councell, Martinfeeld, I pray thee giue it vnto mee. 177A.17 Thou told me when I was in England fayre, Before that I did take the sea, Thou neuer sawst noe banner borne But thou wold ken it with thine eye. 177A.18 Thou neuer saw noe man in the face, Iff thou had seene before with thine eye, [But] thou coldest haue kend the freind by thy foe, And then haue told it vnto mee. 177A.19 Thou neuer heard noe speeche spoken, Neither in Greeke nor Hebrewe, [But] thou coldest haue answered them in any language, And then haue told it vnto mee. 177A.20 ‘Master, master, see you yonder faire ancyent? Yonder is the serpent and the serpents head, The mould-warpe in the middest of itt, And itt all shines with gold soe redde. 177A.21 ‘Yonder is Duke Iohn of Austria, A noble warryour on the sea, Whose dwelling is in Ciuill land, And many men, God wot, hath hee.’ 177A.22 Then bespake him Martinfeelde, To all his fellowes, I wot, said hee, Turne our noble shipp about, And that’s a token that wee will flee. 177A.23 ‘Thy councell is not good, Martinfeeld; Itt falleth not out fitting for mee; I rue the last time I turnd my backe; I did displease my prince and the countrye.’ 177A.24 Then bespake him noble Nevill, To all his men, I wott, sayd hee, Sett me vp my faire Dun Bull, With gilden hornes hee beares all soe hye. 177A.25 And I will passe yonder noble Duke, By the leaue of mild Marye; For Yonder is the Duke of Austria, That trauells now vpon the sea. 177A.26 And then bespake this noble Duke, Vnto his men then sayd hee, Yonder is sure some nobleman, Or else some youth that will not flee. 177A.27 I will put out a pinace fayre, A harold of armes vpon the sea, And goe thy way to yonder noble shippe, And bring the masters name to mee. 177A.28 When the herald of armes came before noble Nevill, He fell downe low vpon his knee: ‘You must tell me true what is your name, And in what countrye your dwelling may bee.’ 177A.29 ‘That will I not doe,’ sayd noble Nevill, ‘By Mary mild, that mayden free, Except I first know the masters name, And in what country his dwelling may bee.’ 177A.30 Then bespake the herald of armes, O that he spoke soe curteouslye! Duke Iohn of Austria is my masters name, He will neuer lene it vpon the sea. 177A.31 He hath beene in the citye of Rome, His dwelling is in Ciuillee: ‘Then wee are poore Brittons,’ the Nevill can say, ‘Where wee trauell vpon the sea. 177A.32 ‘And Charles Nevill itt is my name, I will neuer lene it vpon the sea; When I was att home in England faire, I was the Erle of Westmoreland,’ sayd hee. 177A.33 Then backe is gone this herald of armes Whereas this noble duke did lye; ‘Loe, yonder are poore Brittons,’ can he say, ‘Where the trauell vpon the sea. 177A.34 ‘And Charles Nevill is thier masters name, He will neuer lene it vpon the sea; When he was at home in England fayre, He was the Erle of Westmoreland, said hee.’ 177A.35 Then bespake this noble duke, And euer he spake soe hastilye, And said, Goe backe to yonder noble-man, And bid him come and speake with me. 177A.36 For I haue read in the Booke of Mable, There shold a Brittaine come ouer the sea, Charles Nevill with a childs voice: I pray God that it may be hee. 177A.37 When these two nobles they didden meete, They halched eche other right curteouslye; Yett Nevill halched Iohn the sooner Because a banished man, alas! was hee. 177A.38 ‘Call in your men,’ sayd this noble duke, ‘Faine your men that I wold see;’ ‘Euer alas!’ said noble Nevill, ‘They are but a litle small companye.’ 177A.39 First he called in Martinfield, That Martinffeeld that cold prophecye; He call[ed] in then Lord Dakers, A lords sonne of high degree. 177A.40 Then called he in old Master Nortton, And sonnes four in his companye; He called in one other gentleman, Called Iohn of Carnabye. 177A.41 ‘Loe! these be all my men,’ said noble Nevill, ‘And all that’s in my companye; When we were att home in England fayre, Our prince and wee cold not agree.’ 177A.42 Then bespake this noble duke: To try your manhood on the sea, Old Master Nortton shall goe ouer into France, And his sonnes four in his companye. 177A.43 my lord Dakers shall goe over into Ffrance, There a captaine for to bee; And those two other gentlemen wold goe with him, And for to fare in his companye. 177A.44 And you your-selfe shall goe into Ciuill land, And Marttinffeild that can prophecye; ‘That will I not doe,’ sayd noble Nevill, ‘By Mary mild, that mayden free. 177A.45 ‘For the haue knowen me in wele and woe, In neede, scar[s]nesse and pouertye; Before I’le part with the worst of them, I’le rather part with my liffe,’ sayd hee. 177A.46 And then bespake this noble duke, And euer he spake soe curteouslye; Sayes, You shall part with none of them, There is soe much manhood in your bodye. 177A.47 Then these two noblemen labored together, Pleasantlye vpon the sea; Their landing was in Ciuill land, In Ciuilee that faire citye. 177A.48 Three nights att this dukes Nevill did lye, And serued like a nobleman was hee; Then the duke made a supplication, And sent it to the queene of Ciuilee. 177A.49 Saying, Such a man is your citye within, I mett him pleasantlye vpon the sea; He seemes to be a noble man, And captaine to your Grace he faine wold bee. 177A.50 Then the queene sent for [these] noble men For to come into her companye; When Nevill came before the queene, Hee kneeled downe vpon his knee. 177A.51 Shee tooke him vp by the lilly-white hand, Said, Welcome, my lord, hither to me; You must first tell me your name, And in what countrye thy dwelling may bee. 177A.52 He said, Charles Nevill is my name; I will neuer lene it in noe countrye; When I was att home in England fayre, I was the Erle of Westmoreland trulye. 177A.53 The queene made him captaine ouer forty thousand, Watch and ward within Ciuill land to keepe, And for to warr against the heathen soldan, And for to helpe her in her neede. 177A.54 When the heathen soldan he gott witt, In Barbarye where he did lye, Sainge, Such a man is in yonder citye within, And a bold venturer by sea is hee, 177A.55 Then the heathen soldan made a letter, And sent it to the queene instantlye, And all that heard this letter reade Where it was rehersed in Ciuillee. 177A.56 Saying, Haue you any man your land within Man to man dare fight with mee? And both our lands shalbe ioyned in one, And cristened lands they both shalbe. 177A.57 Shee said, I haue noe man my land within Man to man dare fight with thee; But euery day thou shalt haue a battell, If it be for these weekes three. 177A.58 All beheard him Charles Nevill, In his bedd where he did lye, And when he came the queene before, He fell downe low vpon his knee. 177A.59 ‘Grant me a boone, my noble dame, For Chrissts loue that dyed on tree; Ffor I will goe fight with yond heathen soldan, If you will bestowe the manhood on mee.’ 177A.60 Then bespake this curteous queene, And euer shee spoke soe curteouslye: Though you be a banished man out of your realme, It is great pitye that thou shold dye. 177A.61 Then bespake this noble duke, As hee stood hard by the queenes knee: As I haue read in the Booke of Mable, There shall a Brittone come ouer the sea, 177A.62 And Charles Nevill shold be his name; But a childs voyce, I wott, hath hee, And if he be in Christendome; For hart and hand this man hath hee. 177A.63 Then the queenes councell cast their heads together, . . . . That Nevill shold fight with the heathen soldan That dwelt in the citye of Barbarye. 177A.64 The battell and place appointed was In a fayre greene, hard by the sea, And they shood meete att the Headless Crosse, And there to fight right manfullye. 177A.65 Then Nevill cald for the queenes ancient, And faine that ancient he wold see; The brought him forth the broken sword, With bloodye hands therein trulye. 177A.66 The brought him forth the headless crosse, In that ancyent it was seene; ‘O this is a token,’ sayd Martinfeeld, ‘That sore ouerthrowen this prince hath beene. 177A.67 ‘O sett me vp my fayre Dun Bull, And trumpetts blow me farr and nee, Vntill I come within a mile of the Headlesse Crosse, That the Headlesse Crosse I may see.’ 177A.68 Then lighted downe noble Nevill, And sayd, Marttinffeeld, come hither to me; Heere I make thee choice captain over my host Vntill againe I may thee see. 177A.69 Then Nevill rode to the Headlesse Crosse, Which stands soe fayre vpon the sea; There was he ware of the heathen soldan, Both fowle and vglye for to see. 177A.70 Then the soldan began for to call; Twise he called lowd and hye, And sayd, What is this? Some kitchin boy That comes hither to fight with mee? 177A.71 Then bespake him Charles Nevill, But a childs voice, I wott, had hee: ‘Thou spekest soe litle of Gods might, Much more lesse I doe care for thee.’ 177A.72 Att the first meeting that these two mett, The heathen soldan and the christen man, The broke their speares quite in sunder, And after that on foote did stand. 177A.73 The next meeting that these two mett, The swapt together with swords soe fine; The fought together till they both swett, Of blowes that were both derf and dire. 177A.74 They fought an houre in battell strong; The soldan marke[d] Nevill with his eye; ‘There shall neuer man me ouercome Except it be Charles Nevill,’ sayd hee. 177A.75 Then Nevill he waxed bold, And cunning in fight, I wott, was hee; Euen att the gorgett of the soldans iacke He stroke his head of presentlye. 177A.76 Then kneeled downe noble Nevill, And thanked God for his great grace, That he shold come soe farr into a strang[e] land, To ouercome the soldan in place. 177A.77 Hee tooke the head vpon his sword-poynt, And carryed it amongst his host soe fayre; When the saw the soldans head, They thanked God on their knees there. 177A.78 Seuen miles from the citye the queene him mett, With procession that was soe fayre; Shee tooke the crowne beside her heade, And wold haue crowned him king there. 177A.79 ‘Now nay! Now nay! my noble dame, For soe, I wott, itt cannott bee; I haue a ladye in England fayre, And wedded againe I wold not bee.’ 177A.80 The queene shee called for her penman, I wot shee called him lowd and hye, Saying, Write him downe a hundred pound a day, To keepe his men more merrylye. 177A.81 ‘I thanke your Grace,’ sayd noble Nevill, ‘For this worthy gift you haue giuen to me; If euer your Grace doe stand in neede, Champion to your Highnesse again I’le bee.’

178A: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

178A.1 IT befell at Martynmas, When wether waxed colde, Captaine Care said to his men, We must go take a holde. ?? Syck, sike, and to-towe sike, And sike and like to die; The sikest nighte that euer I abode, God lord haue mercy on me! 178A.2 ‘Haille, master, and wether you will, And wether ye like it best;’ ‘To the castle of Crecrynbroghe, And there we will take our reste.’ 178A.3 ‘I knowe wher is a gay castle, Is builded of lyme and stone; Within their is a gay ladie, Her lord is riden and gone.’ 178A.4 The ladie she lend on her castle-walle, She loked vpp and downe; There was she ware of an host of men, Come riding to the towne. 178A.5 ‘Se yow, my meri men all, And se yow what I see? Yonder I see an host of men, I muse who they bee.’ 178A.6 She thought he had ben her wed lord, As he comd riding home; Then was it traitur Captaine Care The lord of Ester-towne. 178A.7 They wer no soner at supper sett, Then after said the grace, Or Captaine Care and all his men Wer lighte aboute the place. 178A.8 ‘Gyue ouer thi howsse, thou lady gay, And I will make the a bande; To-nighte thou shall ly within my armes, To-morrowe thou shall ere my lande.’ 178A.9 Then bespacke the eldest sonne, That was both whitt and redde: O mother dere, geue ouer your howsse, Or elles we shalbe deade. 178A.10 ‘I will not geue ouer my hous,’ she saithe, ‘Not for feare of my lyffe; It shalbe talked throughout the land, The slaughter of a wyffe. 178A.11 ‘Fetch me my pestilett, And charge me my gonne, That I may shott at yonder bloddy butcher, The lord of Easter-towne.’ 178A.12 Styfly vpon her wall she stode, And lett the pellettes flee; But then she myst the blody bucher, And she slew other three. 178A.13 ‘[I will] not geue ouer my hous,’ she saithe, ‘Netheir for lord nor lowne; Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care, The lord of Easter-towne. 178A.14 ‘I desire of Captine Care, And all his bloddye band, That he would saue my eldest sonne, The eare of all my lande.’ 178A.15 ‘Lap him in a shete,’ he sayth, ‘And let him downe to me, And I shall take him in my armes, His waran shall I be.’ 178A.16 The captayne sayd unto him selfe: Wyth sped, before the rest, He cut his tonge out of his head, His hart out of his brest. 178A.17 He lapt them in a handkerchef, And knet it of knotes three, And cast them ouer the castell-wall, At that gay ladye. 178A.18 ‘Fye vpon the, Captayne Care, And all thy bloddy band! For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne, The ayre of all my land.’ 178A.19 Then bespake the yongest sonne, That say on the nurses knee, Sayth, Mother gay, geue ouer your house; It smoldereth me. 178A.20 ‘I wold geue my gold,’ she saith, ‘And so I wolde my fee, For a blaste of the westryn wind, To dryue the smoke from thee. 178A.21 ‘Fy vpon the, John Hamleton, That euer I paid the hyre! For thou hast broken my castle-wall, And kyndled in the fyre.’ 178A.22 The lady gate to her close parler, The fire fell aboute her head; She toke vp her childern thre, Seth, Babes, we are all dead. 178A.23 Then bespake the hye steward, That is of hye degree; Saith, Ladie gay, you are in close, Wether ye fighte or flee. 178A.24 Lord Hamleton dremd in his dream, In Caruall where he laye, His halle were all of fyre, His ladie slayne or daye. 178A.25 ‘Busk and bowne, my merry men all, Even and go ye with me; For I dremd that my haal was on fyre, My lady slayne or day.’ 178A.26 He buskt him and bownd hym, And like a worthi knighte; And when he saw his hall burning, His harte was no dele lighte. 178A.27 He sett a trumpett till his mouth, He blew as it plesd his grace; Twenty score of Hamlentons Was light aboute the place. 178A.28 ‘Had I knowne as much yesternighte As I do to-daye, Captaine Care and all his men Should not haue gone so quite. 178A.29 ‘Fye vpon the, Captaine Care, And all thy blody bande! Thou haste slayne my lady gay, More wurth then all thy lande. 178A.30 ‘If thou had ought eny ill will,’ he saith, ‘Thou shoulde haue taken my lyffe, And haue saved my children thre, All and my louesome wyffe.’

178B: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

178B.1 ‘FFAITH, master, whither you will, Whereas you like the best; Vnto the castle of Bittons-borrow, And there to take your rest.’ 178B.2 ‘But yonder stands a castle faire, Is made of lyme and stone; Yonder is in it a fayre lady, Her lord is ridden and gone.’ 178B.3 The lady stood on her castle-wall, She looked vpp and downe; She was ware of an hoast of men, Came rydinge towards the towne. 178B.4 ‘See you not, my merry men all, And see you not what I doe see? Methinks I see a hoast of men; I muse who they shold be.’ 178B.5 She thought it had beene her louly lord, He had come ryding home; It was the traitor, Captaine Carre, The lord of Westerton-towne. 178B.6 They had noe sooner super sett, And after said the grace, But the traitor, Captaine Carre, Was light about the place. 178B.7 ‘Giue over thy house, thou lady gay, I will make thee a band; All night with-in mine armes thou’st lye, To-morrow be the heyre of my land.’ 178B.8 ‘I’le not giue over my house,’ shee said, ‘Neither for ladds nor man, Nor yet for traitor Captaine Carre, Vntill my lord come home. 178B.9 ‘But reach me my pistoll pe[c]e, And charge you well my gunne; I’le shoote at the bloody bucher, The lord of Westerton.’ 178B.10 She stood vppon her castle-wall And let the bulletts flee, And where shee mist . . . . 178B.11 But then bespake the litle child, That sate on the nurses knee; Saies, Mother deere, giue ore this house, For the smoake it smoothers me. 178B.12 ‘I wold giue all my gold, my childe, Soe wold I doe all my fee, For one blast of the westerne wind To blow the smoke from thee.’ 178B.13 But when shee saw the fier Came flaming ore her head, Shee tooke then vpp her children two, Sayes, Babes, we all beene dead! 178B.14 But Adam then he fired the house, A sorrowfull sight to see; Now hath he burned this lady faire And eke her children three. 178B.15 Then Captaine Carre he rode away, He staid noe longer at that tide; He thought that place it was to warme Soe neere for to abide. 178B.16 He calld vnto his merry men all, Bidd them make hast away; ‘For we haue slaine his children three, All and his lady gay.’ 178B.17 Worde came to louly London, To London wheras her lord lay, His castle and his hall was burned, All and his lady gay. 178B.18 Soe hath he done his children three, More dearer vnto him Then either the siluer or the gold, That men soe faine wold win. 178B.19 But when he looket this writing on, Lord, in is hart he was woe! Saies, I will find thee, Captaine Carre, Wether thou ryde or goe! 178B.20 Buske yee, bowne yee, my merrymen all, With tempered swords of steele, For till I haue found out Captaine Carre, My hart it is nothing weele. 178B.21 But when he came to Dractons-borrow, Soe long ere it was day, And ther he found him Captaine Carre; That night he ment to stay. * * * * *

178C: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

 
 178C.*	 * * *
 	 ‘LUK ye to yon hie castel,
 	 Yon hie castel we see;
 	 A woman’s wit’s sun oercum,
 	 She’ll gie up her house to me.’
 178C.2	 She ca’d to her merry men a’,
 	 ‘Bring me my five pistols and my lang gun;’
 	 The first shot the fair lady shot,
 	 She shot seven of Gordon’s men.
 178C.3	 He turned round about his back,
 	 And sware he woud ha his desire,
 	 And if that castel was built of gowd,
 	 It should gang a’ to fire.
 178C.4	 Up then spak her doughter deere,
 	 She had nae mair than she:
 	 ‘Gie up your house, now, mither deere,
 	 The reek it skomfishes me.’
 178C.5	 ‘I’d rather see you birnt,’ said she,
 	 ‘And doun to ashes fa,
 	 Ere I gie up my house to Adam of Gordon,
 	 And to his merry men a’.
 178C.6	 ‘I’ve four and twenty kye
 	 Gaing upo the muir;
 	 I’d gie em for a blast of wind,
 	 The reek it blaws sae sour.’
 178C.7	 Up then spak her little young son,
 	 Sits on the nourrice knee:
 	 ‘Gie up your house, now, mither deere,
 	 The reek it skomfishes me.’
 178C.8	 ‘I’ve twenty four ships
 	 A sailing on the sea;
 	 I’ll gie em for a blast of southern wind,
 	 To blaw the reek frae thee.
 178C.9	 ‘I’d rather see you birnt,’ said she,
 	 ‘And grund as sma as flour,
 	 Eer I gie up my noble house,
 	 To be Adam of Gordon’s hure.’
 	 * * * * *

178D: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

178D.1 IT fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew schrile and cauld, Said Edom o Gordon to his men, We maun draw to a hald. 178D.2 ‘And what an a hald sall we draw to, My merry men and me? We will gae to the house of the Rhodes, To see that fair lady.’ 178D.3 She had nae sooner busket her sell, Nor putten on her gown, Till Edom o Gordon and his men Were round about the town. 178D.4 They had nae sooner sitten down, Nor sooner said the grace, Till Edom o Gordon and his men Were closed about the place. 178D.5 The lady ran up to her tower-head, As fast as she could drie, To see if by her fair speeches She could with him agree. 178D.6 As soon he saw the lady fair, And hir yates all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath, And his heart was aghast. 178D.7 ‘Cum down to me, ye lady fair, Cum down to me; let’s see; This night ye’s ly by my ain side, The morn my bride sall be.’ 178D.8 ‘I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon, I winnae cum down to thee; I winnae forsake my ane dear lord, That is sae far frae me.’ 178D.9 ‘Gi up your house, ye fair lady, Gi up your house to me, Or I will burn yoursel therein, Bot and your babies three.’ 178D.10 ‘I winnae gie up, you fals Gordon, To nae sik traitor as thee, Tho you should burn mysel therein, Bot and my babies three.’ 178D.11 ‘Set fire to the house,’ quoth fals Gordon, ‘Sin better may nae bee; And I will burn hersel therein, Bot and her babies three.’ 178D.12 ‘And ein wae worth ye, Jock my man! I paid ye weil your fee; Why pow ye out my ground-wa-stane, Lets in the reek to me? 178D.13 ‘And ein wae worth ye, Jock my man! For I paid you weil your hire; Why pow ye out my ground-wa-stane, To me lets in the fire?’ 178D.14 ‘Ye paid me weil my hire, lady, Ye paid me weil my fee, But now I’m Edom of Gordon’s man, Maun either do or die.’ 178D.15 O then bespake her youngest son, Sat on the nurses knee, ‘Dear mother, gie owre your house,’ he says, ‘For the reek it worries me.’ 178D.16 ‘I winnae gie up my house, my dear, To nae sik traitor as he; Cum weil, cum wae, my jewels fair, Ye maun tak share wi me.’ 178D.17 O then bespake her dochter dear, She was baith jimp and sma; ‘O row me in a pair o shiets, And tow me owre the wa.’ 178D.18 They rowd her in a pair of shiets, And towd her owre the wa, But on the point of Edom’s speir She gat a deadly fa. 178D.19 O bonny, bonny was hir mouth, And chirry were her cheiks, And clear, clear was hir yellow hair, Whereon the reid bluid dreips! 178D.20 Then wi his speir he turnd hir owr; O gin hir face was wan! He said, You are the first that eer I wist alive again. 178D.21 He turned hir owr and owr again; O gin hir skin was whyte! He said, I might ha spard thy life To been some mans delyte. 178D.22 ‘Busk and boon, my merry men all, For ill dooms I do guess; I cannae luik in that boony face, As it lyes on the grass.’ 178D.23 ‘Them luiks to freits, my master deir, Then freits will follow them; Let it neir be said brave Edom o Gordon Was daunted with a dame.’ 178D.24 O then he spied hir ain deir lord, As he came owr the lee; He saw his castle in a fire, As far as he could see. 178D.25 ‘Put on, put on, my mighty men, As fast as ye can drie! For he that’s hindmost of my men Sall neir get guid o me.’ 178D.26 And some they raid, and some they ran, Fu fast out-owr the plain, But lang, lang eer he coud get up They were a’ deid and slain. 178D.27 But mony were the mudie men Lay gasping on the grien; For o fifty men that Edom brought out There were but five ged heme. 178D.28 And mony were the mudie men Lay gasping on the grien, And mony were the fair ladys Lay lemanless at heme. 178D.29 And round and round the waes he went, Their ashes for to view; At last into the flames he flew, And bad the world adieu.

178E: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

 
 178E.1	 IT fell about the Martinmas time,
 	 When the wind blew shrill and cauld,
 	 Said Captain Gordon to his men,
 	 We’ll a’ draw to som hauld.
 178E.2	 ‘And whatena hauld shall we draw to,
 	 To be the nearest hame?’
 	 ‘We will draw to the ha o bonny Cargarff;
 	 The laird is na at hame.’
 178E.3	 The lady sat on her castle-wa,
 	 Beheld both dale and down;
 	 And she beheld the fause Gordon
 	 Come halycon to the town.
 178E.4	 ‘Now, Lady Cargarff, gie ower yer house,
 	 Gie ower yer house to me;
 	 Now, Lady Cargarff, gie ower yer house,
 	 Or in it you shall die.’
 178E.5	 ‘I’ll no gie ower my bonny house,
 	 To lord nor yet to loun;
 	 I’ll no gie ower my bonny house
 	 To the traitors of Auchindown.’
 	 * * * * *
 178E.6	 Then up and spak her youngest son,
 	 Sat at the nourice’s knee:
 	 ‘O mother dear, gie ower yer house,
 	 For the reek o’t smothers me.’
 178E.7	 ‘I would gie a’ my goud, my child,
 	 Sae would I a’ my fee,
 	 For ae blast o the westlan win,
 	 To blaw the reek frae thee.’
 178E.8	 Then up and spak her eldest heir,
 	 He spak wi muckle pride:
 	 ‘Now mother dear, keep weel yer house,
 	 And I’ll fight by yer side.’

178F: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

178F.1 IT fell about the Martinmas time, When the wind blew snell and cauld, That Adam o Gordon said to his men, Where will we get a hold? 178F.2 See [ye] not where yonder fair castle Stands on yon lily lee? The laird and I hae a deadly feud, The lady fain would I see. 178F.3 As she was up on the househead, Behold, on looking down, She saw Adam o Gordon and his men, Coming riding to the town. 178F.4 The dinner was not well set down, Nor the grace was scarcely said, Till Adam o Gordon and his men About the walls were laid. 178F.5 ‘It’s fause now fa thee, Jock my man! Thou might a let me be; Yon man has lifted the pavement-stone, An let in the low unto me.’ 178F.6 ‘Seven years I served thee, fair ladie, You gave me meat and fee; But now I am Adam o Gordon’s man, An maun either do it or die.’ 178F.7 ‘Come down, come down, my lady Loudoun, Come down thou unto me! I’ll wrap thee on a feather-bed, Thy warrand I shall be.’ 178F.8 ‘I’ll no come down, I’ll no come down, For neither laird no[r] loun; Nor yet for any bloody butcher That lives in Altringham town. 178F.9 ‘I would give the black,’ she says, ‘And so would I the brown, If that Thomas, my only son, Could charge to me a gun.’ 178F.10 Out then spake the lady Margaret, As she stood on the stair; The fire was at her goud garters, The lowe was at her hair. 178F.11 ‘I would give the black,’ she says, ‘And so would I the brown, For a drink of yon water, That runs by Galston Town.’ 178F.12 Out then spake fair Annie, She was baith jimp and sma ‘O row me in a pair o sheets, And tow me down the wa!’ 178F.13 ‘O hold the tongue, thou fair Annie, And let thy talkin be; For thou must stay in this fair castle, And bear thy death with me.’ 178F.14 ‘O mother,’ spoke the lord Thomas, As he sat on the nurse’s knee, ‘O mother, give up this fair castle, Or the reek will worrie me.’ 178F.15 ‘I would rather be burnt to ashes sma, And be cast on yon sea-foam, Before I’d give up this fair castle, And my lord so far from home. 178F.16 ‘My good lord has an army strong, He’s now gone oer the sea; He bad me keep this gay castle, As long as it would keep me. 178F.17 ‘I’ve four-and-twenty brave milk kye, Gangs on yon lily lee; I’d give them a’ for a blast of wind, To blaw the reek from me.’ 178F.18 O pittie on yon fair castle, That’s built with stone and lime! But far mair pittie on Lady Loudoun, And all her children nine!

178G: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

178G.1 IT was in and about the Martinmas time, When the wind blew schill and cauld, That Adam o Gordon said to his men, Whare will we get a hauld? 178G.2 ‘Do ye not see yon bonnie castell, That stands on Loudon lee? The lord and I hae a deadlie feed, And his lady fain wuld I see.’ 178G.3 Lady Campbell was standing in the close, A preenin o her goun, Whan Adam o Gordon and his men Cam riding thro Galston toun. 178G.4 The dinner was na weel set doun, Nor yet the grace weel said, Till Adam o Gordon and a’ his men Around the wa’s war laid. 178G.5 ‘Come doun, come down, Ladie Campbell,’ he said, ‘Come doun and speak to me; I’ll kep thee in a feather bed, And thy warraner I will be.’ 178G.6 ‘I winna come doun and speak to thee, Nor to ony lord nor loun; Nor yet to thee, thou bloody butcher, The laird o Auchruglen toun.’ 178G.7 ‘Come doun, come doun, Ladye Campbell,’ he said, ‘Cum doun and speak to me; I’ll kep thee on the point o my sword, And thy warraner I will be.’ 178G.8 ‘I winna come doun and speak to thee, Nor to ony lord or loun, Nor yet to thee, thou bludie butcher, The laird o Auchruglen toun.’ 178G.9 ‘Syne gin ye winna come doun,’ he said, ‘A’ for to speak to me, I’ll tye the bands around my waist, And fire thy death sall be.’ 178G.10 ‘I’d leifer be burnt in ashes sma, And cuist in yon sea-faem, Or I’d gie up this bonnie castell, And my gude lord frae hame. 178G.11 ‘For my gude lord’s in the army strong, He’s new gane ower the sea; He bade me keep this bonnie castell, As lang’s it wuld keep me.’ 178G.12 ‘Set fire to the house,’ said bauld Gordon, ‘Set fire to the house, my men; We’ll gar Lady Campbell come for to rew As she burns in the flame.’ 178G.13 ‘O wae be to thee, Carmichael,’ she said, ‘And an ilk death may ye die! For ye hae lifted the pavement-stane, And loot up the lowe to me. 178G.14 ‘Seven years ye war about my house, And received both meat and fee:’ ‘And now I’m Adam o Gordon’s man, I maun either do or dee.’ 178G.15 ‘Oh I wad gie the black,’ she said, ‘And I wuld gie the brown, All for ae cup o the cauld water That rins to Galstoun toun.’ 178G.16 Syne out and spak the auld dochter, She was baith jimp and sma: ‘O row me in a pair o sheets, And fling me ower the wa!’ 178G.17 They row’t her in a pair o sheets, And flang her ower the wa, And on the point o Gordon’s sword She gat a deadlie fa. 178G.18 He turned her ower, and ower again, And oh but she looked wan! ‘I think I’ve killed as bonnie a face As ere the sun shined on.’ 178G.19 He turned her ower, and ower again, And oh but she lookt white! ‘I micht hae spared this bonnie face, To hae been some man’s delight!’ 178G.20 Syne out and spak Lady Margaret, As she stood on the stair: ‘The fire is at my gowd garters, And the lowe is at my hair.’ 178G.21 Syne out and spak fair Ladie Ann, Frae childbed whare she lay: ‘Gie up this bonnie castell, mother, And let us win away.’ 178G.22 ‘Lye still, lye still, my fair Annie, And let your talking be; For ye maun stay in this bonnie castell And dree your death wi me.’ 178G.23 ‘Whatever death I am to dree, I winna die my lane: I’ll tak a bairn in ilka arm And the third is in my wame.’ 178G.24 Syne out and spak her youngest son, A bonnie wee boy was he: ‘Gae doun, gae doun, mother,’ he said, ‘Or the lowe will worry me.’ 178G.25 ‘I’d leifer be brent in ashes sma And cuist in yon sea-faem, Or I’d gie up this bonnie castell, And my guid lord frae hame. 178G.26 ‘For my gude lord’s in the army strong, He’s new gane ower the sea; But gin he eer returns again, Revenged my death sall be.’ 178G.27 Syne out and spak her waitin-maid: Receive this babe frae me, And save the saikless babie’s life, And I’ll neer seek mair fee. 178G.28 ‘How can I tak the bairn?’ she said, ‘How can I tak’t?’ said she, ‘For my hair was ance five quarters lang, And ’tis now brent to my bree.’ 178G.29 She rowit it in a feather-bed, And flang it ower the wa, But on the point o Gordon’s sword It gat a deidlie fa. 178G.30 ‘I wuld gie Loudon’s bonnie castell, And Loudon’s bonnie lee, All gin my youngest son Johnnie Could charge a gun to me. 178G.31 ‘Oh, I wuld gie the black,’ she said, ‘And sae wuld I the bay, Gin young Sir George could take a steed And quickly ride away.’ 178G.32 Syne out and spak her auldest son, As he was gaun to die: ‘Send doun your chamber-maid, mother, She gaes wi bairn to me.’ 178G.33 ‘Gin ye were not my eldest son, And heir o a’ my land, I’d tye a sheet around thy neck, And hang thee with my hand. 178G.34 ‘I would gie my twenty gude milk-kye, That feed on Shallow lee, A’ for ae blast o the norland wind, To blaw the lowe frae me.’ 178G.35 Oh was na it a pitie o yon bonnie castell, That was biggit wi stane and lime! But far mair pity o Lady Ann Campbell, That was brunt wi her bairns nine. 178G.36 Three o them war married wives, And three o them were bairns, And three o them were leal maidens, That neer lay in men’s arms. 178G.37 And now Lord Loudon he’s come hame, And a sorry man was he: ‘He micht hae spared my lady’s life, And wreakit himsell on me! 178G.38 ‘But sin we’ve got thee, bauld Gordon, Wild horses shall thee tear, For murdering o my ladie bricht, Besides my children dear.’

178[H]: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

178[H].1 It fell about the Martinmass time, When the wind blew shill and cald, That Adam McGordon said to his men, Where will we get a hall? 178[H.2] ‘There is a hall here near by, Well built with lime and stone; There is a lady there within As white as the . . bone.’ 178[H.3] ‘Seven year and more this lord and I Has had a deadly feud, And now, since her good lord’s frae hame, His place to me she’ll yield.’ 178[H.4] She looked oer her castle-wall, And so she looked down, And saw Adam McGordon and his men Approaching the wood-end. 178[H.5] ‘Steik up, steik up my yett,’ she says, ‘And let my draw-bridge fall; There is meickle treachery Walking about my wall.’ 178[H.6] She had not the sentence past, Nor yet the word well said, When Adam McGordon and his men About the walls were laid. 178[H.7] She looked out at her window, And then she looked down, And then she saw Jack, her own man, Lifting the pavement-stane. 178[H.8] ‘Awa, awa, Jack my man! Seven year I paid you meat and fee, And now you lift the pavement-stane To let in the low to me.’ 178[H.9] ‘I yield, I yield, O lady fair, Seven year ye paid me meat and fee; But now I am Adam McGordon’s man, I must either do or die.’ 178[H.10] ‘If ye be Adam McGordon’s man, As I true well ye be, Prove true unto your own master, And work your will to me.’ 178[H.11] ‘Come down, come down, my lady Campbell, Come down into my hand; Ye shall lye all night by my side, And the morn at my command.’ 178[H.12] ‘I winna come down,’ this lady says, ‘For neither laird nor lown, Nor to no bloody butcher’s son, The Laird of Auchindown. 178[H.13] ‘I wald give all my kine,’ she says, ‘So wald I fifty pound, That Andrew Watty he were here; He would charge me my gun. 178[H.14] ‘He would charge me my gun, And put in bullets three, That I might shoot that cruel traitor That works his wills on me.’ 178[H.15] He shot in, and [s]he shot out, The value of an hour, Until the hall Craigie North Was like to be blawn in the air. 178[H.16] ‘He fired in, and she fired out, The value of houris three, Untill the hall Craigie North The reik went to the sea. 178[H.17] ‘O the frost, and ae the frost, The frost that freezes fell! I cannot stay within my bower, The powder it blaws sae bald.’ 178[H.18] But then spake her oldest son, He was both white and red; ‘O mither dear, yield up your house! We’ll all be burnt to deed.’ 178[H.19] Out then spake the second son, He was both red and fair; ‘O brother dear, would you yield up your house, And you your father’s heir!’ 178[H.20] Out then spake the little babe, Stood at the nurse’s knee; ‘O mither dear, yield up your house! The reik will worry me.’ 178[H.21] Out then speaks the little nurse, The babe upon her knee; ‘O lady, take from me your child! I’ll never crave my fee.’ 178[H.22] ‘Hold thy tongue, thou little nurse, Of thy prating let me bee; For be it death or be it life, Thou shall take share with me. 178[H.23] ‘I wald give a’ my sheep,’ she says, ‘T[hat] . . yon . . s]ha], I had a drink of that wan water That runs down by my wa.’

178[I]: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

178[I].1 It fell about the Martimas time, Fan the wind blue loud an calld, Said Edom of Gordon to his men, We man dra till a hall. 178[I.2] ‘An fatten a hall will we dra tell, My merry men a’ an me? We will to the house of Rothes, An see that gay lady.’ 178[I.3] The lady louked our castell-wa, Beheld the day ga doun, An she saa Edun of Gordon, Fase Edom of Ach[en]doun. 178[I.4] ‘Gee our yer house, ye gay lady, Gee our yer house to me; The night ye’s be my leall leman, The morn my lady free.’ 178[I.5] ‘I winn gee our my bonny house, To leard nor yet to loun, Nor will I gee our my bonny house To fase Edom of Achendoun. 178[I.6] ‘Bat ye gett me Cluny, Gight, or Glack, Or get him young Lesmore, An I ell gee our my bonny house To ony of a’ the four.’ 178[I.7] ‘Ye’s nether gett Cluny, Gight, nor Glack, Nor yet him young Lesmore, An ye man gee our yer bonny house, Winten ony of a’ the four.’ 178[I.8] The ladie shot out of a shot-windou, It didne hurt his head, It only grased his knee . . . . . . 178[I.9] ‘Ye hast, my merry men a’, Gather hathorn an fune, . . . . . . . To see gin this lady will burn.’ 178[I.10] ‘Wai worth ye, Joke, my man! I paid ye well yer fee, An ye tane out the quin -stane, Laten in the fire to me. 178[I.11] ‘Wai worth ye, Joke, my man! I paid ye well yer hair, An ye t[a]en out the qunie-stane, To me laten in the fire.’ 178[I.12] ‘Ye paid me well my meatt, lady, Ye paid me well my fee, Bat nou I am Edom of Gordon’s man, Mane eather dee’d or dree. 178[I.13] ‘Ye paid me well my meatt, lady, Ye paid me well my hire, But nou I am Edom of Gordon’s man, To ye mane lat the fire.’ 178[I.14] Out spak her doughter, She was bath jimp an smaa; ‘Ye take me in a pair of shets, Lat me our the castell-waa.’ 178[I.15] The pat her in a pair of shets, Lute her oure the castell-waa; On the point of Edom of Gordon’s lance She got a deadly faa. 178[I.16] Cherry, cherry was her cheeks, An bonny was her eyen; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178[I.17] He turned her about, . . . . . . . ‘I might haa spared that bonny face To ha ben some man’s delight. 178[I.18] ‘Chirry is yer chik, An bonny is yer eayn; Ye’r the first face I ever saa dead I wist liveng agen.’ 178[I.19] Out spak one of his men, As he stad by a stane; ‘Lat it never be sade brave Edom of Gordon Was dantoned by a dame.’ 178[I.20] Out spake the bonny barn, Ti sat on the nurce’s knee; ‘Gee out yer house, my mider dear, The reak it smothers me.’ 178[I.21] ‘I wad gee a’ my silks,’ she says, ‘That lays in mony a fall, To haa ye on the head of Mont Gannell, To gett three gasps of the call. 178[I.22] ‘I wad gee a’ my goud,’ she says, ‘Far it lays out an in, To haa ye on the head of Mount Ganill, To get three gasps of the wind.’ 178[I.23] . . . . . . . that gued lord, As he came fraa the sea, ‘I see the house of Rothes in fire, God safe my gay ladie!’

179A: Rookhope Ryde

179A.1 ROOKHOPE stands in a pleasant place, If the false thieves wad let it be; But away they steal our goods apace, And ever an ill death may they die! 179A.2 And so is the men of Thirlwa ’nd Williehaver, And all their companies thereabout, That is minded to do mischief, And at their stealing stands not out. 179A.3 But yet we will not slander them all, For there is of them good enough; It is a sore consumed tree That on it bears not one fresh bough. 179A.4 Lord God! is not this a pitiful case, That men dare not drive their goods to t’ fell, But limmer thieves drives them away, That fears neither heaven nor hell? 179A.5 Lord, send us peace into the realm, That every man may live on his own! I trust to God, if it be his will, That Weardale men may never be overthrown. 179A.6 For great troubles they’ve had in hand, With borderers pricking hither and thither, But the greatest fray that eer they had Was with the ’Men’ of Thirlwa ’nd Williehaver. 179A.7 They gatherd together so royally, The stoutest men and the best in gear, And he that rade not on a horse, I wat he rade on a weil-fed mear. 179A.8 So in the morning, before they came out, So well, I wot, they broke their fast; In the [forenoon they came] unto a bye fell, Where some of them did eat their last. 179A.9 When they had eaten aye and done, They sayd some captains here needs must be: Then they choosed forth Harry Corbyl, And ‘Symon Fell,’ and Martin Ridley. 179A.10 Then oer the moss, where as they came, With many a brank and whew, One of them could to another say, ‘I think this day we are men enew. 179A.11 ‘For Weardale men is a journey taen; They are so far out-oer yon fell That some of them’s with the two earls, And others fast in Barnard castell. 179A.12 ‘There we shal get gear enough, For there is nane but women at hame; The sorrowful fend that they can make Is loudly cries as they were slain.’ 179A.13 Then in at Rookhope-head they came, And there they thought tul a had their prey, But they were spy’d coming over the Dry Rig, Soon upon Saint Nicholas’ day. 179A.14 Then in at Rookhope-head they came, They ran the forest but a mile; They gatherd together in four hours Six hundred sheep within a while. 179A.15 And horses I trow they gat But either ane or twa, And they gat them all but ane That belanged to great Rowley. 179A.16 That Rowley was the first man that did them spy; With that he raised a mighty cry; The cry it came down Rookhope burn, And spread through Weardale hasteyly. 179A.17 Then word came to the bailif’s house, At the East Gate, where he did dwell; He was walkd out to the Smale Burns, Which stands above the Hanging Well. 179A.18 His wife was wae when she heard tell, So well she wist her husband wanted gear; She gard saddle him his horse in haste, And neither forgot sword, jack, nor spear. 179A.19 The bailif got wit before his gear came That such news was in the land; He was sore troubled in his heart, That on no earth that he could stand. 179A.20 His brother was hurt three days before, With limmer thieves that did him prick; Nineteen bloody wounds lay him upon; What ferly was’t that he lay sick? 179A.21 But yet the bailif shrinked nought, But fast after them he did hye, And so did all his neighbours near, That went to bear him company. 179A.22 But when the bailiff was gathered, And all his company, They were numberd to never a man But forty [or] under fifty. 179A.23 The thieves was numberd a hundred men, I wat they were not of the worst That could be choosed out of Thirlwa ’nd Williehaver, . . . . 179A.24 But all that was in Rookhope-head, And all that was i Nuketon Cleugh, Where weardale men oertook the thieves, And there they gave them fighting eneugh. 179A.25 So sore they made them fain to flee, As many was ‘a’’ out of hand, And, for tul have been at home again, They would have been in iron bands; 179A.26 And for the space of long seven years, As sore they mighten a had their lives; But there was never one of them That ever thought to have seen their ’wives.’ 179A.27 About the time the fray began, I trow it lasted but an hour, Till many a man lay weaponless, And was sore wounded in that stour. 179A.28 Also before that hour was done, Four of the thieves were slain, Besides all those that wounded were, And eleven prisoners there was taen. 179A.29 George Carrick and his brother Edie, Them two, I wot, they were both slain; Harry Corbyl and Lennie Carrick Bore them company in their pain. 179A.30 One of our Weardale men was slain, Rowland Emerson his name hight; I trust to God his soul is well, Because he ’Fought’ unto the right. 179A.31 But thus they sayd: ‘We’ll not depart While we have one; speed back again!’ And when they came amongst the dead men, There they found George Carrick slain. 179A.32 And when they found George Carrick slain, I wot it went well near their ’Heart;’ Lord, let them never make a better end That comes to play them sicken a ’part!’ 179A.33 I trust to God, no more they shal, Except it be one for a great chance; For God wil punish all those With a great heavy pestilence. 179A.34 Thir limmer thieves, they have good hearts, They nevir think to be oerthrown; Three banners against Weardale men they bare, As if the world had been all their own. 179A.35 Thir Weardale men, they have good hearts, They are as stif as any tree; For, if they’d every one been slain, Never a foot back man would flee. 179A.36 And such a storm amongst them fell As I think you never heard the like, For he that bears his head so high, He oft-times falls into the dyke. 179A.37 And now I do entreat you all, As many as are persent here, To pray for [the] singer of this song, For he sings to make blithe your cheer.

180A: King James and Brown

180A.1 AS I did walke my selfe alone, And by one garden greene, I heard a yonge prince make great moane, Which did turne my hart to teene. 180A.2 ‘O Lord!’ he then said vntou me, ‘Why haue I liued soe long? For yonder comes a cruell Scott,’ Quoth hee, ’that will doe me some ronge.’ 180A.3 And then came traitor Douglas there, He came for to betray his king; Some they brought bills, and some they brought bowes, And some the brought other things. 180A.4 The king was aboue in a gallery, With a heauy heart; Vnto his body was sett about With swords and speares soe sharpe. 180A.5 ‘Be you the lordes of Scottland,’ he said, ‘That hither for councell seeke to me? Or bee you traitors to my crowne, My blood that you wold see?’ 180A.6 ‘Wee are the lords of Scottland,’ they said, ‘Nothing we come to craue of thee; But wee be traitors to thy crowne, Thy blood that wee will see.’ 180A.7 ‘O fye vpon you, you false Scotts! For you neuer all trew wilbe; My grandfather you haue slaine, And caused my mother to flee. 180A.8 ‘My grandfather you haue slaine, And my owne father you hanged on a tree; And now,’ quoth he, ’The like treason You haue now wrought for me. 180A.9 ‘Ffarwell hart, and farwell hand! Farwell all pleasures alsoe! Farwell th . . my head . . . . 180A.10 . . . . . . . . ‘If thou wilt . . And soe goe away with mee.’ 180A.11 ‘Goe marry thy daughter to whome thou wilt,’ Quoth Browne; ’Thou marrys none to me; For I’le not be a traitor,’ quoth Browne, ‘For all the gold that euer I see.’ 180A.12 This Douglas, hearing Browne soe say, Began to flee away full fast; ‘But tarry a while,’ saies lusty Browne, ‘I’le make you to pay before you passe.’ 180A.13 He hath taken the Douglas prisoner, And hath brought him before the king; He kneeled low vpon the knee, For pardon there prainge. 180A.14 ‘How shold I pardon thee,’ saith the king, ‘And thou’le remaine a traitor still? For euer since that I was borne,’ Quoth he, ’Thou hast sought my blood to spill.’ 180A.15 ‘For if you will grant me my pardon,’ he said, ‘Out of this place soe free, I wilbe sworne before your Grace A trew subiect to bee.’ 180A.16 ‘God for-gaue his death,’ said the king, ‘When he was nayled vpon a tree; And as free as euer God forgaue his death, Douglas,’ quoth he, ‘I’le forgiue thee. 180A.17 ‘And all the traitors in Scottland,’ Quoth he, ’Both great and small; As free as euer God forgaue his death, Soe free I will forgiue them all.’ 180A.18 ‘I thanke you for your pardon, king, That you haue granted forth soe plaine; If I liue a twelue month to an end, You shall not aliue remaine. 180A.19 ‘Tomorrow yet, or ere I dine, I meane to doo thee one good turne; For Edenborrow, that is thine owne,’ Quoth he, ‘I will both h[arry] and [burne].’ 180A.20 Thus Douglas hied towards Edenborrow, And many of his men were gone beffore; And after him on euery side, With him there went some twenty score. 180A.21 But when that they did see him come, They cryed lowd with voices, saying, ‘Yonder comes a false traitor, That wold haue slaine our king.’ 180A.22 They chaynd vp the gates of Edenborrow, And there the made them wonderous fast, And there Browne sett on Douglas againe, And quicklye did him ouer cast. 180A.23 But worde came backe againe to the king, With all the speed that euer might bee, That traitor Douglas there was taken, And his body was there to see. 180A.24 ‘Bring me his taker,’ quoth the king, ‘Come, quickly bring him vnto me! I’le giue a thousand pound a yeere, What man soeuer he bee.’ 180A.25 But then they called lusty Browne; Sayes, ‘Browne, come thou hither to mee. How oft hast thou foughten for my sake, And alwayes woone the victory?’ 180A.26 ‘The first time that I fought for you, It was in Edenborrow, king; If there I had not stoutly stood, My leege, you neuer had beene king. 180A.27 ‘The second time I fought for you, Here I will tell you in this place; I killd the sheriffs sonne of Carlile,’ Quoth he, ’That wold haue slaine your Grace. 180A.28 ‘The third time that I fought for you, Here for to let you vnderstand, I slew the Bishopp of St Andrew[s],’ Quoth he, ’with a possat in [his hand],’ 180A.29 . . . quoth hee, ‘That euer my manhood I did trye; I’le make a vow for Englands sake That I will neuer battell flee.’ 180A.30 ‘God amercy, Browne,’ then said the king, ‘And God amercy heartilye! Before I made thee but a knight, But now an earle I will make thee. 180A.31 ‘God saue the queene of England,’ he said, ‘For her blood is verry neshe; As neere vnto her I am As a colloppe shorne from the fleshe. 180A.32 ‘If I be false to England,’ he said, ‘Either in earnest or in iest, I might be likened to a bird,’ Quoth he, ’That did defile it nest.’

181A: The Bonnie Earl o’ Moray

 
 181A.1	 YE Highlands, and ye Lawlands,
 	 Oh where have you been?
 	 They have slain the Earl of Murray,
 	 And they layd him on the green.
 181A.2	 ‘Now wae be to thee, Huntly!
 	 And wherefore did you sae?
 	 I bade you bring him wi you,
 	 But forbade you him to slay.’
 181A.3	 He was a braw gallant,
 	 And he rid at the ring;
 	 And the bonny Earl of Murray,
 	 Oh he might have been a king!
 181A.4	 He was a braw gallant,
 	 And he playd at the ba;
 	 And the bonny Earl of Murray
 	 Was the flower amang them a’.
 181A.5	 He was a braw gallant,
 	 And he playd at the glove;
 	 And the bonny Earl of Murray,
 	 Oh he was the Queen’s love!
 181A.6	 Oh lang will his lady
 	 Look oer the castle Down,
 	 Eer she see the Earl of Murray
 	 Come sounding thro the town!
 	 Eer she, etc.

181B: The Bonnie Earl o’ Moray

 
 181B.1	 ‘OPEN the gates,
 	 and let him come in;
 	 He is my brother Huntly,
 	 he’ll do him nae harm.’
 181B.2	 The gates they were opent,
 	 they let him come in,
 	 But fause traitor Huntly,
 	 he did him great harm.
 181B.3	 He’s ben and ben,
 	 and ben to his bed,
 	 And with a sharp rapier
 	 he stabbed him dead.
 181B.4	 The lady came down the stair,
 	 wringing her hands:
 	 ‘He has slain the Earl o Murray,
 	 the flower o Scotland.’
 181B.5	 But Huntly lap on his horse,
 	 rade to the king:
 	 ‘Ye’re welcome hame, Huntly,
 	 and whare hae ye been?
 181B.6	 ‘Whare hae ye been?
 	 and how hae ye sped?’
 	 ‘I’ve killed the Earl o Murray,
 	 dead in his bed.’
 181B.7	 ‘Foul fa you, Huntly!
 	 and why did ye so?
 	 You might have taen the Earl o Murray,
 	 and saved his life too.’
 181B.8	 ‘Her bread it’s to bake,
 	 her yill is to brew;
 	 My sister’s a widow,
 	 and sair do I rue.
 181B.9	 ‘Her corn grows ripe,
 	 her meadows grow green,
 	 But in bonny Dinnibristle
 	 I darena be seen.’

182A: The Laird of Logie

182A.1 I WILL sing, if ye will hearken, If ye will hearken unto me; The king has taen a poor prisoner, The wanton laird o Young Logie. 182A.2 Young Logie’s laid in Edinburgh chapel, Carmichael’s the keeper o the key; And May Margaret’s lamenting sair, A’ for the love of Young Logie. 182A.3 ‘Lament, lament na, May Margaret, And of your weeping let me be; For ye maun to the king himsell, To seek the life of Young Logie.’ 182A.4 May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding, And she has curld back her yellow hair: ‘If I canna get Young Logie’s life, Farewell to Scotland for evermair!’ 182A.5 When she came before the king, She knelit lowly on her knee: ‘O what’s the matter, May Margaret? And what needs a’ this courtesie?’ 182A.6 ‘A boon, a boon, my noble liege, A boon, a boon, I beg o thee, And the first boon that I come to crave Is to grant me the life of Young Logie.’ 182A.7 ‘O na, O na, May Margaret, Forsooth, and so it mauna be; For a’ the gowd o fair Scotland Shall not save the life of Young Logie.’ 182A.8 But she has stown the king’s redding-kaim, Likewise the queen her wedding knife, And sent the tokens to Carmichael, To cause Young Logie get his life. 182A.9 She sent him a purse o the red gowd, Another o the white monie; She sent him a pistol for each hand, And bade him shoot when he gat free. 182A.10 When he came to the Tolbooth stair, There he let his volley flee; It made the king in his chamber start, Een in the bed where he might be. 182A.11 ‘Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a’, And bid Carmichael come speak to me; For I’ll lay my life the pledge o that That yon’s the shot o Young Logie.’ 182A.12 When Carmichael came before the king, He fell low down upon his knee; The very first word that the king spake Was, Where’s the laird of Young Logie? 182A.13 Carmichael turnd him round about, I wot the tear blinded his ee: ‘There came a token frae your Grace Has taen away the laird frae me.’ 182A.14 ‘Hast thou playd me that, Carmichael? And hast thou playd me that?’ quoth he; ‘The morn the Justice Court’s to stand, And Logie’s place ye maun supplie.’ 182A.15 Carmichael’s awa to Margaret’s bower, Even as fast as he may dree: ‘O if Young Logie be within, Tell him to come and speak with me.’ 182A.16 May Margaret turnd her round about, I wot a loud laugh laughed she: ‘The egg is chippd, the bird is flown, Ye’ll see nae mair of Young Logie.’ 182A.17 The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith, The tother at the Queen’s Ferrie, And she’s gotten a father to her bairn, The wanton laird of Young Logie.

182[A2]: The Laird of Logie

182[A2].1 I will sing, if ye will harken, An ye wad listen unto me; I’ll tell ye of a merry passage Of the wanton laird of Young Logie. 182[A2.2] Young Logie’s laid in Edinborough chapel, Carmichaell’s keeper of the key; I heard a may lamenting sair, All for the laird of Young Logie. 182[A2.3] ‘Lament, lament na, May Margret, And o your weeping let me be; For ye maun to the king your sell, And ask the life of Young Logie.’ 182[A2.4] May Margaret has kilted her green cleeding, And she’s currld back her yellow hair, And she’s away to the king hersell, And adieu to Scotland for ever mair! 182[A2.5] When she came before the king, She fell low down on her knee: ‘It’s what’s your will wi me, May Margret, And what makes all this courtesey?’ ‘Naething, naething, my sovreign liege, But grant me the life of Young Logie.’ 182[A2.6] ‘O no, O no, May Margret, No, in sooth it maun na be; For the morn, or I taste meat or drink, Hee hanged shall Young Logie be.’ 182[A2.7] She has stolen the king’s reeding-comb, But an the queen her wedding-knife, And she has sent it to Carmichaell, To cause Young Logie come by life. 182[A2.8] She sent him a purse of the red gold, Another of the white money, And sent him a pistol into each hand, And bade him shoot when he got fra. 182[A2.9] When he came to the Tolbooth stair, There he loot his volley flee, Which made the king in his chamber start, Even in the chamber where he lay. 182[A2.10] ‘Gae out, gae out, my merrie men, And gar Carmichael come speake wi me, For I’ll lay my life the pledge of that, That yon’s the volley of Young Logie.’ 182[A2.11] When Carmichael came before the king, He fell low down on his knee; The very first word that the king spake, ‘How dois the laird o Young Logie?’ 182[A2.12] Carmichael turnd him round about, A wait the salt tear blint his eye: ‘There came a tacken frae the king Has taen the laird awa frae me.’ 182[A2.13] ‘Hast thou playd me that, Carmichael? Hast thou playd me that?’ quo he; ‘The morn the Justice Court’s to stand, And Logie’s place ye maun supply.’ 182[A2.14] Carmichal’s away to May Margr[e]t’s bower, Een as fast as he may dree: ‘It’s if Young Logie be within, Tell him to come speak to me.’ 182[A2.15] May Margret’s turnd her round about, A wait a loud laughter gae she: ‘The egg is cheeped and the bird is flown, And seek ye the laird of Young Logie.’ 182[A2.16] The one is sheppd at the pier o Leith, The other at the Queen’s Ferry, And she has gotten a father to her bairn, The wanton laird of Young [Logie].

182B: The Laird of Logie

182B.1 O LISTEN, gude peopell, to my tale, Listen to what I tel to thee; The king has taiken a poor prisoner, The wanton laird of Ochiltrie. 182B.2 When news came to our guidly queen, Sche sicht, and said right mournfullie, ‘O what will cum of Lady Margret! Wha beirs sick luve to Ochiltrie.’ 182B.3 Lady Margret tore hir yellow hair When as the queen tald hir the saim: ‘I wis that I had neir bin born, Nor neir had knawn Ochiltrie’s naim!’ 182B.4 ‘Fie, na!’ quoth the queen, ’That maunna be; Fie, na! that maunna be; I’ll fynd ye out a better way To saif the lyfe of Ochiltrie.’ 182B.5 The queen sche trippit up the stair, And lowlie knielt upon hir knie: ‘The first boon which I cum to craive Is the life of gentel Ochiltrie.’ 182B.6 ‘O iff you had askd me castels or towirs, I wad hae gin thaim, twa or thrie; Bot a’ the monie in fair Scotland Winna buy the lyfe of Ochiltrie.’ 182B.7 The queen sche trippit down the stair, And down she gade richt mournfullie: ‘It’s a’ the monie in fair Scotland Winna buy the lyfe of Ochiltrie!’ 182B.8 Lady Margaret tore her yellow hair When as the queen tald hir the saim: ‘I’ll tak a knife and end my lyfe, And be in the grave as soon as him!’ 182B.9 ‘Ah, na! Fie, na!’ quoth the queen, ‘Fie, na! Fie, na! this maunna be; I’ll set ye on a better way To loose and set Ochiltrie frie.’ 182B.10 The queen sche slippit up the stair, And sche gaid up richt privatlie, And sche has stoun the prison-keys, And gane and set Ochiltrie frie. 182B.11 And sche’s gien him a purse of gowd, And another of whyt monie; Sche’s gien him twa pistoles by’s syde, Saying to him, Shute, when ye win frie. 182B.12 And when he cam to the queen’s window, Whaten a joyfou shute gae he! ‘Peace be to our royal queen, And peace be in her companie!’ 182B.13 ‘O whaten a voyce is that?’ quoth the king, ‘Whaten a voyce is that?’ quoth he; ‘Whaten a voyce is that?’ quoth the king; ‘I think it’s the voyce of Ochiltrie. 182B.14 ‘Call to me a’ my gaolours, Call thaim by thirtie and by thrie; Whairfoir the morn, at twelve a clock, It’s hangit schall they ilk ane be.’ 182B.15 ‘O didna ye send your keyis to us? Ye sent thaim be thirtie and be thrie, And wi thaim sent a strait command To set at lairge young Ochiltrie.’ 182B.16 ‘Ah, na! Fie, na!’ quoth the queen, ‘Fie, my dear luve, this maunna be! And iff ye’re gawn to hang thaim a’, Indeed ye maun begin wi me.’ 182B.17 The tane was schippit at the pier of Leith, The ither at the Queen’s Ferrie, And now the lady has gotten hir luve, The winsom laird of Ochiltrie.

182C: The Laird of Logie

182C.1 THE young laird of Logie is to prison cast; Carmichael’s the keeper of the key; Lady Margaret, the queen’s cousin, is very sick, And it’s all for love of Young Logie. 182C.2 She’s into the queen’s chamber gone, She has kneeld low down on her knee; Says she, You must go to the king yourself; It’s all for a pardon to Young Logie. 182C.3 The queen is unto the king’s chamber gone, She has kneeld low down on her knee: ‘O what is the matter, my gracious queen? And what means all this courtesie? 182C.4 ‘Have not I made thee queen of fair Scotland? The queen of England I trow thou be; Have I not made thee my wedded wife? Then what needs all this courtesie?’ 182C.5 ‘You have made me queen of [fair] Scotland, The queen of England I surely be; Since you have made me your wedded wife, Will you grant a pardon for Young Logie?’ 182C.6 The king he turned him right round about, I think an angry man was he: ‘The morrow, before it is twelve o’clock, O hangd shall the laird of Logie be.’ 182C.7 The queen she’s into her chamber gone, Amongst her maries, so frank and free; ‘You may weep, you may weep, Margaret,’ she says, ‘For hanged must the laird of Logie be.’ 182C.8 She has torn her silken scarf and hood, And so has she her yellow hair: ‘Now fare you well, both king and queen, And adieu to Scotland for ever mair!’ 182C.9 She has put off her goun of silk, And so has she her gay clothing: ‘Go fetch me a knife, and I’ll kill myself, Since the laird of Logie is not mine.’ 182C.10 Then out bespoke our gracious queen, And she spoke words most tenderlie; ‘Now hold your hand, Lady Margaret,’ she said, ‘And I’ll try to set Young Logie free.’ 182C.11 She’s up into the king’s chamber gone, And among his nobles so free; ‘Hold away, hold away!’ says our gracious king, ‘No more of your pardons for Young Logie. 182C.12 ‘Had you but askd me for houses and land, I would have given you castles three; Or anything else shall be at your command, But only a pardon for Young Logie.’ 182C.13 ‘Hold your hand now, my sovereign liege, And of your anger let it be; For the innocent blood of Lady Margret It will rest on the head of thee and me.’ 182C.14 The king and queen are gone to their bed, But as he was sleeping so quietly, She has stole the keys from below his head, And has sent to set Young Logie free. 182C.15 Young Logie he’s on horseback got, Of chains and fetters he’s got free; As he passd by the king’s window, There he has fired vollies three. 182C.16 The king he awakend out of his sleep, Out of his bed came hastilie; Says, I’ll lay all my lands and rents That yonder’s the laird of Logie free.’ 182C.17 The king has sent to the prison strong, He has calld for his keepers three; Says, How does all your prisoners? And how does the young laird of Logie? 182C.18 ‘Your Majesty sent me your wedding-ring, With your high command to set him free;’ ‘Then tomorrow, before that I eat or drink, I surely will hang you keepers three.’ 182C.19 Then out bespoke our gracious queen, And she spoke words most tenderlie; ‘If ever you begin to hang a man for this, Your Majesty must begin with me.’ 182C.20 The one took shipping at [the pier of] Leith, The other at the Queen’s Ferrie; Lady Margaret has gotten the man she loves, I mean the young laird of Logie.

182D: The Laird of Logie

182D.1 PRETTY is the story I hae to tell, Pretty is the praisin o itsel, An pretty is the prisner oor king’s tane, The rantin young laird o Logie. 182D.2 Has he brunt? or has he slain? Or has he done any injurie? Oh no, no, he’s done nothing at all, But stown a kiss frae the queen’s marie. 182D.3 Ladie Margaret cam doon the stair, Wringin her hands an tearin her hair; Cryin, Oh, that ever I to Scotland cam, Aye to see Young Logie dee! 182D.4 ‘Had your tongue noo, Lady Margaret, An a’ your weepin lat a bee! For I’ll gae to the king my sell, An plead for life to Young Logie.’ 182D.5 ‘First whan I to Scotland cam, You promised to gie me askens three; The first then o these askens is Life for the young laird o Logie.’ 182D.6 ‘If you had asked house or lands, They suld hae been at your command; But the morn, ere I taste meat or drink, High hanged sall Young Logie be.’ 182D.7 Lady Margaret cam doon the stair, Wringin her hands an tearin her hair; Cryin, Oh, that ever I to Scotland cam, A’ to see Young Logie dee! 182D.8 ‘Haud your tongue noo, Lady Margaret, An a’ your weepin lat a bee! For I’ll counterfiet the king’s hand-write, An steal frae him his right-hand gloe, An send them to Pitcairn’s wa’s, A’ to lat Young Logie free.’ 182D.9 She counterfieted the king’s hand-write, An stole frae him his richt hand gloe, An sent them to Pitcairn’s wa’s, A’ to let Young Logie free. 182D.10 The king luikit owre his castle-wa, Was luikin to see what he cald see: ‘My life to wad an my land to pawn, Yonder comes the young laird o Logie!’ 182D.11 ‘Pardon, oh pardon! my lord the king, Aye I pray you pardon me; For I counterfieted your hand-write, An stole frae you your richt hand gloe, An sent them to Pitcairn’s wa’s, A’ to set Young Logie free.’ 182D.12 ‘If this had been done by laird or lord, Or by baron of high degree, I’se mak it sure, upon my word, His life suld hae gane for Young Logie. 182D.13 ‘But since it is my gracious queen, A hearty pardon we will gie, An for her sake we’ll free the loon, The rantin young laird o Logie.’

182E: The Laird of Logie

 
 182E.1	 MAY MARGARET sits in the queen’s bouir,
 	 Knicking her fingers ane be ane,
 	 Cursing the day that she ere was born,
 	 Or that she ere heard o Logie’s name.

183A: Willie Macintosh

 
 183A.1	 ‘TURN, Willie Macintosh,
 	 Turn, I bid you;
 	 Gin ye burn Auchindown,
 	 Huntly will head you.’
 183A.2	 ‘Head me or hang me,
 	 That canna fley me;
 	 I’ll burn Auchendown
 	 Ere the life lea me.’
 183A.3	 Coming down Deeside,
 	 In a clear morning,
 	 Auchindown was in flame,
 	 Ere the cock-crawing.
 183A.4	 But coming oer Cairn Croom,
 	 And looking down, man,
 	 I saw Willie Macintosh
 	 Burn Auchindown, man,
 183A.5	 ‘Bonny Willie Macintosh,
 	 Whare left ye your men?’
 	 ‘I left them in the Stapler,
 	 But they’ll never come hame.’
 183A.6	 ‘Bonny Willie Macintosh,
 	 Whare now is your men?’
 	 ‘I left them in the Stapler,
 	 Sleeping in their sheen.’

183B: Willie Macintosh

 
 183B.1	 AS I came in by Fiddich-side,
 	 In a May morning,
 	 I met Willie Mackintosh,
 	 An hour before the dawning.
 183B.2	 ‘Turn again, turn again,
 	 Turn again, I bid ye;
 	 If ye burn Auchindown,
 	 Huntly he will head ye.’
 183B.3	 ‘Head me, hang me,
 	 That sall never fear me;
 	 I’ll burn Auchindown
 	 Before the life leaves me.’
 183B.4	 As I came in by Auchindown,
 	 In a may morning,
 	 Auchindown was in a bleeze,
 	 An hour before the dawning.
 	 * * * * *
 183B.5	 Crawing, crawing,
 	 For my crowse crawing,
 	 I lost the best feather i my wing
 	 For my crowse crawing.

184A: The Lads of Wamphray

184A.1 TWIXT the Girthhead and Langwood-end Livd the Galiard and Galiard’s men. 184A.2 It is the lads of Lethenha, The greatest rogues among them a’. 184A.3 It is the lads of Leverhay, That drove the Crichtons’ gier away. 184A.4 It is the lads o the Kirkhill, The gay Galiard and Will o Kirkhill, 184A.5 But and the lads o Stefenbiggin, They broke the house in at the riggin. 184A.6 The lads o Fingland and Hellbackhill, They were neer for good, but aye for ill. 184A.7 Twixt the Staywood Bass and Langside Hill, They stelld the broked cow and branded bull. 184A.8 It is the lads o the Girthhead, The diel’s in them for pride and greed. 184A.9 . . . . . . . . 184A.10 The Galiard is to the stable gane; Instead of the Dun, the Blind he’s taen. 184A.11 ‘Come out now, Simmy o the Side, Come out and see a Johnston ride! 184A.12 ‘Here’s the boniest horse in a’ Nithside, And a gentle Johnston aboon his hide.’ 184A.13 Simmy Crichton’s mounted then, And Crichtons has raised mony a ane. 184A.14 The Galiard thought his horse had been fleet, But they did outstrip him quite out o sight. 184A.15 As soon as the Galiard the Crichton he saw, Beyond the saugh-bush he did draw. 184A.16 The Crichtons there the Galiard hae taen, And nane wi him but Willy alane. 184A.17 ‘O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang, And I vow I’ll neer do a Crichton wrang! 184A.18 ‘O Simmy, Simmy, now let me be, And a peck o goud I’ll gie to thee! 184A.19 ‘O Simmy, Simmy, let me gang, And my wife shall heap it wi her hand!’ 184A.20 But the Crichtons wadna let Willy bee, But they hanged him high upon a tree. 184A.21 O think then Will he was right wae, When he saw his uncle guided sae. 184A.22 ‘But if ever I live Wamphray to see, My uncle’s death revenged shall be!’ 184A.23 Back to Wamphray Willy’s gane, And riders has raised mony a ane. 184A.24 Saying, My lads, if ye’ll be true, Ye’s a’ be clad in the noble blue. 184A.25 Back to Nidsdale they are gane, And away the Crichtons’ nout they hae taen. 184A.26 As they came out at the Wallpath-head, The Crichtons bad them light and lead. 184A.27 And when they came to the Biddess-burn, The Crichtons bad them stand and turn. 184A.28 And when they came to the Biddess-strand, The Crichtons they were hard at hand. 184A.29 But when they cam to the Biddess-law, The Johnstons bad them stand and draw. 184A.30 Out then spake then Willy Kirkhill: ‘Of fighting, lads, ye’s hae your fill.’ 184A.31 Then off his horse Willy he lap, And a burnishd brand in his hand he took. 184A.32 And through the Crichtons Willy he ran, And dang them down both horse and man. 184A.33 O but these lads were wondrous rude, When the Biddess-burn ran three days blood! 184A.34 ‘I think, my lads, we’ve done a noble deed; We have revengd the Galiard’s blood. 184A.35 ‘For every finger o the Galiard’s hand, I vow this day I’ve killed a man.’ 184A.36 And hame for Wamphray they are gane, And away the Crichtons’ nout they’ve taen. 184A.37 ‘Sin we’ve done na hurt, nor we’ll take na wrang, But back to Wamphray we will gang.’ 184A.38 As they came in at Evanhead, At Reaklaw-holm they spred abread. 184A.39 ‘Drive on, my lads, it will be late; We’ll have a pint at Wamphray Gate. 184A.40 ‘For where eer I gang, or eer I ride, The lads o Wamphr[a]y’s on my side. 184A.41 ‘For of a’ the lads that I do ken, The lads o Wamphr[a]y’s king o men.’

185A: Dick o the Cow

185A.1 NOW Liddisdale has lain long in, Fa la There is no rideing there a ta; Fa la Their horse is growing so lidder and fatt That are lazie in the sta. Fa la la didle 185A.2 Then John Armstrang to Willie can say, Billie, a rideing then will we; England and us has been long at a feed; Perhaps we may hitt of some bootie. 185A.3 Then they’r comd on to Hutton Hall, They rade that proper place about; But the laird he was the wiser man, For he had left nae gear without. 185A.4 Then he had left nae gear to steal, Except six sheep upon a lee; Says Johnie, I’de rather in England die Before their six sheep good to Liddesdale with me. 185A.5 ‘But how cald they the man we last with mett, Billie, as we came over the know?’ ‘That same he is an innocent fool, And some men calls him Dick o the Cow.’ 185A.6 ‘That fool has three as good kyne of his own As in a’ Cumberland, billie,’ quoth he: ‘Betide my life, betide my death, These three kyne shal go to Liddisdaile with me.’ 185A.7 Then they’re comd on to the poor fool’s house, And they have broken his wals so wide; They have loosd out Dick o the Cow’s kyne three, And tane three coerlets off his wife’s bed. 185A.8 Then on the morn, when the day grew light, The shouts and crys rose loud and high: ‘Hold thy tongue, my wife,’ he says, ‘And of thy crying let me bee. 185A.9 ‘Hald thy tongue, my wife,’ he says, ‘And of thy crying let me bee, And ay that where thou wants a kow, Good sooth that I shal bring the three.’ 185A.10 Then Dick’s comd on to lord and master, And I wate a drerie fool [was] he: ‘Hald thy tongue, my fool,’ he says, ‘For I may not stand to jest with thee.’ 185A.11 ‘Shame speed a your jesting, my lord,’ quo Dickie, ‘For nae such jesting grees with me; Liddesdaile has been in my house this last night, And they have tane my three kyne from me. 185A.12 ‘But I may nae langer in Cumberland dwel, To be your poor fool and your leel, Unless ye give me leave, my lord, To go to Liddisdale and steal.’ 185A.13 ‘To give thee leave, my fool,’ he says, ‘Thou speaks against mine honour and me; Unless thou give me thy trouth and thy right hand Thou’l steal frae nane but them that sta from thee.’ 185A.14 ‘There is my trouth and my right hand; My head shal hing on Hairibie, I’le never crose Carlele sands again, If I steal frae a man but them that sta frae me.’ 185A.15 Dickie has tane leave at lord and master, And I wate a merrie fool was he; He has bought a bridle and a pair of new spurs, And has packed them up in his breek-thigh. 185A.16 Then Dickie’s come on for Puddinburn, Even as fast as he may drie; Dickie’s come on for Puddinburn, Where there was thirty Armstrongs and three. 185A.17 ‘What’s this comd on me!’ quo Dick, ‘What meakle wae’s this happend on me,’ quo he, ‘Where here is but ae innocent fool, And there is thirty Armstrongs and three!’ 185A.18 Yet he’s comd up to the hall among them all; So wel he became his courtisie: ‘Well may ye be, my good Laird’s Jock! But the deil bless all your companie. 185A.19 ‘I’m come to plain of your man Fair Johnie Armstrong, And syne his billie Willie,’ qou he; ‘How they have been in my house this last night, And they have tane my three ky frae me.’ 185A.20 Quo Johnie Armstrong, We’ll him hang; ‘Nay,’ thain quo Willie, ’we’ll him slae;’ But up bespake another young man, We’le nit him in a four-nooked sheet, Give him his burden of batts, and lett him gae. 185A.21 Then up bespake the good Laird’s Jock, The best falla in the companie: Fitt thy way down a little while, Dick, And a peice of thine own cow’s hough I’l give to thee. 185A.22 But Dicki’s heart it grew so great That never a bitt of it he dought to eat; But Dickie was warr of ane auld peat-house, Where there al the night he thought for to sleep. 185A.23 Then Dickie was warr of that auld peat-house, Where there al the night he thought for to ly; And a’ the prayers the poor fool prayd was, ‘I wish I had a mense for my own three kye!’ 185A.24 Then it was the use of Puddinburn, And the house of Mangertoun, all haile! These that came not at the first call They gott no more meat till the next meall. 185A.25 The lads, that hungry and aevery was, Above the door-head they flang the key; Dickie took good notice to that; Says, There’s a bootie younder for me. 185A.26 Then Dickie’s gane into the stable, Where there stood thirty horse and three; He has ty’d them a’ with St Mary knot, All these horse but barely three. 185A.27 He has ty’d them a’ with St Mary knott, All these horse but barely three; He has loupen on one, taken another in his hand, And out at the door and gane is Dickie. 185A.28 Then on the morn, when the day grew light, The shouts and cryes rose loud and high; ‘What’s that theife?’ quo the good Laird’s Jock; ‘Tel me the truth and the verity. 185A.29 ‘What’s that theife?’ quo the good Laird’s Jock; ‘See unto me ye do not lie:’ ‘Dick o the Cow has been in the stable this last night, And has my brother’s horse and mine frae me.’ 185A.30 ‘Ye wad never be teld it,’ quo the Laird’s Jock; ‘Have ye not found my tales fu leel? Ye wade never out of England bide, Till crooked and blind and a’ wad steal.’ 185A.31 ‘But will thou lend me thy bay?’ Fair John Armstrong can say, ‘There’s nae mae horse loose in the stable but he; And I’le either bring ye Dick o the Kow again, Or the day is come that he must die.’ 185A.32 ‘To lend thee my bay,’ the Laird’s Jock can say, ‘He’s both worth gold and good monie; Dick o the Kow has away twa horse, I wish no thou should no make him three.’ 185A.33 He has tane the Laird’s jack on his back, The twa-handed sword that hang lieugh by his thigh; He has tane the steel cap on his head, And on is he to follow Dickie. 185A.34 Then Dickie was not a mile off the town, I wate a mile but barely three, Till John Armstrang has oertane Dick o the Kow, Hand for hand on Cannobei lee. 185A.35 ‘Abide th[e], bide now, Dickie than, The day is come that thow must die;’ Dickie looked oer his left shoulder; ‘Johnie, has thow any mo in thy company? 185A.36 ‘There is a preacher in owr chapell, And a’ the lee-lang day teaches he; When day is gane, and night is come, There’s never a word I mark but three. 185A.37 ‘The first and second’s Faith and Conscience; The third is, Johnie, Take head of thee; But what faith and conscience had thow, traitor, When thou took my three kye frae me? 185A.38 ‘And when thou had tane my three kye, Thou thought in thy heart thou was no wel sped; But thou sent thi billie Willie oer the know, And he took three coerlets of my wife’s bed.’ 185A.39 Then Johne lett a spear fa leaugh by his thigh, Thought well to run the innocent through; But the powers above was more than his, He ran but the poor fool’s jerkin through. 185A.40 Together they ran or ever they blan-+--+- This was Dickie, the fool, and hee-+--+- Dickie could not win to him with the blade of the sword, But he feld [him] with the plummet under the eye. 185A.41 Now Dickie has [feld] Fair John Armstrong, The prettiest man in the south countrey; ‘Gramercie,’ then can Dickie say, ‘I had twa horse, thou has made me three.’ 185A.42 He has tane the laird’s jack off his back, The twa-handed sword that hang leiugh by his thigh; He has tane the steel cape off his head: ‘Johnie, I’le tel my master I met with thee.’ 185A.43 When John wakend out of his dream, I wate a dreiry man was he: ‘Is thou gane now, Dickie, than? The shame gae in thy company! 185A.44 ‘Is thou gane now, Dickie, than? The shame go in thy companie! For if I should live this hundred year, I shal never fight with a fool after thee.’ 185A.45 Then Dickie comed home to lord and master, Even as fast as he may driee: ‘Now Dickie, I shal neither eat meat nor drink Till high hanged that thou shall be!’ 185A.46 ‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo Dickie, ‘That was no the promise ye made to me; For I’d never gane to Liddesdale to steal Till that I sought my leave at thee.’ 185A.47 ‘But what gart thow steal the Laird’s-Jock’s horse? And, limmer, what gart thou steal him?’ quo he; ‘For lang might thow in Cumberland dwelt Or the Laird’s Jock had stoln ought frae thee.’ 185A.48 ‘Indeed I wate ye leed, my lord, And even so loud as I hear ye lie; I wan him frae his man, Fair John Armstrong, Hand for hand on Cannobie lee. 185A.49 ‘There’s the jack was on his back, The twa-handed sword that hung lewgh by his thigh; There’s the steel cap was on his head; I have a’ these takens to lett you see.’ 185A.50 ‘If that be true thou to me tels-+--+- I trow thou dare not tel a lie-+--+- I’le give thee twenty pound for the good horse, Wel teld in thy cloke-lap shall be. 185A.51 ‘And I’le give thee one of my best milk-kye, To maintain thy wife and children three; [And that may be as good, I think, As ony twa o thine might be.’ 185A.52 ‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo Dicke, ‘Trow ye ay to make a fool of me? I’le either have thirty pound for the good horse, Or els he’s gae to Mattan fair wi me:’ 185A.53 Then he has given him thirty pound for the good horse, All in gold and good monie; He has given him one of his best milk-kye, To maintain his wife and children three. 185A.54 Then Dickie’s come down through Carlile town, Even as fast as he may drie: The first of men that he with mett Was my lord’s brother, Bailife Glazenberrie. 185A.55 ‘Well may ye be, my good Ralph Scrupe!’ ‘Welcome, my brother’s fool!’ quo he; ‘Where did thou gett Fair Johnie Armstrong’s horse?’ ‘Where did I get him but steall him,’ quo he. 185A.56 ‘But will thou sell me Fair Johnie Armstrong[’s] horse? And, billie, will thou sel him to me?’ quo he: ‘Ay, and tel me the monie on my cloke-lap, For there’s not one fathing I’le trust thee.’ 185A.57 ‘I’le give thee fifteen pound for the good horse, Wel told on thy cloke-lap shal be; And I’le give [thee] one of my best milk-kye, To maintain thy wife and children three.’ 185A.58 ‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo Dick, ‘Trow ye ay to make a fool of me?’ quo he: ‘I’le either have thirty pound for the good horse, Or else he’s to Mattan Fair with me.’ 185A.59 He has given him thirty pound for the good horse, All in gold and good monie; He has given him one of his best milk-kye, To maintain his wife and children three. 185A.60 Then Dickie lap a loup on high, And I wate a loud laughter leugh he: ‘I wish the neck of the third horse were browken, For I have a better of my own, and onie better can be.’ 185A.61 Then Dickie comd hame to his wife again; Judge ye how the poor fool he sped; He has given her three score of English pounds For the three auld coerlets was tane of her bed. 185A.62 ‘Hae, take thee there twa as good kye, I trow, as al thy three might be; And yet here is a white-footed naigg; I think he’le carry booth thee and me. 185A.63 ‘But I may no longer in Cumberland dwell; The Armstrongs the’le hang me high:’ But Dickie has tane leave at lord and master, And Burgh under Stanemuir there dwels Dickie.

186A: Kinmont Willie

186A.1 O HAVE ye na heard o the fause Sakelde? O have ye na heard o the keen Lord Scroop? How they hae taen bauld Kinmont Willie, On Hairibee to hang him up? 186A.2 Had Willie had but twenty men, But twenty men as stout as he, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont taen, Wi eight score in his companie. 186A.3 They band his legs beneath the steed, They tied his hands behind his back; They guarded him, fivesome on each side, And they brought him ower the Liddelrack. 186A.4 They led him thro the Liddel-rack, And also thro the carlisle sands; They brought him to Carlisle castell, To be at my Lord Scroope’s commands. 186A.5 ‘My hands are tied, but my tongue is free, And whae will dare this deed avow? Or answer by the border law? Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?’ 186A.6 ‘Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver! There’s never a Scot shall set ye free; Before ye cross my castle-yate, I trow ye shall take farewell o me.’ 186A.7 ‘Fear na ye that, my lord,’ quo Willie; ‘By the faith o my bodie, Lord Scroop,’ he said, ‘I never yet lodged in a hostelrie But I paid my lawing before I gaed.’ 186A.8 Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, In Branksome Ha where that he lay, That Lord Scroope has taen the Kinmont Willie, Between the hours of night and day. 186A.9 He has taen the table wi his hand, He garrd the red wine spring on hie; ‘Now Christ’s curse on my head,’ he said, ‘But avenged of Lord Scroop I’ll be! 186A.10 ‘O is my basnet a widow’s curch? Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree? Or my arm a ladye’s lilye hand? That an English lord should lightly me. 186A.11 ‘And have they taen him Kinmont Willie, Against the truce of Border tide, And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch Is keeper here on the Scottish side? 186A.12 ‘And have they een taen him Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear, And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch Can back a steed, or shake a spear? 186A.13 ‘O were there war between the lands, As well I wot that there is none, I would slight Carlisle castell high, Tho it were builded of marble-stone. 186A.14 ‘I would set that castell in a low, And sloken it with English blood; There’s nevir a man in Cumberland Should ken where Carlisle castell stood. 186A.15 ‘But since nae war’s between the lands, And there is peace, and peace should be, I’ll neither harm English lad or lass, And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!’ 186A.16 He has calld him forty marchmen bauld, I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, calld The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same. 186A.17 He has calld him forty marchmen bauld, Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch, With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, And gleuves of green, and feathers blue. 186A.18 There were five and five before them a’, Wi hunting-horns and bugles bright; And five and five came wi Buccleuch, Like Warden’s men, arrayed for fight. 186A.19 And five and five like a mason-gang, That carried the ladders lang and hie; And five and five like broken men; And so they reached the Woodhouselee. 186A.20 And as we crossd the Bateable Land, When to the English side we held, The first o men that we met wi, Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde! 186A.21 ‘Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?’ Quo fause Sakelde; ’Come tell to me!’ ‘We go to hunt an English stag, Has trespassd on the Scots countrie.’ 186A.22 ‘Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men?’ Quo fause Sakelde; ’Come tell me true!’ ‘We go to catch a rank reiver, Has broken faith wi the bauld Buccleuch.’ 186A.23 ‘Where are ye gaun, ye mason-lads, Wi a’ your ladders lang and hie?’ ‘We gang to herry a corbie’s nest, That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.’ 186A.24 ‘Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?’ Quo fause Sakelde; ’Come tell to me!’ Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, And the nevir a word o lear had he. 186A.25 ‘Why trespass ye on the English side? Row-footed outlaws, stand!’ quo he; The neer a word had Dickie to say, Sae he thrust the lance thro his fause bodie. 186A.26 Then on we held for carlisle toun, And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we crossd; The water was great, and meikle of spait, But the nevir a horse nor man we lost. 186A.27 And when we reachd the Staneshaw-bank, The wind was rising loud and hie; And there the laird garrd leave our steeds, For fear that they should stamp and nie. 186A.28 And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, The wind began full loud to blaw; But ’twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, When we came beneath the castel-wa. 186A.29 We crept on knees, and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders against the wa; And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell To mount the first before us a’. 186A.30 He has taen the watchman by the throat, He flung him down upon the lead: ‘Had there not been peace between our lands, Upon the other side thou hadst gaed. 186A.31 ‘Now sound out, trumpets!’ quo Buccleuch; ‘Let’s waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!’ Then loud the Warden’s trumpets blew ‘O whae dare meddle wi me?’ 186A.32 Then speedilie to wark we gaed, And raised the slogan ane and a’, And cut a hole thro a sheet of lead, And so we wan to the castel-ha. 186A.33 They thought King James and a’ his men Had won the house wi bow and speir; It was but twenty Scots and ten That put a thousand in sic a stear! 186A.34 Wi coulters and wi forehammers, We garrd the bars bang merrilie, Untill we came to the inner prison, Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie. 186A.35 And when we cam to the lower prison, Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie, ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, Upon the morn that thou’s to die?’ 186A.36 ‘O I sleep saft, and I wake aft, It’s lang since sleeping was fleyd frae me; Gie my service back to my wyfe and bairns, And a’ gude fellows that speer for me.’ 186A.37 Then Red Rowan has hente him up, The starkest men in Teviotdale: ‘Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell. 186A.38 ‘Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope! My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!’ he cried; ‘I’ll pay you for my lodging-maill When first we meet on the border-side.’ 186A.39 Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, We bore him down the ladder lang; At every stride Red Rowan made, I wot the Kinmont’s airns playd clang. 186A.40 ‘O mony a time,’ quo Kinmont Willie, ‘I have ridden horse baith wild and wood; But a rougher beast than Red Rowan I ween my legs have neer bestrode. 186A.41 ‘And mony a time,’ quo Kinmont Willie, ‘I’ve pricked a horse out oure the furs; But since the day I backed a steed I nevir wore sic cumbrous spurs.’ 186A.42 We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank, When a’ the Carlisle bells were rung, And a thousand men, in horse and foot, Cam wi the keen Lord Scroope along. 186A.43 Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water, Even where it flowd frae bank to brim, And he has plunged in wi a’ his band, And safely swam them thro the stream. 186A.44 He turned him on the other side, And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he: ‘If ye like na my visit in merry England, In fair Scotland come visit me!’ 186A.45 All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope, He stood as still as rock of stane; He scarcely dared to trew his eyes When thro the water they had gane. 186A.46 ‘He is either himsell a devil frae hell, Or else him mother a witch maun be; I wad na have ridden that wan water For a’ the gowd in Christentie.’

187A: Jock o the Side

187A.1 * * * * * PEETER a Whifield he hath slaine, And Iohn a Side, he is tane, And Iohn is bound both hand and foote, And to the New-castle he is gone. 187A.2 But tydinges came to the Sybill o the Side, By the water-side as shee rann; Shee tooke her kirtle by the hem, And fast shee runn to Mangerton. 187A.3 . . . . The lord was sett downe at his meate; When these tydings shee did him tell, Neuer a morsell might he eate. 187A.4 But lords, the wrunge their fingars white, Ladyes did pull themselues by the haire, Crying, Alas and weladay! For Iohn o the Side wee shall neuer see more. 187A.5 ‘But wee’le goe sell our droues of kine, And after them our oxen sell, And after them our troopes of sheepe, But wee will loose him out of the New Castell.’ 187A.6 But then bespake him Hobby Noble, And spoke these words wonderous hye; Sayes, Giue my fiue men to my selfe, And I’le feitch Iohn o the Side to thee. 187A.7 ‘Yea, thou’st haue fiue, Hobby Noble, Of the best that are in this countrye; I’le giue thee fiue thousand, Hobby Noble, That walke in Tyuidale trulye.’ 187A.8 ‘Nay, I’le haue but fiue,’ saies Hobby Noble, ‘That shall walke away with mee; Wee will ryde like noe men of warr; But like poore badgers wee wilbe.’ 187A.9 They stuffet vp all their baggs with straw, And their steeds barefoot must bee; ‘Come on, my bretheren,’ sayes Hobby Noble, ‘Come on your wayes, and goe with mee.’ 187A.10 And when they came to Culerton ford, The water was vp, they cold it not goe; And then they were ware of a good old man, How his boy and hee were at the plowe. 187A.11 ‘But stand you still,’ sayes Hobby Noble, ‘Stand you still heere at this shore, And I will ryde to Yonder old man, And see w[h]ere the gate it lyes ore. 187A.12 ‘But Christ you saue, father!’ quoth hee, ‘Crist both you saue and see! Where is the way ouer this ford? For Christ’s sake tell itt mee!’ 187A.13 ‘But I haue dwelled heere three score yeere, Soe haue I done three score and three; I neuer sawe man nor horsse goe ore, Except itt were a horse of tree.’ 187A.14 ‘But fare thou well, thou good old man! The devill in hell I leave with thee, Noe better comfort heere this night Thow giues my bretheren heere and me.’ 187A.15 But when he came to his brether againe, And told this tydings full of woe, And then they found a well good gate They might ryde ore by two and two. 187A.16 And when they were come ouer the forde, All safe gotten att the last, ‘Thankes be to God!’ sayes Hobby Nobble, ‘The worst of our perill is past.’ 187A.17 And then they came into Howbrame wood, And there then they found a tree, And cutt itt downe then by the roote; The lenght was thirty foote and three. 187A.18 And four of them did take the planke, As light as it had beene a flee, And carryed itt to the New Castle, Where as Iohn a Side did lye. 187A.19 And some did climbe vp by the walls, And some did climbe vp by the tree, Vntill they came vpp to the top of the castle, Where Iohn made his moane trulye. 187A.20 He sayd, God be with thee, Sybill o the Side! My owne mother thou art, quoth hee; If thou knew this night I were here, A woe woman then woldest thou bee. 187A.21 And fare you well, Lord Mangerton! And euer I say God be with thee! For if you knew this night I were heere, You wold sell your land for to loose mee. 187A.22 And fare thou well, Much, Millers sonne! Much, Millars sonne, I say; Thou has beene better att merke midnight Then euer thou was att noone o the day. 187A.23 And fare thou well, my good Lord Clough! Thou art thy fathers sonne and heire; Thou neuer saw him in all thy liffe But with him durst thou breake a speare. 187A.24 ‘Wee are brothers childer nine or ten, And sisters children ten or eleven. We neuer came to the feild to fight, But the worst of us was counted a man.’ 187A.25 But then bespake him Hoby Noble, And spake these words vnto him; Saies, Sleepest thou, wakest thou, Iohn o the Side, Or art thou this castle within? 187A.26 ‘But who is there,’ quoth Iohn oth Side, ‘That knowes my name soe right and free?’ ‘I am a bastard-brother of thine; This night I am comen for to loose thee.’ 187A.27 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ quoth Iohn o the Side; ‘Itt feares me sore that will not bee; Ffor a pecke of gold and silver,’ Iohn sayd, ‘In faith this night will not loose mee.’ 187A.28 But then bespake him Hobby Noble, And till his brother thus sayd hee; Sayes, Four shall take this matter in hand, And two shall tent our geldings free. 187A.29 Four did breake one dore without, Then Iohn brake fiue himsell; But when they came to the iron dore, It smote twelue vpon the bell. 187A.30 ‘Itt feares me sore,’ sayd Much, the Miller, ‘That heere taken wee all shalbee;’ ‘But goe away, bretheren,’ sayd Iohn a Side, ‘For euer alas! this will not bee.’ 187A.31 ‘But fye vpon thee!’ sayd Hobby Noble; ‘Much, the Miller, fye vpon thee! ‘It sore feares me,’ said Hobby Noble, ‘Man that thou wilt neuer bee.’ 187A.32 But then he had Fflanders files two or three, And hee fyled downe that iron dore, And tooke Iohn out of the New Castle, And sayd, Looke thou neuer come heere more! 187A.33 When he had him forth of the New Castle, ‘Away with me, Iohn, thou shalt ryde:’ But euer alas! itt could not bee; For Iohn cold neither sitt nor stryde. 187A.34 But then he had sheets two or three, And bound Iohns boults fast to his feete, And sett him on a well good steede, Himselfe on another by him seete. 187A.35 Then Hobby Noble smiled and loug[h]e, And spoke these worde in mickle pryde: Thou sitts soe finely on thy geldinge That, Iohn, thou rydes like a bryde. 187A.36 And when they came thorrow Howbrame towne, Iohns horsse there stumbled at a stone; ‘Out and alas!’ cryed Much, the Miller, ‘Iohn, thou’le make vs all be tane.’ 187A.37 ‘But fye vpon thee!’ saies Hobby Noble, ‘Much, the Millar, fye on thee! I know full well,’ sayes Hobby Noble, ‘Man that thou wilt neuer bee.’ 187A.38 And when the came into Howbrame wood, He had Fflanders files two or three To file Iohns bolts beside his feete, That hee might ryde more easilye. 187A.39 Sayes, ‘Iohn, now leape ouer a steede!’ And Iohn then hee lope ouer fiue: ‘I know well,’ sayes Hobby Noble, ‘Iohn, thy fellow is not aliue.’ 187A.40 Then he brought him home to Mangerton; The lord then he was att his meate; But when Iohn o the Side he there did see, For faine hee cold noe more eate. 187A.41 He sayes, Blest be thou, Hobby Noble, That euer thou wast man borne! Thou hast feitched vs home good Iohn oth Side, That was now cleane from vs gone.

187B: Jock o the Side

187B.1 ‘NOW Liddisdale has ridden a raid, But I wat they had better staid at hame; For Mitchel o Winfield he is dead, And my son Johnie is prisner tane.’ With my fa ding diddle, la la dow diddle. 187B.2 For Mangerton House auld Downie is gane; Her coats she has kilted up to her knee, And down the water wi speed she rins, While tears in spaits fa fast frae her eie. 187B.3 Then up and bespake the lord Mangerton: ‘What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?’ ‘Bad news, bad news, my lord Mangerton; Mitchel is killd, and tane they hae my son Johnie.’ 187B.4 ‘Neer fear, sister Downie,’ quo Mangerton; ‘I hae yokes of oxen four and twentie, My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a’ weel filld, And I’ll part wi them a’ ere Johnie shall die. 187B.5 ‘Three men I’ll take to set him free, Weel harnessd a’ wi best o steel; The English rogues may hear, and drie The weight o their braid swords to feel. 187B.6 ‘The Laird’s Jock ane, the Laird’s Wat twa, Oh, Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be; Thy coat is blue, thou has been true, Since England banishd thee, to me.’ 187B.7 Now Hobie was a English man, In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born; But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banishd him neer to return. 187B.8 Lord Mangerton them orders gave, ‘Your horses the wrang way maun a’ be shod; Like gentlemen ye must not seem, But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road. 187B.9 ‘Your armour gude ye maunna shaw, Nor ance appear like men o weir; As country lads be all arrayd, Wi branks and brecham on ilk mare.’ 187B.10 Sae now a’ their horses are shod the wrang way, And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine, Jock his lively bay, Wat’s on his white horse behind, And on they rode for the water o Tyne. 187B.11 At the Choler-ford they a’ light down, And there, wi the help o the light o the moon, A tree they cut, wi fifteen naggs upo ilk side, To climb up the wa o Newcastle town. 187B.12 But when they cam to Newcastle town, And were alighted at the wa, They fand their tree three ells oer laigh, They fand their stick baith short and sma. 187B.13 Then up and spake the Laird’s ain Jock, ‘There’s naething for ’t, the gates we maun force;’ But when they cam the gates unto, A proud porter withstood baith men and horse. 187B.14 His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung, Wi hand or foot he neer playd paw; His life and his keys at anes they hae tane, And cast his body ahind the wa. 187B.15 Now soon they reach Newcastle jail, And to the prisner thus they call: ‘Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o the Side? Or is thou wearied o thy thrall?’ 187B.16 Jock answers thus, wi dolefu tone: Aft, aft I wake, I seldom sleip; But wha’s this kens my name sae weel, And thus to hear my waes do[es] seik? 187B.17 Then up and spake the good Laird’s Jock, ‘Neer fear ye now, my billie,’ quo he; ‘For here’s the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat, And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free.’ 187B.18 ‘Oh, had thy tongue, and speak nae mair, And o thy tawk now let me be! For if a’ Liddisdale were here the night, The morn’s the day that I maun die. 187B.19 ‘Full fifteen stane o Spanish iron They hae laid a’ right sair on me; Wi locks and keys I am fast bound Into this dungeon mirk and drearie.’ 187B.20 ‘Fear ye no that,’ quo the Laird’s Jock; ‘A faint heart neer wan a fair ladie; Work thou within, we’ll work without, And I’ll be bound we set thee free.’ 187B.21 The first strong dore that they came at, They loosed it without a key; The next chaind dore that they cam at, They gard it a’ in flinders flee. 187B.22 The prisner now, upo his back, The Laird’s Jock’s gotten up fu hie; And down the stair him, irons and a’, Wi nae sma speed and joy brings he. 187B.23 ‘Now, Jock, I wat,’ quo Hobie Noble, ‘Part o the weight ye may lay on me;’ ‘I wat weel no,’ quo the Laird’s Jock, ‘I count him lighter than a flee.’ 187B.24 Sae out at the gates they a’ are gane, The prisner’s set on horseback hie; And now wi speed they’ve tane the gate, While ilk ane jokes fu wantonlie. 187B.25 ‘O Jock, sae winsomely’s ye ride, Wi baith your feet upo ae side! Sae weel’s ye’re harnessd, and sae trig! In troth ye sit like ony bride.’ 187B.26 The night, tho wat, they didna mind, But hied them on fu mirrilie, Until they cam to Cholerford brae, Where the water ran like mountains hie. 187B.27 But when they came to Cholerford, There they met with an auld man; Says, Honest man, will the water ride? Tell us in haste, if that ye can. 187B.28 ‘I wat weel no,’ quo the good auld man; ‘Here I hae livd this threty yeirs and three. And I neer yet saw the Tyne sae big, Nor rinning ance sae like a sea.’ 187B.29 Then up and spake the Laird’s saft Wat, The greatest coward in the company; ‘Now halt, now halt, we needna try’t; The day is comd we a’ maun die!’ 187B.30 ‘Poor faint-hearted thief!’ quo the Laird’s Jock, ‘There’ll nae man die but he that’s fie; I’ll lead ye a’ right safely through; Lift ye the prisner on ahint me.’ 187B.31 Sae now the water they a’ hae tane, By anes and twas they a’ swam through; ‘Here are we a’ safe,’ says the Laird’s Jock, ‘And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now?’ 187B.32 They scarce the ither side had won, When twenty men they saw pursue; Frae Newcastle town they had been sent, A’ English lads, right good and true. 187B.33 But when the land-sergeant the water saw, ‘It winna ride, my lads,’ quo he; Then out he cries, Ye the prisner may take, But leave the irons, I pray, to me. 187B.34 ‘I wat weel no,’ cryd the Laird’s Jock, ‘I’ll keep them a’, shoon to my mare they’ll be; My good grey mare, for I am sure, She’s bought them a’ fu dear frae thee.’ 187B.35 Sae now they’re away for Liddisdale, Een as fast as they coud them hie; The prisner’s brought to his ain fire-side, And there o’s airns they make him free. 187B.36 ‘Now, Jock, my billie,’ quo a’ the three, ‘The day was comd thou was to die; But thou’s as weel at thy ain fire-side, Now sitting, I think, tween thee and me.’ 187B.37 They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl, And after it they maun hae anither, And thus the night they a’ hae spent, Just as they had been brither and brither.

187C: Jock o the Side

187C.1 ‘NOW Liddisdale has ridden a rade, But I wat they had a better staid at home; For Michel of Windfield he is slain, And my son Jonny, they have him tane.’ With my fa dow diddle, lal la dow didle 187C.2 Now Downy’s down the water gone, With all her cots unto her arms, And she gave never over swift running Untill she came to Mengertown. 187C.3 Up spack Lord Mengertown and says, What news, what news now, sister Downy? what news hast thou to me? ‘Bad news, bad news, Lord Mengertown, For Michal of Windfield he is slain, and my son Jonny they have him tain.’ 187C.4 Up speaks Lord Mengertown and says, I have four and twenty yoke of oxen, And four and twenty good milk-ky, And three times as mony sheep, And I’ll gie them a’ before my son Jonny die. 187C.5 I will tak three men unto myself; The Laird’s Jack he shall be ane, The Laird’s Wat another, For, Hobbie Noble, thow must be ane. 187C.6 . . . . . thy cot is of the blue; For ever since thou cam to Liddisdale To Mengertown thou hast been true. 187C.7 Now Hobbie hath mounted his frienged gray, And the Laird’s Jack his lively bey, And Watt with the ald horse behind, And they are away as fast as they can ride. 187C.8 Till they are come to the Cholar foord, And there they lighted down; And there they cut a tree with fifty nags upo each side, For to clim Newcastle wall. 187C.9 And when they came there . . It wad not reach by ellish three; ‘There’s nothing for’t,’ says the Laird’s Jack, ‘But forceing o New Castle gate.’ 187C.10 And when they came there, There was a proud porter standing, And I wat they were obliged to wring his neck in twa. 187C.11 Now they are come to New Castle gile: Says they, Sleep thou, wakes thou, John o the Side? 187C.12 Says he, Whiles I wake, but seldom sleep; Who is there that knows my name so well? 187C.13 Up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says, . . . . Here is Jack and Watt and Hobby Noble, Come this night to set thee free. 187C.14 Up speaks John of the Side and says, O hold thy tongue now, billy, and of thy talk now let me be; For if a’ Liddisdale were here this night, The morn is the day that I must die. 187C.15 For their is fifty stone of Spanish iron Laid on me fast wee lock and key, . . . . . . . . 187C.16 Then up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says, A faint heart neer wan a fair lady; Work thou within and we without, And this night we’el set thee free. 187C.17 The first door that they came at They lowsed without either lock or key, . . . . And the next they brock in flinders three. 187C.18 Till now Jack has got the prisner on his back, And down the tolbooth stair came he; . . . . . . . . 187C.19 Up spack Hobby Noble and says, O man, I think thou may lay some weight o the prisner upo me; ‘I wat weel no,’ says the Laird’s Jack, ‘For I do not count him as havy as ane poor flee.’ 187C.20 So now they have set him upo horse back, And says, O now so winsomly as thou dost ride, Just like a bride, wee beth thy feet Unto a side. 187C.21 Now they are away wee him as fast as they can heye, Till they are come to Cholar foord brae head; And they met an ald man, And says, Will the water ride? 187C.22 ‘I wat well no,’ says the ald man, ‘For I have lived here this thirty years and three, . . . . And I think I never saw Tyne running so like a sea.’ 187C.23 Up speaks the Laird’s Watt and says-+--+- The greatest coward of the companie-+--+- . . . . ‘Now, dear billies, the day is come that we must a’ die.’ 187C.24 Up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says, Poor cowardly thief, They will never one die but him that’s fee; . . . . Set the prisner on behind me. 187C.25 So they have tain the water by ane and two, Till they have got safe swumd through. 187C.26 Be they wan safe a’ through, There were twenty men pursueing them from New Castle town. 187C.27 Up speaks the land-sergeant and says, If you be gone with the rog, cast me my irons. 187C.28 ‘I wat weel no,’ says the Laird’s Jack, ‘For I will keep them to shew my good grey mere; . . . . For I am sure she has bought them dear.’ 187C.29 ‘Good sooth,’ says the Laird’s Jack, ‘The worst perel is now past.’ 187C.30 So now they have set him upo hoseback, And away as fast as they could hye, Till they brought him into Liddisdale, And now they have set him down at his own fireside. 187C.31 And says, now John, The day was come that thou was to die, But thou is full as weel sitting at thy own fireside. . . . . 187C.32 And now they are falln to drink, And they drank a whole week one day after another, And if they be not given over, They are all drinking on yet.

187D: Jock o the Side

 
 187D.1	 LIDDISDAILE has ridden a raid,
 	 But they had better ha staid at hame;
 	 For Michael o Wingfield he is slain,
 	 And Jock o the Side they hae taen.
 187D.2	 Dinah’s down the water gane,
 	 Wi a’ her coats untill her knes,
 	 . . . .
 	 To Mangerton came she.
 187D.3	 . . . . .
 	 How now? how now? What’s your will wi me?
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 187D.4	 To the New Castle h[e] is gane.
 187D.5	 They have cuttin their yad’s tailes,
 	 They’ve cut them a little abune the hough,
 	 And they nevir gave oer s. . . . d running
 	 Till they came to Hathery Haugh.
 187D.6	 And when they came to Chollerton ford
 	 Tyne was mair running like a sea.
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 187D.7	 And when they came to Swinburne wood,
 	 Quickly they ha fellen a tree;
 	 Twenty snags on either side,
 	 And on the top it had lang three.
 187D.8	 ‘My mare is young, she wul na swim,’
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 187D.9	 . . . .
 	 ‘Now Mudge the Miller, fie on thee!
 	 Tak thou mine, and I’ll tak thine,
 	 And the deel hang down thy yad and thee.’

188A: Archie o Cawfield

188A.1 LATE in an evening forth as I went, ’Twas on the dawning of the day; I heard two brothers make their moan, I listend well what they did say. 188A.2 . . . . . . . We were three born brethren, There[s] one of us condemnd to die. 188A.3 Then up bespake Jock the laird: ‘If I had but a hundre men, A hundred o th best i Christenty, I wad go on to fair Dumfries, I wad loose my brother and set him free.’ 188A.4 So up bespak then Dicky Ha, He was the wisest o the three: ‘A hundre men we’ll never get, Neither for gold nor fee, But some of them will us betray; They’l neither fight for gold nor fee. 188A.5 ‘Had I but ten well-wight men, Ten o the best i Christenty, I wad gae on to fair Dumfries, I wad loose my brother and set him free. 188A.6 ‘Jocky Ha, our cousin, ’s be the first man’ (For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he); ‘An ever we come till a pinch, He’ll be as good as ony three.’ 188A.7 They mounted ten well-wight men, Ten o the best i Christenty; . . . . . . . . 188A.8 There was horsing and horsing of haste, And cracking o whips out oer the lee, Till they came to fair Barngliss, And they ca’d the smith right quietly. 188A.9 He has shod them a’ their horse, He’s shod them siccer and honestly, And he as turnd the Cawkers backwards oer, Where foremost they were wont to be. 188A.10 And there was horsing, horsing of haste, And cracking of whips out oer the lee, Until they came to the Bonshaw wood, Where they held their council privately. 188A.11 Some says, We’ll gang the Annan road, It is the better road, said they; Up bespak then Dicky Ha, The wisest of that company. 188A.12 ‘Annan road’s a publick road, It’s no the road that makes for me; But we will through at Hoddam ford, It is the better road,’ said he. 188A.13 And there was horsing, horsing o haste, And cracking of whips out oer the lea, Until they came to fair Dumfries, And it was newly strucken three. 188A.14 Up bespake then Jocky Ha, For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he: ‘I have a mare, they ca her Meg, She is the best i Christenty; An ever we come till a pinch, She’ll bring awa both thee and me.’ 188A.15 ‘But five we’ll leave to had our horse, And five will watch, guard for to be; Who is the man,’ said Dicky then, ‘To the prison-door will go with me?’ 188A.16 Up bespak then Jocky Ha, For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he: ‘I am the man,’ said Jocky than, ‘To the prison-door I’ll go with thee.’ 188A.17 They are up the jail-stair, They stepped it right soberly, Until they came to the jail-door; They ca’d the prisoner quietly. 188A.18 ‘O sleeps thou, wakest thou, Archie, my billy? O sleeps thou, wakes thou, dear billy?’ ‘Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I wake; But who’s that knows my name so well?’ [said he.] ‘I am thy brother Dicky,’ he says; ‘This night I’m come to borrow thee.’ 188A.19 But up bespake the prisoner then, And O but he spake woefully! ‘Today had been a justice-court, . . . And a’ Liddesdale were here the night, The morn’s the day at I’se to die.’ 188A.20 ‘What is thy crime, Archie, my billy? What is the crime they lay to thee?’ ‘I brake a spear i the warden’s breast, For saving my master’s land,’ said he. 188A.21 ‘If that be a’ the crime they lay to thee, Archie, my billy, If that be the crime they lay to thee, Work thou within, and me without, And thro good strength I’ll borrow thee.’ 188A.22 ‘I cannot work,billy,’ he says, ‘I cannot work, billy, with thee, For fifteen stone of Spanish iron Lyes fast to me with lock and key.’ 188A.23 When Dicky he heard that, ‘Away, thou crabby chiel!’ cried he; He’s taen the door aye with his foot, And fast he followd it with his knee. Till a’ the bolts the door hung on, O th’ prison-floor he made them flee. 188A.24 ‘Thou’s welcome, welcome, Archy, my billy, Thou’s aye right dear welcome to me; There shall be straiks this day,’ he said, ‘This day or thou be taen from me.’ 188A.25 He’s got the prisoner on o his back, He’s gotten him irons and aw, . . . . . . . 188A.26 Up bespake then Jocky Ha, ‘Let some o th’ prisoner lean on me;’ ‘The diel o there,’ quo Dicky than, ‘He’s no the wightdom of a flea.’ 188A.27 They are on o that gray mare, And they are on o her aw three, And they linked the irons about her neck, And galloped the street right wantonly. 188A.28 ‘To horse, to horse,’ then, a+ell,’ he says, ‘Horse ye with all the might ye may, For the jailor he will waken next; And the prisoners had a’ wan away.’ 188A.29 There was horsing, horsing of haste, And cracking o whips out oer the lea, Until they came to the Bonshaw Shield; There they held their council privately. 188A.30 Some says, ‘We’ll gang the Annan road; It is the better road,’ said they; But up bespak than Dicky Ha, The wisest of that company: 188A.31 ‘Annan road’s a publick road, It’s not the road that makes for me; But we will through at Annan Holme, It is the better road,’ said he; ‘An we were in at Wamfrey Gate, The Johnstones they will a’ help me.’ 188A.32 But Dicky lookd oer his left shoulder, I wait a wiley look gave he; He spied the leiutenant coming, An a hundre men of his company. 188A.33 ‘So horse ye, horse ye, lads!’ he said, ‘O horse ye, sure and siccerly! For yonder is the lieutenant, With a hundred men of his company.’ 188A.34 There was horsing, horsing of haste, And cracking o whips out oer the lea. Until they came to Annan Holme, And it was running like a sea. 188A.35 But up bespake the lieutenant, Until a bonny lad said he, ‘Who is the man,’ said the leiutenant, ‘Rides foremost of yon company?’ 188A.36 Then up bespake the bonny lad, Until the lieutenant said he, ‘Some men do ca him Dicky Ha, Rides foremost of yon company.’ 188A.37 ‘O haste ye, haste ye!’ said the leiutenant, ‘Pursue with a’ the might ye may! For the man had needs to be well saint That comes thro the hands o Dicky Ha.’ 188A.38 But up bespak Jock the laird, ‘This has been a dearsome night to me; I’ve a colt of four years old, I wait he wannelld like the wind; If ever he come to the deep, He will plump down, leave me behind.’ 188A.39 ‘Wae light o thee and thy horse baith, Jock, And even so thy horse and thee! Take thou mine, and I’ll take thine, Foul fa the worst horse i th’ company! I’ll cast the prisoner me behind; There’ll no man die but him that’s fee.’ 188A.40 There they’ve a’ taen the flood, And they have taen it hastily; Dicky was the hindmost took the flood, And foremost on the land stood he. 188A.41 Dicky’s turnd his horse about, And he has turnd it hastilly: ‘Come through, come thro, my lieutenant, Come thro this day, and drink wi me, And thy dinner’s be dressd in Annan Holme, It sall not cost thee one penny.’ 188A.42 ‘I think some witch has bore the, Dicky, Or some devil in hell been thy daddy; I woud not swum that wan water double-horsed, For a’ the gold in Christenty. 188A.43 ‘But throw me thro my irons, Dicky, I wait they cost me full dear;’ ‘O devil be there,’ quo Jocky Hall, ‘They’l be good shoon to my gray mare.’ 188A.44 O up bespoke then Jock the laird, ‘This has been a dearsome night to me; For yesternight the Cawfield was my ain, Landsman again I never sall be.’ 188A.45 ‘Now wae light o thee and thy lands baith, Jock, And even so baith the land and thee! For gear will come and gear will gang, But three brothers again we never were to be.’

188B: Archie o Cawfield

188B.1 AS I was walking mine alane, It was by the dawning o the day, I heard twa brothers make their maine, And I listned well what they did say. 188B.2 The eldest to the youngest said, ‘O dear brother, how can this be! There was three brethren of us born, And one of us is condemnd to die.’ 188B.3 ‘O chuse ye out a hundred men, A hundred men in Christ[e]ndie, And we’ll away to Dumfries town, And set our billie Archie free.’ 188B.4 ‘A hundred men you cannot get, Nor yet sixteen in Christendie; For some of them will us betray, And other some will work for fee. 188B.5 ‘But chuse ye out eleven men, And we ourselves thirteen will be, And we’ill away to Dumfries town, And borrow bony billie Archie.’ 188B.6 There was horsing, horsing in haste, And there was marching upon the lee, Untill they came to the Murraywhat, And they lighted a’ right speedylie. 188B.7 ‘A smith, a smith,!’ Dickie he crys, ‘A smith, a smith, right speedily, To turn back the cakers of our horses feet! For it is forward we woud be.’ 188B.8 There was a horsing, horsing in haste, There was marching on the lee, Untill they came to Dumfries port, And there they lighted right manfulie. 188B.9 ‘There[’s] six of us will hold the horse, And other five watchmen will be; But who is the man among you a’ Will go to the Tolbooth door wi me?’ 188B.10 p then spake Jokie Hall (Fra the laigh of Tiviotdale was he), ‘If it should cost my life this very night, I’ll ga to the Tollbooth door wi thee.’ 188B.11 ‘O sleepst thou, wakest thow, Archie laddie? O sleepst thou, wakest thow, dear billie?’ ‘I sleep but saft, I waken oft, For the morn’s the day that I man die.’ 188B.12 ‘Be o good cheer now, Archie lad, Be o good cheer now, dear billie; Work thow within and I without, And the morn thou’s dine at Cafield wi me.’ 188B.13 ‘O work, O work, Archie?’ he cries, ‘O work, O work? ther’s na working for me; For ther’s fifteen stane o Spanish iron, And it lys fow sair on my body.’ 188B.14 O Jokie Hall stept to the door, And he bended it back upon his knee, And he made the bolts that the door hang on Jump to the wa right wantonlie. 188B.15 He took the prisoner on his back, And down the Tollbooth stairs came he; Out then spak Dickie and said, Let some o the weight fa on me; ‘O shame a ma!’ co Jokie Ha, ‘For he’s no the weight of a poor flee.’ 188B.16 The gray mare stands at the door, And I wat neer a foot stirt she, Till they laid the links out oer her neck, And her girth was the gold-twist to be. 188B.17 And they came down thro Dumfries town, And O but they came bonily! Until they came to Lochmaben port, And they leugh a’ the night manfulie. 188B.18 There was horsing, horsing in haste, And there was marching on the lee, Untill they came to the Murraywhat, And they lihgted a’ right speedilie. 188B.19 ‘A smith, a smith!’ Dickie he cries, ‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie, To file off the shakles fra my dear brother! For it is forward we wad be.’ 188B.20 They had not filtt a shakle of iron, A shakle of iron but barely three, Till out then spake young Simon brave, ‘Ye do na see what I do see. 188B.21 ‘Lo yonder comes Liewtenant Gordon, And a hundred men in his company:’ ‘O wo is me!’ then Archie cries, ‘For I’m the prisoner, and I must die.’ 188B.22 O there was horsing, horsing in haste, And there was marching upon the lee, Untill they came to Annan side, And it was flowing like the sea. 188B.23 ‘I have a colt, and he’s four years old, And he can amble like the wind, But when he comes to the belly deep, He lays himself down on the ground.’ 188B.24 ‘But I have a mare, and they call her Meg, And she’s the best in Christendie; Set ye the prisoner me behind; Ther’ll na man die but he that’s fae!’ 188B.25 Now they did swim that wan water, And O but they swam bonilie! Untill they came to the other side, And they wrang their cloathes right drunk[i]lie. 188B.26 ‘Come through, come through, Lieutenant Gordon! Come through, and drink some wine wi me! For ther’s a ale-house neer hard by, And it shall not cost thee one penny.’ 188B.27 ‘Throw me my irons, Dickie!’ he cries, ‘For I wat they cost me right dear;’ ‘O shame a ma!’ cries Jokie Ha, ‘For they’ll be good shoon to my gray mare.’ 188B.28 ‘Surely thy minnie has been some witch, Or thy dad some warlock has been; Else thow had never attempted such, Or to the bottom thow had gone. 188B.29 ‘Throw me my irons, Dickie!’ he cries, ‘For I wot they cost me dear enough;’ ‘O shame a ma!’ cries Jokie Ha, ‘They’ll be good shakles to my plough.’ 188B.30 ‘Come through, come through, Liewtenant Gordon! Come throw, and drink some wine wi me! For yesterday I was your prisoner, But now the night I am set free.’

188C: Archie o Cawfield

188C.1 AS I walked on a pleasant green-+--+- ’Twas on the first morning of May-+--+- I heard twa brothers make their moan, And hearkend well what they did say. 188C.2 The first he gave a grievous sigh, And said, Alas, and wae is me! We hae a brother condemned to death, And the very morn must hanged be. 188C.3 Then out it speaks him Little Dick, I wat a gude fellow was he: ‘Had I three men unto mysell, Well borrowed shoud Bell Archie be.’ 188C.4 Out it speaks him Johnny Ha, A better fellow by far was he: ‘Ye shall hae six men and yoursell, And me to bear you companie. 188C.5 ‘Twa for keepers o the guard, See that to keep it sickerlie, And twa to come, and twa to gang, And twa to speak wi Bell Archie. 188C.6 ‘But we winna gang like men o weir, Nor yet will we like cavalliers; But we will gang like corn-buyers, And we’ll put brechens on our mares.’ 188C.7 Then they are to the jail-house doors, And they hae tirled at the pin: ‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Bell Archie? Quickly rise, lat us come in.’ 188C.8 ‘I sleep not aft, I lie not saft; Wha’s there that knocks and kens my name?’ ‘It is your brothers Dick and John; Ye’ll open the door, lat us come in.’ 188C.9 ‘Awa, awa, my brethren dear, And ye’ll had far awa frae me; If ye be found at jail-house door, I fear like dogs they’ll gar ye die.’ 188C.10 ‘Ohon, alas! my brother dear, Is this the hearkening ye gie to me? If ye’ll work therein as we thereout, Well borrowd should your body be.’ 188C.11 ‘How can I work therein, therein, Or yet how can I work thereout, When fifty tons o Spanish iron Are my fair body round about?’ 188C.12 He put his fingers to the lock, I wat he handled them sickerlie, And doors of deal, and bands of steel, He gart them all in flinders flee. 188C.13 He’s taen the prisoner in his arms, And he has kissd him cheek and chin: ‘Now since we’ve met, my brother dear, There shall be dunts ere we twa twine.’ 188C.14 He’s taen the prisoner on his back, And a’ his heavy irons tee, But and his marie in his hand, And straight to Annan gate went he. 188C.15 But when they came to Annan water, It was roaring like the sea: ‘O stay a little, Johnny Ha, Here we can neither fecht nor flee. 188C.16 ‘O a refreshment we maun hae, We are baith dry and hungry tee; We’ll gang to Robert’s at the mill, It stands upon yon lily lee.’ 188C.17 Up in the morning the jailor raise, As soon’s ’twas light that he coud see; Wi a pint o wine and a mess sae fine, Into the prison-house went he. 188C.18 When he came to the prison-door, A dreary sight he had to see; The locks were shot, the doors were broke, And a’ the prisoners won free. 188C.19 ‘Ye’ll gae and waken Annan town, Raise up five hundred men and three; And if these rascals may be found, I vow like dogs I’ll gar them die. 188C.20 ‘O dinna ye hear proud Annan roar, Mair loud than ever roard the sea? We’ll get the rascals on this side, Sure they can neither fecht nor flee. 188C.21 ‘Some gar ride, and some gar rin, Wi a’ the haste that ye can make; We’ll get them in some tavern-house, For Annan water they winna take.’ 188C.22 As Little Dick was looking round, All for to see what he could see, Saw the proud sheriff trip the plain, Five hundred men his companie. 188C.23 ‘O fare ye well, my bonny wife, Likewise farewell, my children three! Fare ye well, ye lands o Cafield! For you again I neer will see. 188C.24 ‘For well I kent, ere I came here, That Annan water woud ruin me; My horse is young, he’ll nae lat ride, And in this water I maun die.’ 188C.25 Out it speaks him Johnny Ha, I wat a gude fellow was he: ‘O plague upo your cowardly face! The bluntest man I eer did see. 188C.26 ‘Gie me your horse, take ye my mare, The devil drown my mare and thee! Gie me the prisoner on behind, And nane will die but he that’s fay.’ 188C.27 He quickly lap upo the horse, And strait the stirrups siccarlie, And jumpd upo the other side, Wi the prisoner and his irons tee. 188C.28 The sheriff then came to the bank, And heard its roaring like the sea; Says, How these men they hae got ower, It is a marvel unto me. 188C.29 ‘I wadna venture after them, For a’ the criminals that I see; Nevertheless now, Johnny Ha, Throw ower the fetters unto me.’ 188C.30 ‘Deil part you and the fetters,’ he said, ‘As lang as my mare needs a shee; If she gang barefoot ere they be done, I wish an ill death mat ye die.’ 188C.31 ‘Awa, awa, now Johnny Ha, Your talk to me seems very snell; Your mither’s been some wild rank witch, And you yoursell an imp o hell.’

188D: Archie o Cawfield

188D.1 ‘SEVEN years have I loved my love, And seven years my love’s loved me, But now to-morrow is the day That billy Archie, my love, must die.’ 188D.2 O then out spoke him Little Dickie, And still the best fellow was he: ‘Had I but five men and my self, Then we would borrow billy Archie.’ 188D.3 Out it spoke him Caff o Lin, And still the worst fellow was he: ‘You shall have five men and yourself, And I will bear you companye.’ 188D.4 We will not go like to dragoons, Nor yet will we like grenadiers, But we will go like corn-dealers, And lay our brechams on our meares. 188D.5 ‘And twa of us will watch the road, And other twa will go between, And I will go to jail-house door, And hold the prisoner unthought lang.’ 188D.6 ‘Who is this at jail-house door, So well as they do know the gin?’ ‘It’s I myself,’ [said] him Little Dickie, ‘And oh sae fain’s I would be in!’ 188D.7 ‘Away, away, now, Little Dickie! Away let all your folly be! If the Lord Lieutenant come on you, Like unto dogs he’ll cause you die.’ 188D.8 ‘Hold you, hold you, billy Archie, And now let all your folly be! Tho I die without, you’ll not die within, For borrowed shall your body be.’ 188D.9 ‘Away, away, now, Little Dickie! Away, let all this folly be! An hundred pounds of Spanish irons Is all bound on my fair bodie.’ 188D.10 Wi plough-culters and gavellocks They made the jail-house door to flee; ‘And in God’s name,’ said Little Dickie, ‘Cast you the prisoner behind me!’ 188D.11 They had not rode a great way off, Will all the haste that ever could be, Till they espied the Lord Lieutenant, With a hundred men in’s companie. 188D.12 But when they came to wan water, It now was rumbling like the sea; Then were they got into a strait, As great a strait as well could be. 188D.13 Then out did speak him Caff o Lin, And aye the warst fellow was he: ‘Now God be with my wife and bairns! For fatherless my babes will be. 188D.14 ‘My horse is young, he cannot swim; The water’s deep, and will not wade; My children must be fatherless, My wife a widow, whateer betide.’ 188D.15 hen cried out him Little Dickie, And still the best fellow was he: ‘Take you my mare, I’ll take your horse, And Devil drown my mare and thee!’ 188D.16 Now they have taken the wan water, Tho it was roaring like the sea, And whan they got to the other side, I wot they bragged right crouselie, 188D.17 ‘Come thro, come thro now, Lord Lieutenant! O do come thro, I pray of thee! There is an alehouse not far off, We’ll dine you and your companye.’ 188D.18 ‘Away, away, now, Little Dickie! O now let all your taunting be! There’s not a man in the king’s army That would have tried what’s done by thee. 188D.19 ‘Cast back, cast back my fetters again! Cast back my fetters! I say to thee; And get you gane the way you came, I wish no prisoners like to thee.’ 188D.20 ‘I have a mare, she’s called Meg, The best in all our low countrie; If she gang barefoot till they are done, An ill death may your lordship die!’

188E: Archie o Cawfield

 
 188E.1	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 	 ‘We’ll awa to bonnie Dundee,
 	 And set our brither Archie free.’
 	 * * * * *
 188E.2	 They broke through locks, and they broke through bars,
 	 And they broke through everything that cam in their way,
 	 Until they cam to a big iron gate,
 	 And that’s where brother Archie lay.
 	 [Little John says]
 188E.3	 . . . .
 	 ‘O brither Archie speak to me,
 	 . . . .
 	 For we are come to set ye free.’
 188E.4	 . . . .
 	 ‘Such a thing it canna be,
 	 For there’s fifty pund o gude Spanish airn
 	 Atween my neckbane and my knee.’

188F: Archie o Cawfield

188F.1 AS I walked out one morning in May, Just before the break of day, I heard two brothers a making their moan, And I listened a while to what they did say. I heard, etc. 188F.2 ‘We have a brother in prison,’ said they, ‘Oh in prison lieth he! If we had but ten men just like ourselves, The prisoner we would soon set free.’ 188F.3 ‘Oh, no, no, no!’ Bold Dickie said he, ‘Oh no, no, no, that never can be! For forty men is full little enough And I for to ride in their companie. 188F.4 ‘Ten to hold the horses in, Ten to guard the city about, Ten for to stand at the prison-door, And ten to fetch poor Archer out.’ 188F.5 They mounted their horses, and so rode they, Who but they so merrilie! They rode till they came to a broad river’s side, And there they alighted so manfullie. 188F.6 They mounted their horses, and so swam they, Who but they so merrilie! They swam till they came to the other side, And there they alighted so manfullie. 188F.7 They mounted their horses, and so rode they, Who but they so merrilie! They rode till they came to that prison-door, And then they alighted so manfullie. 188F.8 . . . . . . . . ‘For I have forty men in my companie, And I have come to set you free.’ 188F.9 ‘Oh no, no, no!’ poor Archer says he, ‘Oh no, no, no, that never can be! For I have forty pounds of good Spanish iron Betwixt my ankle and my knee.’ 188F.10 Bold Dickie broke lock, Bold Dickie broke key, Bold Dickie broke everything that he could see; He took poor Archer under one arm, And carried him out so manfullie. 188F.11 They mounted their horses, and so rode they, Who but they so merrilie! They rode till they came to that broad river’s side, And there they alighted so manfullie. 188F.12 ‘Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,’ poor Archer says he, ‘Take my love home to my wife and children three; For my horse grows lame, he cannot swim, And here I see that I must die.’ 188F.13 They shifted their horses, and so swam they, Who but they so merrilie! They swam till they came to the other side, And there they alighted so manfullie. 188F.14 ‘Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,’ poor Archer says he, ‘Look you yonder there and see; For the high-sheriff he is a coming, With an hundred men in his companie.’ 188F.15 ‘Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,’ High-sheriff said he, ‘You’re the damndest rascal that ever I see! Go bring me back the iron you’ve stole, And I will set the prisoner free.’ 188F.16 ‘Oh no, no, no!’ Bold Dickie said he, ‘Oh no, no, no, that never can be! For the iron ’twill do to shoe the horses, The blacksmith rides in our companie.’ 188F.17 ‘Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,’ High-sheriff says he, ‘You’re the damndest rascal that ever I see!’ ‘I thank ye for nothing,’ Bold Dickie says he, ‘And you’re a damned fool for following me.’

189A: Hobie Noble

189A.1 FOUL fa the breast first treason bred in! That Liddisdale may safely say, For in it there was baith meat and drink, And corn unto our geldings gay. Fala la diddle, etc. 189A.2 We were stout-hearted men and true, As England it did often say; But now we may turn our backs and fly, Since brave Noble is seld away. 189A.3 Now Hobie he was an English man, And born into Bewcastle dale, But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banishd him to Liddisdale. 189A.4 At Kershope-foot the tryst was set, Kershope of the lily lee; And there was traitour Sim o the Mains, With him a private companie. 189A.5 Then Hobie has graithd his body weel, I wat it was wi baith good iron and steel; And he has pulld out his fringed grey, And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel. 189A.6 Then Hobie is down the water gane, Een as fast as he may drie; Tho they shoud a’ brusten and broken their hearts, Frae that tryst Noble he would not be. 189A.7 ‘Weel may ye be, my feiries five! And aye, what is your wills wi me?’ Then they cryd a’ wi ae consent, Thou ’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me. 189A.8 Wilt thou with us in England ride? And thy safe-warrand we will be, If we get a horse worth a hyndred punds, Upon his back that thou shalt be. 189A.9 ‘I dare not with you into England ride, The land-sergeant has me at feid; I know not what evil may betide For Peter of Whitfield his brother’s dead. 189A.10 ‘And Anton Shiel, he loves not me, For I gat twa drifts of his sheep; The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not, For nae gear frae me he eer coud keep. 189A.11 ‘But will ye stay till the day gae down, Until the night come oer the grund, And I’ll be a guide worth ony twa That may in Liddisdale be fund. 189A.12 ‘Tho dark the night as pick and tar, I’ll guide ye oer yon hills fu hie, And bring ye a’ in safety back, If you’ll be true and follow me.’ 189A.13 He’s guided them oer moss and muir, Oer hill and houp, and mony ae down, Til they came to the Foulbogshiel, And there brave Noble he lighted down. 189A.14 Then word is gane to the land-sergeant, In Askirton where that he lay: ‘The deer that ye hae hunted lang Is seen into the Waste this day.’ 189A.15 ‘Then Hobie Noble is that deer; I wat he carries the style fu hie! Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back, And set yourselves at little ee. 189A.16 ‘Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn, See they shaft their arrows on the wa! Warn Willeva and Spear Edom, And see the morn they meet me a’. 189A.17 ‘Gar meet me on the Rodrie-haugh, And see it be by break o day; And we will on to Conscowthart Green, For there, I think, w’ll get our prey.’ 189A.18 Then Hobie Noble has dreamd a dream, In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay; He thought his horse was neath him shot, And he himself got hard away. 189A.19 The cocks could crow, and the day could dawn, And I wat so even down fell the rain; If Hobie had no wakend at that time, In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or slain. 189A.20 ‘Get up, get up, my feiries five-+--+- For I wat here makes a fu ill day-+--+- And the warst clock of this companie I hope shall cross the Waste this day.’ 189A.21 Now Hobie thought the gates were clear, But, ever alas! it was not sae; They were beset wi cruel men and keen, That away brave Noble could not gae. 189A.22 ‘Yet follow me, my feiries five, And see of me ye keep good ray, And the worst clock of this companie I hope shall cross the Waste this day.’ 189A.23 There was heaps of men now Hobie before, And other heaps was him behind, That had he been as wight as Wallace was Away brave Noble he could not win. 189A.24 Then Hobie he had but a laddies sword, But he did more than a laddies deed; In the midst of Conscouthart Green, He brake it oer Jers a Wigham’s head. 189A.25 Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble, Wi his ain bowstring they band him sae; And I wat his heart was neer sae sair As when his ain five band him on the brae. 189A.26 They have tane him [on] for West Carlisle; They askd him if he knew the way; Whateer he thought, yet little he said; He knew the way as well as they. 189A.27 They hae tane him up the Ricker-gate; The wives they cast their windows wide, And ilka wife to anither can say, That’s the man loosd Jock o the Side! 189A.28 ‘Fy on ye, women! why ca ye me man? For it’s nae man that I’m usd like; I’m but like a forfoughen hound, Ha been fighting in a dirty syke.’ 189A.29 Then they hae tane him up thro Carlisle town, And set him by the chimney-fire; They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat, And that was little his desire. 189A.30 Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat And after that a can o beer; Then they cried a’, wi ae consent, Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer! 189A.31 Confess my lord’s horse, Hobie, they say, And the morn in Carlisle thou’s no die; ‘How shall I confess them?’ Hobie says, ‘For I never saw them with mine eye.’ 189A.32 n Hobie has sworn a fu great aith, By the day that he was gotten or born, He never had onything o my lord’s That either eat him grass or corn. 189A.33 ‘Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton! For I think again I’ll neer thee see; I wad betray nae lad alive, For a’ the goud in Christentie. 189A.34 ‘And fare thee well now, Liddisdale, Baith the hie land and the law! Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains! For goud and gear he’ll sell ye a’. 189A.35 ‘I’d rather be ca’d Hobie Noble, In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut, Before I were ca’d traitor Mains, That eats and drinks of meal and maut.’

190A: Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead

190A.1 IT fell about the Martinmas tyde, Whan our Border steeds get corn and hay, The Captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde, And he’s ower to Tividale to drive a prey. 190A.2 The first ae guide that they met wi, It was high up in Hardhaughswire; The second guide that they met wi, It was laigh down in Borthwick water. 190A.3 ‘What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?’ ‘Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee; But gin ye’ll gae to the Fair Dodhead, Mony a cow’s cauf I’ll let thee see.’ 190A.4 And when they cam to the Fair Dodhead, Right hastily they clam the peel; They loosed the kye out, ane and a’, And ranshakled the house right weel. 190A.5 Now Jamie Telfer’s heart was sair, The tear aye rowing in his ee; He pled wi the Captain to hae his gear, Or else revenged he wad be. 190A.6 The Captain turned him round and leugh; Said, Man, there’s naething in thy house But ae auld sword without a sheath, That hardly now wad fell a mouse. 190A.7 The sun was na up, but the moon was down, It was the gryming of a new-fa’n snaw; Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot, Between the Dodhead and the Stobs’s Ha. 190A.8 And when he cam to the fair tower-yate, He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot, ‘Whae’s this that brings the fray to me?’ 190A.9 ‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead, And a harried man I think I be; There’s naething left at the Fair Dodhead But a waefu wife and bairnies three.’ 190A.10 ‘Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha, For succour ye’se get nane frae me; Gae seek your succour where ye paid blackmail, For, man, ye neer paid money to me.’ 190A.11 Jamie has turned him round about, I wat the tear blinded his ee: ‘I’ll neer pay mail to Elliot again, And the Fair Dodhead I’ll never see. 190A.12 ‘My hounds may a’ rin masterless, My hawks may fly frae tree to tree, My lord may grip my vassal-lands, For there again maun I never be!’ 190A.13 He has turned him to the Tiviot-side, Een as fast as he could drie, Till he cam to the Coultart Cleugh, And there he shouted baith loud and hie. 190A.14 Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve: ‘Whae’s this that brings the fray to me?’ ‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead, A harried man I trew I be. 190A.15 ‘There’s naething left in the Fair Dodhead But a greeting wife and bairnies three, And sax poor ca’s stand in the sta, A’ routing loud for their minnie.’ 190A.16 ‘Alack a wae!’ quo auld Jock Grieve, ‘Alack, my heart is sair for thee! For I was married on the elder sister, And you on the youngest of a’ the three.’ 190A.17 Then he has taen out a bonny black, Was right weel fed wi corn and hay, And he’s set Jamie Telfer on his back, To the Catslockhill to tak the fray. 190A.18 And whan he cam to the Catslockhill, He shouted loud and cried weel hie, Till out and spak him William’s Wat, ‘O whae’s this brings the fray to me?’ 190A.19 ‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead, A harried man I think I be; The Captain o Bewcastle has driven my gear; For God’s sake, rise and succour me!’ 190A.20 ‘Alas for wae!’ quo William’s Wat, ‘Alack, for thee my heart is sair! I never cam bye the Fair Dodhead That ever I fand thy basket bare.’ 190A.21 He’s set his twa sons on coal-black steeds, Himsel upon a freckled gray, And they are on wi Jamie Telfer, To Branksome Ha to tak the fray. 190A.22 And when they cam to Branksome Ha, They shouted a’ baith loud and hie, Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch, Said, Whae’s this brings the fray to me? 190A.23 ‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead, And a harried man I think I be; There’s nought left in the Fair Dodhead But a greeting wife and bairnies three.’ 190A.24 ‘Alack for wae!’ quo the gude auld lord, ‘And ever my heart is wae for thee! But fye, gar cry on Willie, my son, And see that he cum to me speedilie. 190A.25 ‘Gar warn the water, braid and wide! Gar warn it sune and hastilie! They that winna ride for Telfer’s dye, Let them never look in the face o me! 190A.26 ‘Warn Wat o Harden and his sons, Wi them will Borthwick water ride; Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh, And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside. 190A.27 ‘Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire, And warn the Currors o the Lee; As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack, Warn doughty Willie o Gorrinberry.’ 190A.28 The Scotts they rade, the Scotts they ran, Sae starkly and sae steadilie, And aye the ower-word o the thrang Was, Rise for Branksome readilie! 190A.29 The gear was driven the Frostylee up, Frae the Frostylee unto the plain, Whan Willie has lookd his men before, And saw the kye right fast driving. 190A.30 ‘Whae drives thir kye,’ can Willie say, ‘To make an outspeckle o me?’ ‘It’s I, the Captain o Bewcastle, Willie; I winna layne my name for thee.’ 190A.31 ‘O will ye let Tefler’s kye gae back? Or will ye do aught for regard o me? Or, by the faith of my body,’ quo Willie Scott, ‘I’se ware my dame’s cauf’s skin on thee.’ 190A.32 ‘I winna let the kye gae back, Neither for thy love nor yet thy fear; But I will drive Jamie Telfer’s kye In spite of every Scott that’s here.’ 190A.33 ‘Set on them, lads!’ quo Willie than; ‘Fye, lads, set on them cruellie! For ere they win to the Ritterford, Mony a toom saddle there sall be!’ 190A.34 Then till’t they gaed, wi heart and hand; The blows fell thick as bickering hail; And mony a horse ran masterless, And mony a comely cheek was pale. 190A.35 But Willie was stricken ower the head, And through the knapscap the sword has gane; And Harden grat for very rage, Whan Willie on the grund lay slane. 190A.36 But he’s taen aff his gude steel cap, And thrice he’s waved it in the air; The Dinlay snaw was neer mair white Nor the lyart locks of Harden’s hair. 190A.37 ‘Refenge! revenge!’ auld Wat can cry; ‘Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie! We’ll neer see Tiviot side again, Or Willie’s death revenged sall be.’ 190A.38 O mony a horse ran masterless, The splintered lances flew on hie; But or they wan to the Kershope ford, The Scotts had gotten the victory. 190A.39 John o Brigham there was slane, And John o Barlow, as I hear say, And thirty mae o the Captain’s men Lay bleeding on the grund that day. 190A.40 The Captain was run through the thick of the thigh, And broken was his right leg-bane; If he had lived this hundred years, He had never been loved by woman again. 190A.41 ‘Hae back the kye!’ the Captain said; RR’rrdear kye, I trow, to some they be; For gin I suld live a hundred years There will neer fair lady smile on me.’ 190A.42 Then word is gane to the Captain’s bride, Even in the bower where that she lay, That her lord was prisoner in enemy’s land, Since into Tividale he had led the way. 190A.43 ‘I wad lourd have had a winding-sheet, And helped to put it ower his head, Ere he had been disgraced by the border Scot, Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead!’ 190A.44 There was a wild gallant amang us a’, His name was Watty wi the Wudspurs, Cried, On for his house in Stanegirthside, If ony man will ride with us! 190A.45 When they cam to the Stanegirthside, They dang wi trees and burst the door; They loosed out a’ the Captain’s kye, And set them forth our lads before. 190A.46 There was an auld wyfe ayont the fire, A wee bit o the Captain’s kin: ‘Whae dar loose out the Captain’s kye, Or answer to him and his men?’ 190A.47 ‘It’s I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye, I winna layne my name frae thee; And I will loose out the Captain’s kye In scorn of a’ his men and he.’ 190A.48 Whan they cam to the Fair Dodhead, they were a wellcum sight to see, For instead of his ain ten milk-kye, Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three. 190A.49 And he has paid the rescue-shot, Baith wi gowd and white monie, And at the burial o Willie Scott I wat was mony a weeping ee.

191A: Hughie Graham

191A.1 AS it befell upon one time, About mid-summer of the year, Every man was taxt of his crime, For stealing the good Lord Bishop’s mare. 191A.2 The good Lord Screw he sadled a horse, And rid after this same scrime; Before he did get over the moss, There was he aware of Sir Hugh of the Grime. 191A.3 ‘Turn, O turn, thou false traytor, Turn, and yield thyself unto me; Thou hast stolen the Lord Bishops mare, And now thou thinkest away to flee.’ 191A.4 ‘No, soft, Lord Screw, that may not be! Here is a broad sword by my side, And if that thou canst conquer me, The victory will soon be try’d.’ 191A.5 ‘I ner was afraid of a traytor bold, Although thy name be Hugh in the Grime; I’le make thee repent thy speeches foul, If day and life but give me time.’ 191A.6 ‘Then do thy worst, good Lord Screw, And deal your blows as fast as you can; It will be try’d between me and you Which of us two shall be the best man.’ 191A.7 Thus as they dealt their blows so free, And both so bloody at that time, Over the moss ten yeomen they see, Come for to take Sir Hugh in the Grime. 191A.8 Sir Hugh set his back against a tree, And then the men encompast him round; His mickle sword from his hand did flee, And then they brought Sir Hugh to the ground. 191A.9 Sir Hugh of the Grime now taken is And brought back to Garlard town; [Then cry’d] the good wives all in Garlard town, ‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou ’st ner gang down.’ 191A.10 The good Lord Bishop is come to the town, And on the bench is set so high; And every man was taxt to his crime, At length he called Sir Hugh in the Grime. 191A.11 ‘Here am I, thou false bishop, Thy humours all to fulfill; I do not think my fact so great But thou mayst put it into thy own will.’ 191A.12 The quest of jury-men was calld, The best that was in Garlard town; Eleven of them spoke all in a breast, ‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou ’st ner gang down.’ 191A.13 Then another questry-men was calld, The best that was in Rumary; Twelve of them spoke all in a breast, ‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou’st now guilty.’ 191A.14 Then came down my good Lord Boles, Falling down upon his knee: ‘Five hundred peices of gold would I give, To grant Sir Hugh in the Grime to me.’ 191A.15 ‘Peace, peace, my good Lord Boles, And of your speeches set them by! If there be eleven Grimes all of a name, Then by my own honour they all should dye.’ 191A.16 Then came down my good Lady Ward, Falling low upon her knee: ‘Five hundred measures of gold I’le give, To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to em.’ 191A.17 ‘Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward, None of your proffers shall him buy! For if there be twelve Grimes all of a name, By my own honour they all should dye.’ 191A.18 Sir Hugh of the Grime’s condemnd to dye, And of his friends he had no lack; Fourteen foot he leapt in his ward, His hands bound fast upon his back. 191A.19 Then he lookt over his left shoulder, To see whom he could see or spy; Then was he aware of his father dear, Came tearing his hair most pittifully. 191A.20 ‘Peace, peace, my father dear, And of your speeches set them by! Though they have bereavd me of my life, They cannot bereave me of heaven so high.’ 191A.21 He lookt over his right shoulder, To see whom he could see or spye; There was he aware of his mother dear, Came tearing her hair most pittifully. 191A.22 ‘Pray have me remembred to Peggy, my wife; As she and I walkt over the moor, She was the cause of [the loss of] my life, And with the old bishop she plaid the whore. 191A.23 ‘Here, Johnny Armstrong, take thou my sword, That is made of the mettle so fine, And when thou comst to the border-side, Remember the death of Sir Hugh of the Grime.’

191B: Hughie Graham

191B.1 OUR lords are to the mountains gane, A hunting o the fallow deer, And they hae gripet Hughie Graham, For stealing o the bishop’s mare. 191B.2 And they hae tied him hand and foot, And led him up thro Stirling town; The lads and lasses met him there, Cried, Hughie Graham, thou art a loun! 191B.3 ‘O lowse my right hand free,’ he says, ‘And put my braid sword in the same, He’s no in Stirling town this day Daur tell the tale to Hughie Graham.’ 191B.4 Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord, As he sat by the bishop’s knee: ‘Five hundred white stots I’ll gie you, If ye’ll let Hughie Graham gae free.’ 191B.5 ‘O haud your tongue,’ the bishop says, ‘And wi your pleading let me be! For tho ten Grahams were in his coat, Highie Graham this day shall die.’ 191B.6 Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord, As she sat by the bishop’s knee: ‘Five hundred white pence I’ll gee you, If ye’ll gie Hughie Graham to me.’ 191B.7 ‘O haud your tongue now, lady fair, And wi your pleading let it be! Altho ten Grahams were in his coat, It’s for my honour he maun die.’ 191B.8 They’ve taen him to the gallows-knowe, He looked to the gallows-tree, Yet never colour left his cheek, Nor ever did he blink his ee. 191B.9 At length he looked round about, To see whatever he could spy, And there he saw his auld father, And he was weeping bitterly. 191B.10 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, And wi your weeping let it be! Thy weeping’s sairer on my heart Than a’ that they can do to me. 191B.11 ‘And ye may gie my brother John My sword that’s bent in the middle clear, And let him come at twelve o’clock, And see me pay the bishop’s mare. 191B.12 ‘And ye may gie my brother James My sword that’s bent in the middle brown, And bid him come at four o’clock, And see his brother High cut down. 191B.13 ‘Remember me to Maggy my wife, The niest time ye gang oer the moor; Tell her, she staw the bishop’s mare, Tell her, she was the bishop’s whore. 191B.14 ‘And ye may tell my kith and kin I never did disgrace their blood, And when they meet the bishop’s cloak, To mak it shorter by the hood.’

191C: Hughie Graham

191C.1 GUDE Lord Scroope’s to the hunting gane, He has ridden oer moss and muir, And he has grippet Hughie the Gra+eme, For stealing o the bishop’s mare. 191C.2 ‘Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be! Here hangs a broad sword by my side, And if that thou canst conquer me, The matter it may soon be tryed.’ 191C.3 ‘I neer was afraid of a traitor thief; Although thy name be Hughie the Gra+eme, I’ll make thee repent thee of thy deeds, If God but grant me life and time.’ 191C.4 ‘Then do your worst now, goo Lord Scroope, And deal your blows as hard as you can; It shall be tried, within an hour, Which of us two is the better man.’ 191C.5 But as they were dealing their blows so free, And both so bloody ay the time, Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall, All for to take brave Hughie the Gra+eme. 191C.6 Then they hae grippit Hughie the Gra+eme, And brought him up through Carlisle town; The lasses and lads stood on the walls, Crying, Hughie the Gra+eme, thou’se neer gae down! 191C.7 Then they hae chosen a jury of men, The best that were in Carlisle town, And twelve of them cried out at once, Hughie the Gra+eme, thou must gae down! 191C.8 Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume, As he sat by the judge’s knee: ‘Twenty white owsen, my gude lord, If you’ll grant Hughie the Gra+eme to me.’ 191C.9 ‘O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume, Forsooth and sae it mauna be; For were there but three Gra+emes of the name, They suld be hanged a’ for me.’ 191C.10 RR’rrtwas up and spake the gude Lady Hume, As she sat by the judge’s knee: ‘A peck of white pennies, my good lord judge, If you’ll grant Hughie the Gra+eme to me.’ 191C.11 ‘O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume, Forsooth and so ti mustna be; Were he but the one Gra+eme of the name, He suld be hanged high for me.’ 191C.12 ‘If I be guilty,’ said Hughie the Gra+eme, ‘Of me my friends shall hae small talk;’ And he has loupd fifteen feet and three, Though his hands they were tied behind his back. 191C.13 He looked over his left shoulder, And for to see what he might see; There was he aware of his auld father, Came tearing his hair most piteouslie. 191C.14 ‘O hald your tongue, my father,’ he says, ‘And see that ye dinna weep for me! For they may ravish me of my life, But they canna banish me fro heaven hie. 191C.15 ‘Fare ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife! The last time we came ower the muir ’Twas thou bereft me of my life, And wi the bishop thou playd the whore. 191C.16 ‘Here, Johnnie Armstrang, take thou my sword, That is made o the metal sae fine, And when thou comest to the English side Remember the death of Hughie the Gra+eme.’

191D: Hughie Graham

191D.1 GOOD Lord John is a hunting gone, Over the hills and dales so far, For to take Sir Hugh in the Grime, For stealing of the bishop’s mare. He derry derry down 191D.2 Hugh in the Grime was taken then And carried to Carlisle town; The merry women came out amain, Saying, The name of Grime shall never go down! 191D.3 O then a jury of women was brought, Of the best that could be found; Eleven of them spoke all at once, Saying, The name of Grime shall never go down! 191D.4 And then a jury of men was brought, More the pity for to be! Eleven of them spoke all at once, Saying, Hugh in the Grime, you are guilty. 191D.5 Hugh in the Grime was cast to be hangd, Many of his friends did for him lack; For fifteen foot in the prisin he did jump, With his hands tyed fast behind his back. 191D.6 Then bespoke our good Lady Ward, As she set on the bench so high: ‘A peck of white pennys I’ll give to my lord, If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me. 191D.7 ‘And if it be not full enough, I’ll stroke it up with my silver fan; And if it be not full enough, I’ll heap it up with my own hand.’ 191D.8 ‘Hold your tongue now, Lady Ward, And of your talkitive let it be! There is never a Grime came in this court That at thy bidding shall saved be.’ 191D.9 Then bespoke our good Lady Moor, As she sat on the bench so high: ‘A yoke of fat oxen I’ll give to my lord, If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.’ 191D.10 ‘Hold your tongue now, good Lady Moor, And of your talkitive let it be! There is never a Grime came to this court That at thy bidding shall saved be.’ 191D.11 Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out of the door, With his hand out of the bar; There he spy’d his father dear, Tearing of his golden hair. 191D.12 ‘Hold your tongue, good father dear, And of your weeping let it be! For if they bereave me of my life, They cannot bereave me of the heavens so high.’ 191D.13 Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out at the door, Oh, what a sorry heart had he! There [he] spy’d his mother dear, Weeping and wailing ‘Oh, woe is me!’ 191D.14 Hold your tongue now, mother dear, And of your weeping let it be! For if they bereave me of my life, They cannot bereave me of heaven’s fee. 191D.15 ‘I’ll leave my sword to Johnny Armstrong That is made of mettal so fine, That when he comes to the border-side He may think of Hugh in the Grime.’

191E: Hughie Graham

191E.1 LORD HOME he is a hunting gane, Through the woods and valleys clear, And he has taen Sir Hugh the Gra+eme, For stealing o the bishop’s mare. 191E.2 They hae taen Sir Hugh the Gra+eme, Led him down thro Strieveling town; Fifeteen o them cried a’ at ance, ‘Sir Hugh the Gra+eme he must go down!’ 191E.3 They hae causd a court to sit, Mang a’ their best nobilitie; Fifeteen o them cried a’ at ance, Sir Hugh the Gra+eme he now must die!’ 191E.4 Out is speaks the lady Black, And o her will she was right free: ‘A thousand pounds, my lord, I’ll gie, If Hugh the Gra+eme set free to me.’ 191E.5 ‘Hold your tongue, ye Lady Black, And ye’ll let a’ your pleadings be! Though ye woud gie me thousands ten, It’s for my honour he must die.’ 191E.6 Then out it speaks her Lady Bruce, And o her will she was right free: ‘A hundred steeds, my lord, I’ll gie, If ye’ll gie Hugh the Gra+eme to me.’ 191E.7 ‘O hold your tongue, ye Lady Bruce, And ye’ll let a’ your pleadings be! Though a’ the Gra+emes were in this court, It’s for my honour he must die.’ 191E.8 He looked over his shoulder, It was to see what he coud see, And there he saw his auld father, Weeping and wailing bitterlie. 191E.9 ‘O hold your tongue, my old father, And ye’ll let a’ your mourning be! Though they bereave me o my life, They canno had the heavens frae me. 191E.10 ‘Ye’ll gie my brother John the sword That’s pointed wi the metal clear, And bid him come at eight o’clock, And see me pay the bishop’s mare. 191E.11 ‘And, brother James, take here the sword That’s pointed wi the metal brown; Come up the morn at eight o’clock, And see your brother putten down. 191E.12 ‘And, brother Allan, take this sword That’s pointed wi the metal fine; Come up the morn at eight o’clock, And see the death o Hugh the Gra+eme. 191E.13 ‘Ye’ll tell this news to Maggy my wife, Niest time ye gang to Strievling town, She is the cause I lose my life, She wi the bishop playd the loon.’ 191E.14 Again he ower his shoulder lookd, It was to see what he could see, And there he saw his little son, Was screaming by his nourice knee. 191E.15 Then out it spake the little son, ‘Since ’tis the morn that he must die, If that I live to be a man, My father’s death revengd shall be.’ 191E.16 ‘If I must die,’ Sir Hugh replied, ‘My friends o me they will think lack;’ He leapd a wa eighteen feet high, Wi his hands bound behind his back. 191E.17 Lord Home then raised ten armed men, And after him they did pursue; But he has trudged ower the plain As fast as ony bird that flew. 191E.18 He looked ower his left shoulder, It was to see what he coud see; His brother John was at his back, And a’ thee rest o his brothers three. 191E.19 Some they wound, and some they slew, They fought sae fierce and valiantly; They made his enemies for to yield, And sent Sir Hugh out ower the sea.

191F: Hughie Graham

 
 191F.1	 ‘YE may tell to my wife Maggie,
 	 When that she comes to the fair,
 	 She was the cause of all my ruin,
 	 It was her that stole the bishop’s mare.
 191F.2	 ‘Ye may tell to my wife Maggie,
 	 When that she comes to the town,
 	 She was the cause of all my ruin,
 	 It was her that stole the bishop’s gown.’

191G: Hughie Graham

 
 191G.1	 DUKES an lords a huntin gane,
 	 Over hills an vallies clear;
 	 There the’ve bound him Hughie Grame,
 	 For stealin o the bishop’s mare.

191[H]: Hughie Graham

191[H].1 Lairds and lords a hounting gane, Out-over hills and valleys clear, And there they met Hughie Grame, Was riding on the bishop’s mare. 191[H.2] And they have tied him hand and foot, And they have carried him to Stirling town; The lads and lasses there about Crys, Hughie Grame, you are a lown! 191[H.3] ‘If I be a lown,’ says he, ‘I am sure my friends has had bad luck;’ We that he jumpted fifteen foot, With his hands tied behind his back. 191[H.4] Out and spoke Laidy Whiteford, As she sat by the bishop’s knee; ‘Four-and-twenty milk-kie I’ll give to thee, If Hughie Grame you will let free.’ 191[H.5] ‘Hold your tongue, my laidy Whiteford, And of your pleading now lay by; If fifty Grames were in his coat, Upon my honour he shall die.’ 191[H.6] Out and spoke Lord Whiteford, As he sat by the bishop’s knee; ‘Four-and-twenty stots I’ll give thee, If Hughie Grame you will let free.’ 191[H.7] ‘Hold your tongue, my lord Whiteford, And of your pleading now lay by; If twenty Grames were in his coat, Upon my honour he shall die.’ 191[H.8] ‘You may tell to Meg, my wife, The first time she comes through the mu[ir], She was the causer of my death, For with the bishop [she] plaid the whore. 191[H.9] ‘You may tell to Meg, my wife, The first time she comes through the town, She was the causer of my death, For with the bishop [she ] plaid the lown.’ 191[H.10] He looked oer his left shoulder, To see what he could spy or see, And there he spied his old father, Was weeping bitterly. 191[H.11] ‘Hold your tongue, my dear father, And of your weeping now lay by; They may rub me of my sweet life, But not from me the heavence high. 191[H.12] ‘You may give my brother John The sword that’s of the mettle clear, That he may come the morn at four o clock To see me pay the bishop’s mare. 191[H.13] ‘You may give my brother James The sword that’s of the mettle brown; Tell him to come the morn at four o clock To see his brother Hugh cut down.’ 191[H.14] Up and spoke his oldest son, As he sat by his nurse’s knee; ‘If ere I come to be a man, Revenged for my father[’s] death I’ll be.’

191[I]: Hughie Graham

191[I].1 Ye dukes and lords that hunt and go Out-over moors and mountains clear, And they have taen up poor Hughie Gra+eme, For stealing of the bishope’s mare. 110[I.1b] Fall all the day, fall all the daudy, Fall all the day, fall the daudy O. 191[I.2] They hae tied him hand and foot, They hae led him thro the town; The lads and lassies they all met, Cried, Hughie Gra+eme, ye’ve playd the loon! 191[I.3] ‘O if that I had playd the loon, My friends of me they hae bad luck;’ With that he jumped fifteen feet, Wi his hands tied fast behind his back. 191[I.4] Up then spoke my lady Whiteford, As she sat by the bishope’s knee; ‘Five hundred white pence I’ll give thee, If you let Hughie Gra+eme go free.’ 191[I.5] ‘I’ll hae nane of your hundred pense, And your presents you may lay by; For if Gra+eme was ten times in his coat, By my honour, Hugh shall die.’ 191[I.6] Up then spoke my lord Whiteford, As he sat by the bishope’s knee; ‘Five score of good stotts I’ll thee give, If you’ll sett Hughie Gra+eme but free.’ 191[I.7] ‘I’ll have none of your hundred stotts, And all your presents you may keep to yoursell; ‘For if Gra+eme was ten times in his coat Hugh shall die, and die he shall.’ 191[I.8] Then they hae tied him hand and foot, And they hae led [him] to the gallows high; The lads and lassies they all met, Cried, Hughie Gra+eme, thou art to die! 191[I.9] Now’s he looked oer his left shoulder, All for to see what he could spy, And there he saw his father dear, Stood weeping there most bitterlie. 191[I.10] ‘O hold your tongue now, father,’ he said, ‘And of your weeping lai’d now by; For they can rob me of my life, But they cannot rob me of the heavens high. 191[I.11] ‘But you must give to my brother John The sword that’s bent in the middle clear, And tell him to come at twelve o clock And see me pay the bishope’s mare. 191[I.12] ‘And you may give to my brother James The sword that’s bent in the middle brown, And tell him to come at four o clock And see his brother Hugh cut down. 191[I.13] ‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife, The first time she comes thro the town, She was the occasion of my death And wi the bishope playd the loon. 191[I.14] ‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife, The first time she comes thro the fair, She was the occasion of my death, And from the bishope stole the mare.’

192A: The Lochmaben Harper

192A.1 HEARD ye eer of the silly blind harper, That long livd in Lochmaben town, How he wad gang to fair England, To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown? Sing, Faden dilly and faden dilly Sing, Faden dilly and deedle dan 192A.2 But first he gaed to his gude wife, Wi a’ the speed that he coud thole; ‘This wark,’ quo he, ’will never work Without a mare that has a foal.’ 192A.3 Quo she, Thou has a gude gray mare, That’al rin oer hills baith law and hie; Gae tak the gray mare in thy hand, And leave the foal at hame wi me. 192A.4 ‘And tak a halter in thy hose, And o thy purpose dinna fail; But wap it oer the Wanton’s nose, And tie her to the gray mare’s tail. 192A.5 ‘Syne ca her out at yon back geate, Oer moss and muir and ilka dale; For she’ll neer let the Wanton bite Till she come hame to her ain foal.’ 192A.6 So he is up to England gane, Even as fast as he can hie, Till he came to King Henry’s geate; And wha was there but King Henry? 192A.7 ‘Come in,’ quo he, ’Thou silly blind harper, And of thy harping let me hear;’ ‘O, by my sooth,’ quo the silly blind harper, ‘I’d rather hae stabling for my mare.’ 192A.8 The king he looks oer his left shoulder, And says unto his stable-groom, Gae tak the silly poor harper’s mare, And tie her side my Wanton Brown. 192A.9 And ay he harpit, and ay he carpit, Till a’ the lords had fitted the floor; They thought the music was sae sweet, And they forgot the stable-door. 192A.10 And ay he harpit, and ay he carpit, Till a’ the nobles were sound asleep; Than quietly he took aff his shoon, And safly down the stair did creep. 192A.11 Syne to the stable-door he hies, Wi tread as light as light coud be, And when he opned and gaed in, There he fand thirty gude steads and three. 192A.12 He took the halter frae his hose, And of his purpose did na fail; He slipt it oer the Wanton’s nose, And tied it to his gray mare’s tail. 192A.13 He ca’d her out at yon back geate, Oer moss and muir and ilka dale, And she loot neer the Wanton bite, But held her still gaun at her tail. 192A.14 The gray mare was right swift o fit, And did na fail to find the way, For she was at Lochmaben geate Fu lang three hours ere ’twas day. 192A.15 When she came to the harper’s door, There she gave mony a nicher and sneer; ‘Rise,’ quo the wife, ’Thou lazey lass, Let in thy master and his mare.’ 192A.16 Then up she rose, pat on her claes, And lookit out through the lock-hole; ‘O, by my sooth,’ then quoth the lass, ‘Our mare has gotten a braw big foal!’ 192A.17 ‘Come had thy peace, thou foolish lass, The moon’s but glancing in thy eye; I’ll wad my hail fee against a groat, It’s bigger than eer our foal will be.’ 192A.18 The neighbours too that heard the noise Cried to the wife to put hir in; ‘By my sooth,’ then quo the wife, ‘She’s better than ever he rade on.’ 192A.19 But on the morn, at fair day light, When they had ended a’ thier chear, King Henry’s Wanton Brown was stawn, And eke the poor old harper’s mare. 192A.20 ‘Allace! allace!’ says the silly blind harper, ‘Allace, allace, that I came here! In Scotland I’ve tint a braw cowte-foal, In England they’ve stawn my gude gray mare.’ 192A.21 ‘Come had thy tongue, thou silly blind harper, And of thy allacing let me be; For thou shalt get a better mare, And weel paid shall thy cowte-foal be.’

192B: The Lochmaben Harper

192B.1 HARD ye tell of the silly blind harper? Long he lived in Lochmaben town; He’s away to fair Carlisle, To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown. Sing, Fadle didle dodle didle Sing, Fadle didle fadle doo 192B.2 He has mounted his auld gray mare, And ridden oer both hills and mire, Till he came to fair Carlisle town, And askd for stabling to his mare. 192B.3 ‘Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper, ‘Some of thy harping let us hear;’ ‘By my sooth,’ says the silly blind harper, ‘I would rather hae stabling to my mare.’ 192B.4 The king looked oer his left shoulder And called to his stable-groom: ‘Gae stable up the harper’s mare, And just beyond the Wanton Brown.’ 192B.5 Ay he carped, and ay he harped, Till a’ the lords gaed thro the floor; But and the musick was sae sweet The groom forgot the key o the stable-door. 192B.6 Ay he harped, and ay he carped, Till a’ the lords fell fast asleep, And, like a fause deceiver as he was, He quickly down the stair did creep. 192B.7 He pulld a colt-halter out o his hoe, On purpose as I shall to you tell; He sliped it oer the Wanton’s nose, And tyed it to his gray mare’s tail. 192B.8 ‘My blessing light upon my wife! I think she be a daily flower; She told me to ken my ain gray mare When eer I felt her by the ewer.’ 192B.9 ‘Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper, Some of thy harping let us hear:’ ‘Oh and alas!’ says the silly blind harper, ‘Oh and alas that eer I came here! 192B.10 ‘For in Scotland I lost a good brown foal, And in England a good gray mare, . . . . . . . . . . 192B.11 ‘Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper, Some of thy harping let us hear, And thy brown foal shall be well payed, And thou’s hae a far better gray mare.’ 192B.12 Ay he harped, and ay he carped, And some of his harping he let them hear, And his brown foal it was well payed, And he got a better gray mare. 192B.13 His mare’s away to Lochmaben, Wi mony a nicker and mony a sneer; His wife cry’s, Rise up, you lazy lass, Let in your master and his mare. 192B.14 The lazy lass was loth to rise; She looked through a little hole; ‘By my troth,’ crys the lazy lass, ‘Our mare has brought a bonie foal.’ 192B.15 ‘Rise up, rise up, thou lazy lass, And, een as the sun it shines sae clear, I’ll wager my life against a groat The foal was better than ever the mare.’

192C: The Lochmaben Harper

192C.1 ITRR’rrS hae ye heard tell o the auld harper That lang lived in Lochmaben town, How he maun awa to England fair, To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown? Faw aiden diden an diden an diden Faw aiden diden faw aiden dee 192C.2 Out then bespak his gude auld wife, I wat she spak out very wiselie; ‘Ye’ll ride the mear to England fair, But the foal ye’ll leave at hame wi me. 192C.3 ‘Ye’ll hide your halter in o your hose, And o your purpose ye’ll no fail; Ye’ll cast a hook on the Wanton’s nose, And tie him to the gray mear’s tail. 192C.4 ‘Ye’ll lead them awa by a back yett, And hound them out at a wee hole; The mear she’ll neer [let] the Wanton bait Till hame at Lochmaben town wi her foal.’ 192C.5 Awa then rade the auld harper, I wat he rade right merrilie, Until he cam to England fair, Where wonned the gude King Henerie. 192C.6 ‘Light down, light down, ye auld harper, And some o your harping let me hear; ‘O williwa!’ quo the auld harper, Will I get stabling for my mear?’ * * * * * 192C.7 And aye he harped and he carped, Till a’ the lordlings fell asleep; Syne bundled his fiddles upon his back, And down the stairs fu fast did creep. 192C.8 He’s taen the halter out o his hose, And o his purpose he didna fail; He’s cast a hook on the Wanton’s nose, And tied him to the gray mear’s tale. 192C.9 He’s led them awa by the back yett, And hounded them out at a wee hole; The mear she neer let the Wanton bait Till hame at Lochmaben town wi her foal. 192C.10 And when they cam to the house-end, Wi mony a nicker but an a neigh, They waukend the auld wife out o her sleep; She was a-dreaming she was fouie. 192C.11 ‘Rise up, rise up, my servant-lass, Let in your master and his mear;’ ‘It’s by my sooth,’ the wee lassie goud say, ‘I’m in a sleeping drowsy air.’ 192C.12 Wi mony a graunt she turned her round, And keekit through at a wee hole; ‘It’s by my sooth!’ the wee lassie goud say, ‘Our mear has gotten a braw brown foal!’ 192C.13 Lie still, lie still, ye lazy lass, It’s but the moon shines in your ee;’ ‘Na, by my sooth,’ the lassie goud say, ‘And he’s bigger than ony o his degree.’ 192C.14 Then lightly rose the gude auld wife, I wat the first up in a’ the town; She took the grit oats intil her lap And fodderd King Henry’s Wanton Brown. 192C.15 King Henry’s groom rase in the morn, And he was of a sorry cheer: ‘King Henry’s Wanton Brown’s awa, And sae is the silly auld harper’s mear!’ 192C.16 Up then rase the auld harper, And loudly he did curse and swear: ‘In Scotland they but steald my foal, In England ye hae steald my mear!’ 192C.17 ‘It’s haud your tongue,"] King Henry did say, ‘Ye’ll hae nae cause to curse or swear; Here’s thirty guineas for your foal, And three times thirty for your mear.’

192D: The Lochmaben Harper

192D.1 THERE was a poor silly harper-man, And he lived in Lochmaben toon, And he has wagered wi lairds and lords, And mony a guinea against a croon. Tum tid iddly Dodaly diddely Tidaly diddaly Dodaly dan 192D.2 And he has wagered wi lairds and lords, And mony a guinea against a croon, That into England he would go. And steal King Henerie’s Wanton Broun. 192D.3 Out spak the silly poor harper’s wife, And O but she spak wililie: ‘If into England you do go, Leave the wee-wee foal wi me.’ 192D.4 The harper he got on to ride, And O but he rode richt highlie! The very first man that he did meet, They said it was King Henerie. 192D.5 ‘Licht doon, licht doon, ye silly poor harper, And o your harping let me hear;’ ‘And by my sooth,’ quoth the silly poor harper, ‘I’d rather hae stabling for my mear.’ 192D.6 O he lookit ower his left shoulder, And saw ane of the stable-grooms: ‘Go take the sillie poor harper’s mear, And stable her by my Wanton Brown.’ 192D.7 And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit, Till a’ the nobles fell on the floor, And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit, Till they forgot the key of the stabel-door. 192D.8 And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit, Till a’ the nobles fell fast asleep; He has taen his harp upon his back, And doon the stair did softly creep. 192D.9 He has taen a halter frae his hose, And o his purpose did not fail; He coost a wap on Wanton’s nose, And tyed her to his ain mear’s tail. 192D.10 He ca’d her through at the bye-yett, Through mony a syre and mony a hole; She never loot Wanton licht till she Was at Lochmaben, at her foal. 192D.11 And she came oer Lochmaben heights, Wi mony a nicker and mony a sneeze, And waukend the silly poor harper’s wife, As she was a sleeping at her ease. 192D.12 ‘Rise up, rise up, ye servant-lass, Let in the maister and the mear;’ ‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass, ‘I think my maister be na here.’ 192D.13 Up then rose the servant-lass, And lookit through a wee, wee hole; ‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass, ‘Our mear has gotten a waly foal.’ 192D.14 ‘Ye clatter, ye clatter, ye servant-lass, It is the moon shines in your ee;’ ‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass, ‘It’s mair than ever her ain will be.’ 192D.15 It’s whan the stable-groom awoke, Put a’ the nobles in a fear; King Henerie’s Wanton Brown was stown, And Oh! the silly poor harper’s mear. 192D.16 Out then spak the silly poor harper, Says, Oh, this loos I douna thole! In England fair a guid grey mear, In fair Scotland a guid cout-foal. 192D.17 ‘Haud your tongue, ye sillie poor harper, And wi your carping let me be; Here’s ten pounds for your auld gray mear, And a weel paid foal it’s be to thee!’ 192D.18 And O the silly poor harper’s wife, She’s aye first up in Lochmaben toun; She’s stealing the corn and stealing the hay, And wappin it oer to Wanton Broun.

192E: The Lochmaben Harper

192E.1 THERE was a jolly harper-man, That harped aye frae toun to toun; A wager he made, with two knights he laid To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown. 192E.2 Sir Roger he wagered five ploughs o land, Sir Charles wagered five thousand pound, And John he’s taen the deed in hand, To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown. 192E.3 He’s taen his harp into his hand, And he gaed harping thro the toun, And as the king in his palace sat, His ear was touched wi the soun. 192E.4 ‘Come in, come in, ye harper-man, Some o your harping let me hear;’ ‘Indeed, my liege, and by your grace, I’d rather hae stabling to my mare.’ 192E.5 ‘Ye’ll gang to yon outer court, That stands a little below the toun; Ye’ll find a stable snug and neat, Where stands my stately Wanton Brown.’ 192E.6 He’s down him to the outer court, That stood a little below the toun; There found a stable snug and neat, For stately stood the Wanton Brown. 192E.7 Then he has fixd a good strong cord Unto his grey mare’s bridle-rein, And tied it unto that steed’s tail, Syne shut the stable-door behin. 192E.8 Then he harped on, and he carped on, Till all were fast asleep; Then down thro bower and ha he’s gone, Even on his hands and feet. 192E.9 He’s to yon stable snug and neat, That lay a little below the toun; For there he placed his ain grey mare, Alang wi Henry’s Wanton Brown. 192E.10 ‘Ye’ll do you down thro mire and moss, Thro mony bog and lairy hole; But never miss your Wanton slack; Ye’ll gang to Mayblane, to your foal.’ 192E.11 As soon’s the door he had unshut, The mare gaed prancing frae the town, An at her bridle-rein was tied Henry’s statey Wanton Brown. 192E.12 Then she did rin thro mire an moss, Thro mony bog an miery hole; But never missed her Wanton slack Till she reachd Mayblane, to her foal. 192E.13 When the king awaked from sleep He to the harper-man did say, O waken ye, waken ye, jolly John, We’ve fairly slept till it is day. 192E.14 ‘Win up, win up, ye harper-man, Some mair o harping ye’ll gie me:’ He said, My liege, wi a’ my heart, But first my gude grey mare maun see. 192E.15 Then forth he ran, and in he came, Dropping mony a feigned tear: ‘Some rogue[s] hae broke the outer court, An stown awa my gude grey mare.’ 192E.16 ‘Then by my sooth,’ the king replied, ‘If there’s been rogues into the toun, I fear, as well as your grey mare, Awa is my stately Wanton Brown.’ 192E.17 ‘My loss is great,’ the harper said, ‘My loss is twice as great, I fear; In Scotland I lost a gude grey steed, An here I’ve lost a gude grey mare.’ 192E.18 ‘Come on, come on, ye harper-man, Some o your music lat me hear; Well paid ye’se be, John, for the same, An likewise for your gude grey mare.’ 192E.19 When that John his money received, Then he went harping frae the toun, But little did King Henry ken He’d stown awa his Wanton Brown. 192E.20 The knights then lay ower castle-wa, An they beheld baith dale an down, An saw the jolly harper-man Come harping on to Striveling toun. 192E.21 Then, ‘By my sooth,’ Sir Roger said, ‘Are ye returned back to toun? Idoubt my lad ye hae ill sped Of stealing o the Wanton Brown.’ 192E.22 ‘I hae been into fair England, An even into Lunan toun, An in King Henry’s outer court, An stown awa the Wanton Brown.’ 192E.23 ‘Ye lie, ye lie,’ Sir Charles he said, ‘An aye sae loud’s I hear ye lie; Twall armed men, in armour bright, They guard the stable night and day.’ 192E.24 ‘But I did harp them all asleep, An managed my business cunninglie; If ye make light o what I say, Come to my stable an ye’ll see. 192E.25 ‘My music pleasd the king sae well Mair o my harping he wishd to hear; An for the same he paid me well, And also for my gude grey mare.’ 192E.26 Then he drew out a gude lang purse, Well stored wi gowd an white monie, An in a short time after this The Wanton Brown he lat them see. 192E.27 Sir Roger produced his ploughs o land, Sir Charles produced his thousand pounds, Then back to Henry, the English king, Restored the stately Wanton Brown.

193A: The Death of Parcy Reed

193A.1 THE Liddesdale Crosiers hae ridden a race, And they had far better staid at hame, For they have lost a gallant gay, Young Whinton Crosier it was his name. 193A.2 For Parcy Reed he has him taen, And he’s delivered him to law, But auld Crosier has made answer That he’ll gar the house of the Troughend fa. 193A.3 So as it happened on a day That Parcy Reed is a hunting gane, And the three false Halls of Girsonsfield They all along with him are gane. 193A.4 They hunted up and they hunted down, They hunted all Reedwater round, Till weariness has on him siezed; At the Batinghope he’s fallen asleep. 193A.5 O some they stole his powder-horn, And some put water in his lang gun: ‘O waken, waken, Parcy Reed! For we do doubt thou sleeps too sound. 193A.6 ‘O waken, O waken, Parcy Reed! For we do doubt thou sleeps too long; For yonder’s the five Crosiers coming, They’re coming by the Hingin Stane. 193A.7 ‘If they be five men, we are four, If ye will all stand true to me; Now every one of you may take one, And two of them ye may leave to me.’ 193A.8 ‘We will not stay, nor we dare not stay, O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee; For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed, That they will slay both us and thee.’ 193A.9 ‘O stay, O stay, O Tommy Hall, O stay, O man, and fight with me! If we see the Troughend again, My good black mare I will give thee.’ 193A.10 ‘I will not stay, nor I dare not stay, O Parcy Reed, to fight for thee; For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed, That they will slay both me and thee.’ 193A.11 ‘O stay, O stay, O Johnnie Hall, O stay, O man, and fight for me! If I see the Troughend again, Five yoke of oxen I will give thee.’ 193A.12 ‘I will not stay, nor I dare not stay, O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee; For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed, That they will slay both me and thee.’ 193A.13 ‘O stay, O stay, O Willie Hall, O stay, O man, and fight for me! If we see the Troughend again, The half of my land I will give thee.’ 193A.14 ‘I will not stay, nor I dare not stay, O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee; For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed, That they will slay both me and thee.’ 193A.15 ‘Now foul fa ye, ye traitors all, That ever ye should in England won! You have left me in a fair field standin, And in my hand an uncharged gun. 193A.16 ‘O fare thee well, my wedded wife! O fare you well, my children five! And fare thee well, my daughter Jane, That I love best that’s born alive! 193A.17 ‘O fare thee well, my brother Tom! And fare you well his children five! If you had been with me this day, I surely had been man alive. 193A.18 ‘Farewell all friends! as for my foes, To distant lands may they be tane, And the three false Halls of Girsonsfield, They’ll never be trusted nor trowed again.’

193B: The Death of Parcy Reed

193B.1 GOD send the land deliverance Frae every reaving, riding Scot; We’ll sune hae neither cow nor ewe, We’ll sune hae neither staig nor stot. 193B.2 The outlaws come fare Liddesdale, They herry Redesdale far and near; The rich man’s gelding it maun gang, They canna pass the puir man’s mear. 193B.3 Sure it were weel, had ilka thief Around his neck a halter strang; And curses heavy may they light On traitors vile oursels amang. 193B.4 Now Parcy Reed has Crosier taen, He has delivered him to the law; But Crosier says he’ll do waur than that, He’ll make the tower o Troughend fa. 193B.5 And Crosier says he will do waur, He will do waur if waur can be; He’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless, And then, the land it may lie lee. 193B.6 ‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed, ‘The morning sun is on the dew; The cauler breeze frae off the fells Will lead the dogs to the quarry true. 193B.7 ‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed, And to the hunting he has gane; And the three fause Ha’s o Girsonsfield Alang wi him he has them taen. 193B.8 They hunted high, they hunted low, By heathery hill and birken shaw; They raised a buck on Rooken Edge, And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe. 193B.9 They hunted high, they hunted low, They made the echoes ring amain; With music sweet o horn and hound, They merry made fair Redesdale glen. 193B.10 They hunted high, they hunted low, They hunted up, they hunted down, Until the day was past the prime, And it grew late in the afternoon. 193B.11 They hunted high in Batinghope, When as the sun was sinking low; Says Parcy then, Ca off the dogs, We’ll bait our steeds and homeward go. 193B.12 They lighted high in Batinghope, Atween the brown and benty ground; They had but rested a little while Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound. 193B.13 There’s nane may lean on a rotten staff, But him that risks to get a fa; There’s nane may in a traitor trust, And traitors black were every Ha. 193B.14 They’ve stown the bridle off his steed, And they’ve put water in his lang gun; Theya’ve fixed his sword within the sheath That out again it winna come. 193B.15 ‘Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed, Or by your enemies be taen; For yonder are the five Crosiers A-coming owre the Hingin-stane.’ 193B.16 ‘If they be five, and we be four, Sae that ye stand alang wi me, Then every man ye will take one, And only leave but two to me: We will them meet as brave men ought, And make them either fight or flee.’ 193B.17 ‘We mayna stand, we canna stand, We daurna stand alang wi thee; The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, And they wad kill baith thee and we.’ 193B.18 ‘O turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha, O turn thee, man, and fight wi me; When ye come to Troughend again, My gude black naig I will gie thee; He cost full twenty pound o gowd, Atween my brother John and me.’ 193B.19 ‘I mayna turn, I canna turn, I daurna turn and fight wi thee; The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, And they wad kill baith thee and me.’ 193B.20 ‘O turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha, O turn thee, man, and fight wi me; When ye come to Troughend again, A yoke o owsen I’ll gie thee.’ 193B.21 ‘I mayna turn, I canna turn, I daurna turn and fight wi thee; The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, And they wad kill baith thee and me.’ 193B.22 ‘O turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha, O turn now, man, and fight wi me; If ever we come to Troughend again, My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’ 193B.23 ‘I mayna turn, I canna turn, I daurna turn and fight wi thee; The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, And they wad kill baith thee and me.’ 193B.24 ‘O shame upon ye, traitors a’! I wish your hames ye may never see; Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig, And I can neither fight nor flee. 193B.25 ‘Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig, And ye’ve put water i my lnag gun; Ye’ve fixed my sword within the sheath That out again it winna come.’ 193B.26 He had but time to cross himsel, A prayer he hadna time to say, Till round him came the Crosiers keen, All riding graithed and in array. 193B.27 ‘Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed, Thou art the very man we sought; Owre lang hae we been in your debt, Now will we pay you as we ought. 193B.28 ‘We’ll pay thee at the nearest tree, Where we shall hang thee like a hound;’ Brave Parcy raisd his fankit sword, And felld the foremost to the ground. 193B.29 Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed, Alake, he was an unarmed man; Four weapons pierced him all at once, As they assailed him there and than. 193B.30 They fell upon him all at once, They mangled him most cruellie; The slightest wound might caused his deid, And they hae gien him thirty-three; They hacket off his hands and feet, And left him lying on the lee. 193B.31 ‘Now, Parcy Reed, we’ve paid our debt, Ye canna weel dispute the tale,’ The Crosiers said, and off they rade; They rade the airt o Liddesdale. 193B.32 It was the hour o gloaming gray, When herds come in frae fauld and pen; A herd he saw a huntsman lie, Says he, Can this be Laird Troughen? 193B.33 ‘There’s some will ca me Parcy Reed, And some will ca me Laird Troughen; It’s little matter what they ca me, My faes hae made me ill to ken. 193B.34 ‘There’s some will ca me Parcy Reed, And speak my praise in tower and town; It’s little matter what they do now, My life-blood rudds the heather brown. 193B.35 ‘There’s some will ca me Parcy Reed, And a’ my virtues say and sing; I would much rather have just now A draught o water frae the spring.’ 193B.36 The herd flung aff his clouted shoon And to the nearest fountain ran; He made his bonnet serve a cup, And wan the blessing o the dying man. 193B.37 ‘Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair, Ye maun do mair, as I you tell; Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend, And bear likewise my last farewell. 193B.38 ‘A farewell to my wedded wife, A farewell to my brother John, Wha sits into the Troughend tower Wi heart as black as any stone. 193B.39 ‘A farewell to my daughter Jean, A farewell to my young sons five; Had they been at their father’s hand, I had this night been man alive. 193B.40 ‘A farewell to my followers a’, And a’ my neighbours gude at need; Bid them think how the treacherous Ha’s Betrayed the life o Parcy Reed. 193B.41 ‘The laird o Clennel bears my bow, The laird o Brandon bears my brand; Wheneer they ride i the Border-side, They’ll mind the fate o the laird Troughend.’

193[B2]: The Death of Parcy Reed

193[B2].1 O Parcy Reed has Crozer taen, And has deliverd him to the law; But Crozer says he’ll do warse than that, For he’ll gar the tower of the Troughend fa. 193[B2.2] And Crozer says he will do warse, He will do warse, if warse can be; For he’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless, And then the land it may lie lea. 193[B2.3] O Parcy Reed has ridden a raid, But he had better have staid at hame; For the three fause Ha’s of Girsenfield Alang with him he has them taen. 193[B2.4] He’s hunted up, and he’s hunted down, He’s hunted a’ the water of Reed, Till wearydness has on him taen, I the Baitinghope he’s faen asleep. 193[B2.5] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And the fause, fause Ha’s o Girsenfield, They’ll never be trowed nor trusted again. 193[B2.6] They’ve taen frae him his powther-bag, And they’ve put water i his lang gun; They’ve put the sword into the sheathe That out again it’ll never come. 193[B2.7] ‘Awaken ye, awaken ye, Parcy Reed, For I do fear ye’ve slept owre lang; For yonder are the five Crozers, A coming owre by the hinging-stane.’ 193[B2.8] ‘If they be five and we be four, If that ye will stand true to me, If every man ye will take one, Ye surely will leave two to me. 193[B2.9] ‘O turn, O turn, O Johny Ha, O turn now, man, and fight wi me; If ever ye come to Troughend again, A good black nag I will gie to thee; He cost me twenty pounds o gowd Atween my brother John and me.’ 193[B2.10] ‘I winna turn, I canna turn; I darena turn and fight wi thee; For they will find out Parcy Reed, And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’ 193[B2.11] ‘O turn, O turn now, Willie Ha, O turn, O man, and fight wi me, And if ever ye come to the Troughend again A yoke of owsen I will gie thee.’ 193[B2.12] ‘I winna turn, I canna turn; I darena turn and fight wi thee; For they will find out Parcy Reed, And they will kill baith thee and me.’ 193[B2.13] ‘O turn, O turn, O Thommy Ha, O turn now, man, and fight wi me; If ever ye come to the Troughend again, My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.; 193[B2.14] ‘I winna turn, I darena turn; I winna turn and fight with thee; For they will find out Parcy Reed, And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’ 193[B2.15] ‘O woe be to ye, traitors a’! I wish England ye may never win; Ye’ve left me in the field to stand, And in my hand an uncharged gun.’ 193[B2.16] ‘Ye’ve taen frae me my powther-bag, And ye’ve put water i my lang gun; Ye’ve put the sword into the sheath That out again it’ll never come. 193[B2.17] ‘O fare ye weel, my married wife! And fare ye weel, my brother John! That sits into the Troughend ha With heart as black as any stone. 193[B2.18] ‘O fare ye weel, my married wife! And fare ye weel now, my sons five! For hae ye been wi me this day I surely had been man alive. 193[B2.19] ‘O fare ye weel, my married wife! And fare ye weel now, my sons five! And fare ye weel, my daughter Jean! I loved ye best ye were born alive. 193[B2.20] ‘O some do ca me Parcy Reed, And some do ca me Laird Troughend, But it’s nae matter what they ca me, My faes have made me ill to ken. 193[B2.21] ‘The laird o Clennel wears my bow, The laird o Brandon wears my brand; Whae ever rides i the Border side Will mind the liard o the Troughend.’

194A: The Laird of Wariston

 
 194A.1	 DOWN by yon garden green
 	 Sae merrily as she gaes;
 	 She has twa weel-made feet,
 	 And she trips upon her taes.
 194A.2	 She has twa weel-made feet,
 	 Far better is her hand;
 	 She’s as jimp in the middle
 	 As ony willow-wand.
 194A.3	 ‘Gif ye will do my bidding,
 	 At my bidding for to be,
 	 It’s I will make you lady
 	 Of a’ the lands you see.’
 	 * * * * *
 194A.4	 He spak a word in jest;
 	 Her answer wasna good;
 	 He threw a plate at her face,
 	 Made it a’ gush out o blood.
 194A.5	 She wasna frae her chamber
 	 A step but barely three,
 	 When up and at her richt hand
 	 There stood Man’s Enemy.
 194A.6	 ‘Gif ye will do my bidding,
 	 At my bidding for to be,
 	 I’ll learn you a wile
 	 Avenged for to be.’
 194A.7	 The Foul Thief knotted the tether,
 	 She lifted his head on hie,
 	 The nourice drew the knot
 	 That gard lord Waristoun die.
 194A.8	 Then word is gane to Leith,
 	 Also to Edinburgh town,
 	 That the lady had killd the laird,
 	 The laird o Waristoun.
 	 * * * * *
 194A.9	 ‘Tak aff, tak aff my hood,
 	 But lat my petticoat be;
 	 Put my mantle oer my head,
 	 For the fire I downa see.
 194A.10	 ‘Now, a’ ye gentle maids,
 	 Tak warning now by me,
 	 And never marry ane
 	 But wha pleases your ee.
 194A.11	 ‘For he married me for love,
 	 But I married him for fee;
 	 And sae brak out the feud
 	 That gard my dearie die.’

194B: The Laird of Wariston

 
 194B.1	 IT was at dinner as they sat,
 	 And whan they drank the wine,
 	 How happy war the laird and lady
 	 Of bonnie Wariston!
 194B.2	 The lady spak but ae word,
 	 The matter to conclude;
 	 The laird strak her on the mouth,
 	 Till she spat out o blude.
 194B.3	 She did not know the way
 	 Her mind to satisfy,
 	 Till evil cam in to [her] head
 	 All by the Enemy.
 194B.4	 ‘At evening when ye sit,
 	 And whan ye drink the wine,
 	 See that ye fill the glass weill up
 	 To the laird o Wariston.’
 194B.5	 So at table whan they sat,
 	 And whan they drank the wine,
 	 She made the glass aft gae round
 	 To the laird o Wariston.
 194B.6	 The nurice she knet the knot,
 	 And O she knet it sicker!
 	 The lady did gie it a twig,
 	 Till it began to wicker.
 194B.7	 But word’s gane doun to Leith,
 	 And up to Embro toun,
 	 That the lady she has slain the laird,
 	 The laird o Waristoun.
 194B.8	 Word has gane to her father, the grit Dunipace,
 	 And an angry man was he;
 	 Cries, Gar mak a barrel o pikes,
 	 And row her down some lea!
 194B.9	 She said, Wae be to ye, Wariston,
 	 I wish ye may sink for sin!
 	 For I have been your wife
 	 These nine years, running ten;
 	 And I never loved ye sae well
 	 As now whan ye’re lying slain.
 194B.10	 ‘But tak aff this gowd brocade,
 	 And let my petticoat stay,
 	 And tie a handkerchief round my face,
 	 That the people may not see.’

194C: The Laird of Wariston

194C.1 ‘MY mother was an ill woman, In fifteen years she marrid me; I hadna wit to guide a man, Alas! ill counsel guided me. 194C.2 ‘O Warriston, O Warriston, I wish that ye may sink for sin! I was but bare fifteen years auld, Whan first I enterd your yates within. 194C.3 ‘I hadna been a month married, Till my gude lord went to the sea; I bare a bairn ere he came hame, And set it on the nourice knee. 194C.4 ‘But it fell ance upon a day, That my gude lord returnd from sea; Then I did dress in the best array, As blythe as ony bird on tree. 194C.5 ‘I took my young son in my arms, Likewise my nourice me forebye, And I went down to yon shore-side, My gude lord’s vessel I might spy. 194C.6 ‘My lord he stood upon the deck, I wyte he haild me courteouslie: Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay, Whae’s aught that bairn on your knee?’ 194C.7 She turnd her right and round about, Says, ‘Why take ye sic dreads o me? Alas! I was too young married, To love another man but thee.’ 194C.8 ‘Now hold your tongue, my lady gay, Nae mair falsehoods ye’ll tell to me; This bonny bairn is not mine, You’ve loved another while I was on sea.’ 194C.9 In discontent then hame she went, And aye the tear did blin her ee; Says, Of this wretch I’ll be revenged For these harsh words he’s said to me. 194C.10 She’s counselld wi her father’s steward What way she coud revenged be; Bad was the counsel then he gave, It was to gar her gude lord dee. 194C.11 The nourice took the deed in hand, I wat she was well paid her fee; She kiest the knot, and the loop she ran, Which soon did gar this young lord dee. 194C.12 His brtother lay in a room hard by, Alas! that night he slept too soun; But then he wakend wi a cry, ‘I fear my brother’s putten down. 194C.13 ‘O get me coal and candle light, And get me some gude companie;’ But before the light was brought, Warriston he was gart dee. 194C.14 They’ve taen the lady and fause nourice, In prison strong they hae them boun; The nourice she was hard o heart, But the bonny lady fell in swoon. 194C.15 In it came her brother dear, And aye a sorry man was he: ‘I woud gie a’ the lands I heir, O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’ 194C.16 ‘O borrow me, brother, borrow me? O borrowd shall I never be; For I gart kill my ain gude lord, And life is nae pleasure to me.’ 194C.17 In it came her mother dear, I wyte a sorry woman was she: ‘I woud gie my white monie and gowd, O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’ 194C.18 ‘Borrow me, mother, borrow me? O borrowd shall I never be; For I gart kill my ain gude lord, And life’s now nae pleasure to me.’ 194C.19 Then in ti came her father dear, I wyte a sorry man was he; Says, ‘Ohon, alas! my bonny Jean, If I had you at hame wi me! 194C.20 Seven daughters I hae left at hame, As fair women as fair can be; But I woud gie them ane by ane, O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’ 194C.21 ‘O borrow me, father, borrow me? O borrowd shall I never be; I that is worthy o the death, It is but right that I shoud dee.’ 194C.22 Then out is speaks the king himsell, And aye as he steps in the fleer; Says, ‘I grant you your life, lady, Because you are of tender year.’ 194C.23 ‘A boon, a boon, my liege the king, The boon I ask, ye’ll grant to me;’ ‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Jean, Whateer ye ask it’s granted be.’ 194C.24 ‘Cause take me out at night, at night, Lat not the sun upon me shine, And take me to yon heading-hill, Strike aff this dowie head o mine. 194C.25 ‘Ye’ll take me out at night, at night, When there are nane to gaze and see, And hae me to yon heading-hill, And ye’ll gar head me speedilie.’ 194C.26 They’ve taen her out at nine at night, Loot not the sun upon her shine, And had her to yon heading-hill, And headed her baith neat and fine. 194C.27 Then out it speaks the king himsell, I wyte a sorry man was he: ‘I’ve travelld east, I’ve travelld west, And sailed far beyond the sea, But I never saw a woman’s face I was sae sorry to see dee. 194C.28 ‘But Warriston was sair to blame, For slighting o his lady so; He had the wyte o his ain death, And bonny lady’s overthrow.’

195A: Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight

195A.1 ‘GOOD lord of the land, will you stay thane About my faither’s house, And walk into these gardines green, In my arms I’ll the embraice. 195A.2 ‘Ten thousand times I’ll kiss thy face; Make sport, and let’s be mery:’ ‘I thank you, lady, fore your kindness; Trust me, I may not stay with the. 195A.3 ‘For I have kil’d the laird Johnston; I vallow not the feed; My wiked heart did still incline; He was my faither’s dead. 195A.4 ‘Both night and day I did proced, And a’ on him revainged to be; But now have I gotten what I long sowght, Trust me, I may not stay with the. 195A.5 ‘Adue, Dumfriese, that proper place! Fair well, Carlaurike faire! Adue the castle of the Trive, And all my buldings there! 195A.6 ‘Adue, Lochmaben gaits so faire, And the Langhm shank, where birks bobs bony! Adue, my leady and only joy! Trust me, I may not stay with the. 195A.7 ‘Adue, fair Eskdale, up and doun, Wher my poor frends do duell! The bangisters will beat them doun, And will them sore compell. 195A.8 ‘I’ll reveinge the cause mysell, Again when I come over the sea; Adue, my leady and only joy! Fore, trust me, I may not stay with the. 195A.9 ‘Adue, Dumlanark! fals was ay, And Closburn! in a band; The laird of the Lag from my faither fled When the Jhohnstones struek of his hand. 195A.10 ‘They wer three brethren in a band; I pray they may never be merry; Adue, my leady and only joy! Trust me, I may not stay with the. 195A.11 ‘Adue, madam my mother dear, But and my sister[s] two! Fair well, Robin in the Orchet! Fore the my heart is wo. 195A.12 ‘Adue, the lillie, and fair well, rose, And the primros, spreads fair and bony! Adue, my leady and only joy! Fore, trust me, I may not stay with the.’ 195A.13 He took out a good gold ring, Where at hang sygnets three: ‘Take thou that, my own kind thing, And ay have mind of me. 195A.14 ‘Do not mary another lord Agan or I come over the sea; Adue, my leady and only joy! For, trust me, I may not stay with the.’ 195A.15 The wind was fair, and the ship was clare, And the good lord went away; The most part of his frends was there, Giving him a fair convoy. 195A.16 They drank the wine, they did not spare, Presentting in that good lord’s sight; Now he is over the floods so gray; Lord Maxwell has te’n his last good-night.

195B: Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight

195B.1 ‘ADIEW, madam my mother dear, But and my sisters tow! Adiew, fair Robert of Oarchyardtoan! For thee my heart is woe. 195B.2 ‘Adiew, the lilly and the rose, The primrose, sweet to see! Adiew, my lady and only joy! For I manna stay with thee. 195B.3 ‘Tho I have killed the laird Johnston, What care I for his feed? My noble mind dis still incline; He was my father’s dead. 195B.4 ‘Both night and day I laboured oft Of him revenged to be, And now I’ve got what I long sought; But I manna stay with thee. 195B.5 ‘Adiew, Drumlanrig! false was ay, And Cloesburn! in a band, Where the laird of Lagg fra my father fled When the Johnston struck off his hand. 195B.6 ‘They were three brethren in a band; Joy may they never see! But now I’ve got what I long sought, And I maunna stay with thee. 195B.7 ‘Adiew, Dumfries, my proper place, But and Carlaverock fair, Adiew, the castle of the Thrieve, And all my buildings there! 195B.8 ‘Adiew, Lochmaben’s gates so fair, The Langholm shank, where birks they be! Adiew, my lady and only joy! And, trust me, I maunna stay with thee. 195B.9 ‘Adiew, fair Eskdale, up and down, Where my poor friends do dwell! The bangisters will ding them down, And will them sore compel. 195B.10 ‘But I’ll revenge that feed mysell When I come ou’r the sea; Adiew, my lady and only joy! For I maunna stay with thee.’ 195B.11 ‘Lord of the land, will you go then Unto my father’s place, And walk into their gardens green, And I will you embrace. 195B.12 ‘Ten thousand times I’ll kiss your face, And sport, and make you merry;’ ‘I thank thee, my lady, for thy kindness, But, trust me, I maunna stay with thee.’ 195B.13 Then he took off a great gold ring, Where at hang signets three: ‘Hae, take thee that, my ain dear thing, And still hae mind of me. 195B.14 ‘But if thow marry another lord Ere I come ou’r the sea-+--+- Adiew, my lady and only joy! For I maunna stay with thee.’ 195B.15 The wind was fair, the ship was close, That good lord went away, And most part of his friends were there, To give him a fair convay. 195B.16 They drank thair wine, they did not spare, Even in the good lord’s sight; Now he is oer the floods so gray, And Lord Maxwell has taen his goodnight.

196A: The Fire of Frendruahgt

196A.1 THE eighteenth of October, A dismal tale to hear How good Lord John and Rothiemay Was both burnt in the fire. 196A.2 When steeds was saddled and well bridled, And ready for to ride, Then out it came her false Frendraught, Inviting them to bide. 196A.3 Said, ‘Stay this night untill we sup, The morn untill we dine; RR’rrtwill be a token of good greement RR’rrtwixt your good lord and mine.’ 196A.4 ‘We’ll turn again,’ said good Lord John; ‘But no,’ said Rothiemay, ‘My steed’s trapand, my bridle’s broken, I fear the day I’m fey.’ 196A.5 When mass was sung, and bells was rung, And all men bound for bed, Then good Lord John and Rothiemay In one chamber was laid. 196A.6 They had not long cast off their cloaths, And were but now asleep, When the weary smoke began to rise, Likewise the scorching heat. 196A.7 ‘O waken, waken, Rothiemay! O waken, brother dear! And turn you to our Saviour; There is strong treason here.’ 196A.8 When they were dressed in their cloaths, And ready for to boun, The doors and windows was all secur’d, The roof-tree burning down. 196A.9 He did him to the wire-window, As fast as we could gang; Says, Wae to the hands put in the stancheons! For out we’ll never win. 196A.10 When he stood at the wire-window, Most doleful to be seen, He did espy her Lady Frendraught, Who stood upon the green. 196A.11 Cried, Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught! Will ye not sink with sin? For first your husband killed my father, And now you burn his son. 196A.12 O then out spoke her Lady Frendraught, And loudly did she cry; ‘It were grteat pity for good Lord John, But none for Rothiemay; But the keys are casten in the deep draw-well, Ye cannot get away.’ 196A.13 While he stood in this dreadful plight, Most piteous to be seen, There called out his servant Gordon, As he had frantic been: 196A.14 ‘O loup, O loup, my dear master! O loup and come to me! I’ll catch you in my arms two, One foot I will not flee. 196A.15 ‘O loup, O loup, my dear master! O loup and come away! I’ll catch you in my arms two, But Rothiemay may lie.’ 196A.16 ‘The fish shall never swim in the flood, Nor corn grow through the clay, Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled Twin me and Rothiemay. 196A.17 ‘But I cannot loup, I cannot come, I cannot win to thee; My head’s fast in the wire-window, My feet burning from me. 196A.18 ‘My eyes are seething in my head, My flesh roasting also, My bowels are boiling with my blood; Is not that a woeful woe? 196A.19 ‘Take here the rings from my white fingers, That are so long and small, And give them to my lady fair, Where she sits in her hall. 196A.20 ‘So I cannot loup, I cannot come, I cannot loup to thee; My earthly part is all consumed, My spirit but speaks to thee.’ 196A.21 Wringing her hands, tearing her hair, His lady she was seen, And thus addressed his servant Gordon, Where he stood on the green. 196A.22 ‘O wae be to you, George Gordon! An ill death may you die! So safe and sound as you stnad there, And my lord bereaved from me.’ 196A.23 ‘I bad him loup, I bad him come, I bad him loup to me; I’d catch him in my arms two, A foot I should not flee. &c. 196A.24 ‘He threw me the rings from his white fingers, Which were so long and small, To give to you, his lady fair, Where you sat in your hall.’ &c. 196A.25 Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay, O bonny Sophia was her name, Her waiting maid put on her cloaths, But I wot she tore them off again. 196A.26 And aft she cried, Ohon! alas! alas! A sair heart’s ill to win; I wan a sair heart when I married him, And the day it’s well returnd again.

196B: The Fire of Frendruahgt

196B.* * * * ‘YERR’rrLL stay this night wi me, Lord John, Ye’ll stay this night wi me, For there is appearence of good greement Betwixt Frendraught and thee.’ 196B.2 ‘How can I bide, or how shall I bide, Or how can I bide wi thee, Sin my lady is in the lands of Air, And I long till I her see?’ 196B.3 ‘Oh stay this night wi me, Lord John, Oh stay this night wi me, And bonny [’s] be the morning-gift That I will to you gie. 196B.4 ‘I’ll gie you a Strathboggie lands, And the laigh lands o Strathray, . . . . . . . . . . 196B.5 ‘Ye’ll saty this night wi me, Lord John, Ye’ll stay this night wi me, And I’ll lay you in a bed of down, And Rothiemay you wi.’ 196B.6 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And a’ men bun to bed, Gude Lord John and Rothiemay In one chamber were laid. * * * * * 196B.7 Out hes he taen his little psalm-buik, And verses sang he three, And aye at every verse’s end, ‘God end our misery!’ 196B.8 The doors were shut, the keys were thrown Into a vault of stone, . . . . . . . . . . 196B.9 He is dune him to the weir-window, The stauncheons were oer strong; There he saw him Lord George Gordon Come haisling to the town. 196B.10 ‘What news, what news now, George Gordon? Whats news hae you to me? . . . . . . . . . . 196B.11 He’s dune him to the weir-window, The stauncheons were oer strang; And there he saw the Lady Frendraught, Was walking on the green. 196B.12 ‘Open yer doors now, Lady Frendraught, Ye’ll open yer doors to me; And bonny’s be the mornin-gift That I shall to you gie. 196B.13 ‘I’ll gie you a’ Straboggie lands, And the laigh lands o Strathbrae, . . . . . . . . . . 196B.14 ‘Now there’s the rings frae my fingers, And the broach frae my breast-bone; Ye’ll gae that to my gude ladye . . . . . * * * * * 196B.15 ‘How can I loup, or how shall I loup? How can I loup to thee? When the blood is boiling in my body, And my feet burnin frae me?’ * * * * * 196B.16 ‘If I was swift as any swallow, And then had wings to fly, I could fly on to fause Frendraught And cry vengeance till I die.’

196C: The Fire of Frendruahgt

196C.1 IT was in October the woe began-+--+- It lasts for now and aye,-+--+- The burning o the bonny house o fause Frendraught, Lord John and Rothiemay. 196C.2 When they were in their saddles set, And ready to ride away, The lady sat down on her bare knees, Beseeching them to stay. 196C.3 ‘Ye’s hae a firlot o the gude red gowd, Well straiket wi a wan; And if that winna please you well, I’ll heap it wi my han.’ 196C.4 Then out it spake the gude Lord John, And said to Rothiemay, ‘It is a waman that we’re come o, And a woman we’ll obey.’ 196C.5 When a’ man was well drunken, And a’ man bound for bed, The doors were lockd, the windows shut, And the keys were casten by. 196C.6 When a’ man was well drunken, And a’ man bound for sleep, The dowy reek began to rise, And the joists began to crack. 196C.7 He’s deen him to the wire-window, And ruefu strack and dang; But they would neither bow nor brack, The staunchions were so strang. 196C.8 He’s deen him back and back again, And back to Rothiemay; Says, Waken, waken, brother dear! Waken, Rothiemay! 196C.9 ‘Come let us praise the Lord our God, The fiftieth psalm and three; For the reek and smoke are us about, And there’s fause treason tee. 196C.10 ‘O mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught! As ye walk on the green:’ ‘The keys are in the deep draw-well, The doors were lockt the streen.’ 196C.11 ‘O woe be to you, Lady Frendraught! And ill death may you die! For think na ye this a sad torment Your own flesh for to burn?’ 196C.12 George Chalmers was a bonny boy; He leapt the stanks so deep, And he is on to Rothiemay, His master for to help. 196C.13 Colin Irving was a bonny boy, And leapt the stanks so deep: ‘Come down, come down, my master dear! In my arms I’ll thee kep.’ 196C.14 ‘Come down? come down? how can I come? How can I come to thee? My flesh is burning me about, And yet my spirit speaks to thee.’ 196C.15 He’s taen a purse o the gude red gowd, And threw it oer the wa: ‘It’s ye’ll deal that among the poor, Bid them pray for our souls a’.’ 196C.16 He’s taen the rings off his fingers, And threw them oer the wa; Says, Ye’ll gie that to my lady dear, From me she’ll na get more. 196C.17 ‘Bid her make her bed well to the length, But no more to the breadth, For the day will never dawn That I’ll sleep by her side.’ 196C.18 Ladie Rothiemay came on the morn, She kneeled it roun and roun: ‘Restore your lodgers, fause Frendraught, That ye burnd here the streen. 196C.19 ‘O were I like yon trutle-dove, Had I wings for to flie, I’d fly about fause Frendraught Crying vengeance till I die. 196C.20 ‘Frendraught fause, all thro the ha’s, Both back and every side; For ye’ve betrayd the gay Gordons, And lands wherein they ride. 196C.21 ‘Frendraught fause, all thro the ha’s; I wish you’d sink for sin; For first you killd my own good lord, And now you’ve burnd my son. 196C.22 ‘I caredna sae muckle for my good lord I saw him in battle slain, But a’ is for my own son dear, The heir o a’ my lan. 196C.23 ‘I caredna sae muckle for my good lord I saw him laid in clay, But a’ is for my own son dear, The heir o Rothiemay.’

196D: The Fire of Frendruahgt

 
 196D.1	 THE reek it rose, and the flame it flew,
 	 And oh! the fire augmented high,
 	 Until it came to Lord John’s chamber-window,
 	 And to the bed where Lord John lay.
 196D.2	 ‘O help me, help me, Lady Frennet!
 	 I never ettled harm to thee;
 	 And if my father slew thy lord,
 	 Forget the deed and rescue me.’
 196D.3	 He looked east, he looked west,
 	 To see if any help was nigh;
 	 At length his little page he saw,
 	 Who to his lord aloud did cry:
 196D.4	 ‘Loup doun, loup doun, my master dear!
 	 What though the window’s dreigh and hie?
 	 I’ll catch you in my arms twa,
 	 And never a foot from you I’ll flee.’
 196D.5	 ‘How can I loup, you little page?
 	 How can I leave this window hie?
 	 Do you not see the blazing low,
 	 And my twa legs burnt to my knee?’

196E: The Fire of Frendruahgt

 
 196E.1	 NOW wake, now wake you, Rothiemay!
 	 I dread you sleep oer soun;
 	 The bed is burnin us about
 	 And the curtain’s faain down.

197A: James Grant

 
 197A.1	 ‘AWAY with you, away with you, James de Grant!
 	 And, Douglas, ye’ll be slain;
 	 For Baddindalloch’s at your gates,
 	 With many brave Highland men.’
 197A.2	 ‘Baddindalloch has no feud at me,
 	 And I have none at him;
 	 Cast up my gates baith broad and wide,
 	 Let Baddindalloch in.’
 197A.3	 ‘James de Grant has made a vaunt,
 	 And leaped the castle-wa;
 	 But, if he comes this way again,
 	 He’ll no win sae well awa.
 197A.4	 ‘Take him, take him, brave Gordons,
 	 O take him, fine fellows a’!
 	 If he wins but ae mile to the Highland hills,
 	 He’ll defy you Gordons a’.’

198A: Bonny John Seton

198A.1 UPON the eighteenth day of June, A dreary day to see, The southern lords did pitch their camp Just at the bridge of Dee. 198A.2 Bonny John Seton of Pitmeddin, A bold baron was he, He made his testament ere he went out, The wiser man was he. 198A.3 He left his land to his young son, His lady her dowry, A thousand crowns to his daughter Jean, Yet on the nurse’s knee. 198A.4 Then out came his lady fair, A tear into her ee; Says, Stay at home, my own good lord, O stay at home with me! 198A.5 He looked over his left shoulder, Cried, Souldiers, follow me! O then she looked in his face, An angry woman was she: ‘God send me back my steed again, But neer let me see thee!’ 198A.6 His name was Major Middleton That manned the bridge of Dee, His name was Colonel Henderson That let the cannons flee. 198A.7 His name was Major Middleton That manned the bridge of Dee, And his name was Colonel Henderson That dung Pitmeddin in three. 198A.8 Some rode on the black and grey, And some rode on the brown, But the bonny John Seton Lay gasping on the ground. 198A.9 Then bye there comes a false Forbes, Was riding from Driminere; Says, Here there lies a proud Seton; This day they ride the rear. 198A.10 Cragievar said to his men, ‘You may play on your shield; For the proudest Seton in all the lan This day lies on the field.’ 198A.11 ‘O spoil him! spoil him!’ cried Cragievar, ‘Him spoiled let me see; For on my word,’ said Cragievar, ‘He had no good will at me.’ 198A.12 They took from him his armour clear, His sword, likewise his shield; Yea, they have left him naked there, Upon the open field. 198A.13 The Highland men, they’re clever men At handling sword and shield, But yet they are too naked men To stay in battle field. 198A.14 The Highland men are clever men At handling sword or gun, But yet they are too naked men To bear the cannon’s rung. 198A.15 For a cannon’s roar in a summer night Is like thunder in the air; There’s not a man in Highland dress Can face the cannon’s fire.

198B: Bonny John Seton

198B.1 IT fell about the month of June, On Tuesday, timouslie, The northern lords hae pitchd their camps Beyond the brig o Dee. 198B.2 They ca’ed him Major Middleton That mand the brig o Dee; They ca’ed him Colonel Henderson That gard the cannons flee. 198B.3 Bonny John Seton o Pitmedden, A brave baron was he; He made his tesment ere he gaed, And the wiser man was he. 198B.4 He left his lands unto his heir, His ladie her dowrie; Ten thousand crowns to Lady Jane, Sat on the nourice knee. 198B.5 Then out it speaks his lady gay, ‘O stay my lord wi me; For word is come, the cause is won Beyond the brig o Dee.’ 198B.6 He turned him right and round about And a light laugh hae he; Says, I wouldna for my lands sae broad I stayed this night wi thee. 198B.7 He’s taen his sword then by his side, His buckler by his knee, And laid his leg in oer his horse, Said, Sodgers, follow me! 198B.8 So he rade on, and further on, Till to the third mile corse; The Covenanters’ cannon balls Dang him aff o his horse. 198B.9 Up then rides him Cragievar, Said, Wha’s this lying here? It surely is the Lord o Aboyne, For Huntly was not here. 198B.10 Then out is speaks a fause Forbes, Lived up in Druminner; ‘My lord, this is a proud Seton, The rest will ride the thinner.’ 198B.11 ‘Spulyie him, spulyie him,’ said Craigievar, ‘O spulyie him, presentlie; For I could lay my lugs in pawn He had nae gude will at me.’ 198B.12 They’ve taen the shoes frae aff his feet, The garters frae his knee, Likewise the gloves upon his hands; They’ve left him not a flee. 198B.13 His fingers they were sae sair swelld The rings would not come aff; They cutted the grips out o his ears, Took out the gowd signots. 198B.14 Then they rade on, and further on, Till they came to the Crabestane, And Craigievar, he had a mind To burn a’ Aberdeen. 198B.15 Out is speaks the gallnt Montrose, Grace on his fair body! ‘We winna burn the bonny burgh, We’ll even laet it be.’ 198B.16 Then out it speaks the gallant Montrose, ‘Your purpose I will break; We winna burn the bonny burgh, We’ll nevver build its make. 198B.17 ‘I see the women and their children Climbing the craigs sae hie; We’ll sleep this night in the bonny burgh, And even lat it be.’

199A: Bonnie House o’ Airlie

199A.1 IT fell on a day, and a bonny simmer day, When green grew aits and barley, That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyll and Airlie. 199A.2 Argyll has raised an hunder men, An hunder harnessd rarely, And he’s awa by the back of Dunkell, To plunder the castle of Airlie. 199A.3 Lady Ogilvie looks oer her bower-window. And oh, but she looks weary! And there she spy’d the great Argyll, Come to plunder the bonny house of Airlie. 199A.4 ‘Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie, Come down, and kiss me fairly:’ ‘O I winna kiss the fause Argyll, If he should na leave a standing stane in Airlie.’ 199A.5 He hath taken her by the left shoulder, Says, Dame where lies thy dowry? ‘O it’s east and west yon wan water side, And it’s down by the banks of the Airlie.’ 199A.6 They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down, They hae sought it maist severely, Till they fand it in the fair plumb-tree That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie. 199A.7 He hath taken her by the middle sae small, And O but she grat sairly! And laid her down by the bonny burn-side, Till they plundered the castle of Airlie. 199A.8 ‘Gif my gude lord war here this night, As he is with King Charlie, Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord, Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie. 199A.9 ‘Gif my gude lord war now at hame, As he is with his king, There durst nae a Campbell in a’ Argyll Set fit on Airlie green. 199A.10 ‘Ten bonny sons I have born unto him, The eleventh neer saw his daddy; But though I had an hundred mair, I’d gie them a’ to King Charlie.’

199B: Bonnie House o’ Airlie

199B.1 IT fell on a day, a clear summer day, When the corn grew green and bonny, That there was a combat did fall out ’Tween Argyle and the bonny house of Airly. 199B.2 Argyle he did raise five hundred men, Five hundred men, so many, And he did place them by Dunkeld, Bade them shoot at the bonny house of Airly. 199B.3 The lady looked over her own castle-wa, And oh, but she looked weary! And there she espied the gleyed Argyle, Come to plunder the bonny house of Airly. 199B.4 ‘Come down the stair now, Madam Ogilvie, And let me kiss thee kindly; Or I vow and I swear, by the sword that I wear, That I winna leave a standing stone at Airly.’ 199B.5 ‘O how can I come down the stair, And how can I kiss thee kindly, Since you vow and you swear, by the sword that you wear, That you winna leave a standing stone on Airly?’ 199B.6 ‘Come down the stair then, Madam Ogilvie, And let me see thy dowry;’ ‘O ’tis east and it is west, and ’tis down by yon burn-side, And it stands at the planting sae bonny. 199B.7 ‘But if my brave lord had been at hame this day, As he is wi Prince Charlie, There durst na a Campbell in all Scotland Set a foot on the bowling-green of Airly 199B.8 ‘O I hae born him seven, seven sons, And an eighth neer saw his daddy, And tho I were to bear him as many more, They should a’ carry arms for Prince Charlie.’

199C: Bonnie House o’ Airlie

199C.1 IT fell on a day, on a bonny summer day, When the corn grew green and yellow, That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyle and Airley. 199C.2 The great Argyle raised five hundred men, Five hundred men and many, And he has led them down by the bonny Dunkeld, Bade them shoot at the bonny house of Airley. 199C.3 The lady was looking oer her castle-wa, And O but she looked weary! And there she spied the great Argyle, Came to plunder the bonny house of Airley. 199C.4 ‘Come down stairs now, Madam,’ he says, ‘Now come down and kiss me fairly;’ ‘I’ll neither come down nor kiss you,’ she says, ‘Tho you should na leave a standing stane in Airley.’ 199C.5 ‘I ask but one favour of you, Argyle, And I hope you’ll grant me fairly To tak me to some doak dowey glen, That I may na see the plundering of Airley.’ 199C.6 He has taen her by the left shoulder, And O but she looked weary! And he has led her down to the top of the town, Bade her look at the plundering of Airley. 199C.7 ‘Fire on, fire on, my merry men all, And see that ye fire clearly; For I vow and I swear by the broad sword I wear That I winna leave a standing stane in Airley. 199C.8 ‘You may tell it to your lord,’ he says, ‘You may tell it to Lord Airley, That one kiss o his gay lady Wad hae sav’d all the plundering of Airley.’ 199C.9 ‘If the great Sir John had been but at hame, As he is this night wi Prince Charlie, Neither Argyle nor no Scottish lord Durst hae plundered the bonny house of Airley. 199C.10 ‘Seven, seven sons hae I born unto him, And the eight neer saw his dady, And altho I were to have a hundred more, The should a’ draw their sword for Prince Charlie.’

199D: Bonnie House o’ Airlie

199D.1 O GLEYD Argyll has written to Montrose To see gin the fields they were fairly, And to see whether he should stay at hame, RR’rror come to plunder bonnie Airly. 199D.2 Then great Montrose has written to Argyll And that the fields they were fairly, And not to keep his men at hame, But to come and plunder bonnie Airly. 199D.3 The lady was looking oer her castle-wa, She was carrying her courage sae rarely, And there she spied him gleyd Arguill, Was coming for to plunder bonnie Airly. 199D.4 ‘Wae be to ye, gleyd Argyll! And are ye there sae rarely? Ye might hae kept your men at hame, And not come to plunder bonnie Airly.’ 199D.5 ‘And wae be to ye, Lady Ogilvie! And are ye there sae rarely? Gin ye had bowed when first I bade, I never wad hae plunderd bonnie Airly.’ 199D.6 ‘But gin my guid lord had been at hame, As he is wi Prince Charlie, There durst not a rebel on a’ Scotch ground Set a foot on the bonnie green of Airly. 199D.7 ‘But ye’ll tak me by the milk-white hand, And ye’ll lift me up sae rarely, And ye’ll throw me outoure my [ain] castle-wa, Let me neuer see the plundering of Airly.’ 199D.8 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And he’s lifted her up sae rarely, And he’s thrown her outoure her ain castle-wa, And she neuer saw the plundering of Airly. 199D.9 Now gleyd Argyll he has gane hame, Awa frae the plundering of Airly, And there he has met him Captain Ogilvie, Coming over the mountains sae rarely. 199D.10 ‘O wae be to ye, gleyd Argyll! And are you there sae rarely? Ye might hae kept your men at hame, And no gane to plunder bonnie Airly.’ 199D.11 ‘O wae be to ye, Captain Ogilvie! And are you there sae rarely? Gin ye wad hae bowed when first I bade, I neer wad hae plunderd bonnie Airly.’ 199D.12 ‘But gin I had my lady gay, bot and my sister Mary, One fig I wad na gie for ye a’, Nor yet for the plundering of Airly.’

200A: The Gypsy Laddie

200A.1 THE gypsies came to our good lord’s gate, And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very compleat That down came the fair lady. 200A.2 And she came tripping down the stair, And a’ her maids before her; As soon as they saw her well-far’d face, They coost the glamer oer her. 200A.3 ‘Gae tak frae me this gay mantile, And bring to me a plaidie; For if kith and kin and a’ had sworn, I’ll follow the gypsie laddie. 200A.4 ‘Yestreen I lay in a well-made bed, And my good lord beside me; This night I’ll ly in a tenant’s barn, Whatever shall betide me.’ 200A.5 ‘Come to your bed,’ says Johny Faa, ‘Oh come to your bed, my deary; For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword, That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’ 200A.6 ‘I’ll go to bed to my Johny Faa, I’ll go to bed to my deary; For I vow and I swear, by what past yestreen, That my lord shall nae mair come near me. 200A.7 ‘I’ll mak a hap to my Johnny Faa, And I’ll mak a hap to my deary; And he’s get a’ the coat gaes round, And my lord shall nae mair come near me.’ 200A.8 And when our lord came hame at een, And speir’d for his fair lady, The tane she cry’d, and the other reply’d, ‘She’s away with the gypsie laddie.’ 200A.9 ‘Gae saddle to me the black, black steed, Gae saddle and make him ready; Before that I either eat or sleep, I’ll gae seek my fair lady.’ 200A.10 And we were fifteen well-made men, Altho we were nae bonny; And we were a’ put down for ane, A fair young wanton lady.

200B: The Gypsy Laddie

200B.1 The gypsies they came to my lord Cassilis’ yett, And O but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down came our fair ladie. 200B.2 She came tripping down the stairs, And all her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face, They coost their glamourie owre her. 200B.3 She gave to them the good wheat bread, And they gave her the ginger; But she gave them a far better thing, The gold ring off her finger. 200B.4 ‘Will ye go with me, my hinny and my heart? Will ye go with me, my dearie? And I will swear, by the staff of my spear, That your lord shall nae mair come near thee.’ 200B.5 ‘Sae take from me my silk mantel, And bring to me a plaidie, For I will travel the world owre Along with the gypsie laddie. 200B.6 ‘I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa, I could sail the seas with my dearie; I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa, And with pleasure could drown with my dearie. 200B.7 They wandred high, they wandred low, They wandred late and early, Untill they came to an old tenant’s-barn, And by this time she was weary. 200B.8 ‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed, And my noble lord beside me, And now I must ly in an old tenant’s-barn, And the black crew glowring owre me.’ 200B.9 ‘O hold your tongue, my hinny and my heart, O hold your tongue, my dearie, For I will swear, by the moon and the stars, That thy lord shall nae mair come near thee.’ 200B.10 They wandred high, they wandred low, They wandred late and early, Untill they came to that wan water, And by this time she was wearie. 200B.11 ‘Aften have I rode that wan water, And my lord Cassilis beside me, And now I must set in my white feet and wade, And carry the gypsie laddie.’ 200B.12 By and by came home this noble lord, And asking for his ladie, The one did cry, the other did reply, ‘She is gone with the gypsie laddie.’ 200B.13 ‘Go saddle to me the black,’ he says, ‘The brown rides never so speedie, And I will neither eat nor drink Till I bring home my ladie.’ 200B.14 He wandred high, he wandred low, He wandred late and early, Untill he came to that wan water, And there he spied his ladie. 200B.15 ‘O wilt thou go home, my hinny and my heart, O wilt thou go home, my dearie? And I’l close thee in a close room, Where no man shall come near thee."] 200B.16 ‘I will not go home, my hinny and my heart, I will not go home, my dearie; If I have brewn good beer, I will drink of the same, And my lord shall nae mair come near me. 200B.17 ‘But I will swear, by the moon and the stars, And the sun that shines so clearly, That I am as free of the gypsie gang As the hour my mother did bear me.’ 200B.18 They were fifteen valiant men, Black, but very bonny, And they lost all their lives for one, The Earl of Cassillis’ ladie.

200C: The Gypsy Laddie

200C.1 THERE cam singers to Earl Cassillis’ gates, And oh, but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete, Till down cam the earl’s lady. 200C.2 She cam tripping down the stair, And all her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-faurd face, They coost their glamourye owre her. 200C.3 They gave her o the gude sweetmeats, The nutmeg and the ginger, And she gied them a far better thing, Ten gold rings aff her finger. 200C.4 ‘Tak from me my silken cloak, And bring me down my plaidie; For it is gude eneuch,’ she said, ‘To follow a Gipsy Davy. 200C.5 ‘Yestreen I rode this water deep, And my gude lord beside me; But this nicht I maun set in my pretty fit and wade, A wheen blackguards wading wi me. 200C.6 ‘Yestreen I lay in a fine feather-bed, And my gude lord beyond me; But this nicht I maun lye in some cauld tenant’s-barn, A wheen blackguards waiting on me.’ 200C.7 ‘Come to thy bed, my bonny Jeanie Faw, Come to thy bed, my dearie, For I do swear, by the top o my spear, Thy gude lord’ll nae mair come near thee.’ 200C.8 When her good lord cam hame at nicht, It was asking for his fair ladye; One spak slow, and another whisperd out, ‘She’s awa wi Gipsey Davy!’ 200C.9 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said, ‘Come saddle and mak him readie! For I’ll neither sleep, eat, nor drink Till I find out my lady.’ 200C.10 They socht her up, they socht her doun, They socht her thro nations many, Till at length they found her out in Abbey dale, Drinking wi Gipsey Davy. 200C.11 ‘Rise, oh rise, my bonnie Jeanie Faw, Oh rise, and do not tarry! Is this the thing ye promised to me When at first I did thee marry?’ 200C.12 They drank her cloak, so did they her goun, They drank her stockings and her shoon, And they drank the coat that was nigh to her smock, And they pawned her pearled apron. 200C.13 They were sixteen clever men, Suppose they were na bonny; They are a’ to be hangd on ae tree, For the stealing o Earl Cassilis’ lady. 200C.14 ‘We are sixteen clever men, One woman was a’ our mother; We are a’ to be hanged on ae day, For the stealing of a wanton lady.’

200D: The Gypsy Laddie

200D.1 THERE came Gyptians to Corse Field yeats, Black, tho they warna bonny; They danced so neat and they danced so fine, Till down came the bonny lady. 200D.2 She came trippin down the satir, And her nine maidens afore her; But up and starts him Johny Fa, And he cast the glamour oer her. 200D.3 ‘Ye’ll take frae me this gay mantle, And ye’ll gie to me a plaidie; For I shall follow Johny Fa, Lat weel or woe betide me.’ 200D.4 They’ve taen frae her her fine mantle, And they’ve gaen to her a plaidie, And she’s awa wi Johny Fa, Whatever may betide her. 200D.5 When they came to a wan water, I wite it wasna bonny, . . . . . . . . . . 200D.6 ‘Yestreen I wade this wan water, And my good lord was wi me; The night I man cast aff my shoes and wide, And the black bands widen wi me. 200D.7 ‘Yestreen I lay in a well made bed, And my good lord lay wi me; The night I maun ly in a tenant’s barn, And the black bands lyin wi me.’ 200D.8 ‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johnie Fa, ‘Come to yer bed, my dearie, And I shall swer, by the coat that I wear, That my hand it shall never go near thee.’ 200D.9 ‘I will never come to yer bed, I will never be yer dearie; For I think I hear his horse’s foot That was once called my dearie.’ 200D.10 ‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johny Fa, ‘Come to yer bed, my dearie, And I shall swear, by the coat that I wear, That my hand it shall never go oer thee.’ 200D.11 ‘I will niver come to yer bed, I will niver be yer dearie; For I think I hear his bridle ring That was once called my dearie.’ * * * * * 200D.12 When that good lord came hame at night, He called for his lady; The one maid said, and the other replied, ‘She’s aff wi the Gyptian laddy.’ 200D.13 ‘Ye’ll saddle to me the good black steed, Tho the brown it was never so bonny; Before that ever I eat or drink, I shall have back my lady.’ * * * * * 200D.14 ‘Yestreen we were fifteen good armed men; Tho black, we werena bonny; The night we a’ ly slain for one, It’s the Laird o Corse Field’s lady.’

200E: The Gypsy Laddie

200E.1 THE gypsies they came to Lord Cassle’s yet, And O but they sang ready! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down came the lord’s fair lady. 200E.2 O she came tripping down the stair, Wi a’ her maids afore her, And as soon as they saw her weelfared face They cuist their glaumry owre her. 200E.3 She gaed to them the gude white bread, And they gaed to her the ginger, Then she gaed to them a far brawer thing, The gowd rings af her finger. 200E.4 Quo she to her maids, There’s my gay mantle, And bring to me my plaidy, And tell my lord whan he comes hame I’m awa wi a gypsie laddie. 200E.5 For her lord he had to the hounting gane, Awa in the wild green wuddie, And Jockie Faw, the gypsie king, Saw him there wi his cheeks sae ruddy. 200E.6 On they mounted, and af they rade, Ilk gypsie had a cuddy, And whan through the stincher they did prance They made the water muddy. 200E.7 Quo she, Aft times this water I hae rade, Wi many a laord and lady, But never afore did I it wade To folow a gypsie laddie. 200E.8 ‘Aft hae I lain in a saft feather-bed, Wi my gude lord aside me, But now I maun sleep in an auld reeky kilt, Alang wi a gypsie laddie.’ 200E.9 Sae whan that the yirl he came hame, His servants a’ stood ready; Some took his horse, and some drew his boots, But gane was his fair lady. 200E.10 And whan he came ben to the parlour-door, He asked for his fair lady, But dome denied, and ithers some replied, ‘She’s awa wi a gypsie laddie.’ 200E.11 ‘Then saddle,’ quoth he, ’My gude black naig, For the brown is never sae speedy; As I will neither eat nor drink Till I see my fair lady. 200E.12 ‘I met wi a cheel as I rade hame, And thae queer stories said he; Sir, I saw this day a fairy queen Fu pack wi a gypsie laddie. 200E.13 ‘I hae been east, and I hae been west, And in the lang town o Kircadie, But the bonniest lass that ever I saw Was following a gypsie laddie.’ 200E.14 Sae his lordship has rade owre hills and dales, And owre mony a wild hie mountain, Until that he heard his ain lady say, ‘Now my lord will be hame frae the hounting.’ 200E.15 ‘Than will you come hame, my hinnie and my love?’ Quoth he to his charming dearie, ‘And I’ll keep ye aye in a braw close room, Where the gypsies will never can steer ye.’ 200E.16 Said she, ‘I can swear by the sun and the stars, And the moon whilk shines sae clearie, That I am as chaste for the gypsie Jockie Faw As the day my minnie did bear me.’ 200E.17 ‘Gif ye wad swear by the sun,’ said he, ‘And the moon, till ye wad deave me, Ay and tho ye wad take a far bigger aith, My dear, I wadna believe ye. 200E.18 ‘I’ll tak ye hame, and the gypsies I’ll hang, Ay, I’ll make them girn in a wuddie, And afterwards I’ll burn Jockie Faw, Wha fashed himself wi my fair lady. 200E.19 Quoth the gypsies, We’re fifteen weel-made men, Tho the maist o us be ill bred ay, Yet it wad be a pity we should a’ hang for ane, Wha fashed himself wi your fair lady. 200E.20 Quoth the lady, My lord, forgive them a’, For they nae ill eer did ye, And gie ten guineas to the chief, Jockie Faw, For he is a worthy laddie. 200E.21 The lord he hearkened to his fair dame, And O the gypsies war glad ay! They danced round and round their merry Jockie Faw, And roosed the gypsie laddie. 200E.22 Sae the lord rade hame wi his charming spouse, Owre the hills and the haughs sae whunnie, And the gypsies slade down by yon bonny burnside, To beek themsells there sae sunnie.

200F: The Gypsy Laddie

200F.1 THE gypsies came to the Earl o Cassilis’ gate, And O but they sang bonnie! They sang sae sweet and sae complete That down cam our fair ladie. 200F.2 And she cam tripping down the stair, Wi her twa maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face, They coost their glamer oer her. 200F.3 ‘O come wi me,’ says Johnnie Faw, ‘O come wi me, my dearie, For I vow and swear, by the hilt of my sword, Your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’ 200F.4 ‘Here, tak frae me this gay mantile, And gie to me a plaidie; Tho kith and kin and a’ had sworn, I’ll follow the gypsie laddie. 200F.5 ‘Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed, And my gude lord beside me; This night I’ll lie in a tenant’s barn, Whatever shall betide me. 200F.6 ‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed, Wi silken hangings round me; But now I’ll lie in a farmer’s barn, Wi the gypsies all around me. 200F.7 ‘The first ale-house that we come at, We’ll hae a pot o brandie; The next ale-house that we came at, We’ll drink to gypsie Geordie.’ 200F.8 Now when our lord cam home at een, He speir’d for his fair lady; The ane she cried, [the] tither replied, ‘She’s awa wi the gypsie laddie.’ 200F.9 ‘Gae saddle me the gude black steed; The bay was neer sae bonnie; For I will neither eat nor sleep Till I be wi my lady.’ 200F.10 Then he rode east, and he rode west, And he rode near Strabogie, And there he found his ain dear wife, Drinking wi gypsie Geordie. 200F.11 ‘And what made you leave your houses and land? Or what made you leave your money? Or what made you leave your ain wedded lord, To follow the gypsie laddie? 200F.12 ‘Then come thee hame, my ain dear wife, Then come thee hame, my hinnie, And I do swear, by the hilt of my sword, The gypsies nae mair shall come near thee.’ 200F.13 Then we were seven weel-made men, But lack! we were nae bonnie, And we were a’ put down for ane, For the Earl o Cassilis’ ladie.

200G: The Gypsy Laddie

200G.1 THERE was seven gypsies all in a gang, They were brisk and bonny; O They rode till they came to the Earl of Casstle’s house, And there they sang most sweetly. O 200G.2 The Earl of Castle’s lady came down, With the waiting-maid beside her; As soon as her fair face they saw, They called their grandmother over. 200G.3 They gave to her a nutmeg brown, And a race of the best ginger; She gave to them a far better thing, ’Twas the ring from off her finger. 200G.4 She pulld off her high-heeld shoes, They was made of Spanish leather; She put on her highland brog[u]es, To follow the gypsey loddy. 200G.5 At night when my good lord came home, Enquring for his lady, The waiting-maid made this reply, ‘She’s following the gypsey loddy.’ 200G.6 ‘Come saddle me my milk-white steed, Come saddle it so bonny, As I may go seek my own wedded wife, That’s following the gypsey loddy. 200G.7 ‘Have you been east? have you been west? Or have you been brisk and bonny? Or have you seen a gay lady, A following the gypsey loddy?’ 200G.8 He rode all that summer’s night, And part of the next morning; At length he spy’d his own wedded wife, She was cold, wet, and weary. 200G.9 ‘Why did you leave your houses and land? Or why did you leave your money? Or why did you leave your good wedded lord, To follow the gypsey loddy?’ 200G.10 ‘O what care I for houses and land? Or what care I for money? So as I have brewd, so will I return; So fare you well, my honey!’ 200G.11 There was seven gypsies in a gang, And they was brisk and bonny, And they’re to be hanged all on a row, For the Earl of Castle’s lady.

200H: The Gypsy Laddie

 
 200H.1	 THERE came a gang o gipsies by,
 	 And they was singing so merry, O
 	 Till they gained the heart o my lady gay,
 	 . . . . .
 200H.2	 As soon as the lord he did come in,
 	 Enquired for his lady, O
 	 And some o the sarvants did-a reply,
 	 ’Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’ O
 200H.3	 ‘O saddle me the bay, and saddle me the grey,
 	 Till I go and sarch for my lady;’
 	 And some o the sarvants did-a reply,
 	 ‘Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’
 200H.4	 And he rode on, and he rode off,
 	 Till he came to the gipsies’ tentie,
 	 And there he saw his lady gay,
 	 By the side o the gipsy laddie.
 200H.5	 ‘Didn’t I leave you houses and land?
 	 And didn’t I leave you money?
 	 Didn’t I leave you three pretty babes
 	 As ever was in yonder green island?’
 200H.6	 ‘What care I for houses and land?
 	 And what care I for money?
 	 What do I care for three pretty babes?
 	 . . . . .
 200H.7	 ‘The tother night you was on a feather bed,
 	 Now you’re on a straw one,’
 	 . . . . .
 	 . . . . .

200I: The Gypsy Laddie

 
 200I.1	 THERE come seven gypsies on a day,
 	 Oh, but they sang bonny! O
 	 And they sang so sweet, and they sang so clear,
 	 Down cam the earl’s ladie. O
 200I.2	 They gave to her the nutmeg,
 	 And they gave to her the ginger;
 	 But she gave to them a far better thing,
 	 The seven gold rings off her fingers.
 200I.3	 When the earl he did come home,
 	 Enquiring for his ladie,
 	 One of the servants made this reply,
 	 ‘She’s awa with the gypsie lad[d]ie.’
 200I.4	 ‘Come saddle for me the brown,’ he said,
 	 ‘For the black was neer so speedy,
 	 And I will travel night and day
 	 Till I find out my ladie.
 200I.5	 ‘Will you come home, my dear?’ he said,
 	 ‘Oh will you come home, my honey?
 	 And, by the point of my broad sword,
 	 A hand I’ll neer lay on you.’
 200I.6	 ‘Last night I lay on a good feather-bed,
 	 And my own wedded lord beside me,
 	 And tonight I’ll lie in the ash-corner,
 	 With the gypsies all around me.
 200I.7	 ‘They took off my high-heeled shoes,
 	 That were made of Spanish leather,
 	 And I have put on coarse Lowland brogues,
 	 To trip it oer the heather.’
 200I.8	 ‘The Earl of Cashan is lying sick;
 	 Not one hair I’m sorry;
 	 I’d rather have a kiss from his fair lady’s lips
 	 Than all his gold and his money.’

200J: The Gypsy Laddie

 
 200J.1	 THERE was a gip came oer the land,
 	 He sung so sweet and gaily;
 	 He sung with glee, neath the wild wood tree,
 	 He charmed the great lord’s lady.
 	 Ring a ding a ding go ding go da,
 	 Ring a ding a ding go da dy,
 	 Ring a ding a ding go ding go da,
 	 She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.
 200J.2	 The lord he came home late that night;
 	 Enquiring for his lady,
 	 ‘She’s gone, she’s gone,’ said his old servantman,
 	 ‘She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.’
 200J.3	 ‘Go saddle me my best black mare;
 	 The grey is neer so speedy;
 	 For I’ll ride all night, and I’ll ride all day,
 	 Till I overtake my lady.’
 200J.4	 Riding by the river-side,
 	 The grass was wet and dewy;
 	 Seated with her gipsey lad,
 	 It’s there he spied his lady.
 200J.5	 ‘Would you forsake your house and home?
 	 Would you forsake your baby?
 	 Would you forsake your own true love,
 	 And go with the gipsey Davy?’
 200J.6	 ‘Yes, I’ll forsake my house and home,
 	 Yes, I’ll forsake my baby;
 	 What care I for my true love?
 	 I love the gipsey Davy.’
 200J.7	 The great lord he rode home that night,
 	 He took good care of his baby,
 	 And ere six months had passed away
 	 He married another lady.

200K: The Gypsy Laddie

 
 200K.0K.1	‘GO bring me down my high-heeled shoes,
 	 Made of the Spanish leather,
 	 And I’ll take off my low-heeled shoes,
 	 And away we’ll go together.’
 	 Lumpy dumpy linky dinky day
 	 Lumpy dumpy linky dinky daddy
 200K.2	 They brought her down her high-heeled shoes,
 	 Made of the Spanish leather,
 	 And she took off her low-heeled shoes,
 	 And away they went together.
 200K.3	 And when Lord Garrick he got there,
 	 Inquiring for his lady,
 	 Then up steps his best friend:
 	 ‘She’s gone with a gipsy laddie.’
 200K.4	 ‘Go saddle me my bonny brown,
 	 For the grey is not so speedy,
 	 And away we’ll go to the Misty Mount,
 	 And overtake my lady.’
 200K.5	 They saddled him his bonny brown,
 	 For the grey was not so speedy,
 	 And away they went to the Misty Mount,
 	 And overtook his lady.
 200K.6	 And when Lord Garrick he got there,
 	 ’Twas in the morning early,
 	 And there he found his lady fair,
 	 And she was wet and weary.
 200K.7	 ‘And it’s fare you well, my dearest dear,
 	 And it’s fare you well for ever,
 	 And if you don’t go with me now,
 	 Don’t let me see you never.’

200[L]: The Gypsy Laddie

 
 200[L].1	A band of gypsies, all in a road,
 	 All so black and brawny, oh
 	 Away come a lady all dressed in silk,
 	 To follow the roving gypsies. oh
       Refrain:	The gypsies, oh!
 		The gypsies, oh!
 		To follow the roving gypsies, oh!
 200[L.2]	Her husband came home at ten o’clock of night,
 	 An asked for his lady fair;
 	 The servant informed him very soon
 	 She had gone with the roving gypsies.
 200[L.3]	‘Saddle to me my bonny gray mare,
 	 Saddle to me my pony;
 	 I will go where the green grass grow,
 	 To find out the roving gypsies.
 200[L.4]	‘Last night she slept in a fair feather-bed,
 	 And blankets by bonins;
 	 Tonight she sleeps in a cold shed-barn,
 	 Through following the roving gypsies.
 200[L.5]	‘Why did you leave your houses and your lands?
 	 Why did you leave your babies?
 	 Why did you leave your decent married man,
 	 To follow the roving gypsies?’
 200[L.6]	‘What cares I for my houses and my lands?
 	 What cares I for my babies?
 	 What cares I for my decent married man?
 	 I will go with the roving gypsies.’

201A: Bessy Bell and Mary Gray

 
 201A.1	 O BESSIE BELL and Mary Gray,
 	 They war twa bonnie lasses;
 	 They bigget a bower on yon burn-brae,
 	 And theekit it oer wi rashes.
 201A.2	 They theekit it oer wi rashes green,
 	 They theekit it oer wi heather;
 	 But the pest cam frae the burrows-town,
 	 And slew them baith thegither.
 201A.3	 They thought to lye in Methven kirk-yard,
 	 Amang their noble kin;
 	 But they maun lye in Stronach haugh,
 	 To biek forenent the sin.
 201A.4	 And Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
 	 They war twa bonnie lasses;
 	 They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,
 	 And theekit it oer wi rashes.

202A: The Battle of Philiphaugh

202A.1 ON Philiphaugh a fray began, At Hairheadwood it ended; The Scots outoer the Gra+emes they ran, Sae merrily they bended. 202A.2 Sir David frae the Border came, Wi heart an hand came he; Wi him three thousand bonny Scots, To bear him company. 202A.3 Wi him three thousand valiant men, A noble sight to see! A cloud o mist them weel conceald, As close as eer might be. 202A.4 When they came to the Shaw burn, Said he, Sae weel we frame, I think it is convenient That we should sing a psalm. 202A.5 When they came to the Lingly burn, As daylight did appear, They spy’d an aged father, And he did draw them near. 202A.6 ‘Come hither, aged father,’ Sir David he did cry, ‘And tell me where Montrose lies, With al his great army.’ 202A.7 ‘But first you must come tell to me, If friends or foes you be; I fear you are Montrose’s men, Come frae the north country.’ 202A.8 ‘No, we are nane o Montrose’s men, Nor eer intend to be; I am Sir David Lesly, That’s speaking unto thee.’ 202A.9 "[If you’re Sir David Lesly, As I think weel ye be, I am sorry ye hae brought so few Into your company. 202A.10 ‘There’s fifteen thousand armed men Encamped on yon lee; Ye’ll never be a bite to them, For aught that I can see. 202A.11 ‘But halve your men in equal parts, Your purpose to fulfill; Let ae half keep the water-side, The rest gae round the hill. 202A.12 ‘Your nether party fire must, Then beat a flying drum; And then they’ll think the day’s their ain, And frae the trench they’ll come. 202A.13 ‘Then, those that are behind them maun Gie shot, baith grit and sma; And so, between your armies twa, Ye may make them to fa.’ 202A.14 ‘O were ye ever a soldier?’ Sir David Lesly said; ‘O yes; I was at Solway Flow, Where we were all betrayd. 202A.15 ‘Again I was at curst Dunbar, And was a prisner taen, And many weary night and day In prison I hae lien.’ 202A.16 ‘If ye will lead these men aright, Rewarded shal ye be; But, if that ye a traitor prove, I’ll hang thee on a tree.’ 202A.17 ‘Sir, I will not a traitor prove; Montrose has plunderd me; I’ll do my best to banish him Away frae this country.’ 202A.18 He halvd his men in equal parts, His purpose to fulfill; The one part kept the water-side, The other gaed round the hill. 202A.19 The nether party fired brisk, Then turnd and seemd to rin; And then they a’ came frae the trench, And cry’d The day’s our ain! 202A.20 The rest then ran into the trench, And loosd their cannons a’: And thus, between his armies twa, He made them fast to fa. 202A.21 Now let us a’ for Lesly pray And his brave company, For they hae vanquishd great Montrose, Our cruel enemy.

203A: The Baron of Brackley

203A.1 Inverey cam doun Deeside, whistlin and playin, He was at brave Braikley’s yett ere it was dawin. 203A.2 He rappit fu loudly and wi a great roar, Cried, Cum doun, cum doun, Braikley, and open the door. 203A.3 ‘Are ye sleeping, Baronne, or are ye wakin? Ther’s sharpe swords at your yett, will gar your blood spin. 203A.4 ‘Open the yett, Braikley, and lat us within, Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin.’ 203A.5 Out spak the brave baronne, owre the castell-wa: ‘Are ye cum to spulyie and plunder mi ha? 203A.6 ‘But gin ye be gentlemen, licht and cum in: Gin ye drink o my wine, ye’ll nae gar my bluid spin. 203A.7 ‘Gin ye be hir’d widifus, ye may gang by, Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky. 203A.8 ‘Ther spulyie like rievers o wyld kettrin clan, Who plunder unsparing baith houses and lan. 203A.9 ‘Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum [in], Ther’s meat an drink i my ha for every man. 203A.10 ‘Gin ye bir’d widifus, ye may gang by, Gang doun to the lawlands, and steal horse and ky.’ 203A.11 Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she lay, ‘Get up, get up, Braikley, and be not afraid; The’r but young hir’d widifus wi belted plaids.’ 203A.12 ‘Cum kiss me, mi Peggy, I’le nae langer stay, For I will go out and meet Inverey. 203A.13 ‘But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din, For yon same hir’d widifus will prove themselves men.’ 203A.14 She called on her marys, they cam to her hand; Cries, Bring me your rocks, lassies, we will them command. 203A.15 ‘Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky, Or me an mi women will them defy. 203A.16 ‘Cum forth then, mi maidens, and show them some play; We’ll ficht them, and shortly the cowards will fly. 203A.17 ‘Gin I had a husband, whereas I hae nane, He woud nae ly i his bed and see his ky taen. 203A.18 ‘Ther’s four-and-twenty milk-whit calv5s, tw1l o them ky, In the woods o Glentanner, it’s ther thei a’ ly. 203A.19 ‘Ther’s goat i the Etnach, and sheep o the brae, An a’ will be plunderd by young Inverey.’ 203A.20 ‘Now haud your tongue, Peggy, and gie me a gun, Ye’ll see me gae furth, but I’ll never cum in. 203A.21 ‘Call mi brother William, mi unkl also, Mi cousin James Gordon; we’ll mount and we’ll go.’ 203A.22 When Braikley was ready and stood i the closs, He was the bravest baronne that eer mounted horse. 203A.23 Whan all wer assembld o the castell green, No man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen 203A.24 . . . . . ‘Turn bak, brother William, ye are a bridegroom; 203A.25 ‘Wi bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill; O sichin and sobbin she’ll soon get her fill.’ 203A.26 ‘I’m no coward, brother, ’tis kend I’m a man; I’ll ficht i your quarral as lang’s I can stand. 203A.27 ‘I’ll ficht, my dear brother, wi heart and gude will, And so will young Harry that lives at the mill. 203A.28 ‘But turn, mi dear brother, and nae langer stay: What’ll cum o your ladie, gin Braikley thei slay? 203A.29 ‘What’ll cum o your ladie and bonnie young son? O what’ll cum o them when Braikley is gone?’ 203A.30 ‘I never will turn: do you think I will fly? But here I will ficht, and here I will die.’ 203A.31 ‘Strik dogs,’ crys Inverey, a+end ficht till ye’re slayn, For we are four hundered, ye are but four men. 203A.32 ‘Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honour is gone, Your lands we will plunder, your castell we’ll burn.’ 203A.33 At the head o the Etnach the battel began, At Little Auchoilzie thei killd the first man. 203A.34 First thei killd ane, and soon they killd twa, Thei killd gallant Braikley, the flour o them a’. 203A.35 Thei killd William Gordon, and James o the Knox, And brave Alexander, the flour o Glenmuick. 203A.36 What sichin and moaning was heard i the glen, For the Baronne o Braikley, who basely was slayn! 203A.37 ‘Cam ye bi the castell, and was ye in there? Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?’ 203A.38 ‘Yes, I cam by Braikley, and I gaed in there, And there [saw] his ladie braiding her hair. 203A.39 ‘She was rantin, and dancin, and singin for joy, And vowin that nicht she woud feest Inverey. 203A.40 ‘She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in, Was kind to the man that had slayn her baronne.’ 203A.41 Up spake the son on the nourice’s knee, ‘Gin I live to be a man, revenged I’ll be.’ 203A.42 Ther’s dool i the kitchin, and mirth i the ha, The Baronne o Braikley is dead and awa.

203B: The Baron of Brackley

203B.1 ‘Baron of Brackley, are ye in there? The’re sharp swords at yer yetts, winna ye spear.’ 203B.2 If they be gentlemen, lat them cum in; But if they be reavers, we’ll gar them be taen.’ 203B.3 It is na gentlemen, nor yet pretty lads, But a curn hir’d widdifus, wears belted plaids.’ 203B.4 She called on her women and bade them come in: ‘Tack a’ yer rocks, lasses, and we’ll them coman. 203B.5 ‘We’ll fecht them, we’ll slight them, we’ll do what we can, And I vow we will shoot them altho we shod bang. 203B.6 ‘Rise up, John,’ she said, a+end turn in yer kye, For they’ll hae them to the Hielands, and you they’l defie.’ 203B.7 ‘Had your still, Catharine, and still yer young son, For ye’ll get me out, but I’ll never cum in.’ 203B.8 ‘If I had a man, as I hae na nane, He wudna lye in his bed and see his kye tane.’ 203B.9 ‘Ye’ll cum kiss me, my Peggy, and bring me my gun, For I’m gaing out, but I’ll never cum in.’ 203B.10 There was twenty wi Invery, twenty and ten; There was nane wi the baron but his brother and him. 203B.11 At the head of Reneeten the battle began; Ere they wan Auchoilzie, they killed mony a man. 203B.12 They killed Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock, The mullertd’s four sons up at Glenmuick. 203B.13 They killed Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock, And they made the brave baron like kail to a pot. 203B.14 First they killed ane, and then they killed twa, Then they killed the brave baron, the flower o them a’. 203B.15 Then up came Craigievar, and a party wi him[ If he had come an hour sooner, Brackley had not been slain. 203B.16 ‘Came ye by Brackley? and was ye in there? Or say ye his lady, was making great care?’ 203B.17 ‘I came by Brackley, and I was in there, But I saw his lady no making great care. 203B.18 ‘For she eat wi them, drank wi them, welcomed them in; She drank to the villain that killed her guid man. 203B.19 ‘Woe to ye, Kate Fraser! sorry may yer heart be, To see yer brave baron’s blood cum to yer knee.’ 203B.20 There is dule in the kitchen, and mirth i the ha, But the Baron o B[r]ackley is dead and awa.

203C: The Baron of Brackley

203C.1 O Inverey came down Dee side, whistling and playing; He’s landed at Braikly’s yates at the day dawing. 203C.2 Says, Baron of Braikly, are ye within? There’s sharp swords at the yate will gar your blood spin. 203C.3 The lady raise up, to the window she went; She heard her kye lowing oer hill and oer bent. 203C.4 ‘O rise up, John,’ she says, ’Turn back your kye; They’re oer the hills rinning, they’re skipping away.’ 203C.5 ‘Come to your bed, Peggie, and let the kye rin, For were I to gang out, I would never get in.’ 203C.6 Then she’s cry’d on her women, they quickly came ben: ‘Take up your rocks, lassies, and fight a’ like men. 203C.7 ‘Though I’m but a woman, to head you I’ll try, Nor let these vile Highland-men steal a’ our kye.’ 203C.8 Then up gat the baron, and cry’d for his graith; Says, Lady, I’ll gang, tho to leave you I’m laith. 203C.9 ‘Come, kiss me, my Peggie, nor think I’m to blame; For I may well gang out, but I’ll never win in.’ 203C.10 When the Baron of Braikly rade through the close, A gallanter baron neer mounted a horse. 203C.11 Tho there came wi Inverey thirty and three, There was nane wi bonny Braikly but his brother and he. 203C.12 Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw; But against four and thirty, wae’s me, what was twa? 203C.13 Wi swords and wi daggers they did him surround, And they’ve pierc’d bonny Braikly wi mony a wound. 203C.14 Frae the head of the Dee to the banks of the Spey, The Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey. 203C.15 ‘O came ye by Braikly, and was ye in there? Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?’ 203C.16 ‘O I came by Braikly, and I was in there, But I saw not his Peggy dear riving her hair.’ 203C.17 ‘O fye on ye, lady! how could ye do sae? You opend your yate to the faus Inverey.’ 203C.18 She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in; She welcomd the villain that slew her baron. 203C.19 She kept him till morning, syne bad him be gane, And showd him the road that he woud na be tane. 203C.20 ‘Thro Birss and Aboyne,’ she says, ’lyin in a tour, Oer the hills of Glentanor you’ll skip in an hour.’ 203C.21 There is grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha, But the Baron of Braikly is dead and awa.

203D: The Baron of Brackley

203D.1 ‘Baron o Breachell, are ye within? The sharp souerd is at yer gate, Breachell, we’ll gar yer blood spin.’ 203D.2 ‘Thei’r at yer gate, Breachel, the’r neither men nor lads, But fifty heard widifas, wi belted plaids.’ 203D.3 ‘O if I had a man,’ she says, a+es it looks I had nane, He widna sit in the house and see my kye tane. 203D.4 ‘But lasses tak down yer rocks, and we will defend . . . . . . . . 203D.5 ‘O kiss me, dear Peggy, and gee me down my gun, I may well ga out, but I’ll never come in.’ 203D.6 Out spak his brither, says, Gee me yer hand; I’ll fight in yer cause sae lang as I may stand. 203D.7 Whan the Baron o Breachell came to the closs, A braver baron neir red upon horse. 203D.8 . . . . . . . . I think the silly heard widifas are grown fighten men. 203D.9 First they killed ane, and syen they killed twa, And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa. 203D.10 They killed Sandy Gordon, Sandy Gordon o the Knock, The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuick. 203D.11 First they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa, And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa. 203D.12 Up came Crigevar and a’ his fighten men: ‘Had I come an hour soonur, he sudna been slain.’ 203D.13 For first they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa, And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa. 203D.14 ‘O came ye by Breachell, lads? was ye in their? Saw ye Peggy Dann riving her hair?’ 203D.15 ‘We cam by Breachell, lads, we was in there, And saw Eggie Dann cairling her hair. 203D.16 ‘She eat wi them, drank wi them, bad them come in To her house an bours that had slain her baron. 203D.17 ‘Come in, gentlemen, eat and drink wi me; Tho ye ha slain my baron, I ha na a wite at ye.’ 203D.18 ‘O was [ye] at Glenmuik, lads? was ye in theire? Saw ye Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair?’ 203D.19 ‘We was at Glenmuik, lads, we was in there, We saw Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair. 203D.20 ‘Wi the tear in her eye, seven bairns at her foot, The eighth on her knee . . . 203D.21 The killed Peter Gordon, Peter Gordon of the Knock, The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuik. 203D.22 First they killed ane, and syn they killed twa, And the Baron of Breachell is dead and awa.

204A: Jamie Douglas

204A.1 I WAS a lady of high renown As lived in the north countrie; I was a lady of high renown Whan Earl Douglas loved me. 204A.2 Whan we came through Glasgow toun, We war a comely sight to see; My gude lord in velvet green, And I mysel in cramasie. 204A.3 Whan we cam to Douglas toun, We war a fine sight to behold; My gude lord in cramasie, And I myself in shining gold. 204A.4 Whan that my auld son was born, And set upon the nurse’s knee, I was as happy a woman as eer was born, And my gude lord he loved me. 204A.5 But oh, an my young son was born, And set upon the nurse’s knee, And I mysel war dead and gane, For a maid again I’ll never be! 204A.6 There cam a man into this house, And Jamie Lockhart was his name, And it was told to my gude lord That I was in the bed wi him. 204A.7 There cam anither to this house, And a bad friend he was to me; He put Jamie’s shoon below my bed-stock, And bade my gude lord come and see. 204A.8 O wae be unto thee, Blackwood, And ae an ill death may ye dee! For ye was the first and the foremost man That parted my gude lord and me. 204A.9 Whan my gude lord cam in my room, This grit falsehood for to see, He turnd about, and, wi a gloom, He straucht did tak farewell o me. 204A.10 ‘O fare thee well, my once lovely maid! O fare thee well, once dear to me! O fare thee well, my once lovely maid! For wi me again ye sall never be.’ 204A.11 ‘Sit doun, sit doun, Jamie Douglas, Sit thee doun and dine wi me, And Ill set thee on a chair of gold, And a silver towel on thy knee.’ 204A.12 ‘Whan cockle-shells turn silver bells, And mussels they bud on a tree, Whan frost and snaw turns fire to burn, Then I’ll sit down and dine wi thee.’ 204A.13 O wae be unto thee, Blackwood, And ae an ill death may ye dee! Ye war the first and the foremost man That parted my gude lord and me. 204A.14 Whan my father he heard word That my gude lord had forsaken me, He sent fifty o his brisk dragoons To fesh me hame to my ain countrie. 204A.15 That morning before I did go, My bonny palace for to leave, I went into my gude lord’s room, But alas! he wad na speak to me. 204A.16 ‘Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas! Fare thee well, my ever dear to me! Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas! Be kind to the three babes I’ve born to thee.’

204B: Jamie Douglas

204B.1 WALY, waly up the bank! And waly, waly down the brae! And waly, waly to yon burn-side, Where me and my love wunt to gae! 204B.2 As I lay sick, and very sick, And sick was I, and like to die, And Blacklaywood put in my love’s ears That he staid in bower too lang wi me. 204B.3 As I lay sick, and very sick, And sick was I, and like to die, And walking into my garden green, I heard my good lord lichtlie me. 204B.4 Now woe betide ye, Blacklaywood! I’m sure an ill death you must die; Ye’ll part me and my ain good lord, And his face again I’ll never see. 204B.5 ‘Come down stairs now, Jamie Douglas, Come down stairs and drink wine wi me; I’ll set thee into a chair of gold, And not one farthing shall it cost thee.’ 204B.6 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, And muscles grow on every tree, When frost and snaw turn fiery baas, I’ll come down the stair and drink wine wi thee.’ 204B.7 ‘What’s needs me value you, Jamie Douglas, More than you do value me? The Earl of Mar is my father, The Duke of York is my brother gay. 204B.8 ‘But when my father gets word o this, I trow a sorry man he’ll be; He’ll send four score o his soldiers brave To tak me hame to mine ain countrie.’ 204B.9 As I lay owre my castell-wa, I beheld my father comin for me, Wi trumpets sounding on every side; But they werena music at a’ for me. 204B.10 ‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! And fare ye weel, my own good lord! For my face again ye shall never see. 204B.11 ‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas! But my youngest son shall gae wi me.’ 204B.12 ‘What ails ye at yer youngest son, Sits smilin at the nurse’s knee? I’m sure he never knew any harm, Except it was from his nurse or thee.’ 204B.13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . And when I was into my coaches set, He made his trumpets a’ to soun. 204B.14 I’ve heard it said, and it’s oft times seen, The hawk that flies far frae her nest; And a’ the world shall plainly see It’s Jamie Douglas that I love best. 204B.15 Ive heard it said, and [it’s] oft times seen, The hawk that flies from tree to tree; And a’ the world shall plainly see It’s for Jamie Douglas I maun die.

204C: Jamie Douglas

204C.1 O WALLY, wally up yon bank! And wally down yon brae! And wally, wally up yon burn-side, Where me and my lord wont to gae! 204C.2 I leand me on yon saugh sae sweet, I leand me on yon saugh sae sour, And my gude lord has forsaken me, And he swears he’ll never loe me more. 204C.3 There came a young man to this town, And Jamie Lockhart was his name; Fause Blackwood lilted in my lord’s ear That I was in the bed wi him. 204C.4 ‘Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas, Come up, come up and dine wi me, And I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, And use you kindly on my knee.’ 204C.5 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, And mussels hing on every tree, When frost and snow turn fire-brands, Then I’ll come up and dine wi thee.’ 204C.6 When my father and mother they got word That my good lord had forsaken me, They sent fourscore of soldiers brave To bring me hame to my ain countrie. 204C.7 That day that I was forc’d to go, My pretty palace for to leave, I went to the chamber were my lord lay, But alas! he wad na speak to me. 204C.8 ‘O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! I hope your father will prove mair kind To you than he has been to me. 204C.9 ‘You take every one to be like yoursel, You take every one that comes unto thee; But I could swear by the heavens high That I never knew anither man but thee. 204C.10 ‘O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood, And an ill death now may ye die! For ye was the first occasioner Of parting my gude lord and me.’ 204C.11 Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town, My father and mither they met me, Wi trumpets sounding on every side; But alas! they could ne cherish me. 204C.12 ‘Hold your tongue, daughter,’ my father said, ‘And with your weeping let me be; And we’ll get out a bill of divorce, And I’ll get a far better lord to thee.’ 204C.13 ‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she says, ‘And with your talking let me be; I wad na gie a kiss a my ain lord’s lips For a’ the men in the west country.’ 204C.14 Oh an I had my baby born, And set upon the nurse’s knee, And I myself were dead and gone! For a maid again I will never be.

204D: Jamie Douglas

204D.1 I FELL sick, and very, very sick, Sick I was, and like to dee; A friend o mine cam frae the west, A friend o mine came me to see, And the black told it to my gude lord He was oure lang in the chamber wi me. * * * * * 204D.2 ‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas, Come doun and drink wine wi me; I’ll set ye on a chair of gold, And not ae farthing will it cost thee.’ 204D.3 ‘Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells, And fishes flee frae tree to tree, Whan frost and snaw turn fire-beams, I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’ * * * * * 204D.4 ‘What ails ye at your young son James, That sits upo the nurse’s knee? I’m sure he never did ye no harm, If it war na for the nurse or me. 204D.5 ‘What care I for you, Jamie Douglas? Not a small pin I value thee; For my father he is the Earl of York, And of that my mither’s the gay ladie; They will send fourscore of his soldiers bold For to tak me hame to my ain countrie.’ * * * * * 204D.6 Whan I was set in my coach and six, Taking fareweel o my babies three, ‘I beg your father’s grace to be kind, For your face again I’ll never see.’ * * * * * 204D.7 As I was walking up London streets, My father was coming to meet me, Wi trumpets sounding on every side; But that was na music at a’ for me. 204D.8 ‘Hold your tongue, my dochter dear, And of your weeping let abee; A bill of divorcement I’ll send to him, A far better match I’ll get for thee.’ 204D.9 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And with your folly let abee; There’ll never man sleep in my twa arms, Sin my gude lord has forsaken me.’ * * * * * 204D.10 As I was sitting at my bouer-window, What a blythe sicht did I see! I saw four score of his soldiers bold, And I wishd that they were coming for me. 204D.11 Out bespeaks the foremost man, And what a weel-spoken man was he! ‘If the Marquis o Douglas’s lady be within, You’ll bid her come doun and speak to me.’ 204D.12 It’s out bespak my auld father then, I wat an angry man was he; ‘Ye may gang back the road ye cam, For her face again ye’ll never see.’ 204D.13 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And with your folly let abee; For I’ll ga back, and I’ll ne’er return; Do ye think I love you as weel as he?’ 204D.14 As I cam in by the Orange gate, What a blythe sicht did I see! I saw Jamie Douglas coming me to meet, And at his foot was his babies three. 204D.15 ‘Ga fetch, ga fetch a bottle of wine, That I may drink to my gay ladie;’ She took the cup into her hand, But her bonnie heart it broke in three.

204E: Jamie Douglas

 
 204E.1	 I LAY sick, and very sick,
 	 And I was bad, and like to dee;
 	 . . . .
 	 A friend o mine cam to visit me,
 	 And Blackwood whisperd in my lord’s ear
 	 That he was oure lang in chamber wi me.
 204E.2	 ‘O what need I dress up my head,
 	 Nor what need I caim doun my hair,
 	 Whan my gude lord has forsaken me,
 	 And says he will na love me mair!
 204E.3	 ‘But oh, an my young babe was born,
 	 And set upon some nourice knee,
 	 And I mysel war dead and gane!
 	 For a maid again I’ll never be.’
 204E.4	 ‘Na mair o this, my dochter dear,
 	 And of your mourning let abee;
 	 For a bill of divorce I’ll gar write for him,
 	 A mair better lord I’ll get for thee.’
 204E.5	 ‘Na mair o this, my father dear,
 	 And of your folly let abee;
 	 For I wad ne gie ae look o my lord’s face
 	 For aw the lords in the haill cuntree.
 204E.6	 ‘But I’ll cast aff my robes o red,
 	 And I’ll put on my robes o blue,
 	 And I will travel to some other land,
 	 To see gin my love will on me rue.
 204E.7	 ‘There shall na wash come on my face,
 	 There shall na kaim come on my hair;
 	 There shall neither coal nor candle-licht
 	 Be seen intil my bouer na mair.
 204E.8	 ‘O wae be to thee, Blackwood,
 	 And an ill death may ye dee!
 	 Foe ye’ve been the haill occasion
 	 Of parting my lord and me.’

204F: Jamie Douglas

204F.1 WALY, waly up yon bank! And waly, waly up yon brae! And waly, waly by yon river-side, Where me and my love were wont to gae! 204F.2 My mither tauld me when I was young That young men’s love was ill to trow; But to her I would give nae ear, And alas! my ain wand dings me now. 204F.3 ‘But gin I had wist or I had kisst That young man’s love was sae ill to win, I would hae lockt my heart wi a key o gowd, And pinnd it wi a sillar pin. 204F.4 When lairds and lords cam to this toun, And gentlemen o a high degree, I took my auld son in my arms, And went to my chamber pleasantly. 204F.5 But when gentlemen come thro this toun, And gentlemen o a high degree, I must sit alane in the dark, And the babie on the nurse’s knee. 204F.6 I had a nurse, and she was fair, She was a dearly nurse to me; She took my gay lord frae my side, And used him in her company. 204F.7 Awa! awa, thou false Blackwood! Ay and an ill death may thou die! Thou wast the first occasioner Of parting my gay lord and me. 204F.8 When I was sick, and very sick, Sick I was, and like to die, I drew me near to my stair-head, And I heard my own lord lichtly me. 204F.9 ‘Come doun, come doun, thou Earl of March, Come doun, come doun and dine with me; I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd, And treat thee kindly on my knee!’ 204F.10 ‘When cockle-shells grow sillar bells, And mussells grow on every tree, When frost and snaw turns fiery ba’s, Then I’ll come doun and dine with thee.’ 204F.11 When my father and mother got word That my gay lord had forsaken me, They sent three score of soldiers bold To bring me to my own countrie. 204F.12 When I in my coach was set, My tenants all was with me tane; They set them doun upon their knees, And they begd me to come back again. 204F.13 Fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my babies three! I wish your father may be kind To these three faces that I do see. 204F.14 When we cam in by Edinbro toun, My father and mother they met me; The cymbals sounded on every side, But alace! the gave no comfort to me. 204F.15 ‘Hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping let abee, And I’ll give him a bill of divorce, And I’ll get as good a lord to thee.’ 204F.16 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your scoffing let me bee; I would rather hae a kiss of my own lord’s mouth As all the lords in the north countrie.’

204G: Jamie Douglas

204G.1 O WALY, waly up the bank! And waly, waly down the brae! And waly by yon river side, Where me and my lord was wont to gae! 204G.2 An I had wit what I wit now, Before I came over the river Tay, I would hae staid at Lord Torchard’s yetts, And I micht hae been his own lady gay. 204G.3 When I lay sick, and was very sick, A friend of mine came me to see; When our Blacklywood told it in my lord’s ears That he staid too long in chamber with me. 204G.4 Woe be to thee, thou Blacklywood! I wish an ill death may thou die; For thou’s been the first and occasion last That put strife between my good lord and me. 204G.5 When my father he heard of this, His heart was like for to break in three; He sent fourscore of his soldiers brave For to take me home to mine own countree. 204G.6 In the morning when I arose, My bonnie palace for to see, I came unto my lord’s room-door, But he would not speak one word to me. 204G.7 ‘Come down the stair, my lord Jamie Douglas, Come down and speak one word with me; I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, And the never a penny it will cost thee.’ 204G.8 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells, And grass grows over the highest tree, When frost and snaw turns fiery bombs, Then will I come down and drink wine with thee.’ 204G.9 O what need I care for Jamie Douglas More than he needs to care for me? For the Pord of Murray’s my father dear, And the Dike of York’s daughter my mother be. 204G.10 Thou thocht that I was just like thyself, And took every one that I did see; But I can swear by the heavens above That I never knew a man but thee. 204G.11 But fare thee well, my lord Jamie Douglas! And fare you weel, my sma childer three! God grant your father grace to be kind Till I see you all in my own countrie. 204G.12 Quickly, quickly then rose he up, And quickly, quickly came he down; When I was in my coaches set, He made his trumpets all to sound. 204G.13 As we came in by Edinburgh town, My loving father came to meet me, With trumpets sounding on every side; But it was not comfort at all to me. 204G.14 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping pray let abee; A bill of divorcement I’ll to him send, And a better lord I will chose for thee.’ 204G.15 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your flattery pray let abee; I’ll never lye in another man’s arms, Since my Jamie Douglas has forsaken me.’ 204G.16 It’s often said in a foreign land That the hawk she flies far from her nest; It’s often said, and it’s very true, He’s far from me this day that I luve best.

204H: Jamie Douglas

204H.1 O WALY, waly up the bank! And waly, waly doun the brae! And waly, waly by yon burn-side, Whare me and my luve was wont to gae! 204H.2 If I had kent what I ken now, I wud neer hae crossed the waters o Tay; For an I had staid at Argyle’s yetts, I might hae been his lady gay. 204H.3 When I lay sick, and very sick, And very sick, just like to die, A gentleman, a friend of mine own, A gentleman came me to see; But Blackliewoods sounded in my luve’s ears He was too long in chamer with me. 204H.4 O woe be to thee, Blackliewoods, But an an ill death may you die! Thou’s been the first and occasion last That eer put ill twixt my luve and me. 204H.5 ‘Come down the stairs now, Jamie Douglas, Come down the stairs and drink wine wi me; I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, And it’s not one penny it will cost thee.’ 204H.6 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells, And gowd grows oer yon lily lea, When frost and snaw grows fiery bombs, I will come down and drink wine wi thee.’ 204H.7 ‘What ails you at our youngest son, That sirs upon the nurse’s knee? I’m sure he’s never done any harm And it’s not to his ain nurse and me.’ 204H.8 My loving father got word of this, But and an angry man was he; He sent three score of his soldiers brave To take me to my own countrie. * * * * * 204H.9 ‘O fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas! And fare ye weel, my children three! God grant your father may prove kind Till I see you in my own countrie.’ 204H.10 When she was set into her coach . . . . . . . . . . . . 204H.11 ‘Cheer up your heart, my loving daughter, Cheer up your heart, let your weeping bee! A bill of divorce I will write to him, And a far better lord I’ll provide for thee.’ 204H.12 It’s very true, and it’s often said, The hawk she’s flown and she’s left her nest; But a’ the warld may plainly see They’re far awa that I luve best.

204I: Jamie Douglas

204I.1 ‘O WALY, waly up yon bank! And waly, waly down yon brae! And waly, waly by yon burn-bank, Where me and my lord wont to gae! 204I.2 ‘A gentleman of good account, A friend of mine, came to visit me, And Blackly whispered in my lord’s ears He was too long in chamber with me. 204I.3 ‘When my father came to hear ’t, I wot an angry man was he; He sent five score of his soldiers bright To take me safe to my own countrie. 204I.4 ‘Up in the mornin when I arose, My bonnie palace for to lea, And when I came to my lord’s door, The neer a word he would speak to me. 204I.5 ‘Come down, come down, O Jamie Douglas, And drink the Orange wine with me; I’ll set thee in a chair of gold, That neer a penny it cost thee.’ 204I.6 ‘When sea and sand turns foreign land, And mussels grow on every tree, When cockle-shells turn silver bells, I’ll drink the Orange wine with thee.’ 204I.7 ‘Wae be to you, Blackly,’ she said, ‘Aye and an ill death may you die! You are the first, and I hope the last, That eer made my lord lichtly me.’ 204I.8 ‘Fare ye weel then, Jamie Douglas! I value you as little as you do me; The Earl of Mar is my father dear, And I soon will see my own countrie. 204I.9 ‘Ye thought that I was like yoursell, And loving each ane I did see; But here I swear, by the day I die, I never loved a man but thee. 204I.10 ‘Fare ye weel, my servants all! And you, my bonny children three! God grant your father grace to be kind Till I see you safe in my own countrie.’ 204I.11 ‘As I came into Edinburgh toune, With trumpets sounding my father met me; But no mirth nor musick sounds in my ear, Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.’ 204I.12 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping let abee; I’ll send a bill of divorce to the Earl of March, And get a better lord for thee.’ 204I.13 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your folly let abee; No other lord shall lye in my arms, Since the Earl of March has forsaken me. 204I.14 ‘An I had known what I know now, I’d never crossed the water o Tay, But stayed still at Atholl’s gates; He would have made me his lady gay.’ 204I.15 When she came to her father’s lands, The tenants a’ came her to see; Never a word she could speak to them, But the buttons off her clothes did flee. 204I.16 ‘The linnet is a bonnie bird, And aften flees far frae its nest; So all the warld may plainly see They’re far awa that I luve best.’

204J: Jamie Douglas

204J.1 O WALY, waly up yon bank! And waly, waly doun yon brae! And waly, waly by yon burn-side, Where me and my luve used to gae! 204J.2 Oh Johnie, Johnie, but love is bonnie A little while, when it is new; But when love grows aulder, it grows mair caulder, And it fades awa like the mornin dew. 204J.3 I leaned my back against an aik, I thocht it was a trusty tree; But first [it] bowed, and syne it brak, And sae did my fause luve to me. 204J.4 Once I lay sick, and very sick, And a friend of mine cam to visit me, But the small bird whispered in my love’s ears That he was ower lang in the room wi me. 204J.5 ‘It’s come down stairs, my Jamie Douglas, Come down stairs, luve, and dine wi me; I’ll set you on a chair of gold, And court ye kindly on my knee.’ 204J.6 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells, And gold it grows on every tree, When frost and snaw turns fiery balls, Then, love, I’ll come down and dine wi thee.’ 204J.7 If I had known what I know now, That love it was sae ill to win, I should neer hae wet my chefry cheek For onie man or woman’s son. 204J.8 When my father he cam to know That my first luve had sae slighted me, He sent four score of his soldiers bright To guard me home to my own countrie. 204J.9 Slowly, slowly rose I up, And slowly, slowly I came down, And when he saw me sit in my coach, He made his drums and trumpets sound. 204J.10 It’s fare ye weel, my pretty palace! And fare ye weel, my children three! And I hope your father will get mair grace, And love you better that he’s done to me. 204J.11 When we came near to bonnie Edinburgh toun, My father cam for to meet me; He made his drums and trumpets sound, But they were no comfort at all to me. 204J.12 ‘It’s hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping pray let be; For a bill of divorcement I’ll send to him, And a better husband I’ll you supply.’ 204J.13 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your folly pray now let be; For there’s neer a lord shall enter my bower, Since my first love has so slighted me.’

204K: Jamie Douglas

 
 204K.1	 O WALY, waly up the bank!
 	 And waly, waly doun the brae!
 	 And waly by yon river-side,
 	 Where me and my love were wont to gae!
 204K.2	 A gentleman, a friend of mine,
 	 Came to the toun me for to see,
 	 . . . .
 	 . . .
 204K.3	 ‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas,
 	 Come doun the stair and drink wine wi me;
 	 For a chair of gold I will set thee in,
 	 And not one farthing it will cost thee.’
 204K.4	 ‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells,
 	 And mussels grow on ilka tree,
 	 When frost and snaw turns out fire-bombs,
 	 Then I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’
 204K.5	 But when her father heard of this,
 	 O but an angry man was he!
 	 And he sent four score of his ain regiment
 	 To bring her hame to her ain countrie.
 204K.6	 O when she was set in her coach and six,
 	 And the saut tear was in her ee,
 	 Saying, Fare you well, my bonnie palace!
 	 And fare ye weel, my children three!
 204K.7	 O when I came into Edinburgh toun,
 	 My loving father for to see,
 	 The trumpets were sounding on every side,
 	 But they were not music at all for me.
 204K.8	 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
 	 And of your folly I pray let be;
 	 For a bill of divorcement I’ll send him,
 	 And a better lord I’ll provide for thee.’
 204K.9	 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear,
 	 And of your folly I pray let be;
 	 For if I had stayed in fair Orange Green,
 	 I might have been his gay ladye.’

204L: Jamie Douglas

204L.1 WHEN I fell sick, an very sick, An very sick, just like to die, A gentleman of good account He came on purpose to visit me; But his blackie whispered in my lord’s ear He was owre lang in the room wi me. 204L.2 ‘Gae, little page, an tell your lord, Gin he will come and dine wi me I’ll set him on a chair of gold And serve him on my bended knee.’ 204L.3 The little page gaed up the stair: ‘Lord Douglas, dine wi your ladie; She’ll set ye on a chair of gold, And serve you on her bended knee.’ 204L.4 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, When wine drieps red frae ilka tree, When frost and snaw will warm us a’, Then I’ll cum down an dine wi thee."] 204L.5 But whan my father gat word o this, O what an angry man was he! He sent fourscore o his archers bauld To bring me safe to his countrie. 204L.6 When I rose up then in the morn, My goodly palace for to lea, I knocked at my lord’s chamber-door, But neer a word wad he speak to me. 204L.7 But slowly, slowly, rose he up, And slowly, slowly, cam he down, And when he saw me set on my horse, He caused his drums and trumpets soun. 204L.8 ‘Now fare ye weel, my goodly palace! And fare ye weel, my children three! God grant your father grace to love you Far more than ever he loved me.’ 204L.9 He thocht that I was like himsel, That had a woman in every hall; But I could swear, by the heavens clear, I never loved man but himsel. 204L.10 As on to Embro town we cam, My guid father he welcomed me; He caused his minstrels meet to sound, It was nae music at a’ to me. 204L.11 ‘Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear, Leave off your weeping, let it be; For Jamie’s divorcement I’ll send over; Far better lord I’ll provide for thee.’ 204L.12 ‘Now haud your tongue, my father dear, And of such talking let me be; For never a man shall come to my arms, Since my lord has sae slighted me.’ 204L.13 O an I had neer crossed the Tweed, Nor yet been owre the river Dee, I might hae staid at Lord Orgul’s gate, Where I wad hae been a gay ladie. 204L.14 The ladies they will cum to town, And they will cum and visit me; But I’ll set me down now in the dark, For ochanie! who’ll comfort me? 204L.15 An wae betide ye, black Fastness, Ay, and an ill deid may ye die! Ye was the first and foremost man Wha parted my true lord and me.

204M: Jamie Douglas

 
 204M.1	 EARL DOUGLAS, than wham never knight
 	 Had valour moe ne courtesie,
 	 Yet he’s now blamet be a’ the land
 	 For lightlying o his gay lady.
 204M.2	 ‘Go, little page, and tell your lord,
 	 Gin he will cum and dine wi me,
 	 I’ll set him on a seat of gold,
 	 I’ll serve him on my bended knee.’
 204M.3	 The little page gaed up the stair:
 	 ‘Lord Douglas, dine wi your lady;
 	 She’ll set ye on a seat of gold,
 	 And serve ye on her bended knee.’
 204M.4	 ‘When cockle-shells turn siller bells,
 	 When mussels grow on ilka tree,
 	 When frost and snow sall warm us a’,
 	 Then I sall dyne wi my ladie.
 204M.5	 ‘Now wae betide ye, black Fastness,
 	 Ay and an ill dead met ye die!
 	 Ye was the first and foremost man
 	 Wha parted my true lord and me.’

204N: Jamie Douglas

 
 204N.1	 SHE looked out at her father’s window,
 	 To take a view of the countrie;
 	 Who did she see but Jamie Douglas,
 	 And along with him her children three!
 204N.2	 There came a soldier to the gate,
 	 And he did knock right hastilie:
 	 ‘If Lady Douglas be within,
 	 Bid her come down and speak to me.’
 204N.3	 ‘O come away, my lady fair,
 	 Come away now alang with me,
 	 For I have hanged fause Blackwood,
 	 At the very place where he told the lie.’

204O: Jamie Douglas

 
 204O.1	 ‘O COME down stairs, Jamie Douglas,
 	 O come down stairs and speak to me,
 	 And I’ll set thee in a fine chair of gowd,
 	 And I’ll kindly daut thee upon my knee.

205A: Loudon Hill, or Dromclog

205A.1 YOURR’rrL marvel when I tell ye o Our noble Burly and his train, When last he marchd up through the land, Wi sax-and-twenty westland men. 205A.2 Than they I neer o braver heard, For they had a’ baith wit and skill; They proved right well, as I heard tell, As they cam up oer Loudoun Hill. 205A.3 Weel prosper a’ the gospel-lads That are into the west countrie Ay wicked Claverse to demean, And ay an ill dead may he die! 205A.4 For he’s drawn up i battle rank, An that baith soon an hastilie; But they wha live till simmer come, Some bludie days for this will see. 205A.5 But up spak cruel Claverse then, Wi hastie wit an wicked skill, ‘Gae fire on yon westlan men; I think it is my sovreign’s will.’ 205A.6 But up bespake his cornet then, ‘It’s be wi nae consent o me; I ken I’ll neer come back again, An mony mae as weel as me. 205A.7 ‘There is not ane of a’ yon men But wha is worthy other three; There is na ane amang them a’ That in his cause will stap to die. 205A.8 ‘An as for Burly, him I knaw; He’s a man of honour, birth, an fame; Gie him a sword into his hand, He’ll fight thysel an other ten.’ 205A.9 But up spake wicked Claverse then-+--+- I wat his heart it raise fu hie-+--+- And he has cry’d, that a’ might hear, ‘Man, ye hae sair deceived me. 205A.10 ‘I never kend the like afore, Na, never since I came frae hame, That you sae cowardly here suld prove, An yet come of a noble Gra+eme.’ 205A.11 But up bespake his cornet then, ‘Since that it is your honour’s will, Mysel shall be the foremost man That shall gie fire on Loudoun Hill. 205A.12 ‘Your command I’ll lead them on, But yet wi nae consent o me; For weel I ken I’ll neer return, And mony mae as weel as me.’ 205A.13 Then up he drew in battle rank-+--+- I wat he had a bonny train-+--+- But the first time that bullets flew Ay he lost twenty o his men. 205A.14 Then back he came the way he gaed, I wat right soon an suddenly; He gave command amang his men, And sent them back, and bade them flee. 205A.15 Then up came Burly, bauld an stout, Wi ’s little train o westland men, Wha mair than either aince or twice In Edinburgh confind had been. 205A.16 They hae been up to London sent, An yet they’re a’ come safely down; Sax troop o horsemen they hae beat, And chased them into Glasgow town.

206A: Bothwell Bridge

206A.1 ‘O BILLIE, billie, bonny billie, Will ye go to the wood wi me? We’ll ca our horse hame masterless, An gar them trow slain men are we.’ 206A.2 ‘O no, O no!’ says Earlstoun, ‘For that’s the thing that maunna be; For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill, Where I maun either gae or die.’ 206A.3 So Earlstoun rose in the morning, An mounted by the break o day, An he has joind our Scottish lads, As they were marching out the way. 206A.4 ‘Now, farewell, father! and farewell, mother! An fare ye weel, my sisters three! An fare ye well, my Earlstoun! For thee again I’ll never see.’ 206A.5 So they’re awa to Bothwell Hill, An waly, they rode bonnily! When the Duke o Monmouth saw them comin, He went to view their company. 206A.6 ‘Ye’re welcome, lads,’ then Monmouth said, Ye’re welcome, brave Scots lads, to me; And sae are you, brave Earlstoun, The foremost o your company. 206A.7 ‘But yield your weapons ane an a’, O yield your weapons, lads, to me; For, gin ye’ll yield your weapons up, Ye’se a’ gae hame to your country.’ 206A.8 Out then spak a Lennox lad, And waly, but he spoke bonnily! ‘I winna yield my weapons up, To you nor nae man that I see.’ 206A.9 Then he set up the flag o red, A’ set about wi bonny blue: ‘Since ye’ll no cease, and be at peace, See that ye stand by ither true.’ 206A.10 They stelld their cannons on the height, And showrd their shot down in the how, An beat our Scots lads even down; Thick they lay slain on every know. 206A.11 As eer you saw the rain down fa, Or yet the arrow frae the bow, Sae our Scottish lads fell even down, An they lay slain on every know. 206A.12 ‘O hold your hand,’ the Monmouth cry’d, ‘Gie quarters to yon men for me;’ But wicked Claverhouse swore an oath His cornet’s death revengd sud be. 206A.13 ‘O hold your hand,’ Monmouth cry’d, ‘If ony thing you’ll do for me; Hold up your hand, you cursed Gra+eme, Else a rebel to our king ye’ll be.’ 206A.14 Then wicked Claverhouse turnd about-+--+- I wot an angry man was he-+--+- And he has lifted up his hat, And cry’d, God bless his Majesty! 206A.15 Than he’s awa to London town, Ay een as fast as he can dree; Fause witnesses he has wi him taen, An taen Monmouth’s head frae his body. 206A.16 Alang the brae beyond the brig, Mony brave man lies cauld and still; But lang we’ll mind, and sair we’ll rue, The bloody battle of Bothwell Hill.

207A: Lord Delamere

207A.1 GOOD people, give attention, a story you shall hear, It is of the king and my lord Delamere; The quarrel it arose in the Parliament House, Concdrning some taxations going to be put in force. Ri toora loora la. 207A.2 Says my lord Delamere to his Majesty soon, ‘If it please you, my liege, of you I’ll soon beg a boon.’ ‘Then what is your boon? let me it understand:’ ‘It’s to have all the poor men you have in your land. 207A.3 ‘And I’ll take them to Cheshire, and there I will sow Both hempseed and flaxseed, and [hang] them all in a row. Why, they’d better be hanged, and stopped soon their breath, If it please you, my liege, than to starve them to death.’ 207A.4 Then up starts a French lord, as we do hear, Saying, ‘Thou art a proud Jack,’ to my lord Delamere; ‘Thou oughtest to be stabbed’-+--+-then he turnd him about-+--+- ‘For affronting the king in the Parliament House.’ 207A.5 Then up starts his grace, the Duke of Devonshire, Saying, I’ll fight in defence of my lord Delamere. Then a stage was erected, to battle they went, To kill or to be killed was our noble duke’s intent. 207A.6 The very first push, as we do understand, The duke’s sword he bended it back into his hand. He waited a while, but nothing he spoke, Till on the king’s armour his rapier he broke. 207A.7 An English lord, who by that stage did stand, Threw Devonshire another, and he got it in his hand: ‘Play low for your life, brave Devonshire,’ said he, ‘Play low for your life, or a dead man you will be.’ 207A.8 Devonshire dropped on his knee, and gave him his death-wound; O then that French lord fell dead upon the ground. The king called his guards, and he unto them did say, ‘Bring Devonshire down, and take the dead man away.’ 207A.9 ‘No, if it please you, my liege, no! I’ve slain him like a man; I’m resolved to see what clothing he’s got on. Oh, fie upon your treachery, your treachery!’ said he, ‘Oh, king, ’twas your intention to have took my life away. 207A.10 ‘For he fought in your armour, whilst I have fought in bare; The same thou shalt win, king, before thou does it wear.’ Then they all turned back to the Parliament House, And the nobles made obesiance with their hands to their mouths. 207A.11 ‘God bless all the nobles we have in our land, And send the Church of England may flourish still and stand; For I’ve injured no king, no kingdom, nor no crown, But I wish that every honest man might enjoy his own.’

207B: Lord Delamere

207B.1 GOOD people give attention to a story you shall hear: Between the king and my lord Delamere, A quarrel arose in the Parliament House, Concerning the taxes to be put in force. With my fal de ral de ra. 207B.2 I wonder, I wonder that James, our good king, So many hard taxes upon the poor should bring; So many hard taxes, as I have heard them say, Makes many a good farmer to break and run away. 207B.3 Such a rout has been in the parliament, as I hear, Betwixt a Dutch lord and my lord Delamere. He said to the king, as he sat on the throne, ‘If it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon.’ 207B.4 ‘O what is thy boon? Come. let me understand.’ ‘’Tis to give me all the poor you have in the land; I’ll take them down to Cheshire, and there I will sow Both hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them in a row. 207B.5 ‘It’s better, my liege, they should die a shorter death Than for your Majesty to starve them on earth.’ With that up starts a Dutch lord, as we hear, And he says, ‘Thou proud Jack,’ to my lord Delamere, 207B.6 ‘Thou ought to be stabbed,’ and he turned him about, ‘For affronting the king in the Parliament House.’ Then up got a brave duke, the Duke of Devonshire, Who said, I will fight for my lord Delamere. 207B.7 ‘He is under age, as I’ll make it appear, So I’ll stand in defence of my lord Delamere.’ A stage then was built, and to battle they went, To kill or be killed it was their intent. 207B.8 The very first blow, as we understand, Devonshire’s rapier went back to his hand; Then he mused awhile, but not a word spoke, When against the king’s armour his rapier he broke. 207B.9 O then he stept backward, and backward stept he, And then stept forward my lord Willoughby; He gave him a rapier, and thus he did say; Play low, Devonshire, there’s treachery, I see. 207B.10 He knelt on his knee, and he gave him the wound, With that the Dutch lord fell dead on the ground: The king calld his soldiers, and thus he did say: Call Devonshire down, take the dead man away. 207B.11 He answered, My liege, I’ve killed him like a man, And it is my intent to see what clothing he’s got on. O treachery! O treachery! as I well may say, It was your intent, O king, to take my life away. 207B.12 ‘He fought in your armour, while I fought him bare, And thou, king, shalt win it before thou dost it wear; I neither do curse king, parliament, or throne, But I wish every honest man may enjoy his own. 207B.13 ‘The rich men do flourish with silver and gold, While poor men are starving with hunger and cold; And if they hold on as they have begun, They’ll make little England pay dear for a king.’

207C: Lord Delamere

 
 207C.1	 O THE Duchess of Devonshire was standing hard by;
 	 Upon her dear husband she cast her lovely eye:
 	 ‘Oh, fie upon treachery! there’s been treachery I say,
 	 It was your full intent to have taen my duke’s life away.’
 207C.2	 Then away to the parliament these votes all went again,
 	 And there they acted like just and honest men.
 	 I neither curse my king, nor kingdom, crown or throne,
 	 But I wish every honest man to enjoy but what is his own.

207D: Lord Delamere

207D.1 IN the Parliament House a great rout has been there, Betwixt our good king and the lord Delaware: Says Lord Delaware to his Majesty full soon, ‘Will it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon?’ 207D.2 ‘What’s your boon?’ says the king, ’Now let me understand.’ ‘It’s, give me all the poor men we’ve starving in this land, And without delay I’ll hie me to Lincolnshire, To sow hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them all there. 207D.3 ‘For with hempen cord it’s better to stop each poor man’s breath Than with famine you should see your subjects starve to death.’ Up starts a Dutch lord, who to Delaware did say, Thou deservest to be stabbd! then he turnd himself away. 207D.4 ‘Thou deservest to be stabbd, and the dogs have thine ears, For insulting our king, in this parliament of peers.’ Up sprang a Welsh lord, the brave Duke of Devonshire: ‘In young Delaware’s defence, I’ll fight this Dutch lord, my sire. 207D.5 ‘For he is in the right, and I’ll make it so appear; Him I dare to single combat, for insulting Delaware.’ A stage was soon erected, and to combat they went; For to kill or to be killd, it was either’s full intent. 207D.6 But the very first flourish, when the heralds gave command, The sword of brave Devonshire bent backward on his hand. In suspense he paused a while, scannd his foe before he strake, Then against the king’s armour his bent sword he brake. 207D.7 Then he sprang from the stage to a soldier in the ring, Saying, Lend your sword, that to an end this tragedy we bring. Though he’s fighting me in armour, while I am fighting bare, Even more than this I’d venture for young Lord Delaware. 207D.8 Leaping back on the stage, sword to buckler now resounds, Till he left the Dutch lord a bleeding in his wounds. This seeing, cries the king to his guards without delay, Call Devonshire down! take the dead man away! 207D.9 ‘No,’ says brave Devonshire, ‘I’ve fought him as a man; Since he’s dead, I will keep the trophies I have won. For he fought me in your armour, while I fought him bare, And the same you must win back, my liege, if ever you them wear. 207D.10 ‘God bless the Church of England! may it prosper on each hand, And also every poor man now starving in this land. And while I pray success may crown our king upon his throne, I’ll wish every poor man may long enjoy his own.’

208A: Lord Dernwentwater

208A.1 OUR king has wrote a lang letter, And sealed it owre with gold; He sent to my lord Dunwaters, To read it if he could. 208A.2 He has not sent it with a boy, with a boy, Nor with anie Scotch lord; But he’s sent it with the noblest knight Eer Scotland could afford. 208A.3 The very first line that my lord did read, He gave a smirkling smile; Before he had the half o’t read, The tears from his eyes did fall. 208A.4 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said, ‘Come saddle to me with speed; For I must away to fair London town, For me was neer more need.’ 208A.5 Out and spoke his lady gay, In child-bed where she lay: ‘I would have you make your will, my lord Dunwaters, Before you go away.’ 208A.6 ‘I leave to you, my eldest son, My houses and my land; I leave to you, my second son, Ten thousand pounds in hand. 208A.7 ‘I leave to you, my lady gay-+--+- You are my wedded wife-+--+- I leave to you, the third of my estate; That’ll keep you in a lady’s life.’ 208A.8 They had not rode a mile but one, Till his horse fell owre a stane: ‘It’s warning gude eneuch,’ my lord Dunwaters said, ‘Alive I’ll neer come hame.’ 208A.9 When they came into fair London town, Into the courtiers’ hall, The lords and knichts in fair London town Did him a traitor call. 208A.10 ‘A traitor! a traitor!’ says my lord, ‘A traitor! how can that be, An it was na for the keeping of five thousand men To fight for King Jamie? 208A.11 ‘O all you lords and knichts in fair London town, Come out and see me die; O all you lords and knichts into fair London town, Be kind to my ladie. 208A.12 ‘There’s fifty pounds in my richt pocket, Divide it to the poor; There’s other fifty pounds in my left pocket, Divide it from door to door.’

208B: Lord Dernwentwater

 
 208B.1	 THE king he wrote a love-letter,
 	 And he sealed it up with gold,
 	 And he sent it to Lord Derwentwater,
 	 For to read it if he could.
 208B.2	 The first two lines that he did read,
 	 They made him for to smile;
 	 But the next two lines he looked upon
 	 Made the tears from his eyes to fall.
 208B.3	 ‘Oh,’ then cried out his lady fair,
 	 As she in child-bed lay,
 	 ‘Make your will, make your will, Lord Derwentwater,
 	 Before that you go away.’
 208B.4	 ‘Then here’s for thee, my lady fair,
 	 . . . .
 	 A thousand pounds of beaten gold,
 	 To lead you a lady’s life.’
 208B.5	 . . . .
 	 . .  his milk-white steed,
 	 The ring dropt from his little finger,
 	 And his nose it began to bleed.
 208B.6	 He rode, and he rode, and he rode along,
 	 Till he came to Westminster Hall,
 	 Where all the lords of England’s court
 	 A traitor did him call.
 208B.7	 ‘Oh, why am I a traitor?’ said he;
 	 ‘Indeed, I am no such thing;
 	 I have fought the battles valiantly
 	 Of James, our noble king.’
 208B.8	 O then stood up an old gray-headed man,
 	 With a pole-axe in his hand:
 	 ‘’Tis your head, ’tis your head, Lord Derwentwater,
 	 ’Tis your head that I demand.’
 208B.9	 . . . .
 	 His eyes with weeping sore,
 	 He laid his head upon the block,
 	 And words spake never more.

208C: Lord Dernwentwater

 
 208C.1	 THE king has written a broad letter,
 	 And seald it up with gold,
 	 And sent it to the lord of Derwentwater,
 	 To read it if he would.
 208C.2	 He sent it with no boy, no boy,
 	 Nor yet with eer a slave,
 	 But he sent it with as good a knight
 	 As eer a king could have.
 208C.3	 When he read the three first lines,
 	 He then began to smile;
 	 And when he read the three next lines
 	 The tears began to sile.

208D: Lord Dernwentwater

208D.1 THE king has written a braid letter, And seald it up wi gowd, And sent it to Lord Derntwater, To read it if he coud. 208D.2 The first lines o’t that he read, A blythe, blythe man was he; But ere he had it half read through, The tear blinded his ee. 208D.3 ‘Go saddle to me my milk-white horse, Go saddle it with speed; For I maun ride to Lun[n]on town, To answer for my head.’ 208D.4 ‘Your will, your will, my lord Derntwater, Your will before ye go; For you will leave three dochters fair, And a wife to wail and woe.’ 208D.5 ‘My will, my will, my lady Derntwater? Ye are my wedded wife; Be kind, be kind to my dochters dear, If I should lose my life.’ 208D.6 He set his ae fit on the grund, The tither on the steed; The ring upon his finger burst, And his nose began to bleed. 208D.7 He rode till he cam to Lunnon town, To a place they ca Whiteha; And a’ the lords o merry England A traitor him gan ca. 208D.8 ‘A traitor! a traitor! O what means this? A traitor! what mean ye?’ ‘It’s a’ for the keeping o five hundred men To fecht for bonny Jamie.’ 208D.9 Then up started a gray-headed man, Wi a braid axe in his hand: ‘Your life, your life, my lord Derntwater, Your life’s at my command.’ 208D.10 ‘My life, my life, ye old gray-headed man, My life I’ll freely gie; But before ye tak my life awa Let me speak twa words or three. 208D.11 ‘I’ve fifty pounds in ae pocket, Go deal it frae door to door; I’ve fifty five i the other pocket, Go gie it to the poor. 208D.12 ‘The velvet coat that I hae on, Ye may take it for your fee; And a’ ye lords o merry Scotland Be kind to my ladie!’

208E: Lord Dernwentwater

208E.1 THE king wrote a letter to my lord Derwentwater, And he sealed it with gold; He sent it to my Lord Derwentwater, To read it if he could. 208E.2 He sent it by no boy, He sent it by no slave, But he sent it by as true a knight As heart could wish or have. 208E.3 The very first line that he looked upon Made him for to laugh and to smile; The very next line that he looked upon, The tears from his eyes did fall. 208E.4 He called to his stable-boy To saddle his bonny grey steed, ‘That I unto loving London May ride away with speed.’ 208E.5 ‘His wife heard him say so, In childbed as she lay; Says she, ‘My lord Derwentwater, Make thy will before thou goest away.’ 208E.6 ‘It’s to my little son I give My houses and my land, And to my little daughter Ten thousand pounds in hand. 208E.7 ‘And unto thee, my lady gay, Who is my wedded wife, The third part of my estate thou shalt have, To maintain thee through thy life.’ 208E.8 He set his foot in the level stirrup, And mounted his bonny grey steed; The gold rings from his fingers did break, And his nose began for to bleed. 208E.9 He had not ridden past a mile or two, When his horse stumbled over a stone; ‘These are tokens enough,’ said my lord Derwentwater, ‘That I shall never return.’ 208E.10 He rode and he rode till he came to merry London, And near to that famous hall; The lords and knights of merry London, They did him a traitor call. 208E.11 ‘A traitor! a traitor! a traitor!’ he cried, ‘A traitor! how can that be, Unless it’s for keeping five hundred men For to fight for King Jamie?’ 208E.12 It’s up yon steps there stands a good old man, With a broad axe in his hand; Says he, ‘Now, my lord Derwentwater, Thy life’s at my command.’ 208E.13 ‘My life, my life, thou good old man, My life I’ll give to thee, And the green coat of velvet on my back Thou mayst take it for thy fee. 208E.14 ‘There’s fifty pounds and five in my right pocket, Give that unto the poor; There’s twenty pounds and five in my left pocket, Deal that from door to door.’ 208E.15 Then he laid his head on the fatal block, * * * * *

208F: Lord Dernwentwater

208F.1 THE king has written a broad letter, And seald it with his hand, And sent it on to Lord Arnwaters, To read and understand. 208F.2 Now he has sent it by no boy, No boy, nor yet a slave, But one of England’s fairest knights, The one that he would have. 208F.3 When first he on the letter lookd, Then he began to smile; But ere he read it to an end, The tears did trickling fall. 208F.4 He calld upon his saddle-groom To saddle his milk-white steed, ‘For I unto London must go, For me there is much need.’ 208F.5 Out then speaks his gay lady, In child-bed where she lay: ‘Make your will, make your will, my knight, For fear ye rue the day.’ 208F.6 ‘I’ll leave unto my eldest son My houses and my lands; I’ll leave unto my youngest son Full forty thousand pounds. 208F.7 ‘I’ll leave unto my gay lady, And to my loving wife, The second part of my estate, To maintain a lady’s life.’ 208F.8 He kissd her on the pillow soft, In child-bed where she lay, And bade farewell, neer to return, Unto his lady gay. 208F.9 He put his foot in the stirup, His nose began to bleed; The ring from ’s finger burst in two When he mounted on his steed. 208F.10 He had not rode a mile or two Till his horse stumbled down; ‘A token good,’ said Lord Arnwaters, ‘I’ll never reach London town.’ 208F.11 But when into Westminster Hall, Amongst the nobles all, ‘A traitor, a traitor, Lord Arnwaters, A traitor,’ they did him call. 208F.12 ‘A traitor? a traitor how call ye me? And a traitor how can I be For keeping seven thousand valiant men To fight for brave Jamie?’ 208F.13 Up then came a brave old man, With a broad ax in his hand: ‘Your life, your life, Lord Arnwaters, Your life’s at my command.’ 208F.14 ‘My life, my life, my brave old man, My life I’ll give to thee, And the coat of green that’s on my back You shall have for your fee. 208F.15 ‘There’s fifty pounds in one pocket, Pray deal’t among the poor; There’s fifty and four in the other pocket, Pray deal’t from door to door. 208F.16 ‘There’s one thing more I have to say, This day before I die; To beg the lords and nobles all To be kind to my lady.’

208G: Lord Dernwentwater

 
 208G.1	 THE king has wrote a long letter,
 	 And sealed it with his han,
 	 And he has sent it to my lord Dunwaters,
 	 To read it if he can.
 208G.2	 The very first line he lookit upon,
 	 It made him to lauch and to smile;
 	 The very next line he lookit upon,
 	 The tear from his eye did fall.
 208G.3	 ‘As for you, my auldest son,
 	 My houses and my land;
 	 And as for you, my youngest son,
 	 Ten thousand pound in hand.
 208G.4	 ‘As for you, my gay lady,
 	 You being my wedded wife,
 	 The third of my estate I will leave to you,
 	 For to keep you in a lady’s life.’
 	 * * * * *

208H: Lord Dernwentwater

208H.1 THE king he wrote a letter, And seal d it with gold, And sent it to Lor Derwentwater, To read it if he could. 208H.2 The first three lines he looked upon, They made him to smile; And the next three lines he looked upon Made tears fall from his eyes. 208H.3 O then bespoke his gay lady, As she on a sick-bed lay: ‘Make your will, my lord, Before you go away.’ 208H.4 ‘O there is for my eldest son My houses and my land, And there is for my youngest son Ten thousand pounds in hand. 208H.5 ‘There is for you, my gay lady, My true and lawful wife, The third part of my whole estate, To maintain you a lady’s life.’ 208H.6 Then he called to his stable-groom To bring him his gray steed; For he must to London go, The king had sent indeed. 208H.7 When he put his foot in the stirrup, To mount his grey steed, His gold ring from his finger burst, And his nose began to bleed. 208H.8 He had not gone but half a mile When it began to rain; ‘Now this is a token,’ his lordship said, ‘That I shall not return again.’ 208H.9 When he unto London came, A mob did at him rise, And they call d him a traitor, Made the tears fall from his eyes. 208H.10 ‘A traitor, a traitor!’ his lordship said, . . . . Is it for keeping eight score men To fight for pretty Jimmee?’ 208H.11 O then bespoke a grave man, With a broad axe in his hand: ‘Hold your tongue, Lord Derwentwater, Your life lies at my command.’ 208H.12 ‘My life, my life,’ his lordship said, ‘My life I will give to thee, And the black velvet coat upon my back, Take it for thy fee.’ 208H.13 Then he laid his head upon the block, He did such courage show, And asked the executioner To cut it off at one blow.

208I: Lord Dernwentwater

208I.1 KING GEORGE he did a letter write, And sealed it up with gold, And sent it to Lord Derwentwater, To read it if he could. 208I.2 He sent his letter by no post, He sent it by no page, But sent it by a gallant knight As eer did combat wage. 208I.3 The first line that my lord lookd on Struck him with strong surprise; The second, more alarming still, Made tears fall from his eyes. 208I.4 He called up his stable-groom, Saying, Saddle me well my steed, For I must up to London go, Of me there seems great need. 208I.5 His lady, hearing what he said, As she in child-bed lay, Cry’d, My dear lord, pray make your will Before you go away. 208I.6 ‘I’ll leave to thee, my eldest son, My houses and my land; I’ll leave to thee, my younger son, Ten thousand pounds in hand. 208I.7 ‘I’ll leave to thee, my lady gay, My lawful married wife, A third part of my whole estate, To keep thee a lady’s life.’ 208I.8 He knelt him down by her bed-side, And kissed her lips so sweet; The words that passd, alas! presaged They never more should meet. 208I.9 Again he calld his stable-groom, Saying, Bring me out my steed, For I must up to London go, With instant haste and speed. 208I.10 He took the reins into his hand, Which shook with fear and dread; The rings from off his fingers dropt, His nose gushd out and bled. 208I.11 He had but ridden miles two or three When stumbling fell his steed; ‘Ill omens these,’ Derwentwater said, ‘That I for James must bleed.’ 208I.12 As he rode up Westminster street, In sight of the White Hall, The lords and ladies of London town A traitor they did him call. 208I.13 ‘A traitor!’ Lord Derwentwater said, ‘A traitor how can I be, Unless for keeping five hundred men Fighting for King Jemmy?’ 208I.14 Then started forth a grave old man, With a broad-mouthd axe in hand: ‘Thy head, thy head, Lord Derwentwater, Thy head’s at my command.’ 208I.15 ‘My head, my head, thou grave old man, My head I will give thee; Here’s a coat of velvet on my back Will surely pay thy fee. 208I.16 ‘But give me leave,’ Derwentwater said, ‘To speak words two or three; Ye lords and ladies of London town, Be kind to my lady. 208I.17 ‘Here’s a purse of fifty sterling pounds, Pray give it to the poor; Here’s one of forty-five beside You may dole from door to door.’ 208I.18 He laid his head upon the block, The axe was sharp and strong, . . . . . . .

208[J]: Lord Dernwentwater

208[J].1 The king has written a brod letter, An sealled it our with gould, An sent it to Lord Darnwater, To read it if he could. 208[J.2] Whan Lord Darnwater saa the letter, A light laughter lough he; Bat or he read it to an end The tear blinded his eye, An sighan said him good Lord Darnwater, I am near the day to dei. 208[J.3] Out spak his lady, In child-bed wher she lay; ‘My d[ea]r Lord Darnweter, what is to becom of me, An my young famely?’ 208[J.4] ‘I will leave my young famely As well as I cane; For I will leave to my lady The third part of my land, An I will live to my e[l]dest son, The tua part of my land. 208[J.5] ‘An I will live to my eldest daught[er] Five thousand pound of gold, An I will live to my second daughter Three thousand pound of gold. 208[J.6] ‘Ye saddel to me my littel gray horse, That I had wont to ried; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208[J.7] The first stape Lord Darnwater staped, He stumbled on a ston; Said Lord Darnwater, I feer I ill never come home. 208[J.8] When he came to fair London city, An near unt[o] the toun, ‘A trater! a trater!’ said they, ‘A trator wee see!’ 208[J.9] ‘A trater?’ said good Lord Darnwater, ‘A trator I nier could be, Unless it was bringen three hundred men To fight for young Jamie.’ 208[J.10] But when he came to Tour Hill Befor him came a bold man, . . . . . . . . With a broad aix in his hand. 208[J.11] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Hear is five ginies of gold an my green velvet coat, For to be your fee.’ 208[J.12] ‘Ye nobels all, Come hear to see me die, An ye peopell of fair Sco[t]land, Be kind to my family.’ 208[J.13] Lord Darnuater was dumed to die, to die, Good Lord Darnwater was dumed to die.

209A: Geordie

209A.1 THERE was a battle in the north, And nobles there was many, And they hae killd Sir Charlie Hay, And they laid the wyte on Geordie. 209A.2 O he has written a lang letter, He sent it to his lady: ‘Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town, To see what word’s o Geordie.’ 209A.3 When first she lookd the letter on, She was baith red and rosy; But she had na read a word but twa Till she wallowt like a lily. 209A.4 ‘Gar get to me my gude grey steed, My menyie a’ gae wi me, For I shall neither eat nor drink Till Enbrugh town shall see me.’ 209A.5 And she has mountit her gude grey steed, Her menyie a’ gaed wi her, And she did neither eat nor drink Till Enbrugh town did see her. 209A.6 And first appeard the fatal block, And syne the aix to head him, And Geordie cumin down the stair, And bands o airn upon him. 209A.7 But tho he was chaind in fetters strang, O airn and steel sae heavy, There was na ane in a’ the court Sae bra a man as Geordie. 209A.8 O she’s down on her bended knee, I wat she’s pale and weary: ‘O pardon, pardon, noble king, And gie me back my dearie! 209A.9 ‘I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear, The seventh neer saw his daddie; O pardon, pardon, noble king, Pity a waefu lady!’ 209A.10 ‘Gar bid the headin-man mak haste,’ Our king reply’d fu lordly: ‘O noble king, tak a’ that’s mine, But gie me back my Geordie!’ 209A.11 The Gordons cam, and the Gordons ran, And they were stark and steady, And ay the word amang them a’ Was, Gordons, keep you ready! 209A.12 An aged lord at the king’s right hand Says, Noble king, but hear me; Gar her tell down five thousand pound, And gie her back her dearie. 209A.13 Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns, Some gae her dollars many, And she’s telld down five thousand pound, And she’s gotten again her dearie. 209A.14 She blinkit blythe in her Geordie’s face, Says, Dear I’ve bought thee, Geordie; But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green Or I had tint my laddie. 209A.15 He claspit her by the middle sma, And he kist her lips sae rosy: ‘The fairest flower o woman-kind Is my sweet, bonie lady!’

209B: Geordie

209B.1 ‘THERE was a battle i the north Amang our nobles many, And they have killed Sir Charles Hay, And they’ve taen thrae me my Geordie.’ 209B.2 ‘O where’ll I gett a wi bit boy, A bonnie boy that’s ready, That will gae in to my biggin With a letter to my ladie?’ 209B.3 Then up and startit a wi bit boy, An a bonnie boy was ready: ‘It’s I’ll gae in to your biggin Wi a letter to your ladie.’ 209B.4 When the day was fair an the way was clear, An the wi bit boy was ready, An he’s gane in to his biggin, Wi a letter to his ladie. 209B.5 When she lookd the letter on, She was no a wearit ladie; But when she lookit the other side, She mourned for her Geordie. 209B.6 ‘Gar sadle to me the black,’ she says, ‘For the brown rade neer sey bonnie, An I’ll gae down to Enbro town, An see my true-love Geordie.’ 209B.7 When she cam to the water-side, The cobles war na ready; She’s turnd her horse’s head about, An in by the Queen’s Ferry. 209B.8 When she cam to the West Port, There war poor folks many; She dealt crowns an the ducatdowns, And bade them pray for Geordie. 209B.9 When she cam to the Parliament Closs, There amang our nobles many, Cravats an caps war standing there, But low, low lay her Geordie. 209B.10 When she gaed up the tolbooth-stairs, Amang our nobles manie, The napkin’s tyed oer Geordie’s face, And the gallows makin ready. 209B.11 ‘O wad ye hae his lands or rents? Or wad ye hae his monie? Take a’, a’ frae him but his sark alone, Lesve me my true-love Geordie.’ 209B.12 The captain pu’d her on his knee, An ca’d her heart an honey: ‘An ye wad wait se’en years for me, Ye wad never jump for Geordie.’ 209B.13 ‘O hold your tongue, you foolish man, Your speech it’s a’ but folly; For an ye wad wait till the day ye die, I wad neer take John for Geordie.’ 209B.14 ‘Twas up and spak the Lord Corstarph, The ill gae wi his body! ‘O Geordie’s neck it war on a block, Gif I had his fair ladie!’ 209B.15 ‘O haud yer tongue, ye foolish man, Yer speech is a’ but folly; For if Geordie’s neck war on a block, Ye soud neer enjoy his ladie. 209B.16 ‘It’s I hae se’en weel gawn mills, I wait they a’ gang daily; I’ll gie them a’ an amang ye a’ For the sparin o my Geordie. 209B.17 ‘I hae ele’en bairns i the wast, I wait the’re a’ to Geordie; I’d see then a’ streekit afore mine eyes Afore I lose my Geordie. 209B.18 ‘I hae ele’en bairns i the wast, The twalt bears up my body; The youngest’s on his nurse’s knee, An he never saw his dadie. 209B.19 ‘I hae se’en uncles in the north, They gang baith proud an lordly; I’d see them a’ tread down afore my eyes Afore I lose my Geordie.’ 209B.20 Then out an spak an English lord, The ill gae wi his bodie! ‘It’s I gard hang Sir Francie Grey, An I’ll soon gar hang your Geordie.’ 209B.21 It’s out an spak than a Scottish lord, May the weel gae wi his body! ‘It’s I’ll cast of my coat an feght Afore ye lose your Geordie.’ 209B.22 It’s out then spak an English lord, May the ill gae wi his bodie! ‘Before the morn at ten o’clock, I’s hae the head o Geordie.’ 209B.23 Out then spak the Scottish lord, May the weel gae wi his body! ‘I’ll fight i bluid up to the knees Afore ye lose your Geordie.’ 209B.24 But out an spak the royal king, May the weel gae wi his body! ‘There’s be bluidie heads amang us a’ Afore ye lose your Geordie.’ 209B.25 ‘Twas up than spak the royal queen, ‘May the weel gae wi his body! Tell down, tell down five hunder pound, An ye’s get wi you yer Geordie.’ 209B.26 Some gae her gold, some gae her crowns, Some gae her ducats many, An she’s telld down five hundred pound, An she’s taen away her Geordie. 209B.27 An ay she praisd the powers above, An a’ the royal family, An ay she blessed the royal queen, For sparin o her Geordie. 209B.28 . . . . . . . . Nae bird sang sweeter in the bush Than she did wi her Geordie. 209B.29 ‘It’s wo be to my Lord Costorph, It’s wo be to him daily! For if Geordie’s neck had been on the block He had neer enjoyd his ladie. 209B.30 ‘Gar print me ballants weel,’ she said, ‘Gar print me ballants many, Gar print me ballants weel,’ she said, ‘That I am a worthy ladie.’

209C: Geordie

209C.1 THERE was a battle in the north, Among the nobles many; The Laird of Geight he’s killd a man, And there’s nane to die but Geordie. * * * * * 209C.2 ‘What news? what news, my bonny boy? What news hae ye frae Geordie?’ ‘He bids ye sew his linen shirts, For he’s sure he’ll no need many.’ 209C.3 ‘Go saddle the black, go saddle the brown, Go saddle to me the bonny; For I will neither eat nor drink Until I see my Geordie.’ 209C.4 They’ve saddled the black, they’ve saddled the brown, They’ve saddled her the bonny, And she is away to Edinborough town, Straight away to see her Geordie. 209C.5 When she came to the sea-side, The boats they were nae ready; She turned her horse’s head about, And swimd at the Queen’s Ferry. 209C.6 And when she came to the prison-door, There poor folks they stood many; She dealt the red guineas them among, And bade them pray weel for Geordie. 209C.7 And when she came into the hall, Amang the nobles many, The napkin’s tied on Geordie’s face, And the head’s to gae frae Geordie. 209C.8 ‘I have born ten bonny sons, And the eleventh neer sa his dadie, And I will bear them all oer again For the life o bonny Geordie. 209C.9 ‘I have born the Laird of Gight, And the Laird of bonny Pernonnie; And I will gie them all to thee For the life of my bonny Geordie.’ 209C.10 Up then spoke [a kind-hearted man], Wha said, He’s done good to many; If ye’ll tell down ten hundred crowns Away ye shall hae yer Geordie. 209C.11 Some telld shillings, and some telld crowns, But she telld the red guineas many, Till they’ve telld down ten hundred crowns, And away she’s got her Geordie. 209C.12 [It’s up then spoke an Irish lord, And O but he spoke bauldly!] ‘I wish his head had been on the block, That I might hae got his fair lady.’ 209C.13 She turned about . . And O but she spoke boldly! ‘A pox upon your nasty face! Will ye eer be compared to my Geordie?’ 209C.14 She set him on a milk-white steed, Herself upon another; The thrush on the briar neer sang so clear As she sang behind her Geordie.

209D: Geordie

209D.1 THERE was a battle i the north Among the nobles many, The Laird of Gigh he’s killd a man, The brother of his lady. 209D.2 ‘Where will I get a man or boy, That will win both goud and money, That will run into the north, And fetch to me my lady?’ 209D.3 Up then spake a bonny boy, He was both blythe and merry; ‘O I will run into the north, And fetch to you your lady.’ 209D.4 ‘You may tell her to sew me a gude side shirt, She’ll no need to sew me mony; Tell her to bring me a gude side shirt, It will be the last of any.’ 209D.5 He has written a broad letter, And he’s seald it sad and sorry; He’s gaen it to that bonny boy, To take to his fair lady. 209D.6 Away the bonny boy he’s gaen, He was both blythe and merrie; He’s to that fair lady gane, And taen her word frae Geordie. 209D.7 When she looked the letter on, She was both sad and sorrie: ‘O I’ll away to fair Edinburgh town Myself and see my Geordie. 209D.8 ‘Gar saddle to me the black,’ she says, ‘The brown was neer sae bonny; And I’ll straight to Edinburgh Myself and see my Geordie.’ 209D.9 When she came to that wan water, The boats was not yet ready; She wheeld her horse’s head around, And swimd at the Queen’s Ferry. 209D.10 When she came to the Parliament Close, Amang the poor folks many, She dealt the crowns with duckatoons, And bade them pray for Geordy. 209D.11 When she came to the Parliament House, Among the nobles many, The rest sat all wi hat on head, But hat in hand sat Geordie. 209D.12 Up bespake an English lord, And he spake blythe and merrie; ‘Was Geordie’s head upon the block, I am sure I would have his lady.’ 209D.13 Up bespake that lady fair, And O but she was sorrie! ‘If Geordie’s head were on the block, There’s never a man gain his lady. 209D.14 ‘I have land into the north, And I have white rigs many, And I could gie them a’ to you To save the life of Geordie. 209D.15 ‘I have seven children in the north, And they seem very bonnie, And I could bear them a’ over again For to win the life o Geordie.’ 209D.16 Up bespake the gude Argyle; He has befriended many; ‘If ye’ll tell down ten hundred crowns, Ye’s win the life o Geordie.’ 209D.17 Some gaed her shillings, some her crowns, And some gaed her guineas many, And she’s telld down ten hundred crowns, And she’s wone the life o Geordie. 209D.18 When she came down through Edinborough, And Geordie in her hand, O, ‘Where will I get a writer’s [house], A writer’s house so ready, That I may write into the north I have wone the life o Geordie’?

209E: Geordie

 
 209E.1	 THERE was a battle in the north,
 	 And rebels there were many,
 	 And they were a’ brought before the king,
 	 And taken was my geordie.
 	 My Geordie O, O my Geordie O,
 	 O the love I bear to Geordie!
 	 For the very ground I walk upon
 	 Bears witness I love Geordie.
 209E.2	 As she went up the tolbooth-stair,
 	 The cripples there stood many,
 	 And she dealt the red gold them among,
 	 For to pray for her love Geordie.
 209E.3	 And when she came unto the hall
 	 The nobles there stood many,
 	 And every one stood hat on head,
 	 But hat in hand stood Geordie.
 209E.4	 O up bespoke a baron bold,
 	 And O but he spoke bonnie!
 	 ‘Such lovers true shall not parted be,’
 	 And she’s got her true-love Geordie.
 209E.5	 When she was mounted on her high horse,
 	 And on behind her Geordie,
 	 Nae bird on the brier eer sang sae clear
 	 As the young knight and his lady.
 	 O my Geordie O, O my Geordie O,
 	 O the love I bear to Geordie!
 	 The very stars in the firmament
 	 Bear tokens I love Geordie.

209F: Geordie

209F.1 ‘GEORDIE Lukely is my name, And many a one doth ken me; O Many an ill deed I hae done, But now death will owrecome me. O 209F.2 ‘I neither murdered nor yet have I slain, I never murdered any; But I stole fyfteen o the king’s bay horse, And I sold them in Bohemia. 209F.3 ‘Where would I get a pretty little boy, That would fain win gold and money, That would carry this letter to Stirling town, And give it to my lady?’ 209F.4 ‘Here am I, a pretty little boy, That wud fain win gold and money; I’ll carry your letter to Stirling town, And give it to your lady.’ 209F.5 As he came in by Stirling town He was baith weet and weary; The cloth was spread, and supper set, And the ladies dancing merry. 209F.6 When she read the first of it, She was baith glad and cheery; But before she had the half o’t read, She was baith sad and sorry. 209F.7 ‘Come saddle to me the bonnie dapple gray, Come saddle to me the wee poney; For I’ll awa to the king mysell, And plead for my ain love Geordie.’ 209F.8 She gaed up the Cannogate, Amang the puir folk monie; She made the handfus o red gold fly, And bade them pray for Geordie, And aye she wrang her lily-white hands, Saying, I am a wearyd lady! 209F.9 Up and spoke the king himsell, And oh, but he spok bonnie! ‘It’s ye may see by her countenance That she is Geordie’s lady.’ 209F.10 Up and spoke a bold bluidy wretch, And oh, but he spoke boldly! ‘Tho [thou] should pay ten thousand pounds, Thou’ll never get thy own love Geordie. 209F.11 ‘For I had but ae brother to mysell, I loved him best of any; They cutted his head from his fair bodie, And so will they thy love Geordie.’ 209F.12 Up and spoke the king again, And oh, but he spak bonnie! ‘If thou’ll pay me five thousand pound, I’ll gie thee hame thy love Geordie.’ 209F.13 She put her hand in her pocket, She freely paid the money, And she’s awa to the Gallows Wynd, To get her nain love Geordie. 209F.14 As she came up the Gallows Wynd, The people was standing many; The psalms was sung, and the bells was rung, And silks and cords hung bonnie. 209F.15 The napkin was tyed on Geordie’s face, And the hangman was just readie: ‘Hold your hand, you bluidy wretch! O hold it from my Geordie! For I’ve got a remit from the king, That I’ll get my ain love Geordie.’ 209F.16 When he heard his lady’s voice, He was baith blythe and merry: ‘There’s many ladies in this place, Have not I a worthy ladie?’ 209F.17 She mounted him on the bonnie dapple grey, Herself on the wee poney, And she rode home on his right hand, All for the pride o Geordie.

209G: Geordie

209G.1 THE weather it is clear, and the wind blaws fair, And yonder a boy rins bonnie, And he is awa to the gates of Hye, With a letter to my dear ladie. 209G.2 The first line that she lookit on, She was baith red and rosy; She droppit down, and she dropt in a swoon, Crys, Och and alace for Geordie! 209G.3 ‘Gar saddle to me the black, black horse; The brown is twice as bonnie; But I will neither eat nor drink Till I relieve my Geordie.’ 209G.4 When she cam to the canny Cannygate, Amang the puir folk many, She made the dollars flee amang them a’, And she bade them plead for Geordie. 209G.5 When she came to the tolbooth-gate, Amang the nobles many, She made the red gold flee amang them a’, And she bade them plead for Geordie. 209G.6 Out and spoke the king himsell, ‘Wha’s aught this weary lady?’ Out and spoke a pretty little page, ‘She’s the Earl o Cassilis lady.’ 209G.7 ‘Has he killed? or has he slain? Or has he ravishd any?’ ‘He stole three geldings out o yon park, And sold them to Balleny.’ 209G.8 ‘Pleading is idle,’ said the king, ‘Pleading is idle with any; But pay you down five hundred pund, And tak you hame your Geordie.’ 209G.9 Some gave marks, and som gave crowns, Some gave dollars many; She’s paid down the five hundred pund, And she’s relieved her Geordie. 209G.10 The lady smiled in Geordie’s face: ‘Geordie, I have bocht thee; But down in yon green there had been bluidy breeks Or I had parted wi thee.’

209H: Geordie

209H.1 ‘WILL ye go to the Hielans, my bonny lad? Will ye go to the Hielans, Geordie? Though ye tak the high road and I tak the low, I will be in the Hielans afore ye.’ 209H.2 He hadna been in the high Hielans A month but barely twa, O, Till he was laid in Prison strong, For hunting the king’s deer and rae, O. 209H.3 ‘O where will I get a bonny, bonny boy, That will run my errand cannie, And gae quickly on to the bonny Bog o Gight, Wi a letter to my lady?’ 209H.4 ‘O here am I, a bonny, bonny boy, That will run your errand cannie, And will gae on to the bonny Bog o Gight, Wi a letter to your lady.’ 209H.5 When she did get this broad letter, A licht, licht laugh gae she, O; But before she read it to an end The saut tear was in her ee, O. 209H.6 ‘O has he robbd? or has he stown? Or has he kill d ony? Or what is the ill that he has done, That he’s gaun to be hangd sae shortly?’ 209H.7 ‘He hasna robbd, ha hasna stown, He hasna kill d ony; But he has hunted the king’s deer and rae, And he willl be hang d shortly.’ 209H.8 ‘Come saddle to me the bonny brown steed, For the black never rade sae bonny, And I will gae on to Edinboro town To borrow the life o my Geordie.’ 209H.9 The first water-side that she cam to, The boatman wasna ready; She gae anither skipper half-a-crown, To boat her oer the ferry. 209H.10 When she cam on to Edinboro town, The poor stood thick and mony; She dealt them money roun and roun, Bade them pray for the life o her Geordie. 209H.11 When she gaed up the tolbooth-stair, She saw there nobles mony, And ilka noble stood hat on head, But hat in hand stood Geordie. 209H.12 Then out it spak an English lord, And vow, but he spake bonny! ‘If ye pay down ten thousand crouns, Ye’ll get the life o your Geordie.’ 209H.13 Some gae her marks, some gae her crouns, Some gae her guineas rarely, Till she paid down ten thousand crouns, And she got the life o her Geordie. 209H.14 Then out it spak an Irish lord, O wae befa his body! ‘It’s a pity the knicht didna lose his head, That I micht hae gotten his lady.’ 209H.15 But out it spak the lady hersel, And vow, but she spak bonny! ‘The pock-marks are on your Irish face, You could not compare wi my Geordie!’ 209H.16 When she was in the saddle set, And on ahint her Geordie, The bird on the bush neer sang sae sweet, As she sung to her love Geordie. 209H.17 ‘First I was mistress o bonny Auchindown, And I was lady o a’ Carnie, But now I have come to the bonny Bog o Gight, The wife o my true-love Geordie. 209H.18 If I were in the high Hielans, I would hear the white kye lowing; But I’d rather be on the bonny banks o Spey, To see the fish-boaties rowing.’

209I: Geordie

209I.1 ‘I choosed my love at the bonny yates of Gight, Where the birks an the flowers spring bony, But pleasures I had never one, But crosses very mony. 209I.2 ‘First I was mistress of Pitfan And madam of Kincraigie, And now my name is bonny Lady Anne, And I am Gight’s own lady. 209I.3 ‘He does not use me as his wife, Nor cherish me as his lady, But day by day he saddles the grey, And rides off to Bignet’s lady.’ 209I.4 Bignet he got word of this, That Gight lay wi his lady; He swore a vow, and kept it true, To be revengd on ’s body. 209I.5 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy Will run my errand shortly, That woud run on to the bonny yates o Gight Wi a letter to my lady?’ 209I.6 Gight has written a broad letter, And seald it soon and ready, And sent it on to Gight’s own yates, For to acquaint his lady. 209I.7 The first of it she looked on, O dear! she smiled bonny; But as she read it till an end The tears were thick an mony. 209I.8 ‘Come saddle to me the black,’ she says, ‘Come saddle him soon and shortly, Ere I ride down to Edinburgh town, Wi a lang side sark to Geordy.’ 209I.9 When she came to the boat of Leith, I wad she did na tarry; She gave the boatman a guinea o gold To boat her oer the ferry. 209I.10 As she gaed oer the pier of Leith, Among the peerls many, She dealt the crowns and dukedoons, Bade them a’ pray for Geordy. 209I.11 As she gaed up the tolbooth-stair, Among the nobles many, Every one sat hat on head, But hat in hand stood Geordy. 209I.12 ‘Has he brunt? or has he slain? Or has he robb d any? Or has he done any other crime, That gars you head my Geordy?’ 209I.13 ‘He hasna brunt, he hasna slain, He hasna robbed any; But he has done another crime, For which he will pay dearly.’ 209I.14 In it comes First Lord Judge, Says, George, I’m sorry for you; You must prepare yourself for death, For there’ll be nae mercy for you. 209I.15 In it comes his Second Lord Judge, Says, George I’m sorry for you; You must prepare yourself for death, For there’ll be nae mercy for you. 209I.16 Out it speaks Gight’s lady herself, And vow, but she spake wordy! ‘Is there not a lord among you all Can plead a word for Geordy?’ 209I.17 Out it speaks the first Lord Judge: ‘What lady’s that amang you That speaks to us so boldly here, And bids us plead for Geordy?’ 209I.18 Out then spake a friend, her own, And says, It’s Gight’s own lady, Who is come to plead her own lord’s cause, To which she’s true and steady. 209I.19 The queen, looking oer her shott-window, Says, Ann, I’m soory for you; If ye’ll tell down ten thousand crowns, Ye shall get home your Geordy. 209I.20 She’s taen the hat out of his hand, And dear! it set her bonny; She’s beggd the red gold them among, And a’ to borrow Geordy. 209I.21 She turnd her right and round about Among the nobles many; Some gave her dollars, some her crowns, And some gave guineas many. 209I.22 She spread her mantle on the floor, O dear! she spread it bonny, And she told down that noble sum; Says, Put on your hat, my Geordy. 209I.23 But out it speaks him gleid Argyle, Says, Woe be to your body! I wish that Gight had lost his head, I should enjoyd his lady. 209I.24 She looked oer her left shoulder, A proud look and a saucy; Says, Woe be to you, gleid Argyle! Ye’ll neer be like my Geordy. 209I.25 ‘You’ll hae me to some writer’s house, And that baith seen and shortly, That I may write down Gight’s lament, And how I borrowed Geordy.’ 209I.26 When she was in her saddle set, And aye behind her Geordy, Birds neer sang blyther in the bush Than she behind her Geordy. 209I.27 ‘O bonny George, but I love thee well, And O sae dear as I love thee! The sun and moon and firmament above Bear witness how I love thee!’ 209I.28 ‘O bonny Ann, but I love thee well, And O but sae dear as I love thee! The birds in the air, that fly together pair and pair, Bear witness, Ann, that I love thee!’

209J: Geordie

209J.1 ‘FIRST I was lady o Black Riggs, And then into Kincraigie; Now I am the Lady o Gight, And my love he’s ca’d Geordie. 209J.2 ‘I was the mistress o Pitfan, And madam o Kincraigie; But now my name is Lady Anne, And I am Gight’s own lady. 209J.3 ‘We courted in the woods o Gight, Where birks and flowrs spring bonny; But pleasures I had never one, But sorrows thick and mony. 209J.4 ‘He never ownd me as his wife, Nor honourd me as his lady, But day by day he saddles the grey, And rides to Bignet’s lady.’ 209J.5 When Bignet he got word of that, That Gight lay wi his lady, He’s casten him in prison strong, To ly till lords were ready. 209J.6 ‘Where will I get a little wee boy, That is baith true and steady, That will run on to bonny Gight, And bring to me my lady?’ 209J.7 ‘O here am I, a little wee boy, That is baith true and steady, That will run to the yates of Gight, And bring to you your lady.’ 209J.8 ‘Ye’ll bid her saddle the grey, the grey, The brown rode neer so smartly; Ye’ll bid her come to Edinbro town, A’ for the life of Geordie.’ 209J.9 The night was fair, the moon was clear, And he rode by Bevany, And stopped at the yates o Gight, Where leaves were thick and mony. 209J.10 The lady lookd oer castle-wa, And dear, but she was sorry! ‘Here comes a page frae Edinbro town; A’ is nae well wi Geordie. 209J.11 ‘What news, what news, my little boy? Come tell me soon and shortly;’ ‘Bad news, bad news, my lady,’ he said, ‘They’re going to hang your Geordie.’ 209J.12 ‘Ye’ll saddle to me the grey, the grey, The brown rade neer so smartly; And I’ll awa to Edinbro town, Borrow the life o Geordie.’ 209J.13 When she came near to Edinbro town, I wyte she didna tarry, But she has mounted her grey steed, And ridden the Queen’s Ferry. 209J.14 When she came to the boat of Leith, I wat she didna tarry; She gae the boatman a guinea o gowd To boat her ower the ferry. 209J.15 When she came to the pier o Leith, The poor they were sae many; She dealt the gowd right liberallie, And bade them pray for Geordie. 209J.16 When she gaed up the tolbooth-stair, The nobles there were many: And ilka ane stood hat on head, But hat in hand stood Geordie. 209J.17 She gae a blink out-ower them a’, And three blinks to her Geordie; But when she saw his een fast bound, A swoon fell in this lady. 209J.18 ‘Whom has he robbd? What has he stole? Or has he killed ony? Or what’s the crime that he has done, His foes they are sae mony?’ 209J.19 ‘He hasna brunt, he hasna slain, He hasna robbed ony; But he has done another crime, For which he will pay dearly.’ 209J.20 Then out it speaks Lord Montague, O wae be to his body! ‘The day we hangd young Charles Hay, The morn we’ll head your Geordie.’ 209J.21 Then out it speaks the king himsell, Vow, but he spake bonny! ‘Come here, young Gight, confess your sins, Let’s hear if they be mony. 209J.22 ‘Come here, young Gight, confess your sins, See ye be true and steady; And if your sins they be but sma, Then ye’se win wi your lady.’ 209J.23 ‘Nane have I robbd, nought have I stown, Nor have I killed ony; But ane of the king’s best brave steeds, I sold him in Bevany.’ 209J.24 Then out it speaks the king again, Dear, but he spake bonny! ‘That crime’s nae great; for your lady’s sake, Put on your hat now, Geordie.’ 209J.25 Then out it speaks Lord Montague, O wae be to his body! ‘There’s guilt appears in Gight’s ain face, Ye’ll cross-examine Geordie.’ 209J.26 ‘Now since it all I must confess, My crimes’ baith great and mony: A woman abused, five orphan babes, I killd them for their money.’ 209J.27 Out it speaks the king again, And dear, but he was sorry! ‘Your confession brings confusion, Take aff your hat now, Geordie.’ 209J.28 Then out it speaks the lady hersell, Vow, but she was sorry! ‘Now all my life I’ll wear the black, Mourn for the death o Geordie.’ 209J.29 Lord Huntly then he did speak out, O fair mot fa his body! ‘I there will fight doublet alane Or ony thing ails Geordie.’ 209J.30 Then out it speaks the king again, Vow, but he spake bonny! ‘If ye’ll tell down ten thousand crowns, Ye’ll buy the life o Geordie.’ 209J.31 She spread her mantle on the ground, Dear, but she spread it bonny! Some gae her crowns, some ducadoons, And some gae dollars mony: Then she tauld down ten thousand crowns, ‘Put on your hat, my Geordie.’ 209J.32 Then out it speaks Lord Montague, Wae be to his body! ‘I wisht that Gight wanted the head; I might enjoyd his lady.’ 209J.33 Out it speaks the lady hersell, ‘Ye need neer wish my body; O ill befa your wizzend snout! Woud ye compare wi Geordie?’ 209J.34 When she was in her saddle set, Riding the leys sae bonny, The fiddle and fleet playd neer sae sweet As she behind her Geordie. 209J.35 ‘O Geordie, Geordie, I love you well, Nae jealousie coud move me; The birds in air, that fly in pairs, Can witness how I love you. 209J.36 ‘Ye’ll call for one, the best o clerks, Ye’ll call him soon amd shortly, As he may write what I indite, A’ this I’ve done for Geordie.’ 209J.37 He turned him right and round about, And high, high looked Geordie: ‘A finger o Bignet’s lady’s hand Is worth a’ your fair body.’ 209J.38 ‘My lands may a’ be masterless, My babes may want their mother; But I’ve made a vow, will keep it true, I’ll be bound to no other.’ 209J.39 These words they causd a great dispute, And proud and fierce grew Geordie; A sharp dagger he pulled out, And pierced the heart o ’s lady. 209J.40 The lady’s dead, and Gight he’s fled, And left his lands behind him; Altho they searched south and north, There were nane there coud find him. 209J.41 Now a’ that lived into Black Riggs, And likewise in Kincraigie, For seven years were clad in black, To mourn for Gight’s own lady.

209K: Geordie

 
 209K.1	 ‘I HAVE eleven babes into the north,
 	 And the twelfth is in my body,O
 	 And the youngest o them’s in the nurse’s arms,
 	 He neer yet saw his daddy.’ O
 209K.2	 Some gied her ducks, some gied her drakes,
 	 And some gied her crowns monie,
 	 And she’s paid him down five thousand pound,
 	 And she’s gotten hame her Geordie.

209L: Geordie

 
 209L.1	 AND soon she came to the water broad,
 	 Nor boat nor barge was ready;
 	 She turned her horse’s head to the flood,
 	 And swam through at Queensferry.
 209L.2	 But when she to the presence came,
 	 ‘Mang earls high and lordlie,
 	 There hat on head sat every man,
 	 While hat in hand stood Geordie.

209M: Geordie

 
 209M.1	 WHEN he came out at the tolbooth-stair,
 	 He was baith red and rosy;
 	 But gin he cam to the gallows-fit,
 	 He was wallourt like the lily.

209N: Geordie

 
 209N.1	 I HAVE nine children in the west,
 	 The tenth ane’s in my bodie;
 	 The eldest o them she never knew a man,
 	 And she knows not wha’s her daddy.

210A: Bonnie James Campbell

 
 210A.1	 O it’s up in the Highlands,
 	 and along the sweet Tay,
 	 Did bonie James Campbell
 	 ride monie a day.
 210A.2	 Sadled and bridled,
 	 and bonie rode he;
 	 Hame came horse, hame came sadle,
 	 but neer hame cam he.
 210A.3	 And doun cam his sweet sisters,
 	 greeting sae sair,
 	 And down cam his bonie wife,
 	 tearing her hair.
 210A.4	 ‘My house is unbigged,
 	 my barn’s unbeen,
 	 My corn’s unshorn,
 	 my meadow grows green.’
 	 * * * * *

210B: Bonnie James Campbell

 
 210B.1	 Saddled and briddled
 	 and booted rade he;
 	 Toom hame cam the saddle,
 	 but never cam he.
 210B.2	 Down cam his auld mither,
 	 greetin fu sair,
 	 And down cam his bonny wife,
 	 wringin her hair.
 210B.3	 Saddled and briddled
 	 and booted rade he;
 	 Toom hame cam the saddle,
 	 but never cam he.

210C: Bonnie James Campbell

 
 210C.1	 Hie upon Hielands,
 	 and laigh upon Tay,
 	 Bonnie George Campbell
 	 rode out on a day.
 210C.2	 He saddled, he bridled,
 	 and gallant rode he,
 	 And hame cam his guid horse,
 	 but never cam he.
 210C.3	 Out cam his mother dear,
 	 greeting fu sair,
 	 And out cam his bonnie bryde,
 	 riving her hair.
 210C.4	 ‘The meadow lies green,
 	 the corn is unshorn,
 	 But bonnie George Campbell
 	 will never return.’
 210C.5	 Saddled and bridled
 	 and booted rode he,
 	 A plume in his helmet,
 	 a sword at his knee.
 210C.6	 But toom cam his saddle,
 	 all bloody to see,
 	 Oh, hame cam his guid horse,
 	 but never cam he!

210D: Bonnie James Campbell

 
 210D.1	 High upon Highlands,
 	 and low upon Tay,
 	 Bonnie George Campbell
 	 rode out on a day.
 210D.2	 ‘My meadow lies green,
 	 and my corn is unshorn,
 	 My barn is to build,
 	 and my babe is unborn.

211A: Bewick and Graham

211A.1 OLD Grahame [he] is to Carlisle gone, Where Sir Robert Bewick there met he; In arms to the wine they are gone, And drank till they were both merry. 211A.2 Old Grahame he took up the cup, And said, ‘Brother Bewick, here’s to thee; And here’s to our two sons at home, For they live best in our country.’ 211A.3 ‘Nay, were thy son as good as mine, And of some books he could but read, With sword and buckler by his side, To see how he could save his head, 211A.4 ‘They might have been calld two bold brethren Where ever they did go or ride; They might [have] been calld two bold brethren, They might have crackd the Border-side. 211A.5 ‘Thy son is bad, and is but a lad, And bully to my son cannot be; For my son Bewick can both write and read, Amd sure I am that cannot he.’ 211A.6 ‘I put him to school, but he would not learn, I bought him books, but he would not read; But my blessing he’s never have Till I see how his hand can save his head.’ 211A.7 Old Grahame called for an account, And he askd what was for to pay; There he paid a crown, so it went round, Which was all for good wine and hay. 211A.8 Old Grahame is into the stable gone, Where stood thirty good steeds and three; He’s taken his own steed by the head, And home rode he right wantonly. 211A.9 When he came home, there did he espy, A loving sight to spy or see, There did he espy his own three sons, Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he. 211A.10 There did he espy his own three sons, Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he: ‘Where have you been all day, father, That no counsel you would take by me?’ 211A.11 ‘Nay, I have been in Carlisle town, Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me; He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad, And a baffled man by thou I be. 211A.12 ‘He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad, And bully to his son cannot be; For his son Bewick can both write and read, And sure I am that cannot thee. 211A.13 ‘I put thee to school, but thou would not learn, I bought thee books, but thou would not read; But my blessing thou’s never have Till I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.’ 211A.14 ‘Oh, pray forbear, my father dear; That ever such a thing should be! Shall I venture my body in field to fight With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’ 211A.15 ‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon? Or how dare thou stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, Here is my glove thou shalt fight me.’ 211A.16 Christy stoopd low unto the ground, Unto the ground, as you’ll understand: ‘O father, put on your glove again, The wind hath blown it from your hand.’ 211A.17 ‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon? Or how dare thou stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, Here is my hand thou shalt fight me.’ 211A.18 Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone, And for to study, as well might be, Whether to fight with his father dear, Or with his bully Bewick he. 211A.19 ‘If it be [my] fortune my bully to kill, As you shall boldly understand, In every town that I ride through, They’ll say, There rides a brotherless man! 211A.20 ‘Nay, for to kill my bully dear, I think it will be a deadly sin; And for to kill my father dear, The blessing of heaven I neer shall win. 211A.21 ‘O give me your blessing, father,’ he said, ‘And pray well for me to thrive; If it be my fortune my bully to kill, I swear I’ll neer come home alive.’ 211A.22 He put on his back a good plate-jack, And on his head a cap of steel, With sword and buckler by his side; O gin he did not become them well! 211A.23 ‘O fare thee well, my father dear! And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town! If it be my fortune my bully to kill, I swear I’ll neer eat bread again.’ 211A.24 Now we’ll leave talking of Christy Grahame, And talk of him again belive; But we will talk of bonny Bewick, Where he was teaching his scholars five. 211A.25 Now when he had learnd them well to fence, To handle their swords without any doubt, He’s taken his own sword under his arm, And walkd his father’s close about. 211A.26 He lookd between him and the sun, To see what farleys he could see; There he spy’d a man with armour on, As he came riding over the lee. 211A.27 ‘I wonder much what man yon be That so boldly this way does come; I think it is my nighest friend, I think it is my bully Grahame. 211A.28 ‘O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame! O man, thou art my dear, welcome! O man, thou art my dear, welcome! For I love thee best in Christendom.’ 211A.29 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of thy bullyship let me be! The day is come I never thought on; Bully, I’m come here to fight with thee.’ 211A.30 ‘O no! not so, O bully Grahame! That eer such a word should spoken be! I was thy master, thou was my scholar: So well as I have learn d thee.’ 211A.31 My father he was in Carlisle town, Where thy father Bewick there met he; He said I was bad, and he calld me a lad, And a baffled man by thou I be.’ 211A.32 ‘Away, away, O bully Grahame. And of all that talk, man, let us be! We’ll take three men of either side To see if we can our fathers agree.’ 211A.33 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of thy bullyship let me be! But if thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.’ 211A.34 ‘O no! not so, my bully Grahame! That eer such a word should spoken be! Shall I venture my body in field to fight With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’ 211A.35 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of all that care, man, let us be! If thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.’ 211A.36 ‘Now, if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill, As God’s will’s, man, it all must be; But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill, ’Tis home again I’ll never gae.’ 211A.37 ‘Thou art of my mind then, bully Bewick, And sworn-brethren will we be; If thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.’ 211A.38 He flang his cloak from [off] his shoulders, His psalm-book out of his hand flang he, He clapd his hand upon the hedge, And oer lap he right wantonly. 211A.39 When Grahame did see his bully come, The salt tear stood long in his eye: ‘Now needs must I say that thou art a man, That dare venture thy body to fight with me. 211A.40 ‘Now I have a harness on my back; I know that thou hath none on thine; But as little as thou hath on thy back, Sure as little shall there be on mine.’ 211A.41 He flang his jack from off his back, His steel cap from his head flang he; He’s taken his sword into his hand, He’s tyed his horse unto a tree. 211A.42 Now they fell to it with two broa[d swords], For two long hours fought Bewick [and he]; Much sweat was to be seen on them both, But never a drop of blood to see. 211A.43 ‘Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward stroke, An ackward stroke surely struck he; He struck him now under the left breast, Then down to the ground as dead fell he. 211A.44 ‘Arise, arise, O bully Bewick, Arise, and speak three words to me! Whether this be thy deadly wound, Or God and good surgeons will mend thee.’ 211A.45 ‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame, And pray do get thee far from me! Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart, And so no further can I gae. 211A.46 ‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame, And get thee far from me with speed! And get thee out of this country quite! That none may know who’s done the deed.’ 211A.47 ‘O if this be true, my bully dear, The words that thou dost tell to me, The vow I made, and the vow I’ll keep; I swear I’ll be the first that die. 211A.48 Then he stuck his sword in a moody-hill, Where he lap thirty good foot and three; First he bequeathed his soul to God, And upon his own sword-point lap he. 211A.49 Now Grahame he was the first that died, And then came Robin Bewick to see; ‘Arise, arise, O son!’ he said, ‘For I see thou’s won the victory. 211A.50 ‘Arise, arise, O son!’ he said, ‘For I see thou’s won the victory:’ ‘[Father, co]uld ye not drunk your wine at home, [And le]tten me and my brother be? 211A.51 ‘Nay, dig a grave both low and wide, And in it us two pray bury; But bury my bully Grahame on the sun-side, For I’m sure he’s won the victory.’ 211A.52 Now we’ll leave talking of these two brethren, In Carlisle town where they lie slain, And talk of these two good old men, Where they were making a pitiful moan. 211A.53 With that bespoke now Robin Bewick: ‘O man, was I not much to blame? I have lost one of the liveliest lads That ever was bred unto my name.’ 211A.54 With that bespoke my good lord Grahame: ‘O man, I have lost the better block; I have lost my comfort and my joy, I have lost my key, I have lost my lock. 211A.55 ‘Had I gone through all Ladderdale, And forty horse had set on me, Had Christy Grahame been at my back, So well as he woud guarded me.’ 211A.56 I have no more of my song to sing, But two or three words to you I’ll name; But ’twill be talk’d in Carlisle town That these two [old] men were all the blame.

212A: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

 
 212A.*	 * * *
 	 ‘WHERE shall I gang, my ain true love?
 	 Where shall I gang to hide me?
 	 For weel ye ken i yere father’s bowr
 	 It wad be death to find me.’
 212A.2	 ‘O go you to yon tavern-house,
 	 An there count owre your lawin,
 	 An, if I be a woman true,
 	 I’ll meet you in the dawin.’
 212A.3	 O he’s gone to yon tavern-house,
 	 An ay he counted his lawin,
 	 An ay he drank to her guid health
 	 Was to meet him in the dawin.
 212A.4	 O he’s gone to yon tavern-house,
 	 An counted owre his lawin,
 	 When in there cam three armed men,
 	 To meet him in the dawin.
 212A.5	 ‘O woe be unto woman’s wit!
 	 It has beguiled many;
 	 She promised to come hersel,
 	 But she sent three men to slay me.’

212B: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

212B.1 ‘YE are the Duke of Athol’s nurse, And I’m the new-come darling; I’ll gie you my gay gold rings To get ae word of my leman.’ 212B.2 ‘I am the Duke Athol’s nurse, And ye’re the new-come darling; Keep well your gay gold rings, Ye sall get twa words o your leman.’ 212B.3 He leand oure his saddle-bow, It was not for to kiss her: ‘Anither woman has my heart, And I but come here to see ye.’ 212B.4 ‘If anither woman has your heart, O dear, but I am sorry! Ye hie you down to yon ale house, And stay untill ’t be dawing, And if I be a woman true I’ll meet you in the dawing.’ 212B.5 He did him down to yon ale-house, And drank untill ’t was dawing; He drank the bonnie lassie’s health That was to clear his lawing. 212B.6 He lookit out of a shot-window, To see if she was coming, And there he seed her seven brithers, So fast as they were running! 212B.7 He went up and down the house, Says, ‘Landlady, can you save me? For yonder comes her seven brithers, And they are coming to slay me.’ 212B.8 So quick she minded her on a wile How she might protect him! She dressd him in a suit of woman’s attire And set him to her baking. 212B.9 ‘Had you a quarterer here last night, Or staid he to the dawing? Shew us the room the squire lay in, We are come to clear his lawing.’ 212B.10 ‘I had a quarterer here last night, But he staid not to the dawing; He called for a pint, and paid as he went, You have nothing to do with his lawing.’ 212B.11 They searchd the house baith up and down, The curtains they spaird not to rive em, And twenty times they passd The squire at his baking.

212C: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

212C.1 AS I went down by the Duke of Athole’s gates, Where the bells of the court were ringing, And there I heard a fair maid say, O if I had but ae sight o my Johnie! 212C.2 ‘O here is your Johnie just by your side; What have ye to say to your Johnie? O here is my hand, but anither has my heart, So ye’ll never get more o your Johnie.’ 212C.3 ‘O ye may go down to yon ale-house, And there do sit till the dawing; And call for the wine that is very, very fine, And I’ll come and clear up your lawing.’ 212C.4 So he’s gane down to yon ale-house, And he has sat till the dawing; And he’s calld for the wine that’s very, very fine, But she neer cam to clear up his lawing. 212C.5 Lang or the dawing he oure the window looks, To see if his true-love was coming, And there he spied twelve weel armd boys, Coming over the plainstanes running. 212C.6 ‘O landlady, landlady, what shall I do? For my life it’s not worth a farthing!’ ‘O young man,’ said she, ’Tak counsel by me, And I will be your undertaking. 212C.7 ‘I will clothe you in my own body-clothes And I’ll send you like a girl to the baking:’ And loudly, loudly they rapped at the door, And loudly, loudly they rapp d. 212C.8 ‘O had you any strangers here late last night? Or were they lang gane or the dawing? O had you any strangers here late last night? We are now come to clear up his lawing.’ 212C.9 ‘O I had a stranger here late last night, But he was lang gane or the dawing; He called for a pint, and he paid it as he went, And ye’ve no more to do with his lawing.’ 212C.10 ‘O show me the room that your stranger lay in, If he was lang gane or the dawing:’ She showed them the room that her stranger lay in, But he was lang gane or the dawing. 212C.11 O they stabbed the feather-bed all round and round, And the curtains they neer stood to tear them; And they gade as they cam, and left a’ things undone, And left the young squire by his baking.

212D: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

212D.1 AS I cam in by the Duke of Athole’s gate, I heard a fair maid singing, Wi a bonny baby on her knee, And the bells o the court were ringing. 212D.2 ‘O it’s I am the Duke of Athole’s nurse, And the place does well become me; But I would gie a’ my half-year’s fee Just for a sight o my Johnie. * * * * * 212D.3 ‘If ye’ll gae down to yon ale-house, And stop till it be dawing, And ca for a pint o the very, very best, And I’ll come and clear up your lawing.’ 212D.4 O he’s gane down to yon ale-house, And stopt till it was dawing; He ca’d for a pint o the very, very best, But she cam na to clear up his lawing. 212D.5 He looked out at the chamber-window, To see if she was coming; And there he spied ten armed men, Across the plain coming running. 212D.6 ‘O landlady, landlady, what shall I do? For my life is not worth a farthing; I paid you a guinea for my lodging last night, But I fear I’ll never see sun shining.’ 212D.7 ‘If ye will be advised by me, I’ll be your undertaking; I’ll dress you up in my ain body-clothes And set you to the baking.’ 212D.8 So loudly at the door they rapt, So loudly are they calling, ‘O had you a stranger here last night, Or is he within your dwelling?’ 212D.9 ‘O I had a stranger here last night, But he wos gane or dawing; He ca’d for a pint, and he paid it or he went, And I hae nae mair to do wi his lawing.’ 212D.10 They stabd the feather-beds round and round, The curtains they spared na to tear them; But they went as they came, and left a’ things undone, And the young man busy baking.

212E: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

 
 212E.1	 ‘I AM the Duke o Athole’s nurse,
 	 My part does well become me,
 	 And I wad gie aw my half-year’s fee
 	 For ae sicht o my Johnie.’
 212E.2	 ‘Keep weill, keep weill your half-year’s fee,
 	 For ye’ll soon get a sicht o your Johnie;
 	 But anither woman has my heart,
 	 And I’m sorry for to leave ye.’
 212E.3	 RR’rrye’ll dow ye doun to yon changehouse,
 	 And ye’ll drink till the day be dawin;
 	 At ilka pint’s end ye’ll drink my health out,
 	 And I’ll come and pay for the lawin.’
 212E.4	 Ay he ranted and he sang,
 	 And drank till the day was dawin,
 	 And ay he drank the bonnie lassy’s health
 	 That was coming to pay the lawin.
 212E.5	 He spared na the sack, tho it was dear,
 	 The wine nor the sugar-candy,
 	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 212E.6	 He’s dune him to the shot-window,
 	 To see an she was coming,
 	 And there he spied twelve armed men,
 	 That oure the plain cam rinning.
 212E.7	 He’s dune him doun to the landlady,
 	 To see gin she wad protect him;
 	 She’s buskit him up into women’s claiths
 	 And set him till a baking.
 212E.8	 Sae loudly as they rappit at the yett,
 	 Sae loudly as they callit,
 	 ‘Had ye onie strangers here last nicht,
 	 That drank till the day was dawin?’
 	 * * * * *

212F: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

212F.1 AS I gaed in yon greenwood-side, I heard a fair maid singing; Her voice was sweet, she sang sae complete That all the woods were ringing. 212F.2 ‘O I’m the duke o Athole’s nurse, My post is well becoming; But I woud gie a’ my half-year’s fee For ae sight o my leman.’ 212F.3 ‘Ye say, ye’re the Duke o Athole’s nurse, Your post is well becoming; Keep well, keep well your half-year’s fee, Ye’se hae twa sights o your leman.’ 212F.4 He leand him ower his saddle-bow And cannilie kissd his dearie: ‘Ohon and alake! anither has my heart, And I darena mair come near thee.’ 212F.5 ‘Ohon and alake! if anither hae your heart, These words hae fairly undone me; But let us set a time, tryst to meet again, Then in gude friends you will twine me. 212F.6 ‘Ye will do you down to yon tavern-house And drink till the day be dawing, And, as sure as I ance had a love for you, I’ll come there and clear your lawing. 212F.7 ‘Ye’ll spare not the wine, altho it be fine, Nae Malago, tho it be rarely, But ye’ll aye drink the bonnie lassie’s health That’s to clear your lawing fairly.’ 212F.8 Then he’s done him down to yon tavern-house And drank till day was dawing, And aye he drank the bonnie lassie’s health That was coming to clear his lawing. 212F.9 And aye as he birled, and aye as he drank, The gude beer and the brandy, He spar’d not the wine, altho it was fine, The sack nor the sugar candy. 212F.10 ‘It’s a wonder to me,’ the knight he did say, ‘My bonnie lassie’s sae delaying; She promised, as sure as she loved me ance, She woud be here by the dawing.’ 212F.11 He’s done him to a shott-window, A little before the dawing, And there he spied her nine brothers bauld, Were coming to betray him. 212F.12 ‘Where shall I rin? where shall I gang? Or where shall I gang hide me? She that was to meet me in friendship this day Has sent nine men to slay me!’ 212F.13 He’s gane to the landlady o the house, Says, ‘O can you supply me? For she that was to meet me in friendship this day Has sent nine men to slay me.’ 212F.14 She gae him a suit o her ain female claise And set him to the baking; The bird never sang mair sweet on the bush Nor the knight sung at the baking. 212F.15 As they came in at the ha-door, Sae loudly as they rappit! And when they came upon the floor, Sae loudly as they chappit! 212F.16 ‘O had ye a stranger here last night, Who drank till the day was dawing? Come show us the chamber where he lyes in, We’ll shortly clear his lawing.’ 212F.17 ‘I had nae stranger here last night That drank till the day was dawing; But ane that took a pint, and paid it ere he went, And there’s naething to clear o his lawing.’ 212F.18 A lad among the rest, being o a merry mood, To the young knight fell a-talking; The wife took her foot and gae him a kick, Says, Be busy, ye jilt, at your baking. 212F.19 They stabbed the house baith but and ben, The curtains they spared nae riving, And for a’ that they search and ca, For a kiss o the knight they were striving.

213A: Sir James the Rose

213A.1 O HEARD ye of Sir James the Rose, The young heir of Buleighen? For he has killd a gallant squire, An ’s friends are out to take him. 213A.2 Now he’s gone to the house of Marr, Where the nourrice was his leman; To see his dear he did repair, Thinking she would befriend him. 213A.3 ‘Where are you going, Sir James?’ she says, ‘Or where now are you riding?’ ‘O I am bound to a foreign land, For now I’m under hiding. 213A.4 ‘Where shall I go? Where shall I run? Where shall I go to hide me? For I have killd a gallant squire, And they’re seeking to slay me.’ 213A.5 ‘O go ye down to yon ale-house, And I’ll pay there your lawing; And, if I be a woman true, I’ll meet you in the dawing.’ 213A.6 ‘I’ll not go down to yon ale-house, For you to pay my lawing; There’s forty shillings for one supper, I’ll stay in ’t till the dawing.’ 213A.7 He’s turnd him right and round about And rowd him in his brechan, And he has gone to take a sleep, In the lowlands of Buleighen. 213A.8 He was not well gone out of sight, Nor was he past Milstrethen, Till four and twenty belted knights Came riding oer the Leathen. 213A.9 ‘O have you seen Sir James the Rose, The young heir of Buleighen? For he has killd a gallant squire, And we’re sent out to take him.’ 213A.10 ‘O I have seen Sir James,’ she says, ‘For he past here on Monday; If the steed be swift that he rides on, He’s past the gates of London.’ 213A.11 But as they were going away, Then she calld out behind them; ‘If you do seek Sir James,’ she says, ‘I’ll tell you where you’ll find him. 213A.12 ‘You’ll seek the bank above the mill, In the lowlands of Buleighen, And there you’ll find Sir James the Rose, Lying sleeping in his brechan. 213A.13 ‘You must not wake him out of sleep, Nor yet must you affright him, Till you run a dart quite thro his heart, And thro the body pierce him.’ 213A.14 They sought the bank above the mill, In the lowlands of Buleighan, And there they found Sir James the Rose, A sleeping in his brechan. 213A.15 Then out bespoke Sir John the Gra+eme, Who had the charge a keeping; ‘It’s neer be said, dear gentlemen, We’ll kill him when he’s sleeping.’ 213A.16 They seizd his broadsword and his targe, And closely him surrounded; But when he wak’d out of his sleep, His senses were confounded. 213A.17 ‘O pardon, pardon, gentlemen! Have mercy now upon me!’ ‘Such as you gave, such you shall have, And so we’ll fall upon thee.’ 213A.18 ‘Donald my man, wait me upon, And I’ll give you my brechan, And, if you stay here till I die, You’ll get my trews of tartan. 213A.19 ‘There is fifty pounds in my pocket, Besides my trews and brechan; You’ll get my watch and diamond ring; And take me to Loch Largon.’ 213A.20 Now they have taken out his heart And stuck it on a spear, Then took it to the House of Marr, And gave it to his dear. 213A.21 But when she saw his bleeding heart She was like one distracted; She smote her breaxt, and wrung her hands, Crying, ‘What now have I acted! 213A.22 ‘Sir James the Rose, now for thy sake O but my heart’s a breaking! Curst be the day I did thee betray, Thou brave knight of Buleighen.’ 213A.23 Then up she rose, and forth she goes, All in that fatal hour, And bodily was born away, And never was seen more. 213A.24 But where she went was never kend, And so, to end the matter, A traitor’s end, you may depend, Can be expect’d no better.

214A: The Braes o Yarrow

214A.1 ‘I dreamed a dreary dream this night, That fills my heart wi sorrow; I dreamed I was pouing the heather green Upon the braes of Yarrow. 214A.2 ‘O true-love mine, stay still and dine, As ye ha done before, O;’ ‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine, And frae the braes of Yarrow.’ 214A.3 I dreamed a dreary dream this night, That fills my heart wi sorrow; I dreamed my luve came headless hame, O frae the braes of Yarrow! 214A.4 ‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine, As ye ha done before, O;’ ‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine, And frae the braes of Yarrow.’ 214A.5 ‘O are ye going to hawke,’ she says, ‘As ye ha done before, O? Or are ye going to weild your brand, Upon the braes of Yarrow?’ 214A.6 ‘O I am not going to hawke,’ he says, ‘As I have done before, O, But for to meet your brother Jhon, Upon the braes of Yarrow, 214A.7 As he gade down yon dowy den, Sorrow went him before, O; Nine well-wight men lay waiting him, Upon the braes of Yarrow. 214A.8 ‘I have your sister to my wife, ‘Ye’ think me an unmeet marrow; But yet one foot will I never flee Now frae the braes of Yarrow.’ 214A.9 ‘Than’ four he killd and five did wound, That was an unmeet marrow! ‘And he had weel nigh wan the day Upon the braes of Yarrow.’ 214A.10 ‘Bot’ a cowardly ’loon’ came him behind, Our Lady lend him sorrow! And wi a rappier pierced his heart, And laid him low on Yarrow. 214A.11 ‘Now Douglas’ to his sister’s gane, Wi meikle dule and sorrow: ‘Gae to your luve, sister,’ he says, ‘He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’ 214A.12 As she went down yon dowy den, Sorrow went her before, O; She saw her true-love lying slain Upon the braes of Yarrow. 214A.13 ‘She swoond thrice upon his breist That was her dearest marrow; Said, Ever alace and wae the day Thou wentst frae me to Yarrow!’ 214A.14 She kist his mouth, she kaimed his hair, As she had done before, O ; She ’wiped’ the blood that trickled doun Upon the braes of Yarrow. 214A.15 Her hair it was three quarters lang, It hang baith side and yellow; She tied it round ’Her’ white hause-bane, ‘And tint her life on Yarrow.’

214B: The Braes o Yarrow

214B.1 THREE lords sat drinking at the wine I the bonny braes o Yarrow, An there cam a dispute them between, Who was the Flower o Yarrow. 214B.2 ‘I’m wedded to your sister dear, Ye coont nae me your marrow; I stole her fae her father’s back, An made her the Flower o Yarrow.’ 214B.3 ‘Will ye try hearts, or will ye try hans, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow? Or will ye try the weel airmt sword, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow?’ 214B.4 ‘I winna try hearts, I winna try hans, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow, But I will try the weel airmt sword, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’ 214B.5 ‘Ye’ll stay at home, my own good lord, Ye’ll stay at home tomorrow; My brethren three they will slay thee, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’ 214B.6 ‘Bonnie, bonnie shines the sun, An early sings the sparrow; Before the clock it will strinke nine An I’ll be home tomorrow.’ 214B.7 She’s kissed his mouth, an combed his hair, As she had done before, O; She’s dressed him in his noble bow, An he’s awa to Yarrow. 214B.8 As he gaed up yon high, high hill, An doon the dens o Yarrow, An there he spied ten weel airmt men I the bonnie braes o Yarrow. 214B.9 It’s five he wounded, an five he slew, I the bonnie braes o Yarrow; There cam a squire out o the bush, An pierced his body thorough. 214B.10 ‘I dreamed a dream now sin the streen, God keep us a’ fae sorrow! That my good lord was sleepin soun I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’ 214B.11 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, An tak it not in sorrow; I’ll wed you wi as good a lord As you’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’ 214B.12 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, An wed your sons wi sorrow; For a fairer flower neer sprang in May nor June Nor I’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’ 214B.13 Fast did she gang, fast did she rin, Until she cam to Yarrow, An there she fan her own good lord, He was sleepin soun in Yarrow. 214B.14 She’s taen three lachters o her hair, That hung doon her side sae bonny, An she’s tied roon his middle tight, An she’s carried him hame frae Yarrow. 214B.15 This lady being big wi child, She was fu a grief an sorrow; Her heart did break, and then she died, She did not live till morrow.

214C: The Braes o Yarrow

214C.1 THERE were three lords birling at the wine On the dowie downs o Yarrow; They made a compact them between They would go fight tomorrow. 214C.2 ‘Thou took our sister to be thy bride, And thou neer thocht her thy marrow; Thou stealed her frae her daddie’s back, When she was the rose o Yarrow.’ 214C.3 ‘Yes, I took thy sister to be my bride, And I made her my marrow; I stealed her frae her daddie’s back, And she’s still the rose o Yarrow.’ 214C.4 He is hame to his lady gane, As he had done before! O; Says, Madam. I must go and fight On the dowie downs o Yarrow. 214C.5 ‘Stay at hame, my lord,’ she said, ‘For that will cause much sorrow; For my brethren three they will slay thee, On the dowie downs o Yarrow.’ 214C.6 ‘Hold your tongue, my lady fair, For what needs a’ this sorrow? For I’ll be hame gin the clock strikes nine, From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’ 214C.7 She wush his face, she kamed his hair, As she had dune before, O; She dressed him up in his armour clear, Sent him furth to fight on Yarrow. 214C.8 ‘Come you here to hawk or hound, Or drink the wine that’s so clear, O? Or come you here to eat in your words, That you’re not the rose o Yarrow?’ 214C.9 ‘I came not here to hawk or hound, Nor to drink the wine that’s so clear, O; Nor I came not here to eat in my words, For I’m still the rose o Yarrow.’ 214C.10 Then they a’ begoud to fight, I wad they focht richt sore, O, Till a cowardly man came behind his back, And pierced his body thorough. 214C.11 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, it’s my man John, As ye have done before, O, And tell it to my gay lady That I soundly sleep on Yarrow.’ 214C.12 His man John he has gane hame, As he had dune before, O, And told it to his gay lady, That he soundly slept on Yarrow. 214C.13 ‘I dreamd a dream now since the streen, God keep us a’ frae sorrow! That my lord and I was pu’ing the heather green From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’ 214C.14 Sometimes she rade, sometimes she gaed, As she had dune before, O, And aye between she fell in a soune, Lang or she cam to Yarrow. 214C.15 Her hair it was five quarters lang, ’Twas like the gold for yellow; She twisted it round his milk-white hand, And she’s drawn him hame from Yarrow. 214C.16 Out and spak her father dear, Says, What needs a’ this sorrow? For I’ll get you a far better lord Than ever died on Yarrow. 214C.17 ‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she said, ‘For ye’ve bred a’ my sorrow; For that rose’ll neer spring sae sweet in May As that rose I lost on Yarrow.’

214D: The Braes o Yarrow

214D.1 THERE were three lords drinking of wine On the bonny braes of Yarrow; There fell a combat them between, Wha was the rose of Yarrow. 214D.2 Up then spak a noble lord, And I wot it was bot sorrow: ‘I have as fair a flower,’ he said, ‘As ever sprang on Yarrow.’ 214D.3 Then he went hame to his ain house, For to sleep or the morrow, But the first sound the trumpet gae Was, Mount and haste to Yarrow. 214D.4 ‘Oh stay at hame,’ his lady said, ‘Oh stay untill the morrow, And I will mount upon a steed, And ride with you to Yarrow.’ 214D.5 ‘Oh hawd your tongue, my dear,’ said he, ‘And talk not of the morrow; This day I have to fight again, In the dowy deans of Yarrow.’ 214D.6 As he went up yon high, high hill, Down the dowy deans of Yarrow, There he spy’d ten weel armd men, There was nane o them his marrow. 214D.7 Five he wounded and five he slew, In the dowy deans of Yarrow, But an English-man out of a bush Shot at him a lang sharp arrow. 214D.8 ‘Ye may gang hame, my brethren three, Ye may gang hame with sorrow, And say this to my fair lady, I am sleeping sound on Yarrow.’ 214D.9 ‘Sister, sister, I dreamt a dream-+--+- You read a dream to gude, O! That I was puing the heather green On the bonny braes of Yarrow.’ 214D.10 ‘Sister, sister, I’ll read your dream, But alas! it’s unto sorrow; Your good lord is sleeping sound, He is lying dead on Yarrow.’ 214D.11 She as pu’d the ribbons of her head, And I wot it was wi sorrow, And she’s gane up yon high, high hill, Down the dowy deans of Yarrow. 214D.12 Her hair it was five quarters lang, The colour of it was yellow; She as ty’d it round his middle jimp, And she as carried him frae Yarrow. 214D.13 ‘O hawd your tongue!’ her father says, ‘What needs a’ this grief and sorrow? I’ll wed you on as fair a flower As ever sprang on Yarrow.’ 214D.14 ‘No, hawd your tongue, my father dear, I’m fow of grief and sorrow; For a fairer flower ne[v]er sprang Than I’ve lost this day on Yarrow.’ 214D.15 This lady being big wi bairn, And fow of grief and sorrow, She as died within her father’s arms, And she died lang or the morrow.

214E: The Braes o Yarrow

214E.1 LATE at een, drinkin the wine, Or early in a mornin, The set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawnin. 214E.2 ‘O stay at hame, my noble lord! O stay at hame, my marrow! My cruel brother will you betray, On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’ 214E.3 ‘O fare ye weel, my lady gaye! O fare ye weel, my Sarah! For I maun gae, tho I neer return Frae the dowy banks o Yarrow.’ 214E.4 She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair, As she had done before, O; She belted on his noble brand, An he’s awa to Yarrow. 214E.5 O he’s gane up yon high, high hill-+--+- I wat he gaed wi sorrow-+--+- An in a den spied nine armd men, I the dowy houms o Yarrow. 214E.6 ‘O ir ye come to drink the wine, As ye hae doon before, O? Or ir ye come to wield the brand, On the bonny banks o Yarrow?’ 214E.7 ‘I im no come to drink the wine, As I hae don before, O, But I im come to wield the brand, On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’ 214E.8 Four he hurt, an five he slew, On the dowy houms o Yarrow, Till that stubborn knight came him behind, An ran his body thorrow. 214E.9 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John, An tell your sister Sarah To come an lift her noble lord, Who’s sleepin sound on Yarrow.’ 214E.10 ‘Yestreen I dreamd a dolefu dream; I kend there wad be sorrow; I dreamd I pu’d the heather green, On the dowy banks o Yarrow.’ 214E.11 She gaed up yon high, high hill-+--+- I wat she gaed wi sorrow-+--+- An in a den spy’d nine dead men, On the dowy houms o Yarrow. 214E.12 She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair, As oft she did before, O; She drank the red blood frae him ran, On the dowy houms o Yarrow. 214E.13 ‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear, For what needs a’ this sorrow? I’ll wed you on a better lord Than him you lost on Yarrow.’ 214E.14 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, An dinna grieve your Sarah; A better lord was never born Than him I lost on Yarrow. 214E.15 ‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye, For they hae bred our sorrow; I wiss that they had a’ gane mad Whan they cam first to Yarrow.’

214F: The Braes o Yarrow

214F.1 LATE in the eenin, drinkin the wine, Or early in the mornin, The set a combat them between, To fight it out i the dawnin. 214F.2 She’s kissd his lips, an she’s caimd his hair, As shee did ay afore, O, She’s belted him in his noble brown, Afore he gaed to Yarrow. 214F.3 Then he’s away oer yon high hill-+--+- A wait he’s gane wi sorrow-+--+- An in a den he spied nine armd men, On the dowie banks o Yarrow. 214F.4 ‘If I see ye a’, ye’r nine for ane, But ane’s [un]equal marrow; Yet as lang ’s I’m able wield my brand, I’ll fight an bear ye marrow. 214F.5 ‘There are twa swords into my sheath, The’re ane an equal marrow; Now wale the best, I’ll take the warst, An, man for man, I’ll try ye.’ 214F.6 He has slain a’ the nine men, A ane an equal marrow, But up there startit a stuborn lord, That gard him sleep on Yarrow. * * * * * 214F.7 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my sister Anne, An tell yer sister Sarah That she may gang and seek her lord, He’s lyin sleepin on Yarrow.’ 214F.8 ‘I dreamd a dream now sin yestreen, I thought it wad be sorrow; I thought I was pouin the hether green On the dowie banks o Yarrow.’ 214F.9 Then she’s away oer yon high hill-+--+- I wat she’s gane wi sorrow-+--+- And in a den she’s spy’d ten slain men, On the dowie banks o Yarrow. 214F.10 ‘My love was a’ clad oer last night Wi the finest o the tartan, But now he’s a’ clad oer wi red, An he’s red bluid to the garten.’ 214F.11 She’s kissd his lips, she’s caimd his hair, As she had done before, O; She drank the red bluid that frae him ran, On the dowie banks o Yarrow. 214F.12 ‘Tak hame your ousen, father, and yer kye, For they’ve bred muckle sorrow; I wiss that they had a’ gaen mad Afore they came to Yarrow.’ 214F.13 ‘O haud yer tongue, my daughter dear, For this breeds ay but sorrow; I’ll wed you to a better lord Than him you lost on Yarrow.’ 214F.14 ‘O haud yer tongue, my father dear, For ye but breed mair sorrow; A better rose will never spring Than him I’ve lost on Yarrow.’ 214F.15 This lady being big wi child, An fu o lamentation, She died within her father’s arms, Amang this stuborn nation.

214G: The Braes o Yarrow

214G.* * * * SHE kissd his mouth and she combd his hair, As she had done before, O, She belted him in his noble broun, Before he went to Yarrow. 214G.2 O he’s gone up yon high, [high] hill-+--+- I wat it was with sorrow-+--+- In a den he spied nine weal armd men, On the bonny banks of Yarrow. 214G.3 ‘I see that you are nine for one, Which are of an unequal marrow; As lang ’s I’m able to wield my bran, I’ll fight and be your marrow.’ 214G.4 O he has killed them a’ but one, Which bred to him great sorrow; For up and rose that stubborn lord, Made him sleep sound in Yarrow. 214G.5 ‘Rise up, rise up, my daughter Ann, Go tell your sister Sarah She may rise up go lift her lord; He’s sleeping sound in Yarrow.’ 214G.6 She’s gone up yon high, high hill-+--+- I wat it was with sorrow-+--+- And in a den she spied nine slain men, On the dowie banks o Yarrow. 214G.7 O she kissed his mouth, and she combd his hair, As she had done before, O; She drank the bleed that from him ran, On the dowie banks o Yarrow. 214G.8 ‘Take hame your oxen, tak hame your kye, They’ve bred to me great sorrow; I wish they had all now gone mad First when they came to Yarrow.’ 214G.9 ‘O hold your tongue now, daughter dear, These words to me ’s great sorrow; I’ll wed you on a better lord Than you have lost on Yarrow.’ 214G.10 ‘O hold your tongue now, father dear, These words to me ’s great sorrow; A brighter O shall there never spread Than I have lost in Yarrow.’ 214G.11 This lady being big with child, And full of lamentation, She died unto her father’s arms, Among the stubborn nation.

214H: The Braes o Yarrow

214H.1 ’TWAS late at evening drinking wine, And early in the morning, He set a combat them among, And he fought it in the morning. * * * * * 214H.2 ‘I have two swords by my side, They cost me both gold and money; Take ye the best, I’ll take the worst, Come man for man, I’ll try ye.’ 214H.3 He has foughten them all round, His equal man and marrow, While up bespake the stubborn lord, ‘He’s made them sleep in Yarrow.’ 214H.4 He says, Go home, my daughter Ann, And tell your sister Sarah To come and lift her stubborn lord; The lad’s made him sleep in Yarrow. 214H.5 As she gaed up yon high, high hill, I wot she gaed right sorrow, And in a den spied nine well armd men, In the dowie dens of Yarrow. 214H.6 ‘My love was dressd in the finest robes, And of the finest tartan, And now he’s a’ clad oer wi red, He’s bloody to the gartan!’ 214H.7 ‘O hold yer tongue, daughter!’ he says, ‘That would breed but sorrow; Ye shall be wed to a finer lord Than the one you’ve lost in Yarrow.’ 214H.8 ‘Hold your tongue, father!’ she says, ‘For that will breed but sorrow; A finer lord can neer be born Than the one I’ve lost in Yarrow. 214H.9 ‘Take hame yer ox, and take hame yer kye, You’ve bred me muckle sorrow; I wish they’d a’ gane mad that day, That day they came to Yarrow.’ 214H.10 This woman being big wi child, And full of lamentation, She died into her father’s arms, Among that stubborn nation.

214I: The Braes o Yarrow

214I.1 TEN lords sat drinking at the wine Intill a morning early; There fell a combat them among, It must be fought, nae parley. 214I.2 ‘O stay at hame, my ain gude lord! O stay, my ain dear marrow!’ ‘Sweetest min, I will be thine, An dine wi you tomorrow.’ 214I.3 She kissd his lips, an combed his hair, As she had done before O, Gied him a brand down by his side, An he is on to Yarrow. 214I.4 As he gaed oer yon dowey knowe, As he had dane before O, Nine armed men lay in a den, Upo the braes o Yarrow. 214I.5 ‘O came ye here to hunt or hawk, As ye had dane before O? Or came ye here to wiel your brand, Upo the braes o Yarrow?’ 214I.6 ‘I came nae here to hunt nor hawk, As I hae done before O; But I came here to wiel my brand, Upo the braes o Yarrow?’ 214I.7 Four he hurt, an five he slew, Till down it fell himsell O; There stood a fause lord him behin, Who thrust his body thorrow. 214I.8 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John, An tell your sister sorrow; Your mither woud come take up her son, Aff o the braes o Yarrow.’ 214I.9 As he gaed oer yon high, high hill, As he had dane before O, There he met his sister dear, Came rinnin fast to Yarrow. 214I.10 ‘I dreamd a dream last night,’ she says, ‘I wish it binna sorrow; I dreamd I was puing the heather green Upo the braes o Yarrow.’ 214I.11 ‘I’ll read your dream, sister,’ he says, ‘I’ll read it into sorrow; Ye’re bidden gae take up your luve, He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’ 214I.12 She’s torn the ribbons frae her head-+--+- They were baith thick an narrow-+--+- She’s kilted up her green claithing, An she’s awa to Yarrow. 214I.13 She’s taen him in her arms twa, An gaen him kisses thorough, An wi her tears she bath’d his wounds, Upo the braes o Yarrow. 214I.14 Her father, looking oer the castle-wa, Beheld his daughter’s sorrow; ‘O had your tongue, daughter,’ he says, ‘An lat be a’ your sorrow! I’ll wed you wi a better lord Than he that died on Yarrow.’ 214I.15 ‘O had your tongue, father,’ she says, ‘An lat be till tomorrow! A better lord there coudna be Than he that died on Yarrow.’ 214I.16 She kissd his lips, an combd his hair, As she had done before O, An wi a crack her head did brack, Upo the braes o Yarrow.

214J: The Braes o Yarrow

214J.1 IN Thoro town there lives a maid, I am sure she has no marrow; For she has forsaken both lords and knights, And loved a servant-lad in Galla. 214J.2 Evening and morning her page he ran, Her page he ran wi sorrow, With letters bound, just frae the town, To the servant-lad in Galla. 214J.3 Her father he got word of that, And he’s bred all her sorrow; He sent him forth to fight wi nine, In the dowie glens of Yarrow. 214J.4 She washd his face, she combd his hair, She thought he had no marrow; Wi a thrusty rapier by his side, She sent him forth to Yarrow. 214J.5 She’s taen fareweel of him that day, As she had done before, O, And she’s comd back to her bonny bower, But her love’s away to Yarrow. 214J.6 He wanderd up, he wandred down, His heart was full of sorrow; There he spied nine gentlemen, Watering their steeds in Yarrow. 214J.7 ‘O come away, young man,’ they said, ‘I’m sure ye’r no our marrow; Ye’r welcome here, young man,’ they said, ‘For the bonny lass o Thorro.’ 214J.8 ‘Nine against one, weel do ye ken, That’s no an equal marrow; Yet for my love’s sake I’ll venture my life, In the dowie glens of Yarrow.’ 214J.9 Five was wounded, and four was slain, Amongst them a’ he had no marrow; He’s mounted on his horse again, Cries, I have won the bonny lass of Thorro! 214J.10 Up then spake her father dear-+--+- And he’s bred all her sorrow-+--+- And wi a broad sword ran him through, In the dowie glens of Yarrow. 214J.11 ‘I have dreamd a dream, father, I doubt I have dreamd for sorrow; I dreamd I was pouing the heather green Wi my true love in Yarrow.’ 214J.12 ‘O I will read your dream, daughter, Although it be for your sorrow; Go, and ye’ll find your love lying sound, In a heather-bush in Yarrow.’ 214J.13 She’s calld on her maidens then-+--+- Her heart was full of sorrow-+--+- And she’s away wi her maidens twa, To the dowie glens o Yarrow. 214J.14 She wandered up, she wandred down, In the dowie glens of Yarrow, And there she spied her lobe lying sound, In a heather-bush in Yarrow. 214J.15 She’s washd hin in the clear well-strand, She’s dry’d him wi the holland, And aye she sighd, and said, Alass! For my love I had him chosen. 214J.16 His hair it was three quarters long, Three quarters long and yellow; And she’s rapt it round her middle small, And brought it home to Thorro. 214J.17 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And talk no more of sorrow; I’ll soon wed you on a better match Than your servant-lad in Galla.’ 214J.18 ‘O you may wed a’ your seven sons, I wish you may wed them in sorrow: O you may wed a’ your seven sons, For you’ll neer wed the bonny lass of Thoro.’ 214J.19 This lady being big wi child, And her heart was full wi sorrow, She died between her father’s arms, In the bonny house of Thorro.

214K: The Braes o Yarrow

214K.1 THERE lived a lady in the south, She thought she had not her marrow; And she was courted by nine gentlemen, In the dowie dens in Yarrow. 214K.2 All their offers they proved in vain, She thought that they were not her marrow; She has forsaken a’ the nine, Loved a servant-lad on Galla. 214K.3 RR rrup bespoke her father dear, Who bred them a’ this sorrow; You must go far, far to fight the nine, In the dowie den in Yarrow,’ 214K.4 She washd his face, she combd his hair, Her heart being full of sorrow, With a rusted rapier down by his side, To fight his foes in Yarrow. 214K.5 He’s ridden east, he’s ridden west, He’s ridden into Yarrow, And there he espied all the nine, Watering their steeds in Yarrow. 214K.6 ‘Ye’r welcome, welcome, young man,’ they said, ‘But I think ye are not our marrow;’ ‘But I’ll fight ye all out, one by one, In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’ 214K.7 Four he has wounded, five he has slain, He left then a’ sound in Yarrow; He turned him round with rejoyfull looks, Says, I wone the lady of Thoro. 214K.8 Up then spoke her father dear, Who bred them a’ this sorrow; He’s taen out a broadsword and run him through, In the dowie dens o Yarrow. 214K.9 ‘I dreamed a dream last night,’ she says, ‘I fear it is for sorrow; I dreand I was pulling the heather green With my true love in Yarrow.’ 214K.10 ‘I’ll read your dream now, daughter dear, I fear it is for sorrow; You will find your true-love lying sound, In a heather bush in Yarrow.’ 214K.11 She’s ridden east, she’s ridden west, She’s ridden into Yarrow; There she found her true lover sound, In a heather bush in Yarrow. 214K.12 His hair it was five quarters lang, It was baith lang and yellow; She’s tied it to her horse’s mane, She’s trailed him home from Yarrow. 214K.13 ‘O woe be to you, father dear! You’ve bred me all this sorrow;’ So she died between her father’s arms, In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

214L: The Braes o Yarrow

214L.1 AT Dryhope lived a lady fair, The fairest flower in Yarrow, And she refused nine noble men For a servan lad in Gala. 214L.2 Her father said that he should fight The nine lords all to-morrow, And he that should the victor be Would get the Rose of Yarrow. 214L.3 Quoth he, You’re nine, an I’m but ane, And in that there’s no much marrow; Yet I shall fecht ye, man for man, In the dowie dens o Yarrow. 214L.4 She kissed his lips, and combed his hair, As oft she’d done before, O, An set him on her milk-white steed, Which bore him on to Yarrow. 214L.5 When he got oer yon high, high hill, An down the dens o Yarrow, There did he see the nine lords all, But there was not one his marrow. 214L.6 ‘Now here ye’re nine, an I’m but ane, But yet I am not sorrow; For here I’ll fecht ye, man for man, For my true love in Yarrow.’ 214L.7 Then he wheeld round, and fought so fierce Till the seventh fell in Yarrow, When her brother sprang from a bush behind, And ran his body thorough. 214L.8 He never spoke more words than these, An they were words o sorrow; ‘Ye may tell my true love, if ye please, That I’m sleepin sound in Yarrow.’ 214L.9 They’ve taen the young man by the heels And trailed him like a harrow, And then they flung the comely youth In a whirlpool o Yarrow. 214L.10 The lady said, I dreamed yestreen-+--+- I fear it bodes some sorrow-+--+- That I was pu’in the heather green On the scroggy braes o Yarrow.’ 214L.11 Her brother said, I’ll read your dream, But it should cause nae sorrow; Ye may go seek your lover hame, For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow. 214L.12 Then she rode oer yon gloomy height, An her heart was fu o sorrow, But only saw the clud o night, Or heard the roar o Yarrow. 214L.13 But she wandered east, so did she wast, And searched the forest thorough, Until she spied her ain true love, Lyin deeply drowned in Yarrow. 214L.14 His hair it was five quarters lang, Its colour was the yellow; She twined it round her lily hand, And drew him out o Yarrow. 214L.15 She kissed his lips, and combed his head, As oft she’d done before, O; She laid hin oer her milk-white steed, An bore him home from Yarrow. 214L.16 She washed his wounds in yon well-strand, And dried him wi the hollan, And aye she sighed, and said, Alas! For my love I had him chosen. 214L.17 ‘Go hold your tongue,’ her father said, ‘There’s little cause for sorrow; I’ll wed ye on a better lad Than ye hae lost in Yarrow.’ 214L.18 ‘Haud your ain tongue, my faither dear, I canna help my sorrow; A fairer flower neer sprang in May Than I hae lost in Yarrow. 214L.19 ‘I meant to make my bed fu wide, But you may make it narrow; For now I’ve nane to be my guide But a deid man drowned in Yarrow.’ 214L.20 An aye she screighed, and cried Alas! Till her heart did break wi sorrow, An sank into her faither’s arms, Mang the dowie dens o Yarrow.

214M: The Braes o Yarrow

214M.1 O AY he sat, and ay he drank, An ay he counted the laying, An ay he drank to the lass’es health Was to meet him in the dawning. 214M.2 Up he gaes on yon high, high hill, An a wat he geas wi sorrow, An in a den he spy’d nine well armd men, On the dowie banks of Yarrow. 214M.3 ‘Oh woe be to young women’s wit! For the’ve bred to me meikle sorrow; She promisd for to meet me here, An she’s sent nine men to slay me. 214M.4 ‘But there is two swords in my scabba[rd], They cost me gold and money; Tak ye the best, and I’ll tak the wa[rst], An come man for man, I’ll not fly yo[u].’ 214M.5 Ay he stood, an ay he fought, Till it was near the dawning, Then up an rose her brother James, An has slain him in the dawning. 214M.6 ‘O the last night I dreamd a dream, God keep us a’ frae sorrow! I dreamd I was powing the heather green In the dowie banks of Yarrow.’ 214M.7 Up she gaes on yon high, high hill, An a wat she gaes with sorrow, An in a den she spy’d nine slain men, In the dowie banks of Yarrow. 214M.8 ‘O the last time I saw my love He was a’ clad oer in tartan; But now he’s a’ clad oer in red, An he’s a’ blood to the gartin.’ 214M.9 She kist his mouth, an she’s combd his hair, As she had done before, O, She drank the blood that from him ran, In the dowie banks of Yarrow. 214M.10 ‘O hold your tongue now. daughter,’ he says, ‘An breed to me no more sorrow; For I’ll wed you on a better match Than you have lost on Yarrow.’ 214M.11 ‘Hold your tongue now, father,’ she says, ‘An breed to me no more sorrow; For a better rose will never spring Than I have lost on Yarrow.’

214N: The Braes o Yarrow

214N.1 THE cock did craw, and the day did daw, And the moon shone fair and clearly; Sir James gade out o his castle-yett, To meet fair Anne, his dearie. 214N.2 ‘O come down, come down, my true-love Anne, And speak but ae word to me! But ae kiss o your bonny mouth Wad yield much comfort to me.’ 214N.3 ‘O how can I come down?’ she says, ‘Or how can I win to thee? When there is nane that I can trust Wad safe convey me to thee. 214N.4 ‘But gang doun, gang doun, to yon hostess’ house, And there take on yere lawing, And, as I’m a woman kind and true, I’ll meet you at the dawing.’ 214N.5 Then he gade thro the good green-wood, And oer the moor sae eerie, And lang he stayd, and sair he sighd, But he never mair saw his dearie. 214N.6 And ay he sat, and lang he drank, And ay he counted his lawing, Till fifteen men did him surround, To slay him or the dawing. 214N.7 ‘O she promisd ance to meet me this night, But I find she deceived me; She promisd ance to meet me this night, And she’s sent fifteen to slay me! 214N.8 ‘There are twa swords in my scabard, They cost me gowd and money; Take ye the best, and gie me the warst, And man for man I’ll try ye.’ 214N.9 Then they fought on, and on they fought, Till maist o them were fallen, When her brother John cam him behind, And slew him at the dawing. 214N.10 Then he’s away to his sister Anne, To the chamber where’s she’s lying: ‘Come doun, come doun, my sister Anne, And take up your true-love Jamie! 214N.11 ‘Come doun, come doun now, sister Anne! For he’s sleeping in yon logie; Sound, sound he sleeps, nae mair to wake, And nae mair need ye be vogie.’ 214N.12 ‘I dreamd a drearie dream yestreen, Gin it be true, it will prove my sorrow; I dreamd my luive had lost his life, Within the yetts o Gowrie. 214N.13 ‘O wae betide ye, lassies o Gowrie For ye hae sleepit soundly; Gin ye had keepit your yetts shut, Ye might hae sav’d the life o my Jamie. 214N.14 ‘Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise Were o the finest tartan; But lang or ere the day did daw They war a’ red bluid to the garten. 214N.15 ‘Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise Were o the apple reamin; But lang or ere the day did daw The red bluid had them streamin.’ 214N.16 In yon fair ha, where the winds did blaw, When the moon shone fair and clearly, She’s thrawn her green skirt oer her head, And ay she cried out mercy.

214O: The Braes o Yarrow

 
 214O.1	 ‘I DREAMD a dreary dream last night,
 	 God keep us a’ frae sorrow!
 	 I dreamd I pu’d the birk sae green
 	 Wi my true love on Yarrow.’
 214O.2	 ‘I’ll read your dream, my sister dear,
 	 I’ll tell you a’ your sorrow;
 	 You pu’d the birk wi your true luve,
 	 He’s killd, he’s killd on Yarrow!’
 214O.3	 ‘O gentle wind, that blaweth south
 	 To where my love repaireth,
 	 Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,
 	 And tell me how he fareth!
 214O.4	 ‘But oer yon glen run armed men,
 	 Have wrought me dule and sorrow;
 	 They’ve slain, they’ve slain the comliest swain,
 	 He bleeding lies on Yarrow.’

214P: The Braes o Yarrow

 
 214P.1	 ‘GET up, get up now, sister Ann,
 	 I fear we’ve wrought you sorrow;
 	 Get up, ye’ll find your true love slain,
 	 Among the banks of Yarrow.’
 214P.2	 ‘I made my love a suit of clothes,
 	 I clad him all in tartan,
 	 But ere the morning sun arose,
 	 He was a’ bluid to the gartan.’

214[Q]: The Braes o Yarrow

214[Q].1 There lived a lady in the West, I neer could find her marrow; She was courted by nine gentlemen, And a ploughboy-lad in Yarrow. 214[Q.2] These nine sat drinking at the wine, Sat drinking wine in Yarrow; They made a vow among themselves To fight for her in Yarrow. 214[Q.3] She washed his face, she kaimed his hair, As oft she’d done before, O, She made him like a knight sae bright, To fight for her in Yarrow. 214[Q.4] As he walked up yon high, high hill, And down by the holmes of Yarrow, There he saw nine arm d men, Come to fight with him in Yarrow. 214[Q.5] ‘There’s nine of you, there’s one of me, It’s an unequal marrow; But I’ll fight you all one by one, On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’ 214[Q.6] Three he slew, and three they flew, And three he wounded sorely, Till her brother John he came in beyond, And pierced his heart most foully. 214[Q.7] ‘Go home, go home, thou false young man, And tell thy sister Sarah That her true-love John lies dead and gone On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’ 214[Q.8] ‘O father dear, I dreamed a dream, I’m afraid it will bring sorrow; I dreamed I was pulling the heather-bell In the dowie dens of Yarrow.’ 214[Q.9] ‘O daughter dear, I read your dream, I doubt it will prove sorrow; For your true-love John lies dead and gone On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’ 214[Q.10] As she walked up yon high, high hill, And down by the holmes of Yarrow, There she saw her true-love John, Lying pale and dead on Yarrow. 214[Q.11] Her hair it being three quarters long-- The colour it was yellow-+- She wrapped it round his middle sma, And carried him hame to Yarrow. 214[Q.12] ‘O father dear, you’ve seven sons, You may wed them a’ tomorrow, But a fairer flower I never saw Than the lad I loved in Yarrow.’ 214[Q.13] The fair maid being great with child, It filled her heart with sorrow; She died within her lover’s arms, Between that day and morrow.

214[R]: The Braes o Yarrow

 
 214[R].1	There were three lords drinking at the wine
 	 In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow:
 	 ‘Shall we go play at cards and dice,
 	 As we have done before, O?
 	 Or shall we go play at the single sword,
 	 In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow?’
 	 * * * * * * *
 214[R.2]	Three he wounded, and five he slew,
 	 As he had [done] before, O,
 	 But an English lord lap from a bush,
 	 And he proved all the sorrow;
 	 He had a spear three quarters long,
 	 And her thrust his body thorogh.
 	 * * * * * * *
 214[R.3]	‘I dreamed . . . .
 	 I wis it prove nae sorrow!
 	 I dreamed I was puing the apples green
 	 In the dowie howms o Yarrow.’
 214[R.4]	‘O sister, sister, I’ll read your dream,
 	 And I’ll read it in sorrow;
 	 Ye may gae bring hame your ain true-love,
 	 For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow.’
 214[R.5]	She sought him east, she sought him west,
 	 She sought him all the forest thorogh;
 	 She found him asleep at the middle yett,
 	 In the dowie howms o Yarrow.
 214[R.6]	Her hair it was three quarters lang,
 	 And the colour of it was yellow;
 	 She’s bound it round his middle waist,
 	 And borne him hame from Yarrow.

214[S]: The Braes o Yarrow

214[S].1 There lived a lady in the South, Ye would scarcely find her marrow; She was courted by nine gentlemen An a ploughman-lad frae Yarrow. 214[S.2] Ae nicht the nine sat drinkin wine To the lass wha had nae marrow, When the ploughman swore, tho they were a score He wad fecht them a’ in Yarrow. 214[S.3] It’s he’s gane ower yon high, high hill, And doon yon glen sae narrow, An there he saw nine arm d men, To fecht wi him in Yarrow. 214[S.4] ‘There’s nine o you an I’m but ane, An that’s an unequal marrow, But wi this gude blade and powerfu arm I’ll lay you low on Yarrow.’ 214[S.5] It’s three he slew, and three withdrew, And three lay dead on Yarrow, But in behind cam her brother John, An pierced his body thorough. 214[S.6] ‘Gae hame, gae hame, you fause young man, An tell your sister sorrow, That her true-love John lies dead and gone In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’ 214[S.7] ‘O father dear, I’ve dreamed a dream, I’m feared it will prove sorrow; I dreamed I was puin the heather-bells sweet On the bonny braes o Yarrow.’ 214[S.8] ‘O daughter dear, your dream is read, I’m feared it will prove sorrow; Your true-love John lies dead and gone In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’ 214[S.9] It’s she’s gane ower yon high, high hill, An doon yon glen sae narrow, An there she saw her true-love John Lyin cauld an dead on Yarrow. 214[S.10] She washed his face an combed his hair, Wi muckle grief an sorrow, pshe rowed him i the plaid she wore, In the dowie dens o Yarrow. 214[S.11] Her hair it was three quarters lang, The colour being yellow; She tied it round his middle sma, An carried him hame frae Yarrow. 214[S.12] ‘O daughter dear, I pray forbear, I’ll wed you to another marrow; I’ll wed you to some fitter match Than the lad that died on Yarrow.’ 214[S.13] ‘O father dear, you hae seven sons, Should you wed them a’ to-morrow, A fairer flower never grew in June Than the lad that died on Yarrow.’ 214[S.14] This lady, being six months with child To the ploughman lad of Yarrow, She fell into her father’s arms An died wi grief on Yarrow.

215A: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie

 
 215A.1	 ‘WILLYRR’rrS rare, and Willy’s fair,
 	 And Willy’s wondrous bony,
 	 And Willy heght to marry me,
 	 Gin eer he marryd ony.
 215A.2	 ‘Yestreen I made my bed fu brade,
 	 The night I’ll make it narrow,
 	 For a’ the live-long winter’s night
 	 I lie twin’d of my marrow.
 215A.3	 ‘O came you by yon water-side?
 	 Pu’d you the rose or lilly?
 	 Or came you by yon meadow green?
 	 Or saw you my sweet Willy?’
 215A.4	 She sought him east, she sought him west,
 	 She sought him brade and narrow;
 	 Sine, in the clifting of a craig,
 	 She found him drownd in Yarrow.

215B: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie

 
 215B.1	 SHE sought him east, she sought him west,
 	 She sought him braid and narrow,
 	 Till in the clintin of a craig
 	 She found him drownd in Yarrow.
 215B.2	 She’s taen three links of her yellow hair,
 	 That hung down lang and yellow,
 	 And she’s tied it about sweet Willie’s waist,
 	 An drawn him out of Yarrow.

215C: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie

 
 215C.1	 ‘WILLIERR’rrS fair, an Willie’s rare,
 	 An Willie’s wondrous bonny,
 	 An Willie’s promised to marry me,
 	 If eer he marry ony.’
 215C.2	 ‘O sister dear, I’ve dreamed a dream,
 	 I’m afraid it’s unco sorrow;
 	 I dreamed I was pu’in the heather green,
 	 In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’
 215C.3	 ‘O sister dear, I’ll read your dream,
 	 I’m afraid it will be sorrow;
 	 Ye’ll get a letter ere it’s een
 	 Your lover’s drowned in Yarrow.’
 215C.4	 She socht him up, she socht him doun,
 	 In mickle dule an sorrow;
 	 She found him neath a buss o brume,
 	 In the dowie dens o Yarrow.
 215C.5	 Her hair it was three quarters lang,
 	 Its colour it was yallow;
 	 She tied it to his middle sma,
 	 An pu’ed him oot o Yarrow.
 215C.6	 ‘My bed it was made wide yestreen,
 	 The nicht it sall be narrow;
 	 There’s neer a man lie by my side
 	 Since Willie’s drowned in Yarrow.’

215D: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie

215D.1 ‘WILLIERR’rrS fair, and Willie’s rare, An he is wondrous bonnie, An Willie has promist to marry me, Gin ever he marry ony.’ 215D.2 ‘Ye’s get Jammie, or ye’s [get] Johnnie, Or ye’s get bonny Peter; Ye’s get the wale o a’ my sons, But leave me Willie the writer.’ 215D.3 ‘I winna hae Jamie, I winna hae Johnie, I winna hae bonny Peter; I winna hae ony o a’ your sons, An I get na Willie the writer.’ 215D.4 . . . . . . . . There was threescore and ten brisk young men Was boun to briddal-stool wi him: 215D.5 ‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’, I forgot something behind me; I forgat my mither’s blessing, To hae to bride-stool wi me.’ 215D.6 ‘God’s blessin an mine gae wi ye,Willie, God’s blessing an mine gae wi ye; For ye’re nae ane hour but bare nineteen, Fan ye’re gauin to meet your Meggie.’ 215D.7 They rode on, and farther on, Till they came to the water o Gamrie, An they a’ wan safe through, Unless it was sweet Willie. 215D.8 The first ae step that Willie’s horse steppit, He steppit to the bridle; The next ae step that Willie’s horse steppit, Toom grew Willie’s saddle. 215D.9 They rod on, an farther on, Till they came to the kirk of Gamrie. . . . . . . . . 215D.10 Out spak the bonny bride, . . . . ‘Whar is the man that’s to gie me his han This day at the kirk of Gamrie?’ 215D.11 Out spak his brother John, An O bat he was sorrie! ‘It fears me much, my bonny bride, He sleeps oure soun in Gamerie.’ 215D.12 The ribbons that were on her hair-+--+- An they were thick and monny-+--+- She rive them a’, let them down fa, An is on [to] the water o Gamerie. 215D.13 She sought it up, she sought it down, She sought it braid and narrow; An in the deepest pot o Gamerie, There she got sweet Willie. 215D.14 She has kissd his comely mouth, As she had done before [O]: ‘Baith our mithers sall be alike sorry, For we’s baith sleep in Gamery.’

215E: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie

215E.1 ‘O WILLIE is fair, and Willie is rare, And Willie is wondrous bonny, And willie says he’ll marry me, Gin ever he marry ony.’ 215E.2 ‘O ye’se get James or ye’se get George, Or ye’se get bonny Johnnie; Ye’se get the flower o a’ my sons, Gin ye’ll forsake my Willie.’ 215E.3 ‘O what care I for James or George, Or yet for bonny Peter? I dinna value their love a leek, An I getna Willie the writer. 215E.4 ‘O Willie has a bonny hand, And dear but it is bonny!’ ‘He has nae mair for a’ his land; What woud ye do wi Willie?’ 215E.5 ‘O Willie has a bonny face, And dear but it is bonny!’ ‘But Willie has nae other grace; What woud ye do wi Willie?’ 215E.6 ‘Willie’s fair, and Willie’s rare, And Willie’s wondrous bonny; There’s nane wi him that can compare, I love him best of ony.’ 215E.7 On Wednesday, that fatal day, The people were convening; Besides all this, threescore and ten, To gang to the bride-steel wi him. 215E.8 ‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’, I’ve forgot something behind me; I’ve forgot to get my mother’s blessing, To gae to the bride-steel wi me.’ 215E.9 ‘Your Peggy she’s but bare fifteen, And ye are scarcely twenty; The water o Gamery is wide and braid; My heavy curse gang wi thee!’ 215E.10 Then they rode on, and further on, Till they came on to Gamery; The wind was loud, the stream was proud, And wi the stream gaed Willie. 215E.11 Then they rode on, and further on, Till they came to the kirk o Gamery; And every one on high horse sat, But Willie’s horse rade toomly. 215E.12 When they were settled at that place, The people fell a mourning, And a council held amo them a’, But sair, sair wept Kinmundy. 215E.13 Then out it speaks the bride hersell, Says, What means a’ this mourning? Where is the man amo them a’ That shoud gie me fair wedding? 215E.14 Then out it speaks his brother John, Says, Meg, I’ll tell you plainly; The stream was strong, the clerk rade wrong, And Willie’s drownd in Gamery. 215E.15 She put her hand up to her head, Where were the ribbons many; She rave them a’, let them down fa’, And straightway ran to Gamery. 215E.16 She sought it up, she sought it down, Till she was wet and weary; And in the middle part o it, There she got her deary. 215E.17 Then she stroakd back his yellow hair, And kissd his mou sae comely: ‘My mother’s heart’s be as wae as thine! We’se baith asleep in the water o Gamery.’

215F: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie

215F.1 WHAN Willie was in his saddle set, And all his merry men wi him, ‘Stay still, stay still, my merry men all, I’ve forgot something behind me. 215F.2 ‘Gie me God’s blessing an yours, mither, To hae me on to Gamery; Gie me God’s blessing an yours, mither, To gae to the bride-stool wi me.’ 215F.3 ‘I’ll gie ye God’s blessing an mine, Willie, To hae you on to Gamery; Ye’s hae God’s blessing an mine, Willie, To gae to the bride-stool wi you. 215F.4 . . . . . . . . ‘But Gamery it is wide and deep, An ye’ll never see your wedding;’ 215F.5 Some rede back, an some rede fore, An some rede on to Gamery; The bonniest knight’s saddle among them all Aught me this day for wedding? 215F.6 Out it spake the bride hersell, Says, What makes all this riding? Where is the knight amongst you all Aught me this day for wedding? 215F.7 Out it spake the bridegroom’s brother, Says, Margaret, I’ll tell you plainly; The knight ye should hae been wedded on Is drownd in the Water o Gamery. 215F.8 She’s torn the ribbons aff her head-+--+- They were baith thick and mony-+--+- She kilted up her green claithing, And she has passed the Gamery. 215F.9 She’s plunged in, so did she down, That was baith black an jumly, And in the middle o that water She found her ain sweet Willie. 215F.10 She’s taen him in her arms twa And gied him kisses many: ‘My mother’s be as wae as thine! We’ll baith lie in the Water o Gamery.’

215G: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie

 
 215G.1	 ‘O STAY at hame, my ain son Willie,
 	 And let your bride tak Johnie!
 	 O stay at hame, my ain son Willie!
 	 For my blessing gaes not wi thee.’
 215G.2	 ‘I canna stay, nor I winna stay,
 	 And let my bride tak Johnie;
 	 I canna stay, nor I winna stay,
 	 Though your blessing gaes na wi me.
 215G.3	 ‘I have a steed in my stable
 	 That cost me monie a pennie,
 	 And on that steed I winna dread
 	 To ride the water o Genrie.’
 215G.4	 The firsten step that Willie stept,
 	 He steppit to the bellie;
 	 The wind blew loud, the stream ran proud,
 	 And awa wi it gaed Willie.
 215G.5	 And when the bride gaed to the kirk,
 	 Into the kirk o Ganrie,
 	 She cuist her ee among them a’,
 	 But she sawna her love Willie.
 215G.6	 Out and spak her auld brither,
 	 Saying, Peggie, I will tell thee;
 	 The man ye should been married till
 	 Lyes in the water o Genrie.
 215G.7	 She tore the ribbons aff her head,
 	 That were baith rich and manie,
 	 And she has kiltit up her coat,
 	 And ran to the water o Ganrie.
 215G.8	 She’s sought him up, sae did she doun,
 	 Thro a’ the water o Ganrie;
 	 In the deepest weil in a’ the burn,
 	 Oh, there she fand her Willie!
 215G.9	 She has taen him in her arms twa,
 	 Sae fondly as she kisst him!
 	 Said, ‘My mither sall be as wae as thine,’
 	 And she’s lain doun aside him.

215H: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie

215H.1 THEY were saddled a’, they were briddled a’, Bridegroom and a’ was ready; ‘Stop,’ says he, ’My nobles a’, For I’ve left something behind me. 215H.2 ‘It is your blessing, mother dear, To bound [to] the bride-styl with me:’ ‘God’s blessing now, my son,’ says she, ‘And mine and a’ gang wi ye! 215H.3 ‘For ye are scarce nineteen years of age When ye met in wi bonny Maggie, And I’m sure, my dear, she’ll welcome you This day in the kirk o Gemrie.’ 215H.4 It’s they have ridden up, it’s they have ridden down, And joy was in their gallant company; It’s they have ridden up, and they have ridden down, Till they came to the water o Gemrie. 215H.5 When they came to the water, it was flooded; In the middle Sweet William he fell; The spray brook over his horse’s mane, And the wind sang his funeral knell. 215H.6 ‘O much is the pity! O much is the pity!’ Cried that joyful company; ‘O much is the pity! O much is the pity!’ But alas! now are woeful and wae. 215H.7 Hame and hame came his stead, And ran to its ain stable; They’ve gien it corn and hay to eat, As much as it was able. 215H.8 His mother she was a waefu woman, As dung as woman could be; ‘My son,’ says she, ’is either hurt or slain, Or drowned in the waters of Gemrie.’ 215H.9 It’s up and spak her daughter Ann: ‘What needs be a’ this mourning? He’s lighted at yon bonny kirk-style, And his steed has run away from him.’ 215H.10 ‘O had yer tongue, my daughter Ann, Nor scold na me about mourning; Hadna my son there men enew To hae taken his steed from him?’ 215H.11 They’ve ridden up, they’ve ridden down, Till they came to the kirk o Gemrie; There they saw his winsome bride, Alone at the kirk-style standing. 215H.12 ‘Where away is the man,’ says she, ‘That promised me fair wedding? This day he vowd to meet me here, But O he’s lang o coming!’ 215H.13 Up and spak his brother John, Says, ‘Meg, I’ll tell ye plainly; The stream was strang, and we rade wrang, And he’s drownd in the water o Gemrie.’ 215H.14 She’s torn the ribons frae her hair, That were baith thick and many; She’s torn them a’, lettin them fa’, And she’s away to the waters o Gemrie. 215H.15 She[’s] sought him up, she’s sought him down, Until that she’s gotten his body, And she’s laid it on the green, green grass, And flung her mantle oer him. 215H.16 ‘O Willie was red, but O now he’s white! And Willie was wondrous bonny, And Willie said he’d marry me, Gin ere he married oney. 215H.17 ‘He was red, he was white, he was my delight, And aye, aye I thought him bonny; But now since Willie has dy’d for me, I will sleep wi him in the same grave at Gemrie.’

216A: The Mother’s Malison, or, Clyde’s Water

216A.1 ‘YE gie corn unto my horse, An meat unto my man, For I will gae to my true-love’s gates This night, gin that I can.’ 216A.2 ‘O stay at hame this ae night, Willie, This ae bare night wi me; The best bed in a’ my house Sall be well made to thee.’ 216A.3 ‘I carena for your beds, mither, I carena ae pin, For I’ll gae to my love’s gates This night, gin I can win.’ 216A.4 ‘O stay, my son Willie, this night, This ae night wi me; The best hen in a’ my roost Sall be well made ready for thee.’ 216A.5 ‘I carena for your hens, mither, I carena ae pin; I sall gae to my love’s gates This night, gin I can win.’ 216A.6 ‘Gin ye winna stay, my son Willie, This ae bare night wi me, Gin Clyde’s water be deep and fu o flood, My malisen drown ye!’ 216A.7 He rode up yon high hill, An down yon dowie glen; The roaring of Clyde’s water Wad hae fleyt ten thousand men. 216A.8 ‘O spare me, Clyde’s water, O spare me as I gae! Mak me your wrack as I come back, But spare me as I gae!’ 216A.9 He rade in, and farther in, Till he came to the chin; And he rade in, and farther in, Till he came to dry lan. 216A.10 An whan he came to his love’s gates, He tirled at the pin: ‘Open your gates, Meggie, Open your gates to me, For my beets are fu o Clyde’s water, And the rain rains oure my chin.’ 216A.11 ‘I hae nae lovers therout,’ she says, ‘I hae nae love within; My true-love is in my arms twa, An nane will I lat in.’ 216A.12 ‘Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night, Open your gates to me; For Clyde’s water is fu o flood, An my mither’s malison ’ll drown me.’ 216A.13 ‘Ane o my chamers is fu o corn,’ she says, ‘An ane is fu o hay; Anither is fu o Gentlemen, An they winna move till day.’ 216A.14 Out waked her May Meggie, Out o her drousy dream: ‘I dreamed a dream sin the yestreen, God read a’ dreams to guid! That my true-love Willie Was staring at my bed-feet.’ 216A.15 ‘Now lay ye still, my ae dochter, An keep my back fra the call, For it’s na the space of hafe an hour Sen he gad fra yer hall.’ 216A.16 ‘An hey, Willie, an hoa, Willie, Winne ye turn agen?’ But ay the louder that she crayed He rod agenst the wind. 216A.17 He rod up yon high hill, An doun yon douey den; The roring that was in Clid[e]’s water Wad ha flayed ten thousand men. 216A.18 He road in, an farder in, Till he came to the chine; An he road in, an farder in, Bat neuer mare was seen. * * * * * 216A.19 Ther was na mare seen of that guid lord Bat his hat frae his head; Ther was na mare seen of that lady Bat her comb an her sneed. 216A.20 Ther waders went up an doun Eadying Claid’s water Hav don us wrang

216B: The Mother’s Malison, or, Clyde’s Water

216B.1 ‘GIE corn to my horse, mither, Gie meat unto my man, For I maun gang to Margaret’s bower Before the nicht comes on.’ 216B.2 ‘O stay at hame now, my son Willie, The wind blaws cald and sour; The nicht will be baith mirk and late Before ye reach her bower.’ 216B.3 ‘O the nicht were ever sae dark, Or the wind blew never sae cald, I will be In my Margaret’s bower Before twa hours be tald.’ 216B.4 ‘O gin ye gang to May Margaret, Without the leave of me, Clyde’s water’s wide and deep enough, My malison drown thee!’ 216B.5 He mounted on his coal-black steed, And fast he rade awa, But ere he came to Clyde’s water Fu loud the wind did blaw. 216B.6 As he rode oer yon hich, hich hill, And down yon dowie den, There was a roar in Clyde’s water Wad feard a hunder men. 216B.7 His heart was warm, his pride was up; Sweet Willie kentna fear; But yet his mither’s malison Ay sounded in his ear. 216B.8 O he has swam through Clyde’s water, Tho it was wide and deep, And he came to May Margaret’s door, When a’ were fast asleep. 216B.9 O he’s gane round and round about, And tirled at the pin; But doors were steekd, and windows barrd, And nane wad let him in. 216B.10 ‘O open the door to me, Margaret! O open amd lat me in! For my boots are full o Clyde’s water And frozen to the brim.’ 216B.11 ‘I darena open the door to you, Nor darena lat you in, For my mither she is fast asleep, And I darena mak nae din.’ 216B.12 ‘O gin ye winna open the door, Nor yet be kind to me, Now tell me o some out-chamber Where I this nicht may be.’ 216B.13 ‘Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie, Nor here ye canna be; For I’ve nae chambers out nor in, Nae ane but barely three. 216B.14 ‘The tane o them is fu o corn, The tither is fu o hay; The tither is fu o merry young men; They winna remove till day.’ 216B.15 ‘O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret, Sin better manna be; I’ve win my mither’s malison, Coming this nicht to thee.’ 216B.16 He’s mounted on his coal-black steed, O but his heart was wae! But, ere he came to Clyde’s water, ’Twas half up oer the brae. * * * * * 216B.17 . . . . . . . . . he plunged in, But never raise again.

216C: The Mother’s Malison, or, Clyde’s Water

216C.1 WILLIE stands in his stable-door, And clapping at his steed, And looking oer his white fingers His nose began to bleed. 216C.2 ‘Gie corn to my horse, mother, And meat to my young man, And I’ll awa to Maggie’s bower; I’ll win ere she lie down.’ 216C.3 ‘O bide this night wi me, Willie, O bide this night wi me; The best an cock o a’ the reest At your supper shall be.’ 216C.4 ‘A’ your cocks, and a’ your reests, I value not a prin, For I’ll awa to Meggie’s bower; I’ll win ere she lie down.’ 216C.5 ‘Stay this night wi me, Willie, O stay this night wi me; The best an sheep in a’ the flock At your supper shall be.’ 216C.6 ‘A’ your sheep, and a’ your flocks, I value not a prin, For I’ll awa’ to Meggie’s bower; I’ll win ere she lie down.’ 216C.7 ‘O an ye gang to Meggie’s bower, Sae sair against my will, The deepest pot in Clyde’s water, My malison ye’s feel.’ 216C.8 ‘The guid steed that I ride upon Cost me thrice thretty pound; And I’ll put trust in his swift feet To hae me safe to land.’ 216C.9 As he rade ower yon high, high hill, And down yon dowie den, The noise that was in Clyde’s water Woud feard five huner men. 216C.10 ‘O roaring Clyde, ye roar ower loud, Your streams seem wondrous strang; Make me your wreck as I come back, But spare me as I gang!’ 216C.11 Then he is on to Maggie’s bower, And tirled at the pin; ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie,’ he said, ‘Ye’ll open, lat me come in.’ 216C.12 ‘O wha is this at my bower-door, That calls me by my name?’ ‘It is your first love, sweet Willie, This night newly come hame.’ 216C.13 ‘I hae few lovers thereout, thereout, As few hae I therein; The best an love that ever I had Was here jusr late yestreen.’ 216C.14 ‘The warstan stable in a’ your stables, For my puir steed to stand! The warstan bower in a’ your bowers, For me to lie therin! My boots are fu o Clyde’s water, I’m shivering at the chin.’ 216C.15 ‘My barns are fu o corn, Willie, My stables are fu o hay; My bowers are fu o gentlemen, They’ll nae remove till day.’ 216C.16 ‘O fare ye well, my fause Meggie, O farewell, and adieu! I’ve gotten my mither’s malison This night coming to you.’ 216C.17 As he rode ower yon high, high hill, And down yon dowie den, The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie’s cane frae him. 216C.18 He leand him ower his saddle-bow, To catch his cane again; The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie’s hat frae him. 216C.19 He leand him ower his saddle-bow, To catch his hat thro force; The rushing that was in Clyde’s water Took Willie frae his horse. 216C.20 His brither stood upo the bank, Says, Fye, man, will ye drown? Ye’ll turn ye to your high horse head And learn how to sowm. 216C.21 ‘How can I turn to my horse head And learn how to sowm? I’ve gotten my mither’s malison, It’s here that I maun drown.’ 216C.22 The very hour this young man sank Into the pot sae deep, Up it wakend his love Meggie Out o her drowsy sleep. 216C.23 ‘Come here, come here, my mither dear, And read this dreary dream; I dreamd my love was at our gates, And nane wad let him in.’ 216C.24 ‘Lye still, lye still now, my Meggie, Lye still and tak your rest; Sin your true-love was at your yates, It’s but twa quarters past.’ 216C.25 Nimbly, nimbly raise she up, And nimbly pat she on, And the higher that the lady cried, The louder blew the win. 216C.26 The first an step that she steppd in, She stepped to the queet; ‘Ohon, alas!’ said that lady, ‘This water’s wondrous deep.’ 216C.27 The next an step that she wade in, She wadit to the knee; Says she, ‘I coud wide farther in, If I my love coud see.’ 216C.28 The next an step that she wade in, She wadit to the chin; The deepest pot in Clyde’s water She got sweet Willie in. 216C.29 ‘You’ve had a cruel mither, Willie, And I have had anither; But we shall sleep in Clyde’s water Like sister an like brither.’

217A: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217A.1 THERE was a troop of merry gentlemen Was riding atween twa knows, And they heard the voice of a bonny lass, In a bught milking her ews. 217A.2 There’s ane o them lighted frae off his steed, And has ty’d him to a tree, And he’s gane away to yon ew-bught, To hear what it might be. 217A.3 ‘O pity me, fair maid,’ he said, ‘Take pity upon me; O pity me, and my milk-white steed That’s trembling at yon tree.’ 217A.4 ‘As for your steed, he shall not want The best of corn and hay; But as to you yoursel, kind sir, I’ve naething for to say.’ 217A.5 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the green gown-sleeve, And he as led her into the ew-bught, Of her friends he speerd nae leave. 217A.6 He as put his hand in his pocket, And given her guineas three: ‘If I dinna come back in half a year, Then luke nae mair for me. 217A.7 ‘Now show to me the king’s hie street, Now show to me the way; Now show to me the king’s hie street, And the fair water of Tay.’ 217A.8 She showd to him the king’s hie street, She showd to him the way; She showd him the way that he was to go, By the fair water of Tay. 217A.9 When she came home, her father said, ‘Come, tell to me right plain; I doubt you’ve met some in the way, You have not been your lain.’ 217A.10 ‘The night it is baith mist and mirk, You may gan out and see; The night is mirk and misty too, There’s nae body been wi me. 217A.11 ‘There was a tod came to your flock, The like I neer did see; When he spake, he lifted his hat, He had a bonny twinkling eee.’ 217A.12 When fifteen weeks were past and gane, Full fifteen weeks and three, Then she began to think it lang For the man wi the twinkling eee. 217A.13 It fell out on a certain day, When she cawd out her father’s ky, There was a troop of gentlemen Came merrily riding by. 217A.14 ‘Weel may ye sigh and sob,’ says ane, ‘Weel may you sigh and see; Weel may you sigh, and say, fair maid, Wha’s gotten this bairn wi thee?’ 217A.15 She turned her sel then quickly about, And thinking meikle shame, ‘O no, kind sir, it is na sae, For it has a dad at hame.’ 217A.16 ‘O hawd your tongue, my bonny lass, Sae loud as I hear you lee! For dinna you mind that summer night I was in the bught wi thee?’ 217A.17 He lighted off his milk-white steed, And set this fair maid on; ‘Now caw out your ky, good father,’ he said, ‘She’ll neer caw them out again. 217A.18 ‘I am the laird of Knottington, I’ve fifty plows and three; I’ve gotten now the bonniest lass That is in the hale country.’

217B: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217B.1 IT was on an evning sae saft and sae clear A bonny lass was milking the kye, And by came a troup of gentlemen, And rode the bonny lassie by. 217B.2 Then one of them said unto her, ‘Bonny lass, prythee shew me the way:’ ‘O if I do sae, it may breed me wae, For langer I dare nae stay.’ * * * * * 217B.3 But dark and misty was the night Before the bonny lass came hame: ‘Now where hae you been, my ae doughter? I am sure you was nae your lane.’ 217B.4 ‘O father, a tod has come oer your lamb, A gentleman of high degree, And ay whan he spake he lifted his hat, And bonny, bonny blinkit his ee.’ 217B.5 Or eer six months were past and gane, Six months but and other three, The lassie begud for to fret and to frown, And think lang for his blinkin ee. 217B.6 ‘O wae be to my father’s shepherd, An ill death may he die! He bigged the bughts sae far frae hame, And trysted a gentleman to me!’ 217B.7 It fell upon another fair evening The bonny lassie was milking her ky, And by came the troop of Gentlemen, And rode the bonny lassie by. 217B.8 Then one of them stopt, and said to her, ‘Whae’s aught that baby ye are wi?’ That lassie began for to blush, and think, To a father as good as ye. 217B.9 ‘O had your tongue, my bonny may, Sae loud I hear you lie! O dinnae you mind the misty night I was in the bught with thee?’ 217B.10 Now he’s come aff his milk-white steed, And he has taen her hame: ‘Now let your father bring hame the ky, You neer mair shall ca them agen. 217B.11 ‘I am a lord of castles and towers, With fifty ploughs of land and three, And I have gotten the bonniest lass That is in this countrie.’

217C: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217C.1 IT was on a day whan a lovely may Was cawing out her father’s kye, And she spied a troop o’ gentlemen, As they war passing bye. 217C.2 ‘O show me the way, my pretty maid, O show me the way,’ said he; ‘My steed has just now rode wrong, And the way I canna see.’ 217C.3 ‘O haud you on the same way,’ she said, ‘O haud ye on’t again, For, if ye haud on the king’s hieway, Rank rievers will do ye na harm.’ 217C.4 He took her by the milk-white hand, And by the gerss-green sleeve, And he has taiglet wi the fair may, And of her he askd na leave. 217C.5 Whan ance he got her gudwill, Of her he craved na mair, But he poud out a ribbon frae his pouch, And snooded up the may’s hair. 217C.6 He put his hand into his pouch, And gave her guineas three: ‘If I come na back in twenty weeks, Ye need na look mair for me.’ 217C.7 But whan the may did gang hame, Her father did her blame; ‘Whare hae ye been now, dame?’ he said ‘For ye’ve na been your lane.’ 217C.8 ‘The nicht is misty and mirk, father, Ye may come to the door and see; The nicht is misty and mirk, father, And there’s na body wi me. 217C.9 ‘But there cam o tod to your flock, father, The like o him I never saw; Or he had tane the lambie that he had, I wad rather he had tane them aw. 217C.10 ‘But he seemd to be a gentleman, Or a man of some pious degree; For whanever he spak, he lifted up his hat, And he had [a] bonnie twinkling ee.’ 217C.11 Whan twenty weeks were come and gane, Twenty weeks and three, The lassie began to grow thick in the waist, And thoucht lang for his twinkling ee. 217C.12 It fell upon a day whan bonnie may Was cawing out the kye, She spied the same troop o gentlemen, As they war passing bye. 217C.13 ‘O well may you save, my pretty may, Weill may you save and see! Weill may ye save, my lovely may! Go ye wi child to me?’ 217C.14 But the may she turnd her back to him, She begoud to think meikle shame; ‘Na, na, na, na, kind sir,’ she said, ‘I’ve a gudeman o my ain.’ 217C.15 ‘Sae loud as I hear ye lie, fair may, Sae loud as I hear ye lee! Dinna ye mind o yon misty nicht Whan I was in the bucht wi thee?’ 217C.16 He lichted aff his hie, hie horse, And he set the bonnie may on: ‘Now caw out your kye, gud father, Ye maun caw them out your lone. 217C.17 ‘For lang will ye caw them out, And weary will ye be, Or ye get your dochter again . . . 217C.18 He was the laird o Ochiltree, Of therty ploughs and three, And he has stown awa the loveliest may In aw the south cuntree.

217D: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217D.1 O BONNIE May is to the yowe-buchts gane, For to milk her daddie’s yowes, And ay she sang, and her voice it rang Out-ower the tap o the knows, knows, knowes, Out-owr the tap o the knowes. 217D.2 Ther cam a troop gentilmen, As they were rydand by, And ane o them he lichtit doun, For to see May milkand her kye. 217D.3 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonnie lass, Milk on, milk on,’ said he, ‘For out o the buchts I winna gang Till ye shaw me owr the lee.’ 217D.4 ‘Ryde on, ryde on, ye rank rydars, Your steeds are stout and strang, For out o the yowe-buchts I winna gae, For fear that ye do me some wrang.’ 217D.5 He took her by the milk-white hand, And by the green gown-sleive, And thare he took the will o her, Bot o her he askit nae leive. 217D.6 But whan he gat his will o her He loot her up again, And a’ this bonny maid said or did Was, Kind sir, tell me your name. 217D.7 He pou’t out a sillar kame, Sayand, Kame your yellow hair; And, gin I be na back in three quarters o a year, It’s o me ye’ll see nae mair. 217D.8 He pu’t out a silken purse And he gied her guineas thrie, Saying, Gin I may na be back in three quarters o a year, It will pay the nourice fee. 217D.9 He put his fut into the stirrup And rade after his men, And a’ that his men said or did Was, Kind maister, ye’ve taiglit lang. 217D.10 ‘I hae rade east, I hae rade wast, And I hae rade owr the knowes, But the bonniest lassie that I ever saw Was in the yowe-buchts, milkand her yowes.’ 217D.11 She put the pail upon her heid, And she’s gane merrilie hame, And a’ that her faither said or did Was, Kind dochter, ye’ve taiglit lang. 217D.12 ‘Oh, wae be to your men, faither, And an ill deth may they die! For they cawit a’ the yowes out-owre the knowes, And they left naebody wi me. 217D.13 ‘There cam a tod unto the bucht, The like I never saw, And afore that he took the ane that he took, I wad leifar he had tane ither twa. 217D.14 ‘There cam a tod unto the bucht, The like I never did see, And, ay as he spak, he liftit his hat, And he had a bonnie twinkland ee.’ 217D.15 It was on a day, and it was a fine simmer day, She was cawing out her faither’s kye, There cam a troup o gentilmen, And they rade ways the lass near by. 217D.16 ‘Wha has dune to you this ill, my dear? Wha has dune to you this wrang?’ And she had na a word to say for hersell But, ‘Kind sir, I hae a man o my ain.’ 217D.17 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, bonnie May,’ he says, ‘Aloud I hear ye lie! For dinna ye mind yon bonnie simmer nicht Whan ye war in the yowe-buchts wi me? 217D.18 ‘Licht doun, licht doun, my foremaist man, Licht doun and let her on, For monie a time she cawit her faither’s kye, But she’ll neir caw them again. 217D.19 ‘For I am the laird o Ochiltree Wawis, I hae threttie pleuchs and thrie, And I hae tane awa the bonniest lass That is in a’ the north countrie.’

217E: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217E.1 THERE was a may, and a bonnie may, In the bught, milking the ewes, And by came a troop of gentlemen, And they rode by and by. 217E.2 ‘O I’ll give thee my milk-white steed, It cost me three hundred pound, If ye’ll go to yon sheep-bught, And bring yon fair maid doun.’ 217E.3 ‘Your steed ye canna want, master, But pay to ane a fee; Fifty pound of good red gold, To be paid down to me.’ 217E.4 ‘Come shew me the way, pretty may,’ he said, ‘For our steeds are quite gone wrong; Will you do to me such a courtesy As to shew us the near-hand way?’ 217E.5 ‘O go ye doun to yon meadow, Where the people are mowing the hay; Go ye doun to yon meadow, And they’ll shew you the near-hand way.’ 217E.6 But he’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve; He’s bowed her body to the ground, Of her kin he asked no leave. 217E.7 When he lifted her up again He’s gien her guineas three: ‘If I be na back gin three quarters o a year, Ye need neer think mair on me.’ * * * * * 217E.8 ‘O where hast thou been, bonnie may,’ he said, ‘O where hast thou been sae lang? O where hast thou been, bonnie may?’ he said, ‘Thou hast na been sae lang thy lane.’ 217E.9 ‘O come to the door and see, father, O come to the door and see, And see such a weety and a windy night; There were nobody wi me. 217E.10 ‘But wae be to your herd, father, And an ill death may he die! For he left the ewes strayed owre the knowes, And he left naebody wi me. 217E.11 ‘But there came a tod to your bught, father, The like o him I neer saw; For or he had taen the bonnie lamb he took, Ye had as weel hae gien them a’. 217E.12 There came a tod to your bught, father, The like o him I neer did see; For aye when he spak he lifted up his hat, And he had a bonnie twinkling ee.’ 217E.13 But when twenty weeks were come and gane, Aye, twenty weeks and three, This lassie began to spit and to spew, And to lang for the twinkling ee. 217E.14 It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day, She was ca’ing out her father’s kye, And by came a troop of gentlemen, And they rode by and by. 217E.15 ‘O wha got the bairn wi thee, bonnie may? O wha got the bairn wi thee?’ . . . . . . . . 217E.16 She turned hersell right round about, She began to blush and think shame, And never a word this bonnie lassie spok But ‘I have a good-man at hame.’ 217E.17 ‘Thou lie, thou lie, my bonnie may, Sae loud I hear thee lie! Do ye mind o the weety and windy night When I was in the ewe-bught wi thee? 217E.18 ‘Light off, light off, the gentlest of my men, And set her on behind, And ca out your kye, good father, yoursell, For she’ll never ca them out again.’ 217E.19 He was the laird o twenty plough o land, Aye, twenty plough and three, And he’s taen awa the bonniest lass Was in a’ the south countrie.

217F: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217F.1 BONNY MAY has to the ewe-bughts gane, To milk her father’s ewes, An aye as she milked her bonny voice rang Far out amang the knowes. * * * * * 217F.2 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may, Milk on, milk on,’ said he; ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may; Will ye shew me out-ower the lea?’ 217F.3 ‘Ride on, ride on, stout rider,’ she said, ‘Yere steed’s baith stout and strang; For out o the eww-bught I daurna come, For fear ye do me wrang.’ 217F.4 But he’s tane her by the milk-white hand, An by the green gown-sleeve, An he’s laid her low on the dewy grass, An at nae ane spiered he leave. 217F.5 Then he’s mounted on his milk-white steed, An ridden after his men, An a’ that his men they said to him Was, Dear master, ye’ve tarried lang. 217F.6 ‘I’ve ridden east, an I’ve ridden wast, An I’ve ridden amang the knowes, But the bonniest lassie eer I saw Was milkin her daddie’s yowes.’ 217F.7 She’s taen the milk-pail on her heid, An she’s gane langin hame, An a her father said to her Was, Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang. 217F.8 ‘Oh, wae be to your shepherds! father, For they take nae care o the sheep; Fro they’ve bygit the ewe-bught far frae hame, An they’ve trysted a man to me. 217F.9 ‘There came a tod unto the bucht, An a waefu tod was he, An, or ever he had tane that ae ewe-lamb, I had rather he had tane ither three.’ 217F.10 But it fell on a day, an a bonny summer day, She was ca’in out her father’s kye, An bye came a troop o gentlemen, Cam ridin siwftly bye. 217F.11 Out an spoke the foremost ane, Says, Lassie hae ye got a man? She turned herself saucy round about, Says, Yes, I’ve ane at hame. 217F.12 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye my bonny may, Saw loud as I hear ye lee! For dinna ye mind that misty nicht Ye were in the ewe-bughts wi me?’ 217F.13 He ordered ane o his men to get down; Says, Lift her up behind me; Your father may ca in the kye when he likes, They sall neer be ca’ed in by thee. 217F.14 ‘For I’m the laird o Athole swaird, Wi fifty ploughs an three, An I hae gotten the bonniest lass In a’ the north countrie.’

217G: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217G.1 O THE broom, and the bonny, bonny broom, And the broom of the Cowdenknows! And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang, I the bought, milking the ewes. 217G.2 The hills were high on ilka side, An the bought i the lirk o the hill, And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang Out-oer the head o yon hill. 217G.3 There was a troop o gentlemen Came riding merrilie by, And one o them has rode out o the way, To the bought to the bonny may. 217G.4 ‘Well may ye save an see, bonny lass, An weel may ye save an see!’ ‘An sae wi you, ye weel-bred knight, And what’s your will wi me?’ 217G.5 ‘The night is misty and mirk, fair may, And I have ridden astray, And will ye be so kind, fair may, As come out and point my way?’ 217G.6 ‘Ride out, ride out, ye ramp rider! Your steed’s baith stout and strang; For out of the bought I dare na come, For fear at ye do me wrang.’ 217G.7 ‘O winna ye pity me, bonny lass? O winna ye pity me? An winna ye pity my poor steed, Stands trembling at yon tree?’ 217G.8 ‘I wadna pity your poor steed, Tho it were tied to a thorn; For if ye wad gain my love the night Ye wad slight me ere the morn. 217G.9 ‘For I ken you by your weel-busked hat, And your merrie twinkling ee, That ye’re the laird o the Oakland hills, An ye may weel seem for to be.’ 217G.10 ‘But I am not the laird o the Oakland hills, Ye’re far mistaen o me; But I’m ane o the men about his house, An right aft in his companie.’ 217G.11 He’s taen her by the middle jimp, And by the grass-green sleeve, He’s lifted her over the fauld-dyke, And speerd at her sma leave. 217G.12 O he’s taen out a purse o gowd, And streekd her yellow hair: ‘Now take ye that, my bonnie may, Of me till you hear mair.’ 217G.13 O he’s leapt on his berry-brown steed, An soon he’s oertaen his men; And ane and a’ cried out to him, O master, ye’ve tarryd lang! 217G.14 ‘O I hae been east, and I hae been west, An I hae been far oer the knows, But the bonniest lass that ever I saw Is i the bought, milkin the ewes.’ 217G.15 She set the cog upon her head, An she’s gane singing hame: ‘O where hae ye been, my ae daughter? Ye hae na been your lane.’ 217G.16 ‘O nae body was wi me, father, O nae body has been wi me; The night is misty and mirk, father, Ye may gang to the door and see. 217G.17 ‘But wae be to your ewe-herd, father, And an ill deed may he die! He bug the bought at the back o the know And a tod has frighted me. 217G.18 ‘There came a tod to the bought-door, The like I never saw; And ere he had taken the lamb he did I had lourd he had taen them a’.’ 217G.19 O whan fifteen weeks was come and gane, Fifteen weeks and three, That lassie began to look thin and pale, An to long for his merry-twinkling ee. 217G.20 It fell on a day, on a het simmer day, She was ca’ing out her father’s kye, By came a troop o gentlemen, A’ merrilie riding bye. 217G.21 ‘Weel may ye save an see, bonny may! Weel may ye save and see! Weel I wat ye be a very bonny may, But whae’s aught that babe ye are wi?’ 217G.22 Never a word could that lassie say, For never a ane could she blame, An never a word could the lassie say, But, I have a good man at hame. 217G.23 ‘Ye lied, ye lied, my very bonny may, Sae loud as I hear you lie! For dinna ye mind that misty night I was i the bought wi thee? 217G.24 ‘I ken you by your middle sae jimp, An your merry-twinkling ee, That ye’re the bonny lass i the Cowdenknow, An ye may weel seem for to be.’ 217G.25 Than he’s leapd off his berry-brown steed, An he’s set that fair may on: ‘Caw out your kye, gude father, yoursel, For she’s never caw them out again. 217G.26 I am the laird of the Oakland hills, I hae thirty plows and three, An I hae gotten the bonniest lass That’s in a’ the south country.’

217H: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217H.1 THERE was a may, a maiden sae gay, Went out wi her milking-pail; Lang she foucht or her ewes wad bucht, And syne she a milking fell. 217H.2 And ay as she sang the rocks they rang, Her voice gaed loud and shill; Ye wad hae heard the voice o the maid On the tap o the ither hill. 217H.3 And ay she sang, and the rocks they rang, Her voice gaed loud and hie; Till by there cam a troop o gentlemen, A riding up that way. 217H.4 ‘Weel may ye sing, ye bonnie may, Weel and weel may ye sing! The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk, And we hae ridden wrang.’ 217H.5 ‘Haud by the gate ye cam, kind sir, Haud by the gate ye cam; But tak tent o the rank river, For our streams are unco strang.’ 217H.6 ‘Can ye na pity me, fair may, Canna ye pity me? Canna ye pity my puir steed, Stands trembling at yon tree?’ 217H.7 ‘What pity wad ye hae, kind sir? What wad ye hae frae me? If he has neither corn nor hay, He has gerss at libertie.’ 217H.8 ‘Can ye na pity me, fair may, Can ye na pity me? Can ye na pity a gentle knicht That’s deeing for love o thee?’ 217H.9 He’s tane her by the milk-white hand, And by the gerss-green sleeve; He’s laid her laigh at the bucht-end, At her kin speird na leave. 217H.10 ‘After ye hae tane your will o me, Your will as ye hae tane, Be as gude a gentle knicht As tell to me your name.’ 217H.11 ‘Some do call me Jack,’ says he, ‘And some do call me John; But whan I’m in the king’s hie court Duke William is my name. 217H.12 ‘But I ken by your weel-faurd face, And by your blinking ee, That ye are the Maid o the Cowdenknows, And seem very weel to be.’ 217H.13 ‘I am na the maid o the Cowdenknows, Nor does not thnk to be; But I am ane o her best maids, That’s aft in her companie. 217H.14 ‘But I ken by your black, black hat, And by your gay gowd ring, That ye are the Laird o Rochna hills, Wha beguiles a’ our women.’ 217H.15 ‘I am na the Laird o Rochna hills, Nor does na think to be; But I am ane o his best men, That’s aft in his companie.’ 217H.16 He’s put his hand in his pocket And tane out guineas three; Says, Tak ye that, my bonnie may; It’ll pay the nourice fee. 217H.17 She’s tane her cog upon her head, And fast, fast gaed she hame: ‘Whare hae ye been, my dear dochter? Ye hae na been your lane. 217H.18 ‘The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk; Ye may look out and see; The ewes war skippin oure the knowes, They wad na bucht in for me. 217H.19 ‘But wae be to your shepherd, father, An ill death may he dee! He bigget the buchts sae far frae the toun, And he trysted a man to me. 217H.20 ‘There cam a tod amang the flock, The like o him I neer did see; Afore he had tane the lamb that he took, I’d rather he’d tane ither three.’ 217H.21 Whan twenty weeks war past and gane, Twenty weeks and three, The lassie begoud to spit and spue, And thought lang for ’s blinkin ee. 217H.22 ’Twas on a day, and a day near bye, She was ca’ing out the kye, That by cam a troop o merry gentlemen, Cam riding bye that way. 217H.23 ‘Wha’s gien ye the scorn, bonnie may? O wha’s done ye the wrang?’ ‘Na body, na body, kind sir,’ she said, ‘My baby’s father’s at hame.’ 217H.24 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, fause may,’ he said, ‘Sae loud as I hear ye lee! Dinna ye mind o the mirk misty nicht I buchted the ewes wi thee?’ 217H.25 ‘Weel may I mind yon mirk misty nicht, Weel may I mind,’ says she; ‘For ay when ye spak ye lifted up your hat, Ye had a merry blinkin ee.’ 217H.26 He’s turned him round and richt about, And tane the lassie on; ‘Ca out your kye, auld father,’ he said, ‘She sall neer ca them again. 217H.27 ‘For I am the Laird o Rochna hills, O thirty plows and three; And I hae gotten the bonniest lass O a’ the west countrie.’ 217H.28 ‘And I’m the Maid o the Cowdenknows, O twenty plows and three; And I hae gotten the bonniest lad In a’ the north countrie.’

217I: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217I.1 THE lassie sang sae loud, sae loud, The lassie sang sae shill; The lassie sang, and the greenwud rang, At the farther side o yon hill. 217I.2 Bye there cam a troop o merry gentlemen, They aw rode merry bye; The very first and the foremaist Was the first that spak to the may. 217I.3 ‘This is a mark and misty nicht, And I have ridden wrang; If ye wad be sae gude and kind As to show me the way to gang.’ 217I.4 ‘If ye binna the laird o Lochnie’s lands, Nor nane o his degree, I’ll show ye a nearer road that will keep you frae The glen-waters and the raging sea.’ 217I.5 ‘I’m na the laird o Lochnie’s lands, Nor nane o his degree; But I am as brave a knicht, And ride aft in his company. 217I.6 ‘Have ye na pity on me, pretty maid? Have ye na pity on me? Have ye na pity on my puir steed, That stands trembling by yon tree?’ 217I.7 ‘What pity wad ye hae, kind sir? What pity wad ye hae frae me? Though your steed has neither corn nor hay, It has gerss at its liberty.’ 217I.8 He has trysted the pretty maid Till they cam to the brume, And at the end o yon ew-buchts It’s there they baith sat doun. 217I.9 Till up she raise, took up her milk-pails, And away gaed she hame; Up bespak her auld father, ‘It’s whare hae ye been sae lang?’ 217I.10 ‘This is a mark and a misty nicht, Ye may gang to the door and see; The ewes hae taen a skipping out-oure the knows, They winna bucht in for me. 217I.11 ‘I may curse my father’s shepherd; Some ill death mat he dee! He has buchted the ewes sae far frae the toun, And has trysted the young men to me.’

217J: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217J.1 IT was a dark and a misty night, . . . . And by came a troop o gentlemen, Said, Lassie, shew me the way. 217J.2 ‘Oh well ken I by your silk mantle, And by your grass-green sleeve, That you are the maid of the Cowdenknows, And may well seem to be.’ 217J.3 ‘I’m nae the maid of the Cowdenknows, Nor ever think to be; I am but ane of her hirewomen, Rides aft in her companie. 217J.4 ‘Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed, And by your merry winking ee, That you are the laird of Lochinvar, And may well seem to be.’ 217J.5 ‘I’m nae the laird of Lochinvar, Nor may well seem to be; But I am one of his merry young men, And am oft in his companie.’ * * * * * 217J.6 ‘The tod was among your sheep, father, You may look forth and see; And before he had taen tha lamb he’s taen I had rather he had taen three.’ 217J.7 When twenty weeks were come and gane, Twenty weeks and three, The lassie she turned pale and wan . . . . 217J.8 . . . . And was caain out her father’s kye, When by came a troop of gentlemen, Were riding along the way. 217J.9 ‘Fair may it fa thee, weel-fa’rt may! Wha’s aught the bairn ye’re wi?’ ‘O I hae a husband o my ain, To father my bairn te.’ 217J.10 ‘You lie, you lie, you weel-far’d may, Sae loud ’s I hear you lie! Do you mind the dark and the misty night I was in the bught wi thee?’ 217J.11 ‘Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed, And by your merry winkin ee, That you are the laird of Lochinvar, That was in the bught wi me.’

217K: The Broom of Cowdenknows

 
 217K.1	 * * * * *
 	 THERE was four and twenty gentlemen,
 	 As they were ridin by,
 	 And aff there loups the head o them,
 	 Cums in to this fair may.
 217K.2	 ‘It’s a mark and a mark and a misty night,
 	 And we canna know the way;
 	 And ye wad be as gude to us
 	 As shew us on the way.’
 217K.3	 ‘Ye’ll get a boy for meat,’ she says,
 	 ‘Ye’ll get a boy for fee,
 	 . . . .
 	 That will shew you the right way.’
 217K.4	 ‘We’ll get a boy for meat,’ he says,
 	 ‘We’ll get a boy for fee,
 	 But we do not know where to seek
 	 That bonny boy out.’
 	 * * * * *
 217K.5	 ‘It’s foul befa my auld father’s men,
 	 An ill death mat they die!
 	 They’ve biggit the ewe bucht sae far frae the town
 	 They’ve tristed the men to me.’

217L: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217L.1 O THE broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom grows oer the burn! Aye when I mind on’s bonny yellow hair, I aye hae cause to mourn. ?? There was a bonny, a well-fared may, In the fauld milking her kye, When by came a troop of merry gentlemen, And sae merrily they rode by. O the broom, etc. 217L.2 The maid she sang till the hills they rang, And a little more forebye, Till in came ane of these gentlemen To the bught o the bonny may. 217L.3 ‘Well mat ye sing, fair maid,’ he says, ‘In the fauld, milking your kye; The night is misty, weet and dark, And I’ve gane out o my way.’ 217L.4 ‘Keep on the way ye ken, kind sir, Keep on the way ye ken; But I pray ye take care o Clyde’s water, For the stream runs proud and fair.’ 217L.5 ‘I ken you by your lamar beads, And by your blinking ee, That your mother has some other maid To send to the ewes than thee.’ 217L.6 ‘I ken you by your powderd locks, And by your gay gold ring, That ye are the laird o Rock-rock lays, That beguiles all young women.’ 217L.7 ‘I’m not the laird o the Rock-rock lays, Nor ever hopes to be; But I am one o the finest knights That’s in his companie. 217L.8 ‘Are ye the maid o the Cowden Knowes? I think you seem to be;’ ‘No, I’m not the maid o the Cowden Knowes, Nor ever hopes to be; But I am one of her mother’s maids, And oft in her companie.’ 217L.9 ‘He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by her grass-green sleeve, He’s set her down upon the ground Of her kin spierd nae leave. 217L.10 He’s gien her a silver comb, To comb her yellow hair; He bade her keep it for his sake, For fear she never got mair. 217L.11 He pat his hand in his pocket, He’s gien her guineas three; Says, Take ye that, fair maid, he says, ’Twill pay the nourice’s fee. 217L.12 She’s taen the milk-pail on her head, And she gaed singing hame, And a’ that her auld father did say, ‘Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.’ 217L.13 ‘Woe be to your shepherd, father, And an ill death mat he die! He’s biggit the bught sae far frae the town, And trystit a man to me. 217L.14 ‘There came a tod into the bught, The like o ’m I neer did see; Before he’d taen the lamb he’s taen, I’d rather he’d taen other three.’ 217L.15 Or eer six months were past and gane, Six months but other three, This lassie begud for to fret and frown, And lang for his blinking ee. 217L.16 It fell upon another day, When ca’ing out her father’s kye, That by came the troop o gentlemen, Sae merrily riding by. 217L.17 Then ane of them stopt, and said to her, ‘Wha’s aught that bairn ye’re wi?’ The lassie began for to blush, and think, To a father as good as ye. 217L.18 She turnd her right and round about And thought nae little shame; Then a’ to him that she did say, ‘I’ve a father to my bairn at hame.’ 217L.19 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-fared may, Sae loud’s I hear ye lie! For dinna ye mind yon misty night I was in the bught wi thee? 217L.20 ‘I gave you a silver comb, To comb your yellow hair; I bade you keep it for my sake, For fear ye’d never get mair. 217L.21 ‘I pat my hand in my pocket, I gae you guineas three; I bade you keep them for my sake, And pay the nourice’s fee.’ 217L.22 He’s lappen aff his berry-brown steed And put that fair maid on; ‘Ca hame your kye, auld father,’ he says, ‘She shall never mair return. 217L.23 ‘I am the laird o the Rock-rock lays, Hae thirty ploughs and three, And this day will wed the fairest maid That eer my eyes did see.’ O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom grows oer the burn! Aye when she minds on his yellow hair, She shall neer hae cause to mourn.

217M: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217M.1 ’TWAS on a misty day, a fair maiden gay Went out to the Cowdenknowes; Lang, lang she thought ere her ewes woud bught, Wi her pail for to milk the ewes. O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang, In the ewe-bught, milking her ewes. 217M.2 And aye as she sang the greenwoods rang, Her voice was sae loud and shrill; They heard the voice of this well-far’d maid At the other side o the hill. 217M.3 ‘My mother she is an ill woman, And an ill woman is she; Or than she might have got some other maid To milk her ewes without me. 217M.4 ‘My father was ance a landed laird, As mony mair have been; But he held on the gambling trade Till a ’s free lands were dune. 217M.5 ‘My father drank the brandy and beer, My mother the wine sae red; Gars me, poor girl, gang maiden lang, For the lack o tocher guid.’ 217M.6 There was a troop o merry gentlemen Came riding alang the way, And one o them drew the ewe-bughts unto, At the voice of this lovely may. 217M.7 ‘O well may you sing, my well-far’d maid, And well may you sing, I say, For this is a mirk and a misty night, And I’ve ridden out o my way.’ 217M.8 ‘Ride on, ride on, young man,’ she said, ‘Ride on the way ye ken; But keep frae the streams o the Rock-river, For they run proud and vain. 217M.9 ‘Ye winna want boys for meat, kind sir, And ye winna want men for fee; It sets not us that are young women To show young men the way.’ 217M.10 ‘O winna ye pity me, fair maid? O winna ye pity me? O winna ye pity my poor steed, Stnads trembling at yon tree?’ 217M.11 ‘Ride on, ride on, ye rank rider, Your steed’s baith stout and strang; For out o the ewe-bught I winna come, For fear that ye do me wrang. 217M.12 ‘For well ken I by your high-colld hat, And by your gay gowd ring, That ye are the Earl o Rock-rivers, That beguiles a’ our young women.’ 217M.13 ‘O I’m not the earl o the Rock-rivers, Nor ever thinks to be; But I am ane o his finest knights, Rides aft in his companie. 217M.14 ‘I know you well by your lamar beads, And by your merry winking ee, That ye are the maid o the Cowdenknowes, And may very well seem to be.’ 217M.15 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, He’s laid her down by the ewe-bught-wa, At her he spiered nae leave. 217M.16 When he had had got his wills o her, And his wills he had taen, He lifted her up by the middle sae sma, Says, Fair maid, rise up again. 217M.17 Then he has taen out a siller kaim, Kaimd down her yellow hair; Says, Fair maid, take that, keep it for my sake, Case frae me ye never get mair. 217M.18 Then he put his hand in his pocket, And gien her guineas three; Says, Take that, fair maiden, till I return, ’Twill pay the nurse’s fee. 217M.19 Then he lap on his milk-white steed, And he rade after his men, And a’ that they did say to him, ‘Dear master, ye’ ve tarried lang.’ 217M.20 ‘I’ve ridden east, I’ve ridden west, And over the cowdenknowes, But the bonniest lass that eer I did see, Was i the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.’ 217M.21 She’s taen her milk-pail on her head, And she gaed singing hame; But a’ that her auld father did say, ‘Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.’ ‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! Aye sae sair ’s I may rue the day, In the ewe-bughts, milking my ewes. 217M.22 ‘O this is a mirk and a misty night, O father, as ye may see; The ewes they ran skipping over the knowes, And they woudna bught in for me. 217M.23 . . . . . . . . ‘Before that he’d taen the lamb that he took, I rather he’d taen other three.’ 217M.24 When twenty weeks were come and gane, And twenty weeks and three, The lassie’s colour grew pale and wan, And she longed this knight to see. 217M.25 Says, ‘Wae to the fox came amo our flock! I wish he had taen them a’ Before that he’d taen frae me what he took; It’s occasiond my downfa.’ 217M.26 It fell ance upon a time She was ca’ing hame her kye, There came a troop o merry gentlemen, And they wyled the bonny lassie by. 217M.27 But one o them spake as he rode past, Says, Who owes the bairn ye are wi? A little she spake, but thought wi hersell, ‘Perhaps to ane as gude as thee.’ 217M.28 O then she did blush as he did pass by, And dear! but she thought shame, And all that she did say to him, ‘Sir, I have a husband at hame.’ 217M.29 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-far’d maid, Sae loud as I hear you lie! For dinna ye mind yon misty night, Ye were in the bught wi me? ‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! Aye sae sweet as I heard you sing, In the ewe-bughts, milking your ewes.’ 217M.30 ‘O well do I mind, kind sir,’ she said, ‘As ye rode over the hill; Ye took frae me my maidenhead, Fell sair against my will. ‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! And aye sae sair as I rue the day I met you, milking my ewes. 217M.31 ‘And aye as ye spake, ye lifted your hat, Ye had a merry winking ee; I ken you well to be the man, Then kind sir, O pity me!’ 217M.32 ‘Win up, win up, fair maiden,’ he said, ‘Nae langer here ye’ll stay; This night ye’se be my wedded wife, Without any more delay.’ 217M.33 He lighted aff his milk-white steed And set the lassie on; ‘Ca in your kye, auld man,’ he did say, ‘She’ll never ca them in again. 217M.34 ‘I am the Earl o the Rock-rivers, Hae fifty ploughs and three, And am sure I’ve chosen the fairest maid That ever my eyes did see.’ 217M.35 Then he stript her o the robes o grey, Donned her in the robes o green, And when she came to her lord’s ha They took her to be some queen. O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! And aye sae sweet as the bonny lassie sang, That ever she milked the ewes.

217N: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217N.1 O THERE war a troop o merry gentlemen Cam riding oure the knowes, And they hear the voice o a bonny lass, In the bichts, milking the yowes. 217N.2 ‘O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may! O saved may ye be! My steed he has riden wrang, Fain wad I ken the way.’ 217N.3 She has tane the steed by the bridle-reins, Has led him till the way, And he has tane out three gowd rings, Gien them to that bonnie may. 217N.4 And he has tane her by the milk-white hand And by the gerss-green sleeve, And he laid her doun on the side o yon hill, At her daddie speird na leave. 217N.5 Now she has hame to her father gane, Her father did her blame: ‘O whare hae ye been, my ae dochter? For ye hae na been your lane.’ 217N.6 ‘O the nicht is mirk, and very, very wet, Ye may gang to the door and see; O there’s nabody been wi me, father, There’s nabody been wi me. 217N.7 ‘But there cam a tod to your bucht, father, The like o him I neer saw; Afore you’d gien him the lamb that he took, Ye’d rather hae gien them a’. 217N.8 ‘O wae be to my father’s sheep-hird, An ill death may he dee! For bigging the bucht sae nar the road, Let the Lochinvar to me!’ 217N.9 She’s tane her pig and her cog in her hand, And she’s gane to milk the kye; But ere she was aware, the Laird o Lochinvar Cam riding in the way. 217N.10 ‘O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may! I wish ye may be sound; O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may! What maks thy belly sae round?’ 217N.11 O she has turnd hersel round about, And she within her thoucht shame: ‘O it’s nabody’s wills wi me, kind sir, For I hae a gudeman o my ain.’ 217N.12 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, my bonnie may, Weel do I ken ye lee! For dinna ye mind o the three gowd rings I gied ye o the new moneye?’ 217N.13 ‘O weel do I mind thee, kind sir, O weel do I mind thee; For ae when ye spak ye lifted up your hat, And ye had a bonnie twinklin ee.’ 217N.14 ‘O ye need na toil yoursel, my dear, Neither to card nor to spin; For there’s ten pieces I gie unto thee; Keep them for your lying in.’ 217N.15 Now she has hame to her father gane, As fast as she could hie; And she was na weel crownd wi joy Till her auld son gat she. 217N.16 But she’ll na tell the daddie o it Till father not to mither, And she’ll na tell the daddie o it To sister nor to brither. 217N.17 And word is to the Lochinvar, And word is to him gane, That sic a tenant’s dochter Has born a bastard son: 217N.18 And she’ll na tell the daddie o it To father nor to mither, And she’ll na tell the daddie o it Till sister nor to brither. 217N.19 ‘O weel do I ken the reason o that, And the reason weel do I ken; O weel ken I the reason o that; It’s to some o her father’s men. 217N.20 ‘But I will awa to Littlejohn’s house, Shule them out o the door; For there’s na tenant on a’ my land Shall harbour an arrant hure.’ 217N.21 Then out and spak the house-keeper, ‘Ye’d better lat her abee; For an onie harm befa this may, A’ the wyte will be on me.’ 217N.22 O he has turnd himsel round about, Within himsel thoucht he ‘Better do I loe her little finger Than a’ thy haill bodie. 217N.23 ‘Gae saddle to me my six coach-mares, Put a’ their harness on, And I will awa to Littlejohn’s house For reports o this bastard son.’ 217N.24 Now whan he cam to Littlejohn’s house, Littlejohn was at the door: ‘Ye rascal, ye rogue, ye impudent dog, Will ye harbour an arrant hure!’ 217N.25 ‘O pardon me, my sovereign liege, O pardon me, I pray; Oh that the nicht that she was born She’d deed the very neist day!’ 217N.26 But he is in to his bonnie lassie gane, And has bolted the door behind, And there he has kissd his bonnie lassie sweet, It’s over and over again. 217N.27 ‘Ye did weel, ye did weel, my bonnie may, To keep the secret twixt me and thee; For I am the laird o the Ochilberry swair, The lady o ’t I’ll mak thee. 217N.28 ‘Come doun, come duun, now gentlemen a’, And set this fair lady on; Mither, ye may milk the ewes as ye will, For she’ll neer milk them again. 217N.29 ‘For I am the laird o the Ochilberry swair, O thirty plows and three, And I hae gotten the bonniest may That’s in a’ the south countrie.’

218A: The False Lover Won Back

218A.1 A FAIR maid sat in her bower-door, Wringing her lily hands, And by it came a sprightly youth, Fast tripping oer the strands. 218A.2 ‘Where gang ye, young John,’ she says, ‘Sae early in the day? It gars me think, by your fast trip, Your journey’s far away.’ 218A.3 He turnd about wi surly look, And said, What’s that to thee? I’m gaen to see a lovely maid, Mair fairer far than ye. 218A.4 ‘Now hae ye playd me this, fause love, In simmer, mid the flowers? I shall repay ye back again, In winter, mid the showers. 218A.5 ‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye not turn again? For as ye look to other women, I shall to other men.’ 218A.6 ‘Make your choice of whom you please, For I my choice will have; I’ve chosen a maid more fair than thee, I never will deceive.’ 218A.7 But she’s kilt up her claithing fine, And after him gaed she; But aye he said, Ye’ll turn again, Nae farder gae wi me. 218A.8 ‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye never love me again? Alas for loving you sae well, And you nae me again!’ 218A.9 The first an town that they came till, He bought her brooch and ring; And aye he bade her turn again, And gang nae farder wi him. 218A.10 ‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye never love me again? Alas for loving you sae well, And you nae me again!’ 218A.11 The next an town that they came till, He bought her muff and gloves; But aye he bade her turn again, And choose some other loves. 218A.12 ‘But again, dear love, and again, dear love, Will ye never love me again? Alas for loving you sae well, And you nae me again!’ 218A.13 The next an town that they came till, His heart it grew mair fain, And he was as deep in love wi her As she was ower again. 218A.14 The next an town that they came till, He bought her wedding gown, And made her lady of ha’s and bowers, Into sweet Berwick town.

218B: The False Lover Won Back

218B.1 THE sun shines high on yonder hill, And low on yonder town; In the place where my love Johnny dwells, The sun gaes never down. 218B.2 ‘O when will ye be back, bonny lad, O when will ye be hame? ‘When heather-hills are nine times brunt, And a’ grown green again.’ 218B.3 ‘O that’s ower lang awa, bonny lad, O that’s ower lang frae hame; For I’ll be dead and in my grave Ere ye come back again.’ 218B.4 He put his foot into the stirrup And said he maun go ride, But she kilted up her green claithing And said she woudna bide. 218B.5 The firsten town that they came to, He bought her hose and sheen, And bade her rue and return again, And gang nae farther wi him. 218B.6 ‘Ye likena me at a’, bonny lad, Ye likena me at a’;’ ‘It’s sair for you likes me sae weel And me nae you at a’.’ 218B.7 The nexten town that they came to, He bought her a braw new gown, And bade her rue and return again, And gang nae farther wi him. 218B.8 The nexten town that they came to, He bought her a wedding ring, And bade her dry her rosy cheeks, And he would tak her wi him. 218B.9 ‘O wae be to your bonny face, And your twa blinkin een! And wae be to your rosy cheeks! They’ve stown this heart o mine. 218B.10 ‘There’s comfort for the comfortless, There’s honey for the bee; There’s comfort for the comfortless, There’s nane but you for me.’

219A: The Gardener

 
 219A.1	 THE gardener stands in his bower-door,
 	 With a primrose in his hand,
 	 And by there came a leal maiden,
 	 As jimp’s a willow wand.
 	 And by, etc.
 219A.2	 ‘O lady, can you fancy me,
 	 For to be my bride,
 	 You’ll get a’ the flowers in my garden,
 	 To be to you a weed.
 219A.3	 ‘The lily white shall be your smock;
 	 Becomes your body neat;
 	 And your head shall be deckd with jelly-flower,
 	 And the primrose in your breast.
 219A.4	 ‘Your gown shall be o the sweet-william,
 	 Your coat o camovine,
 	 And your apron o the salads neat,
 	 That taste baith sweet and fine.
 219A.5	 ‘Your stockings shall be o the broad kail-blade,
 	 That is baith broad and long;
 	 And narrow, narrow at the coot,
 	 And broad, broad at the brawn.
 219A.6	 ‘Your gloves shall be the marygold,
 	 All glittering to your hand,
 	 Well spread oer wi the blue blaewort,
 	 That grows in corn-land.’
 219A.7	 ‘O fare you well, young man,’ she says,
 	 ‘Farewell, and I bid adieu;
 	 Since you’ve provided a weed for me,
 	 Among the summer flowers,
 	 Then I’ll provide another for you,
 	 Among the winter showers.
 219A.8	 ‘The new-fallen snow to be your smock;
 	 Becomes your body neat;
 	 And your head shall be deckd with the eastern wind,
 	 And the cold rain on your breast.’

219B: The Gardener

219B.1 ALL ye young men, I pray draw near, I’ll let you hear my mind Concerning those who fickle are, And inconstant as the wind. 219B.2 A pretty maid who late livd here, And sweetheatrs many had, The gardener-lad he viewd them all, Just as they came and gaed. 219B.3 The gardener-lad he viewd them all, But swore he had no skill: ‘If I were to go as oft to her, Ye surely would me kill. 219B.4 ‘I’m sure she’s not a proper maid, I’m sure she is not tall;’ Another young man standing by, he said, Slight none at all. 219B.5 ‘For we’re all come of woman,’ he said, ‘If ye woud call to mind, And to all women for her sake Ye surely should be kind.’ 219B.6 ‘The summer hours and warm showers Make the the trees yield in the ground, And kindly words will woman win, And this maid I’ll surround.’ 219B.7 The maid then stood in her bower-door, As straight as ony wand, When by it came the gardener-lad, With his hat in his hand. 219B.8 ‘Will ye live on fruit,’ he said? ‘Or will ye marry me? And amongst the flowers in my garden I’ll shape a weed for thee.’ 219B.9 ‘I will live on fruit,’ she says, ‘But I’ll never marry thee; For I can live without mankind, And without mankind I’ll die.’ 219B.10 ‘Ye shall not live without mankind, If ye’ll accept of me; For among the flowers in my garden I’ll shape a weed for thee. 219B.11 ‘The lily white to be your smock; Becomes your body best; And the jelly-flower to be your quill, And the red rose in your breast. 219B.12 ‘Your gown shall be o the pingo white, Your petticoat cammovine, Your apron o the seel o downs; Come smile, sweet heart o mine! 219B.13 ‘Your shoes shall be o the gude rue red-+--+- Never did I garden ill-+--+- Your stockings o the mary mild; Come smile, sweet heart, your fill! 219B.14 ‘Your gloves shall be o the green clover, Comes lockerin to your hand, Well dropped oer wi blue blavers, That grow among white land.’ 219B.15 ‘Young man, ye’ve shap’d a weed for me, In summer among your flowers; Now I will shape another for you, Among the winter showers. 219B.16 ‘The snow so white shall be your shirt; It becomes your body best; The cold bleak wind to be your coat, And the cold wind in your breast. 219B.17 ‘The steed that you shall ride upon Shall be o the weather snell, Well bridled wi the northern wind, And cold sharp showers o hail. 219B.18 ‘The hat you on your head shall wear Shall be o the weather gray, And aye when you come into my sight I’ll wish you were away.’

219C: The Gardener

 
 219C.1	 BURD ELLEN stands in her bower-door,
 	 As straucht ’s a hollan wand,
 	 And by it comes the gairdner-lad,
 	 Wi a red rose in his hand.
 219C.2	 Says, I have shapen a weed for thee
 	 Amang my simmer flowers;
 	 . . . .
 	 . . .
 	 * * * * *
 219C.3	 ‘Gin ye hae shapen a weed for me,
 	 Amang your simmer flowers,
 	 It’s I’ll repay ye back again,
 	 Amang the winter showers.
 219C.4	 ‘The steed that ye sall ride upon
 	 Sall be o the frost sae snell,
 	 And I’ll saddle him wi the norlan winds,
 	 And some sharp showers o hail.’
 	 * * * * *

220A: The Bonny Lass of Anglesley

 
 220A.1	 OUR king he has a secret to tell,
 	 And ay well keepit it must be:
 	 The English lords are coming down
 	 To dance and win the victory.
 220A.2	 Our king has cry’d a noble cry,
 	 And ay well keepit it must be:
 	 ‘Gar saddle ye, and bring to me
 	 The bonny lass of Anglesey.’
 220A.3	 Up she starts, as white as the milk,
 	 Between him and his company:
 	 What is the thing I hae to ask,
 	 If I sould win the victory?’
 220A.4	 ‘Fifteen ploughs but and a mill
 	 I gie thee till the day thou die,
 	 And the fairest knight in a’ my court
 	 To chuse thy husband for to be.’
 220A.5	 She’s taen the fifteen lord[s] by the hand,
 	 Saying, ‘Will ye come dance with me?’
 	 But on the morn at ten o’clock
 	 They gave it oer most shamefully.
 220A.6	 Up then rais the fifteenth lord-+--+-
 	 I wat an angry man was he-+--+-
 	 Laid by frae him his belt and sword,
 	 And to the floor gaed manfully.
 220A.7	 He said, ‘My feet shall be my dead
 	 Before she win the victory;’
 	 But before ’twas ten o’clock at night
 	 He gaed it oer as shamefully.

220B: The Bonny Lass of Anglesley

 
 220B.1	 WORD has gane thro a’ this land,
 	 And O well noticed it maun be!
 	 The English lords are coming down
 	 To dance and gain the victorie.
 220B.2	 The king has made a noble cry,
 	 And well attended it maun be:
 	 ‘Come saddle ye, and bring to me
 	 The bonny lass o Englessie.’
 220B.3	 She started up, a’ dress’d in white,
 	 Between him and his companie;
 	 Said, What will ye gie, my royal liege,
 	 If I will dance this dance for thee?
 220B.4	 ‘Five good ploughs but and a mill
 	 I’ll give you till the day ye die;
 	 The bravest knight in all my court,
 	 I’ll give, your husband for to be.’
 220B.5	 She’s taen the first lord by the hand,
 	 Says, ‘Ye’ll rise up and dance wi me;’
 	 But she made a’ these lords fifeteen
 	 To gie it up right shamefullie.
 220B.6	 Then out it speaks a younger lord,
 	 Says, ‘Fye for shame! how can this be?’
 	 He loosd his brand frae aff his side,
 	 Likewise his buckler frae his knee.
 220B.7	 He sware his feet should be his dead
 	 Before he lost the victorie;
 	 He danc’d full fast, but tired at last,
 	 And gae it up as shamefullie.

221A: Katherine Jafray

221A.1 THERE livd a lass in yonder dale, And doun in yonder glen, O And Kathrine Jaffray was her name, Well known by many men. O 221A.2 Out came the Laird of Lauderdale, Out frae the South Countrie, All for to court this pretty maid, Her bridegroom for to be. 221A.3 He has teld her father and mither baith, And a’ the rest o her kin, And has teld the lass hersell, And her consent has win. 221A.4 Then came the Laird of Lochinton, Out frae the English border, All for to court this pretty maid, Well mounted in good order. 221A.5 He’s teld her father and mither baith, As I hear sindry say, But he has nae teld the lass her sell, Till on her wedding day. 221A.6 When day was set, and friends were met, And married to be, Lord Lauderdale came to the place, The bridal for to see. 221A.7 ‘O are you came for sport, young man? Or are you come for play? Or are you come for a sight o our bride, Just on her wedding day?’ 221A.8 ‘I’m nouther come for sport,’ he says, ‘Nor am I come for play; But if I had one sight o your bride, I’ll mount and ride away.’ 221A.9 There was a glass of the red wine Filld up them atween, And ay she drank to Lauderdale, Wha her true-love had been. 221A.10 Then he took her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, And he mounted her high behind him there, At the bridegroom he askt nae leive. 221A.11 Then the blude run down by the Cowden Banks, And down by Cowden Braes, And ay she gard the trumpet sound, ‘O this is foul, foul play!’ 221A.12 Now a’ ye that in England are, Or are in England born, Come nere to Scotland to court a lass, Or else ye’l get the scorn. 221A.13 They haik ye up and settle ye by, Till on your wedding day, And gie ye frogs instead o fish, And play ye foul, foul play.

221B: Katherine Jafray

221B.1 THE gallant laird of Lamington Cam frae the North Countree To court a gallant gay lady, And wi presents entered he. 221B.2 He neither stood for gould nor gear-+--+- For she was a well-fared may-+--+- And whan he got her friends’ consent He set the wedding-day. 221B.3 She’s sent unto her first fere love, Gin he would come to see, And he has sent word back again Weel answered should she be. 221B.4 He has sent a messenger Right quietly throe the land, Wi mony armed men, To be at his command. 221B.5 The bridegroom looked out at a high window, Beheld baith dool and doon, And there he spied her first fere love, Come riding to the toun. 221B.6 She scoffed and she scorned him, Upo the wedding-day, And said it had been the Fairy Court That he had seen in array. 221B.7 But as he sat at yon table-head, Amo yon gentlemen, And he began to speak some words That na ane there could ken. 221B.8 ‘There is a lass into this town-+--+- She is a weel-far’d may-+--+- She is another man’s bride today, But she’ll play him foul play.’ 221B.9 Up did start the bonny bridegroom, His hat into his hand, . . . . . . . 221B.10 ‘O came you here, young man, to fight? Or came you here to flee? Or cam you here to drink good wine, And be good company?’ 221B.11 They filled a cup o good red wine, Drunk out between them twa: ‘For one dance wi your bonny bride, I shall gae hame my wa.’ 221B.12 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, He’s mounted her high behind himself, At her kin’s speired nae leave. 221B.13 Now . . . And swords flew in the skies, And droop and drowsie was the blood Ran our yon lilly braes. 221B.14 The blood ran our the lilly bank, And our the lilly brae, And sighing said the bonny bride, ‘A, wae’s me for foul play!’ 221B.15 ‘My blessing on your heart, sweet thing, Wae to your wilfu will! So many a gallant gentleman’s blood This day as ye’ve garred spill. 221B.16 ‘But a’ you that is norland men, If you be norland born, Come never south to wed a bryde, For they’ll play you the scorn. 221B.17 ‘They will play you the scorn Upo your wedding-day, And gie you frogs instead o fish, And do you foul, foul play.’

221C: Katherine Jafray

221C.1 THERE leeft a may, an a weel-far’d may, High, high up in yon glen; O Her name was Katarine Janfarie, She was courtit by monie men. O 221C.2 Up then cam Lord Lauderdale, Up thrae the Lawland border, And he has come to court this may, A’ mountit in gude order. 221C.3 He’s telld her father, he’s telld her mother, An a’ the lave o her kin, An he has telld the bonnie lass hersel, An has her favour win. 221C.4 Out then cam Lord Faughanwood, Out frae the English border, An for to court this well-far’d may, A’ mountit in gude order. 221C.5 He telld her father, he telld her mother, An a’ the rest o her kin, But he neer telld the bonnie lass hersell Till on her waddin-een. 221C.6 When they war a’ at denner set, Drinkin the bluid-red wine, ’Twas up then cam Lord Lauderdale, The bridegroom soud hae been. 221C.7 Up then spak Lord Faughanwood, An he spak very slee: ‘O are ye come for sport?’ he says, ‘Or are ye come for play? Or are ye come for a kiss o our bride, An the morn her waddin-day?’ 221C.8 ‘O I’m no come for ought,’ he says, ‘But for some sport or play; An ae word o yer bonnie bride, Than I’ll horse an ride away.’ 221C.9 She filld a cup o the gude red wine, Sh filld it to the ee: ‘Here’s a health to you, Lord Lauderdale, An a’ your companie.’ 221C.10 She filld a cup o the gude red wine, She filld it to the brim: ‘Here’s a health to you, Lord Lauderdale, My bridegroom should hae been.’ 221C.11 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the gars-green sleeve, An he has mountit her behind him, O the bridegroom spierd nae leave. 221C.12 ‘It’[s] now take yer bride, Lord Faughanwood, Now take her an ye may; But if ye take yer bride again We will ca it foul play.’ 221C.13 There war four a twenty bonnie boys, A’ clad i the simple gray; They said the wad take their bride again, By the strang hand an the may. 221C.14 Some o them were fu willin men, But they war na willin a’; Sae four an twentie ladies gay Bade them ride on their way. 221C.15 The bluid ran down by the Cadan bank, An in by the Cadan brae, An ther the gard the piper play It was a’ for foul, foul play. 221C.16 A’ ye lords in fair England That live by the English border, Gang never to Scotland to seek a wife, Or than ye’ll get the scorn. 221C.17 They’ll keep ye up i temper guid Untill yer wadin-day, They’ll thraw ye frogs instead o fish, An steal your bride away.

221D: Katherine Jafray

221D.1 There lives a lass into yon bank, She lives hersell alone, Her name is Kathrine Jamphray, Well known by many a one. 221D.2 Than came the Laird of Lamington, It’s frae the West Countrie, And for to court this bonnie may, Her bridegroom hopes to be. 221D.3 He asked at her father, sae did he at her mother, And the chief of all her kin, But still he askd the lass hersell, Till he had her true love won. 221D.4 At length the Laird of Lachenware Came from the English border, And for to court this bonnie bride, Was mounted in good order. 221D.5 He asked at her father, sae did he at her mother, As I heard many say, But he never loot the lassie wit Till on her wedding-day. 221D.6 She sent a spy into the west Where Lamington might be, That an he wad come and meet wi her That she wad with him gae. 221D.7 They taen her on to Lachenware, As they have thought it meet; They taen her on to Lachanware, The wedding to compleat. 221D.8 When they came to Lachanware, And near-han by the town, There was a dinner-making, Wi great mirth and renown. 221D.9 Lamington has mounted twenty-four wiel-wight men, Well mounted in array, And he’s away to see his bonnie bride, Just on her wedding-day. 221D.10 When she came out into the green, Amang her company, Says, Lamington and Lachanware This day shall fight for me.’ 221D.11 When he came to Lachanware, And lighted on the green, There was a cup of good red wine Was filled them between, And ay she drank to Lamington, Her former love who’d been. 221D.12 It’s out and spake the bridegroom, And a angrie man was he: ‘It’s wha is this, my bonnie bride, That ye loe better than me? 221D.13 RR’rrit’s came you here for sport, young man? Or came you here for play? Or came you for a sight of my bonnie bride, Upon her wedding-day?’ 221D.14 ‘I came not here for sport,’ he says, ‘Nor came I here for play; But an I had ae word of your bride, I’ll horse and gae my way.’ 221D.15 The first time that he calld on her, Her answer was him Nay; But the next time that he calld on her, She was not slow to gae. 221D.16 He took her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, He’s pulld her on behind him, At the bridegroom speard nae leave. 221D.17 The blood ran up the caden bank, And down the Caden brae, And ay she bade the trumpet sound ‘It’s a’ for foul, foul play.’ 221D.18 ‘I wonder o you English squires, That are in England born, That ye come to court our Scots lasses, For fear ye get the scorn. 221D.19 ‘For fear you get the scorn,’ she says, ‘Upon your wedding-day; They’ll gee you frogs instead of fish, And take your bride away.’ 221D.20 Fair fa the lads of Lamington, Has taen their bride away! They’ll set them up in temper wood And scorn you all day.

221E: Katherine Jafray

221E.1 BONNY Cathrin Jaffray, That proper maid sae fare, She has loved young Lochinvar, She made him no compare. 221E.2 He courted her the live-long winter-night, Sae has he the simmer’s day; He has courted her sae long Till he sta her heart away. 221E.3 But the lusty laird of Lamendall Came frae the South Country, An for to gain this lady’s love In entreid he. 221E.4 . . . . . . . He has gained her friends’ consent, An sett the wedding-day. 221E.5 The wedding-day being set, An a’ man to it . . . , She sent for her first fair love, The wedding to come to. 221E.6 His father an his mother came, . . . They came a’, but he came no; It was a foul play. 221E.7 Lochinvar, as his comrads Sat drinkine at the wine, [‘Fie] on you,’ said his comrads, ‘Tak yer bride for shame. 221E.8 ‘Had she been mine, as she was yours, An done as she has done to you, I wad tak her on her bridal-day, Fra a’ her companie. 221E.9 ‘Fra a’ her companie, Without any other stay; I wad gie them frogs insted o fish, An tak their bride away.’ 221E.10 He gat fifty young men, They were gallant and gay, An fifty maidens, An left them on a lay. 221E.11 Whan he cam in by Callien bank, An in by Callien brae, He left his company Dancing on a lay. 221E.12 He cam to the bridal-house, An in entred he; . . . . . . 221E.13 ‘There was young man in this place Loved well a comly may, But the day she gaes an ither man’s bride, An played him foul play. 221E.14 ‘Had it been me as it was him, An don as she has don him tee, I wad he geen them frogs instead a fish, An taen their bride away.’ 221E.15 The English spiered gin he wad fight; It spak well in his mind; . . . . . . 221E.16 ‘It was no for fightin I cam here, But to bear good fellowship; Gae me a glass wi your bridegroom, An so I go my way.’ 221E.17 The glass was filled o guid red wine, . . . between them twa: ‘Man, man I see yer bride, An so I gae my waa.’ 221E.18 He was on guid horseback, An whipt the bride him wi; She grat an wrang her hands, An said, ‘It is foul play. 221E.19 . . . . ‘An this I dare well say, For this day I gaed anither man’s bride, An it’s been foul play.’ 221E.20 But now sh’s Lochinvar’s wife, . . . . He gaed them frogs instead o fish, An tain their bride away.

221F: Katherine Jafray

221F.1 BONNY catherine Janferry, The dainty dame so fair, She’s faun in love wi young Lochinvar, And she loved him without compare. 221F.2 She loved him well, and wondrous well To change her mind away; But the day she goes another man’s bride, And plays him foul play. 221F.3 Home came the Laird o Lauderdale, A’ from the South Countree, And a’ to court this weel-fart may, And I wat good tent took he. 221F.4 Gold nor gear he did no spare, She was so fair a may, And he agreed wi her friends all, And set the wedding-day. 221F.5 She sent for her first true-love, Her wedding to come tee; His father and his mother both, They were to come him wi. 221F.6 His father and his mother both, They were to come him wi; And they came both, and he came no, And this was foul play. 221F.7 He’s sent a quiet messenger Now out thro a’ the land, To warn a humdred gentlemen, O gallant and good renown. 221F.8 O gallant and good renown, And all o good aray, And now he’s made his trumpet soun A voss o foul play. 221F.9 As they came up by Caley buss, And in by Caley brae, ‘Stay still, stay still, my merry young men, Stay still, if that you may. 221F.10 ‘Stay still, stay still, my merry young men, Stay still, if that you may; I’ll go to the bridal-house, And see what they will say.’ 221F.11 When he gaed to the bridal-house, And lighted and gaed in, There were four and twenty English lords, O gallant and good renown. 221F.12 O gallant and good renown, And all o good aray, But aye he garred his trumpets soun A voss o foul play. 221F.13 When he was at the table set, Amang these gentlemen, He begoud to vent some words They cluldna understan. 221F.14 The English lords, they waxed wroth What could be in his mind; They stert to foot, on horseback lap, ‘Come fecht! what’s i your mind?’ 221F.15 ‘I came na here to feght,’ he said, ‘But for good sport and play; And one glass wi yer bonny bridegroom, And I’ll go boun away.’ 221F.16 The glass was filled o good reed wine, And drunken atween the twa; ‘And one glass wi your bonny bride, And I’se go boun away.’ 221F.17 Her maiden she stood forbye, And quickly she said, ‘Nay I winna gee a word o her To none nor yet to thee.’ 221F.18 ‘Oh, one word o yer bonny bride! Will ye refuse me one? Before her wedding-day was set, I would hae gotten ten. 221F.19 ‘Take here my promise, maiden, My promise and my hand, Out oer her father’s gates this day Wi me she shanna gang.’ 221F.20 He’s bent him oer his saddle-bow, To kiss her ere he gaed, And he fastened his hand in her gown-breast, And tust her him behind. 221F.21 He pat the spurs into his horse And fast rade out at the gate; Ye wouldna hae seen his yellow locks For the dust o his horse feet. 221F.22 Fast has he ridden the wan water, And merrily taen the know. And then the battle it began; I’me sure it was na mow. 221F.23 Bridles brack, and weight horse lap, And blades flain in the skies, And wan and drousie was the blood Gaed lapperin down the lays. 221F.24 Now all ye English lords, In England where ye’r borne, Come never to Scotland to woo a bride, For they’le gie you the scorn. 221F.25 For they’le gie you the scorn, The scorn, if that they may; They’ll gie you frogs instead of fish, And steal your bride away.

221G: Katherine Jafray

221G.1 O BONNY Catharine Jaffery, That dainty maid so fair, Once lovd the laird of Lochinvar, Without any compare. 221G.2 Long time she lood him very well, But they changed her mind away, And now she goes another’s bride, And plays him foul play. 221G.3 The bonny laird of Lauderdale Came from the South Countrie, And he has wooed the pretty maid, Thro presents entered he. 221G.4 For tocher-gear he did not stand, She was a dainty may; He ’greed him with her friends all, And set the wedding-day. 221G.5 When Lochinvar got word o this, He knew not what to do, For losing of a lady fair That he did love so true. 221G.6 ‘But if I were young Lochinvar, I woud not care a fly To take her on her wedding-day From all her company. 221G.7 ‘Get ye a quiet messenger, Send him thro all your land For a hundred and fifty brave young lads, To be at your command. 221G.8 ‘To be all at your command, And your bidding to obey, Yet still cause you the trumpet sound The voice of foul play.’ 221G.9 He got a quiet messenger To send thro all his land, And full three hundred pretty lads Were all at his command. 221G.10 Were all at his command, And his bidding did obey, Yet still he made the trumpet sound The voice of foul play. 221G.11 Then he went to the bridal-house, Among the nobles a’, And when he stepped upon the floor He gave a loud huzza. 221G.12 ‘Huzza! huzza! you English men, Or borderers who were born, Neer come to Scotland for a maid, Or else they will you scorn. 221G.13 ‘She’ll bring you on with tempting words, Aye till the wedding-day, Syne give you frogs instead of fish, And play you foul play.’ 221G.14 ‘The gentlemen all wondered What could be in his mind, And asked if he’d a mind to fight; Why spoke he so unkind? 221G.15 Did he e’er see such pretty men As were there in array? ‘O yes,’ said he, a+e Fairy Court Were leaping on the hay. 221G.16 ‘As I came in by Hyland banks, And in by Hyland braes, There did I see a Fairy Court, All leaping on the leas. 221G.17 ‘I came not here to fight,’ he said, ‘But for good fellowshio gay; I want to drink with your bridegroom, And then I’ll boun my way.’ 221G.18 The glass was filled with good red wine, And drunk between them twae: ‘Give me one shake of your bonny bride’s hand, And then I’ll boun my way.’ 221G.19 He’s taen her by the milk-white hands, And by the grass-green sleeve, Pulld her on horseback him behind, At her friends askd nae leave. 221G.20 Syne rode the water with great speed, And merrily the knows; There fifty from the bridal came-+--+- Indeed it was nae mows-+--+- 221G.21 Thinking to take the bride again, Thro strangth if that they may; But still he gart the trumpet sound The voice of foul play. 221G.22 There were four and twenty ladies fair All walking on the lea; He gave to them the bonny bride, And bade them boun their way. 221G.23 They splintered the spears in pieces now, And the blades flew in the sky, But the bonny laird of Lochinvar Has gained the victory. 221G.24 Many a wife- and widow’s son Lay gasping on the ground, But the bonny laird of Lochinvar He has the victory won.

221H: Katherine Jafray

221H.1 THERE was a lady fair, fair, Lived low down in yon glen, O And she’s been courted far an near By several gentlemen. O 221H.2 At length the laird of Lammington Came frae the West Country, All to court that pretty girl, And her bridegroom for to be. 221H.3 He told her father, so did he her mother, And all the rest of her kin, And he has told the lass hersel, And her kind favour has won. 221H.4 At length the laird of Laughenwaur Came frae the English border, And all to court that pretty girl, Well mounted in good order. 221H.5 He told her father, so did he her mother, As I heard people say, But he ner told the lass hersel, Till on her wedding-day. 221H.6 But when the wedding-day was fixed, And married for to be, Then Lamington came to the town, The bridegroom for to see. 221H.7 ‘O are ye come for sport, sir?’ he said, ‘Or are ye come for play? Or are ye for a sight o my bonny bride, Upon her wedding-day?’ 221H.8 ‘A’m neither come for sport, sir,’ he said, ‘Nor am I come for play, But if I had one word o the bride I’d mount and go away.’ 221H.9 There was a cup of the good red wine Was filled out them between, And aye she drank to Lammington, Who her true-love had been. 221H.10 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve; He’s mounted her behind him then, At the bridegroom speered no leave. 221H.11 The blood ran down by Cowden banks, And down by Cowden brae, And aye they gaured the piper play ‘It was a foul, foul play.’ 221H.12 Ye gentlemen of Lochenwaur, That’s laigh in England born, Come ner to Scotland to court a wife, Or be sure ye’l get the scorn. 221H.13 The’ll keep ye up, and tamper ye at, Until yer wedding-day, And they’l gie ye frogs instead o fish, And they’ll play ye a foul play.

221I: Katherine Jafray

221I.1 IN Bordershellin there did dwell A comely, handsome may, And Lochinvar he courted her, And stole her heart away. 221I.2 She loved him but owre weel, And his love drew away; Another man then courted her, And set the wedding-day, 221I.3 They set the wedding-day so plain, As plain as it might be; She sent a letter to her former love, The wedding to come see. 221I.4 When Lochinvar the letter read, He sent owre a’ his land For four and twenty beltit knichts, To come at his command. 221I.5 They all came to his hand, I say, Upon that wedding-day; He set them upon milk-white steeds, And put them in array. 221I.6 He set them in array, I say, Most pleasant to be seen, And he’s awa to the wedding-house, A single man his lane. 221I.7 And when he was to the wedding-house come, They wee all sitten down; Baith gentlemen and knichts was there, And lords of high renown. 221I.8 They saluted him, baith auld and young, Speired how he had spent the day, And what young Lankashires was yon They saw all in array. 221I.9 But he answerd them richt scornfullie, Upon their wedding-day; He says, It’s been some Fairy Court Ye’ve seen all in array. 221I.10 Then rose up the young bridegroom, And an angry man was he: ‘Lo, art thou come to fight, young man? Indeed I’ll fight wi thee.’ 221I.11 ‘O I am not come to fight,’ he sayd, ‘But good fellowship to hae, And for to drink the wine sae red, And then I’ll go away.’ 221I.12 Then they filld him up a brimming glass, And drank it between them twa: ‘Now one word of your bonnie bride, And then I’ll go my wa.’ 221I.13 But some were friends, and some were faes, Yet nane o them was free To let the bride on her wedding-day Gang out o their companie. 221I.14 But he took her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, And set her on a milk-white steed, And at nane o them speerd he leave. 221I.15 Then the blood ran down the Caylin bank, And owre the Caylin brae; The auld folks knew something o the sport, Which gart them cry, Foul play! 221I.16 Ye lusty lads of Limberdale, Tho ye be English born, Come nae mair to Scotland to court a maid, For fear ye get the scorn. 221I.17 For fear that ye do get the scorn Upon your wedding-day; Least ye catch frogs instead of fish, And then ye’ll ca’t foul play.

221J: Katherine Jafray

221J.1 THERE was a lass, as I heard say, Lived low down in a glen; Her name was Catharine Johnson, Weel known to many men. 221J.2 Doun cam the laird o Lamingtoun, Doun frae the South Countrie, And he is for this bonnie lass, Her bridegroom for to be. 221J.3 He’s askd her father and mother, The chief of a’ her kin, And then he askd the bonnie lass, And did her favour win. 221J.4 Doun cam an Ehglish gentleman, Doun frae the English border; He is for this bonnie lass, To keep his house in order. 221J.5 He askd her father and mother, As I do them say, But he never askd the lass hersell, Till on her wedding-day. 221J.6 But she has wrote a lang letter, And sealed it wi her hand, And sent it to Lord Lamington, To let him understand. 221J.7 The first line o the letter he read, He was baith glad and fain; But or he read the letter owre He was baith pale and wan. 221J.8 Then he has sent a messenger, And out through all his land, And four-and-twenty armed men Was all at his command. 221J.9 But he has left his merry men, Left them on the lea; And he’s awa to the wedding-house, To see what he could see. 221J.10 But when he came to the wedding-house, As I do understand, There were four-and-twenty belted knights Sat at a table round. 221J.11 They rose all for to honour him, For he was of high renown; They rose all for to welcome him, And bade him to sit doun. 221J.12 O meikle was the good red wine In silver cups did flow, But aye she drank to Lamingtoun, For with him would she go. 221J.13 O meikle was the good red wine In silver cups gaed round, At length they began to whisper words, None could them understand. 221J.14 ‘O came ye here for sport, young man? Or cam ye here for play? Or cam ye for our bonnie bride, On this her wedding-day?’ 221J.15 ‘I came not here for sport,’ he said, ‘Neither did I for play; But for one word o your bonnie bride I’ll mount and ride away.’ 221J.16 They set her maids behind her, To hear what they would say, But the first question he askd at her Was always [answered] nay; The next question he askd at her Was, ‘Mount and come away.’ 221J.17 It’s up the Couden bank, And doun the Couden brae; And aye she made the trumpet sound, ‘It’s a weel won play.’ 221J.18 O meikle was the blood was shed Upon the Couden brae; And aye she made the trumpet sound, ‘It’s a’ fair play.’ 221J.19 Come, all ye English gentlemen, That is of England born, Come nae doun to Scotland, For fear ye get the scorn. 221J.20 They’ll feed ye up wi flattering words, And that’s fair play; And they’ll dress ye frogs instead o fish, Just on your wedding-day.

221K: Katherine Jafray

221K.1 THERE lives a lass in yonder dale, In yon bonny borrows-town, Her name it is Catherine Jeffrey, She is loved by mony a ane. 221K.2 Lord Lochinvar has courted her These twelve months and a day; With flattering words and fair speeches He has stown her heart away. 221K.3 There came a knight from south sea-bank, From north England I mean, He alighted at her father’s yetts, His stile is Lord Lymington. 221K.4 He has courted her father and moth Her kinsfolk ane and aye, But he never told the lady hersell Till he set the wedding-day. 221K.5 ‘Prepare, prepare, my daughter dear, Prepare, to you I say; For the night it is good Wednesday night, And the morn is your wedding-day.’ 221K.6 ‘O tell to me, father,’ she said, ‘O tell me who it is wi; For I’ll never wed a man on earth Till I know what he be.’ 221K.7 ‘He’s come a knight from the south sea-bank, From north England I mean, For when he lighted at my yetts, His stile is Lord Lymington.’ 221K.8 ‘O where will I get a bonny boy Will win baith meet and fee, And will run on to Lochinvar And come again to me?’ 221K.9 ‘O here am I, a bonny boy That will win baith hose and sheen, And will run on to Lochinvar, And come right seen again.’ 221K.10 ‘Where ye find the brigs broken, Bend your bow and swim; Where ye find the grass growing, Slack your bow and run. 221K.11 ‘When ye come on to Lochinvar, Byde not to chap nor ca, But set your bent bow to your breast And lightly loup the wa. 221K.12 ‘Bid him mind the words he last spake, When we sendered on the lee; Bid him saddle and ride full fast, If he be set for me.’ 221K.13 Where he found the brigs broken, He bent his bow and swam; Where he found the grass growing, He slackt his bow and ran. 221K.14 When he came on to Lochinvar, Ge did not chap nor ca; He set his bentbow till his breast And lightly leapt the wa. 221K.15 ‘What news? what news, my bonny boy? What news have ye to me?’ ‘Bad news, bad news, my lord,’ he said, Your lady awa will be. 221K.16 ‘You’r bidden mind the words ye last spake, When we sendered on the lee; You’r bidden saddle and ride full fast, Gin ye set for her be.’ 221K.17 When he came to her father’s yetts, There he alighted down; The cups of gold of good red wine Were going roun and roun. 221K.18 ‘Now came ye here for sport?’ they said, ‘Or came ye here for play? Or for a sight of our bonny bride, And then to boun your way?’ 221K.19 ‘I came not here for sport,’ he says, ‘Nor came I here for play, But if I had a sight of your bonny bride Then I will boun my way.’ 221K.20 When Lymington he called on her, She would not come at a’, But Lochinvar he called on her, And she was not sweer to draw. 221K.21 He has taen her by the milk-white hand, And by her silken sleeve, He has mounted her high him behind, He spiered nae mair their leave. 221K.22 And aye she scoffed and scorned them, And aye she rode away, And aye she gart the trumpet sound The voice of foul play, To take the bride frae her bridegroom Upon her wedding-day. 221K.23 As they came in by Foudlin dyke, And in by Foudlin stane, There were mony gallant Englishmen Lay gasping on the green. 221K.24 Now a’ you that are English lords, And are in England born, Come never here to court your brides, For fear ye get the scorn. 221K.25 For aye they’ll scoff and scorn you, And aye they’ll ride away; They’ll gie you frogs instead of fish, And call it foul play.

221L: Katherine Jafray

 
 221L.1	 THEY ask d him and speir d him,
 	 And unto him did say,
 	 ‘O saw ye ocht o an armed band,
 	 As ye cam on your way?’
 221L.2	 He jested them and jeer d them,
 	 And thus to them did say,
 	 ‘O I saw nocht but a fairy troop,
 	 As I rode on my way.’

222A: Bonny Baby Livingston

222A.1 O BONNY Baby Livingston Went forth to view the hay, And by it came him Glenlion, Sta bonny Baby away. 222A.2 O first he’s taen her silken coat, And neest her satten gown, Syne rowd her in a tartan plaid, And hapd her round and rown. 222A.3 He has set her upon his steed And roundly rode away, And neer loot her look back again The live-long summer’s day. 222A.4 He’s carried her oer hills and muirs Till they came to a Highland glen, And there he’s met his brother John, With twenty armed men. 222A.5 O there were cows, and there were ewes, And lasses milking there, But Baby neer anse lookd about, Her heart was filld wi care. 222A.6 Glenlion took her in his arms, And kissd her, cheek and chin; Says, I’d gie a’ these cows and ewes But ae kind look to win. 222A.7 ‘O ae kind look ye neer shall get, Nor win a smile frae me, Unless to me you’ll favour shew, And take me to Dundee.’ 222A.8 ‘Dundee, Baby? Dundee, Baby? Dundee you neer shall see Till I’ve carried you to Glenlion And have my bride made thee. 222A.9 ‘We’ll stay a while at Auchingour, And get sweet milk and cheese, And syne we’ll gang to Glenlion, And there live at our ease.’ 222A.10 ‘I winna stay at Auchingour, Nor eat sweet milk and cheese, Nor go with thee to Glenlion, For there I’ll neer find ease.’ 222A.11 Than out it spake his brother John, ‘O were I in your place, I’d take that lady hame again, For a’ her bonny face. 222A.12 ‘Commend me to the lass that’s kind, Tho na so gently born; And, gin her heart I coudna gain, To take her hand I’d scorn.’ 222A.13 ‘O had your tongue now, John,’ he says, ‘You wis na what you say; ‘For I’ve lood that bonny face This twelve month and a day. 222A.14 ‘And tho I’ve lood her lang and sair A smile I neer coud win; Yet what I’ve got anse in my power To keep I think nae sin.’ 222A.15 When they came to Glenlion castle, They lighted at the yate, And out it came his sisters three, Wha did them kindly greet. 222A.16 O they’ve taen Baby by the hands And led her oer the green, And ilka lady spake a word, But bonny Baby spake nane. 222A.17 Then out it spake her bonny Jean, The youngest o the three, ‘O lady, dinna look sae sad, But tell your grief to me.’ 222A.18 ‘O wherefore should I tell my grief, Since lax I canna find? I’m stown frae a’ my kin and friends, And my love I left behind. 222A.19 ‘But had I paper, pen, and ink, Before that it were day, I yet might get a letter sent In time to Johny Hay.’ 222A.20 O she’s got paper, pen, and ink, And candle that she might see, And she has written a broad letter To Johny at Dundee. 222A.21 And she has gotten a bonny boy, That was baith swift and strang, Wi philabeg and bonnet blue, Her errand for to gang. 222A.22 ‘O boy, gin ye’d my blessing win And help me in my need, Run wi this letter to my love, And bid him come wi speed. 222A.23 ‘And here’s a chain of good red gowd, And gowdn guineas three, And when you’ve well your errand done, You’ll get them for your fee.’ 222A.24 The boy he ran oer hill and dale, Fast as a bird coud flee, And eer the sun was twa hours height The boy was at Dundee. 222A.25 And when he came to Johny’s door He knocked loud and sair; Then Johny to the window came, And loudly cry’d, ‘Wha’s there?’ 222A.26 ‘O here’s a letter I have brought, Which ye maun quickly read, And, gin ye woud your lady save, Gang back wi me wi speed.’ 222A.27 O when he had the letter read, An angry man was he; He says, Glenlion, thou shalt rue This deed of villany! 222A.28 ‘O saddle to me the black, the black, O saddle to me the brown, O saddle to me the swiftest steed That eer rade frae the town. 222A.29 ‘And arm ye well, my merry men a’, And follow me to the glen, For I vow I’ll neither eat nor sleep Till I get my love again.’ 222A.30 He’s mounted on a milk-white steed, The boy upon a gray, And they got to Glenlion’s castle About the close of day. 222A.31 As Baby at her window stood, The west wind saft did bla; She heard her Johny’s well-kent voice, Beneath the castle wa. 222A.32 ‘O Baby, haste, the window jump! I’ll kep you in my arm; My merry men a’ are at the yate, To rescue you frae harm.’ 222A.33 She to the window fixt her sheets And slipped safely down, And Johny catchd her in his arms, Neer loot her touch the ground. 222A.34 When mounted on her Johny’s horse, Fou blithely did she say, ‘Glenlion, you hae lost your bride! She’s aff wi Johny Hay.’ 222A.35 Glenlion and his brother John Were birling in the ha, When they heard Johny’s bridle ring, As first he rade awa. 222A.36 ‘Rise, Jock, gang out and meet the priest, I hear his bridle ring; My Baby now shall be my wife Before the laverocks sing.’ 222A.37 ‘O brother, this is not the priest; I fear he’ll come oer late; For armed men with shining brands Stand at the castle-yate.’ 222A.38 ‘Haste Donald, Duncan, Dugald, Hugh! Haste, take your sword and spier! We’ll gar these traytors rue the hour That eer they ventured here.’ 222A.39 The Highland men drew their claymores, And gae a warlike shout, But Johny’s merry men kept the yate, Nae ane durst venture out. 222A.40 The lovers rade the live-lang night, And safe gat on their way, And bonny Baby Livingston Has gotten Johny Hay. 222A.41 ‘Awa, Glenlion! fy for shame! Gae hide ye in some den! You’ve lettn your bride be stown frae you, For a’ your armed men.’

222B: Bonny Baby Livingston

222B.1 BONNY Barbara Livingston Went out to take the air, When came the laird o Glenlyon And staw the maiden fair. 222B.2 He staw her in her cloak, her cloak, He staw her in her gown; Before he let her look again, Was mony mile frae town. 222B.3 So they rade over hills and dales, Through m[o]ny a wilsome way, Till they came to the head o yon hill, And showed her ewes and kye. 222B.4 ‘O will ye stay with me, Barbara, And get good curds and whey? Or will ye go to Glenlyon, And be a lady gay?’ 222B.5 ‘The Highlands is nae for me, kind sir, The Highlands is nae for me, But, gin ye woud my favour win, Have me to bonny Dundee.’ 222B.6 ‘Dundee, Barbara? Dundee, Barbara? That town ye’se never see; I’ll hae you to a finer place Than eer was in Dundee.’ 222B.7 But when she came to Glenlyon, And lighted on the green, Every lady spake Earse to her, But Barbara could speak nane. 222B.8 When they were all at dinner set, And placed the table round, Every one took some of it, But Barbara took nane. 222B.9 She put it to her cheek, her cheek, She put it to her chin, She put it to her rosey lips, But neer a bit gaed in. 222B.10 When day was gone, and night was come, And a’ man bound for bed, Glenlyon and that fair lady To one chamber were laid. 222B.11 ‘O strip, O strip, my love,’ he said, ‘O strip and lay you down;’ ‘How can I strip? How can I strip, To bed wi an unco man?’ 222B.12 He’s taen out his little pen-knife, And he slit down her gown, And cut her stays behind her back, And forc’d her to lie down. 222B.13 ‘O day, dear sir! O day, dear sir! O dear! if it were day, And me upon my father’s steed, I soon shoud ride away.’ 222B.14 ‘Your father’s steed is in my stable, Eating good corn and hay, And ye are in my arms twa; What needs you lang for day?’ 222B.15 ‘If I had paper, pens, and ink, And light that I may see, I woud write a broad, broad letter To my love in Dundee.’ 222B.16 They brought her paper, pen, and ink, And light that she might see, And she has written a broad letter To her love in Dundee. 222B.17 And aye she wrote, and aye she grat, The saut tear blinded her ee; And aye at every verse’s end, ‘Haste, my bonny love, to me!’ 222B.18 ‘If I had but a little wee boy, Would work for meat and fee, Would go and carry this letter To my love in Dundee!’ 222B.19 ‘O here am I, a little wee boy Will work for meat and fee, Will go and carry that letter To your love in Dundee.’ 222B.20 Upstarts the morn, the boy he ran Oer mony a hill and dale, And he wan on to bonny Dundee About the hour o twall. 222B.21 There geordy oer a window lay, Beholding dale and down; And he beheld a little wee boy Come running to the town. 222B.22 ‘What news? what news, my little wee boy, You run sae hastilie?’ ‘Your love is stown by Glenlyon, And langs your face to see.’ 222B.23 ‘Gae saddle to me the black, the black, Gae saddle to me the brown; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed Will hae me to the town. 222B.24 ‘Get me my hat, dyed o the black, My mourning-mantle tee, And I will on to Glenlyon, See my love ere she die.’ 222B.25 First he tired the black, the black, And then he tired the brown, And next he tired the swiftest steed Ere he wan to the town. 222B.26 But for as fast as her love rade, And as fast as he ran, Before he wan to Glenlyon His love was dead and gane. 222B.27 Then he has kissd her cheek, her cheek, And he has kissd her chin, And he has kissd her comely mouth, But no life was therein. 222B.28 ‘O wae mat worth you, Glenlyon, An ill death mat ye die! Ye’ve twind me and the fairest flower My eyes did ever see. 222B.29 ‘But I will kiss your cheek, Barbara, And I will kiss your chin, And I will kiss your comely mouth, But neer woman’s again. 222B.30 ‘Deal well, deal well at my love’s lyke The beer but and the wine, For ere the morn at this same time Ye’ll deal the same at mine.’

222C: Bonny Baby Livingston

222C.1 FOURRR-rrANDRR-rrTWENTY ladies fair Was playing at the ba, And out cam Barbra Livingston, The flower amang them a’. 222C.2 Out cam Barbra Livingston, The flower amang them a’; The lusty laird o Linlyon Has stown her clean awa. 222C.3 ‘The Hielands is no for me, kind sir, The Hielands is no for me; But, if you wud my favour win, You’ll tak me to Dundee.’ 222C.4 ‘The Hielands’ll be for thee, my dear, The Hielands will be for thee; To the lusty laird o Linlyon A-married ye shall be.’ 222C.5 When they came to Linlyon’s yetts, And lichted on the green, Every ane spak Earse to her, The tears cam trinkling down. 222C.6 When they went to bed at nicht, To Linlyon she did say, ‘Och and alace, a weary nicht! Oh, but it’s lang till day!’ 222C.7 ‘Your father’s steed in my stable, He’s eating corn and hay, And you’re lying in my twa arms; What need you long for day?’ 222C.8 ‘If I had paper, pen, and ink, And candle for to see, I wud write a lang letter To my love in Dundee.’ 222C.9 They brocht her paper, pen, and ink, And candle for to see, And she did write a lang letter To her love in Dundee. 222C.10 When he cam to Linlyon’s yetts, And lichtit on the green, But lang or he wan up the stair His love was dead and gane. 222C.11 ‘Woe be to thee, Linlyon, An ill death may thou die! Thou micht hae taen anither woman, And let my lady be.’

222D: Bonny Baby Livingston

222D.1 BONNIE Annie Livingstone Was walking out the way, By came the laird of Glendinning, And he’s stolen her away. The Highlands are no for me, kind sir, The highlands are no for me, And, if you wad my favour win, You’d take me to Dundee. 222D.2 He mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a grey, He’s taen her to the Highland hills, And stolen her quite away. 222D.3 When they came to Glendinning gate, They lighted on the green; There many a Highland lord spoke free, But fair Annie she spoke nane. 222D.4 When bells were rung, and mass begun, And a’ men bound for bed, Bonnie Annie Livingstone Was in her chamber laid. 222D.5 ‘O gin it were but day, kind sir! O gin it were but day! O gin it were but day, kind sir, That I might win away!"] 222D.6 ‘Your steed stands in the stall, bonnie Ann, Eating corn and hay, And you are in Glendinning’s arms; What need ye long for day?’ 222D.7 ‘O fetch me paper, pen, and ink, A candle that I may see, And I will write a long letter To Jemmy at Dundee.’ 222D.8 When Jemmie looked the letter on, A loud laughter gave he; But eer he read the letter oer The tear blinded his ee. 222D.9 ‘Gar saddle,’ he cried, ’My war-horse fierce, Warn a’ my trusty clan, And I’ll away to Glendinning Castle And see my sister Ann.’ 222D.10 When he came to Glendinning yet, He lighted on the green, But ere that he wan up the stair Fair Annie she was gane. 222D.11 ‘The Highlands were not for thee, bonnie Ann, The Highlands were not for thee, And they that would have thy favour won Should have brought you home to me. 222D.12 ‘O I will kiss thy cherry cheeks, And I will kiss thy chin, And I will kiss thy rosy lips, For they will neer kiss mine.’

222E: Bonny Baby Livingston

 
 222E.1	 BONNY Baby Livingstone
 	 Went out to view the hay,
 	 And by there came a Hieland lord,
 	 And he’s stown Baby away.
 222E.2	 He’s stown her in her coat, her coat,
 	 And he’s stown her in her gown,
 	 And he let her not look back again
 	 Ere she was many a mile from town.
 222E.3	 He set her on a milk-white steed,
 	 Himself upon another,
 	 And they are on to bonny Lochell,
 	 Like sister and like brother.
 222E.4	 The bells were rung, the mass was sung,
 	 And all men bound to bed,
 	 And Baby and her Hieland lord
 	 They were both in one chamber laid.
 222E.5	 ‘Oh day, kind sir! Oh day, kind sir!
 	 Oh day fain would I see!
 	 I would gie a’ the lands o Livingstone
 	 For day-light, to lat me see.’
 222E.6	 ‘Oh day, Baby?  Oh day, Baby?
 	 What needs you long for day?
 	 Your steed is in a good stable,
 	 And he’s eating baith corn and hay.
 222E.7	 ‘Oh day,  baby?  Oh day, Baby?
 	 What needs you long for day?
 	 You’r lying in a good knight’s arms,
 	 What needs you long for day?’
 222E.8	 ‘Ye’ll get me paper, pen, and ink,
 	 And light to let me see,
 	 Till I write on a broad letter
 	 And send ’t to Lord . . ’.’
 	 * * * * *

223A: Epie Morrie

223A.1 FOUR-AND-TWENTY Highland men Came a’ from Carrie side To steal awa Eppie Morrie, Cause she would not be a bride. 223A.2 Out it’s came her mother, It was a moonlight night, She could not see her daughter, Their swords they shin’d so bright. 223A.3 ‘Haud far awa frae me, mother, Haud far awa frae me; There’s not a man in a’ Strathdon Shall wedded be with me.’ 223A.4 They have taken Eppie Morrie, And horse back bound her on, And then awa to the Minister, As fast as horse could gang. 223A.5 He’s taken out a pistol, And set it to the minister’s breast: ‘Marry me, marry me, minister, Or else I’ll be your priest.’ 223A.6 ‘Haud far awa frae me, good sir, Haud far awa frae me; For there’s not a man in all Strathdon That shall married be with me.’ 223A.7 ‘Haud far awa frae me, Willie, Haud far awa frae me; For I darna avow to marry you, Except she’s as willing as ye.’ 223A.8 They have taken Eppie Morrie, Since better could nae be, And they’re awa to Carrie side, As fast as horse could flee. 223A.9 When mass was sung, and bells were rung, And all were bound for bed, Then Willie an Eppie Morrie In one bed they were laid. 223A.10 ‘Haud far awa frae me, Willie, Haud far awa frae me; Before I’ll lose my maidenhead, I’ll try my strength with thee.’ 223A.11 She took the cap from off her head And threw it to the way; Said, Ere I lose my maidenhead, I’ll fight with you till day. 223A.12 Then early in the morning, Before her clothes were on, In came the maiden of Scalletter, Gown and shirt alone. 223A.13 ‘Get up, get up, young woman, And drink the wine wi me;’ ‘You might have called me maiden, I’m sure as leal as thee.’ 223A.14 ‘Wally fa you, Willie, That ye could nae prove a man And taen the lassie’s maidenhead! She would have hired your han.’ 223A.15 ‘Haud far awa frae me, lady, Haud far awa frae me; There’s not a man in a’ Strathdon The day shall wed wi me.’ 223A.16 Soon in there came Belbordlane, With a pistol on every side: ‘Come awa hame, Eppie Morrie, And there you’ll be my bride.’ 223A.17 ‘Go get to me a horse, Willie, And get it like a man, And send me back to my mother A maiden as I cam. 223A.18 ‘The sun shines oer the westlin hills; By the light lamp of the moon, Just saddle your horse, young John Forsyth, And whistle, and I’ll come soon.’

224A: The Lady of Arngosk

 
 224A.1	 THE Highlandmen hae a’ come down,
 	 They’ve a’ come down almost,
 	 They’ve stowen away the bonny lass,
 	 The Lady of Arngosk.
 224A.2	 They hae put on her petticoat,
 	 Likewise her silken gown;
 	 The Highland man he drew his sword,
 	 Said, Follow me ye’s come.
 224A.3	 Behind her back they’ve tied her hands,
 	 An then they set her on;
 	 ‘I winna gang wi you,’ she said,
 	 ‘Nor ony Highland loon.’

225A: Rob Roy

225A.1 ROB ROY, frae the high Highlands, Came to the Lawlan border; It was to steel a lady away, To keep his Highland house in order. 225A.2 As he came in by White House, He sent nae ane before him; She wad hae secured the house, For she did ay abhor him. 225A.3 Twenty men surrount the house, an twenty they went in, They found her wi her mither; Wi sighs and cries an watery eyes They parted frae ane anither. 225A.4 ‘O will ye be my dear?’ he says, ‘Or will ye be my honnie? O will ye be my wedded wife? I lee you best of ony.’ 225A.5 ‘I winna be your dear,’ [she says,] ‘Nor will I be your honnie, Nor will I be your wedded wife; Ye lee me for my money.’ 225A.6 . . by the way, This lady aftimes fainted; Says, Woe be to my cursed gold, This road for me’s invented! 225A.7 He gave her no time for to dress Like ladies when they’re ridin, But set her on hie horseback, Himsel was ay beside her. 225A.8 Whan they came to the Black House, And at Stirling tarried, There he bought her coat and gown, But she would not [be] married. 225A.9 Four men held her to the priest, An four they did her bed, Wi sighs and cries an watery eyes Whan she by him was laid. 225A.10 ‘Be content, be content, Be content wi me, lady; Now ye are my wedded wife Untill the day ye die, lady. 225A.11 ‘My father was a Highlan laird, McGrigor was his name, lady; A’ the country roun about They dreadit his great fame, lady. 225A.12 ‘He kept a hedge about his lands, A prickle to his foes, lady, An every ane that did him wrang, He took him by the nose, lady. 225A.13 ‘My father he delights in nout and goats, An me in horse and sheep, lady; You an twenty thousan pounds Makes me a man complete, lady. 225A.14 ‘You’re welcome to this Highlan lan, It is my native plain, lady; Think nae mair of gauin back, But tak it for your hame, lady. 225A.15 ‘I’m gauin, [I’m gauin,] I’m gauin to France, lady; Whan I come back I’ll learn ye a dance, lady. 225A.16 ‘Set your foot, [set your foot,] Set your foot to mine, lady; Think nae mair of gauin back, But tak it for your hame, lady.’

225B: Rob Roy

225B.1 ROB ROY frae the Hielands cam Unto the Lawland border, And he has stown a ladie fair, To haud his house in order. 225B.2 He guarded the house round about, Himsel went in and found her out, She hung close by her mither; Wi dolefu cries and watery eyes They parted frae each ither. 225B.3 ‘Gang wi me, my dear,’ he says, ‘Gang and be my honey; Gang and be my wedded wife, I loe ye best o onie.’ 225B.4 ‘I winna gang wi you,’ she says, ‘I winna be your honey; I winna be your wedded wife; Ye loe me for my money.’ 225B.5 He gied na her na time to dress As ladies when they’re brides, But hurried her awa wi speed, And rowd her in his plaids. 225B.6 He gat her up upon a horse, Himsel lap on ahind her; And they’re awa to the Hieland hills; Her friends they canna find her. 225B.7 As they gaed oure the Hieland hills, This lady aften fainted, Saying, Wae be to my cursed gowd, This road to me invented! 225B.8 As they gaed oure the Hieland hills, And at Buchanan tarried, He bought to her baith cloak and goun, Yet she wadna be married. 225B.9 Six held her up afore the priest, Four laid her in a bed, O; Maist mournfully she wept and cried Whan she bye him was laid, O. 225B.10 ‘O be content, be content, Be content to stay, ladie; For now ye are my wedded wife Unto your dying day, ladie. 225B.11 ‘Rob Roy was my father calld, M’Gregor was his name, ladie; And in a’ the country whare he dwalt He exceeded ae in fame, ladie. 225B.12 ‘He was a hedge unto his friends, A heckle to his faes, ladie; And ilka ane that did him wrang, He beat him on the neis, ladie. 225B.13 ‘I’m as bold, I am as bold As my father was afore, ladie; Ilka ane that does me wrang Sall feel my gude claymore, ladie. 225B.14 ‘There neer was frae Lochlomond west That eer I did him fear, ladie; For, if his person did escape, I seizd upon his gear, ladie. 225B.15 ‘My father delights in horse and kye, In sheep and goats and a’, ladie, And thee wi me and thirty merks Will mak me a man fu braw, ladie. 225B.16 ‘I hae been in foreign lands, And servd the king o France, ladie; We will get the bagpipes, And we’ll hae a dance, ladie.’

225C: Rob Roy

225C.1 ROB ROYRR’rrS from the Hielands come Unto our Lowland border, And he has stolen a lady away, To keep his house in order. 225C.2 Rob Roy’s come to Blackhill’s gate, Twenty men his arms did carry, And he has stolen a lady away, On purpose her to marry. 225C.3 None knew till he surrounded the house, No tidings came before him, Or else she had been gone away, For she did still abhor him. 225C.4 All doors and windows guarded were, None could the plot discover; Himself went in and found her out, Professing how he loved her. 225C.5 ‘Come go with me, my dear,’ he said, ‘Come go with me, my honey, And you shall be my wedded wife, I love you best of onie.’ 225C.6 ‘I will not go with you,’ she said, ‘Nor will I be your honey; I neer shall be your wedded wife, You love me for my money.’ 225C.7 But he her drew amongst his crew, She holding by her mother; With mournful cries and watery eyes They parted from each other. 225C.8 No time they gave her to be dressed As ladies when they’re brides, O, But hurried her away in haste; They rowed her in their plaids, O. 225C.9 As they went over hills and rocks, The lady often fainted; Says, Wae may it be, my cursed money, This road to me invented! 225C.10 They passed away by Drymen town, And at Buchanan tarried; They bought to her a cloak and gown, Yet she would not be married. 225C.11 But without consent they joined their hands; By law ought not to carry; The priest his zeal it was so hot On her will he would not tarry. 225C.12 Four held her up before the priest, Two laid her in the bed, O; Och, mournfully she weeped and cried When she by him was laid, O. 225C.13 ‘Now you’re come to the Highland hills, Out of your native clime, lady, Never think of going back, But take this for your hame, lady. 225C.14 ‘Be content, be content, Be content to stay, lady; Now ye are my wedded wife Unto your dying day, lady. 225C.15 ‘O Rob Roy was my father called, But McGregor was his name, lady; In all the country far and near None did exceed his fame, lady. 225C.16 ‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold, I’m as bold as he, lady; In France and Ireland I’ll dance and fight, And from them take the gree, lady. 225C.17 ‘He was a hedge about his friends, But a heckle to his faes, lady, And every one that did him wrong, He took them owre the nose, lady. 225C.18 ‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold, I’m as bold, and more, lady; Every one that does me wrong Shall feel my good claymore, lady. 225C.19 ‘My father he has stots and ewes, And he has goats and sheep, lady, But you and twenty thousand punds Makes me a man complete, lady.’

225D: Rob Roy

225D.1 ROB ROY from the Highlands came Unto the Lowland border; It was to steal a ladie away, To keep his house in order. 225D.2 He gae her nae time to dress herself Like a lady that was to be married, But he hoisd her out among his crew, And rowd her in his plaidie. 225D.3 ‘Will ye go wi me, my dear?’ he says, ‘Will ye go wi me, my honey? Will ye go wi me, my dear?’ he says, ‘For I love you best of ony.’ 225D.4 ‘I winna be your dear,’ she says, ‘Nor I’ll never be your honey; I’ll never be your wedded wife, For you love me but for my money.’ 225D.5 He hoisd her out among his crew, She holding by her mother; Wi watry eyes and mournfu cries They parted from each other. 225D.6 As they gaed oer yon high hill, The ladie often fainted; ‘Oh, wae be to my gold,’ she said, ‘This road for me invented!’ 225D.7 Two held her up before the priest, And two put her to bed, Wi mournful cries and watry eyes As she lay by his side. 225D.8 ‘Be content, be content, Be content wi me, ladie, For now you are my wedded wife Until the day ye die, ladie. 225D.9 ‘Rob roy was my father calld, McGrigor was his name, ladie, And a’ the country round about Has heard of Roy’s fame, ladie. 225D.10 ‘You do not think yourself a match For such a one as I, ladie; But I been east and I been west, And saird the king of France, ladie. 225D.11 ‘And now we hear the bag-pipe play, And we maun hae a dance, ladie, And a’ the country round about Has heard of Roy’s fame, ladie. 225D.12 ‘Shake your foot, shake your foot, Shake your foot wi me, ladie, For now you are my wedded bride Until the day ye die, ladie. 225D.13 ‘My father dealt in cows and ewes, Likewise in goats and sheep, ladie, And a’ the country round about Has heard of Roy’s fame, ladie. 225D.14 ‘And ye have fifty thousand marks, Makes me a man compleat, ladie. Why mayn’t I maid May I not ride in state, ladie? 225D.15 ‘My father was a Highland laird, Altho he be now dead, ladie, And a’ the country round about Has heard of Roy’s fame, ladie.’

225E: Rob Roy

225E.1 ROB ROY from the Highlands cam Unto our Scottish border, And he has stown a lady fair, To haud his house in order. 225E.2 And when he cam he surrounded the house; Twenty men their arms did carry; And he has stown this lady fair, On purpose her for to marry. 225E.3 And whan he cam he surrounded the house; No tidings there cam before him, Or else the lady would have been gone, For still she did abhor him. 225E.4 Wi murnfu cries and watery eyes, Fast hauding by her mother, Wi murnfu cries and watery eyes They parted frae each other. 225E.5 Nae time he gied her to be dressed As ladys do when they’re bride, O, But he hastened and hurried her awa, And he rowd her in his plaid, O. 225E.6 They rade till they cam to Ballyshine, At Ballyshine they tarried; He bought to her a cotton gown, Yet would she never be married. 225E.7 Three held her up before the priest, Four carried her to bed, O, Wi watery eyes and murnfu sighs When she behind was laid, O. 225E.8 ‘O be content, be content, Be content to stay, lady, For you are my wedded wife Unto my dying day, lady. Be content, etc. 225E.9 ‘My father is Rob Roy called, MacGregor is his name, lady; In all the country whare he dwells, He does succeed the fame, lady. Be content, etc. 225E.10 ‘My father he has cows and ewes, And goats he has anew, lady, And you and twenty thousand merks Will mak me a man complete, lady.’ Be content, etc.

225F: Rob Roy

225F.1 ROB ROY frae the Highlands came Unto the Lawland border, And he has stolen a lady away, To haud his house in order. 225F.2 He’s pu’d her out amang his men, She holding by her mother; With mournfu cries and watery eyes They parted frae each other. 225F.3 When they came to the heigh hill-gate, O it’s aye this lady fainted: ‘O wae! what has that cursed monie That’s thrown to me invented?’ 225F.4 When they came to the heigh hill-gate, And at Buchanan tarried, They fetchd to her a cloak and gown, Yet wad she not be married. 225F.5 Four held her up before the priest, Four laid her on her bed, With mournfu cries and watery eyes When she by him was laid. 225F.6 ‘I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind to thee, lady, And all the country for thy sake Shall surely favoured be, lady. 225F.7 ‘Be content, be content, Be content and stay, lady; Now ye are my weded wife Until your dying-day, ladie. 225F.8 ‘Rob Roy was my father called, McGregor was his name, lady; In every country where he was, He did exceed the fame, lady. 225F.9 ‘He was a hedge about his friends, A terror to his foes, lady, And every one that did him wrong, He hit them oer the nose, lady. 225F.10 ‘Be content, be content, Be content and stay, lady; Now ye are my wedded wife Until your dying-day, lady. 225F.11 ‘We will go, we will go, We will go to France, lady, Where I before for safety fled, And there wee’l get a dance, lady. 225F.12 ‘Shake a fit, shake a fit, Shake a fit to me, lady; Now ye are my wedded wife Until your dying-day, lady.

225G: Rob Roy

 
 225G.1	 ROB ROY from the Highlands cam
 	 Unto the Lawlan border,
 	 To steal awa a gay ladie,
 	 To haud his house in order.
 225G.2	 He cam owre the Lock o Lynn,
 	 Twenty men his arms did carry;
 	 Himsel gaed in an fand her out,
 	 Protesting he would marry.
 225G.3	 ‘O will ye gae wi me? he says,
 	 ‘Or will ye be my honey?
 	 Or will ye be my wedded wife?
 	 For I love you best of any.’
 225G.4	 ‘I winna gae wi you,’ she says,
 	 ‘Nor will I be your honey,
 	 Nor will I be your wedded wife;
 	 You love me for my money.’
 	 * * * * *
 225G.5	 But he set her on a coal-black steed,
 	 Himsel lap on behind her,
 	 An he’s awa to the Highland hills,
 	 Whare her friens they canna find her.
 	 * * * * *
 225G.6	 ‘Rob Roy was my father ca’d,
 	 MacGregor was his name, ladie;
 	 He led a band o heroes bauld,
 	 An I am here the same, ladie.
 225G.7	 ‘Be content, Be content,
 	 Be content to stay, ladie;
 	 For thou art my wedded wife
 	 Until thy dying day, ladie.
 225G.8	 ‘He was a hedge unto his friens,
 	 A heckle to his foes, ladie,
 	 Every one that durst him wrang,
 	 He took him by the nose, ladie.
 225G.9	 ‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold,
 	 I’m as bold, an more, ladie;
 	 He that daurs dispute my word
 	 Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie.’

225H: Rob Roy

 
 225H.1	 ROB ROY is frae the Hielands come
 	 Down to the Lowland border,
 	 And he has stolen that lady away,
 	 To haud his house in order.
 225H.2	 He set her on a milk-white steed,
 	 Of none he stood in awe,
 	 Untill they reached the Hieland hills,
 	 Aboon the Balmaha.
 225H.3	 Saying, Be content, Be content,
 	 Be content with me, lady;
 	 Where will ye find in Lennox land
 	 Sae braw a man as me, lady?
 225H.4	 ‘Rob Roy he was my father called,
 	 MacGregor was his name, lady;
 	 A’ the country, far and near,
 	 Have heard MacGregor’s fame, lady.
 225H.5	 ‘He was a hedge about his friends,
 	 A heckle to his foes, lady;
 	 If any man did him gainsay,
 	 He felt his deadly blows, lady.
 225H.6	 ‘I am as bold, I am as bold,
 	 I am as bold, and more, lady;
 	 Any man that doubts my word
 	 May try my gude claymore, lady.
 225H.7	 ‘Then be content, be content,
 	 Be content with me, lady,
 	 For now ye are my wedded wife
 	 Until the day ye die, lady.’

225I: Rob Roy

225I.1 ROB ROY is frae the Highlands come Unto the Scottish border, And he has stolen a lady gay, To keep his house in order. 225I.2 He and his crew surrounded the house; No tidings came before him, Or else I’m sure she wad been gone, For she did still abhore him. 225I.3 He drew her thro amang his crew, She holding by her mother; With watery eyes and mournfu cries They parted from each other. 225I.4 He’s set her on a milk-white steed, Himself jumped on behind her, And he’s awa to the Highland hills, And her friends they couldna find her. 225I.5 ‘O be content, be content, O be content and stay, lady, And never think of going back Until your dying day, lady.’ 225I.6 As they went over hills and dales, This lady oftimes fainted; Cries, Wae be to that cursed money This road to me invented! 225I.7 ‘O dinna think, O dinna think, O dinna think to ly, lady; O think na ye yersell weel matchd On sic a lad as me, lady? 225I.8 ‘What think ye o my coal-black hair, But and my twinkling een, lady, A little bonnet on my head, And cocket up aboon, lady? 225I.9 ‘O dinna think, O dinna think, O dinna think to ly, lady; O think nae ye yersell weel matchd On sic a lad as me, lady? 225I.10 ‘Rob Roy was my father calld, But Gregory was his name, lady; There was neither duke nor lord Could eer succeed his fame, lady. 225I.11 ‘O may not I, may not I, May not I succeed, lady? My old father did so design; O now but he is dead, lady. 225I.12 ‘My father was a hedge about his friends, A heckle to his foes, lady, And every one that did him wrang, He hit them oer the nose, lady. 225I.13 ‘I[’m] as bold, I[’m] as bold, I[’m] as bold, and more, lady, And every one that does me wrong Shall feel my good claymore, lady. 225I.14 ‘You need not fear our country cheer, Ye’se hae good entertain, lady; For ye shall hae a feather-bed, Both lang and broad and green, lady. 225I.15 ‘Come, be content, come, be content, Come, be content and stay, lady, And never think of going back Until yer dying day, lady.’ 225I.16 Twa held her up before the priest, Four laid her in her bed, And sae mournfully she weeping cry’d When she by him was laid! 225I.17 ‘Come, dinna think, come dinna think, Come, dinna think to ly, lady; You’ll surely think yersell weel matchd On sic a lad as me, lady. 225I.18 ‘Come, be content, come, be content, Come, be content and stay, lady, And never think of going back Until your dying day, lady.’

225J: Rob Roy

 
 225J.1	 FROM Drunkie in the Highlands,
 	 With four and twenty men,
 	 Rob Oig is cam, a lady fair
 	 To carry from the plain.
 225J.2	 Glengyle and James with him are cam,
 	 To steal Jean Mitchell’s dauchter,
 	 And they have borne her far away,
 	 To haud his house in order.
 225J.3	 And he has taen Jean Key’s white hand,
 	 And torn her grass-green sleeve,
 	 And rudely tyed her on his horse,
 	 At her friends asked nae leave.
 225J.4	 They rode till they cam to Ballyshine,
 	 At Ballyshine they tarried;
 	 Nae time he gave her to be dressed,
 	 In cotton gown her married.
 225J.5	 Three held her up before the priest,
 	 Four carried her to bed, O;
 	 Wi watery eyes and mournfu sighs
 	 She in bed wi Rob was laid, O.
 225J.6	 ‘Haud far awa from me, Rob Oig,
 	 Haud far awa from me!
 	 Before I lose my maidenhead,
 	 I’ll try my strength with thee.’
 225J.7	 She’s torn the cap from off her head
 	 And thrown it to the way,
 	 But ere she lost her maidenhead
 	 She fought with him till day.
 225J.8	 ‘Wae fa, Rob Oig, upon your head,
 	 For you have ravished me,
 	 And taen from me my maidenhead;
 	 O would that I could dee!’
 225J.9	 ‘My father he is Rob Roy called,
 	 And he has cows and ewes,
 	 And you are now my wedded wife,
 	 And can nae longer chuse.’

225K: Rob Roy

225K.1 ROB ROY frae the Highlands came Doun to our Lowland border; It was to steal a lady away, To haud his house in order. 225K.2 With four-and-twenty Highland men, His arms for to carry, He came to steal Blackhill’s daughter, That lady for to marry. 225K.3 Nae ane kend o his comming, Nae tiddings came before him, Else the lady woud hae been away, For still did she abhore him. 225K.4 They guarded doors and windows round, Nane coud their plot discover; Rob Roy enterd then alane, Expressing how he lovd her. 225K.5 ‘Come go with me, my dear,’ he said, ‘Come go with me, my honey, And ye shall be my wedded wife, For I love you best of any.’ 225K.6 ‘I will not go with you,’ she said, ‘I’ll never be your honey; I will not be your wedded wife, Your love is for my money.’ 225K.7 They woud not stay till she was drest As ladies when thei’r brides, O, But hurried her awa in haste, And rowd her in their plaids, O. 225K.8 He drew her out among his crew, She holding by her mother; With mournful cries and watry eyes They parted from each other. 225K.9 He placed her upon a steed, Then jumped on behind her, And they are to the Highlands gone, Her friends they cannot find her. 225K.10 With many a heavy sob and wail, They saw, as they stood by her, She was so guarded round about Her friends could not come nigh her. 225K.11 Her mournful cries were often heard, But no aid came unto her; They guarded her on every side That they could not rescüe her. 225K.12 Over rugged hills and dales They rode; the lady fainted; Cried, Woe be to my cursed gold That has such roads invented! 225K.13 As they came in by Drimmen town And in by Edingarry, He bought to her both cloak and gown, Still thinking she would marry. 225K.14 As they went down yon bonny burn-side, They at Buchanan tarried; He clothed her there as a bride, Yet she would not be married. 225K.15 Without consent they joind their hands, Which law ought not to carry; His passion waxed now so hot He could no longer tarry. 225K.16 Two held her up before the priest, Four laid her in the bed then, With sighs and cries and watery eyes When she was laid beside him. 225K.17 ‘Ye are come to our Highland hills, Far frae thy native clan, lady; Never think of going back, But take it for thy home, lady. 225K.18 ‘I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind to thee, lady; All the country, for thy sake, Shall surely favourd be, lady. 225K.19 ‘Rob Roy was my father calld, MacGregor was his name, lady, And all the country where he dwelt He did exceed for fame, lady. 225K.20 ‘Now or then, now or then, Now or then deny, lady; Don’t you think yourself well of With a pretty man like I, lady? 225K.21 ‘He was a hedge about his friends, A heckle to his foes, lady, And all that did him any wrong, He took them by the nose, lady. 225K.22 ‘Don’t think, don’t think, Don’t think I lie, lady, Ye may know the truth by what Was done in your country, lad’y. 225K.23 ‘My father delights in cows and horse, Likewise in goats and sheep, lady, And you with thirty thousand marks Makes me a man complete, lady. 225K.24 ‘Be content, be content, Be content and stay, lady; Now ye are my wedded wife Untill your dying day, lady. 225K.25 ‘Your friends will all seek after me, But I’ll give them the scorn, lady; Before dragoons come oer the Forth, We shall be doun by Lorn, lady. 225K.26 ‘I am bold, I am bold, But bolder than before, lady; Any one dare come this way Shall feel my good claymore, lady. 225K.27 ‘We shall cross the raging seas, We shall go to France, lady; There we’ll gar the piper play, And then we’ll have a dance, lady. 225K.28 ‘Shake a foot, shake a foot, Shake a foot wi me, lady, And ye shall be my wedded wife Until the day ye die, lady.’

225[L]: Rob Roy

225[L].1 Rob Roy’s from the Highlands come Down to the Lowland border, An there he’s stole a fair lady away, To keep his house in order. 225[L.2] As he came in by Blackhill gate, Twenty men his arms did carry, And he has stole a fair lady away, On purpose hir to marry. 225[L.3] No tidings came unto the house, Nor none went in before him, Or else she had been run away, For she did still abhor him. 225[L.4] But with his men he surunded the house, Himself went in unto hir, And when that he had found her out He profest how much he lovt hir. 225[L.5] ‘O wilt thou be my dear?’ he says, ‘O wilt thou be my hony? O wilt thou be my wedded wife? For I love you far better than ony.’ 225[L.6] ‘I will not be your dear,’ she says, ‘I will not be your honey, I will not be your wedded wife; You love me for my money.’ 225[L.7] But he hir drew amongst his crew, She holding by hir mother; With doleful cries and watry eyes The parted from each other. 225[L.8] He gave hir no time for to dress As brides do when the marry, But fast he hurried hir away, And rowd hir in his plaidy. 225[L.9] He set hir on a milk-white steed, Himslef lept on behind hir, And he has carried hir away, Hir friends the could not find hir. 225[L.10] The lady’s cries were oftimes heard, But none durst venture to hir; She gaurded was on every side, Hir friends could not rescue hir. 225[L.11] As the went over hills and rocks, The lady oftimes fainted; Cries, Wo be to my curst mony, These roads to me invented. 225[L.12] As the came in by Drummond town And at Bachannan tarried, He bought to her a cloak and gown, Yet wad she not be married. 225[L.13] And when she came the priest before He askd if she would marry, But the parson’s zeal it was so hot For her will he did not tarry. 225[L.14] Four held hir up before the priest, Tow laid hir in hir bed, O, But still she cried, with watry eyes, When she was by him laid O. 225[L.15] ‘Now you’r to the Highlands come, Out of your native clime, lady, Never think of going back, But tak it for your hame, lady. 225[L.16] ‘Be content, be content, Be content to stay, lady, Now you are my wedded wife, Until your dying day, lady. 225[L.17] ‘Rob Roy was my father calld, McGregor was his name, lady, And all the country where he dwelt None could exceed his fame, lady. 225[L.18] ‘I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind to thee, lady, A’ thy kindred for thy sake Shall truly favoured be, lady. 225[L.19] ‘My father reignd as Highland king, And ruled at his will, lady, There was nether lord nor duke Durst do him ony ill, lady. 225[L.20] ‘Ay through time, ay through time, Ay through time was he, lady, Filled was w[ith] sweet revenge On a’ his enemys, lady. 225[L.21] ‘He was a hedge about his friends, A heckle till his foes, lady, And every ane that did him rang, He took them oer the nose, lady. 225[L.22] ‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold, [As bold] as forest boar, lady, Every ane that does thee rang Shall feell my stell claymore, lady. 225[L.23] ‘Neer a man from Highlands came That ever did him dare, lady, But if those persons did escape He sized upon there gear, lady. Ay through time, etc. 225[L.24] ‘My father dealt in horse and cows, But thou in goats and sheep, lady, Thre and twenty thousand merk Makes me a man complete, lady. Be content, etc. 225[L.25] ‘Of all the exploits my father did I do him now outshine, lady; He never took a prize in ’s life With sic a face as thine, lady.’

226A: Lizie Lindsay

 
 226A.1	 * * * * *
 	 OUT it spake Lizee Linzee,
 	 The tear blinket in her ee;
 	 How can I leave father and mother,
 	 Along with young Donald to gae!
 226A.2	 Out spoke Lizee’s young handmaid,
 	 A bonny young lassie was she;
 	 Said, Were I heress to a kingdom,
 	 Along with young Donald I’d ga.
 226A.3	 ‘O say ye so to me, Nelly?
 	 O say ye so to me?
 	 Must I leave Edinburgh city,
 	 To the high Highland to gae?’
 226A.4	 Out spoke Lizie’s own mother,
 	 A good old lady was she;
 	 If you speak such a word to my dochter,
 	 I’ll gar hang [you] hi.
 226A.5	 ‘Keep well your dochter from me, madam,
 	 Keep well your dochter fa me;
 	 For I care as little for your dochter
 	 As ye can care for me.’
 226A.6	 The road grew wetty and dubby,
 	 And Lizee began to think lang;
 	 Said, I wish had staid with my mother,
 	 And nae wi young Donald had gane.
 226A.7	 ‘You’r welcome hame, Sir Donald,
 	 You’r thrice welcome to me;
 	 You’r welcome hame, Sir Donald,
 	 And your young lady you wi.’
 226A.8	 . . . .
 	 . . . .
 	 ‘Ye call na me Sir Donald,
 	 But ca me Donald your son.’
 226A.9	 ‘Rise up, Lizee Linzee,
 	 You [have] lain too long in the day;
 	 Ye might have helped my mother
 	 To milch her goats and her kie.’
 226A.10	 Out it spake Lizee Linzee,
 	 The tear blinket in her eye;
 	 ‘The ladys of Edinburgh city,
 	 They neither milch goats nor kie.’

226B: Lizie Lindsay

226B.1 ITRR’rrS of a young lord o the Hielands, A bonnie braw castle had he, And he says to his lady mither, RR’Mrry boon ye will grant to me: Sall I gae to Edinbruch city, And fesh hame a lady wi me?’ 226B.2 ‘Ye may gae to Edinbruch city, And fesh hame a lady wi thee, But see that ye bring her but flattrie, And court her in grit povertie.’ 226B.3 ‘My coat, mither, sall be o the plaiden, A tartan kilt oure my knee, Wi hosens and brogues and the bonnet; I’ll court her wi nar flattrie.’ 226B.4 Whan he cam to Edinbruch city, He playd at the ring and the ba, And saw monie a bonnie young ladie, But Lizie Lindsay was first o them a’. 226B.5 Syne, dressd in his Hieland grey plaiden, His bonnet abune his ee-bree, He called on fair Lizie Lindsay; Says, Lizie, will ye fancy me? 226B.6 ‘And gae to the Hielands, my lassie, And gae, gae wi me? O gae to the Hielands, Lizie Lindsay, I’ll feed you on curds and green whey. 226B.7 ‘And ye’se get a bed o green bracken, My plaidie will hap thee and me; Ye’se lie in my arms, bonnie Lizie, If ye’ll gae to the Hielands wi me.’ 226B.8 ‘O how can I gae to the Hielands, Or how can I gae wi thee, Whan I dinna ken whare I’m gaing, Nor wha I hae to gae wi?’ 226B.9 ‘My father, he is an auld shepherd, My mither, she is an auld dey; My name it is Donald Macdonald, My name I’ll never deny.’ 226B.10 ‘O Donald, I’ll gie ye five guineas To sit ae hour in my room, Till I tak aff your ruddy picture; Whan I hae ’t, I’ll never think lang.’ 226B.11 ‘I dinna care for your five guineas; It’s ye that’s the jewel to me; I’ve plenty o kye in the Hielands, To feed ye wi curds and green whey. 226B.12 ‘And ye’se get a bonnie blue plaidie, Wi red and green strips thro it a’; And I’ll be the lord o your dwalling, And that’s the best picture ava. 226B.13 ‘And I am laird o a’ my possessions; The king canna boast o na mair; And ye’se hae my true heart in keeping, There’ll be na ither een hae a share. 226B.14 ‘Sae gae to the Hielands, my lassie, O gae awa happy wi me; O gae to the Hielands, Lizie Lindsay, And hird the wee lammies wi me.’ 226B.15 ‘O how can I gae wi a stranger, Oure hills and oure glens frae my hame?’ ‘I tell ye I am Donald Macdonald; I’ll ever be proud o my name.’ 226B.16 Doun cam Lizie Lindsay’s ain father, A knicht o a noble degree; Says, If ye do steal my dear daughter, It’s hangit ye quickly sall be. 226B.17 On his heel he turned round wi a bouncie, And a licht lauch he did gie: ‘There’s nae law in Edinbruch city This day that can dare to hang me.’ 226B.18 Then up bespak Lizie’s best woman, And a bonnie young lass was she; ‘Had I but a mark in my pouchie, It’s Donald that I wad gae wi.’ 226B.19 ‘O Helen, wad ye leave your coffer, And a’ your silk kirtles sae braw, And gang wi a bare-houghd puir laddie, And leave father, mither, and a’? 226B.20 ‘But I think he’s a witch or a warlock, Or something o that fell degree, For I’ll gae awa wi young Donald, Whatever my fortune may be.’ 226B.21 Then Lizie laid doun her silk mantle, And put on her waiting-maid’s goun, And aff and awa to the Hielands She’s gane wi this young shepherd loun. 226B.22 Thro glens and oure mountains they wanderd, Till Lizie had scantlie a shoe; ‘Alas and ohone!’ says fair Lizie, ‘Sad was the first day I saw you! I wish I war in Edinbruch city; Fu sair, sair this pastime I rue.’ 226B.23 ‘O haud your tongue now, bonnie Lizie, For yonder’s the shieling, my hame; And there’s my guid auld honest mither, That’s coming to meet ye her lane.’ 226B.24 ‘O ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, Sir Donald, Ye’re welcome hame to your ain.’ ‘O ca me na young Sir Donald, But ca me Donald my son;’ And this they hae spoken in Erse, That Lizie micht not understand. 226B.25 The day being weetie and daggie, They lay till ’twas lang o the day: ‘Win up, win up, bonnie Lizie, And help at the milking the kye.’ 226B.26 O slowly raise up Lizie Lindsay, The saut tear blindit her ee: ‘O, war I in Edinbruch city, The Hielands shoud never see me!’ 226B.27 He led her up to a hie mountain And bade her look out far and wide: ‘I’m lord o thae isles and thae mountains, And ye’re now my beautiful bride. 226B.28 ‘Sae rue na ye’ve come to the Hielands, Sae rue na ye’ve come aff wi me, For ye’re great Macdonald’s braw lady, And will be to the day that ye dee.’

226C: Lizie Lindsay

226C.1 WHAT wad ye gie to me, mither, What wad ye gie to me, If I wad go to Edinbruch city And bring hame Lizie Lindsey to thee?’ 226C.2 ‘Meikle wad I gie to thee, Donald, Meikle wad I gie to thee, If ye wad gang to Edinbruch city And court her as in povertie.’ 226C.3 Whan he cam to Edinbruch city, And there a while to resort, He called on fair Lizie Lindsey, Wha lived at the Canongate-Port. 226C.4 ‘Will ye gang to the Hielands, Lizie Lindsey? Will ye gae to the Hielands wi me? And I will gie ye a cup o the curds, Likewise a cup of green whey. 226C.5 ‘And I will gie ye a bed o green threshes, Likewise a happing o grey, If ye will gae to the Hielands, Lizie Lindsey, If ye’ll gae to the Hielands wi me.’ 226C.6 ‘How can I gang?’ says Lizie Lindsey, ‘How can I gang wi thee? I dinna ken whare I am gaing, Nor wha I am gaing wi.’ 226C.7 ‘My father is a cowper o cattle, My mither is an auld dey; My name is Donald Macdonald, My name I’ll never deny.’ 226C.8 Doun cam Lizie Lindsey’s father, A revrend auld gentleman was he: ‘If ye steal awa my dochter, Hie hanged ye sall be.’ 226C.9 He turned him round on his heel And [a] licht lauch gied he; ‘There is na law in a’ Edinbruch city This day that can hang me.’ 226C.10 It’s doun cam Lizie’s hand-maid, A bonnie young lass was she: ‘If I had ae crown in a’ the warld, Awa wi that fellow I’d gae.’ 226C.11 ‘Do ye say sae to me, Nelly? Do ye say sae to me? Wad ye leave your father and mither, And awa wi that fellow wad gae?’ 226C.12 She has kilted her coats o green silk A little below her knee, And she’s awa to the Hielands wi Donald, To bear him companie. 226C.13 And whan they cam to the vallies The hie hills war coverd wi snow, Which caused monie a saut tear From Lizie’s een to flow. 226C.14 ‘O, gin I war in Edinbruch city, And safe in my ain countrie, O, gin I war in Edinbruch city, The Hielands shoud never see me.’ 226C.15 ‘O haud your tongue, Lizie Lindsey, Na mair o that let me see; I’ll tak ye back to Edinbruch city, And safe to your ain countrie.’ 226C.16 RR‘rrThough I war in Edinbruch city, And safe in my ain countrie, Though I war in Edinbruch city, O wha wad care for me!’ 226C.17 Whan they cam to the shiels o Kilcushneuch, Out there cam an auld dey: ‘Ye’re welcome here, Sir Donald, You and your lady gay.’ 226C.18 ‘Ca me na mair Sir Donald, But ca me Donald your son, And I’ll ca ye my auld mither, Till the lang winter nicht is begun.’ 226C.19 ‘A’ this was spoken in Erse, That Lizie micht na ken; A’ this was spoken in Erse, And syne the broad English began. 226C.20 ‘Ye’ll gae and mak to our supper A cup o the curds and whey, And ye’ll mak a bed o green threshes, Likewise a happing o grey.’ * * * * * 226C.21 ‘Won up, won up, Lizie Lindsey, Ye’ve lain oure lang in the day; Ye micht hae been helping my mither To milk the ewes and the kye.’ 226C.22 Then up got Lizie Lindsey, And the tear blindit her ee: ‘O, gin I war in Edinbruch city, The Hielands shoud never see me!’ 226C.23 ‘Won up, won up, Lizie Lindsey, A fairer sicht ye hae to see; Do ye see yon bonnie braw castle? Lady o it ye will be.’

226D: Lizie Lindsay

226D.1 THERE dwalt a lass in the South Countrie, Lizzy Lindsay called by name, And many a laird and lord sought her, But nane o them a’ could her gain. 226D.2 Out spoke the heir o Kinkawsie, An down to his fader spoke he; ‘Fat would ye think o me, fadther, Fat would ye think o me, To go to Edinburgh city, Bring hame Lizzy Lindsay wi me?’ 226D.3 Out and spoke his auld modther, An auld revrend lady was she; ‘Court her wi nae fause flatterie, But in great policie.’ 226D.4 He was nae in Edinbruch citie But a twalmont an a day, When a’ the young lairds an the ladies Went forth to sport an play: There was nane like Lizzy Lindsay, She was baith gallan an gay. 226D.5 ‘Will ye go to the Hielans, Lizzy Linsay? Will ye go to the Hielans wi me? If ye’ll go to the Hielans, Lizz[y] Linsay, I’ll gar ye get crouds an green whey.’ 226D.6 ‘How can I go to the Hielans? Or hoo will I go with thee? I dinna ken whaar I’m going, Or fa ’tis I would go wi.’ 226D.7 ‘RR rrmy fadther he is an auld couper, My modther a brave auld dey; If ye’ll go to the Hieland[s], Lizzy Linsay, I’ll gar ye get cruds and green whey.’ 226D.8 Out it spoke Lizzy’s best maiden, A wat a fine creature was she; ‘Tho I were born heir till a crown, It’s young Donald that I would go wi.’ 226D.9 ‘Oh say ye sae to me, Nelly? Oh say ye sae to me? Will I cast off my fine gowns and laces, An gae to the Highlans him wi?’ 226D.10 She’s putten her hand in her pocket, She’s taen out ten guineas roun: ‘And that wad I gie to thee, Donald, To stay but ae hour i my room, Till I get your fair pictur painted, To haud me unthought lang.’ 226D.11 ‘I care as little for your guineas As you can care for mine; But gin that ye like my fair face, Then gae wi me, if that ye incline.’ 226D.12 Out it spak Lizzy’s auld mither, I wite a fine lady was she; ‘Gin I hear you speak sae to my daughter, I vow I’se cause them hang thee.’ 226D.13 He turned about on his heel, And a loud, loud laughter gae he: ‘They are not in Edinburgh city, I trow, that dare hamg me. 226D.14 ‘But an ye come to the Canongate-Port-+--+- An there ye’ll be sure to see me-+--+- Bring wi ye a bottle of sherry, I’ll bear you good company.’ 226D.15 They sought all Edinboro citie, They sought it roun an roun, Thinkin to fin Lizzy Lindsay, But awa to the Highlans she’s gane. 226D.16 Whan they came to the shielin, Out bespoke the ould dye; ‘You’re welcome home, Sir Donald, Lang hae we been thinkin for thee.’ 226D.17 ‘Ye’ll call nae mair Sir Donald, Ye’ll call me nae sic thing; But ye’se be my auld mither, And I’se be Donald your sin. 226D.18 ‘Ye’ll mak for us a supper, A supper o cruds and green whey, And likewise a bed o green rashes, For Lizzy and I to ly.’ 226D.19 She’s made for them a supper, A supper o cruds and why, And likewise a bed o green rashes, For Lizzy and him to ly. 226D.20 But Donald rose up i the mornin, The rest o his glens to spy; It was to look for his goats, His goats, his yows, an his kye. 226D.21 But Lizzy, beein wearied wi travel, She lay till ’twas lang i the day: ‘Get up, get up, Lizzy Linsay, What maks you sae lang for to ly? You had better been helping my mither To milk her yews and her kye.’ 226D.22 But Lizzy drew till her her stockins, The tears fell down on her eye: ‘I wish I were at Edinboro city, I can neither milk yews nor kye.’ 226D.23 ‘Oh hold your tongue, Lizzy Linsay, Your weepin I mustna be wi; I’ll sen you hame to your mither, In the greatest o safety.’ 226D.24 But he has tane her by the han, And has shewn her the straight way to go: ‘An dont you see bonny Kincawsie, Wher you and I is to ly?’ 226D.25 Out then comes his old mither, An twenty brave knichts her wi: ‘Y’re welcome home, Sir Donald, Lang hae we been thinkin for thee.’ 226D.26 Out then comes his old father, An twenty brave ladies him wi: ‘You’r welcome home, Sir Donald, An that fair creature you wi.’ 226D.27 He’s taken her by the han, An he’s shewn her the straight way in: ‘An ye’se be Lady Kincawsie, An ye’se hae Donal, my sin.’

226E: Lizie Lindsay

226E.1 IN Edinburgh lived a lady, Was ca’d Lizie Lindsay by name, Was courted by mony fine suitors, And mony rich person of fame: Tho lords of renown had her courted, Yet none her favour could gain. 226E.2 Then spake the young laird o Kingcaussie, And a bonny young boy was he; ‘Then let me a year to the city, I’ll come, and that lady wi me.’ 226E.3 Then spake the auld laird o Kingcaussie, A canty auld mannie was he; ‘What think ye by our little Donald, Sae proudly and crously cracks he? 226E.4 ‘But he’s win a year to the city, If that I be a living man; And what he can mak o this lady, We shall lat him do as he can.’ 226E.5 He’s stript aff his fine costly robes, And put on the single liverie; With no equipage nor attendance, To Edinburgh city went he. 226E.6 Now there was a ball in the city, A ball o great mirth and great fame; And fa danced wi Donald that day But bonny Lizie Lindsay on the green! 226E.7 ‘Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonny Lizie? Will ye gang to the Hielands wi me? Will ye leave the South Country ladies, And gang to the Hielands wi me?’ 226E.8 The lady she turned about, And answered him courteouslie; ‘I’d like to ken faer I am gaun first, And fa I am gaun to gang wi.’ 226E.9 ‘O Lizie, ae favour I’ll ask you, This favour I pray not deny; Ye’ll tell me your place of abode, And your nearest o kindred do stay.’ 226E.10 ‘Ye’ll call at the Canogate-Port, At the Canogate-Port call ye; I’ll gie you a bottle o wine, And I’ll bear you my companie.’ 226E.11 Syne he called at the Canogate-Port, At the Canogate-Port calld he; She gae him a bottle o wine, And she gae him her companie. 226E.12 ‘Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonny Lizie? Will ye gang to the Hielands wi me? Will ye leave the South Country ladies, And gang to the Hielands wi me?’ 226E.13 Then out spake Lizie’s auld mither, For a very auld lady was she; ‘If ye cast ony creed on my dochter, High hanged I’ll cause you to be.’ 226E.14 ‘O keep hame your dochter, auld woman, And latna her gang wi me; I can cast nae mair creed on your dochter, Nae mair than she can on me.’ 226E.15 ‘Now, young man, ae question I’ll ask you, Sin ye mean to honour us sae; Ye’ll tell me how braid your lands lie, Your name, and faer ye hae to gae.’ 226E.16 ‘My father he is an auld soutter, My mither she is an auld dey, And I’m but a puir broken trooper, My kindred I winna deny. 226E.17 ‘Yet I’m nae a man o great honour, Nor am I a man o great fame; My name it is Donald M’Donald, I’ll tell it, and winna think shame. 226E.18 ‘Will ye gang to the Hielands, bonny Lizie? Will ye gang to the Hielands wi me? Will ye leave the South Country ladies, And gang to the Hielands wi me?’ 226E.19 ‘O Donald, I’ll gie you ten guineas, If ye woud but stay in my room Until that I draw your fair picture, To look on it fan I think lang.’ 226E.20 ‘No, I carena mair for your guineas, Nae mair than ye care for mine; But if that ye love my ain person, Gae wi me, maid, if ye incline.’ 226E.21 Then out spake Lizie’s bower-woman, And a bonny young lassie was she; Tho I was born heir to a crown, Young Donald, I woud gang him wi. 226E.22 Up raise then the bonny young lady, And drew till her stockings and sheen, And packd up her claise in fine bundles, And awa wi young Donald she’s gane. 226E.23 The roads they were rocky and knabby, The mountains were baith strait and stay; When Lizie grew wearied wi travel, For she’d travelld a very lang way. 226E.24 ‘O turn again, bonny Lizie Lindsay, O turn again,’ said he; ‘We’re but ae day’s journey frae town, O turn, and I’ll turn wi thee.’ 226E.25 Out speaks the bonny young lady, Till the saut tear blinded her ee; Altho I’d return to the city, There’s nae person woud care for me. 226E.26 When they came near the end o their journey, To the house o their father’s milk-dey, He said, Stay still there, Lizie Lindsay, Till I tell my mither o thee. 226E.27 When he came into the shielen, She hailed him courteouslie; Said, Ye’re welcome hame, Sir Donald, There’s been mony ane calling for thee. 226E.28 ‘O ca me na mair, Sir Donald, But Donald M’Donald your son; We’ll carry the joke a bit farther, There’s a bonny young lady to come.’ 226E.29 When Lizie came into the shielen, She lookd as if she’d been a feel; She sawna a seat to sit down on, But only some sunks o green feall. 226E.30 ‘Now make us a supper, dear mither, The best o your cruds and green whey; And make us a bed o green rashes, And covert wi huddins sae grey.’ 226E.31 But Lizie being wearied wi travel, She lay till ’twas up i the day: ‘Ye might hae been up an hour seener, To milk baith the ewes and the kye.’ 226E.32 Out then speaks the bonny young lady, Whan the saut tear drapt frae her eye; I wish that I had bidden at hame, I can neither milk ewes nor kye. 226E.33 ‘I wish that I had bidden at hame, The Hielands I never had seen, Altho I love Donald M’Donald, The laddie wi Blythe blinking een.’ 226E.34 ‘Win up, win up, O bonny Lizie, And dress in the silks sae gay; I’ll show you the yetts o Kingcaussie, Whare I’ve playd me mony a day.’ 226E.35 Up raise the bonny young lady, And drest in thd silks sae fine, And into young Donald’s arms Awa to Kingcaussie she’s gane. 226E.36 Forth came the auld laird o Kingcaussie, And hailed her courteouslie; Says, Ye’re welcome, bonny Lizie Lindsay, Ye’re welcome hame to me. 226E.37 ‘Tho lords o renown hae you courted, Young Donald your favour has won; Ye’se get a’ the lands o Kingcaussie, And Donald M’Donald, my son.’

226F: Lizie Lindsay

226F.1 THERE was a braw ball in Edinburgh, And mony braw ladies were there, But nae ane at a’ the assembly Could wi Lizzie Lindsay compare. 226F.2 In cam the young laird o Kincassie, An a bonnie young laddie was he: ‘Will ye lea yere ain kintra, Lizzie, An gang to the Hielands wi me?’ 226F.3 She turned her roun on her heel, An a very loud laughter gaed she: ‘I wad like to ken whar I was ganging, And wha I was gaun to gang wi.’ 226F.4 ‘My name is young Donald M’Donald, My name I will never deny; My father he is an auld shepherd, Sae weel as he can herd the kye! 226F.5 ‘My father he is an auld shepherd, My mother she is an auld dame; If ye’ll gang to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie, Ye’s neither want curds nor cream.’ 226F.6 ‘If ye’ll call at the Canongate-Port, At the Canongate-Port call on me, I’ll give you a bottle of sherry, And bear you companie.’ 226F.7 He ca’d at the Canongate-Port, At the Canongate-Port called he; She drank wi him a bottle o sherry, And bore him guid companie. 226F.8 ‘Will ye go to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie? Will ye go to the Hielands wi me? If ye’ll go to the Hielands, bonnie Lizzie, Ye shall not want curds nor green whey.’ 226F.9 In there cam her auld mither, A jolly auld lady was she: ‘I wad like to ken whar she was ganging, And wha she was gaun to gang wi.’ 226F.10 ‘My name is young Donald M’Donald, My name I will never deny; My father he is an auld shepherd, Sae weel as he can herd the kye! 226F.11 ‘O but I would give you ten guineas To have her one hour in a room, To get her fair body a picture, To keep me from thinking long.’ 226F.12 ‘O I value not your ten guineas, As little as you value mine; But if that you covet my daughter, Take her with you, if you do incline.’ 226F.13 ‘Pack up my silks and my satins, And pack up my hose and my shoon, And likewise my clothes in small bundles, And away wi young Donald I’ll gang.’ 226F.14 They packd up her silks and her satins, They packd up her hose and her shoon, And likewise her clothes in small bundles, And away wi young Donald she’s gane. 226F.15 When that they cam to the Hielands, The braes they were baith lang and stey; Bonnie Lizzie was wearied wi ganging, She had travelld a lang summer day. 226F.16 ‘O are we near hame, Sir Donald? O are we near hame, I pray?’ ‘We’re no near hame, bonnie Lizzie, Nor yet the half o the way.’ 226F.17 They cam to a homely poor cottage, An auld man was stnading by: ‘Ye’re welcome hame, Sir Donald, Ye’ve been sae lang away.’ 226F.18 ‘O call me no more Sir Donald, But call me young Donald your son, For I have a bonnie young lady Behind me for to come in.’ 226F.19 ‘Come in, come in, bonnie Lizzie, Come in, come in,’ said he; ‘Although that our cottage be little, Perhaps the better we’ll gree. 226F.20 ‘O make us a supper, dear mother, And make it of curds an green whey; And make us a bed o green rushes, And cover it oer wi green hay.’ * * * * * 226F.21 ‘Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizzie, Why lie ye so long in the day? Ye might hae been helping my mother To make the curds and green whey.’ 226F.22 ‘O haud your tongue, Sir Donald, O haud your tongue, I pray; I wish I had neer left my mother; I can neither make curds nor whey.’ 226F.23 ‘Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizzie, And put on your satins so fine, For we maun to be at Kincassie Before that the clock strikes nine.’ 226F.24 But when they came to Kincassie The porter was standing by: ‘Ye’re welcome home, Sir Donald, Ye’ve been so long away.’ 226F.25 It’s down then came his auld mither, With all the keys in her hand, Saying, Take you these, bonnie Lizzie, All under them’s at your command.

226G: Lizie Lindsay

226G.1 ‘WILL you go to the Highlands wi me, Leezie? Will you go to the Highlands wi me? Will you go to the Highlands wi me, Leezie? And you shall have curds and green whey.’ 226G.2 Then up spoke Leezie’s mother, A gallant old lady was she; ‘If you talk so to my daughter, High hanged I’ll gar you be.’ 226G.3 And then she changed her coaties, And then she changed them to green, And then she changed her coaties, Young Donald to gang wi. 226G.4 But the roads grew broad and broad, And the mountains grew high and high, Which caused many a tear To fall from Leezie’s eye. 226G.5 But the roads grew broad and broad, And the mountains grew high and high, Till they came to the glens of Glen Koustie, And out there came an old die. 226G.6 ‘You’re welcome here, Sir Donald, And your fair ladie, . . . . . . . .’ 226G.7 ‘O call me not Sir Donald, But call me Donald your son, And I will call you mother, Till this long night be done.’ 226G.8 These words were spoken in Gaelic, And Leezie did not them ken; These words were spoken in Gaelic, And then plain English began. 226G.9 ‘O make her a supper, mother, O make her a supper wi me; O make her a supper, mother, Of curds and green whey.’ * * * * * 226G.10 ‘You must get up, Leezie Lindsay, . . . . You must get up, Leezie Lindsay, For it is far in the day.’ 226G.11 And then they went out together, And a braw new bigging saw she, And out cam Lord Macdonald, And his gay companie. 226G.12 ‘You’re welcome here, Leezie Lindsay, The flower of a’ your kin, And you shall be Lady Macdonald, Since you have got Donald, my son.’

226[H]: Lizie Lindsay

226[H].1 Ther lives a maid in Edinbrugh citty, Elisa Lindsy they call her by name; Monye an came to court her, But a’ ther suit was in vain. 226[H.2] Out spak the hear of Carnuss, An out spak he; ‘Fat wad ye think of me if I wad gae to Edinbrugh citty An bring this fair creatur we me?’ 226[H.3] ‘If ye gae to Edinbrugh city An bring this fair creatur we the, Bring her home we ne flatry, But by grait policy.’ 226[H.4] Fan he came to the Netherbou, Elisa Lindsy for to see, She drank we him a bottel of cherry, And bare him gued company. 226[H.5] ‘Will ye goo to the Hillands we me, Lisee? Will ye go to [the] Hillands we me? . . . . . . . . Ye’s gett cruds an grean why.’ 226[H.6] Out spak Lissy’s mother, An out spak she; ‘If ye say so to my daughter, [I] swaer I ell gar ye die.’ 226[H.7] ‘Keep well yer dother, old lady, Keep well yer dother fra me, For I care as littel for yer dother As she dos for me.’ 226[H.8] Out spak Lissie Lindsy, We the tear in her eay; ‘I will gie ye ten gunies, If ye wad bat sitt in my roum bat a whill Till I dra you[r] picter, To mind me on your swit smill.’ 226[H.9] ‘I care as littel for your ten gunies As ye dou for mine, But if ye love my person, Goo we me if ye inclayn.’ 226[H.10] Fan they came to Carnusie, an even to the glen, Out came the old day: ‘Ye’r welcom home, Sir Donall, ye’r welcom home, An that fair creatur ye we.’ 226[H.11] ‘Caa na me mare Sir Donald, Bat caa me Donall, yer son, An I’ll caa ye my mother, An caa me Donall, yer son:’ The words wer spoken in Ears, Lissie she had nean. 226[H.12] ‘Gett us a supper of cruds, [A supper of cruds] an green whay, An a bed of the best of yeer rushes, Besids a covering of gray.’ 226[H.13] Lissy Lindsy bieng weary, She lay over long in they day: ‘Win up, Lissy Lindsy, Ye haa layen our lang in the day; Ye might haa ben out we my mider, Milken the eus an the kay.’ 226[H.14] Out spak Lissie Lindsy, The tear in her eay; ‘I wiss I wer in Edenbrugh citty, I cann milk eus nor kay.’ 226[H.15] ‘Hold your toung, Lissie Lindsy, An dou not freat on me, For I will haa ye back to Edenbrugh citty, Nou we grait safity.’ 226[H.16] Out spak Lissie Lindsy, The tear in her eay; ‘If I wer in Edenbrugh citty, They woud think littel of me.’ 226[H.17] He touk her by the milk-white hand, Some other forest to vue; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226[H.18] Fan they came to Carnusy, out came Donal’s father, A gay old knight was he; Out cam Donald’s father, An four-an-tuenty him we. 226[H.19] ‘Ye’r welcom, Lissie Lends[y], Dear welcom to me; Ye’s be Lady Carnusie, An gett Donal, my son.’ 226[H.20] Out came Donald’s mother, An four-an-tuenty her we: ‘Ye’r welcom, my son, An that fair creatur ye we.’

227A: Bonny Lizie Baillie

227A.1 It fell about the Lambmass tide, When the leaves were fresh and green, Lizie Bailie is to Gartartain [gane], To see her sister Jean. 227A.2 She had not been in Gartartain Even but a little while Till luck and fortune happend her, And she went to the Isle. 227A.3 And when she went into the Isle She met with Duncan Grahame; So bravely as he courted her! And he convoyd her hame. 227A.4 ‘My bonny Lizie Bailie, I’ll row thee in my pladie, If thou will go along with me And be my Highland lady.’ 227A.5 ‘If I would go along with thee, I think I were not wise; For I cannot milk cow nor ewe, Nor yet can I speak Erse.’ 227A.6 ‘Hold thy tongue, bonny Lizie Bailie, And hold thy tongue,’ said he; ‘For any thing that thou does lack, My dear, I’ll learn thee.’ 227A.7 She would not have a Lowland laird, He wears the high-heeld shoes; She will marry Duncan Grahame, For Duncan wears his trews. 227A.8 She would not have a gentleman, A farmer in Kilsyth, But she would have the Highland man, He lives into Monteith. 227A.9 She would not have the Lowland man, Nor yet the English laddie, But she would have the Highland man, To row her in his pladie. 227A.10 He took her by the milk-white hand, And he convoyed her hame, And still she thought, both night and day, On bonny Duncan Grahame. 227A.11 ‘O bonny Duncan Grahame, Why should ye me miscarry? For, if you have a love for me, We’ll meet a[t] Castle Carry. 227A.12 ‘As I came in by Dennie bridge, And by the holland-bush, My mother took from me my cloaths, My rings, ay and my purse. 227A.13 ‘Hold your tongue, my mother dear, For that I do not care; For I will go with Duncan Grahame Tho I should ner get mair. 227A.14 ‘For first when I met Duncan Grahame I met with meikle joy, And many pretty Highland men Was there at my convoy.’ 227A.15 And now he is gone through the muir, And she is through the glen: ‘O bonny Lizie Bailie, When will we meet again!’ 227A.17 Shame light on these logerheads That lives in Castle Carry, That let away the bonny lass The Highland man to marry! 227A.16 ‘O bonny Lizie, stay at home! Thy mother cannot want thee; For any thing that thou does lack, My dear, I’ll cause get thee.’ 227A.18 ‘I would not give my Duncan Grahame For all my father’s land, Although he had three lairdships more, And all at my command.’ 227A.19 And she’s cast off her silken gowns, That she weard in the Lowland, And she’s up to the Highland hills, To wear [the] gowns of tartain. 227A.20 And she’s cast off her high-heeld shoes, Was made of the gilded leather, And she’s up to Gillecrankie, To go among the heather. 227A.21 And she’s cast off her high-heeld shoes, And put on a pair of laigh ones, And she’s away with Duncan Grahame, To go among the brachans. 227A.22 ‘O my bonny Lizie Bailie, Thy mother cannot want thee; And if thou go with Duncan Grahame Thou’ll be a Gilliecrankie.’ 227A.23 ‘Hold your tongue, my mother dear, And folly let thee be; Should I not fancie Duncan Grahame When Duncan fancies me? 227A.24 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear, And folly let thee be; For I will go with Duncan Grahame Fore all the men I see.’ 227A.25 ‘Who is it that’s done this turn? Who has done this deed?’ ‘A minister it’s, father,’ she says, ‘Lives at the Rughburn bridge.’ 227A.26 ‘A minister, daughter?’ he says, ‘A minister for mister!’ ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear, He married first my sister.’ 227A.27 ‘O fare you well, my daughter dear, So dearly as I lovd thee! Since thou wilt go to Duncan Grahame, My bonny Lizie Bailie.’ 227A.28 ‘O fare you well, my father dear, Also my sister Betty; O fare you well, my mother dear, I leave you all compleatly.’

228A: Glasgow Peggie

228A.1 ‘AS I cam in by Glasgow town, The Highland troops were a’ before me, And the bonniest lass that eer I saw, She lives in Glasgow, they ca her Peggie. 228A.2 ‘I wad gie my bonnie black horse, So wad I my gude grey naigie, If I were twa hundred miles in the north, And nane wi me but my bonnie Peggie.’ 228A.3 Up then spak her father dear, Dear wow! but he was wondrous sorrie; ‘Weel may ye steal a cow or a yowe, But ye dare nae steal my bonnie Peggie.’ 228A.4 Up then spak her mother dear, Dear wow! but she spak wondrous sorrie; Now since I have brought ye up this length, Wad ye gang awa wi a Highland fellow?’ 228A.5 He set her on his bonnie black horse, He set himsel on his gude grey naigie, And they have ridden oer hills and dales, And he’s awa wi his bonnie Peggie. 228A.6 They have ridden oer hills and dales, They have ridden oer mountains many, Until they cam to a low, low glen, And there he’s lain down wi his bonnie Peggie. 228A.7 Up then spak the Earl of Argyle, Dear wow! but he spak wondrous sorrie; ‘The bonniest lass in a’ Scotland Is off and awa wi a Highland fellow!’ 228A.8 Their bed was of the bonnie green grass, Their blankets war o the hay sae bonnie; He folded his philabeg below her head, And he’s lain down wi his bonnie Peggie. 228A.9 Up then spak the bonny Lowland lass, And wow! but she spak wondrous sorrie; ‘I’se warrant my mither wad hae a gay sair heart To see me lien here wi you, my Willie.’ 228A.10 ‘In my father’s house there’s feather-beds, Feather-beds, and blankets mony; They’re a’ mine, and they’ll sune be thine, And what needs your mither be sae sorrie, Peggie? 228A.11 ‘Dinna you see yon nine score o kye, Feeding on yon hill sae bonnie? They’re a’ mine, and they’ll sune be thine, And what needs your mither be sorrie, Peggie? 228A.12 ‘Dinna you see yon nine score o sheep, Feeding on yon brae sae bonnie? They’re a’ mine, and they’ll sune be thine, And what needs your mither be sorrie for ye? 228A.13 ‘Dinna ye see yon bonnie white house, Shining on yon brae sae bonnie? And I am the Earl of the Isle of Skye, And surely my Peggie will be ca’d a lady.’

228B: Glasgow Peggie

228B.1 THE Lawland lads think they are fine, But the Hieland lads are brisk and gaucy, And they are awa, near Glasgow toun, To steal awa a bonnie lassie. 228B.2 ‘I wad gie my gude brown steed, And sae wad I my gude grey naigie, That I war fifty miles frae the toun, And nane wi me but my bonnie Peggy.’ 228B.3 But up then spak the auld gudman, And vow! but he spak wondrous saucie; ‘Ye may steal awa our cows and ewes, But ye sanna get our bonnie lassie.’ 228B.4 ‘I have got cows and ewes anew, I’ve got gowd and gear already; Sae I dinna want your cows nor ewes, But I will hae your bonnie Peggy.’ 228B.5 ‘I’ll follow you oure moss and muir, I’ll follow you oure mountains many, I’ll follow you through frost and snaw, I’ll stay na langer wi my daddie.’ 228B.6 He set her on a gude brown steed, Himself upon a gude grey naigie; They’re oure hills, and oure dales, And he’s awa wi his bonnie Peggy. 228B.7 As they rade out by Glasgow toun, And doun by the hills o Achildounie, There they met the Earl of Hume, And his auld son, riding bonnie. 228B.8 Out bespak the Earl of Hume, And O! but he spak wondrous sorry; ‘The bonniest lass about a’ Glasgow toun This day is awa wi a Hieland laddie!’ 228B.9 As they rade bye auld Drymen toun, The lasses leuch and lookit saucy, That the bonniest lass they ever saw Sud be riding awa wi a Hieland laddie. 228B.10 They rode on through moss and muir, And so did they owre mountains many, Until that they cam to yonder glen, And she’s lain doun wi her Hieland laddie. 228B.11 Gude green hay was Peggy’s bed, And brakens war her blankets bonnie, Wi his tartan plaid aneath her head; And she’s lain doun wi her Hieland laddie. 228B.12 ‘There’s beds and bowsters in my father’s house, There’s sheets and blankets, and a’ thing ready, And wadna they be angry wi me, To see me lie sae wi a Hieland laddie!’ 228B.13 ‘Tho there’s beds and beddin in your father’s house, Sheets and blankets, and a’ made ready, Yet why sud they be angry wi thee, Though I be but a Hieland laddie? 228B.14 ‘It’s I hae fifty acres of land, It’s a’ plowd and sawn already; I am Donald, the Lord of Skye, And why sud na Peggy be calld a lady? 228B.15 ‘I hae fifty gude milk kye, A’ tied to the staws already; I am Donald, the Lord of Skye, And why sud na Peggy be calld a lady? 228B.16 ‘See ye no a’ yon castles and towrs? The sun sheens owre them a sae bonnie; I am Donald, the Lord of Skye, I think I’ll mak ye as blythe as onie.’ 228B.17 A’ that Peggy left behind Was a cot-house and a wee kail-yardie; Now I think she is better by far Than tho she had got a Lawland lairdie.

228C: Glasgow Peggie

228C.* * * * ‘HE set her on his bonnie black horse, He set himsel on his gude grey naigie; He has ridden over hills, he has ridden over dales, And he’s quite awa wi my bonny Peggy. 228C.2 ‘Her brow it is brent and her middle it is jimp, Her arms are long and her fingers slender; One sight of her eyes makes my very heart rejoice, And wae’s my heart that we should sunder!’ 228C.3 His sheets were of the good green hay, His blankets were of the brackens bonnie; He’s laid his trews beneath her head, And she’s lain down wi her Highland laddie. 228C.4 ‘I am my mother’s ae daughter, And she had nae mair unto my daddie, And this night she would have a sore, sore heart For to see me lye down with a Highland laddie.’ 228C.5 ‘Ye are your mother’s ae daughter, And she had nae mae unto your daddie; This night she need not have a sore, sore heart For to see you lie down with a Highland laddie. 228C.6 ‘I have four-and-twenty acres of land, It is ploughed, it is sown, and is always ready, And you shall have servants at your command; And why should you slight a Highland laddie? 228C.7 ‘I have four-and-twenty good milk-kye, They are feeding on yon meadow bonnie; Besides, I have both lambs and ewes, Going low in the haughs o Galla water. 228C.8 ‘My house it stands on yon hill-side, My broadsword, durk, and bow is ready, And you shall have servants at your command; And why may not Peggy be called a lady?’

228D: Glasgow Peggie

228D.1 A BONNY laddie brisk and gay, A handsome youth sae brisk and gaddie, And he is on to Glasgow town, To steal awa his bonny Peggy. 228D.2 When he came into Glasgow town, Upon her father’s green sae steady, ‘Come forth, come forth, old man,’ he says, ‘For I am come for bonny Peggy.’ 228D.3 Out it spake her father then; ‘Begone from me, ye Highland laddie; There’s nane in a’ the West Country Dare steal from me my bonny Peggy.’ 228D.4 ‘I’ve ten young men all at my back, That ance to me were baith true and steady; If ance I call, they’ll soon be nigh, And bring to me my bonny Peggy.’ 228D.5 Out it spake her mother then, Dear! but she spake wondrous saucy; Says, Ye may steal a cow or ewe, But I’ll keep sight o my ain lassie. 228D.6 ‘Hold your tongue, old woman,’ he says, ‘Ye think your wit it is fu ready; For cow nor ewe I ever stole, But I will steal your bonny Peggy.’ 228D.7 Then all his men they boldly came, That was to him baith true and steady, And thro the ha they quickly went, And forth they carried bonny Peggy. 228D.8 Her father gae mony shout and cry, Her mother cursed the Highland laddie; But he heard them as he heard them not, But fixd his eye on bonny Peggy. 228D.9 He set her on his milk-white steed, And he himsell on his grey naigie; Still along the way they rode, And he’s awa wi bonny Peggy. 228D.10 Says, I wad gie baith cow and ewe, And sae woud I this tartan plaidie, That I was far into the north, And alang wi me my bonny Peggy. 228D.11 As they rode down yon pleasant glen, For trees and brambles were right mony, There they met the Earl o Hume, And his young son, were riding bonny. 228D.12 Then out it spake the young Earl Hume, Dear! but he spake wondrous gaudie; ‘I’m wae to see sae fair a dame Riding alang wi a Highland laddie.’ 228D.13 ‘Hold you tongue, ye young Earl Hume, O dear! but ye do speak right gaudie; There’s nae a lord in a’ the south Dare eer compete wi a Highland laddie.’ 228D.14 Then he rade five miles thro the north, Thro mony hills sae rough and scroggie, Till they came down to a low glen, And he lay down wi bonny Peggy. 228D.15 Then he inclosed her in his arms, And rowd her in his tartan plaidie: ‘There are blankets and sheets in my father’s house, How have I lien down wi a Highland laddie!’ 228D.16 Says he, There are sheep in my father’s fauld, And every year their wool is ready; By the same our debts we pay, Altho I be but a Highland laddie. 228D.17 ‘There are fifty cows in my father’s byre, That all are tyed to the stakes and ready, Five thousand pounds I hae ilk year, Altho I be but a Highland laddie. 228D.18 ‘My father has fifty well shod horse, Besides your steed and my grey naigie; I’m Donald o the Isle o Sky, Why may not you be ca’d a lady? 228D.19 ‘See ye not yon fine castle, On yonder hill that stands sae gaudie? And there we’ll win this very night, Where ye’ll enjoy your Highland laddie.’

228E: Glasgow Peggie

228E.1 THE Hielan lads sae brisk and braw, The Hielan lads sae brisk and gaudie, Hae gane awa to Glasgow town, To steal awa the bonny Peggy. 228E.2 As they came on to Glasgow town, And passd the banks and braes sae bonny, There they espied the weel-faurd may, And she said to them her name was Peggy. 228E.3 Their chief did meet her father soon, And O! but he was wondrous angry; Says, Ye may steal my owsen and kye, But ye maunna steal my bonnie Peggy. 228E.4 ‘O haud your tongue, ye gude auld man, For I’ve got cows and ewes already; I come na to steal your owsen and kye, But I will steal your bonny Peggy.’ 228E.5 He set her on a milk-white steed, And he himsel rode a gude grey naigie, And they are on mony miles to the north, And nane wi them but the bonny Peggy. 228E.6 ‘I hae fifty acres o gude red lan, And a’ weel ploughd and sawn already, And why should your father be angry wi me, And ca me naething but a Hielan laddie? 228E.7 ‘I hae twenty weel mounted steeds, Black and brown and grey, already; And ilk ane o them is tended by a groom, Altho I be but a Hielan laddie. 228E.8 ‘I hae now ten thousand sheep, A’ feeding on yon braes sae bonny, And ilka hundred a shepherd has, Altho I be but a Hieland laddie. 228E.9 ‘I hae a castle on yonder hill, It’s a’ set roun wi windows many; I’m Lord M’Donald o the whole Isle of Skye; And why shouldna Peggy be ca’d my Lady?’ 228E.10 Now a’ that Peggy had before Was a wee cot-house and a little kail-yairdie, But now she is lady o the whole Isle o Skye, And now bonny Peggy is ca’d my Lady.

228F: Glasgow Peggie

 
 228F.1	 THE young Maclean is brisk and bauld,
 	 The young Maclean is rash an ready,
 	 An he is to the Lowlands gane,
 	 To steal awa a bonnie ladye.
 	 * * * * *
 228F.2	 Out an spak her auld father,
 	 An O! but he spak wondrous angry;
 	 ‘Ye may steal my cows an ewes,
 	 But ye shall not steal my dochter Peggie.’
 228F.3	 ‘O haud your tongue, ye gude auld man,
 	 For I hae gear enough already;
 	 I cum na for your cows an ewes,
 	 But I cum for your dochter Peggie.’
 228F.4	 He set her on a milk-white steed,
 	 Himsel upon a gude gray naggie,
 	 An they are to the Highlands gane,
 	 The young Maclean an his bonnie ladye.

228[G]: Glasgow Peggie

228[G].1 It was on a day, and a fine summer’s day, When the Lowlands they were making ready, There I espied a weel-far’d lass, She was gaun to Glasgow, and they ca her Peggy. 228[G.2] It’s up then spak a silly auld man, And O but he spak wondrous poorly! Sayin, Ye may steal awa my cows and my ewes, But ye’ll never steal awa my bonny Peggy. 228[G.3] ‘O haud yer tongue, ye silly auld man, For ye hae said eneugh already, For I’ll never steal awa yer cows and yer ewes, But I’ll steal awa yer bonny Peggy.’ 228[G.4] So he mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himsel upon a wee grey naigie, And they hae ridden ower hill and dale, And over moors and mosses many. 228[G.5] They rade till they cam to the head o yon glen, It might hae frightened anybody; He said, Whether will ye go alongst with me, Or will ye return back again to your mammie? * * * * * 228[G.6] Their bed was o the green, green grass, And their blankets o the bracken sae bonnie, And he’s laid his trews beneath their head, And Peggy’s lain doun wi her Heilan laddie. 228[G.7] They lay till it cam to the break o day, Then up they rose and made them ready; He said, Whether will ye go alongst with me, Or will ye return back again to your mammie? 228[G.8] ‘I’ll follow you through frost and snow, I’ll follow your through dangers many, And wherever ye go I will go alongst with you, For I’ll never return back again to my mammie.’ 228[G.9] ‘I hae four-and-twenty gude milk-kye, They’re a’ bun in yon byre sae bonny, And I am the earl o the Isle o Skye, And why should not Peggy be called a lady? 228[G.10] ‘I hae fifty acres o gude land, A’ ploughed ower and sawn sae bonny, And I am young Donald o the Isle o Skye, And wherever I’m laird I’ll make ye lady.’

229A: Earl Crawford

229A.1 O WE were sisters, sisters seven, We were a comely crew to see, And some got lairds, and some got lords, And some got knichts o his degree; And I mysel got the Earl o Crawford, And wasna that a great match for me! 229A.2 It was at fifteen that I was married, And at sixteen I had a son; And wasna that an age ower tender For a lady to hae her first-born! And wasna, etc. 229A.3 But it fell ance upon a day I gaed into the garden green, And naebody was therein walking But Earl Crawford and his young son. 229A.4 ‘I wonder at you, ye Earl Crawford, I wonder at you wi your young son; Ye daut your young son mair than your Lillie; [I’m sure you got na him your lane.’] 229A.5 [He turned about upon his heel, I wite an angry man was he; Says, If I got nae my young son my lane, Bring me here the one that helpet me.] 229A.6 [‘O hold your tongue, my Earl Crawford, And a’ my folly lat it be; There was nane at the gettin o oor son, Nae body only but you and me.’] 229A.7 He set her on a milk-white steed, Her little young son her before; Says, Ye maun gae to bonny Stobha, For ye will enter my yates no more. 229A.8 When she cam to her father’s bowers, She lichtit low down on the stane, And wha sae ready as her auld father To welcome Lady Lillie in? 229A.9 ‘O how’s a’ wi you, my daughter Lillie, That ye come here sae hastilie? And how’s a’ wi’ the Earl o Crawford, That he didna send a boy wi thee?’ 229A.10 ‘O haud your tongue now, my old father, And ye’ll lat a’ your folly be; For ae word that my merry mou spak Has parted my good lord and me.’ 229A.11 ‘O haud your tongue, my daughter Lillie, And a’ your follies lat them be; I’ll double your portion ten times ower, And a better match I’ll get for thee.’ 229A.12 ‘O haud your tongue now, my old father, And a’ your folly lat it be; I wouldna gie ae kiss o Crawford For a’ the goud that ye can gie. 229A.13 ‘Whare will I get a bonny boy, That’s willin to win meat and fee, Wha will gae on to Earl Crawford An see an’s heart be fawn to me?’ 229A.14 When he cam to the yates o Crawford, They were a’ sitting down to dine: ‘How comes it now, ye Earl Crawford, Ye arena takin Lady Lillie hame?’ 229A.15 ‘Ye may gae tell her Lady Lillie, And ye maun neither lee nor len, She may stay in her father’s bowers, For she’ll not enter my yates again.’ 229A.16 When he cam back to her father’s yates, He lichtit low down on his knee: ‘What news, what news, my bonny boy? What news, what news hae ye to me?’ 229A.17 ‘I’m bidden tell you, Lady Lillie-+--+- I’m bidden neither to lee nor len-+--+- She may stay in her father’s bowers, For she’ll not enter my yates again.’ 229A.18 She stretched out her lily hand, Says, ‘Adieu, adieu to ane and a! Adieu, adieu to Earl Crawford!’ Wi that her sair heart brak in twa. 229A.19 Then dowie, dowie her father raise up, And dowie, dowie the black put on, And dowie, dowie he mounted the brown, And dowie, dowie sat thereon. 229A.20 And dowie rade to the yates o Crawford, And when to Crawford’s yates he came, They were a’ dressd in the robes o scarlet, Just gaun to tak Lady Lillie hame. 229A.21 ‘Ye may cast aff your robes o scarlet-+--+- I wyte they set you wondrous weel-+--+- And now put on the black sae dowie, And come and bury your Lady Lill.’ 229A.22 He took his hat into his hand, And laid it low down by his knee: ‘An it be true that Lillie’s dead, The sun shall nae mair shine on me.’

229B: Earl Crawford

229B.1 O WE were seven bonny sisters, As fair women as fair could be, And some got lairds, and some got lords, And some got knights o high degree: When I was married to Earl Crawford, This was the fate befell to me. 229B.2 When we had been married for some time, We walked in our garden green, And aye he clappd his young son’s head, And aye he made sae much o him. 229B.3 I turnd me right and round about, And aye the blythe blink in my ee: ‘Ye think as much o your young son As ye do o my fair body. 229B.4 ‘What need ye clap your young son’s head? What need ye make so much o him? What need ye clap your young son’s head? I’m sure ye gotna him your lane.’ 229B.5 ‘O if I gotna him my lane, Show here the man that help d me; And for these words your ain mouth spoke Heir o my land he neer shall be.’ 229B.6 He calld upon his stable-groom To come to him right speedilie: ‘Gae saddle a steed to Lady Crawford, Be sure ye do it hastilie. 229B.7 ‘His bridle gilt wi gude red gowd, That it may glitter in her ee; And send her on to bonny Stobha, All her relations for to see.’ 229B.8 Her mother lay oer the castle wa, And she beheld baith dale and down, And she beheld her Lady Crawford, As she came riding to the town. 229B.9 ‘Come here, come here, my husband dear, This day ye see not what I see; For here there comes her Lady Crawford, Riding alane upon the lee.’ 229B.10 When she came to her father’s yates, She tirled gently at the pin: ‘If ye sleep, awake, my mother dear, Ye’ll rise lat Lady Crawford in.’ 229B.11 ‘What news, what news, ye Lady Crawford, That ye come here so hastilie?’ ‘Bad news, bad news, my mother dear, For my gude lord’s forsaken me.’ 229B.12 ‘O wae’s me for you, Lady Crawford, This is a dowie tale to me; Alas! you were too young married To thole sic cross and misery.’ 229B.13 ‘O had your tongue, my mother dear, And ye’ll lat a’ your folly be; It was a word my merry mouth spake That sinderd my gude lord and me.’ 229B.14 Out it spake her brither then, Aye as he stept ben the floor: ‘My sister Lillie was but eighteen years When Earl Crawford ca’ed her a whore. 229B.15 ‘But had your tongue, my sister dear, And ye’ll lat a’ your mourning bee; I’ll wed you to as fine a knight, That is nine times as rich as hee.’ 229B.16 ‘O had your tongue, my brither dear, And ye’ll lat a’ your folly bee; I’d rather yae kiss o Crawford’s mouth Than a’ his gowd and white monie. 229B.17 ‘But saddle to me my riding-steed, And see him saddled speedilie, And I will on to Earl Crawford’s, And see if he will pity me.’ 229B.18 Earl Crawford lay o’er castle wa, And he beheld baith dale and down, And he beheld her lady Crawford, As she came riding to the town. 229B.19 He called ane o his livery men To come to him right speedilie: ‘Gae shut my yates, gae steek my doors, Keep Lady Crawford out frae me.’ 229B.20 When she came to Earl Crawford’s yates, She tirled gently at the pin: ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Earl Crawford, Ye’ll open, lat Lady Crawford in. 229B.21 ‘Come down, come down, O Earl Crawford, And speak some comfort unto me; And if ye winna come yoursell, Ye’ll send your gentleman to me.’ 229B.22 ‘Indeed I winna come mysell, Nor send my gentleman to thee; For I tauld you when we did part Nae mair my spouse ye’d ever bee.’ 229B.23 She laid her mouth then to the yates, And aye the tears drapt frae her ee; Says, Fare ye well, Earl Crawford’s yates, You again I’ll nae mair see. 229B.24 Earl Crawford calld on his stable-groom To come to him right speedilie, And sae did he his waiting-man, That did attend his fair bodie. 229B.25 ‘Ye will gae saddle for me my steed, And see and saddle him speedilie, And I’ll gang to the Lady Crawford, And see if she will pity me.’ 229B.26 Lady Crawford lay oer castle-wa, And she beheld baith dale and down, And she beheld him Earl Crawford, As he came riding to the town. 229B.27 Then she has calld ane o her maids To come to her right speedilie: ‘Gae shut my yates, gae steek my doors, Keep Earl Crawford out frae me.’ 229B.28 When he came to Lady Crawford’s yates, He tirled gently at the pin: ‘Sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Crawford, Ye’ll rise and lat Earl Crawford in. 229B.29 ‘Come down, come down, O Lady Crawford, Come down, come down, and speak wi me; And gin ye winna come yoursell, Ye’ll send your waiting-maid to me.’ 229B.30 ‘Indeed I winna come mysell, Nor send my waiting-maid to thee; Sae take your ain words hame again At Crawford castle ye tauld me. 229B.31 ‘O mother dear, gae make my bed, And ye will make it saft and soun, And turn my face unto the west, That I nae mair may see the sun.’ 229B.32 Her mother she did make her bed, And she did make it saft and soun; True were the words fair Lillie spake, Her lovely eyes neer saw the sun. 229B.33 The Earl Crawford mounted his steed, Wi sorrows great he did ride hame; But ere the morning sun appeard This fine lord was dead and gane. 229B.34 Then on ae night this couple died, And baith were buried in ae tomb: Let this a warning be to all, Their pride may not bring them low down.

230A: The Slaughter of the Laird of Mellerstain

 
 230A.1	 . . . .
 	 As they came in by the Eden side,
 	 They heard a lady lamenting sair,
 	 Bewailing the time she was a bride.
 230A.2	 . . . .
 	 A stately youth of blude and lane,
 	 . . . .
 	 John Hately, the laird of Mellerstain.
 230A.3	 ‘Cowdenknows, had ye nae lack?
 	 And Earlstoun, had ye nae shame?
 	 Ye took him away beside my back,
 	 But ye never saw to bring him hame.’
 230A.4	 And she has lookit to Fieldiesha,
 	 So has she through Yirdandstane;
 	 She lookit to Earlstoun, and she saw the Fans,
 	 But he’s coming hame by West Gordon.
 230A.5	 And she staggerd and she stood,
 230A.6	 . . . . . . .
 	 . . . . .  wude;
 	 How can I keep in my wits,
 	 When I look on my husband’s blood?’
 230A.7	 ‘Had we been men as we are women,
 	 And been at his back when he was slain,
 	 It should a been tauld for mony a lang year,
 	 The slaughter o the laird of Mellerstain.’

231A: The Earl of Errol

231A.1 THERE was a jury sat at Perth, In the merry month of May, Betwixt the noble Duke of Perth But and Sir Gilbert Hay. 231A.2 My lord Kingside has two daughters, They are proper, straight and tall; But my lord Carnegie he has two That far excells them all. 231A.3 Then Errol he has dressd him, As very well he could; I’m sure there was not one cloth-yard But what was trimmed with gold. 231A.4 ‘Ane asking, ane asking, my lord Carnegie, Ane asking I’ve to thee; I’m come to court your daughter Jean, My wedded wife to be.’ 231A.5 ‘My daughter Jean was wed yestreen, To one of high degree, But where Jean got one guinea of gold With Kate I’ll give thee three. 231A.6 ‘Full fifteen hundred pounds Had Jean Carnegie, But three fifteen hundred pounds With Kate I’ll gie to thee.’ 231A.7 Then Errol he has wed her, And fairly brought her hame; There was nae peace between them twa Till they sundered oer again. 231A.8 When bells were rung, and mess was sung, And a’ man bound to bed, The Earl of Errol and his countess In one chamber was laid. 231A.9 Early in the morning My lord Carnegie rose, The Earl of Errol and his countess, And they’ve put on their clothes. 231A.10 Up spake my lord Carnegie; ‘Kate, is your toucher won?’ ‘Ye may ask the Earl of Errol, If he be your good-son. 231A.11 ‘What need I wash my petticoat And hing it on a pin? For I am as leal a maid yet As yestreen when I lay down. 231A.12 ‘What need I wash my apron And hing it on the door? It’s baith side and wide enough, Hangs even down before.’ 231A.13 Up spake my lord Carnegie; ‘O Kate, what do ye think? We’ll beguile the Earl of Errol As lang as he’s in drink.’ 231A.14 ‘O what will ye beguile him wi? Or what will ye do than? I’ll swear before a justice-court That he’s no a sufficient man.’ 231A.15 Then Errol he cam down the stair, As bold as oney rae: ‘Go saddle to me my Irish coach, To Edinbro I’ll go.’ 231A.16 When he came to Edinbro, He lighted on the green; There were four-and-twenty maidens A’ dancing in a ring. 231A.17 There were four-and-twenty maidens A’ dancing in a row; The fatest and the fairest To bed wi him must go. 231A.18 He’s taen his Peggy by the hand, And he led her thro the green, And twenty times he kissd her there, Before his ain wife’s een. 231A.19 He’s taen his Peggy by the hand, And he’s led her thro the hall, And twenty times he’s kissd her there, Before his nobles all. 231A.20 ‘Look up, look up, my Peggy lass, Look up, and think nae shame; Ten hundred pounds I’ll gie to you To bear to me a son.’ 231A.21 He’s keepit his Peggy in his room Three quarter of a year, And just at the nine months’ end She a son to him did bear. 231A.22 ‘Now if ye be Kate Carnegie, And I Sir Gilbert Hay, I’ll make your father sell his lands Your toucher for to pay.’ 231A.23 ‘To make my father sell his lands, It wad be a great sin, To toucher oney John Sheephead That canna toucher win.’ 231A.24 ‘Now hold your tongue, ye whorish bitch, Sae loud as I hear ye lie! For yonder sits Lord Errol’s son, Upon his mother’s knee; For yonder sits Lord Errol’s son, Altho he’s no by thee.’ 231A.25 ‘You may take hame your daughter Kate, And set her on the glen; For Errol canna please her, Nor nane o Errol’s men; For Errol canna please her, Nor twenty of his men.’ 231A.26 The ranting and the roving, The thing we a’ do ken, The lady lost her right that night, The first night she lay down; And the thing we ca the ranting o ’t, The lady lies her lane.

231B: The Earl of Errol

231B.1 EARELL is a bonny place, It stands upon yon plain; The greatest faut about the place Earell’s no a man. What ye ca the danting o ’t, According as ye ken, For the pearting . . . Lady Earell lyes her lane. 231B.2 Earell is a bonny place, It stands upon yon plain; The roses they graw red an white, An apples they graw green. 231B.3 ‘What need I my apron wash An hing upon yon pin? For lang will I gae out an in Or I hear my bairnie’s din. 231B.4 ‘What need I my apron wash An hing upo yon door? For side and wide is my petticoat, An even down afore. 231B.5 ‘But I will lace my stays again, My middle jimp an sma; I’l gae a’ my days a maiden, [Awa], Earell, awa!’ 231B.6 It fell ance upon a day Lord Earell Went to hunt him lane, . . . . . . . 231B.7 He was na a mile fra the town, Nor yet sae far awa, Till his lady is on to Edinburgh, To try hir all the law. 231B.8 Little did Lord Earell think, Whan he sat down to dine, That his lady was on to Edinburgh, Nor what was in her mind. 231B.9 Till his best servant came For to lat him ken . . . . . . . 231B.10 She was na in at the toun-end, Nor yet sae far awa, Till Earell was at her back, His gaudy locks to sha. 231B.11 She was na in at the loan-head, Nor just at the end, Till Earell he was at her back, Her errand for to ken. 231B.12 As lang as they ca ye Kate Carnegie, An me Sir Gilbert Hay, I’s gar yer father sell Kinaird, Yer tocher for to pay.’ 231B.13 ‘For to gar my father sell Kinnaird, It wad be a sin, To gee it to ony naughty knight That a tocher canna win.’ 231B.14 Out spak the first lord, The best amang them a’; ‘I never seed a lady come Wi sick matters to the law.’ 231B.15 Out spak the neest lord, The best o the town; ‘Ye get fifteen well-fared maids, An put them in a roun, An Earell in the midst o them, An lat him chuse out ane.’ 231B.16 They ha gotten fifteen well-fared maids, An pit them in a roun, An Earell in the mids o them, An bad him chuse out ane. 231B.17 He viewed them a’ intill a raw, Even up and down, An he has chosen a well-fared may, An meggie was her name. 231B.18 He took her by the hand, Afore the nobles a’, An twenty times he kissed her mou, An led her thro the ha. 231B.19 ‘Look up, Megie, look up, Megie, [Look up,] an think na shame; As lang as ye see my gaudy locks, Lady Earell’s be yer name.’ 231B.20 There were fifteen noblemen, An as mony laides gay, To see Earell proven a man . . . . 231B.21 ‘Ye tak this well-fared may, And keep her three roun raiths o a year, An even at the three raiths’ end I sall draw near.’ 231B.22 They hae taen that well-fared may, An keepd her three roun raiths o a year, And even at the three raiths’ end Earell’s son she bare. 231B.23 The gentlemen they ga a shout, The ladies ga a caa, Fair mat fa him Earell! But ran to his lady. 231B.24 He was na in at the town-head, Nor just at the end, Till the letters they were waiting him That Earell had a son. 231B.25 ‘Look up, Meggie, look up, Meggie, [Look up,] an think na shame; As lang as ye see my bra black hat, Lady Earell’s be yer name. 231B.26 ‘I will gie my Meggie a mill, But an a piece o land, . . . . To foster my young son. 231B.27 ‘Faur is a’ my merry men a’, That I pay meat an gaire, To convey my Meggy hame, . . . ?’ 231B.28 . . . . . . Even in Lord Earell’s coach They conveyed the lassie hame. 231B.29 ‘Take hame yer daughter, Lord Kinnaird, An take her to the glen, For Earell canna pleas her, Earell nor a’ his men.’ 231B.30 ‘Had I ben Lady Earell, Of sic a bonny place, I wad na gaen to Edinburgh My husband to disgrace.’

231C: The Earl of Errol

231C.1 ERROLL it’s a bonny place, It stands upon a plain; A bad report this ladie’s raisd, That Erroll is nae a man. 231C.2 But it fell ance upon a day Lord Erroll went frae hame, And he is on to the hunting gane, Single man alane. 231C.3 But he hadna been frae the town A mile but barely twa, Till his lady is on to Edinburgh, To gain him at the law. 231C.4 O Erroll he kent little o that Till he sat down to dine, And as he was at dinner set His servant loot him ken. 231C.5 ‘Now saddle to me the black, the black, Go saddle to me the brown, And I will on to Edinburgh, Her errands there to ken.’ 231C.6 She wasna well thro Aberdeen, Nor passd the well o Spa, Till Erroll he was after her, The verity to shaw. 231C.7 She wasna well in edinburgh, Nor even thro the town, Till Erroll he was after her, Her errands there to ken. 231C.8 When he came to the court-house, And lighted on the green, This lord was there in time enough To hear her thus compleen: 231C.9 ‘What needs me wash my apron, Or drie ’t upon a door? What needs I eek my petticoat, Hings even down afore? 231C.10 ‘What needs me wash my apron, Or hing it upon a pin? For lang will gang but and ben Or I hear my young son’s din.’ 231C.11 ‘They ca you Kate Carnegie,’ he says, ‘And my name’s Gilbert Hay; I’ll gar your father sell his land, Your tocher down to pay.’ 231C.12 ‘To gar my father sell his land For that would be a sin, To such a noughtless heir as you, That canno get a son.’ 231C.13 Then out it speaks him Lord Brechen, The best an lord ava; ‘I never saw a lady come Wi sic matters to the law.’ 231C.14 Then out it speaks another lord, The best in a’ the town; ‘Ye’ll wyle out fifeteen maidens bright Before Lord Erroll come:’ And he has chosen a tapster lass, And Meggie was her name. 231C.15 They kept up this fair maiden Three quarters of a year, And then at that three quarters’ end A young son she did bear. 231C.16 They hae gien to Meggie then Five ploughs but and a mill, And they hae gien her five hundred pounds, For to bring up her chill. 231C.17 There was no lord in Edinburgh But to Meggie gae a ring; And there was na a boy in a’ the town But on Katie had a sang. 231C.18 ‘Kinnaird, take hame your daughter, And set her to the glen, For Erroll canna pleasure her, Nor nane o Erroll’s men.’ 231C.19 Seven years on Erroll’s table There stand clean dish and speen, And every day the bell is rung, Cries, Lady, come and dine.

231D: The Earl of Errol

231D.1 O ERROLRR’rrS place is a bonny place, It stands upon yon plain; The flowers on it grow red and white, The apples red and green. The ranting o ’t and the danting o ’t, According as ye ken, The thing they ca the danting o ’t, Lady Errol lies her lane. 231D.2 O Errol’s place is a bonny place, It stands upon yon plain; But what’s the use of Errol’s place? He’s no like other men. 231D.3 ‘As I cam in by yon canal, And by yon bowling-green, I might hae pleased the best Carnegy That ever bore that name. 231D.4 ‘As sure ’s your name is Kate Carnegy, And mine is Gibbie Hay, I’ll gar your father sell his land, Your tocher for to pay.’ 231D.5 ‘To gar my father sell his land, Would it not be a sin, To give it to a naughtless lord That couldna get a son?’ 231D.6 Now she is on to Edinburgh, For to try the law, And Errol he has followed her, His manhood for to shaw. 231D.7 Then out it spake her sister, Whose name was Lady Jane; ‘Had I been Lady Errol,’ she says, ‘Or come of sic a clan, I would not in the public way Have sham’d my own gudeman.’ 231D.8 But Errol got it in his will To choice a maid himsel, And he has taen a country-girl, Came in her milk to sell. 231D.9 He took her by the milk-white hand, And led her up the green, And twenty times he kissd her there, Before his lady’s een. 231D.10 He took her by the milk-white hand, And led her up the stair; Says, Thrice three hundred pounds I’ll gie To you to bear an heir. 231D.11 He kept her there into a room Three quarters of a year, And when the three quarters were out A braw young son she bear. 231D.12 ‘Tak hame your daughter, Carnegy, And put her till a man, For Errol he cannot please her, Nor any of his men.’

231E: The Earl of Errol

231E.1 O ERROL it’s a bonny place, It stands in yonder glen; The lady lost the rights of it The first night she gaed hame. A waly and a waly! According as ye ken, The thing we ca the ranting o ’t, Our lady lies her lane, O. 231E.2 ‘What need I wash my apron, Or hing it on yon door? What need I truce my petticoat? It hangs even down before.’ 231E.3 Errol’s up to Edinburgh gaen, That bonny burrows-town; He has chusit the barber’s daughter, The top of a’ that town. 231E.4 He has taen her by the milk-white hand, He has led her through the room, And twenty times he’s kisst her, Before his lady’s een. 231E.5 ‘Look up, look up now, Peggy, Look up, and think nae shame, For I’ll gie thee five hundred pound, To buy to thee a gown. 231E.6 ‘Look up, look up, now, Peggy, Look up, and think nae shame, For I’ll gie thee five hundred pound To bear to me a son. 231E.7 ‘As thou was Kate Carnegie, And I Sir Gilbert Hay, I’ll gar your father sell his lands, Your tocher-gude to pay. 231E.8 ‘Now he may take her back again, Do wi her what he can, For Errol canna please her, Nor ane o a’ his men.’ 231E.9 ‘Go fetch to me a pint of wine, Go fill it to the brim, That I may drink my gude lord’s health, Tho Errol be his name.’ 231E.10 She has taen the glass into her hand, She has putten poison in, She has signd it to her dorty lips, But neer a drop went in. 231E.11 Up then spake a little page, He was o Errol’s kin; ‘Now fie upon ye, lady gay, There’s poison there within. 231E.12 ‘It’s hold your hand now, Kate,’ she says, ‘Hold it back again, For Errol winna drink on ’t, Nor none o a’ his men.’ 231E.13 She has taen the sheets into her arms, She has thrown them oer the wa: ‘Since I maun gae maiden hame again, Awa, Errol, awa!’ 231E.14 She’s down the back o the garden, And O as she did murne! ‘How can a workman crave his wage, When he never wrought a turn?’

231F: The Earl of Errol

 
 231F.1	 O ERROLL is a bonny place,
 	 And stands upon yon plane,
 	 But the lady lost the rights o it
 	 Yestreen or she came hame.
 231F.2	 O Erroll is a bonny place,
 	 And lyes forenent the sun,
 	 And the apples they grow red and white,
 	 And peers o bonny green.
 231F.3	 ‘I nedna wash my apron,
 	 Nor hing it on the door;
 	 But I may tuck my petticoat,
 	 Hangs even down before.
 231F.4	 ‘Oh, Erroll, Erroll,
 	 Oh, Erroll if ye ken,
 	 Why should I love Erroll,
 	 Or any of his men?’
 231F.5	 She’s turned her right and round about,
 	 Poured out a glass o wine;
 	 Says, I will drink to my true love,
 	 He’ll drink to me again.
 231F.6	 O Erroll stud into the fleer,
 	 He was an angry man:
 	 ‘See here it is a good gray-hun,
 	 We’ll try what is the run.’
 231F.7	 Then Erroll stud into the fleer,
 	 Steered neither ee nor bree,
 	 Till that he saw his good gray-hun
 	 Was burst and going free.
 231F.8	 ‘But ye are Kate Carnegie,’ he said,
 	 ‘And I am Sir Gilbert Hay;
 	 I’se gar your father sell Kinnaird,
 	 Your tocher-good to pay.’
 231F.9	 Now she is on to Edinburgh,
 	 A’ for to use the law,
 	 And brave Erroll has followed her,
 	 His yellow locks to sheu.
 231F.10	 Out and spak her sister Jean,
 	 And an angry woman was she;
 	 ‘If I were lady of Erroll,
 	 And hed as fair a face,
 	 I would no go to Edinburgh,
 	 My good lord to disgrace.’

232A: Richie Story

232A.1 THE Earl of Wigton had three daughters, Oh and a waly, but they were unco bonnie! The eldest of them had the far brawest house, But she’s fallen in love with her footman-laddie. 232A.2 As she was a walking doun by yon river-side, Oh and a wally, but she was unco bonnie! There she espied her own footman, With ribbons hanging over his shoulders sae bonnie. 232A.3 ‘Here’s a letter to you, madame, Here’s a letter to you, madame; The Earl of Hume is waiting on, And he has his service to you, madame.’ 232A.4 ‘I’ll have none of his service,’ says she, ‘I’ll have none of his service,’ says she, ‘For I’ve made a vow, and I’ll keep it true, That I’ll marry none but you, Ritchie.’ 232A.5 ‘O say not so again, madame, O say not so again, madame; For I have neither lands nor rents For to keep you on, madam.’ 232A.6 ‘I’ll live where eer you please, Ritchie, I’ll live where eer you please, [Ritchie,] And I’ll be ready at your ca’, Either late or early, Ritchie.’ 232A.7 As they went in by Stirling toun, O and a wally, but she was unco bonnie! A’ her silks were sailing on the ground, But few of them knew of Ritchie Story. 232A.8 As they went in by the Parliament Close, O and a wally, but she was unco bonnie! All the nobles took her by the hand, But few of them knew she was Ritchie’s lady. 232A.9 As they came in by her goodmother’s yetts, O and a wally, but she was unco bonnie! Her goodmother bade her kilt her coats, And muck the byre with Ritchie Storie. 232A.10 ‘Oh, may not ye be sorry, madame, Oh, may not ye be sorry, madame, To leave a’ your lands at bonnie Cumbernaud, And follow home your footman-laddie?’ 232A.11 ‘What need I be sorry?’ says she, ‘What need I be sorry?’ says she, ‘For I’ve gotten my lot and my heart’s desire, And what Providence has ordered for me.’

232B: Richie Story

232B.1 COMARNAD is a very bonny place, And there is ladies three, madam, But the fairest and rairest o them a’ Has married Richard Storry. 232B.2 ‘O here is a letter to ye, madam, Here is a letter to ye, madam; The Earle of Hume, that gallant knight, Has fallen in love wi ye, madam.’ 232B.3 ‘There is a letter to ye, madam, [There is a letter to ye, madam;] That gallant knight, the Earl of Hume, Desires to be yer servan true, madam. 232B.4 ‘I’ll hae nane o his letters, Richard, I’ll hae nane o his letters, [Richard;] I hae voued, and will keep it true, I’ll marry nane but ye, Richie.’ 232B.5 ‘Say ne sae to me, lady, Say ne sae to me, [lady,] For I hae neither lands nor rents To mentain ye, lady.’ 232B.6 ‘Hunten Tour and Tillebarn, The House o Athol is mine, Richie, An ye sal hae them a’ Whan ere ye incline, Richie. 232B.7 ‘For we will gae to sea, Richie, I’ll sit upon the deck, Richie, And be your servant ere and late, At any hour ye like, [Richie.’] 232B.8 ‘O manna ye be sad, sister, An mann ye be sae sorry, To leave the house o bonny Comarnad, An follow Richard Storry?’ 232B.9 ‘O what neads I be sad, sister, An how can I be sorry? A bonny lad is my delit, And my lot has been laid afore me.’ 232B.10 As she went up the Parliament Close, Wi her laced shoon so fine, Many ane bad the lady good day, But few thought o Richard’s lady. 232B.11 As she gaed up the Parliament Close, Wi her laced shoon so fine, Mony ane hailed that gay lady, But few hailed Richard Storry.

232C: Richie Story

232C.1 THERE are three white hens i the green, madam, There are three white hens i the green, madam, But Richie Story he’s comd by, And he’s stollen away the fairest o them. 232C.2 ‘O are’int ye now sad, sister, O are’in[t] ye now sad, sister, To leave your bowers and your bony Skimmerknow, And follow the lad they call Richie Story?’ 232C.3 ‘O say that not again, sister, O say that not again, sister, For he is the lad that I love best, And he is the lot that has fallen to me.’ 232C.4 ‘O there’s a letter to thee, madam, O there’s a letter to thee, madam; The Earl of Hume and Skimmerjim, For to be sweethearts to thee, madam.’ 232C.5 ‘But I’ll hae none of them, Richie, But I’ll hae none of them, Richie, For I have made a vow, and I’ll keep it true, I’ll have none but Ric[h]ie Story.’ 232C.6 ‘O say not that again, madam, O say not that again, madam, For the Earl of Hume and Skimmerjim, They are men of high renown.’ 232C.7 ‘Musslebury’s mine, Richie, Musslebury’s mine, Richie, And a’ that’s mine it shall be thine, If you will marry me, Richie.’ 232C.8 As she went up through Glasgow city, Her gold watch was shining pretty; Many [a] lord bade her good day, But none thought she was a footman’s lady. 232C.9 As she went up through London city, There she met her scolding minny: ‘Cast off your silks and kilt your coats, And muck the byre wi Richie Story.’ 232C.10 ‘Hold your tongue, my scolding minnie, Hold your tongue, my scolding minnie; For I’ll cast of my silks and kilt my coats, And muck the byres wi Richie Story.’

232D: Richie Story

 
 232D.1	 AS I came in by Thirlwirl Bridge,
 	 A coming frae the land of fair Camernadie,
 	 There I met my ain true love,
 	 Wi ribbons at her shoulders many.
 232D.2	 ‘Here is a letter to you, madam;
 	 [Here is a letter to you, madam;]
 	 The Earl of Hume’s eldest son
 	 Sent this letter to you, madam.
 232D.3	 ‘I’ll have none of his [letters], Richy,
 	 I’ll have none of his letters, Richy;
 	 I made a vow, and I’ll keep it true,
 	 I’ll wed wi nane but you, Richy.’
 232D.4	 ‘Say not so again, madam,
 	 Say not so again, madam;
 	 I have neither lands nor rents
 	 To maintain you on, madam.’
 232D.5	 ‘I’ll sit aneath the duke, Richy,
 	 I’ll sit aneath the duke, Richy;
 	 I’ll sit on hand, at your command
 	 At ony time ye like, Richy.’
 232D.6	 As they came in by Thirlewirle Bridge,
 	 A coming frae fair Cummernadie,
 	 She brak the ribbons that tied her shoon
 	 Wi following after the footman-laddie.
 232D.7	 ‘O but ye be sad, sister,
 	 O but ye be sad and sorry,
 	 To eave the lands o bonnie Cummernad,
 	 To gang alang wi a footman-laddie!’
 232D.8	 ‘How can I be sad, sister?
 	 How can I be sad or sorry?
 	 I have gotten my heart’s delight;
 	 And what can ye get mair?’ says she.
 232D.9	 To the house-end Richy brought his lady,
 	 To the house-end Richy brought his lady;
 	 Her mother-in-law gart her kilt her coats,
 	 And muck the byre wi Richy Story.

232E: Richie Story

232E.1 THE Earl of Wigton has seven sisters, And O but they be wondrous bonnie! And the bonniest lass amang them a’ Has fallen in love wi Richie Storie. 232E.2 As I came down by yon river-side, And down by the banks of Eache bonnie, There I met my own true-love, Wi ribbons on her shoulders bonnie. 232E.3 ‘Here is a letter for you, madam, Here is a letter for you, madam; The earl of Aboyne has a noble design To be a suitor to you, madam.’ 232E.4 ‘I’ll hae nane of his letters, Richie, I’ll hae nane of his letters, Richie, For I’ve made a vow, and I’ll keep it true, That I’ll hae nane but you, Richie.’ 232E.5 ‘Take your word again, madam, Take your word again, madam, For I have neither land nor rents For to mentain you on, madam.’ 232E.6 ‘I’ll sit below the dyke, Richie, I’ll sit below the dyke, Richie, And I will be at your command At ony time you like, Richie. 232E.7 ‘Ribbons you shall wear, Richie, Ribbons you shall wear, Richie, A cambric band about your neck, And vow but ye’ll be braw, Richie!’ 232E.8 As they came in by the West Port, The naps of gold were bobbing bonnie; Many a one bade this lady gude-day, But neer a one to Richie Storie. 232E.9 As they came up the Parliament Close, Naps of gold were bobbing bonnie; Many a gentleman lifted his cap, But few kennd she was Richie’s lady. 232E.10 . . . . . . . . And ay methinks we’ll drink the night In Cambernauld sae bonnie. 232E.11 ‘It’s are not you sick, sister, Are not you very sorrie, To leave the lands of bonnie Cambernauld, And run awae wi Richie Storie?’ 232E.12 ‘Why should I be sick, sister, O why should I be any sorrie, When I hae gotten my heart’s delight? I hae gotten the lot was laid afore me.’

232F: Richie Story

232F.1 THE Erle of Wigton had three daughters, O braw wallie, but they were bonnie! The youngest o them, and the bonniest too, Has fallen in love wi Richie Storie. 232F.2 ‘Here’s a letter for ye, madame, Here’s a letter for ye, madame; The Erle o Home wad fain presume To be a suitor to ye, madame.’ 232F.3 ‘I’l hae nane o your letters, Richie; I’l hae nane o your letters, Richie; For I’ve made a vow, and I’ll keep it true, The I’l have none but you, Richie.’ 232F.4 ‘O do not say so, madame; O do not say so, madame; For I have neither land nor rent, For to maintain you o, madame. 232F.5 ‘Ribands ye maun wear, madame, Ribands ye maun wear, madame; With the bands about your neck O the goud that shines sae clear, madame.’ 232F.6 ‘I’l lie ayont a dyke, Richie, I’l lie ayont a dyke, Richie; And I’l be aye at your command And bidding, whan ye like, Richie.’ 232F.7 O he’s gane on the braid, braid road, And she’s gane through the broom sae bonnie, Her silken robes down to her heels, And she’s awa wi Richie Storie. 232F.8 This lady gade up the Parliament stair, Wi pendles in her lugs sae bonnie; Mony a lord lifted his hat, But little did they ken she was richie’s lady. 232F.9 Up then spak the Erle o Home’s lady; ‘Was na ye richt sorrie, Annie, To leave the lands o bonnie Cumbernauld And follow Richie Storie, Annie?’ 232F.10 ‘O what need I be sorrie, madame? O what need I be sorrie, madame? For I’ve got them that I like best, And war ordained for me, madame.’ 232F.11 ‘Cumbernauld is mine, Annie, Cumbernauld is mine, Annie; And a’ that’s mine, it shall be thine, As we sit at the wine, Annie.’

232G: Richie Story

232G.1 THERE were five ladies lived in a bouer, Lived in a bouer at Cumbernaldie; The fairest and youngest o them a’ Has fa’n in love wi her footman-laddie. 232G.2 ‘Here is a letter to you, ladye, Here is a letter to you, ladye; The Earl o Hume has written doun That he will be your footman-laddie.’ 232G.3 ‘I want nane o his service, Ritchie, I want nane o his service, Ritchie; For I’ve made a vow, and I’ll keep it true, That I’ll wed nane but thee, Ritchie.’ 232G.4 ‘O that canna be, ladye, O that canna be, ladye; For I’ve neither house nor land, Nor ought suiting ye, ladye.’ 232G.5 ‘Livd ye on yonder hill, Ritchie, Livd ye on yonder hill, Ritchie, There’s my hand, I’m at your command, Marry me whan ye will, Ritchie!’ 232G.6 This boy he went to his bed, It was a’ to try this fair ladye; But she went up the stair to him: ‘Ye maun leave your comrades, Ritchie. 232G.7 ‘To the Borders we maun gang, Ritchie, To the Borders we maun gang, Ritchie, For an my auld father he get word, It’s you he will cause hang, Ritchie.’ 232G.8 ‘To the Borders we’ll na gang, ladye, To the Borders we’ll na gang, ladye; For altho your auld father got word, It’s me he dare na hang, ladye.’ 232G.9 As they passed by her mither’s bouer, O but her sisters they were sorry! They bade her tak aff the robes o silk, And muck the byres wi Ritchie Storry. 232G.10 Whan they cam to yon hie hill, Dear vow, but the lady she was sorry! She looked oure her left showther-+--+- ‘O an I war in bonny Cumbernaldie!’ 232G.11 ‘O are na ye sorry now, ladye, O are na ye sorry now, ladye, For to forsake the Earl o Hume, And follow me, your footman-laddie?’ 232G.12 ‘How could I be sorry, Ritchie, How could I be sorry, Ritchie? Such a gudely man as you, And the lot that lies afore me, Ritchie.’ 232G.13 As they rode up through Edinburgh toun, Her gowd watch hang doun sae gaudie; Monie a lord made her a bow, But nane o them thoucht she was Ritchie’s ladye. 232G.14 Whan they cam to Ritchie’s yetts, Dear vow, but the music playd bonnie! There were four-and-twenty gay ladies To welcome hame Richard Storry’s ladye. 232G.15 He called for a priest wi speed, A priest wi speed was soon ready, And she was na married to the Earl of Hume, But she blesses the day she got Richard Storry. 232G.16 A coach and six they did prepare, A coach and six they did mak ready, A coach and six they did prepare, And she blesses the day made her Ritchie’s lady.

232H: Richie Story

 
 232H.1	 Blair-in-Athol’s mine, Ritchie,
 	 Blair-in-Athol’s mine, Ritchie,
 	 And bonny Dunkeld, where I do dwell,
 	 And these shall a’ be thine, Ritchie.

233A: Andrew Lammie

233A.1 ‘AT Fyvie’s yetts there grows a flower, It grows baith braid and bonny; There’s a daisie in the midst o it, And it’s ca’d by Andrew Lammie. 233A.2 ‘O gin that flower war in my breast, For the love I bear the laddie! I wad kiss it, and I wad clap it, And daut it for Andrew Lammie. 233A.3 ‘The first time me and my love met Was in the woods of Fyvie; He kissed my lips five thousand times, And ay he ca’d me bonny, And a’ the answer he gat frae me, Was, My bonny Andrew Lammie!’ 233A.4 ‘Love, I maun gang to Edinburgh; Love, I maun gang and leave thee!’ ‘I sighed right sair, and said nae mair But, O gin I were wi ye!’ 233A.5 ‘But true and trusty will I be, As I am Andrew Lammie; I’ll never kiss a woman’s mouth Till I come back and see thee.’ 233A.6 ‘And true and trusty will I be, As I am Tiftie’s Annie; I’ll never kiss a man again Till ye come back and see me.’ 233A.7 Syne he’s come back frae Edinburgh To the bonny hows o Fyvie, And ay his face to the nor-east, To look for Tiftie’s Annie. 233A.8 ‘I hae a love in Edinburgh, Sae hae I intill Leith, man; I hae a love intill Montrose, Sae hae I in Dalkeith, man. 233A.9 ‘And east and west, whereer I go, My love she’s always wi me; For east and west, whereer I go, My love she dwells in Fyvie. 233A.10 ‘My love possesses a’ my heart, Nae pen can eer indite her; She’s ay sae stately as she goes That I see nae mae like her. 233A.11 ‘But Tiftie winna gie consent His dochter me to marry, Because has five thousand marks, And I have not a penny. 233A.12 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away, Love, love decays the body; For love o thee, oh I must die; Adieu, my bonny Annie!’ 233A.13 Her mither raise out o her bed, And ca’d on baith her women: ‘What ails ye, Annie, my dochter dear? O Annie, was ye dreamin? 233A.14 ‘What dule disturbd my dochter’s sleep? O tell to me, my Annie!’ She sighed right sair, and said nae mair But, O for Andrew Lammie! 233A.15 Her father beat her cruellie, Sae also did her mother; Her sisters sair did scoff at her; But wae betide her brother! 233A.16 Her brother beat her cruellie, Till his straiks they werena canny; He brak her back, and he beat her sides, For the sake o Andrew Lammie. 233A.17 ‘O fie, O fie, my brother dear! The gentlemen’ll shame ye; The Laird o Fyvie he’s gaun by, And he’ll come in and see me. 233A.18 ‘And he’ll kiss me, and he’ll clap me, And he will speer what ails me; And I will answer him again, It’s a’ for Andrew Lammie.’ 233A.19 Her sisters they stood in the door, Sair grievd her wi their folly: ‘O sister dear, come to the door, Your cow is lowin on you.’ 233A.20 ‘O fie, O fie, my sister dear! Grieve me not wi your folly; I’d rather hear the trumpet sound Than a’ the kye o Fyvie. 233A.21 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away, Love, love decays the body; For love o thee now I maun die; Adieu to Andrew Lammie!’ 233A.22 But Tiftie’s wrote a braid letter, And sent it into Fyvie, Saying his daughter was bewitchd By bonny Andrew Lammie. 233A.23 ‘Now, Tiftie, ye maun gie consent, And lat the lassie marry;’ ‘I’ll never, never gie consent To the trumpeter of Fyvie.’ 233A.24 When Fyvie looked the letter on, He was baith sad and sorry: Says, The bonniest lass o the country-side Has died for Andrew Lammie. 233A.25 O Andrew’s gane to the house-top O the bonny house o Fyvie, He’s blawn his horn baith loud and shill Oer the lawland leas o Fyvie. 233A.26 ‘Mony a time hae I walkd a’ night, And never yet was weary; But now I may walk wae my lane, For I’ll never see my deary. 233A.27 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away, Love, love decays the body; For the love o thee now I maun die; I come, my bonny Annie!’

233B: Andrew Lammie

233B.1 ‘THERE springs a rose in Fyvie’s yard, And O but it springs bonny! There’s a daisy in the middle of it, Its name is Andrew Lammie. 233B.2 ‘I wish the rose were in my breast, For the love I bear the daisy; So blyth and merry as I would be, And kiss my Andrew Lammie. 233B.3 ‘The first time I and my love met Was in the wood of Fyvie; He kissed and he dawted me, Calld me his bonny Annie. 233B.4 ‘Wi apples sweet he did me treat, Which stole my heart so canny, And ay sinsyne himself was kind, My bonny Andrew Lammie.’ 233B.5 ‘But I am going to Edinburgh, My love, I’m going to leave thee;’ She sighd full sore, and said no more, ‘I wish I were but wi you.’ 233B.6 ‘I will buy thee a wedding-gown, My love, I’ll buy it bonny;’ ‘But I’ll be dead or ye come back, My bonny Andrew Lammie.’ 233B.7 ‘I will buy you brave bridal shoes, My love, I’ll buy them bonny;’ ‘But I’ll be dead or ye come back, My bonny Andrew Lammie.’ 233B.8 ‘If you’ll be true and trusty too, As I am Andrew Lammie, That you will neer kiss lad nor lown Till I return to Fyvie.’ 233B.9 ‘I shall be true and trusty too, As my name’s Tifty’s Nanny, That I’ll kiss neither lad nor lown Till you return to Fyvie.’-+--+- 233B.10 ‘Love pines awa, love dwines awa, Love pines awa my body; And love’s crept in at my bed-foot, And taen possession o me. 233B.11 ‘My father drags me by the hair, My mother sore does scold me; And they would give one hundred merks To any one to wed me. 233B.12 ‘My sister stands at her bower-door, And she full sore does mock me, And when she hwars the trumpet sound,-+--+- "[Your cow is lowing, Nanny!"] 233B.13 ‘O be still, my sister Jane, And leave off all your folly; For I’d rather hear that cow low That all the kye in Fyvie. 233B.14 ‘My father locks the door at night, Lays up the keys fu canny, And when he hears the trumpet sound,-+--+- "[Your cow is lowing, Nanny!"] 233B.15 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear, And let be a’ your folly; For I would rather hear that cow Than all the kye in Fyvie.’ * * * * * 233B.16 ‘If you ding me, I will greet, And gentlemen will hear me; Laird Fyvie will be coming by, And he’ll come in and see me.’ 233B.17 ‘Yea, I will ding you though ye greet And gentlemen should hear you; Though Laird Fyvie were coming by, And did come in and see you.’ 233B.18 So they dang her, and she grat, And gentlemen did hear her, And Fyvie he was coming by, And did come in to see her. 233B.19 ‘Mill of Tifty, give consent, And let your daughter marry; If she were full of as high blood As she is full of beauty, I would take her to myself, And make her my own lady.’ 233B.20 ‘Fyvie lands ly broad and wide, And O but they ly bonny! But I would not give my own true-love For all the lands in Fyvie. 233B.21 ‘But make my bed, and lay me down, And turn my face to Fyvie, That I may see before I die My bonny Andrew Lammie.’ 233B.22 They made her bed, and laid her down, And turnd her face to Fyvie; She gave a groan, and died or morn, So neer saw Andrew Lammie. 233B.23 Her father sorely did lament The loss of his dear Nannie, And wishd that he had gien consent To wed with Andrew Lammie. 233B.24 But ah! alas! it was too late, For he could not recall her; Through time unhappy is his fate, Because he did controul her. 233B.25 You parents grave who children have, In crushing them be canny, Lest for their part they break their heart, As did young Tifty’s Nanny.

233C: Andrew Lammie

233C.1 AT Mill of Tifty lived a man, In the neighbourhood of Fyvie; He had a luvely daughter fair, Was call d bonny Annie. 233C.2 Her bloom was like thr springing flower That hails the rosy morning, With innocence and graceful mein Her beautous form adorning. 233C.3 Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter Whose name was Andrew Lammie; He had the art to gain the heart Of Mill of Tifty’s Annie. 233C.4 Proper he was, both young and gay, His like was not in Fyvie, Nor was ane there that could compare With this same Andrew Lammie. 233C.5 Lord Fyvie he rode by the door Where liv d Tifty’s annie; His trumpeter rode him before, Even this same Andrew Lammie. 233C.6 Her mother called her to the door; ‘Come here to me, my Annie: Did eer you see a prettier man Than the trumpeter of Fyvie?’ 233C.7 Nothing she said, but sighing sore, Alas for Bonnie Annie! She durst not own her heart was won By the trumpeter of Fyvie. 233C.8 At night when all went to their bed, All slept full soon but Annie; Love so oppresst her tender breast, Thinking on Andrew Lammie. 233C.9 ‘Love comes in at my bed-side, And love lies down beyond me; Love has possest my tender breast, And love will waste my body. 233C.10 ‘The first time me and my love met Was in the woods of Fyvie; His lovely form and speech so soft Soon gaind the heart of Annie. 233C.11 ‘He called me mistress;I said, No, I’m Tifty’s bonny Annie; With apples sweet he did me treat, And kisses soft and mony. 233C.12 ‘It’s up and down in Tifty’s den, Where the burn runs clear and bonny, I’ve often gane to meet my love, My bonny Andrew Lammie.’ 233C.13 But now alas! her father heard That the trumpeter of Fyvie Had had the art to gain the heart Of Mill of Tifty’s Annie. 233C.14 Her father soon a letter wrote, And sent it on to Fyvie, To tell his daughter was bewitchd By his servant, Andrew Lammie. 233C.15 Then up the stair his trumpeter He call d soon and shortly: ‘Pray tell me soon what’s this you’ve done To Tifty’s bonny Annie.’ 233C.16 ‘Woe be to Mill of Tifty’s pride, For it has ruined many; They’ll not have ’t said that she should wed The trumpeter of Fyvie. 233C.17 ‘In wicked art I had no part, Nor therein am I canny; True love alone the heart has won Of Tifty’s bonnie Annie. 233C.18 ‘Where will I find a boy so kind That will carry a letter canny, Who will run to Tifty’s town, Give it to my love Annie? 233C.19 ‘Tifty he has daughters three Who all are wonderous bonny; But ye’ll ken her oer a’ the rest; Give that to bonny Annie. 233C.20 ‘It’s up and down in Tifty’s den, Where the burn runs clear and bonny, There wilt thou come and I’ll attend; My love, I long to see thee. 233C.21 ‘Thou mayst come to the brig of Slugh, And there I’ll come and meet thee; It’s there we will renew our love, Before I go and leave you. 233C.22 ‘My love, I go to Edinburgh town, And for a while must leave thee;’ She sighed sore, and said no more But ‘I wish that I were with you!’ 233C.23 ‘I’ll buy to thee a bridal gown, My love, I’ll buy it bonny;’ ‘But I’ll be dead ere ye come back To see your bonny Annie.’ 233C.24 ‘If ye’ll be true and constant too, As I am Andrew Lammie, I shall thee wed when I come back To see the lands of Fyvie.’ 233C.25 ‘I will be true and constant too To thee, my Andrew Lammie, But my bridal bed or then’ll be made In the green church-yard of Fyvie.’ 233C.26 ‘The time is gone, and now comes on My dear, that I must leave thee; If longer here I should appear, Mill of Tifty he would see me.’ 233C.27 ‘I now for ever bid adieu To thee, my Andrew Lammie; Or ye come back I will be laid In the green church-yard of Fyvie.’ 233C.28 He hied him to the head of the house, To the house-top of Fyvie, He blew his trumpet loud and shrill, It was heard at Mill of Tifty. 233C.29 Her father lockd the door at night, Laid by the keys fu canny, And when he heard the trumpet sound Said, Your cow is lowing, Annie. 233C.30 ‘My father dear, I pray forbear, And reproach not your Annie; I’d rather hear that cow to low Than all the kye in Fyvie. 233C.31 ‘I would not for my braw new gown, And all your gifts so many, That it was told in Fyvie land How cruel ye are to Annie. 233C.32 ‘But if you strike me I will cry, And gentlemen will hear me; Lord Fyvie will be riding by, And he’ll come in and see me.’ 233C.33 At the same time the lord came in; He said, What ails thee Annie? ‘It’s all for love now I must die, For bonny Andrew Lammie.’ 233C.34 ‘Pray, Mill of Tifty, give consent, And let your daughter marry;’ ‘It will be with some higher match Than the trumpeter of Fyvie.’ 233C.35 ‘If she were come of as high a kind As she’s advanced in beauty, I would take her unto myself, And make her my own lady.’ 233C.36 Fyvie lands are far and wide, And they are wonderous bonny; But I would not leave my own true-love For all the lands in Fyvie.’ 233C.37 Her father struck her wonderous sore, As also did her mother; Her sisters also did her scorn, But woe be to her brother! 233C.38 Her brother struck her wonderous sore, With cruel strokes and many; He broke her back in the hall-door, For liking Andrew Lammie. 233C.39 ‘Alas! my father and my mother dear, Why so cruel to your Annie? My heart was broken first by love, My brother has broke my body. 233C.40 ‘O mother dear, make me my bed, And lay my face to Fyvie; Thus will I lie, and thus will die For my dear Andrew Lammie. 233C.41 ‘Ye neighbours hear, baith far and near, And pity Tifty’s Annie, Who dies for love of one poor lad, For bonny Andrew Lammie. 233C.42 ‘No kind of vice eer staind my life, Or hurt my virgin honour; My youthful heart was won by love, But death will me exoner.’ 233C.43 Her mother than she made her bed, And laid her face to Fyvie; Her tender heart it soon did break, And never saw Andrew Lammie. 233C.44 Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands, Said, Alas foe Tifty’s Annie! The fairest flower’s cut down by love That ever sprang in Fyvie. 233C.45 ‘Woe be to Mill of Tifty’s pride! He might have let them marry; I should have given them both to live Into the lands of Fyvie.’ 233C.46 Her father sorely now laments The loss of his dear Annie, And wishes he had given consent To wed with Andrew Lammie. 233C.47 When Andrew home frae Edinburgh came, With muckle grief and sorrow, ‘My love is dead for me to-day, I’ll die for her to-morrow. 233C.48 ‘Now I will run to Tifty’s den, Where the burn runs clear and bonny; With tears I’ll view the brig of Slugh, Where I parted from my Annie. 233C.49 ‘Then will I speed to the green kirk-yard, To The green kirk-yard of Fyvie, With tears I’ll water my love’s grave, Till I follow Tifty’s Annie.’

234A: Charlie MacPherson

234A.1 CHARLIE MACPHERSON, that braw Hieland lad[die], On Valentine’s even cam doun to Kinaltie, Courtit Burd Hellen, baith wakin an sleepin: ‘Oh, fair fa them has my love in keepin!’ 234A.2 Charlie MacPherson cam doun the dykeside, Baith Milton an Muirton an a’ bein his guide; Baith Milton an Muirton an auld Water Nairn, A’ gaed wi him, for to be his warn. 234A.3 Whan he cam to the hoose o Kinaltie, ‘Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in! Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in! For here’s a commission come frae your gudeson. 234A.4 ‘Madam,’ says Charlie, ’whare [i]s your dochter? Mony time have I come to Kinatie an socht her; Noo maun she goe wi me mony a mile, Because I’ve brocht mony men frae the West Isle.’ 234A.5 ‘As for my dochter, she has gane abroad, You’ll no get her for her tocher gude; She’s on to Whitehouse, to marry auld Gairn: Oh, fair fa them that wait on my bairn!’ 234A.6 Charlie MacPherson gaed up the dykeside, Baith Muirtoun an Milton an a’ bein his guide; Baith Muirton an Milton an auld Water Nairn, A’ gaed wi him, for to be his warn. 234A.7 Whan he cam to the hoose in Braemar, Sae weel as he kent that his Nellie was there! An Nellie was sittin upon the bed-side, An every one there was ca’ing her, bride. 234A.8 The canles gaed oot, they waurna weel licht, Swords an spears they glancet fou bright; Sae laith as she was her true-love to beguile, Because he brocht mony men frae the West Isle. * * * * *

234B: Charlie MacPherson

234B.1 CHARLIE MRR’rrPHERSON, that brisk Highland laddie, At Valentine even he came to Kinadie: 234B.2 To court her Burd Helen, baith waking and sleeping; Joy be wi them that has her a keeping! 234B.3 Auldtown and Muirtown, likewise Billy Beg, All gaed wi Charlie, for to be his guide. 234B.4 Jamie M’Robbie, likewise Wattie Nairn, All gaed wi Charlie, for to be his warran. 234B.5 When they came to Kinadie, they knockd at the door; When nae ane woud answer, they gaed a loud roar. 234B.6 ‘Ye’ll open the door, mistress, and lat us come in; For tidings we’ve brought frae your appearant guid-son.’ 234B.7 For to defend them, she was not able; They bangd up the stair, sat down at the table. 234B.8 ‘Ye’ll eat and drink, gentlemen, and eat at your leisure; Nae thing’s disturb you, take what’s your pleasure.’ 234B.9 ‘O madam,’ said he, ‘I’m come for your daughter; Lang hae I come to Kinadie and there sought her. 234B.10 ‘Now she’s gae wi me for mony a mile, Before that I return unto the West Isle.’ 234B.11 ‘My daughter’s not at home, she is gone abroad; Ye darena now steal her, her tocher is guid. 234B.12 ‘My daughter’s in Whitehouse, wi Mistress Dalgairn; Joy be wi them that waits on my bairn!’ 234B.13 The swords an the targe that hang about Charlie, They had sic a glitter, and set him sae rarelie! 234B.14 They had sic a glitter, and kiest sic a glamour, They showed mair light than they had in the chamour. 234B.15 To Whitehouse he went, and when he came there Right sair was his heart when he went up the stair. 234B.16 Burd Helen was sitting by Thomas’ bed-side, And all in the house were addressing her, bride. 234B.17 ‘O farewell now, Helen, I’ll bid you adieu; Is this a’ the comfort I’m getting frae you? 234B.18 ‘It was never my intention ye shoud be the waur; My heavy heart light on Whitehouse o Cromar! 234B.19 ‘For you I hae travelled full mony lang mile, Awa to Kinadie, far frae the West Isle. 234B.20 ‘But now ye are married, and I am the waur; My heavy heart light on Whitehouse o Cromar!’

235A: The Earl of Aboyne

235A.1 THE Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind, He’s kind to every woman, And the Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind, But he stays ower lang in London. 235A.2 The ladie she stood on her stair-head, Beholding his grooms a coming; She knew by their livery and raiment so rare That their last voyage was from London. 235A.3 ‘My grooms all, ye’ll be well in call, Hold all the stables shining; With a bretther o degs ye’ll clear up my nags, Sin my gude lord Aboyne is a coming. 235A.4 ‘My minstrels all, be well in call, Hold all my galleries ringing; With music springs ye’ll try well your strings, Sin my gude lord’s a coming. 235A.5 ‘My cooks all, be well in call, Wi pots and spits well ranked; And nothing shall ye want that ye call for, Sin my gude Lord Aboyne’s a coming. 235A.6 ‘My chamber-maids, ye’ll dress up my beds, Hold all my rooms in shining; With Dantzic waters ye’ll sprinkle my walls, Sin my good lord’s a coming.’ 235A.7 Her shoes was of the small cordain, Her stockings silken twisting; Cambrick so clear was the pretty lady’s smock, And her stays o the braided sattin. 235A.8 Her coat was of the white sarsenent, Set out wi silver quiltin, And her gown was o the silk damask, Set about wi red gold walting. 235A.9 Her hair was like the threads of gold, Wi the silk and sarsanet shining, Wi her fingers sae white, and the gold rings sae grite, To welcome her lord from London. 235A.10 Sae stately she steppit down the stair, And walkit to meet him coming; Said, O ye’r welcome, my bonny lord, Ye’r thrice welcome home from London! 235A.11 ‘If this be so that ye let me know, Ye’ll come kiss me for my coming, For the morn should hae been my bonny wedding-day Had I stayed the night in London.’ 235A.12 Then she turned her about wi an angry look, O for such a sorry woman! ‘If this be so that ye let me know, Gang kiss your ladies in London.’ 235A.13 Then he looked ower his left shoulder To the worthie companie wi him; Says he, Isna this an unworthy welcome The we’ve got, comin from London! 235A.14 ‘Get yer horse in call, my nobles all, And I’m sorry for yer coming, But we’ll horse, and awa to the bonny Bog o Gight, And then we’ll go on to London.’ 235A.15 ‘If this be Thomas, as they call you, You’ll see if he’ll hae me with him; And nothing shall he be troubled with me But myself and my waiting-woman.’ 235A.16 ‘I’ve asked it already, lady,’ he says, ‘And your humble servant, madam; But one single mile he winna lat you ride Wi his company and him to London.’ 235A.17 A year and mare she lived in care, And docters wi her dealin, And with a crack her sweet heart brack, And the letters is on to London. 235A.18 When the letters he got, they were all sealed in black, And he fell in a grievous weeping; He said, She is dead whom I loved best If I had but her heart in keepin. 235A.19 Then fifteen o the finest lords That London could afford him, From their hose to their hat, they were all clad in black, For the sake of her corpse, Margaret Irvine. 235A.20 The furder he gaed, the sorer he wept, Come keping her corpse, Margaret Irvine. Until that he came to the yetts of Aboyne, Where the corpse of his lady was lying.

235B: The Earl of Aboyne

235B.1 THE Earl o Aboyne to old England’s gone, An a his nobles wi him; Sair was the heart his fair lady had Because she wanna wi him. 235B.2 As she was a walking in her garden green, Amang her gentlewomen, Sad was rhe letter that came to her, Her lord was wed in Lunan. 235B.3 ‘Is this true, my Jean,’ she says, ‘My lord is wed in Lunan?’ ‘O no, O no, my lady gay, For the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’ 235B.4 When she was looking oer her castell-wa, She spied twa boys comin: ‘What news, what news, my bonny boys? What news hae ye frae Lunan?’ 235B.5 ‘Good news, good news, my lady gay, The Lord o Aboyne is comin; He’s scarcely twa miles frae the place, Ye’ll hear his bridles ringin.’ 235B.6 ‘O my grooms all, be well on call, An hae your stables shinin; Of corn an hay spare nane this day, Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin. 235B.7 ‘My minstrels all, be well on call, And set your harps a tunin, Wi the finest springs, spare not the strings, Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin. 235B.8 ‘My cooks all, be well on call, An had your spits a runnin, Wi the best o roast, an spare nae cost, Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin. 235B.9 ‘My maids all, be well on call, An hae your flours a shinin; Cover oer the stair wi herbs sweet an fair, Cover the fours wi linen, An dress my bodie in the finest array, Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’ 235B.10 Her gown was o the guid green silk, Fastned wi red silk trimmin; Her apron was o the guid black gaze, Her hood o the finest linen. 235B.11 Sae stately she stept down the stair, To look gin he was comin; She called on Kate, her chamer-maid, An Jean, her gentlewoman, To bring her a bottle of the best wine, To drink his health that’s comin. 235B.12 She’s gaen to the close, taen him from frae’s horse, Says, You’r thrice welcome fra Lunan! ‘If I be as welcome hauf as ye say, Come kiss me for my comin, For tomorrow should been my wedding-day Gin I’d staid on langer in Lunan.’ 235B.13 She turned about wi a disdainful look To Jean, her gentlewoman: ‘If tomorrow should been your wedding-day, Go kiss your whores in Lunan.’ 235B.14 ‘O my nobles all, now turn your steeds, I’m sorry for my comin; For the night we’ll alight at the bonny Bog o Gight, Tomorrow tak horse for Lunan.’ 235B.15 ‘O Thomas, my man, gae after him, An spier gin I’ll win wi him;’ ‘Yes, madam, I hae pleaded for thee, But a mile ye winna win wi him.’ 235B.16 Here and there she ran in care, An doctors wi her dealin; But in a crak her bonny heart brak, And letters gaed to Lunan. 235B.17 When he saw the letter sealed wi black, He fell on ’s horse weeping: ‘If she be dead that I love best, She has my heart a keepin. 235B.18 ‘My nobles all, ye’ll turn your steeds, That comely face [I] may see then; Frae the horse to the hat, a’ must be black, And mourn for bonny Peggy Irvine.’ 235B.19 When they came near to the place, They heard the dead-bell knellin, And aye the turnin o the bell Said, Come bury bonny Peggy Irvine.

235C: The Earl of Aboyne

235C.1 THE Earl of Aboyne he’s careless an kin, An he is new come frae London; He sent his man him before, To tell o his hame-comin. 235C.2 First she called on her chamberline, Sin on Jeanie, her gentlewoman: ‘Bring me a glass o the best claret win, To drink my good lord’s well-hame-comin. 235C.3 ‘My servants all, be ready at a call, . . . . . . . . For the Lord of Aboyne is comin 235C.4 ‘My cooks all, be ready at a call . . . . Wi the very best of meat, For the Lord of Aboyne is comin. 235C.5 ‘My maids all, be ready at a call, . . . . The rooms I’ve the best all to be dressd, For the Lord af Aboyn is comin.’ 235C.6 She did her to the closs to take him fra his horse, An she welcomed him frae London: . . . . ‘Ye’r welcome, my good lord, frae London!’ 235C.7 ‘An I be sae welcome, he says, ‘Ye’ll kiss me for my comin, For the morn sud hae bin my weddin-day Gif I had staid in London.’ 235C.8 She turned her about wi a disdainfull look, Dear, she was a pretty woman! ‘Gif the morn shud hae bin yer weddin-day, Ye may kiss your whores in London.’ 235C.9 . . . . . . . . ‘So I shall, madam, an ye’s hae na mare to sey, For I’ll dine wi the Marquis of Huntley.’ 235C.10 She did her to his servant-man, I wat they caed him Peter Gordon: ‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will let me Wi him a single mile to ride [to London].’ 235C.11 ‘Ye need not, madam, . . I have asked him already; He will not let ye a single mile ride, For he is to dine with the Marquis o Huntly.’ 235C.12 She called on her chamber-maid, Sin on Jean, her gentlewoman: ‘Ge make my bed, an tye up my head, Woe’s me for his hame-comin!’ 235C.13 She lived a year and day, wi mickle grief and wae, The doctors were wi her dealin; Within a crack, her heart it brack, As the letters they went to London. 235C.14 He gae the table wi his foot, An koupd it wi his knee, Gared silver cup an easer dish In flinders flee. 235C.15 . . . . . . . . ‘I wad I had lost a’ the lands o Aboyne Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’ 235C.16 He called on his best serving-man, I wat the caed him Peter Gordon: ‘Gae get our horses sadled wi speed, Woe’s me for our hame-comin! 235C.17 . . . . . . . . ‘For we will a’ be in black, fra the hose to the hat, Woe’s me for bonny Margat Irvine! 235C.18 ‘We must to the North, to bury her corps, Alas for our hame-comin! I rather I had lost a’ the lands o Aboyne Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’

235D: The Earl of Aboyne

235D.1 THE guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to Lonon gone, An a’ his gallan grooms wie him, But, for a’ the ribbons that hing at her hat, He has left his fair lady behind him. 235D.2 He had not been in London toun A month but barely one, O, Till the letters an the senes they came to her hand That he was in love with another woman. 235D.3 ‘O what think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says, ‘What think ye o my lord at london? What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says, ‘He’s in love wie another woman.’ 235D.4 That lady lookd out at her closet-window, An saw the gallan grooms coming; ‘What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says, ‘For yonder the gallan grooms coming.’ 235D.5 Stately, stately steppit she doun To welcome the gallan grooms from London: ‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, gallan grooms a’; Is the guid Earl o Boyn a coming? 235D.6 ‘What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’? What news have ye from London? What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’? Is the guid Earl o Boyn a-coming?’ 235D.7 ‘No news, no news,’ said they gallan grooms a’, ‘No news hae we from London; No news, no news,’ said the gallan grooms a’, ‘But the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming, An he’s not two miles from the palace-gates, An he’s fast coming hame from London.’ 235D.8 ‘Ye stable-grooms a’, be ready at the ca, An have a’ your stables in shening, An sprinkle them over wie some costly water, Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming. 235D.9 ‘Ye pretty cooks a’, be ready at the ca, An have a’ your spits in turning, An see that ye spare neither cost nor pains, Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming. 235D.10 ‘Ye servant-maids, ye’ll trim up the beds, An wipe a’ the rooms oer wie linnen, An put a double daisy at every stair-head, Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming. 235D.11 ‘Ye’ll call to me my chambermaid, An Jean, my gentlewoman, An they’ll dress me in some fine array, Since the good Earl o Boyn’s a coming.’ 235D.12 Her stockens were o the good fine silk, An her shirt it was o the camric, An her goun it was a’ giltit oer, An she was a’ hung oer wie rubbies. 235D.13 That lady lookd out at her closet-window, An she thought she saw him coming: ‘Go fetch to me some fine Spanish wine, That I may drink his health that’s a coming.’ 235D.14 Stately, stately steppit she doun To welcome her lord from london, An as she walked through the close She’s peed him from his horse. 235D.15 ‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, my dearest dear, Ye’re three times welcome from London!’ ‘If I be as welcome as ye say, Ye’ll kiss my for my coming; Come kiss me, come kiss me, my dearest dear, Come kiss me, my bonny Peggy Harboun.’ 235D.16 O she threw her arms aroun his neck, To kiss him for his coming: ‘If I had stayed another day, I’d been in love wie another woman. 235D.17 She turned her about wie a very stingy look, She was as sorry as any woman; She threw a napkin out-oure her face, Says, Gang kiss your whore at London. 235D.18 ‘Ye’ll mount an go, my gallan grooms a’, Ye’ll mount and back again to London; Had I known this to be the answer my Meggy’s gein me, I had stayed some longer at London.’ 235D.19 ‘Go, Jack, my livery boy,’ she says, ‘Go ask if he’ll take me wie him; An he shall hae nae cumre o me But mysel an my waiting-woman.’ 235D.20 ‘O the laus o London the’re very severe, They are not for a woman; And ye are too low in coach for to ride, I’m your humble servant, madam. 235D.21 ‘My friends they were a’ angry at me For marrying ane o the house o Harvey; And ye are too low in coach for to ride, I’m your humble servant, lady. 235D.22 ‘Go saddle for me my steeds,’ he says, ‘Go saddle them soon and softly, For I maun awa to the Bogs o the Geich, An speak wi the Marquess o Huntly.’ 235D.23 The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to London gone, An a’ his gallan gro[o]ms wie him; But his lady fair he’s left behind Both a sick an a sorry woman. 235D.24 O many were the letter she after him did send, A’ the way back again to London, An in less than a twelvemonth her heart it did break, For the loss o her lord at London. 235D.25 He was not won well to the Bogs o the Geich, Nor his horses scarcely batit, Till the letters and the senes they came to his hand That his lady was newly Strickit. 235D.26 ‘O is she dead? or is she sick? O woe’s me for my coming! I’d rather lost a’ the Bogs o the Geich Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.’ 235D.27 He took the table wi his foot, Made a’ the room to tremble: ‘I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the Geich Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun. 235D.28 ‘Oh an alas! an O woe’s me! An wo to the Marquess o Huntly, Wha causd the Earl o Boyn prove sae very unkin To a true an a beautiful lady!’ 235D.29 There were fifteen o the bravest gentlemen, An the bravest o the lords o London, They went a’ to attend her burial-day, But the Earl o Boyn could not go wi them.

235E: The Earl of Aboyne

 
 235E.1	 ‘MY maidens fair, yoursels prepare.’
 235E.2	 You may weel knaw by her hair, wi the diamonds sae rare,
 	 That the Earl of Aboyne was comin.
 235E.3	 ‘My minstrels all, be at my call,
 	 Haud a’ your rooms a ringin,
 	 . . . .
 	 For the Earl of Aboyne is comin.’
 235E.4	 ‘Tomorrow soud hae been my bonnie waddin-day,
 	 If I had staid in London.’
 235E.5	 She turned her aboot wi an angry look,
 	 An sic an angry woman!
 	 ‘Gin tomorrow soud hae been your bonnie waddin-day,
 	 Gae back to your miss in Lunnon.’
 235E.6	 For mony a day an year that lady lived in care,
 	 An doctors wi her dealin,
 	 Till just in a crack her very heart did brak,
 	 An her letters went on to Lunnon.
 235E.7	 There waur four-and-twenty o the noblest lords
 	 That Lonnon could aford him,
 	 A’ clead in black frae the saidle to the hat,
 	 To convey the corpse o Peggy Ewan.
 235E.8	 ‘I’d rather hae lost a’ the lands o Aboyne
 	 Than lost my pretty Peggy Ewan.’

235F: The Earl of Aboyne

235F.1 THE Earl of Aboyne is to London gane, And a’ his nobles with him; He’s left his lady him behin, He’s awa, to remain in Lundon. 235F.2 She’s called upon her waiting-maid To busk her in her claithin; Her sark was o cambrick very fine, And her bodice was the red buckskin. 235F.3 Her stockings were o silk sae fine, And her shoon o the fine cordan; Her coat was o the guid green silk, Turnit up wi a siller warden. 235F.4 Her goun was also o the silk, Turned up wi a siller warden, And stately tripped she doun the stair, As she saw her gude lord comin. 235F.5 She gaed thro the close and grippit his horse, Saying, Ye’re welcome hame frae London! ‘Gin that be true, come kiss me now, Come kiss me for my coming. 235F.6 ‘For blythe and cantie may ye be, And thank me for my comin, For the morn would hae been my wedding-day Had I remained in London.’ 235F.7 She turnd her richt and round about, She was a waefu woman: ‘Gin the morn would hae been your weddin-day, Gae kiss your whores in London.’ 235F.8 He turned him richt and round about, He was sorry for his comin: ‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’, The morn we’ll dine in London.’ 235F.9 She lived a year in meikle wae, And the doctors dealin wi her; At lang and last her heart it brast And the letters gade to London. 235F.10 And when he saw the seals o black, He fell in a deadly weeping; He said, She’s dead whom I loed best, And she had my heart in keeping. 235F.11 ‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’, I’m sorry for our comin; Frae our horse to our hat, we’ll gae in black, And we’ll murn for Peggy Irwine.’ 235F.12 They rade on but stap or stay Till they came to her father’s garden, Whare fifty o the bravest lords Were convoying Peggy Irwine.

235G: The Earl of Aboyne

235G.1 THE Earl Aboyne to London has gane, And all his nobles with him; For a’ the braw ribbands he wore at his hat, He has left his lady behind him. 235G.2 She’s called on her little foot-page, And Jean, her gentlewoman; Said, Fill to me a full pint of wine, And I’ll drink it at my lord’s coming. 235G.3 ‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome,’ she says, ‘You’re welcome home from London!’ ‘If I be as welcome as you now say, Come kiss me, my bonnie Peggy Irvine. 235G.4 ‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, my lady,’ he says, ‘Come kiss me for my coming, For the morn should hae been my wedding-day, Had I staid any longer in London.’ 235G.5 She turned about with an angry look, Said, Woe’s me for your coming! If the morn should hae been your wedding-day, Go back to your whore in London. 235G.6 He’s called on his little foot-page, Said, Saddle both sure and swiftly, And I’l away to the Bogs o the Gay, And speak wi the Marquis o Huntly. 235G.7 She has called on her little foot-page, Said, See if he’ll take me with him; And he shall hae nae mair cumber o me But myself and my servant-woman. 235G.8 ‘O London streets they are too strait, They are not for a woman, And it is too low to ride in coach wi me With your humble servant-woman.’ 235G.9 He had not been at the Bogs o the Gay, Nor yet his horse was baited, Till a boy with a letter came to his hand That his lady was lying streekit. 235G.10 ‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he says, ‘O woe’s me for my coming! I had rather lost the Bogs o the Gay Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Irvine. 235G.11 ‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he said, ‘O woe to the Marquis o Huntly, Gard the Earl of Aboyne prove very unkind To a good and a dutiful lady!’

235H: The Earl of Aboyne

 
 235H.1	 THE Earl of Boon’s to London gone,
 	 And all his merry men with him;
 	 For a’ the ribbonds hang at his horse’s main,
 	 He has left his lady behind him.
 235H.2	 He had not been a night in town,
 	 Nor a day into the city,
 	 Until that the letters they came to him,
 	 And the ladies they did invite him.
 235H.3	 His lady has lookit oer her left shoulder,
 	 To see if she saw him coming,
 	 And then she saw her ain good lord,
 	 Just newly come from London.
 235H.4	 ‘Come kiss me, my dear, come kiss me,’ he said,
 	 ‘Come kiss me for my coming,
 	 For if I had staid another day in town
 	 Tomorrow I would hae been married in Lunnon.’
 235H.5	 She turned about wi a very saucy look,
 	 As saucy as eer did a woman;
 	 Says, If a’ be true that I’ve heard of you,
 	 You may go back and kiss your whores in Lunnon.
 235H.6	 ‘Go call on Jack, my waiting-man,’ he said,
 	 ‘Go saddle and make him ready;
 	 For I maun away to the Bughts o Gight,
 	 To speak to the Marquess of Huntly.’
 235H.7	 He had not been at the Bughts of the Gight,
 	 Nor the horses yet weel bated,
 	 Until that the letters came ta him
 	 That his lady was newly streeket.
 235H.8	 ‘Wae’s me, my dear! wae’s me!’ he said,
 	 ‘It waes me for my coming;
 	 For I wad rather lost a’ the Bughts o the Gight
 	 Or I had lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.’

235I: The Earl of Aboyne

235I.1 THE Earl of Aboyne to London has gone, And all his nobles with him; For all the braw ribbands he wore at his hat, He has left his lady behind him. 235I.2 She has to her high castle gane, To see if she saw him coming; And who did she spy but her own servant Jack, Coming riding home again from London. 235I.3 ‘What news, what news, my own servant Jack? What news have you got from London?’ ‘Good news, good news, my lady,’ he says, ‘For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.’ 235I.4 She has to her kitchen-maid gane: ‘Set your pots and your pans all a boiling; Have every thing fine for gentry to dine, For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming. 235I.5 ‘Stable-grooms all, pray be well employed, Set your stable-bells all a ringing; Let your hecks be overlaid with the finest of good hay, For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.’ 235I.6 She has to her low gates gane, To see if she saw him coming, And long seven miles before they came to town She heard their bridles ringing. 235I.7 ‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, madam,’ he says, ‘Come kiss me for my coming, For the morn should hae been my wedding-day Had I staid any longer in London.’ 235I.8 She’s turned about with an angry look, Says, Woe’s me for thy coming! If the morn should hae been your wedding-day Go back and kiss your whores in London. 235I.9 They’ve turned their horses’ heads around, Their faces all for London; With their hands to their hats they all rode off, And they’re all away to London.

235J: The Earl of Aboyne

235J.1 THE Earl of Aboyne has up to London gone, And all his nobles with him, And three broad letters he sent into his love He would wed another woman in London. 235J.2 She has turned the honey month about, To see if he was coming, And lang three miles ere he came to the town She heard his bridle ringing. 235J.3 She’s went down unto the close and she’s taen him from his horse, Says, Ye’re welcome home from London! ‘If I be as welcome, dear Peggy, as you say, Come kiss me for my coming. 235J.4 ‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, dear Peggy,’ he said, ‘Come kiss me for my coming, For tomorrow should have been my wedding-day Had I tarried any longer in London.’ 235J.5 She has turned herself round about, And she was an angry woman: ‘If tomorrow should have been your wedding-day, You may kiss with your sweethearts in London.’ 235J.6 ‘Go saddle me my steed,’ he said, ‘Saddle and make him ready; For I must away to the bonny Bog of Keith, For to visit the Marquis of Huntley.’ 235J.7 ‘Go ask him, go ask, dear Thomas,’ she said, ‘Go ask if he’ll take me with him;’ ‘I’ve asked him once, and I’ll ask him no more, For ye’ll never ride a mile in his company.’ 235J.8 ‘Go make to me my bed,’ she said, ‘Make it soft and narrow; For since my true lover has slighted me so, I will die for him ere morrow.’ 235J.9 She has called her waiting-man, And Jean her gentlewoman: ‘Go bring to me a glass of red wine, For I’m as sick as any woman.’ 235J.10 The bed it was not made nor well laid down, Nor yet the curtains drawn on, Till stays and gown and all did burst, And it’s alace for bonny Peggy Irvine! 235J.11 The Earl of Aboyne was not at the Bog of Keith, Nor met wi the Marquis of Huntley, Till three broad etters were sent after him That his pretty Peggy Irvine had left him. 235J.12 He gave such a rap on the table where he sat It made all the room for to tremble: ‘I would rather I had lost all the rents of Aboyne Than have lost my pretty Peggy Irvine.’

235K: The Earl of Aboyne

 
 235K.1	 THE Earl o Aboyne is awa to Lunnon gane,
 	 An he’s taen Joannan wi him,
 	 An it ill be Yule ere he come again;
 	 But he micht hae taen taen his bonnie Peggie Ewan.
 235K.2	 Cook-maidens all, be ready at my call,
 	 Hae a’ your pats an pans a-reekin;
 	 For the finest o flowrs, gae through your bowrs,
 	 For the Earl o Aboyne’s a comin.

235L: The Earl of Aboyne

 
 235L.1	 THE Lord Aboyn’s to London gone,
 	 And his hail court wi him;
 	 Better he had staid at hame,
 	 Or taen his lady wi him.

236A: The Laird o Drum

236A.1 O IT fell out upon a day, When Drums was going to ride, O And there he met with a well-far’d may, Keeping her flocks on yon side. O 236A.2 ‘O fair may, O rare may, Can not you fancy me? Of a’ the lasses here about I like nane so well as thee.’ 236A.3 ‘Set your love on another, kind sir, Set it not on me, For I’m not fit to be your bride, And your whore I’ll never be.’ 236A.4 Drums is to her father gane, Keeping his flocks on yon hill, And he has gotten his consent, And the maid was at his will. 236A.5 ‘My daughter can neither read nor write, She was neer brought up at school; But well can she milk cow and ewe, And make a kebbuck well. 236A.6 ‘She’ll winn in your barn at bear-seed time, Cast out your muck at Yule; She’ll saddle your steed in time o need, Draw aff your boots hersell.’ 236A.7 ‘Have not I no clergymen? Pay I no clergy fee? I’ll school her as I think fit, And as I think fit to be.’ 236A.8 Drums is to the Highlands gane For to be made ready, And a’ the gentry thereabout Says, Yonder comes Drums and his lady. 236A.9 ‘Peggy Coutts is a very bonnie bride, And Drums is a wealthy laddie; But Drums might hae chosen a higher match Than any shepherd’s daughter.’ 236A.10 Then up bespake his brother John, Says, Brother you’ve done us wrong; You’ve married ane below our degree, A stain to a’ our kin. 236A.11 ‘Hold your tongue, my brother John, I have done you no wrong; For I’ve married ane to wirk and win, And ye’ve married ane to spend. 236A.12 ‘The last time that I had a wife, She was above my degree; I durst not come in her presence But with my hat on my knee.’ 236A.13 There was four-and-twenty gentlemen Stood at the yetts o Drum; There was na ane amang them a’ That welcomd his lady in. 236A.14 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand And led her in himsell, And in thro ha’s and thro bowers, ‘And you’re welcome, Lady o Drum.’ 236A.15 Thrice he kissd her cherry cheek, And thrice her cherry chin, And twenty times her comely mouth, ‘And you’re welcome, Lady o Drum.’ 236A.16 ‘Ye shall be cook in my kitchen, Butler in my ha; Ye shall be lady at my command When I ride far awa.’ 236A.17 ‘But what will I do when auld Drum dies, When auld Drum dies and leaves me? Then I’ll tak back my word again, And the Coutts will come and see me.’ * * * * *

236B: The Laird o Drum

236B.1 THERE was a knight, [an a gallant knight,] An a gallant knight was he, An he’s faen in love Wi his shepherd’s daghterie. 236B.2 . . . . He could neither gang nor ride, He fell so deep in her fancy, Till his nose began to bleed. 236B.3 ‘Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a’ the maid[s] I ever saw, There is nane I loo by you.’ 236B.4 ‘Ye’r a shepherd’s ae daghter, An I’m a barron’s son; An what pleasure I wad hae To see ye gae out an in!’ 236B.5 ‘I’m a shepherd’s ae dochter, An ye’r a barron’s son; An there is nae pleasure I could ha To see ye gae out or in. 236B.6 . . . . . . . . ‘For I wadna gie the fancy of my bonny love For na love nor favour o you.’ 236B.7 ‘Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a’ the maids I ever saw There is nane I loo by you.’ 236B.8 ‘Lay ne yer fancy, sir, on me,’ she says, ‘Lay na yer fancy on me; For I’m our low to be your bride, An yer quine I’ll never be. 236B.9 ‘For I will wear nane o yer silks, Nor nane o yer scarlet claes; For the hue o the whin shall be my gown, An I will gae as I pleas.’ 236B.10 . . . . . . . ‘Ye’r na our laigh to be my bride, An my quine ye’s never be. 236B.11 ‘Bonny may, and bra may, Winna ye on me rue? By a’ the maids I ever see, There’s nane I loo but you.’ 236B.12 ‘Gin ye ha faen so deep in my fancy Ye can neither gan[g] nor ride, Gae tak me to the middle o the ring, An bring me guid companie.’ 236B.13 He has taen her by the milk-white hand And led her thro haas an bowers: ‘Ye’r the chioce of my heart, An a’ I hae is yours.’ 236B.14 He took her by the milk-white hand And led her out and in: ‘Ye’r the choice o my heart, My dear, ye’r welcome in.’ 236B.15 Out spake his brither John, ‘Brither, ye ha done great wrong; Ye hae married a wife this night Disdained by a’ yer kin.’ 236B.16 ‘Hold yer tong, my brither John, For I hae don na wrong; For I ha married a wife to . . . , An ye ha ane to spend.’

236C: The Laird o Drum

236C.1 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter Sheering at the bear, And by cam the Laird o Drum, On an evening clear. 236C.2 ‘O will ye fancy me, fair maid? O will ye fancy me? O will ye fancy me, fair maid, An lat the sheering be?’ 236C.3 ‘O say na sae again, kind sir, O say na sae again; I’m owr low to be your bride, Ye’r born owr high a man.’ 236C.4 Said, Fair maid, O rare maid, Will ye on me rue? Amang a’ the lasses o the land I fancy nane but you. 236C.5 ‘Lay your love on another,’ she said, ‘And lay it not on me, For I’m owr low to be your bride, Your miss I’ll never be. 236C.6 ‘Yonder is my father dear, Wi hogs upon yon hill; Gif ye get but his consent, I shall be at your will.’ 236C.7 He’s taen him to her father dear, Keeps hogs upon yon hill, An he has gotten his consent, The may was at his will. 236C.8 ‘My daughter canna read or write, She never was at school; Weel can she milk cow and ewe, An serve your house fu weel. 236C.9 ‘Weel can she shack you barns And gae to mill an kill, Saddle your steed in time o need, And draw your boots hirsel. 236C.10 ‘She canna wear your silk sae fine, Nor yet your silver clear; The hue o the ewe man be her weed, Altho she was your dear.’ 236C.11 He’s wedded the shepherd’s daughter, An he has taen her hame; He’s wedded the shepherd’s daughter, And led her on to Drum. 236C.12 There were four an twenty bold barons Stood at the yet o Drum; There was na ane amang them a’ That welcomd his lady hame. 236C.13 Out then spak his brother dear, Says, Ye’v done mickel wrong; Ye’v wedded a mean woman, The lack o a’ her kin. 236C.14 ‘I never did thee wrong, brother, I never did thee wrong; I’ve wedded a woman to work and win, An ye hae ane to spen. 236C.15 ‘The last woman I wedded Was aboon my degree; I could na sit in her presence But wi hat upon my knee.’ 236C.16 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand An led her but an ben, An in the ha, amang them a’, He’s hailed her Lady Drum. 236C.17 ‘Now I’ve wedded the Shepherd’s daughter, An I hae brought her hame, In the ha, amang ye a’, She is welcome hame to Drum.’

236D: The Laird o Drum

236D.1 THE laird o Drum is a hunting gane, All in a morning early, And he did spy a well-far’d may, Was shearing at her barley. 236D.2 ‘O will ye fancy me, fair may, And let your shearing be, O And gang and be the lady o Drum? O will ye fancy me?’ O 236D.3 ‘I winna fancy you,’ she says, ‘Nor let my shearing be; For I’m ower low to be Lady Drum, And your miss I’d scorn to be.’ 236D.4 ‘But ye’ll cast aff that gown o grey, Put on the silk and scarlet; I’ll make a vow, and keep it true, You’ll neither be miss nor harlot.’ 236D.5 ‘Then dee you to my father dear, Keeps sheep on yonder hill; To ony thing he bids me do I’m always at his will.’ 236D.6 He has gane to her father dear, Keeps sheep on yonder hill: ‘I’m come to marry your ae daughter, If ye’ll gie me your gude will.’ 236D.7 ‘She’ll shake your barn, and winna your corn, And gang to mill and kill; In time of need she’ll saddle your steed; And I’ll draw your boots mysell.’ 236D.8 ‘O wha will bake my bridal bread, And wha will brew my ale, And wha will welcome my lady hame, It’s mair than I can tell.’ 236D.9 Four and twenty gentle knights Gied in at the yetts o Drum; But nae a man lifted his hat Whan the lady o Drum came in. 236D.10 But he has taen her by the hand, And led her but and ben; Says, You’r welcome hame, my lady Drum, For this is your ain land. 236D.11 For he has taen her by the hand, And led her thro the ha; Says, You’r welcome hame, my lady Drum, To your bowers ane and a’. 236D.12 Then he[’s] stript her o the robes o grey, Drest her in the robes o gold, And taen her father the sheep-keeping, Made him a bailie bold. 236D.13 She wasna forty weeks his wife Till she brought hame a son; She was as well a loved lady As ever was in Drum. 236D.14 Out it speaks his brother dear, Says, You’ve dune us great wrang; You’ve married a wife below your degree, She’s a mock to all our kin. 236D.15 Out then spake the Laird of Drum, Says, I’ve dune you nae wrang; I’ve married a wife to win my bread, You’ve married ane to spend. 236D.16 ‘For the last time that I was married, She was far abeen my degree; She wadna gang to the bonny yetts o Drum But the pearlin abeen her ee, And I durstna gang in the room where she was But my hat below my knee.’ 236D.17 When they had eaten and well drunken, And all men bound for bed, The Laird o Drum and his lady gay In ae bed they were laid. 236D.18 ‘Gin ye had been o high renown, As ye are o low degree, We might hae baith gane down the streets Amang gude companie.’ 236D.19 ‘I tauld you ere we were wed You were far abeen my degree; But now I’m married, in your bed laid, And just as gude as ye. 236D.20 ‘Gin ye were dead, and I were dead, And baith in grave had lain, Ere seven years were at an end, They’d not ken your dust frae mine.’

236E: The Laird o Drum

236E.1 THE Laird of Drum is a wooing gane, All in a morning early, And there he spied a weel-far’d may, She was shearing at her barley. 236E.2 ‘Will you fancy me, my bonny may, And will you fancy me? O And will you come and be Lady Drum, And let your shearing a be?’ O 236E.3 ‘It’s I winna fancy you, kind sir, I winna fancy thee; For I’m too low to be lady o Drum, And your whore I would scorn to be.’ 236E.4 Ye’ll cast aff the robes of gray, And put on the silk and the scarlet, And here to you I’ll make a vow Ye’se neither be whore nor harlot.’ 236E.5 ‘I winna cast aff the robes o gray, To put on the silk and the scarlet, But I’ll wear the colour of the ewe, For they set me better that a’ that. 236E.6 ‘But ye’ll do you doun to my father dear, Keeping sheep on yonder hill, And the first ae thing that he bids me I’ll do, For I wirk aye at his will.’ 236E.7 He’s done him doun to her father dear, Keeping sheep on yonder hill: ‘Ye hae a pretty creature for your daughter; Dear me! but I like her well.’ 236E.8 ‘It’s she can neither read nor write, She was never brought up at the squeel; She canna wash your china cups, Nor yet mak a dish o tea. 236E.9 ‘But well can she do a’ ither thing, For I learnt the girly mysell; She’ll fill in your barn, and winnow your corn, She’ll gang to your kill and your mill, And, time o need, she’ll saddle your steed, And draw your boots hersell.’ 236E.10 ‘Wha will bake my bridal bread, And wah will brew my ale? Wha will welcome my lady in? For it’s more than I can tell.’ 236E.11 There was four-and-twenty gentlemen Stood a’ in the yetts o Drum, But there was nane o them lifted their hats To welcome the young lady in. 236E.12 But up spake his ae brither, Says, Brither, ye hae done wrang; Ye have married a wife this day A lauch to a’ our kin. 236E.13 ‘I’ve married ane to win my bread, But ye married ane to spend; But as lang’s I’m able to walk to the yetts o Drum On me she may depend. 236E.14 ‘The last lady that I did wed Was far above my command; I durst not enter the bower where she was But my hat low in my hand.’ 236E.15 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ man bound for bed, The Laird o Drum and the Shepherd’s dother In one bed they were laid. 236E.16 ‘If ye were come o noble bleed An were as high as me, We could gang to the yetts o Drum Amangst gueed companie.’ 236E.17 ‘I tald you ere we was wed I was oer low for thee, But now we are wedd and in ae bed laid, And you must be content wi me. 236E.18 ‘For an ye were dead, an I were dead, And laid in the dust low down, When we were baith turnd up again Wha could ken your mould frae mine?’

236F: The Laird o Drum

236F.1 ‘OH, will ye fancy me, fair maid? Oh, will ye fancy me? O Or will ye go to be ladye o the Drum, An let a’ your shearin abe? O An let a’ your shearin abe? O An let a’ your shearin abe?’ O 236F.2 ‘I can neither read nor write, Nor neer been brocht up at schule; But I can do all other things, An keep a hoose richt weel. 236F.3 ‘My faither he’s a puir shepherd-man, Herds his hogs on yonder hill; Gin ye will go get his consent, Then I’ll be at your call.’ 236F.4 He has gane to her father, That herds hogs on yonder hill; He said, ‘You’ve got a pretty daughter, I’d fain tak her to my sel.’ 236F.5 ‘She can neither read nor write, Was neer brocht up at schule; But she can do all other things, An I learnt aye the lassie my sel. 236F.6 ‘She’ll milk your cows, she’ll carry your corn, She’ll gang to the mill or the kiln; She’ll saddle your steed at any time of need, And she’ll brush up your boots hersel.’ 236F.7 ‘It’s who will bake my bridal bread? Or who will brew my ale? Or who will welcome this bonnie lassie in? For it’s more than I can tell.’ 236F.8 There’s four-and-twenty gentlemen Stand doun at the gate o the Drum; Not one of them all would take off his hat For to welcome the bonnie lassie in. 236F.9 . . . . . . . . ‘Oh, brother, you’ve married a wife this day A disgrace to all our kin.’ 236F.10 ‘Oh, brother, I’ve married a wife to win, And ye’ve got one to spen, And as long as the bonnie lassie walks out and in She shall aye be the ladye o the Drum.’ 236F.11 When all was done, and no bells rung, And all men bound for their bed, The laird and the shepherd’s bonnie daughter In one bed they were laid. 236F.12 ‘Though I’m not of as noble blood, Nor yet of as high degree, Now I lie locked in your arms two, And you must be contented wi me. 236F.13 ‘If you were dead, and I were dead, And baith laid in one grave, If we were baith to be raised up again, Wha would ken your dust frae mine?

237A: The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter

237A.1 THE Duke of Gordon has three daughters, Elizabeth, Margaret, and Jean; They would not stay in bonny Castle Gordon, But they would go to bonny Aberdeen. 237A.2 They had not been in Aberdeen A twelvemonth and a day Till Lady Jean fell in love with Captain Ogilvie, And away with him she would gae. 237A.3 Word came to the Duke of Gordon, In the chamber where he lay, Lady Jean has fell in love with Captain Ogilvie, And away with him she would gae. 237A.4 ‘Go saddle to me the black horse, And you’ll ride on the grey, And I will ride to bonny Aberdeen, Where I have been many a day.’ 237A.5 They were not a mile from Aberdeen, A mile but only three, Till he met with his two daughters walking, But away was Lady Jean. 237A.6 ‘Where is your sister, maidens? Where is your sister now? Where is your sister, maidens, That she is not walking with you?’ 237A.7 ‘O pardon us, honoured father, O pardon us,’ they did say; ‘Lady Jean is with Captain Ogilvie, And away with him she will gae.’ 237A.8 When he came to Aberdeen, And down upon the green, There did he see Captain Ogilvie, Training up his men. 237A.9 ‘O wo to you, Captain Ogilvie, And an ill death thou shalt die; For taking to thee my daughter, Hang d thou shalt be.’ 237A.10 Duke Gordon has wrote a broad letter, And sent it to the king, To cause hang Captain Ogilvie If ever he hanged a man. 237A.11 ‘I will not hang Captain Ogilvie, For no lord that I see; But I’ll cause him to put off the lace and scarlet, And put on the single livery.’ 237A.12 Word came to Captain Ogilvie, In the chamber where he lay, To cast off the gold lace and scarlet, And put on the single livery. 237A.13 ‘If this be for bonny Jeany Gordon, This pennance I’ll take wi; If this be for bonny Jeany Gordon, All this I will dree.’ 237A.14 Lady Jean had not been married, Not a year but three, Till she had a babe in every arm, Another upon her knee. 237A.15 ‘O but I’m weary of wandering! O but my fortune is bad! It sets not the Duke of Gordon’s daughter To follow a soldier-lad. 237A.16 ‘O but I’m weary of wandering! O but I think lang! It sets not the Duke of Gordon’s daughter To follow a single man.’ 237A.17 When they came to the Highland hills, Cold was the frost and snow; Lady Jean’s shoes they were all torn, No farther could she go. 237A.18 ‘O wo to the hills and the mountains! Wo to the wind and the rain! My feet is sore with going barefoot, No further am I able to gang. 237A.19 ‘Wo to the hills and the mountains! Wo to the frost and the snow! My feet is sore with going barefoot, No farther am I able to go. 237A.20 ‘O if I were at the glens of Foudlen, Where hunting I have been, I would find the way to bonny Castle Gordon, Without either stockings or shoon.’ 237A.21 When she came to Castle Gordon, And down upon the green, The porter gave out a loud shout, ‘O yonder comes Lady Jean!’ 237A.22 ‘O you are welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon, You are dear welcome to me; You are welcome, dear Jeany Gordon, But away with your Captain Ogilvie.’ 237A.23 Now over seas went the captain, As a soldier under command; A message soon followed after To come and heir his brother’s land. 237A.24 ‘Come home, you pretty Captain Ogilvie, And heir your brother’s land; Come Home, ye pretty Captain Ogilvie, Be Earl of Northumberland.’ 237A.25 ‘O what does this mean?’ says the captain; ‘Where’s my brother’s children three?’ ‘They are dead and buried, And the lands they are ready for thee.’ 237A.26 ‘Then hoist up your sails, brave captain, Let’s be jovial and free; I’ll to Northumberland and heir my estate, Then my dear Jeany I’ll see.’ 237A.27 He soon came to Castle Gordon, And down upon the green; The porter gave out with a loud shout, ‘Here comes Captain Ogilvie!’ 237A.28 You’re welcome, pretty Captain Ogilvie, Your fortune’s advanced I hear; No stranger can come unto my gates That I do love so dear.’ 237A.29 ‘Sir, the last time I was at your gates, You would not let me in; I’m come for my wife and children, No friendship else I claim.’ 237A.30 ‘Come in, pretty Captain Ogilvie, And drink of the beer and the wine; And thou shalt have gold and silver To count till the clock strike nine.’ 237A.31 ‘I’ll have none of your gold or silver, Nor none of your white-money; But I’ll have bonny Jeany Gordon, And she shall go now with me.’ 237A.32 Then she came tripping down the stair, With the tear into her eye; One babe was at her foot, Another upon her knee. 237A.33 ‘You’re welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon, With my young family; Mount and go to Northumberland, There a countess thou shall be.’

238A: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

238A.1 FOUR and twenty noblemen they rode thro Banchory fair, But bonnie Glenlogie was flower [of a’] that was there. 238A.2 Four and twenty noblemen rode from Banchory ha, But bonnie Glenlogie he was flower of them a’. 238A.3 ‘O bonnie Glenlogie, be constant and kind, An, bonnie Glenlogie, I’ll tell you my mind. 238A.4 . . so frank and so free, . . and I get na Glenlogie, I’ll die.’ 238A.5 ‘O bonnie Jeanie, your portion’s but sma To lay your love on me, that’s promist awa.’ 238A.6 Her cherry cheeks grew pale an wan; with the tear in her ee, ‘Gin I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.’ 238A.7 Ben came her father, steps to her bowr: ‘Dear Jeanie, you’r acting the part of a [whore]. 238A.8 ‘You’re seeking ane that cares na for thee; Ye’s get Lord William, let Glenlogie be.’ 238A.9 ‘O had you still, father, let your folly be; Gin I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.’ 238A.10 Ben came her mother, steps on the floor: ‘Dear daughter Jeanie, you’re acting the [whore], 238A.11 ‘Seeking of ane that cares na for thee; For ye’ll get Lord William, let Glenlogie be.’ 238A.12 ‘O had your tongue, mother, and let me be; An I get na Glenlogie, I surely will die.’ 238A.13 O ben came her father’s chaplain, a man of great skill, And he has written a broad letter, and he has pennd it well. 238A.14 H’as pennd it well, an sent it awa To bonnie Glenlogie, the flower of them a’. 238A.15 When he got the letter, his tears did down fa RR’Srrhe’s laid her love on me, that was promist awa.’ 238A.16 He calld on his servant wi speed, and bade him saddle his horses, and bridle them a’: ‘For she has laid her love on me, altho I was promist awa.’ 238A.17 The horses were saddled wi speed, but ere they came he was four mile awa, To Jean of Bethelny, the flowr of them a’. 238A.18 But when he came to her bowr she was pale and wan, But she grew red and ruddy when Glenlogie came in. 238A.19 ‘Cheer up, bonnie Jeannie, ye are flowr o them a’; I have laid my love on you, altho I was promist awa.’ 238A.20 Her beauty was charming, her tocher down tauld; Bonnie Jean of Bethelny was scarce fifteen year auld.

238B: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

238B.1 FOUR and twenty nobles sits in the king’s ha, Bonnie Glenlogie is the flower among them a’. 238B.2 In came Lady Jean, skipping on the floor, And she has chosen Glenlogie ’mong a’ that was there. 238B.3 She turned to his footman, and thus she did say: Oh, what is his name? and where does he stay? 238B.4 ‘His name is Glenlogie, when he is from home; He is of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.’ 238B.5 ‘Glenlogie, Glenlogie, an you will prove kind, My love is laid on you; I am telling my mind.’ 238B.6 He turned about lightly, as the Gordons does a’: ‘I thank you, Lady Jean, my loves is promised awa.’ 238B.7 She called on her maidens her bed for to make, Her rings and her jewels all from her to take. 238B.8 In came Jeanie’s father, a wae man was he; Says, I’ll wed you to Drumfendrich, he has mair gold than he. 238B.9 Her father’s own chaplain, being a man of great skill, He wrote him a letter, and indited it well. 238B.10 The first lines he looked at, a light laugh laughed he; But ere he read through it the tears blindid his ee. 238B.11 Oh, pale and wan looked she when Glenlogie cam in, But even rosy grew she when Glenlogie sat down. 238B.12 ‘Turn round, Jeanie Melville, turn round to this side, And I’ll be the bridegroom, and you’ll be the bride.’ 238B.13 Oh, ’twas a merry wedding, and the portion down told, Of bonnie Jeanie Melville, who was scarce sixteen years old.

238C: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

 
 238C.1	 THERE was three score o nobles sat at the king’s dine,
 	 An bonny Glenlogie was flower o thrice nine.
 	 * * * * *
 238C.2	 . . cam trippin downstair,
 	 An she fancied Glenlogie ower a’ that was there.
 238C.3	 She called on the footman that ran by his side,
 	 Says, What is that man’s name, an where does he bide?
 238C.4	 ‘His name is Glenlogie when he goes from home,
 	 But he’s of the great Gordons, an his name is Lord John.’
 238C.5	 ‘Glenlogie! Glenlogie! Glenlogie!’ said she,
 	 ‘An for bonnie Glenlogie I surely will die.’
 238C.6	 She called on her maidens to make her her bed,
 	 . . . . .
 	 * * * * *
 238C.7	 When Glenlogie got the letter, amang noblemen,
 	 ‘Dear me,’ said Glenlogie, ’what does young women mean!’
 238C.8	 Then up spake his father, Let it never be said
 	 That such a fine lady should die for your sake.
 238C.9	 ‘Go saddle my black horse, go saddle him soon,
 	 Till I go to Bethelnie, to see Lady Jean.’
 238C.10	 When he got to Behtelnie, there was naebody there
 	 But was weeping an wailing an tearing their hair.
 	 * * * * *
 238C.11	 ‘Turn round, Jeanie Gordon, turn round to the side;
 	 I’ll be the bridegroom, an ye’s be the bride.’

238D: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

 
 238D.1	 THERE waur aucht an forty nobles rade to the king’s ha,
 	 But bonnie Glenlogie was the flour o them a’.
 238D.2	 There waur aucht and forty nobles rade to the king’s dine,
 	 But bonnie Glenlogie was the flour o thrice nine.
 238D.3	 Bonnie Jeanie Melville cam trippin doun the stair,
 	 An whan she saw Glenlogie her hairt it grew sair.
 238D.4	 . . . . .
 	 ‘He’s of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.’
 238D.5	 ‘Oh, Logie! Oh, Logie! Oh, Logie!’ said she,
 	 ‘If I get na Glenlogie, I surely will dee.’
 238D.6	 He turned him aboot, as the Gordons do a’,
 	 Says, I thank you, Lady Jeanie, but I’m promised awa.
 238D.7	 She called on her maidens her hands for to take,
 	 An the rings from her fingers she did them a’ break.
 238D.8	 ‘Oh, what is my lineage, or what is my make,
 	 That such a fine lady suld dee for my sake?’
 238D.9	 Such a pretty wedding, as I have been told,
 	 An bonnie Jeanie Melville was scarce sixteen years old.

238E: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

238E.1 THERE were four-and-twenty ladies dined i the Queen’s ha, And Jean o Bethelnie was the flower o them a’. 238E.2 Four-and-twenty gentlemen rode thro Banchory fair, But bonny Glenlogie was the flower that was there. 238E.3 Young Jean at a window she chanced to sit nigh, And upon Glenlogie she fixed an eye. 238E.4 She calld on his best man, unto him did say, O what is that knight’s name? or where does he stay? 238E.5 ‘He’s of the noble Gordons, of great birth and fame; He stays at Glenlogie, Sir George is his name.’ 238E.6 Then she wrote a broad letter, and wrote it in haste; To send it Glenlogie, she thought it was best. 238E.7 Says, O brave Glenlogie, unto me be kind; I’ve laid my love on you, and told you my mind. 238E.8 Then reading the letter, as he stood on the green, Says, I leave you to judge, sirs; what does women mean? 238E.9 Then turnd about sprightly, as the Gordons do a’: ‘Lay not your love on me, I’m promisd awa.’ 238E.10 When she heard this answer, her heart was like to break, That she laid her love on him, and him so ungrate. 238E.11 Then she calld on her maidens to lay her to bed, And take her fine jewels and lay them aside. 238E.12 ‘My seals and my signets, no more shall I crave; But linen and trappin, a chest and a grave.’ 238E.13 Her father stood by her, possess d with fear, To see his dear daughter, possess d with care. 238E.14 Says, Hold your tongue, Jeannie, let all your folly be; I’ll wed you to Dumfedline, he is better than he. 238E.15 ‘O hold your tongue, father, and let me alane; If I getna Glenlogie, I’ll never have ane. 238E.16 ‘His bonny jimp middle, his black rolling eye, If I getna Glenlogie, I’m sure I shall die.’ 238E.17 But her father’s old chaplain, a man of great skill, He wrote a broad letter, and penned it well. 238E.18 Saying, O brave Glenlogie, why must it be so? A maid’s love laid on you, shall she die in her woe? 238E.19 Then reading the letter, his heart was like to break That such a leal virgin should die for his sake. 238E.20 Then he calld on his footman, and likewise his groom, Says, Get my horse saddled and bridl d soon. 238E.21 Before the horse was saddled and brought to the yate, Bonnie Glenlogie was five miles on foot. 238E.22 When he came to Bethelnie, he saw nothing there But weeping and wailing, vexation and care. 238E.23 Then out spake her father, with the tear in his ee, You’re welcome, Glenlogie, you’re welcome to me. 238E.24 ‘If ye make me welcome, as welcome’s ye say, Ye’ll show me the chamber where Jeannie does lay.’ 238E.25 Then one o her maidens took him by the hand, To show him the chamber where Jeannie lay in. 238E.26 Before that she saw him, she was pale and wan; But when she did see him, she grew ruddy again. 238E.27 ‘O turn, bonny Jeannie, turn you to your side; For I’ll be the bridegroom, and ye’ll be the bride.’ 238E.28 When Jeannie was married, her tocher down tauld, Bonny Jean o Bethelnie was fifteen years auld.

238F: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

238F.1 FOURSCORE nobles ride in the king’s court, And bonny Earl Ogie’s the flower of the rout; Fourscore lean oer the castle-wa, But Jean of Bethelnie’s the flower of em a’. 238F.2 She writ a broad letter, and pennd it fou lang, And sent it Earl Ogie as fast as ’t can gang: ‘Bonny Earl Ogie, be courteous and kind; I’ve laid my love on thee; maun I die in my prime?’ 238F.3 ‘O pox on thee, Jenny, for being sae slaw! Bonny Earl Ogie is promisd awa:’ This letter was like to mak her heart break, For revealing her mind to a man so ingrate. 238F.4 ‘Come here, all my handmaids, O do this with speed, Take my gowns and my passments, and lay me to bed; Lay me to bed, it is all that I crave; Wi my sark in my coffin, lay me in my grave.’ 238F.5 Her father beheld her with heart full of grief, And spoke these words to her, to gi her relief: Hawd your tongue, Jenny, your mourning let be, You shall have drumfinely, who’s as good as he. 238F.6 ‘Haud your tongue, father, your words make me sad; If I get not Earl Ogie, I still shall be bad; With his bonny streight body, and black rolling eee, If I get not Earl Ogie, for him I mun dee.’ 238F.7 Her father, king’s chaplain, and one of great skill, Did write a broad letter, and pennd it fou weel; He as writ a broad letter, and pennd it fou lang, And sent it Earl Ogie as fast as ’t can gang. 238F.8 ‘Bonny Earl Ogie, be courteous and kind; My daughter loves you; must she die in her prime?’ When he read the first lines, a loud laugh gave he; But or he redd the middle, the tear filld his ee, 238F.9 ‘Come here, all my footmen, and also my groom, Go saddle my horses, and saddle them soon:’ They were not weel saddled and set on the green Or bonny Earl Ogie was twa mile his lain. 238F.10 When he came to Bethelnie, he nothing saw there But mourning and weeping, lamentation and care: ‘O you that’s her handmaid, take me by the hand, Lead me to the chamber that Jenny lies in.’ 238F.11 When thither he came, she was pale and half dead; As soon as she saw him, her cheeks they grew red: ‘Come, turn thee, my Jenny, come, turn on thy side, I’ll be the bridegroom, you shall be the bride.’ 238F.12 Her spirit revived to hear him say sae, And thus ended luckily all her great wae; Then streight were they married, with joy most profound, And Jean of Bethelnie was sav’d from the ground.

238G: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

238G.1 THERE was mony a braw noble cum to our king’s ha, But the bonnie Glenlogie was the flower o them a’; An the young ladye Jeanye, sae gude an sae fair, She fancyd Glenlogie aboon a’ that were there. 238G.2 She speered at his footman that rode by his side His name an his surname an whare he did bide: ‘He bides a[t] Glenlogie whan he is at hame, He is of the gay Gordons, an John is his name.’ 238G.3 ‘Oh, Logie, Glenlogie, I’ll tell you my mind; My luve is laid on you, O wad ye prove kind!’ He turned him about, as the Gordons do a’, ‘I thank [you], fair ladye, but I’m promised awa.’ 238G.4 She called on her maidens her hands for to take, An the rings on her fingers she did them a’ break: ‘Oh Logie, Glenlogie! Oh, Logie!’ said she, ‘Gin I get na Glenlogie, I’m sure I will die.’ 238G.5 ‘O hold your tongue, daughter, an weep na sae sair, For ye’ll get Drumfindlay, his father’s young heir.’ ‘O hold your tongue, father, an let me alane, Gin I get na Glenlogie, I winna hae ane.’ 238G.6 Her father wrote a broad letter wi speed, And ordered his footman to run and ride; He wrote a broad letter, he wrote it wi skill, An sent it to Glenlogie, who had dune her the ill. 238G.7 The first line that he read, a light laugh gae he; The next line that he read, the tear filld his ee: ‘O what a man am I, an hae I a maik, That such a fine ladye shoud die for my sake? 238G.8 ‘Ye’ll saddle my horse, an ye’ll saddle him sune, An, when he is saddled, bring him to the green:’ His horse was na saddled an brocht to the green, When Glenlogie was on the road three miles his lane. 238G.9 When he came to her father’s, he saw naething there But weeping an wailing an sobbing fu sair: O pale an wan was she when Logie gaed in, But red and ruddie grew she when Logie gaed ben. 238G.10 ‘O turn, Ladye Jeany, turn ye to your side, For I’ll be the bridegroom, an ye’ll be the bride:’ It was a blythe wedding as ever I’ve seen, An bonny Jeany Melville was scarce seventeen.

238H: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

238H.1 SIX and six nobles gaed to Behelvie fair, But bonnie Glenlogie was flowr o a’ there; Bonnie Jean o Belhelvie gaed tripping doun the stair, And fancied Glenlogie afore a’ that was there. 238H.2 She said to his serving-man, as he stood aside, O what is that man’s name, and whare does he bide? ‘They call him Glenlogie whan he goes frae home, But he’s come o the grand gordons, and [h]is name is Lord John.’ 238H.3 ‘Glenlogie, Glenlogie, be constant and kind; I’ve laid my love on you, I’ll tell you my mind:’ ‘O wae’s me heart, Jeanie, your tocher’s oure sma; Lay na your love on me, foe I’m promised awa.’ 238H.4 She called for the servant to show her a room, Likewise for a handmaid to mak her bed doun; Wi that Jeanie’s father cam stepping on the floor, Says, What is the matter my dochter lies here? 238H.5 ‘Forgie, honourd father, my folly,’ said she, ‘But for the sake o Glenlogie your dochter will dee:’ ‘O cheer up, my dochter, for I’ll gie ye my hand That ye’se get young Glenforbar, w’ an earldom of land. 238H.6 ‘O cheer up, my dochter, turn ance frae the wa, And ye’ll get Glenforbar, the flowr o them a’:’ ‘I wad rather tak Glenlogie wi his staff in his hand Afore I wad tak Glenforbar wi an earldom of land.’ 238H.7 Jeanie’s father was a scholar, and a man o grit wit, And he wrote him a letter, he thought it was fit. 238H.8 When Glenlogie gat the letter, he was amang nobles a’, . . . he lute his hat fa: ‘I wonder i the warld what women see at me, For bonnie Jean o Belhelvie is a dying for me:’ 238H.9 He calld for his servant to saddle his steed, . . . wi speed; The horse was na saddled, but out on the green, Till bonnie Glenlogie was some miles him leen. 238H.10 Whan he cam to Belhelvie, he rade round about, And he saw Jeanie’s father at a window look out. 238H.11 Bonnie Jean o Belhelvie lay pale and wan, But red and ruddy grew she when Glenlogie cam in: ‘Lie yont, bonnie Jeanie, and let me lie down, For ye’se be bride, and I’se be bridegroom.’

238I: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

238I.1 ‘THERERR’rrS fifty young nobles rides up the king’s hall And bonny Glenlogie’s the flower of them all; Wi his milk-white steed, and his black rolling ee, If I get na Glenlogie, it’s certain I’ll die. 238I.2 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy, to win hose and shoon, To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come?’ ‘Here am I pretty boy, to win baith hose and shoon, To go to Glenlogie and bid Logie come.’ 238I.3 When he came to Glenlogie, it was ’wash and go dine:’ ‘Come in, my pretty boy, wash and go dine:’ ‘It was no my father’s fashion, and I hope it’ll no be mine, To run a lady’s hasty errand, then to go dine. 238I.4 ‘Here take this letter, Glenlogie,’ said he. The first ane line that he read, a low smile gave he; The next ane line that he read, the tear blinded his ee; But the next line that he read he garrd the table flee. 238I.5 ‘O saddle to me the black horse, saddle to me the brown, Saddle to me the swiftest horse that eer rode frae the town:’ But lang or the horses could be brought to the green Bonnie Glenlogie was twa mile his lean. 238I.6 When he came to Glenfeldy’s gates, little mirth was there, Bonie Jean’s mother was tearing her hair: ‘You’re welcome, Glenlogie, you’re welcome to me, You’re welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see.’ 238I.7 O pale and wan was she when Logie came in, But red and rosy grew she wheneer he sat down; ‘O turn you, bonie Jeanie, O turn you to me, For, if you’ll be the bride, the bridegroom I will be.’

239A: Lord Saltoun and Auchanachie

239A.1 ‘AUCHANACHIE GORDON is bonny and braw, He would tempt any woman that ever he saw; He would tempt any woman, so has he tempted me, And I’ll die if i getna my love Auchanachie.’ 239A.2 In came her father, tripping on the floor, Says, Jeanie, ye’re trying the tricks o a whore; Ye’re caring for them that cares little for thee; Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie. 239A.3 ‘Auchanachie Gordon, he is but a man; Altho he be pretty, where lies his free land? Salton’s lands they lie broad, his towers they stand hie, Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie. 239A.4 . . . . . . . . . . ‘Salton will gar you wear silk gowns fring’d to thy knee, But ye’ll never wear that wi your love Auchanachie.’ 239A.5 ‘Wi Auchanachie Gordon I would beg my bread Before that wi Salton I’d wear gowd on my head, Wear gowd on my head, or gowns fring’d to the knee; And I’ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie. 239A.6 ‘O Salton’s [a] valley lies low by the sea, He’s bowed on the back, and thrawin on the knee;’ . . . . . . . . . . 239A.7 ‘O Salton’s a valley lies low by the sea; Though he’s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee, Though he’s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee, The bonny rigs of Salton they’re nae thrawin tee.’ 239A.8 ‘O you that are my parents to church may me bring, But unto young Salton I’ll never bear a son; For son or for daughter, I’ll never bow my knee, And I’ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.’ 239A.9 When Jeanie was married, from church was brought hame, When she wi her maidens sae merry shoud hae been, When she wi her maidens sae merry shoud hae been, She’s called for a chamber, to weep there her lane. 239A.10 ‘Come to your bed, Jeanie, my honey and my sweet, For to stile you mistress I do not think it meet:’ ‘Mistress or Jeanie, it is a’ ane to me, It’s in your bed, Salton, I never will be.’ 239A.11 Then out spake her father, he spake wi renown; Some of you that are maidens, ye’ll loose aff her gown; Some of you that are maidens, ye’ll loose aff her gown, And I’ll mend the marriage wi ten thousand crowns. 239A.12 Then ane of her maidens they loosed aff her gown, But bonny Jeanie Gordon she fell in a swoon; She fell in a swoon low down by their knee; Says, Look on, I die for my love Auchanachie! 239A.13 That very same day Miss Jeanie did die, And hame came Auchanachie, hame frae the sea; Her father and mither welcomd him at the gate; He said, Where’s Miss Jeanie, that she’s nae here yet? 239A.14 Then forth came her maidens, all wringing their hands, Saying, Alas for your staying sae lang frae the land! Sae lang frae the land, and sae lang on the fleed! They’ve wedded your Jeanie, and now she is dead. 239A.15 ‘Some of you, her maidens, take me by the hand, And show me the chamber Miss Jeanie died in;’ He kissd her cold lips, which were colder than stane, And he died in the chamber that Jeanie died in.

Chile 239B: Lord Saltoun and Auchanachie

239B.1 ‘BUCHAN, it’s bonnie, an there lies my love, My heart is fixt on him, it winna remove; It winna remove for a’ at I can dee, An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’ 239B.2 Her father cam trippin, cam trippin ben the floor, Says, Jeannie, ye hae but the tricks o a whore; Ye care little for the man that cares muckle for thee, But I’ll cause you marry Saltoun, let Annochie be. 239B.3 ‘Ye may marry me to Saltoun before that I go home, But it is to Lord Saltoun I’ll never bear a son; A son nor a daughter I’ll never bear to he, An I never will frosake him Young Annochie.’ 239B.4 ‘All you that is her maidens, ye’ll tak her by the han, An I will inheft her o five thousan poun; She’ll wear silk to her heel and gowd to her knee, An I’ll cause her to forsake him Young Annochie.’ 239B.5 ‘All you that is my maidens winna tak me by the han, I winna be inhefted o five thousan poun; I’ll nae wear silk to my heal nor wear gowd to my knee, An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’ 239B.6 ‘All you that is her maidens, ye’ll show her to her bed; The blankets they are ready, the sheets are comely spread; She shall lie in my airms till twelve o the day, An I’ll cause her to forsake him Young Annochie.’ 239B.7 ‘All you that is my maidens winna show me to my bed, Tho the blankets they be ready, the sheets be comely spread; I’ll nae lie in your airms till twelve o the day, An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’ 239B.8 It’s that day they wedded her, an that day she died, An that day Young Annochie cam in on the tide; . . . . . . . . . . 239B.9 Her maidens did meet him, a’ wringin their hans, Sayin, It’s a’ for your stayin so long on the sans! They’ve wedded your Jeannie, an now she is dead, An it’s a’ for your stayin sae long on the fleed. 239B.10 ‘All you that is her maidens ye’ll tak me by the han, Ye’ll show me the bower that Jeannie lies in:’ He kissed her cold lips, they were both white an red, And for bonnie Jeannie Gordon Young Annochie died.

240A: The Rantin Laddie

240A.1 ‘AFTEN hae I playd at the cards and the dice, For the love of a bonie rantin laddie, But now I maun sit in my father’s kitchen-neuk And balow a bastard babie. 240A.2 ‘For my father he will not me own, And my mother she neglects me, And a’ my friends hae lightlyed me, And their servants they do slight me. 240A.3 ‘But had I a servant at my command, As aft times I’ve had many, That wad rin wi a letter to bonie Glenswood, Wi a letter to my rantin laddie!’ 240A.4 ‘O is he either a laird or a lord, Or is he but a cadie, That ye do him ca sae aften by name Your bonie, bonie rantin laddie?’ 240A.5 ‘Indeed he is baith a laird and a lord, And he never was a cadie, But he is the Earl o bonie Aboyne, And he is my rantin laddie.’ 240A.6 ‘O ye’se get a servant at your command, As aft times ye’ve had many, That sall rin wi a letter to bonie Glenswood, A letter to your rantin laddie.’ 240A.7 When Lord Aboyne did the letter get, O but he blinket bonie! But or he had read three lines of it I think his heart was sorry. 240A.8 ‘O wha is [this] daur be sae bauld Sae cruelly to use my lassie? . . . . . . . 240A.9 ‘For her father he will not her know, And her mother she does slight her, And a’ her friends hae lightlied her, And their servants they neglect her. 240A.10 ‘Go raise to me my five hundred men, Make haste and make them ready, With a milk-white steed under every ane, For to bring hame my lady.’ 240A.11 As they cam in thro Buchanshire, They were a company bonie, With a gude claymor in every hand, And O but they shin’d bonie!

240B: The Rantin Laddie

240B.1 ‘OFT have I playd at the cards an the dyce, The war so very enticin; But this is a sad an a sorrowfu seat, To see my apron risin. 240B.2 ‘Oft hae I playd at the cards an the dice For love of my [rantin] laddie; But now I man sit in my father’s kitchie-nouk, A rokkin o my baby. 240B.3 ‘But gin I had ane o my father’s servans, For he has so mony, That wad gae to the wood o Glentanner, Wi a letter to the rantin laddie!’ 240B.4 ‘Here am I, ane o your father’s servans, For he has sae mony, That will gae to the wood o Glentanner, Wi a letter to the rantin laddie.’ 240B.5 ‘Fan ye gae to Aboyne, To the woods o Glentanner sae bonny, Wi your hat in your hand gie a bow to the ground, In the presence o the rantin laddie.’ 240B.6 Fan he gaed to Aboyne, To the woods o Glentanner sae bonny, Wi his hat in his hand he gied a bow to the ground, In the presence of the rantin laddie. 240B.7 Fan he looked the letter on Sae loud as he was laughin! But or he read it to an end The tears they cam down rappin. 240B.8 ‘O fa is this or fa is that Has been so ill to my Maggie? . . . . . . . . 240B.9 ‘But ye gett four-and-twenty milk white steeds, Wi an car . . . An as mony gay ladies to ride them on, To gae an bring hame my Maggie. 240B.10 ‘Ye get four-and-twenty bonny brown steeds, Wi an car o an ome, An as mony knights to ride them on, To gae an bring hame my Maggie.’ 240B.11 Ye lasses a’, far ever ye be, An ye match wi ony o our Deeside laddies, Ye’ll happy be, ye’l happy be, For they are frank and kind.

240C: The Rantin Laddie

240C.1 ‘AFT hae I playd at cards and dice For the love o a bonny rantin laddie, But now I maun sit i my father’s kitchen-nook, And sing, Hush, balow, my baby. 240C.2 ‘If I had been wise, and had taen advice, And dane as my bonny love bade me, I would hae been married at Martinmass, And been wi my rantin laddie. 240C.3 ‘But I was na wise, I took nae advice, Did not as my bonny love bade me, And now I maun sit by mysel i the nook, And rock my bastard baby. 240C.4 ‘If I had horse at my command, As often I had many, I would ride on to the Castle o Aboyne, Wi a letter to my rantin laddie.’ 240C.5 Down the stair her father came, And look d proud and saucy: ‘Who is the man, and what is his name, That ye ca your rantin laddie? 240C.6 ‘Is he a lord, or is he a laird? Or is he but a caddie? Or is it the young Earl o Aboyne That ye ca your rantin laddie?’ 240C.7 ‘He is a young and noble lord, He never was a caddie; It is the noble Earl o Aboyne That I ca my rantin laddie.’ 240C.8 ‘Ye shall hae a horse at your command, As ye had often many, To go to the Castle o Aboyne, Wi a letter to your rantin laddie. 240C.9 ‘Where will I get a little page, Where will I get a caddie, That will run quick to bonny Aboyne, Wi this letter to my rantin laddie?’ 240C.10 Then out spoke the young scullion-boy, Said, Here am I, a caddie; I will run on to bonny Aboyne, Wi the letter to your rantin laddie. 240C.11 ‘Now when ye come to bonny Deeside, Where woods are green and bonny, There will ye see the Earl o Aboyne, Among the bushes mony. 240C.12 ‘And when ye come to the lands o Aboyne, Where all around is bonny, Ye’ll take your hat into your hand, Gie this letter to my rantin laddie.’ 240C.13 When he came near the banks of Dee, The birks were blooming bonny, And there he saw the Earl o Aboyne, Among the bushes mony. 240C.14 ‘Where are ye going, my bonny boy? Where are ye going, my caddie?’ ‘I am going to the Castle o Aboyne, Wi a letter to the rantin laddie.’ 240C.15 ‘See yonder is the castle then, My young and handsome caddie, And I myself am the Earl o Aboyne, Tho they ca me the rantin laddie.’ 240C.16 ‘O pardon, my lord, if I’ve done wrong; Forgive a simple caddie; O pardon, pardon, Earl o Aboyne, I said but what she bade me.’ 240C.17 ‘Ye have done no wrong, my bonny boy, Ye’ve done no wrong, my caddie;’ Wi hat in hand he bowed low, Gave the letter to the rantin laddie. 240C.18 When young Aboyne looked the letter on, O but he blinkit bonny! But ere he read four lines on end The tears came trickling mony. 240C.19 ‘My father will no pity shew, My mother still does slight me, And a’ my friends have turned from me, And servants disrespect me.’ 240C.20 ‘Who are they dare be so bold To cruelly use my lassie? But I’ll take her to bonny Aboyne, Where oft she did caress me. 240C.21 ‘Go raise to me five hundred men, Be quick and make them ready; Each on a steed, to haste their speed, To carry home my lady.’ 240C.22 As they rode on thro Buchanshire, The company were many, Wi a good claymore in every hand, That glanc d wondrous bonny. 240C.23 When he came to her father’s gate, He called for his lady: ‘Come down, come down, my bonny maid, And speak wi your rantin laddie.’ 240C.24 When she was set on high horseback, Rowd in the Highland plaidie, The bird i the bush sang not so sweet As sung this bonny lady. 240C.25 As they rode on thro Buchanshire, He cried, Each Lowland lassie, Lay your love on some lowland lown, And soon will he prove fause t’ ye. 240C.26 ‘But take my advice, and make your choice Of some young Highland laddie, Wi bonnet and plaid, whose heart is staid, And he will not beguile ye.’ 240C.27 As they rode on thro Garioch land, He rode up in a fury, And cried, Fall back, each saucy dame, Let the Countess of Aboyne before ye.

240D: The Rantin Laddie

 
 240D.1	 ‘AFT hae I played at he cards and the dice,
 	 It was a’ for the sake o my laddie,
 	 But noo I sit i my father’s kitchie-neuk,
 	 Singing ba to a bonnie bastard babbie.
 240D.2	 ‘Whar will I get a bonnie boy sae kin
 	 As will carry a letter cannie,
 	 That will rin on to the gates o the Boyne,
 	 Gie the letter to my rantin laddie?’
 240D.3	 ‘Here am I, a bonnie boy sae kin,
 	 As will carry a letter cannie,
 	 That will rin on to the gates o the Boyne,
 	 Gie the letter to your rantin laddie.’
 240D.4	 ‘When ye come to the gates o the Boyne,
 	 An low doon on yon cassie,
 	 Ye’ll tak aff your hat an ye’ll mak a low bow,
 	 Gie the letter to my rantin laddie.’
 240D.5	 ‘When ye come to gates o the Boyne,
 	 Ye’ll see lords an nobles monie;
 	 But ye’ll ken him among them a’,
 	 He’s my bonnie, bonnie rantin laddie.’
 240D.6	 ‘Is your bonnie love a laird or a lord,
 	 Or is he a cadie,
 	 That ye call him so very often by name
 	 Your bonnie rantin laddie?’
 240D.7	 ‘My love’s neither a laird nor a lord,
 	 Nor is he a cadie,
 	 But he is yerl o a’ the Boyne,
 	 An he is my bonnie rantin laddie.’
 240D.8	 When he read a line or two,
 	 He smil d eer sae bonnie;
 	 But lang ere he cam to the end
 	 The tears cam trinklin monie.
 240D.9	 ‘Whar will I find fifty noble lords,
 	 An as monie gay ladies,
 	 * * * * *

241A: The Baron o Leys

241A.1 THE Laird of Leys is on to Edinbrugh, To shaw a fit o his follie; He drest himsel in the crimson-brown, An he provd a rantin laddie. 241A.2 Ben came a weel-faird lass, Says, Laddie, how do they ca ye? ‘They ca me this, an they ca me that, Ye wudna ken fat they ca me; But whan I’m at home on bonnie Deeside They ca me The Rantin Laddie.’ 241A.3 They sought her up, they sought her down, They sought her in the parlour; She couldna be got but whar she was, In the bed wi The Rantin Laddie. 241A.4 ‘Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys, Ye tell me how they ca ye! Your gentle blood moves in my side, An I dinna ken how they ca ye.’ 241A.5 ‘They ca me this, an they ca me that, Ye couldna ken how they ca me; But whan I’m at home on bonnie Deeside They ca me The Rantin Laddie.’ 241A.6 ‘Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys, Ye tell mo how they ca ye! Your gentle blood moves in my side, An I dinna ken how to ca ye.’ 241A.7 ‘Baron of Leys, it is my stile, Alexander Burnett they ca me; Whan I’m at hame on bonnie Deeside My name is The Rantin Laddie.’ 241A.8 ‘Gin your name be Alexander Burnett, Alas that ever I saw ye! For ye hae a wife and bairns at hame, An alas for lyin sae near ye! 241A.9 ‘But I’se gar ye be headit or hangt, Or marry me the morn, Or else pay down ten thousand crowns For giein o me the scorn.’ 241A.10 ‘For my head, I canna want; I love my lady dearly; But some o my lands I maun lose in the case, Alas for lyin sae near ye!’ 241A.11 Word has gane to the Lady of Leys That the laird he had a bairn; The warst word she said to that was, ‘I wish I had it in my arms. 241A.12 ‘For I will sell my jointure-lands-+--+- I am broken an I’m sorry-+--+- An I’ll sell a’, to my silk gowns, An get hame my rantin laddie.’

241B: The Baron o Leys

241B.1 THE Laird o Leys is to London gane; He was baith full and gawdie; For he shod his steed wi siller guid, And he’s playd the ranting laddie. 241B.2 He hadna been in fair London A twalmonth and a quarter, Till he met wi a weel-faurd may, Wha wishd to know how they ca’d him. 241B.3 ‘They ca me this, and they ca me that, And they’re easy how they’ve ca’d me; But whan I’m at hame on bonnie Deeside They ca me The Ranting Laddie.’ 241B.4 ‘Awa wi your jesting, sir,’ she said, ‘I trow you’re a ranting laddie; But something swells atween my sides, And I maun ken how they ca thee.’ 241B.5 ‘They ca me this, and they ca me that, And they’re easy how they ca me; The Baron o Leys my title is, And Sandy Burnet they ca me.’ 241B.6 ‘Tell down, tell down ten thousand crowns, Or ye maun marry me the morn; Or headit of hangit ye sall be, For ye sanna gie me the scorn.’ 241B.7 ‘My head’s the thing I canna weel want; My lady she loves me dearlie; Nor yet hae I means ye to maintain; Alas for the lying sae near thee!’ 241B.8 But word’s gane doun to the Lady o Leys That the Baron had got a babie: ‘The waurst o news!’ my lady she said, ‘I wish I had hame my laddie. 241B.9 ‘But I’ll sell aff my jointure-house, Tho na mair I sud be a ladie; I’ll sell a’ to my silken goun, And bring hame my rantin laddie.’ 241B.10 So she is on to London gane, And she paid the money on the morn; She paid it doun and brought him hame, And gien them a’ the scorn.

241C: The Baron o Leys

241C.1 THE Baron o Leys to France is gane, The fashion and tongue to learn, But hadna been there a month or twa Till he gat a lady wi bairn. 241C.2 But it fell ance upon a day The lady mournd fu sairlie; Says, Who’s the man has me betrayed? It gars me wonder and fairlie. 241C.3 Then to the fields to him she went, Saying, Tell me what they ca thee; Or else I’ll mourn and rue the day, Crying, alas that ever I saw thee! 241C.4 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, I carena fat befa me; For when I’m at the schools o France An awkward fellow they ca me.’ 241C.5 ‘Wae’s me now, ye awkward fellow, And alas that ever I saw thee! Wi you I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat they ca thee.’ 241C.6 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, What name does best befa me; For when I walk in Edinburgh streets The Curling Buckle they ca me.’ 241C.7 ‘O wae’s me now, O Curling Buckle, And alas that ever I saw thee! For I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat they ca thee.’ 241C.8 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, Whatever name best befa’s me; But when I’m in Scotland’s king’s high court Clatter the Speens they ca me.’ 241C.9 ‘O wae’s me now, O Clatter the Speens, And alas that ever I saw thee! For I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat to ca thee.’ 241C.10 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, I carena what they ca me; But when wi the Earl o Murray I ride It’s Scour the Brass they ca me.’ 241C.11 ‘O wae’s me now, O Scour the Brass, And alas that ever I saw thee! For I’m in love, sick, sick in love, Amd I kenna well fat to ca thee.’ 241C.12 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, Whatever name best befa’s me; But when I walk thro Saint Johnstone’s town George Burnett they ca me.’ 241C.13 ‘O wae’s me, O wae’s me, George Burnett, And alas that ever I saw thee! For I’m in love, sick, sick in love, And I kenna well fat to ca thee.’ 241C.14 ‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that, Whatever name best befa’s me; But when I am on bonny Dee side The Baron o Leys they ca me.’ 241C.15 ‘O weal is me now, O Baron o Leys, This day that ever I saw thee! There’s gentle blood within my sides, And now [I] ken fat they ca thee. 241C.16 ‘But ye’ll pay down ten thousand crowns, Or marry me the morn; Else I’ll cause you be headed or hangd For gieing me the scorn.’ 241C.17 ‘My head is a thing I cannot well want; My lady loves me sae dearly; But I’ll deal the gold right liberally For lying ae night sae near thee.’ 241C.18 When word had gane to the Lady o Leys The baron had gotten a bairn, She clapped her hands, and this did say, ‘I wish he were in my arms! 241C.19 ‘O weal is me now, O Baron o Leys, For ye hae pleased me sairly; Frae our house is banishd the vile reproach That disturbed us late and early.’ 241C.20 When she looked ower her castle-wa, To view the woods sae rarely, There she spied the Baron o Leys Ride on his steed sae rarely. 241C.21 Then forth she went her baron to meet, Says, Ye’re welcome to me, fairly! Ye’se hae spice-cakes, and seed-cakes sweet, And claret to drink sae rarely.

242A: The Coble o Cargin

242A.1 DAVID DRUMMONDRR’rrS destinie, Gude man o appearance o Cargill; I wat his blude rins in the flude, Sae sair against his parents’ will. 242A.2 She was the lass o Balathy toun, And he the butler o Stobhall, And mony a time she wauked late To bore the coble o Cargill. 242A.3 His bed was made in Kercock ha, Of gude clean sheets and of [the] hay; He wudna rest ae nicht therein, But on the prude waters he wud gae. 242A.4 His bed was made in Balathy toun, Of the clean sheets and of the strae; But I wat it was far better made Into the bottom o bonnie Tay. 242A.5 She bored the coble in seven pairts, I wat her heart might hae been fu sair; For there she got the bonnie lad lost Wi the curly locks and the yellow hair. 242A.6 He put his foot into the boat, He little thocht o ony ill; But before that he was mid-waters, The weary coble began to fill. 242A.7 ‘Woe be to the lass o Balathy toun, I wat an ill death may she die! For she bored the coble in seven pairts, And let the waters perish me. 242A.8 ‘Oh, help, oh help, I can get nane, Nae help o man can to me come!’ This was about his dying words, When he was choaked up to the chin. 242A.9 ‘Gae tell my father and my mother It was naebody did me this ill; I was a-going my ain errands, Lost at the coble o bonnie Cargill.’ 242A.10 She bored the boat in seven pairts, I wat she bored it wi gude will; And there they got the bonnie lad’s corpse, In the kirk-shot o bonnie Cargill. 242A.11 Oh a’ the keys o bonnie Stobha I wat they at his belt did hing; But a’ the keys of bonnie Stobha They now ly low into the stream. 242A.12 A braver page into his age Neer set a foot upon the plain; His father to his mother said, ‘Oh, sae soon as we’ve wanted him! 242A.13 ‘I wat they had mair luve than this When they were young and at the scule; But for his sake she wauked late, And bored the coble o bonnie Cargill.’ 242A.14 ‘There’s neer a clean sark gae on my back, Nor yet a kame gae in my hair; There’s neither coal nor candle-licht Shall shine in my bouir foe evir mair. 242A.15 ‘At kirk nor market I’se neer be at, Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee; There’s neer a ane shall say to anither, That’s the lassie gard the young man die. 242A.16 ‘Between the yates o bonnie Stobha And the kirk-style o bonnie Cargill, There is mony a man and mother’s son That was at my love’s burial.’

243A: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

243A.1 THERE dwelt a fair maid in the West, Of worthy birth and fame, Neer unto Plimouth, stately town, Jane Reynolds was her name. 243A.2 This damsel dearly was belovd By many a proper youth, And what of her is to be said In known for very truth. 243A.3 Among the rest a seaman brave Unto her a wooing came; A comely proper youth he was, James Harris calld by name. 243A.4 The maid and young man was agreed, As time did them allow, And to each other secretly They made a solemn vow, 243A.5 That they would ever faithfull be Whilst Heaven afforded life; He was to be her husband kind, And she his faithfull wife. 243A.6 A day appointed was also When they was to be married; But before these things were brought to pass Matters were strangely carried. 243A.7 All you that faithfull lovers be Give ear and hearken well, And what of them became at last I will directly tell. 243A.8 The young man he was prest to sea, And forc d was to go; His sweet-heart she must stay behind, Whether she would or no. 243A.9 And after he was from her gone She three years for him staid, Expecting of his comeing home, And kept herself a maid. 243A.10 At last news came that he was dead Within a forraign land, And how that he was buried She well did understand, 243A.11 For whose sweet sake the maiden she Lamented many a day, And never was she known at all The wanton for to play. 243A.12 A carpenter that livd hard by, When he heard of the same, Like as the other had done before, To her a wooing came. 243A.13 But when that he had gained her love They married were with speed, And four years space, being man and wife, They loveingly agreed. 243A.14 Three pritty children in this time This loving couple had, Which made their father’s heart rejoyce, And mother wondrous glad. 243A.15 But as occasion servd, one time The good man took his way Some three days journey from his home, Intending not to stay. 243A.16 But, whilst that he was gone away, A spirit in the night Came to the window of his wife, And did her sorely fright. 243A.17 Which spirit spake like to a man, And unto her did say, ‘My dear and onely love,’ quoth he, ‘Prepare and come away. 243A.18 ‘James Harris is my name,’ quoth he, ‘Whom thou didst love so dear, And I have traveld for thy sake At least this seven year. 243A.19 ‘And now I am returnd again, To take thee to my wife, And thou with me shalt go to sea, To end all further strife.’ 243A.20 ‘O tempt me not, sweet James,’ quoth she, ‘With thee away to go; If I should leave my children small, Alas! what would they do? 243A.21 ‘My husband is a carpenter, A carpenter of great fame; I would not for five hundred pounds That he should know the same.’ 243A.22 ‘I might have had a king’s daughter, And she would have married me; But I forsook her golden crown, And for the love of thee. 243A.23 ‘Therefore, if thou’lt thy husband forsake, And thy children three also, I will forgive the[e] what is past, If thou wilt with me go.’ 243A.24 ‘If I forsake my husband and My little children three, What means hast thou to bring me to, If I should go with thee?’ 243A.25 ‘I have seven ships upon the sea; When they are come to land, Both marriners and marchandize Shall be at thy command. 243A.26 ‘The ship wherein my love shall sail Is glorious to behold; The sails shall be of finest silk, And the mast of shining gold.’ 243A.27 When he had told her these fair tales, To love him she began, Because he was in human shape, Much like unto a man. 243A.28 And so together away they went From off the English shore, And since that time the woman-kind Was never seen no more. 243A.29 But when her husband he come home And found his wife was gone, And left her three sweet pretty babes Within the house alone, 243A.30 He beat his breast, he tore his hair, The tears fell from his eyes, And in the open streets he run With heavy doleful cries. 243A.31 And in this sad distracted case He hangd himself for woe Upon a tree near to the place; The truth of all is so. 243A.32 The children now are fatherless, And left without a guide, But yet no doubt the heavenly powers Will for them well provide.

243B: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

243B.1 ‘WELL met, well met, my own true love, Long time I have been seeking thee; I am lately come from the salt sea, And all for the sake, love, of thee. 243B.2 ‘I might have had a king’s daughter, And fain she would have married me; But I’ve forsaken all her crowns of gold, And all for the sake, love, of thee.’ 243B.3 ‘If you might have had a king’s daughter, I think you much to blame; I would not for five hundred pounds That my husband should hear the same. 243B.4 ‘For my husband is a carpenter, And a young ship-carpenter is he, And by him I have a little son, Or else, love, I’d go along with thee. 243B.5 ‘But if I should leave my husband dear, Likewise my little son also, What have you to maintain me withal, If I along with you should go?’ 243B.6 ‘I have seven ships upon the seas, And one of them brought me to land, And seventeen mariners to wait on thee, For to be, love, at your command. 243B.7 ‘A pair of slippers thou shalt have, They shall be mad of beaten gold, Nay and be lin’d with velvet soft, For to keep thy feet from cold. 243B.8 ‘A gilded boat thou then shall have, The oars shall gilded be also, And mariners to row the[e] along, For to keep thee from thy overthrow.’ 243B.9 They had not been long upon the sea Before that she began to weep: ‘What, weep you for my gold?’ he said, ‘Or do you weep for my fee? 243B.10 ‘Or do you weep for some other young man That you love much better than me?’ ‘No, I do weep for my little son, That should have come along with me.’ 243B.11 She had not been upon the seas Passing days three or four But the mariner and she were drowned, And never were heard of more. 243B.12 When tidings to old England came The ship-carpenter’s wife was drownd, He wrung his hands and tore his hair, And grievously fell in a swoon. 243B.13 ‘Oh cursed be those mariners! For they do lead a wicked life; They ruind me, a ship-carpenter, Be deluding away my wife.’

243C: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

243C.1 ‘O ARE ye my father? Or are ye my mother? Or are ye my brother John? Or are ye James Herries, my first true-love, Come back to Scotland again?’ 243C.2 ‘I am not your father, I am not your mother, Nor am I your brother John; But I’m James Herries, your first true-love, Come back to Scotland again.’ 243C.3 ‘Awa, awa, ye former lovers, Had far awa frae me! For now I am another man’s wife Ye’ll neer see joy o me.’ 243C.4 ‘Had I kent that ere I came here, I neer had come to thee; For I might hae married the king’s daughter, Sae fain she woud had me. 243C.5 ‘I despised the crown o gold, The yellow silk also, And I am come to my true-love, But with me she’ll not go.’ 243C.6 ‘My husband he is a carpenter, Makes his bread on dry land, And I hae born him a young son; Wi you I will not gang.’ 243C.7 ‘You must forsake your dear husband, Your little young son also, Wi me to sail the raging seas, Where the stormy winds do blow.’ 243C.8 ‘O what hae you to keep me wi, If I should with you go, If I’d forsake my dear husband, My little young son also?’ 243C.9 ‘See ye not yon seven pretty ships? The eighth brought me to land, With merchandize and mariners, And wealth in every hand.’ 243C.10 She turnd her round upon the shore Her love’s ships to behold; Their topmasts and their mainyards Were coverd oer wi gold. 243C.11 Then she’s gane to her little young son, And kissd him cheek and chin; Sae has she to her sleeping husband, And dune the same to him. 243C.12 ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband? I wish ye wake in time! I woudna for ten thousand pounds This night ye knew my mind.’ 243C.13 She’s drawn the slippers on her feet, Were coverd oer wi gold, Well lined within wi velvet fine, To had her frae the cold. 243C.14 She hadna sailed upon the sea A league but barely three Till she minded on her dear husband, Her little young son tee. 243C.15 ‘O gin I were at land again, At land where I woud be, The woman neer shoud bear the son Shoud gar me sail the sea.’ 243C.16 ‘O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower, Let a’ your mourning be; I’ll show you how the liles grow On the banks o Italy.’ 243C.17 She hadna sailed on the sea A day but barely ane Till the thoughts o grief came in her mind, And she langd for to be hame. 243C.18 ‘O gentle death, come cut my breath, I may be dead ere morn! I may be buried in Scottish ground, Where I was bred and born!’ 243C.19 ‘O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing, Let a’ your mourning be; But for a while we’ll stay at Rose Isle, Then see a far countrie. 243C.20 Ye’se neer be buried in Scottish ground, Nor land ye’s nae mair see; I brought you away to punish you For the breaking your vows to me. 243C.21 ‘I said ye shoud see the lilies grow On the banks o Italy; But I’ll let you see the fishes swim, In the bottom o the sea.’ 243C.22 He reached his hand to the topmast, Made a’ the sails gae down, And in the twinkling o an ee Baith ship and crew did drown. 243C.23 The fatal flight o this wretched maid Did reach her ain countrie; Her husband then distracted ran, And this lament made he: 243C.24 ‘O wae be to the ship, the ship, And wae be to the sea, And wae be to the mariners Took Jeanie Douglas frae me! 243C.25 ‘O bonny, bonny was my love, A pleasure to behold; The very hair o my love’s head Was like the threads o gold. 243C.26 ‘O bonny was her cheek, her cheek, And bonny was her chin, And bonny was the bride she was, The day she was made mine!’

243D: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

 
 243D.1	 ‘O WHARE hae ye been, my dearest dear,
 	 These seven lang years and more?’
 	 ‘O I am come to seek my former vows,
 	 That ye promisd me before.’
 243D.2	 ‘Awa wi your former vows,’ she says,
 	 ‘Or else ye will breed strife;
 	 Awa wi your former vows,’ she says,
 	 ‘For I’m become a wife.
 243D.3	 ‘I am married to a ship-carpenter,
 	 A ship-carpenter he’s bound;
 	 I wadna he kend my mind this nicht
 	 For twice five hundred pound.’
 	 * * * * *
 243D.4	 She has put her foot on gude ship-board,
 	 And on ship-board she’s gane,
 	 And the veil that hung oure her face
 	 Was a’ wi gowd begane.
 243D.5	 She had na sailed a league, a league,
 	 A league, but barely twa,
 	 Till she did mind on the husband she left,
 	 And her wee young son alsua.
 243D.6	 ‘O haud your tongue, my dearest dear,
 	 Let all your follies abee;
 	 I’ll show whare the white lillies grow,
 	 On the banks of Italie.’
 243D.7	 She has na sailed a league, a league,
 	 A league but barely three,
 	 Till grim, grim grew his countenance,
 	 And gurly grew the sea.
 243D.8	 ‘O haud your tongue, my dearest dear,
 	 Let all your follies abee;
 	 I’ll show whare the white lillies grow,
 	 In the bottom of the sea.’
 243D.9	 He’s tane her by the milk-white hand,
 	 And he’s thrown her in the main;
 	 And full five-and-twenty hundred ships
 	 Perishd all on the coast of Spain.

243E: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

243E.1 ‘WHERE have you been, my long lost lover, This seven long years and more?’ ‘I’ve been seeking gold for thee, my love, And riches of great store. 243E.2 ‘Now I’m come for the vows you promised me, You promised me long ago;’ ‘My former vows you must forgive, For I’m a wedded wife.’ 243E.3 ‘I might have been married to a king’s daughter, Far, far ayont the sea; But I refused the crown of gold, And it’s all for the love of thee.’ 243E.4 ‘If you might have married a king’s daughter, Yourself you have to blame; For I’m married to a ship’s-carpenter, And to him I have a son. 243E.5 ‘Have you any place to put me in, If I with you should gang?’ ‘I’ve seven brave ships upon the sea, All laden to the brim. 243E.6 ‘I’ll build my love a bridge of steel, All for to help her oer; Likewise webs of silk down by her side, To keep my love from the cold.’ 243E.7 She took her eldest son into her arms, And sweetly did him kiss: ‘My blessing go with you, and your father too, For little does he know of this.’ 243E.8 As they were walking up the street, Most beautiful for to Behold, He cast a glamour oer her face, And it shone like the brightest gold. 243E.9 As they were walking along the sea-side, Where his gallant ship lay in, So ready was the chair of gold To welcome this lady in. 243E.10 They had not sailed a league, a league, A league but scarsely three, Till altered grew his countenance, And raging grew the sea. 243E.11 When they came to yon sea-side, She set her down to rest; It’s then she spied his cloven foot, Most bitterly she wept. 243E.12 ‘O is it for gold that you do weep? Or is it for fear? Or is it for the man you left behind When that you did come here?’ 243E.13 ‘It is not for gold that I do weep, O no, nor yet for fear; But it is for the man I left behind When that I did come here. 243E.14 ‘O what a bright, bright hill is yon, That shines so clear to see?’ ‘O it is the hill of heaven,’ he said ‘Where you shall never be.’ 243E.15 ‘O what a black, dark hill is yon, That looks so dark to me?’ ‘O it is the hill of hell,’ he said, ‘Where you and I shall be. 243E.16 ‘Would you wish to see the fishes swim In the bottom of the sea, Or wish to see the leaves grow green On the banks of Italy?’ 243E.17 ‘I hope I’ll never see the fishes swim On the bottom of the sea, But I hope to see the leaves grow green On the banks of Italy.’ 243E.18 He took her up to the topmast high, To see what she could see; He sunk the ship in a flash of fire, To the bottom of the sea.

243F: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

243F.1 ‘O WHERE have you been, my long, long love, This long seven years and mair?’ ‘O I’m come to seek my former vows Ye granted me before.’ 243F.2 ‘O hold your tongue of your former vows, For they will breed sad strife; O hold your tongue of your former vows, For I am become a wife.’ 243F.3 He turned him right and round about, And the tear blinded his ee: ‘I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground, If it had not been for thee. 243F.4 ‘I might hae had a king’s daughter, Far, far beyond the sea; I might have had a king’s daughter, Had it not been for love o thee.’ 243F.5 ‘If ye might have had a king’s daughter, Yer sel ye had to blame; Ye might have taken the king’s daughter, For ye kend that I was nane. 243F.6 ‘If I was to leave my husband dear, And my two babes also, O what have you to take me to, If with you I should go?’ 243F.7 ‘I hae seven ships upon the sea-+--+- The eighth brought me to land-+--+- With four-and-twenty bold mariners, And music on every hand.’ 243F.8 She has taken up her two little babes, Kissd them baith cheek and chin: ‘O fair ye weel, my ain two babes, For I’ll never see you again.’ 243F.9 She set her foot upon the ship, No mariners could she behold; But the sails were o the taffetie, And the masts o the beaten gold. 243F.10 She had not sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When dismal grew his countenance, And drumlie grew his ee. 243F.11 They had not saild a league, a league, A league but barely three, Until she espied his cloven foot, And she wept right bitterlie. 243F.12 ‘O hold your tongue of your weeping,’ says he, ‘Of your weeping now let me be; I will shew you how the lilies grow On the banks of Italy.’ 243F.13 ‘O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, That the sun shines sweetly on?’ ‘O you are the hills of heaven,’ he said, ‘Where you will never win.’ 243F.14 ‘O whaten a mountain is yon,’ she said, ‘All so dreary wi frost and snow?’ ‘O yon is the mountain of hell,’ he cried, ‘Where you and I will go.’ 243F.15 He strack the tap-mast wi his hand, The fore-mast wi his knee, And he brake that gallant ship in twain, And sank her in the sea.

243G: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

 
 243G.1	 ‘I HAVE seven ships upon the sea,
 	 Laden with the finest gold,
 	 And mariners to wait us upon;
 	 All these you may behold.
 243G.2	 ‘And I have shoes for my love’s feet,
 	 Beaten of the purest gold,
 	 And lin d wi the velvet soft,
 	 To keep my love’s feet from the cold.
 243G.3	 ‘O how do you love the ship?’ he said,
 	 ‘Or how do you love the sea?
 	 And how do you love the bold mariners
 	 That wait upon thee and me?’
 243G.4	 ‘O I do love the ship,’ she said,
 	 ‘And I do love the sea;
 	 But woe be to the dim mariners,
 	 That nowhere I can see!’
 243G.5	 They had not sailed a mile awa,
 	 Never a mile but one,
 	 When she bagan to weep and mourn,
 	 And to think on her little wee son.
 243G.6	 ‘O hold your tongue, my dear,’ he said,
 	 ‘And let all your weeping abee,
 	 For I’ll soon show to you how the lilies grow
 	 On the banks of Italy.’
 243G.7	 They had not sailed a mile awa,
 	 Never a mile but two,
 	 Until she espied his cloven foot,
 	 From his gay robes sticking thro.
 243G.8	 They had not sailed a mile awa,
 	 Never a mile but three,
 	 When dark, dark, grew his eerie looks,
 	 And raging grew the sea.
 243G.9	 They had not sailed a mile awa,
 	 Never a mile but four,
 	 When the little wee ship ran round about,
 	 And never was seen more.

243H: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

 
 243H.1	 HERR’rrS given her a pair of shoes,
 	 To hold her frae the cold;
 	 The one side of them was velvaret,
 	 And the other beaten gold.
 243H.2	 Up she has taen her little wee son,
 	 And given him kisses three;
 	 Says, Fare ye weel, my little wee son,
 	 I’m gaun to sail the sea.

244A: James Hatley

244A.1 IT happened once upon a time, When the king he was from home, Sir Fenwick he has stolen his jewels, And laid the blame on James Hatley. 244A.2 James Hatley was in prison strong, A wait he was condemned to die; There was not one in all the court To speak one word for James Hatley. 244A.3 No one but the king’s daughter, A wait she loved him tenderlie; She’s stolen the keys from her father’s head, And gaed and conversed wi James Hatley. 244A.4 ‘Come, tell to me noe, James,’ she said, ‘Come, tell to me if thou hast them stolen, And I’ll make a vow, and I’ll keep it true, Ye shall never be the worse of me.’ 244A.5 ‘I have not stolen them, lady,’ he said, ‘Nor as little it was intended by me; Sir Fenwick he has stolen them himself; A wait he has laid the blame on me.’ 244A.6 ‘One asking, one asking, father dear, One asking, one asking grant to me, For I never asked one in my life; I am sure you cannot but grant it to me.’ 244A.7 ‘Weel ask it, weel ask it, daughter dear, Ask it, and it granted shall be; If it should be my hole estate, Naesaid, naesaid, it shall not be.’ 244A.8 ‘I want none of your gold, father, And I want none of your fee; All that I ask, father dear, It is the life of James Hatley.’ 244A.9 ‘Weel ask it, weel ask it, daughter dear, Weel ask it, and it answer d shall be; For I’ll make a vow, and I’ll keep it true, James Hatley shall never hang d be.’ 244A.10 ‘Another asking, father dear, Another asking grant to me; Let Fenwick and Hatley go [to] the sword, And let them try their verity.’ 244A.11 ’Tis weel asked, daughter dear, ’Tis weel asked, and it granted shall be; For eer the morn or twelve o’clock They both at the point of the sword shall be.’ 244A.12 James Hatley was fifteen years old, Sir Fenwick he was thirty three; But James lap about, and he struck about, Till he’s gaen Sir Fenwick wounds three. 244A.13 ‘Hold up, hold, James Hatley,’ he cry’d, ‘And let my breath go out an; For I have stolen them myself, More shame and disgrace it is to me.’ 244A.14 Up and spake an English lord, And O but he spake haughtily! ‘I would reather given my whole estates Before ye had not hanged James Hatley.’ 244A.15 But up and spake a Scottish lord, And O but he spake boldly! ‘I would reather hae foughten among blood to the knees Before ye had hanged James Hatley.’ 244A.16 Up and spake the king’s eldest son, ‘Come hame, James Hatley, and dine wi me; For I’ve made a vow, I’ll keep it true, Ye’s be my captain by land and by sea.’ 244A.17 Up and spake the king’s daughter, ‘Come home, James Hatley, and dine wi me; For I’ve made a vow, I’ll keep it true, I’ll never marry a man but thee.’

244B: James Hatley

244B.1 IT happened once upon a time, When the king he was from home, False Fennick he has stolen his jewels, And laid the blame on James Hately. 244B.2 The day was sett . . And the wind blew shill oer the lea; There was not one in all the court To speak a word for James Hately. 244B.3 James is to the prince’s chamber gone, And he’s bowd low down on his knee: ‘What will ye do for me, my little pretty prince? O what will ye do for your page, James Hately?’ 244B.4 . . . . . . . . ‘And I will away to my father, the king, And see if your life can sav d be.’ 244B.5 Hte prince he’s to his father gone, And he’s bowed low down on his knee: ‘What will ye do for me, my father? O what will ye do for my page, James Hatley?’ 244B.6 ‘James Hately has my jewels stolen, A Norland lord hath told it to me; James Hately has my jewels stolen, And oer the barras he maun die.’ 244B.7 The prince he drew his little brown sword-+--+- It was made of the metal so free-+--+- And he swore he would fight them man by man That would lay the blame on James Hately. 244B.8 Up then spoke the false Fennick, And an ill-spoken man was he; ‘James Hately has the king’s jewels stolen, . . . . ’ 244B.9 The prince he drew his little brown sword-+--+- It was made of the metal so free-+--+- And he’s thrust it in false Fennick’s side, And given him death-wounds two or three. 244B.10 ‘O hold your hand, my little pretty prince, And let my breath go out and in, For spilling of my noble blood And shaming of my noble kin. 244B.11 ‘O hold your hand, my little pretty prince, And let my breath go out and in, And there’s the key of my coffer, And you’ll find the king’s jewels lying therein.’ 244B.12 ‘If this be true,’ the king he said, ‘If this be true ye tell to me, I will take your lands, false Fennick,’ he said, ‘And give them all to James Hatley.’

244C: James Hatley

244C.1 THERE was a fause knicht in the court, And he was fu o treacherie, And he staw the queen’s jewels in the nicht, And left the wyte on Jamie O’Lee. 244C.2 The king he wrate a braid letter, And sealed it richt tenderlie, And he sent it to his only son, To come and speak to him speedilie. 244C.3 When he cam afore the king, He kneeled low down on his knee: ‘What is your will, my sovereign leige? What is your will? cum tell to me.’ 244C.4 ‘Jamie O’Lee has my jewels stown, As the English lord tells unto me, And out o Scotland he shall be sent, And sent awa to Germanie.’ 244C.5 ‘O no, O no,’ then said the prince, ‘Sic things as that can never be; But get me a man that will take on hand The morn to fecht young Jamie O’Lee.’ 244C.6 Syne out and spak the fause Phenix, And oh, he spak richt spitefullie; ‘I am the man will tak on han To fecht and conquer Jamie O’Lee.’ 244C.7 ‘Oh no, oh no,’ syne said the prince, ‘Sic things as that can never bee, For Jamie O’Lee’s no fifteen years auld, And ye, fause Phenix, are thretty three.’ 244C.8 The prince he mounted then wi speed, He’s aff wi tidings to Jamie O’Lee, Saying, The morn’s morning ye maun fecht, Or out o England banisht bee. 244C.9 When Jamie O’Lee the tidings heard, Fast the saut tear blindit his ee; ‘I’m saikless o thae jewels,’ he said, ‘As the bairn that sits on the nourice knee.’ 244C.10 Then Phenix munted a scaffold hie, A’ for to shaw his veritie; Whilk gart the nobles a’ to cry ‘A dead man are ye, Jamie O’Lee!’ 244C.11 The first straik the fause Phenix gied, He gart the blude rin speedilie; It gart the prince’s heart to ache, And cry, Oh, alace for my Jamie O’Lee! 244C.12 Jamie O’Lee he stepped back, Waiting for opportunitie, And wi his sword baith lang and sharp He ran it thro Phenix fause bodie. 244C.13 ‘O haud your hand, Jamie O’Lee,’ he said, ‘And let the breath remain in me, And skail nae mair o my noble blude, ’Tis a great disgrace to my loyaltie.’ 244C.14 ‘Confess, confess, ye fause Phenix, Confess your faults this day to me; Were there nae mair men in a’ England, My ain twa hands your death suld be.’ 244C.15 ‘Ye were sae great wi king and queen, I thocht I wuld hae banisht thee, And I staw the queen’s jewels in the nicht, And left the wyte on Jamie O’Lee.’ 244C.16 Syne out and spak the king himsell, Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me, And there’s no a knicht in a’ my court But what at your command sall be. 244C.17 Syne out and spak the queen hersell, Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me, And there’s no a month in a’ the year But changed a brothered ye sall be. 244C.18 Syne out and spak the prince himsell, Saying, Jamie O’Lee, come hame wi me, I hae free lands in a’ Scotland, And at your command they a’ sall be. 244C.19 ‘I thank ye, king, and I thank ye, queen, I thank ye a’ nobilitie, But a prince’s page I was a’ my life, And a prince’s page I yet will be.’ 244C.20 The king gied him a silk waistcoat, And it was lined wi the taffetie, Wi a band o gowd around his neck, And a prince’s page he seems to be.

245A: Young Allan

245A.1 ARR’rr THE skippers of bonny Lothain, As they sat at the wine, There fell a reesin them amang, An it was in unhappy time. 245A.2 Some o them reesd their hawks, An some o them their hounds, An some o them their ladies gay, Trod neatly on the ground; Young Allan he reesd his comely cog, That lay upon the strand. 245A.3 ‘I hae as good a ship this day As ever sailed our seas, Except it be the Burges Black, But an the Small Cordvine, The Comely Cog of Dornisdale; We’s lay that three bye in time.’ 245A.4 Out spak there a little boy, Just at Young Allan’s knee: ‘Ye lie, ye lie, Young Allan, Sae loud’s I hear ye lie. 245A.5 For my master has a little boat Will sail thrice as well as thine; For she’ll gang in at your foremast, An gae out your fore-lee, An nine times in a winter night She’ll tak the wind frae thee.’ 245A.6 ‘O wht will ye wad, ye Young Allan? Or what will ye wad wi me?’ ‘I’ll wad my head against your land Till I get more monnie.’ 245A.7 They had na saild a league, A league but barely three, But through an thro the bonny ship They saw the green wall sea. 245A.8 They had na saild a league, A league but barely five, But through an thro their bonny ship They saw the green well wave. 245A.9 He gaed up to the topmast, To see what he coud see, And there he saw the Burgess Black, But an the Small Cordvine, The Comely Cog of Dornisdale; The three was rent in nine. 245A.10 Young Allan grat and wrang his hands, An he kent na what to dee: ‘The win is loud, and the waves are proud, An we’ll a’ sink in the sea. 245A.11 ‘But gin I coud get a bonny boy Wad tak my helm in han, That would steer my bonny ship, An bring her safe to land, 245A.12 ‘He shoud get the twa part o my goud, The third o my land, An gin we win safe to shore He shoud get my dochter Ann.’ 245A.13 ‘O here am I, a bonny boy That will tak your helm in han, An will steer your bonny ship, An bring her safe to lan. 245A.14 ‘Ye tak four-an-twenty feather-beds An lay the bonny ship round, An as much of the good canvas As mak her hale an soun.’ 245A.15 They took four-and-twenty feather-beds An laid the bonny ship roun, An as much o the good canvas As made her hale an soun. 245A.16 ‘Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship, An goud shall be your hire!’ Whan the bonny ship heard o that, That goud shoud be her hire, She sprang as fast frae the sat water As sparks do frae the fire. 245A.17 ‘Spring up, spring up, my bonny ship, And goud sall be your fee!’ Whan the bonny ship heard o that, That goud shoud be her fee, She sprang as fast frae the sat water As the leaf does frae the tree. 245A.18 The sailors stan on the shore-side, Wi their auld baucheld sheen: ‘Thanks to God an our guid master That ever we came safe to land!’ 245A.19 ‘Whar is the bonny boy That took my helm in han, That steerd my bonny ship, An brought her safe to lan? 245A.20 ‘He’s get the twa part o my goud, The third part o my lan, An, since we’re come safe to shore, He’s get my dochter Ann.’ 245A.21 ‘O here am I, the bonny boy That took your helm in han, That steered your bonny ship, An brought her safe to lan. 245A.22 ‘I winna hae the twa part o your goud, Nor the third part o your lan, But, since we hae win safe to shore, I’ll wed your dochter Ann.’ 245A.23 Forty ships went to the sea, Forty ships and five, An there never came ane o a’ back, But Young Allan, alive.

245B: Young Allan

245B.1 THERE were four-and-twenty sailors bold Sat drinking at the wine; There fell a rousing them among, In an unseally time. 245B.2 Some there reasd their hawk, their hawk, And some there reasd their hound, But Young Allan reasd his comely cog, As she floats on the feam. 245B.3 ‘There’s not a ship amang you a’ Will sail alang wi me, But the comely cog o Heckland Hawk, And Flower o Germanie, And the Black Snake o Leve London; They are all gane frae me.’ 245B.4 The wager was a gude wager, Of fifty tuns of wine, And as much o the gude black silk As cleathd their lemans fine. 245B.5 At midnight dark the wind up stark, The seas began to rout; Young Allan and his bonny new ship Gaed three times witherlins about. 245B.6 ‘O faer will I get a bonny boy Will take my helm in hand Ere I gang up to the tapmast-head To look for some dry land?’ 245B.7 ‘O waken, waken your drunken men, As they lie drunk wi wine; For when ye came thro Edinburgh town Ye bought them shoes o ben. 245B.8 ‘There was no shoes made for my feet, Nor gluve made for my hand; But nevertheless, my dear master, I’ll take your helm in hand Till ye gae to the topmast head And look for some dry land.’ 245B.9 ‘I cannot see no day, no day, Nor no meathe can I ken; But many a bonny feather-bed Lies floating on the faem.’ 245B.10 ‘Come down, come down, my dear master, You see not what I see; Through and through your bonny new ship Comes in the green haw sea.’ 245B.11 ‘Take fifty ells o the canvas broad And wrap it in a’ roun, And as much good pich an tar Make her go hale an soun. 245B.12 ‘Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship, And haste ye to dry lan, And every nail that is in you Shall be a gay gold pin. 245B.13 ‘Sail on, sail on, my bonny ship, And hae me to some lan, And a firlot full o guineas red Will be dealt at the lan’s end.’ 245B.14 The ship she hearkend to their voice And listend to the leed, And she gaed thro the green haw sea Like fire out o a gleed. 245B.15 When the ship got word o that, Goud was to be her beat, She’s flowen thro the stormy seas Like sparks out o a weet. 245B.16 The first an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Troup; Wi cannons an great shooting there, They held Young Allan out. 245B.17 The next an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Lee; Wi piping an sweet singing there, They towed Young Allan tee. 245B.18 The next an shore that they came till, It was the shore o Lin; Wi drums beating and pipers playing, They towed Young Allan in, And Allan’s lady she was there, To welcome Allan hame. 245B.19 ‘O faer is my little boy,’ he said, ‘That I brought oer the sea?’ ‘I’m coming, master, running, master, At your command shall be.’ 245B.20 ‘O take to you my comely cog, And wed my daughter free, And a’ for this ae night’s wark That ye did wake wi me.’

245C: Young Allan

245C.1 ALL the skippers o Scarsburgh Sat drinking at the wine; There fell a rousing them amang, On an unseally time. 245C.2 Some there rousd their hawk, their hawk, And some there rousd their hound, But Young Allan rousd his comely cog, As she stood on dry ground. 245C.3 ‘There’s nae a ship in Scarsburgh Will sail the seas wi mine, Except it be the Brugess Black, Or than the smack calld Twine. 245C.4 ‘There’s nae a ship amang you a’ Will sail alang wi me, But the comely cog o Hecklandhawk, And Flower o Yermanie, And the Black Snake o Leve London; They are a’ gane frae me.’ 245C.5 Out it speaks a little wee boy Stood by Young Allan’s knee; ‘My master has a coal-carrier Will take the wind frae thee. 245C.6 ‘She will gae out under the leaf, Come in under the lee, And nine times in a winter night She’ll turn the wind wi thee.’ 245C.7 When they had wagerd them amang Full fifty tuns o wine, Besides as mickle gude black silk As clathe their lemans fine, 245C.8 When all the rest went to the tows, All the whole night to stay, Young Allan he went to his bower, There with his God to pray. 245C.9 ‘There shall nae man gang to my ship Till I say mass amd dine, And take my leave o my lady; Gae to my bonny ship syne.’ 245C.10 Then they saild east on Saturday, On Sunday sail d west, Likewise they sailed on Mononday Till twelve, when they did rest. 245C.11 At midnight dark the wind up stark, And seas began to rout, Till Allan and his bonny new ship Gaed three times witherlands about. 245C.12 ‘O,’ sighing says the Young Allan, ‘I fear a deadly storm; For mony a heaving sinking sea Strikes sair on my ship’s stern. 245C.13 ‘Where will I get a little wee boy Will take my helm in hand Till I gang up to my tapmast And see for some dry land?’ 245C.14 ‘O waken, waken your drunken men, As they lye drunk wi wine; For when ye came thro Edinbro town Ye bought them sheen o ben. 245C.15 ‘There was nae shoe made for my foot, Nor gluve made for my hand; But nevertheless, my dear master, I’ll take your helm in hand Till ye gang to the tall tapmast And look for some dry land. 245C.16 ‘And here am I, a little wee boy Will take your helm in han Till ye gang up to your tapmast, But, master, stay not lang.’ 245C.17 ‘I cannot see nae day, nae day, Nor nae meathe can I ken; But mony a bonny feather-bed Lyes floating on the faem, And the comely cog o Normanshore, She never will gang hame.’ 245C.18 The comely cog o Nicklingame Came sailing by his hand; Says, Gae down, gae down, ye gude skipper, Your ship sails on the sand. 245C.19 ‘Come down, come down, my gude master, Ye see not what I see; For thro and thro our comely cog I see the green haw sea.’ 245C.20 ‘Take fifty ells o gude canvas And wrap the ship a’ round; And pick her weell, and spare her not, And make her hale and sound. 245C.21 ‘If ye will sail, my bonny ship, Till we come to dry land, For ilka iron nail in you, Of gowd there shall be ten.’ 245C.22 The ship she listend all the while, And, hearing of her hire, She flew as swift threw the saut sea As sparks do frae the fire. 245C.23 The first an shore that they came till, They ca’d it Howdoloot; Wi drums beating and cannons shouting, They held our gude ship out. 245C.24 The next an shore that they came till, They ca’d it Howdilee; Wi drums beating and fifes playing, They bare her to the sea. 245C.25 The third an shore that they came till, They ca’d it Howdilin; Wi drums beating and pipes playing, They towd our gude ship in. 245C.26 The sailors walkd upon the shore, Wi their auld baucheld sheen, And thanked God and their Lady, That brought them safe again. 245C.27 ‘For we went out o Scarsburgh Wi fifty ships and three; But nane o them came back again But Young Allan, ye see.’ 245C.28 ‘Come down, come down, my little wee boy, Till I pay you your fee; I hae but only ae daughter, And wedded to her ye’se be.’

245D: Young Allan

245D.1 THERE was three lords sat drinkin wine In bonnie Aberdeen, [O] . . . . . . . . . 245D.2 Some o them talked o their merchandise, An some o their ladies fine, [O] But Young Allan he talked o his bonnie ship, That cost him mony a poun. * * * * * 245D.3 ‘Whar will I get a bonnie wee boy That’ll tak my helm in han, O Till I gang up to my high topmast An look oot for some dry lan? 245D.4 ‘He’ll get half o my gowd, an half o my gear, An the third pairt o my lan, An gin he row me safe on shore He shall hae my daughter Ann.’ 245D.5 ‘O here am I, a bonny wee boy That’ll tak your helm in han Till ye gang up to your high topmast An look oot for some dry lan. 245D.6 I’ll nae seek your gowd, nor I’ll nae seek your gear, Nor the third pairt o your lan, But gin I row you safe to shore I shall hae your daughter Ann. 245D.7 ‘Come doon, come doon, Young Allan,’ he cries, ‘Ye see nae what I see; For through an through your bonnie ship-side An I see the open sea. 245D.8 ‘Ye’ll tak twenty-four o your feather-beds, Ye’ll busk your bonnie ship roon, An as much o the guid canvas-claith As gar gang hale an soun. 245D.9 ‘An whar ye want an iron bolt Ye’ll ca a siller pin, An whar ye want an oaken bolt Ye’ll beat the yellow gold in.’ 245D.10 He’s taen twenty-four o his feather-beds An buskit’s bonnie ship roon, An as much o the guid canvas-claith As gar her gang hale an soun. 245D.11 An whar he’s wantit an iron bolt He’s ca’d a siller pin, An whar he’s wantit an oaken bolt He’s beat the yellow gold in. 245D.12 The firstan shore that they cam till, It was the shore o Linn; They held their spears an beenits oot, An they wouldna lat Allan in. 245D.13 The neistan shore that they cam till It was the shore o . . ’.; . . . . An they turned their ship aboot. 245D.14 But the neistan shore that they came till, ’Twas bonnie Aberdeen; The fifes an drums they a’ did play, To welcome Allan in. 245D.15 ‘O where is he, the bonnie wee boy That took my helm in han Till I gied up to my high topmast An lookd oot for some dry lan? 245D.16 ‘He’s get half o my gowd, an half o my gear, An the third pairt o my lan, An since he’s rowt me safe to shore He sall hae my daughter Ann.’ 245D.17 ‘O here am I, the bonnie wee boy That took your helm in han Till ye gied up to your high topmast An lookd oot for some dry lan. 245D.18 ‘I’ll nae seek half o your good, nor half o your gear, Nor the third pairt o your lan, But since I’ve rowt you safe to shore I sall hae your daughter Ann.’

245E: Young Allan

245E.1 THE king he sits in Dumfermline, Birlin at the wine, And callin for the best skipper That ever sailed the faem. 245E.2 Then out it spak a bonny boy, Sat at the king’s right knee; ‘Earl Patrick is the best skipper That ever sailed the sea.’ 245E.3 The king he wrote a braed letter, And sealed it wi his ring, And sent it to Earl Patrick, . . . 245E.4 ‘Oh wha is this, or wha is that, Has tald the king o me? For I was niver a gude mariner, And niver sailed the sea. * * * * * 245E.5 ‘Ye’ll eat and drink, my merry young men, The red wine you amang, For blaw it wind, or blaw it sleet, Our ship maun sail the morn. 245E.6 ‘Late yestreen I saw the new meen Wi the auld meen in hir arm,’ And sichand said him Earl Patrick, ‘I fear a deadly storm.’ 245E.7 They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro mony a stormy stream, Till they saw the Dam o Micklengaem, When she sank amang the faem. 245E.8 They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro many a stormy stream, Till they saw the Duke o Normandy, And she sank among the faem. 245E.9 They sailed up, sae did they down, Thro many a stormy stream, Till they saw the Black Shater o Leve London And her topmast gaed in nine. 245E.10 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy That will tack my helm in hand Till I gang up to my topmast, And spy for some dry land?’ 245E.11 ‘Now here am I, a bonny boy Will tack yer helm in hand Till ye go up to your topmast But I fear ye’ll never see land.’ 245E.12 ‘Cum down, cum down, my gude master, Ye see not what I see, For through and through yer bonny ship I see the raging sea.’ 245E.13 ‘Ye’ll tak four-and-twenty fether-beds, And lay my bonny ship roun, And as muckle o the fine canvas As make her haill and soun. 245E.14 ‘And where she wants an iron nail O silver she’s hae three, And where she wants a timmer-pin We’ll rap the red goud in.’ * * * * * 245E.15 The firsten shore that they cam till, They cad it shore the Linn; Wi heart and hand and good command, They towed their bonny ship in. 245E.16 The nexten shore that they came till, They caad it shore the Lee; With heart and hand and good command, They towed the bonny ship tee. 245E.17 There was twenty ships gaed to the sea, Twenty ships and ane, And there was na ane came back again But Earl Patrick alane.

246A: Redesdale and Wise William

246A.1 WHEN Reedisdale and Wise William Were drinking at the wine, There fell a roosing them amang, On an unruly time. 246A.2 For some o them hae roosd their hawks, And other some their hounds, And other some their ladies fair, And their bowers whare they walkd in. 246A.3 When out it spake him Reedisdale, And a rash word spake he; Says, There is not a lady fair, In bower wherever she be, But I could aye her favour win Wi ae blink o my ee. 246A.4 Then out it spake him Wise William, And a rash word spake he; Says, I have a sister of my own, In bower wherever she be, And ye will not her favour win With three blinks of your ee. 246A.5 ‘What will ye wager, Wise William? My lands I’ll wad with thee;’ ‘I’ll wad my head against your land, Till I get more monie.’ 246A.6 Then Reedisdale took Wise William, Laid him in prison strang, That he might neither gang nor ride, Nor ae word to her send. 246A.7 But he has written a braid letter, Between the night and day, And sent it to his own sister By dun feather and gray. 246A.8 When she had read Wise William’s letter, She smil d and she leugh; Said, Very well, my dear brother, Of this I have eneuch. 246A.9 She looked out at her west window To see what she could see, And there she spied him Reedisdale Come riding ower the lea. 246A.10 Says, Come to me, my maidens all, Come hitherward to me; For here it comes him Reedisdale, Who comes a-courting me. 246A.11 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you give me;’ ‘Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me you will not see.’ 246A.12 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you give me; And bonny are the gowns of silk That I will give to thee.’ 246A.13 ‘If you have bonny gowns of silk, O mine is bonny tee; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me you shall not see.’ 246A.14 ‘Come down, come dow, my lady fair, A sight of you I’ll see; And bonny jewels, brooches and rings I will give unto thee.’ 246A.15 ‘If you have bonny brooches and rings, O mine are bonny tee; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me you shall not see.’ 246A.16 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, One sight of you I’ll see; And bonny are the ha’s and bowers That I will give to thee.’ 246A.17 ‘If you have bonny ha’s and bowers, O mine are bonny tee; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me you shall not see.’ 246A.18 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you I’ll see; And bonny are my lands so broad That I will give to thee.’ 246A.19 ‘If you have bonny lands so broad, O mine are bonny tee; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For me ye will not see.’ 246A.20 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, A sight of you I’ll see; And bonny are the bags of gold That I will give to thee.’ 246A.21 ‘If you have bonny bags of gold, I have bags of the same; Go from my yetts now, Reedisdale, For down I will not come.’ 246A.22 ‘Come down, come down, my lady fair, One sight of you I’ll see; Or else I’ll set your house on fire, If better cannot be.’ 246A.23 Then he has set the house on fire, And all the rest it tuke; He turned his wight horse head about, Said, Alas, they’ll ne’er get out! 246A.24 ‘Look out, look out, my maidens fair, And see what I do see, How Reedisdale has fired our house, And now rides oer the lea. 246A.25 ‘Come hitherwards, my maidens fair, Come hither unto me; For thro this reek, and thro this smeek, O thro it we must be!’ 246A.26 They took wet mantles them about, Their coffers by the band, And thro the reek, and thro the flame, Alive they all have wan. 246A.27 When they had got out thro the fire, And able all to stand, She sent a maid to Wise William, To bruik Reedisdale’s land. 246A.28 ‘Your lands is mine now, Reedisdale, For I have won them free;’ ‘If there is a gude woman in the world, Your one sister is she.’

246B: Redesdale and Wise William

246B.1 ROUDESDALES an Clerk William Sat birlin at the wine, An a’ the talk was them atween Was aboot the ladies fine, fine, Was aboot the ladies fine. 246B.2 Says Roudesdales to Clerk William, I’ll wad my lands wi thee, I’ll wad my lands against thy head, An that is what I’ll dee, 246B.3 ‘That there’s no a leddy in a’ the land, That’s fair, baith ee an bree, That I winna wed withoot courtin, Wi ae blink o my ee.’ 246B.4 Says William, I’ve an ae sister, She’s fair, baith ee an bree; An you’ll no wed her withoot courtin, Wi ae blink o your ee.’ 246B.5 He has wrote a broad letter, Between the nicht an the day, An sent it to his ae sister Wi the white feather an the gray. 246B.6 The firsten line she luekit on, A licht lauchter gae she; But eer she read it to the end The tear blindit her ee. 246B.7 ‘Oh wae betide my ae brither, Wald wad his head for me, . . . . . . ’ 246B.8 Roudesdales to her bour has gane, An rade it round aboot, An there he saw that fair ladie, At a window lookin oot. 246B.9 ‘Come doon, come doon, you fair ladie, Ae sicht o you to sed; For the rings are o the goud sae ried That I will gie to thee.’ 246B.10 ‘If yours are o the goud sae ried, Mine’s o the silver clear; So get you gone, you Roudesdales, For you sall no be here.’ 246B.11 ‘Come doon, come doon, you lady fair, Ae sicht o you to see; For the gouns are o the silk sae fine That I will gie to thee.’ 246B.12 ‘If yours are o the silk sae fine, Mone’s o the bonnie broun; Sa get you gone, you Roudesdales, For I will no come doon.’ 246B.13 ‘Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair, Ae sicht o you to see; For the steeds are o the milk sae white That I will gie to thee.’ 246B.14 ‘If yours are o the milk sae white, Mine’s o the bonnie broun; Sae get you gone, you Roudesdales, For I will no come doon.’ 246B.15 ‘Come doon, come doon, you ladie fair, Ae sicht o you to see; Or I will set your bour on fire Atween your nurse an thee.’ 246B.16 ‘You may set my bowr on fire, As I doubt na you will dee, But there’ll come a sharp shour frae the wast Will slocken ’t speedilie.’ 246B.17 He has set her bour on fire, An quickly it did flame; But there cam a sharp shour frae the wast That put it oot again. 246B.18 Oot amang the fire an smoke That bonnie lady cam, Wi as muckle goud aboon her bree As wald bocht an earldom. 246B.19 ‘Oh wae betide you, ill woman, An ill, ill died may you dee! For ye hae won your brither’s head, An I go landless free.’

246C: Redesdale and Wise William

 
 246C.1	 REDESDALE and Clerk William
 	 Sat drinking at the wine;
 	 They hae fawn a wagering them atween
 	 At a wanhappy time.
 246C.2	 ‘What will ye wad,’ says Redesdale,
 	 ‘O what will ye wad wi me
 	 That there’s na a lady in a’ the land
 	 But I wad win wi ae blink o my ee?’

247A: Lady Elspat

247A.1 ‘HOW brent’s your brow, my Lady Elspat! How golden yallow is your hair! Of all the maids of fair Scotland, There’s nane like Lady Elspat fair.’ 247A.2 ‘Perform your vows, Sweet William,’ she says, ‘The vows which ye ha made to me, An at the back o my mother’s castle This night I’ll surely meet wi thee.’ 247A.3 But wae be to her brother’s page, Who heard the words this twa did say! He’s told them to her lady mother, Who wrought Sweet William mieckle wae. 247A.4 For she has taen him Sweet William, An she’s gard bind him wi his bow-string Till the red bluide o his fair body Frae ilka nail o his hand did spring. 247A.5 O it fell once upon a time That the Lord Justice came to town; Out has she taen him Sweet William, Brought him before Lord Justice boun. 247A.6 ‘An what is the crime, now, madame,’ he says, ‘Has been committed by this young man?’ ‘O he has broken my bonny castel, That was well biggit with lime and stane. 247A.7 ‘An he has broken my bonny coffers, That was well banded wi aiken ban, An he has stoln my rich jewels; I wot he has them every one.’ 247A.8 Then out it spake her Lady Elspat, As she sat by Lord Justice knee; ‘Now ye hae taul your tale, mother, I pray, Lord Justice, you’l now hear me. 247A.9 ‘He has na broken her bonny castel, That was well biggit wi lime and stane, Nor has he stoln her rich jewels, For I wot she has them every one. 247A.10 ‘But tho he was my first true love, An tho I had sworn to be his bride, Cause he had not a great estate, She would this way our loves divide.’ 247A.11 An out it spake the Lord Justice, I wot the tear was in his ee; ‘I see nae fault in this young man, Sae loose his bans, an set him free. 247A.12 ‘Take back your love, Lady Elspat, An my best blessing you baith upon! For gin he be your first true love, He is my eldest sister’s son. 247A.13 ‘There is a steed in my stable Cost me baith gold and white money; Ye’s get as mieckle o my free lan As he’ll ride about in a summer’s day.’

248A: The Grey Cock, or, Saw You My Father

 
 248A.1	 ‘O SAW ye my father? or saw ye my mother?
 	 Or saw ye my true-love John?’
 	 ‘I saw not your father, I saw not your mother,
 	 But I saw your true-love John.
 248A.2	 ‘It’s now ten at night, and the stars gie nae light,
 	 And the bells they ring ding, dang;
 	 He’s met wi some delay that causeth him to stay,
 	 But he will be here ere lang.’
 248A.3	 The surly auld earl did naething but snarl,
 	 And Johny’s face it grew red;
 	 Yet, tho he often sighd, he neer a word replied
 	 Till all were asleep in bed.
 248A.4	 Up Johny rose, and to the door he goes,
 	 And gently tirl d the pin;
 	 The lassie taking tent unto the door she went,
 	 And she opend and let him in.
 248A.5	 ‘And are ye come at last? and do I hold ye fast?
 	 And is my Johny true?’
 	 ‘I hae nae time to tell, but sae lang’s I like mysell
 	 Sae lang will I love you.’
 248A.6	 ‘Flee, flee up, my bonny grey cock,
 	 And craw when it is day;
 	 Your neck shall be like the bonny beaten gold,
 	 And your wings of the silver grey.’
 248A.7	 The cock prov’d false, and untrue he was,
 	 For he crew an hour oer soon;
 	 The lassie thought it was day when she sent her love away,
 	 And it was but a blink of the moon.

249A: Auld Matrons

249A.1 MY love she is a gentlewoman, Has her living by the seam; I kenna how she is provided This night for me and my foot-groom. 249A.2 He is gane to Annie’s bower-door, And gently tirled at the pin: ‘Ye sleep, ye wake, my love Annie, Ye’ll rise and lat your true-love in.’ 249A.3 Wi her white fingers lang and sma She gently lifted up the pin; Wi her arms lang and bent She kindly caught sweet Willie in. 249A.4 ‘O will ye go to cards or dice? Or will ye go to play? Or will ye go to a well made bed, And sleep a while till day?’ 249A.5 ‘I winna gang to cards nor dice, Nor yet will I to play; But I will gang to a well made bed, And sleep a while till day. 249A.6 ‘My love Annie, my dear Annie, I would be at your desire; But wae mat fa the auld Matrons, As she sits by the kitchen fire!’ 249A.7 ‘Keep up your heart, Willie,’ she said, ‘Keep up your heart, dinna fear; It’s seven years, and some guid mair, Sin her foot did file the flear.’ 249A.8 They hadna kissd nor love clapped, As lovers when they meet, Till up it raise the auld Matrons, Sae well’s she spread her feet. 249A.9 O wae mat fa the auld Matrons, Sae clever’s she took the gate! And she’s gaen ower yon lang, lang hill, Knockd at the sheriff’s yate. 249A.10 ‘Ye sleep, ye wake, my lord?’ she said; ‘Are ye not your bower within? There’s knight in bed wi your daughter, I fear she’s gotten wrang.’ 249A.11 ‘Ye’ll do ye down thro Kelso town, Waken my wall-wight men; And gin ye hae your wark well dune I’ll be there at command.’ 249A.12 She’s done her down thro Kelso town, Wakend his wall-wight men; But gin she had her wark well done He was there at command. 249A.13 He had his horse wi corn fodderd, His men armd in mail; He gae the Matrons half a merk To show them ower the hill. 249A.14 Willie sleepd, but Annie waked Till she heard their bridles ring; Then tapped on her love’s shoulder, And said, Ye’ve sleepit lang. 249A.15 ‘O save me, save me, my blessd lady, Till I’ve on my shooting-gear; I dinna fear the king himsell, Tho he an’s men were here.’ 249A.16 Then they shot in, and Willie out, The arrows graz’d his brow; The maid she wept and tore her hair, Says, This can never do. 249A.17 Then they shot in, and he shot out, The bow brunt Willie’s hand; But aye he kissd her ruby lips, Said, My dear, thinkna lang. 249A.18 He set his horn to his mouth, And has blawn loud and shrill, And he’s calld on his brother John, In Ringlewood he lay still. 249A.19 The first an shot that Lord John shot, He wound fifty and fifteen; The next an shot that Lord John shot, He ca’d out the sheriff’s een. 249A.20 ‘O some o you lend me an arm, Some o you lend me twa; And they that came for strife this day, Take horse, ride fast awa. 249A.21 ‘But wae mat fa yon, auld Matrons, An ill death mat ye die! I’ll burn you on yon high hill-head, Blaw your ashes in the sea.’

250A: Henry Martyn

250A.1 IN merry Scotland, in merry Scotland There lived brothers three; They all did cast lots which of them should go A robbing upon the salt sea, 250A.2 The lot it fell on Henry Martyn, The youngest of the three; That he should go rob on the salt, salt sea, To maintain his brothers and he. 250A.3 He had not a sailed a long winter’s night, Nor yet a short winter’s day, Before that he met with a lofty old ship, Come sailing along that way. 250A.4 O when she came by Henry Martyn, ‘I prithee now, let us go!’ ‘O no! God wot, that, that will I not, O that will I never do. 250A.5 ‘Stand off! stand off!’ said Henry Martyn, ‘For you shall not pass by me; For I am a robber all on the salt seas, To maintain us brothers three. 250A.6 ‘How far, how far,’ cries Henry Martyn, ‘How far do you make it?’ said he; ‘For I am a robber all on the salt seas, To maintain us brothers three.’ 250A.7 For three long hours they merrily fought, For hours they fought full three; At last a deep wound got Henry Martyn, And down by the mast fell he. 250A.8 ’Twas broadside to a broadside then, And a rain and hail of blows, But the salt sea ran in, ran in, ran in, To the bottom them she goes. 250A.9 Bad news, bad news for old England, Bad news has come to the town, For a rich merchant’s vessel is cast away, And all her brave seamen drown. 250A.10 Bad news, bad news through London street, Bad news has come to the king, For all the brave lives of the mariners lost, That are sunk in the watery main.

250B: Henry Martyn

250B.1 THERE was three brothers in merry Scotland, In merry Scotland there were three, And each of these brothers they did cast lots, To see which should rob the salt sea. 250B.2 Then this lot did fall on young Henry Martyn, The youngest of these brothers three, So now he’s turnd robber all on the salt seas, To maintain his two brothers and he. 250B.3 He had not saild one long winter’s night, One cold winter’s night before day, Before he espied a rich merchant-ship, Come bearing straight down that way. 250B.4 ‘Who are you? Who are you?’ said Henry Martyn, ‘Or how durst thou come so nigh?’ ‘I’m a rich merchant-ship for old England bound, If you please, will you let me pass by.’ 250B.5 ‘O no! O no!’ cried Henry Martyn, ‘O no! that never can be, Since I have turnd robber all on the salt seas, To maintain my two brothers and me. 250B.6 ‘Now lower your topsails, you alderman bold, Come lower them under my lee;’ Saying, ‘I am resolved to pirate you here, To maintain my two brothers and me.’ 250B.7 Then broadside to broadside to battle they went For two or three hours or more; At last Henry Martyn gave her a death-wound, And down to the bottom went she. 250B.8 Bad news, bad news to England has come, Bad news I will tell to you all, ’Twas a rich merchant-ship to England was bound, And most of her merry men drownd.

250C: Henry Martyn

 
 250C.1	 THERE were three brothers in bonnie Scotland,
 	 In bonnie Scotland lived they,
 	 And they cuist kevels themsells amang,
 	 Wha sould gae rob upon the salt sea.
 250C.2	 The lot it fell upon bold Robin Hood,
 	 The youngest brither of the hale three:
 	 ‘O, I sall gae rob upon the salt sea,
 	 And it’s all to maintain my two brothers and me.’
 250C.3	 They hadna sailed a lang winter night,
 	 A lang winter night scarselie,
 	 Till they were aware of a tall, tall ship,
 	 Coming sailin down under the lee.
 250C.4	 ‘O where are you bound for, my bonnie ship?’
 	 Bold Robin Hood he did cry;
 	 ‘O I’m a bold merchantman, for London bound,
 	 And I pray you, good sir, let us by.’
 250C.5	 ‘O no! O no!’ said bold Robin Hood,
 	 ‘O no such thing may be;
 	 For I will gae in and plunder your ship,
 	 And your fair bodies I’ll drown in the sea.’
 250C.6	 O he has gone in and plundered their ship,
 	 And holes in her bottom bored three;
 	 The water came in so thick and so fast
 	 That down, down to the bottom gade she.
 250C.7	 Bad news, bad news to old England is gone,
 	 Bad news to our king, old Henrie,
 	 That his merchant-goods were taken on board,
 	 And thirty-five seamen drownd in the sea.

250D: Henry Martyn

 
 250D.1	 THREE loving brothers in Scotland dwelt,
 	 Three loving brothers were they,
 	 And they cast lots to see which of the three
 	 Should go robbing all oer the salt sea, salt sea,
 	 Should go robbing all oer the salt sea.
 250D.2	 The lot it fell to Andrew Bodee,
 	 The youngest of the three,
 	 That he should leave the other two,
 	 And go robbing all oer the salt sea.

250[E]: Henry Martyn

250[E].1 Three bold brothers of merrie Scotland, And three bold brothers were they, And they cast lots the one with the other, To see who should go robbing all oer the salt sea; And they cast lots the one with the other, To see who should go robbing all oer the salt sea. 250[E.2] The lot it fell an Andrew Bartin, The youngest of the three, That he should go robbing all oer the salt sea, To maintain his two brothers and he. 250[E.3] He had not sailed but one long summer night, When daylight did appear; He saw a ship sailing far off and far round, At last she came sailing quite near. 250[E.4] ‘Who art? who art?’ says Andrew Bartin, ‘Who art thee comes sailing so nigh?’ ‘We are the rich merchants of merrie England, Just please for to let us pass by.’ 250[E.5] ‘Pass by? pass by?’ says Andrew Bartin, ‘No, no, that never can be; Your ship and your cargo I will take away, And your brave men drown in the sea.’ 250[E.6] Now when this news reached merrie England-+- King George he wore the crown-+- That his ship and his cargo were taken away, And his brave men they were all drowned. 250[E.7] ‘Go build me a ship,’ says Captain Charles Stewart, ‘A ship both stout and sure, And if I dont fetch this Andrew Bartin, My life shall no longer endure.’ 250[E.8] He had not sailed but one long summer night, When daylight did appear, He saw a ship sailing far off and far round, And then she came sailing quite near. 250[E.9] ‘Who art? who art?’ says Captain Charles Stewart, ‘Who art comes sailing so nigh?’ ‘We are the bold brothers of merrie Scotland, Just please for to let us pass by.’ 250[E.10] ‘Pass by? pass by?’ says Captain Charles Stewart, ‘No, no, that never can be; Your ship and your cargo I will take away And your brave men carry with me.’ 250[E.11] ‘Come on! come on!’ says Andrew Bartin, ‘I value you not one pin; And though you are lined with good brass without, I’ll show you I’ve fine steel within.’ 250[E.12] Then they drew up a full broadside And at each other let pour; They had not fought for four hours or more, When Captain Charles Stewart gave oer. 250[E.13] ‘Go home! go home!’ says Andrew Bartin, ‘And tell your king for me, That he may reign king of the merry dry land, But that I will be king of the sea.’

251A: Lang Johnny More

251A.1 THERE lives a man in Rynie’s land, Anither in Auchindore, The bravest lad amo them a’ Was lang Johnny Moir. 251A.2 Young Johnny was an airy blade, Fu sturdy, stout, and strang; The sword that hang by Johnny’s side Was just full ten feet lang. 251A.3 Young Johnny was a clever youth, Fu sturdy, stout, and wight, Just full three yards around the waist, And fourteen feet in hight. 251A.4 But if a’ be true they tell me now, And a’ be true I hear, Young Johnny’s on to Lundan gane, The king’s banner to bear. 251A.5 He hadna been in fair Lundan But twalmonths twa or three Till the fairest lady in a’ Lundan Fell in love wi young Johnny. 251A.6 This news did sound thro Lundan town, Till it came to the king That the muckle Scot had fa’in in love Wi his daughter, Lady Jean. 251A.7 Whan the king got word o that, A solemn oath sware he, This weighty Scot sall strait a rope, And hanged he shall be. 251A.8 When Johnny heard the sentence past, A light laugh then gae he: ‘While I hae strength to wield my blade, Ye darena a’ hang me.’ 251A.9 The English dogs were cunning rogues; About him they did creep, And gae him draps o lodomy That laid him fast asleep. 251A.10 pwhan Johnny wakend frae his sleep A sorry heart had he; His jaws and hands in iron bands, His feet in fetters three. 251A.11 ‘O whar will I get a little wee boy Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to my uncle, At the foot of Benachie?’ 251A.12 ‘Here am I, a little wee boy Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to your uncle, At the foot of Benachie.’ 251A.13 ‘Whan ye come whar grass grows green, Slack your shoes and rin; And whan ye come whar water’s strong, Ye’ll bend your bow and swim. 251A.14 ‘And whan ye come to Benachie Ye’ll neither chap nor ca; Sae well ’s ye’ll ken auld Johnny there, Three feet abeen them a’. 251A.15 ‘Ye’ll gie to him this braid letter, Seald wi my faith and troth, And ye’ll bid him bring alang wi him The body Jock o Noth.’ 251A.16 Whan he came whar grass grew green, He slackt his shoes and ran; And whan he came whar water’s strong He bent his bow and swam. 251A.17 And whan he came to Benachie Did neither chap nor ca; Sae well ’s he kent auld Johnny there, Three feet abeen them a’. 251A.18 ‘What news, what news, my little wee boy? Ye never were here before;’ ‘Nae news, nae news, but a letter from Your nephew, Johnny Moir. 251A.19 ‘Ye’ll take here this braid letter, Seald wi his faith and troth, And ye’re bidden bring along wi you The body Jock o Noth.’ 251A.20 Benachie lyes very low, The tap o Noth lyes high; For a’ the distance that’s between, He heard auld Johnny cry. 251A.21 Whan on the plain these champions met, Twa grizly ghosts to see, There were three feet between their brows, And shoulders were yards three. 251A.22 These men they ran ower hills and dales, And ower mountains high, Till they came on to Lundan town, At the dawn o the third day. 251A.23 And whan they came to Lundan town The yetts were lockit wi bands, And wha were there but a trumpeter, Wi trumpet in his hands? 251A.24 ‘What is the matter, ye keepers all? Or what’s the matter within That the drums do beat and bells do ring, And make sic dolefu din?’ 251A.25 ‘There’s naething the matter,’ the keeper said, ‘There’s naething the matter to thee, But a weighty Scot to strait the rope, And the morn he maun die.’ 251A.26 ‘O open the yetts, ye proud keepers, Ye’ll open without delay;’ The trembling keeper, smiling, said, ‘O I hae not the key.’ 251A.27 ‘Ye’ll open the yetts, ye proud keepers, Ye’ll open without dealy, Or here is a body at my back Frae Scotland has brought the key.’ 251A.28 ‘Ye’ll open the yetts,’ says Jock o Noth, ‘Ye’ll open them at my call;’ Then wi his foot he has drove in Three yards braid o the wall. 251A.29 As they gaed in by Drury Lane, And down by the town’s hall, And there they saw young Johnny Moir Stand on their English wall 251A.30 ‘Ye’re welcome here, my uncle dear, Ye’re welcome unto me; Ye’ll loose the knot, and slack the rope, And set me frae the tree.’ 251A.31 ‘Is it for murder, or for theft? Or is it for rooberie? If it is for ony heinous crime, There’s nae remeid for thee.’ 251A.32 ‘It’s nae for murder, nor for theft, Nor yet for robberie; A’ is for loving a gay lady They’re gaun to gar me die.’ 251A.33 ‘O whar’s thy sword,’ says Jock o Noth, Ye brought frae Scotland wi thee? I never saw a scotsman yet But coud wield a sword or tree.’ 251A.34 ‘A pox upo their lodomy, On me had sic a sway Four o their men, the bravest four, They bore my blade away.’ 251A.35 ‘Bring back his blade,’ says Jock o Noth, ‘And freely to him it gie, Or I hae sworn a black Scot’s oath I’ll gar five million die. 251A.36 ‘Now whar’s the lady?’ says Jock o Noth, ‘Sae fain I woud her see;’ ‘She’s lockd up in her ain chamber, The king he keeps the key.’ 251A.37 So they hae gane before the king, With courage bauld and free; Their armour bright cast sic a light That almost dim’d his ee. 251A.38 ‘O whar’s the lady?’ says Jock o Noth, ‘Sae fain as I woud her see; For we are come to her wedding, Frae the foot o benachie.’ 251A.39 ‘O take the lady,’ said the king, ‘Ye welcome are for me; I never thought to see sic men, Frae the foot o Benachie.’ 251A.40 ‘If I had kend,’ said Jock o Noth, ‘Ye’d wonderd sae muckle at me, I woud hae brought ane larger far By sizes three times three. 251A.41 ‘Likewise if I had thought I’d been Sic a great fright to thee, I’d brought Sir John o Erskine Park; He’s thretty feet and three.’ 251A.42 ‘Wae to the little boy,’ said the king, ‘Brought tidings unto thee! Let all England say what they will, High hang d shall he be.’ 251A.43 ‘O if you hang the little wee boy Brought tidings unto me, We shall attend his burial, And rewarded ye shall be.’ 251A.44 ‘O take the lady,’ said the king, ‘And the boy shall be free;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnny cried, ‘To join my love and me.’ 251A.45 ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king replied, ‘To seal her tocher wi thee;’ Out it speaks auld Johnny then, These words pronounced he: 251A.46 ‘I want nae lands and rents at hame, I’ll ask nae gows frae thee; I am possessd o riches great, Hae fifty ploughs and three; Likewise fa’s heir to ane estate At the foot o Benachie. 251A.47 ‘Hae ye ony masons in this place, Or ony at your call, That ye may now send some o them To build your broken wall?’ 251A.48 ‘Yes, there are masons in this place, And plenty at my call; But ye may gang frae whence ye came, Never mind my broken wall.’ 251A.49 They’ve taen the lady by the hand And set her prison-free; Wi drums beating, and fifes playing, They spent the night wi glee. 251A.50 Now auld Johnny Moir, and young Johnny Moir, And Jock o Noth, a’ three, The English lady, and little wee boy, Went a’ to Benachie.

252A: The Kitchie-Boy

252A.1 THERE was a lady fair, An een a lady of birth an fame, She eyed her father’s kitchen-boy, The greater was her shame. 252A.2 She could never her love reveal, Nor to him talk, But in the forest wide an brade, Where they were wont to walk. 252A.3 It fell ance upon a day Her father gaed frae home, And she sent for the kitchen-boy To her own room. 252A.4 ‘Canna ye fancy me, Willie? Canna ye fancy me? By a’ the lords I ever saw There is nane I loo but ye.’ 252A.5 ‘O latna this be kent, lady, O latna this be . . , For gin yer father got word of this I vou he’d gar me die.’ 252A.6 ‘Yer life shall no be taen, Willie, Yer life sal na be taen; I wad er loss my ain heart’s blood Or thy body gat wrang.’ 252A.7 Wi her monny fair speeches She made the boy bold, Till he began to kiss an clap, An on her sine lay hold. 252A.8 They hadna kissed an love claped, As lovers whan they meet, . . . . . . . . 252A.9 ‘The master-cook he will on me call, An answered he man be; An it wer kent I war in bower wi thee, I fear they wad gar me die.’ 252A.10 ‘The master-cook may on ye call, But answerd he will never be, . . . . . . . . 252A.11 ‘For I hae three coffers fu o goud, Yer eyen did never see, An I will build a bonny ship for my love, An set her to the sea, And sail she east or sail she wast The ship sal be fair to see.’ 252A.12 She has built a bonny ship, And set her to the sea; The topmasts war o the red goud, The sails of tafetie. 252A.13 She gae him a gay goud ring, . . . To ming him on a gay lady That ance bear love to him. 252A.14 The day was fair, the ship was rare, Whan that swain set to sea; Whan that day twal-moth came and gaed, At London landed he. 252A.15 A lady looked our the castle-wa, Beheld the day gae down, And she beheld that bonny ship Come hailing to the town. 252A.16 ‘Come here, come here, my maries a’, Ye see na what I see; The bonniest ship is come to land Yer eyes did ever see. 252A.17 ‘Gae busk ye, busk ye, my maries a’, Busk ye unco fine, Till I gae down to yon shore-side, To invite yon squar to dine. 252A.18 ‘O ye come up, gay young squar, An take wi me a dine; Ye sal eat o the guid white loaf, An drink the claret wine.’ 252A.19 ‘I thank ye for yer bread, I thank ye for yer wine, I that ye for yer courticie, But indeed I hanna time.’ 252A.20 ‘Canna ye fancy me?’ she says, ‘Canna ye fancy me? O a’ the lords an lairds I see There’s nane I fancy but ye.’ 252A.21 ‘The’r far awa fra me,’ he says, ‘The’r clean ayont the sea, That has my heart in hand, An my love ae sal be.’ 252A.22 ‘Here is a guid goud ring, . . . It will mind ye on a gay lady That ance bare love to ye.’ 252A.23 ‘I ha a ring on my finger I loe thrice as well as thine, Tho yours were o the guid red goud An mine but simple tin.’ 252A.24 The day was fair, the ship was rare, Whan that squar set to sea; Whan that day twal-month came an gaed, At hame again landed he. 252A.25 The lady’s father looked our castle-wa, To see the day gae cown, An he beheld that bonny ship Come hailing to the town. 252A.26 ‘Come here, my daughter, Ye see na what I see; The bonniest ship is come to land My eyes did ever see. 252A.27 ‘Gae busk ye, my dochter, G[a]e busk ye unco fine, An I’ll gae down to yon shore-side, To invite the squar to dine; I wad gie a’ my rents To hae ye married to him.’ 252A.28 The’r far awa frae me,’ she says, ‘Far ayont the sea, That has my heart in hand An my love ai sal be.’ 252A.29 ‘O will ye come, ye gay hine squar, An take wi me a dine? Ye sal eat o the guid white bread, And drink the claret wine.’ 252A.30 ‘I thank ye for yer bread, I thank ye for yer wine, I thank ye for yer courticie, For indeed I hanna grait time. 252A.31 ‘O canna ye fancy me?’ he says, ‘O canna ye fancy me? O a’ the ladys I eer did see There’s nane I loo by ye.’ 252A.32 ‘They are far awa fra me.’ she says, ‘The’r far ayont the sea, That has my heart in hand, An my love ay sall be.’ 252A.33 ‘Here it is, a gay goud ring, . . . It will mind ye on a gay hin chil That ance bare love to ye.’ 252A.34 ‘O gat ye that ring on the sea sailing? Or gat ye it on the land? O gat ye it on the shore laying, On a drowned man’s hand?’ 252A.35 ‘I got na it on the sea sailing, I got na it on the land, But I got it on the shore lying, On a drowned man’s hand. 252A.36 ‘O bonny was his cheek, An lovely was his face!’ ‘Allas!’ says she, ’it is my true-love Willie,’ . . . 252A.37 He turned him round about, An sweetly could he smile; She turned her round, says, My love Willie, How could ye me beguile? 252A.38 ‘A priest! a priest!’ the old man cries, ‘An lat this twa married be:’ Little did the old man kin It was his ain kitchen-boy.

252B: The Kitchie-Boy

252B.1 EARL RICHARD had but ae daughter, A maid o birth and fame; She loved her father’s kitchen-boy, The greater was her shame. 252B.2 But she could neer her true-love see, Nor with him could she talk, In towns where she had wont to go, Nor fields where she could walk. 252B.3 But it fell ance upon a day Her father went from home; She’s calld upon the kitchen boy To come and clean her room. 252B.4 ‘Come ye sit down by me, Willie, Come sit ye down by me; There’s nae a lord in a’ the north That I can love but thee.’ 252B.5 ‘Let never the like be heard, lady, Nor let it ever be; For if your father get word o this He will gar hang me hie.’ 252B.6 ‘O ye shall neer be hangd, Willie, Your blude shall neer be drawn; I’ll lay my life in pledge o thine Your body’s neer get wrang.’ 252B.7 ‘Excuse me now, my comely dame, No langer here I’ll stay; You know my time is near expir’d, And now I must away. 252B.8 ‘The master-cook will on me call, And answered he must be; If I am found in bower with thee, Great anger will there be.’ 252B.9 ‘The master-cook will on you call, But shall not answerd be; I’ll put you in a higher place Than any cook’s degree. 252B.10 ‘I have a coffer full of gold, Another of white monie, And I will build a bonny ship, And set my love to sea. 252B.11 ‘Silk shall be your sailing-clothes, Gold yellow is your hair, As white like milk are your twa hands, Your body neat and fair.’ 252B.12 This lady, with her fair speeches, She made the boy grow bold, And he began to kiss and clap, And on his love lay hold. 252B.13 And she has built a bonny ship, Set her love to the sea, Seven score o brisk young men To bear him companie. 252B.14 Then she’s taen out a gay gold ring, To him she did it gie: ‘This will mind you on the ladie, Willie, That’s laid her love on thee.’ 252B.15 Then he’s taen out a piece of gold, And he brake it in two: ‘All I have in the world, my dame, For love I give to you.’ 252B.16 Now he is to his bonny ship, And merrily taen the sea; The lady lay oer castle-wa, The tear blinded her ee. 252B.17 They had not saild upon the sea A week but barely three When came a prosperous gale of wind, On Spain’s coast landed he. 252B.18 A lady lay oer castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, And she beheld the bonny ship Come sailing to the town. 252B.19 ‘Come here, come here, my maries a’, Ye see not what I see; For here I see the bonniest ship That ever saild the sea. 252B.20 ‘In her there is the bravest squire That eer my eyes did see; All clad in silk and rich attire, And comely, comely ’s he. 252B.21 ‘O busk, O busk, my maries all, O busk and make ye fine; And we will on to yon shore-side, Invite yon squire to dine. 252B.22 ‘Will ye come up to my castle Wi me and take your dine? And ye shall eat the gude white bread, And drink the claret wine.’ 252B.23 ‘I thank you for your bread, lady, I thank you for your wine; I thank you for your kind offer, But now I have not time.’ 252B.24 ‘I would gie all my land,’ she says, ‘Your gay bride were I she; And then to live on a small portion Contented I would be.’ 252B.25 ‘She’s far awa frae me, lady, She’s far awa frae me That has my heart a-keeping fast, And my love still she’ll be.’ 252B.26 ‘But ladies they are unconstant, When their loves go to sea, And she’ll be wed ere ye gae back; My love, pray stay wi me.’ 252B.27 ‘If she be wed ere I go back, And prove sae false to me, I shall live single all my life; I’ll neer wed one but she.’ 252B.28 Then she’s taen out a gay gold ring, And gae him presentlie: ‘’Twill mind you on the lady, young man, That laid her love on thee.’ 252B.29 ‘The ring that’s on my mid-finger Is far dearer to me, Tho yours were o the gude red gold, And mine the metal free.’ 252B.30 He viewd them all, baith neat and small, As they stood on the shore, Then hoist the mainsail to the wind, Adieu, for evermore! 252B.31 He had not saild upon the sea A week but barely three Until there came a prosperous gale, In scotland landed he. 252B.32 But he put paint upon his face, And oil upon his hair, Likewise a mask above his brow, Which did disguise him sair. 252B.33 Earl Richard lay oer castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, And he beheld the bonny ship Come sailing to the town. 252B.34 ‘Come here, come here, my daughter dear, Ye see not what I see; For her I see the bonniest ship That ever saild the sea. 252B.35 ‘In her there is the bravest squire That eer my eyes did see; O busk, O busk, my daughter dear, Come here, come here, to me. 252B.36 ‘O busk, O busk, my daughter dear, O busk, and make ye fine, And we will on to the shore-side, Invite yon squire to dine.’ 252B.37 ‘He’s far awa frae me, father, He’s far awa frae me Who has the keeping o my heart, And I’ll wed nane but he.’ 252B.38 ‘Whoever has your heart in hand, Yon lad’s the match for thee, And he shall come to my castle This day and dine wi me. 252B.39 ‘Will ye come up to my castle With me and take your dine? And ye shall eat the gude white bread, And drink the claret wine.’ 252B.40 ‘Yes, I’ll come up to your castle With you and take my dine, For I would give my bonny ship Were your fair daughter mine.’ 252B.41 ‘I would give all my lands,’ he said, ‘That your bride she would be; Then to live on a small portion Contented would I be.’ 252B.42 As they gaed up from yon sea-strand And down the bowling-green, He drew the mask out-oer his face, For fear he should be seen. 252B.43 He’s done him down from bower to bower, Likewise from bower to ha, And there he saw that lady gay, The flower out-oer them a’. 252B.44 He’s taen her in his arms twa, And haild her courteouslie: ‘Excuse me, sir, there’s no strange man Such freedom use with me.’ 252B.45 Her father turnd him round about, A light laugh then gave he: ‘Stay, I’ll retire a little while, Perhaps you may agree.’ 252B.46 Now Willie’s taen a gay gold ring, And gave her presentlie; Says, Take ye that, ye lady fair, A love-token from me. 252B.47 O got ye ’t on the sea sailing? Or got ye ’t on the sand? Or got ye ’t on the coast of Spain, Upon a dead man’s hand?’ 252B.48 ‘Fine silk it was his sailing-clothes, Gold yellow was his hair; It would hae made a hale heart bleed To see him lying there. 252B.49 ‘He was not dead as I passd by, But no remeid could be; He gave me this token to bear Unto a fair ladie. 252B.50 ‘And by the marks he has descryvd I’m sure that you are she; So take this token of free will, For him you’ll never see.’ 252B.51 In sorrow she tore her mantle, With care she tore her hair: ‘Now since I’ve lost my own true-love, I’ll neer love young men mair.’ 252B.52 He drew the mask from off his face, The lady sweetly smiled: ‘Awa, awa, ye fause Willie! How have you me beguiled?’ 252B.53 Earl Richard he went thro the ha, The wine-glass in his hand, But little thought his kitchen-boy Was heir oer a’ his land. 252B.54 But this she kept within her heart, And never told to one Until nine months they were expir’d, That her young son came home. 252B.55 She told it to her father dear; He said, Daughter, well won; You’ve married for love, not for gold, Your joys will neer be done.

252C: The Kitchie-Boy

252C.1 O THERE was a ladie, a noble ladie, She was a ladie of birth and fame, But she fell in love wi her father’s foot-boy, I wis she was the mair to blame. 252C.2 A word of him she neer could get Till her father was a hunting gone; Then she calld on the bonny foot-boy To speak wi her in her bower alone. 252C.3 Says, Ye ken you are my love, Willie, And that I am a ladie free, And there’s naething ye can ask, Willie, But at your bidding I maun be. 252C.4 O the loving looks that ladie gave Soon made the bonny boy grow bold, And the loving words that ladie spake As soon on them he did lay hold. 252C.5 She has taen a ring frae her white finger, And unto him she did it gie; Says, Wear this token for my sake, And keep it till the day you die. 252C.6 ‘But shoud my father get word of this, I fear we baith will have cause to rue, For to some nunnery I shoud be sent, And I fear, my love, he would ruin you. 252C.7 ‘But here is a coffer of the good red gowd, I wot my mother left it to me; And wi it you’ll buy a bonny ship, And ye maun sail the raging sea; Then like some earl or baron’s son You can come back and marrie me. 252C.8 ‘But stay not lang awa, Willie, O stay not lang across the fame, For fear your ladie shoud lighter be, Or your young son shoud want a name.’ 252C.9 He had not been o the sea sailing But till three months were come and gane, Till he has landed his bonny ship; It was upon the coast of Spain. 252C.10 There was a ladie of high degree That saw him walking up and down; She fell in love wi sweet Willie, But she wist no how to make it known. 252C.11 She has calld up her maries a’, Says, Hearken well to what I say; There is a young man in yon ship That has been my love this many a day. 252C.12 ‘Now bear a hand, my maries a’, And busk my brave and make me fine, And go wi me to yon shore-side To invite that noble youth to dine.’ 252C.13 O they have buskit that ladie gay In velvet pall and jewels rare; A poor man might have been made rich Wi half the pearles they pat in her hair. 252C.14 Her mantle was of gowd sae red, It glaned as far as ane coud see; Sweet Willie thought she had been the queen, And bowd full low and bent his knee. 252C.15 She’s gard her maries step aside, And on sweet Willie sae did smile; She thought that man was not on earth But of his heart she could beguile. 252C.16 Says, Ye maun leave your bonny ship And go this day wi me and dine, And you shall eat the baken meat, And you shall drink the Spanish wine. 252C.17 ‘I canna leave my bonny ship, Nor go this day to dine wi thee, For a’ my sails are ready bent To bear me back to my ain countrie.’ 252C.18 ‘O gin you’d forsake your bonny ship And wed a ladie of this countrie, I would make you lord of a’ this town, And towns and castles twa or three.’ 252C.19 ‘Should I wed a ladie of this countrie, In sooth I woud be sair to blame, For the fairest ladie in fair Scotland Woud break her heart gin I gaed na hame.’ 252C.20 ‘That ladie may choose another lord, And you another love may choose; There is not a lord in this countrie That such a proffer could refuse.’ 252C.21 ‘O ladie, shoud I your proffer take, You’d soon yoursell have cause to rue, For the man that his first love forsakes Woud to a second neer prove true.’ 252C.22 She has taen a ring frae her white finger, It might have been a prince’s fee; Says, Wear this token for my sake, And give me that which now I see. 252C.23 ‘Take back your token, ye ladie fair; This ring you see on my right hand Was gien me by my ain true-love, Before I left my native land. 252C.24 ‘And tho yours woud buy it nine times oer I far more dearly prize my ain; Nor woud I make the niffer,’ he says, ‘For a’ the gowd that is in Spain.’ 252C.25 The ladie turnd her head away To dry the sat tears frae her eyne; She naething more to him did say But, I wish your face I neer had seen! 252C.26 He has set his foot on good ship-board, The ladie waved her milk-white hand, The wind sprang up and filld his sails, And he quickly left the Spanish land. 252C.27 He soon came back to his native strand, He langd his ain true-love to see; Her father saw him come to land, And took him some great lord to be. 252C.28 Says, Will ye leave your bonny ship And come with me this day to dine? And you shall eat the baken meat, And you shall drink the claret wine. 252C.29 ‘O I will leave my bonny ship, And glacly go with you to dine, And I woud gie thrice three thousand pounds That you fair daughter were but mine.’ 252C.30 ‘O gin ye will part wi your bonny ship And wed a ladie of this countrie, I will gie you my ae daughter, Gin she’ll consent your bride to be.’ 252C.31 O he has blaket his bonny face And closs tuckd up his yellow hair; His true-love met them at the yate, But she little thought her love was there. 252C.32 ‘O will you marrie this lord, daughter, That I’ve brought hame to dine wi me? You shall be heir of a’ my lands, Gin you’ll consent his bride to be.’ 252C.33 She looked oer her left shoulder, I wot the tears stood in her eye; Says, The man is on the sea sailling That fair wedding shall get of me. 252C.34 Then Willie has washd his bonny face, And he’s kaimd down his yellow hair; He took his true-love in his arms, And kindly has he kissd her there. 252C.35 She’s looked in his bonny face, And thro her tears did sweetly smile, Then sayd, Awa, awa, Willie! How could you thus your love beguile? 252C.36 She kept the secret in her breast, Full seven years she’s kept the same, Till it fell out at a christning-feast, And then of it she made good game. 252C.37 And her father laughd aboon the rest, And said, My daughter, you’r nae to blame; For you’ve married for love, and no for land, So a’ my gowd is yours to claim.

252D: The Kitchie-Boy

252D.1 THERE lived a lady in the north O muckle birth an fame; She’s faun in love wi her kitchie-boy, The greater was her shame. * * * * * 252D.2 ‘Maister cook, he will cry oot, An answered he maun be;’ . . . . . . . 252D.3 ‘I hae a coffer o ried gowd My mither left to me, An I will build a bonnie ship, And send her ower the sea, An you’ll come hame like lord or squire, An answered you maun be.’ 252D.4 She has biggit a bonnie ship, Sent her across the main, An in less that sax months an a day That ship cam back again. 252D.5 ‘Go dress, go dress, my dochter Janet, Go dress, an mak you fine, An we’ll go doun to yon shore-side An bid yon lords to dine.’ 252D.6 He’s pued the black mask ower his face, Kaimed doun his yellow hair, A’ no to lat her father ken That ere he had been there. * * * * * 252D.7 ‘Oh, got you that by sea sailin? Or got you that by land? Or got you that on Spanish coast, Upon a died man’s hand?’ 252D.8 ‘I got na that by sea sailin, I got na that by land; But I got that on Spanish coast, Upon a died man’s hand.’ 252D.9 He’s pued the black mask aff his face, Threw back his yellow hair, . . . . . . . . 252D.10 ‘A priest, a priest,’ the lady she cried, ‘To marry my love an me;’ ‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried, ‘To sign her tocher free.’

252E: The Kitchie-Boy

252E.* * * * AND she has built a lofty ship, And set her to the main; The masts o her were gude reed gowd, And the sails o silver clear. 252E.2 ‘Ye winna bide three months awa When ye’ll return again, In case your lady lichter be, And your baby want the name.’ 252E.3 But the wind blew high, The mariners they did land at Lundin soon. 252E.4 A lady sat on the castell-wa, Beheld baith dale and down, And there she saw this lofty ship, Comin sailin in the Downs. 252E.5 ‘Look out, look out, my maidens a’, Ye seena what I see; For I do see as bonny a ship As ever sailied the sea, And the master o her’s the bonniest boy That ever my eyes did see.’ 252E.6 She’s taen her mantell her about, Her cane intill her han, And she’s away to the shore-side, Till invite the square to dine. 252E.7 ‘O will ye come to our castell? Or will ye sup or dine?’ ‘O excuse me, madam,’ he said, ‘For I hae but little time.’ * * * * * 252E.8 The wind blew high, The mariners they did land at home again. 252E.9 The old man sat in the castell-wa, Beholding dale and down, And there he spied this goodly ship Come sailin to the town. 252E.10 ‘Look out, look out, my dauchter dear, Ye see not what I see; For I do see as bonny a ship As ever sailed the sea. 252E.11 ‘And the master o her’s the bonniest boy That my eyes did ever see, And if I were a woman as I’m a man My husband he should be.’ 252E.12 ‘Haud far awa frae me, fader, Haud far awa frae me, For I never had a lad but ane, And he’s far awa at sea. 252E.13 ‘There is a love-token atween us twa, It’ll be mair ere it be less, An aye the langer he bides awa It will the mair encreass.’ 252E.14 He’s taen his mantell him about, His cane intil his hand, And he’s awa to the shore-side, To invite the square to dine. 252E.15 ‘O will ye come to our castle? Or will ye sup or dine?’ ‘Indeed I will, kind sir,’ he said, ‘Tho I’ve but little time.’ 252E.16 The lady sat on castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, But he’s put his veil upon his face, That she might not him ken. * * * * *

253A: Thomas o Yonderdale

253A.1 LADY MAISRY lives intill a bower, She never wore but what she would; Her gowns were o the silks sae fine, Her coats stood up wi bolts o gold. 253A.2 Mony a knight there courted her, And gentlemen o high degree, But it was Thomas o Yonderdale That gaind the love o this ladie. 253A.3 Now he has hunted her till her bower, Baith late at night and the mid day, But when he stole her virgin rose Nae mair this maid he would come nigh. 253A.4 But it fell ance upon a time Thomas her bower he walk d by; There he saw her Lady Maisry, Nursing her young son on her knee. 253A.5 ‘O seal on you, my bonny babe, And lang may ye my comfort be! Your father passes by our bower, And now minds neither you nor me.’ 253A.6 Now when Thomas heard her speak, The saut tear trinkled frae his ee; To Lady Maisry’s bower he went, Says, Now I’m come to comfort thee. 253A.7 ‘Is this the promise ye did make Last when I was in your companie? You said before nine months were gane Your wedded wife that I should be.’ 253A.8 ‘If Saturday be a bonny day, Then, my love, I maun sail the sea; But if I live for to return, O then, my love, I’ll marry thee.’ 253A.9 ‘I wish Saturday a stormy day, High and stormy be the sea, Ships may not sail, nor boats row, But gar true Thomas stay with me.’ 253A.10 Saturday was a bonny day, Fair and leesome blew the wind; Ships did sail, and boats did row, Which had true Thomas to unco ground. 253A.11 He hadna been on unco ground A month, a month but barely three, Till he has courted anither maid, And quite forgotten Lady Maisry. 253A.12 Ae night as he lay on his bed, In a dreary dream dreamed he That Maisry stood by his bedside, Upbraiding him for ’s inconstancie. 253A.13 He’s calld upon his little boy, Says, Bring me candle, that I see; And ye maun gang this night, [my] boy, Wi a letter to a gay ladie. 253A.14 ‘It is my duty you to serve, And bring you coal and candle-light, And I would rin your errand, master, If ’twere to Lady Maisry bright. 253A.15 ‘Tho my legs were sair I coudna gang, Tho the night were dark I coudna see, Tho I should creep on hands and feet, I woud gae to Lady Maisry.’ 253A.16 ‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, And at my bidding for to be; For ye maun quickly my errand rin, For it is to Lady Maisry. 253A.17 ‘Ye’ll bid her dress in the gowns o silk, Likewise in the coats o cramasie; Ye’ll bid her coma alang wi you, True Thomas’s wedding for to see. 253A.18 ‘Ye’ll bid her shoe her steed before, And a’ gowd graithing him behind; On ilka tip o her horse mane, Twa bonny bells to loudly ring. 253A.19 ‘And on the tor o her saddle A courtly bird to sweetly sing; Her bridle-reins o silver fine, And stirrups by her side to hing.’ 253A.20 She dressd her in the finest silk, Her coats were o the cramasie, And she’s awa to unco land, True Thomas’s wedding for to see. 253A.21 At ilka tippet o her horse mane, Twa bonny bells did loudly ring, And on the tor o her saddle A courtly bird did sweetly sing. 253A.22 The bells they rang, the bird he sang, As they rode in yon pleasant plain; Then soon she met true Thomas’s bride, Wi a’ her maidens and young men. 253A.23 The bride she garned round about, ‘I wonder,’ said she, ’who this may be? It surely is our Scottish queen, Come here our wedding for to see.’ 253A.24 Out it speaks true Thomas’s boy, ‘She maunna lift her head sae hie; But it’s true Thomas’s first love, Come here your wedding for to see.’ 253A.25 Then out bespake true Thomas’s bride, I wyte the tear did blind her ee; If this be Thomas’s first true-love, I’m sair afraid he’ll neer hae me. 253A.26 Then in it came her Lady Maisry, And aye as she trips in the fleer, ‘What is your will, Thomas?’ she said, ‘This day, ye know, ye calld me here.’ 253A.27 ‘Come hither by me, ye lily flower, Come hither and set ye down by me, For ye’re the ane I’ve call’d upon, And ye my wedded wife maun be.’ 253A.28 Then in it came true Thomas’s bride, And aye as she trippd on the stane, ‘What is your will, Thomas?’ she said, ‘This day, ye know, ye calld my hame.’ 253A.29 ‘Ye hae come on hired horseback, But ye’se gae hame in coach sae free; For here’s the flower into my bower I mean my wedded wife shall be.’ 253A.30 ‘O ye will break your lands, Thomas, And part them in divisions three; Gie twa o them to your ae brother, And cause your brother marry me.’ 253A.31 ‘I winna break my lands,’ he said, ‘For ony woman that I see; My brother’s a knight o wealth and might, He’ll wed nane but he will for me.’

254A: Lord William, or Lord Lundy

254A.1 SWEET WILLIAM’s gone over seas, Some unco lair to learn, And our gude Bailie’s ae dochter Is awa to learn the same. 254A.2 in one broad buke they learned baith, In one broad bed they lay; But when her father came to know He gart her come away. 254A.3 ‘It’s you must marry that Southland lord, His lady for to be; It’s ye maun marry that Southland lord, Or nocht ye’ll get frae me.’ 254A.4 ‘I must marry that Southland lord, Father, an it be your will; But I rather it were my burial-day, My grave for to fill.’ 254A.5 She walked up, she walked down, Had none to make her moan, Nothing but the pretty bird Sat on the causey-stone. 254A.6 ‘If thou could speak, wee bird,’ she says, ‘As weell as thou can flee, I would write a long letter To Will ayont the sea.’ 254A.7 ‘What thou wants wi Will,’ it says, ‘Thou’ll seal it with thy ring, Tak a thread o silk and anither o twine, About my neck will hing.’ 254A.8 What she wanted wi Willie She sealed it wi a ring, Took a thread of silk, another o twine, About its neck did hing. 254A.9 This bird flew high, this bird flew low, This bird flew owre the sea, Until it entered the same room Wherein was Sweet Willie. 254A.10 This bird flew high, this bird flew low, Poor bird, it was mistaen! It let the letter fa on Baldie’s breist, Instead of Sweet William. 254A.11 ‘Here’s a letter, William,’ he says, ‘I’m sure it’s not to me; And gin the morn gin twelve o’clock Your love shall married be.’ 254A.12 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said, ‘The brown and a’ that’s speedie, And I’ll awa to Old England, To bring home my ladie.’ 254A.13 Awa he gaed, awa he rade, Awa wi mickle speed; He lichtit at every twa miles’ end, Lichtit and changed his steed. 254A.14 When she entered the church-style, The tear was in her ee; But when she entered the church-door A blythe sicht did she see. 254A.15 ‘O hold your hand, you minister, Hold it a little wee, Till I speak wi the bonnie bride, For she’s friend to me. 254A.16 ‘Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, Stand off a little wee; Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, For the bride shall join wi me.’ 254A.17 Up and spak the bride’s father, And an angry man was he; ‘If I had pistol, powther and lead, And all at my command, I would shoot thee stiff and dead In the place where thou dost stand.’ 254A.18 Up and spoke then Sweet William, And a blithe blink from his ee; ‘If ye neer be shot till I shoot you, Ye’se neer be shot for me. 254A.19 ‘Come out, come out, my foremost man, And lift my lady on; Commend me all to my good-mother, At night when ye gang home.’

254B: Lord William, or Lord Lundy

254B.1 LORD WILLIAM has but ae dear son, In this world had nae mair; Lord Lundie had but ae daughter, And he will hae nane but her. 254B.2 They dressed up in maids’ array, And passd for sisters fair; With ae consent gaed ower the sea, For to seek after lear. 254B.3 They baith did eat at ae braid board, In ae bed baith did lye; When Lord Lundie got word o that, He’s taen her soon away. 254B.4 When Lord Lundie got word of that, An angry man was he; He wrote his daughter on great haste To return right speedilie. 254B.5 When she looked the letter upon, A light laugh then gae she; But ere she read it till an end The tear blinded her ee. 254B.6 ‘Bad news, bad news, my love Willie, Bad news is come to me; My father’s written a braid letter, Bids me gae speedilie. 254B.7 ‘Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie, Set trysts, I pray, wi me; Set trysts, set trysts, my love Willie, When will our wedding be.’ 254B.8 ‘On Wednesday, on Wednesday, The first that ever ye see; On Wednesday at twelve o’clock, My dear, I’ll meet wi thee.’ 254B.9 When she came to her father’s ha, He hailed her courteouslie; Says, I’ll forgie offences past, If now ye’ll answer me. 254B.10 ‘Will ye marry yon young prince, Queen of England to be? Or will you marry Lord William’s son, Be loved by nane but he?’ 254B.11 ‘I will marry yon young prince, Father, if it be your will; But i woud rather I were dead and gane, My grave I woud win till.’ 254B.12 When she was in her saddle set, She skyred like the fire, To go her bridegroom for to meet, For whom she’d nae desire. 254B.13 On every tippet o her horse mane There hang a siller bell, And whether the wind blew east or west They gae a sundry knell. 254B.14 And when she came to Mary’s kirk She skyred like the fire; There her young bridegroom she did meet, For whom she’d nae desire. 254B.15 She looked ower her left shoulder, The tear blinded her ee; But looking ower her right shoulder, A blythe sight then saw she. 254B.16 There she saw Lord William’s son, And mony a man him wi, Wi targes braid and glittering spears All marching ower the lee. 254B.17 The minister looked on a book Her marriage to begin: ‘If there is naething to be said, These two may join in ane.’ 254B.18 ‘O huly, huly, sir,’ she said, ‘O stay a little wee; I hae a friend to welcome yet That’s been a dear friend to me.’ 254B.19 O then the parson he spake out, A wise word then spake he; ‘You might hae had your friends welcomd Before ye’d come to me.’ 254B.20 Then in it came the bride’s first love, And mony a man him wi: ‘Stand back, stand back, ye jelly bridegroom, Bride, ye maun join wi me.’ 254B.21 Then out it speaks him Lord Lundie, An angry man was he; ‘Lord William’s son will hae my daughter Without leave askd of me. 254B.22 ‘But since it’s sae that she will gang, And proved sae fause to thee, I’ll make a vow, and keep it true, Nae portion shall I gie.’ 254B.23 Then out it speaks the bride’s first love, And [a] light laugh then gae he; ‘I’ve got the best portion now, my lord, That ye can gie to me. 254B.24 ‘Your gude red gold I value not, Nor yet your white monie; I hae her by the hand this day That’s far dearer to me. 254B.25 ‘So gie the prince a coffer o gold When he gaes to his bed, And bid him clap his coffer o gold, And I’ll clap my bonny bride.’

254C: Lord William, or Lord Lundy

254C.1 LORD WILLIAM has gane oer the sea For to seek after lear; Lord Lundie had but ae daughter, And he’d wed nane but her. 254C.2 Upon a book they both did read, And in ae bed did ly: ‘But if my father get word o this, I’ll soon be taen away.’ 254C.3 ‘Your father’s gotten word of this, Soon married then ye’ll be; ‘Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet, Set trysts, set trysts wi me. 254C.4 ‘Set trysts, set trysts wi me, Janet, When your wedding-day’s to be; ‘On Saturday, the first that comes, Must be my wedding-day.’ 254C.5 ‘Bad news, bad news is come, Janet, Bad news is come to me; Your father’s gotten word of this, Soon married then ye’ll be.’ 254C.6 ‘O will ye marry the young prince, daughter, The queen of England to be? Or will ye marry Lord William, And die immediately?’ 254C.7 ‘O I will marry the young prince, father, Because it is your will; But I wish it was my burial-day, For my grave I could gang till.’ 254C.8 When they gaed in into the kirk, And ae seat they sat in, The minister took up the book, The marriage to begin. 254C.9 ‘Lay down the book, O dear, kind sir, And wait a little wee; I have a lday to welcome yet, She’s been a good friend to me.’ 254C.10 Out then spake the minister, An angry man was he; ‘You might have had your ladies welcomd Before ye came to me.’ 254C.11 She looked oer her left shoulder, And tears did blind her ee; But she looked oer her right shoulder, And a blythe sight saw she, For in there came him Lord William, And his valiant company. 254C.12 And in ther came him Lord William, His armour shining clear, And in it came him Lord William, And many glittering spear. 254C.13 ‘Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom, Stand by, stand by,’ said he; ‘Stand by, stand by, ye bonny bridegroom, Bride, ye maun join wi me. 254C.14 ‘Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold When he gangs to his bed; Let the young prince clap his coffer of gold, But I’ll clap my bonny bride.’ 254C.15 Out it spake him Lord Lundie, And an angry man was he; ‘My daughter will marry him Lord William, It seems, in spite of me.’

255A: Willie’s Fatal Visit

255A.1 ’TWAS on an evening fair I went to take the air, I heard a maid making her moan; Said, Saw ye my father? Or saw ye my mother? Or saw ye my brother John? Or saw ye the lad that I love best, And his name it is Sweet William? 255A.2 ‘I saw not your father, I saw not your mother, Nor saw I your brother John; But I saw the lad that ye love best, And his name it is Sweet William.’ 255A.3 ‘O was my love riding? or was he running? Or was he walking alone? Or says he that he will be here this night? O dear, but he tarries long!’ 255A.4 ‘Your love was not riding, nor yet was he running, But fast was he walking alone; He says that he will be here this night to thee, And forbids you to think long.’ 255A.5 Then Willie he has gane to his love’s door, And gently tirled the pin: ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, my bonny Meggie, Ye’ll rise, lat your true love in.’ 255A.6 The lassie being swack ran to the door fu snack, And gently she lifted the pin, Then into her arms sae large and sae lang She embraced her bonny love in. 255A.7 ‘O will ye gang to the cards or the dice, Or to a table o wine? Or will ye gang to a well-made bed, Well coverd wi blankets fine?’ 255A.8 ‘O I winna gang to the cards nor the dice, Nor yet to a table o wine; But I’ll rather gang to a well-made bed, Well coverd wi blankets fine.’ 255A.9 ‘My braw little cock, sits on the house tap, Ye’ll craw not till it be day, And your kame shall be o the gude red gowd, And your wings o the siller grey.’ 255A.10 The cock being fause untrue he was, And he crew an hour ower seen; They thought it was the gude day-light, But it was but the light o the meen. 255A.11 ‘Ohon, alas!’ says bonny Meggie then, ‘This night we hae sleeped ower lang!’ ‘O what is the matter?’ then Willie replied, ‘The faster then I must gang.’ 255A.12 Then Sweet Willie raise, and put on his claise, And drew till him stockings and sheen, And took by his side his berry-brown sword, And ower yon lang hill he’s gane. 255A.13 As he gaed ower yon high, high hill, And down yon dowie den, Great and grievous was the ghost he saw, Would fear ten thousand men. 255A.14 As he gaed in by Mary kirk, And in by Mary stile, Wan and weary was the ghost Upon sweet Willie did smile. 255A.15 ‘Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie, Aft hae ye travelld in sin; Ye neer said sae muckle for your saul As My Maker bring me hame! 255A.16 ‘Aft hae ye travelld this road, Willie, Your bonny love to see; But ye’ll never travel this road again Till ye leave a token wi me.’ 255A.17 Then she has taen him Sweet Willie, Riven him frae gair to gair, And on ilka seat o Mary’s kirk O Willie she hang a share; Even abeen his love Meggie’s dice, Hang’s head and yellow hair. 255A.18 His father made moan, his mother made moan, But Meggie made muckle mair; His father made moan, his mother made moan, But Meggie reave her yellow hair.

256A: Alison and Willie

256A.1 ‘MY luve she lives in Lincolnshire, I wat she’s neither black nor broun, But her hair is like the thread o gowd, Aye an it waur weel kaim d doun.’ 256A.2 She’s pued the black mask owre her face, An blinkit gaily wi her ee: RR’rro will you to my weddin come, An will you bear me gude companie?’ 256A.3 ‘I winna to your weddin come, Nor [will] I bear you gude companie, Unless you be the bride yoursell, An me the bridegroom to be.’ 256A.4 ‘For me to be the bride mysel, An you the bonnie bridegroom to be-+--+- Cheer up you heart, Sweet Willie,’ she said, ‘For that’s the day you’ll never see. 256A.5 ‘Gin you waur on your saddle set, An gaily ridin on the way, You’ll hae nae mair mind o Alison Than she waur dead an laid in clay.’ 256A.6 When he was on his saiddle set, An slowly ridin on the way, He had mair mind o Alison Than he had o the licht o day. 256A.7 He saw a hart draw near a hare, An aye that hare drew near a toun, An that same hart did get a hare, But the gentle knicht got neer a toun. 256A.8 He leant him owre his saiddle-bow, An his heart did brak in pieces three; Wi sighen said him Sweet Willie, ‘The pains o luve hae taen hald o me.’ 256A.9 . . . . . . . . There cam a white horse an a letter, That stopped the weddin speidilie. 256A.10 She leant her back on her bed-side, An her heart did brak in pieces three; She was buried an bemoaned, But the birds waur Willie’s companie.

257A: Burd Isabel and Earl Patrick

257A.1 THERE is a stane in yon water, It’s lang or it grow green; It’s a maid that maks her ain fortune, It’ll never end its leen. 257A.2 Burd Bell was na full fyfteen Till to service she did gae; Burd Bell was na full sixteen Till big wi bairn was scho. * * * * * 257A.3 ‘Burd Bell she is a gude woman, She bides at hame wi me; She never seeks to gang to church, But bides at hame wi me.’ 257A.4 It fell ance upon a day She fell in travail-pain; He is gane to the stair-head Some ladies to call in. 257A.5 ‘O gin ye hae a lass-bairn, Burd Bell, A lass-bairn though it be, Twenty ploughs bot and a mill Will mak ye lady free. 257A.6 ‘But gin ye hae a son, Burd Bell, Ye’se be my wedded wife, . . . . . . . .’ 257A.7 The knichts they knack their white fingers, The ladies sat and sang, Twas a’ to cheer bonnie Burd Bell, She was far sunk in pain. * * * * * 257A.8 Earl Patrick is to his mither gane, As fast as he could hie: ‘An askin, an askin, dear mither, An askin I want frae thee. 257A.9 ‘Burd Bell has born to me a son; What sall I do her wi?’ ‘Gie her what ye like, Patrick, Mak na her your ladie.’ 257A.10 He has gane to bonnie Burd Bell, Hir heart was pressd wi care: . . . . . . . . 257A.11 ‘My father will dee, bonnie Burd Bell, My mither will do the same, And whan ye hear that they are gane It’s then I’ll bring ye hame.’ 257A.12 Earl Patrick’s bigget to her a bour, And strawn it round wi sand; He coverd it wi silver on the outside, Wi the red gowd within. 257A.13 It happened ance upon a day She was kaiming his yellow hiar, . . . . . . . . 257A.14 ‘Your father is dead, Earl Patrick, Your mither is the same; And what is the reason, Earl Patrick, Ye winna tak me hame?’ 257A.15 ‘I’ve bigget to you a bonnie bour, I’ve strawn it round wi sand; I’ve coverd it wi silver on the outside, Wi gude red gowd within. 257A.16 ‘If eer I marry anither woman, Or bring anither hame, I wish a hundred evils may enter me, And may I fa oure the brim!’ 257A.17 It was na very lang after this That a duke’s dochter he’s wed, Wi a waggon fu of gowd . . . . 257A.18 Burd Bell lookit oure her castle-wa, And spied baith dale and down, And there she saw Earl Patrick’s aunt Come riding to the town. 257A.19 ‘What want ye here, Earl Patrick’s aunt? What want ye here wi me?’ ‘I want Earl Patrick’s bonnie young son; His bride fain wad him see.’ 257A.20 ‘I wad like to see that woman or man, Of high or low degree, That wad tak the bairn frae my foot That I ance for bowd my knee.’ * * * * * 257A.21 ‘Burd Bell, she’s the bauldest woman That ever I did see:’ ‘It’s I’ll gang to bonnie Burd Bell, She was never bauld to me.’ 257A.22 Burd Bell lookit oure her castle-wa, Behauding brave dale and down, And there she spied him Earl Patrick Slowly riding to the town. 257A.23 ‘What said ye to my great-grand-aunt . . . . . . . . . . . .’ 257A.24 ‘I said nathing to your great-grand-aunt But I will say to thee: I wad like to see the woman or man, Of high or low degree, That wad tak the bairn frae my foot I ance for bowd my knee. 257A.25 ‘O dinna ye mind, Earl Patrick, The vows ye made to me, That a hundred evils was enter you If ye provd fause to me?’ 257A.26 He’s turnd him richt and round about, His horse head to the wind, The hundred evils enterd him, And he fell oure the brim.

257B: Burd Isabel and Earl Patrick

257B.1 TAKE warning, a’ ye young women, Of low station or hie, Lay never your love upon a man Above your ain degree. 257B.2 Thus I speak by Burd Isbel; She was a maid sae fair, She laid her love on Sir Patrick, She’ll rue it for evermair. 257B.3 And likewise, a’ ye sprightly youths, Of low station or hie, Lay never your love upon a maid Below your ain degree. 257B.4 And thus I speak by Sir Patrick, Who was a knight sae rare; He’s laid his love on Burd Isbel, He’ll rue it for evermair. 257B.5 Burd Isbel was but ten years auld, To service she has gane; And Burd Isbel was but fifeteen Whan her young son came hame. 257B.6 It fell ance upon a day Strong travelling took she; None there was her bower within But Sir Patrick and she. 257B.7 ‘This is a wark now, Sir Patrick, That we twa neer will end; Ye’ll do you to the outer court And call some women in.’ 257B.8 He’s done him to the outer court, And stately there did stand; Eleven ladies he’s calld in, Wi ae shake o his hand. 257B.9 ‘Be favourable to Burd Isbel, Deal favourable if ye may; Her kirking and her fair wedding Shall baith stand on ae day. 257B.10 ‘Deal favourable to Burd Isbel, Whom I love as my life; Ere this day month be come and gane, She’s be my wedded wife.’ 257B.11 Then he is on to his father, Fell low down on his knee; Says, Will I marry Burd Isbel? She’s born a son to me. 257B.12 ‘O marry, marry Burd Isbel, Or use her as you like; Ye’ll gar her wear the silks sae red And sae may ye the white. O woud ye marry Burd Isbel, Make her your heart’s delight? 257B.13 ‘You want not lands nor rents, Patrick, You know your fortune’s free; But ere you’d marry Burd Isbel I’d rather bury thee. 257B.14 ‘Ye’ll build a bower for Burd Isbel, And set it round wi sand; Make as much mirth in Isbel’s bower As ony in a’ the land.’ 257B.15 Then he is to his mother gane, Fell low down on his knee: ‘O shall I marry Burd Isbel? She’s born a son to me.’ 257B.16 ‘O marry, marry Burd Isbel, Or use her as you like; Ye’ll gar her wear the silks sae red, And sae may ye the white. O would ye marry Burd Isbel, Make her wi me alike? 257B.17 ‘You want not lands nor rents, Patrick, You know your fortune’s free; But ere you marry Burd Isbel I’d rather bury thee. 257B.18 ‘Ye’ll build a bower to Burd Isbel, And set it round wi glass; Make as much mirth in Isbel’s bower An ony in a’ the place.’ 257B.19 He’s done him down thro ha, thro ha, Sae has he in thro bower; The tears ran frae his twa grey eyes, And loot them fast down pour. 257B.20 ‘My father and my mother baith To age are coming on; When they are dead and buried baith, Burd Isbel I’ll bring home.’ 257B.21 The words that passd atween these twa Ought never to be spoken; The vows that passd atween these twa Ought never to be broken. 257B.22 Says he, If I another court, Or wed another wife, May eleven devils me attend At the end-day o my life. 257B.23 But his father he soon did die, His mother nae lang behind; Sir Patrick of Burd Isbel He now had little mind. 257B.24 It fell ance upon a day, As she went out to walk, And there she saw him Sir Patrick, Going wi his hound and hawk. 257B.25 ‘Stay stikl, stay still, now Sir Patrick, O stay a little wee, And think upon the fair promise Last year ye made to me. 257B.26 ‘Now your father’s dead, kind sir, And your mother the same; Yet nevertheless now, Sir Patrick, Ye’re nae bringing me hame.’ 257B.27 ‘If the morn be a pleasant day, I mean to sail the sea, To spend my time in fair England, All for a month or three.’ 257B.28 He hadna been in fair England A month but barely ane Till he forgot her Burd Isbel, The mother of his son. 257B.29 Some time he spent in fair England, And when returnd again He laid his love on a duke’s daughter, And he has brought her hame. 257B.30 Now he’s forgot his first true love He ance lovd ower them a’; But now the devil did begin To work between them twa. 257B.31 When Sir Patrick he was wed, And all set down to dine, Upon his first love, Burd Isbel, A thought ran in his mind. 257B.32 He calld upon his gude grand-aunt To come right speedilie; Says, Ye’ll gae on to Burd Isbel, Bring my young son to me. 257B.33 She’s taen her mantle her about, Wi gowd gloves on her hand, And she is on to Burd Isbel, As fast as she coud gang. 257B.34 She haild her high, she haild her low, With stile in great degree: ‘O busk, O busk your little young son, For he maun gang wi me.’ 257B.35 ‘I woud fain see the one,’ she said, ‘O low station or hie, Woud take the bairn frae my foot, For him I bowed my knee. 257B.36 ‘I woud fain see the one,’ she said, ‘O low station or mean, Woud take the bairn frae my foot Whom I own to be mine.’ 257B.37 Then she has done her hame again, As fast as gang coud she; ‘Present,’ said he, ’My little young son, For him I wish to see.’ 257B.38 ‘Burd Isbel’s a bauld woman,’ she said, ‘As eer I yet spake wi;’ But sighing said him Sir Patrick, She ne’er was bauld to me. 257B.39 But he’s dressd in his best array, His gowd rod in his hand, And he is to Burd Isbel’s bower, As fast as he coud gang. 257B.40 ‘O how is this, Burd Isbel,’ he said, ‘So ill ye’ve used me? What gart you anger my gude grand-aunt, That I did send to thee?’ 257B.41 ‘If I hae angerd your gude grand-aunt, O then sae lat it be; I said naething to your gude grand-aunt But what I’ll say to thee. 257B.42 ‘I woud fain see the one, I said, O low station or hie, Wha woud take this bairn frae my foot, For him I bowed the knee. 257B.43 ‘I woud fain see the one, I said, O low station or mean, Woud take this bairn frae my foot Whom I own to be mine.’ 257B.44 ‘O if I had some counsellers here, And clerks to seal the band, I woud infeft your son this day In third part o my land.’ 257B.45 ‘I hae two couzins, Scottish clerks, Wi bills into their hand, An ye’ll infeft my son this day In third part o your land.’ 257B.46 Then he calld in her Scottish clerks, Wi bills into their hand, And he’s infeft his son that day The third part o his land. 257B.47 To ane o these young clerks she spoke, Clerk John it was his name; Says, Of my son I gie you charge Till I return again. 257B.48 ‘Ye’ll take here my son, clerk John, Learn him to dance and sing, And I will to some unco land, Drive love out of my mind. 257B.49 ‘And ye’ll take here my son, clerk John, Learn him to hunt the roe, And I will to some unco land; Now lat Sir Patrick go. 257B.50 ‘But I’ll cause this knight at church-door stand, For a’ his noble train; For selling o his precious soul Dare never come farther ben.’

257C: Burd Isabel and Earl Patrick

257C.1 ALL young maidens fair and gay, Whatever your station be, Never lay your love upon a man Above your own degree. 257C.2 I speak it all by Bird Isabel; She was her father’s dear, She laid her love on Earl Patrick, Which she rues ever mair. 257C.3 ‘Oh, we began a wark, Patrick, That we two cannot end; Go you unto the outer stair And call some women in.’ 257C.4 He’s gone unto the outer stair, And up in it did stand, And did bring in eleven ladies, With one sign of his hand. 257C.5 He did him to the doctor’s shop, As fast as he could gang, But ere the doctor could get there Bird Isabel bore a son. 257C.6 But he has courted a duke’s daughter, Lived far beyont the sea; Burd Isabel’s parents were but mean, That had not gear to gie. 257C.7 He has courted a duke’s daughter, Lived far beyond the foam; Burd Isabel was a mean woman, And tocher she had none. 257C.8 Now it fell once upon a day His wedding day was come; He’s hied him to his great-grand-aunt, As fast as he could gang. 257C.9 Says, Will you go this errand, aunt? Go you this errand for me, And if I live and bruick my life I will go as far for thee. 257C.10 ‘Go and bring me Bird Isbel’s son, Dressed in silks so fine, And if he live to be a man He shall heir all my land.’ 257C.11 Now she went hailing to the door, And hailing ben the floor, And Isabel styled her madame, And she, her Isabel dear. 257C.12 ‘I came to take Earl Patrick’s son, To dress in silks so fine; For if he live to be a man He is to heir his land.’ 257C.13 ‘Oh is there ever a woman,’ she said, ‘Of high station or mean, Daur take this bairn from my knee? For he is called mine. 257C.14 ‘Oh is there ever a woman,’ she said, ‘Of mean station or hie, Daur tak this bairn frae my foot? For him I bowed my knee.’ 257C.15 His aunt went hailing to his door, And hailing ben the floor, And she has styled him, Patrick, And [he] her, aunty dear. 257C.16 She says, I have been east and west, And far beyond the sea, But Isabel is the boldest woman That ever my eyes did see. 257C.17 ‘You surely dream, my aunty dear, For that can never be; Burd Isabel’s not a bold woman, She never was bold to me.’ 257C.18 Now he went hailing to her door, And hailing ben the floor, And she has styled him, Patrick, And he her, Isabel dear. 257C.19 ‘O ye have angered my great-grand-aunt; You know she’s a lady free;’ ‘I said naught to your great-grand-aunt But what I’ll say to thee. 257C.20 ‘Oh is there ever a woman, I said, Of high station or mean, Daur tak this bairn from my knee? For he is called mine. 257C.21 ‘Oh is there ever a woman, I said, Of mean station or hie, Daur tak this bairn from my foot? For him I bowed my knee. 257C.22 ‘But I’ll cause you stand at good church-door, For all your noble train; For selling of your precious soul, You shall not get further ben.’

258A: Broughty Wa’s

258A.1 BURD HELEN was her mother’s dear, Her father’s heir to be; He was the laird of Broughty walls, And the provost o Dundee. 258A.2 Burd Helen she was much admired By all that were round about; Unto Hazelan she was betrothed, Her virgin days were out. 258A.3 Glenhazlen was a comely youth, And virtuous were his friends; He left the schools o bonny Dundee And on to Aberdeen. 258A.4 It fell upon a Christmas Day Burd Helen was left alone For to keep her father’s towers; They stand two miles from town. 258A.5 Glenhazlen’s on to Broughty Walls, Was thinking to win in; But the wind it blew, and the rain dang on And wat him to the skin. 258A.6 He was very well entertaind, Baith for his bed and board, Till a band o men surrounded them, Well armd wi spear and sword. 258A.7 They hurried her along wi them, Lockd up her maids behind; They threw the keys out-ower the walls, That none the plot might find. 258A.8 They hurried her along wi them, Ower mony a rock and glen, But, all that they could say or do. From weepimg would not refrain. 258A.9 ‘The Hiland hill are hie, hie hills, The Hiland hills are hie; They are no like the banks o Tay, Or bonny town o Dundee.’ 258A.10 It fell out ance upon a day They went to take the air; She threw hersell upon the stream, Against wind and despair. 258A.11 It was sae deep he coudna wide, Boats werna to be found, But he leapt in after himsell, And sunk down like a stone. 258A.12 Se kilted up her green claiding A little below her knee, And never rest nor was undrest Till she reachd again Dundee. 258A.13 ‘I learned this at Broughty Walls, At Broughty near Dundee, That if water were my prison strong I would swim for libertie.’

259A: Lord Thomas Stuart

259A.1 THOMAS STUART was a lord, A lord of mickle land; He used to wear a coat of gold, But now his grave is green. 259A.2 Now he has wooed the young countess, The Countess of Balquhin, An given her for a morning-gift Strathboggie and Aboyne. 259A.3 But women’s wit is aye willful, Alas that ever it was sae! She longed to see the morning-gift That her gude lord to her gae. 259A.4 When steeds were saddled an weel bridled, An ready for to ride, There came a pain on that gude lord, His back, likewise his side. 259A.5 He said, Ride on, my lady fair, May goodness be your guide! For I’m sae sick and weary that No farther can I ride. 259A.6 Now ben did come his father dear, Wearing a golden band; Says, Is there nae leech in Edinburgh Can cure my son from wrang? 259A.7 ‘O leech is come, an leech is gane, Yet, father, I’m aye waur; There’s not a leech in Edinbro Can death from me debar. 259A.8 ‘But be a friend to my wife, father, Restore to her her own; Restore to her my morning-gift, Strathboggie and Aboyne. 259A.9 ‘It had been gude for my wife, father, To me she’d born a son; He would have got my land an rents, Where they lie out an in. 259A.10 ‘It had been gude for my wife, father, To me she’d born an heir; He would have got my lands an rents, Where they lie fine and fair.’ 259A.11 The steeds they strave into their stables, The boys could’nt get them bound; The hounds lay howling on the leech, Cause their master was behind. 259A.12 ‘I dreamed a dream since late yestreen, I wish it may be good, That our chamber was full of swine, An our bed full of blood.’ 259A.13 I saw a woman come from the West, Full sore wringing her hands, And aye she cried, Ohon, alas! My good lord’s broken bands. 259A.14 As she came by my good lord’s bower, Saw mony black steeds an brown: ‘I’m feared it be mony unco lords Havin my love from town!’ 259A.15 As she came by my gude lord’s bower, Saw mony black steeds an grey: ‘I’m feared it’s mony unco lords Havin my love to the clay!’

260A: Lord Thomas and Lady Margaret

260A.1 LORD THOMAS is to the hunting gone, To hunt the fallow deer; Lady Margaret’s to the greenwood shaw, To see her lover hunt there. 260A.2 He has looked over his left shoulder, To see what might be seen, And there he saw Lady Margaret, As she was riding her lane. 260A.3 He called on his servants all, By one, by two, by three: ‘Go hunt, go hunt that wild woman, Go hunt her far from me!’ 260A.4 They hunted her high, they hunted her low, They hunted her over the plain, And the red scarlet robes Lady Margaret had on Would never be mended again. 260A.5 They hunted her high, they hunted her low, They hunted her over the plain, Till at last she spy’d a tall young man, As he was riding alane. 260A.6 ‘Some relief, some relief, thou tall young man! Some relief I pray thee grant me! For I am a lady deep wronged in love, And chased from my own countrie.’ 260A.7 ‘No relief, no relief, thou lady fair, No relief will I grant unto thee Till once thou renounce all the men in the world My wedded wife for to be.’ 260A.8 Then he set her on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a gray, And he has drawn his hat over his face, And chearfully they rode away. 260A.9 Lady Margaret was at her bower-window, Sewing her silken seam, And there she spy’d, like a wandering bodie, Lord Thomas begging alane. 260A.10 ‘Dome relief, some relief, thou lady fair! Some relief, I pray thee grant me! For I am a puir auld doited carle, And banishd from my ain countrie.’ 260A.11 ‘No relief, no relief, thou perjured man, No relief will I grant unto thee; For oh, if I had thee within my bower, There hanged dead thou would be.’ 260A.12 ‘No such thing, Lady Margaret,’ he said, ‘Such a thing would never be; For with my broadsword I would kill thy wedded lord, And carry thee far off with me.’ 260A.13 ‘Oh no, no! Lord Thomas,’ she said, ‘Oh, no such things must be; For I have wine in my cellars, And you must drink with me.’ 260A.14 Lady Margaret then called her servants all, By one, by two, by three: ‘Go fetch me the bottles of blude-red wine, That Lord Thomas may drink with me.’ 260A.15 They brought her the bottles of blude-red wine, By one, by two, by three, And with her fingers long and small She poisond them all three. 260A.16 She took the cup in her lilly-white hand, Betwixt her finger and her thumb, She put it to her red rosy lips, But never a drop went down. 260A.17 Then he took the cup in his manly hand, Betwixt his finger and his thumb, He put it to his red rosy lips, And so merrily it ran down. 260A.18 ‘Oh, I am wearied drinking with thee, Margaret! I am wearied drinking with thee!’ ‘And so was I,’ Lady Margaret said, ‘When thou hunted thy hounds after me.’ 260A.19 ‘But I will bury thee, Lord Thomas,’ she said, ‘Just as if thou wert one of my own; And when that my good lord comes home I will say thou’s my sister’s son.’

260B: Lord Thomas and Lady Margaret

260B.1 CLERK TAMAS lovd her fair Annie As well as Mary lovd her son; But now he hates her fair Annie, And hates the lands that she lives in. 260B.2 ‘Ohon, alas!’ said fair Annie, ‘Alas! this day I fear I’ll die; But I will on to sweet Tamas, And see gin he will pity me.’ 260B.3 As Tamas lay ower his shott-window, Just as the sun was gaen down, There he beheld her fair Annie, As she came walking to the town. 260B.4 ‘O where are a’ my well-wight men, I wat, that I pay meat and fee, For to lat a’ my hounds gang loose To hunt this vile whore to the sea.’ 260B.5 The hounds they knew the lady well, And nane o them they woud her bite, Save ane that is ca’d Gaudywhere, I wat he did the lady smite. 260B.6 ‘O wae mat worth ye, Gaudywhere! An ill reward this is to me; For ae bit that I gae the lave, I’m very sure I’ve gien you three. 260B.7 ‘For me, alas! there’s nae remeid, Here comes the day that I maun die; I ken ye lovd your master well, And sae, alas for me! did I.’ 260B.8 A captain lay ower his ship-window, Just as the sun was gaen down; There he beheld her fair Annie, As she was hunted frae the town. 260B.9 ‘Gin ye’ll forsake father and mither, And sae will ye your friends and kin, Gin ye’ll forsake your lands sae broad, Then come and I will take you in.’ 260B.10 ‘Yes, I’ll forsake baith father and mither, And sae will I my friends and kin; Yes, I’ll forsake my lands sae broad, And come gin ye will take me in.’ 260B.11 Then a’ thing gaed frae fause Tamas, And there was naething byde him wi; Then he thought lang for Arrandella, It was fair Annie for to see. 260B.12 ‘How do ye now, ye sweet Tamas? And how gaes a’ in your countrie?’ ‘I’ll do better to you than ever I’ve done, Fair Annie, gin ye’ll come an see.’ 260B.13 ‘O Guid Forbid,’ said fair Annie, ‘That e’er the like fa in my hand! Woud I forsake my ain gude lord And follow you, a gae-through-land? 260B.14 ‘Yet nevertheless now, sweet Tamas, Ye’ll drink a cup o wine wi me, And nine times in the live lang day Your fair claithing shall changed be.’ 260B.15 Fair Annie pat it till her cheek, Sae did she till her milk-white chin, Sae did she till her flattering lips, But never a drap o wine gaed in. 260B.16 Tamas put it till his cheek, Sae did he till he dimpled chin; He pat it till his rosy lips, And then the well o wine gaed in. 260B.17 ‘These pains,’ said he, ‘are ill to bide; Here is the day that I maun die; O take this cup frae me, Annie, For o the same I am weary.’ 260B.18 ‘And sae was I o you, Tamas, When I was hunted to the sea; But I’se gar bury you in state, Which is mair than ye’d done to me.’

261A: Lady Isabel

261A.1 ’TWAS early on a May morning Lady Isabel combd her hair; But little kent she, or the morn She woud never comb it mair. 261A.2 ’Twas early on a May morning Lady Isabel rang the keys; But little kint she, or the morn A fey woman she was. 261A.3 Ben it came her step-mother, As white ’s the lily flower: ‘It’s tauld me this day, Isabel, You are your father’s whore.’ 261A.4 ‘O them that tauld you that, mother, I wish they neer drink wine; For if I be the same woman My ain sell drees the pine. 261A.5 ‘And them that’s tauld you that, mother, I wish they neer drink ale; For if I be the same woman My ain sell drees the dail.’ 261A.6 ‘It may be very well seen, Isabel, It may be very well seen; He buys to you the damask gowns, To me the dowie green.’ 261A.7 ‘Ye are of age and I am young, And young amo my flowers; The fairer that my claithing be, The mair honour is yours. 261A.8 ‘I hae a love beyond the sea, And far ayont the faem; For ilka gown my father buys me, My ain luve sends me ten.’ 261A.9 ‘Come ben, come ben now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And nae o them I’ll gie [ye].’ 261A.10 ‘Stay still, stay still, my mother dear, Stay still a little while, Till I gang into Marykirk; It’s but a little mile.’ 261A.11 When she gaed on to Marykirk, And into Mary’s quire, There she saw her ain mother Sit in a gowden chair. 261A.12 ‘O will I leave the lands, mother? Or shall I sail the sea? Or shall I drink this dowie drink That is prepar’d for me?’ 261A.13 ‘Ye winna leave the lands, daughter, Nor will ye sail the sea, But ye will drink this dowie drink This woman’s prepar’d for thee. 261A.14 ‘Your bed is made in a better place Than ever hers will be, And ere ye’re cauld into the room Ye will be there wi me.’ 261A.15 ‘Come in, come in now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And ane o them I’ll gie [ye].’ 261A.16 ‘Stay still, stay still, my mother dear, Stay still a little wee, Till I gang to yon garden green, My Maries a’ to see.’ 261A.17 To some she gae the broach, the broach, To some she gae a ring; But wae befa her step-mother! To her she gae nae thing. 261A.18 ‘Come in, come in now, Lady Isabel, And drink the wine wi me; I hae twa jewels in ae coffer, And ane o them I’ll gie [ye].’ 261A.19 Slowly to the bower she came, And slowly enterd in, And being full o courtesie, Says, Begin, mother, begin. 261A.20 She put it till her cheek, her cheek, Sae did she till her chin, Sae did she till her fu fause lips, But never a drap gaed in. 261A.21 Lady Isabel put it till her cheek, Sae did she till her chin, Sae did she till her rosy lips, And the rank poison gaed in. 261A.22 ‘O take this cup frae me, mother, O take this cup frae me; My bed is made in a better place Than ever yours will be. 261A.23 ‘My bed is in the heavens high, Amang the angels fine; But yours is in the lowest hell, To drie torment and pine.’ 261A.24 Nae moan was made for Lady Isabel In bower where she lay dead, But a’ was for that ill woman, In the fields mad she gaed.

262A: Lord Livingston

262A.1 IT fell about the Lammas time, When wightsmen won their hay, A’ the squires in merry Linkum Went a’ forth till a play. 262A.2 They playd until the evening tide, The sun was gaeing down; A lady thro plain fields was bound, A lily leesome thing. 262A.3 Two squires that for this lady pledged, In hopes for a renown, The one was calld the proud Seaton, The other Livingston. 262A.4 ‘When will ye, Michaell o Livingston, Wad for this lady gay?’ ‘To-morrow, to-morrow,’ said Livingston, ‘To-morrow, if you may.’ 262A.5 Then they hae wadded their wagers, And laid their pledges down; To the high castle o Edinbro They made them ready boun. 262A.6 The chamber that they did gang in, There it was daily dight; The kipples were like the gude red gowd, As they stood up in hight, And the roof-tree like the siller white, And shin’d like candles bright. 262A.7 The lady fair into that ha Was comly to be seen; Her kirtle was made o the pa, Her gowns seemd o the green. 262A.8 Her gowns seemd like green, like green, Her kirtle o the pa; A siller wand intill her hand, She marshalld ower them a’. 262A.9 She gae every knight a lady bright, And every squire a may; Her own sell chose him Livingston, They were a comely tway. 262A.10 Then Seaton started till his foot, The fierce flame in his ee: ‘On the next day, wi sword in hand, On plain fields meet ye me.’ 262A.11 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ man bound for bed, Lord Livingston and his fair dame In bed were sweetly laid. 262A.12 The bed, the bed where they lay in Was coverd wi the pa; A covering o the gude red gowd Lay nightly ower the twa. 262A.13 So they lay there, till on the morn The sun shone on their feet; Then up it raise him Livingston To draw to him a weed. 262A.14 The first an weed that he drew on Was o the linen clear; The next an weed that he drew on, It was a weed o weir. 262A.15 The niest an weed that he drew on Was gude iron and steel; Twa gloves o plate, a gowden helmet, Became that hind chiel weel. 262A.16 Then out it speaks that lady gay-+--+- A little forbye stood she-+--+- ‘I’ll dress mysell in men’s array, Gae to the fields for thee.’ 262A.17 ‘O God forbid,’ said Livingston, ‘That eer I dree the shame; My lady slain in plain fields, And I coward knight at hame!’ 262A.18 He scarcely travelled frae the town A mile but barely twa Till he met wi a witch-woman, I pray to send her wae! 262A.19 ‘This is too gude a day, my lord, To gang sae far frae town; This is too gude a day, my lord, On field to make you boun. 262A.20 ‘I dreamd a dream concerning thee, O read ill dreams to guid! Your bower was full o milk-white swans, Your bride’s bed full o bluid.’ 262A.21 ‘O bluid is gude,’ said Livingston, ‘To bide it whoso may; If I be frae yon plain fields, Nane knew the plight I lay.’ 262A.22 Then he rade on to plain fields As swift’s his horse coud hie, And ther he met the proud Seaton, Come boldly ower the lee. 262A.23 ‘Come on to me now, Livingston, Or then take foot and flee; This is the day that we must try Who gains the victorie.’ 262A.24 Then they fought with sword in hand Till they were bluidy men; But on the point o Seaton’s sword Brave Livingston was slain. 262A.25 His lady lay ower castle-wa, Beholding dale and down, When Blenchant brave, his gallant steed, Came prancing to the town. 262A.26 ‘O where is now my ain gude lord He stays sae far frae me?’ ‘O dinna ye see your ain gude lord Stand bleeding by your knee?’ 262A.27 ‘O live, O live, Lord Livingston, The space o ae half hour, There’s nae a leech in Edinbro town But I’ll bring to your door.’ 262A.28 ‘Awa wi your leeches, lady,’ he said, ‘Of them I’ll be the waur; There’s nae a leech in Edinbro town That can strong death debar. 262A.29 ‘Ye’ll take the lands o Livingston And deal them liberallie, To the auld that may not, the young that cannot, And blind that does na see, And help young maidens’ marriages, That has nae gear to gie.’ 262A.30 ‘My mother got it in a book, The first night I was born, I woud be wedded till a knight, And him slain on the morn. 262A.31 ‘But I will do for my love’s sake What ladies woudna thole; Ere seven years shall hae an end, Nae shoe’s gang on my sole. 262A.32 ‘There’s never lint gang on my head, Nor kame gang in my hair, Nor ever coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower mair.’ 262A.33 When seven years were near an end, The lady she thought lang, And wi a crack her heart did brake, And sae this ends my sang.

263A: The New-Slain Knight

263A.1 MY heart is lighter than the poll; My folly made me glad, As on my rambles I went out, Near by a garden-side. 263A.2 I walked on, and father on, Love did my heart engage; There I spied a well-faird maid, Lay sleeping near a hedge. 263A.3 Then I kissd her with my lips And stroked her with my hand: ‘Win up, win up, ye well-faird maid, This day ye sleep oer lang. 263A.4 ‘This dreary sight that I hae seen Unto my heart gives pain; At the south side o your father’s garden, I see a knight lies slain.’ 263A.5 ‘O what like was his hawk, his hawk? Or what like was his hound? And what like was the trusty brand This new-slain knight had on?’ 263A.6 ‘His hawk and hound were from him gone, His steed tied to a tree; A bloody brand beneath his head, And on the ground lies he.’ 263A.7 ‘O what like was his hose, his hose? And what like was his shoon? And what like was the gay clothing This new-slain knight had on?’ 263A.8 ‘His coat was of the red scarlet, His waistcoat of the same; His hose were of the bonny black, And shoon laced with cordin. 263A.9 ‘Bonny was his yellow hair, For it was new combd down;’ Then, sighing sair, said the lady fair, ‘I combd it late yestreen. 263A.10 ‘O wha will shoe my fu fair foot? Or wha will glove my hand? Or wha will father my dear bairn, Since my love’s dead and gane?’ 263A.11 ‘O I will shoe your fu fair foot, And I will glove your hand; And I’ll be father to your bairn, Since your love’s dead and gane.’ 263A.12 ‘I winna father my bairn,’ she said, ‘Upon an unkent man; I’ll father it on the King of Heaven, Since my love’s dead and gane.’ 263A.13 The knight he knackd his white fingers, The lady tore her hair; He’s drawn the mask from off his face, Says, Lady, mourn nae mair. 263A.14 ‘For ye are mine, and I am thine, I see your love is true; And if I live and brook my life Ye’se never hae cause to rue.’

264A: The White Fisher

264A.1 ‘IT is a month, and isna mair, Love, sin I was at thee, But find a stirring in your side; Who may the father be? 264A.2 ‘Is it to a lord of might, Or baron of high degree? Or is it to the little wee page That rode along wi me?’ 264A.3 ‘It is not to a man of might, Nor baron of high degree, But it is to a popish priest; My lord, I winna lie. 264A.4 ‘He got me in my bower alone, As I sat pensively; He vowed he would forgive my sins, If I would him obey.’ 264A.5 Now it fell ance upon a day This young lord went from home, And great and heavy were the pains That came this lady on. 264A.6 Then word has gane to her gude lord, As he sat at the wine, And when the tidings he did hear Then he came singing hame. 264A.7 When he came to his own bower-door, He tirled at the pin: ‘Sleep ye, wake ye, my gay lady, Ye’ll let your gude lord in.’ 264A.8 Huly, huly raise she up, And slowly put she on, And slowly came she to the door; She was a weary woman. 264A.9 ‘Ye’ll take up my son, Willie, That ye see here wi me, And hae him down to yon shore-side, And throw him in the sea. 264A.10 ‘Gin he sink, ye’ll let him sink, Gin he swim, ye’ll let him swim; And never let him return again Till white fish he bring hame.’ 264A.11 Then he’s taen up his little young son, And rowd him in a band, And he is on to his mother, As fast as he could gang. 264A.12 ‘Ye’ll open the door, my mother dear, Ye’ll open, let me come in; My young son is in my arms twa, And shivering at the chin.’ 264A.13 ‘I tauld you true, my son Willie, When ye was gaun to ride, That lady was an ill woman That ye chose for your bride.’ 264A.14 ‘O hold your tongue, my mother dear, Let a’ your folly be; I wat she is a king’s daughter That’s sent this son to thee. 264A.15 ‘I wat she was a king’s daughter I loved beyond the sea, And if my lady hear of this Right angry will she be.’ 264A.16 ‘If that be true, my son Willie-+--+- Your ain tongue winna lie-+--+- Nae waur to your son will be done Than what was done to thee.’ 264A.17 He’s gane hame to his lady, And sair mourning was she: ‘What ails you now, my lady gay, Ye weep sa bitterlie?’ 264A.18 ‘O bonny was the white fisher That I sent to the sea; But lang, lang will I look for fish Ere white fish he bring me! 264A.19 ‘O bonny was the white fisher That ye kiest in the faem; But lang, lang will I look for fish Ere white fish he fetch hame! 264A.20 ‘I fell a slumbering on my bed That time ye went frae me, And dreamd my young son filld my arms, But when waked, he’s in the sea.’ 264A.21 ‘O hold your tongue, my gay lady, Let a’ your mourning be, And I’ll gie you some fine cordial, My love, to comfort thee.’ 264A.22 ‘I value not your fine cordial, Nor aught that ye can gie; Who could hae drownd my bonny young son Could as well poisin me.’ 264A.23 ‘Cheer up your heart, my lily flower, Think nae sic ill o me; Your young son’s in my mother’s bower, Set on the nourice knee. 264A.24 ‘Now, if ye’ll be a gude woman, I’ll neer mind this to thee; Nae waur is done to your young son Than what was done to me.’ 264A.25 ‘Well fell’s me now, my ain gude lord; These words do cherish me; If it hadna come o yoursell, my lord, ’Twould neer hae come o me.’

265A: The Knight’s Ghost

265A.1 ‘THERE is a fashion in this land, And even come to this country, That every lady should meet her lord When he is newly come frae sea: 265A.2 ‘Some wi hawks, and some wi hounds, And other some wi gay monie; Bit I will gae myself alone, And set his young son on his knee.’ 265A.3 She’s taen her young son in her arms, And nimbly walkd by yon sea-strand, And there she spy’d her father’s ship, As she was sailing to dry land. 265A.4 ‘Where hae ye put my ain gude lord, This day he stays sae far frae me?’ ‘If ye be wanting your ain gude lord, A sight o him ye’ll never see.’ 265A.5 ‘Was he brunt? or was he shot? Or was he drowned in the sea? Or what’s become o my ain gude lord, That he will neer appear to me?’ 265A.6 ‘He wasna brunt, nor was he shot, Nor was he drowned in the sea; He was slain in Dunfermling, A fatal day to you and me.’ 265A.7 ‘Come in, come in, my merry young men, Come in and drink the wine wi me; And a’ the better ye shall fare For this gude news ye tell to me.’ 265A.8 She’s brought them down to yon cellar, She brought them fifty steps and three; She birled wi them the beer and wine, Till they were as drunk as drunk could be. 265A.9 Then she has lockd her cellar-door, For there were fifty steps and three: ‘Lie there, wi my sad malison, For this bad news ye’ve tauld to me.’ 265A.10 She’s taen the keys intill her hand And threw them deep, deep in the sea: ‘Lie there, wi my sad malison, Till my gude lord return to me.’ 265A.11 Then she sat down in her own room, And sorrow lulld her fast asleep, And up it starts her own gude lord, And even at that lady’s feet. 265A.12 ‘Take here the keys, Janet,’ he says, ‘That ye threw deep, deep in the sea; And ye’ll relieve my merry young men, For they’ve nane o the swick o me. 265A.13 ‘They shot the shot, and drew the stroke, And wad in red bluid to the knee; Nae sailors mair for their lord coud do Nor my young men they did for me.’ 265A.14 ‘I hae a question at you to ask, Before that ye depart frae me; You’ll tell to me what day I’ll die, And what day will my burial be?’ 265A.15 ‘I hae nae mair o God’s power Than he has granted unto me; But come to heaven when ye will, There porter to you I will be. 265A.16 ‘But ye’ll be wed to a finer knight Than ever was in my degree; Unto him ye’ll hae children nine, And six o them will be ladies free. 265A.17 ‘The other three will be bold young men, To fight for king and countrie; The ane a duke, the second a knight, And third a laird o lands sae free.’

266A: John Thomson and the Turk

266A.1 John Thomson fought against the Turks Three years into a far country, And all that time, and something more, Was absent from his gay lady. 266A.2 But it fell ance upon a time, As this young chieftain sat alane, He spied his lady in rich array, As she walkd oer a rural plain. 266A.3 ‘What brought you here, my lady gay, So far awa from your own country? I’ve thought lang, and very lang, And all for your fair face to see.’ 266A.4 For some days she did with him stay, Till it fell ance upon a day, ‘Farewell for a time,’ she said, ’For now i must bound home away.’ 266A.5 He’s gien to her a jewel fine, Was set with pearl and precious stone; Says, My love, beware fo these savages bold, That’s on your way as ye go home. 266A.6 Ye’ll take the road, my lady fair, That leads you fair across the lee; That keeps you from wild Hind Soldan, And likewise from base Violentrie. 266A.7 With heavy heart these two did part, And minted as she would go home; Hind Soldan by the Greeks was slain, But to base Violentrie she’s gone. 266A.8 When a twelvemonth had expired, John Thomson he thought wondrous lang, And he has written a broad letter, And seald it well with his own hand. 266A.9 He sent it along with a small vessel That there was quickly going to sea, And sent it on to fair Scotland, To see about his gay ladie. 266A.10 But the answer he received again, The lines did grieve his heart right sair; None of her friends there had her seen For a twelvemonth and something mair. 266A.11 Then he put on a palmer’s weed, And took a pikestaff in his hand; To Violentrie’s castle he hied, But slowly, slowly he did gang. 266A.12 When within the hall he came, He joukd and couchd out-oer his tree: ‘If ye be lady of this hall, Some of your good bountieth give me.’ 266A.13 ‘What news, what news, palmer?’ she said, ‘And from what countrie came ye?’ ‘I’m lately come from Grecian plains, Where lys some of the Scots army.’ 266A.14 ‘If ye be come from Grecian plains, Some more news I will ask of thee; Of one of the chieftains that lies there, If he have lately seen his gay ladie.’ 266A.15 ‘It is twelve months and something more Since we did part in yonder plain; And now this knight has begun to fear One of his foes he has her taen.’ 266A.16 ‘He has not taen me by force nor might, It was all by my own free will; He may tarry in the fight, For here I mean to tarry still. 266A.17 ‘And if John Thomson ye do see, Tell him I wish him silent sleep; His head was not so cozelie Nor yet so well as lies at my feet.’ 266A.18 h that he threw [aff] his strange disguise, Laid by the mask that he had on; Said, Hide me now, my ladie fair, For Violentrie will soon be home. 266A.19 ‘For the love I bare thee once, I’ll strive to hide you if I can;’ Then put him down to a dark cellar, Where there lay mony a new slain man. 266A.20 But he hadna in the cellar been Not an hour but barely three, Till hideous was the sound he heard; Then in at the gates came Violentrie. 266A.21 Says, I wish you well, my lady fair, It’s time for us to sit and dine; Come, serve me with the good white bread, And likewise with the claret wine. 266A.22 ‘That Scots chieftain, our mortal foe, So oft from field has made us flee, Ten thousand sequins this day I’d give That I his face could only see.’ 266A.23 ‘Of that same gift would ye give me, If I could bring him unto thee? I fairly hold you at your word; Come ben, John Thomson, to my lord.’ 266A.24 Then from the vault John Thomson came, Wringing his hands most piteouslie; ‘What would ye do,’ the Turk he cried, ‘If ye had me, as I have thee?’ 266A.25 ‘If I had you, as ye have me, I’ll tell you what I’d do to thee; I’d hang you up in good greenwood, And cause your own hand wile the tree. 266A.26 ‘I meant to stick you with my knife, For kissing my beloved wife;’ ‘But that same weed ye’ve shaped for me, It quickly shall be sewed for thee.’ 266A.27 Then to the wood they both are gone, John Thomson clamb from tree to tree; And aye he sighd, and said, Ohon! Here comes the day that I must die! 266A.28 He tied a ribbon on every branch, Put up a flag his men might see; But little did his false foe ken He meant them any injurie. 266A.29 He set his horn to his mouth, And he has blawn baith loud and shrill; And then three thousand armed men Came tripping all out-oer the hill. 266A.30 ‘Deliver us our chief!’ they all did cry, ‘It’s by our hand that ye must die!’ ‘Here is your chief,’ the Turk replied, With that fell on his bended knee. 266A.31 ‘O mercy, mercy, good fellows all, Mercy I pray you’ll grant to me!’ ‘Such mercy as ye meant to give, Such mercy we shall give to thee.’ 266A.32 This Turk they in his castle burnt, That stood upon yon hill so hie; John Thomson’s gay lady they took, And hangd her on yon greenwood tree.

266B: John Thomson and the Turk

 
 266B.1	 O cam ye in by the House o Rodes,
 	 Or cam ye there away?
 	 Or have [ye] seen Johne Tamson?
 	 They say his wife has run away.
 	 * * * * * *
 266B.2	 ‘O what wad ye do, Johne Tamson,
 	 Gin ye had me as I hae thee?’
 	 ‘I wad tak ye to the gude green-wood,
 	 And gar your ain hand weil the tree.’
 	 * * * * * * *
 266B.3	 Johne Tamson peeped and poorly spake
 	 Untill he did his ain men see;
 	 ‘O by my sooth,’ quo Johne Tamson,
 	 ‘Methinks I see a coming tree.’
 	 * * * * * * *
 266B.4	 And they hae hanged that grim Soudan,
 	 For a’ his mirth and meikle pride,
 	 And sae hae they that ill woman,
 	 Upon a scrogg-bush him beside.

267A: The Heir of Linne

267A.1 Off all the lords in faire Scottland A song I will begin; Amongst them all there dweld a lord Which was the vnthrifty lord of Linne. 267A.2 His father and mother were dead him froe, And soe was the head of all his kinne; To the cards and dice that he did run He did neither cease no bl[i]nne. 267A.3 To drinke the wine that was soe cleere, With euery man he wold make merry; And then bespake him Iohn of the Scales, Vnto the heire of Linne sayd hee. 267A.4 Sayes, How dost thou, Lord of Linne? Doest either want gold or fee? Wilt thou not sell they lands soe brode To such a good fellow as me? 267A.5 ‘Ffor . . I . ’.’ he said, ‘My land, take it vnto thee;’ ‘I draw you to record, my lord[ ]s all;’ With that he cast him a god’s peny. 267A.6 He told him the gold vpon the bord, It wanted neuer a bare penny: ‘That gold is thine, the land is mine, The heire of Linne I wilbee.’ 267A.7 ‘Heere’s gold inoughe,’ saithe the heire of Linne, ‘Both for me and my company:’ He drunke the wine that was soe cleere, And with euery man he made merry. 267A.8 With-in three quarters of a yeere His gold and fee it waxed thinne, His merry men were from him gone, And left him himselfe all alone. 267A.9 He had neuer a penny left in his pursse, Neuer a penny [left] but three, And one was brasse, and another was lead, And another was white mony. 267A.10 ‘Now well-aday!’ said the heire of Linne, ‘Now welladay, and woe is mee! For when I was the lord of Linne, I neither wanted gold nor fee. 267A.11 ‘For I haue sold my lands soe broad, And haue not left me one penny; I must goe now and take some read Vnto Edenborrow, and begg my bread.’ 267A.12 He had not beene in Edenborrow Not three qwarters of a yeere, But some did giue him, and some said nay, And some bid ’To the deele gang yee! 267A.13 ‘For if we shold hang any landles feer, The first we wold begin with thee.’ ‘Now welladay!’ said the heire of Linne, ‘No[w] welladay, and woe is mee! 267A.14 ‘For now I have sold my lands soe broad, That mery man is irke with mee; But when that I was the lord of Linne, Then on my land I liued merrily. 267A.15 ‘And now I have sold my land soe broade That I haue not left me one pennye! God be with my father!’ he said, ‘On his land he liued merrily.’ 267A.16 Still in a study there as he stood, He vnbethought him of [a] bill; He vnbethought him of [a] bill Which his father had left with him. 267A.17 Bade him he shold neuer on it looke Till he was in extreame neede, ‘And by my faith,’ said the heire of Linne, ‘Then now I had neuer more neede.’ 267A.18 He tooke the bill, and looked it on, Good comfort that he found there; Itt told him of a castle wall Where there stood three chests in feare. 267A.19 Two were full of the beaten gold, The third was full of white mony; He turned then downe his baggs of bread, And filled them full of gold soe red. 267A.20 Then he did neuer cease nor blinne Till Ihon of the Scales house he did winne. When that he came to Iohn of the Scales, Vpp at the speere he looked then. 267A.21 There sate three lords vpon a rowe, And Iohn o the Scales sate at the bord’s head, And Iohn o the Scales sate at the bord’s head, Because he was the lord of Linne. 267A.22 And then bespake the heire of Linne, To Iohn o the Scales’ wiffe thus sayd hee: Sayd, Dame, wilt thou not trust me one shott That I may sitt downe in this company? 267A.23 ‘Now, Christ’s curse on my head,’ shee said, ‘If I doe trust thee one pennye; Then be-spake a good fellowe, Which sate by Iohn o the Scales his knee. 267A.24 Said, Haue thou here, thou heire of Linne, Forty pence I will lend thee; Some time a good fellow thou hast beene; And other forty if neede bee. 267A.25 Th dru[n]ken wine that was soe cleere, And euery man th made merry; And then bespake him Iohn o the Scales, Vnto the lord of Linne said hee. 267A.26 Said, How doest thou, heire of Linne, Since I did buy thy lands of thee? I will sell it to thee twenty pound better cheepe Nor euer I did buy it of thee. 267A.27 ‘I draw you to recorde, lord[ ]s all,’ With that he cast him [a] god’s penny; Then he tooke to his baggs of bread, And they were full of the gold soe redd. 267A.28 He told him the gold then over the borde, It wanted neuer a broad pennye: ’that gold is thine, the land is mine, And the heire of Linne againe I wilbee.’ 267A.29 ‘Now welladay!’ said Iohn o the Scales’ wife, ‘Welladay, and woe is me! Yesterday I was the lady of Linne, And now I am but Iohn o the Scales’ wiffe!’ 267A.30 Saies, Haue thou heere, thou good fellow, Forty pence thou did lend me, Forty pence thou did lend me, And forty pound I will giue thee. 267A.31 ‘Ile make thee keeper of my forrest Both of the wild deere and the tame,’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267A.32 But then bespake the heire of Linne, These were the words, and thus said hee, Christs curse light vpon my crowne If ere my land stand in any ieopardye!

267B: The Heir of Linne

267B.1 ‘The bonny heir, and the well-faird heir, And the weary heir o Linne, Yonder he stands at his father’s yetts, And naebody bids him come in. 267B.2 ‘O see for he gangs, an see for he stands, The weary heir o Linne! O see for he stands on the cauld casey, And nae an bids him come in! 267B.3 ‘But if he had been his father’s heir, Or yet the heir o Linne, He wadna stand on the cauld casey, Some an woud taen him in.’ 267B.4 ‘Sing ower again that sang, nourice, The sang ye sung just now;’ ‘I never sung a sang in my life But I woud sing ower to you. 267B.5 ‘O see for he gangs, an see for he stands, The weary heir o Linne! O see for he stands on the cauld casey, An nae an bids him come in! 267B.6 ‘But if he had been his father’s heir, Or yet the heir o Linne, He woudna stand on the cauld casye, Some an woud taen him in. 267B.7 ‘When his father’s lands a selling were, His claise lay well in fauld, But now he wanders on the shore, Baith hungry, weet, and cauld.’ 267B.8 As Willie he gaed down the town, The gentlemen were drinking; Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass, And some bade him gie nane, Some bade gie Willie a glass, a glass, The weary heir o Linne. 267B.9 As Willie he came up the town, The fishers were a’ sitting; Some bade gie Willie a fish, a fish, Some bade gie him a fin, Some bade gie him a fish, a fish, And lat the palmer gang. 267B.10 He turned him right and round about, As will as a woman’s son, And taen his cane into his hand, And on his way to Linne. 267B.11 His nourice at her window lookd, Beholding dale and down, And she beheld this distressd young man Come walking to the town. 267B.12 ‘Come here, come here, Willie,’ she said, ‘And rest yoursel wi me; I hae seen you in better days, And in jovial companie.’ 267B.13 ‘Gie me a sheave o your bread, nourice, And a bottle o your wine, And I’ll pay you it a’ ower again, When I’m laird o Linne.’ 267B.14 ‘Ye’se get a sheave o my bread, Willie, And a bottle o my wine, But ye’ll pay me when the seas gang dry, For ye’ll neer be heir o Linne.’ 267B.15 Then he turnd him right and round about, As will as woman’s son, And aff he set, and bent his way, And straightway came to Linne. 267B.16 But when he came to that castle, They were set down to dine; A score o nobles there he saw, Sat drinking at the wine. 267B.17 Then some bade gie him beef, the beef, And some bade gie him the bane; And some bade gie him naething at a’, But lat the palmer gang. 267B.18 Then out it speaks the new-come laird, A saucy word spake hee; ‘Put round the cup, gie my rival a sup, Let him fare on his way.’ 267B.19 Then out it speaks Sir Ned Magnew, Ane o young Willie’s kin; ‘This youth was ance a sprightly boy As ever lived in Linne.’ 267B.20 He turned him right and round about, As will as woman’s son, Then minded him on a little wee key, That his mother left to him. 267B.21 His mother left [him] this little wee key A little before she died; And bade him keep this little wee key Till he was in maist need. 267B.22 Then forth he went, these nobles left, All drinkin’ in the room, Wi walking rod intill his hand, He walked the castle roun. 267B.23 There he found out a little door, For there the key slipped in, And there [he] got as muckle red gowd As freed the lands o Linne. 267B.24 Back through the nobles then he went, A saucy man was then: ‘I’ll take the cup frae this new-come laird, For he neer bade me sit down.’ 267B.25 Then out it speaks the new-come laird, He spake wi mock an jeer; ‘I’d gie a seat to the laird o Linne, Sae be that he were here. 267B.26 ‘When the lands o Linne a selling were, A’ men said they were free; This lad shall hae them frae me this day, If he’ll gie the third pennie.’ 267B.27 ‘I take ye witness, nobles a’, Guide witnesses ye’ll be; I’m promisd the lands o Linne this day, If I gie the third pennie.’ 267B.28 ‘Ye’ve taen us witness, Willie,’ they said, ‘Guide witnesses we’ll be;’ ‘Buy the lands o Linne who likes, They’ll neer be bought by thee.’ 267B.29 He’s done him to a gaming-table, For it stood fair and clean; There he tauld down as much rich gowd As freed the lands o Linne. 267B.30 Thus having done, he turnd about, A saucy man was he; ‘Take up your monie, my lad,’ he says, ‘Take up your third pennie. 267B.31 ‘Aft hae I gane wi barefeet cauld, Likewise wi legs full bare, An mony days walkd at these yetts Wi muckle dool and care. 267B.32 ‘But now my sorrow’s past and gane, And joy’s returned to me, And here i’ve gowd enough forbye, Ahin this third pennie.’ 267B.33 As Willie he gaed down the town, There he crawd wonderous crouse; He calld the may afore them a’, The nourice o the house, 267B.34 ‘Come here, come here, my nurse,’ he says, ‘I’ll pay your bread and wine; Seas ebb and flow [as] they wont to do, Yet i’m the laird o Linne.’ 267B.35 As he gaed up the Gallowgate port, His hose abeen his sheen; But lang ere he came down again Was convoyed by lords fifeteen.

268A: The Twa Knights

268A.1 There were twa knights in fair Scotland, And they were brothers sworn; They made a vow to be as true As if they’d been brothers born. 268A.2 The one he was a wealthy knight, Had lands and buildings free; The other was a young hynde squire, In rank of lower degree. 268A.3 But it fell ance upon a day These squires they walkd alone, And to each other they did talk About the fair women. 268A.4 ‘O wed a may,’ the knight did say, ‘For your credit and fame; Lay never your love on lemanry, Bring nae gude woman to shame.’ 268A.5 ‘There’s nae gude women,’ the squire did say, ‘Into this place but nine;’ ‘O well falls me,’ the knight replied, ‘For ane o them is mine.’ 268A.6 ‘Ye say your lady’s a gude woman, But I say she is nane; I think that I could gain her love Ere six months they are gane. 268A.7 ‘If ye will gang six months away, And sail upon the faem, Then I will gain your lady’s love Before that ye come hame.’ 268A.8 ‘O I’ll gang till a far countrie, And far beyond the faem, And ye winna gain my lady’s love Whan nine lang months are gane.’ 268A.9 When the evening sun did set, And day came to an end, In then came the lady’s gude lord, Just in at yon town’s end. 268A.10 ‘O comely are ye, my lady gay, Sae fair and rare to see; I wish whan I am gane away Ye keep your mind to me.’ 268A.11 She gae ’m a bason to wash in, It shin’d thro a’ the ha; But aye as she gaed but and ben She loot the saut tears fa. 268A.12 ‘I wonder what ails my gude lord He has sic jealousie; Never when we parted before, He spak sic words to me.’ 268A.13 When cocks did craw, and day did daw, This knight was fair at sea; Then in it came the young hynde squire, To work him villanie. 268A.14 ‘I hae a coffer o gude red gowd, Another o white monie; I woud gie you ’t a’, my gay lady, To lye this night wi me.’ 268A.15 ‘If ye warna my lord’s brother, And him sae far frae hame, Even before my ain bower-door I’d gar hang you on a pin.’ 268A.16 He’s gane frae the lady’s bower, Wi the saut tear in his ee, And he is to his foster-mother As fast as gang coud he. 268A.17 ‘There is a fancy in my head That I’ll reveal to thee, And your assistance I will crave If ye will grant it me. 268A.18 ‘I’ve fifty guineas in my pocket, I’ve fifty o them and three, And if ye’ll grant what I request Ye’se hae them for your fee.’ 268A.19 ‘Speak on, speak on, ye gude hynde squire, What may your asking be? I kenna wha woud be sae base As nae serve for sic a fee.’ 268A.20 ‘O I hae wagerd wi my brother, When he went to the faem, That I woud gain his lady’s love Ere six months they were gane. 268A.21 ‘To me he laid his lands at stake Tho he were on the faem, I wudna gain his lady’s love Whan nine lang months were gane. 268A.22 ‘Now I hae tried to gain her love, But finds it winna do; And here I’m come, as ye her know, To seek some help frae you. 268A.23 ‘For I did lay my life at stake, Whan my brother went frae hame, That I woud gain his lady’s love Whan he was on the faem.’ 268A.24 But when the evening sun was set, And day came to an end, In it came that fause carline, Just in at yon town’s end. 268A.25 ‘O comely are ye, my gay lady, Your lord is on the faem; Yon unco squire will gain your love, Before that he come hame.’ 268A.26 ‘Forbid it,’ said the lady fair, ‘That eer the like shoud be, That I woud wrang my ain gude lord, And him sae far at sea.’ 268A.27 ‘O comely are ye, my gay lady, Stately is your fair bodie; Your lovely visage is far chang’d, That is best known to me. 268A.28 ‘You’re sair dune out for want o sleep Sin your lord went to sea; Unless that ye do cease your grief, It will your ruin be. 268A.29 ‘You’ll send your maids unto the hay, Your young men unto the corn; I’ll gar ye sleep as soun a sleep As the night that ye were born.’ 268A.30 She sent her maids to ted the hay, Her men to shear the corn, And she gard her sleep as soun a sleep As the night that she was born. 268A.31 She rowd that lady in the silk, Laid her on holland sheets; Wi fine enchanting melodie, She lulld her fast asleep. 268A.32 She lockd the yetts o that castle Wi thirty locks and three, Then went to meet the young hynde squire To him the keys gae she. 268A.33 s opend the locks o that castle, Were thirty and were three, And he’s gane where that lady lay, And thus to her said he. 268A.34 ‘O wake, O wake, ye gay lady, O wake and speak to me; I hae it fully in my power To come to bed to thee.’ 268A.35 ‘For to defile my husband’s bed, I woud think that a sin; As soon as this lang day is gane, Then I shall come to thine.’ 268A.36 Then she has calld her niece Maisry, Says, An asking ye’ll grant me, For to gang to yon unco squire And sleep this night for me. 268A.37 ‘The gude red gowd shall be your hire, And siller’s be your fee; Five hundred pounds o pennies round, Your tocher it shall be.’ 268A.38 She turnd her right and round about, And thus to her did say; O there was never a time on earth So fain’s I woud say nay. 268A.39 But when the evening sun was set, And day drawn to an end, Then Lady Maisry she is gane, Fair out at yon town-end. 268A.40 Then she is to yon hynde squire’s yates, And tirled at the pin; Wha was sae busy as the hynde squire To lat that lady in! 268A.41 He’s taen her in his arms twa, He was a joyfu man; He neither bade her meat nor drink, But to the bed he ran. 268A.42 When he had got his will o her, His will as he lang sought, Her ring but and her ring-finger Away frae her he brought. 268A.43 With discontent straight home she went, And thus lamented she; Says, Wae be to yon young hynde squire! Sae ill as he’s used me. 268A.44 When the maids came frae the hay, The young men frae the corn, Ben it came that lady gay, Who thought lang for their return. 268A.45 ‘Where hae ye been, my maidens a’, Sae far awa frae me? My foster-mother and lord’s brother Thought to hae beguiled me. 268A.46 ‘Had not she been my foster-mother, I suckd at her breast-bane, Even before my ain bower-door, She in a gleed shoud burn. 268A.47 ‘The squire he thought to gain my love, He’s got but Lady Maisry; He’s cutted her ring and her ring-finger, A love-token for to be. 268A.48 ‘I’ll tie my finger in the dark, Where nae ane shall me see; I hope to loose it in the light, Amang gude companie.’ 268A.49 When night was gane, and birds did sing, And day began to peep, The hynde squire walkd alang the shore, His brother for to meet. 268A.50 ‘Ye are welcome, welcome, landless lord, To my ha’s and my bowers; Ye are welcome hame, ye landless lord, To my lady white like flowers’ 268A.51 ‘Ye say I am a landless lord, But I think I am nane, Without ye show some love-token Awa frae her ye’ve tane.’ 268A.52 He drew the strings then o his purse, And they were a’ bludie; The ring but and the ring-finger Sae soon as he lat him see. 268A.53 ‘O wae be to you, fause hynde squire, Ane ill death mat ye dee! It was too sair a love-token To take frae my ladie. 268A.54 ‘But ae asking of you, hynde squire, In your won bowers to dine;’ ‘With a’ my heart, my brother dear, Tho ye had asked nine.’ 268A.55 Then he is to his lady’s father, And a sorrow man was he: ‘O judge, O judge, my father dear, This judgment pass for me. 268A.56 ‘What is the thing that shoud be done Unto that gay lady Who woud gar her lord gae landless, And children bastards to be?’ 268A.57 ‘She shoud be brunt upon a hill, Or hangd upon a tree, That woud gar her lord gang landless, And children bastards be.’ 268A.58 ‘Your judgment is too rash, father; Your ain daughter is she That this day has made me landless; Your squire gaind it frae me. 268A.59 ‘Yet nevertheless, my parents dear, Ae favour ye’ll grant me, And gang alang to my lost ha’s, And take your dine wi me.’ 268A.60 He threw the charters ower the table, And kissd the yates o tree; Says Fare ye well, my lady gay, Your face I’ll never see. 268A.61 Then his lady calld out to him, Come here, my lord, and dine; There’s nae a smith in a’ the land That can ae finger join. 268A.62 ‘I tied my finger in the dark, Whan nae ane did me see; But now I’ll loose it in the light, Amang gude companie. 268A.63 ‘Even my niece, Lady Maisry, The same woman was she; The gude red gowd shall be her hire, And likeways white monie. 268A.64 ‘Five hundred pounds o pennies round Her tocher then shall be, Because she did my wills obey, Beguild the squire for me.’ 268A.65 Then they did call this young hynde squire To come right speedilie, Likeways they calld young Lady Maisry. To pay her down her fee. 268A.66 Then they laid down to Lady Maisry The brand but and the ring; It was to stick him wi the brand, Or wed him wi the ring. 268A.67 Thrice she minted to the brand, But she took up the ring; And a’ the ladies who heard o it Said she was a wise woman.

269A: Lady Diamond

269A.1 THERE was a king, and a very great king, And a king of meikle fame; He had not a child in the world but ane, Lady Daisy was her name. 269A.2 He had a very bonnie kitchen-boy, And William was his name; He never lay out o Lady Daisy’s bower, Till he brought her body to shame. 269A.3 When een-birds sung, and een-bells rung, And a’ men were boune to rest, The king went on to Lady Daisy’s bower, Just like a wandering ghaist. 269A.4 He has drawn the curtains round and round, And there he has sat him down; ‘To whom is this, Lady Daisy,’ he says, ‘That now you gae so round? 269A.5 ‘Is it to a laird? or is it to a lord? Or a baron of high degree? Or is it William, my bonnie kitchen-boy? Tell now the truth to me.’ 269A.6 ‘It’s no to a laird, and it’s no to a lord, Nor a baron of high degree; But it’s to William, your bonnie kitchen-boy: What cause hae I to lee?’ 269A.7 ‘O where is all my merry, merry men, That I pay meat and fee, That they will not take out this kitchen-boy, And kill him presentlie?’ 269A.8 They hae taen out this bonnie kitchen-boy, And killd him on the plain; His hair was like the threads o gold, His een like crystal stane; His hair was like the threads o gold, His teeth like ivory bane. 269A.9 They hae taen out this bonnie boy’s heart, Put it in a cup o gold; ‘Take that to Lady Daisy,’ he said, ‘For she’s impudent and bold; And she washd it with the tears that ran from her eye Into the cup of gold. 269A.10 ‘Now fare ye weel, my father the king! You hae taen my earthly joy; Since he’s died for me, I’ll die for him, My bonnie kitchen-boy.’ 269A.11 ‘O where is all my merry, merry men, That I pay meat and wage, That they could not withold my cruel hand, When I was mad with rage? 269A.12 ‘I think nae wonder, Lady Daisy,’ he said, ‘That he brought your body to shame; For there never was man of woman born Sae fair as him that is slain.’

269B: Lady Diamond

269B.1 THER was a king, an a worthy king, [an a king] of birth an fame; He had an only dear daughter, An Dayesie was her name. 269B.2 Ther was a boy about the house, Bod Roben was his name; He would not stay out of Dayese’s bour, Till he brought her body [to] shame. 269B.3 When bells was rung, . . . . An a’ man bon to rest, The king went up to Lady Dayese’s bour, He was an unwelcom gast. 269B.4 ‘O Lady Dayes, dear, d[ea]r Dayisie, What gars ye gae sae round? We yer tua sides high an yer bellie bige, Fra yer face the couller is gane.’ 269B.5 ‘O have ye loved? or have he lang-sought? Or die ye goo we barn?’ ‘It’s all for you, fair father, That ye stayed so long in Spain.’ 269B.6 ‘It’s aff ye take yer berry-broun goon, An ye lay it on a ston, An I will tell you in a very short time If ye loued any man or no[n].’ 269B.7 It’s aff she has tane her berry-broun goon, An laid it on a ston; We her tua sides high, her belley turned bigg, Fra her face the couller was gane. 269B.8 ‘O is it to lord? or is to lard? Or till a man of mean? Or is it to Bold Roben, the kittchen-boy? Nou, Dayisie, dinne lea[n].’ 269B.9 ‘It’s no to leard, nor [to] lord, Nor to a man of mean, But it’s to Bold Robien, our kittchen-boy; Fatt neads me for to lea[n]?’ 269B.10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It’s the morn befor I eat or drink His heart-blude I sall see.’ 269B.11 He’s tean Bold Robien by the hand Lead him across the green; His hear was leak the very threeds of goud, His face shone leak the moon. 269B.12 He’s tane out this bonny boy’s hear[t] Into a cupe of gold, Had it to Lady Dayese’s bour, Says, No[u], Dayes, behold! 269B.13 ‘O welcom to me my heart’s delight! Nou welcom to me my joy! Ye have dayed for me, an I’ll day for ye, Tho ye be but the kittchen-boy.’ 269B.14 She has taen out the coup of gold, Lead it belou her head, An she wish it we the tears ran doun fra her eays, An or midnight she was dead. 269B.15 She has tean out the coup of gold, Laid it belou her hear, An she wish it we the tears ran don fra her eays, An alass! spak never mare.

269C: Lady Diamond

269C.1 THERE was a king, and a glorious king, And a king of mickle fame, And he had daughters only one, Lady Dysmal was her name. 269C.2 He had a boy, and a kitchen-boy, A boy of mickle scorn, And she lovd him lang, and she loved him aye, Till the grass oergrew the corn. 269C.3 When twenty weeks were gone and past, O she began to greet! Her petticoat grew short before, And her stays they wadna meet. 269C.4 It fell upon a winter’s night The king could get nae rest; He cam unto his daughter dear, Just like a wandring ghaist. 269C.5 He cam into her bed-chalmer, And drew the curtains round: ‘What aileth thee, my daughter dear? I fear you’ve gotten wrong.’ 269C.6 ‘O if I have, despise me not, For he is all my joy; I will forsake baith dukes and earls, And marry your kitchen-boy.’ 269C.7 ‘Go call to me my merry men all, By thirty and by three; Go call to me my kitchen-boy, We’ll murder him secretlie.’ 269C.8 There was nae din that could be heard, And neer a word was said, Till they got him baith fast and sure Between twa feather-beds. 269C.9 ‘Go cut the heart out of his breast, And put it in a cup of gold, And present it to his Dysmal dear, For she is baith stout and bold.’ 269C.10 They’ve cut the heart out of his breast, And put it in a cup of gold, And presented it to his Dysmal dear, Who was baith stout and bold. 269C.11 ‘O come to me, my hinney, my heart, O come to me, my joy! O come to me, my hinney, my heart My father’s kitchen-boy!’ 269C.12 She’s taen the cup out of their hands, And set it at her bed-head; She washd it wi the tears that fell from her eyes, And next morning she was dead. 269C.13 ‘O where were ye, my merry men all, Whom I paid meat and wage, Ye didna hold my cruel hand When I was in my rage? 269C.14 ‘For gone is a’ my heart’s delight, And gone is a’ my joy; For my dear Dysmal she is dead, And so is my kitchen-boy.’

269D: Lady Diamond

269D.1 THERE was a king, and a curious king, And a king of royal fame, He had ae daughter, he had never mair, Lady Diamond was her name. 269D.2 She’s fa’en into shame, and lost her good name, And wrought her parents ’noy; And a’ for her layen her love so low, On her father’s kitchn-boy. 269D.3 One night as she lay on her bed, Just thinking to get rest, Up it came her old father, Just like a wandering ghaist. 269D.4 ‘Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says, ‘Rise up, put on your gown; Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says, ‘For I fear ye go too roun.’ 269D.5 ‘Too roun I go, ye blame me no, Ye cause me not to shame; For better love I that bonny boy Than all your well-bred men.’ 269D.6 The king’s calld up his wall-wight men, That he paid meat and fee: ‘Bring here to me that bonny boy, And we’ll smore him right quietlie.’ 269D.7 Up hae they taken that bonny boy, Put him between twa feather-beds; Naething was dane, naething was said, Till that bonny boy was dead. 269D.8 The king’s taen out a broad, broad sword, And streakd it on a strow, And thro and thro that bony boy’s heart He’s gart cauld iron go. 269D.9 Out he has taen his poor bloody heart, Set it on a tasse of gold, And set it before Lady Diamond’s face, Said, Fair lady, behold! 269D.10 Up she has taen this poor bloody heart, And holden it in her hand: ‘Better loved I that bonny, bonny boy Than all my father’s land.’ 269D.11 Up she has taen his poor bloody heart And laid it at her head; The tears away frae her eyes did fly, And ere midnight she was dead.

269E: Lady Diamond

 
 269E.1	 IT was a king, and a verra greit king,
 	 An a king o muckle fame,
 	 An he had a luvelie dauchter fair,
 	 An Dysie was her name.
 269E.2	 She fell in love wi the kitchie-boy,
 	 An a verra bonnie boy was he,
 	 An word has gane till her father dear,
 	 An an angry man was he.
 269E.3	 ‘Is it the laird? or is it the lord?
 	 Or a man o high degree?
 	 Or is it to Robin, the kitchie-boy?
 	 O Dysie mak nae lee.’
 269E.4	 ‘It’s nae the laird, nor is it the lord,
 	 Nor a man o high degree,
 	 But it’s to Robin, the kitchie-boy;
 	 What occasion hae I to lee?’
 269E.5	 ‘If it be to Robin, the kitchie-boy,
 	 As I trust weel it be,
 	 The morn, afore ye eat meal or drink,
 	 Ye’ll see him hanged hie.’
 269E.6	 They have taen Robin out,
 	 His hair was like threads o gold;
 	 That verra day afore it was night,
 	 Death made young Dysie cold.

270A: The Earl of Mar’s Daughter

270A.1 IT was intill a pleasant time, Upon a simmer’s day, The noble Earl of Mar’s daughter Went forth to sport and play. 270A.2 As thus she did amuse hersell, Below a green aik tree, There she was a sprightly doo Set on a tower sae hie. 270A.3 ‘O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true, If ye’ll come down to me, Ye’se hae a cage o guid red gowd Instead o simple tree: 270A.4 ‘I’ll put gowd hingers roun your cage, And siller roun your wa; I’ll gar ye shine as fair a bird As ony o them a’.’ 270A.5 But she hadnae these words well spoke, Nor yet these words well said, Till Cow-me-doo flew frae the tower And lighted on her head. 270A.6 Then she has brought this pretty bird Hame to her bowers and ha, And made him shine as fair a bird As ony o them a’. 270A.7 When day was gane, and night was come, About the evening tide, This lady spied a sprightly youth Stand straight up by her side. 270A.8 ‘From whence came ye, young man?’ she said; ‘That does surprise me sair; My door was bolted right secure, What way hae ye come here?’ 270A.9 ‘O had your tongue, ye lady fair, Lat a’ your folly be; Mind ye not on your turtle-doo Last day ye brought wi thee?’ 270A.10 ‘O tell me mair, young man,’ she said, ‘This does surprise me now; What country hae ye come frae? What pedigree are you?’ 270A.11 ‘My mither lives on foreign isles, She has nae mair but me; She is a queen o wealth and state, And birth and high degree. 270A.12 ‘Likewise well skilld in magic spells, As ye may plainly see, And she transformd me to yon shape, To charm such maids as thee. 270A.13 ‘I am a doo the live-lang day, A sprightly youth at night; This aye gars me appear mair fair In a fair maiden’s sight. 270A.14 ‘And it was but this verra day That I came ower the sea; Your lovely face did me enchant; I’ll live and dee wi thee.’ 270A.15 ‘O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true, Nae mair frae me ye’se gae;’ ‘That’s never my intent, my luve, As ye said, it shall be sae.’ 270A.16 ‘O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true, It’s time to gae to bed;’ ‘Wi a’ my heart, my dear marrow, It’s be as ye hae said.’ 270A.17 Then he has staid in bower wi her For sax lang years and ane, Till sax young sons to him she bare, And the seventh she’s brought hame. 270A.18 But aye as ever a child was born He carried them away, And brought them to his mither’s care, As fast as he coud fly. 270A.19 Thus he has staid in bower wi her For twenty years and three; There came a lord o high renown To court this fari ladie. 270A.20 But still his proffer she refused, And a’ his presents too; Says, I’m content to live alane Wi my bird, Cow-me-doo. 270A.21 Her father sware a solemn oath Amang the nobles all, ‘The morn, or ere I eat or drink, This bird I will gar kill.’ 270A.22 The bird was sitting in his cage, And heard what they did say; And when he found they were dismist, Says, Wae’s me for this day! 270A.23 ‘Before that I do langer stay, And thus to be forlorn, I’ll gang unto my mither’s bower, Where I was bred and born.’ 270A.24 Then Cow-me-doo took flight and flew Beyond the raging sea, And lighted near his mither’s castle, On a tower a gowd sae hie. 270A.25 As his mither was wauking out, To see what she coud see, And there she saw her little son, Set on the tower sae hie. 270A.26 ‘Get dancers here to dance,’ she said, ‘And minstrells for to play; For here’s my young son, Florentine, Come here wi me to stay.’ 270A.27 ’get nae dancers to dance, mither, Nor minstrells for to play, For the mither o my seven sons, The morn’s her wedding-day.’ 270A.28 ‘O tell me, tell me, Florentine, Tell me, and tell me true, Tell me this day without a flaw, What I will do for you.’ 270A.29 ‘Instead of dancers to dance, mither, Or minstrells for to play, Turn four-and-twenty wall-wight men Like storks in feathers gray; 270A.30 ‘My seven sons in seven swans, Aboon their heads to flee; And I mysell a gay gos-hawk, A bird o high degree.’ 270A.31 Then sichin said the queen hersell, ‘That thing’s too high for me;’ But she applied to an auld woman, Who had mair skill than she. 270A.32 Instead o dancers to dance a dance, Or minstrells for to play, Four-and-twenty wall-wight men Turnd birds o feathers gray; 270A.33 Her seven sons in seven swans, Aboon their heads to flee; And he himsell a gay gos-hawk, A bird o high degree. 270A.34 This flock o birds took flight and flew Beyond the raging sea, And landed near the Earl Mar’s castle, Took shelter in every tree. 270A.35 They were a flock o pretty birds, Right comely to be seen; The people viewd them wi surprise, As they dancd on the green. 270A.36 These birds ascended frae the tree And lighted on the ha, And at the last wi force did flee Amang the nobles a’. 270A.37 The storks there seized some o the men, They coud neither fight nor flee; The swans they bound the bride’s best man Below a green aik tree. 270A.38 They lighted next on maidens fair, Then on the bride’s own head, And wi the twinkling o an ee The bride and them were fled. 270A.39 There’s ancient men at weddings been For sixty years or more, But sic a curious wedding-day They never saw before. 270A.40 For naething coud the companie do, Nor naething coud they say But they saw a flock o pretty birds That took their bride away. 270A.41 When the Earl Mar he came to know Where his dochter did stay, He signd a bond o unity, And visits now they pay.

271A: The Lord of Lorn and the False Steward

271A.1 IT was the worthy Lord of Learen, He was a lord of a hie degree; He had noe more children but one sonne, He sett him to schoole to learne curtesie. 271A.2 Lear[n]ing did soe proceed with that child, I tell you all in veretie, He learned more vpon one day Then other children did on three, 271A.3 And then bespake the schoole-master, Vnto the Lord of Learne said hee, I thinke thou be some stranger borne, For the holy gost remaines with thee. 271A.4 He said, I am noe stranger borne, Forsooth, master, I tell it to thee; It is a gift of Almighty God Which he hath giuen vnto mee. 271A.5 The schoole-master turnd him round about, His angry mind he thought to asswage, For the child cold answer him soe quicklie, And was of soe tender yeere of age. 271A.6 The child he caused a steed to be brought, A golden bridle done him vpon; He tooke his leaue of his schoolfellows, And home the child that he is gone. 271A.7 And when he came before his father, He fell low downe vpon his knee: ‘My blessing, father, I wold aske, If Christ wold grant you wold gine it me.’ 271A.8 ‘Now God thee blesse, my sonne and my heire, His servant in heauen that thou may bee! What tydings hast thou brought me, child, Thou art comen home so soone to mee?’ 271A.9 ‘Good tydings, father, I haue you brought, Goo[d tydings] I hope it is to thee; The booke is not in all s[c]ottlande But I can reade it before your eye.’ 271A.10 A ioyed man his father was, Euen the worthy lord of Learne: ‘Thou shalt goe into Ffrance, my child, The speeches of all strange lands to learne.’ 271A.11 But then bespake the child his mother, The Lady of Learne and then was shee; Saies, Who must be his well good guide, When he goes into that strange country? 271A.12 And then bespake that bonnie child, Vntill his father tenderlie; Saies, Father, I’le haue the hend steward, For he hath been true to you and mee. 271A.13 The lady to concell the steward did take, And counted downe a hundred pound there; Saies, Steward, be true to my sonne and my heire, And I will giue thee mickle mere. 271A.14 ‘If I be not true to my master,’ he said, ‘Christ himselfe be not trew to mee! If I be not true to my lord and master, An ill death that I may die!’ 271A.15 The Lord of Learne did apparell his child With bruche, and ringe, and many a thinge; The apparrell he had his body vppon, Th say was worth a squier’s liuinge. 271A.16 The parting of the younge Lord of Learne With his father, his mother, his fellows deere, Wold haue made a manis hart for to change, If a Iew borne that he were. 271A.17 The wind did serue, and th did sayle Over the sea into Ffrance land; He vsed the child soe hardlie, He wold let him haue neuer a penny to spend. 271A.18 And meate he wold let the child haue none, Nor mony to buy none, trulie; The boy was hungry and thirsty both; Alas! it was the more pitty. 271A.19 He laid him downe to drinke the water That was soe low beneathe the brime; He [that] was wont to haue drunke both ale and wine Then was faine of the water soe thinne. 271A.20 And as he was drinking of the water That ran soe low beneath the brime, Soe ready was the false steward To drowne the bonny boy therin. 271A.21 ‘Haue mercy on me, worthy steward! My life,’ he said, ’lend it to mee, And all that I am heire vpon,’ Saies, ‘I will giue vnto thee.’ 271A.22 Mercy to him the steward did take, And pulld the child out of the brime; Euer alacke, the more pittye! He tooke his clothes euen from him. 271A.23 Saies, Doe thou me of that veluett gowne, The crimson hose beneath thy knee, And doe me of thy cordiuant shoone, Are buckled with the gold soe free. 271A.24 ‘Doe thou me off thy sattin doublett, Thy shirtband wrought with glistering gold, And doe mee off thy golden chaine, About they necke soe many a fold. 271A.25 ‘Doe thou me off thy veluett hat, With fether in that is soe fine; All vnto thy silken shirt, That’s wrought with many a golden seam.’ 271A.26 The child before him naked stood, With skin as white as lilly flower; For [t]his worthy lords bewtie He might haue beene a ladye’s paramoure. 271A.27 He put vpon him a lether cote, And breeches of the same beneath the knee, And sent that bony child him froe, Service for to craue, truly, 271A.28 He pulld then forth a naked sword That hange full low then by his side; ‘Turne thy name, thou villaine,’ he said, ‘Or else this sword shall be thy guide.’ 271A.29 ‘What must be my name, worthy steward? I pray thee now tell it me:’ ‘Thy name shalbe Pore Disaware, To tend sheepe on a lonelye lee.’ 271A.30 The bonny child he went him froe, And looked to himselfe, truly; Saw his apparrell soe simple vppon; O Lord! he weeped tenderlye. 271A.31 Vnto a shepard’s house that childe did goe, And said, Sir, God you saue and see! Doe you not want a servant-boy, To tend your sheepe on a lonelie lee? 271A.32 ‘Where was thou borne?’ the shepard said, ‘Where, my boy, or in what country?’ ’Sir,’ he said, ‘I was borne in fayre Scottland, That is soe farr beyond the sea.’ 271A.33 ‘I haue noe child,’ the shepard sayd; ‘My boy, thoust tarry and dwell with mee; My liuinge,’ he sayd, a+end all my goods, I’le make thee heire [of] after mee.’ 271A.34 And then bespake the shepard’s wife, To the Lord of Learne thus did she say; ‘Goe thy way to our sheepe,’ she said, ‘And tend them well both night and day.’ 271A.35 It was a sore office, O Lord, for him That was a lord borne of a great degree! As he was tending his sheepe alone, Neither sport nor play cold hee. 271A.36 Let vs leaue talking of the Lord of Learne, And let all such talking goe; Let vs talke more of the false steward, That caused the child all this woe. 271A.37 He sold this Lord of Learne’s his clothes For five hundred pound to his pay [there], And bought himselfe a suite of apparrell Might well beseeme a lord to weare. 271A.38 When he that gorgeous apparrell bought, That did soe finelie his body vppon, He laughed the bony child to scorne That was the bonny Lord of Learne. 271A.39 He laughed that bonny boy to scorne; Lord! pitty it was to heare; I haue herd them say, and soe haue you too, That a man may buy gold to deere. 271A.40 When that he had all that gorgeous apparrell, That did soe finelie his body vpon, He went a woing to the Duke’s daughter of France, And called himselfe the Lord of Learne. 271A.41 The Duke of Ffrance heard tell of this, To his place that worthy lord was come, truly; He entertaind him with a quart of red Renish wi[ne], Saies, Lord of Learne, thou art welcome to me. 271A.42 Then to supper that they were sett, Lords and ladyes in thei degree; The steward was sett next the Duke of France; An vnseemlye sight it was to see. 271A.43 Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance, Vnto the Lord of Leearne said hee there, Sayes, Lord of Learne, if thou’le marry my daught[er], I’le mend thy liuing fiue hundred pound a yeere. 271A.44 Then bespake that lady fayre, Answered her father soe alone, That shee would be his marryed wiffe If he wold make her lady of Learne. 271A.45 Then hand in hand the steward her he tooke, And plight that lady his troth alone, That she shold be his marryed wiffe, And he wold make her the ladie of Learne. 271A.46 Thus that night it was gone, The other day was come, truly; The lady wold see the robucke run, Vp hills and dales and forrest free. 271A.47 Then shee was ware of the younge Lord of Learne Tending sheepe vnder a bryar, trulye. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271A.48 And thus shee called vnto her maids, And held her hands vp thus an hie; Sayes, Feitch me yond shepard’s boy, I’le know why he doth mourne, trulye. 271A.49 When he came before that lady fayer, He fell downe vpon his knee; He had beene so well brought vpp He needed not to learne curtesie. 271A.50 ‘Where wast thou borne, thou bonny boy? Where or in what countrye?’ ‘Madam, I was borne in faire Scottland, That is soe farr beyond the sea.’ 271A.51 ‘What is thy name, thou bonny boy? I pray thee tell it vnto mee;’ ‘My name’ he sayes, ’is Poore Disaware, That tends sheepe on a lonely lee.’ 271A.52 ‘One thing thou must tell mee, bonny boy, Which I must needs aske of thee, Dost not thou know the young Lord of Learne? He is comen a woing into France to me.’ 271A.53 ‘Yes, that I doe, madam,’ he said, And then he wept most tenderlie; ‘The Lord of Learne is a worthy lord, If he were at home in his oune country.’ 271A.54 ‘What ayles thee to weepe, my bonny boy? Tell me or ere I part thee froe:’ ‘Nothing but for a freind, madam, That’s dead from me many a yeere agoe.’ 271A.55 A loud laughter the ladie lought, O Lord! shee smiled wonderous hie: ‘I haue dwelled in France since I was borne; Such a shepard’s boy I did neuer see. 271A.56 ‘Wilt thou not leaue thy sheep, my child, And come vnto service vnto mee? And I will giue thee meate and fee, And my chamberlaine thou shalt bee.’ 271A.57 ‘Then I will leaue my sheepe, madam,’ he sayd, ‘And come into service vnto thee, If you will giue me meate and fee, Your chamberlaine that I may bee.’ 271A.58 When the lady come before her father, Shee fell low downe vpon her knee; ‘Grant me, father,’ the lady said, ‘This boy my chamberlaine to be.’ 271A.59 ‘But O nay, nay,’ the duke did say, ‘Soe my daughter it may not bee; The lord that is come a woing to you Will be offended with you and mee.’ 271A.60 n came downe the false steward, Which called himselfe the Lord of Learne, trulie; When he looked that bonny boy vpon, An angry man i-wis was hee. 271A.61 ‘Where was thou borne, thou vagabond? Where?’ he sayd, a+end in what country?’ Says, I was borne in fayre Scotland, That is soe far beyond the sea. 271A.62 ‘What is thy name, thou vagabond? Haue done qu[i]cklie, and tell it to me;’ ‘My name,’ he sayes, ’is Poore Disaware, I tend sheep on the lonelie lee.’ 271A.63 ‘Thou art a theefe,’ the steward said, ‘And soe in the end I will prooue thee;’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271A.64 Then be-spake the ladie fayre, ‘Peace, Lord of Learne! I doe pray thee; Ffor if noe loue you show this child, Noe favor can you haue of mee.’ 271A.65 ‘Will you beleeue me, lady faire, When the truth I doe tell yee? Att Aberdonie, beyond the sea, His father he robbed a hundred three.’ 271A.66 But then bespake the Duke of France Vnto the boy soe tenderlie; Saies, Boy, if thou loue harsses well, My stable-groome I will make thee. 271A.67 And thus that that did passe vppon Till the twelve monthes did draw to an ende; The boy applyed his office soe well Euery man became his freind. 271A.68 He went forth earlye one morning To water a gelding at the water soe free; The gelding vp, and with his head He hitt the child aboue his eye. 271A.69 ‘Woe be to thee, thou gelding,’ he sayd, ‘And to the mare that foled thee! Thou hast striken the Lord of Learne A litle tinye aboue the eye. 271A.70 ‘First night after I was borne, a lord I was, An earle after my father doth die; My father is the worthy Lord of Learne, And child he hath noe more but mee; He sent me over the sea with the false steward, And thus that he hath beguiled mee.’ 271A.71 The lady [wa]s in her garden greene, Walking with her mayds, trulye, And heard the boy this mourning make, And went to weeping, trulie. 271A.72 ‘Sing on thy song, thou stable groome, I pray thee doe not let for mee, And as I am a true ladie I wilbe trew vnto thee.’ 271A.73 ‘But nay, now nay, madam!’ he sayd, ‘Soe that it may not bee; I am tane sworne vpon a booke, And forsworne I will not bee.’ 271A.74 ‘Sing on thy song to thy gelding, And thou doest not sing to mee; And as I am a true ladie I will euer be true vnto thee.’ 271A.75 sayd, Woe be to thee, gelding, And to the mare that foled thee! For thou hast strucken the Lord of Learne, A litle aboue mine eye. 271A.76 First night I was borne, a lord I was, An earle after my father doth dye; My father is the good Lord of Learne, And child he hath noe other but mee; My father sent me over [the sea] with the false steward, And thus that he hath beguiled mee. 271A.77 ‘Woe be to the steward, lady,’ he sayd, ‘Woe be to him verrily! He hath beene about this twelve months day For to deceiue both thee and mee. 271A.78 ‘If you doe not my councell keepe, That I haue told you with good intent, And if you doe it not well keepe, Ffarwell! my life is at an ende.’ 271A.79 ‘I wilbe true to thee, Lord of Learne, Or else Christ be not soe vnto me; And as I am a trew ladye, I’le neuer marry none but thee.’ 271A.80 Shee sent in for her father, the Duke, In all the speed that ere might bee; ‘Put of my wedding, father,’ shee said, ‘For the loue of God, this month s three. 271A.81 ‘Sicke I am,’ the ladye said, ‘O sicke, and verry like to die! Put of my wedding, father Duke, Ffor the loue of God, this month s three.’ 271A.82 The Duke of France put of this wedding Of the steward and the lady month s three, For the ladie sicke shee was, Sicke, sicke, and like to die. 271A.83 Shee wrote a letter with her owne hand, In all the speede that euer might bee; Shee sent [it] over into Scottland, That is soe farr beyond the sea. 271A.84 When the messenger came beffore the old Lord of Learne, He kneeled low downe on his knee, And he deliuered the letter vnto him, In all the speed that euer might bee. 271A.85 [The] first looke he looked the letter vpon, Lo! he wept full bitterly; The second looke he looked it vpon, Said, False steward, woe be to thee! 271A.86 When the Ladye of Learne these tydings heard, O Lord! shee wept soe biterlye: ‘I told you of this, now good my lord, When I sent my child into that wild country.’ 271A.87 ‘Peace, Lady of Learne,’ the lord did say, ‘For Christ his loue I doe pray thee; And as I am a christian man, Wroken vpon him that I wilbe.’ 271A.88 He wrote a letter with his owne hand, In all the speede that ere might bee; He sent it into the lords in Scottland, That were borne of a great degree. 271A.89 He sent for lords, he sent for knights, the best that were in the countrye, To go with him into the land of France, To seeke his sonne in that strange country. 271A.90 The wind was good, and they did sayle, Fiue hundred men into France land, There to seeke that bonny boy That was the worthy Lord of Learne. 271A.91 They sought the country through and through, Soe farr to the Duke’s place of Ffrance land; There they were ware of that bonny boy, Standing with a porter’s staffe in his hand. 271A.92 Then the worshippfull, th did bowe, The serving-men fell on their knee, They cast their hatts vp into the ayre For ioy that boy that they had seene. 271A.93 The Lord of Learne then he light downe, And kist his child both cheeke and chinne, And said, God blesse thee, my sonne and my heire! The blisse of heauen that thou may winne! 271A.94 The false steward and the Duke of France Were in a castle-topp, trulie; ‘What fooles are yond,’ says the false steward, ‘To the porter makes soe lowe curtesie?’ 271A.95 Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance, Calling my Lord of Learne, trulie; He sayd, I doubt the day be come That either you or I must die. 271A.96 Th sett the castle round about, A swallow cold not haue flone away; And there th tooke the false steward That the Lord of Learne did betray. 271A.97 And when they had taken the false steward, He fell lowe downe vpon his knee, And craued mercy of the Lord of Learne For the villanous dedd he had done, trulye. 271A.98 ‘Thou shalt haue mercy,’ said the Lord of Learne, ‘Thou vile traitor, I tell to thee, As the lawes of the realme they will thee beare, Wether it bee for thee to liue or dye.’ 271A.99 A quest of lords that there was chosen, To goe vppon his death, trulie; There th iudged the false steward, Whether he was guiltie, and for to dye. 271A.100 The forman of the iury he came in, He spake his words full lowd and hie; Said, Make thee ready, thou false steward, For now thy death it drawes full nie. 271A.101 Sayd he, If my death it doth draw nie, God forgiue me all I haue done amisse! Where is that lady I haue loued soe longe? Before my death to giue me a kisse. 271A.102 ‘Away, thou traitor!’ the lady said, ‘Auoyd out of my company! For thy vild treason thou hast wrought, Thou had need to cry to God for mercye.’ 271A.103 First they tooke him and h[a]ngd him halfe, And let him downe before he was dead, And quartered him in quarters many, And sodde him in a boyling lead. 271A.104 And then they tooke him out againe, And cutten all his ioynts in sunder, And burnte him eke vpon a hyll; I-wis th did him curstlye cumber. 271A.105 A loud laughter the lady laught, O Lord! she smiled merrylie; She sayd I may praise my heauenly king That euer I seene this vile traytor die. 271A.106 Then bespake the Duke of France, Vnto the right Lord of Learne sayd he there; Says, Lord of Learne, if thou wilt marry my daught[er] I’le mend thy liuing fiue hundred a yeere. 271A.107 But then bespake that bonie boy, And answered the Duke quicklie, I had rather marry your daughter with a ring of go[ld] Then all the gold that ere I blinket on with mine eye. 271A.108 But then bespake the old Lord of Learne, To the Duke of France thus he did say, Seeing our children doe soe well agree, They shalbe marryed ere wee goe away. 271A.109 Lady of Learne shee was sent for Throughout Scottland soe speedilie, To see these two children sett vpp In their seats of gold full royallye.

271B: The Lord of Lorn and the False Steward

271B.1 IT was a worthy Lord of Lorn, He was a lord of high degree, He sent [his son] unto the schoole, To learn some civility. 271B.2 He learned more learning in one day Then other children did in three; And then bespake the schoolmaster Unto him tenderly, 271B.3 ‘In faith thou art the honestest boy That ere I blinkt on with mine eye; I hope thou art some easterling born, The Holy Ghost is with thee.’ 271B.4 He said he was no easterling born, The child thus answered courteously; My father is the Lord of Lorn, And I his son, perdye. 271B.5 The schoolmaster turned round about, His angry mood he could not swage; He marvelled the child could speak so wise, He being of so tender age. 271B.6 He girt the saddle to the steed, The bridle of the best gold shone; He took his leave of his fellows all, And quickly he was gone. 271B.7 And when he came to his father dear He kneeled down upon his knee; ‘I am come to you, fathe[r],’ he said, ‘God’s blessing give you me.’ 271B.8 ‘Thou art welcome, son,’ he said, ‘God’s blessing I give thee; What tidings hast thou brought, my son, Being come so hastily?’ 271B.9 ‘I have brought tidings, father,’ he said, ‘And so lik d it may be. There’s never a book in all Scotland But I can read it, truly. 271B.10 ‘There’s nere a doctor in all this realm, For all he goes in rich array, I can write him a lesson soon To learn in seven years day.’ 271B.11 ‘That is good tidings,’ said the lord, ‘All in the place where I do stand; My son, thou shalt into France go, To learn the speeches of each land.’ 271B.12 ‘Who shall go with him?’ said the lady; ‘Husband, we have no more but he;’ ‘Madam,’ he saith, ’My head steward, He hath bin true to me.’ 271B.13 She cal’d the steward to an account, A thousand pound she gave him anon; Sayes, Good Sir Steward, be as good to my child, When he is far from home. 271B.14 ‘If I be fals unto my young lord, Then God be [the] like to me indeed!’ And now to France they both are gone, And God be their good speed. 271B.15 They had not been in France land Not three weeks unto an end, But meat and drink the child got none, Nor mony in purse to spend. 271B.16 The child ran to the river’s side; He was fain to drink water then; And after followed the fals steward, To put the child therein. 271B.17 ‘But nay, marry!’ said the child, He asked mercy pittifully, ‘Good steward, let me have my life, What ere betide my body.’ 271B.18 ‘Now put off thy fair cloathing And give it me anon; So put thee of thy s’lken shirt, With many a golden seam.’ 271B.19 But when the child was stript naked, His body white as the lilly-flower, He might have bin seen for his body A prince’s paramour. 271B.20 He put him in an old kelter coat And hose of the same above the knee, He bid him go to the shepherd’s house, To keep sheep on a lonely lee. 271B.21 The child did say, What shall be my name? Good steward, tell to me; ‘Thy name shall be Poor Disawear, That thy name shall be.’ 271B.22 The child came to the shepheard’s house, And asked mercy pittifully; Sayes, Good sir shepheard, take me in, To keep sheep on a lonely lee. 271B.23 But when the shepheard saw the child, He was so pleasant in his eye, ‘I have no child, I’le make thee my heir, Thou shalt have my goods, perdie.’ 271B.24 And then bespake the shepheard’s wife, Unto the child so tenderly; ‘Thou must take the sheep and go to the field, And keep them on a lonely lee.’ 271B.25 let us leave talk of the child, That is keeping sheep on a lonely lee, And we’l talk more of the fals steward, And of his fals treachery. 271B.26 He bought himself three suits of apparrell, That any lord might a seem[d] to worn, He went a wooing to the Duke’s daughter, And cal’d himself the Lord of Lorn. 271B.27 The duke he welcomed the yong lord With three baked stags anon; If he had wist him the fals steward, To the devill he would have gone. 271B.28 But when they were at supper set, With dainty delicates that was there, The d[uke] said, If thou wilt wed my daughter, I’le give thee a thousand pound a year. 271B.29 The lady would see the red buck run, And also for to hunt the doe, And with a hundred lusty men The lady did a hunting go. 271B.30 The lady is a hunting gon, Over le and fell that is so high; There was she ware of a shepherd’s boy, With sheep on a lonely lee. 271B.31 And ever he sighed and made moan, And cried out pittifully, ‘My father is the Lord of Lorn, And knows not wha[t]’s become of me.’ 271B.32 And then bespake the lady gay, And to her maid she spake anon, ‘Go fetch me hither the shepherd’s boy; Why maketh he all this moan?’ 271B.33 But when he came before the lady . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He was not to learn his courtesie: 271B.34 ‘Where was thou born, thou bonny child? For whose sake makst thou all this mone?’ ‘My dearest friend, lady,’ he said, ‘Is dead many years agon.’ 271B.35 ‘Tell thou to me, thou bonny child, Tell me the truth and do not lye, Knost thou not the yong lord of Lorn, Is come a wooing unto me?’ 271B.36 ‘Yes, forsooth,’ then said the child, ‘I know the lord then, veryly; The young lord is a valliant lord At home in his own country.’ 271B.37 ‘Wilt leave thy sheep, thou bonny child, And come in service unto me?’ ‘Yes, forsooth,’ then said the child, ‘At your bidding will I be.’ 271B.38 When the steward lookt upon the child, He bewraild him villainously: ‘Where wast thou born, thou vagabone? Or where is thy country?’ 271B.39 ‘Ha don! ha don!’ said the lady gay, She cal’d the steward then presently; ‘Without you bear him more good will, You get no love of me.’ 271B.40 Then bespake the false steward Unto the lady hastily: ‘At Aberdine, beyond the seas, His father robb d thousands three.’ 271B.41 But then bespake the lady gay Unto her father courteously, Saying, I have found a bonny child My chamberlain to be. 271B.42 ‘Not so, not so,’ then said the duke, ‘For so it may not be, For that young L[ord] of Lorn that comes a wooing Will think something of thee and me.’ 271B.43 When the duke had lookt upon the child, He seemd so pleasant to the eye, ‘Child, because thou lovst horses well, My groom of stables thou shalt be.’ 271B.44 The child plied the horses well A twelve month to an end; He was so courteous and so true Every man became his fri[e]nd. 271B.45 He led a fair gelding to the water, Where he might drink, verily; The great gelding up with his head And hit the child above the eye. 271B.46 ‘Wo worth thee, horse!’ then said the child, ‘That ere mare foal d thee! Thou little knowst what thou hast done; Thou hast stricken a lord of high degree.’ 271B.47 The d[uke’s] daughter was in her garden green, She heard the child make great moan; She ran to the child all weeping, And left her maidens all alone. 271B.48 ‘Sing on thy song, thou bonny child, I will release thee of thy pain;’ ‘I have made an oath, lady,’ he said, ‘I dare not tell my tale again.’ 271B.49 ‘Tell the horse thy tale, thou bonny child, And so thy oath shall sav d be;’ But when he told the horse his tale The lady wept full tenderly. 271B.50 ‘I’le do for thee, my bonny child, In faith I will do more for thee; For I will send thy father word, And he shall come and speak with me. 271B.51 ‘I will do more, my bonny child, In faith I will do more for thee, And for thy sake, my bonny child, I’le put my wedding off months three.’ 271B.52 The lady she did write a letter, Full pittifully with her own hand, She sent it to the Lord of Lorn Whereas he dwelt in fair Scotland. 271B.53 But when the lord had read the letter His lady wept most tenderly: ‘I knew what would become of my child In such a far country.’ 271B.54 The old lord cal’d up his merry men, And all that he gave cloth and fee, With seven lords by his side, And into France rides he. 271B.55 The wind servd, and they did saile So far into France land; They were ware of the Lord of Lorn, With a porter’s staff in his hand. 271B.56 The lords they moved hat and hand, The servingmen fell on their knee; ‘What folks be yonder,’ said the steward, ‘That makes the porter courtesie?’ 271B.57 ‘Thou art a false thief,’ said the L[ord] of Lorn, ‘No longer might I bear with thee; By the law of France thou shalt be ju[d]gd, Whether it be to live or die.’ 271B.58 A quest of lords there chosen was, To bench they came hastily, But when the quest was ended The fals steward must dye. 271B.59 First they did him half hang, And then they took him down anon, And then put him in boyling lead, And then was sodden, brest and bone. 271B.60 And then bespake the Lord of Lorn, With many other lords mo; ‘Sir Duke, if you be as willing as we, We’l have a marriage before we go.’ 271B.61 These children both they did rejoyce To hear the lord his tale so ended; They had rather to day then to morrow, So he would not be offended. 271B.62 But when the wedding ended was There was delicious dainty cheer; I’le tell you how long the wedding did last, Full three quarters of a year. 271B.63 Such a banquet there was wrought, The like was never seen; The king of France brought with him then A hundred tun of good red wine. 271B.64 Five set of musitians were to be seen, That never rested night nor day, Also Italians there did sing, Full pleasantly with great joy. 271B.65 Thus have you heard what troubles great Unto successive joyes did turn, And happy news among the rest Unto the worthy Lord of Lorn. 271B.66 Let rebels therefore warn d be How mischief once they do pretend; For God may suffer for a time, But will disclose it in the end.

272A: The Suffolk Miracle

272A.1 A WONDER stranger ne’r was known Then what I now shall treat upon. In Suffolk there did lately dwell A farmer rich and known full well. 272A.2 He had a daughter fair and bright, On whom he plac’d his chief delight; Her beauty was beyond compare, She was both virtuous and fair. 272A.3 A young man there was living by, Who was so charm d with her eye That he could never be at rest, He was with love so much possest. 272A.4 He made address to her, and she Did grant him love immediately; Which when her father came to hear, He parted her and her poor dear. 272A.5 Forty miles distant was she sent, Unto his brother’s, with intent That she should there so long remain Till she had chang’d her mind again. 272A.6 Hereat this young man sadly grievd, But knew not how to be relievd; He sighd and sobd continually That his true love he could not see. 272A.7 She by no means could to him send Who was her heart’s espous d friend; He sighd, she grievd, but all in vain, For she confin’d must still remain. 272A.8 He mournd so much that doctor’s art Could give no ease unto his heart; Who was so strang[e]ly terrified, That in short time for love he dyed. 272A.9 She that from him was sent away Knew nothing of his dying-day, But constant still she did remain; To love the dead was then in vain. 272A.10 After he had in grave been laid A month or more, unto this maid He comes about middle of the night, Who joyd to see her heart’s delight. 272A.11 Her father’s horse, which well she knew, Her mother’s hood and safeguard too, He brought with him to testifie Her parents’ order he came by. 272A.12 Which when her unckle understood, He hop’t it would be for her good, And gave consent to her straightway That with him she should come away. 272A.13 When she was got her love behind, They passd as swift as any wind, That in two hours, or little more, He brought her to her father’s door. 272A.14 But as they did this great haste make, He did complain his head did ake; Her handkerchief she then took out, And tyed the same his head about. 272A.15 And unto him she thus did say: ‘Thou art as cold as any clay; When we come home, a fire wee’l have;’ But little dreamt he went to grave. 272A.16 Soon were they at her father’s door, And after she ne’r see him more; ‘I’le set the horse up,’ then he said, And there he left this harmless maid. 272A.17 She knockt, and strait a man he cryed, ‘Who’s there?’ ‘’Tis I,’ she then replyed; Who wondred much her voice to hear, And was possest with dread and fear. 272A.18 Her father he did tell, and then He stared like an affrighted man: Down stairs he ran, and when he see her, Cry’d out, My child, how cam’st thou here? 272A.19 ‘Pray, sir, did you not send for me, By such a messenger?’ said she: Which made his hair stare on his head, As knowing well that he was dead. 272A.20 ‘Where is he?’ then to her he said; ‘He’s in the stable,’ quoth the maid. ‘Go in,’ said he, a+end go to bed; I’le see the horse well littered.’ 272A.21 He stared about, and there could hee No shape of any mankind see, But found his horse all on a sweat; Which made him in a deadly fret. 272A.22 His daughter he said nothing to, Nor no one else, though well they knew That he was dead a month before, For fear of grieveing her full sore. 272A.23 Her father to his father went Who was deceasd, with this intent, To tell him what his daughter said; So both came back unto this maid. 272A.24 They askd her, and she still did say ’Twas he that then brought her away; Which when they heard they were amaz’d, And on each other strang[e]ly gaz’d. 272A.25 A handkerchief she said she tyed About his head, and that they tryed; The sexton they did speak unto, That he the grave would then undo. 272A.26 Affrighted then they did behold His body turning into mould, And though he had a month been dead, This kercheif was about his head. 272A.27 This thing unto her then they told, And the whole truth they did unfold; She was thereat so terrified And grievd, she quickly after dyed. 272A.28 Part not true love, you rich men, then; But, if they be right honest men Your daughters love, give them their way, For force oft breeds their lives’ decay.

273A: King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth

273A.1 In summer time, when leaves grew green, and birds were singing on every tree, King Edward would a hunting ride, some pastime for to see. 273A.2 Our king he would a hunting ride, by eight a clock of the day, And well was he ware of a bold tanner, came riding on the way. 273A.3 A good russet coat the tanner had on, fast buttoned under his chin, And under him a good cow-hide, and a mare of four shilling. 273A.4 ‘Now stand you here, my good lords all, under this trusty tree, And I will wend to yonder fellow, to know from whence came he. 273A.5 ‘God speed, God speed,’ then said our king; ’Thou art welcome, good fellow,’ quoth he; ‘Which is the way to Drayton Basset I pray thee shew to me.’ 273A.6 ‘The ready way to Drayton Basset, from this place as thou dost stand, The next pair of gallows thou comst to thou must turn up [on] thy right hand.’ 273A.7 at is not the way,’ then said our king, ’The ready way I pray thee shew me;’ ‘Whether thou be thief or true man,’ quoth the tanner, ‘I’m weary of thy company. 273A.8 ‘Away, with a vengeance,’ qoth the tanner, ‘I hold thee out of thy wit, For all this day have I ridden and gone, And I am fasting yet.’ 273A.9 ‘Go with me to Drayton Basset,’ said our king, ’No daintyes we will lack; We’l have meat and drink of the best, And I will pay the shot.’ 273A.10 ‘Godamercy for nothing,’ said the tanner, ’Thou shalt pay for no dinner of mine; I have more groats and nobles in my purse then thou hast pence in thine.’ 273A.11 ‘God save your goods,’ then said the king, a+end send them well to thee!’ ‘Be thou thief or true man,’ quoth the tanner, ‘I am weary of thy company. 273A.12 ‘Away, with a vengeance,’ quoth the tanner, ’of thee I stand in fear; The aparrell thou wearst on thy back May seem a good lord to wear.’ 273A.13 ‘I never stole them’ said our king, ‘I swear to thee by the rood;’ ‘Thou art some ruffian of the country, thou rid’st in the midst of thy good.’ 273A.14 at news dost thou hear?’ then said our king, ‘I pray what news do you hear?’ ‘I hear no news,’ answered the tanner, ’But that cow-hides be dear.’ 273A.15 ‘Cow-hides? cow-hides?’ then said our king, ‘I marvell what they be;’ ‘Why, art thou a fool?’ quoth the tanner, ’look, I have one under me.’ 273A.16 ‘Yet one thing now I would thee pray, so that thou wouldst not be strange; If thy mare be better then my steed, I pray thee let us change.’ 273A.17 ‘But if you needs with me will change, As change full well may ye, By the faith of my body,’ quoth the tanner, ‘I look to have boot of thee.’ 273A.18 ‘What boot wilt thou ask?’ then said our king, ’what boot dost thou ask on this ground?’ ‘No pence nor half-pence,’ said the tanner, ’But a noble in gold so round.’ 273A.19 ‘Here’s twenty good groats,’ then said the king, ’So well paid see you be;’ ‘I love thee better then I did before, I thought thou hadst nere a peny. 273A.20 ‘But if so be we needs must change, as change thou must abide, Though thou hast gotten Brock my mare, thou shalt not have my cow-hide.’ 273A.21 The tanner took the good cow-hide, that of the cow was hilt, And threw it upon the king’s saddle, That was so fairly guilt. 273A.22 ‘Now help me, help me,’ quoth the tanner, ‘Full quickly that I were gone, For when I come home to Gillian my wife she’l say I’m a gentleman.’ 273A.23 The king took the tanner by the leg, he girded a fart so round; ‘You’r very homely,’ said the king, ’were I aware, I’d laid you o th’ ground.’ 273A.24 But when the tanner was in the king’s saddle aston d then he was; He knew not the stirrops that he did wear, whether they were gold or brass. 273A.25 But when the steed saw the black cow-tale wag, for and the black cow-horn, The steed began to run away, as the divel the tanner had born. 273A.26 Untill he came unto a nook, a little beside an ash; The steed gave the tanner such a fall his neck was almost brast. 273A.27 ‘Take thy horse again, with a vengeance,’ he said, ’with me he shall not abide;’ ‘It is no marvell,’ said the king, and laught, ’He knew not your cow-hide. 273A.28 ‘But if that we needs now must change, as change that well we mought, I’le swear to you plain, if you have your mare, I look to have some boot.’ 273A.29 ‘What boot will you ask?’ quoth the tanner, ‘What boot will you ask on this ground?’ ‘No pence nor half-pence,’ said our king, ’But a noble in gold so round.’ 273A.30 ‘Here’s twenty [good] groats,’ said the tanner, a+end twenty more I have of thine; I have ten groats more in my purse, we’l drink five of them at the wine.’ 273A.31 The king set a bugle-horne to his mouth, that blew both loud and shrill, And five hundred lords and knights came riding over a hill. 273A.32 ‘Away, with a vengeance,’ quoth the tanner, ’with thee I’le no longer abide; Thou art a strong thief, yonder be thy fellows, they will steal away my cow-hide.’ 273A.33 ‘No I protest,’ then said our king, ’For so it may not be; They be the lords of Drayton Basset, come out of the North Country.’ 273A.34 But when they came before the king full low they fell on their knee; The tanner had rather then a thousand pound he had been out of his company. 273A.35 ‘A coller! a coller!’ then said the king, a+e coller!’ then did he cry; Then would he have given a thousand pound he had not been so nigh. 273A.36 ‘A coller? a coller?’ then quoth the tanner, ’it is a thing which will breed sorrow; For after a coller commeth a halter, and I shall be hanged tomorrow.’ 273A.37 ‘No, do not fear,’ the king did say; ’For pastime thou hast shown me, No coller nor halter thou shalt have, but I will give thee a fee. 273A.38 ‘For Plompton Park I will give thee, with tenements three beside, Which is worth three hundred pound a year, to maintain thy good cow-hide.’ 273A.39 ‘Godamercy, Godamercy,’ quoth the tanner; ’For this good deed thou hast done, If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth thou shalt have clouting-leather for thy shone.’

274A: Our Goodman

274A.1 HAME came our goodman, And hame came he, And then he saw a saddle-horse, Where nae horse should be. 274A.2 ‘What’s this now, goodwife? What’s this I see? How came this horse here, Without the leave o me?’ ‘A horse?’ quo she. ‘Ay, a horse,’ quo he. 274A.3 ‘Shame fa your cuckold face, Ill mat ye see! ’Tis naething but a broad sow, My minnie sent to me.’ ‘A broad sow?’ quo he. ‘Ay, a sow,’ quo shee. 274A.4 ‘Far hae I ridden, And farrer hae I gane, But a sadle on a sow’s back I never saw nane.’ 274A.5 Hame came our goodman, And hame came he; He spy’d a pair of jack-boots, Hwere nae boots should be. 274A.6 ‘What’s this now, goodwife? What’s this I see? How came these boots here, Without the leave o me?’ ‘Boots?’ quo she. ‘Ay, boots,’ quo he. 274A.7 ‘Shame fa your cuckold face, And ill mat ye see! It’s but a pair of water-stoups, My minnie sent to me.’ ‘Water-stoups?’ quo he. ‘Ay, water-stoups,’ quo she. 274A.8 ‘Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But siller spurs on water-stoups I saw never nane.’ 274A.9 Hame came our goodman, And hame came he, And he saw a sword, Whare a sword should na be. 274A.10 ‘What’s this now, goodwife? What’s this I see? How came this sword here, Without the leave o me?’ ‘A sword?’ quo she. ‘Ay, a sword,’ quo he. 274A.11 ‘Shame fa your cuckold face, Ill mat ye see! It’s but a porridge-spurtle, My minnie sent to me.’ ‘A spurtle?’ quo he. ‘Ay, a spurtle,’ quo she. 274A.12 ‘Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But siller-handed spurtles I saw never nane.’ 274A.13 Hame came our goodman, And hame came he; There he spy’d a powderd wig, Where nae wig shoud be. 274A.14 ‘What’s this now, goodwife? What’s this I see? How came this wig here, Without the leave o me?’ ‘A wig?’ quo she. ‘Ay, a wig,’ quo he. 274A.15 ‘Shame fa your cuckold face, And ill mat you see! ’Tis naething but a clocken-hen, My minnie sent to me.’ ‘Clocken hen?’ quo he. ‘Ay, clocken hen,’ quo she. 274A.16 ‘Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But powder on a clocken-hen I saw never nane.’ 274A.17 Hame came our goodman, And hame came he, And there he saw a muckle coat, Where nae coat shoud be. 274A.18 ‘What’s this now, goodwife? What’s this I see? How came this coat here, Without the leave o me?’ ‘A coat?’ quo she. ‘Ay, a coat,’ quo he. 274A.19 ‘Shame fa your cuckold face, Ill mat ye see! It’s but a pair o blankets, My minnie sent to me.’ ‘Blankets?’ quo he. ‘Ay, blankets,’ quo she. 274A.20 ‘Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But buttons upon blankets I saw never nane.’ 274A.21 ‘Ben went our goodman, And ben went he, And there he spy’d a study man, Where nae man shoud be. 274A.22 ‘What’s this now, goodwife? What’s this I see? How came this man here, Without the leave o me?’ ‘A man?’ quo she. ‘Ay, a man,’ quo he. 274A.23 ‘Poor blind body, And blinder mat ye be! It’s a new milking-maid, My mither sent to me.’ ‘A maid?’ quo he. ‘Ay, a maid,’ quo she. 274A.24 ‘Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But lang-bearded maidens I saw never nane.

274B: Our Goodman

274B.1 O I went into the stable, and there for to see, And there I saw three horses stand, by one, by two, and by three. 274B.2 O I calld to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she: ‘O what do these three horses here, without the leave of me?’ 274B.3 ‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, can’t you very well see? These are three milking-cows, my mother sent O me.’ 274B.4 ‘Heyday! Godzounds! Milking-cows with bridles and saddles on! the like was never known!’ Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home. 274B.5 O I went into the kitchen, and there for to see, And there I saw three swords hang, by one, by two, and by three. 274B.6 O I calld to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she: ‘O what do these three swords do here, without the leave of me?’ 274B.7 ‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, can’t you very well see? They are three roasting-spits, my mother sent to me.’ 274B.8 ‘Heyday! Godzounds! Roasting spits with scabbards on! the like was never known!’ Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home. 274B.9 O I went into the parlour, and there for to see, And there I saw three cloaks hang, by one, by two, and by three. 274B.10 O I calld to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she: ‘O what do these three cloaks do here, without the leave of me?’ 274B.11 Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, can’t you very well see? These are three mantuas, my mother sent to me.’ 274B.12 ‘Heyday! Godzounds! Mantuas with capes on! the like was never known!’ Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home. 274B.13 I went into the pantry, and there for to see, And there I saw three pair of boots hang, by one, by two, and by three. 274B.14 O I called to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she ‘O what do these three pair of boots do here, without the leave of me?’ 274B.15 ‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, can’t you very well see? These are three pudding-bags, my mother sent to me.’ 274B.16 yday! Godzounds! Pudding-bags with spurs on! the like was never known!’ Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home. 274B.17 I went into my closet, and there for to see, And there I saw three pair of breeches lie, by one, by two, and by three. 274B.18 O I calld to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she: ‘O what do these three pair of breeches do here, without the leave of me?’ 274B.19 ‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, can’t you very well see? These are three petticoats, my mother sent to me.’ 274B.20 ‘Heyday! Godzounds! Petticoats with waistbands on! the like was never known!’ Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home. 274B.21 I went into the dairy, and there for to see, And there I saw three hats hang, by one, by two, and by three. 274B.22 I calld to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she: ‘Pray what do these three hats do here, without the leave of me?’ 274B.23 ‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, can’t you very well see? They are three skimming-dishes, my mother sent to me.’ 274B.24 ‘Heyday! Godzounds! Skimming-dishes with hat-bands on! the like was never known!’ Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home. 274B.25 I went into the chamber, and there for to see, And there I saw three men in bed lie, by one, by two, and by three. 274B.26 I called to my loving wife, and ‘Anon, kind sir!’ quoth she: ‘O what do these three men in bed, without the leave of me?’ 274B.27 ‘Why, you old cuckold, blind cuckold, don’t you very well see? They are three milking-maids, my mother sent to me.’ 274B.28 ‘Heyday! Godzounds! Milking-maids with beards on! the like was never known!’ Old Wichet a cuckold went out, and a cuckold he came home.

275A: Get Up and Bar the Door

275A.1 IT fell about the Martinmas time, And a gay time it was then, When our goodwife got puddings to make, And she’s boild them in the pan. 275A.2 The wind sae cauld blew south and north, And blew into the floor; Quoth our goodman to our goodwife, ‘Gae out and bar the door.’ 275A.3 hand is in my hussyfskap, Goodman, as ye may see; An it shoud nae be barrd this hundred year, It’s no be barrd for me.’ 275A.4 y made a paction tween them twa, They made it firm and sure, That the first word whaeer shoud speak, Shoud rise and bar the door. 275A.5 Then by there came two gentlemen, At twelve o clock at night, And they could neither see house nor hall, Nor coal nor candle-light. 275A.6 ‘Now whether is this a rich man’s house, Or whether is it a poor?’ But neer a word wad ane o them speak, For barring of the door. 275A.7 And first they ate the white puddings, And then they ate the black; Tho muckle thought the goodwife to hersel, Yet neer a word she spake. 275A.8 Then said the one unto the other, ‘Here, man, tak ye my knife; Do ye tak aff the auld man’s beard, And I’ll kiss the goodwife.’ 275A.9 ‘But there’s nae water in the house, And what shall we do than?’ ‘What ails ye at the pudding-broo, That boils into the pan?’ 275A.10 O up then started our goodman, An angry man was he: ‘Will ye kiss my wife before my een, And scad me wi pudding-bree?’ 275A.11 Then up and started our goodwife, Gied three skips on the floor: ‘Goodman, you’ve spoken the foremost word, Get up and bar the door.’

275B: Get Up and Bar the Door

275B.1 THERE leeved a wee man at the fit o yon hill, John Blunt it was his name, O And he selld liquor and ale o the best, And bears a wondrous fame. O Tal lara ta lilt, tal lare a lilt, Tal lara ta lilt, tal lara 275B.2 The wind it blew frae north to south, It blew into the floor; Says auld John Blunt to Janet the wife, Ye maun rise up and bar the door. 275B.3 ‘My hans are in my husseyskep, I canna weel get them free, And if ye dinna bar it yersel It’ll never be barred by me.’ 275B.4 They made it up atween them twa, They made it unco sure, That the ane that spoke the foremost word Was to rise and bar the door. 275B.5 There was twa travellers travelling late, Was travelling cross the muir, And they cam unto wee John Blunt’s, Just by the light o the door. 275B.6 ‘O whether is this a rich man’s house, Or whether is it a puir?’ But never a word would the auld bodies speak, For the barring o the door. 275B.7 First they bad good een to them, And syne they bad good morrow; But never a word would the auld bodies speak, For the barring o the door, O. 275B.8 First they ate the white puddin, And syne they ate the black, And aye the auld wife said to hersel, May the deil slip down wi that! 275B.9 And next they drank o the liquor sea strong, And syne they drank o the yill: ‘And since we hae got a house o our ain I’m sure we may tak our fill.’ 275B.10 It’s says the ane unto the ither, Here, man, tak ye my knife, An ye’ll scrape aff the auld man’s beard, While I kiss the gudewife. 275B.11 ‘Ye hae eaten my meat, ye hae drucken my drink, Ye’d make my auld wife a whore!’ ‘John Blunt, ye hae spoken the foremost word, Ye maun rise up and bar the door.’

275C: Get Up and Bar the Door

 
 275C.1	 THERE livd a man in yonder glen,
 	 And John Blunt was his name; O
 	 He maks gude maut and he brews gude ale,
 	 And he bears a wondrous fame. O
 275C.2	 The wind blew in the hallan ae night,
 	 Fu snell out oer the moor;
 	 ‘Rise up, rise up, auld Luckie,’ he says,
 	 ‘Rise up, and bar the door.’
 275C.3	 They made a paction tween them twa,
 	 They made it firm and sure,
 	 Whaeer sud speak the foremost word
 	 Should rise and bar the door.
 275C.4	 Three travellers that had tint their gate,
 	 As thro the hills they foor,
 	 They airted by the line o light
 	 Fu straught to Johnie Blunt’s door.
 275C.5	 They haurld auld Luckie out o her bed
 	 And laid her on the floor,
 	 But never a word auld Luckie wad say,
 	 For barrin o the door.
 275C.6	 ‘Ye’ve eaten my bread, ye hae druken my ale,
 	 And ye’ll mak my auld wife a whore!’
 	 ‘A ha, Johnie Blunt! ye hae spoke the first word,
 	 Get up and bar the door.’

276A: The Friar in the Well

276A.1 As I lay musing all alone, fa, la, la, la, la A pretty jeast I thought upon; fa, la, la, la, la Then listen a while, and I will you tell Of a fryer that loved a bonny lass well. fa, la, la, la, la fa, la, la, lang-tre-down-dilly 276A.2 He came to the maid when she went to bed, Desiring to have her maidenhead, But she deny d his desire, And told him that she feard hell-fire. 276A.3 ‘Tush,’ quoth the fryer, ’Thou needst not doubt If thou wert in hell I could sing thee out:’ ‘Then,’ quoth the maid, ’Thou shalt have thy request;’ The fryer was glad as a fox in his nest. 276A.4 ‘But one thing,’ quoth she, ‘I do desire, Before you have what you require; Before that you shall do the thing, An angel of mony thou shalt me bring.’ 276A.5 ‘Tush,’ quoth the fryer, ’we shall agree, No mony shall part my love and me; Before that I will see thee lack, I’le pawn the grey gown from my back.’ 276A.6 The maid bethought her of a wile How she the fryer might bequile; While he was gone, the truth to tell, She hung a cloth before the well. 276A.7 The fryer came, as his covenant was, With money to his bonny lass; ‘Good morrow, fair maid!’ ‘Good morrow!’ quoth she. ‘Here is the mony I promised thee.’ 276A.8 thankt the man, and she took his mony: ‘Now let us go to ’t,’ quoth he, ’Sweet hony:’ ‘O stay,’ quoth she, ’Some respite make, My father comes, he will me take.’ 276A.9 ‘Alas!’ quoth the fryer, ’where shall I run, To hide me till that he be gone?’ ‘Behinde the cloath run thou,’ quoth she, ‘And there my father cannot thee see.’ 276A.10 Behind the cloath the fryer crept, And into the well on the sudden he leapt; ‘Alas,’ quoth he, ’i am in the well!’ ‘No matter,’ quoth she, ’if thou wert in hell. 276A.11 ‘Thou sayst thou couldst sing me out of hell, Now prithee sing thy self out of the well:’ The fryer sung with a pittiful sound, Oh help me out, or I shall be dround! 276A.12 ‘I trow,’ quoth she, ’your courage is coold.’ Quoth the fryer, I was never so foold, I never was serv d so before. ‘Then take heed,’ quoth she, ’Thou comst there no more.’ 276A.13 Quoth he, For sweet Saint Francis sake On his disciple some pitty take: Quoth she, Saint Francis never taught His scholars to tempt young maids to naught. 276A.14 The fryer did entreat her still That she should help him out of the well; She heard him make such pittious moan She helpd him out, and bid him be gone. 276A.15 Quoth he, Shall I have my mony again, Which thou from me hast beforehand tane? ‘Good sir,’ said she, ’There’s no such matter; I’le make you pay for fouling my water.’ 276A.16 The fryer went all along the street, Droping wet, like a new-washd sheep; Both old and young commended the maid That such a witty prank had plaid.

276B: The Friar in the Well

276B.1 O HEARKEN and hear, and I will you tell Sing, Faldidae, faldidadi Of a friar that loved a fair maiden well. Sing, Faldi dadi di di (bis) 276B.2 The friar he came to this maiden’s bedside, And asking for her maidenhead. 276B.3 ‘O I would grant you your desire, If ’twerena for fear o hell’s burning fire.’ 276B.4 ‘O hell’s burning fire ye need have no doubt; Altho you were in, I could whistle you out.’ 276B.5 ‘O if I grant to you this thing, Some money you unto me must bring.’ 276B.6 He brought her the money, and did it down tell; She had a white cloth spread over the well. 276B.7 Then the fair maid cried out that her master was come; ‘O,’ said the friar, ’Then where shall I run?’ 276B.8 ‘O ye will go in behind yon screen, And then by my master ye winna be seen.’ 276B.9 n in behind the screen she him sent. But he fell into the well by accident. 276B.10 Then the friar cried out with a piteous moan, O help! O help me! or else I am gone. 276B.11 ‘Ye said ye wad whistle me out o hell; Now whistle your ain sel out o the well.’ 276B.12 She helped him out and bade him be gone; The friar he asked his money again. 276B.13 ‘As for your money, there is no much matter To make you pay more for jumbling our water.’ 276B.14 Then all who hear it commend this fair maid For the nimble trick to the friar she played. 276B.15 friar he walked on the street, And shaking his lugs like a well-washen sheep.

277A: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

 
 277A.1	 SHE wadna bake, she wadna brew,
 	 Hollin, green hollin
 	 For spoiling o her comely hue.
 	 Bend your bow, Robin
 277A.2	 She wadna wash, she wadna wring,
 	 For spoiling o her gay goud ring.
 277A.3	 Robin he’s gane to the fald
 	 And catched a weather by the spauld.
 277A.4	 And he has killed his weather black
 	 And laid the skin upon her back.
 277A.5	 ‘I darena pay you, for your kin,
 	 But I can pay my weather’s skin.
 277A.6	 ‘I darena pay my lady’s back,
 	 But I can pay my weather black.’
 277A.7	 ‘O Robin, Robin, lat me be,
 	 And I’ll a good wife be to thee.
 277A.8	 ‘It’s I will wash, and I will wring,
 	 And never mind my gay goud ring.
 277A.9	 ‘It’s I will bake, and I will brew,
 	 And never mind my comely hue.
 277A.10	 ‘And gin ye thinkna that eneugh,
 	 I’se tak the goad and I’se ca the pleugh.
 277A.11	 ‘Gin ye ca for mair whan that is doon,
 	 I’ll sit i the neuk and I’ll dight your shoon.’

277B: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

 
 277B.1	 ROBIN he’s gane to the wast,
 	 Hollin, green hollin
 	 He’s waled a wife amang the warst.
 	 Bend your bows, Robin
 277B.2	 She could neither bake nor brew,
 	 For spoilin o her bonnie hue.
 277B.3	 She could nether spin nor caird,
 	 But fill the cup, an sair the laird.
 277B.4	 She could nether wash nor wring,
 	 For spoilin o her gay goud ring.
 277B.5	 Robin’s sworn by the rude
 	 That he wald mak an ill wife gude.
 277B.6	 Robin he’s gaun to the fauld,
 	 An taen his blaik [wither] by the spauld.
 277B.7	 He’s taen aff his wither’s skin
 	 An he has preened his ain wife in.
 277B.8	 ‘I daurna beat my wife, for a’ her kin,
 	 But I may beat my wither’s skin.’
 277B.9	 ‘I can baith bake an brew;
 	 What care I for my bonnie hue?
 277B.10	 ‘I can baith wash an wring;
 	 What care I for my gay gowd ring?
 277B.11	 ‘I can baith spin an caird;
 	 Lat onybodie sair the laird.’
 277B.12	 Robin’s sworn by the rude
 	 That he has made an ill wife gude.

277C: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

 
 277C.1	 THERE was a wee cooper who lived in Fife,
 	 Nickity, nackity, noo, noo, noo
 	 And he has gotten a gentle wife.
 	 Hey Willie Wallacky, how John Dougall,
 	 Alane, quo Rushety, roue, roue, roue
 277C.2	 She wadna bake, nor she wadna brew,
 	 For the spoiling o her comely hue.
 277C.3	 She wadna card, nor she wadna spin,
 	 For the shaming o her gentle kin.
 277C.4	 She wadna wash, nor she wadna wring,
 	 For the spoiling o her gouden ring.
 277C.5	 The cooper’s awa to his woo-pack
 	 And has laid a sheep-skin on his wife’s back.
 277C.6	 ‘It’s I’ll no thrash ye, for your proud kin,
 	 But I will thrash my ain sheep-skin.’
 277C.7	 ‘Of, I will bake, and I will brew,
 	 And never mair think on my comely hue.
 277C.8	 ‘Oh, I will card, and I will spin,
 	 And never mair think on my gentle kin.
 277C.9	 ‘Oh, I will wash, and I will wring,
 	 And never mair think on my gouden ring.’
 277C.10	 A’ ye wha hae gotten a gentle wife
 	 Send ye for the wee cooper o Fife.

277D: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

 
 277D.1	 THERE livd a laird down into Fife,
 	 Riftly, raftly, now, now, now
 	 An he has married a bonny young wife.
 	 Hey Jock Simpleton, Jenny[’s] white petticoat,
 	 Robin a Rashes, now, now, now
 277D.2	 He courted her and he brought her hame,
 	 An thought she would prove a thrifty dame.
 277D.3	 She could nether spin nor caird,
 	 But sit in her chair and dawt the laird.
 277D.4	 She wadna bake and she wadna brew,
 	 An a’ was for spoiling her delicate hue.
 277D.5	 She wadna wash nor wad she wring,
 	 For spoiling o her gay goud ring.
 277D.6	 But he has taen him to his sheep-fauld,
 	 An taen the best weather by the spauld.
 277D.7	 Aff o the weather he took the skin,
 	 An rowt his bonny lady in.
 277D.8	 ‘I dare na thump you, for your proud kin,
 	 But well sall I lay to my ain weather’s skin.’
 	 * * * * *

277E: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

 
 277E.1	 THERE lives a landart laird in Fife,
 	 And he has married a dandily wife.
 277E.2	 She wadna shape, nor yet wad she sew,
 	 But sit wi her cummers and fill hersell fu.
 277E.3	 She wadna spin, nor yet wad she card,
 	 But she wad sit and crack wit the laird.
 277E.4	 He is down to his sheep-fald
 	 And cleekit a weather by the back-spald.
 277E.5	 He’s whirpled aff the gude weather’s-skin
 	 And wrappit the dandily lady therein.
 277E.6	 ‘I darena pay you, for your gentle kin,
 	 But weel I may skelp my weather’s-skin.’
 	 * * * * *

278A: The Farmer’s Curst Wife

 
 278A.1	 THERE was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,
 	 (chorus of whistlers)
 	 There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,
 	 And he had a bad wife, as many knew well.
 	 (chorus of whistlers)
 278A.2	 Then Satan came to the old man at the plough:
 	 ‘One of your family I must have now.
 278A.3	 ‘It is not your eldest son that I crave,
 	 But it is your old wife, and she I will have.’
 278A.4	 ‘O welcome, good Satan, with all my heart!
 	 I hope you and she will never more part.’
 278A.5	 Now Satan has got the old wife on his back,
 	 And he lugged her along, like a pedlar’s pack.
 278A.6	 He trudged away till they came to his hall-gate;
 	 Says he, Here, take in an old Sussex chap’s mate.
 278A.7	 O then she did kick the young imps about;
 	 Says one to the other, Let’s try turn her out.
 278A.8	 She spied thirteen imps all dancing in chains,
 	 She up with her pattens and beat out their brains.
 278A.9	 She knocked the old Satan against the wall!
 	 ‘Let’s turn her out, or she’ll murder us all.’
 278A.10	 Now he’s bundled her up on his back amain,
 	 And to her old husband he took her again.
 278A.11	 ‘I have been a tormentor the whole of my life,
 	 But I neer was tormented so as with your wife.’

278B: The Farmer’s Curst Wife

 
 278B.1	 THE auld Deil cam to the man at the pleugh,
 	 Rumchy ae de aidie
 	 Saying, I wish ye gude luck at the making o yer sheugh.
 	 Mushy toorin an ant tan aira.
 278B.2	 ‘It’s neither your oxen nor you that I crave;
 	 It’s that old scolding woman, it’s her I must have.’
 278B.3	 ‘Ye’re welcome to her wi a’ my gude heart;
 	 I wish you and her it’s never may part.’
 278B.4	 She jumped on to the auld Deil’s back,
 	 And he carried her awa like a pedlar’s pack.
 278B.5	 He carried her on till he cam to hell’s door,
 	 He gaed her a kick till she landed in the floor.
 278B.6	 She saw seven wee deils a sitting in a raw,
 	 She took up a mell and she murdered them a’.
 278B.7	 A wee reekit deil lookit owre the wa:
 	 ‘O tak her awa, or she’ll ruin us a’.’
 278B.8	 ‘O what to do wi her I canna weel tell;
 	 She’s no fit for heaven, and she’ll no bide in hell.’
 	 * * * * * * * *
 278B.9	 She jumpit on to the auld Deil’s back,
 	 And he carried her back like a pedlar’s pack.
 	 * * * * * * * *
 278B.10	 She was seven years gaun, and seven years comin,
 	 And she cried for the sowens she left in the pot.

279A: The Jolly Beggar

279A.1 ‘THER is a wife in yone toun-end, an she has dothers three, An I wad be a beager for ony of a’ the three.’ 279A.2 He touk his clouty clok him about, his peakstaff in his hand, An he is awa to yon toun-end, leak ony peare man. 279A.3 ‘I ha ben about this fish-toun this years tua or three, Ha ye ony quarters, deam, that ye coud gie me?’ 279A.4 ‘Awa, ye pear carl, ye dinne kean my name; Ye sudd ha caed me mistress fan ye called me bat deam.’ 279A.5 He tuke his hat in his hand an gied her juks three: ‘An ye want manners, misstres, quarters ye’ll gie me.’ 279A.6 ‘Awa, ye pear carle, in ayont the fire, An sing to our Lord Gray’s men to their hearts’ disire.’ 279A.7 Some lowked to his goudie lowks, some to his milk-whit skine, Some to his ruffled shirt, the gued read gold hang in. 279A.8 Out spak our madin, an she was ay shay, Fatt will the jolly beager gett afore he gaa to lay? 279A.9 Out spak our goudwife, an she was not sae shay, He’se gett a dish of lang kell, besids a puss pay. 279A.10 Out spak the jolly beager, That dish I dou denay; I canne sup yer lang kell nor yet yer puss pay. 279A.11 Bat ye gett to my supper a capon of the best, Tuo or three bottels of yer wine, an bear, an we sall ha a merry feast. 279A.12 ‘Ha ye ony siler, carll, to bint the bear an wine?’ ‘O never a peney, misstress, had I lang sine.’ 279A.13 The beager wadne lay in the barn, nor yett in the bayr, Bat in ahind the haa-dor, or att the kitchen-fire. 279A.14 The beager’s bed was well [made] of gued clean stray an hay, . . . . . . . . . 279A.15 The madin she rose up to bar the dor, An ther she spayed a naked man, was rinen throu the flour. 279A.16 He tuke her in his arms an to his bed he ran; ‘Hollie we me, sir,’ she says, ’or ye’ll waken our pear man.’ 279A.17 The begger was a cuning carle, an never a word he spake Till he got his turn dean, an sayn began to crak. 279A.18 ‘Is ther ony dogs about this toun? madin, tell me nou:’ ‘Fatt wad ye dee we them, my hony an my dou?’ 279A.19 ‘They wad ravie a’ my meall-poks an die me mukell wrang:’ ‘O doll for the deaing o it! are ye the pear man? 279A.20 ‘I thought ye had ben some gentelman, just leak the leard of Brody! I am sorry for the doing o itt! are ye the pore boddie?’ 279A.21 She tuke the meall-poks by the strings an thrue them our the waa! ‘Doll gaa we meall-poks, madinhead an a’!’ 279A.22 She tuke him to her press, gave him a glass of wine; He tuke her in his arms, says, Honey, ye’ss be mine. 279A.23 He tuke a horn fra his side an he blue loud an shill, An four-an-tuenty belted knights came att the beager’s will. 279A.24 He tuke out a pean-kniff, lute a’ his dudes faa, An he was the braest gentelman that was among them a’. 279A.25 He patt his hand in his poket an gaa her ginnes three, An four-an-tuenty hunder mark, to pay the nires feea. 279A.26 ‘Gin ye had ben a gued woman, as I thought ye had ben, I wad haa made ye lady of castels eaght or nine.’

279B: The Jolly Beggar

279B.1 THERE was a jolly beggar, and a begging he was bound, And he took up his quarters into a landart town. Fa la la, etc. 279B.2 He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in byre, But in ahint the ha-door, or else afore the fire. 279B.3 The beggar’s bed was made at een wi good clean straw and hay, And in ahint the ha-door, and there the beggar lay. 279B.4 raise the goodman’s dochter, and for to bar the door, And there she saw the beggar standin i the floor. 279B.5 He took the lassie in his arms and to the bed he ran, ‘O hooly, hooly wi me, sir! ye’ll waken our goodman.’ 279B.6 The beggar was a cunnin loon, and neer a word he spake Until he got his turn done, syne he began to crack. 279B.7 ‘Is there ony dogs into this town? maiden, tell me true.’ ‘And what wad ye do wi them, my hinny and my dow?’ 279B.8 ‘They’ll rive a’ my mealpocks, and do me meikle wrang.’ ‘O dool for the doing o’t! are ye the poor man?’ 279B.9 Then she took up the mealpocks and flang them oer the wa: ‘The d--l gae wi the mealpocks, my maidenhead and a’! 279B.10 ‘I took ye for some gentleman, at least the Larid of Brodie; O dool for the doing o’t! are ye the poor bodie?’ 279B.11 took the lassie in his arms and gae her kisses three, And four-and-twenty hunder merk to pay the nurice-fee. 279B.12 He took a horn frae his side and blew baith loud and shrill, And four-and-twenty belted knights came skipping oer the hill. 279B.13 And he took out his little knife, loot a’ his duddies fa, And he was the brawest gentleman that was amang them a’. 279B.14 The beggar was a cliver loon and he lap shoulder height: ‘O ay for sicken quarters as I gat yesternight!’

280A: The Beggar-Laddie

280A.1 SHIPERDRR-rrBOY, what is yer trade? Or what way do ye wine yer bread? Or what way do ye wine yer bread, Fan the kipeng nout gies over? 280A.2 ‘Spindels an forls it is my trade, An bits o sticks to them who need, Whilk is a gentell trade indeed; Bony lassie, cane ye lea me?’ 280A.3 ‘I lea you as I supos Rachell loved Jacob of old, As Jason loied his flice of gould, Sae dearly do I lea ye. 280A.4 ‘Ye cast off yer clouty coat, An ye pitt one my scarlett cloke, An I will follou you just att the back, Becass ye are a bonny laddie.’ 280A.5 He cust off his cloutty coat, An he patt on her scarlet cloke, An she folloued him just att the back, Becaus he was a bonny laddie. 280A.6 They gaed on, an forder on, Till they came to yon borrous-toun; She bought a loaf an they both satt doun, Bat she ate no we her laddie. 280A.7 They gaed on, an forder one, Till they came to the nest borrous-toun; I wat the lassie louked doun, For the following of her laddie. 280A.8 ‘O if I wer on the head of yon hill, Ther I wad greet my fill, For the follouing of my laddie.’ 280A.9 ‘O had yer toung, my dearest dear, I ill ha ye back as I brought ye hear, For I canna bear yer morning.’ 280A.10 ‘O had yer toung, my dearest dear, I will gae throu the warld baith far an near, Becaus ye’r a bonny ladie.’ 280A.11 They gad on, an forder on, Till they came to his father’s haa, An he knoked ther fue loudly. 280A.12 ‘O had ye hand, my dear[est] dear, An dou not knoke sae loudly, For fear they sud be angry.’ 280A.13 Four-an-tuenty gentelmen They conved the beager ben, An as mony gay lad s Conved the beager’s lassie. 280A.14 His brother lead her throu the haa: ‘I wis, brother, we had beagged a’, For sick a bonny lassie.’ 280A.15 That smae night she was bedded, An the nist morning she was wedded; She came to gued by grait misgiding, By the follouing of her laddie.

280B: The Beggar-Laddie

280B.1 ’TWAS on a day in the month o June . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . When Phoebus shines sae clearly. 280B.2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . She says, My dear, what is your trade When thiggin ye give over? 280B.3 ‘Spinls and forls is my trade, Wi bits o sticks I win my bread, An O it is a winnin trade; Bonnie lassie, can ye loo me?’ An O it is, etc. 280B.4 ‘O I can love ye manyfold, As Jacob loved Rachel of old, And as Jessie loved the cups o gold; My dear, can ye believe me?’ As Jessie, etc. 280B.5 ‘It’s ye’ll tak aff the robes o red, An ye’ll pit on the beggin-weed, An ye’ll gang wi me an ye’ll beg your bread, An ye’ll be the beggar’s dawtie.’ 280B.6 When they cam to yon borough-toon, They bocht a loaf an they baith sat doon, They bocht a loaf an they baith sat doon, An the lassie ate wi her laddie. 280B.7 When they cam to yon grassy hill, Where spotted flocks do feed their fill, ‘I’ll sit me doon an I’ll greet a while, For the followin o my laddie.’ 280B.8 ‘It’s ye’ll tak aff yer beggin-weed, An ye’ll pit on the goons o red, An ye-ll gang ye back the road ye cam For I canna bide yer greetin.’ 280B.9 ‘Betide me weel, betide me woe, It’s wi the beggar an I’ll go, An I’ll follow him through frost an snow, An I’ll be the beggar’s dawtie.’ 280B.10 When they cam to yonder ha, He knockit loud an sair did ca; She says, My dear, we’ll be foun in fa For knockin here sae loudly. 280B.11 Four-an-twenty gentlemen Cam a’ to welcome the beggar in, An as monie fair ladies gay To welcome ’s bonnie lassie. 280B.12 When at he gied through the ha, Tney a’ did laugh, they were like to fa, Sayin, Brither, I wish we had beggit a’, For sic a bonnie lassie. 280B.13 ‘The streen ye was the beggar’s bride, An noo this nicht ye’ll lie by my side, Come weel, come woe, whateer betide, An ye’ll be aye my dawtie.’

280C: The Beggar-Laddie

280C.1 DOWN in yonder garden gay, Where many a ladie does repair, Where many a ladie does repair, Puing of flowers sae bonnie. 280C.2 ‘O do you see yon shepherd’s son, Feeding his flocks in yonder loan, Feeding his flocks in yonder loan? Vow but he feeds them bonnie!’ 280C.3 ‘O laddie, laddie, what is your trade? Or by what means do you win your bread? Or by what means do you win your bread? O laddie, tell unto me.’ 280C.4 ‘By making spindles is my trade, Or whorles in the time o need, And by which ways I do win my bread: O lady, do you love me?’ 280C.5 ‘As Judas loved a piece of gold, As Jacob loved Rachel of old, As Jacob loved Rachel of old, O laddie, I do love thee.’ 280C.6 ‘You must put off your robes of silk, You must put on my cloutit claes, And follow me hard at by back, And ye’ll be my beggar-lassie.’ 280C.7 She’s put aff her robes of silk, And sh’s put on his cloutit claes, And she’s followed him hard at his back, And she’s been his beggar-lassie. 280C.8 O when they cam to [the] borrowstoun, Vow but the lassie lookit doun! Vow but the lassie lookit doun! Following her beggar-laddie. 280C.9 O when they cam to Stirling toun, He coft a loaf and they baith sat doun, He coft a loaf and they baith sat doun, And she’s eaten wi her beggar-laddie. 280C.10 ‘O do you see yon hie, hie hill, Where the corn grows baith rank and tall? If I was ther, I would greet my fill, Where naebody wuld see me.’ 280C.11 When they came to his brother’s hall, Vow but he chappit loud and schill! ‘Don’t chap sea loud,’ the lassie said, ‘For we may be fund faut wi.’ 280C.12 r-and-twenty gentlemen, And twice as many gay ladies, And twice as many gay ladies, Came to welcome in the lassie. 280C.13 His brother led her thro the hall, With laughter he was like to fall; He said, I think we should beg it all, For she is a bonnie lassie. 280C.14 ‘You must put aff your cloutit claes, You must put on your robes of silk, You must put on your robes of silk, For ye are a young knicht’s ladye.’

280D: The Beggar-Laddie

280D.1 ’TWAS in the pleasant month of June, When woods and valleys a’ grow green, And valiant ladies walk alane, While Phoebus shines soe clearly. And valiant ladies, etc. 280D.2 Out-ower yon den I spied a swain, Wi a shepherd’s club into his han; He was driving ewes out-ower yon knowes, And said, Lassie, I could love you. He was driving ewes, etc. 280D.3 ‘Oh, I could love you manifold, As Jacob lovd Rachel of old, As Jesse lovd the fields of gold, So dearly could I love you. 280D.4 ‘In ha’s and chambers ye’se be laid, In silks and cambrics ye’se be clade, An wi the finest ye’se be fed, My dear, gin ye would believe me.’ 280D.5 ‘Your ha’s and chambers ye’ll soon sweep clean, Wi your flattering tongue now let me alane; You are designd to do me wrang, Awa, young man, and leave me. 280D.6 ‘But tell me now what is your trade, When you’ve given over sheep and club?’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280D.7 ‘By making besoms I win by bread, And spindles and whorles in time o need; Isn’t that a gentle trade indeed? Bonnie lassie, can you loe me? 280D.8 ‘Will ye cast aff your mantle black And put on you a clouty cloak, And follow me close at the back, The gaberlunyie-laddie?’ 280D.9 n she coost aff her mantle black, And she put on a clouty cloak, And she followd him close at the back, Her gaberlunyie-laddie. 280D.10 As they gaed through youn borough-town, For shame the lassie lookit down, But they bought a loaf and they both sat down, And the lassie ate wi her laddie. 280D.11 When they came to his father’s gate, Sae loudly as he rappd thereat; ‘My dear,’ said she, ’ye’ll be found in faut For rapping there sae loudly.’ 280D.12 Then four-and-twenty gentlemen Convoyd the gentle beggar ben, And aye as mony gay ladies Convoyd the bonny lassie. 280D.13 n they were come into the ha, Wi laughter a’ were like to fa: ‘I wish, dear brother, we had begg d a’, For sic a bonnie lassie.’ 280D.14 Then as he stood amang them a’, He let his meal-pocks a’ down fa, And in red gowd he shone oer them a’, And she was a young knight’s lady. 280D.15 Yestreen she was the begger’s bride, As his wife she now stood by his side, And for a’ the lassie’s ill misguide, She’s now the young knight’s lady.

280E: The Beggar-Laddie

280E.1 ’TWAS in the merry month of June, When woods and gardens were all in bloom, When woods and gardens were all in bloom, And Ph’qbus shining clearly. 280E.2 Did you not see your shepherd-swain, Feeding his flocks upon the plain, Feeding his flocks all one by one, And keeping them together? 280E.3 Did you not see yon bonny green, Where dukes and lords and my love hath been, Where dukes and lords and my love hath been, And Ph’qbus shining clearly? 280E.4 ‘O shepherd, shepherd, tell me indeed Which is the way you dou win your bread, Which is the way you dou win your bread, When feeding you give over?’ 280E.5 ‘By making spindles I win my bread, By turning whorles in time of need, By turning whorles in time of need, Say, lassy, can you love me?’ 280E.6 ‘I could love you manifold, As Jacob loved Rachel of old, As Jacob loved Rachel of old, So dearly could I love you.’ 280E.7 ‘You must cast off these robes of silk, And put about my shepherd’s cloak, And you must walk down at my back, Like a shepherd’s bonny lassie.’ 280E.8 She has cast off her robes of silk, And put about his shepherd’s cloak, And she has walkd down at his back, Like a shepherd’s bonny lassie. 280E.9 O they walked up, and they walked down, Till this fair maiden she’s wearyed grown; Says she, My dear, we’ll go to some town, And there tak up our lodgings. 280E.10 O whan they cam to his father’s gate, Sae loudly, loudly as he did rap; Says she, My dear, we’ll be found in fault For rapping here sae boldly. 280E.11 But whan they cam to his father’s hall, O loud, loud laughter they laughed all, Saying, Brother, I wish we had herded all, Ye’ve got sic an a bonny lassie. 280E.12 Now this young couple they were wed, And all the way the flowers were spread, For in disguise they were married; She’s now the young squire’s lady.

281A: The Keach I the Creel

281A.1 A FAIR young may went up the street, Some white-fish for to buy, And a bonnie clerk’s faen in love wi her, And he’s followed her by and by, by, And he’s followed her by and by. 281A.2 ‘O where live ye, my bonnie lass, I pray thee tell to me; For gin the nicht were ever sae mirk I wad come and visit thee.’ 281A.3 ‘O my father he aye locks the door, My mither keeps the key; And gin ye were ever sic a wily wight Ye canna win in to me.’ 281A.4 the clerk he had ae true brother, And a wily wight was he; And he has made a lang ladder, Was thirty steps and three. 281A.5 He has made a cleek but and a creel, A creel but and a pin; And he’s away to the chimley-top, And he’s letten the bonnie clerk in. 281A.6 The auld wife, being not asleep, Heard something that was said; ‘I’ll lay my life,’ quo the silly auld wife, ‘There’s a man i our dochter’s bed.’ 281A.7 The auld man he gat owre the bed, To see if the thing was true; But she’s ta’en the bonny clerk in her arms, And coverd him owre wi blue. 281A.8 ‘O where are ye gaun now, father?’ she says, ‘And where are ye gaun sae late? Ye’ve disturbd me in my evening prayers, And O but they were sweet!’ 281A.9 ‘O ill betide ye, silly auld wife, And an ill death may ye die! She has the muckle buik in her arms, And she’s prayin for you and me.’ 281A.10 The auld wife being not asleep, Then something mair was said; ‘I’ll lay my life,’ quo the silly auld wife, ‘There’s a man i our dochter’s bed.’ 281A.11 The auld wife she got owre the bed, To see if the thing was true; But what the wrack took the auld wife’s fit? For into the creel she flew. 281A.12 The man that was at the chimley-top, Finding the creel was fu, He wrappit the rape round his left shouther, And fast to him he drew. 281A.13 ‘O help! O help! O hinny, now, help! O help, O hinny, now! For him that ye aye wished me to He’s carryin me off just now.’ 281A.14 ‘O if the foul thief’s gotten ye, I wish he may keep his haud; For a’ the lee lang winter nicht Ye’ll never lie in your bed.’ 281A.15 He’s towed her up, he’s towed her down, He’s towed her through an through; ‘O Gude assist!’ quo the silly auld wife, ‘For I’m just departin now.’ 281A.16 He’s towed her up, he’s towed her down, He’s gien her a richt down-fa, Till every rib i the auld wife’s side Playd nick-nack on the wa. 281A.17 O the blue, the bonnie, bonnie blue, And I wish the blue may do weel! And every auld wife that’s sae jealous o her dochter, May she get a good keach i the creel!

281B: The Keach I the Creel

281B.1 As bonnie may went up the street, Some sweetmeats for to buy, There was a young clerk followed after her, And followed her by and by, by, And followed her by and by. 281B.2 ‘It’s bonnie may, where do you stay? Or where is ’t that you be? Oh if the night be neer so dark, Awat I’ll come and visit thee.’ 281B.3 ‘My father locks the door at een, My mother keeps the key; Gin ye were neer sic a rovin blade, Ye canna win in to me.’ 281B.4 The young clerk has a young brither, And a wily wag was he; He’s made to him a long ladder, Wi thirty steps and three. 281B.5 And he’s put it to the chimney-top, And the creel he’s put on a pin, And he’s put it to the chimney-top, And he’s let the young clerk in. 281B.6 The auld wife she was standing by, She heard a word was said; ‘I could lay my life,’ said the silly auld wife, ‘There’s a man in oor dochter’s bed.’ 281B.7 The auld man he cam doun the stairs To see if it were true; The young clerk was lying in bonnie may’s arms, And she’s covered him oer wi blue. 281B.8 ‘Where are you goin, dear father?’ she says, ‘Where are you going so late? You stopped me of my evening prayers, And oh, but they were sweet!’ 281B.9 ‘The deil tak you, ye silly auld wife, And an ill death may ye dee! For your dochter was lyin wi the book in her arms, And she’s praying for you and me.’ 281B.10 The auld wife still standin no far by, Still hearin a word, she said, ‘Ye may say as ye like, ye silly auld man, There’s a man in oor dochter’s bed.’ 281B.11 I dinna ken what’s taen the auld wife’s fit, But into the creel she flew; The young clerk[’s brither] being at the chimney-top, He found the creel was fu. 281B.12 He’s thrown the rope out-owre his shouther, And to him he did draw; He’s drawn her up, he’s drawn her doun, He’s drawn her through and through. 281B.13 Till the auld wife she began to cry, I’m just departin noo! But aye he drew her up and doun, And drew her through and through. 281B.14 He’s drawn her up, he’s let her doun, He’s gien her evendoun fall, Till every rib on the auld wife’s side Played nick-nack on the wall. 281B.15 It’s O the blue, the bonnie, bonnie blue, I wish the blue may do weel! For every auld wife that is jealous o her dochter May be rockit to the d---l in a creel!

281C: The Keach I the Creel

281C.1 As I gaed down to Collistown, Some white-fish for to buy, buy, The cunning clerk he followed me, And he followed me speedily, ly, And he followed me speedily. 281C.2 Says, Faur ye gaun, my dearest dear? O faur ye gaun, my dow? There’s naebody comes to my bedside, And naebody wins to you. 281C.3 ‘Your brother is a gallant square-wright, A gallant square-wright is he; Ye’ll gar him make a lang ladder, Wi thirty steps and three. 281C.4 ‘And gar him big a deep, deep creel, A deep creel and a string, And ye’ll come up to my bedside, And come bonnily linken in.’ 281C.5 The auld gudemand and auld gudewife, To bed they went, to sleep; But wae mat worth the auld gudewife! A wink she coudna get. 281C.6 ‘I dreamd a dreary dream this night, I wish it binna true, That the rottens had come thro the wa, And cutted the coverin blue.’ 281C.7 Then up it raise the auld gudeman, To see gin it was true; And he’s gane to his daughter dear, Says, What are ye doing, my dow? 281C.8 ‘What are ye doing, my daughter dear? What are ye doing, my dow?’ ‘The prayer book’s in my hand, father, Praying for my auld minnie and you.’ 281C.9 The auld gudeman and auld gudewife, To bed they went, to sleep; But wae mat worth the auld gudewife! But aye she wakend yet. 281C.10 ‘I dreamd a dreary dream this night, I wish it binna true, That the cunning clerk and your ae daughter Were aneath the coverin blue’ 281C.11 ‘O rise yoursell, gudewife,’ he says, ‘The diel may had you fast! Atween you and your ae daughter I canno get ae night’s rest.’ 281C.12 Up then raise the auld gudewife, To see gin it was true, And she feel arselins in the creel, And up the string they drew. 281C.13 ‘Win up, win up, gudeman,’ she says, ‘Win up and help me now! For he that ye gae me to last night, I think he’s catchd me now.’ 281C.14 ‘Gin Auld Nick he has catchd you now, I wish he may had you fast; As for you and your ae daughter, I never get kindly rest.’ 281C.15 They howded her, and they showded her, Till the auld wife gat a fa, And three ribs o the auld wife’s side Gaed knip-knap ower in twa.

281D: The Keach I the Creel

281D.1 ‘MY father he locks the doors at nicht, My mither the keys carries ben, ben; There’s naebody dare gae out,’ she says, ‘And as few dare come in, in, And as few dare come in.’ 281D.2 ‘I will mak a lang ladder, Wi fifty steps and three, I will mak a lang ladder, And lichtly come doun to thee.’ 281D.3 He has made a lang ladder, Wi fifty steps and three, He has made a lang ladder, And lichtly come doun the lum. 281D.4 They had na kissd nor lang clappit, As lovers do whan they meet, Till the auld wife says to the auld man, I hear somebody speak. 281D.5 ‘I dreamed a dreem sin late yestreen, And I’m feard my dream be true; I dreamd that the rottens cam thro the wa, And cuttit the covering blue. 281D.6 ‘Ye’ll rise, ye’ll rise, my auld gudeman, And see gin this be true;’ ‘If ye’re wanting rising, rise yoursel, For I wish the auld chiel ahd you.’ 281D.7 ‘I dreamed a dream sin late yestreen, And I’m feard my dream be true; I dreamd that the clerk and our ae dother War rowed in the covering blue. 281D.8 ‘Ye’ll rise, ye’ll rise, my auld gudeman, And see gin this be true:’ ‘If ye’re wanting rising, rise yoursel, For I wish the auld chiel had you.’ 281D.9 But up she raise, and but she gaes, And she fell into the gin; He gied the tow a clever tit, That brought her out at the lum. 281D.10 ‘Ye’ll rise, ye’ll rise, my auld gudeman, Ye’ll rise and come to me now, For him that ye’ve gien me sae lang till, I fear he has gotten me now.’ 281D.11 ‘The grip that he’s gotten, I wish he may haud, And never let it gae, For atween you and your ae dother I rest neither nicht nor day.’

282A: Jock the Leg and the Merry Merchant

282A.1 As Jock the Leg and the merry merchant Came from yon borrow’s town, They took their budgets on their backs, And fieldert they were boun. 282A.2 But they came to a tavern-house, Where chapmen used to be: ‘Provide, provide,’ said Jock the Leg, ‘A good supper for me. 282A.3 ‘For the merry merchant shall pay it a’, Tho it were good merks three;’ ‘But never a penny,’ said the merry merchant, ‘But shot, as it fa’s me. 282A.4 ‘A bed, a bed,’ said the merry merchant, ‘It’s time to go to rest;’ ‘And that ye shall,’ said the good goodwife, ‘And your covrings o the best.’ 282A.5 Then Jock the Leg in one chamber was laid, The merchant in another, And lockfast door atween them twa, That the one might not see the other. 282A.6 But the merchant was not well lain down, Nor yet well fa’en asleep, Till up it starts him Jock the Leg, Just at the merchant’s feet. 282A.7 ‘Win up, win up,’ said Jock the Leg, ‘We might hae been miles three;’ ‘But never a foot,’ said the merry merchant, ‘Till day that I do see. 282A.8 ‘For I cannot go by Barnisdale, Nor yet by Coventry; For Jock the Leg, that common thief, Would take my pack from me.’ 282A.9 ‘I’ll hae you in by Barnisdale, And down by Coventry, And I’ll guard you frae Jock the Leg Till day that ye do see.’ 282A.10 When they were in by Barnisdale, And in by Coventry, ‘Repeat, repeat,’ said Jock the Leg, ‘The words ye ance tauld me.’ 282A.11 ‘I never said aught behind your back But what I’ll say to thee; Are ye that robber, Jock the Leg, Will take my pack frae me?’ 282A.12 ‘O by my sooth,’ said Jock the Leg, ‘You’ll find that man I be; Surrender that pack that’s on your back, Or then be slain by me.’ 282A.13 He’s ta’en his pack down frae his back, Set it below yon tree; Says, I will fight for my good pack Till day that I may see. 282A.14 Then they fought there in good greenwood Till they were bloody men; The robber on his knees did fall, Said, Merchant, hold your hand. 282A.15 ‘An asking, asking,’ said Jock the Leg, ‘An asking ye’ll grant me;’ ‘Ask on, ask on,’ said the merry merchant, ‘For men to asking are free.’ 282A.16 ‘I’ve dune little harm to you,’ he said, ‘More than you’d been my brother; Give me a blast o my little wee horn, And I’ll give you another.’ 282A.17 ‘A blast o your little wee horn,’ he said, ‘Of this I take no doubt; I hope you will take such a blast Ere both your eyes fly out.’ 282A.18 He set his horn to his mouth, And he blew loud and shrill, And four-and-twenty bauld bowmen Came Jock the Leg until. 282A.19 ‘Ohon, alas!’ said the merry merchant, ‘Alas! and woe is me! Sae many, a party o common theifs, But nane to party me! 282A.20 ‘Ye’ll wile out six o your best bowmen, Yourself the seventh to be, And, put me one foot frae my pack, My pack ye shall have free.’ 282A.21 He wiled six o his best bowmen, Himslef the seventh to be, But [him] frae his pack they couldna get, For all that they could dee. 282A.22 He’s taen his pack into one hand, His broadsword in the other, And he slew five o the best bowmen, And the sixth he has dung over. 282A.23 Then all the rest they gae a shout, As they stood by the tree; Some said they would this merchant head, Some said they’d let him be. 282A.24 But Jock the Leg he then replied, To this I’ll not agree; He is the boldest broadsword-man That ever I fought wi. 282A.25 ‘If ye could wield the bow, the bow As ye can do the brand, I would hae you to good greenwood, To be my master’s man.’ 282A.26 ‘Tho I could wield the bow, the bow As I can do the brand, I would not gang to good greenwood, To join a robber-band.’ 282A.27 ‘O give me some of your fine linen, To cleathe my men and me, And ye’se hae some of my dun deers’ skins, Below yon greenwood-tree.’ 282A.28 ‘Ye’se hae nane o my fine linen, To cleathe your men and thee, And I’ll hae nane o your stown deers’ skins, Below yon greenwood-tree.’ 282A.29 ‘Ye’ll take your pack upon your back, And travel by land or sea; In brough or land, wherever we meet, Good billies we shall be.’ 282A.30 ‘I’ll take my pack upon my back, And go by land or sea; In brough or land, wherever we meet, A rank theif I’ll call thee.’

283A: The Crafty Farmer

283A.1 THE song that I’m going to sing, I hope it will give you content, Concerning a silly old man, That was going to pay his rent. 283A.2 As he was riding along, Along all on the highway, A gentleman-thief overtook him, And thus to him did say. 283A.3 ‘Well overtaken!’ said the thief, ‘Well overtaken!’ said he; And ‘Well overtaken!’ said the old man, ‘If thou be good company.’ 283A.4 ‘How far are you going this way?’ Which made the old man for to smile; ‘By my faith,’ said the old man, ‘I’m just going two mile. 283A.5 ‘I am a poor farmer,’ he said, ‘And I farm a piece of ground, And my half-year’s rent, kind sir, Just come to forty pound. 283A.6 ‘And my landlord has not been at home, I’ve not seen him this twelvemonth or more, Which makes my rent be large; I’ve to pay him just fourscore.’ 283A.7 ‘Thou shouldst not have told any body, For thieves there’s ganging many; If any should light on thee, They’ll rob thee of thy money.’ 283A.8 ‘O never mind,’ said the old man, ‘Thieves I fear on no side, For the money is safe in my bags, On the saddle on which I ride.’ 283A.9 As they were riding along, The old man was thinking no ill, The thief he pulled out a pistol And bid the old man stand still. 283A.10 But the old man provd crafty, As in the world there’s many; He threw his saddle oer the hedge, Saying, Fetch it, if thou’lt have any. 283A.11 The thief got off his horse, With courage stout and bold, To search for the old man’s bag, And gave him his horse to hold. 283A.12 The old man put ’s foot i the stirrup And he got on astride; To its side he clapt his spur up, You need not bid the old man ride. 283A.13 ‘O stay!’ said the thief, ‘O stay! And half the share thou shalt have;’ ‘Nay, by my faith,’ said the old man, ‘For once I have bitten a knave.’ 283A.14 The thief he was not content, But he thought there must be bags; He out with his rusty old sword And chopt the old saddle in rags. 283A.15 When he came to the landlord’s house, This old man he was almost spent; Saying, Come, show me a private room And I’ll pay you a whole year’s rent. 283A.16 ‘I’ve met a fond fool by the way, I swapt horses and gave him no boot; But never mind,’ said the old man, ‘For I got the fond fool by the foot.’ 283A.17 He opend this rogue’s portmantle, It was glorious to behold; There were three hundred pounds in silver, And three hundred pounds in gold. 283A.18 And as he was riding home, And down a narrow lane, He espied his mare tied to a hedge, Saying, Prithee, Tib, wilt thou gang hame? 283A.19 When he got home to his wife And told her what he had done, Up she rose and put on her clothes, And about the house did run. 283A.20 She sung, and she sung, and she sung, She sung with a merry devotion, Saying, If ever our daughter gets wed, It will help to enlarge her portion.

284A: John Dory

 
 284A.1	 As it fell on a holy-day,
 	 And vpon an holy-tide-a,
 	 Iohn Dory bought him an ambling nag,
 	 To Paris for to ride-a.
 284A.2	 And when John Dory to Paris was come,
 	 A little before the gate-a,
 	 John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted
 	 To let him in thereat-a.
 284A.3	 The first man that John Dory did meet
 	 Was good king John of France-a;
 	 John Dory could well of his courtesie,
 	 But fell downe in a trance-a.
 284A.4	 ‘A pardon, a pardon, my liege and my king,
 	 For my merie men and for me-a,
 	 And all the churles in merie England,
 	 I’le bring them all bound to thee-a.’
 284A.5	 And Nicholl was then a Cornish man,
 	 A little beside Bohide-a,
 	 And he mande forth a good blacke barke,
 	 With fiftie good oares on a side-a.
 284A.6	 ‘Run vp, my boy, vnto the maine top,
 	 And looke what thou canst spie-a:’
 	 ‘Who ho! who ho! a goodly ship I do see,
 	 I trow it be John Dory[-a’]
 284A.7	 They hoist their sailes, both top and top,
 	 The meisseine and all was tride-a,
 	 And euery man stood to his lot,
 	 What euer should betide-a.
 284A.8	 The roring cannons then were plide,
 	 And dub-a-dub went the drumme-a;
 	 The braying trumpets lowde they cride
 	 To courage both all and some-a.
 284A.9	 The grappling-hooks were brought at length,
 	 The browne bill and the sword-a,
 	 John Dory at length, for all his strength,
 	 Was clapt fast vnder board-a.

285A: The George Aloe and the Sweepstake

285A.1 THE George Aloe and the Sweepstakes too, With hey, with ho, for and a nony no They were two merchant-men, a sailing for Safee. And along the course of Barbary 285A.2 [The George Aloe to anchor came, But the jolly Sweepstake kept on her way.] 285A.3 They had not sayled leagues two or three Before they spyed a sail upon the sea. 285A.4 ‘O hail, O hail, you lusty gallants, From whence is your good ship, and whither is she bound?’ 285A.5 ‘O we are some merchant-men, sailing for Safee:’ ‘And we be French rebels, a roving on the sea. 285A.6 ‘O hail, O hail, you English dogs, [hail!]’ ‘The[n] come aboard, you French dogs, and strike down your sail!’ 285A.7 ‘Amain, amain, you gallant Englishmen!’ ‘Come, you French swades, and strike down your sails!’ 285A.8 They laid us aboard on the starboard side, And they overthrew us into the sea so wide. 285A.9 When tidings to the George Aloe came That the jolly Sweepstakes by a Frenchman was tane, 285A.10 ‘To top, to top, thou little ship-boy, And see if this French man-of-war thou canst descry.’ 285A.11 ‘A sail, a sail, under your lee, Yea, and another under her bough.’ 285A.12 ‘Weigh anchor, weigh anchor, O jolly boatswain, We will take this Frenchman if we can.’ 285A.13 We had not sailed leagues two or three But we met the French man-of-war upon the sea. 285A.14 ‘All hail, all hail, you lusty gallants, Of whence is your fair ship, and whither is she bound?’ 285A.15 ‘O we are merchant-men, and bound for Safee;’ ‘And we are Frenchmen, roving upon the sea. 285A.16 ‘Amain, amain, you English dogs!’ ‘Come aboard, you French rogues, and strike your sails!’ 285A.17 The first good shot the George Aloe shot, It made the Frenchmen’s hearts sore afraid. 285A.18 The second shot the George Aloe did afford, He struck the main-mast over the board. 285A.19 ‘Have mercy, have mercy, you brave English[men].’ ‘O what have you done with our brethren on [shore]?.’ As they sail[ed]. 285A.20 ‘We laid them aboard on the starboard side, And we threw them into the sea so wide.’ 285A.21 ‘Such mercy as you have shewed unto them, Even the like mercy shall you have again.’ 285A.22 We laid them aboard on the larboard side, And we threw them into the sea so wide. 285A.23 Lord, how it grieved our hearts full sore To see the drowned Frenchmen float along the shore! 285A.24 Now, gallant seamen all, adieu, With hey, with ho, for a nony no This is the last news that I can write to you. To England’s coast from Barbary

286A: The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity)

286A.1 SIR WALTER RAWLEIGH has built a ship, In the Neatherlands Sir Walter Rawleigh has built a ship, In the Neather-lands And it is called The Sweet Trinity, And was taken by the false gallaly. Sailing in the Low-lands 286A.2 ‘Is there never a seaman bold In the Neather-lands Is there never a seaman bold In the Neather-lands That will go take this false gallaly, And to redeem The Sweet Trinity?’ Sailing, etc. 286A.3 Then spoke the little ship-boy; In the Neather-lands Then spoke the little ship-boy; In the Neather-lands ‘Master, master, what will you give me And I will take this false gallaly, And release The Sweet Trinity?’ Sailing, etc. 286A.4 ‘I’ll give thee gold, and I’le give thee fee, In the Neather-lands I’ll give thee gold and I’le give thee fee, In the Neather-lands And my eldest daughter thy wife shall be.’ Sailing, etc. 286A.5 He set his breast, and away he did swim, Until he came to the false gallaly. 286A.6 He had an augor fit for the [n]once, The which will bore fifteen good holes at once. 286A.7 Some ware at cards, and some at dice, Until the salt water flashd in their eyes. 286A.8 Some cut their hats, and some cuth their caps, For to stop the salt-water gaps. 286A.9 He set his breast, and away did swim, Until he came to his own ship again. 286A.10 ‘I have done the work I promised to do, For I have sunk the false gallaly, And released The Sweet Trinity. 286A.11 ‘You promised me gold, and you promised me fee, Your eldest daughter my wife she must be.’ 286A.12 ‘You shall have gold, and you shall have fee, But my eldest daughter you wife shall never be.’ For sailing, etc. 286A.13 ‘Then fare you well, you cozening lord, Seeling you are not so good as your word.’ For sailing, etc. 286A.14 And thus I shall conclude my song, Of the sailing in the Low-lands Wishing all happiness too all seamen both old and young. In their sailing in the Low-lands

286B: The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity)

286B.1 THERE was a gallant ship, and a gallant ship was she Eck iddle du, and the Lowlands low And she was called The Goulden Vanitie. As she sailed to the Lowlands low 286B.2 She had not sailed a league, a league but only three, Eck, etc. When she came up with a French gallee. As she sailed, etc. 286B.3 Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he; ‘What will you give me if I sink that French gallee?’ As ye sail, etc. 286B.4 Out spoke the captain, out spoke he; ‘We’ll gie ye an estate in the North Countrie.’ As we sail, etc. 286B.5 ‘Then row me up ticht in a black bull’s skin, And throw me oer deck-buird, sink I or swim.’ As ye sail, etc. 286B.6 So they’ve rowed him up ticht in a black bull’s skin, And have thrown him oer deck-buird, sink he or soom. As they sail, etc. 286B.7 About, and about, and about went he, Until he cam up with the French gallee, As they sailed, etc. 286B.8 O some were playing cards, and some were playing dice, When he took out an instrument, bored thrity holes at twice. As they sailed, etc. 286B.9 Then some they ran with cloaks, and some they ran with caps, To try if they could stap the saut-water draps. As they sailed, etc. 286B.10 About, and about, and about went he, Until he cam back to The Goulden Vanitie. As they sailed, etc. 286B.11 ‘Now throw me oer a rope and pu me up on buird, And prove unto me as guid as your word.’ As ye sail, etc. 286B.12 ‘We’ll no throw you oer a rope, nor pu you up on buird, Nor prove unto you as guid as our word.’ As we sail, etc. 286B.13 Out spoke the little cabin-boy, out spoke he; Then hang me, I’ll sink ye as I sunk the French gallee. As ye sail, etc. 286B.14 But they’ve thrown him oer a rope, and have pu’d him up on buird, And have proved unto him far better than their word. As they sailed, etc.

286C: The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity)

286C.1 ‘I HAVE a ship in the North Countrie, And she goes by the name of the The Golden Vanity; I’m afraid she will be taken by some Turkish gallee, As she sails on the Low Lands Low.’ 286C.2 Then up starts our little cabin-boy, Saying, Master, what will you give me if I do them destroy? ‘I will give you gold, I will give you store, You shall have my daughter when I return on shore, If ye sink them in the Low Lands Low.’ 286C.3 The boy bent his breast and away he jumpt in; He swam till he came to this Turkish galleon, As she laid on the Low Lands Low. 286C.4 The boy he had an auger to bore holes two at twice; While some were playing cards, and some were playing dice, He let the water in, and it dazzled in their eyes, And he sunk them in the Low Lands Low. 286C.5 The boy he bent his breast and away he swam back again, Saying, Master take me up, or I shall be slain, For I have sunk them in the Low Lands Low. 286C.6 ‘I’ll not take you up,’ the master he cried; ‘I’ll not take you up,’ the master replied; ‘I will kill you, I will shoot you, I will send you with the tide, I will sink you in the Low Lands Low.’ 286C.7 The boy he swam round all by the starboardside; They laid him on the deck, and it’s there he soon died; Then they sewed him up in an old cow’s-hide, And they threw him overboard, to go down with the tide, And they sunk him in the Low Lands Low.

287A: Captain Ward and the Rainbow

287A.1 STRIKE up, you lusty gallants, with musick and sound of drum, For we have descryed a rover, upon the sea is come; His name is Captain Ward, right well it doth appear, There has not been such a rover found out this thousand year. 287A.2 For he hath sent unto our king, the sixth of January, Desiring that he might come in, with all his company: ‘And if your king will let me come till I my tale have told, I will bestow for my ransome full thirty tun of gold.’ 287A.3 ‘O nay! O nay!’ then said our king, ‘O nay! this may not be, To yield to such a rover my self will not agree; He hath deceivd the French-man, likewise the King of Spain, And how can he be true to me that hath been false to twain?’ 287A.4 With that our king provided a ship of worthy fame, Rainbow she is called, if you would know her name; Now the gallant Rainbow she rowes upon the sea, Five hundred gallant seamen to bear her company. 287A.5 The Dutch-man and the Spaniard she made them for to flye, Also the bonny French-man, as she met him on the sea: When as this gallant Rainbow did come where Ward did lye, ‘Where is the captain of this ship?’ this gallant Rainbow did cry. 287A.6 ‘O that am I,’ says Captain Ward, ’There’s no man bids me lye, And if thou art the king’s fair ship, thou art welcome unto me:’ ‘I’le tell thee what,’ says Rainbow, ’our king is in great grief That thou shouldst lye upon the sea and play the arrant thief, 287A.7 ‘And will not let our merchants ships pass as they did before; Such tydings to our king is come, which grieves his heart full sore.’ With that this gallant Rainbow she shot, out of her pride, Full fifty gallant brass pieces, charged on every side. 287A.8 And yet these gallant shooters prevailed not a pin, Though they were brass on the out-side, brave Ward was steel within; ‘Shoot on, shoot on,’ says Captain Ward, ’your sport well pleaseth me, And he that first gives over shall yield unto the sea. 287A.9 ‘I never wrongd an English ship, but Turk and King of Spain, For and the jovial Dutch-man as I met on the main. If I had known your king but one two years before, I would have savd brave Essex life, whose death did grieve me sore. 287A.10 ‘Go tell the King of England, go tell him thus from me, If he reign king of all the land, I will reign king at sea.’ With that the gallant Rainbow shot, and shot, and shot in vain, And left the rover’s company, and returnd home again. 287A.11 ‘Our royal king of England, your ship’s returned again, For Ward’s ship is so strong it never will be tane:’ ‘O everlasting!’ says our king, ‘I have lost jewels three, Which would have gone unto the seas and brought proud Ward to me. 287A.12 ‘The first was Lord Clifford, Earl of Cumberland; The second was the lord Mountjoy, as you shall understand; The third was brave Essex, from field would never flee; Which would a gone unto the seas and brought proud Ward to me.’

288A: The Young Earl of Essex’s Victory Over the Emperor of Germany

288A.1 COME, sound up your trumpets and beat up your drums, And let’s go to sea with a valiant good cheer, In search of a mighty vast navy of ships, The like has not been for these fifty long year. Raderer two, tandaro te, Raderer, tandorer, tan do re. 288A.2 queen she provided a navy of ships, With sweet flying streamers, so glorious to see, Rich top and top-gallants, captains and lieutenants, Some forty, some fifty, brass-pieces and three. 288A.3 They had not saild past a week on the seas, Not passing a week and days two or three, But they were aware of the proud emperor, Both him and all his proud company. 288A.4 When he beheld our powerful fleet, Sailing along in their glory and pride, He was amazed at their valour and fame, Then to his warlike command[er]s he cry’d. 288A.5 These were the words of the old emperor: Pray who is this that is sailing to me? If he be king that weareth a crown, Yet I am a better man than he. 288A.6 ‘It is not a king, nor lord of a crown, Which now to the seas with his navy is come, But the young Earl of Essex, the Queen’s lieutenant, Who fears no foes in Christendom.’ 288A.7 ‘Oh! is that lord then come to the seas? Let us tack about and be steering away; I have heard so much of his father before That I will not fight with young Essex today.’ 288A.8 O then bespoke the emperor’s son, As they were tacking and steering away, ‘Give me, royal father, this navy of s[h]ips, And I will go fight with Essex today.’ 288A.9 ‘Take them with all my heart, loving son, Most of them are of a capital size; But should he do as his father has done, Farewel thine honour and mine likewise.’ 288A.10 With cannons hot and thundering shot, These two gallants fought on the main, And as it was young Essex’s lot, The emperor’s son by him was taen. 288A.11 ‘Give me my son,’ the emperor cry’d, ‘Who you this day have taken from me, And I’ll give to the[e] three keys of gold, The one shall be of High Germany.’ 288A.12 ‘I care not for thy three keys of gold, Which thou hast profferd to set him free, But thy son he shall to England sail, And go before the queen with me.’ 288A.13 ‘Then have I fifty good ships of the best, As good as ever were sent to the sea, And eer my son into England sail, They shall go all for good company.’ 288A.14 They had not fought this famous battle, They had not fought it hours three, But some lost legs, and some lost arms, And some lay tumbling in the sea. 288A.15 Essex he got this battle likewise, Tho ’twas the hotest that ever was seen; Home he returnd with a wonderful prize, And brought the emperor’s son to the queen. 288A.16 O then bespoke the prentices all, Living in London, both proper and tall, In a kind letter, sent straight to the queen, For Essex’s sake they would fight all.

288B: The Young Earl of Essex’s Victory Over the Emperor of Germany

288B.1 ‘’TRR-+-rrS, old England, old England, I bid thee adieu, The drums and the trumpets command me frae shore; And you lusty fellows, both valiant and true, Will you venture with me where loud cannons roar?’ 288B.2 ‘O Billy, O Billy, talk not of the seas, But stay at home with me on the shore; I’ll do my endeavour thy fancy to please, And there’s others to go where loud cannons roar.’ 288B.3 ‘O Nelly, O Nelly, I must to the seas, For there is no gold to be had upon shore; There’s honour, and gold, and riches likewise, To the man that doth die where loud cannons roar.’ 288B.4 ‘Remember the winds, love, remember the waves, Remember the dangers that are upon seas; Remember there is neither coffin nor grave To the man that doth die where loud cannons roar.’ 288B.5 ‘Remember old Benbow, and think on his blows; Remember the dangers he felt upon seas; He lost both his legs by one shot of his foes; He lost his sweet life, yet his honour’s the more.’ 288B.6 ‘Remember proud Shawfield, that honoured knight, Who came with his navy to the Spanish shore; At the rock of Salem his life took a flight, And with him there died some hundreds more.’ 288B.7 ‘Our queen she has builded a navy of ships, And they are arrayed all right gloriously; With top and top-gallant, with captain, lieutenant, Some fifty, some sixty, brass pieces and three.’ 288B.8 ‘Well, since you’ll go, may my blessing advance, And carry you safely from Flanders to Spain, And when you’ve conquered that tyrant in France, Then my blessing return you to old England again.’ 288B.9 They had not sailed one hour upon sea, Not one hour passing days two or three, Till up came the bold emperour, The bold emperour of High Germanie. 288B.10 ‘O who is this?’ the bold emperour cries, ‘Who is this that comes sailing to me? I’m sure he’s knight, or a king of crown, O I’m sure I am a far better fellow than he.’ 288B.11 ‘I am neither a knight, nor a king of a crown, But here, with my navy, on board I am come; For I am Lord Essex, the Queen’s lieutenant, Who never feard foe in all Christendom.’ 288B.12 Out and spoke the bold emperour’s son, All as they were mounting and hyeing away; ‘O father, lend me your navy of ships, And I’ll go fight with Lord Essex today.’ 288B.13 ‘O son, I’ll lend thee my navy of ships, And they are all of a capable size; But if he be as good as his old father was, Adieu to your honour, and mine likewise.’ 288B.14 O they have fought on at a terrible rate, Until it drew nigh to the cool of the day, And as it fell in young Essex’s lot, The bold emperour’s son he’s taen prisoner away. 288B.15 ‘O give me my son,’ the bold emperour cried, ‘O give me my son thou hast taken from me, And you shall have three keys of gold, And one of them opens High Germanie.’ 288B.16 ‘What value I thy three keys of gold, Or any proud offer thou canst give to me? For up to old England thy son he must go, And stand before our queen’s high majesty.’ 288B.17 ‘’Tis I have fifteen ships of the best, And other fifteen distant on sea; Since up to old England my son he must go, Then we’ll all go together for good companie.’

289A: Mermaid

289A.1 AS we lay musing in our beds, So well and so warm at ease, I thought upon those lodging-beds Poor seamen have at seas. 289A.2 Last Easter day, in the morning fair, We was not far from land, Where we spied a mermaid on the rock, With comb and glass in hand. 289A.3 The first came up the mate of our ship, With lead and line in hand, To sound and see how deep we was From any rock or sand. 289A.4 The next came up the boatswain of our ship, With courage stout and bold: ‘Stand fast, stand fast, my brave lively lads, Stand fast, my brave hearts of gold!’ 289A.5 Our gallant ship is gone to wreck, Which was so lately trimmd; The raging seas has sprung a leak, And the salt water does run in. 289A.6 Our gold and silver, and all our cloths, And all that ever we had, We forced was to heave them overboard, Thinking our lives to save. 289A.7 In all, the number that was on board Was five hundred and sixty-four, And all that ever came alive on shore There was but poor ninety-five. 289A.8 The first bespoke the captain of our ship, And a well-spoke man was he; ‘I have a wife in fair Plymouth town, And a widow I fear she must be.’ 289A.9 The next bespoke the mate of our ship, And a well-bespoke man was he; ‘I have a wife in fair Portsmouth, And a widow I fear she must be.’ 289A.10 The next bespoke the boatswain of our ship, And a well-bespoke man was he; ‘I have a wife in fair Exeter, And a widow I fear she must be.’ 289A.11 The next bespoke the little cabbin-boy, And a well-bespoke boy was he; ‘I am as sorry for my mother dear As you are for your wives all three. 289A.12 ‘Last night, when the moon shin’d bright, My mother had sons five, But now she may look in the salt seas And find but one alive.’ 289A.13 ‘Call a boat, call a boat, you little Plymouth boys, Don’t you hear how the trumpet[s] sound? [For] the want of our boat our gallant ship is lost, And the most of our merry men is drownd.’ 289A.14 Whilst the raging seas do roar, And the lofty winds do blow, And we poor seamen do lie on the top, Whilst the landmen lies below.

289B: Mermaid

 
 289B.1	 ONE Friday morn when we set sail,
 	 Not very far from land,
 	 We there did espy a fair pretty maid
 	 With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand,
 	 With a comb and a glass in her hand.
 	 While the raging seas did roar,
 	 And the stormy winds did blow,
 	 While we jolly sailor-boys were up into the top,
 	 And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,
 	 And the land-lubbers lying down below.
 288B.2	 Then up starts the captain of our gallant ship,
 	 And a brave young man was he:
 	 ‘I’ve a wife and a child in fair Bristol town,
 	 But a widow I fear she will be.’
 	 For the raging seas, etc.
 288B.3	 Then up starts the mate of our gallant ship,
 	 And a bold young man was he:
 	 ‘Oh! I have a wife in fair Portsmouth town,
 	 But a widow I fear she will be.’
 	 For the raging seas, etc.
 288B.4	 Then up starts the cook of our gallant ship,
 	 And a gruff old soul was he:
 	 ‘Oh! I have a wife in fair Plymouth town,
 	 But a widow I fear she will be.’
 288B.5	 And then up spoke the little cabin-boy,
 	 And a pretty little boy was he;
 	 ‘Oh! I am more grievd for my daddy and my mammy
 	 Than you for your wives all three.’
 288B.6	 Then three times round went our gallant ship,
 	 And three times round went she;
 	 For the want of a life-boat they all went down,
 	 And she sank to the bottom of the sea.

289C: Mermaid

 
 289C.1	 ONE Friday morn as we’d set sail,
 	 And our ship not far from land,
 	 We there did espy a fair mermaid,
 	 With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand,
 	 With a comb and a glass in her hand.
 	 While the raging seas did roar,
 	 And the stormy winds did blow,
 	 And we jolly sailor-boys were up, up aloft,
 	 And the landsmen were lying down below,
 	 And the landlubbers all down below, below, below,
 	 And the landlubbers all down below.
 289C.2	 Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,
 	 Who at once did our peril see;
 	 I have married a wife in fair London town,
 	 And tonight she a widow will be.’
 289C.3	 And then up spoke the litel cabin-boy,
 	 And a fair-haired boy was he;
 	 ‘I’ve a father and mother in fair Portsmouth town,
 	 And this night she will weep for me.’
 289C.4	 Now three times round goes our gallant ship,
 	 And three times round went she;
 	 For the want of a life-boat they all were drownd,
 	 As she went to the bottom of the sea.

289D: Mermaid

 
 289D.1	 TWAS a Friday morning when we set sail,
 	 And our ship was not far from land,
 	 When there we spied a fair pretty maid,
 	 With a comb and a glass in her hand.
 	 Oh, the raging seas they did roar,
 	 And the stormy winds they did blow,
 	 While we poor sailor-boys were all up aloft,
 	 And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,
 	 And the land-lubbers lying down below.
 289D.2	 Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,
 	 And a mariner good was he;
 	 ‘I have married a wife in fair London town,
 	 And this night a widow she will be.’
 289D.3	 Then up spoke the cabin-boy of our gallant ship,
 	 And a brave little boy was he;
 	 ‘I’ve a father and a mother in old Portsmouth town,
 	 And this night they will both weep for me.’
 289D.4	 Then up spoke a seaman of our gallant ship,
 	 And a well-spoken man was he;
 	 ‘For want of a long-boat we shall all be drowned,
 	 And shall sink to the bottom of the sea.’
 289D.5	 Then three times round went that gallant ship,
 	 And down like a stone sank she;
 	 The moon shone bright, and the stars gave their light,
 	 But they were all at the bottom of the sea.

289E: Mermaid

 
 289E.1	 UP and spoke the bonny mermaid,
 	 Wi the comb and the glass in her hand;
 	 Says, Cheer up your hearts, my mariners all,
 	 You are not very far from the land.
 	 And the raging seas do foam, foam,
 	 And the stormy winds do blow,
 	 While we poor sailors must mount to the top,
 	 When the landsmen they lye low.
 289E.2	 Out and spoke the captain of our ship,
 	 And a fine little man was he;
 	 ‘O I’ve a wife in fair London town,
 	 And a widow this night she shall be.’
 289E.3	 Out and spoke the mate of our ship,
 	 And a tight little man was he;
 	 ‘O I’ve a wife in Dublin city,
 	 And a widow this night she shall be.’
 289E.4	 Out and spoke our second mate,
 	 And a clever little man was he;
 	 ‘Oh I have a wife in Greenoch town,
 	 And a widow this night she shall be.’
 289E.5	 Out and spoke our little prentice boy,
 	 And a fine little boy was he;
 	 ‘Oh I am sorry for my mother,’ he said,
 	 ‘As you are for your wives all three.’
 289E.6	 Out and spoke the cook of our ship,
 	 And a rusty old dog was he;
 	 Says, I am as sorry for my pats and my pans
 	 As you are for your wives all three.

289F: Mermaid

 
 289F.1	 GREENLAND, Greenland, is a bonny, bonny place,
 	 Whare there’s neither grief nor flowr,
 	 Whare there’s neither grief nor tier to be seen,
 	 But hills and frost and snow.
 289F.2	 Up starts the kemp o the ship,
 	 Wi a psalm-book in his hand:
 	 ‘Swoom away, swoom away, my merry old boys,
 	 For you’ll never see dry land.’
 289F.3	 Up starts the gaucy cook,
 	 And a weil gaucy cook was he;
 	 ‘I wad na gie aw my pans and my kettles
 	 For aw the lords in the sea.’
 289F.4	 Up starts the kemp o the ship,
 	 Wi a bottle and a glass intil his hand;
 	 ‘Swoom away, swoom away, my merry old sailors,
 	 For you’ll never see dry land.’
 289F.5	 O the raging seas they row, row, row,
 	 The stormy winds do blow,
 	 As sune as he had gane up to the tap,
 	 As . . . low.

290A: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie

290A.1 IT fell about the Martinmas, When the gentlemen were drinking there wine, And a’ the discourse that they had Was about the ladies they gude fine. 290A.2 It’s up an spake a tall young man, The tallest o the companie; ‘The bonniest lass that I ken off She lives into the hee town hee. 290A.3 ‘O I would give a guinea of gold, A guinea and a pint of wine, I would give it to the hostler’s wife, For to wile that bonny lassie in.’ 290A.4 The hostler’s wife gaed down the stair, And she’s looked hersell round near by, And there she spied the bonny handsom girl, Coming walking down the hee town high. 290A.5 ‘Come in, come in, my bonny handsom girl, Come speak one word with me; Come taste a little of our wine, For it’s new come out of Italie.’ 290A.6 So willillie she wil’d her up, And so willillie she wil’d her in, And so cunningly she’s locked the door, And she’s comd down the stair again. 290A.7 One of them took her by the milk-white hand, And he’s laid her body on the ground, And aye she sightd, and said, Alass, ’Tis a sin to do me wrong! 290A.8 ‘But since ye hae done sae muckle to me, And brought me to so muckle shame, O wad ye be so kind to me As to tell to me your name.’ 290A.9 ‘Of if I tell to you my name, It’s a thing I never did to none; But I will tell to the, my dear; I am the Earl of Beaton’s son.’ 290A.10 When two years were past and gone, This gentleman came walking by, And there he spied the bonny handsome girl, Coming walking down the hie town high. 290A.11 ‘To whom belongs that pretty child, That blinks with its pretty eye?’ ‘His father’s from home and has left me alone, And I have been at the fold milking my ky.’ 290A.12 ‘You lie, you lie, my bonny handsome girl, So loudlie I hear you lie; O do not you mind that happie day When ye was drinking the wine wi me?’ 290A.13 He’s lighted off his milk-white steed, He’s kissd her both cheeck and chin; He’s made a’ the servants in Beaton castle To welcome this fair lady in.

290B: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie

290B.1 IT fell about the Martinmas time, When the nobles were drinking wine, And the matter of their discourse it was, ‘O the ladies they go fine:’ 290B.2 Up then spake a brave gentleman, The best in the companie; ‘The bonniest lass that eer I saw, She dwells in the hie town hie. 290B.3 ‘I wad give a guinea of red gold, Sae wad I a pint of wine, To onie of the hostler-wives That wad wyle to me the bonnie lassie in.’ 290B.4 Up then spake the hoslter’s wife, And an ill death may she die! ‘An ye’ll gie me a guinea of gold, I will wyle the bonnie lassie in to thee.’ 290B.5 The hostler’s wife stood on the stair-head, To see what she could see, And there she saw this fair creature, Coming down frae the hie town hie. 290B.6 ‘Come in, come in, my bonnie, bonnie lass, Come in and speak with me; Come in and drink a glass of wine, That’s new come aff the raging sea.’ 290B.7 ‘My father’s out upon the plain, And I am waiting his incoming; And I’m a girl so neat and trim That I’m afraid of your merry men.’ 290B.8 ‘My merry men are all gone out, And they will not be in till nine, And, if ye would my favour win, Come in and drink a glass of wine.’ 290B.9 Sae cunningly she wyld her in, And sae cunningly she led her round, Till she wyld her to the room where he was, And she locked the door the bonnie lass behind. 290B.10 First he kissd her cherry cheeks, And than he kissd her cherry chin, And than he kissd her ruby lips, Saying, Indeed ye’re a weel-faurd thing. * * * * * * * * 290B.11 ‘O since ye’ve got your will o me, And brought me unto public shame, I pray, kind sir, ye’ll marry me, Or that ye’ll tell me what’s your name.’ 290B.12 ‘If I tell my name to you, bonnie lassie, It’s mair than ever I telld ane; But I will tell to you, bonnie lassie; I am an earl’s second son. 290B.13 ‘I am an earl’s second son, My father has more children than me; My eldest brother he heirs the land, And my father he sent me to the sea.’ 290B.14 He put his hand into his pocket, And he gave her sixty guineas and three, Saying, Fare thee well, my lovely young creature, Ye’ll never get mair of me. 290B.15 As she went down through Edinburgh streets, The bonnie bells as they did ring, ‘Farewell, fareweel, my bonnie, bonnie lassie, Ye’ve got the clod that winna cling.’ * * * * * * * * 290B.16 He hadna been ae week at the sea, Not a week but only five, Till the king made him a captain sae brave, And he made the bonnie lassie his wife.

290C: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie

290C.1 IN Edinburgh, on a summer evening, Our gentlemen sat drinking wine, And every one to the window went, To view the ladies, they went so fine. 290C.2 They drank the wine, and they spilt the beer, So merrily as the reel went round, And a’ the healths that was drucken there Was to the bonnie lass o the hie toun end. 290C.3 Up then spoke a young squire’s son, And as he spoke it all alone; ‘Oh, I would give a guinea of gold, And so would I a pint of wine, And I would make them their licence free That would welcome this bonnie lassie in.’ 290C.4 The ostler’s wife, on hearin this, So nimbly down the stairs she ran, And the first toun’s-body that she met Was the bonnie lass o the hie toun end. 290C.5 ‘Mistress, ye maun gang wi me And get a cup o oor claret wine; It’s new come oer the ragin sea, Awat it is baith gude and fine.’ 290C.6 ‘To gang wi you I daurna stay, My mither’s wearyin for me in; I am so beautiful and fine I am a prey to all young men.’ 290C.7 Wi sattin slippers on her feet, So nimbly up the stair she ran, And wha so ready as this young squire To welcome the bonny lassie in. 290C.8 He[’s] taen her by the milk-white hand, He’s gently led her through the room, And aye she sighed, and aye she said, It would be a pity to do me wrong. 290C.9 ‘Now, since you’ve taken your will o me, I pray, kind sir, tell me your name;’ ‘Oh yes, my dear, indeed,’ he said ‘But it’s more than I ever did to one. 290C.10 ‘I am a squire and a squire’s son, My faither has fifty ploughs o land, And I’m a man in the militrie, And I must away and rank up my men. 290C.11 ‘And Jamie Lumsdaine is my name, From the North Countrie, love, I really came.’ 290C.12 About a twelvemonth after that, He sent a letter owre the main, And muckle writin was therein, To the bonnie lass o the hie toun end. 290C.13 About a twelvemonth after that, He himsel cam owre the main; He made her Duchess o Douglas Dale, And to him she’s had a fine young son.

290D: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie

290D.1 ALL the soldiers in Edinburgh town Were sitting drinking at the wine, An all the toasts that were among them Was a health to the lassie that goes sae fine. 290D.2 Up then spake an officier, The bravest in the company; ‘To every one I will give a guinea, A guinea and a pint of wine, To the ostler’s wife I wald double it a’, If she’d entice that young lassie in.’ 290D.3 The old wife tripped down the stair, And aye she said, ‘A good morrow, dame!’ And aye she said, an the maid replied, ‘What is your will wi me, madam?’ 290D.4 ‘It’s not to do you any harm, Or yet your body any ill, But, if you would my favour gain, Come up an taste one glass of wine.’ 290D.5 ‘My father stands on the stair-head, Just lookin for me to come in; I am so proper and so tall I’m much afraid of your merry men.’ 290D.6 ‘My merry men, they are all gone out, An they will not be in till dine; So, if you would my favour gain, Come up an taste a glass of wine.’ 290D.7 The fair maid tripped up the stair, The old wife bolted the door behind; He’s tane her in his arms twa, Says, O but ye are a bonny thing! 290D.8 Twenty times he kissed her cheek, An twenty times her bonny chin, An twenty times her ruby lips! ‘O but ye are a bonny thing!’ * * * * * * * 290D.9 ‘Noo, since ye’ve got your wills o me, What is your name, I pray you tell; . . . . . . . . . . . . where you dwell.’ 290D.10 . . . . . . . . ‘My eldest brother, he heirs the land; I was forced to be a highwayman, Or else a soldier, as I am.’ 290D.11 An aye the lassie she sat an grat, An aye thae words spak them atween, An aye the lassie she sat an grat, And cursed the auld wife that brocht her in. 290D.12 They had na been in Edinburgh A month, a month but only nine, When they have got the royal commission For to march to Aberdeen. 290D.13 An aye the lassie she sat an grat, An aye thae words spak them atween, An aye the lassie she sat an grat, And cursed the auld wife that brocht her in. 290D.14 They had na been in Aberdeen A month, a month but only one, When he got on the captain’s coat, An made her lady o his land. 290D.15 An aye the lassie she sat an sang, An aye thae words spak them atween, An aye the lassie she sat an sang, An hersed the auld wife that brocht her in.

291A: Child Owlet

291A.1 LADY ERSKINE sits in her chamber, Sewing at her silken seam, A chain of gold for Childe Owlet, As he goes out and in. 291A.2 But it fell ance upon a day She unto him did say, Ye must cuckold Lord Ronald, For a’ his lands and ley. 291A.3 ‘O cease! forbid, madam,’ he says, ‘That this shoud eer be done! How would I cuckold Lord Ronald, And me his sister’s son?’ 291A.4 Then she’s ta’en out a little penknife, That lay below her bed, Put it below her green stay’s cord, Which made her body bleed. 291A.5 Then in it came him Lord Ronald, Hearing his lady’s moan; ‘What blood is this, my dear,’ he says, ‘That sparks on the fire-stone?’ 291A.6 ung Childe Owlet, your sister’s son, Is now gane frae my bower; If I hadna been a good woman, I’d been Childe Owlet’s whore.’ 291A.7 Then he has taen him Childe Owlet, Laid him in prison strong, And all his men a council held How they woud work him wrong. 291A.8 Some said they woud Childe Owlet hang, Some said they woud him burn; Some said they woud have Childe Owlet Bewteen wild horses torn. 291A.9 ere are horses in your stables stand Can run right speedilie, And ye will to your stable go, And wile out four for me.’ 291A.10 They put a foal to ilka foot, And ane to ilka hand, And sent them down to Darling muir, As fast as they coud gang. 291A.11 There was not a kow in Darling muir, Nor ae piece o a rind, But drappit o Child Owlet’s blude And pieces o his skin. 291A.12 There was not a kow in Darling muir, Nor ae piece o a rash, But drappit o Childe Owlet’s blude And pieces o his flesh.

292A: The West-Country Damosel’s Complaint

292A.1 ‘WHEN will your marry me, William, And make me your wedded wife? Or take you your keen bright sword And rid me out of my life.’ 292A.2 ‘Say no more so then, lady, Say you no more then so, For you shall into the wild forrest, And amongst the buck and doe. 292A.3 ‘Where thou shalt eat of the hips and haws, And the roots that are so sweet, And thou shalt drink of the cold water, That runs underneath [thy] feet.’ 292A.4 Now she had not been in the wild forrest Passing three months and a day But with hunger and cold she had her fill, Till she was quite worn away. 292A.5 At last she saw a fair tyl’d-house, And there she swore by the rood That she would to that fair tyl’d-house, There for to get her some food. 292A.6 But when she came unto the gates, Aloud, aloud she cry’d, An alms, an alms, my own sister! I ask you for no pride. 292A.7 Her sister calld up her merry men all, By one, by two, and by three, And bid them hunt away that wild doe, As far as ere they could see. 292A.8 They hunted her ore hill and dale, And they hunted her so sore That they hunted her into the forrest, Where her sorrows grew more and more. 292A.9 She laid a stone all at her head, And another all at her feet, And down she lay between these two, Till death had lulld her asleep. 292A.10 When sweet Will came and stood at her head, And likewise stood at her feet, A thousand times he kist he[r] cold lips, Her body being fast asleep. 292A.11 Yea, seaven times he stood at her feet, And seaven times at her head, A thousand times he shook her hand, Although her body was dead. 292A.12 ‘Ah wretched me!’ he loudly cry’d, ‘What is it that I have done? O woud to the powers above I’de dy’d, When thus I left her alone! 292A.13 ‘Come, come, you gentle red-breast now, And prepare for us a tomb, Whilst unto cruel Death I bow, And sing like a swan my doom. 292A.14 ‘Why could I ever cruel be Unto so fair a creature? Alas! she dy’d for love of me, The loveliest she in nature! 292A.15 ‘For me she left her home so fair To wander in ths wild grove, And there with sighs and pensive care She ended her life for love. 292A.16 ‘O constancy, in her thou’rt lost! Now let women boast no more; She’s fled unto the Elizium coast, And with her carryd the store. 292A.17 ‘O break, my heart, with sorrow filld, Come, swell, you strong tides of grief! You that my dear love have killd, Come, yield in death to me relief. 292A.18 ‘Cruel her sister, was’t for me That to her she was unkind? Her hunband I will never be, But with this my love be joynd. 292A.19 ‘Grim Death shall tye the marriage-bands, Which jealousie shan’t divide; Together shall tye our cold hands, Whilst here we lye side by side. 292A.20 ‘Witness, ye groves, and chrystial streams, How faithless I late have been, But do repent with dying leaves Of that my ungrateful sin; 292A.21 ‘And wish a thousand times that I Had been but to her more kind, And not have let a virgin dye Whose equal there’s none can find. 292A.22 ‘Now heaps of sorrow press my soul; Now, now ’tis she takes her way; I come, my love, without controule, Nor from thee will longer stay.’ 292A.23 With that he fetchd a heavy groar Which rent his tender breast, And then by her he laid him down, When as death did give him rest. 292A.24 Whilst mournful birds, with leavy boughs, To them a kind burial gave, And warbled out their love-sick vows, Whilst they both slept in their grave.

293A: John of Hazelgreen

293A.1 INTO a sweet May morning, As the sun clearly shone, I heard a propper damsell Making a heavy moan; Making a heavy moan, I marvelled what she did mean, And it was for a gentleman, Sir John of Hasillgreen. 293A.2 ‘What aileth thee now, bony maid To mourn so sore into the tide? O happy were the man,’ he sayes, ‘That had thee to his bride, To ly down by his side; Then he were not to mean;’ But still she let the tears down fall For pleasant Hasilgreen. 293A.3 ‘Oh what for a man is Hasillgreen? Sweet heart, pray tell to me.’ ‘He is a propper gentleman, Dwels in the South Countrie; With shoulders broad and arms long, And comely to be seen; His hairs are like the threeds of gold, My pleasant Hasilgreen.’ 293A.4 ‘Now Hasilgreen is married, Let all this talking be.’ ‘If Hasilgreen be married, This day then woe to me; For I may sigh and sob no more, But close my weeping een, And hold my peace and cry no more, But dy for Hasilgreen.’ 293A.5 ‘Will you let Hasilgreen alone, And go along with me? I’ll marry you on my eldest son, Make you a gay lady.’ ‘Make me a gay lady?’ she sayes, ‘I am a maid too mean; I’ll rather stay at home,’ she cries, ‘And dy for Hasilgreen.’ 293A.6 He takes this pretty maid him behind And fast he spurred the horse, And they’re away to Bigger toun, The in to Biggar Cross. Their lodging was far sought, And so was it foreseen; But still she let the tears doun fall For pleasant Hasillgreen. 293A.7 He’s ta’en this pretty maid by the hand, And he is doun the toun; He bought for her a pettycoat, Yea, and a trailing goun; A silken kell fitt for her head, Laid oer with silver sheen; But still she let the tears doun fall For pleasant Hasilgreen. 293A.8 He’s taen this bony mey him behind, And he is to the Place, Where there was mirth and merryness, And ladyes fair of face; And ladyes fair of face, Right seemly to be seen, But still she let the tears doun fall For pleasant Hasilgreen. 293A.9 Young Hasilgreen ran hastilie To welcome his father dear; He’s ta’en that pretty maid in his arms, And kist off her falling tear: ‘O bony mey, now for thy sake I would be rent and rien; I would give all my father’s lands To have thee in Hasilgreen.’ 293A.10 ‘O hold your tongue now, son,’ he sayes, ‘Let no more talking be; This maid has come right far from home This day to visit thee. This day should been your wedding-day, It shall be thy bridall-een, And thou ’s get all thy father’s lands, And dwell in Hasillgreen.’

293B: John of Hazelgreen

293B.1 IT was on a morning early, Before day-licht did appear, I heard a pretty damsel Making a heavy bier; Making a heavy bier, I wonderd what she did mean; But ay the tears they rappit doun, Crying, O Jock o Hazelgreen! 293B.2 ‘O whare is this Hazelgreen, maid? That I may him see.’ ‘He is a ticht and a proper man, Lives in the South Cuntree. His shoulders broad, his arms lang, O he’s comely to be seen!’-+--+- But ay the tears they drappit doun For Jock o Hazelgreen. 293B.3 ‘Will ye gang wi me, fair maid? . . . . . . . And I’ll marry ye on my son,’ . . . . . . . ‘Afore I’d go along wi you, To be married on your son, I’d rather choose to stay at hame, And die for Hazelgreen.’ 293B.4 But he has tane her up behind, And spurred on his horse, Till ance he cam to Embro toun, And lichted at the corss. He bought to her a petticoat, Besides a handsome goun; He tied a silver belt about her waist, Worth thrice three hunder pund. 293B.5 And whan he cam to Hazelyetts, He lichted doun therein; Monie war the brave ladies there, Monie ane to be seen. She lichted doun amang them aw, She seemed to be the queen; But ay the tears they rappit doun For Jock o Hazelgreen. 293B.6 Young Hazelgreen took her by the hand And led her out and in: Said, Bonnie lady, for your sake, I could be baith rent and rien; I wad gie aw my lands and rents, Tho I had kingdoms three, If I could hae the great pleasure To enjoy thy fair bodie. 293B.7 ‘No more of this,’ his father said, ‘Of your mourning let abee; I brought the damsel far frae hame, She’s thrice as wae for thee. The morn is your bridal-day, The nicht is your bridal-een, And I’ll gie you aw my lands and rents, My pleasing son, Hazelgreen.’

293C: John of Hazelgreen

 
 293C.1	 As I gaed out in a may morning,
 	 Afore that I could see,
 	 And there I heard a pretty fair may
 	 Making sweet melodie.
 	 She was making sic melodie,
 	 I wonderd what she could mean;
 	 But ay she sang and sang about
 	 Sweet John o Hazelgreen.
 293C.2	 ‘O what na man is Hazelgreen?
 	 Fair may, pray tell to me.’
 	 ‘He is a stout and a tall young man
 	 As in a’ the South Countrie.
 	 He is a stout and a tall young man,
 	 And comely to be seen;
 	 But still O I maun weep and wail
 	 For John o Hazelgreen.’
 293C.3	 ‘Hold your tongue, fair maid,’ he says,
 	 ‘And let your weeping alane;
 	 I’ll marry you to my eldest son,
 	 And you shall be ca’d my dame.’
 293C.4	 He has tane her on ahint him,
 	 And fast he spurred the steed;
 	 For Edinbro town he there was bound,
 	 Where they soon came wi speed.
 293C.7	 He’s tane her to the Luckenbooths,
 	 Coft her a braw new gown,
 	 A handsome feather for her hat,
 	 And a pair o silken shoon.
 293C.8	 He has tane the fair may up again,
 	 And fast awa rode he;
 	 For Hazelgreen now he was bound,
 	 Her lodging there to be.
 293C.9	 She jumped aff frae ahint him,
 	 As fair as any queen;
 	 ‘Come down, come down, Lord John,’ he says,
 	 ‘And welcome your lady hame.
 293C.10	 ‘It is the tall and comely youth,
 	 Sweet John o Hazelgreen;
 	 If we canna see it bridal-day,
 	 It shall be bridal-een’

293D: John of Hazelgreen

293D.1 As I went forth to take the air Intill an evening clear, And there I spied a lady fair, Making a heavy bier; Making a heavy bier, I say, But and a piteous meen, And aye she sighd, and said, Alas, For John o Hazelgreen! 293D.2 The sun was sinking in the west, The stars were shining clear, When thro the thickets o the wood, A gentleman did appear. Says, Who has done you the wrong, fair maid, And left you here alane? Or who has kissd your lovely lips, That ye ca Hazelgreen? 293D.3 ‘Hold your tongue, kind sir,’ she said, ‘And do not banter so; How will ye add affliction Unto a lover’s woe? For none’s done me the wrong,’ she said, ‘Nor left me here alane; Nor none has kissd my lovely lips, That I ca Hazelgreen.’ 293D.4 ‘Why weep ye by the tide, lady? Why weep ye by the tide? How blythe and happy might he be Gets you to be his bride! Gets you to be his bride, fair maid, And him I’ll no bemean; But when I take my words again, Whom call ye Hazelgreen? 293D.5 ‘What like a man was Hazelgreen? Will ye show him to me?’ ‘He is a comely, proper youth I in my sleep did see; Wi arms tall, and fingers small, He’s comely to be seen;’ And aye she loot the tears down fall For John o Hazelgreen. 293D.6 ‘If ye’ll forsake young Hazelgreen, And go along with me, I’ll wed you to my eldest son, Make you a lady free.’ ‘It’s for to wed your eldest son I am a maid oer mean; I’ll rather stay at home,’ she says ‘And die for Hazelgreen.’ 293D.7 ‘If ye’ll forsake young Hazelgreen, And go along with me, I’ll wed you to my second son, And your weight o gowd I’ll gie.’ ‘It’s for to wed your second son I am a maid oer mean; I’ll rather stay at home,’ she says, ‘And die for Hazelgreen.’ 293D.8 Then he’s taen out a siller comb, Combd down her yellow hair; And look d in a diamond bright, To see if she were fair. ‘My girl, ye do all maids surpass That ever I have seen; Cheer up your heart, my lovely lass, And hate young Hazelgreen.’ 293D.9 ‘Young Hazelgreen he is my love, And ever mair shall be; I’ll nae forsake young Hazelgreen For a’ the gowd ye’ll gie.’ But aye she sighd, and said, Alas! And made a piteous meen, And aye she loot the tears down fa For John o Hazelgreen. 293D.10 He look d high, and lighted low, Set her upon his horse; And they rode on the Edinburgh, To Edinburgh’s own cross. And when she in that city was, She lookd like ony queen: ‘’Tis a pity such a lovely lass Shoud love young Hazelgreen.’ 293D.11 ‘Young Hazelgreen, he is my love, And ever mair shall be; I’ll nae forsake young Hazelgreen For a’ the gowd ye’ll gie.’ And aye she sighd, and said, Alas! And made a piteous meen, And aye she loot the tears down fa For John o Hazelgreen. 293D.12 ‘Now hold your tongue, my well-fard maid, Lat a’ your mourning be, And a’ endeavours I shall try To bring that youth to thee, If ye’ll tell me where your love stays, His stile and proper name.’ ‘He’s laird o Taperbank,’ she says, ‘His stile, Young Hazelgreen.’ 293D.13 Then he has coft for that lady A fine silk riding-gown, Likewise he coft for that lady A steed, and set her on; Wi menji feathers in her hat, Silk stockings and siller sheen, And they are on to Taperbank, Seeking young Hazelgreen. 293D.14 They nimbly rode along the way, And gently spurrd their horse, Till they rode on to Hazelgreen, To Hazelgreen’s own close. Then forth he came, young Hazelgreen, To welcome his father free: ‘You’re welcome here, my father dear, And a’ your companie.’ 293D.15 But when he lookd oer his shoulder, A light laugh then gae he; Says, If I getna this lady, It’s for her I must die. I must confess this is the maid I ance saw in a dream, A walking thro a pleasant shade, As fair’s a cypress queen. 293D.16 ‘Now hold your tongue, young Hazelgreen, Lat a’ your folly be; If ye be wae for that lady, She’s thrice as wae for thee. She’s thrice as wae for thee, my son, As bitter doth complain; Well is she worthy o the rigs That lie on Hazelgreen.’ 293D.17 He’s taen her in his arms twa, Led her thro bower and ha: ‘Cheer up your heart, my dearest dear, Ye’re flower out-oer them a’. This night shall be our wedding-een, The morn we’ll say, Amen; Ye’se never mair hae cause to mourn, Ye’re lady o Hazelgreen.’

293E: John of Hazelgreen

 
 293E.1	 ‘WHY weep ye by the tide, ladye?
 	 Why weep ye by the tide?
 	 I’ll wed ye to my youngest son,
 	 And ye sall be his bride.
 	 And ye sall be his bride, ladye,
 	 Sae comely to be seen;’
 	 But aye she loot the tears down fa
 	 For John o Hazelgreen.
 293E.2	 ‘O whaten a man is Hazelgreen?
 	 I pray thee tell to me.’
 	 ‘O there’s not a handsomer gentleman
 	 In a’ the South Countrie.
 	 His arms are long, his shoulder broad,
 	 Sae comely to be seen!’
 	 And aye she loot the tears down fa
 	 For John o Hazelgreen.

294A: Dugal Quin

294A.1 DUGALL QUIN came to the toun, An he’s ben lang awaa, An he is one to Lissie’s bed, Tartan, trues, an a’. 294A.2 ‘Hou wad ye leak me, Lisie,’ he says, ‘Gin that I war yer ain, We raged cot apon my back, An singel-soled sheen, A littel we bonnet on my head, An tua merry wenking ean?’ 294A.3 ‘Well wad I leak ye, Dugall,’ she says, ‘Gin that ye war my ain, We ragged coat upon yer back, An singel-soled sheen, A littel we bonnet on yer head, An tua merry wenking eyn. 294A.4 ‘Hou wad ye leak me, Dugall,’ she says, ‘Gin I wer yer ain, We silken sneed upon my head, An gold fann in my hand, An madins ning, a’ clead in green, To be att my comand?’ 294A.5 ‘Well wad I leak ye, Lisie,’ he says, ‘Gin ye wer my ain, We silken sneed upon yer head, An a goud fan in yer hand, An madins nine, a’ clad in green, To be att yer command. 294A.6 ‘Follou me nou, Lisie,’ he says, ‘Follou me throu Farie, An reap the boddoms of my pakets, An ye’ll gett tempeng chiss of farei.’ 294A.7 Outspak her father, says, Lissie, I widna wish ye, For gin ye gay we this young man They will say I ha bat lost ye. 294A.8 ‘O had yer toung, my father dear, For a’ that winne brake me; For I will gaa we this young man, Since it’s his will to take me.’ 294A.9 ‘Follou me nou, Liss,’ he says, ‘An follou me throu Farie, An reap the boddom of my poket, An ye’ll gett tempeng chess of farie.’ 294A.10 ‘Wea matt worth yer well-fared face, Alas that ever I saa ye! The first an thing that ever ye gaa to me Was the tempen chess of farie.’ 294A.11 Dugall Quin read doun the toun, Upon Dumfarling’s horses, An Lisie Meanes folloued him, For a’ her father’s forces. 294A.12 ‘Follou me nou, Lisie,’ he says, ‘An follou me our Boggie; I ill make ye lady of ning mills, An lady of bonny Garlog .’ 294A.13 She has folloued her trou-love [An folloued him] our Boggie, An she has marred Dugall Quin, An lives belou Strathbogy.

295A: The Brown Girl

 
 295A.1	 ‘I am as brown as brown can be,
 	 My eyes as black as a sloe;
 	 I am as brisk as a nightingale,
 	 And as wilde as any doe.
 295A.2	 ‘My love has sent me a love-letter,
 	 Not far from yonder town,
 	 That he could not fancy me,
 	 Because I was so brown.
 295A.3	 ‘I sent him his letter back again,
 	 For his love I valu’d not,
 	 Whether that he could fancy me
 	 Or whether he could not.
 295A.4	 ‘He sent me his letter back again,
 	 That he lay dangerous sick,
 	 That I might then go speedily
 	 To give him up his faith.’
 295A.5	 Now you shall hear what love she had
 	 Then for this love-sick man;
 	 She was a whole long summer’s day
 	 In a mile a going on.
 295A.6	 When she came to her love’s bed-side,
 	 Where he lay dangerous sick,
 	 She could not for laughing stand
 	 Upright upon her feet.
 295A.7	 She had a white wand all in her hand,
 	 And smoothd it all on his breast;
 	 ‘In faith and troth come pardon me,
 	 I hope your soul’s at rest.
 295A.8	 ‘I’ll do as much for my true-love
 	 As other maidens may;
 	 I’ll dance and sing on my love’s grave
 	 A whole twelvemonth and a day.’

295B: The Brown Girl

295B.1 ‘I am as brown as brown can be, And my eyes as black as sloe; I am as brisk as brisk can be, And wild as forest doe. 295B.2 ‘My love he was so high and proud, His fortune too so high, He for another fair pretty maid Me left and passed me by. 295B.3 ‘Me did he send a love-letter, He sent it from the town, Saying no more he loved me, For that I was so brown. 295B.4 ‘I sent his letter back again, Saying his love I valued not, Whether that he would fancy me, Whether that he would not. 295B.5 ‘When that six months were overpassd, Were overpassd and gone, Then did my lover, once so bold, Lie on his bed and groan. 295B.6 ‘When that six months were overpassd, Were gone and overpassd, O then my lover, once so bold, With love was sick at last. 295B.7 ‘First sent he for the doctor-man: ‘You, doctor, me must cure; The pains that now do torture me I can not long endure.’ 295B.8 ‘Next did he send from out the town, O next did send for me; He sent for me, the brown, brown girl Who once his wife should be. 295B.9 ‘O neer a bit the doctor-man His sufferings could relieve; O never an one but the brown, brown girl Who could his life reprieve.’ 295B.10 Now you shall hear what love she had For this poor love-sick man, How all one day, a summer’s day, She walked and never ran. 295B.11 When that she came to his bedside, Where he lay sick and weak, O then for laughing she could not stand Upright upon her feet. 295B.12 ‘You flouted me, you scouted me, And many another one; Now the reward is come at last, For all that you have done.’ 295B.13 The rings she took from off her hands, The rings by two and three: ‘O take, O take these golden rings, By them remember me.’ 295B.14 She had a white wand in her hand, She strake him on the breast: ‘My faith and troth I give back to thee, So may thy soul have rest.’ 295B.15 ‘Prithee,’ said he, ’Forget, forget, Prithee forget, forgive; O grant me yet a little space, That I may be well and live.’ 295B.16 ‘O never will I forget, forgive, So long as I have breath; I’ll dance above your green, green grave Where you do lie beneath.’

296A: Walter Lesly

296A.1 On the second of October, a Monday at noon, In came Walter Lesly, to see his proper one; He sent a chair down by her side, and gently sat her by, Says, Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye? 296A.2 He’s taen a glass into his hand, inviting her to drink, But little knew she his meaning, or what the rogue did think; Nor what the rogue did think, to steal the maid away; ‘Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’ 296A.3 When they had taen a glass or two, and all were making merry, In came Geordy Lesly, and forth he did her carry; Then upon high horseback sae hard’s he did her tye, ‘Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’ 296A.4 Her mother she came to the door, the saut tears on her cheek, She coudna see her daughter, it was for dust and reek; It was for dust and reek, the swords they glancd sae high; ‘And will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’ 296A.5 When they came to the ale-house, the people there were busy; A bridal-bed it was well made, and supper well made ready; When the supper down was set, baith plum-pudding and pie, ‘And will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye?’ 296A.6 When they had eaten and well drunken, and a’ man bound for bed, The laddie and the lassie in ae chamber were laid; He quickly stript her to the smock, and gently laid her bye, Says, Will ye go to Conland, this winter-time to lye? 296A.7 But Walter being weary, he fell fast asleep, And then the lassie thought it fit to start up till her feet; To start up till her feet, and her petticoats to tye, ‘We’ll go no more to Conland, the winter-time to lye.’ 296A.8 Then over moss and over muir sae cleverly she ran, And over hill and over dale, without stockings or shoon; The men pursued her full fast, wi mony shout and cry, Says, Will ye go to Conland, the winter-time to lye. 296A.9 ‘Wae to the dubs o Duffus land, that eer they were sae deep; They’ve trachled a’ our horsemen and gart our captain sleep; And gart our captain sleep, and the lassie win away, And she’ll go no more to Conland, the winter-time to lye.’ 296A.10 ‘I’d rather be in Duffus land, selling at the ale, Before I was wi Lesly, for a’ his auld meal; For a’ his auld meal, and sae mony comes to buy; I’ll go no more to Conland the winter-time to lye. 296A.11 ‘I’d rather be in Duffus land, draggin at the ware, Before I was wi Lesly, for a’ his yellow hair; For a’ his yellow hair, and sae well’s he can it tye; I’ll go no more to Conland, this winter-time to lye.’ 296A.12 It was not for her beauty, nor yet her gentle bluid, But for her mither’s dollars, of them he had great need; Of them he had great need, now he maun do them by, For she’ll go no more to Conland, this winter-time to lye.

297A: Earl Rothes

297A.1 ‘O EARL Rothes, an thou wert mine, And I were to be thy ladie, I wad drink at the beer, and tipple at the wine, And be my bottle with any.’ 297A.2 ‘Hold thy tongue, sister Ann,’ he says, ‘Thy words they are too many; What wad ye do wi sae noble a lord, When he has so noble a ladie? 297A.3 ‘O I’ll pay you your tocher, Lady Ann, Both in gear and money, If ye’ll forsake Earl Rothes’s companie, And mind that he has a ladie.’ 297A.4 ‘I do not value your gold,’ she says, ‘Your gear it’s no sae readie; I’ll neer forsake Earl Rothes’s companie, And I don’t gie a fig for his ladie.’ 297A.5 ‘I’ll keep ye i the caslte, Lady Ann, O servants ye shall hae monie; I’ll keep ye till ye’re safely brocht to bed, And I’ll mak you a marquis’s ladie.’ 297A.6 ‘I do not value your castle,’ she says, ‘Your servants are no sae readie; Earl Rothes will keep me till I’m brocht to bed, And he’ll mak me a marquis’s ladie.’ 297A.7 ‘Woe be to thee, Earl Rothes,’ he says, ‘And the mark o the judge be upon thee, For the using o this poor thing sae, For the using my sister so badly. 297A.8 ‘When I’m come to the years of a man, And able a sword to carry, I’ll thrust it thro Earl Rothes’ bodie For the using my sister sae basely. 297A.9 ‘Fare thee well, Lady Ann,’ he says, ‘No longer will I tarry; You and I will never meet again, Till we meet at the bonny town o Torry.’

298A: Young Peggy

298A.1 ‘O WHARE hae ye been, Peggy? O whare hae ye been?’ ‘I the garden amang the gilly-flowrs, Atween twal hours and een.’ 298A.2 ‘Ye’ve na been there your leen, Peggy, Ye’ve na been there your leen; Your father saw you in Jamie’s arms, Atween twal hours and een.’ 298A.3 ‘Tho my father saw me in Jamie’s arms, He’ll see me there again; For I will sleep in Jamie’s arms When his grave’s growin green.’ 298A.4 ‘Your Jamie is a rogue, Peggy, Your Jamie is a loun, For trysting out our ae dochter, And her sae very young.’ 298A.5 ‘Lay no the wyte on Jamie, mither, The blame a’ lies on me; For I will sleep in Jamie’s arms When your een winna see.’ 298A.6 Now she has to her ain bouer gane; He was waiting there him leen: ‘I’m blythe to see ye, Jamie, here, For we maunna meet again.’ 298A.7 She’s tane the wine-glass in her hand, Pourd out the wine sae clear; Says, Here’s your health and mine, Jamie, And we maun meet na mair. 298A.8 She has tane him in her arms twa, And gien him kisses five; Says, Here’s your health and mine, Jamie, I wish weel mote ye thrive. 298A.9 ‘Your father has a bonnie cock, Divides the nicht and day, And at the middle watch o the nicht In greenwud ye’ll meet me.’ 298A.10 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, And a’ men boun for bed, She’s kilted up her green claithing, And met Jamie in the wud. 298A.11 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, About the hour o twa, It’s up bespak her auld father, Says, Peggy is awa! 298A.12 ‘Ga saddle to me the black, the black, Ga saddle to me the grey;’ But ere they wan to the tap o the hill The wedding was a’ bye.

299A: Trooper and Maid

299A.1 One evening as a maid did walk, The moon was shining clearly, She heard a trooper at the gates, She thought it was her dearie. She’s taen his horse then by the head, And led him to the stable, And gien to him baith corn and hay, To eat what he was able. Bonny lass, gin I come near you, Bonny lass, gin I come near you, I’ll gar a’ your ribbons reel, Bonny lass, or eer I lea you. 299A.2 She’s taen the trooper by the hand, And led him to the table, And furnishd him wi bread and cheese, To eat what he was able. She’s taen the wine-glass in her hand, Poured out the wine sae clearly; ‘Here is your health an mine,’ she cried, ‘And ye’re welcome hame, my deary! 299A.3 ‘A glass o wine for gentlemen, And bonny lads for lasses, And bread and cheese for cavaliers, And corn and hay for asses.’ Then she went but and made his bed, She made it like a lady, And she coost aff her mankie gown, Says, Laddie, are you ready? 299A.4 Then he coost aff his big watch-coat, But and his silken beaver, A pair o pistols frae his side, And he lay down beside her. ‘Bonny lassie, I am wi you now, Bonny lassie I am wi you, But I’ll gar a’ your ribbons reel, Bonny lassie, ere I lea you.’ 299A.5 The trumpet sounds thro Birldale, Says, Men and horse, make ready; The drums do beat at Staneman hill, ‘Lads, leave your mam and daddie.’ The fifes did play at Cromley banks, ‘Lads, leave the lewes o Fyvie;’ And then the trooper he got up, Says, Lassie, I must lea you. 299A.6 ‘Bonny lassie, I maun lea you now, Bonny lassie, I maun lea you; But if ever I come this road again, I will come in and see you.’ 299A.7 She’s taen her gown out-ower her arms, And followed him to Stirling, And aye the trooper he did say, O turn ye back, my darling. ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When rashin rinds grow gay gowd rings, I winna langer tarry.’ 299A.8 ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When heather-knaps grow siller taps, I winna langer tarry.’ ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When heather-cows grow owsen-bows, I winna langer tarry.’ 299A.9 ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells, I winna langer tarry.’ ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When apple-trees grow in the seas, I winna langer tarry.’ 299A.10 ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When fishes fly, and seas gang dry, I winna langer tarry.’ ‘O when will we twa meet again? Or when will you me marry?’ ‘When frost and snaw shall warm us a’, I winna langer tarry.’ 299A.11 ‘Yestreen I was my daddie’s dow, But an my mamy’s dawtie; This night I gang wi bairn to you, Wae’s me that I eer saw thee!’ ‘Yestreen ye were your daddie’s dow, But an your mammie’s dawtie; But gin ye gang wi bairn to me, Ye may rue that eer ye saw me. 299A.12 ‘O turn back, my bonny lass, And turn back, my dearie; For the Highland hills are ill to climb, And the bluidy swords woud fear ye.’

299B: Trooper and Maid

299B.1 There cam a trooper frae the West, And of riding he was weary; He rappit at and clappit at, In calling for his dearie. By chance the maid was in the close, The moon was shining clearly, She opened the gates and let him in, Says, Ye’re welcome hame, my dearie. 299B.2 She took the horse by the bridle-reins And led him to the stable; She gave him corn and hay to eat, As much as he was able. She up the stair and made the bed, She made it fit for a lady, Then she coost aff her petticoat, Said, Trooper, are ye ready? 299B.3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘There’s bread and cheese for musqueteers, And corn and hay for hor[s]es, Sack and sugar for auld wives, And lads for bonnie lasses.’ 299B.4 He coost aff his gude buff coat, His boots, likewise his beaver, He drew his rapier frae his side, And streekit him down beside her. ‘Bonnie lass, I trew I’m near the[e] now, Bonnie lass, I trew I’m near thee, And I’ll gar a’ thy ribbons reel, Bonnie lassie, or I lea thee.’ 299B.5 They had but spoken little a while Till of speaking they were weary; They sleeped together in each other’s arms Till the sun was shining clearly. The very first sound the trumpet gave Was, Troopers, are ye ready? Away you must to London town, Or else for Londonderry. 299B.6 She took the bottle in her hand, The glass into the other, She filled it up with blood-red wine, Until it ran quite over. She drank a health to her love on the stair, Saying, When shall we two marry? Or when shall we two meet again, On purpose for to marry? 299B.7 ‘O when shall we two meet again? Or when shall we two marry?’ ‘Whem cockle-shells grow siller bells; No longer must I tarry.’

299C: Trooper and Maid

 
 299C.1	 THERE cam a trooper frae the west,
 	 And he’s ridden till his deary;
 	 ‘It’s open and lat me in,’ he says,
 	 For I am wet and weary.’
 	 * * * * * * *
 299C.2	 ‘O whan sall we be married, love?
 	 O whan sall we be married?’
 	 ‘Whan heather-cows turn owsen-bows,
 	 It’s then that we’ll be married.’
 299C.3	 ‘O whan sall we be married, love?
 	 O when sall we be married?’
 	 ‘When cockle-shells turn siller bells,
 	 It’s then that we’ll be married.’
 299C.4	 . . . . . . . .
 	 . . . . . . . .
 	 ‘Whan the sun and moon dance on the green,
 	 It’s then that we’ll be married.’

299[D]: Trooper and Maid

299[D].1 The tropper lad cam to oor gate, And oh! but he was weary, He rapped at and chapped at, Syne called for his kind deary. 299[D.2] The bonnie lass being in the close, The moon was shining clearly,-+- ‘Ye’r welcome here, my trooper lad, Ye’r welcome, my kind deary.’ 299[D.3] She’s taen his horse by the bridle-reins, And led him to the stable, She’s gien him corn and hay to eat, As much as he was able. 299[D.4] She’s taen the knight by the milk-white hand, And led him to her chamber, And gied him bread and cheese to eat, And wine to drink his pleasure. 299[D.5] ‘Bonnie lassie, I’ll lie near ye noo, Bonnie lassie, I’ll lie near ye, An I’ll gar a’ your ribbons reel In the morning or I leave ye.’ 299[D.6] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And she put off her wee white smock, Crying, ‘Laddie, are ye ready?’ * * * * * * * * 299[D.7] The first time that the trumpet played Was, Up, up and awa, man! The next time that the trumpet played Was, The morn’s the battle-day, man! 299[D.8] ‘Bonnie lassie, I maun leave ye noo, Bonne lassie, I maun leave ye; But, if e’er I come this way again I will ca in an see ye.’ 299[D.9] Bread and cheese for gentlemen, An corn and hay for horses; Pipes and tobacco for auld wives, And bonnie lads for lasses. 299[D.10] ‘When will us twa meet again? When will we meet and marry?’ ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells, Nae langer, love, we’ll tarry.’ 299[D.11] So he’s taen his auld grey cloak about him noo, An he’s ower the mountains fairly, Crying, ‘Fare ye weel, my bonnie lass, Farewell, my ain kind deary.’

300A: Blancheflour and Jellyflorice

300A.1 THERE was a maid, richly arrayd, In robes were rare to see, For seven years and something mair She servd a gay ladie. 300A.2 But being fond o a higher place, In service she thought lang; She took her mantle her about, Her coffer by the band. 300A.3 And as she walkd by the shore-side, As blythe’s a bird on tree, Yet still she gaz’d her round about, To see what she could see. 300A.4 At last she spied a little castle, That stood near by the sea; She spied it far and drew it near, To that castle went she. 300A.5 And when she came to that castle She tirled at the pin, And ready stood a little wee boy To lat this fair maid in. 300A.6 ‘O who’s the owner of this place, O porter-boy, tell me;’ ‘This place belongs unto a queen O birth and high degree.’ 300A.7 She put her hand in her pocket, And gae him shillings three: ‘O porter, bear my message well Unto the queen frae me.’ 300A.8 The porter’s gane before the queen, Fell low down on his knee: ‘Win up, win up, my porter-boy, What makes this courtesie?’ 300A.9 ‘I hae been porter at your yetts, My dame, these years full three, But see a ladie at your yetts The fairest my eyes did see.’ 300A.10 ‘Cast up my yetts baith wide and braid, Lat her come in to me, And I’ll know by her courtesie Lord’s daughter if she be.’ 300A.11 When she came in before the queen, Fell low down on her knee: ‘Service frae you, my dame the queen, I pray you grant it me.’ 300A.12 ‘If that service ye now do want, What station will ye be? Can ye card wool, or spin, fair maid, Or milk the cows to me?’ 300A.13 ‘No, I can neither card nor spin, Nor cows I canno milk, But sit into a lady’s bower And sew the seams o silk.’ 300A.14 ‘What is your name, ye comely dame? Pray tell this unto me:’ ‘O Blancheflour, that is my name, Born in a strange countrie.’ 300A.15 ‘O keep ye well frae Jellyflorice-+--+- My ain dear son is he-+--+- When other ladies get a gift, O that ye shall get three.’ 300A.16 It wasna tald into the bower Till it went thro the ha, That Jellyflorice and Blancheflour Were grown ower great witha. 300A.17 When the queen’s maids their visits paid, Upo the gude Yule-day, When other ladies got horse to ride, She boud take foot and gae. 300A.18 The queen she calld her stable-groom, To come to her right seen; Says, Ye’ll take out yon wild waith steed And bring him to the green. 300A.19 ‘Ye’ll take the bridle frae his head, The lighters frae his een; Ere she ride three times roun the cross, Her weel-days will be dune.’ 300A.20 Jellyflorice his true-love spy’d As she rade roun the cross, And thrice he kissd her lovely lips, And took her frae her horse. 300A.21 ‘Gang to your bower, my lily-flower, For a’ my mother’s spite; There’s nae other amang her maids, In whom I take delight. 300A.22 ‘Ye are my jewel, and only ane, Nane ’s do you injury; For ere this-day-month come and gang My wedded wife ye’se be.’

301A: The Queen of Scotland

301A.1 ‘O TROY MUIR, my lily-flower, An asking I’ll ask thee; Will ye come to my bigley bower And drink the wine wi me?’ 301A.2 ‘My dame, this is too much honour You have conferrd on me; I’m sure it’s mair than I’ve deservd Frae sic a one as thee.’ 301A.3 ‘In Reekie’s towers I hae a bower, And pictures round it set; There is a bed that is well made, Where you and I shall sleep.’ 301A.4 ‘O God forbid,’ this youth then said, ‘That ever I drie sic blame As ever to touch the queen’s bodie, Altho the king’s frae hame.’ 301A.5 When that he had these words spoken, She secretly did say, Some evil I shall work this man, Before that it be day. 301A.6 Whan a’ her maids were gane to bed, And knights were gane frae hame, She calld upon young Troy Muir, To put fire in her room. 301A.7 ‘An asking, asking, Troy Muir, An asking ye’ll grant me;’ ‘O, if it be a lawful thing, My dame it’s granted be.’ 301A.8 ‘There is a stane in yon garden, Nae ane lifts it for me; But if that ye woud lift the same, A brave man I’ll ca thee. 301A.9 ‘Under yon stane there is a pit, Most dreary for to see, And in it there’s as much red gowd As buy a dukedom to thee.’ 301A.10 ‘O if I had ae sleep in bed, And saw the morning sun, As soon ’s I rise and see the skies, Your will it shall be done.’ 301A.11 When birds did sing, and sun did rise, And sweetly sang the lark, Troy Muir to the garden went, To work this dreary wark. 301A.12 He’s taen the stane then by a ring, And lifted manfullie; A serpent that lang wanted meat Round Troy Muir’s middle did flee. 301A.13 ‘How shall I get rid o this foul beast? It’s by it I must dee; I never thought the queen, my friend, Woud work this mischief to me.’ 301A.14 But by there came a weelfaird may, As Troy Muir did tauk, The serpent’s furious rage to lay, Cut aff her fair white pap. 301A.15 As soon as she the same had done, Young Troy Muir was set free, And in ane hour the wound was heald, That nae mair pain had she. 301A.16 Says Troy Muir, My lily-flower, Ye hae releas d me; But before I see another day, My wedded wife ye’se be. 301A.17 He married her on that same day, Brought her to his ain hame; A lovely son to him she bare, When full nine months were gane. 301A.18 As heaven was pleasd, in a short time, To ease her first sad pain, Sae was it pleasd, when she’d a son, To hae a pap again.

302A: Young Bearwell

302A.1 WHEN two lovers love each other well, Great sin it were them to twinn; And this I speak from Young Bearwell; He loved a lady young, The Mayor’s daughter of Birktoun-brae, That lovely, leesome thing. 302A.2 One day when she was looking out, When washing her milk-white hands, That she beheld him Young Bearwell, As he came in the sands. 302A.3 Says, Wae’s me for you, Young Bearwell, Such tales of you are tauld; They’ll cause you sail the salt sea so far As beyond Yorkisfauld. 302A.4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘O shall I bide in good greenwood, Or stay in bower with thee?’ 302A.5 ‘The leaves are thick in good greenwood, Would hold you from the rain; And if you stay in bower with me You will be taken and slain. 302A.6 ‘But I caused build a ship for you Upon Saint Innocent’s day; I’ll bid Saint Innocent be your guide, And Our Lady, that meikle may. You are a lady’s first true-love, God carry you well away!’ 302A.7 Then he sailed east, and he sailed west, By many a comely strand; At length a puff of northern wind Did blow him to the land. 302A.8 When he did see the king and court, Were playing at the ba; Gave him a harp into his hand, Says, Stay, Bearwell, and play. 302A.9 had not been in the king’s court A twelvemonth and a day, Till there came lairds and lords anew To court that lady gay. 302A.10 They wooed her with brooch and ring, They nothing could keep back; The very charters of their lands Into her hands they pat. 302A.11 She’s done her down to Heyvalin, With the light of the moon; Says, Will ye do this deed for me, And will ye do it soon? 302A.12 ‘Will ye go seek him Young Bearwell, On seas wherever he be? And if I live and bruik my life Rewarded ye shall be.’ 302A.13 ‘Alas, I am too young a skipper, So far to sail the faem; Bit if I live and bruik my life I’ll strive to bring him hame.’ 302A.14 So he has saild east and then saild west, By many a comely strand, Till there came a blast of northern wind And blew him to the land. 302A.15 And there the king and all his court Were playing at the ba; Gave him a harp into his hand, Says, Stay, Heyvalin, and play. 302A.16 He has tane up the harp in hand, And unto play went he, And Young Bearwell was the first man In all that companie. * * * * * * *

303A: The Holy Nunnery

303A.1 FAIR ANNIE had a costly bower, Well built wi lime and stane, And Willie came to visit her, Wit the light o the meen. 303A.2 When he came to Annie’s bower-door, He tirled at the pin: ‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Fair Annie, Ye’ll open, lat me come in.’ 303A.3 ‘O never a fit,’ says Fair Annie, ‘Till I your errand ken;’ ‘My father’s vowed a vow, Annie, I’ll tell you when I’m in. 303A.4 ‘My father’s vowed a rash vow, I darena marry thee; My mither’s vowed anither vow, My bride ye’se never be.’ 303A.5 ‘If ye had tauld me that, Willie, When we began to woo, There was naithing in this warld wide Shoud drawn my love to you. 303A.6 ‘A nun, a nun,’ said Fair Annie, ‘A nun will I be then;’ ‘A priest, a priest,’ said Sweet Willie, ‘A priest will I be syne.’ 303A.7 She is gane to her father, For mither she had nane; And she is on to her father, To see if she’d be a nun. 303A.8 ‘An asking, asking, father dear, An asking ye’ll grant me; That’s to get to the holy nunnery, And there to live or die.’ 303A.9 ‘Your asking’s nae sae great, daughter, But granted it shall be; For ye’se won to the holy nunnery, There to live or die.’ 303A.10 Then they gaed on, and farther on, Till they came to the yate; And there they spied a maiden porter, Wi gowd upon her hat. 303A.11 ‘An asking, asking, maiden porter, An asking ye’ll grant me; If I’ll won to the holy nunnery, There to live or die.’ 303A.12 ‘Your asking’s nae sae great, lady, But granted it shall be; For ye’se won to the holy nunnery, There to live or die. 303A.13 ‘But ye maun vow a vow, lady, Before that ye seek in; Never to kiss a young man’s mouth That goes upon the grun. 303A.14 ‘And ye must vow anither vow, Severely ye must work; The well-warst vow that ye’re to vow, Is never to gang to kirk.’ 303A.15 ‘I will vow a vow,’ she said, ‘Before that I seek in; I neer shall kiss a young man’s mouth That goes upon the grun. 303A.16 ‘And I will vow anither vow, Severly I will work; The well-warst vow that I’m to vow Is never to gang to kirk.’ 303A.17 For seven years now Fair Annie, In the holy nunnery lay she, And seven years Sweet Willie lay, In languish like to die. 303A.18 ‘Is there nae duke no lord’s daughter, My son, can comfort thee, And save thee frae the gates o death? Is there nae remedie?’ 303A.19 ‘There is nae duke nor lord’s daughter, Mother, can cofort me, Except it be my love, Annie, In the holy nunnery lies she.’ 303A.20 They’ve dressd Sweet Willie up in silk, Wi gowd his gown did shine, And nane coud ken by his pale face But he was a lady fine. 303A.21 So they gaed on, and farther on, Till they came to the yate, And there they spied a maiden porter, Wi gowd upon her hat. 303A.22 ‘An asking, an asking, maiden porter, An asking ye’ll grant me; For to win in to the holy nunnery, Fair Annie for to see.’ 303A.23 ‘Your asking’s nae sae great, lady, But granted it shall be; Ye’se won into the holy nunnery, Fair Annie for to see. 303A.24 ‘Be she duke’s or lord’s daughter, It’s lang sin she came here:’ Fair Annie kent her true love’s face; Says, Come up, my sister dear. 303A.25 Sweet Willie went to kiss her lips, As he had wont to do; But she softly whispered him, I darena this avow.

304A: Young Ronald

304A.1 IT fell upon the Lammas time, When flowers were fresh and green, And craig and cleugh was covered ower With cloathing that was clean. 304A.2 ’Twas at that time a noble squire, Sprung from an ancient line, Laid his love on a lady fair, The king’s daughter o Linne. 304A.3 When cocks did craw, and day did daw, And mint in meadows sprang, Young Ronald and his little wee boy They rode the way alang. 304A.4 So they rode on, and farther on, To yonder pleasant green, And there he spied that lady fair, In her garden alane. 304A.5 These two together lang they stood, And love’s tale there they taul; The glancing o her fair color Did Ronald’s own impale. 304A.6 He lifted ’s hat, and thus he spake; O pity have on me! For I could pledge what is my right, All for the sake of thee. 304A.7 ‘Ye’re young amo your mirth, kind sir, And fair o your dull hours; There’s nae a lady in a’ London But might be your paramour. 304A.8 ‘But I’m too young to wed, kind sir, You must not take it ill; Whate’er my father bids me do, I maun be at his will.’ 304A.9 He kissd her then and took his leave, His heart was all in pride, And he is on to Windsor gone, And his boy by his side. 304A.10 And when he unto Windsor came, And lighted on the green, There he spied his mother dear, Was walking there alane. 304A.11 ‘Where have ye been, my son, Ronald, From gude school-house, this day?’ ‘I hae been at Linne, mother, Seeing yon bonny may.’ 304A.12 ‘O wae’s me for you now, Ronald, For she will not you hae; For mony a knight and bauld baron She’s nickd them a’ wi nae.’ 304A.13 Young Ronald’s done him to his bower, And he took bed and lay; Nae woman could come in his sight, For the thoughts o this well-fard may. 304A.14 Then in it came his father dear, Well belted in a brand; The tears ran frae his twa gray eyes, All for his lovely son. 304A.15 Then Ronald calld his stable-groom To come right speedilie; Says, Ye’ll gang to yon stable, boy, And saddle a steed for me. 304A.16 ‘His saddle o the guid red gowd, His bits be o the steel, His bridle o a glittering hue; See that ye saddle him weel. 304A.17 ‘For I’ve heard greeters at your school-house, Near thirty in a day; But for to hear an auld man greet, It passes bairns’ play.’ 304A.18 When cocks did craw, and day did daw, And mint in meadows sprang, Young Ronald and his little wee boy The way they rode alang. 304A.19 So they rode on, and further on, To younder pleasant green, And there they saw that lady fair, In her garden alane. 304A.20 And twenty times before he ceasd He kissd her lips sae clear, And said, Dear lady, for your sake, I’ll fight fell lang and sair. 304A.21 ‘Full haste, nae speed, for me, kind sir,’ Replied the lady clear; ‘Far better bucklings ye maun bide Or ye gain my love by weir. 304A.22 ‘King Honour is my father’s name, The morn to war maun fare, And that’s to fight a proud giant, That’s wrought him muckle care. 304A.23 ‘Along wi him he is to take Baith noble knights and squires, I woud wish you as well-dressd a knight As ony will be there. 304A.24 ‘And I’ll gie you a thousand crowns, To part amang your men; A robe upon your ain body, Weel sewd wi my ain hand. 304A.25 ‘Likewise a ring, a royal thing, The virtue it is gude; If ony o your men be hurt, It soon will stem their blude. 304A.26 ‘Another ring, a royal thing, Whose virtue is well known; As lang’s this ring your body’s on, Your bluid shall neer be drawn.’ 304A.27 He kissd her then, and took his leave, His heart was all in pride, And he is on to Windsor gone, And his boy by his side. 304A.28 And when he unto Windsor came, And lighted on the green, There he saw his auld father, Was walking him alane. 304A.29 ‘Where hae ye been, my son, Ronald, From gude school-house the day?’ ‘O I hae been at Linne, father, Seeking yon bonny may.’ 304A.30 ‘O wae’s me for you now, Ronald, For she will not you hae; Mony a knight and bauld baron She’s nickd them a’ wi nay.’ 304A.31 ‘O had your tongue, my father dear, Lat a’ your folly be; The last words that I wi her spake, Her love was granted me. 304A.32 ‘King Honour is her father’s name, The morn to war maun fare, And that’s to fight a proud giant, That’s wrought him muckle care. 304A.33 ‘Alang wi him he means to take Baith knights and noble squires; And she wishes me as well drest a knight As ony will be there. 304A.34 ‘And she’s gaen me a thousand crowns, To part amang my men; A robe upon my ain body, Weel sewd wi her ain hand. 304A.35 ‘Likewise a ring, a royal thing, The virtue it is gude; If ony o my men be hurt, It soon will stem their blude. 304A.36 ‘Another ring, a royal thing, Whose virtue is unknown; As lang’s this ring my body’s on, My blude will neer be drawn.’ 304A.37 ‘If that be true, my son, Ronald, That ye hae tauld to me, I’ll gie to you an hundred men, To bear you companie. 304A.38 ‘Besides as muckle gude harness As carry them on the lee; It is a company gude enough For sic a squire as thee.’ 304A.39 When cocks did craw, and day did daw, And mint in meadows spread, Young Ronald and his merry young men Were ready for to ride. 304A.40 So they rode on, and farther on, To yonder pleasant green, And there they spied that lady fair, In her garden, sair mourning. 304A.41 These twa together lang they stood, And love’s tale there they taul, Till her father and his merry young men Ahd ridden seven mile. 304A.42 He kissd her then, and took his leave, His heart was all in pride, And then he sprang alang the road As sparks do frae the gleed. 304A.43 Then to his great steed he set spur; He being swift o feet, They soon arrived on the plain, Where all the rest did meet. 304A.44 Then flew the foul thief frae the west, His make was never seen; He had three heads upon ae hause, Three heads on ae breast-bane. 304A.45 He bauldly stept up to the king, Seiz’d ’s steed in his right hand; Says, Here I am, a valiant man, Fight me now if ye can. 304A.46 ‘Where is the man in a’ my train Will take this deed in hand? And he shall hae my daughter dear, And third part o my land.’ 304A.47 ‘O here am I,’ said young Ronald, ‘Will take the deed in hand; And ye’ll gie me your daughter dear, I’ll seek nane o your land.’ 304A.48 ‘I woudna for my life, Ronald, This day I left you here; Remember ye yon lady gay For you shed mony a tear.’ 304A.49 Fan he did mind on that lady That he left him behind, He hadna mair fear to fight Nor a lion frae a chain. 304A.50 Then he cut aff the giant’s heads Wi ae sweep o his hand, Gaed hame and married that lady, And heird her father’s land.

305A: The Outlaw Murray

305A.1 ETRICK FOREST is a fair foreste, In it grows manie a semelie trie; The hart, the hynd, the dae, the rae, And of a’ [wylde] beastis grete plentie. 305A.2 There’s a castell biggit with lime and stane, O gin it stands not pleasantlie! In the fore front o that castell fair Twa unicorns are bra to see. 305A.3 There’s the picture of a knight and a ladye bright, And the grene hollin aboon their brie; There an Outlaw keepis five hundred men, He keepis a royalle companie. 305A.4 His merrie men are in [ae] liverie clad, Of the Lincoln grene so fair to see; He and his ladie in purple clad, O if they live not royallie! 305A.5 Word is gane to our nobell king, In Edinburgh where that he lay, That there was an Outlaw in Etterick forest Counted him nought and all his courtrie gay. 305A.6 ‘I mak a vowe,’ then the goode king said, ‘Unto the man that dear bought me, I’se either be king of Etrick forest, Or king of Scotland that Outlaw’s bee.’ 305A.7 Then spak the erle hight Hamilton, And to the noble king said he; My sovereign prince, sum counsell tak, First of your nobles, syne of me. 305A.8 ‘I redd you send yon bra Outlaw till And see gif your man cum will he; Desire him cum and be your man, And hald of you yon forest frie. 305A.9 ‘And gif he refuses to do that, We’ll conquess both his lands and he, Or else we’ll throw his castell down, And mak a widowe of his gaye ladie.’ 305A.10 The king called on a gentleman, James Boyd, Erle of Arran, his brother was he; When James he came before the king He fell before him on his knie. 305A.11 ‘Welcum James Boyd,’ said our nobil king, ‘A message ye maun gang for me; Ye maun hie to Etrick forrest, To yon Outlaw, where dwelleth he. 305A.12 ‘Ask hym of quhom he haldis his lands, Or, man, wha may his master be; Desyre him come and be my man, And hald of me yon forrest frie. 305A.13 ‘To Edinburgh to cum and gang His safe-warrand I sall be; And, gif he refuses to do that, We’ll conquess baith his lands and he. 305A.14 ‘Thou mayst vow I’ll cast his castell doun, And mak a widow of his gay ladie; I’ll hang his merrie men pair by pair In ony frith where I may them see.’ 305A.15 James Boyd took his leave of the nobill king, To Etrick forrest fair came he; Down Birkendale brae when that he cam, He saw the fair forest with his ee. 305A.16 Baith dae and rae and hart and hynd, And of all wylde beastis grete plentie; He heard the bows that bauldly ring, And arrows whidderand near him by. 305A.17 Of the fair castell he got a sight, The like he nere saw with his ee; On the fore front of that castell Twa unicorns were bra to see. 305A.18 The picture of a knight and a ladie bright, And the grene hollin aboon their brie; Thereat he spy’d five hundred men, Shuting with bows upon the lee. 305A.19 They a’ were in ae liverie clad, Of the Lincoln grene, sae fair to see; The knight and his ladye in purple clad; O gif they lived right royallie! Therefore he kend he was master-man, And served him in his ain degree. 305A.20 ‘God mot thee save, brave Outlaw Murray, Thy ladie and a’ they chivalrie!’ ‘Marry, thou’s wellcum, gentleman, Sum king’s-messenger thou seems to be.’ 305A.21 ‘The King of Scotland sent me hier, And, gude Outlaw, I’m sent to thee; I wad wat of whom ye hald your lands, Or, man, wha may thy master be’ 305A.22 ‘Thir landis are mine,’ the Outlaw said, ‘I own na king in Christentie; Frae Soudron I this forest wan, When the king nor’s knights were not to see.’ 305A.23 ‘He desires you’l come to Edinburgh, And hald of him this forest frie; And gif you refuse to do this, He’ll conquess both thy landis and thee; He has vowd to cast thy castell down, And make a widow of thy gaye ladie. 305A.24 ‘He’ll hang thy merrie men pair by pair, In ony frith where he may them finde;’ ‘Aye, by my troth,’ the Outlaw said, ‘Then wad I think me far behinde. 305A.25 ‘Eere the king my fair countrie get, This land that’s nativest to me, Mony of his nobils sall be cauld, Their ladies sall be right wearie.’ 305A.26 Then spak his ladye fair of face, She said, Without consent of me That an outlaw shuld come before the king: I am right rad of treasonrie. 305A.27 ‘Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame, For Edinburgh my lord sall never see:’ James tuke his leave of the Outlaw keene, To Edinburgh boun is he. 305A.28 And when he came before the king, He fell before him on his knie: ‘Wellcum, James Boyd,’ said the nobil king, ‘What foreste is Etrick forest frie?’ 305A.29 ‘Etrick forest is the fairest forest That ever man saw with his ee; There’s the dae, the rae, the hart, the hynde, And of all wild beastis great plentie. 305A.30 ‘There’s a prittie castell of lime and stone, O gif it stands not pleasauntlie! There’s on the fore side of that castell Twa unicorns sae bra to see. 305A.31 ‘There’s the picture of a knight and [a] ladie bright, And the grene hollin aboon their brie; There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men, O gif they live not royallie! 305A.32 ‘His merry men in [ae] liverie clad, O the Lincoln grene, so fair to see; He and his ladye in purple clad, O gif they live not royallie! 305A.33 ‘He says yon forest is his ain, He wan it from the Soudronie; Sae as he won it, sae will he keep it, Contrair all kings in Christentie.’ 305A.34 ‘Gar ray my horse,’ said the nobil king, ‘To Etrick [forest] hie will I me;’ Then he gard graith five thousand men, And sent them on for the forest frie. 305A.35 Then word is gane the Outlaw till, In Etrick forest where dwelleth he, That the king was cumand to his cuntrie, To conquess baith his lands and he. 305A.36 ‘I mak a vow,’ the Outlaw said, ‘I mak a vow, and that trulie, Were there but three men to tak my part, Yon king’s cuming full deir suld be.’ 305A.37 Then messengers he called forth, And bade them haste them speedilie: ‘Ane of you go to Halliday, The laird of the Corehead is he. 305A.38 ‘He certain is my sister’s son, Bid him cum quick and succour me; Tell Halliday with thee to cum, And shaw him a’ the veritie.’ 305A.39 ‘What news? what news,’ said Halliday, ‘Man, frae thy master unto me?’ ‘Not as ye wad; seeking your aid; The king’s his mortal enemie.’ 305A.40 ‘Aye, by my troth,’ quoth Halliday, ‘Even for that it repenteth me; For, gif he lose fair Ettrick forest, He’ll take fair Moffatdale frae me. 305A.41 ‘I’ll meet him wi five hundred men, And surely mae, if mae may be:’ [The Outlaw calld a messenger, And bid him hie him speedily.] 305A.42 ‘To Andrew Murray of Cockpool, That man’s a deir cousin to me; Desire him cum and make me aid, With all the power that he may be. 305A.43 ‘The king has vowd to cast my castell down, And mak a widow of my gay ladye; He’ll hang my merry men pair by pair I[n] ony place where he may them see.’ 305A.44 ‘It stands me hard,’ quoth Andrew Murray, ‘Judge if it stands not hard with me, To enter against a king with crown, And put my lands in jeopardie. 305A.45 ‘Yet, gif I cum not on the daye, Surelie at night he sall me see:’ To Sir James Murray, laird of Traquair, A message came right speedilie. 305A.46 ‘What news? what news,’ James Murray said, ‘Man, frae thy master unto me?’ ‘What needs I tell? for well ye ken The king’s his mortal enemie. 305A.47 ‘He desires ye’ll cum and make him aid, With all the powers that ye may be:’ ‘And, by my troth,’ James Murray said, ‘With that Outlaw I’ll live and die. 305A.48 ‘The king has gifted my lands lang syne, It can not be nae war with me;’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305A.49 The king was cumand thro Cadden ford, And fiftene thousand men was he; They saw the forest them before, They thought it awsom for to see. 305A.50 Then spak the erle hight Hamilton, And to the nobil king said he, My sovereign prince, sum counsell take, First at your nobles, syne at me. 305A.51 ‘Desyre him meet you at Penman’s Core, And bring four in his cumpanie; Fyve erles sall gang yoursell before, Gude cause that you suld honord be. 305A.52 ‘And, if he refuses to do that, Wi fire and sword we’ll follow thee; There sall never a Murray after him Have land in Etrick forest frie.’ 305A.53 The king then called a gentleman, Royal-banner-bearer then was he, James Hope Pringle of Torsonse by name; He came and knelit upon his knie. 305A.54 ‘Welcum, James Pringle of Torsonse; Ye man a message gae for me; Ye man gae to yon Outlaw Murray, Surely where bauldly bideth he. 305A.55 ‘Bid him meet me at Penman’s Core, And bring four of his companie; Five erles sall cum wi mysell, Gude reason I suld honord be. 305A.56 ‘And if he refuses to do that, Bid him look for nae gude o me; There sall never a Murray after him Have land in Etric forest frie.’ 305A.57 James came before the Outlaw keene, And served him in his ain degree: ‘Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse, What tidings frae the king to me?’ 305A.58 ‘He bids you meet him at Penman’s Core, And bring four of your companie; Five erles will cum with the king, Nae more in number will he be. 305A.59 ‘And gif you refuse to do that, I freely here upgive with thee, There will never a Murray after thee Have land in Etrick forest frie. 305A.60 ‘He’ll cast your bonny castell down, And make a widow of your gay ladie, He’ll hang your merry men pair by pair In ony place where he may them see.’ 305A.61 ‘It stands me hard,’ the Outlaw said, ‘Judge if it stands not hard with me; I reck not of losing of mysell, But all my offspring after me. 305A.62 ‘Auld Haliday, young Haliday, Ye sall be twa to gang wi me; Andrew Murray and Sir James Murray, We’ll be nae mae in cumpanie.’ 305A.63 When that they came before the king, They fell before him on their knee: ‘Grant mercy, mercy, royal king, Een for his sake who died on tre!’ 305A.64 ‘Sicken-like mercy sall ye have, On gallows ye sall hangit be;’ ‘God forbid!’ quo the Outlaw then, ‘I hope your Grace will better be. 305A.65 ‘These lands of Etrick forest fair, I wan them frae the enemie; Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them, Contrair all kings in Christentie.’ 305A.66 All the nobilis said, the king about, Pitye it were to see him die: ‘Yet graunt me mercye, sovereign prince, Extend your favour unto me! 305A.67 ‘I’ll give you the keys of my castell, With the blessing of my fair ladie; Mak me the sheriff of the forest, And all my offspring after me.’ 305A.68 lt thou give me the keys of thy castell, With the blessing of thy fair ladye? I’ll mak the[e] shiryff of the forest, Surely while upwards grows the trie; If you be not traytour to the king, Forfaulted sall ye never be.’ 305A.69 ‘But, prince, what sall cum o my men? When I go back, traitour they’ll ca me; I had rather lose my life and land, Eer my merry men rebuk d me.’ 305A.70 ll your merry men amend their lives And all their pardouns I grant thee: Now name thy landes whe’ere they be, And here I render them to thee.’ 305A.71 ‘Fair Philiphaugh, prince, is my awin, I biggit it wi lime and stane; The Tinnies and the Hangingshaw, My leige, are native steeds of mine. 305A.72 ’. . . . . . . . . . . . . . I have mony steeds in the forest shaw, But them by name I dinna knaw.’ 305A.73 The keys of the castell he gave the king, With the blessing of his fair ladye; He was made sheryff of Etrick forest, Surely while upward grows the trie; And, if he was not traytour to the king, Forfaulted he suld never be. 305A.74 Wha ever heard, in ony tymes, Sicken an outlaw in his degree Sic favour get before a king As did the Outlaw Murray of the forest frie?

305B: The Outlaw Murray

305B.1 ETTERICK FOREST’s pleasant land, And it grows mony a bonny tree; With buck and doe and a’ wild beast, As castle stands right bonnilie. 305B.2 Yon castle has twa unicorns, The like I never saw wi my ee, The picture of a knight and lady bright, And the green hollin’s aboon her [bree]. 305B.3 Word is gane to Edinbro town . . . . . . . That there’s an Outlaw in Etterick forest That keeps as fine a court as he. 305B.4 The king has sworn a solemn oath, And he has sworn by [the Virgin Mary], He would either be king of Etterick forest, Or king of Scotland the Outlaw should be. 305B.5 He has ca’d up Mr James Boyd, A highland laird I’m sure was he: ‘Ye must gae to Etterick forest And see of wha he hads his land, And wha pays yon men meat and fee.’ 305B.6 He’s tane his leave o the king and court, Een as hard as he may dree; When he came in O’er London edge, He viewed the forest wi his eee. 305B.7 He thought it was as pleasant a land As ever his two eyes did see, But when he came in oer . . ’., They were a’ ranked on Newark lee. 305B.8 O waly, but they were bonny to see! Five hundred men playing at the ba; They were a’ clad in the Lincoln green, And the Outlaw’s sell in taffety. 305B.9 ‘Weel met you save, Outlaw,’ he says, ‘You and your brave companie; The King of Scotland hath sent me here, To see whom on you hold your lands, Or who pays thir men meat and fee.’ 305B.10 The first ae man the answer made, It was the Outlaw he: ‘The lands they are all mine, And I pay thir men meat and fee, And as I wan them so will I lose them, Contrair the kings o Cristendie. 305B.11 ‘I never was a king’s subject, And a king’s subject I’ll never be; For I wan them i the fields fighting, Where him and his nobles durst not come and see.’ 305B.12 O out bespeaks the Outlaw’s lady, I wot she spake right wisely; ‘Be good unto your nobles at home, For Edinbro mine shall never see;’ But meat and drink o the best I’m sure got he. 305B.13 He has taen his leave o the Outlaw free, And een as hard as he may dree, While he came to the king’s court, Where he kneeld low down on his knee. 305B.14 ‘What news? what news, James,’ he says, ‘Frae yon Outlaw and his company?’ ‘Yon forest is as fine a land As ever I did see. 305B.15 ‘Yon Outlaw keeps as fine a court As any king in Cristendie; Yon lands they are here all his own, And he pays yon men meat and fee, And as he wan them so will he lose them, Contrair the kings of Cristendie. 305B.16 ‘He never was a king’s subject, And a king’s subject he’ll never be; For he wan them in the fields fighting, Where the king and his nobles durst not come to see.’ 305B.17 The king has sworn a solemn oath, And he has sworn by the Virgin Mary, He would either be king of Etterick forest, Or king of Scotland the Outlaw should be. 305B.18 The king has ca’d up Mr James Pringle, Laird of Torson[s]e at the time was he: ‘Ye must gae to Etterick forest, And see wha of he hads his land, And wha pays yon men meat and fee.’ 305B.19 He’s tane his leave o the king and court, Een as hard as he may dree; When he came in O’er London edge, He viewed the forest wi his eee. 305B.20 He thought it was as pleasant a land As ever his two eyes did see, But when he came in oer . . ’., They were a’ ranked on Newark lee. 305B.21 O waly, but they were bonny to see! Five hundred men playing at the ba; They were a’ clad in the Lincoln green, And the Outlaw’s sell in taffety. 305B.22 ‘Weel met you save, Outlaw,’ he says, ‘You and your brave companie; The King of Scotland hath sent me here, To see whom on you hold your lands, Or who pays thir men meat and fee.’ 305B.23 The first ae man the answer made, It was the Outlaw he: ‘The lands they are all mine, And I pay thir men meat and fee, And as I wan them so will I lose them, Contrair the kings o Cristendie. 305B.24 ‘I never was a king’s subject, And a king’s subject I’ll never be; For I wan them i the fields fighting, Where him and his nobles durst not come and see.’ 305B.25 O out bespeaks the Outlaw’s lady, I wot she spake right wisely; ‘Be good unto your nobles at home, For Edinbro mine shall never see;’ But meat and drink o the best I’m sure got he. 305B.26 ‘And as I wan them so will I lose them, Contrair the kings o Cristendie; I wan them frae the Soudan Turk, Whem their cuckold king durst not come to see; For I wan them in the fields fighting, Where him and his nobles durst not come to see.’ 305B.27 O out bespeaks the Outlaw’s lady, I wot she spake right wisely; ‘Be good unto your nobles at home, For Edinbro mine shall never see;’ But meat and drink o the best I’m sure got he. 305B.28 He has taen his leave o the Outlaw free, And een as hard as he may dree, While he came to the king’s court, Where he kneeld low down on his knee. 305B.29 ‘What news? what news, James,’ he says, ‘Frae yon Outlaw and his company?’ ‘Yon forest is as fine a land As ever I did see. 305B.30 ‘Yon Outlaw keeps as fine a court As any king in Cristendie; Yon lands they are here all his own, And he pays yon men meat and fee, And as he wan them so will he lose them, Contrair the kings of Cristendie. 305B.31 ‘He hever was a king’s subject, And a king’s subject he’ll never be; For he wan them in the fields fighting, Where the king and his nobles durst not come to see.’ 305B.32 The king has sworn a solemn oath, And he has sworn by the Virgin Mary, He would either be king of Etterick forest, Or king of Scotland the Outlaw should be. 305B.33 ‘Gar warn me Perthshire and Angus both, Fifeshire up and down, and Loudons three, For I fear of them we hae great need, . . . . . . . ’.’ 305B.34 Then word is come to the Outlaw then, ‘Our noble king comes o the morn, Landless men ye will a’ be;’ He’s called up his little foot-page, His sister’s son I trow was he. 305B.35 ‘Ye must tak Etterick head Een as hard as ye can drie; Ye must gae to the Corhead and tell Andrew Brown this frae me. 305B.36 ‘The noble king comes in the morn, And landless men we will a’ be; . . . . . . . And tell him to send me some supply.’ 305B.37 The boy has taen Etterick head, And een has hard as he may drie, Till he came to the Corhead, And he shouted out and cry’d well he. 305B.38 ‘What news? what news, my little boy? What news has thy master to me?’ ‘The noble king comes in the morn, And landless then ye will a’ be. 305B.39 ‘Ye must meet him on the morn, And mak him some supply;’ ‘For if he get the forest fair frae him, He’ll hae Moffat-dale frae me. 305B.40 ‘I’ll meet him the morn wi five hundred men, And fifty mair, if they may be; And if he get the forest fair We’ll a’ die on the Newark lee.’ 305B.41 Word is gane to the Border then, To . . . , the country-keeper I’m sure was he: ‘The noble king comes in the morn, And landless me ye will a’ be.’ 305B.42 ‘I’ll meet him the morn wi five hundred men, And fifty mair, if they may be; And if he get the forest fair, We’ll a’ die on the Newark lee.’ 305B.43 Word is gane to Philiphaugh, His sister’s son I’m sure was he, To meet him the morn wi some supply, ‘For the noble king comes in the morn, And landless men ye will a’ be.’ 305B.44 ‘In the day I daur not be seen, For he took a’ my lands frae me And gifted me them back again; Therefore against him I must not be; For if I be found against him rebel, It will be counted great treason[rie]. 305B.45 ‘In the day I daur not be seen, But in the night he shall me find With five hundred men and fifty, if they may be, And before he get the forest fair We’ll a’ die on the Newark lee.’ 305B.46 n the king came in oer Loudon edge, Wi three thousand weel teld was he, And when he came in oer . . . He viewd that forest wi his ee. 305B.47 The Outlaw and his men were a’ Ranked on the Newark lee; They were a’ clad in the Lincoln green, And he himsell in the taffety. 305B.48 An auld grey-haird knight has taen aff his cap, . . . . . . . ‘Pardon, pardon, my sovereign liege, Two or three words to speak wi you. 305B.49 ‘If you please to send for the Outlaw, To see if he could with you agree, There’s not a man yon Outlaw has But of yours he’ll choose to be.’ 305B.50 The king he has taen af his cap, He held it on his majesty; ‘I’ll meet him the morn at the poor man’s house, In number not above two or three;’ The Outlaw says, I’ll hae as few as thee. 305B.51 ‘There’s Andrew Brown, and Andrew Murray, And Mess James Murray shall gang wi me, . . . . . . . . And nae mae shall my number be.’ 305B.52 And when they came to the poor man’s core They waited two lang hours or three, And they were aware of the noble king coming, And hundreds three in his company. 305B.53 ‘I wonder what the muckle Deel He’ll learned kings to lie, For to fetch me here frae amang my men Even like a dog for to die; But before I gang to Edinbro town Monny toom saddles shall there be.’ 305B.54 The king he has taen aff his cap; . . . . . . ‘It [were] great offence here,’ he says, ‘And great pity to see thee die. 305B.55 ‘For thou shalt be laerd o this forest fair As lang as upwards grows the tree and downward the twa rivers run, If the steads thou can but rightly name to me’ 305B.56 ‘There’s Hangingshaw high and Hangingshaw laigh, . . . . . . . The Tinis and the Tinis-burn, The Newark and the Newark lee.’ * * * * * * *

305C: The Outlaw Murray

305C.1 ‘GAE fetch to me James Pringle wi hast, An see that he come speedilie, For he maun on to Ettrick forest, An see whae pays yon men meat and fee.’ 305C.2 When James Pringle cam down oer Birkendalee, The hawks war yellin right loudlie, The hunds war rinnin oer hill and dale, As the bugle-horn soundit bonnilie. 305C.3 ‘Gae tell yer king this land’s my ain, An to thir men I pay meat and fee; I took it thrae the Souden Turk, When nae sic cuckold king might be. 305C.4 ‘Sae as I wan, sae will I lose, Spite o the kings in Christendie; I never was a king’s subject, Nor a king’s subject will I ever be.’ 305C.5 ‘Outlaw Murray says yon land’s his ain, And to yon men he pays meat and fee; He took it frae the Souden Turk, When you and your men durstna come and see.’ 305C.6 It was than the king he gat up in hast, An wow an angrie man was he! ‘I’se either be king o Ettrick forest, Or king o Scotland sal he be. 305C.7 ‘Gar warn me Fife an a’ Lothian land, An Perth an Angus, to ride wi me, For gin we war five thousan strang Master and mair I fear he’ll be.’ 305C.8 When the king came oer be Birkendalee, He spy’d the forest wi his ee; There war daes an raes an monie wild beast, An a castle stannin right bonnilie. 305C.9 An in that caslte a unicorn, An, waly, but they war fair to see! A warlike knight and a lady bright, An the green halleen aboon her bree. 305C.10 An Outlaw Murray an his merry men War a’ rankit up i the Newark lee, Well mountit on a milk-white steed; Waly, he rankit them bonnilie! 305C.11 His men war a clad oer wi green, An he was clad i the taffatie, Wi belt an pistle by his side; O waly, but they war fair to see! * * * * * * * 305C.12 ‘Haliday young an Halliday auld, Ye ir the men that man ride wi me; But gin we war five hunder strang Master an mair I fear they’ll be.’ * * * * * * * 305C.13 ‘Philliphaugh it is my ain, An Newark it belangs to me; Lewinshope an Hanginshaw Nae mortal man can claim thrae me.’ * * * * * * * 305C.14 It was than James Boyd got up in hast, An to his merry men a’ spak he; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cite this text

The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, part 2 of 2. 1882. Hermetic Cloud, https://hermeticcloud.com/library/child-the-english-and-scottish-popular-ballads-part-2/. Public-domain text reproduced in full; markup only.