Tuesday, August 11, 2026 · 天火 · tianmu.org

The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Vol. 1 — Francis James Child

✦ ─── ⟐ ─── ✦

by Francis James Child (1882–1898)

Francis James Child (1825–1896) was a professor of English at Harvard and one of the founders of American literary scholarship. Between 1882 and 1898 he published “The English and Scottish Popular Ballads,” the critical edition that gathered every traditional English and Scottish ballad he could locate — 305 numbered ballads in all — together with every distinct manuscript or printed text (“version”) of each one that he judged worth preserving, drawn from over fifty manuscripts and several hundred printed sources. The collection has no rival in scope: it remains the standard reference for the English-language ballad tradition, and its ballads are still cited today simply by “Child number” — Child 1 through Child 305.

This is Volume 1 of a five-volume Good Works Library edition, covering ballads 1 through 61, from “1. Riddles Wisely Expounded” to “61. Sir Cawline.” Each ballad appears under its Child number and title, with every version the source etext preserves, each version's manuscript or print source note, and Child's own bracketed textual insertions and dot-and-asterisk markers for passages missing or illegible in the original manuscripts, all left exactly as the source has them.

This edition is prepared from the local sacred-texts.com mirror's digitization of the ballad texts, not from a fresh transcription of Child's print volumes. The mirror's own index page states plainly that “the ultimate Child ballad etext has yet to be constructed” and that its text, assembled from a University of Colorado ballad corpus rather than scanned page images, “lacks the apparatus and, apparently, some of the variations of the original text, and has some lacunae and glitches.” The Colophon below states exactly what that means for this volume.

Contents

1. Riddles Wisely Expounded

Version A

1 THERE was a lady of the North Country,
Lay the bent to the bonny broom
And she had lovely daughters three.
Fa la la la, fa la la la ra re

2 There was knight of noble worth
Which also lived in the North.

3 The knight, of courage stout and brave,
A wife he did desire to have.

4 He knocked at the ladie’s gate
One evening when it was late.

5 The eldest sister let him in,
And pin’d the door with a silver pin.

6 The second sister she made his bed,
And laid soft pillows under his head.

7 The youngest daughter that same night,
She went to bed to this young knight.

8 And in the morning, when it was day,
These words unto him she did say:

9 ‘Now you have had your will,’ quoth she,
‘I pray, sir knight, will you marry me?’

10 The young brave knight to her replyed,
‘Thy suit, fair maid, shall not be deny’d.

11 ‘If thou canst answer me questions three,
This very day will I marry thee.’

12 ‘Kind sir, in love, O then,’ quoth she,
‘Tell me what your [three] questions be.’

13 ‘O what is longer than the way,
Or what is deeper than the sea?

14 ‘Or what is louder than the horn,
Or what is sharper than a thorn?

15 ‘Or what is greener than the grass,
Or what is worse then a woman was?’

16 ‘O love is longer than the way,
And hell is deeper than the sea.

17 ‘And thunder is louder than the horn,
And hunger is sharper than a thorn.

18 ‘And poyson is greener than the grass,
And the Devil is worse than woman was.’

19 When she these questions answered had,
The knight became exceeding glad.

20 And having [truly] try’d her wit,
He much commended her for it.

21 And after, as it is verifi’d,
He made of her his lovely bride.

22 So now, fair maidens all, adieu,
This song I dedicate to you.

23 I wish that you may constant prove
Vnto the man that you do love.

Version B

1 THERE were three sisters fair and bright,
Jennifer gentle and rosemaree
And they three loved one valiant knight.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree

2 The eldest sister let him in,
And barred the door with a silver pin.

3 The second sister made his bed,
And placed soft pillows under his head.

4 The youngest sister, fair and bright,
Was resolved for to wed with this valiant knight.

5 ‘And if you can answer questions three,
O then, fair maid, I will marry with thee.

6 ‘What is louder than an horn,
And what is sharper than a thorn?

7 ‘Thunder is louder than an horn,
And hunger is sharper than a thorn.’

8 ‘What is broader than the way,
And what is deeper than the sea?’

9 ‘Love is broader than the way,
And hell is deeper than the sea.’

10 . . . . .
‘And now, fair maid, I will marry with thee.’

Version C

1 THERE was a knicht riding frae the east,
Sing the Cather banks, the bonnie brume
Wha had been wooing at monie a place.
And ye may beguile a young thing sune

2 He came unto a widow’s door,
And speird whare her three dochters were.

3 The auldest ane’s to a washing gane,
The second’s to a baking gane.

4 The youngest ane’s to a wedding gane,
And it will be nicht or she be hame.

5 He sat him doun upon a stane,
Till thir three lasses came tripping hame.

6 The auldest ane’s to the bed making,
And the second ane’s to the sheet spreading.

7 The youngest ane was bauld and bricht,
And she was to lye with this unco knicht.

8 ‘Gin ye will answer me questions ten,
The morn ye sall be made my ain.

9 ‘O what is heigher nor the tree?
And what is deeper nor the sea?

10 ‘Or what is heavier nor the lead?
And what is better nor the breid?

11 ‘O what is whiter nor the milk?
Or what is safter nor the silk?

12 ‘Or what is sharper nor a thorn?
Or what is louder nor a horn?

13 ‘Or what is greener nor the grass?
Or what is waur nor a woman was?’

14 ‘O heaven is higher nor the tree,
And hell is deeper nor the sea.

15 ‘O sin is heavier nor the lead,
The blessing’s better nor the bread.

16 ‘The snaw is whiter nor the milk,
And the down is safter nor the silk.

17 ‘Hunger is sharper nor a thorn,
And shame is louder nor a horn.

18 ‘The pies are greener nor the grass,
And Clootie’s waur nor a woman was.’

19 As sune as she the fiend did name,
He flew awa in a blazing flame.

Version D

1 ‘O WHAT is higher than the trees?
Gar lay the bent to the bonny broom
And what is deeper than the seas?
And you may beguile a fair maid soon

2 ‘O what is whiter than the milk?
Or what is softer than the silk?

3 ‘O what is sharper than the thorn?
O what is louder than the horn?

4 ‘O what is longer than the way?
And what is colder than the clay?

5 ‘O what is greener than the grass?
And what is worse than woman was?’

6 ‘O heaven’s higher than the trees,
And hell is deeper than the seas.

7 ‘And snow is whiter than the milk,
And love is softer than the silk.

8 ‘O hunger’s sharper than the thorn,
And thunder’s louder than the horn.

9 ‘O wind is longer than the way,
And death is colder than the clay.

10 ‘O poison’s greener than the grass,
And the Devil’s worse than eer woman was.’

Version E

1 There was a lady in the West,
Lay the bank with the bonny broom

1 She had three daughters of the best.
Fa lang the dillo
Fa lang the dillo dillo dee

2 There came a stranger to the gate,
And he three days and nights did wait.

3 The eldest daughter did ope the door,
The second set him on the floor.

4 The third daughter she brought a chair,
And placed it that he might sit there.

5 ‘Now answer me these questions three,
Or you shall surely go with me.

6 ‘Now answer me these questions six,
Or you shall surely be Old Nick’s.

7 ‘Now answer me these questions nine,
Or youe shall surely all be mine.

8 ‘What is greener than the grass?
What is smoother than crystal glass?

9 ‘What is louder than a horn?
What is sharper than a thorn?

10 ‘What is brighter than the light?
What is darker than the night?

11 ‘What is keener than an axe?
What is softer than melting wax?

12 ‘What is rounder than a ring?’
‘To you we thus our answers bring.

13 ‘Envy is greener than the grass,
Flattery smoother than crystal glass.

14 ‘Rumour is louder than a horn,
Hunger is sharper than a thorn.

15 ‘Truth is brighter than the light,
Falsehood is darker than the night.

16 ‘Revenge is keener than an axe,
Love is softer than melting wax.

17 ‘The world is rounder than a ring,
To you we thus our answers bring.

18 ‘Thus you have our answers nine,
And we never shall be thine.’

2. The Elfin Knight

Version A

1 MY plaid awa, my plaid awa,
And ore the hill and far awa,
And far awa to Norrowa,
My plaid shall not be blown awa.
The elphin knight sits on yon hill,
Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba
He blaws his horn both lowd and shril.
The wind hath blown my plaid awa

2 He blowes it east, he blowes it west,
He blowes it where he lyketh best.

3 ‘I wish that horn were in my kist,
Yea, and the knight in my armes two.’

4 She had no sooner these words said,
When that the knight came to her bed.

5 ‘Thou art over young a maid,’ quoth he,
‘Married with me thou il wouldst be.’

6 ‘I have a sister younger than I,
And she was married yesterday.’

7 ‘Married with me if thou wouldst be,
A courtesie thou must do to me.

8 ‘For thou must shape a sark to me,
Without any cut or heme,’ quoth he.

9 ‘Thou must shape it knife-and-sheerlesse,
And also sue it needle-threedlesse.’

10 ‘If that piece of courtesie I do to thee,
Another thou must do to me.

11 ‘I have an aiker of good ley-land,
Which lyeth low by yon sea-strand.

12 ‘For thou must eare it with thy horn,
So thou must sow it with thy corn.

13 ‘And bigg a cart of stone and lyme,
Robin Redbreast he must trail it hame.

14 ‘Thou must barn it in a mouse-holl,
And thrash it into thy shoes soll.

15 thou must winnow it in thy looff,
And also seck it in thy glove.

16 ‘For thou must bring it over the sea,
And thou must bring it dry home to me.

17 en thou hast gotten thy turns well done,
Then come to me and get thy sark then.’

18 ‘I’l not quite my plaid for my life;
It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’

18 The wind shall not blow my plaid awa

19 ‘My maidenhead I’l then keep still,
Let the elphin knight do what he will.’

19 The wind’s not blown my plaid awa

Version B.b

1 MY plaid awa, my plaid awa,
And owre the hills and far awa,
And far awa to Norrowa,
My plaid shall not be blawn awa.
The Elphin knight sits on yon hill,
Ba, ba, ba, lillie ba
He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill.
The wind hath blawn my plaid awa

2 He blaws it east, he blaws it west,
He blaws it where he liketh best.

3 ‘I wish that horn were in my kist,
Yea, and the knight in my arms niest.’

4 She had no sooner these words said,
Than the knight came to her bed.

5 ‘Thou art oer young a maid,’ quoth he,
‘Married with me that thou wouldst be.’

6 ‘I have a sister, younger than I,
And she was married yesterday.’

7 ‘Married with me if thou wouldst be,
A curtisie thou must do to me.

8 ‘It’s ye maun mak a sark to me,
Without any cut or seam,’ quoth he.

9 ‘And ye maun shape it, knife-, sheerless,
And also sew it needle-, threedless.’

10 ‘If that piece of courtisie I do to thee,
Another thou must do to me.

11 ‘I have an aiker of good ley land,
Which lyeth low by yon sea strand.

12 ‘It’s ye maun till’t wi your touting horn,
And ye maun saw’t wi the pepper corn.

13 ‘And ye maun harrow’t wi a thorn,
And hae your wark done ere the morn.

14 ‘And ye maun shear it wi your knife,
And no lose a stack o’t for your life.

15 ‘And ye maun stack it in a mouse hole,
And ye maun thrash it in your shoe sole.

16 ‘And ye maun dight it in your loof,
And also sack it in your glove.

17 ‘And thou must bring it over the sea,
Fair and clean and dry to me.

18 ‘And when that ye have done your wark,
Come back to me, and ye’ll get your sark.’

19 ‘I’ll not quite my plaid for my life;
It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’

20 ‘My maidenhead I’ll then keep still,
Let the elphin knight do what he will.

Version C

1 THERE stands a knicht at the tap o yon hill,
Oure the hills and far awa
He has blawn his horn loud and shill.
The cauld wind’s blawn my plaid awa

2 ‘If I had the horn that I hear blawn,
And the knicht that blaws that horn!’

3 She had na sooner thae words said,
Than the elfin knicht cam to her side.

4 ‘Are na ye oure young a may
Wi onie young man doun to lie?’

5 ‘I have a sister younger than I,
And she was married yesterday.’

6 ‘Married wi me ye sall neer be nane
Till ye mak to me a sark but a seam.

7 ‘And ye maun shape it knife-,sheer-less,
And ye maun sew it needle-, threed-less.

8 ‘And ye maun wash it in yon cistran,
Whare water never stood nor ran.

9 ‘And ye maun dry it on yon hawthorn,
Whare the sun neer shon sin man was born.’

10 ‘Gin that courtesie I do for thee,
Ye maun do this for me.

11 ‘Ye’ll get an acre o gude red-land
Atween the saut sea and the sand.

12 ‘I want that land for to be corn,
And ye maun aer it wi your horn.

13 ‘And ye maun saw it without a seed,
And ye maun harrow it wi a threed.

14 ‘And ye maun shear it wi your knife,
And na tyne a pickle o’t for your life.

15 ‘And ye maun moue it in yon mouse-hole
And ye maun thrash it in your shoe-sole.

16 ‘And ye maun fan it wi your luves,
And ye maun sack it in your gloves.

17 ‘And ye maun bring it oure the sea,
Fair and clean and dry to me.

18 ‘And whan that your wark is weill deen,
Yese get your sark without a seam.’

Version D

1 THE Elfin knight stands on yon hill,
Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
Blawing his horn loud and shrill.
And the wind has blawin my plaid awa

2 ‘If I had yon horn in my kist,
And the bonny laddie here that I luve best!

3 ‘I hae a sister eleven years auld,
And she to the young men’s bed has made bauld.

4 ‘And I mysell am only nine,
And oh! sae fain, luve, as I woud be thine.’

5 ‘Ye maun make me a fine Holland sark,
Without ony stitching or needle wark.

6 ‘And ye maun wash it in yonder well,
Where the dew never wat, nor the rain ever fell.

7 ‘And ye maun dry it upon a thorn
That never budded sin Adam was born.’

8 ‘Now sin ye’ve askd some things o me,
It’s right I ask as mony o thee.

9 ‘My father he askd me an acre o land,
Between the saut sea and the strand.

10 ‘And ye maun plow’t wi your blawing horn,
And ye maun saw’t wi pepper corn.

11 And ye maun harrow’t wi a single tyne,
And ye maun shear’t wi a sheep’s shank bane.

12 ‘And ye maun big it in the sea,
And bring the stathle dry to me.

13 ‘And ye maun barn ’t in yon mouse hole,
And ye maun thrash’t in your shee sole.

14 ‘And ye maun sack it in your gluve,
And ye maun winno’t in your leuve.

15 ‘And ye maun dry’t without candle or coal,
And grind it without quirn or mill.

16 ‘Ye’ll big a cart o stane and lime,
Gar Robin Redbreast trail it syne.

17 ‘When ye’ve dune, and finishd your wark,
Ye’ll come to me, luve, and get your sark.’

Version E

1 THE Elfin Knight sits on yon hill,
Ba ba lilly ba
Blowing his horn loud and shill.
And the wind has blawn my plaid awa

2 ‘I love to hear that horn blaw;
I wish him [here] owns it and a’.’

3 That word it was no sooner spoken,
Than Elfin Knight in her arms was gotten.

4 ‘You must mak to me a sark,
Without threed, sheers or needle wark.’

Version F

1 ‘DID ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?
Sober and grave grows merry in time
There ye’ll meet wi a handsome young dame,
Ance she was a true love o mine.

2 ‘Tell her to sew me a holland sark,
And sew it all without needle-wark:
And syne we’ll be true lovers again.

3 ‘Tell her to wash it at yon spring-well,
Where neer wind blew, nor yet rain fell.

4 ‘Tell her to dry it on yon hawthorn,
That neer sprang up sin Adam was born.

5 ‘Tell her to iron it wi a hot iron,
And plait it a’ in ae plait round.’

6 ‘Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?
There ye’ll meet wi a handsome young man,
Ance he was a true lover o mine.

7 ‘Tell him to plough me an acre o land
Betwixt the sea-side bot and the sea-sand,
And syne we’ll be true lovers again.

8 ‘Tell him to saw it wi ae peck o corn,
And harrow it a’ wi ae harrow tine.

9 ‘Tell him to shear it wi ae hook-tooth,
And carry it hame just into his loof.

10 ‘Tell him to stack it in yon mouse-hole,
And thrash it a’ just wi his shoe-sole.

11 ‘Tell him to dry it on yon ribless kiln,
And grind it a’ in yon waterless miln.

12 Tell this young man, whan he’s finished his wark,
He may come to me, and hese get his sark.’

Version G

1 ‘CAN you make me a cambrick shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Without any seam or needle work?
And you shall be a true lover of mine

2 ‘Can you wash it in yonder well,
Where never sprung water nor rain ever fell?

3 ‘Can you dry it on yonder thorn,
Which never bore blossom since Adam was born?

4 ‘Now you have askd me questions three,
I hope you’ll answer as many for me.

5 ‘Can you find me an acre of land
Between the salt water and the sea sand?

6 ‘Can you plow it with a ram’s horn,
And sow it all over with one pepper corn?

7 ‘Can you reap it with a sickle of leather,
And bind it up with a peacock’s feather?

8 ‘When you have done, and finishd your work,
Then come to me for your cambrick shirt.’

Version H

1 ‘COME, pretty Nelly, and sit thee down by me,
Every rose grows merry wi thyme
And I will ask thee questions three,
And then thou wilt be a true lover of mine.

2 ‘Thou must buy me a cambrick smock
Without any stitch of needlework.

3 ‘Thou must wash it in yonder strand,
Where wood never grew and water neer ran.

4 ‘Thou must dry it on yonder thorn,
Where the sun never shined on since Adam was formed.’

5 ‘Thou hast asked me questions three;
Sit down till I ask as many of thee.

6 ‘Thou must buy me an acre of land
Betwixt the salt water, love, and the sea-sand.

7 ‘Thou must plow it wi a ram’s horn,
And sow it all over wi one pile o corn.

8 ‘Thou must shear it wi a strap o leather,
And tie it all up in a peacock feather.

9 ‘Thou must stack it in the sea,
And bring the stale o’t hame dry to me.

10 ‘When my love’s done, and finished his work,
Let him come to me for his cambric smock.’

Version I

1 A LADY wonned on yonder hill,
Hee ba and balou ba
And she had musick at her will.
And the wind has blown my plaid awa

2 Up and cam an auld, auld man,
Wi his blue bonnet in his han.

3 ‘I will ask ye questions three;
Resolve them, or ye’ll gang wi me.

4 ‘Ye maun mak to me a sark,
It maun be free o woman’s wark.

5 ‘Ye maun shape it knife- sheerless,
And ye maun sew it needle- threedless.

6 ‘Ye maun wash it in yonder well,
Whare rain nor dew has ever fell.

7 ‘Ye maun dry it on yonder thorn,
Where leaf neer grew since man was born.’

8 ‘I will ask ye questions three;
Resolve them, or ye’ll neer get me.

9 ‘I hae a rig o bonnie land
Atween the saut sea and the sand.

10 ‘Ye maun plow it wi ae horse bane,
And harrow it wi ae harrow pin.

11 ‘Ye maun shear’t wi a whang o leather,
And ye maun bind ’t bot strap or tether.

12 ‘Ye maun stack it in the sea,
And bring the stale hame dry to me.

13 ‘Ye maun mak a cart o stane,
And yoke the wren and bring it hame.

14 ‘Ye maun thresh’t atween your lufes,
And ye maun sack’t atween your thies.’

15 ‘My curse on those wha learn d thee;
This night I weend ye’d gane wi me.’

Version J

1 NOW you are a-going to Cape Ann,
Follomingkathellomeday
Remember me to the self-same man.
Ummatiddle, ummatiddle, ummatallyho, tallyho, follomingkathellomeday

2 Tell him to buy me an acre of land
Between the salt-water and the sea-sand.

3 Tell him to plough it with a ram’s horn,
Tell him to sow it with one peppercorn.

4 Tell him to reap it with a penknife,
And tell him to cart it with two mice.

5 Tell him to cart it to yonder new barn
That never was built since Adam was born.

6 Tell him to thrash it with a goose quill,
Tell him to fan it with an egg-shell.

7 Tell the fool, when he’s done his work,
To come to me, and he shall have his shirt.

Version K

1 MY father left me three acres of land,
Sing ivy, sing ivy
My father left me three acres of land.
Sing holly, go whistle and ivy

2 I ploughed it with a ram’s horn,
And sowed it all over with one pepper corn.

3 I harrowed it with a bramble bush,
And reaped it with my little penknife.

4 I got the mice to carry it to the barn,
And thrashed it with a goose’s quill.

5 I got the cat to carry it to the mill;
The miller he swore he would have her paw,
And the cat she swore she would scratch his face.

Version L

1 MY father gave me an acre of land,
Sing ivy, sing ivy
My father gave me an acre of land.
Sing green bush, holly and ivy

2 I ploughd it with a ram’s horn.

3 I harrowd it with a bramble.

4 I sowd it with a pepper corn.

5 I reapd it with my penknife.

6 I carried it to the mill upon the cat’s back.

7 I made a cake for all the king’s men.

Version M

1 As I went up to the top o yon hill,
Every rose springs merry in’ t’ time
I met a fair maid, an her name it was Nell.
An she langed to be a true lover o mine

2 ‘Ye’ll get to me a cambric sark,
An sew it all over without thread or needle.
Before that ye be, etc.

3 ’ll wash it doun in yonder well,
Where water neer ran an dew never fell.

4 ‘Ye’ll bleach it doun by yonder green,
Where grass never grew an wind never blew.

5 ‘Ye’ll dry it doun on yonder thorn,
That never bore blossom sin Adam was born.’

6 ‘Four questions ye have asked at me,
An as mony mair ye’ll answer me.

7 ‘Ye’ll get to me an acre o land
Atween the saut water an the sea sand.

8 ‘Ye’ll plow it wi a ram’s horn,
An sow it all over wi one peppercorn.

9 ‘Ye’ll shear it wi a peacock’s feather,
An bind it all up wi the sting o an adder.

10 ‘Ye’ll stook it in yonder saut sea,
An bring the dry sheaves a’ back to me.

11 ‘An when ye’ve done and finished your wark,
Ye’ll come to me, an ye’se get your sark.’

12 An then shall ye be ture lover o mine

3. The Fause Knight on the Road

Version A

1 ‘O WHARE are ye gaun?’
Quo the fause knicht upon the road:
‘I’m gaun to the scule,’
Quo the wee boy, and still he stude.

2 ‘What is that upon your back?’
quo etc.

2 ‘Atweel it is my bukes,’
quo etc.

3 ‘What’s that ye’ve got in your arm?’
‘Atweel it is my peit.’

4 ‘Wha’s aucht they sheep?’
‘They are mine and my mither’s.’

5 ‘How monie o them are mine?’
‘A’ they that hae blue tails.’

6 ‘I wiss ye were on yon tree:’
‘And a gude ladder under me.’

7 ‘And the ladder for to break:’
‘And you for to fa down.’

8 ‘I wiss ye were in yon sie:’
And a gude bottom under me.’

9 ‘And the bottom for to break:’
‘And ye to be drowned.’

Version B

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

Version C

1 ‘O whare are ye gaun?’
Says the false knight upon the road:

1 ‘I am gaun to the schule,’
Says the wee boy, and still he stood.

2 ‘Wha’s aught the sheep on yonder hill?’
‘They are my papa’s and mine.’

3 ‘How many of them’s mine?’
‘A’ them that has blue tails.’

4 ‘I wish you were in yonder well:’
‘And you were down in hell.’

4. Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

Version A

1 FAIR lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,
Aye as the gowans grow gay
There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn.
The first morning in May

2 ‘If I had yon horn that I hear blawing,
And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom.’

3 This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,
Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen.

4 ‘It’s a very strange matter, fair maiden,’ said he,
‘I canna blaw my horn but ye call on me.

5 ‘But will ye go to yon greenwood side?
If ye canna gang, I will cause you to ride.’

6 He leapt on a horse, and she on another,
And they rode on to the greenwood together.

7 ‘Light down, light down, lady Isabel,’ said he,
We are come to the place where ye are to die.

8 ‘Hae mercy, hae mercy, kind sir, on me,
Till ance my dear father and mother I see.’

9 ‘Seven king’s-daughters here hae I slain,
And ye shall be the eight o them.’

10 ‘O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee,
That we may hae some rest before that I die.’

11 She stroakd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep,
Wi a sma charm she lulld him fast asleep.

12 Wi his ain sword-belt sae fast as she ban him,
Wi his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him.

13 ‘If seven king’s-daughters here ye hae slain,
Lye ye here, a husband to them a’.’

Version B

1 THERE came a bird out o a bush,
On water for to dine,
An sighing sair, says the king’s daughter,
‘O wae’s this heart o mine!’

2 He’s taen a harp into his hand,
He’s harped them all asleep,
Except it was the king’s daughter,
Who one wink couldna get.

3 He’s luppen on his berry-brown steed,
Taen ’er on behind himsell,
Then baith rede down to that water
That they ca Wearie’s Well.

4 ‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
No harm shall thee befall;
Oft times I’ve watered my steed
Wi the waters o Wearie’s Well.’

5 The first step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the knee;
And sighend says this lady fair,
‘This water’s nae for me.’

6 ‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
No harm shall thee befall;
Oft times I’ve watered my steed
Wi the water o Wearie’s Well.’

7 The next step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the middle;
‘O,’ sighend says this lady fair,
I’ve wat my gowden girdle.’

8 ‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
No harm shall thee befall;
Oft times have I watered my steed
Wi the water o Wearie’s Well.’

9 The next step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the chin;
‘O,’ sighend says this lady fair,
‘They sud gar twa loves twin.’

10 ‘Seven king’s-daughters I’ve drownd there,
In the water o Wearie’s Well,
And I’ll make you the eight o them,
And ring the common bell.’

11 ‘Since I am standing here,’ she says,
‘This dowie death to die,
One kiss o your comely mouth
I’m sure wad comfort me.’

12 He louted him oer his saddle bow,
To kiss her cheek and chin;
She’s taen him in her arms twa,
An thrown him headlong in.

13 ‘Since seven king’s daughters ye’ve drowned there,
In the water o Wearie’s Well,
I’ll make you bridegroom to them a’,
An ring the bell mysell.’

14 And aye she warsled, and aye she swam,
And she swam to dry lan;
She thanked God most cheerfully
The dangers she oercame.

Version C

1 FALSE Sir John a wooing came
To a maid of beauty fair;
May Colven was this lady’s name,
Her father’s only heir.

2 He wood her butt, he wood her ben,
He wood her in the ha,
Until he got this lady’s consent
To mount and ride awa.

3 He went down to her father’s bower,
Where all the steeds did stand,
And he’s taken one of the best steeds
That was in her father’s land.

4 He’s got on and she’s got on,
And fast as they could flee,
Until they came to a lonesome part,
A rock by the side of the sea.

5 ‘Loup off the steed,’ says false Sir John,
‘Your bridal bed you see;
For I have drowned seven young ladies,
The eight one you shall be.

6 ‘Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,
All and your silken gown,
For it’s oer good and oer costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.

7 ‘Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,
All and your embroiderd shoen,
For they’re oer good and oer costly
To rot in the salt sea foam.’

8 ‘O turn you about, O false Sir John,
And look to the leaf of the tree,
For it never became a gentleman
A naked woman to see.’

9 He turnd himself straight round about,
To look to the leaf of the tree;
So swift as May Colven was
To throw him in the sea.

10 ‘O help, O help, my May Colven,
O help, or else I’ll drown;
I’ll take you home to your father’s bower,
And set you down safe and sound.’

11 ‘No help, no help, O false Sir John,
No help, nor pity thee;
Tho seven king’s-daughters you have drownd,
But the eight shall not be me.’

12 So she went on her father’s steed,
As swift as she could flee,
And she came home to her father’s bower
Before it was break of day.

13 Up then and spoke the pretty parrot:
‘May Colven, where have you been?
What has become of false Sir John,
That woo’d you so late the streen?

14 ‘He woo’d you butt, he woo’d you ben,
He woo’d you in the ha,
Until he got your own consent
For to mount and gang awa.’

15 ‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,
Lay not the blame upon me;
Your cup shall be of the flowered gold,
Your cage of the root of the tree.’

16 Up then spake the king himself,
In the bed-chamber where he lay:
‘What ails the pretty parrot,
That prattles so long or day?’

17 ‘There came a cat to my cage door,
It almost a worried me,
And I was calling on May Colven
To take the cat from me.’

Version D

1 O HEARD ye of a bloody knight,
Lived in the south country?
For he has betrayed eight ladies fair
And drowned them in the sea.

2 Then next he went to May Collin,
She was her father’s heir,
The greatest beauty in the land,
I solemnly declare.

3 ‘I am a knight of wealth and might,
Of townlands twenty-three;
And you’ll be lady of them all,
If you will go with me.’

4 ‘Excuse me, then, Sir John,’ she says;
‘To wed I am too young;
Without I have my parents’ leave,
With you I darena gang.’

5 ‘Your parents’ leave you soon shall have,
In that they will agree;
For I have made a solemn vow
This night you’ll go with me.’

6 From below his arm he pulled a charm,
And stuck it in her sleeve,
And he has made her go with him,
Without her parents’ leave.

7 Of gold and silver she has got
With her twelve hundred pound,
And the swiftest steed her father had
She has taen to ride upon.

8 So privily they went along,
They made no stop or stay,
Till they came to the fatal place
That they call Bunion Bay.

9 It being in a lonely place,
And no house there was nigh,
The fatal rocks were long and steep,
And none could hear her cry.

10 ‘Light down,’ he said, ’Fair May Collin,
Light down and speak with me,
For here I’ve drowned eight ladies fair,
And the ninth one you shall be.’

11 ‘Is this your bowers and lofty towers,
So beautiful and gay?
Or is it for my gold,’ she said,
‘You take my life away?’

12 ‘Strip off,’ he says, ’Thy jewels fine,
So costly and so brave,
For they are too costly and too fine
To throw in the sea wave.’

13 ‘Take all I have my life to save,
O good Sir John, I pray;
Let it neer be said you killed a maid
Upon her wedding day.’

14 ‘Strip off,’ he says, ’Thy Holland smock,
That’s bordered with the lawn,
For it’s too costly and too fine
To rot in the sea sand.’

15 ‘O turn about, Sir John,’ she said,
‘Your back about to me,
For it never was comely for a man
A naked woman to see.’

16 But as he turned him round about,
She threw him in the sea,
Saying, ‘Lie you there, you false Sir John,
Where you thought to lay me.

17 ‘O lie you there, you traitor false,
Where you thought to lay me,
For though you stripped me to the skin,
Your clothes you’ve got with thee.’

18 Her jewels fine she did put on,
So costly, rich and brave,
And then with speed she mounts his steed,
So well she did behave.

19 That lady fair being void of fear,
Her steed being swift and free,
And she has reached her father’s gate
Before the clock struck three.

20 Then first she called the stable groom,
He was her waiting man;
Soon as he heard his lady’s voice
He stood with cap in hand.

21 ‘Where have you been, fair May Collin?
Who owns this dapple grey?’
‘It is a found one,’ she replied,
‘That I got on the way.’

22 Then out bespoke the wily parrot
Unto fair May Collin:
‘What have you done with false Sir John,
That went with you yestreen?’

23 ‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,
And talk no more to me,
And where you had a meal a day
O now you shall have three.’

24 Then up bespoke her father dear,
From his chamber where he lay:
‘What aileth thee, my pretty Poll,
That you chat so long or day?’

25 The cat she came to my cage-door,
The thief I could not see,
And I called to fair May Collin,
To take the cat from me.’

26 Then first she told her father dear
The deed that she had done,
And next she told her mother dear
Concerning false Sir John.

27 ‘If this be true, fair May Collin,
That you have told to me,
Before I either eat or drink
This false Sir John I’ll see.’

28 Away they went with one consent,
At dawning of the day,
Until they came to Carline Sands,
And there his body lay.

29 His body tall, by that great fall,
By the waves tossed to and fro,
The diamond ring that he had on
Was broke in pieces two.

30 And they have taken up his corpse
To yonder pleasant green,
And there they have buried false Sir John,
For fear he should be seen.

Version E

1 AN outlandish knight came from the north lands,
And he came a-wooing to me;
He told me he’d take me unto the north lands,
And there he would marry me.

2 ‘Come, fetch me some of your father’s gold,
And some of your mother’s fee,
And two of the best nags out of the stable,
Where they stand thirty and three.’

3 She fetched him some of her father’s gold,
And some of her mother’s fee,
And two of the best nags out of the stable,
Where they stood thirty and three.

4 She mounted her on her milk-white steed,
He on the dapple grey;
They rode till they came unto the sea-side,
Three hours before it was day.

5 ‘Light off, light off thy milk-white steed,
And deliver it unto me;
Six pretty maids have I drowned here,
And thou the seventh shalt be.

6 ‘Pull off, pull off thy silken gown,
And deliver it unto me;
Methinks it looks too rich and too gay
To rot in the salt sea.

7 ‘Pull off, pull off thy silken stays,
And deliver them unto me;
Methinks they are too fine and gay
To rot in the salt sea.

8 ‘Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock,
And deliver it unto me;
Methinks it looks too rich and gay
To rot in the salt sea.’

9 ‘If I must pull off my Holland smock,
Pray turn thy back unto me;
For it is not fitting that such a ruffian
A naked woman should see.’

10 He turned his back towards her
And viewed the leaves so green;
She catched him round the middle so small,
And tumbled him into the stream.

11 He dropped high and he dropped low,
Until he came to the side;
‘Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden,
And I will make you my bride.’

12 ‘Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,
Lie there instead of me;
Six pretty maids have you drowned here,
And the seventh has drowned thee.’

13 She mounted on her milk-white steed,
And led the dapple grey;
She rode till she came to her own father’s hall,
Three hours before it was day.

14 The parrot being in the window so high,
Hearing the lady, did say,
‘I’m afraid that some ruffian has led you astray,
That you have tarried so long away.’

15 ‘Don’t prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot,
Nor tell no tales of me;
Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,
Although it is made of a tree.’

16 The king being in the chamber so high,
And hearing the parrot, did say,
‘What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot,
That you prattle so long before day?’

17 ‘It’s no laughing matter,’ the parrot did say,
‘That so loudly I call unto thee,
For the cats have got into the window so high,
And I’m afraid they will have me.’

18 ‘Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot,
Well turned, well turned for me;
Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,
And the door of the best ivory.’

Version F

1 ’GO fetch me some of your father’s gold,
And some of your mother’s fee,
And I’ll carry you into the north land,
And there I’ll marry thee.’

2 She fetchd him some of her father’s gold,
And some of her mother’s fee;
She carried him into the stable,
Where horses stood thirty and three.

3 She leapd on a milk-white steed,
And he on a dapple-grey;
They rode til they came to a fair river’s side,
Three hours before it was day.

4 ‘O light, O light, you lady gay,
O light with speed, I say,
For six knight’s daughters have I drowned here,
And you the seventh must be.’

5 ‘Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle
That grows so near the brim,
For fear it should tangle my golden locks,
Or freckle my milk-white skin.’

6 He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle
That grows so near the brim,
And with all the strength that pretty Polly had
She pushd the false knight in.

7 ‘Swim on, swim on, thou false knight,
And there bewail thy doom,
For I don’t think thy cloathing too good
To lie in a watry tomb.’

8 She leaped on her milk-white steed,
She led the dapple grey;
She rid till she came to her father’s house,
Three hours before it was day.

9 ‘Who knocked so loudly at the ring?’
The parrot he did say;
‘O where have you been, my pretty Polly,
All this long summer’s day?’

10 ‘O hold your tongue, parrot,
Tell you no tales of me;
Your cage shall be made of beaten gold,
Which is now made of a tree.’

11 O then bespoke her father dear,
As he on his bed did lay:
‘O what is the matter, my parrot,
That you speak before it is day?’

12 ‘The cat’s at my cage, master,
And sorely frighted me,
And I calld down my Polly
To take the cat away.’

Version G

1 ‘Now steal me some of your father’s gold,
And some of your mother’s fee,
And steal the best steed in your father’s stable,
Where there lie thirty three.’

2 She stole him some of her father’s gold,
And some of her mother’s fee,
And she stole the best steed from her father’s stable,
Where there lay thirty three.

3 And she rode on the milk-white steed,
And he on the barb so grey,
Until they came to the green, green wood,
Three hours before it was day.

4 ‘Alight, alight, my pretty colleen,
Alight immediately,
For six knight’s daughters I drowned here,
And thou the seventh shall be.’

5 ‘Oh hold your tongue, you false knight villain,
Oh hold your tongue,’ said she;
‘’Twas you that promised to marry me,
For some of my father’s fee.’

6 ‘Strip off, strip off your jewels so rare,
And give them all to me;
I think them too rich and too costly by far
To rot in the sand with thee.’

7 ‘Oh turn away, thou false knight villain,
Oh turn away from me;
Oh turn away, with your back to the cliff,
And your face to the willow-tree.’

8 He turned about, with his back to the cliff,
And his face to the willow-tree;
So sudden she took him up in her arms,
And threw him into the sea.

9 ‘Lie there, lie there, thou false knight villain,
Lie there instead of me;
’Twas you that promised to marry me,
For some of my father’s fee.’

10 ‘Oh take me by the arm, my dear,
And hold me by the hand,
And you shall be my gay lady,
And the queen of all Scotland.’

11 ‘I’ll not take you by the arm, my dear,
Nor hold you by the hand;
And I won’t be your gay lady,
And the queen of all Scotland.’

12 And she rode on the milk-white steed,
And led the barb so grey,
Until she came back to her father’s castle,
One hour before it was day.

13 And out then spoke her parrot so green,
From the cage wherein she lay:
Where have you now been, my pretty colleen,
This long, long summer’s day?

14 ‘Oh hold your tongue, my favourite bird,
And tell no tales on me;
Your cage I will make of the beaten gold,
And hang in the willow-tree.’

15 Out then spoke her father dear,
From the chamber where he lay:
Oh what hath befallen my favourite bird,
That she calls so loud for day?

16 ‘’Tis nothing at all, good lord,’ she said,
‘’Tis nothing at all indeed;
It was only the cat came to my cage-door,
And Icalled my pretty colleen.’

5. Gil Brenton

Version A

1 GIL BRENTON has sent oer the fame,
He’s woo’d a wife an brought her hame.

2 Full sevenscore o ships came her wi,
The lady by the greenwood tree.

3 There was twal an twal wi beer an wine,
An twal an twal wi muskadine:

4 An twall an twall wi bouted flowr,
An twall an twall wi paramour:

5 An twall an twall wi baken bread,
An twall an twall wi the goud sae red.

6 Sweet Willy was a widow’s son,
An at her stirrup-foot he did run.

7 An she was dressd i the finest pa,
But ay she loot the tears down fa.

8 An she was dickd wi the fairest flowrs,
But ay she loot the tears down pour.

9 ‘O is there water i your shee?
Or does the win blaw i your glee?

10 ‘Or are you mourning i your meed
That eer you left your mither gueede?

11 ‘Or are ye mourning i your tide
That ever ye was Gil Brenton’s bride?’

12 [re] is nae water i my shee,
Nor does the win blaw i my glee:

13 ‘Nor am I mourning i my tide
That eer I was Gil Brenton’s bride:

14 ‘But I am mourning i my meed
That ever I left my mither gueede.

15 ‘But, bonny boy, tell to me
What is the customs o your country.’

16 ‘The customs o’t, my dame,’ he says,
‘Will ill a gentle lady please.

17 ‘Seven king’s daughters has our king wedded,
An seven king’s daughters has our king bedded.

18 ‘But he’s cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,
An sent them mourning hame again.

19 ‘But whan you come to the palace yate,
His mither a golden chair will set.

20 ‘An be you maid or be you nane,
O sit you there till the day be dane.

21 ‘An gin you’re sure that you are a maid,
Ye may gang safely to his bed.

22 ‘But gin o that you be na sure,
Then hire some woman o youre bowr.’

23 O whan she came to the palace yate,
His mither a golden chair did set.

24 An was she maid or was she nane,
She sat in it till the day was dane.

25 An she’s calld on her bowr woman,
That waiting was her bowr within.

26 ‘Five hundred pound, maid, I’ll gi to the,
An sleep this night wi the king for me.’

27 Whan bells was rung, an mass was sung,
An a’ man unto bed was gone,

28 Gil Brenton an the bonny maid
Intill ae chamber they were laid.

29 ‘O speak to me, blankets, an speak to me, sheets,
An speak to me, cods, that under me sleeps;

30 ‘Is this a maid that I ha wedded?
Is this a maid that I ha bedded?’

31 ‘It’s nae a maid that you ha wedded,
But it’s a maid that you ha bedded.

32 ‘Your lady’s in her bigly bowr,
An for you she drees mony sharp showr.’

33 O he has taen him thro the ha,
And on his mither he did ca.

34 ‘I am the most unhappy man
That ever was in christend lan.

35 ‘I woo’d a maiden meek an mild,
An I’ve marryed a woman great wi child.’

36 ‘O stay, my son, intill this ha,
An sport you wi your merry men a’.

37 ‘An I’ll gang to yon painted bowr,
An see how’t fares wi yon base whore.’

38 The auld queen she was stark an strang;
She gard the door flee aff the ban.

39 The auld queen she was stark an steer;
She gard the door lye i the fleer.

40 ‘O is your bairn to laird or loon?
Or is it to your father’s groom?’

41 ‘My bairn’s na to laird or loon,
Nor is it to my father’s groom.

42 ‘But hear me, mither, on my knee,
An my hard wierd I’ll tell to thee.

43 ‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
We was the fairest under heaven.

44 ‘We had nae mair for our seven years wark
But to shape an sue the king’s son a sark.

45 ‘O it fell on a Saturday’s afternoon,
Whan a’ our langsome wark was dane,

46 ‘We keist the cavils us amang,
To see which shoud to the greenwood gang.

47 ‘Ohone, alas! for I was youngest,
An ay my wierd it was the hardest.

48 ‘The cavil it did on me fa,
Which was the cause of a’ my wae.

49 ‘For to the greenwood I must gae,
To pu the nut but an the slae;

50 ‘To pu the red rose an the thyme,
To strew my mother’s bowr and mine.

51 ‘I had na pu’d a flowr but ane,
Till by there came a jelly hind greeme,

52 ‘Wi high-colld hose an laigh-colld shoone,
An he ’peard to be some kingis son.

53 ‘An be I maid or be I nane,
He kept me there till the day was dane.

54 ‘An be I maid or be I nae,
He kept me there till the close of day.

55 ‘He gae me a lock of yallow hair,
An bade me keep it for ever mair.

56 ‘He gae me a carket o gude black beads,
An bade me keep them against my needs.

57 ‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
An bade me ke[e]p it aboon a’ thing.

58 ‘He gae to me a little pen-kniffe,
An bade me keep it as my life.’

59 ‘What did you wi these tokens rare
That ye got frae that young man there?’

60 ‘O bring that coffer hear to me,
And a’ the tokens ye sal see.’

61 An ay she ranked, an ay she flang,
Till a’ the tokens came till her han.

62 ‘O stay here, daughter, your bowr within,
Till I gae parley wi my son.’

63 O she has taen her thro the ha,
An on her son began to ca.

64 ‘What did you wi that gay gold ring
I bade you keep aboon a’ thing?

65 ‘What did you wi that little pen-kniffe
I bade you keep while you had life?

66 ‘What did you wi that yallow hair
I bade you keep for ever mair?

67 ‘What did you wi that good black beeds
I bade you keep against your needs?’

68 ‘I gae them to a lady gay
I met i the greenwood on a day.

69 ‘An I would gi a’ my father’s lan,
I had that lady my yates within.

70 ‘I would gi a’ my ha’s an towrs,
I had that bright burd i my bowrs.’

71 ‘O son, keep still your father’s lan;
You hae that lady your yates within.

72 ‘An keep you still your ha’s an towrs;
You hae that bright burd i your bowrs.’

73 Now or a month was come an gone,
This lady bare a bonny young son.

74 An it was well written on his breast-bane
‘Gil brenton is my father’s name.’

Version B

1 COSPATRICK has sent oer the faem,
Cospatrick brought his ladye hame.

2 And fourscore ships have come her wi,
The ladye by the grenewood tree.

3 There were twal and twal wi baken bread,
And twal and twal wi gowd sae reid:

4 And twal and twal wi bouted flour,
And twal and twal wi the paramour.

5 Sweet Willy was a widow’s son,
And at her stirrup he did run.

6 And she was clad in the finest pall,
But aye she let the tears down fall.

7 ‘O is your saddle set awrye?
Or rides your steed for you owre high?

8 ‘Or are you mourning in your tide
That you suld be Cospatrick’s bride?’

9 ‘I am not mourning at this tide
That I suld be Cospatrick’s bride;

10 ‘But I am sorrowing in my mood
That I suld leave my mother good.

11 ‘But, gentle boy, come tell to me,
What is the custom of thy countrye?’

12 ‘The custom thereof, my dame,’ he says,
‘Will ill a gentle laydye please.

13 ‘Seven king’s daughters has our lord wedded,
And seven king’s daughters has our lord bedded;

14 ‘But he’s cutted their breasts frae their breast bane,
And sent them mourning hame again.

15 ‘Yet, gin you’re sure that you’re a maid,
Ye may gae safely to his bed;

16 ‘But gif o that ye be na sure,
Then hire some damsell o your bour.’

17 The ladye’s calld her bour-maiden,
That waiting was into her train;

18 ‘Five thousand merks I will gie thee,
To sleep this night with my lord for me.’

19 When bells were rung, and mass was sayne,
And a’ men unto bed were gane,

20 Cospatrick and the bonny maid,
Into ae chamber they were laid.

21 ‘Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,
And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web;

22 ‘And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie,
Is this a true maiden that lies by me?’

23 ‘It is not a maid that you hae wedded,
But it is a maid that you hae bedded.

24 ‘It is a liel maiden that lies by thee,
But not the maiden that it should be.’

25 O wrathfully he left the bed,
And wrathfully his claiths on did.

26 And he has taen him thro the ha,
And on his mother he did ca.

27 ‘I am the most unhappy man
That ever was in christen land!

28 ‘I courted a maiden meik and mild,
And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi child.’

29 ‘O stay, my son, into this ha,
And sport ye wi your merrymen a’;

30 ‘And I will to the secret bour,
To see how it fares wi your paramour.’

31 The carline she was stark and sture;
She aff the hinges dang the dure.

32 ‘O is your bairn to laird or loun?
Or is it to your father’s groom?’

33 ‘O hear me, mother, on my knee,
Till my sad story I tell to thee.

34 ‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.

35 ‘It fell on a summer’s afternoon,
When a’ our toilsome task was done,

36 ‘We cast the kavils us amang,
To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.

37 ‘O hon, alas! for I was youngest,
And aye my wierd it was the hardest.

38 ‘The kavil it on me did fa,
Whilk was the cause of a’ my woe.

39 ‘For to the grene-wood I maun gae,
To pu the red rose and the slae;

40 ‘To pu the red rose and the thyme,
To deck my mother’s bour and mine.

41 ‘I hadna pu’d a flower but ane,
When by there came a gallant hende,

42 ‘Wi high-colld hose and laigh-colld shoon,
And he seemd to be sum king’s son.

43 ‘And be I maid or be I nae,
He kept me there till the close o day.

44 ‘And be I maid or be I nane,
He kept me there till the day was done.

45 ‘He gae me a lock o his yellow hair,
And bade me keep it ever mair.

46 ‘He gae me a carknet o bonny beads,
And bade me keep it against my needs.

47 ‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it abune a’ thing.’

48 ‘What did ye wi the tokens rare
That ye gat frae theat gallant there?’

49 ‘O bring that coffer unto me,
And a’ the tokens ye sall see.’

50 ‘Now stay, daughter, your bour within,
While I gae parley wi my son.’

51 O she has taen her thro the ha,
And on her son began to ca.

52 ‘What did you wi the bonny beads
I bade ye keep against your needs?

53 ‘What did you wi the gay gowd ring
I bade ye keep abune a’ thing?’

54 ‘I gae them a’ to a ladye gay
I met in grene-wood on a day.

55 ‘But I wad gie a’ my halls and tours,
I had that ladye within my bours.

56 ‘But I wad gie my very life,
I had that ladye to my wife.’

57 ‘Now keep, my son, your ha’s and tours;
Ye have that bright burd in your bours.

58 ‘And keep, my son, your very life;
Ye have that ladye to your wife.’

59 Now or a month was cum and gane,
The ladye bore a bonny son.

60 And ’twas weel written on his breast-bane,
‘Cospatrick is my father’s name.’

61 ‘O rowe my ladye in satin and silk,
And wash my son in the morning milk.’

Version C

1 WE were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.

2 And it was a’ our seven years wark
To sew our father’s seven sarks.

3 And whan our seven years wark was done,
We laid it out upo the green.

4 We coost the lotties us amang,
Wha wad to the greenwood gang.

5 To pu the lily but and the rose,
To strew witha’ our sisters’ bowers.

6 . . . . . I was youngest,
. . . . . my weer was hardest.

7 And to the greenwood I bud gae,
. . . . .

8 There I met a handsome childe,
. . . . .

9 High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon,
He bore him like a king’s son.

10 An was I weel, or was I wae,
He keepit me a’ the simmer day.

11 An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t],
He keepit me a’ the simmer night.

12 He gae to me a gay gold ring,
And bade me keep it aboon a’ thing.

13 He gae to me a cuttie knife,
And bade me keep it as my life:

14 Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
For fear we wad neer meet mair.

15 Next there came shippes three,
To carry a’ my bridal fee.

16 Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk,
Wrought wi maids’ hands like milk.

17 They came toom and light to me,
But heavie went they waie frae me.

18 y were fu o baken bread,
They were fu of wine sae red.

19 My dowry went a’ by the sea,
But I gaed by the grenewode tree.

20 An I sighed and made great mane,
As thro the grenewode we rade our lane.

21 An I ay siched an wiped my ee,
That eer the grenewode I did see.

22 ‘Is there water in your glove,
Or win into your shoe?
O[r] am I oer low a foot-page
To rin by you, ladie?’

23 ‘O there’s nae water in my glove,
Nor win into my shoe;
But I am maning for my mither
Wha’s far awa frae me.’

24 ‘Gin ye be a maiden fair,
Meikle gude ye will get there.

25 ‘If ye be a maiden but,
Meikle sorrow will ye get.

26 ‘For seven king’s daughters he hath wedded,
But never wi ane o them has bedded.

27 ‘He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane,
An sends them back unto their dame.

28 ‘He sets their backs unto the saddle,
An sends them back unto their father.

29 ‘But be ye maiden or be ye nane,
To the gowden chair ye draw right soon.

30 ‘But be ye leman or be ye maiden,
Sit nae down till ye be bidden.’

31 Was she maiden or was she nane,
To the gowden chair she drew right soon.

32 she leman or was she maiden,
She sat down ere she was bidden.

33 Out then spake the lord’s mother;
Says, ‘This is not a maiden fair.

34 ‘In that chair nae leal maiden
Eer sits down till they be bidden.’

35 The Billie Blin then outspake he,
As he stood by the fair ladie.

36 ‘The bonnie may is tired wi riding,
Gaurd her sit down ere she was bidden.’

37 But on her waiting-maid she ca’d:
‘Fair ladie, what’s your will wi me?’
‘O ye maun gie yere maidenheid
This night to an unco lord for me.’

38 ‘I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been far beyond the sea,
But ay, by grenewode or by bower,
I hae keepit my virginitie.

39 ‘But will it for my ladie plead,
I’ll gie’t this night to an unco lord.’

40 When bells were rung an vespers sung,
An men in sleep were locked soun,

41 Childe Branton and the waiting-maid
Into the bridal bed were laid.

42 ‘O lie thee down, my fair ladie,
Here are a’ things meet for thee;

43 ‘Here’s a bolster for yere head,
Here is sheets an comelie weids.’

44 ‘Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin,
If this fair dame be a leal maiden.’

45 ‘I wat she is as leal a wight
As the moon shines on in a simmer night.

46 ‘I wat she is as leal a may
As the sun shines on in a simmer day.

47 ‘But your bonnie bride’s in her bower,
Dreeing the mither’s trying hour.’

48 Then out o his bridal bed he sprang,
An into his mither’s bower he ran.

49 ‘O mither kind, O mither dear,
This is nae a maiden fair.

50 ‘The maiden I took to my bride
Has a bairn atween her sides.

51 ‘The maiden I took to my bower
Is dreeing the mither’s trying hour.’

52 Then to the chamber his mother flew,
And to the wa the door she threw.

53 She stapt at neither bolt nor ban,
Till to that ladie’s bed she wan.

54 Says, ‘Ladie fair, sae meek an mild,
Wha is the father o yere child?’

55 ‘O mither dear,’ said that ladie,
‘I canna tell gif I sud die.

56 ‘We were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.

57 ‘And it was a’ our seven years wark
To sew our father’s seven sarks.

58 ‘And whan our seven years wark was done,
We laid it out upon the green.

59 ‘We coost the lotties us amang,
Wha wad to the greenwode gang;

60 ‘To pu the lily but an the rose,
To strew witha’ our sisters’ bowers.

61 . . . . . ‘I was youngest,
. . . . . my weer was hardest.

62 ‘And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae.
. . . .

63 ‘There I met a handsome childe,
. . . .

64 ‘Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon,
He seemed to be some king’s son.

65 ‘And was I weel or was I wae,
He keepit me a’ the simmer day.

66 ‘Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht,
He keepit me a’ the simmer night.

67 ‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
An bade me keep it aboon a’ thing;

68 ‘Three lauchters o he yellow hair,
For fear that we suld neer meet mair.

69 ‘O mither, if ye’ll believe nae me,
Break up the coffer, an there ye’ll see.’

70 An ay she coost, an ay she flang,
Till her ain gowd ring came in her hand.

71 And scarce aught i the coffer she left,
Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft,

72 Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare.

73 She cried to her son, ‘Where is the ring
Your father gave me at our wooing,
An I gae you at your hunting?

74 ‘What did ye wi the cuttie knife,
I bade ye keep it as yere life?’

75 ‘O haud yere tongue, my mither dear;
I gae them to a lady fair.

76 ‘I wad gie a’ my lands and rents,
I had that ladie within my brents.

77 ‘I wad gie a’ my lands an towers,
I had that ladie within my bowers.’

78 ‘Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents;
Ye hae that ladie within yere brents.

79 ‘Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers;
Ye hae that lady within your bowers.’

80 Then to his ladie fast ran he,
An low he kneeled on his knee.

81 ‘O tauk ye up my son,’ said he,
‘An, mither, tent my fair ladie.

82 ‘O wash him purely i the milk,
And lay him saftly in the silk.

83 ‘An ye maun bed her very soft,
For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.’

84 It was weel written on his breast-bane
Childe Branton was the father’s name.

85 It was weel written on his right hand
He was the heir o his daddie’s land.

Version D

1 WE were sisters, sisters seven,
Bowing down, bowing down
The fairest women under heaven.
And aye the birks a-bowing

2 They kiest kevels them amang,
Wha woud to the grenewood gang.

3 The kevels they gied thro the ha,
And on the youngest it did fa.

4 Now she must to the grenewood gang,
To pu the nuts in grenewood hang.

5 She hadna tarried an hour but ane
Till she met wi a highlan groom.

6 He keeped her sae late and lang
Till the evening set and birds they sang.

7 He gae to her at their parting
A chain o gold and gay gold ring;

8 And three locks o his yellow hair;
Bade her keep them for evermair.

9 When six lang months were come and gane.
A courtier to this lady came.

10 Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay,
And so he set their wedding-day.

11 A little boy to the ha was sent,
To bring her horse was his intent.

12 As she was riding the way along,
She began to make a heavy moan.

13 ‘What ails you, lady,’ the boy said,
‘That ye seem sae dissatisfied?

14 ‘Are the bridle reins for you too strong?
Or the stirrups for you too long?’

15 ‘But, little boy, will ye tell me
The fashions that are in your countrie?’

16 ‘The fashions in our ha I’ll tell,
And o them a’ I’ll warn you well.

17 ‘When ye come in upon the floor,
His mither will meet you wi a golden chair.

18 ‘But be ye maid or be ye nane,
Unto the high seat make ye boun.

19 ‘Lord Dingwall aft has been beguild
By girls whom young men hae defiled.

20 ‘He’s cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,
And sent them back to their ain hame.’

21 When she came in upon the floor,
His mother met her wi a golden chair.

22 But to the high seat she made her boun:
She knew that maiden she was nane.

23 When night was come, they went to bed,
And ower her breast his arm he laid.

24 He quickly jumped upon the floor,
And said, ‘I’ve got a vile rank whore.’

25 Unto his mother he made his moan,
Says, ‘Mother dear, I am undone.

26 ‘Ye’ve aft tald, when I brought them hame,
Whether they were maid or nane.

27 ‘I thought I’d gotten a maiden bright;
I’ve gotten but a waefu wight.

28 ‘I thought I’d gotten a maiden clear,
But gotten but a vile rank whore.’

29 ‘When she came in upon the floor,
I met her wi a golden chair.

30 ‘But to the high seat she made her boun,
Because a maiden she was nane.’

31 ‘I wonder wha’s tauld that gay ladie
The fashion into our countrie.’

32 ‘It is your little boy I blame,
Whom ye did send to bring her hame.’

33 Then to the lady she did go,
And said, ‘O Lady, let me know

34 ‘Who has defiled your fair bodie:
Ye’re the first that has beguiled me.’

35 ‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
The fairest women under heaven.

36 ‘And we kiest kevels us amang,
Wha woud to the grenewood gang;

37 ‘For to pu the finest flowers,
To put around our summer bowers.

38 ‘I was the youngest o them a’;
The hardest fortune did me befa.

39 ‘Unto the grenewood I did gang,
And pu’d the nuts as they down hang.

40 ‘I hadna stayd an hour but ane
Till I met wi a highlan groom.

41 ‘He keeped me sae late and lang
Till the evening set and birds they sang.

42 ‘He gae to me at our parting
A chain of gold and gay gold ring;

43 ‘And three locks o his yellow hair;
Bade me keep them for evermair.

44 ‘Then for to show I make nae lie,
Look ye my trunk, and ye will see.’

45 Unto the trunk then she did go,
To see if that were true or no.

46 And aye she sought, and aye she flang,
Till these four things came to her hand.

47 Then she did to her ain son go,
And said, ‘My son, ye’ll let me know,

48 ‘Ye will tell to me this thing:
What did you wi my wedding-ring?’

49 ‘Mother dear, I’ll tell nae lie:
I gave it to a gay ladie.

50 ‘I would gie a’ my ha’s and towers,
I had this bird within my bowers.’

51 ‘Keep well, keep well your lands and strands;
Ye hae that bird within your hands.

52 ‘Now, my son, to your bower ye’ll go:
Comfort your ladie, she’s full o woe.’

53 Now when nine months were come and gane,
The lady she brought hame a son.

54 It was written on his breast-bane
Lord Dingwall was his father’s name.

55 He’s taen his young son in his arms,
And aye he praisd his lovely charms.

56 And he has gien him kisses three,
And doubled them ower to his ladie.

Version E

1 LORD BENWALL he’s a hunting gone;
Hey down, etc.
He’s taken with him all his merry men.
Hey, etc.

2 As he was walking late alone,
He spyed a lady both brisk and young.

3 He keeped her so long and long,
From the evening late till the morning came.

4 All that he gave her at their parting
Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.

5 Lord Benwall he’s a wooing gone,
And he’s taken with him all his merry men.

6 As he was walking the Haleigh throw,
He spy’d seven ladyes all in a row.

7 He cast a lot among them all;
Upon the youngest the lot did fall.

8 He wedded her and brought her home,
And by the way she made great moan.

9 ‘What aileth my dearest and dayly flower?
What ails my dear, to make such moan?

10 ‘Does the steed carry you too high?
Or does thy pillow sit awry?

11 ‘Or does the wind blow in thy glove?
Or is thy heart after another love?’

12 ‘The steed does not carry me too high,
Nor does my pillow sit awry.

13 ‘Nor does the wind blow in my glove,
Nor is my heart after another love.’

14 When they were doun to supper set,
The weary pain took her by the back.

15 ‘What ails my dearest and dayly flower?
What ails my dearest, to make such moan?’

16 ‘I am with child, and it’s not to thee,
And oh and alas, what shall I doe!’

17 ‘I thought I had got a maid so mild;
But I have got a woman big with child.

18 ‘I thought I had got a dayly flower;
I have gotten but a common whore.’

19 ‘Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall,
And cherrish up your merry men all.’

20 ‘As I was walking once late alone,
I spy’d a lord, both brisk and young.

21 ‘He keeped me so long and long,
From evening late till the morning came.

22 ‘All that he gave me at our parting
Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.

23 ‘If you will not believe what I tell to thee,
There’s the key of my coffer, you may go and see.’

24 His mother went, and threw and flang,
Till to her hand the ring it came.

25 ‘Lord Benwall, wilt thou tell to me
Where is the ring I gave to thee?’

26 ‘Now I would give all my lands and tower,
To have that lady in my bower.

27 ‘I would give all my lands and rents,
To have that lady in my tents.’

28 ‘You need not give all your lands and tower,
For you have that lady in your power.

29 ‘You need not give all your lands and rents,
For you have that lady in your tents.’

30 Now it was written on the child’s breast-bone
Lord Benwall’s sirname and his name.

31 It was written on the child’s right hand
That he should be heir of Lord Benwall’s land.

32 ‘Canst cloath my lady in the silk,
And feed my young son with the milk.’

Version F

1 THERE were three sisters in a bouir,
Eh down and Oh down
And the youngest o them was the fairest flour.
Eh down and O down

2 And we began our seven years wark,
To sew our brither John a sark.

3 When seven years was come and gane,
There was nae a sleeve in it but ane.

4 But we coost kevils us amang
Wha wud to the green-wood gang.

5 But tho we had coosten neer sae lang,
The lot it fell on me aye to gang.

6 I was the youngest, and I was the fairest,
And alace! my wierd it was aye the sairest.

7 . . .
Till I had to the woods to gae.

8 To pull the cherrie and the slae,
And to seek our ae brither, we had nae mae.

9 But as I was walking the leas o Lyne,
I met a youth gallant and fine;

10 Wi milk white stockings and coal black shoon;
He seemed to be some gay lord’s son.

11 But he keepit me there sae lang, sae lang,
Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.

12 Would I wee or would I way,
He keepit me the lang simmer day.

13 Would I way or would I wight,
He keepit me the simmer night.

14 But guess what was at our parting?
A pair o grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.
ring.

15 He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,
In token that we might meet mair.

16 But when nine months were come and gane,
This gallant lord cam back again.

17 He’s wed this lady, and taen her wi him;
But as they were riding the leas o Lyne,

18 This lady was not able to ride,
. . .

19 ‘O does thy saddle set thee aside?
Or does thy steed ony wrang way ride?

20 ‘Or thinkst thou me too low a groom?
. . .

21 ‘Or hast thou musing in thy mind
For the leaving of thy mother kind?’

22 ‘My saddle it sets not me aside,
Nor does my steed ony wrang way ride.

23 ‘Nor think I thee too low a groom
. . .

24 ‘But I hae musing in my mind
For the leaving of my mother kind.’

25 ‘I’ll bring thee to a mother of mine,
As good a mother as eer was thine.’

26 ‘A better mother she may be,
But an unco woman she’ll prove to me.’

27 But when lords and ladies at supper sat,
Her pains they struck her in the back.

28 When lords and ladies were laid in bed,
Her pains they struck her in the side.

29 ‘Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Brangwill,
For I’m wi child and you do not know’t.’

30 He took up his foot and gave her sic a bang
Till owre the bed the red blood sprang.

31 He is up to his mother’s ha,
Calling her as hard as he could ca.

32 ‘I went through moss and I went through mure,
Thinking to get some lily flouir.

33 . . .
‘But to my house I have brocht a hure.

34 ‘I thocht to have got a lady baith meek and mild,
But I’ve got a woman that’s big wi child.’

35 ‘O rest you here, Lord Brangwill,’ she said,
‘Till I relieve your lady that lyes so low.’

36 ‘O daughter dear, will you tell to me
Who is the father of your babie?’

37 ‘Yes, mother dear, I will tell thee
Who is the father of my babie.

38 ‘As I was walking the leas o Lyne,
I met a youth gallant and fine;

39 th milk-white stockings and coal-black shoon;
He seemed to be sum gay lord’s son.

40 ‘He keepit me sae lang, sae lang,
Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.

41 ‘Would I wee or would I way,
He keepit me the lang simmer day.

42 ‘Would I way or would I wight,
He keepit me the simmer night.

43 ‘But guess ye what was at our parting?
A pair of grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.

44 ‘He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,
In token that we might meet mair.’

45 ‘O dochter dear, will ye show me
These tokens that he gave to thee?’

46 ‘Altho my back should break in three,
Unto my coffer I must be.’

47 ‘Thy back it shall not break in three,
For I’ll bring thy coffer to thy knee.’

48 Aye she coost, and aye she flang,
Till these three tokens came to her hand.

49 Then she is up to her sons’s ha,
Calling him hard as she could ca.

50 ‘O son, O son, will you tell me
. . .

51 ‘What ye did wi the grass green gloves and gay gold ring
That ye gat at your own birth-een?’

52 ‘I gave them to as pretty a may
As ever I saw in a simmer day.

53 ‘I wud rather than a’ my lands sae broad
That I had her as sure as eer I had.

54 ‘I would rather than a’ my lands sae free
I had her here this night wi me.’

55 ‘I wish you good o your lands sae broad,
For ye have her as sure as eer ye had.

56 ‘I wish ye good o your lands sae free,
For ye have her here this night wi thee.’

57 ‘Gar wash my auld son in the milk,
Gar deck my lady’s bed wi silk.’

58 He gave his auld son kisses three,
But he doubled them a’ to his gay ladye.

Version G

1 AS Bothwell was walking in the lowlands alane,
Hey down and a down
He met six ladies sae gallant and fine.
Hey down and a down

2 He cast his lot among them a’,
And on the youngest his lot did fa.

3 He’s brought her frae her mother’s bower,
Unto his strongest castle and tower.

4 But ay she cried and made great moan,
And ay the tear came trickling down.

5 ‘Come up, come up,’ said the foremost man,
‘I think our bride comes slowly on.’

6 ‘O lady, sits your saddle awry,
Or is your steed for you owre high?’

7 ‘My saddle is not set awry,
Nor carries me my steed owre high;

8 ‘But I am weary of my life,
Since I maun be Lord Bothwell’s wife.’

9 He’s blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill,
Up start the deer on evry hill.

10 He’s blawn his horn sae lang and loud,
Up start the deer in gude green-wood.

11 His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa,
And she saw them riding ane and a’.

12 She’s calld upon her maids by seven,
To mak his bed baith saft and even.

13 She’s calld upon her cooks by nine,
To make their dinner fair and fine.

14 When day was gane, and night was come,
‘What ails my love on me to frown?

15 ‘Or does the wind blow in your glove?
Or runs your mind on another love?’

16 ‘Nor blows the wind within my glove,
Nor runs my mind on another love;

17 ‘But I nor maid nor maiden am,
For I’m wi bairn to another man.’

18 ‘I thought I’d a maiden sae meek and sae mild,
But I’ve nought but a woman wi child.’

19 His mother’s taen her up to a tower,
And lockit her in her secret bower.

20 ‘Now, doughter mine, come tell to me,
Wha’s bairn this is that you are wi.’

21 ‘O mother dear, I canna learn
Wha is the faither of my bairn.

22 ‘But as I walkd in the lowlands my lane,
I met a gentleman gallant and fine.

23 ‘He keepit me there sae late and sae lang,
Frae the evning late till the morning dawn.

24 ‘And a’ that he gied me to my propine
Was a pair of green gloves and a gay gold ring;

25 ‘Three lauchters of his yellow hair,
In case that we shoud meet nae mair.’

26 His lady mother went down the stair:
. . .

27 ‘Now son, now son, come tell to me,
Where’s the green gloves I gave to thee?’

28 ‘I gied to a lady sae fair and so fine
The green gloves and a gay gold ring.

29 ‘But I wad gie my castles and towers,
I had that lady within my bowers.

30 ‘But I wad gie my very life,
I had that lady to be my wife.’

31 ‘Now keep, now keep your castles and towers,
You have that lady within your bowers.

32 ‘Now keep, now keep your very life,
You have that lady to be your wife.’

33 ‘O row my lady in sattin and silk,
And wash my son in the morning milk.’

Version H

1 WE were seven sisters in a bower,
Adown adown, and adown and adown
The flower of a’ fair Scotland ower.
Adown adown, and adown and adown

2 We were sisters, sisters seven,
The fairest women under heaven.

3 There fell a dispute us amang,
Wha would to the greenwood gang.

4 They kiest the kevels them amang,
O wha would to the greenwood gang.

5 The kevels they gied thro the ha,
And on the youngest it did fa.

6 The kevel fell into her hand,
To greenwood she was forced to gang.

7 She hedna pued a flower but ane,
When by there came an earl’s son.

8 ‘And was he well or was he wae,
He keepet me that summer’s day.’

9 And was he weel or was he weight,
He keepet her that summer’s night.

10 And he gave her a gay goud ring
His mother got at her wedding.

11 ‘Oh is yer stirrup set too high?
Or is your saddle set awry?

12 ‘Oh is yer stirrup set too side?
Or what’s the reason ye canna ride?’

13 When all were at the table set,
Then not a bit could this lady eat.

14 When all made merry at the feast,
This lady wished she were at her rest.

6. Willie's Lady

1 WILLIE has taen him oer the fame,
He’s woo’d a wife and brought her hame.

2 He’s woo’d her for her yellow hair,
But his mother wrought her mickle care.

3 And mickle dolour gard her dree,
For lighter she can never be.

4 But in her bower she sits wi pain,
And Willie mourns oer her in vain.

5 And to his mother he has gone,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

6 He says: ‘My ladie has a cup,
Wi gowd and silver set about.

7 ‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let her be lighter o her young bairn.’

8 ‘Of her young bairn she’ll neer be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

9 ‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.’

10 ‘Another may I’ll never wed,
Another may I’ll neer bring home.’

11 But sighing says that weary wight,
‘I wish my life were at an end.’

12 ‘Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

13 ‘And say your ladie has a steed,
The like o’m’s no in the lands of Leed.

14 ‘For he [i]s golden shod before,
And he [i]s golden shod behind.

15 ‘And at ilka tet of that horse’s main,
There’s a golden chess and a bell ringing.

16 ‘This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let me be lighter of my young bairn.’

17 ‘O her young bairn she’ll neer be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

18 ‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And ye shall wed another may.’

19 ‘Another may I[’ll] never wed,
Another may I[’ll] neer bring hame.’

20 But sighing said that weary wight,
‘I wish my life were at an end.’

21 ‘Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

22 ‘And say your ladie has a girdle,
It’s red gowd unto the middle.

23 ‘And ay at every silver hem,
Hangs fifty silver bells and ten.

24 ‘That goodlie gift has be her ain,
And let me be lighter of my young bairn.’

25 ‘O her young bairn she’s neer be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

26 ‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.’

27 ‘Another may I’ll never wed,
Another may I’ll neer bring hame.’

28 But sighing says that weary wight,
‘I wish my life were at an end.’

29 Then out and spake the Belly Blind;
He spake aye in good time.

30 ‘Ye doe ye to the market place,
And there ye buy a loaf o wax.

31 ‘Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like,
And in twa glassen een ye pit;

32 ‘And bid her come to your boy’s christening;
Then notice weel what she shall do.

33 ‘And do you stand a little fore bye,
And listen weel what she shall say.’

34 ‘Oh wha has loosed the nine witch knots
That was amo that ladie’s locks?

35 ‘And wha has taen out the kaims of care
That hangs amo that ladie’s hair?

36 ‘And wha’s taen down the bush o woodbine
That hang atween her bower and mine?

37 ‘And wha has killd the master kid
That ran beneath that ladie’s bed?

38 ‘And wha has loosed her left-foot shee,
And lotten that ladie lighter be?’

39 O Willie has loosed the nine witch knots
That was amo that ladie’s locks.

40 And Willie’s taen out the kaims o care
That hang amo that ladie’s hair.

41 And Willie’s taen down the bush o woodbine
That hang atween her bower and thine.

42 And Willie has killed the master kid
That ran beneath that ladie’s bed.

43 And Willie has loosed her left-foot shee,
And letten his ladie lighter be.

44 And now he’s gotten a bonny young son,
And mickle grace be him upon.

7. Earl Brand

Version A

1 OH did ye ever hear o brave Earl Bran?
Ay lally, o lilly lally
He courted the king’s daughter of fair England.
All i the night sae early

2 She was scarcely fifteen years of age
Till sae boldly she came to his bedside.

3 ‘O Earl Bran, fain wad I see
A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.’

4 ‘O lady, I have no steeds but one,
And thou shalt ride, and I will run.’

5 ‘O Earl Bran, my father has two,
And thou shall have the best o them a.’

6 They have ridden oer moss and moor,
And they met neither rich nor poor.

7 Until they met with old Carl Hood;
He comes for ill, but never for good.

8 ‘Earl Bran, if ye love me,
Seize this old carl, and gar him die.’

9 ‘O lady fair, it wad be sair,
To slay an old man that has grey hair.

10 ‘O lady fair, I’ll no do sae;
I’ll gie him a pound, and let him gae.’

11 ‘O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day?
Or where hae ye stolen this lady away?’

12 ‘I have not ridden this lee lang day.
Nor yet have I stolen this lady away.

13 ‘She is my only, my sick sister,
Whom I have brought from Winchester.’

14 ‘If she be sick, and like to dead,
Why wears she the ribbon sae red?

15 ‘If she be sick, and like to die,
Then why wears she the gold on high?’

16 When he came to his lady’s gate,
Sae rudely as he rapped at it.

17 ‘O where’s the lady o this ha?’
‘She’s out with her maids to play at the ba.

18 ‘Ha, ha, ha! ye are a’ mistaen:
Gae count your maidens oer again.

19 ‘I saw her far beyond the moor,
Away to be the Earl o Bran’s whore.’

20 The father armed fifteen of his best men,
To bring his daughter back again.

21 Oer her left shoulder the lady looked then:
‘O Earl Bran, we both are tane.’

22 ‘If they come on me ane by ane,
Ye may stand by and see them slain.

23 ‘But if they come on me one and all,
Ye may stand by and see me fall.’

24 They have come on him ane by ane,
And he has killed them all but ane.

25 And that ane came behind his back,
And he’s gien him a deadly whack.

26 But for a’ sae wounded as Earl Bran was,
He has set his lady on her horse.

27 They rode till they came to the water o Doune,
And then he alighted to wash his wounds.

28 ‘O Earl Bran, I see your heart’s blood!’
’Tis but the gleat o my scarlet hood.’

29 They rode till they came to his mother’s gate,
And sae rudely as he rapped at it.

30 ‘O my son’s slain, my son’s put down,
And a’ for the sake of an English loun.’

31 ‘O say not sae, my dear mother,
But marry her to my youngest brother.

32 ‘This has not been the death o ane,
But it’s been that of fair seventeen.’

Version B

1 ‘RISE up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas,’ she says,
‘And put on your armour so bright;
Let it never be said that a daughter of thine
Was married to a lord under night.

2 ‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And put on your armour so bright,
And take better care of your youngest sister,
For your eldest’s awa the last night.’

3 He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And lightly they rode away.

4 Lord William lookit oer his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold,
Come riding over the lee.

5 ‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘And hold my steed in your hand,
Until that against your seven brethren bold,
And your father, I mak a stand.’

6 She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
And never shed one tear,
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa,
And her father hard fighting, who lovd her so dear.

7 ‘O hold your hand, Lord William!’ she said,
‘For your strokes they are wondrous sair;
True lovers I can get many a ane,
But a father I can never get mair.’

8 O she’s taen out her handkerchief,
It was o the holland sae fine,
And aye she dighted her father’s bloody wounds,
That were redder than the wine.

9 ‘O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘O whether will ye gang or bide?’
‘I’ll gang, I’ll gang, Lord William,’ she said,
‘For ye have left me no other guide.’

10 He’s lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And slowly they baith rade away.

11 O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a’ by the light of the moon,
Until they came to yon wan water,
And there they lighted down.

12 They lighted down to tak a drink
Of the spring that ran sae clear,
And down the stream ran his gude heart’s blood,
And sair she gan to fear.

13 ‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says,
‘For I fear that you are slain;’
‘’Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,
That shines in the water sae plain.’

14 O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a’ by the light of the moon,
Until they cam to his mother’s ha door,
And there they lighted down.

15 ‘Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says,
‘Get up, and let me in!
Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says,
‘For this night my fair lady I’ve win.

16 ‘O mak my bed, lady mother,’ he says,
‘O mak it braid and deep,
And lay Lady Margret close at my back,
And the sounder I will sleep.’

17 Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,
Lady Margret lang ere day,
And all true lovers that go thegither,
May they have mair luck than they!

18 Lord William was buried in St. Mary’s kirk,
Lady Margret in Mary’s quire;
Out o the lady’s grave grew a bonny red rose,
And out o the knight’s a briar.

19 And they twa met, and they twa plat,
And fain they wad be near;
And a’ the warld might ken right weel
They were twa lovers dear.

20 But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pulld up the bonny brier,
And flang’t in St. Mary’s Loch.

Version C

1 ‘RISE up, rise up, my seven brave sons,
And dress in your armour so bright;
Earl Douglas will hae Lady Margaret awa
Before that it be light.

2 ‘Arise, arise, my seven brave sons,
And dress in your armour so bright;
It shall never be said that a daughter of mine
Shall go with an earl or a knight.’

3 ‘O will ye stand, fair Margaret,’ he says,
‘And hold my milk-white steed,
Till I fight your father and seven brethren,
In yonder pleasant mead?’

4 She stood and held his milk-white steed,
She stood trembling with fear,
Until she saw her seven brethren fall,
And her father that loved her dear.

5 ‘Hold your hand, Earl Douglas,’ she says,
‘Your strokes are wonderous sair;
I may get sweethearts again enew,
But a father I’ll ne’er get mair.’

6 She took out a handkerchief
Was made o’ the cambrick fine,
And aye she wiped her father’s bloody wounds,
And the blood sprung up like wine.

7 ‘Will ye go, fair Margaret?’ he said,
‘Will ye now go, or bide?’
‘Yes, I’ll go, sweet William,’ she said,
‘For ye’ve left me never a guide.

8 ‘If I were to go to my mother’s house,
A welcome guest I would be;
But for the bloody deed that’s done this day
I’ll rather go with thee.’

9 He lifted her on a milk-white steed
And himself on a dapple gray;
They drew their hats out over their face,
And they both went weeping away.

10 They rode, they rode, and they better rode,
Till they came to yon water wan;
They lighted down to gie their horse a drink
Out of the running stream.

11 ‘I am afraid, Earl Douglas,’ she said,
‘I am afraid ye are slain;’
I think I see your bonny heart’s blood
Running down the water wan.’

12 ‘Oh no, oh no, fair Margaret,’ he said,
‘Oh no, I am not slain;
It is but the scad of my scarlet cloak
Runs down the water wan.’

13 He mounted her on a milk-white steed
And himself on a dapple gray,
And they have reached Earl Douglas’ gates
Before the break of day.

14 ‘O rise, dear mother, and make my bed,
And make it braid and wide,
And lay me down to take my rest,
And at my back my bride.’

15 She has risen and made his bed,
She made it braid and wide;
She laid him down to take his rest,
And at his back his bride.

16 Lord William died ere it was day,
Lady Margaret on the morrow;
Lord William died through loss of blood and wounds,
Fair Margaret died with sorrow.

17 The one was buried in Mary’s kirk,
The other in Mary’s quire;
The one sprung up a bonnie bush,
And the other a bonny brier.

18 These twa grew, and these twa threw,
Till they came to the top,
And when they could na farther gae,
They coost the lovers’ knot.

Version D

1 ‘SLEEPST thou or wakst thou, Lord Montgomerie,
Sleepst thou or wakst thou, I say?
Rise up, make a match for your eldest daughter,
For the youngest I carry away.’

2 ‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
Dress yourselves in the armour sae fine;
For it ne’er shall be said that a churlish knight
Eer married a daughter of mine.’

3 ‘Loup aff, loup aff, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
‘And hold my steed in your hand,
And I will go fight your seven brethren,
And your father, where they stand.’

4 Sometimes she gaed, sometimes she stood,
But never dropt a tear,
Until she saw her brethren all slain,
And her father who lovd her so dear.

5 ‘Hold thy hand, sweet William,’ she says,
‘Thy blows are wondrous sore;
Sweethearts I may have many a one,
But a father I’ll never have more.’

6 O she’s taken her napkin frae her pocket,
Was made o the holland fine,
And ay as she dichted her father’s bloody wounds,
They sprang as red as the wine.

7 ‘Two chooses, two chooses, Lady Margret,’ he says,
‘Two chooses I’ll make thee;
Whether to go back to your mother again,
Or go along with me.’

8 ‘For to go home to my mother again,
An unwelcome guest I’d be;
But since my fate has ordered it so,
I’ll go along with thee.’

9 He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself on the dapple gray,
And blawn his horn baith loud and shill,
And it sounded far on their way.

10 They rode oer hill, they rode oer dale,
They rode oer mountains so high,
Until they came to that beautiful place
Where Sir William’s mother did lie.

11 ‘Rise up, rise up, lady mother,’ he said,
‘Rise up, and make much o your own;
Rise up, rise up, lady mother,’ he said,
‘For his bride’s just new come home.’

12 Sir Willian he died in the middle o the night,
Lady Margaret died on the morrow;
Sir William he died of pure pure love,
Lady Margaret of grief and sorrow.

Version E

1 HE has lookit over his left shoulder,
And through his bonnie bridle rein,
And he spy’d her father and her seven bold brethren,
Come riding down the glen.

2 ‘O hold my horse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,
Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren,
As they come riding down the glen.’

3 Some time she rade, and some time she gaed,
Till she that place did near,
And there she spy’d her seven bold brethren slain,
And her father who loved her so dear.

4 ‘O hold you hand, sweet William,’ she said,
‘Your bull baits are wondrous sair;
Sweet-hearts I may get many a one,
But a father I will never get mair.’

5 She has taken a napkin from off her neck,
That was of the cambrick so fine,
And aye as she wiped her father’s bloody wounds,
The blood ran red as the wine.

6 He set her upon the milk-white steed,
Himself upon the brown;
He took a horn out of his pocket,
And they both went weeping along.

Version F

1 . . .
. . .
Sayes ‘Christ thee saue, good Child of Ell!
Christ saue thee and thy steede!

2 ‘My father sayes he will [eat] noe meate,
Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good,
Till he haue slaine the Child of Ell,
And haue seene his harts blood.’

3 ‘I wold I were in my sadle sett,
And a mile out of the towne;
I did not care for your father
And all his merry men!

4 ‘I wold I were in my sadle sett,
And a little space him froe;
I did not care for your father
And all that long him to!’

5 He leaned ore his saddle bow
To kisse this lady good;
The tears that went them two betweene
Were blend water and blood.

6 He sett himselfe on one good steed,
This lady on a palfray,
And sett his litle horne to his mouth,
And roundlie he rode away.

7 He had not ridden past a mile,
A mile out of the towne,
. . .
. . .

8 Her father was readye with her seuen brether,
He said, ‘Sett thou my daughter downe!
For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne,
To carry her forth of this towne!’

9 But lowd thou lyest, Sir Iohn the knight,
Thou now doest lye of me;
A knight me gott, and a lady me bore;
Soe neuer did none by thee.

10 ‘But light now downe, my lady gay,
Light downe and hold my horsse,
Whilest I and your father and your brether
Doe play vs at this crosse.

11 ‘But light now downe, my owne trew loue,
And meeklye hold my steede,
Whilest your father [and your seuen brether] bold

Version G

1 * * * *
‘Gude Earl Brand, I long to see
Faldee faldee fal deediddle a dee

1 All your grey hounds running over the lea.’
And the brave knights in the valley

2 ‘Gude lady fair, I have not a steed but one,
But you shall ride and I shall run.’

3 They’re ower moss and they’re ower mure,
And they saw neither rich nor pure.

4 Until that they came to auld Karl Hude;
He’s aye for ill and never for gude.

5 ‘Gude Earl Brand, if ye love me,
Kill auld Karl Hude, and gar him die.’

6 ‘O fair ladie, we’ll do better than sae:
Gie him a penny and let him gae.’

7 ‘Gude Earl Brand, whare hae ye been,
Or whare hae ye stown this lady sheen?’

8 ‘She’s not my lady, but my sick sister,
And she’s been at the wells of Meen.’

9 ‘If she was sick, and very sair,
She wadna wear the red gold on her hair.

10 ‘Or if she were sick, and like to be dead,
She wadna wear the ribbons red.’

11 He cam till he cam to her father’s gate,
And he has rappit furious thereat.

12 ‘Where is the lady o this hall?’
‘She’s out wi her maidens, playing at the ball.’

13 ‘If you’ll get me fyfteen wale wight men,
Sae fast as I’ll fetch her back again.’

14 She’s lookit ower her left collar-bane:
‘O gude Earl Brand, we baith are taen.’

15 ‘Light down, light down, and hold my steed;
Change never your cheer till ye see me dead.

16 ‘If they come on me man by man,
I’ll be very laith for to be taen.

17 ‘But if they come on me one and all,
The sooner you will see me fall.’

18 O he has killd them all but one,
And wha was that but auld Karl Hude.

19 And he has come on him behind,
And put in him the deadly wound.

20 O he has set his lady on,
And he’s come whistling all along.

21 hGude Earl Brand, I see blood:’
‘It’s but the shade o my scarlet robe.’

22 They cam till they cam to the water aflood;
He’s lighted down and he’s wushen aff the blood.

23 His mother walks the floor alone:
‘O yonder does come my poor son.

24 ‘He is both murderd and undone,
And all for the sake o an English loon.’

25 ‘Say not sae, my dearest mother,
Marry her on my eldest brother.’

26 She set her fit up to the wa,

26 Faldee faldee fal deediddle adee

26 She’s fallen down dead amang them a’.

26 And the brave knights o the valley

Version H

1 Did you ever hear of good Earl Brand,
Aye lally an lilly lally

1 And the king’s daughter of fair Scotland?
And the braw knights o Airly

2 She was scarce fifteen years of age
When she came to Earl Brand’s bed.
Wi the braw knights o Airly

3 ‘O Earl Brand, I fain wad see
Our grey hounds run over the lea.’
Mang the braw bents o Airly

4 ‘O,’ says Earl Brand, ‘I’ve nae steads but one,
And you shall ride and I shall run.’
Oer the braw heights o Airly

5 ‘O,’ says the lady, ‘I hae three,
And ye shall hae yeer choice for me.’
Of the braw steeds o Airly

6 So they lap on, and on they rade,
Till they came to auld Carle Hood.
Oer the braw hills o Airly

7 Carl Hood’s aye for ill, and he’s no for good,
He’s aye for ill, and he’s no for good.
Mang the braw hills o Airly

8 ‘Where hae ye been hunting a’ day,
And where have ye stolen this fair may?’
I’ the braw nights sae airly

9 ‘She is my sick sister dear,
New comd home from another sister.’
I the braw nights sae early

10 ‘O,’ says the lady, ’if ye love me,
Gie him a penny fee and let him gae.’

10 I the braw nights sae early

11 He’s gane home to her father’s bower,
. . . . . .
. . . . .

12 ‘Where is the lady o this ha?’
‘She’s out wi the young maids, playing at the ba.’

12 I the braw nights so early

13 ‘No,’ says another, ’She’s riding oer the moor,
And a’ to be Earl Brand’s whore.’

13 I the braw nights so early

14 The king mounted fifteen weel armed men,
A’ to get Earl Brand taen.

14 I the braw hills so early

15 The lady looked over her white horse mane:
‘O Earl Brand, we will be taen.’

15 In the braw hills so early

16 He says, If they come one by one,
Ye’ll no see me so soon taen.

16 In the braw hills so early

17 So they came every one but one,
And he has killd them a’ but ane.

17 In the braw hills so early

18 And that one came behind his back,
And gave Earl Brand a deadly stroke.

18 In the braw nights of Airly

19 For as sair wounded as he was,
He lifted the lady on her horse.

19 In the braw nights so early

20 ‘O Earl Brand, I see thy heart’s bluid!’
‘It’s but the shadow of my scarlet robe.’

20 I the braw nights so early

21 He came to his mother’s home;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

22 She looked out and cryd her son was gone,
And a’ for the sake [of] an English loon.
. . . . .

23 ‘What will I do wi your lady fair?’
‘Marry her to my eldest brother.’

23 The brawest knight i Airly

Version I

1 ‘Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas,’ she said,
‘And draw to your arms so bright;
Let it never be said a daughter of yours
Shall go with a lord or a knight.

2 ‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And draw to your armour so bright;
Let it never be said a sister of yours
Shall go with a lord or a night.’

3 He looked over his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold,
And her father that lov’d her tenderly.

4 ‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘And hold my steed in thy hand.
That I may go fitht with your seven brethren bold,
And your father who’s just at hand.’

5 O there she stood, and bitter she stood,
And never did shed a tear,
Till once she saw her seven brethren slain,
And her father she lovd so dear.

6 ‘Hold, hold your hand, William,’ she said,
‘For thy strokes are wondrous sore;
For sweethearts I may get many a one,
But a father I neer will get more.’

7 She took out a handkerchief of holland so fine
And wip’d her father’s bloody wound,
Which ran more clear than the red wine,
And forked on the cold ground.

8 ‘O chuse you, chuse you, Margret,’ he said,
‘Whether you will go or bide!’
‘I must go with you, Lord William,’ she said,
‘Since you’ve left me no other guide.’

9 He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
And they slowly both rode away.

10 Away they rode, and better they rode,
Till they came to yonder sand,
Till once they came to yon river side,
And ther they lighted down.

11 They lighted down to take a drink
Of the spring that ran so clear,
And there she spy’d his bonny heart’s blood,
A running down the stream.

12 ‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says,
‘For I fear that you are slain;’
‘’Tis nought but the shade of my scarlet clothes,
That is sparkling down the stream.’

13 He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
And slowly they rode away.

14 Ay they rode, and better they rode,
Till they came to his mother’s bower;
Till once they came to his mother’s bower,
And down they lighted there.

15 ‘O mother, mother, make my bed,
And make it saft and fine,
And lay my lady close at my back,
That I may sleep most sound.’

16 Lord William he died eer middle o the night,
Lady Margret long before the morrow;
Lord William he died for pure true love,
And Lady Margret died for sorrow.

17 Lord William was bury’d in Lady Mary’s kirk,
The other in Saint Mary’s quire;
Out of William’s grave sprang a red rose,
And out of Margret’s a briar.

18 And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad fain been near;
And by this you may ken right well
They were twa lovers dear.

8. Erlinton

Version A

1 ERLINTON had a fair daughter;
I wat he weird her in a great sin;
For he has built a bigly bower,
An a’ to put that lady in.

2 An he has warnd her sisters six,
An sae has he her brethren se’en,
Outher to watch her a’ the night,
Or else to seek her morn an een.

3 She hadna been i that bigly bower
Na not a night but barely ane,
Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
Chappd at the door, cryin ‘Peace within!’

4 ‘O whae is this at my bower door,
That chaps sae late, nor kens the gin?’
‘O it is Willie, your ain true love,
I pray you rise an let me in!’

5 ‘But in my bower there is a wake,
An at the wake there is a wane;
But I’ll come to the green-wood the morn,
Whar blooms the brier, by mornin dawn.’

6 Then she’s gane to her bed again,
Where she has layen till the cock crew thrice,
Then she said to her sisters a’,
‘Maidens, ’tis time for us to rise.’

7 She pat on her back her silken gown,
An on her breast a siller pin,
An she’s tane a sister in ilka hand,
An to the green-wood she is gane.

8 She hadna walkd in the green-wood
Na not a mile but barely ane,
Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
Whae frae her sister has her taen.

9 He took her sisters by the hand,
He kissd them baith, an sent them hame,
An he’s taen his true love him behind,
And through the green-wood they are gane.

10 They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood
Na not a mile but barely ane,
When there came fifteen o the boldest knights
That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane.

11 The foremost was an aged knight,
He wore the grey hair on his chin:
Says, ‘Yield to me thy lady bright,
An thou shalt walk the woods within.’

12 ‘For me to yield my lady bright
To such an aged knight as thee,
People wad think I war gane mad,
Or a’ the courage flown frae me.’

13 But up then spake the second knight,
I wat he spake right boustouslie:
‘Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright,
Or here the tane of us shall die.’

14 ‘My lady is my warld’s meed;
My life I winna yield to nane;
But if ye be men of your manhead,
Ye’ll only fight me ane by ane.’

15 He lighted aff his milk-white steed,
An gae his lady him by the head,
Sayn, ‘See ye dinna change your cheer,
Untill ye see my body bleed.’

16 He set his back unto an aik,
He set his feet against a stane,
An he has fought these fifteen men,
An killd them a’ but barely ane.

17 . . . . .
. . . .
For he has left that aged knight,
An a’ to carry the tidings hame.

18 When he gaed to his lady fair,
I wat he kissd her tenderlie:
‘Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought;
Now we shall walk the green-wood free.’

Version B

1 THERE was a knight, an he had a daughter,
An he wad wed her, wi muckle sin;
Sae he has biggit a bonnie bower, love,
An a’ to keep his fair daughter in.

2 But she hadna been in the bonnie bower, love,
And no twa hours but barely ane,
Till up started Tammas, her ain true lover,
And O sae fain as he wad been in.

3 ‘For a’ sae weel as I like ye, Tammas,
An for a’ sae weel as I like the gin,
I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love,
Na no this night wad I let thee in.

4 ‘But yonder is a bonnie greenwud,
An in the greenwud there is a wauk,
An I’ll be there an sune the morn, love,
It’s a’ for my true love’s sake.

5 ‘On my right hand I’ll have a glove, love,
An on my left ane I’ll have nane;
I’ll have wi’ me my sisters six, love,
An we will wauk the wuds our lane.’

6 They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud,
Na no an hour but barely ane,
Till up start Tammas, her ain true lover,
He’s taen her sisters her frae mang.

7 An he has kissed her sisters six, love,
An he has sent them hame again,
But he has keepit his ain true lover,
Saying, ‘We will wauk the wuds our lane.’

8 They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud
Na no an hour but barely ane,
Till up start fifteen o the bravest outlaws
That ever bure either breath or bane.

9 An up bespake the foremost man, love,
An O but he spake angrily:
‘Either your life--or your lady fair, sir,
This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.’

10 ‘My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir,
An O my life, but it lies me near!
But before I lose my lady fair, sir,
I’ll rather lose my life sae dear.’

11 Then up bespak the second man, love,
An aye he spake mair angrily,
Saying, ‘Baith your life, and your lady fair, sir,
This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.’

12 ‘My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir,
An O my life, but it lies me near!
But before I lose my lady fair, sir,
I’ll rather lose my life sae dear.

13 ‘But if ye’ll be men to your manhood,
As that I will be unto mine,
I’ll fight ye every ane man by man,
Till the last drop’s blude I hae be slain.

14 ‘O sit ye down, my dearest dearie,
Sit down and hold my noble steed,
And see that ye never change your cheer
Until ye see my body bleed.’

15 He’s feughten a’ the fifteen outlaws,
The fifteen outlaws every ane,
He’s left naething but the auldest man
To go and carry the tidings hame.

16 An he has gane to his dearest dear,
An he has kissed her, cheek and chin,
Saying, ‘Thou art mine ain, I have bought thee dear,
An we will wauk the wuds our lane.’

Version C

1 AS Robin Hood sat by a tree,
He espied a prettie may,
And when she chanced him to see,
She turnd her head away.

2 ‘O feare me not, thou prettie mayde,
And doe not flie from mee;
I am the kindest man,’ he said,
‘That ever eye did see.’

3 Then to her he did doffe his cap,
And to her lowted low;
‘To meete with thee I hold it good hap,
If thou wilt not say noe.’

4 Then he put his hand around her waste,
Soe small, so tight, and trim,
And after sought her lip to taste,
And she to kissed him.

5 ‘Where dost thou dwell, my prettie maide?
I prithee tell to me;’
‘I am a tanner’s daughter,’ she said,
‘John Hobbes of Barneslee.’

6 ‘And whither goest thou, pretty maide?
Shall I be thy true love?’
‘If thou art not afeard,’ she said,
‘My true love thou shalt prove.’

7 ‘What should I feare?’ then he replied;
‘I am thy true love now;’
‘I have two brethren, and their pride
Would scorn such one as thou.’

8 ‘That will we try,’ quoth Robin Hood;
‘I was not made their scorne;
Ile shed my blood to doe the[e] good,
As sure as they were borne.’

9 ‘My brothers are proude and fierce and strong;’
‘I am,’ said he, ’The same,
And if they offer thee to wrong,
Theyle finde Ile play their game.

10 ‘Through the free forrest I can run,
The king may not controll;
They are but barking tanners’ sons,
To me they shall pay toll.

11 ‘And if not mine be sheepe and kine,
I have cattle on my land;
On venison eche day I may dine,
Whiles they have none in hand.’

12 These wordes had Robin Hood scarce spoke,
When they two men did see,
Come riding till their horses smoke:
‘My brothers both,’ cried shee.

13 Each had a good sword by his side,
And furiouslie they rode
To where they Robin Hood espied,
That with the maiden stood.

14 ‘Flee hence, flee hence, away with speede!’
Cried she to Robin Hood,
‘For if thou stay, thoult surely bleede;
I could not see thy blood.’

15 ‘With us, false maiden, come away,
And leave that outlawe bolde;
Why fledst thou from thy home this day,
And left thy father olde?’

16 Robin stept backe but paces five,
Unto a sturdie tree;
‘Ile fight whiles I am left alive;
Stay thou, sweete maide, with mee.’

17 He stood before, she stoode behinde,
The brothers two drewe nie;
‘Our sister now to us resign,
Or thou full sure shalt die.’

18 Then cried the maide, ‘My brethren deare,
With ye Ile freely wend,
But harm not this young forrester,
Noe ill doth he pretend.’

19 ‘Stande up, sweete maide, I plight my troth;
Fall thou not on thy knee;
Ile force thy cruell brothers both
To bend the knee to thee.

20 ‘Stand thou behinde this sturdie oke,
I soone will quell their pride;
Thoult see my sword with furie smoke,
And in their hearts’ blood died.’

21 He set his backe against a tree,
His foote against a stone;
The first blow that he gave so free
Cleft one man to the bone.

22 The tanners bold they fought right well,
And it was one to two;
But Robin did them both refell,
All in the damsell’s viewe.

23 The red blood ran from Robins brow,
All downe unto his knee;
‘O holde your handes, my brethren now,
I will goe backe with yee.’

24 ‘Stand backe, stand backe, my pretty maide,
Stand backe and let me fight;
By sweete St. James be no[t] afraide
But I will it requite.’

25 Then Robin did his sword uplift,
And let it fall againe;
The oldest brothers head it cleft,
Right through unto his braine.

26 ‘O hold thy hand, bolde forrester,
Or ill may thee betide;
Slay not my youngest brother here,
He is my father’s pride.’

27 ‘Away, for I would scorne to owe,
My life to the[e], false maide!’
The youngest cried, and aimd a blow
That lit on Robin’s head.

28 Then Robin leand against the tree,
His life nie gone did seeme;
His eyes did swim, he could not see
The maiden start betweene.

29 It was not long ere Robin Hood
Could welde his sword so bright;
Upon his feete he firmly stood,
And did renew the fight.

30 Untill the tanner scarce could heave
His weapon in the aire;
But Robin would not him bereave
Of life, and left him there.

31 Then to the greenewood did he fly,
And with him went the maide;
For him she vowd that she would dye,
He’d live for her, he said.

9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland

Version A

1 IT was a knight in Scotland borne
Follow, my love, come over the strand
Was taken prisoner, and left forlorne,
Even by the good Earle of Northumberland.

2 Then was he cast in prison strong,
Where he could not walke nor lie along,
Even by the goode Earle of Northumberland.

3 And as in sorrow thus he lay,
The Earle’s sweete daughter walkt that way,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

4 And passing by, like an angell bright,
The prisoner had of her a sight,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

5 And loud to her this knight did crie,
The salt teares standing in his eye,
And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

6 ‘Faire lady,’ he said, ’Take pity on me,
And let me not in prison dye,
And you the faire flower of Northumberland.’

7 ‘Faire Sir, how should I take pity on thee,
Thou being a foe to our countrey,
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

8 ‘Faire lady, I am no foe,’ he said,
‘Through thy sweet love heere was I stayd,
For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.’

9 ‘Why shouldst thou come heere for love of me,
Having wife and children in thy countrie?
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

10 ‘I sweare by the blessed Trinitie,
I have no wife nor children, I,

10 Nor dwelling at home in merrie Scotland.

11 ‘If curteously you will set me free,
I vow that I will marrie thee,

11 So soone as I come in faire Scotland.

12 ‘Thou shalt be a lady of castles and towers,
And sit like a queene in princely bowers,

12 When I am at home in faire Scotland.’

13 Then parted hence this lady gay,
And got her father’s ring away,

13 To helpe this sad knight into faire Scotland.

14 Likewise much gold she got by sleight,
And all to help this forlorne knight

14 To wend from her father to faire Scotland.

15 Two gallant steedes, both good and able,
She likewise tooke out of the stable,

15 To ride with this knight into faire Scotland.

16 And to the jaylor she sent this ring,
The knight from prison forth to bring,

16 To wend with her into faire Scotland.

17 This token set the prisoner free,
Who straight went to this faire lady,

17 To wend with her into faire Scotland.

18 A gallant steede he did bestride,
And with the lady away did ride,

18 And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

19 They rode till they came to a water cleare:
‘Good Sir, how should I follow you heere,

19 And I the faire flower of Northumberland?

20 ‘The water is rough and wonderfull deepe,
An[d] on my saddle I shall not keepe,

20 And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

21 ‘Feare not the foord, faire lady,’ quoth he,
‘For long I cannot stay for thee,

21 And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.’

22 The lady prickt her wanton steed,
And over the river swom with speede,

22 And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

23 From top to toe all wet was shee:
‘This have I done for love of thee,

23 And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

24 Thus rode she all one winter’s night,
Till Edenborow they saw in sight,

24 The chiefest towne in all Scotland.

25 ‘Now chuse,’ quoth he, ’Thou wanton flower,
Whe’r thou wilt be my paramour,

25 Or get thee home to Northumberland.

26 ‘For I have wife, and children five,
In Edenborow they be alive;

26 Then get thee home to faire England.

27 ‘This favour shalt thou have to boote,
Ile have thy horse, go thou on foote,

27 Go, get thee home to Northumberland.’

28 ‘O false and faithlesse knight,’ quoth shee,
‘And canst thou deale so bad with me,

28 And I the faire flower of Northumberland?

29 ‘Dishonour not a ladie’s name,
But draw thy sword and end my shame,

29 And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

30 He tooke her from her stately steed,
And left her there in extreme need,

30 And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

31 Then sate she downe full heavily;
At length two knights came riding by,

31 Two gallant knights of faire England.

32 She fell downe humbly on her knee,
Saying, ‘Courteous knights, take pittie on me,

32 And I the faire flower of Northumberland.

33 ‘I have offended my father deere,
And by a false knight that brought me heere,

33 From the good Earle of Northumberland.’

34 They tooke her up behind them then,
And brought her to her father’s againe,

34 And he the good Earle of Northumberland.

35 All you faire maidens be warned by me,
Scots were never true, nor never will be,

35 To lord, nor lady, nor faire England.

Version B

1 THE provost’s daughter went out a walking,
A may’s love whiles is easy won
She heard a poor prisoner making his moan,
And she was the fair flower of Northumberland.

2 ‘If any lady would borrow me
Out into the prison strong,

2 I would make her a lady of high degree,
For I am a great lord in fair Scotland.’

3 She’s done her to her father’s bed-stock,
A may’s love whiles is easy won

3 She’s stolen the keys o many braw lock,
And she’s loosd him out o the prison strong.

4 She’s done her to her father’s stable,
A may’s love whiles is easy won

4 She’s taen out a steed that was both swift and able,
To carry them both to fair Scotland.

5 O when they came to the Scottish cross,
A may’s whiles is easy won

5 ‘Ye brazen-faced whore, light off o my horse,
And go get you back to Northumberland!’

6 O when they came to the Scottish moor,
A may’s love whiles is easy won

6 ‘Get off o my horse, you’re a brazen-faced whore,
So go get you back to Northumberland!’

7 ‘O pity on me, O pity,’ said she,
‘O that my love was so easy won!

7 Have pity on me as I had upon thee,
When I loosd you out of the prison strong.’

8 ‘O how can I have pity on thee?
O why was your love so easy won!

8 When I have a wife and children three
More worthy than a’ Northumberland.’

9 ‘Cook in your kitchen I will be,
O that my love was so easy won!

9 And serve your lady most reverently,
For I darena go back to Northumberland.’

10 ‘Cook in my kitchen you shall not be,

10 Why was your love so easy won!

10 For I will have no such servants as thee,

10 So get you back to Northumberland.’

11 But laith was he the lassie to tyne,

11 A may’s love whiles is easy won

11 He’s hired an old horse and feed an old man,

11 To carry her back to Northumberland.

12 O when she came her father before,

12 A may’s love whiles is easy won

12 She fell down on her knees so low

12 For she was the fair flower of Northumberland.

13 ‘O daughter, O daughter, why was ye so bold,

13 Or why was your love so easy won,

13 To be a Scottish whore in your fifteen year old?

13 And you the fair flower of Northumberland!’

14 Her mother she gently on her did smile,

14 O that her love was so easy won!

14 ‘She is not the first that the Scotts have beguild,

14 But she’s still the fair flower of Northumberland.

15 ‘She shanna want gold, she shanna want fee,

15 Altho that her love was so easy won,

15 She shanna want gold to gain a man wi,

15 And she’s still the fair flower of Northumberland.’

Version C

1 AS I went by a jail-house door,
Maid’s love whiles is easy won
I saw a prisoner standing there,
‘I wish I were home in fair Scotland.

2 ‘Fair maid, will you pity me?
Ye’ll steal the keys, let me gae free:
I’ll make you my lady in fair Scotland.

3 ‘I’m sure you have no need of me,
For ye have a wife and bairns three,
That lives at home in fair Scotland.’

4 He swore by him that was crownd with thorn,
That he never had a wife since the day he was born,
But livd a free lord in fair Scotland.

5 She went unto her father’s bed-head,
She’s stown the key o mony a lock,
She’s let him out o prison strong.

6 She’s went to her father’s stable,
She’s stown a steed baith wight and able,
To carry them on to fair Scotland.

7 They rode till they came to a muir,
He bade her light aff, they’d call her a whore,
If she didna return to Northumberland.

8 They rode till they came to a moss,
He bade her light aff her father’s best horse,
And return her again to Northumberland.

9 ‘I’m sure I have no need of thee,
When I have a wife and bairns three,
That lives at home in fair Scotland.’

10 ‘I’ll be cook in your kitchen,
And serve your lady handsomelie,

10 For I darena gae back to Northumberland.’

11 ‘Ye cannot be cook in my kitchen,
My lady cannot fa sic servants as thee,

11 So ye’ll return again to Northumberland.’

12 When she went thro her father’s ha,
She looted her low amongst them a’,

12 She was the fair flower o Northumberland.

13 Out spake her father, he spake bold,
‘How could ye be a whore in fifteen years old,

13 And you the flower of Northumberland?’

14 Out spake her mother, she spake wi a smile,
‘She’s nae the first his coat did beguile,

14 Ye’re welcome again to Northumberland.’

Version D

1 SHE’S gane down to her father’s stable,
O my dear, and my love that she wan
She’s taen out a black steed baith sturdy and able,
And she’s away to fair Scotland.

2 When they came to Scotland bridge,
‘Light off, you whore, from my black steed,
And go your ways back to Northumberland.’

3 ‘O take me by the body so meek,
And throw me in the water so deep,
For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’

4 ‘I’ll no take thee by the body so meek,
Nor throw thee in the water so deep;
Thou may go thy ways back to Northumberland.’

5 ‘Take me by the body so small,
And throw me in yon bonny mill-dam,
For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’

Version E

1 A BAILIFF’S fair daughter, she lived by the Aln,
A young maid’s love is easily won
She heard a poor prisoner making his moan,
And she was the flower of Northumberland.

2 ‘If ye could love me, as I do love thee,
A young maid’s love is hard to win

2 I’ll make you a lady of high degree,
When once we go down to fair Scotland.’

3 To think of the prisoner her heart was sore,
A young maid’s love is easily won

3 Her love it was much, but her pity was more,
And she, etc.

4 She stole from her father’s pillow the key,
And out of the dungeon she soon set him free,
And she, etc.

5 She led him into her father’s stable,
And they’ve taken a steed both gallant and able,
To carry them down to fair Scotland.

6 When they first took the way, it was darling and dear;
As forward they fared, all changed was his cheer,
And she, etc.

7 They rode till they came to a fair Scottish corse;
Says he, ‘Now, pray madam, dismount from my horse,
And go get you back to Northumberland.

8 ‘It befits not to ride with a leman light,
When awaits my returning my own lady bright,
My own wedded wife in fair Scotland.’

9 The words that he said on her fond heart smote,
She knew not in sooth if she lived or not,
And she, etc.

10 She looked to his face, and it kythed so unkind
That her fast coming tears soon rendered her blind,

10 And she, etc.

11 ‘Have pity on me as I had it on thee,

11 O why was my love so easily won!

11 A slave in your kitchen I’m willing to be,

11 But I may not go back to Northumberland.

12 ‘Or carry me up by the middle sae sma,

12 O why was my love so easily won!

12 And fling me headlong from your high castle wa,

12 For I dare not go back to Northumberland.’

13 Her wailing, her woe, for nothing they went,

13 A young maid’s love is easily won

13 His bosom was stone and he would not relent,

13 And she, etc.

14 He turned him around and he thought of a plan,
He bought an old horse and he hired an old man,

14 To carry her back to Northumberland.

15 A heavy heart makes a weary way,
She reached her home in the evening gray,

15 And she, etc.

16 And all as she stood at her father’s tower-gate,
More loud beat her heart than her knock thereat,

16 And she, etc.

17 Down came her step-dame, so rugged and doure,

17 O why was your love so easily won!

17 ‘In Scotland go back to your false paramour,

17 For you shall not stay here in Northumberland.’

18 Down came her father, he saw her and smiled,

18 A young maid’s love is easily won

18 ‘You are not the first that false Scots have beguiled,

18 And ye’re aye welcome back to Northumberland.

19 ‘You shall not want houses, you shall not want land,
You shall not want gold for to gain a husband,

19 And ye’re aye welcome back to Northumberland.’

Version F

1 * * * *
She stole the keys from her father’s bed-head,
O but her love it was easy won!

1 She opened the gates, she opened them wide,
She let him out o the prison strong.

2 She went into her father’s stable,
O but her love it was easy won!

2 She stole a steed that was both stout and strong,
To carry him hame frae Northumberland.

3 ‘I’ll be cook in your kitchen,
Noo sure my love has been easy won!

3 I’ll serve your own lady with hat an with hand,
For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’

4 ‘I need nae cook in my kitchin,
O but your love it was easy won!

4 Ye’ll serve not my lady with hat or with hand,
For ye maun gae back to Northumberland.’

5 When she gaed hame, how her father did ban!
‘O but your love it was easy won!

5 A fair Scottish girl, not sixteen years old,
Was once the fair flower o Northumberland!’

Version G

1 ‘Why, fair maid, have pity on me,’
Waly’s my love wi the life that she wan

1 ‘For I am bound in prison strong,
And under the heir o Northumberland.’

2 ‘How can I have pity on thee,’
Waly’s my love, etc.

2 ‘When thou hast a wife and children three,
All dwelling at home in fair Scotland?’

3 Now he has sworn a solemn oath,
An it was by eternity,

3 That wife and children he had none,
All dwelling at home in fair Scotland.

4 Now she’s gone to her father’s bedstock,
Waly’s my love, etc.

4 And has stolen the key of the dungeon-lock,
And she the great heir o Northumberland.

5 And she’s gone to her father’s chest,
She has stolen away a suit of the best,
Altho she was heir o Northumberland.

6 Now she’s gone to her father’s coffer,
And has taen out gold nane kens how meickle,
Altho she, etc.

7 She’s gane to her father’s stable,
And taen out a steed baith lusty and able,
For a’ she was heir, etc.

8 The rade till they came to Crafurdmoor,
He bade her light down for an English whore,
Altho she, etc.

9 The rade till the came to the water o Clyde,
He bade her light down, nae farer she should ride,
‘For now I am at hame in fair Scotland.’

10 ‘Yonder view my castle,’ said he;
‘There I hae a wife and children three,

10 All dwelling at home,’ etc.

11 ‘O take me by the middle sae sma
And thro me oer your castle-wa,

11 For I darena gang hame to Northumberland.’

12 When she came to her father’s yett,
She durst hardly rapp thereat,

12 Altho she was, etc.

13 Out then spoke her stepmother sour,
She bad her pack off for an impudent whore,

13 ‘For thou shalt not be heir o Northumberland.’

14 Out then spock her bastard brother;
‘She’ll hae nae mair grace than God has gien her,

14 And she shall be heir o Northumberland.’

15 Out and spoke her father sae mild,
‘She’s no the first maid a false Scot has beguild,

15 And she shall be,’ etc.

10. The Twa Sisters

Version A

1 THERE were two sisters, they went playing,
With a hie downe downe a downe-a
To see their father’s ships come sayling in.
With a hy downe downe a downe-a

2 And when they came unto the sea-brym,
The elder did push the younger in.

3 ‘O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne,
And drawe me up upon the dry ground.’

4 ‘O sister, O sister, that may not bee,
Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree.’

5 Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam,
Until she came unto the mill-dam.

6 The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe,
And up he betook her withouten her life.

7 What did he doe with her brest-bone?
He made him a violl to play thereupon.

8 What did he doe with her fingers so small?
He made him peggs to his violl withall.

9 What did he doe with her nose-ridge?
Unto his violl he made him a bridge.

10 What did he doe with her veynes so blew?
He made him strings to his violl thereto.

11 What did he doe with her eyes so bright?
Upon his violl he played at first sight.

12 What did he doe with her tongue so rough?
Unto the violl it spake enough.

13 What did he doe with her two shinnes?
Unto the violl they danc’d Moll Syms.

14 Then bespake the treble string,
‘O yonder is my father the king.’

15 Then bespake the second string,
‘O yonder sitts my mother the queen.’

16 And then bespake the strings all three,
‘O yonder is my sister that drowned mee.’

17 ‘Now pay the miller for his payne,
And let him bee gone in the divel’s name.’

Version B

1 THERE was twa sisters in a bowr,
Edinburgh, Edinburgh
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
Stirling for ay
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
There came a knight to be their wooer.
Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay

2 He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,
But he lovd the youngest above a’ thing.

3 He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,
But lovd the youngest as his life.

4 The eldest she was vexed sair,
An much envi’d her sister fair.

5 Into her bowr she could not rest,
Wi grief an spite she almos brast.

6 Upon a morning fair an clear,
She cried upon her sister dear:

7 ‘O sister, come to yon sea stran,
An see our father’s ships come to lan.’

8 She’s taen her by the milk-white han,
An led her down to yon sea stran.

9 The younges[t] stood upon a stane,
The eldest came an threw her in.

10 She tooke her by the middle sma,
An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.

11 ‘O sister, sister, tak my han,
An Ise mack you heir to a’ my lan.

12 ‘O sister, sister, tak my middle,
An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle.

13 ‘O sister, sister, save my life,
An I swear Ise never be nae man’s wife.’

14 ‘Foul fa the han that I should tacke,
It twin’d me an my wardles make.

15 ‘Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair
Gars me gae maiden for evermair.’

16 Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,
Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.

17 O out it came the miller’s son,
An saw the fair maid swimmin in.

18 ‘O father, father, draw your dam,
Here’s either a mermaid or a swan.’

19 The miller quickly drew the dam,
An there he found a drownd woman.

20 You coudna see her yallow hair
For gold and pearle that were so rare.

21 You coudna see her middle sma
For gouden girdle that was sae braw.

22 You coudna see her fingers white,
For gouden rings that was sae gryte.

23 An by there came a harper fine,
That harped to the king at dine.

24 When he did look that lady upon,
He sighd and made a heavy moan.

25 He’s taen three locks o her yallow hair,
An wi them strung his harp sae fair.

26 The first tune he did play and sing,
Was, ‘Farewell to my father the king.’

27 The nextin tune that he playd syne,
Was, ‘Farewell to my mother the queen.’

28 The lasten tune that he playd then,
Was, ‘Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.’

Version C

1 THERE were two sisters sat in a bour;
Binnorie, O Binnorie
There came a knight to be their wooer.
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie

2 He courted the eldest with glove and ring,
But he loed the youngest aboon a’ thing.

3 He courted the eldest with broach and knife,
But he loed the youngest aboon his life.

4 The eldest she was vexed sair,
And sore envied her sister fair.

5 The eldest said to the youngest ane,
‘Will ye go and see our father’s ships come in?’

6 She’s taen her by the lilly hand,
And led her down to the river strand.

7 The youngest stude upon a stane,
The eldest came and pushed her in.

8 She took her by the middle sma,
And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw.

9 ‘O sister, sister, reach your hand,
And ye shall be heir of half my land.’

10 ‘O sister, I’ll not reach my hand,
And I’ll be heir of all your land.

11 ‘Shame fa the hand that I should take,
It’s twin’d me and my world’s make.’

12 ‘O sister, reach me but your glove,
And sweet William shall be your love.’

13 ‘Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,
And sweet William shall better be my love.

14 ‘Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair
Garrd me gang maiden evermair.’

15 Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam,
Until she came to the miller’s dam.

16 ‘O father, father, draw your dam,
There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’

17 The miller hasted and drew his dam,
And there he found a drowned woman.

18 You could not see her yellow hair,
For gowd and pearls that were sae rare.

19 You could na see her middle sma,
Her gowden girdle was sae bra.

20 A famous harper passing by,
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.

21 And when he looked that ladye on,
He sighed and made a heavy moan.

22 He made a harp of her breast-bone,
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.

23 The strings he framed of her yellow hair,
Whose notes made sad the listening ear.

24 He brought it to her father’s hall,
And there was the court assembled all.

25 He laid this harp upon a stone,
And straight it began to play alone.

26 ‘O yonder sits my father, the king,
And yonder sits my mother, the queen.

27 ‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh,
And by him my William, sweet and true.’

28 But the last tune that the harp playd then,
Was ‘Woe to my sister, false Helen!’

Version D

1 THERE lived three sisters in a bouer,
Edinbruch, Edinbruch
There lived three sisters in a bouer,
Stirling for aye
There lived three sisters in a bouer,
The youngest was the sweetest flowr.
Bonnie St Johnston stands upon Tay

2 There cam a knicht to see them a’,
And on the youngest his love did fa.

3 He brought the eldest ring and glove,
But the youngest was his ain true-love.

4 He brought the second sheath and knife,
But the youngest was to be his wife.

5 The eldest sister said to the youngest ane,
‘Will ye go and see our father’s ships come in?’

6 And as they walked by the linn,
The eldest dang the youngest in.

7 ‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
And ye’ll be heir to a’ my land.’

8 ‘Foul fa the hand that I wad take,
To twin me o my warld’s make.’

9 ‘O sister, sister, tak my glove,
And yese get Willie, my true-love.’

10 ‘Sister, sister, I’ll na tak your glove,
For I’ll get Willie, your true-love.’

11 Aye she swittert, and aye she swam,
Till she cam to yon bonnie mill-dam.

12 The miller’s dochter cam out wi speed,
It was for water, to bake her bread.

13 ‘O father, father, gae slack your dam;
There’s in’t a lady or a milk-white swan.’

14 They could na see her coal-black eyes
For her yellow locks hang oure her brees.

15 They could na see her weel-made middle
For her braid gowden girdle.

16 And by there cam an auld blind fiddler,
And took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.

17 The first spring that the bonnie fiddle playd,
‘Hang my cruel sister, Alison,’ it said.

Version E

1 THERE livd twa sisters in a bower,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch!
There lived twa sisters in a bower,
Stirling for aye!
The youngest o them O she was a flower!
Bonny Sanct Johnstoune that stands upon Tay!

2 There cam a squire frae the west,
He loed them baith, but the youngest best.

3 He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,
But he loed the youngest aboon a’ thing.

4 ‘O sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?
Our father’s ships sail bonnilie.’

5 The youngest sat down upon a stane;
The eldest shot the youngest in.

6 ‘O sister, sister, lend me your hand,
And you shall hae my gouden fan.

7 ‘O sister, sister, save my life,
And ye shall be the squire’s wife.’

8 First she sank, and then she swam,
Untill she cam to Tweed mill-dam.

9 The millar’s daughter was baking bread,
She went for water, as she had need.

10 ‘O father, father, in our mill-dam
There’s either a lady, or a milk-white swan.’

11 They could nae see her fingers small,
Wi diamond rings they were coverd all.

12 They could nae see her yellow hair,
Sae mony knots and platts were there.

13 They could nae see her lilly feet,
Her gowden fringes war sae deep.

14 Bye there cam a fiddler fair,
And he’s taen three taits o her yellow hair.

Version F

1 THERE was two ladies livd in a bower,
Hey with a gay and a grinding O
The youngest o them was the fairest flower
About a’ the bonny bows o London.

2 There was two ladies livd in a bower,
An wooer unto the youngest did go.

3 The oldest one to the youngest did say,
‘Will ye take a walk with me today,
And we’ll view the bonny bows o London.

4 ‘Thou’ll set thy foot whare I set mine,
Thou’ll set thy foot upon this stane.’

5 ‘I’ll set my foot where thou sets thine:’
The old sister dang the youngest in,
At, etc.

6 ‘O sister dear, come tak my hand,
Take my life safe to dry land,’
At, etc.

7 ‘It’s neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,
It’s neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,
At, etc.

8 ‘It’s thy cherry cheeks and thy white briest bane
Gars me set a maid owre lang at hame.’

9 She clasped her hand[s] about a brume rute,
But her cruel sister she lowsed them out.

10 Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,
Till she cam to the miller’s dam.

11 The miller’s bairns has muckle need,
They were bearing in water to bake some breid.

12 Says, ‘Father, dear father, in our mill-dam,
It’s either a fair maid or a milk-white swan.’

13 The miller he’s spared nae his hose nor his shoon
Till he brocht this lady till dry land.

14 I wad he saw na a bit o her feet,
Her silver slippers were made so neat.

15 I wad he saw na a bit o her skin,
For ribbons there was mony a ane.

16 He laid her on a brume buss to dry,
To see wha was the first wad pass her by.

17 Her ain father’s herd was the first man
That by this lady gay did gang.

18 He’s taen three links of her yellow hair,
And made it a string to his fiddle there.

19 He’s cut her fingers long and small
To be fiddle-pins that neer might fail.

20 The very first spring that the fiddle did play,
‘Hang my auld sister,’ I wad it did say.

21 ‘For she drowned me in yonder sea,
God neer let her rest till she shall die,’

21 At the bonny bows o London.

Version G

1 THERE were three sisters lived in a bouir,
Hech, hey, my Nannie O
And the youngest was the fairest flouir.
And the swan swims bonnie O

2 ‘O sister, sister, gang down to yon sand,
And see your father’s ships coming to dry land.’

3 O they have gane down to yonder sand,
To see their father’s ships coming to dry land.

4 ‘Gae set your fit on yonder stane,
Till I tye up your silken goun.’

5 She set her fit on yonder stane,
And the auldest drave the youngest in.

6 ‘O sister, sister, tak me by the hand,
And ye’ll get a’ my father’s land.

7 ‘O sister, sister, tak me by the gluve,
An ye’ll get Willy, my true luve.’

8 She had a switch into her hand,
And ay she drave her frae the land.

9 O whiles she sunk, and whiles she swam,
Until she swam to the miller’s dam.

10 The miller’s daughter gade doun to Tweed,
To carry water to bake her bread.

11 ‘O father, O father, what’s yon in the dam?
It’s either a maid or a milk-white swan.’

12 They have tane her out till yonder thorn,
And she has lain till Monday morn.

13 She hadna, hadna twa days lain,
Till by there came a harper fine.

14 He made a harp o her breast-bane,
That he might play forever thereon.

Version H

1 THERE were three sisters lived in a hall,
Hey with the gay and the grandeur O
And there came a lord to court them all.
At the bonnie bows o London town.

2 He courted the eldest with a penknife,
And he vowed that he would take her life.

3 He courted the youngest with a glove,
And he said that he’d be her true love.

4 ‘O sister, O sister, will you go and take a walk,
And see our father’s ships how they float?

5 ‘O lean your foot upon the stone,
And wash your hand in that sea-foam.’

6 She leaned her foot upon the stone,
But her eldest sister has tumbled her down.

7 ‘O sister, sister, give me your hand,
And I’ll make you lady of all my land.’

8 ‘O I’ll not lend to you my hand,
But I’ll be lady of your land.’

9 ‘O sister, sister, give me your glove,
And I’ll make you lady of my true love.’

10 ‘It’s I’ll not lend to you my glove,
But I’ll be lady of your true love.’

11 Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,
Until she came to a miller’s dam.

12 The miller’s daughter was coming out wi speed,
For water for to bake some bread.

13 ‘O father, father, stop the dam,
For it’s either a lady or a milk-white swan.’

14 He dragged her out unto the shore,
And stripped her of all she wore.

15 By cam a fiddler, and he was fair,
And he buskit his bow in her bonnie yellow hair.
By cam her father’s harper, and he was fine,

16 he made a harp o her bonny breast-bone.

17 When they came to her father’s court,
The harp [and fiddle these words] spoke:

18 ‘O God bless my father the king,
And I wish the same to my mother the queen.

19 ‘My sister Jane she tumbled me in,
. . . . .

Version I

1 THERE war twa sisters lived in a bouer,
Binnorie and Binnorie
There cam a squire to court them baith.
At the bonnie mill-streams o Binnorie

2 He courted the eldest with Jewels and rings,
But he lovd the youngest the best of all things.

3 He courted the eldest with a penknife,
He lovd the youngest as dear as his life.

4 It fell ance upon a day
That these twa sisters hae gane astray.

5 It was for to meet their father’s ships that had come in.
. . . . .

6 As they walked up the linn,
The eldest dang the youngest in.

7 ‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
And ye’ll hae Lud John and aw his land.’

8 With a silver wand she pushd her in,
. . . . .

9 ‘O sister, sister, tak my glove,
And ye sall hae my ain true love.’

10 The miller’s dochter cam out wi speed.
It was for a water to bake her bread.

11 ‘O father, father, gae slack your dam;
There’s either a white fish or a swan.’

12 Bye cam a blind fiddler that way,
And he took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.

13 And the first spring that he playd,
It said, ‘It was my sister threw me in.’

Version J

1 THERE were two ladies playing ball,
Hey, ho, my Nannie O
A great lord came to court them all.
The swan she does swim bonnie O

2 He gave to the first a golden ring,
He gave to the second a far better thing.

3 He made a harp of her breast-bone
. . . . .

4 He set it down upon a stone,
And it began to play its lone.

Version K

1 ‘O SISTER, sister, gie me your hand,
Binnorie and Binnorie
And I’ll give the half of my fallow-land,
By the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.’

2 The first time the bonnie fiddle played,
‘Hang my sister, Alison,’ it said,
‘At the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.’

Version L

1 O WAS it eke a pheasant cock,
Or eke a pheasant hen,
Or was it the bodye of a fair ladye,
Come swimming down the stream?

2 O it was not a pheasant cock,
Nor eke a pheasant hen,
But it was the bodye of a fair ladye
Came swimming down the stream.

3 And what did he do with her fair bodye?
Fal the lal the lal laral lody

3 He made it a case for his melodye.
Fal, etc.

4 And what did he do with her legs so strong?
He made them a stand for his violon.

5 And what did he do with her hair so fine?
He made of it strings for his violine.

6 And what did he do with her arms so long?
He made them bows for his violon.

7 And what did he do with her nose so thin?
He made it a bridge for his violin.

8 And what did he do with her eyes so bright?
He made them spectacles to put to his sight.

9 And what did he do with her petty toes?
He made them a nosegay to put to his nose.

Version M

1 THERE lived twa sisters in yonder ha,
Bin’orie O an Bin’orie
They hadna but ae lad atween them twa,
He’s the bonnie miller lad o Bin’orie.

2 It fell oot upon a day,
The auldest ane to the youngest did say,
At the bonnie mill-dams o Bin’orie,

3 ‘O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams,
To hear the blackbird thrashin oer his songs?
At the,’ etc.

4 ‘O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams,
To see oor father’s fish-boats come safe to dry lan?
An the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.’

5 They hadna been an oor at the dams,
Till they heard the blackbird thrashin oer his tune,
At the, etc.

6 They hadna been an oor at the dams
Till they saw their father’s fish-boats come safe to dry lan,
Bat they sawna the bonnie miller laddie.

7 They stood baith up upon a stane,
An the eldest ane dang the youngest in,
I the, etc.

8 She swam up, an she swam doon,
An she swam back to her sister again,
I the, etc.

9 ‘O sister, O sister, len me your han,
An yes be heir to my true love,
He’s the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.’

10 ‘It was not for that love at I dang you in,
But ye was fair and I was din,

10 And yes droon i the dams o Binorie.’

11 The miller’s daughter she cam oot,
For water to wash her father’s hans,

11 Frae the, etc.

12 ‘O father, O father, ye will fish your dams,
An ye’ll get a white fish or a swan,

12 I the,’ etc.

13 They fished up and they fished doon,
But they got nothing but a droonet woman,

13 I the, etc.

14 Some o them kent by her skin sae fair,
But weel kent he by her bonnie yallow hair

14 She’s the bonnie miller’s lass o Binorie.

15 Some o them kent by her goons o silk,
But weel kent he by her middle sae jimp,

15 She’s the bonnie miller’s lass o Binorie.

16 Mony ane was at her oot-takin,
But mony ane mair at her green grave makin,

16 At the bonny mill-dams o Binorie.

Version N

1 THERE were twa sisters livd in a bouir,
Binnorie, O Binnorie
Their father was a baron of pouir.
By the bonnie mildams of Binnorie

2 The youngest was meek, and fair as the may
Whan she springs in the east wi the gowden day.

3 The eldest austerne as the winter cauld,
Ferce was her saul, and her seiming was bauld.

4 A gallant squire can sweet Isabel to wooe;
Her sister had naething to luve I trow.

5 But filld was she wi dolour and ire,
To see that to her the comlie squire

6 Preferd the debonair Isabel:
Their hevin of luve of spyte was her hell.

7 Till ae ein she to her sister can say,
‘Sweit sister, cum let us wauk and play.’

8 They wauked up, and they wauked down,
Sweit sang the birdis in the vallie loun.

9 Whan they cam to the roaring lin,
She drave unweiting Isabel in.

10 ‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
And ye sall hae my silver fan.

11 ‘O sister, sister, tak my middle,
And ye sall hae my gowden girdle.’

12 Sumtimes she sank, sumtimes she swam,
Till she cam to the miller’s dam.

13 The miller’s dochtor was out that ein,
And saw her rowing down the streim.

14 ‘O father deir, in your mil-dam
There is either a lady or a milk-white swan!’

15 Twa days were gane, whan to her deir
Her wraith at deid of nicht cold appeir.

16 ‘My luve, my deir, how can ye sleip,
Whan your Isabel lyes in the deip!

17 ‘My deir, how can ye sleip bot pain
Whan she by her cruel sister is slain!’

18 Up raise he sune, in frichtfu mude:
‘Busk ye, my meiny, and seik the flude.’

19 They socht her up and they socht her doun,
And spyd at last her glisterin gown.

20 They raisd her wi richt meidle care;
Pale was her cheik and grein was her hair.

Version O

1 THERE were twa sisters in a bower,
Hey wi the gay and the grinding
And ae king’s son has courted them baith.
At the bonny bonny bows o London

2 He courted the youngest wi broach and ring,
He courted the eldest wi some other thing.

3 It fell ance upon a day
The eldest to the youngest did say,

4 ‘Will ye gae to yon Tweed mill-dam,
And see our father’s ships come to land?’

5 They baith stood up upon a stane,
The eldest dang the youngest in.

6 She swimmed up, sae did she down,
Till she came to the Tweed mill-dam.

7 The miller’s servant he came out,
And saw the lady floating about.

8 ‘O master, master, set your mill,
There is a fish, or a milk-white swan.’

9 They could not ken her yellow hair,
[For] the scales o gowd that were laid there.

10 They could not ken her fingers sae white,
The rings o gowd they were sae bright.

11 They could not ken her middle sae jimp,
The stays o gowd were so well laced.

12 They could not ken her foot sae fair,
The shoes o gowd they were so rare.

13 Her father’s fiddler he came by,
Upstarted her ghaist before his eye.

14 ‘Ye’ll take a lock o my yellow hair,
Ye’ll make a string to your fiddle there.

15 ‘Ye’ll take a lith o my little finger bane,
And ye’ll make a pin to your fiddle then.’

16 He’s taen a lock o her yellow hair,
And made a string to his fiddle there.

17 He’s taen a lith o her little finger bane,
And he’s made a pin to his fiddle then.

18 The firstand spring the fiddle did play,
Said, ‘Ye’ll drown my sister, as she’s dune me.’

Version P

1 THERE were twa ladies in a bower,
Hey my bonnie Nannie O
The old was black and the young ane fair.
And the swan swims bonnie O

2 Once it happened on a day
The auld ane to the young did say,

3 The auld ane to the young did say,
‘Will you gae to the green and play?’

4 ‘O sister, sister, I daurna gang,
For fear I file my silver shoon.’

5 It was not to the green they gaed,
But it was to the water of Tweed.

6 She bowed her back and she’s taen her on,
And she’s tumbled her in Tweed mill-dam.

7 ‘O sister, O sister, O tak my hand,
And I’ll mak you heir of a’ my land.’

8 ‘O sister, O sister, I’ll no take your hand,
And I’ll be heir of a’ your land.’

9 ‘O sister, O sister, O tak my thumb,
And I’ll give you my true-love John.’

10 ‘O sister, O sister, I’ll no tak your thumb,
And I will get your true-love John.’

11 Aye she swattered and aye she swam,
Until she came to the mouth of the dam.

12 The miller’s daughter went out to Tweed,
To get some water to bake her bread.

13 In again she quickly ran:
‘Here’s a lady or a swan in our mill-dam.’

14 Out went the miller and his man
And took the lady out of the dam.

15 They laid her on the brae to dry;
Her father’s fiddler then rode by.

16 When he this lady did come near,
Her ghost to him then did appear.

17 ‘When you go to my father the king,
You’ll tell him to burn my sister Jean.

18 ‘When you go to my father’s gate,
You’ll play a spring for fair Ellen’s sake.

19 ‘You’ll tak three links of my yellow hair,
And play a spring for evermair.’

Version Q

1 THERE dwelt twa sisters in a bower,
Oh and ohone, and ohone and aree!
And the youngest she was the fairest flower.
On the banks of the Banna, ohone and aree!

2 There cam a knight to court the twa,
But on the youngest his love did fa.

3 He courted the eldest with ring and wi glove,
But he gave the youngest all his love.

4 He courted the eldest with brooch and wi knife,
But he loved the youngest as his life.

5 ‘O sister, O sister, will ye come to the stream,
To see our father’s ships come in?’

6 The youngest stood upon a stane,
Her sister came and pusht her in.

7 ‘O sister, O sister, come reach me your hand,
And ye shall hae all our father’s land.

8 ‘O sister, O sister, come reach me your glove,
And you shall hae William to be your true love.’

9 ‘I did not put you in with the design
Just for to pull you out again.’

10 Some time she sank, some time she swam,
Until she came to a miller’s dam.

11 The miller’s daughter dwelt on the Tweed,
She went for water to bake her bread.

12 ‘O faither, faither, come drag me your dam,
For there’s aither a lady in’t, or a milk-white swan.’

13 The miller went, and he dragd his dam,
And he brought her fair body to lan.

14 They couldna see her waist sae sma
For the goud and silk about it a’.

15 They couldna see her yallow hair
For the pearls and jewels that were there.

16 Then up and spak her ghaist sae green,
‘Do ye no ken the king’s dochter Jean?

17 ‘Tak my respects to my father the king,
And likewise to my mother the queen.

18 ‘Tak my respects to my true love William,
Tell him I deid for the love of him.

19 ‘Carry him a lock of my yallow hair,
To bind his heart for evermair.’

Version R

1 THERE was a king of the north countree,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
There was a king of the north countree,
And he had daughters one, two, three.
I’ll be true to my love, and my love’ll be true to me

2 To the eldest he gave a beaver hat,
And the youngest she thought much of that.

3 To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain,
And the eldest she thought much of the same.

4 These sisters were walking on the bryn,
And the elder pushed the younger in.

5 ‘Oh sister, oh sister, oh lend me your hand,
And I will give you both houses and land.’

6 ‘I’ll neither give you my hand nor glove,
Unless you give me your true love.’

7 Away she sank, away she swam,
Until she came to a miller’s dam.

8 The miller and daughter stood at the door,
And watched her floating down the shore.

9 ‘Oh father, oh father, I see a white swan,
Or else it is a fair woman.’

10 The miller he took up his long crook,
And the maiden up from the stream he took.

11 ‘I’ll give to thee this gay gold chain,
If you’ll take me back to my father again.’

12 The miller he took the gay gold chain,
And he pushed her into the water again.

13 The miller was hanged on his high gate
For drowning our poor sister Kate.

14 The cat’s behind the buttery shelf,
If you want any more, you may sing it yourself.

Version S

1 * * * *
‘O FATHER, father, swims a swan,’
This story I’ll vent to thee
‘O father, father, swims a swan,
Unless it be some dead woman.’
I’ll prove true to my true love,
If my love prove true to me

2 The miller he held out his long fish hook,
And hooked this fair maid from the brook.

3 She offered the miller a gold ring stane
To throw her into the river again.

4 Down she sunk, and away she swam,
Until she came to her father’s brook.

5 The miller was hung at his mill-gate,
For drowning of my sister Kate.

Version T

1 SISTER, dear sister, where shall we go play?’
Cold blows the wind, and the wind blows low
‘We shall go to the salt sea’s brim.’
And the wind blows cheerily around us, high ho

Version U

1 THERE was a man lived in the mist,
Bow down, bow down
He loved his youngest daughter best.
The bow is bent to me,
So you be true to your own true love,
And I’ll be true to thee.

2 These two sisters went out to swim;
The oldest pushed the youngest in.

3 First she sank and then she swam,
First she sank and then she swam.

4 The miller, with his rake and hook,
He caught her by the petticoat.

Version V

1 There dwelt twa sisters in a bower,
Benorie, O Benorie

1 The youngest o them was the fairest flower.
In the merry milldams o Benorie

2 There cam a wooer them to woo,
. . . . .
. . . . .

3 He’s gien the eldest o them a broach and a real,
Because that she loved her sister weel.
At etc.’p

4 He’s gien the eldest a gay penknife,
He loved the youngest as dear as his life.
At etc.

5 ‘O sister, O sister, will ye go oer yon glen,
And see my father’s ships coming in?’
At etc.

6 ‘O sister dear, I darena gang,
Because I’m feard ye throw me in.’
The etc.

7 ‘O set your foot on yon sea stane,
And was yeer hands in the sea foam.’
At etc.

8 She set her foot on yon sea stane,
To wash her hands in the sea foam.
At etc.

9 . . . . .
But the eldest has thrown the youngest in.
The etc.

10 ‘O sister, O sister, lend me your hand,
And ye’se get William and a’ his land.’

10 At etc.

11 The miller’s daughter cam out clad in red,
Seeking water to bake her bread.

11 At etc.

12 ‘O father, O father, gae fish yeer mill-dam,
There’s either a lady or a milk-[white] swan.’

12 In etc.

13 The miller cam out wi his lang cleek,
And he cleekit the lady out by the feet.

13 From the bonny milldam, etc.

14 Ye wadna kend her pretty feet,
The American leather was sae neat.

14 In etc.

15 Ye wadna kend her pretty legs,
The silken stockings were so neat tied.

15 In etc.

16 Ye wadna kend her pretty waist,
The silken stays were sae neatly laced.

16 In etc.

17 Ye wadna kend her pretty face,
It was sae prettily preend oer wi lace.

17 In etc.

18 Ye wadna kend her yellow hair,
It was sae besmeared wi dust and glar.

18 In etc.

19 By cam her father’s fiddler fine,
And that lady’s spirit spake to him.

19 From etc.

20 She bad him take three taits o her hair,
And make them three strings to his fiddle sae rare.

20 At etc.

21 ‘Take two of my fingers, sae lang and sae white,
And make them pins to your fiddle sae neat.’

21 At etc.

22 The ae first spring that the fiddle played
Was, Cursed be Sir John, my ain true-love.

22 At etc.

23 The next spring that the fiddle playd
Was, Burn burd Hellen, she threw me in.

23 The etc.

Version W

1 Ther were three ladies playing at the ba,
Norham, down by Norham

1 And there cam a knight to view them a’.
By the bonnie mill-dams o Norham

2 He courted the aldest wi diamonds and rings,
But he loved the youngest abune a’ things.

3 ‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,
And pull my poor body unto dry land.

4 ‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your glove,
And you shall have my own true love!’

5 Oot cam the miller’s daughter upon Tweed,
To carry in water to bake her bread.

6 ‘Oh father, oh father, there’s a fish in your dam;
It either is a lady or a milk-white swan.’

7 Oot cam the miller’s man upon Tweed,
And there he spied a lady lying dead.

8 He could not catch her by the waist,
For her silken stays they were tight laced.

9 But he did catch her by the hand,
And pulled her poor body unto dry land.

10 He took three taets o her bonnie yellow hair,
To make harp strings they were so rare.

11 The very first tune that the bonnie harp played
Was The aldest has cuisten the youngest away.

Version X

1 I see a lady in the dam,
Binnorie, oh Binnorie

1 She shenes as sweet as ony swan.
I the bonny milldams o Binnorie

Version Y

1 There was a king lived in the North Country,
Hey down down dery down

1 There was a king lived in the North Country,
And the bough it was bent to me

1 There was a king lived in the North Country,
And he had daughters one, two, three.
I’ll prove true to my love,
If my love will prove true to me.

2 He gave the eldest a gay gold ring,
But he gave the younger a better thing.

3 He bought the younger a beaver hat;
The eldest she thought much of that.

4 ‘Oh sister, oh sister, let us go run,
To see the ships come sailing along!’

5 And when they got to the sea-side brim,
The eldest pushed the younger in.

6 ‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,
I’ll make you heir of my house and land.’

7 ‘I’ll neither lend you my hand nor my glove,
Unless you grant me your true-love.’

8 Then down she sunk and away she swam,
Untill she came to the miller’s mill-dam.

9 The miller’s daughter sat at the mill-door,
As fair as never was seen before.

10 ‘Oh father, oh father, there swims a swan,
Or else the body of a dead woman.’

11 The miller he ran with his fishing hook,
To pull the fair maid out o the brook.

12 ‘Wee’ll hang the miller upon the mill-gate,
For drowning of my sister Kate.’

11. The Cruel Brother

Version A

1 THERE was three ladies playd at the ba,
With a hey ho and a lillie gay
There came a knight and played oer them a’.
As the primrose spreads so sweetly

2 The eldest was baith tall and fair,
But the youngest was beyond compare.

3 The midmost had a graceful mien,
But the youngest lookd like beautie’s queen.

4 The knight bowd low to a’ the three,
But to the youngest he bent his knee.

5 The ladie turned her head aside,
The knight he woo’d her to be his bride.

6 The ladie blushd a rosy red,
And sayd, ‘Sir knight, I’m too young to wed.’

7 ‘O ladie fair, give me your hand,
And I’ll make you ladie of a’ my land.’

8 ‘Sir knight, ere ye my favor win,
You maun get consent frae a’ my kin.’

9 He’s got consent frae her parents dear,
And likewise frae her sisters fair.

10 He’s got consent frae her kin each one,
But forgot to spiek to her brother John.

11 Now, when the wedding day was come,
The knight would take his bonny bride home.

12 And many a lord and many a knight
Came to behold that ladie bright.

13 And there was nae man that did her see,
But wishd himself bridegroom to be.

14 Her father dear led her down the stair,
And her sisters twain they kissd her there.

15 Her mother dear led her thro the closs,
And her brother John set her on her horse.

16 She leand her oer the saddle-bow,
To give him a kiss ere she did go.

17 He has taen a knife, baith lang and sharp,
And stabbd that bonny bride to the heart.

18 She hadno ridden half thro the town,
Until her heart’s blude staind her gown.

19 ‘Ride softly on,’ says the best young man,
‘For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.’

20 ‘O lead me gently up yon hill,
And I’ll there sit down, and make my will.’

21 ‘O what will you leave to your father dear?’
‘The silver-shod steed that brought me here.’

22 ‘What will you leave to your mother dear?’
‘My velvet pall and my silken gear.’

23 ‘What will you leave your sister Anne?’
‘My silken scarf and my gowden fan.’

24 at will you leave to your sister Grace?’
My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.’

25 ‘What will you leave to your brother John?’
‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’

26 ‘What will you leave to your brother John’s wife?’
‘The wilderness to end her life.’

27 This ladie fair in her grave was laid,
And many a mass was oer her said.

28 But it would have made your heart right sair,
To see the bridegroom rive his haire.

Version B

1 A GENTLEMAN cam oure the sea,
Fine flowers in the valley
And he has courted ladies three.
With the light green and the yellow

2 One o them was clad in red:
He asked if she wad be his bride.

3 One o them was clad in green:
He asked if she wad be his queen.

4 The last o them was clad in white:
He asked if she wad be his heart’s delight.

5 ‘Ye may ga ask my father, the king:
Sae maun ye ask my mither, the queen.

6 ‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne:
And dinna forget my brither John.’

7 He has asked her father, the king:
And sae did he her mither, the queen.

8 And he has asked her sister Anne:
But he has forgot her brother John.

9 Her father led her through the ha,
Her mither danced afore them a’.

10 Her sister Anne led her through the closs,
Her brither John set her on her horse.

11 It’s then he drew a little penknife,
And he reft the fair maid o her life.

12 ‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the foremost man;
‘I think our bride comes hooly on.’

13 ‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man;
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

14 Up than cam the gay bridegroom,
And straucht unto the bride he cam.

15 ‘Does your side-saddle sit awry?
Or does your steed . . .

16 ‘Or does the rain run in your glove?
Or wad ye chuse anither love?’

17 ‘The rain runs not in my glove,
Nor will I e’er chuse anither love.

18 ‘But O an I war at Saint Evron’s well,
There I wad licht, and drink my fill!

19 ‘Oh an I war at Saint Evron’s closs,
There I wad licht, and bait my horse!’

20 Whan she cam to Saint Evron’s well,
She dought na licht to drink her fill.

21 Whan she cam to Saint Evron’s closs,
The bonny bride fell aff her horse.

22 ‘What will ye leave to your father, the king?’
‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’

23 ‘What will ye leave to your mother, the queen?’
‘The bluidy robes that I have on.’

24 ‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’
‘My gude lord, to be wedded on.’

25 ‘What will ye leave to your brither John?’
‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’

26 ‘What will ye leave to your brither’s wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow a’ the days o her life.’

27 ‘What will ye leave to your brither’s bairns?’
‘The meal-pock to hang oure the arms.’

28 Now does she neither sigh nor groan:
She lies aneath yon marble stone.

Version C

1 THERE waur three ladies in a ha,
Hech hey an the lily gey
By cam a knicht, an he wooed them a’.
An the rose is aye the redder aye

2 The first ane she was cled in green;
‘Will you fancy me, an be my queen?’

3 ‘You may seek me frae my father dear,
An frae my mither, wha did me bear.

4 ‘You may seek me frae my sister Anne,
But no, no, no frae my brither John.’

5 The niest ane she was cled in yellow;
‘Will you fancy me, an be my marrow?’

6 ‘Ye may seek me frae my father dear,
An frae my mither, wha did me bear.

7 ‘Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne,
But no, no, no frae my brither John.’

8 The niest ane she was cled in red:
‘Will ye fancy me, an be my bride?’

9 ‘Ye may seek me frae my father dear,
An frae my mither wha did me bear.

10 ‘Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne,
An dinna forget my brither John.’

11 He socht her frae her father, the king,
An he socht her frae her mither, the queen.

12 He socht her frae her sister Anne,
But he forgot her brither John.

13 Her mither she put on her goun,
An her sister Anne preened the ribbons doun.

14 Her father led her doon the close,
An her brither John set her on her horse.

15 Up an spak our foremost man:
‘I think our bonnie bride’s pale an wan.’

16 ‘What will ye leave to your father dear?’
‘My . . . . . an my . . . . . chair.’

17 ‘What will ye leave to your mither dear?’
‘My silken screen I was wont to wear.’

18 ‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’
‘My silken snood an my golden fan.’

19 ‘What will you leave to your brither John?’
‘The gallows tree to hang him on.’

Version D

1 THERE were three ladies playing at ball,
Farin-dan-dan and farin-dan-dee
There came a white knight, and he wooed them all.
With adieu, sweet honey, wherever you be

2 He courted the eldest with golden rings,
And the others with many fine things.
And adieu, etc.

Version E

1 THERE were three sisters playin at the ba,

11 Wi a hech hey an a lillie gay

11 There cam a knicht an lockt ower the wa’.

11 An the primrose springs sae sweetly.
Sing Annet, an Marret, an fair Maisrie,
An the dew hangs i the wood, gay ladie.

Version F

1 THERE did three knights come from the west,
With the high and the lily oh
And these three knights courted one lady.
As the rose was so sweetly blown

2 The first knight came was all in white,
And asked of her, if she’d be his delight.

3 The next knight came was all in green,
And asked of her, if she’d be his queen.

4 The third knight came was all in red,
And asked of her, if she would wed.

5 ‘Then have you asked of my father dear,
Likewise of her who did me bear?

6 ‘And have you asked of my brother John?
And also of my sister Anne?’

7 ‘Yes, I have asked of your father dear,
Likewise of her who did you bear.

8 ‘And I have asked of your sister Anne,
But I’ve not asked of your brother John.’

9 Far on the road as they rode along,
There did they meet with her brother John.

10 She stooped low to kiss him sweet,
He to her heart did a dagger meet.

11 ‘Ride on, ride on,’ cried the serving man,
‘Methinks your bride she looks wondrous wan.’

12 ‘I wish I were on yonder stile,
For there I would sit and bleed awhile.

13 ‘I wish I were on yonder hill,
There I’d alight and make my will.’

14 ‘What would you give to your father dear?’
‘The gallant steed which doth me bear.’

15 ‘What would you give to your mother dear?’
‘My wedding shift which I do wear.

16 ‘But she must wash it very clean,
For my heart’s blood sticks in evry seam.’

17 ‘What would you give to your sister Anne?’
‘My gay gold ring and my feathered fan.’

18 ‘What would you give to your brother John?’
‘A rope and gallows to hang him on.’

19 ‘What would you give to your brother John’s wife?’
‘A widow’s weeds, and a quiet life.’

Version G

1 THERE was three ladys in a ha,
Fine flowers i the valley
There came three lords amang them a’,
Wi the red, green, and the yellow

2 The first of them was clad in red:
‘O lady fair, will you be my bride?’

3 The second of them was clad in green:
‘O lady fair, will you be my queen?’

4 The third of them was clad in yellow:
‘O lady fair, will you be my marrow?’

5 ‘You must ask my father dear,
Likewise the mother that did me bear.’

6 ‘You must ask my sister Ann,
And not forget my brother John.’

7 ‘I have askt thy father dear,
Likewise thy mother that did thee bear.

8 ‘I have askt thy sister Ann,
But I forgot thy brother John.’

9 Her father led her through the ha,
Her mother dancd before them a’.

10 Her sister Ann led her through the closs,
Her brother John put her on her horse.

11 ‘You are high and I am low;
Let me have a kiss before you go.’

12 She was louting down to kiss him sweet,
Wi his penknife he wounded her deep.

13 ‘O lead me over into yon stile,
That I may stop and braeth a while.

14 ‘O lead me over to yon stair,
For there I’ll ly and bleed ne mair.’

15 ‘O what will you leave your father dear?’
‘That milk-white steed that brought me here.’

16 ‘O what will you leave your mother dear?’
‘The silken gown that I did wear.’

17 ‘What will you leave your sister Ann?’
‘My silken snood and golden fan.’

18 ‘What will you leave your brother John?’
‘The highest gallows to hang him on.’

19 ‘What will you leave your brother John’s wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow to end her life.’

20 ‘What will ye leave your brother John’s bairns?’
‘The world wide for them to range.’

Version H

1 SHE louted down to gie a kiss,
With a hey and a lilly gay
He stuck his penknife in her hass.
And the rose it smells so sweetly

2 de up, ride up,’ cry’d the foremost man;
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

Version I

1 THERE war three bonnie boys playing at the ba,
Hech hey and a lily gay
There cam three ladies to view them a’.
And the rose it smells sae sweetlie

2 The first ane was clad in red:
‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my bride.’

3 The next o them was clad in green:
‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my queen.’

4 The tither o them was clad in yellow:
‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my marrow.’

5 ‘Ye maun gang to my father’s bouer,
To see gin your bride he’ll let me be.’

6 Her father led her doun the stair,
Her mither at her back did bear.

7 Her sister Jess led her out the closs,
Her brother John set her on the horse.

8 She loutit doun to gie him a kiss;
He struck his penknife thro her breist.

9 ‘Ride on, ride on,’ says the foremaist man;
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

10 ‘Ride on, ride on,’ says the merry bride-groom;
‘I think my bride’s blude is rinnin doun.’

11 ‘O gin I war at yon bonnie hill,
I wad lie doun and bleed my fill!

12 ‘O gin I war at yon bonnie kirk-yard,
I wad mak my testament there!’

13 ‘What will ye leave to your father dear?’
‘The milk-white steed that brocht me here.’

14 ‘What will ye leave to your mother dear?’
‘The bluidy robes that I do wear.’

15 ‘What will ye leave to your sister Ann?’
‘My silken snood and gowden fan.’

16 ‘What will ye leave to your sister Jess?’
‘The bonnie lad that I loe best.’

17 ‘What will ye leave to your brother John?’
‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’

18 ‘What will ye leave to your brother John’s wife?’
‘Sorrow and trouble a’ her life.’

19 ‘What will ye leave to your brother’s bairns?’
‘The warld’s wide, and let them beg.’

Version J

1 THERE were three sisters playing ball,
With the high and the lily O
And there came three knights to court them all.
With the rosey sweet, heigh ho

2 The eldest of them was drest in green:
‘I wish I had you to be my queen.’

3 The second of them was drest in red:
‘I wish I had you to grace my bed.’

4 The youngest of them was drest in white:
‘I wish I had you to be my wife.’

5 ‘Did ye ask my father brave?
Or did ye ask my mother fair?

6 ‘Or did ye ask my brother John?
For without his will I dare not move on.’

7 ‘I did ask your parents dear,
But I did not see your brother John.’

8 ‘Ride on, ride on,’ said the first man,
‘For I fear the bride comes slowly on.’

9 ‘Ride on, ride on,’ said the next man,
‘For lo! the bride she comes bleeding on.’

10 ‘What will you leave your mother dear?’
‘My heart’s best love for ever and aye.’

11 ‘What will ye leave your sister Anne?’
‘This wedding garment that I have on.’

12 ‘What will ye leave your brother John’s wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow all the days of her life.’

13 ‘What will ye leave your brother John?’
‘The highest gallows to hang him on.’

14 ‘What will ye leave your brother John’s son?’
‘The grace of God to make him a man.’

Version K

1 THERE were three ladies playing at ball,
Gilliver, Gentle, and Rosemary
There came three knights and looked over the wall.
Sing O the red rose and the white lilly

2 The first young knight, he was clothed in red,
And he said, ‘Gentle lady, with me will you wed?’

3 The second young knight, he was clothed in blue,
And he said, ‘To my love I shall ever be true.’

4 The third young knight, he was clothed in green,
And he said, ‘Fairest maiden, will you be my queen?’

5 The lady thus spoke to the knight in red,
‘With you, sir knight, I never can wed.’

6 The lady then spoke to the knight in blue,
And she said, ‘Little faith I can have in you.’

7 The lady then spoke to the knight in green,
And she said, ‘’Tis at court you must seek for a queen.’

8 The three young knights then rode away,
And the ladies they laughed, and went back to their play.
Singing, etc.

Version L

1 There were three ladies playing at the ba,
With a hey and a lilly gay

1 When the King o Fairies rode by them a’.
And the roses they grow sweetlie

2 The foremost one was clad in blue;
He askd at her if she’d be his doo.

3 The second of them was clad in red;
He asked at her if she’d be his bride.

4 The next of them was clad in green;
He askd at her if she’d be his queen.

5 ‘Go you ask at my father then,
And you may ask at my mother then.

6 ‘You may ask at my sister Ann,
And not forget my brother John.’

7 ‘O I have askd at your father then,
And I have askd at your mother then.

8 ‘And I have askd at your sister Ann,
But I’ve quite forgot your brother John.’

9 Her father led her down the stair,
Her mother combd down her yellow hair.

10 Her sister Ann led her to the cross,
And her brother John set her on her horse.

11 ‘Now you are high and I am low,
Give me a kiss before ye go.’

12 She’s lootit down to gie him a kiss,
He gave her a deep wound and didna miss.

13 And with a penknife as sharp as a dart,
And he has stabbit her to the heart.

14 ‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the foremost man,
‘I think our bride looks pale an wan.’

15 ‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the middle man,
‘I see her heart’s blude trinkling down.’

16 ‘Ride on, ride,’ says the Fairy King,
‘She will be dead lang ere we win hame.’

17 ‘O I wish I was at yonder cross,
Where my brother John put me on my horse.

18 ‘I wish I was at yonder thorn,
I wad curse the day that ere I was born.

19 ‘I wish I was at yon green hill,
Then I wad sit and bleed my fill.’

20 ‘What will you leave your father then?’
‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’

21 ‘What will you leave your mother then?’
‘My silver Bible and my golden fan.’

22 ‘What will ye leave your sister Ann?’
‘My good lord, to be married on.’

23 ‘What will ye leave your sister Pegg?’
‘The world wide to go and beg.’

24 ‘What will you leave your brother John?’
‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’

25 ‘What will you leave your brother’s wife?’
‘Grief and sorrow to end her life.’

Version M

1 There was three ladies playing at the ba,
With a hay and a lilly gay

1 A gentleman cam amang them a’.
And the roses grow sweet aye

2 The first of them was clad in yellow,
And he askd at her gin she’d be his marrow.

3 The next o them was clad in green;
He askd at her gin she’d be his queen.

4 The last o them [was] clad in red;
He askd at her gin she’d be his bride.

5 ‘Have ye asked at my father dear?
Or have ye asked my mother dear?

6 ‘Have ye asked my sister Ann?
Or have ye asked my brother John?’

7 ‘I have asked yer father dear,
And I have asked yer mother dear.

8 ‘I have asked yer sister Ann,
But I’ve quite forgot your brother John.’

9 Her father dear led her thro them a’,
Her mother dear led her thro the ha.

10 Her sister Ann led her thro the closs,
And her brother John stabbed her on her horse.

11 ‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the foremost man,
‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’

12 ‘Ride up,’ cries the bonny bridegroom,
‘I think the bride be bleeding.’

13 ‘This is the bludy month of May,
Me and my horse bleeds night and day.

14 ‘O an I were at yon green hill,
I wad ly down and bleed a while.

15 ‘O gin I was at yon red cross,
I wad light down and corn my horse.

16 ‘O an I were at yon kirk-style,
I wad lye down and soon be weel.’

17 When she cam to yon green hill,
Then she lay down and bled a while.

18 And when she cam to yon red cross,
Then she lighted and corned her horse.

19 ‘What will ye leave your father dear?’
‘My milk-white steed, which cost me dear.’

20 ‘What will ye leave your mother dear?’
‘The bludy clothes that I do wear.’

21 ‘What will ye leave your sister Ann?’
‘My silver bridle and my golden fan.’

22 ‘What will ye leave your brother John?’
‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’

23 ‘What will ye leave to your sister Pegg?’
‘The wide world for to go and beg.’

24 When she came to yon kirk-style,
Then she lay down, and soon was weel.

Version N

1 Then out bespak the foremost priest:
Wi a heigh ho and a lilly gay

1 I think she’s bleedin at the breast.
The flowers they spring so sweetly

12. Lord Rendal

Version A

1 ‘O WHERE ha you been, Lord Randal, my son?
And where ha you been, my handsome young man?’
‘I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

2 ‘An what met ye there, Lord Randal, my son?
An wha met you there, my handsome young man?’
‘O I met wi my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi huntin, an fain wad lie down.’

3 ‘And what did she give you, Lord Randal, my son?
And what did she give you, my handsome young man?’
‘Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.’

4 ‘And wha gat your leavins, Lord Randal, my son?
And wha gat your leavins, my handsom young man?’
‘My hawks and my hounds; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

5 d what becam of them, Lord Randal, my son?
And what becam of them, my handsome young man?’
‘They stretched their legs out an died; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.’

6 ‘O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son!
I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!’
‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’

7 ‘What d’ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal, my son?
What d’ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?’
‘Four and twenty milk kye; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’

8 ‘What d’ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal, my son?
What d’ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?’
‘My gold and my silver; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, an I fain wad lie down.’

9 ‘What d’ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
What d’ye leave to your brother, my handsome young man?’
‘My houses and my lands; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’

10 ‘What d’ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
What d’ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?’
‘I leave her hell and fire; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’

Version B

1 ‘O WHARE hae ye been a’ day, Lord Donald, my son?
O whare hae ye been a’ day, my jollie young man?’
‘I’ve been awa courtin; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

2 ‘What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?
What wad ye hae for your supper, my jollie young man?’
‘I’ve gotten my supper; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

3 ‘What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald,my son?
What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man?’
‘A dish of sma fishes; mither mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

4 ‘Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man?’
‘In my father’s black ditches; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

5 ‘What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
What like were your fishes, my jollie young man?’
‘Black backs and spreckld bellies; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

6 ‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Donald, my son!
O I fear ye are poisond, my jollie young man!’
‘O yes! I am poisond; mither mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

7 ‘What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald my son?
What will ye leave to your father, my jollie young man?’
‘Baith my houses and land; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

8 ‘What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie young man?’
‘My horse and the saddle; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

9 ‘What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young man?’
‘Baith my gold box and rings; mither, mak my bed sune,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’

10 ‘What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son?
What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man?’
‘The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree,
And lat her hang there for the poysoning o me.’

Version C

1 ‘WHAT’S become of your hounds, King Henrie, my son?
What’s become of your hounds, my pretty little one?’
‘They all died on the way; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

2 ‘What gat ye to your supper, King Henry, my son?
What gat ye to your supper, my pretty little one?’
‘I gat fish boiled in broo; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

3 ‘What like were the fish, King Henry, my son?
What like were the fish, my pretty little one?’
‘They were spreckled on the back and white on the belly; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

4 ‘What leave ye to your father, King Henry, my son?
What leave ye to your father, my pretty little one?’
‘The keys of Old Ireland, and all that’s therein; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

5 at leave ye to your brother, King Henry, my son?
What leave ye to your brother, my pretty little one?’
‘The keys of my coffers and all that’s therein; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

6 ‘What leave ye to your sister, King Henry, my son?
What leave ye to your sister, my pretty little one?’
‘The world’s wide, she may go beg; mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

7 ‘What leave ye to your trew-love, King Henry, my son?
What leave ye to your trew-love, my pretty little one?’
‘The highest hill to hang her on, for she’s poisoned me and my hounds all; mother, make my bed soon,
Oh I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

Version D

1 ‘O WHERE hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?’
‘I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

2 ‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’
‘I din’d wi my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

3 ‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’
‘I gat eels boild in broo; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

4 ‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’
‘O they swelld and they died; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’

5 ‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my son!
O I fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man!’
‘O yes! I am poisond; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’

Version E

1 ‘AH where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
Ah where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
‘I’ve been in the wild woods; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

2 ‘Oh you’ve been at your true love’s, Lairde Rowlande, my son!
Oh you’ve been at your true-love’s, Lairde Rowlande, my son!’
‘I’ve been at my true-love’s; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

3 ‘What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
‘I got eels boild in brue; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

4 ‘What’s become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What’s become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
‘He died in the muirlands; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

5 ‘What’s become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What’s become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?’
‘They swelled and they died; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.’

Version F

1 ‘O WHERE hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?
O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?’
‘I hae been wi my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi the hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

2 ‘What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?’
‘I hae got deadly poison; mother, make my bed soon,
For life is a burden that soon I’ll lay down.’

Version G

1 ‘WHERE have you been today, Billy, my son?
Where have you been today, my only man?’
‘I’ve been a wooing; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at heart, and fain would lay down.’

2 ‘What have you ate today, Billy, my son?
What have you ate today, my only man?’
‘I’ve ate eel-pie; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at heart, and shall die before noon.’

Version H

1 ‘WHERE was you all day, my own pretty boy?
Where was you all day, my comfort and joy?’
‘I was fishing and fowling; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

2 ‘What did you have for your breakfast, my own pretty boy?
What did you have for your breakfast, my comfort and joy?’
‘A cup of strong poison; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

3 ‘I fear you are poisoned, my own pretty boy,
I fear you are poisoned, my comfort and joy!’
‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

4 ‘What will you leave to your father, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your father, my comfort and joy?’
‘I’ll leave him my house and my property; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

5 ‘What will you leave to your mother, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your mother, my comfort and joy?’
‘I’ll leave her my coach and four horses; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

6 ‘What will you leave to your brother, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your brother, my comfort and joy?’
‘I’ll leave him my bow and my fiddle; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

7 ‘What will you leave to your sister, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your sister, my comfort and joy?’
‘I’ll leave her my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

8 ‘What will you leave to your servant, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to you servant, my comfort and joy?’
‘I’ll leave him the key of my small silver box; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

9 ‘What will you leave to your children, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your children, my comfort and joy?’
‘The world is wide all round for to beg; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

10 ‘What will you leave to your wife, my own pretty boy?
What will you leave to your wife, my comfort and joy?’
‘I’ll leave her the gallows, and plenty to hang her; mother, make my bed soon,
There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’

11 ‘Where shall I make it, my own pretty boy?
Where shall I make it, my comfort and joy?’
‘Above in the churchyard, and dig it down deep,
Put a stone to my head and a flag to my feet,
And leave me down easy until I’ll take a long sleep.’

Version I

1 ‘O WHERE have you been, Tiranti, my son?
O where have you been, my sweet little one?’
‘I have been to my grandmother’s; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’

2 ‘What did you have for your supper, Tiranti, my son?
What did you have for your supper, my sweet little one?’
‘I had eels fried in butter; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’

3 ‘Where did the eels come from, Tiranti, my son?
Where did the eels come from, my sweet little one?’
‘From the corner of the haystack; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’

4 ‘What color were the eels, Tiranti, my son?
What color were the eels, my sweet little one?’
‘They were streak d and strip d; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’

5 ‘What’ll you give to your father, Tiranti, my son?
What’ll you give to your father, my sweet little one?’
‘All my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’

6 ‘What’ll you give to your mother, Tiranti, my son?
What’ll you give to your mother, my sweet little one?’
‘A coach and six horses; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’

7 ‘What’ll you give to your grandmother, Tiranti, my son?
What’ll you give to your grandmother, my sweet little one?’
‘A halter to hang her; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’

8 ‘Where’ll you have your bed made, Tiranti, my son?
Where’ll you have your bed made, my sweet little one?’
‘In the corner of the churchyard; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’

Version J

1 ‘O WHARE hae ye been a’ day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?
O whare hae ye been a’ day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
‘I’ve been at my step-mother’s; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!
I’ve been at my step-mother’s; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’

2 ‘O what did ye get at your step-mother’s, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’ [Twice.]
‘I gat a wee wee fishie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’ [Twice.]

3 ‘O whare gat she the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
‘In a dub before the door; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’

4 ‘What did ye wi the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
‘I boild it in a wee pannie; oh mak my bed, mammy, now!’

5 ‘Wha gied ye the banes o the fishie till, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
‘I gied them till a wee doggie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’

6 ‘O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?
O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘It shot out its fit and died, and sae maun I do too;
Oh mak my bed, mammy, now, now, oh mak my bed, mammy, now!’

Version K

1 ‘O WHAUR hae ye been a’ the day, my little wee croodlin doo?’
‘O I’ve been at my grandmother’s; mak my bed, mammie, now!’

2 ‘O what gat ye at your grandmother’s, my little wee croodlin doo?’
‘I got a bonnie wee fishie; mak my bed, mammie, now!’

3 ‘O whaur did she catch the fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘She catchd it in the gutter hole; mak my bed, mammie, now!’

4 ‘And what did she do wi the fish, my little wee croodlin doo?’
‘She boiled it in a brass pan; O mak my bed, mammie, now!’

5 d what did ye do wi the banes o’t, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘I gied them to my little dog; mak my bed, mammie, now!’

6 ‘And what did your little doggie do, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘He stretched out his head, his feet, and deed; and so will I, mammie, now!’

Version L

1 ‘WHAR hae ye been a’ the day, Willie doo, Willie doo?
Whar hae ye been a’ the day, Willie, my doo?’

2 ‘I’ve been to see my step-mother; make my bed, lay me down;
Make my bed, lay me down, die shall I now!’

3 ‘What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie doo, Willie doo?
What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie, my doo?’

4 ‘She gae me a speckled trout; make my bed, lay me down;
She gae me a speckled trout, die shall I now!’

5 ‘Whar got she the speckled trout,Willie doo, Willie doo?’
‘She got it amang the heather hills; die shall I now.’

6 ‘What did she boil it in, Willie doo, Willie doo?’
‘She boild it in the billy-pot; die shall I now!’

7 ‘What gaed she you for to drink, Willie doo, Willie doo?
What gaed she you for to drink, Willie, my doo?’

8 ‘She gaed me hemlock stocks; make my bed, lay me down;
Made in the brewing pot; die shall I now!’

9 They made his bed, laid him down, poor Willie doo, Willie doo;
He turnd his face to the wa; he’s dead now!

Version M

1 ‘WHERE hae ye been a’ the day, my bonny wee croodin doo?’
‘O I hae been at my stepmother’s house; make my bed, mammie, now, now, now,
Make my bed, mammie, now!’

2 ‘Where did ye get your dinner?’ my, etc.
‘I got it at my stepmother’s;’ make, etc.

3 ‘What did she gie ye to your dinner?’
‘She gae me a little four-footed fish.’

4 ‘Where got she the four-footed fish?’
‘She got it down in yon well strand;’ O make, etc.

5 ‘What did she do with the banes o’t?’
‘She gae them to the little dog.’

6 ‘O what became o the little dog?’
‘O it shot out its feet and died;’ O make, etc.

Version N

1 ‘FARE hae ye been a’ day, a’ day, a’ day,
Fare hae ye been a’ day, my little wee croudlin doo?’

2 ‘I’ve been at my step-mammie’s, my step mammie’s, my step-mammie’s,
I’ve been at my step-mammie’s; come mack my beddy now!’

3 ‘What got ye at yer step-mammie’s,
My little wee croudlin doo?’

4 ‘She gied me a spreckled fishie;
Come mack my beddy now!’

5 ‘What did ye wi the baenies oet,
My little wee croudlin doo?’

6 ‘I gaed them till her little dogie;
Come mack my beddy now!’

7 ‘What did her little dogie syne,
My little wee croudlin doo?’

8 ‘He laid down his heed and feet;
And sae shall I dee now!’

Version O

1 ‘O WHERE hae ye been a’ the day, my wee wee croodlin doo doo?
O where hae ye been a’ the day, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
‘O I hae been to my step-mammie’s; mak my bed, mammy, noo, noo,
Mak my bed, mammy, noo!’

2 ‘O what did yere step-mammie gie to you?’ etc.
‘She gied to me a wee wee fish,’ etc.

3 ‘[O] what did she boil the wee fishie in?’
‘O she boiled it in a wee wee pan; it turned baith black an blue, blue,
It turned baith black an blue.’

4 ‘An what did she gie the banes o’t to?’
‘O she gied them to a wee wee dog;’ mak, etc.

5 ‘An what did the wee wee doggie do then?’
‘O it put out its tongue and its feet, an it deed; an sae maun I do, noo, noo,
An sae maun I do noo!’

Version P

1 ‘Where hae ye been a’ day, Lord Ronald, my son?
Where hae ye been a’ day, my handsome young one?’
‘I’ve been in the wood hunting; mother, make my bed soon,
For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun’

2 ‘O where did you dine, Lord Ronald, my son?
O where did you dine, my handsome young one?’
‘I dined with my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon,
For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

3 ‘What got you to dine on, Lord Ronald, my son?
What got you to dine on, my handsome young one?’
‘I got eels boiled in water that in heather doth run,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

4 ‘What did she wi the broo o them, Lord Ronald, my son?
What did she wi the broo o them, my handsome young one?’
‘She gave it to my hounds for to live upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

5 ‘Where are your hounds now, Lord Ronald, my son?
Where are your hounds now, my handsome young one?’
‘They are a’ swelled and bursted, and sae will I soon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

6 ‘What will you leave your father, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your father, my handsome young one?’
‘I’ll leave him my lands for to live upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

7 ‘What will you leave your brother, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your brother, my handsome young one?’
‘I’ll leave him my gallant steed for to ride upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

8 ‘What will you leave your sister, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your sister, my handsome young one?’
‘I’ll leave her my gold watch for to look upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

9 ‘What will you leave your mother, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your mother, my handsome young one?’
‘I’ll leave her my Bible for to read upon,
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.’

10 ‘What will you leave your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
What will you leave your sweetheart, my handsome young one?’
‘I’ll leave her the gallows-tree for to hang upon,
It was her that poisoned me;’ and so he fell doun.

Version Q

1 ‘O whare hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
O whare hae ye been, my handsome young man?’
‘Oer the peat moss mang the heather, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

6 ‘What leave ye to your father, Lord Randal, my son?
What leave ye to your father, my handsome young man?’
‘I leave my houses and land, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

7 ‘What leave ye to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
What leave ye to your brother, my handsome young man?’
‘O the guid milk-white steed that I rode upon,
For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

8 ‘What leave ye to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
What leave ye to your true-love, my handsome young man?’
‘O a high, high gallows, to hang her upon,
For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’

Version R

1 ‘Whare hae ye been a’ day, my little wee toorin dow?’
‘It’s I’ve been at my grandmammy’s; mak my bed, mammy, now.’

2 ‘And what did ye get frae your grandmammy, my little wee toorin dow?’
‘It’s I got a wee bit fishy to eat; mak my bed, mammy, now.’

3 ‘An what did ye do wi the banes o it, my little wee toorin dow?’
‘I gied it to my black doggy to eat; mak my bed, mammy, now.’

4 ‘An what did your little black doggy do syne, my little wee toorin dow?’
‘He shot out his head, and his feet, and he died; as I do, mammy, now.’

Version S

1 ‘Where have you been today, Randall, my son?
Where have you been today, my only man?’
‘I have been a hunting, mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.
Dear sister, hold my head, dear mother, make my bed,
I am sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.’

2 ‘What have you eat today, Randal, my son?
What have you eat today, my only man?’
‘I have eat an eel; mother, make,’ etc.

3 ‘What was the colour of it, Randal, my son?
What was the colour of it, my only man?’
‘It was neither green, grey, blue nor black,
But speckled on the back; make,’ etc.

4 ‘Who gave you eels today, Randal, my son?
Who gave you eels today, my only man?’
‘My own sweetheart; mother, make,’ etc.

5 ‘Where shall I make your bed, Randal, my son?
Where shall I make your bed, my only man?’
‘In the churchyard; mother, make,’ etc.

6 ‘What will you leave her then, Randall, my son?
What will you leave her then, my only man?’
‘A halter to hang herself; make,’ etc.

Version U

1 ‘Whare were ye the lea lang day,
My wee crooding doo, doo?’

1 ‘I hae been at my step-dame’s;
Mammy, mak my bed noo, noo!’

2 ‘Whare gat she the wee, wee fish?’
‘She gat it neist the edder-flowe.’

3 ‘What did she wi the fishie’s banes?’
‘The wee black dog gat them to eat.’

4 ‘What did the wee black doggie then?’
‘He shot out his fittie an deed;
An sae maun I now too, too.’ etc.

13. Edward

Version A

1 ‘WHAT bluid’s that on thy coat lap,
Son Davie, son Davie?
What bluid’s that on thy coat lap?
And the truth come tell to me.’

2 ‘It is the bluid of my great hawk,
Mother lady, mother lady:
It is the bluid of my great hawk,
And the truth I have told to thee.’

3 ‘Hawk’s bluid was neer sae red,
Son Davie, son Davie:
Hawk’s bluid was neer sae red,
And the truth come tell to me.’

4 ‘It is the bluid of my greyhound,
Mother lady, mother lady:
It is the bluid of my greyhound,
And it wadna rin for me.’

5 ‘Hound’s bluid was neer sae red,
Son Davie, son Davie:
Hound’s bluid was neer sae red,
And the truth come tell to me.’

6 ‘It is the bluid o my brither John,
Mother lady, mother lady:
It is the bluid o my brither John,
And the truth I have told to thee.’

7 ‘What about did the plea begin,
Son Davie, son Davie?’
‘It began about the cutting of a willow wand
That would never been a tree.’

8 ‘What death dost thou desire to die,
Son Davie, son Davie?
What death dost thou desire to die?
And the truth come tell to me.’

9 ‘I’ll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
Mother lady, mother lady:
I’ll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
And ye’ll never see mair o me.’

10 ‘What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife,
Son Davie, son Davie?’
‘Grief and sorrow all her life,
And she’ll never see mair o me.’

11 ‘What wilt thou leave to thy old son,
Son Davie, son Davie?’
‘I’ll leave him the weary world to wander up and down,
And he’ll never get mair o me.’

12 ‘What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear,
Son Davie, son Davie?’
‘A fire o coals to burn her, wi hearty cheer,
And she’ll never get mair o me.’

Version B

1 ‘WHY dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
Edward, Edward,
Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
And why sae sad gang yee O?’
‘O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
Mither, mither,
O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
And I had nae mair bot hee O.’

2 ‘Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward,
Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee O.’
‘O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, mither,
O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
That erst was sae fair and frie O.’

3 ‘Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward,
Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ye drie O.’
‘O I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither,
O I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas, and wae is mee O!’

4 ‘And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that,
Edward, Edward?
And whatten penance will ye drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me O.’
‘Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
Mither, mither,
Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
And Ile fare ovir the sea O.’

5 ‘And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,
That were sae fair to see O?’
‘Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,
Mither, mither,
Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,
For here nevir mair maun I bee O.’

6 ‘And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Whan ye gang ovir the sea O?’
‘The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,
Mither, mither,
The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,
For thame nevir mair wul I see O.’

7 ‘And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir,
Edward, Edward?
And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir?
My deir son, now tell me O.’
‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Mither, mither,
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Sic counseils ye gave to me O.’

Version C

1 ‘O WHAT did the fray begin about?
My son, come tell to me:’
‘It began about the breaking o the bonny hazel wand,
And a penny wad hae bought the tree.’

14. Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie

Version A

1 THERE were three ladies lived in a bower,
Eh vow bonnie
And they went out to pull a flower.
On the bonnie banks o Fordie

2 They hadna pu’ed a flower but ane,
When up started to them a banisht man.

3 He’s taen the first sister by her hand,
And he’s turned her round and made her stand.

4 ‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

5 ‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’

6 He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by,
For to bear the red rose company.

7 He’s taken the second ane by the hand,
And he’s turned her round and made her stand.

8 ‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

9 ‘I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’

10 He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by,
For to bear the red rose company.

11 He’s taken the youngest ane by the hand,
And he’s turned her round and made her stand.

12 Says, ‘Will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’

13 ‘I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife.

14 ‘For I hae a brother in this wood,
And gin ye kill me, it’s he’ll kill thee.’

15 ‘What’s thy brother’s name? come tell to me.’
‘My brother’s name is Baby Lon.’

16 ‘O sister, sister, what have I done!
O have I done this ill to thee!

17 ‘O since I’ve done this evil deed,
Good sall never be seen o me.’

18 He’s taken out his wee pen-knife,
And he’s twyned himsel o his ain sweet life.

Version B

1 THERE wond three ladies in a bower,
Annet and Margret and Marjorie
And they have gane out to pu a flower.
And the dew it lyes on the wood, gay ladie

2 They had nae pu’d a flower but ane,
When up has started a banished man.

3 He has taen the eldest by the hand,
He has turned her about and bade her stand.

4 ‘Now whether will ye be a banisht man’s wife,
Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’

5 ‘I will na be ca’d a banished man’s wife,
I’ll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.’

6 And he has taen out his little pen-knife,
And frae this lady he has taen the life.

7 He has taen the second by the hand,
He has turned her about and he bad her stand.

8 ‘Now whether will ye be a banisht man’s wife,
Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’

9 ‘I will na be ca’d a banished man’s wife;
I’ll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.’

10 And he has taen out his little pen-knife,
And frae this lady he has taen the life.

11 He has taen the youngest by the hand,
He has turned her about and he bad her stand.

12 ‘Now whether will ye be a banished man’s wife,
Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’

13 ‘I winnae be called a banished man’s wife,
Nor yet will I be sticked wi your pen-knife.

14 ‘But gin my three brethren had been here,
Ye had nae slain my sisters dear.’

Version C

1 THERE were three sisters on a road,
Gilly flower gentle rosemary
And there they met a banished lord.
And the dew it hings over the mulberry tree

2 The eldest sister was on the road,
And there she met with the banished lord.

3 ‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’

4 ‘I’ll rather consent to lose my life
Before I’ll be a banished lord’s wife.’

5 ‘It’s lean your head upon my staff,’
And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff.

6 He flang her in amang the broom,
Saying, ‘Lye ye there till another ane come.’

7 The second sister was on the road,
And there she met with the banished lord.

8 ‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’

9 ‘I’ll rather consent to lose my life
Before I’ll be a banished lord’s wife.’

10 ‘It’s lean your head upon my staff,’
And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff.

11 He flang her in amang the broom,
Saying, ‘Lie ye there till another ane come.’

12 The youngest sister was on the road,
And there she met with the banished lord.

13 ‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’

14 ‘O if my three brothers were here,
Ye durstna put me in such a fear.’

15 ‘What are your three brothers, altho they were here,
That I durstna put you in such a fear?’

16 ‘My eldest brother’s a belted knight,
The second, he’s a . . .

17 ‘My youngest brother’s a banished lord,
And oftentimes he walks on this road.’

Version D

1 THERE were three sisters, they lived in a bower,
Sing Anna, sing Margaret, sing Marjorie
The youngest o them was the fairest flower.
And the dew goes thro the wood, gay ladie

2 The oldest of them she’s to the wood gane,
To seek a braw leaf and to bring it hame.

3 There she met with an outlyer bold,
Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.

4 ‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’

5 ‘O kind sir, if I hae’t at my will,
I’ll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.’

6 He’s taen out his we pen-knife,
He’s twinned this young lady of her sweet life

7 He wiped his knife along the dew;
But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.

8 The second of them she’s to the wood gane,
To seek her old sister, and to bring her hame.

9 There she met with an outlyer bold,
Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.

10 ‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’

11 ‘O kind sir, if I hae’t at my will,
I’ll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.’

12 He’s taen out his we pen-knife,
He’s twinned this young lady of her sweet life.

13 He wiped his knife along the dew;
But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.

14 The youngest of them she’s to the wood gane,
To seek her two sisters, and to bring them hame.

15 There she met with an outlyer bold,
Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.

16 ‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’

17 ‘If my three brethren they were here,
Such questions as these thou durst nae speer.’

18 ‘Pray, what may thy three brethren be,
That I durst na mak so bold with thee?’

19 ‘The eldest o them is a minister bred,
He teaches the people from evil to good.

20 ‘The second o them is a ploughman good,
He ploughs the land for his livelihood.

21 ‘The youngest of them is an outlyer bold,
Lies many a long night in the woods so cold.’

22 He stuck his knife then into the ground,
He took a long race, let himself fall on.

Version E

1 THE Duke o Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
And Elizabeth’s to the greenwud gane,
To pu the rose and the fair lilie.

2 But she hadna pu’d a rose, a rose,
A double rose, but barely three,

2 Whan up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

3 ‘Will ye be called a robber’s wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?
For pu’in the rose and the fair lilie,
For pu’in them sae fair and free.’

4 ‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife,
I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,
For pu’in,’ etc.

5 Then out he’s tane his little pen-knife,
And he’s parted her and her sweet life,
And thrown her oer a bank o brume,
There never more for to be found.

6 The Duke o Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;

6 And Margaret’s to the greenwud gane,
To pu the rose and the fair lilie.

7 She hadna pu’d a rose, a rose,
A double rose, but barely three,

7 When up and started a Loudon lord,
Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

8 ‘Will ye be called a robber’s wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?
For pu’in,’ etc.

9 ‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife,
I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,
For pu’in,’ etc.

10 Then out he’s tane his little pen-knife,
And he’s parted her and her sweet life,

10 For pu’in, etc.

11 The Duke o Perth had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;

11 And Mary’s to the greenwud gane,
To pu the rose and the fair lilie.

12 She hadna pu’d a rose, a rose,

12 A double rose, but barely three,

12 When up and started a Loudon lord,

12 Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.

13 ‘O will ye be called a robber’s wife?
Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?

13 For pu’in,’ etc.

14 ‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife,
I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,

14 For pu’in,’ etc.

15 But just as he took out his knife,
To tak frae her her ain sweet life,
Her brother John cam ryding bye,
And this bloody robber he did espy.

16 But when he saw his sister fair,
He kennd her by her yellow hair;
He calld upon his pages three,
To find this robber speedilie.

17 ‘My sisters twa that are dead and gane,
For whom we made a heavy maene,
It’s you that’s twinnd them o their life,
And wi your cruel bloody knife.

18 ‘Then for their life ye sair shall dree;
Ye sall be hangit on a tree,
Or thrown into the poisond lake,
To feed the toads and rattle-snake.’

Version F

1 There were three sisters going from home,
All in a lea and alony, oh

1 They met a man, and he made them stand,
Down by the bonny banks of Airdrie, oh.

2 He took the first one by the hand,
He turned her round, and he made her stand.

3 Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?

4 ‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife,
But I will die by your penknife.’

5 Then he took the second by her hand,
He turned her round, and he made her stand.

6 Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?

7 ‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife,
But I will die by your penknife.’

8 He took the third one by the hand,
He turned her round, and he made her stand.

9 Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?

10 ‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife,
And I wont die by you penknife.

11 ‘If my two brothers had been here,
You would not have killed my sisters two.’

12 ‘What was your two brothers’ names?’
‘One was John, and the other was James.’

13 ‘Oh, what did your two brothers do?’
‘One was a minister, the other such as you.’

14 ‘Oh, what is this that I have done?
I have killed my sisters, all but one.

15 ‘And now I’ll take out my penknife,
And here I’ll end my own sweet life.’

15. Leesom Brand

Version A

1 MY boy was scarcely ten years auld,
Whan he went to an unco land,
Where wind never blew, nor cocks ever crew,
Ohon for my son, Leesome Brand!

2 Awa to that king’s court he went,
It was to serve for meat an fee;
Gude red gowd it was his hire,
And lang in that king’s court stayd he.

3 He hadna been in that unco land
But only twallmonths twa or three,
Till by the glancing o his ee,
He gaind the love o a gay ladye.

4 This ladye was scarce eleven years auld,
When on her love she was right bauld;
She was scarce up to my right knee,
When oft in bed wi men I’m tauld.

5 But when nine months were come and gane,
This ladye’s face turnd pale and wane.

6 To Leesome Brand she then did say,
‘In this place I can nae mair stay.

7 ‘Ye do you to my father’s stable,
Where steeds do stand baith wight and able.

8 ‘Strike ane o them upo the back,
The swiftest will gie his head a wap.

9 ‘Ye take him out upo the green,
And get him saddled and bridled seen.

10 ‘Get ane for you, anither for me,
And lat us ride out ower the lee.

11 ‘Ye do you to my mother’s coffer,
And out of it ye’ll take my tocher.

12 ‘Therein are sixty thousand pounds,
Which all to me by right belongs.’

13 He’s done him to her father’s stable,
Where steeds stood baith wicht and able.

14 Then he strake ane upon the back,
The swiftest gae his head a wap.

15 He’s taen him out upo the green,
And got him saddled and bridled seen.

16 Ane for him, and another for her,
To carry them baith wi might and virr.

17 He’s done him to her mother’s coffer,
And there he’s taen his love’s tocher;

18 Wherein were sixty thousand pound,
Which all to her by right belongd.

19 When they had ridden about six mile,
His true love then began to fail.

20 ‘O wae’s me,’ said that gay ladye,
‘I fear my back will gang in three!

21 ‘O gin I had but a gude midwife,
Here this day to save my life,

22 ‘And ease me o my misery,
O dear, how happy I would be!’

23 ‘My love, we’re far frae ony town,
There is nae midwife to be foun.

24 ‘But if ye’ll be content wi me,
I’ll do for you what man can dee.’

25 ‘For no, for no, this maunna be,’
Wi a sigh, replied this gay ladye.

26 ‘When I endure my grief and pain,
My companie ye maun refrain.

27 ‘Ye’ll take your arrow and your bow,
And ye will hunt the deer and roe.

28 ‘Be sure ye touch not the white hynde,
For she is o the woman kind.’

29 He took sic pleasure in deer and roe,
Till he forgot his gay ladye.

30 Till by it came that milk-white hynde,
And then he mind on his ladye syne.

31 He hasted him to yon greenwood tree,
For to relieve his gay ladye;

32 But found his ladye lying dead,
Likeways her young son at her head.

33 His mother lay ower her castle wa,
And she beheld baith dale and down;
And she beheld young Leesome Brand,
As he came riding to the town.

34 ‘Get minstrels for to play,’ she said,
‘And dancers to dance in my room;
For here comes my son, Leesome Brand,
And he comes merrilie to the town.’

35 ‘Seek nae minstrels to play, mother,
Nor dancers to dance in your room;
But tho your son comes, Leesome Brand,
Yet he comes sorry to the town.

36 ‘O I hae lost my gowden knife;
I rather had lost my ain sweet life!

37 ‘And I hae lost a better thing,
The gilded sheath that it was in.’

38 ‘Are there nae gowdsmiths here in Fife,
Can make to you anither knife?

39 ‘Are there nae sheath-makers in the land,
Can make a sheath to Leesome Brand?’

40 ‘There are nae gowdsmiths here in Fife,
Can make me sic a gowden knife;

41 ‘Nor nae sheath-makers in the land,
Can make to me a sheath again.

42 ‘There ne’er was man in Scotland born,
Ordaind to be so much forlorn.

43 ‘I’ve lost my ladye I lovd sae dear,
Likeways the son she did me bear.’

44 ‘Put in your hand at my bed head,
There ye’ll find a gude grey horn;
In it three draps o’ Saint Paul’s ain blude,
That hae been there sin he was born.

45 ‘Drap twa o them o your ladye,
And ane upo your little young son;
Then as lively they will be
As the first night ye brought them hame.’

46 He put his hand at her bed head,
And there he found a gude grey horn,
Wi three draps o’ Saint Paul’s ain blude,
That had been there sin he was born.

47 Then he drappd twa on his ladye,
And ane o them on his young son,
And now they do as lively be,
As the first day he brought them hame.

Version B

1 ‘THERE is a feast in your father’s house,
The broom blooms bonnie and so is it fair
It becomes you and me to be very douce.
And we’ll never gang up to the broom nae mair

2 ‘You will go to yon hill so hie;
Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.’

3 He’s tane his lady on his back,
And his auld son in his coat lap.

4 ‘When ye hear me give a cry,
Ye’ll shoot your bow and let me lye.

5 ‘When ye see my lying still,
Throw away your bow and come running me till.’

6 When he heard her gie the cry,
He shot his bow and he let her lye.

7 When he saw she was lying still,
He threw away his bow and came running her till.

8 It was nae wonder his heart was sad
When he shot his auld son at her head.

9 houkit a grave, long, large and wide,
He buried his auld son doun by her side.

10 It was nae wonder his heart was sair
When he shooled the mools in her yellow hair.

11 ‘Oh,’ said his father, ’Son, but thou’rt sad!
At our braw meeting you micht be glad.’

12 ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘Father, I’ve lost my knife
I loved as dear almost as my own life.

13 ‘But I have lost a far better thing,
I lost the sheath that the knife was in.’

14 ‘Hold thy tongue, and mak nae din;
I’ll buy thee a sheath and a knife therein.’

15 ‘A’ the ships eer sailed the sea
Neer’ll bring such a sheath and a knife to me.

16 ‘A’ the smiths that lives on land
Will neer bring such a sheath and knife to my hand.’

16. Sheath and Knife

Version A

1 IT is talked the warld all over,
The brume blooms bonnie and says it is fair
That the king’s dochter gaes wi child to her brither.
And we’ll never gang doun to the brume onie mair

2 He’s taen his sister doun to her father’s deer park,
Wi his yew-tree bow and arrows fast slung to his back.

3 ‘Now when that ye hear me gie a loud cry,
Shoot frae thy bow an arrow and there let me lye.

4 ‘And when that ye see I am lying dead,
Then ye’ll put me in a grave, wi a turf at my head.’

5 Now when he heard her gie a loud cry,
His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let fly.
Now they’ll never, etc.

6 He has made a grave that was lang and was deep,
And he has buried his sister, wi her babe at her feet.
And they’ll never, etc.

7 And when he came to his father’s court hall,
There was music and minstrels and dancing and all.
But they’ll never, etc.

8 ‘O Willie, O Willie, what makes thee in pain?’
‘I have lost a sheath and knife that I’ll never see again.’
For we’ll never, etc.

9 ‘There is ships o your father’s sailing on the sea
That will bring as good a sheath and a knife unto thee.’

10 ‘There is ships o my father’s sailing on the sea,
But sic a sheath and a knife they can never bring to me.’

10 Now we’ll never, etc.

Version B

1 AE lady has whispered the other,
The broom grows bonnie, the broom grows fair
Lady Margaret’s wi bairn to Sir Richard, her brother.
And we daur na gae doun to the broom nae mair

2 ‘And when ye hear me loud, loud cry,
O bend your bow, let your arrow fly.
And I daur na, etc.

3 ‘But when ye see me lying still,
O then you may come and greet your fill.’

4 ‘It’s I hae broken my little pen-knife
That I loed dearer than my life.’
And I daur na, etc.

5 ‘It’s no for the knife that my tears doun run,
But it’s a’ for the case that my knife was kept in.’

Version C

1 IT’S whispered in parlour, it’s whispered in ha,
The broom blooms bonie, the broom blooms fair
Lady Marget’s wi child amang our ladies a’.
And she dare na gae down to the broom nae mair

2 One day whisperd unto another
Lady Marget’s wi child to Sir Richard, her brother.

3 ‘O when that you hear my loud loud cry,
Then bend your bow and let your arrows fly.
For I dare na,’ etc.

Version D

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

Version E

1 One king’s daughter said to anither,
Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair

1 ‘We’ll gae ride like sister and brither.’
And we’ll neer gae down to the brume nae mair

2 ‘We’ll ride doun into yonder valley,
Whare the greene green trees are budding sae gaily.

3 ‘Wi hawke and hounde we will hunt sae rarely,
And we’ll come back in the morning early.’

4 They rade on like sister and brither,
And they hunted and hawket in the valley the-gether.

5 ‘Now, lady, hauld my horse and my hawk,
For I maun na ride, and I downa walk.

6 ‘But set me doun be the rute o this tree,
For there hae I dreamt that my bed sall be.’

7 The ae king’s dochter did lift doun the ither,
And she was licht in her armis like ony fether.

8 Bonnie Lady Ann sat doun be the tree,
And a wide grave was houkit whare nane suld be.

9 The hawk had nae lure, and the horse had nae master,
And the faithless hounds thro the woods ran faster.

10 The one king’s dochter has ridden awa,
But bonnie Lady Ann lay in the deed-thraw.

Version F

1 ‘There is a feast in your father’s house,
The broom blooms bonnie, and so is it fair

1 It becomes you and me to be very douce.’
And we’ll never gang up to the broom nae mair

2 ‘Will you to to yon hill so hie,
Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.’

3 He’s tane his lady on his back,
And his auld son in his coat-lap.

4 ‘When ye hear me give a cry,
Ye’ll shoot your bow and let me ly.

5 ‘When ye see me lying still,
Throw awa your bow and come running me till.’

6 When he heard her gie a cry,
He shot his bow and he let her lye.

7 When he saw she was lying still,
He threw awa his bow and came running her till.

8 It was nae wonder his heart was sad,
When he shot his auld son at her head.

9 He howkit a grave lang, large and wide,
He buried his auld son down by her side.

10 It was nae wonder his heart was sair,
When he shooled the mools on her yellow hair.

11 ‘Oh,’ said his father, ’Son, but thou’rt sad,
At our braw meeting you micht be glad.’

12 ‘Oh,’ said he, ’Father, I’ve lost my knife,
I loved as dear almost as my own life.

13 ‘But I have lost a far better thing,
I lost the sheathe that the knife was in.’

14 ‘Hold thy tongue and mak nae din,
I’ll buy thee a sheath and a knife therein.’

15 ‘A’ the ships ere sailed the sea
Neer’ll bring such a sheathe and knife to me.

16 ‘A’ the smiths that lives on land
Will neer bring such a sheath and knife to my hand.’

17. Hind Horn

Version A

1 IN Scotland there was a babie born,
Lill lal, etc.
And his name it was called young Hind Horn.
With a fal lal, etc.

2 He sent a letter to our king
That he was in love with his daughter Jean.

3 He’s gien to her a silver wand,
With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon.

4 She’s gien to him a diamond ring,
With seven bright diamonds set therein.

5 ‘When this ring grows pale and wan,
You may know by it my love is gane.’

6 One day as he looked his ring upon,
He saw the diamonds pale and wan.

7 He left the sea and came to land,
And the first that he met was an old beggar man.

8 ‘What news, what news?’ said young Hind Horn;
‘No news, no news,’ said the old beggar man.

9 ‘No news,’ said the beggar, ’No news at a’,
But there is a wedding in the king’s ha.

10 ‘But there is a wedding in the king’s ha,
That has halden these forty days and twa.’

11 ‘Will ye lend me your begging coat?
And I’ll lend you my scarlet cloak.

12 ‘Will you lend me your beggar’s rung?
And I’ll gie you my steed to ride upon.

13 ‘Will you lend me your wig o hair,
To cover mine, because it is fair?’

14 The auld beggar man was bound for the mill,
But young Hind Horn for the king’s hall.

15 The auld beggar man was bound for to ride,
But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride.

16 When he came to the king’s gate,
He sought a drink for Hind Horn’s sake.

17 The bride came down with a glass of wine,
When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring.

18 ‘O got ye this by sea or land?
Or got ye it off a dead man’s hand?’

19 ‘I got not it by sea, I got it by land,
And I got it, madam, out of your own hand.’

20 ‘O I’ll cast off my gowns of brown,
And beg wi you frae town to town.

21 ‘O I’ll cast off my gowns of red,
And I’ll beg wi you to win my bread.’

22 ‘Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown,
For I’ll make you lady o many a town.

23 ‘Ye needna cast off your gowns of red,
It’s only a sham, the begging o my bread.’

24 The bridegroom he had wedded the bride,
But young Hind Horn he took her to bed.

Version B

1 I NEVER saw my love before,
With a hey lillelu and a ho lo lan
Till I saw her thro an oger bore.
With a hey down and a hey diddle downie

2 She gave to me a gay gold ring,
With three shining diamonds set therein.

3 And I gave to her a silver wand,
With three singing lavrocks set thereon.

4 ‘What if these diamonds lose their hue,
Just when your love begins for to rew?’

5 He’s left the land, and he’s gone to sea,
And he’s stayd there seven years and a day.

6 But when he looked this ring upon,
The shining diamonds were both pale and wan.

7 He’s left the seas and he’s come to the land,
And there he met with an auld beggar man.

8 ‘What news, what news, thou auld beggar man
For it is seven years sin I’ve seen lan.’

9 ‘No news,’ said the old beggar man, ‘at all,
But there is a wedding in the king’s hall.’

10 ‘Wilt thou give to me thy begging coat?
And I’ll give to thee my scarlet cloak.

11 ‘Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff?
And I’ll give to thee my good gray steed.’

12 The old beggar man was bound for to ride,
But Young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride.

13 When he came to the king’s gate,
He asked a drink for Young Hynd Horn’s sake.

14 The news unto the bonnie bride came
That at the yett there stands an auld man.

15 ‘There stands an auld man at the king’s gate;
He asketh a drink for young Hyn Horn’s sake.’

16 ‘I’ll go thro nine fires so hot,
But I’ll give him a drink for Young Hyn Horn’s sake.’

17 She gave him a drink out of her own hand;
He drank out the drink and he dropt in the ring.

18 ‘Got thou’t by sea, or got thou’t by land?
Or got thou’t out of any dead man’s hand?’

19 ‘I got it not by sea, but I got it by land,
For I got it out of thine own hand.’

20 ‘I’ll cast off my gowns of brown,
And I’ll follow thee from town to town.

21 ‘I’ll cast off my gowns of red,
And along with thee I’ll beg my bread.’

22 ‘Thou need not cast off thy gowns of brown,
For I can make thee lady of many a town.

23 ‘Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red,
For I can maintain thee with both wine and bread.’

24 The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride wed,
But Young Hyn Horn took the bride to bed.

Version C

1 YOUNG Hyn Horn’s to the king’s court gone,
Hoch hey and an ney O
He’s fallen in love with his little daughter Jean.
Let my love alone, I pray you

2 He’s bocht to her a little gown,
With seven broad flowers spread it along.

3 She’s given to him a gay gold ring.
The posie upon it was richt plain.

4 ‘When you see it losing its comely hue,
So will I my love to you.’

5 Then within a little wee,
Hyn Horn left land and went to sea.

6 When he lookt his ring upon,
He saw it growing pale and wan.

7 Then within a little [wee] again,
Hyn Horn left sea and came to the land.

8 As he was riding along the way,
There he met with a jovial beggar.

9 ‘What news, what news, old man?’ he did say:
‘This is the king’s young dochter’s wedding day.’

10 ‘If this be true you tell to me,
You must niffer clothes with me.

11 ‘You’ll gie me your cloutit coat,
I’ll gie you my fine velvet coat.

12 ‘You’ll gie me your cloutit pock,
I’ll gie you my purse; it’ll be no joke.’

13 ‘Perhaps there[’s] nothing in it, not one bawbee;’
‘Yes, there’s gold and silver both,’ said he.

14 ‘You’ll gie me your bags of bread,
And I’ll gie you my milk-white steed.’

15 When they had niffered all, he said,
‘You maun learn me how I’ll beg.’

16 ‘When you come before the gate,
You’ll ask for a drink for the highman’s sake.’

17 When that he came before the gate,
He calld for a drink for the highman’s sake.

18 The bride cam tripping down the stair,
To see whaten a bold beggar was there.

19 She gave him a drink with her own hand;
He loot the ring drop in the can.

20 ‘Got ye this by sea or land?
Or took ye’t aff a dead man’s hand?’

21 ‘I got na it by sea nor land,
But I got it aff your own hand.’

22 The bridegroom cam tripping down the stair,
But there was neither bride nor beggar there.

23 Her ain bridegroom had her first wed,
But Young Hyn Horn had her first to bed.

Version D

1 NEAR Edinburgh was a young son born,
Hey lilelu an a how low lan
An his name it was called young Hyn Horn.
An it’s hey down down deedle airo

2 Seven long years he served the king,
An it’s a’ for the sake of his daughter Jean.

3 The king an angry man was he;
He send young Hyn Horn to the sea.

4 An on his finger she put a ring.
. . . . .

5 ‘When your ring turns pale and wan,
Then I’m in love wi another man.’

6 Upon a day he lookd at his ring,
It was as pale as anything.

7 He’s left the sea, an he’s come to the lan,
An there he met an auld beggar man.

8 ‘What news, what news, my auld beggar man?
What news, what news, by sea or by lan?’

9 ‘Nae news, nae news,’ the auld beggar said,
‘But the king’s dochter Jean is going to be wed.’

10 ‘Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar-weed,
An I’ll gie thee my gude gray steed.’

11 When he cam to our guid king’s yet,
He sought a glass o wine for young Hyn Horn’s sake.

12 He drank out the wine, an he put in the ring,
An he bade them carry’t to the king’s dochter Jean.

13 ‘O gat ye’t by sea, or gat ye’t by lan?
Or gat ye’t aff a dead man’s han?’

14 ‘I gat na’t by sea, I gat na’t by lan,
But I gat it out of your own han.’

15 take away my bridal gown,
For I’ll follow him frae town to town.’

16 ‘Ye need na leave your bridal gown,
For I’ll make ye ladie o’ mony a town.’

Version E

1 * * * *
HYND HORN he has lookt on his ring,
Hey ninny ninny, how ninny nanny
And it was baith black and blue,
And she is either dead or she’s married.
And the barck and the broom blooms bonnie

2 Hynd Horn he has shuped to land,
And the first he met was an auld beggar man.

3 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man?
For it is seven years syne I have seen land.

4 ‘What news, what news, my auld beggar man?
What news, what news, by sea or by land?’

5 ‘There is a king’s dochter in the east,
And she has been marryed these nine nights past.

6 ‘Intil the bride’s bed she winna gang
Till she hears tell of her Hynd Horn.’

7 ‘Cast aff, cast aff thy auld beggar weed,
And I will gie thee my gude gray steed.’

Version F

1 IN Newport town this knight was born,
Hey lily loo, hey loo lan
And they’ve called him Young Hynd Horn.
Fal lal la, fal the dal the dady

2 Seven long years he served the king,
For the love of his daughter Jean.

3 He courted her through a wimble bore,
The way never woman was courted before.

4 He gave her through a silver wand,
With three singing laverocks there upon.

5 She gave him back a gay gold ring,
With three bright diamonds glittering.

6 ‘When this ring grows pale and blue,
Fair Jeanie’s love is lost to you.’

7 Young Hynd Horn is gone to sea,
And there seven long years staid he.

8 When he lookd his ring upon,
It grew pale and it grew wan.

9 Young Hynd Horn is come to land,
When he met an old beggar man.

10 ‘What news, what news doth thee betide?’
‘No news, but Princess Jeanie’s a bride.’

11 ‘Will ye give me your old brown cap?
And I’ll give you my gold-laced hat.

12 ‘Will ye give me your begging weed?
And I’ll give you my good grey steed.’

13 The beggar has got on to ride,
But Young Hynd Horn’s bound for the bride.

Version G

1 ‘HYNDE HORN’S bound love, and Hynde Horn’s free,
Whare was ye born, or in what countrie?’

2 ‘In gude greenwud whare I was born,
And all my friends left me forlorn.

3 ‘I gave my love a silver wand;
That was to rule oure all Scotland.

4 ‘My love gave me a gay gowd ring;
That was to rule abune a’ thing.’

5 ‘As lang as that ring keeps new in hue,
Ye may ken that your love loves you.

6 ‘But whan that ring turns pale and wan,
Ye may ken that your love loves anither man.’

7 He hoisted up his sails, and away sailed he,
Till that he cam to a foreign countrie.

8 He looked at his ring; it was turnd pale and wan;
He said, ‘I wish I war at hame again.’

9 He hoisted up his sails, and hame sailed he,
Until that he came to his ain countrie.

10 The first ane that he met wi
Was wi a puir auld beggar man.

11 ‘What news, what news, my silly old man?
What news hae ye got to tell to me?’

12 ‘Na news, na news,’ the puir man did say,
‘But this is our queen’s wedding day.’

13 ‘Ye’ll lend me your begging weed,
And I’ll gie you my riding steed.’

14 ‘My begging weed is na for thee,
Your riding steed is na for me.’

15 But he has changed wi the beggar man,
. . . . .

16 ‘Which is the gate that ye used to gae?
And what are the words ye beg wi?’

17 ‘Whan ye come to yon high hill,
Ye’ll draw your bent bow nigh until.

18 ‘Whan ye come to yonder town,
Ye’ll let your bent bow low fall down.

19 ‘Ye’ll seek meat for St Peter, ask for St Paul,
And seek for the sake of Hynde Horn all.

20 ‘But tak ye frae nane of them a’,
Till ye get frae the bonnie bride hersel O.’

21 Whan he cam to yon high hill,
He drew his bent bow nigh until.

22 And whan he cam to yonder town,
He lute his bent bow low fall down.

23 He saught meat for St Peter, he askd for St Paul,
And he sought for the sake of Hynde Horn all.

24 But he would tak frae nane o them a’,
Till he got frae the bonnie bride hersel O.

25 The bride cam tripping doun the stair,
Wi the scales o red gowd on her hair.

26 Wi a glass of red wine in her hand,
To gie to the puir auld beggar man.

27 It’s out he drank the glass o wine,
And into the glass he dropt the ring.

28 ‘Got ye’t by sea, or got ye’t by land,
Or got ye’t aff a drownd man’s hand?’

29 ‘I got na’t by sea, I got na’t by land,
Nor got I it off a drownd man’s hand.

30 ‘But I got it at my wooing,
And I’ll gie it at your wedding.’

31 ‘I’ll tak the scales o gowd frae my head,
I’ll follow you, and beg my bread.

32 ‘I’ll tak the scales of gowd frae my hair,
I’ll follow you, for evermair.’

33 She has tane the scales o gowd frae her head,
She has followed him to beg her bread.

34 She has tane the scales o gowd frae her hair,
And she has followed him for evermair.

35 But atween the kitchen and the ha,
There he lute his cloutie cloak fa.

36 And the red gowd shined oure him a’,
And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown awa.

Version H

1 ‘HYND HORN fair, and Hynd Horn free,
O where were you born, in what countrie?’

2 ‘In gude greenwood, there I was born,
And all my forbears me beforn.

3 ‘O seven years I served the king,
And as for wages, I never gat nane;

4 ‘But ae sight o his ae daughter,
And that was thro an augre bore.

5 ‘My love gae me a siller wand,
’Twas to rule ower a’ Scotland.

6 ‘And she gae me a gay gowd ring,
The virtue o’t was above a’ thing.’

7 ‘As lang’s this ring it keeps the hue,
Ye’ll know I am a lover true:

8 ‘But when the ring turns pale and wan,
Ye’ll know I love another man.’

9 He hoist up sails, and awa saild he,
And saild into a far countrie.

10 And when he lookd upon his ring,
He knew she loved another man.

11 He hoist up sails and home came he,
Home unto his ain countrie.

12 The first he met on his own land,
It chancd to be a beggar man.

13 ‘What news, what news, my gude auld man?
What news, what news, hae ye to me?’

14 ‘Nae news, nae news,’ said the auld man,
‘The morn’s our queen’s wedding day.’

15 ‘Will ye lend me your begging weed?
And I’ll lend you my riding steed.’

16 ‘My begging weed will ill suit thee,
And your riding steed will ill suit me.’

17 But part be right, and part be wrang,
Frae the beggar man the cloak he wan.

18 ‘Auld man, come tell to me your leed;
What news ye gie when ye beg your bread.’

19 ‘As ye walk up unto the hill,
Your pike staff ye lend ye till.

20 ‘But whan ye come near by the yett,
Straight to them ye will upstep.

21 ‘Take nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul,
Nane frae high or low o them all.

22 ‘And frae them all ye will take nane,
Until it comes frae the bride’s ain hand.’

23 He took nane frae Peter nor frae Paul,
Nane frae the high nor low o them all.

24 And frae them all he would take nane,
Until it came frae the bride’s ain hand.

25 The bride came tripping down the stair,
The combs o red gowd in her hair.

26 A cup o red wine in her hand,
And that she gae to the beggar man.

27 Out o the cup he drank the wine,
And into the cup he dropt the ring.

28 ‘O got ye’t by sea, or got ye’t by land,
Or got ye’t on a drownd man’s hand?’

29 ‘I got it not by sea, nor got it by land,
Nor got I it on a drownd man’s hand.

30 ‘But I got it at my wooing gay,
And I’ll gie’t you on your wedding day.’

31 ‘I’ll take the red gowd frae my head,
And follow you, and beg my bread.

32 ‘I’ll take the red gowd frae my hair,
And follow you for evermair.’

33 Atween the kitchen and the ha,
He loot his cloutie cloak down fa.

34 And wi red gowd shone ower them a’,
And frae the bridegroom the bride he sta.

Version I

1 * * * *
She gave him a gay gold ring,
Hey lillelu and how lo lan

1 But he gave her a far better thing.
With my hey down and a hey diddle downie

2 He gave her a silver wan,
With nine bright laverocks thereupon.

3 Young Hynd Horn is come to the lan,
There he met a beggar man.

4 ‘What news, what news do ye betide?’
‘Na news but Jeanie’s the prince’s bride.’

5 ‘Wilt thou give me thy begging weed?
And I’ll give thee my good grey steed.

6 ‘Wilt thou give me thy auld grey hair?
And I’ll give ye mine that is thrice as fair.’

7 The beggar he got on for to ride,
But young Hynd Horn is bound for the bride.

8 First the news came to the ha,
Then to the room mang the gentles a’.

9 ‘There stands a beggar at our gate,
Asking a drink for young Hynd Horn’s sake.’

10 ‘I’ll ga through nine fires hot
To give him a drink for young Hynd Horn’s sake.’

11 She gave him the drink, and he dropt in the ring;
They lady turned baith pale an wan.

12 ‘Oh got ye it by sea, or got ye it by lan?
Or got ye it off some dead man’s han?’

13 ‘I got it not by sea, nor I got it not by lan,
But I got it off thy milk-white han.’

14 ‘I’ll cast off my dress of red,
And I’ll go with thee and beg my bread.

15 ‘I’ll cast off my dress of brown,
And follow you from city to town.

16 ‘I’ll cast off my dress of green,
For I am not ashamed with you to be seen.’

17 ‘You need not cast off your dress of red,
For I can support thee on both wine and bread.

18 ‘You need not cast off your dress of brown,
For I can keep you a lady in any town.

19 ‘You need not cast off your dress of green,
For I can maintain you as gay as a queen.’

18. Sir Lionel

Version A

1 SIR EGRABELL had sonnes three,
Blow thy horne, good hunter
Sir Lyonell was one of these.
As I am a gentle hunter

2 Sir Lyonell wold on hunting ryde,
Vntill the forrest him beside.

3 And as he rode thorrow the wood,
Where trees and harts and all were good,

4 And as he rode over the plaine,
There he saw a knight lay slaine.

5 And as he rode still on the plaine,
He saw a lady sitt in a graine.

6 ‘Say thou, lady, and tell thou me,
What blood shedd heere has bee.’

7 ‘Of this blood shedd we may all rew,
Both wife and childe and man alsoe.

8 ‘For it is not past 3 days right
Since Sir Broninge was mad a knight.

9 ‘Nor it is not more than 3 dayes agoe
Since the wild bore did him sloe.’

10 ‘Say thou, lady, and tell thou mee,
How long thou wilt sitt in that tree.’

11 She said, ‘I will sitt in this tree
Till my friends doe feitch me.’

12 ‘Tell me, lady, and doe not misse,
Where that your friends dwellings is.’

13 ‘Downe,’ shee said, ’in yonder towne,
There dwells my freinds of great renowne.’

14 Says, ‘Lady, Ile ryde into yonder towne
And see wether your friends beene bowne.

15 ‘I my self wilbe the formost man
That shall come, lady, to feitch you home.’

16 But as he rode then by the way,
He thought it shame to goe away;

17 And vmbethought him of a wile,
How he might that wilde bore beguile.

18 ‘Sir Egrabell,’ he said, ’My father was;
He neuer left lady in such a case;

19 ‘Noe more will I’ . . .

20 ‘And a[fter] that thou shalt doe mee
Thy hawkes and thy lease alsoe.

21 ‘Soe shalt thou doe at my command
The litle fingar on thy right hand.’

22 ‘Ere I wold leaue all this with thee,
Vpoon this ground I rather dyee.’

23 The gyant gaue Sir Lyonell such a blow,
The fyer out of his eyen did throw.

24 He said then, ’if I were saffe and sound,
As with-in this hower I was in the ground,

25 ‘It shold be in the next towne told
How deare thy buffett it was sold;

26 ‘And it shold haue beene in the next towne said
How well thy buffett it were paid.’

27 ‘Take 40 daies into spite,
To heale thy wounds that beene soe wide.

28 ‘When 40 dayes beene at an end,
Heere meete thou me both safe and sound.

29 And till thou come to me againe,
With me thoust leaue thy lady alone.’

30 When 40 dayes was at an end,
Sir Lyonell of his wounds was healed sound.

31 He tooke with him a litle page,
He gaue to him good yeomans wage.

32 And as he rode by one hawthorne,
Even there did hang his hunting horne.

33 He sett his bugle to his mouth,
And blew his bugle still full south.

34 He blew his bugle lowde and shrill;
The lady heard, and came him till.

35 Sayes, ’The gyant lyes vnder yond low,
And well he heares your bugle blow.

36 ‘And bidds me of good cheere be,
This night heele supp with you and me.’

37 Hee sett that lady vppon a steede,
And a litle boy before her yeede.

38 And said, ’lady, if you see that I must dye,
As euer you loued me, from me flye.

39 ‘But, lady, if you see that I must liue,’

Version B

1 A KNIGHT had two sons o sma fame,
Hey nien nanny
Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Graeme.
And the norlan flowers spring bonny

2 And to the youngest he did say,
‘What occupation will you hae?
When the, etc.

3 ‘Will you gae fee to pick a mill?
Or will you keep hogs on yon hill?’
While the, etc.

4 ‘I winna fee to pick a mill,
Nor will I keep hogs on yon hill.
While the, etc.

5 ‘But it is said, as I do hear,
That war will last for seven year,
And the, etc.

6 ‘With a giant and a boar
That range into the wood o Tore.
And the, etc.

7 ‘You’ll horse and armour to me provide,
That through Tore wood I may safely ride.’
When the, etc.

8 The knicht did horse and armour provide,
That through Tore wood Graeme micht safely ride.
When the, etc.

9 Then he rode through the wood o Tore,
And up it started the grisly boar.
When the, etc.

10 The firsten bout that he did ride,
The boar he wounded in the left side.

10 When the, etc.

11 The nexten bout at the boar he gaed,
He from the boar took aff his head.

11 And the, etc.

12 As he rode back through the wood o Tore,
Up started the giant him before.

12 And the, etc.

13 ‘O cam you through the wood o Tore,
Or did you see my good wild boar?’

13 And the, etc.

14 ‘I cam now through the wood o Tore,
But woe be to your grisly boar.

14 And the, etc.

15 ‘The firsten bout that I did ride,
I wounded your wild boar in the side.

15 And the, etc.

16 ‘The nexten bout at him I gaed,
From your wild boar I took aff his head.’

16 And the, etc.

17 ‘Gin you have cut aff the head o my boar,
It’s your head shall be taen therfore.

17 And the, etc.

18 ‘I’ll gie you thirty days and three,
To heal your wounds, then come to me.’

18 While the, etc.

19 ‘It’s after thirty days and three,
When my wounds heal, I’ll come to thee.’

19 When the, etc.

20 So Graeme is back to the wood o Tore,
And he’s killd the giant, as he killd the boar.

20 And the, etc.

Version C

1 SIR ROBERT BOLTON had three sons,
Wind well thy horn, good hunter
And one of them was called Sir Ryalas.
For he was a jovial hunter

2 He rang’d all round down by the woodside,
Till up in the top of a tree a gay lady he spy’d.
For he was, etc.

3 ‘O what dost thou mean, fair lady?’ said he;
‘O the wild boar has killed my lord and his men thirty.’
As thou beest, etc.

4 ‘O what shall I do this wild boar to see?’
‘O thee blow a blast, and he’ll come unto thee.’
As thou beest, etc.

5 [Then he put his horn unto his mouth],
Then he blowd a blast full north, east, west and south.
As he was, etc.

6 And the wild boar heard him full into his den;
Then he made the best of his speed unto him.
To Sir Ryalas, etc.

7 Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong,
He thrashd down the trees as he came along.
To Sir Ryalas, etc.

8 ‘O what dost thou want of me?’ the wild boar said he;
‘O I think in my heart I can do enough for thee.’
For I am, etc.

9 Then they fought four hours in a long summer’s day,
Till the wild boar fain would have gotten away.
From Sir Ryalas, etc.

10 Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword with might,
And he fairly cut his head off quite.

10 For he was, etc.

11 Then out of the wood the wild woman flew:
‘Oh thou hast killed my pretty spotted pig!

11 As thou beest, etc.

12 ‘There are three things I do demand of thee,
It’s thy horn, and thy hound, and thy gay lady.’

12 As thou beest, etc.

13 ‘If these three things thou dost demand of me,
It’s just as my sword and thy neck can agree.’

13 For I am, etc.

14 Then into his locks the wild woman flew,
Till she thought in her heart she had torn him through.

14 As he was, etc.

15 Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword again,
And he fairly split her head in twain.

15 For he was, etc.

16 In Bromsgrove church they both do lie;
There the wild boar’s head is picturd by

16 Sir Ryalas, etc.

Version D

1 AS I went up one brook, one brook,
Well wind the horn, good hunter
I saw a fair maiden sit on a tree top.
As thou art the jovial hunter

2 I said, ‘Fair maiden, what brings you here?’
‘It is the wild boar that has drove me here.’
As thou art, etc.

3 ‘I wish I could that wild boar see;’
Well wind the horn, good hunter,
And the wild boar soon will come to thee.’
As thou art, etc.

4 Then he put his horn unto his mouth,
And he blowd both east, west, north and south.
As he was, etc.

5 The wild boar hearing it into his den,
[Then he made the best of his speed unto him].

6 He whetted his tusks for to make them strong,
And he cut down the oak and the ash as he came along.
For to meet with, etc.

7 They fought five hours one long summer’s day,
Till the wild boar he yelld, and he’d fain run away.
And away from, etc.

8 O then he cut his head clean off,
. . . . .

9 Then there came an old lady running out of the wood,
Saying, ‘You have killed my pretty, my pretty spotted pig.’
As thou art, etc.

10 Then at him this old lady she did go,
And he clove her from the top of her head to her toe.

10 As he was, etc.

11 In Bromsgrove churchyard this old lady lies,
And the face of the boar’s head there is drawn by,

11 That was killed by, etc.

Version E

1 THERE was an old man and sons he had three;
Wind well, Lion, good hunter
A friar he being one of the three,
With pleasure he ranged the north country.
For he was a jovial hunter

2 As he went to the woods some pastime to see,
He spied a fair lady under a tree,
Sighing and moaning mournfully.
He was, etc.

3 ‘What are you doing, my fair lady?’
‘I’m fightened the wild boar he will kill me;
He has worried my lord and wounded thirty.’
As thou art, etc.

4 Then the friar he put his horn to his mouth,
And he blew a blast, east, west, north and south,
And the wild boar from his den he came forth.
Unto the, etc.

Version F

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

19. King Orfeo

1 DER lived a king inta da aste,
Scowan ürla grün
Der lived a lady in da wast.
Whar giorten han grün oarlac

2 Dis king he has a huntin gaen,
He’s left his Lady Isabel alane.

3 ‘Oh I wis ye’d never gaen away,
For at your hame is d’ol an wae.

4 ‘For da king o Ferrie we his daert,
Has pierced your lady to da hert.’

5 And aifter dem da king has gaen,
But whan he cam it was a grey stane.

6 Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,
Bit sair his hert wi d’ol an wae.

7 And first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.

8 An dan he played da g’od gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

9 ‘Noo come ye in inta wir ha,
An come ye in among wis a’.’

10 Now he’s gaen in inta der ha,
An he’s gaen in among dem a’.

11 Dan he took out his pipes to play,
Bit sair his hert wi d’ol an wae.

12 An first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.

13 An dan he played da g’od gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

14 ‘Noo tell to us what ye will hae:
What sall we gie you for your play?

15 ‘What I will hae I will you tell,
An dat’s me Lady Isabel.’

16 ‘Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,
An yees be king ower a’ your ain.’

17 He’s taen his lady, an he’s gaen hame,
An noo he’s king ower a’ his ain.

20. The Cruel Mother

Version A

1 * * * *
AND there she’s leand her back to a thorn,
Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladay
And there she has her baby born.
Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee

2 She has houked a grave ayont the sun,
And there she has buried the sweet babe in.

3 And she’s gane back to her father’s ha,
She’s counted the leelest maid o them a’.

4 ‘O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,
Gin ye smyle sae, ye’ll smyle me dead.’

Version B

1 SHE sat down below a thorn,
Fine flowers in the valley
And there she has her sweet babe born.
And the green leaves they grow rarely

2 ‘Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe,
And ye smile sae sweet, ye’ll smile me dead.’

3 She’s taen out her little pen-knife,
And twinnd the sweet babe o its life.

4 She’s howket a grave by the light o the moon,
And there she’s buried her sweet babe in.

5 As she was going to the church,
She saw a sweet babe in the porch.

6 ‘O sweet babe, and thou were mine,
I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine.’

7 ‘O mother dear, when I was thine,
You did na prove to me sae kind.’

Version C

1 SHE leaned her back unto a thorn,
Three, three, and three by three
And there she has her two babes born.
Three, three, and thirty-three

2 She took frae ’bout her ribbon-belt,
And there she bound them hand and foot.

3 She has taen out her wee pen-knife,
And there she ended baith their life.

4 She has howked a hole baith deep and wide,
She has put them in baith side by side.

5 She has covered them oer wi a marble stane,
Thinking she would gang maiden hame.

6 As she was walking by her father’s castle wa,
She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba.

7 ‘O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine,
I would dress you up in satin fine.

8 ‘O I would dress you in the silk,
And wash you ay in morning milk.’

9 ‘O cruel mother, we were thine,
And thou made us to wear the twine.

10 ‘O cursed mother, heaven’s high,
And that’s where thou will neer win nigh.

11 ‘O cursed mother, hell is deep,
And there thou’ll enter step by step.’

Version D

1 THERE lies a lady in London,
All alone and alone ee
She’s gane wi bairn to the clerk’s son.
Down by the green wood sae bonnie

2 She’s taen her mantle her about,
She’s gane aff to the gude green wood.

3 She’s set her back untill an oak,
First it bowed and then it broke.

4 She’s set her back untill a tree,
Bonny were the twa boys she did bear.

5 But she took out a little pen-knife,
And she parted them and their sweet life.

6 She’s aff untill her father’s ha;
She was the lealest maiden that was amang them a’.

7 As she lookit oure the castle wa,
She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba.

8 ‘O if these two babes were mine,
They should wear the silk and the sabelline!’

9 ‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline.

10 ‘But out ye took a little pen-knife,
And ye parted us and our sweet life.

11 ‘But now we’re in the heavens hie,
And ye’ve the pains o hell to drie.’

Version E

1 THERE was a lady, she lived in Lurk,
Sing hey alone and alonie O
She fell in love with her father’s clerk.
Down by yon greenwood sidie O

2 She loved him seven years and a day,
Till her big belly did her betray.

3 She leaned her back unto a tree,
And there began her sad misery.

4 She set her foot unto a thorn,
And there she got her two babes born.

5 She took out her wee pen-knife,
She twind them both of their sweet life.

6 She took the sattins was on her head,
She rolled them in both when they were dead.

7 She howkit a grave forenent the sun,
And there she buried her twa babes in.

8 As she was walking thro her father’s ha,
She spied twa boys playing at the ba.

9 ‘O pretty boys, if ye were mine,
I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.’

10 ‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
Thou neer dressed us in the silks so fine.

11 ‘For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk,
And thou fell in love with thy father’s clerk.

12 ‘Thou loved him seven years and a day,
Till thy big belly did thee betray.

13 ‘Thou leaned thy back unto a tree,
And there began thy sad misery.

14 ‘Thou set thy foot unto a thorn,
And there thou got thy two babes born.

15 ‘Thou took out thy wee pen-knife,
And twind us both of our sweet life.

16 ‘Thou took the sattins was on thy head,
Thou rolled us both in when we were dead.

17 ‘Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun,
And there thou buried thy twa babes in.

18 ‘But now we’re both in [the] heavens hie,
There is pardon for us, but none for thee.’

19 ‘My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!’
‘There is pardon for us, but none for thee.’

Version F

1 IT fell ance upon a day,
Edinburgh, Edinburgh
It fell ance upon a day,
Stirling for aye
It fell ance upon a day
The clerk and lady went to play.
So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay

2 ‘If my baby be a son,
I’ll make him a lord of high renown.’

3 She’s leand her back to the wa,
Prayd that her pains might fa.

4 She’s leand her back to the thorn,
There was her baby born.

5 ‘O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,
You’ll never suck by my side mair.’

6 She’s riven the muslin frae her head,
Tied the baby hand and feet.

7 Out she took her little pen-knife,
Twind the young thing o its sweet life.

8 She’s howked a hole anent the meen,
There laid her sweet baby in.

9 She had her to her father’s ha,
She was the meekest maid amang them a’.

10 It fell ance upon a day,
She saw twa babies at their play.

11 ‘O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,
I’d cleathe you in the silks sae fine.’

12 ‘O wild mother, when we were thine,
You cleathd us not in silks so fine.

13 ‘But now we’re in the heavens high,
And you’ve the pains o hell to try.’

14 She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,
There I wat she got a fa.

Version G

1 THERE was a lady lived on [a] lea,
All alone, alone O
Down by the greenwood side went she.
Down the greenwood side O

2 She set her foot all on a thorn,
There she had two babies born.

3 O she had nothing to lap them in,
But a white appurn, and that was thin.

Version H

1 THERE was a lady brisk and smart,
All in a lone and a lonie O
And she goes with child to her father’s clark.
Down by the greenwood sidie O

2 Big, big oh she went away,
And then she set her foot to a tree.

3 Big she set her foot to a stone,
Till her three bonnie babes were borne.

4 She took the ribbons off her head,
She tied the little babes hand and feet.

5 She howkit a hole before the sun,
She’s laid these three bonnie babes in.

6 She covered them over with marble stone,
For dukes and lords to walk upon.

7 She lookit over her father’s castle wa,
She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba.

8 The first o them was clad in red,
To shew the innocence of their blood.

9 The neist o them was clad in green,
To shew that death they had been in.

10 The next was naked to the skin,
To shew they were murderd when they were born,

11 ‘O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I wad dress you in the satins so fine.’

12 ‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
Thou did not use us half so kind.’

13 ‘O bonnie babes, an ye be mine,
Whare hae ye been a’ this time?’

14 ‘We were at our father’s house,
Preparing a place for thee and us.’

15 ‘Whaten a place hae ye prepar’d for me?’
‘Heaven’s for us, but hell’s for thee.

16 ‘O mother dear, but heaven’s high;
That is the place thou’ll ne’er come nigh.

17 ‘O mother dear, but hell is deep;
’Twill cause thee bitterlie to weep.’

Version I

1 THE minister’s daughter of New York,
Hey wi the rose and the lindie, O
Has faen in love wi her father’s clerk.
Alone by the green burn sidie, O

2 She courted him six years and a day,
At length her belly did her betray.

3 She did her down to the greenwood gang,
To spend awa a while o her time.

4 She lent her back unto a thorn,
And she’s got her twa bonny boys born.

5 She’s taen the ribbons frae her hair,
Bound their bodyes fast and sair.

6 She’s put them aneath a marble stane,
Thinking a maiden to gae hame.

7 Looking oer her castle wa,
She spied her bonny boys at the ba.

8 ‘O bonny babies, if ye were mine,
I woud feed you with the white bread and wine.

9 ‘I woud feed you wi the ferra cow’s milk,
And dress you in the finest silk.’

10 ‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,
We saw none of your bread and wine.

11 ‘We saw none of your ferra cow’s milk,
Nor wore we of your finest silk.’

12 ‘O bonny babies, can ye tell me,
What sort of death for you I must die?’

13 ‘Yes, cruel mother, we’ll tell to thee,
What sort of death for us you must die.

14 ‘Seven years a fowl in the woods,
Seven years a fish in the floods.

15 ‘Seven years to be a church bell,
Seven years a porter in hell.’

16 ‘Welcome, welcome, fowl in the wood[s],
Welcome, welcome, fish in the flood[s].

17 ‘Welcome, welcome, to be a church bell,
But heavens keep me out of hell.’

Version J

1 SHE leant her back against a thorn,
Hey for the Rose o’ Malindie O
And there she has twa bonnie babes born.
Adoon by the green wood sidie O

2 She’s taen the ribbon frae her head,
An hankit their necks till they waur dead.

3 She luikit outowre her castle wa,
An saw twa nakit boys, playin at the ba.

4 ‘O bonnie boys, waur ye but mine,
I wald feed ye wi flour-bread an wine.’

5 ‘O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
Ye didna feed us wi flour-bread an wine.’

6 ‘O bonnie boys, gif ye waur mine,
I wald clied ye wi silk sae fine.’

7 ‘O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
You didna clied us in silk sae fine.

8 ‘Ye tuik the ribbon aff your head,
An’ hankit our necks till we waur dead.

9 ‘Ye sall be seven years bird on the tree,
Ye sall be seven years fish i the sea.

10 ‘Ye sall be seven years eel i the pule,
An ye sall be seven years doon into hell.’

11 ‘Welcome, welcome, bird on the tree,
Welcome, welcome, fish i the sea.

12 ‘Welcome, welcome, eel i the pule,
But oh for gudesake, keep me frae hell!’

Version K

1 LADY MARGARET looked oer the castle wa,
Hey and a lo and a lilly O
And she saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
Down by the green wood sidy O

2 ‘O pretty babes, an ye were mine,
I would dress you in the silks so fine.’

3 ‘O false mother, when we were thine,
Ye did not dress us in silks so fine.’

4 ‘O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I would feed you on the bread and wine.’

5 ‘O false mother, when we were thine,
Ye did not feed us on the bread and the wine.’

6 ‘Seven years a fish in the sea,
And seven years a bird in the tree.

7 ‘Seven years to ring a bell,
And seven years porter in hell.’

Version L

1 A LADY lookd out at a castle wa,
Fine flowers in the valley
She saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
And the green leaves they grow rarely

2 ‘O my bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I would cleed ye i the scarlet sae fine.

3 ‘I’d lay ye saft in beds o down,
And watch ye morning, night and noon.’

4 ‘O mither dear, when we were thine,
Ye didna cleed us i the scarlet sae fine.

5 ‘But ye took out yere little pen-knife,
And parted us frae our sweet life.

6 ‘Ye howkit a hole aneath the moon,
And there ye laid our bodies down.

7 ‘Ye happit the hole wi mossy stanes,
And there ye left our wee bit banes.

8 ‘But ye ken weel, O mither dear,
Ye never cam that gate for fear.’

9 ‘Seven lang years ye’ll ring the bell,
And see sic sights as ye darna tell.’

Version M

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

Version N

1 As I lookit oer my father’s castle wa,
All alone and alone O

1 I saw two pretty babes playing at the ba.
Down by yon green-wood sidie

2 ‘O pretty babes, gin ye were mine,’
Hey the loch o the Loanie

2 ‘I would clead ye o the silk sae fine.’
Down by that green-wood sidie

3 ‘O sweet darlings, gin ye were mine,’
Hey the loch o the Loanie

3 ‘I would feed ye on the morning’s milk.’
Down by the green-wood sidie

4 ‘O mither dear, when we were thine,’
By the lock o the Loanie

4 ‘Ye neither dressd us wi silk nor twine.’
Down by this green-wood sidie

5 ‘But ye tuke out your little pen-knife,’
By, etc.

5 ‘And there ye tuke yer little babes’ life.’
Down by the, etc.

6 ‘O mither dear, when this ye had done,’
Alone by, etc.

6 ‘Ye unkirtled yersel, and ye wrapt us in ’t.’
Down by the, etc.

7 ‘Neist ye houkit a hole fornent the seen.’
All alone and alone O

7 ‘And tearless ye stappit your little babes in’
Down by the, etc.

8 ‘But we are in the heavens high,’
And far frae the loch o the Loanie

8 ‘But ye hae the pains o hell to d[r]ie.’
Before ye leave the green-wood sidie

Version N2

1 There was a duke’s daughter lived at York,
All alone and alone a

1 And she fell in love with her father’s clarke.
Down by the greenwood side a, side a,
Down, etc.

2 She loved him seven long years and a day,
Till at last she came big-bellied away.

3 She set her back against a thorn,
And there she had two pretty babes born.

4 She took out a penknife long and short,
And she pierc’d these pretty babes to the tender heart.

5 So as she was walking in her father’s hall,
She saw three pretty babes playing at ball.

6 The one was clothed in purple, the other in pall,
And the other was cloathed in no cloths at all.

7 ‘O pretty babes, pretty babes, will you be mine?
You shall be clothed in scarlet so fine,
And ye shall drink ale, beer, and wine.’

8 ‘We are three angels, as other angels be,
And the hotest place in hell is reserved for thee.’

Version O

1 There was a duke’s daughter lived in York,
Come bend and bear away the bows of yew

1 So secretly she loved her father’s clark.
Gentle hearts, be to me true.

2 She loved him long and many a day,
Till big with child she went away.

3 She went into the wide wilderness;
Poor she was to be pitied for heaviness.

4 She leant her back against a tree,
And there she endurd much misery.

5 She leant her back against an oak,
With bitter sighs these words she spoke.

6 She set her foot against a thorne,
And there she had two pretty babes born.

7 She took her filliting off her head,
And there she ty’d them hand and leg.

8 She had a penknife long [and] sharp,
And there she stuck them to the heart.

9 She dug a grave, it was long and deep,
And there she laid them in to sleep.

10 The coldest earth it was their bed,
The green grass was their coverlid.

11 As she was a going by her father’s hall,
She see three children a playing at ball.

12 One was drest in scarlet fine,
And the other[s was naked] as ere they was born.

13 ‘O mother, O mother, if these children was mine,
I wold dress them [in] scarlet fine.’

14 ‘O mother, O mother, when we was thine,
You did not dress [us] in scarlet fine.

15 ‘You set your back against a tree,
And there you endured great misery.

16 ‘You set your foot against a thorne,
And there you had us pritty babes born.

17 ‘You took your filliting off your head,
And there you bound us, hand to leg.

18 ‘You had a penknife long and sharp,
And there you stuck us to the heart.

19 ‘You dug a grave, it was long and deep,
And there you laid us in to sleep.

20 The coldest earth it was our bed,
The green grass was our coverlid.

21 ‘O mother, mother, for your sin
Heaven-gate you shall not enter in.

22 ‘O mother, mother, for your sin
Hell-gates stands open to let you in.’

23 The lady’s cheeks lookd pale and wan,
‘Alass I,’ said she, ’what have I done!’

24 She tore her silken locks of hair,
And dy’d away in sad despair.

25 Young ladies all, of beauty bright,
Take warning by her last good-night.

Version Q

1 There was a lady, a lady of York,
Ri fol i diddle i gee wo

1 She fell a-courting in her own father’s park.
Down by the greenwood side, O

2 She leaned her back against the stile,
There she had two pretty babes born.

3 And she had nothing to lap ’em in,
But she had a penknife sharp and keen.

4 . . . . . . . . .
There she stabbed them right through the heart.

5 She wiped the penknife in the sludge;
The more she wiped it, the more the blood showed.

6 As she was walking in her own father’s park,
She saw two pretty babes playing with a ball.

7 ‘Pretty babes, pretty babes, if you were mine,
I’d dress you up in silks so fine.’

8 ‘Dear mother, dear mother, [when we were thine,]
You dressed us not in silks so fine.

9 ‘Here we go to the heavens so high,
You’ll go to bad when you do die.’

21. The Maid and the Palmer

Version A

1 THE maid shee went to the well to washe,
Lillumwham, lillumwham!
The mayd shee went to the well to washe,
Whatt then? what then?
The maid shee went to the well to washe,
Dew fell of her lilly white fleshe.
Grandam boy, grandam boy, heye!
Leg a derry, leg a merry, mett, mer, whoope, whir!
Driuance, larumben, grandam boy, heye!

2 While shee washte and while shee ronge,
While shee hangd o the hazle wand.

3 There came an old palmer by the way,
Sais, ‘God speed thee well, thou faire maid!’

4 ‘Hast either cupp or can,
To giue an old palmer drinke therin?’

5 Sayes, ‘I have neither cupp nor cann,
To giue an old palmer drinke therin.’

6 ‘But an thy lemman came from Roome,
Cupps and canns thou wold find soone.’

7 She sware by God & good St. John,
Lemman had shee neuer none.

8 Sais, ‘Peace, faire mayd, you are forsworne!
Nine children you haue borne.

9 ‘Three were buryed vnder thy bed’s head,
Other three vnder thy brewing leade.

10 ‘Other three on yon play greene;
Count, maid, and there be 9.’

11 ‘But I hope you are the good old man
That all the world beleeues vpon.

12 ‘Old palmer, I pray thee,
Pennaunce that thou wilt giue to me.’

13 ‘Penance I can giue thee none,
But 7 yeere to be a stepping-stone.

14 ‘Other seaven a clapper in a bell,
Other 7 to lead an ape in hell.

15 ‘When thou hast thy penance done,
Then thoust come a mayden home.’

Version B

1 ‘SEVEN years ye shall be a stone,
. . . . .
For many a poor palmer to rest him upon.
And you the fair maiden of Gowden-gane

2 ‘Seven years ye’ll be porter of hell,
And then I’ll take you to mysell.’

3 ‘Weel may I be a’ the other three,
But porter of hell I never will be.’
And I, etc.

22. St. Stephen and Herod

1 SEYNT Steuene was a clerk in kyng Herowdes halle,
And seruyd him of bred and cloth, as euery kyng befalle.

2 Steuyn out of kechone cam, wyth boris hed on honde;
He saw a sterre was fayr and bryy+ot ouer Bedlem stonde.

3 He kyst adoun the boris hed and went in to the halle:
‘I forsak the, kyng Herowdes, and thi werkes alle.

4 ‘I forsak the, kyng Herowdes, and thi werkes alle;
RRther is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter than we alle.’

5 ‘Quat eylyt the, Steuene? quat is the befalle?
Lakkyt the eyther mete or drynk in kyng Herowdes halle!’

6 kit me neyther mete ne drynk in kyng Herowdes halle;
RRther is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter than we alle.’

7 Quat eylyt the, Steuyn? art thu wod, or thu gynnyst to brede?
Lakkyt the eyther gold or fe, or ony ryche wede?’

8 ‘Lakyt me neyther gold ne fe, ne non ryche wede;
RRther is a chyld in Bedlem born xal helpyn vs at our nede.’

9 ‘RRthat is al so soth, Steuyn, al so soth, iwys,
As this capoun crowe xal that lyth here in myn dysh.’

10 RRthat word was not so sone seyd, that word in that halle,
THe capoun crew Cristus natus est! among the lordes alle.

11 Rysyt vp, myn turmentowres, be to and al be on,
And ledyt Steuyn out of this town, and stonyt hym wyth ston!’

12 Tokyn he Steuene, and stonyd hym in the way,
And therfore is his euyn on Crystes owyn day.

23. Judas

1 HIT wes upon a Scere-thorsday that ure loverd aros;
Ful milde were the wordes he spec to Judas.

2 ‘Judas, thou most to Jurselem, oure mete for to bugge;
Thritti platen of selver thou bere up othi rugge.

3 ‘Thou comest fer ithe brode stret, fer ithe brode strete;
Summe of thine tunesmen ther thou meiht imete.’

4 . . . . .
Immette wid is soster, the swikele wimon.

5 ‘Judas, thou were wrthe me stende the wid ston,
For the false prophete that tou bilevest upon.’

6 ‘Be stille, leve soster, thin herte the tobreke!
Wiste min loverd Crist, ful wel he wolde be wreke.’

7 ‘Judas, go thou on the roc, heie upon the ston;
Lei thin heved imy barm, slep thou the anon.’

8 Sone so Judas of slepe was awake,
Thritti platen of selver from hym weren itake.

9 He drou hymselve bi the cop, that al it lavede a blode;
The Jewes out of Jurselem awenden he were wode.

10 Foret hym com the riche Jeu that heihte Pilatus:
‘Wolte sulle thi loverd, that hette Jesus?’

11 ‘I nul sulle my loverd [for] nones cunnes eihte,
Bote hit be for the thritti platen that he me bitaihte.’

12 ‘Wolte sulle thi lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?’
‘Nay, bote hit be for the platen that he habben wolde.’

13 In him com ur lord Crist gon, as is postles seten at mete:
‘Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?

14 [‘Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?]
Ic am ibouht ant isold today for oure mete.’

15 Up stod him Judas: ‘Lord, am I that . . .?
‘I nas never othe stude ther me the evel spec.’

16 Up him stod Peter, and spec wid al is mihte,
. . . . . .

17 ‘Thau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnihtes,
Yet ic wolde, loverd, for thi love fihte.’

18 ‘Still thou be, Peter, wel I the icnowe;
Thou wolt fursake me thrien ar the coc him crowe.’

24. Bonnie Annie

Version A

1 THERE was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,
He had a fair lady, and one only dochter.

2 O she was fair, O dear, she was bonnie!
A ship’s captain courted her to be his honey.

3 There cam a ship’s captain out owre the sea sailing,
He courted this young thing till he got her wi bairn.

4 ‘Ye’ll steal your father’s gowd, and your mother’s money,
And I’ll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.’

5 She’s stown her father’s gowd, and her mother’s money,
But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.

6 ‘There’s fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me,
There’s fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me.’

7 They’ve casten black bullets twice six and forty,
And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.

8 ‘Ye’ll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,
Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie.’

9 He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,
He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.

10 ‘What can a woman do, love, I’ll do for ye;’
‘Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.’

11 ‘Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,
Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.’

12 ‘I’ve laid about, steerd about, laid about cannie,
But all I can do, she winna sail for me.

13 ‘Ye’ll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,
And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie.’

14 He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,
He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie.

15 As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam,
And she was at Ireland as soon as them.

16 He made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,
And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.

Version B

1 DOWN in Dumbarton there wonnd a rich merchant,
Down in Dumbarton there wond a rich merchant,
And he had nae family but ae only dochter.
Sing fal lal de deedle, fal lal de deedle lair, O a day

2 There cam a rich squire, intending to woo her,
He wooed her until he had got her wi babie.

3 ‘Oh what shall I do! oh what shall come o me!
Baith father and mither will think naething o me.’

4 ‘Gae up to your father, bring down gowd and money,
And I’ll take ye ower to a braw Irish ladie.’

5 She gade to her father, brought down gowd and money,
And she’s awa ower to a braw Irish ladie.

6 She hadna sailed far till the young thing cried ‘Women!’
‘What women can do, my dear, I’ll do for you.’

7 ‘O haud your tongue, foolish man, dinna talk vainly,
For ye never kent what a woman driet for you.

8 ‘Gae wash your hands in the cauld spring water,
And dry them on a towel a’ giltit wi silver.

9 ‘And tak me by the middle, and lift me up saftlie,
And throw me ower shipboard, baith me and my babie.’

10 He took her by the middle, and lifted her saftly,
And threw her ower shipboard, baith her and her babie.

11 Sometimes she did sink, sometimes she did float it,
Until that she cam to the high banks o Yarrow.

12 ‘O captain tak gowd, O sailors tak money,
And launch out your sma boat till I sail for my honey.’

13 ‘How can I tak gowd, how can I tak money?
My ship’s on a sand bank, she winna sail for me.’

14 The captain took gowd, the sailors took money,
And they launchd out their sma boat till he sailed for his honey.

15 ‘Mak my love a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,
Whar the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow,
And bury my love on the high banks o Yarrow.’

16 They made her a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,
And buried her deep on the high banks o Yarrow.

25. Willie's Lyke-Wake

Version A

1 ‘WILLIE, Willie, I’ll learn you a wile,’
And the sun shines over the valleys and a’
‘How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.’
Amang the blue flowrs and the yellow and a’

2 ‘Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead,
And tak your winding-sheet around your head.

3 ‘Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat,
To ring your dead-bell at your lover’s yett.’

4 He lay doun just as he war dead,
And took his winding-sheet round his head.

5 He gied the bellman his bell-groat,
To ring his dead-bell at his lover’s yett.

6 ‘O wha is this that is dead, I hear?’
‘O wha but Willie that loed ye sae dear.’

7 She is to her father’s chamber gone,
And on her knees she’s fallen down.

8 ‘O father, O father, ye maun grant me this;
I hope that ye will na tak it amiss.

9 ‘That I to Willie’s burial should go;
For he is dead, full well I do know.’

10 ‘Ye’ll tak your seven bauld brethren wi thee,
And to Willie’s burial straucht go ye.’

11 It’s whan she cam to the outmost yett,
She made the silver fly round for his sake.

12 It’s whan she cam to the inmost yett,
She made the red gowd fly round for his sake.

13 As she walked frae the court to the parlour there,
The pretty corpse syne began for to steer.

14 He took her by the waist sae neat and sae sma,
And threw her atween him and the wa.

15 ‘O Willie, O Willie, let me alane this nicht,
O let me alane till we’re wedded richt.’

16 ‘Ye cam unto me baith sae meek and mild,
But I’ll mak ye gae hame a wedded wife wi child.’

Version B

1 ‘O Willie my son, what makes you sae sad?’
As the sun shines over the valley
‘I lye sarely sick for the love of a maid.’
Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

2 ‘Were she an heiress or lady sae free,
That she will take no pity on thee?

3 ‘O Willie, my son, I’ll learn you a wile,
How this fair maid ye may beguile.

4 ‘Ye’ll gie the principal bellman a groat,
And ye’ll gar him cry your dead lyke-wake.’

5 Then he gae the principal bellman a groat,
He bade him cry his dead lyke-wake.

6 This maiden she stood till she heard it a’,
And down frae her cheeks the tears did fa.

7 She is hame to her father’s ain bower:
‘I’ll gang to yon lyke-wake ae single hour.’

8 ‘Ye must take with you your ain brither John;
It’s not meet for maidens to venture alone.’

9 ‘I’ll not take with me my brither John,
But I’ll gang along, myself all alone.’

10 When she came to young Willie’s yate,
His seven brithers were standing thereat.

11 Then they did conduct her into the ha,
Amang the weepers and merry mourners a’.

12 When she lifted up the covering sae red,
With melancholy countenance to look on the dead,

13 He’s taen her in his arms, laid her gainst the wa,
Says, ‘Lye ye here, fair maid, till day.’

14 ‘O spare me, O spare me, but this single night,
And let me gang hame a maiden sae bright.’

15 ‘Tho all your kin were about your bower,
Ye shall not be a maiden ae single hour.

16 ‘Fair maid, ye came here without a convoy,
But ye shall return wi a horse and a boy.

17 ‘Ye came here a maiden sae mild,
But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife with child.’

Version C

1 ‘O WILLIE, Willie, what makes thee so sad?’
And the sun shines over the valley
‘I have loved a lady these seven years and mair.’
Down amang the blue flowers and the yellow

2 ‘O Willie, lie down as thou were dead,
And lay thy winding-sheet down at thy head.

3 ‘And gie to the bellman a belling-great,
To ring the dead-bell at thy love’s bower-yett.’

4 He laid him down as he were dead,
And he drew the winding-sheet oer his head.

5 He gied to the bellman a belling-great,
To ring the dead-bell at his love’s bower-yett.

6 When that she came to her true lover’s gate,
She dealt the red gold and all for his sake.

7 And when that she came to her true lover’s bower,
She had not been there for the space of half an hour,

8 Till that she cam to her true lover’s bed,
And she lifted the winding-sheet to look at the dead.

9 He took her by the hand so meek and sma,
And he cast her over between him and the wa.

10 ‘Tho all your friends were in the bower,
I would not let you go for the space of half an hour.

11 ‘You came to me without either horse or boy,
But I will send you home with a merry convoy.’

Version D

1 ‘O JOHNIE, dear Johnie, what makes ye sae sad?’
As the sun shines ower the valley
‘I think nae music will mak ye glad.’
Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

Version E

1 ‘If my love loves me, she lets me not know,
That is a dowie chance;
I wish that I the same could do,
Tho my love were in France, France,
Tho my love were in France.

2 ‘O lang think I, and very lang,
And lang think I, I true;
But lang and langer will I think
Or my love o me rue.

3 ‘I will write a broad letter,
And write it sae perfite,
That an she winna o me rue,
I’ll bid her come to my lyke.’

4 Then he has written a broad letter,
And seald it wi his hand,
And sent it on to his true love,
As fast as boy could gang.

5 When she looked the letter upon,
A light laugh then gae she;
But ere she read it to an end,
The tear blinded her ee.

6 ‘O saddle to me a steed, father,
O saddle to me a steed;
For word is come to me this night,
That my true love is dead.’

7 ‘The steeds are in the stable, daughter,
The keys are casten by;
Ye cannot won to-night, daughter,
To-morrow ye’se won away.’

8 She has cut aff her yellow locks,
A little aboon her ee,
And she is on to Willie’s lyke,
As fast as gang could she.

9 As she gaed ower yon high hill head,
She saw a dowie light;
It was the candles at Willie’s lyke,
And torches burning bright.

10 Three o Willie’s eldest brothers
Were making for him a bier;
One half o it was gude red gowd,
The other siller clear.

11 Three o Willie’s eldest sisters
Were making for him a sark;
The one half o it was cambric fine,
The other needle wark.

12 Out spake the youngest o his sisters,
As she stood on the fleer:
How happy would our brother been,
If ye’d been sooner here!

13 She lifted up the green covering,
And gae him kisses three;
Then he lookd up into her face,
The blythe blink in his ee.

14 O then he started to his feet,
And thus to her said he:
Fair Annie, since we’re met again,
Parted nae mair we’se be.

26. The Three Ravens

1 THERE were three rauens sat on a tree,
Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
With a downe
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
They were as blacke as they might be.
With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe

2 The one of them said to his mate,
‘Where shall we our breakefast take?’

3 ‘Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a knight slain vnder his shield.

4 ‘His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their master keepe.

5 ‘His haukes they flie so eagerly,
There’s no fowle dare him come nie.’

6 Downe there comes a fallow doe,
As great with yong as she might goe.

7 She lift vp his bloudy hed,
And kist his wounds that were so red.

8 She got him vp vpon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake.

9 She buried him before the prime,
She was dead herselfe ere euen-song time.

10 God send euery gentleman,
Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.

27. The Whummil Bore

1 SEVEN lang years I hae served the king,
Fa fa fa fa lilly
And I never got a sight of his daughter but ane.
With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle,
Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally

2 I saw her thro a whummil bore,
And I neer got a sight of her no more.

3 Twa was putting on her gown,
And ten was putting pins therein.

4 Twa was putting on her shoon,
And twa was buckling them again.

5 Five was combing down her hair,
And I never got a sight of her nae mair.

6 Her neck and breast was like the snow,
Then from the bore I was forced to go.

28. Burd Ellen and Young Tamlane

1 BURD ELLEN sits in her bower windowe,
With a double laddy double, and for the double dow
Twisting the red silk and the blue.
With the double rose and the May-hay

2 And whiles she twisted, and whiles she twan,
And whiles the tears fell down amang.

3 Till once there by cam Young Tamlane:
‘Come light, oh light, and rock your young son.’

4 ‘If you winna rock him, you may let him rair,
For I hae rockit my share and mair.’

5 Young Tamlane to the seas he’s gane,
And a’ women’s curse in his company’s gane.

29. The Boy and the Mantle

1 IN the third day of May
to Carleile did come
A kind curteous child,
that cold much of wisdome.

2 A kirtle and a mantle
this child had vppon,
With brauches and ringes
full richelye bedone.

3 He had a sute of silke,
about his middle drawne;
Without he cold of curtesye,
he thought itt much shame.

4 ‘God speed thee, King Arthur,
sitting att thy meate!
And the goodly Queene Gueneuer!
I cannott her forgett.

5 ‘I tell you lords in this hall,
I hett you all heede,
Except you be the more surer,
is you for to dread.’

6 He plucked out of his potewer,
and longer wold not dwell,
He pulled forth a pretty mantle,
betweene two nut-shells.

7 ‘Haue thou here, King Arthure,
haue thou heere of mee;
Giue itt to thy comely queene,
shapen as itt is alreadye.

8 ‘Itt shall neuer become that wiffe
that hath once done amisse:’
Then euery knight in the kings court
began to care for his.

9 Forth came dame Gueneuer,
to the mantle shee her bed;
The ladye shee was new-fangle,
but yett shee was affrayd.

10 When shee had taken the mantle,
shee stoode as she had beene madd;
It was from the top to the toe
as sheeres had itt shread.

11 One while was itt gaule,
another while was itt greene;
another while was itt wadded;
ill itt did her beseeme.

12 Another while was it blacke,
and bore the worst hue;
‘By my troth,’ quoth King Arthur,
‘I thinke thou be not true.’

13 Shee threw downe the mantle,
that bright was of blee,
Fast with a rudd redd
to her chamber can shee flee.

14 Shee curst the weauer and the walker
that clothe that had wrought,
And bade a vengeance on his crowne
that hither hath itt brought.

15 ‘I had rather be in a wood,
vnder a greene tree,
Then in King Arthurs court
shamed for to bee.’

16 Kay called forth his ladye,
and bade her come neere;
Saies, ‘Madam, and thou be guiltye,
I pray thee hold thee there.’

17 Forth came his ladye
shortlye and anon,
Boldlye to the mantle
then is shee gone.

18 When she had tane the mantle,
and cast it her about,
Then was shee bare
all aboue the buttocckes.

19 Then euery knight
that was in the kings court
Talked, laughed, and showted,
full oft att that sport.

20 Shee threw downe the mantle,
that bright was of blee,
Ffast with a red rudd
to her chamber can shee flee.

21 Forth came an old knight,
pattering ore a creede,
And he proferred to this little boy
twenty markes to his meede,

22 And all the time of the Christmasse
willinglye to feede;
For why, this mantle might
doe his wiffe some need.

23 When shee had tane the mantle,
of cloth that was made,
Shee had no more left on her
but a tassell and a threed:
Then euery knight in the kings court
bade euill might shee speed.

24 Shee threw downe the mantle,
that bright was of blee,
And fast with a redd rudd
to her chamber can shee flee.

25 Craddocke called forth his ladye,
and bade her come in;
Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye,
with a litle dinne.

26 ‘Winne this mantle, ladye,
and it shalbe thine
If thou neuer did amisse
since thou wast mine.’

27 Forth came Craddockes ladye
shortlye and anon,
But boldlye to the mantle
then is shee gone.

28 When shee had tane the mantle,
and cast itt her about,
Vpp att her great toe
itt began to crinkle and crowt;
Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle,
and shame me not for nought.

29 ‘Once I did amisse,
I tell you certainlye,
When I kist Craddockes mouth
vnder a greene tree,
When I kist Craddockes mouth
before he marryed mee.’

30 When shee had her shreeuen,
and her sines shee had tolde,
The mantle stoode about her
right as shee wold;

31 Seemelye of coulour,
glittering like gold;
Then euery knight in Arthurs court
did her behold.

32 Then spake dame Gueneuer
to Arthur our king:
‘She hath tane yonder mantle,
not with wright but with wronge!

33 ‘See you not yonder woman
that maketh her selfe soe clene?
I haue seene tane out of her bedd
of men fiueteene;

34 ‘Preists, clarkes, and wedded men,
from her by-deene;
Yett she taketh the mantle,
and maketh her-selfe cleane!’

35 Then spake the litle boy
that kept the mantle in hold;
Sayes ‘King, chasten thy wiffe;
of her words shee is to bold.

36 ‘Shee is a bitch and a witch,
and a whore bold;
King, in thine owne hall
thou art a cuchold.’

37 The litle boy stoode
looking ouer a dore;
He was ware of a wyld bore,
wold haue werryed a man.

38 He pulld forth a wood kniffe,
fast thither that he ran;
He brought in the bores head,
and quitted him like a man.

39 He brought in the bores head,
and was wonderous bold;
He said there was neuer a cucholds kniffe
carue itt that cold.

40 Some rubbed their kniues
vppon a whetstone;
Some threw them vnder the table,
and said they had none.

41 King Arthur and the child
stood looking them vpon;
All their kniues edges
turned backe againe.

42 Craddoccke had a litle kniue
of iron and of steele;
He birtled the bores head
wonderous weele,
That euery knight in the kings court
had a morssell.

43 The litle boy had a horne,
of red gold that ronge;
He said, ’There was noe cuckolde
shall drinke of my horne,
But he shold itt sheede,
either behind or beforne.’

44 Some shedd on their shoulder,
and some on their knee;
He that cold not hitt his mouth
put it in his eye;
And he that was a cuckhold,
euery man might him see.

45 Craddoccke wan the horne
and the bores head;
His ladye wan the mantle
vnto her meede;
Euerye such a louely ladye,
God send her well to speede!

30. King Arthur and King Cornwall

1 * * * *
[SAIES, ‘Come here, cuzen Gawaine so gay,]
My sisters sonne be yee;
Ffor you shall see one of the fairest round tables
That euer you see with your eye.’

2 Then bespake Lady Queen Gueneuer,
And these were the words said shee:
‘I know where a round table is, thou noble king,
Is worth thy round table and other such three.

3 ‘The trestle that stands vnder this round table,’ she said,
‘Lowe downe to the mould,
It is worth thy round table, thou worthy king,
Thy halls, and all thy gold.

4 ‘The place where this round table stands in,
. . . . . .
It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee,
And all good Litle Britaine.’

5 ‘Where may that table be, lady?’ quoth hee,
‘Or where may all that goodly building be?’
‘You shall it seeke,’ shee says, ’Till you it find,
For you shall neuer gett more of me.’

6 Then bespake him noble King Arthur,
These were the words said hee:
‘Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,

7 ‘Ile never sleepe one night there as I doe another,
Till that round table I see:
Sir Marramiles and Sir Tristeram,
Fellowes that ye shall bee.

8 . . . . .
. . . . .
‘Weele be clad in palmers weede,
Fiue palmers we will bee;

9 ‘There is noe outlandish man will vs abide,
Nor will vs come nye.’
Then they riued east and th riued west,
In many a strange country.

10 Then they tranckled a litle further,
They saw a battle new sett:
‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur,
. . . . . . well .

11 But when he cam to this . . c . .
And to the palace gate,
Soe ready was ther a proud porter,
And met him soone therat.

12 Shooes of gold the porter had on,
And all his other rayment was vnto the same:
‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur,
‘Yonder is a minion swaine.’

13 Then bespake noble King Arthur,
These were the words says hee:
‘Come hither, thou proud porter,
I pray thee come hither to me.

14 ‘I haue two poore rings of my finger,
The better of them Ile giue to thee;
Tell who may be lord of this castle,’ he sayes,
‘Or who is lord in this cuntry?’

15 ‘Cornewall King,’ the porter sayes,
‘There is none soe rich as hee;
Neither in christendome, nor yet in heathennest,
None hath soe much gold as he.’

16 And then bespake him noble King Arthur,
These were the words sayes hee:
‘I haue two poore rings of my finger,
The better of them Ile giue thee,
If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall King,
And greete him well from me.

17 ‘Pray him for one nights lodging and two meales meate,
For his love that dyed vppon a tree;
Of one ghesting and two meales meate,
For his loue that dyed vppon a tree.

18 ‘Of one ghesting, of two meales meate,
For his love that was of virgin borne,
And in the morning that we may scape away,
Either without scath or scorne.’

19 Then forth is gone this proud porter,
As fast as he cold hye,
And when he came befor Cornewall King,
He kneeled downe on his knee.

20 Sayes, ‘I haue beene porter-man, at thy gate,
This thirty winter and three . .
. . . . . .
. . . . .

21 . . . . . .
. . . . .
Our Lady was borne; then thought Cornewall King
These palmers had beene in Brittaine.

22 Then bespake him Cornwall King,
These were the words he said there:
‘Did you euer know a comely king,
His name was King Arthur?’

23 And then bespake him noble King Arthur,
These were the words said hee:
‘I doe not know that comly king,
But once my selfe I did him see.’
Then bespake Cornwall King againe,
These were the words said he:

24 Sayes, ‘Seuen yeere I was clad and fed,
In Litle Brittaine, in a bower;
I had a daughter by King Arthurs wife,
That now is called my flower;
For King Arthur, that kindly cockward,
Hath none such in his bower.

25 ‘For I durst sweare, and saue my othe,
That same lady soe bright,
That a man that were laid on his death bed
Wold open his eyes on her to haue sight.’
‘Now, by my faith,’ sayes noble King Arthur,
‘And that’s a full faire wight!’

26 And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe,
And these were the words he said:
‘Come hither, fiue or three of my knights,
And feitch me downe my steed;
King Arthur, that foule cockeward,
Hath none such, if he had need.

27 ‘For I can ryde him as far on a day
As King Arthur can doe any of his on three;
And is it not a pleasure for a king
When he shall ryde forth on his iourney?

28 ‘For the eyes that beene in his head,
Th glister as doth the gleed.’
‘Now, by my faith,’ says noble King Arthur,
’That is a well faire steed.’

29 . . . . . .
. . . . .
‘Nobody say . . . .
But one that’s learned to speake.’

30 Then King Arthur to his bed was brought,
A greeiued man was hee;
And soe were all his fellowes with him,
From him th thought neuer to flee.

31 Then take they did that lodly groome,
And under the rub-chadler closed was hee,
And he was set by King Arthurs bed-side,
To heere theire talke and theire comunye;

32 That he might come forth, and make Proclamation,
Long before it was day;
It was more for King Cornwalls pleasure,
Then it was for King Arthurs pay.

33 And when King Arthur in his bed was laid,
These were the words said hee:
‘Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
That Ile be the bane of Cornwall Kinge,
Litle Brittaine or euer I see!’

34 ‘It is an vnaduised vow,’ saies Gawaine the gay,
‘As ever king hard make I;
But wee that beene five christian men,
Of the christen faith are wee,
And we shall fight against anoynted king
And all his armorie.’

35 And then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were the words said he:
‘Why, if thou be afraid, Sir Gawaine the gay,
Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne country.’

36 And then bespake Sir Gawaine the gay,
And these were the words said hee:
‘Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty vow,
Heere another vow make will I.

37 ‘Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
That I will haue yonder faire lady
To Litle Brittaine with mee.

38 ‘Ile hose her hourly to my heart,
And with her Ile worke my will;’
. . . . .
. . . . .

39 . . . . .
These were the words sayd hee:
‘Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend,
It is better be drowned in the sea.’

40 And then bespake Sir Bredbeddle,
And these were the words said he:
‘Why, I will wrestle with yon lodly feend,
God, my gouernor thou wilt bee!’

41 Then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were the words said he:
‘What weapons wilt thou haue, thou gentle knight?
I pray thee tell to me.’

42 He sayes, ‘Collen brand Ile haue in my hand,
And a Millaine knife fast by me knee,
And a Danish axe fast in my hands,
That a sure weapon I thinke wilbe.’

43 Then with his Collen brand that he had in his hand
The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in three;
With that start out a lodly feend,
With seuen heads, and one body.

44 The fyer towards the element flew,
Out of his mouth, where was great plentie;
The knight stoode in the middle and fought,
That it was great ioy to see.

45 Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand,
And his Millaine knife burst on his knee,
And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first,
That a sur weapon he thought shold be.

46 But now is the knight left without any weapons,
And alacke! it was the more pitty;
But a surer weapon then he had one,
Had neuer lord in Christentye;
And all was but one litle booke,
He found it by the side of the sea.

47 He found it at the sea-side,
Wrucked upp in a floode;
Our Lord had written it with his hands,
And sealed it with his bloode.

48 ‘That thou doe not s . . . .
But ly still in that wall of stone,
Till I haue beene with noble King Arthur,
And told him what I haue done.’

49 And when he came to the kings chamber,
He cold of his curtesie:
Says, ‘Sleepe you, wake you, noble King Arthur?
And euer Iesus waken yee!’

50 ‘Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,’
These were the words said hee;
‘Ffor thee I haue card; how hast thou fared?
O gentle knight, let me see.’

51 The knight wrought the king his booke,
Bad him behold, reede and see;
And euer he found it on the backside of the leafe
As noble Arthur wold wish it to be.

52 And then bespake him King Arthur,
‘Alas! thow gentle knight, how may this be,
That I might see him in the same licknesse
That he stood vnto thee?’

53 And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said hee:
‘If youle stand stifly in the battell stronge,
For I haue won all the victory.’

54 Then bespake him the King againe,
And these were the words said hee:
‘If wee stand not stifly in this battell strong,
Wee are worthy to be hanged all on a tree.’

55 Then bespake him the Greene Kinght,
These were the words said he:
Saies, ‘I doe coniure thee, thou fowle feend,
In the same licknesse thou stood vnto me.’

56 With that start out a lodly feend,
With seuen heads, and one body;
The fier towards the element flaugh,
Out of his mouth, where was great plenty.

57 The knight stood in the middle p . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . .

58 . . . . . .
. . . . .
. . . they stood the space of an houre,
I know not what they did.

59 And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
And these were the words said he:
Saith, ‘I coniure thee, thou fowle feend,
That thou feitch downe the steed that we see.’

60 And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie,
And feitch he did that faire steed,
And came againe by and by.

61 Then bespake him Sir Marramiles,
And these were the words said hee:
‘Riding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle,
The mastery belongs to me.’

62 Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand,
To ryd him he was full bold;
He cold noe more make him goe
Then a child of three yeere old.

63 He laid vppon him with heele and hand,
With yard that was soe fell;
‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile,
‘For I thinke he be the devill of hell.

64 ‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile,
‘Helpe! for Christs pittye;
Ffor without thy help, brother Bredbeddle,
He will neuer be rydden for me.’

65 Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,
These were the words said he:
‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beane,
Thou tell me how this steed was riddin in his country.

66 He saith, ’There is a gold wand
Stands in King Cornwalls study windowe;
. . . . . .
. . . . . .

67 ‘Let him take that wand in that window,
And strike three strokes on that steed;
And then he will spring forth of his hand
As sparke doth out of gleede.’

68 And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
. . . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . .

69 . . . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . . .
A lowd blast he may blow then.

70 And then bespake Sir Bredebeddle,
To the feend these words said hee:
Says, ‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,
The powder-box thou feitch me.’

71 Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie,
And feich he did the powder-box,
And came againe by and by.

72 Then Sir Tristeram tooke powder forth of that box,
And blent it with warme sweet milke,
And there put it vnto that horne,
And swilled it about in that ilke.

73 Then he tooke the horne in his hand,
And a lowd blast he blew;
He rent the horne vp to the midst,
All his fellowes this th knew.

74 Then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said he:
Saies, ‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,
That thou feitch me the sword that I see.’

75 Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie,
And feitch he did that faire sword,
And came againe by and by.

76 Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,
To the king these words said he:
‘Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble King Arthur,
For the vowes sake that thou made Ile giue it th[ee,]
And goe strike off King Cornewalls head,
In bed were he doth lye.’

77 Then forth is gone noble King Arthur,
As fast as he cold hye,
And strucken he hath off King Cornwalls head,
And came againe by and by.

78 He put the head vpon a swords point,
. . . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . .

31. The Marriage of Sir Gawain

1 KINGE ARTHUR liues in merry Carleile,
And seemely is to see,
And there he hath with him Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright of blee.

2 And there he hath with [him] Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright in bower,
And all his barons about him stoode,
That were both stiffe and stowre.

3 The king kept a royall Christmasse,
Of mirth and great honor,
And when . . . . . . .
. . . . .

4 ‘And bring me word what thing it is
That a woman [will] most desire;
This shalbe thy ransome, Arthur,’ he sayes,
‘For Ile haue noe other hier.’

5 King Arthur then held vp his hand,
According thene as was the law;
He tooke his leaue of the baron there,
And homward can he draw.

6 And when he came to merry Carlile,
To his chamber he is gone,
And ther came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine,
As he did make his mone.

7 And there came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine,
That was a curteous knight;
‘Why sigh you soe sore, vnckle Arthur,’ he said,
‘Or who hath done thee vnright?’

8 ‘O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine,
That faire may thee beffall!
For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe,
Thou wold not meruaile att all.

9 ‘Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling,
A bold barron there I fand,
With a great club vpon his backe,
Standing stiffe and strong.

10 ‘And he asked me wether I wold fight
Or from him I shold begone,
O[r] else I must him a ransome pay,
And soe depart him from.

11 ‘To fight with him I saw noe cause;
Methought it was not meet;
For he was stiffe and strong with-all,
His strokes were nothing sweete.

12 ‘Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine,
I ought to him to pay;
I must come againe, as I am sworne,
Vpon the New Yeers day;

13 ‘And I must bring him word what thing it is
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .

14 Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde,
In one soe rich array,
Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling,
That he might keepe his day.

15 And as he rode over a more,
Hee see a lady where shee sate
Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen;
She was cladd in red scarlett.

16 Then there as shold haue stood her mouth,
Then there was sett her eye;
The other was in her forhead fast,
The way that she might see.

17 Her nose was crooked and turnd outward,
Her mouth stood foule a-wry;
A worse formed lady than shee was,
Neuer man saw with his eye.

18 To halch vpon him, King Arthur,
This lady was full faine,
But King Arthur had forgott his lesson,
What he shold say againe.

19 ‘What knight art thou,’ the lady sayd,
‘That will not speak to me?
Of me be thou nothing dismayd,
Tho I be vgly to see.

20 ‘For I haue halched you curteouslye,
And you will not me againe;
Yett I may happen Sir Knight,’ shee said,
‘To ease thee of thy paine.’

21 ‘Giue thou ease me, lady,’ he said,
‘Or helpe me any thing,
Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen,
And marry him with a ring.’

22 ‘Why, if I help thee not, thou noble King Arthur,
Of thy owne hearts desiringe,
Of gentle Gawaine . . . . .
. . . . .

23 And when he came to the Tearne Wadling,
The baron there cold he finde,
With a great weapon on his backe,
Standing stiffe and stronge.

24 And then he tooke King Arthurs letters in his hands,
And away he cold them fling,
And then he puld out a good browne sword,
And cryd himselfe a king.

25 And he sayd, I have thee and thy land, Arthur,
To doe as it pleaseth me,
For this is not thy ransome sure,
Therfore yeeld thee to me.

26 And then bespoke him noble Arthur,
And bad him hold his hand:
‘And giue me leaue to speake my mind
In defence of all my land.’

27 He said, As I came over a more,
I see a lady where shee sate
Betweene an oke and a green hollen;
Shee was clad in red scarlett.

28 And she says a woman will haue her will,
And this is all her cheef desire:
Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill,
This is thy ransome and all thy hyer.

29 He sayes, An early vengeance light on her!
She walkes on yonder more;
It was my sister that told thee this,
And she is a misshappen hore.

30 But heer Ile make mine avow to God
To doe her an euill turne,
For an euer I may thate fowle theefe get,
In a fyer I will her burne.

31 Sir Lancelott and Sir Steven bold,
They rode with them that day,
And the formost of the company
There rode the steward Kay.

32 Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore,
Sir Garrett with them soe gay,
Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight,
To the forrest fresh and gay.

33 And when he came to the greene forrest,
Vnderneath a greene holly tree,
Their sate that lady in red scarlet
That vnseemly was to see.

34 Sir Kay beheld this ladys face,
And looked vppon her swire;
‘Whosoeuer kisses this lady,’ he sayes,
‘Of his kisse he stands in feare.’

35 Sir Kay beheld the lady againe,
And looked vpon her snout;
‘Whosoeuer kisses this lady,’ he saies,
‘Of his kisse he stands in doubt.’

36 ‘Peace, cozen Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine,
‘Amend thee of thy life;
For there is a knight amongst vs all
That must marry her to his wife.’

37 ‘What! wedd her to wiffe!’ then said Sir Kay,
‘In the diuells name anon!
Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may,
For I had rather be slaine!’

38 Then some tooke vp their hawkes in hast,
And some tooke vp their hounds,
And some sware thy wold not marry her
For citty nor for towne.

39 And then be-spake him noble King Arthur,
And sware there by this day,
‘For a litle foule sight and misliking
. . . . .

40 Then shee said, Choose thee, gentle Gawaine,
Truth as I doe say,
Wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse
In the night or else in the day.

41 And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Was one soe mild of moode,
Sayes, Well I know what I wold say,
God grant it may be good!

42 To haue thee fowle in the night
When I with thee shold play-+-
Yet I had rather, if I might,
Haue thee fowle in the day.

43 ‘What! when lords goe with ther feires,’ shee said,
‘Both to the ale and wine,
Alas! then I must hyde my selfe,
I must not goe withinne.’

44 And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Said, Lady, that’s but skill;
And because thou art my owne lady,
Thou shalt haue all thy will.

45 Then she said, Blesed be thou, gentle Gawain,
This day that I thee see,
For as thou seest me att this time,
From hencforth I wilbe.

46 My father was an old knight,
And yett it chanced soe
That he marryed a younge lady
That brought me to this woe.

47 Shee witched me, being a faire young lady,
To the greene forrest to dwell,
And there I must walke in womans liknesse,
Most like a feend of hell.

48 She witched my brother to a carlish b. . .
. . . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . .

49 . . . . . .
. . . . . .
‘That looked soe foule, and that was wont
On the wild more to goe.’

50 ‘Come kisse her, brother Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine,
‘And amend th of thy liffe;
I sweare this is the same lady
That I marryed to my wiffe.’

51 Sir Kay kissed that lady bright,
Standing vpon his feete;
He swore as he was trew knight,
The spice was neuer soe sweete.

52 ‘Well, cozen Gawaine,’ sayes Sir Kay,
‘Thy chance is fallen arright,
For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids
I euer saw with my sight.’

53 ‘It is my fortune,’ said Sir Gawaine;
‘For my vnckle Arthurs sake
I am glad as grasse wold be of raine,
Great ioy that I may take.’

54 Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme,
Sir Kay tooke her by the tother,
They led her straight to King Arthur,
As they were brother and brother.

55 King Arthur welcomed them there all,
And soe did Lady Geneuer his queene,
With all the knights of the Round Table,
Most seemly to be seene.

56 King Arthur beheld that lady faire
That was soe faire and bright,
He thanked Christ in Trinity
For Sir Gawaine that gentle knight.

57 Soe did the knights, both more and lesse,
Reioyced all that day
For the good chance that hapened was
To Sir Gawaine and his lady gay.

32. King Henry

1 LAT never a man a wooing wend
That lacketh thingis three;
A routh o gold, an open heart,
Ay fu o charity.

2 As this I speak of King Henry,
For he lay burd-alone;
An he’s doen him to a jelly hunt’s ha,
Was seven miles frae a town.

3 He chas’d the deer now him before,
An the roe down by the den,
Till the fattest buch in a’ the flock
King Henry he has slain.

4 O he has doen him to his ha,
To make him beerly cheer;
An in it came a griesly ghost,
Steed stappin i the fleer.

5 Her head hat the reef-tree o the house,
Her middle ye mot wel span;
He’s thrown to her his gay mantle,
Says, ‘Lady, hap your lingcan.’

6 Her teeth was a’ like teather stakes,
Her nose like club or mell;
An I ken naething she ’peard to be,
But the fiend that wons in hell.

7 ‘Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry,
Some meat ye gie to me!’
‘An what meat’s in this house, lady,
An what ha I to gie?’
‘O ye do kill your berry-brown steed,
An you bring him here to me.’

8 O whan he slew his berry-brown steed,
Wow but his heart was sair!
Shee eat him [a’] up, skin an bane,
Left naething but hide an hair.

9 ‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,
Mair meat ye gi to me!’
‘An what meat’s in this house, lady,
An what ha I to gi?’
‘O ye do kill your good gray-hounds,
An ye bring them a’ to me.’

10 O whan he slew his good gray-hounds,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She eat them a’ up, skin an bane,
Left naething but hide an hair.

11 ‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,
Mair meat ye gi to me!’
‘An what meat’s i this house, lady,
An what ha I to gi?’
‘O ye do kill your gay gos-hawks,
An ye bring them here to me.’

12 O whan he slew his gay gos-hawks,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She eat them a’ up, skin an bane,
Left naething but feathers bare.

13 ‘Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry,
Some drink ye bring to me!’
‘O what drink’s i this house, lady,
That you’re nae welcome ti?’
‘O ye sew up your horse’s hide,
An bring in a drink to me.’

14 And he’s sewd up the bloody hide,
A puncheon o wine put in;
She drank it a’ up at a waught,
Left na ae drap ahin.

15 ‘A bed, a bed, now, King Henry,
A bed you mak to me!
For ye maun pu the heather green,
An mak a bed to me.’

16 O pu’d has he the heather green,
An made to her a bed,
An up has he taen his gay mantle,
An oer it has he spread.

17 ‘Tak aff your claiths, now, King Henry,
An lye down by my side!’
‘O God forbid,’ says King Henry,
‘That ever the like betide;
That ever the fiend that wons in hell
Shoud streak down by my side.’

18 Whan night was gane, and day was come,
An the sun shone throw the ha,
The fairest lady that ever was seen
Lay atween him an the wa.

19 ‘O well is me!’ says King Henry,
‘How lang’ll this last wi me?’
Then out it spake that fair lady,
‘Even till the day you dee.

20 ‘For I’ve met wi mony a gentle knight
That’s gien me sic a fill,
But never before wi a courteous knight
That ga me a’ my will.’

33. Kempy Kay

Version A

1 KEMPY KAYE’s a wooing gane,
Far, far ayont the sea,
And he has met with an auld, auld man,
His gudefaythir to be.

2 ‘It’s I’m coming to court your daughter dear,
And some part of your gear:’
‘And by my sooth,’ quoth Bengoleer,
‘She’ll sare a man a wear.

3 ‘My dochter she’s a thrifty lass,
She span seven year to me,
And if it were weel counted up,
Full three heire it would be.

4 ‘What’s the matter wi you, my fair creature,
You look so pale and wan?
I’m sure you was once the fairest creature
That ever the sun shined on.

5 ‘Gae scrape yoursel, and gae scart yoursel,
And mak your brucket face clean,
For the wooers are to be here to nighte,
And your body’s to be seen.’

6 Sae they scrapit her, and they scartit her,
Like the face of an aussy pan;
Syne in cam Kempy Kay himself,
A clever and tall young man.

7 His teeth they were like tether-sticks,
His nose was three fit lang,
Between his shouthers was ells three,
And tween his eyne a span.

8 He led his dochter by the hand,
His dochter ben brought he:
‘O is she not the fairest lass
That’s in great Christendye?’

9 Ilka hair intil her head
Was like a heather-cowe,
And ilka louse anunder it
Was like a bruckit ewe.

10 She had tauchy teeth and kaily lips,
And wide lugs, fou o hair;
Her pouches fou o peasemeal-daighe
A’ hinging down her spare.

11 Ilka eye intil her head
Was like a rotten plumbe,
And down browed was the queyne,
And sairly did she gloom.

12 Ilka nail upon her hand
Was like an iron rake,
And ilka tooth intil her head
Was like a tether-stake.

13 She gied to him a gravat,
O the auld horse’s sheet,
And he gied her a gay gold ring,
O the auld couple-root.

Version B

1 KEMPY KAYE is a wooing gane,
Far ayont the sea,
And there he met wi auld Goling,
His gudefather to be, be,
His gudefather to be.

2 ‘Whar are ye gaun, O Kempy Kaye,
Whar are ye gaun sae sune?’
‘O I am gaun to court a wife,
And think na ye that’s a weel dune?’

3 ‘An ye be gaun to court a wife,
As ye do tell to me,
’Tis ye sall hae my Fusome Fug,
Your ae wife for to be.’

4 Whan auld Goling cam to the house,
He lookit thro a hole,
And there he saw the dirty drab
Just whisking oure the coal.

5 ‘Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug,
And mak your foul face clean,
For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw
Is come develling doun the green.’

6 Up then rose the Fusome Fug,
To mak her foul face clean;
And aye she cursed her mither
She had na water in.

7 She rampit out, and she rampit in,
She rampit but and ben;
The tittles and tattles that hang frae her tail
Wad muck an acre o land.

8 She had a neis upon her face
Was like an auld pat-fit;
Atween her neis bot an her mou
Was inch thick deep wi dirt.

9 She had twa een intil her head
War like twa-rotten plums;
The heavy brows hung doun her face,
And O I vow she glooms!

10 He gied to her a braw silk napkin,
Was made o’ an auld horse-brat:
‘I ne’er wore a silk napkin a’ my life,
But weel I wat Ise wear that.’

11 He gied to her a braw gowd ring,
Was made frae an auld brass pan:
‘I neer wore a gowd ring in a’ my life,
But now I wat Ise wear ane.’

12 Whan thir twa lovers had met thegither,
O kissing to get their fill,
The slaver that hang atween their twa gabs
Wad hae tetherd a ten year auld bill.

Version C

1 KEMPY KAYE’s a wooing gane,
And far beyond the sea, a wee
And there he met wi Drearylane,
His gay gudefather to be. a wee

2 ‘Gude een, gude een,’ quo Drearylane,
‘Gude een, gude een,’ quo he, a wee
‘I’ve come your dochter’s love to win,
I kenna how it will do.’ a wee

3 ‘My dochter she’s a thrifty lass,
She’s spun this gay seven year,
And if it come to gude guiding,
It will be half a heer.’

4 ‘Rise up, rise up, ye dirty slut,
And wash your foul face clean;
The wooers will be here the night
That suld been here yestreen.’

5 They took him ben to the fire en,
And set him on a chair;
He looked on the lass that he loved best,
And thought she was wondrous fair.

6 The een that was in our bride’s head
Was like twa rotten plooms;
She was a chaunler-chaftit quean,
And O but she did gloom!

7 The skin that was on our bride’s breast
Was like a saffron bag,
And aye her hand was at her neek,
And riving up the scabs.

8 The hair that was on our bride’s head
Was like a heather-cow,
And every louse that lookit out
Was like a brockit ewe.

9 Betwixd Kempy’s shouthers was three ells,
His nose was nine feet lang,
His teeth they were like tether sticks,
Between his eyne a span.

10 So aye they kissed, and aye they clapped,
I wat they kissed weel;
The slaver that hang between their mouths
Wad hae tethered a twa year auld bill.

Version D

1 * * * *
The father came unto the door,
And keeked thro the key-hole, a wee
And there he saw his dochter Jean,
Sitting on a coal. a wee

2 They scartit her, and scrapit her,
Wi the hand o a rusty pan, a wee
Her father he did all his best
For to get her a man. a wee

3 She is to the stoups gane,
There is nae water in;
She’s cursed the hands and ban’d the feet
That did na bring it in.

4 Out then spak her auld mither,
In her bed whare she lay:
‘If there is nae water in the house,
Gae harl her thro the lin.’

5 O she is to the taipy tapples gane,
That stood for seven year,
And there she washed her foul face clean,
And dried it wi a huggar.

6 He’s gien her a gay gold ring,
Just like a cable-rope,
And she’s gien him a gay gravat,
Made out o the tail o a sark.

Version E

1 ‘GUD een, gud een,’ says Chickmakin,
‘Ye’re welcome here,’ says Drowsy Lane;
‘I’m comd to court your daughter Jean,
And marry her wi yer will, a wee.’

2 ‘My daughter Jean’s a thrifty lass,
She’s spun these seven lang years to me,
And gin she spin another seven,
She’ll munt a half an heir, a wee.’

3 Drowsy Lane, it’s he’s gane hame,
And keekit through the hole, a wee
And there he saw his daughter Jean
A reeking oer the coal. a wee

4 ‘Get up, get up, ye dirty bitch,
And wash yer foul face clean,
For they are to be here the night
That should hae been here yestreen.’

5 Up she rose, pat on her clothes,
She’s washen her foul face clean;
She cursed the hands, she ban’d the feet,
That wadna bring the water in.

6 She rubbit hersel, she scrubbit hersel,
Wi the side of a rustit pan, a wee,
And in a little came Chickmakin,
A braw young lad indeed was he.

7 His teeth they were like tether-steeks,
His nose was five feet lang;
Between his shoulders was nine yards broad,
And between his een a span.

8 Ilka hair into his head
Was like a heather-cowe,
And ilka louse that lookit out
Was like a brookit ewe.

9 Thae twa kissd and thae twa clapt,
And thae twa kissd their fill,
And aye the slaver between them hang
Wad tetherd a ten-pund bull.

10 They twa kissd and they twa clapt,
And they gaed to their bed, a wee,
And at their head a knocking stane
And at their feet a mell, a wee.

11 The auld wife she lay in her bed:
‘And gin ye’ll do my bidding a wee,
And gin ye’ll do my bidding,’ quoth she,
‘Yees whirl her oer the lea, a wee.’

Version F

1 AS I cam oer yon misty muir,
And oer yon grass-green hill,
There I saw a campy carle
Going to the mill.
And bar aye yer bower door weel weel,
And bar ay yer bower door weel.

2 I lookit in at her window,
And in at her hove hole,
And there I saw a fousome fag,
Cowering oer a coal.

3 ‘Get up, get up, ye fousome fag,
And make yer face fou clean;
For the wooers will be here the night,
And your body will be seen.’

4 He gave her a gay cravat,
’Twas of an auld horse-sheet;
He gave her a gay goud ring,
’Twas of an auld tree root.

5 He laid his arms about her neck,
They were like kipple-roots;
And aye he kissd her wi his lips,
They were like meller’s hoops.

6 When they were laid in marriage bed,
And covered oer wi fail,
The knocking mell below their heads
Did serve them wondrous weel.

7 Ilka pap into her breasts
Was like a saffron bag,
And aye his hand at her a . . e
Was tearing up the scabs.

8 Ilka hair into her head
Was like a heather-cow,
And ilka louse that lookit out
Was like a brookit ewe.

Version G

1 KING KNAPPERTY he’s a hunting gane,
Oer hills and mountains high, high, high,
A gude pike-staff intill his hand,
And dulgets anew forbye,I, I, I,
And dulgets anew forbye.

2 Then he met in wi an auld woman,
Was feeding her flocks near by, I, I, I:
‘I’m come a wooing to your daughter,
And a very gude bargain am I, I, I.’

3 And she’s awa to her wee hole house,
Lookd in a wee chip hole,
And there she saw her filthy wee flag,
Was sitting athort the coal.

4 ‘Get up, get up, ye filthy foul flag,
And make your foul face clean;
There are wooers coming to the town,
And your foul face mauna be seen.’

5 Then up she raise, an awa she gaes,
And in at the back o the door,
And there a pig o water she saw,
’Twas seven years auld an mair.

6 Aye she rubbed, an aye she scrubbed,
To make her foul face clean,
And aye she bannd the auld wife, her mither,
For nae bringing clean water in.

7 King Knapperty he came in at the door,
Stood even up in the floor;
Altho that she had neer seen him before,
She kent him to be her dear.

8 He has taen her in his arms twa,
And kissd her, cheek and chin:
‘I neer was kissd afore in my life,
But this night got mony ane.’

9 He has put his hand in his pocket,
And he’s taen out a ring:
Says, ‘Take ye that, my dearest dear,
It is made o the brazen pan.’

10 She thankd him ance, she thankd him twice,
She thankd him oer again:
‘I neer got a ring before in my life,
But this night hae gotten ane.’

11 These lovers bed it was well made,
And at their hearts’ desire;
These lovers bed it was well made,
At the side o the kitchen fire.

12 The bolster that these lovers had
Was the mattock an the mell,
And the covring that these lovers had
Was the clouted cloak an pale.

13 The draps that fell frae her twa een
Woud have gard a froth-mill gang,
An [the] clunkerts that hung at their heels
Woud hae muckd an acre o land.

14 An ilka hair that was in their head
Was like a heather-cow,
And ilka tenant that it containd
Was like a linsteed-bow.

34. Kemp Owyne

Version A

1 HER mother died when she was young,
Which gave her cause to make great moan;
Her father married the warst woman
That ever lived in Christendom.

2 She served her with foot and hand,
In every thing that she could dee,
Till once, in an unlucky time,
She threw her in ower Craigy’s sea.

3 Says, ‘Lie you there, dove Isabel,
And all my sorrows lie with thee;
Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,
And borrow you with kisses three,
Let all the warld do what they will,
Oh borrowed shall you never be!’

4 Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang,
And twisted thrice about the tree,
And all the people, far and near,
Thought that a savage beast was she.

5 These news did come to Kemp Owyne,
Where he lived, far beyond the sea;
He hasted him to Craigy’s sea,
And on the savage beast lookd he.

6 Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted was about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me.

7 ‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow my belt your death shall be.’

8 He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal belt he brought him wi;
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted twice about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me.

9 ‘Here is a royal ring,’ she said,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your finger it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my ring your death shall be.’

10 He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal ring he brought him wi;
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted ance about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me.

11 ‘Here is a royal brand,’ she said,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my brand your death shall be.’

12 He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal brand he brought him wi;
Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short,
And twisted nane about the tree,
And smilingly she came about,
As fair a woman as fair could be.

Version B

1 COME here, come here, you freely feed,
An lay your head low on my knee;
The hardest weird I will you read
That eer war read to a lady.

2 ‘O meikle dollour sall you dree,
An ay the sat seas oer ye[’s] swim;
An far mair dollour sall ye dree
On Eastmuir craigs, or ye them clim.

3 ‘I wot ye’s be a weary wight,
An releived sall ye never be
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig and thrice kiss thee.’

4 O meickle dollour did she dree,
An ay the sat seas oer she swam;
An far mair dollour did she dree
On Eastmuir craigs, or them she clam;
An ay she cried for Kempion,
Gin he would come till her han.

5 Now word has gane to Kempion
That sich a beast was in his lan,
An ay be sure she would gae mad
Gin she gat nae help frae his han.

6 ‘Now by my sooth,’ says Kempion,
‘This fiery beast I[’ll] gang to see;’
‘An by my sooth,’ says Segramour,
‘My ae brother, I’ll gang you wi.’

7 O biggit ha they a bonny boat,
An they hae set her to the sea,
An Kempion an Segramour
The fiery beast he gane to see:
A mile afore they reachd the shore,
I wot she gard the red fire flee.

8 ‘O Segramour, keep my boat afloat,
An lat her no the lan so near;
For the wicked beast she’ll sure gae mad,
An set fire to the land an mair.’

9 ‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+-
An it is na for the fear o thee-+-
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’

10 He’s louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses ane;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fieryest beast that ever was seen.

11 ‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+-
An it is na for fear o thee-+-
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’

12 He louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses twa;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fieryest beast that ever you saw.

13 ‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+-
An it is na for fear o ye-+-
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’

14 He’s louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses three;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fairest lady that ever coud be.

15 ‘An by my sooth,’ say[s] Kempion,
‘My ain true love-+-for this is she-+-
O was it wolf into the wood,
Or was it fish intill the sea,
Or was it man, or wile woman,
My true love, that misshapit thee?’

16 ‘It was na wolf into the wood,
Nor was it fish into the sea,
But it was my stepmother,
An wae an weary mot she be.

17 ‘O a heavier weird light her upon
Than ever fell on wile woman;
Her hair’s grow rough, an her teeth’s grow lang,
An on her four feet sal she gang.

18 ‘Nane sall tack pitty her upon,
But in Wormie’s Wood she sall ay won,
An relieved sall she never be,
Till St Mungo come oer the sea.’

35. Allison Gross

1 O ALLISON GROSS, that lives in yon towr,
The ugliest witch i the north country,
Has trysted me ae day up till her bowr,
An monny fair speech she made to me.

2 She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair,
An she set me down saftly on her knee;
Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true,
Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi.

3 She showd me a mantle o red scarlet,
Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine;
Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true,
This goodly gift it sal be thine.

4 ‘Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Haud far awa, an lat me be;
I never will be your lemman sae true,
An I wish I were out o your company.’

5 She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk,
Well wrought wi pearles about the ban;
Says, Gin you will be my ain true love,
This goodly gift you sal comman.

6 She showd me a cup of the good red gold,
Well set wi jewls sae fair to see;
Says, Gin you will be my lemman sae true,
This goodly gift I will you gi.

7 ‘Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Had far awa, and lat me be;
For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth
For a’ the gifts that ye coud gi.’

8 She’s turnd her right and roun about,
An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn,
An she sware by the meen and the stars abeen,
That she’d gar me rue the day I was born.

9 Then out has she taen a silver wand,
An she’s turnd her three times roun an roun;
She’s mutterd sich words till my strength it faild,
An I fell down senceless upon the groun.

10 She’s turnd me into an ugly worm,
And gard me toddle about the tree;
An ay, on ilka Saturdays night,
My sister Maisry came to me,

11 Wi silver bason an silver kemb,
To kemb my heady upon her knee;
But or I had kissd her ugly mouth,
I’d rather a toddled about the tree.

12 But as it fell out on last Hallow-even,
When the seely court was ridin by,
The queen lighted down on a gowany bank,
Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.

13 She took me up in her milk-white han,
An she’s stroakd me three times oer her knee;
She chang’d me again to my ain proper shape,
An I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.

36. The Laily Worm and the Machrel of the Sea

1 ‘I WAS but seven year auld
When my mither she did die;
My father married the ae warst woman
The warld did ever see.

2 ‘For she has made me the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o the tree,
An my sister Masery she’s made
The machrel of the sea.

3 ‘An every Saturday at noon
The machrel comes to me,
An she takes my laily head
An lays it on her knee,
She kaims it wi a siller kaim,
An washes’t in the sea.

4 ‘Seven knights hae I slain,
Sin I lay at the fit of the tree,
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight ane ye should be.’

5 ‘Sing on your song, ye laily worm,
That ye did sing to me:’
‘I never sung that song but what
I would it sing to thee.

6 ‘I was but seven year auld,
When my mither she did die;
My father married the ae warst woman
The warld did ever see.

7 ‘For she changed me to the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o the tree,
And my sister Masery
To the machrel of the sea.

8 ‘And every Saturday at noon
The machrel comes to me,
An she takes my laily head
An lays it on her knee,
An kames it wi a siller kame,
An washes it i the sea.

9 ‘Seven knights hae I slain,
Sin I lay at the fit o the tree,
An ye war na my ain father,
The eighth ane ye shoud be.’

10 He sent for his lady,
As fast as send could he:
‘Whar is my son that ye sent frae me,
And my daughter, Lady Masery?’

11 ‘Your son is at our king’s court,
Serving for meat an fee,
An your daughter’s at our queen’s court,
. . . . . ’

12 ‘Ye lie, ye ill woman,
Sae loud as I hear ye lie;
My son’s the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o the tree,
And my daughter, Lady Masery,
Is the machrel of the sea!’

13 She has tane a siller wan,
An gien him strokes three,
And he has started up the bravest knight
That ever your eyes did see.

14 She has taen a small horn,
An loud an shrill blew she,
An a’ the fish came her untill
But the proud machrel of the sea:
‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape,
An ye’s never mare shape me.’

15 He has sent to the wood
For whins and for hawthorn,
An he has taen that gay lady,
An there he did her burn.

37. Thomas Rymer

Version A

1 TRUE THOMAS lay oer yond grassy bank,
And he beheld a ladie gay,
A ladie that was brisk and bold,
Come riding oer the fernie brae.

2 Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantel of the velvet fine,
At ilka tett of her horse’s mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

3 True Thomas he took off his hat,
And bowed him low down till his knee:
‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For your peer on earth I never did see.’

4 ‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says,
‘That name does not belong to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
And I’m come here for to visit thee.

5 ‘But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,
True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
For ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.’

6 She turned about her milk-white steed,
And took True Thomas up behind,
And aye wheneer her bridle rang,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

7 For forty days and forty nights
He wade thro red blude to the knee,
And he saw neither sun nor moon,
But heard the roaring of the sea.

8 O they rade on, and further on,
Until they came to a garden green:
‘Light down, light down, ye ladie free,
Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.’

9 ‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says,
‘That fruit maun not be touched by thee,
For a’ the plagues that are in hell
Light on the fruit of this countrie.

10 ‘But I have a loaf here in my lap,
Likewise a bottle of claret wine,
And now ere we go farther on,
We’ll rest a while, and ye may dine.’

11 When he had eaten and drunk his fill,
‘Lay down your head upon my knee,’
The lady sayd, re we climb yon hill,
And I will show you fairlies three.

12 ‘O see not ye yon narrow road,
So thick beset wi thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.

13 ‘And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across yon lillie leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Tho some call it the road to heaven.

14 ‘And see not ye that bonny road,
Which winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae.

15 ‘But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever you may hear or see,
For gin ae word you should chance to speak,
You will neer get back to your ain countrie.’

16 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were past and gone
True Thomas on earth was never seen.

Version B

1 As Thomas lay on Huntlie banks-+-
A wat a weel bred man was he-+-
And there he spied a lady fair,
Coming riding down by the Eildon tree.

2 The horse she rode on was dapple gray,
And in her hand she held bells nine;
I thought I heard this fair lady say
These fair siller bells they should a’ be mine.

3 It’s Thomas even forward went,
And lootit low down on his knee:
‘Weel met thee save, my lady fair,
For thou’rt the flower o this countrie.’

4 ‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she says,
‘O no, O no, that can never be,
For I’m but a lady of an unco land,
Comd out a hunting, as ye may see.

5 ‘O harp and carp, Thomas,’ she says,
‘O harp and carp, and go wi me;
It’s be seven years, Thomas, and a day,
Or you see man or woman in your ain countrie.’

6 It’s she has rode, and Thomas ran,
Until they cam to yon water clear;
He’s coosten off his hose and shon,
And he’s wooden the water up to the knee.

7 It’s she has rode, and Thomas ran,
Until they cam to yon garden green;
He’s put up his hand for to pull down ane,
For the lack o food he was like to tyne.

8 ‘Hold your hand, Thomas,’ she says,
‘Hold your hand, that must not be;
It was a’ that cursed fruit o thine
Beggared man and woman in your countrie.

9 ‘But I have a loaf and a soup o wine,
And ye shall go and dine wi me;
And lay yer head down in my lap,
And I will tell ye farlies three.

10 ‘It’s dont ye see yon broad broad way,
That leadeth down by yon skerry fell?
It’s ill’s the man that dothe thereon gang,
For it leadeth him straight to the gates o hell.

11 ‘It’s dont ye see yon narrow way,
That leadeth down by yon lillie lea?
It’s weel’s the man that doth therein gang,
For it leads him straight to the heaven hie.’

12 It’s when she cam into the hall-+-
I wat a weel bred man was he-+-
They’ve asked him question[s], one and all,
But he answered none but that fair ladie.

13 O they speerd at her where she did him get,
And she told them at the Eildon tree;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

Version C

1 TRUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
A ferlie he spied wi’ his ee,
And there he saw a lady bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

2 Her shirt was o the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o the velvet fyne,
At ilka tett of her horse’s mane
Hang fifty siller bells and nine.

3 True Thomas, he pulld aff his cap,
And louted low down to his knee:
‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see.’

4 ‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said,
‘That name does not belang to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.

5 ‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said,
‘Harp and carp along wi me,
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be.’

6 ‘Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me;’
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.

7 ‘Now, ye maun go wi me,’ she said,
‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro weal or woe, as may chance to be.’

8 She mounted on her milk-white steed,
She’s taen True Thomas up behind,
And aye wheneer her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

9 O they rade on, and farther on-+-
The steed gaed swifter than the wind-+-
Untill they reached a desart wide,
And living land was left behind.

10 ‘Light down, light down, now, True Thomas,
And lean your head upon my knee;
Abide and rest a little space,
And I will shew you ferlies three.

11 ‘O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.

12 ‘And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Tho some call it the road to heaven.

13 ‘And see not ye that bonny road,
That winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.

14 ‘But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see,
For, if you speak word in Elflyn land,
Ye’ll neer get back to your ain countrie.’

15 O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of the sea.

16 It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,
And they waded thro red blude to the knee;
For a’ the blude that’s shed on earth
Rins thro the springs o that countrie.

17 Syne they came on to a garden green,
And she pu’d an apple frae a tree:
‘Take this for thy wages, True Thomas,
It will give the tongue that can never lie.’

18 ‘My tongue is mine ain,’ True Thomas said;
‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
I neither dought to buy nor sell,
At fair or tryst where I may be.

19 ‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye:’
‘Now hold thy peace,’ the lady said,
‘For as I say, so must it be.’

20 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were gane and past
True Thomas on earth was never seen.

38. The Wee Wee Man

Version A

1 As I was walking all alone,
Between a water and a wa,
And there I spy’d a wee wee man,
And he was the least that ere I saw.

2 His legs were scarce a shathmont’s length,
And thick and thimber was his thigh;
Between his brows there was a span,
And between his shoulders there was three.

3 He took up a meikle stane,
And he flang’t as far as I could see;
Though I had been a Wallace wight,
I couldna liften’t to my knee.

4 ‘O wee wee man, but thou be strang!
O tell me where thy dwelling be?’
‘My dwelling’s down at yon bonny bower;
O will you go with me and see?’

5 On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny green;
We lighted down for to bait our horse,
And out there came a lady fine.

6 Four and twenty at her back,
And they were a’ clad out in green;
Though the King of Scotland had been there,
The warst o them might hae been his queen.

7 On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny ha,
Whare the roof was o the beaten gould,
And the floor was o the cristal a’.

8 When we came to the stair-foot,
Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma,
But in the twinkling of an eye,
My wee wee man was clean awa.

Version B

1 AS I was walking by my lane,
Atween a water and a wa,
There sune I spied a wee wee man,
He was the least that eir I saw.

2 His legs were scant a shathmont’s length,
And sma and limber was his thie;
Atween his shoulders was ae span,
About his middle war but three.

3 He has tane up a meikle stane,
And flang’t as far as I cold see;
Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht,
I dought na lift it to my knie.

4 ‘O wee wee man, but ye be strang!
Tell me whar may thy dwelling be?
‘I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir;
O will ye gae wi me and see?’

5 On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we cam to a bonny green;
We lichted syne to bait our steid,
And out there cam a lady sheen.

6 Wi four and twentie at her back,
A’ comely cled in glistering green;
Thouch there the King of Scots had stude,
The warst micht weil hae been his queen.

7 On syne we past wi wondering cheir,
Till we cam to a bonny ha;
The roof was o the beaten gowd,
The flure was o the crystal a’.

8 When we cam there, wi wee wee knichts
War ladies dancing, jimp and sma,
But in the twinkling of an eie,
Baith green and ha war clein awa.

Version C

1 ’TWAS down by Carterhaugh, father,
I walked beside the wa,
And there I saw a wee wee man,
The least that eer I saw.

2 His legs were skant a shathmont lang,
Yet umber was his thie;
Between his brows there was ae span,
And between his shoulders three.

3 He’s taen and flung a meikle stane,
As far as I could see;
I could na, had I been Wallace wight,
Hae lifted it to my knee.

4 wee wee man, but ye be strang!
Where may thy dwelling be?’
‘It’s down beside yon bonny bower;
Fair lady, come and see.’

5 On we lap, and away we rade,
Down to a bonny green;
We lighted down to bait our steed,
And we saw the fairy queen.

6 With four and twenty at her back,
Of ladies clad in green;
Tho the King of Scotland had been there,
The worst might hae been his queen.

7 On we lap, and away we rade,
Down to a bonny ha;
The roof was o the beaten goud,
The floor was of chrystal a’.

8 And there were dancing on the floor,
Fair ladies jimp and sma;
But in the twinkling o an eye,
They sainted clean awa.

Version D

1 AS I gaed out to tak a walk,
Atween the water and the wa,
There I met wi a wee wee man,
The weest man that ere I saw.

2 Thick and short was his legs,
And sma and thin was his thie,
And atween his een a flee might gae,
And atween his shouthers were inches three.

3 And he has tane up a muckle stane,
And thrown it farther than I coud see;
If I had been as strong as ere Wallace was,
I coud na lift it to my knie.

4 ‘O,’ quo I, ’But ye be strong!
And O where may your dwelling be?’
‘It’s down in to yon bonnie glen;
Gin ye dinna believe, ye can come and see.’

5 And we rade on, and we sped on,
Till we cam to yon bonny glen,
And there we lichted and louted in,
And there we saw a dainty dame.

6 There was four and twenty wating on her,
And ilka ane was clad in green,
And he had been the king of fair Scotland,
The warst o them micht hae been his queen.

7 There war pipers playing on ilka stair,
And ladies dancing in ilka ha,
But before ye coud hae sadd what was that,
The house and wee manie was awa.

Version E

1 AS I was walking mine alone,
Betwext the water and the wa,
There I spied a wee wee man,
He was the least ane that eer I saw.

2 His leg was scarse a shaftmont lang,
Both thick and nimble was his knee;
Between his eyes there was a span,
Betwixt his shoulders were ells three.

3 This wee wee man pulled up a stone,
He flang’t as far as I could see;
Tho I had been like Wallace strong,
I wadna gotn’t up to my knee.

4 I said, Wee man, oh, but you’re strong!
Where is your dwelling, or where may’t be?
‘My dwelling’s at yon bonnie green;
Fair lady, will ye go and see?’

5 On we lap, and awa we rade,
Until we came to yonder green;
We lichtit down to rest our steed,
And there cam out a lady soon.

6 Four and twenty at her back,
And every one of them was clad in green;
Altho he had been the King of Scotland,
The warst o them a’ micht hae been his queen.

7 There were pipers playing in every neuk,
And ladies dancing, jimp and sma,
And aye the owre-turn o their tune
Was ‘Our wee wee man has been lang awa.’

Version F

1 AS I was walking mine alane,
Between the water and the wa,
And oh there I spy’d a wee wee mannie,
The weeest mannie that ere I saw.

2 His legs they were na a gude inch lang,
And thick and nimble was his thie;
Between his een there was a span,
And between his shouthers there were ells three.

3 I asked at this wee wee mannie
Whare his dwelling place might be;
The answer that he gied to me
Was, Cum alang, and ye shall see.

4 So we’ll awa, and on we rade,
Till we cam to yon bonnie green;
We lichted down to bait our horse,
And up and started a lady syne.

5 Wi four and twenty at her back,
And they were a’ weell clad in green;
Tho I had been a crowned king,
The warst o them might ha been my queen.

6 So we’ll awa, and on we rade,
Till we cam to yon bonnie hall;
The rafters were o the beaten gold,
And silver wire were the kebars all.

7 And there was mirth in every end,
And ladies dancing, ane and a,
And aye the owre-turn o their sang
Was ‘The wee wee mannie’s been lang awa.’

Version G

1 AS I gaed out to tak the air,
Between Midmar and bonny Craigha,
There I met a little wee man,
The less o him I never saw.

2 His legs were but a finger lang,
And thick and nimle was his knee;
Between his brows there was a span,
Between his shoulders ells three.

3 He lifted a stane sax feet in hight,
He lifted it up till his right knee,
And fifty yards and mair, I’m sure,
I wyte he made the stane to flee.

4 ‘O little wee man, but ye be wight!
Tell me whar your dwelling be;’
‘I hae a bower, compactly built,
Madam, gin ye’ll cum and see.’

5 Sae on we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we come to yon little ha;
The kipples ware o the gude red gowd,
The reef was o the proseyla.

6 Pipers were playing, ladies dancing,
The ladies dancing, jimp and sma;
At ilka turning o the spring,
The little man was wearin’s wa.

7 Out gat the lights, on cam the mist,
Ladies nor mannie mair coud see
I turnd about, and gae a look,
Just at the foot o’ Benachie.

39. Tam Lin

Version A

1 O I FORBID you, maidens a’,
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lin is there.

2 There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
But they leave him a wad,
Either their rings, or green mantles,
Or else their maidenhead.

3 Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has broded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she’s awa to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.

4 When she came to Carterhaugh
Tam Lin was at the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsel.

5 She had na pu’d a double rose,
A rose but only twa,
Till up then started young Tam Lin,
Says, Lady, thou’s pu nae mae.

6 Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet,
And why breaks thou the wand?
Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh
Withoutten my command?

7 ‘Carterhaugh, it is my ain,
My daddie gave it me;
I’ll come and gang by Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave at thee.’

8 Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she is to her father’s ha,
As fast as she can hie.

9 Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba,
And out then cam the fair Janet,
Ance the flower amang them a’.

10 Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess,
And out then cam the fair Janet,
As green as onie glass.

11 Out then spak an auld grey knight,
Lay oer the castle wa,
And says, Alas, fair Janet, for thee
But we’ll be blamed a’.

12 ‘Haud your tongue, ye auld fac’d knight,
Some ill death may ye die!
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I’ll father nane on thee.’

13 Out then spak her father dear,
And he spak meek and mild;
‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says,
‘I think thou gaes wi child.’

14 ‘If that I gae wi child, father,
Mysel maun bear the blame;
There’s neer a laird about your ha
Shall get the bairn’s name.

15 ‘If my love were an earthly knight,
As he’s an elfin grey,
I wad na gie my ain true-love
For nae lord that ye hae.

16 ‘The steed that my true-love rides on
Is lighter than the wind;
Wi siller he is shod before,
Wi burning gowd behind.’

17 Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she’s awa to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.

18 When she cam to Carterhaugh,
Tam Lin was at the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsel.

19 She has na pu’d a double rose,
A rose but only twa,
Till up then started young Tam Lin,
Says Lady, thou pu’s nae mae.

20 Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet,
Amang the groves sae green,
And a’ to kill the bonie babe
That we gat us between?

21 ‘O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,’ she says,
‘For’s sake that died on tree,
If eer ye was in holy chapel,
Or chirstendom did see?’

22 ‘Roxbrugh he was my grandfather,
Took me with him to bide,
And ance it fell upon a day
That wae did me betide.

23 ‘And ance it fell upon a day,
A cauld day and a snell,
When we were frae the hunting come,
That frae my horse I fell;
The Queen o Fairies she caught me,
In yon green hill to dwell.

24 ‘And pleasant is the fairy land,
But, an eerie tale to tell,
Ay at the end of seven years
We pay a tiend to hell;
I am sae fair and fu o flesh,
I’m feard it be mysel.

25 ‘But the night is Halloween, lady,
The morn is Hallowday;
Then win me, win me, an ye will,
For weel I wat ye may.

26 ‘Just at the mirk and midnight hour
The fairy folk will ride,
And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide.’

27 ‘But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin,
Or how my true-love know,
Amang sae mony unco knights
The like I never saw?’

28 ‘O first let pass the black, lady,
And syne let pass the brown,
But quickly run to the milk-white steed,
Pu ye his rider down.

29 ‘For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed,
And ay nearest the town;
Because I was an earthly knight
They gie me that renown.

30 ‘My right hand will be glovd, lady,
My left hand will be bare,
Cockt up shall my bonnet be,
And kaimd down shall my hair,
And thae’s the takens I gie thee,
Nae doubt I will be there.

31 ‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
Into an esk and adder;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
I am your bairn’s father.

32 ‘They’ll turn me to a bear sae grim,
And then a lion bold;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
As ye shall love your child.

33 ‘Again they’ll turn me in your arms
To a red het gaud of airn;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
I’ll do to you nae harm.

34 ‘And last they’ll turn me in your arms
Into the burning gleed;
Then throw me into well water,
O throw me in wi speed.

35 ‘And then I’ll be your ain true-love,
I’ll turn a naked knight;
Then cover me wi your green mantle,
And cover me out o sight.’

36 Gloomy, gloomy was the night,
And eerie was the way,
As fair Jenny in her green mantle
To Miles Cross she did gae.

37 About the middle o the night
She heard the bridles ring;
This lady was as glad at that
As any earthly thing.

38 First she let the black pass by,
And syne she let the brown;
But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,
And pu’d the rider down.

39 Sae weel she minded whae he did say,
And young Tam Lin did win;
Syne coverd him wi her green mantle,
As blythe’s a bird in spring.

40 Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
Out of a bush o broom:
‘Them that has gotten young Tam Lin
Has gotten a stately groom.’

41 Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
And an angry woman was she:
‘Shame betide her ill-far’d face,
And an ill death may she die,
For she’s taen awa the boniest knight
In a’ my companie.

42 ‘But had I kend, Tam Lin,’ she says,
‘What now this night I see,
I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,
And put in twa een o tree.’

Version B

1 I FORBID ye, maidens a’,
That wear goud on your gear,
To come and gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tom Line is there.

2 There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
But they leave him a wad.
Either their things or green mantles,
Or else their maidenhead.

3 But Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little above her knee,
And she has broded her yellow hair
A little above her bree,
And she has gaen for Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.

4 When she came to Carterhaugh
Tom Line was at the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsell.

5 She hadna pu’d a double rose,
A rose but only twae,
Till up then started young Tom Line,
Says, Lady, thou’s pu nae mae.

6 Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet?
Why breaks thou the wand?
Why comest thou to Carterhaugh
Withouthen my command?

7 ‘Fair Carterhaugh it is my ain,
My daddy gave it me;
I’ll come and gae by Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave at thee.’

8 Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she is on to her father’s ha,
As fast as she can hie.

9 Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba,
And out then came fair Janet,
The flowr amang them a’.

10 Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess,
Out then came fair Janet,
As green as ony glass.

11 Out spak an auld grey-headed knight,
Lay owre the castle wa,
And says, Alas, fair Janet,
For thee we’ll be blam’d a’.

12 ‘Had your tongue, you auld grey knight,
Some ill dead may ye die!
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I’ll father nane on thee.’

13 Out then spak her father dear,
He spak baith thick and milde;
‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says,
‘I think ye gae wi childe.’

14 ‘If that I gae wi child, father,
Mysell bears a’ the blame;
There’s not a laird about your ha
Shall get the bairnie’s name.

15 ‘If my lord were an earthly knight,
As he’s an elfish grey,
I wad na gie my ain true-love
For nae lord that ye hae.’

16 Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she’s away to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.

17 When she came to Carterhaugh,
Tom Line was at the well,
And there she faund his steed standing,
But away was himsell.

18 She hadna pu’d a double rose,
A rose but only twae,
Till up then started young Tom Line,
Says, Lady, thou’s pu na mae.

19 Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet,
Out owr yon groves sae green,
And a’ to kill your bonny babe,
That we gat us between?

20 ‘O tell me, tell me, Tom,’ she says,
‘For’s sake who died on tree,
If eer ye were in holy chapel,
Or christendom did see.’

21 ‘Roxburgh he was my grandfather,
Took me with him to bide,
And ance it fell upon a day
That wae did me betide.

22 ‘Ance it fell upon a day,
A cauld day and a snell,
When we were frae the hunting come,
That from my horse I fell.

23 ‘The Queen of Fairies she came by,
Took me wi her to dwell,
Evn where she has a pleasant land
For those that in it dwell,
But at the end o seven years,
They pay their teind to hell.

24 ‘The night it is gude Halloween,
The fairie folk do ride,
And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide.’

25 ‘But how shall I thee ken, Thomas,
Or how shall I thee knaw,
Amang a pack o uncouth knights
The like I never saw?’

26 ‘The first company that passes by,
Say na, and let them gae;
The next company that passes by,
Say na, and do right sae;
The third company that passes by,
Then I’ll be ane o thae.

27 ‘Some ride upon a black, lady,
And some ride on a brown,
But I ride on a milk-white steed,
And ay nearest the town:
Because I was an earthly knight
They gae me that renown.

28 ‘My right hand will be glovd, lady,
My left hand will be bare,
And thae’s the tokens I gie thee,
Nae doubt I will be there.

29 ‘Then hie thee to the milk-white steed,
And pu me quickly down,
Cast thy green kirtle owr me,
And keep me frae the rain.

30 ‘They’ll turn me in thy arms, lady,
An adder and a snake;
But hold me fast, let me na gae,
To be your warldly mate.

31 ‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
A grey greyhound to girn;
But hald me fast, let me na gae,
The father o your bairn.

32 ‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
A red het gad o iron;
Then haud me fast, and be na feard,
I’ll do to you nae harm.

33 ‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
A mother-naked man;
Cast your green kirtle owr me,
To keep me frae the rain.

34 ‘First dip me in a stand o milk,
And then a stand o water;
Haud me fast, let me na gae,
I’ll be your bairnie’s father.’

35 Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she is on to Miles Cross,
As fast as she can hie.

36 The first company that passd by,
She said na, and let them gae;
The next company that passed by,
She said na, and did right sae;
The third company that passed by,
Then he was ane o thae.

37 She hied her to the milk-white steed,
And pu’d him quickly down;
She cast her green kirtle owr him,
To keep him frae the rain;
Then she did all was orderd her,
And sae recoverd him.

38 Then out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
Out o a bush o broom:
‘They that hae gotten young Tom Line
Hae got a stately groom.’

39 Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
Out o a bush of rye:
‘Them that has gotten young Tom Line
Has the best knight in my company.

40 ‘Had I kend, Thomas,’ she says,
‘A lady wad hae borrowd thee,
I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,
Put in twa een o tree.

41 ‘Had I but kend, Thomas,’ she says,
‘Before I came frae hame,
I had taen out that heart o flesh,
Put in a heart o stane.’

Version C

1 * * * *
SHERR’rrS prickt hersell and prind hersell,
By the ae light o the moon,
And she’s awa to Kertonha,
As fast as she can gang.

2 ‘What gars ye pu the rose, Jennet?
What gars ye break the tree?
What gars you gang to Kertonha
Without the leave of me?’

3 ‘Yes, I will pu the rose, Thomas,
And I will break the tree;
For Kertonha shoud be my ain,
Nor ask I leave of thee.’

4 ‘Full pleasant is the fairy land,
And happy there to dwell;
I am a fairy, lyth and limb,
Fair maiden, view me well.

5 ‘O pleasant is the fairy land,
How happy there to dwell!
But ay at every seven years end
We’re a’ dung down to hell.

6 ‘The morn is good Halloween,
And our court a’ will ride;
If ony maiden wins her man,
Then she may be his bride.

7 ‘But first ye’ll let the black gae by,
And then ye’ll let the brown;
Then I’ll ride on a milk-white steed,
You’ll pu me to the ground.

8 ‘And first, I’ll grow into your arms
An esk but and an edder;
Had me fast, let me not gang,
I’ll be your bairn’s father.

9 ‘Next, I’ll grow into your arms
A toad but and an eel;
Had me fast, let me not gang,
If you do love me leel.

10 ‘Last, I’ll grow into your arms
A dove but and a swan;
Then, maiden fair, you’ll let me go,
I’ll be a perfect man.’

Version D

1 O ALL you ladies young and gay,
Who are so sweet and fair,
Do not go into Chaster’s wood,
For Tomlin will be there.

2 Fair Margret sat in her bonny bower,
Sewing her silken seam,
And wished to be in Chaster’s wood,
Among the leaves so green.

3 She let her seam fall to her foot,
The needle to her toe,
And she has gone to Chaster’s wood,
As fast as she could go.

4 When she began to pull the flowers,
She pulld both red and green;
Then by did come, and by did go,
Said, Fair maid, let aleene.

5 ‘O why pluck you the flowers, lady,
Or why climb you the tree?
Or why come ye to Chaster’s wood
Without the leave of me?’

6 ‘O I will pull the flowers,’ she said,
‘Or I will break the tree,
For Chaster’s wood it is my own,
I’ll no ask leave at thee.’

7 He took her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass green sleeve,
And laid her low down on the flowers,
At her he asked no leave.

8 The lady blushed, and sourly frowned,
And she did think great shame;
Says, ’if you are a gentleman,
You will tell me your name.’

9 ‘First they did call me Jack,’ he said,
‘And then they called me John,
But since I lived in the fairy court
Tomlin has always been my name.

10 ‘So do not pluck that flower, lady,
That has these pimples gray;
They would destroy the bonny babe
That we’ve got in our play.’

11 ‘O tell me, Tomlin,’ she said,
‘And tell it to me soon,
Was you ever at good church-door,
Or got you christendoom?’

12 ‘O I have been at good church-door,
And aff her yetts within;
I was the Laird of Foulis’s son,
The heir of all this land.

13 ‘But it fell once upon a day,
As hunting I did ride,
As I rode east and west yon hill
There woe did me betide.

14 ‘O drowsy, drowsy as I was!
Dead sleep upon me fell;
The Queen of Fairies she was there,
And took me to hersell.

15 ‘The Elfins is a pretty place,
In which I love to dwell,
But yet at every seven years’ end
The last here goes to hell;
And as I am ane o flesh and blood,
I fear the next be mysell.

16 ‘The morn at even is Halloween;
Our fairy court will ride,
Throw England and Scotland both,
Throw al the world wide;
And if ye would me borrow,
At Rides Cross ye may bide.

17 ‘You may go into the Miles Moss,
Between twelve hours and one;
Take holy water in your hand,
And cast a compass round.

18 ‘The first court that comes along,
You’ll let them all pass by;
The next court that comes along,
Salute them reverently.

19 ‘The next court that comes along
Is clad in robes of green,
And it’s the head court of them all,
For in it rides the queen.

20 ‘And I upon a milk-white steed,
With a gold star in my crown;
Because I am an earthly man
I’m next to the queen in renown.

21 ‘Then seize upon me with a spring,
Then to the ground I’ll fa,
And then you’ll hear a rueful cry
That Tomlin is awa.

22 ‘Then I’ll grow in your arms two
Like to a savage wild;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
I’m father of your child.

23 ‘I’ll grow into your arms two
Like an adder or a snake;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
I’ll be your earthly maick.

24 ‘I’ll grow into your arms two
Like iron in strong fire;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
Then you’ll have your desire.’

25 She rid down to Miles Cross,
Between twelve hours and one,
Took holy water in her hand,
And cast a compass round.

26 The first court that came along,
She let them all pass by;
The next court that came along
Saluted reverently.

27 The next court that came along
Were clad in robes of green,
When Tomlin, on a milk-white steed,
She saw ride with the queen.

28 She seized him in her arms two,
He to the ground did fa,
And then she heard a ruefull cry
‘Tomlin is now awa.’

29 He grew into her arms two
Like to a savage wild;
She held him fast, let him not go,
The father of her child.

30 He grew into her arms two
Like an adder or a snake;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He was her earthly maick.

31 He grew into her arms two
Like iron in hot fire;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He was her heart’s desire.

32 Then sounded out throw elphin court,
With a loud shout and a cry,
That the pretty maid of Chaster’s wood
That day had caught her prey.

33 ‘O stay, Tomlin,’ cried Elphin Queen,
‘Till I pay you your fee;’
‘His father has lands and rents enough,
He wants no fee from thee.’

34 ‘O had I known at early morn
Tomlin would from me gone,
I would have taken out his heart of flesh
Put in a heart of stone.’

Version E

1 LADY MARGARET is over gravel green,
And over gravel grey,
And she’s awa to Charteris ha,
Lang lang three hour or day.

2 She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower,
A flower but only ane,
Till up and started young Tamlin,
Says, Lady, let alane.

3 She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower,
A flower but only twa,
Till up and started young Tamlene,
Atween her and the wa.

4 ‘How daur you pu my flower, madam?
How daur ye break my tree?
How daur ye come to Charter’s ha,
Without the leave of me?’

5 ‘Weel I may pu the rose,’ she said,
‘But I daurna break the tree;
And Charter’s ha is my father’s,
And I’m his heir to be.’

6 ‘If Charteris ha be thy father’s,
I was ance as gude mysell;
But as I came in by Lady Kirk,
And in by Lady Well,

7 ‘Deep and drowsy was the sleep
On my poor body fell;
By came the Queen of Faery,
Made me with her to dwell.

8 ‘But the morn at een is Halloween,
Our fairy foks a’ do ride;
And she that will her true-love win,
At Blackstock she must bide.

9 ‘First let by the black,’ he said,
‘And syne let by the brown;
But when you see the milk-white steed,
You’ll pull his rider down.

10 ‘You’ll pull him into thy arms,
Let his bricht bridle fa,
And he’ll fa low into your arms
Like stone in castle’s wa.

11 ‘They’ll first shape him into your arms
An adder or a snake;
But hold him fast, let him not go,
He’ll be your world’s make.

12 ‘They’ll next shape him into your arms
Like a wood black dog to bite;
Hold him fast, let him not go,
For he’ll be your heart’s delight.

13 ‘They’ll next shape [him] into your arms
Like a red-het gaud o airn;
But hold him fast, let him not go,
He’s the father o your bairn.

14 ‘They’ll next shape him into your arms
Like the laidliest worm of Ind;
But hold him fast, let him not go,
And cry aye "[Young Tamlin."]’

15 Lady Margaret first let by the black,
And syne let by the brown,
But when she saw the milk-white steed
She pulled the rider down.

16 She pulled him into her arms,
Let his bright bridle fa’,
And he fell low into her arms,
Like stone in castle’s wa.

17 They first shaped him into arms
An adder or a snake;
But she held him fast, let him not go,
For he’d be her warld’s make.

18 They next shaped him into her arms
Like a wood black dog to bite;
But she held him fast, let him not go,
For he’d be her heart’s delight.

19 They next shaped him into her arms
Like a red-het gaud o airn;
But she held him fast, let him not go,
He’d be father o her bairn.

20 They next shaped him into her arms
Like the laidliest worm of Ind;
But she held him fast, let him not go,
And cried aye ‘Young Tamlin.’

21 The Queen of Faery turned her horse about,
Says, Adieu to thee, Tamlene!
For if I had kent what I ken this night,
If I had kent it yestreen,
I wad hae taen out thy heart o flesh,
And put in a heart o stane.

Version F

1 * * * *
SHERR’rrS taen her petticoat by the band,
Her mantle owre her arm,
And she’s awa to Chester wood,
As fast as she could run.

2 She scarsely pulled a rose, a rose,
She scarse pulled two or three,
Till up there starts Thomas
On the Lady Margaret’s knee.

3 She’s taen her petticoat by the band,
Her mantle owre her arm,
And Lady Margaret’s gane hame agen,
As fast as she could run.

4 Up starts Lady Margaret’s sister,
An angry woman was she:
‘If there ever was a woman wi child,
Margaret, you are wi!’

5 Up starts Lady Margaret’s mother,
An angry woman was she:
‘There grows ane herb in yon kirk-yard
That will scathe the babe away.’

6 She took her petticoats by the band,
Her mantle owre her arm,
And she’s gane to yon kirk-yard
As fast as she could run.

7 She scarcely pulled an herb, an herb,
She scarse pulled two or three,
Till up starts there Thomas
Upon this Lady Margret’s knee.

8 ‘How dare ye pull a rose?’ he says,
‘How dare ye break the tree?
How dare ye pull this herb,’ he says,
‘To scathe my babe away?

9 ‘This night is Halloweve,’ he said,
‘Our court is going to waste,
And them that loves their true-love best
At Chester bridge they’ll meet.

10 ‘First let pass the black,’ he says,
‘And then let pass the brown,
But when ye meet the milk-white steed,
Pull ye the rider down.

11 ‘They’ll turn me to an eagle,’ he says,
‘And then into an ass;
Come, hold me fast, and fear me not,
The man that you love best.

12 ‘They’ll turn me to a flash of fire,
And then to a naked man;
Come, wrap you your mantle me about,
And then you’ll have me won.’

13 She took her petticoats by the band,
Her mantle owre her arm,
And she’s awa to Chester bridge,
As fast as she could run.

14 And first she did let pass the black,
And then let pass the brown,
But when she met the milk-white steed,
She pulled the rider down.

15 They turned him in her arms an eagle,
And then into an ass;
But she held him fast, and feared him not,
The man that she loved best.

16 They turned him into a flash of fire,
And then into a naked man;
But she wrapped her mantle him about,
And then she had him won.

17 ‘O wae be to ye, Lady Margaret,
And an ill death may you die,
For you’ve robbed me of the bravest knight
That eer rode in our company.’

Version G

1 TAKE warning, a’ ye ladies fair,
That wear gowd on your hair,
Come never unto Charter’s woods,
For Tam-a-line he’s there.

2 Even about that knight’s middle
O’ siller bells are nine;
Nae ane comes to Charter wood,
And a maid returns again.

3 Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam;
And she langd to gang to Charter woods,
To pou the roses green.

4 She hadna poud a rose, a rose,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came him true Tam-a-line,
Says, Ladye, lat alane.

5 O why pou ye the rose, the rose?
Or why brake ye the tree?
Or why come ye to Charter woods,
Without leave askd of me?

6 ‘I will pou the rose, the rose,
And I will brake the tree;
Charter woods are a’ my ain,
I’ll ask nae leave o thee.’

7 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her low on gude green wood,
At her he spierd nae leave.

8 When he had got his wills of her,
His wills as he had taen,
He’s taen her by the middle sma,
Set her to feet again.

9 She turnd her right and round about,
To spier her true-love’s name,
But naething heard she, nor naething saw,
As a’ the woods grew dim.

10 Seven days she tarried there,
Saw neither sun nor meen;
At length, by a sma glimmering light,
Came thro the wood her lane.

11 When she came to her father’s court,
As fine as ony queen;
But when eight months were past and gane,
Got on the gown o’ green.

12 Then out it speaks an eldren knight,
As he stood at the yett:
‘Our king’s daughter, she gaes wi bairn,
And we’ll get a’ the wyte.’

13 ‘O had your tongue, ye eldren man,
And bring me not to shame;
Although that I do gang wi bairn,
Yese naeways get the blame.

14 ‘Were my love but an earthly man,
As he’s an elfin knight,
I woudna gie my ain true love
For a’ that’s in my sight.’

15 Then out it speaks her brither dear,
He meant to do her harm:
‘There is an herb in Charter wood
Will twine you an the bairn.’

16 She’s taen her mantle her about,
Her coffer by the band,
And she is on to Charter wood,
As fast as she coud gang.

17 She hadna poud a rose, a rose,
Nor braken a branch but ane,
Till by it came him Tam-a-Line,
Says, Ladye, lat alane.

18 O why pou ye the pile, Margaret,
The pile o the gravil green,
For to destroy the bonny bairn
That we got us between?

19 O why pou ye the pile, Margaret,
The pile o the gravil gray,
For to destroy the bonny bairn
That we got in our play?

20 For if it be a knave-bairn,
He’s heir o a’ my land;
But if it be a lass-bairn,
In red gowd she shall gang.

21 ‘If my luve were an earthly man,
As he’s an elfin rae,
I coud gang bound, love, for your sake,
A twalmonth and a day.’

22 ‘Indeed your love’s an earthly man,
The same as well as thee,
And lang I’ve haunted Charter woods,
A’ for your fair bodie.’

23 ‘O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,
O tell, an tell me true,
Tell me this night, an mak nae lie,
What pedigree are you?’

24 ‘O I hae been at gude church-door,
An I’ve got christendom;
I’m the Earl o’ Forbes’ eldest son,
An heir ower a’ his land.

25 ‘When I was young, o three years old,
Muckle was made o me;
My step-mother put on my claithes,
An ill, ill sained she me.

26 ‘Ae fatal morning I went out,
Dreading nae injury,
And thinking lang, fell soun asleep,
Beneath an apple tree.

27 ‘Then by it came the Elfin Queen,
And laid her hand on me;
And from that time since ever I mind,
I’ve been in her companie.

28 ‘O Elfin it’s a bonny place,
In it fain woud I dwell;
But ay at ilka seven years’ end
They pay a tiend to hell,
And I’m sae fou o flesh an blude,
I’m sair feard for mysell.’

29 ‘O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,
O tell, an tell me true;
Tell me this night, an mak nae lie,
What way I’ll borrow you?’

30 ‘The morn is Halloweven night,
The elfin court will ride,
Through England, and thro a’ Scotland,
And through the world wide.

31 ‘O they begin at sky setting,
Rides a’ the evening tide;
And she that will her true-love borrow,
[At] Miles-corse will him bide.

32 ‘Ye’ll do you down to Miles-corse,
Between twall hours and ane,
And full your hands o holy water,
And cast your compass roun.

33 ‘Then the first an court that comes you till
Is published king and queen;
The next an court that comes you till,
It is maidens mony ane.

34 ‘The next an court that comes you till
Is footmen, grooms and squires;
The next an court that comes you till
Is knights, and I’ll be there.

35 ‘I Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,
A goud star on my crown;
Because I was an earthly knight,
Got that for a renown.

36 ‘And out at my steed’s right nostril,
He’ll breathe a fiery flame;
Ye’ll loot you low, and sain yoursel,
And ye’ll be busy then.

37 ‘Ye’ll take my horse then by the head,
And lat the bridal fa;
The Queen o’ Elfin she’ll cry out,
True Tam-a-Line’s awa.

38 ‘Then I’ll appear in your arms
Like the wolf that neer woud tame;
Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
Case we neer meet again.

39 ‘Then I’ll appear in your arms
Like the fire that burns sae bauld;
Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
I’ll be as iron cauld.

40 ‘Then I’ll appear in your arms
Like the adder an the snake;
Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
I am your warld’s make.

41 ‘Then I’ll appear in your arms
Like to the deer sae wild;
Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
And I’ll father your child.

42 ‘And I’ll appear in your arms
Like to a silken string;
Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
Till ye see the fair morning.

43 ‘And I’ll appear in your arms
Like to a naked man;
Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
And wi you I’ll gae hame.’

44 Then she has done her to Miles-corse,
Between twall hours an ane,
And filled her hands o holy water,
And kiest her compass roun.

45 The first an court that came her till
Was published king and queen;
The niest an court that came her till
Was maidens mony ane.

46 The niest an court that came her till
Was footmen, grooms and squires;
The niest an court that came her till
Was knights, and he was there.

47 True Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,
A gowd star on his crown;
Because he was an earthly man,
Got that for a renown.

48 And out at the steed’s right nostril,
He breathd a fiery flame;
She loots her low, an sains hersell,
And she was busy then.

49 She’s taen the horse then by the head,
And loot the bridle fa;
The Queen o Elfin she cried out,
‘True Tam-a-Line’s awa.’

50 ‘Stay still, true Tam-a-Line,’ she says,
‘Till I pay you your fee:’
‘His father wants not lands nor rents,
He’ll ask nae fee frae thee.’

51 ‘Gin I had kent yestreen, yestreen,
What I ken weel the day,
I shoud taen your fu fause heart,
Gien you a heart o clay.’

52 Then he appeared in her arms
Like the wolf that neer woud tame;
She held him fast, let him not go,
Case they neer meet again.

53 Then he appeared in her arms
Like the fire burning bauld;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He was as iron cauld.

54 And he appeared in her arms
Like the adder an the snake;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He was her warld’s make.

55 And he appeared in her arms
Like to the deer sae wild;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He’s father o her child.

56 And he appeared in her arms
Like to a silken string;
She held him fast, let him not go,
Till she saw fair morning.

57 And he appeared in her arms
Like to a naked man;
She held him fast, let him not go,
And wi her he’s gane hame.

58 These news hae reachd thro a’ Scotland,
And far ayont the Tay,
That Lady Margaret, our king’s daughter,
That night had gaind her prey.

59 She borrowed her love at mirk midnight,
Bare her young son ere day,
And though ye’d search the warld wide,
Ye’ll nae find sic a may.

Version H

1 I FORBID ye, maidens a’,
That wears gowd in your hair,
To come or gang by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lane is there.

2 I forbid ye, maidens a’,
That wears gowd in your green,
To come or gang by Carterhaugh,
For fear of young Tam Lane.

3 ‘Go saddle for me the black,’ says Janet,
‘Go saddle for me the brown,
And I’ll away to Carterhaugh,
And flower mysell the gown.

4 ‘Go saddle for me the brown,’ says Janet,
‘Go saddle for me the black,
And I’ll away to Carterhaugh,
And flower mysel a hat.’

5 She had not pulld a flowr, a flowr,
A flower but only three,
Till up there startit young Tam Lane,
Just at bird Janet’s knee.

6 ‘Why pullst thou the herb, Janet,
And why breaks thou the tree?
Why put you back the bonny babe
That’s between you and me?’

7 ‘If my child was to an earthly man,
As it is to a wild buck rae,
I would wake him the length of the winter’s night,
And the lea lang simmer’s day.’

8 ‘The night is Halloween, Janet,
When our gude neighbours will ride,
And them that would their true-love won
At Blackning Cross maun bide.

9 ‘Many will the black ride by,
And many will the brown,
But I ride on a milk-white steed,
And ride nearest the town:
Because I was a christened knight
They gie me that renown.

10 ‘Many will the black ride by,
But far mae will the brown;
But when ye see the milk-white stead,
Grip fast and pull me down.

11 ‘Take me in yer arms, Janet,
An ask, an adder lang;
The grip ye get ye maun haud fast,
I’ll be father to your bairn.

12 ‘Take me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and a snake;
The grip ye get ye maun haud fast,
I’ll be your warld’s make.’

13 Up bespak the Queen of Fairies,
She spak baith loud and high:
‘Had I kend the day at noon
Tam Lane had been won from me,

14 ‘I wad hae taen out his heart o flesh,
Put in a heart o tree,
That a’ the maids o Middle Middle Mist
Should neer hae taen Tam Lane frae me.’

15 Up bespack the Queen of Fairies,
And she spak wi a loud yell:
‘Aye at every seven year’s end
We pay the kane to hell.
And the koors they hae gane round about,
And I fear it will be mysel.’

Version I

1 ‘O I FORBID ye, maidens a’,
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tamlane is there.

2 ‘There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
But maun leave him a wad,
Either gowd rings, or green mantles,
Or else their maidenheid.

3 ‘Now gowd rings ye may buy, maidens,
Green mantles ye may spin,
But, gin ye lose your maidenheid,
Ye’ll neer get that agen.’

4 But up then spak her, fair Janet,
The fairest o a’ her kin:
‘I’ll cum and gang to Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave o him.’

5 Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little abune her knee,
And she has braided her yellow hair
A little abune her bree.

6 And when she came to Carterhaugh,
She gaed beside the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsell.

7 She hadna pu’d a red red rose,
A rose but barely three,
Till up and starts a wee wee man,
At lady Janet’s knee.

8 Says, Why pu ye the rose, Janet?
What gars ye break the tree?
Or why come ye to Carterhaugh,
Withouten leave o me?

9 Says, Carterhaugh it is mine ain,
My daddie gave it me;
I’ll come and gang to Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave o thee.

10 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
Among the leaves sae green,
And what they did I cannot tell,
The green leaves were between.

11 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
Among the roses red,
And what they did I cannot say,
She neer returnd a maid.

12 When she cam to her father’s ha,
She looked pale and wan;
They thought she’d dreed some sair sickness,
Or been with some leman.

13 She didna comb her yellow hair
Nor make meikle o her head,
And ilka thing that lady took
Was like to be her deid.

14 It’s four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba;
Janet, the wightest of them anes,
Was faintest o them a’.

15 Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess;
And out there came the fair Janet,
As green as any grass.

16 Out and spak an auld grey-headed knight,
Lay oer the castle wa:
‘And ever, alas! for thee, Janet,
But we’ll be blamed a’!’

17 ‘Now haud your tongue, ye auld grey knight,
And an ill deid may ye die!
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I’ll father nane on thee.’

18 Out then spak her father dear,
And he spak meik and mild:
‘And ever, alas! my sweet Janet,
I fear ye gae with child.’

19 ‘And if I be with child, father,
Mysell maun bear the blame;
There’s neer a knight about your ha
Shall hae the bairnie’s name.

20 ‘And if I be with child, father,
’Twill prove a wondrous birth,
For weel I swear I’m not wi bairn
To any man on earth.

21 ‘If my love were an earthly knight,
As he’s an elfin grey,
I wadna gie my ain true love
For nae lord that ye hae.’

22 She prinkd hersell and prinnd hersell,
By the ae light of the moon,
And she’s away to Carterhaugh,
To speak wi young Tamlane.

23 And when she cam to Carterhaugh,
She gaed beside the well,
And there she saw the steed standing,
But away was himsell.

24 She hadna pu’d double rose,
A rose but only twae,
When up and started young Tamlane,
Says, Lady, thou pu’s nae mae.

25 Why pu ye the rose, Janet,
Within this garden grene,
And a’ to kill the bonny babe
That we got us between?

26 ‘The truth ye’ll tell to me, Tamlane,
A word ye mauna lie;
Gin eer ye was in haly chapel,
Or sained in Christentie?’

27 ‘The truth I’ll tell to thee, Janet,
A word I winna lie;
A knight me got, and a lady me bore,
As well as they did thee.

28 ‘Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire,
Dunbar, Earl March, is thine;
We loved when we were children small,
Which yet you well may mind.

29 ‘When I was a boy just turnd of nine,
My uncle sent for me,
To hunt and hauk, and ride with him,
And keep him companie.

30 ‘There came a wind out of the north,
A sharp wind and a snell,
And a deep sleep came over me,
And frae my horse I fell.

31 ‘The Queen of Fairies keppit me
In yon green hill to dwell,
And I’m a fairy, lyth and limb,
Fair ladye, view me well.

32 ‘Then would I never tire, Janet,
In Elfish land to dwell,
But aye, at every seven years,
They pay the teind to hell;
And I am sae fat and fair of flesh,
I fear ’twill be mysell.

33 ‘This night is Halloween, Janet,
The morn is Hallowday,
And gin ye dare your true love win,
Ye hae nae time to stay.

34 ‘The night it is good Halloween,
When fairy folk will ride,
And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide.’

35 ‘But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane?
Or how shall I thee knaw,
Amang so many unearthly knights,
The like I never saw?’

36 ‘The first company that passes by,
Say na, and let them gae;
The next company that passes by,
Say na, and do right sae;
The third company that passes by,
Then I’ll be ane o thae.

37 ‘First let pass the black, Janet,
And syne let pass the brown,
But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
And pu the rider down.

38 ‘For I ride on the milk-white steed,
And aye nearest the town;
Because I was a christend knight,
They gave me that renown.

39 ‘My right hand will be gloved, Janet,
My left hand will be bare;
And these the tokens I gie thee,
Nae doubt I will be there.

40 ‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and a snake;
But had me fast, let me not pass,
Gin ye wad be my maik.

41 ‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and an ask;
They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A bale that burns fast.

42 ‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A red-hot gad o airn;
But haud me fast, let me not pass,
For I’ll do you no harm.

43 ‘First dip me in a stand o milk,
And then in a stand o water;
But had me fast, let me not pass,
I’ll be your bairn’s father.

44 ‘And next they’ll shape me in your arms
A tod but and an eel;
But had me fast, nor let me gang,
As you do love me weel.

45 ‘They’ll shape me in your arms, Janet,
A dove but and a swan,
And last they’ll shape me in your arms
A mother-naked man;
Cast your green mantle over me,
I’ll be myself again.’

46 Gloomy, gloomy, was the night,
And eiry was the way,
As fair Janet, in her green mantle,
To Miles Cross she did gae.

47 About the dead hour o the night
She heard the bridles ring,
And Janet was as glad o that
As any earthly thing.

48 And first gaed by the black black steed,
And then gaed by the brown;
But fast she gript the milk-white steed,
And pu’d the rider down.

49 She pu’d him frae the milk-white steed,
And loot the bridle fa,
And up there raise an erlish cry,
‘He’s won amang us a’!’

50 They shaped him in fair Janet’s arms
An esk but and an adder;
She held him fast in every shape,
To be her bairn’s father.

51 They shaped him in her arms at last
A mother-naked man,
She wrapt him in her green mantle,
And sae her true love wan.

52 Up then spake the Queen o Fairies,
Out o a bush o broom:
‘She that has borrowd young Tamlane
Has gotten a stately groom.’

53 Up then spake the Queen o Fairies,
Out o a bush o rye:
‘She’s taen awa the bonniest knight
In a’ my cumpanie.

54 ‘But had I kennd, Tamlane,’ she says,
‘A lady wad borrowd thee
I wad taen out thy twa grey een,
Put in twa een o tree.

55 ‘Had I but kennd, Tamlane,’ she says,
‘Before ye came frae hame,
I wad taen out your heart o flesh,
Put in a heart o stane.

56 ‘Had I but had the wit yestreen
That I hae coft the day,
I’d paid my kane seven times to hell
Ere you’d been won away.’

Version J

1 * * * *
‘The night, the night is Halloween,
Tommorow’s Hallowday,
. . . . . .
. . . . . .

2 ‘The night, the night is Halloween,
Our seely court maun ride,
Thro England and thro Ireland both,
And a’ the warld wide.

3 ‘The firsten court that comes ye bye,
You’ll lout, and let them gae;
The seconden court that comes you bye,
You’ll hail them reverently.

4 ‘The thirden court that comes you by,
Sae weel’s ye will me ken,
For some will be on a black, a black,
And some will be on a brown,
But I will be on a bluid-red steed,
And will ride neist the queen.

5 ‘The thirden court that comes you bye,
Sae weel’s ye will me ken,
For I’ll be on a bluid-red steed,
Wi three stars on his crown.

6 ‘Ye’ll tak the horse head in yer hand,
And grip the bridle fast;
The Queen o Elfin will gie a cry,
‘True Tamas is stown awa!’

7 ‘And I will grow in your twa hands
And adder and an eel;
But the grip ye get ye’ll hold it fast,
I’ll be father to yer chiel.

8 ‘I will wax in your twa hans
As hot as any coal;
But if you love me as you say,
You’ll think of me and thole.

9 ‘O I will grow in your twa hands
An adder and a snake;
The grip ye get now hold it fast,
And I’ll be your world’s mait.

10 ‘O I’ll gae in at your gown sleeve,
And out at your gown hem,
And I’ll stand up before thee then
A freely naked man.

11 ‘O I’ll gae in at your gown sleeve,
And out at your gown hem,
And I’ll stand before you then,
But claithing I’ll hae nane.

12 ‘Ye’ll do you down to Carden’s Ha,
And down to Carden’s stream,
And there you’ll see our seely court,
As they come riding hame.’

13 ‘It’s nae wonder, my daughter Janet,
Ture Tammas ye thought on;
An he were a woman as he’s a man,
My bedfellow he should be.’

Version J2

1 The maid that sits in Katherine’s Hall,
Clad in her robes so black,
She has to yon garden gone,
For flowers to flower her hat.

2 She had not pulled the red, red rose,
A double rose but three,
When up there starts a gentleman,
Just at this lady’s knee.

3 Says, Who’s this pulls the red, red rose?
Breaks branches off the tree?
Or who’s this treads my garden-grass,
Without the leave of me?

4 ‘Yes, I will pull the red, red rose,
Break branches off the tree,
This garden in Moorcartney wood,
Without the leave o thee.’

5 He took her by the milk-white hand
And gently laid her down,
Just in below some shady trees
Where the green leaves hung down.

6 ‘Come tell to me, kind sir,’ she said,
‘What before you never told;
Are you an earthly man?’ said she,
‘A knight or a baron bold?’

7 ‘I’ll tell to you, fair lady,’ he said,
‘What before I neer did tell;
I’m Earl Douglas’s second son,
With the queen of the fairies I dwell.

8 ‘When riding through yon forest-wood,
And by yon grass-green well,
A sudden sleep me overtook,
And off my steed I fell.

9 Ther queen of the fairies, being there,
Made me with her to dwell,
And still once in the seven years
We pay a teind to hell.

10 ‘And because I am an earthly man,
Myself doth greatly fear,
For the cleverest man in all our train
To Pluto must go this year.

11 ‘This night is Halloween, lady,
And the fairies they will ride;
The maid that will her true-love win
At Miles Cross she may bide.’

12 ‘But how shall I thee ken, though, sir?
Or how shall I thee know,
Amang a pack o hellish wraiths,
Before I never saw?’

13 ‘Some rides upon a black horse, lady,
And some upon a brown,
But I myself on a milk-white steed,
And I aye nearest the toun.

14 ‘My right hand shall be covered, lady,
My left hand shall be bare,
And that’s a token good enough
That you will find me there.

15 ‘Take the Bible in your right hand,
With God for to be your guide,
Take holy water in thy left hand,
And throw it on every side.’

16 She’s taen her mantle her about,
A cane into her hand,
And she has unto Miles Cross gone,
As hard as she can gang.

17 First she has letten the black pass by,
And then she has letten the brown,
But she’s taen a fast hold o the milk-white steed,
And she’s pulled Earl Thomas doun.

18 The queen of the fairies being there,
Sae loud she’s letten a cry,
‘The maid that sits in Katherine’s Hall
This night has gotten her prey.

19 ‘But hadst thou waited, fair lady,
Till about this time the morn,
He would hae been as far from thee or me
As the wind that blew when he was born.’

20 They turned him in this lady’s arms
Like the adder and the snake;
She held him fast; why should she not?
Though her poor heart was like to break.

21 They turned him in this lady’s arms
Like two red gads of airn;
She held him fast; why should she not?
She knew they could do her no harm.

22 They turned him in this lady’s arms
Like to all things that was vile;
She held him fast; why should she not?
The father of her child.

23 They turned him in this lady’s arms
Like to a naked knight;
She’s taen him hame to her ain bower,
And clothed him in armour bright.

Version K

1 Leady Margat stands in her boor-door,
Clead in the robs of green;
She longed to go to Charters Woods,
To pull the flowers her lean.

2 She had not puld a rose, a rose,
O not a rose but one,
Till up it starts True Thomas,
Said, Leady, let alone.

3 ‘Why pull ye the rose, Marget?
Or why break ye the tree?
Or why come ye to Charters Woods
Without the leave of me?’

4 ‘I will pull the rose,’ she said,
‘And I will break the tree,
For Charters Woods is all my own,
And I’l ask no leave of the.’

5 He’s tean her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her lo at the foot of the tree,
At her he askt no leave.

6 It fell once upon a day
They wer a pleaying at the ba,
And every one was reed and whyte,
Leady Marget’s culler was all awa.

7 Out it speaks an elder man,
As he stood in the gate,
‘Our king’s daughter she gos we bern,
And we will get the wait.’

8 ‘If I be we bern,’ she said,
‘My own self beer the blame!
There is not a man in my father’s court
Will get my bern’s name.’

9 ‘There grows a flower in Charters Woods,
It grows on gravel greay,
It ould destroy the boney young bern
That ye got in your pley.’

10 She’s tean her mantle her about,
Her green glove on her hand,
And she’s awa to Charters Woods,
As fest as she could gang.

11 She had no puld a pile, a pile,
O not a pile but one,
Up it startid True Thomas,
Said, Leady, lat alean.

12 Why pull ye the pile, Marget,
That grows on gravel green,
For to destroy the boney young bern
That we got us between?’

13 ‘If it were to an earthly man,
As [it is] to an elphan knight,
I ould walk for my true-love’s sake
All the long winter’s night.’

14 ‘When I was a boy of eleven years old,
And much was made of me,
I went out to my father’s garden,
Fell asleep at yon aple tree:
The queen of Elphan [she] came by,
And laid on her hands on me.

15 ‘Elphan it’s a boney place,
In it fain wid I dwall;
But ey at every seven years end
We pay the teene to hell:
I’m so full of flesh and blood
I’m sear feart for mysel.

16 ‘The morn’s Hallow Even’s night,
When a’ our courts do ride,
Through England and through Irland,
Through a’ the world wide:
And she that would her true-love borrow
At Miles Corse she may bide.

17 ‘The first an court that ye come till,
Ye let them a’ pass by;
The next an court that ye come till,
Ye hile them reverendly.

18 ‘The next an court the ye come till,
An therein rides the queen,
Me upon a milk-whyte steed,
And a gold star in my croun;
Because I am a erle’s soon,
I get that for my renoun.

19 ‘Ye take me in your armes,
Give me a right sear fa;
The queen of Elphan she’l cry out,
True Thomas is awa!

20 ‘First I’l be in your armes
The fire burning so bold;
Ye hold me fast, let me no pass
Till I be like iron cold.

21 ‘Next I’l be in your armes
The fire burning so wild;
Ye hold me fast, let me no pass,
I’m the father of your child.’

22 The first court that came her till,
She let them a’ pass by;
The nex an court that came her till,
She helt them reverendly.

23 The nex an court that came her till,
And therein read the queen,
True Thomas on a milk-whyte steed,
A gold star in his croun;
Because he was a earl’s soon,
He got that for his renoun.

24 She’s tean him in her arms,
Geen him a right sore fa;
The queen of Elphan she cried out,
True Thomas is awa!

25 He was into her arms
The fire burning so bold;
She held him fast, let him no pass
Till he was like iron cold.

26 He was into her arms
The fire burning so wild;
She held him fast, let him no pass,
He was the father of her child.

27 The queen of Elphan she cried out,
An angry woman was she,
‘Let Leady Marget an her true-love be,
She’s bought him dearer than me.’

Version L

1 I charge ye, a’ ye ladies fair,
That wear goud in your hair,
To come an gang bye Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lien is there.

2 Then Janet kiltit her green cleadin
A wee aboon her knee,
An she’s gane away to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can dree.

3 When Janet cam to Carterhaugh,
Tam Lien was at the wall,
An there he left his steed stannin,
But away he gaed his sell.

4 She had na pu’d a red, red rose,
A rose but only thre,
Till up then startit young Tam Lien,
Just at young Jenet’s knee.

5 ‘What gars ye pu the rose, Janet,
Briek branches frae the tree,
An come an gang by Carterhaugh,
An speir nae leave of me?’

6 ‘What need I speir leave o thee, Tam?
What need I speir leave o thee,
When Carterhaugh is a’ mine ain,
My father gae it me?’

7 She’s kiltit up her green cleadin
A wee aboon her knee,
An she’s away to her ain bower-door,
As fast as she can dree.

8 There war four-an-twentie fair ladies
A’ dancin in a chess,
An some war blue an some war green,
But Janet was like the gress.

9 There war four-an-twentie fair ladies
A’ playin at the ba,
An some war red an som wer white,
But Jennet was like the snaw.

Version M

1 My father was a noble knight,
And was much gi’n to play,
And I myself a bonny boy,
And followed him away.

2 He rowd me in his hunting-coat
And layd me down to sleep,
And by the queen of fairies came,
And took me up to keep.

3 She set me on a milk-whtie steed;
’Twas o the elfin kind;
His feet were shot wi beaten goud,
And fleeter than the wind.

4 Then we raid on and on’ard mair,
Oer mountain, hill and lee,
Till we came to a hie, hie wa,
Upon a mountain’s bree.

5 The apples hung like stars of goud
Out-our that wa sa fine;
I put my hand to pu down ane,
For want of food I thought to tine.

6 ‘O had your hand, Tamas!’ she said,
‘O let that evil fruit now be!
It was that apple ye see there
Beguil’d man and woman in your country.

7 ‘O dinna ye see yon road, Tamas,
Down by yon lilie lee?
Blessd is the man who yon gate gaes,
It leads him to the heavens hie.

8 ‘And dinna ye see yon road, Tamas,
Down by yon frosty fell?
Curst is the man that yon gate gaes,
For it leads to the gates of hell.

9 ‘O dinna ye see yon castle, Tamas,
That’s biggit between the twa,
And theekit wi the beaten goud?
O that’s the fairies’ ha.

10 ‘O when ye come to the ha, Tamas,
See that a weel-learnd boy ye be;
They’ll ask ye questions ane and a’,
But see ye answer nane but me.

11 ‘If ye speak to ain but me, Tamas,
A fairie ye maun ever bide;
But if ye speak to nane but me, Tamas,
Ye may come to be your country’s pride.’

12 And when he came to Fairie Ha,
I wot a weel-learnd boy was he;
They askd him questions ane and a’,
But he answerd nane but his ladie.

13 There was four-and-twenty gude knights’-sons
In fairie land obliged to bide,
And of a’ the pages that were there
Fair Tamas was his ladie’s pride.

14 There was four-and-twenty earthly boys,
Wha all played at the ba,
But Tamas was the bonniest boy,
And playd the best amang them a’.

15 There was four-and-twenty earthly maids,
Wha a’ playd at the chess,
Their colour rosy-red and white,
Their gowns were green as grass.

16 ‘And pleasant are our fairie sports,
We flie o’er hill and dale;
But at the end of seven years
They pay the teen to hell.

17 ‘And now’s the time, at Hallowmess,
Late on the morrow’s even,
And if ye miss me then, Janet,
I’m lost for yearis seven.’

Version N

1 ‘Gowd rings I can buy, Thomas,
Green mantles I can spin,
But gin ye take my maidenheid
I’ll neer get that again.’

2 Out and spak the queen o fairies,
Out o a shot o wheat,
‘She that has gotten young Tamlane
Has gotten my heart’s delight.’

40. The Queen of Elfan's Nourice

1 I HEARD a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
An a cow low down in yon glen;
Lang, lang will my young son greet
Or his mither bid him come ben.

2 I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
An a cow low down in yon fauld;
Lang, lang will my young son greet
Or his mither take him frae cauld.

3 . . . . .
. . . .
Waken, Queen of Elfan,
An hear your nourice moan.’

4 ‘O moan ye for your meat,
Or moan ye for your fee,
Or moan ye for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie?’

5 ‘I moan na for my meat,
Nor moan I for my fee,
Nor moan I for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie.

6 . . . . .
. . . . .
But I moan for my young son
I left in four nights auld.

7 ‘I moan na for my meat,
Nor yet for my fee,
But I mourn for Christen land,
It’s there I fain would be.’

8 ‘O nurse my bairn, nourice,’ she says,
‘Till he stan at your knee,
An ye’s win hame to Christen land,
Whar fain it’s ye wad be.

9 ‘O keep my bairn, nourice,
Till he gang by the hauld,
An ye’s win hame to your young son
Ye left in four nights auld.’

10 ‘O nourice lay your head
Upo my knee:
See ye na that narrow road
Up by yon tree?

11 . . . . . .
. . . . .
That’s the road the righteous goes,
And that’s the road to heaven.

12 ‘An see na ye that braid road,
Down by yon sunny fell?
Yon’s the road the wicked gae,
An that’s the road to hell.’

41. Hind Etin

Version A

1 LADY MARGARET sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond’s wood,
And wishd she there had been.

2 She loot the seam fa frae her side,
And the needle to her tae,
And she is on to Elmond’s wood
As fast as she coud gae.

3 She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came a young hind chiel,
Says, Lady, lat alane.

4 O why pu ye the nut, the nut,
Or why brake ye the tree?
For I am forester o this wood:
Ye shoud spier leave at me.

5 ‘I’ll ask leave at no living man,
Nor yet will I at thee;
My father is king oer a’ this realm,
This wood belongs to me.’

6 She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but three,
Till by it came him Young Akin,
And gard her lat them be.

7 The highest tree in Elmond’s wood,
He’s pu’d it by the reet,
And he has built for her a bower,
Near by a hallow seat.

8 He’s built a bower, made it secure
We carbuncle and stane;
Tho travellers were never sae nigh,
Appearance it had nane.

9 He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood,
For six lang years and one,
Till six pretty sons to him she bear,
And the seventh she’s brought home.

10 It fell ance upon a day,
This guid lord went from home,
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi him his eldest son.

11 And when they were on a guid way,
Wi slowly pace did walk,
The boy’s heart being something wae,
He thus began to talk:

12 ‘A question I woud ask, father,
Gin ye woudna angry be:’
‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye’se nae be quarrelld by me.’

13 ‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry;
And I wonder what aileth my mither,
To mourn continually.’

14 ‘Your mither was a king’s daughter,
Sprung frae a high degree,
And she might hae wed some worthy prince,
Had she nae been stown by me.

15 ‘I was her father’s cup-bearer,
Just at that fatal time;
I catchd her on a misty night,
Whan summer was in prime.

16 ‘My luve to her was most sincere,
Her luve was great for me,
But when she hardships doth endure,
Her folly she does see.’

17 ‘I’ll shoot the buntin o the bush,
The linnet o the tree,
And bring them to my dear mither,
See if she’ll merrier be.’

18 It fell upo another day,
This guid lord he thought lang,
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi him his dog and gun.

19 Wi bow and arrow by his side,
He’s aff, single, alane,
And left his seven children to stay
Wi their mither at hame.

20 ‘O I will tell to you, mither,
Gin ye wadna angry be:’
‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
Ye’se nae be quarrelld by me.’

21 ‘As we came frae the hynd-hunting,
We heard fine music ring:’
‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy,
I wish I’d been there my lane.’

22 He’s taen his mither by the hand,
His six brithers also,
And they are on thro Elmond’s wood,
As fast as they coud go.

23 They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Wi the stratlins o their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Till at her father’s yate.

24 ‘I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I’ll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye’ll walk there for me.

25 ‘Ye’ll gie the first to the proud porter,
And he will lat you in;
Ye’ll gie the next to the butler-boy,
And he will show you ben;

26 ‘Ye’ll gie the third to the minstrel
That plays before the king;
He’ll play success to the bonny boy
Came thro the wood him lane.’

27 He gae the first to the proud porter,
And he opend an let him in;
He gae the next to the butler-boy,
And he has shown him ben;

28 He gae the third to the minstrel
That playd before the king;
And he playd success to the bonny boy
Came thro the wood him lane.

29 Now when he came before the king,
Fell low down on his knee;
The king he turned round about,
And the saut tear blinded his ee.

30 ‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Gang frae my companie;
Ye look sae like my dear daughter,
My heart will birst in three.’

31 ‘If I look like your dear daughter,
A wonder it is none;
If I look like your dear daughter,
I am her eldest son.’

32 ‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be?’
‘She’s just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi.’

33 ‘O where are all my porter-boys
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yates baith wide and braid?
Let her come in to me.’

34 When she came in before the king,
Fell low down on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye’ll dine wi me.’

35 ‘Ae bit I canno eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Till I see my mither and sister dear,
For lang for them I think.’

36 When she came before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear
This day ye’se dine wi me.’

37 ‘Ae bit I canno eat, mither,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear sister,
For lang for her I think.’

38 When that these two sisters met,
She haild her courteouslie;
‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye’se dine wi me.’

39 ‘Ae bit I canno eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband,
For lang for him I think.’

40 ‘O where are all my rangers bold
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far an wide,
And bring Akin to me?’

41 Out it speaks the little wee boy:
Na, na, this maunna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
I hope ye’ll nae him see.

42 ‘O here I grant a free pardon,
Well seald by my own han;
Ye may make search for Young Akin,
As soon as ever you can.’

43 They searchd the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near,
And found him into Elmond’s wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.

44 ‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
Win up, and boun wi me;
We’re messengers come from the court,
The king wants you to see.’

45 ‘O lat him take frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I’ve lost my dear lady,
Life’s no pleasure to me.’

46 ‘Your head will nae be touchd, Akin,
Nor hangd upon a tree;
Your lady’s in her father’s court,
And all he wants is thee.’

47 When he came in before the king,
Fell low down on his knee;
‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
This day ye’se dine wi me.’

48 But as they were at dinner set,
The boy asked a boun:
‘I wish we were in the good church,
For to get christendoun.

49 ‘We hae lived in guid green wood
This seven years and ane;
But a’ this time, since eer I mind,
Was never a church within.’

50 ‘Your asking’s nae sae great, my boy,
But granted it shall be;
This day to guid church ye shall gang,
And your mither shall gang you wi.’

51 When unto the guid church she came,
She at the door did stan;
She was sae sair sunk down wi shame,
She coudna come farer ben.

52 Then out it speaks the parish priest,
And a sweet smile gae he:
‘Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,
Present your babes to me.’

53 Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick,
And likewise James and John;
They calld the eldest Young Akin,
Which was his father’s name.

54 Then they staid in the royal court,
And livd wi mirth and glee,
And when her father was deceasd,
Heir of the crown was she.

Version B

1 MAY MARGRET stood in her bouer door,
Kaiming doun her yellow hair;
She spied some nuts growin in the wud,
And wishd that she was there.

2 She has plaited her yellow locks
A little abune her bree,
And she has kilted her petticoats
A little below her knee,
And she’s aff to Mulberry wud,
As fast as she could gae.

3 She had na pu’d a nut, a nut,
A nut but barely ane,
Till up started the Hynde Etin,
Says, Lady, let thae alane!

4 ‘Mulberry wuds are a’ my ain;
My father gied them me,
To sport and play when I thought lang;
And they sall na be tane by thee.’

5 And ae she pu’d the tither berrie,
Na thinking o’ the skaith,
And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,
I wad be unco laith.

6 But he has tane her by the yellow locks,
And tied her till a tree,
And said, For slichting my commands,
An ill death sall ye dree.

7 He pu’d a tree out o the wud,
The biggest that was there,
And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,
And put May Margret there.

8 ‘Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;
My wuds are free for thee;
And gif I tak ye to mysell,
The better ye’ll like me.’

9 Na rest, na rest May Margret took,
Sleep she got never nane;
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon a stane.

10 ‘O tak me out,’ May Margret cried,
‘O tak me hame to thee,
And I sall be your bounden page
Until the day I dee.’

11 He took her out o the dungeon deep,
And awa wi him she’s gane;
But sad was the day an earl’s dochter
Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin.

12 It fell out ance upon a day
Hynde Etin’s to the hunting gane,
And he has tane wi him his eldest son,
For to carry his game.

13 ‘O I wad ask ye something, father,
An ye wadna angry be;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.’

14 ‘My mother’s cheeks are aft times weet,
Alas! they are seldom dry;’
‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho she should brast and die.

15 ‘For your mother was an earl’s dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now she’s wife o Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.

16 ‘But we’ll shoot the laverock in the lift,
The buntlin on the tree,
And ye’ll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if she’ll comforted be.’

17 ‘I wad ask ye something, mother,
An ye wadna angry be;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.’

18 ‘Your cheeks they are aft times weet,
Alas! they’re seldom dry;’
‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho I whould brast and die.

19 ‘For I was ance an earl’s dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.’

Version C

1 ‘O WELL like I to ride in a mist,
And shoot in a northern win,
And far better a lady to steal,
That’s come of a noble kin.’

2 Four an twenty fair ladies
Put on this lady’s sheen,
And as mony young gentlemen
Did lead her ower the green.

3 Yet she preferred before them all
Him, young Hastings the Groom;
He’s coosten a mist before them all,
And away this lady has taen.

4 He’s taken the lady on him behind,
Spared neither grass nor corn,
Till they came to the wood o Amonshaw,
Where again their loves were sworn.

5 And they hae lived in that wood
Full mony a year and day,
And were supported from time to time
By what he made of prey.

6 And seven bairns, fair and fine,
There she has born to him,
And never was in gude church-door,
Nor ever got gude kirking.

7 Ance she took harp into her hand,
And harped them a’ asleep,
Then she sat down at their couch-side,
And bitterly did weep.

8 Said, Seven bairns hae I born now
To my lord in the ha;
I wish they were seven greedy rats,
To run upon the wa,
And I mysel a great grey cat,
To eat them ane and a’.

9 For ten lang years now I hae lived
Within this cave of stane,
And never was at gude church-door,
Nor got no gude churching.

10 O then out spake her eldest child,
And a fine boy was he:
O hold your tongue, my mother dear;
I’ll tell you what to dee.

11 Take you the youngest in your lap,
The next youngest by the hand,
Put all the rest of us you before,
As you learnt us to gang.

12 And go with us unto some kirk-+-
You say they are built of stane-+-
And let us all be christened,
And you get gude kirking.

13 She took the youngest in her lap,
The next youngest by the hand,
Set all the rest of them her before,
As she learnt them to gang.

14 And she has left the wood with them,
And to the kirk has gane,
Where the gude priest them christened,
And gave her gude kirking.

42. Clerk Colvill

Version A

1 CLARK COLVEN and his gay ladie,
As they walked to yon garden green,
A belt about her middle gimp,
Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen:

2 ‘O hearken weel now, my good lord,
O hearken weel to what I say;
When ye gang to the wall o Stream,
O gang nae neer the well-fared may.’

3 ‘O haud your tongue, my gay ladie,
Tak nae sic care o me;
For I nae saw a fair woman
I like so well as thee.’

4 He mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And merry, merry rade he on,
Till he came to the wall o Stream,
And there he saw the mermaiden.

5 ‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may,
And ay’s ye wash your sark o silk:’
‘It’s a’ for you, ye gentle knight,
My skin is whiter than the milk.’

6 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
He’s taen her by the sleeve sae green,
And he’s forgotten his gay ladie,
And away with the fair maiden.

7 ‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven,
‘And aye sae sair’s I mean my head!’
And merrily leugh the mermaiden,
‘O win on till you be dead.

8 ‘But out ye tak your little pen-knife,
And frae my sark ye shear a gare;
Row that about your lovely head,
And the pain ye’ll never feel nae mair.’

9 Out he has taen his little pen-knife,
And frae her sark he’s shorn a gare,
Rowed that about his lovely head,
But the pain increased mair and mair.

10 ‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven,
‘An aye sae sair’s I mean my head!’
And merrily laughd the mermaiden,
‘It will ay be war till ye be dead.’

11 Then out he drew his trusty blade,
And thought wi it to be her dead,
But she’s become a fish again,
And merrily sprang into the fleed.

12 He’s mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And dowy, dowy rade he home,
And heavily, heavily lighted down
When to his ladie’s bower-door he came.

13 ‘Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed,
And, gentle ladie, lay me down;
Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow,
’Twill never be bent by me again.’

14 His mither she has made his bed,
His gentle ladie laid him down,
His brither he has unbent his bow,
’Twas never bent by him again.

Version B

1 CLERK COLVILL and his lusty dame
Were walking in the garden green;
The belt around her stately waist
Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.

2 ‘O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,
Or it will cost ye muckle strife,
Ride never by the wells of Slane,
If ye wad live and brook your life.’

3 ‘Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,
Now speak nae mair of that to me;
Did I neer see a fair woman,
But I wad sin with her body?’

4 He’s taen leave o his gay lady,
Nought minding what his lady said,
And he’s rode by the wells of Slane,
Where washing was a bonny maid.

5 ‘Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,
That wash sae clean your sark of silk;’
‘And weel fa you, fair gentleman,
Your body whiter than the milk.’

6 Then loud, loud cry’d the Clerk Colvill,
‘O my head it pains me sair;’
‘Then take, then take,’ the maiden said,
‘And frae my sark you’ll cut a gare.’

7 Then she’s gied him a little bane-knife,
And frae her sark he cut a share;
She’s ty’d it round his whey-white face,
But ay his head it aked mair.

8 Then louder cry’d the Clerk Colvill,
‘O sairer, sairer akes my head;’
‘And sairer, sairer ever will,’
The maiden crys, ’Till you be dead.’

9 Out then he drew his shining blade,
Thinking to stick her where she stood,
But she was vanishd to a fish,
And swam far off, a fair mermaid.

10 ‘O mother, mother, braid my hair;
My lusty lady, make my bed;
O brother, take my sword and spear,
For I have seen the false mermaid.’

Version C

1 CLERK COLIN and his mother dear
Were in the garden green;
The band that was about her neck
Cost Colin pounds fifteen;
The belt about her middle sae sma
Cost twice as much again.

2 ‘Forbidden gin ye wad be, love Colin,
Forbidden gin ye wad be,
And gang nae mair to Clyde’s water,
To court yon gay ladie.’

3 ‘Forbid me frae your ha, mother,
Forbid me frae your bour,
But forbid me not frae yon ladie;
She’s fair as ony flour.

4 ‘Forbidden I winna be, mother,
Forbidden I winna be,
For I maun gang to Clyde’s water,
To court yon gay ladie.’

5 An he is on his saddle set,
As fast as he could win,
An he is on to Clyde’s water,
By the lee licht o the moon.

6 An when he cam to the Clyde’s water
He lichted lowly down,
An there he saw the mermaiden,
Washin silk upon a stane.

7 ‘Come down, come down, now, Clerk Colin,
Come down an [fish] wi me;
I’ll row ye in my arms twa,
An a foot I sanna jee.’

8 ‘O mother, mother, mak my bed,
And, sister, lay me doun,
An brother, tak my bow an shoot,
For my shooting is done.’

9 He wasna weel laid in his bed,
Nor yet weel fa’en asleep,
When up an started the mermaiden,
Just at Clerk Colin’s feet.

10 ‘Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin,
Will ye lie there an die?
Or will ye gang to Clyde’s water,
To fish in flood wi me?’

11 ‘I will lie here an die,’ he said,
‘I will lie here an die;
In spite o a’ the deils in hell
I will lie here an die.’

43. The Broomfield Hill

Version A

1 there was a knight and a lady bright,
Had a true tryste at the broom;
The ane gaed early in the morning,
The other in the afternoon.

2 And ay she sat in her mother’s bower door,
And ay she made her mane:
‘O whether should I gang to the Broomfield Hill,
Or should I stay at hame?

3 ‘For if I gang to the Broomfield Hill,
My maidenhead is gone;
And if I chance to stay at hame,
My love will ca me mansworn.’

4 Up then spake a witch-woman,
Ay from the room aboon:
‘O ye may gang to the broomfield Hill,
And yet come maiden hame.

5 ‘For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill,
Ye’ll find your love asleep,
With a silver belt about his head,
And a broom-cow at his feet.

6 ‘Take ye the blossom of the broom,
The blossom it smells sweet,
And strew it at your true-love’s head,
And likewise at his feet.

7 ‘Take ye the rings off your fingers,
Put them on his right hand,
To let him know, when he doth awake,
His love was at his command.’

8 She pu’d the broom flower on Hive Hill,
And strewd on’s white hals-bane,
And that was to be wittering true
That maiden she had gane.

9 ‘O where were ye, my milk-white steed,
That I hae coft sae dear,
That wadna watch and waken me
When there was maiden here?’

10 ‘I stamped wi my foot, master,
And gard my bridle ring,
But na kin thing wald waken ye,
Till she was past and gane.’

11 ‘And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk,
That I did love sae dear,
That wadna watch and waken me
When there was maiden here.’

12 ‘I clapped wi my wings, master,
And aye my bells I rang,
And aye cry’d, Waken, waken, master,
Before the ladye gang.’

13 ‘But haste and haste, my gude white steed,
To come the maiden till,
Or a’ the birds of gude green wood
Of your flesh shall have their fill.’

14 ‘Ye need na burst your gude white steed
Wi racing oer the howm;
Nae bird flies faster through the wood,
Than she fled through the broom.’

Version B

1 ‘IRR’rrLL wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager with you
Five hundred merks and ten,
That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green wood,
And a maiden return agen.’

2 ‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager with you
Five hundred merks and ten,
That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood,
And a maiden return agen.’

3 She’s pu’d the blooms aff the broom-bush,
And strewd them on’s white hass-bane:
‘This is a sign whereby you may know
That a maiden was here, but she’s gane.’

4 ‘O where was you, my good gray steed,
That I hae loed sae dear?
O why did you not awaken me
When my true love was here?’

5 ‘I stamped with my foot, master,
And gard my bridle ring,
But you wadnae waken from your sleep
Till your love was past and gane.’

6 ‘Now I may sing as dreary a sang
As the bird sung on the brier,
For my true love is far removd,
And I’ll neer see her mair.’

Version C

1 THERE was a knight and lady bright
Set trysts amo the broom,
The one to come at morning ear,
The other at afternoon.

2 ‘I’ll wager a wager wi you,’ he said,
‘An hundred merks and ten,
That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills,
Return a maiden again.’

3 ‘I’ll wager a wager wi you,’ she said,
‘A hundred pounds and ten,
That I will gang to Broomfield Hills,
A maiden return again.’

4 The lady stands in her bower door,
And thus she made her mane:
‘O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills,
Or shall I stay at hame?

5 ‘If I do gang to Broomfield Hills,
A maid I’ll not return;
But if I stay from Broomfield Hills,
I’ll be a maid mis-sworn.’

6 Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife,
Sat in the bower aboon:
‘O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills,
Ye shall not stay at hame.

7 ‘But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills,
Walk nine times round and round;
Down below a bonny burn bank,
Ye’ll find your love sleeping sound.

8 ‘Ye’ll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew’t at his head and feet,
And aye the thicker that ye do strew,
The sounder he will sleep.

9 ‘The broach that is on your napkin,
Put it on his breast bane,
To let him know, when he does wake,
That’s true love’s come and gane.

10 ‘The rings that are on your fingers,
Lay them down on a stane,
To let him know, when he does wake,
That’s true love’s come and gane.

11 ‘And when ye hae your work all done,
Ye’ll gang to a bush o’ broom,
And then you’ll hear what he will say,
When he sees ye are gane.’

12 When she came to Broomfield Hills,
She walkd it nine times round,
And down below yon burn bank,
She found him sleeping sound.

13 She pu’d the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew’d it at ’s head and feet,
And aye the thicker that she strewd,
The sounder he did sleep.

14 The broach that was on her napkin,
She put on his breast bane,
To let him know, when he did wake,
His love was come and gane.

15 The rings that were on her fingers,
She laid upon a stane,
To let him know, when he did wake,
His love was come and gane.

16 Now when she had her work all dune,
She went to a bush o broom,
That she might hear what he did say,
When he saw she was gane.

17 ‘O where were ye, my guid grey hound,
That I paid for sae dear,
Ye didna waken me frae my sleep
When my true love was sae near?’

18 ‘I scraped wi my foot, master,
Till a’ my collars rang,
But still the mair that I did scrape,
Waken woud ye nane.’

19 ‘Where were ye, my berry-brown steed,
That I paid for sae dear,
That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep
When my love was sae near?’

20 ‘I patted wi my foot, master,
Till a’ my bridles rang,
But still the mair that I did patt,
Waken woud ye nane.’

21 ‘O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk,
That I paid for sae dear,
That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep
When ye sae my love near?’

22 ‘I flapped wi my wings, master,
Till a’ my bells they rang,
But still the mair that I did flap,
Waken woud ye nane.’

23 ‘O where were ye, my merry young men,
That I pay meat and fee,
Ye woudna waken me out o’ my sleep
When my love ye did see?’

24 ‘Ye’ll sleep mair on the night, master,
And wake mair on the day;
Gae sooner down to Broomfield Hills
When ye’ve sic pranks to play.

25 ‘If I had seen any armed men
Come riding over the hill-+-
But I saw but a fair lady
Come quietly you until.’

26 ‘O wae mat worth you, my young men,
That I pay meat and fee,
That ye woudna waken me frae sleep
When ye my love did see.

27 ‘O had I waked when she was nigh,
And o her got my will,
I shoudna cared upon the morn
Tho sma birds o her were fill.’

28 When she went out, right bitter wept,
But singing came she hame;
Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills,
And maid returnd again.

Version D

1 ‘IRR’rrLL wager, I’ll wager,’ says Lord John,
‘A hundred merks and ten,
That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields,
And a maid return again.’

2 ‘But I’ll lay a wager wi you, Lord John,
A’ your merks oure again,
That I’ll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields,
And a maid return again.’

3 Then Lord John mounted his grey steed,
And his hound wi his bells sae bricht,
And swiftly he rade to the bonny broomfields,
Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht.

4 ‘Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed,
My lady will soon be here,
And I’ll lay my head aneath this rose sae red,
And the bonnie burn sae near.’

5 But sound, sound was the sleep he took,
For he slept till it was noon,
And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away,
Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon.

6 She strawed the roses on the ground,
Threw her mantle on the brier,
And the belt around her middle sae jimp,
As a taiken that she’d been there.

7 The rustling leaves flew round his head,
And rousd him frae his dream;
He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green,
That his love had been there and was gane.

8 ‘O whare was ye, my gude grey steed,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?’

9 ‘I pautit wi my foot, master,
Garrd a’ my bridles ring,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.’

10 ‘Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?’

11 ‘I pautit wi my foot, master,
Garrd a’ my bells to ring,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.’

12 ‘But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?’

13 ‘O wyte na me, now, my master dear,
I garrd a’ my young hawks sing,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.’

14 ‘Then be it sae, my wager gane,
’Twill skaith frae meikle ill,
For gif I had found her in bonnie broomfields,
O her heart’s blude ye’d drunken your fill.’

Version E

1 ‘IRR’rrLL wager, I’ll wager wi you, fair maid,
Five hunder punds and ten,
That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower,
An a maid return back agen.’

2 ‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi you, kin’ sir,
Five hunder punds and ten,
That a maid I’ll gang to the bonnie green bower,
An a maid return again.’

3 But when she cam to the bonnie green bower,
Her true-love was fast asleep;
Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,
An his breath was wondrous sweet.

4 Sometimes she went to the crown o his head,
Sometimes to the soles o his feet,
Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,
An his breath was wondrous sweet.

5 She’s taen a ring frae her finger,
Laid it upon his breast-bane;
It was for a token that she had been there,
That she had been there, but was gane.

6 ‘Where was you, where was ye, my merry men a’,
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
When my true love was here?

7 ‘Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk,
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
Whan my true love was here?’

8 ‘Wi my wings I flaw, kin’ sir,
An wi my bill I sang,
But ye woudna waken out o yer sleep
Till your true love was gane.’

9 ‘Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed,
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
When my true love was here?’

10 ‘I stampit wi my fit, maister,
And made my bridle ring,
But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep,
Till your true love was gane.’

Version F

1 A NOBLE young squire that livd in the west,
He courted a young lady gay,
And as he was merry, he put forth a jest,
A wager with her he would lay.

2 ‘A wager with me?’ the young lady reply’d,
‘I pray, about what must it be?
If I like the humour you shan’t be deny’d;
I love to be merry and free.’

3 Quoth he, ‘I will lay you an hundred pounds,
A hundred pounds, aye, and ten,
That a maid if you go to the merry broomfield,
That a maid you return not again.’

4 ‘I’ll lay you that wager,’ the lady she said,
Then the money she flung down amain;
‘To the merry broomfield I’ll go a pure maid,
The same I’ll return home again.’

5 He coverd her bett in the midst of the hall
With an hundred and ten jolly pounds,
And then to his servant straightway he did call,
For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds.

6 A ready obedience the servant did yield,
And all was made ready oer night;
Next morning he went to the merry broomfield,
To meet with his love and delight.

7 Now when he came there, having waited a while,
Among the green broom down he lies;
The lady came to him, and coud not but smile,
For sleep then had closed his eyes.

8 Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur’d,
Down from her own finger so fair,
That when he awaked he might be assur’d
His lady and love had been there.

9 She left him a posie of pleasant perfume,
Then stept from the place where he lay;
Then hid herself close in the besom of the broom,
To hear what her true-love would say.

10 He wakend and found the gold ring on his hand,
Then sorrow of heart he was in:
‘My love has been here, I do well understand,
And this wager I now shall not win.

11 ‘O where was you, my goodly gawshawk,
The which I have purchasd so dear?
Why did you not waken me out of my sleep
When the lady, my lover, was here?’

12 ‘O with my bells did I ring, master,
And eke with my feet did I run;
And still did I cry, Pray awake, master,
She’s here now, and soon will be gone.’

13 ‘O where was you, my gallant greyhound,
Whose collar is flourishd with gold?
Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my sleep
When thou didst my lady behold?’

14 ‘Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when she came,
And likewise my coller I shook,
And told you that here was the beautiful dame,
But no notice of me then you took.’

15 ‘O where was thou, my serving-man,
Whom I have cloathed so fine?
If you had wak’d me when she was here,
The wager then had been mine.’

16 ‘In the night ye should have slept, master,
And kept awake in the day;
Had you not been sleeping when hither she came,
Then a maid she had not gone away.’

17 Then home he returnd, when the wager was lost,
With sorrow of heart, I may say;
The lady she laughd to find her love crost,-+-
This was upon midsummer-day.

18 ‘O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald,
And heard you when you did complain;
And thus I have been to the merry broomfield,
And a maid returnd back again.

19 ‘Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine,
For now ’tis as clear as the sun,
The money, the money, the money is mine,
The wager I fairly have won.’

44. The Two Magicians

1 THE lady stands in her bower door,
As straight as willow wand;
The blacksmith stood a little forebye,
Wi hammer in his hand.

2 ‘Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair,
Into your robes o red;
Before the morn at this same time,
I’ll gain your maidenhead.’

3 ‘Awa, awa, ye coal-black smith,
Woud ye do me the wrang
To think to gain my maidenhead,
That I hae kept sae lang!’

4 Then she has hadden up her hand,
And she sware by the mold,
‘I wudna be a blacksmith’s wife
For the full o a chest o gold.

5 ‘I’d rather I were dead and gone,
And my body laid in grave,
Ere a rusty stock o coal-black smith
My maidenhead shoud have.’

6 But he has hadden up his hand,
And he sware by the mass,
‘I’ll cause ye be my light leman
For the hauf o that and less.’

6 O bide, lady, bide,
And aye he bade her bide;
The rusty smith your leman shall be,
For a’ your muckle pride.

7 Then she became a turtle dow,
To fly up in the air,
And he became another dow,
And they flew pair and pair.

7 O bide, lady, bide, ’C..

8 She turnd hersell into an eel,
To swim into yon burn,
And he became a speckled trout,
To gie the eel a turn.

8 O bide, lady, bide, ’C..

9 Then she became a duck, a duck,
To puddle in a peel,
And he became a rose-kaimd drake,
To gie the duck a dreel.

9 O bide, lady, bide, ’C..

10 She turnd hersell into a hare,
To rin upon yon hill,
And he became a gude grey-hound,
And boldly he did fill.

10 O bide, lady, bide, ’C..

11 Then she became a gay grey mare,
And stood in yonder slack,
And he became a gilt saddle,
And sat upon her back.

11 Was she wae, he held her sae,
And still he bade her bide;
The rusty smith her leman was,
For a’ her muckle pride.

12 Then she became a het girdle,
And he became a cake,
And a’ the ways she turnd hersell,
The blacksmith was her make.

12 Was she wae, etc.

13 She turnd hersell into a ship,
To sail out ower the flood;
He ca’ed a nail intill her tail,
And syne the ship she stood.

13 Was she wae, etc.

14 Then she became a silken plaid,
And stretchd upon a bed,
And he became a green covering,
And gaind her maidenhead.

14 Was she wae, etc.

45. King John and the Bishop

Version A

1 OFF an ancient story Ile tell you anon,
Of a notable prince that was called King Iohn,
In England was borne, with maine and with might;
Hee did much wrong and mainteined litle right.

2 This noble prince was vexed in veretye,
For he was angry with the Bishopp of Canterbury;
Ffor his house-keeping and his good cheere,
Th rode post for him, as you shall heare.

3 They rode post for him verry hastilye;
The king sayd the bishopp kept a better house then hee:
A hundred men euen, as I [have heard] say,
The bishopp kept in his house euerye day,
And fifty gold chaines, without any doubt,
In veluett coates waited the bishopp about.

4 The bishopp, he came to the court anon,
Before his prince that was called King Iohn.
As soone as the bishopp the king did see,
‘O,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp, thow art welcome to mee.
There is noe man soe welcome to towne
As thou that workes treason against my crowne’

5 ‘My leege,’ quoth the bishopp, ‘I wold it were knowne
I spend, your grace, nothing but that that’s my owne;
I trust your grace will doe me noe deare
For spending my owne trew gotten geere.’

6 ‘Yes,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp, thou must needs dye,
Eccept thou can answere mee questions three;
Thy head shalbe smitten quite from thy bodye,
And all thy liuing remayne vnto mee.

7 ‘First,’ quoth the king, ’Tell me in this steade,
With this crowne of gold heere vpon my head,
Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
Lett me know within one pennye what I am worth.

8 ‘Secondlye, tell me without any dowbt
How soone I may goe the whole world about;
And thirdly, tell mee or euer I stinte,
What is the thing, bishopp, that I doe thinke.
Twenty dayes pardon thoust haue trulye,
And come againe and answere mee.’

9 The bishopp bade the king god night att a word;
He rode betwixt Cambridge and Oxenford,
But neuer a doctor there was soe wise
Cold shew him these questions or enterprise.

10 Wherewith the bishopp was nothing gladd,
But in his hart was heauy and sadd,
And hyed him home to a house in the countrye,
To ease some part of his melanchollye.

11 His halfe-brother dwelt there, was feirce and fell,
Noe better but a shepard to the bishoppe himsell;
The shepard came to the bishopp anon,
Saying, My Lord, you are welcome home!

12 ‘What ayles you,’ quoth the shepard, ’that you are soe sadd,
And had wonte to haue beene soe merry and gladd?’
‘Nothing,’ quoth the bishopp, ‘I ayle att this time;
Will not thee availe to know, brother mine.’

13 ‘Brother,’ quoth the shepeard, ’you haue heard itt,
That a foole may teach a wisemane witt;
Say me therfore whatsoeuer you will,
And if I doe you noe good, Ile doe you noe ill.’

14 Quoth the bishop: I haue beene att the court anon,
Before my prince is called King Iohn,
And there he hath charged mee
Against his crowne with traitorye.

15 If I cannott answer his misterye,
Three questions hee hath propounded to mee,
He will haue my land soe faire and free,
And alsoe the head from my bodye.

16 The first question was, to tell him in that stead,
With the crowne of gold vpon his head,
Amongst his nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
To lett him know within one penye what hee is worth.

17 And secondlye, to tell him with-out any doubt
How soone he may goe the whole world about;
And thirdlye, to tell him, or ere I stint,
What is the thinge that he does thinke.

18 ‘Brother,’ quoth the shepard, ’you are a man of learninge;
What neede you stand in doubt of soe small a thinge?
Lend me,’ quoth the shepard, ’your ministers apparrell,
Ile ryde to the court and answere your quarrell.

19 ‘Lend me your serving men, say me not nay,
With all your best horsses that ryd on the way;
Ile to the court, this matter to stay;
Ile speake with King Iohn and heare what heele say.’

20 The bishopp with speed prepared then
To sett forth the shepard with horsse and man;
The shepard was liuely without any doubt;
I wott a royall companye came to the court.

21 The shepard hee came to the court anon
Before [his] prince that was called King Iohn.
As soone as the king the shepard did see,
‘O,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp thou art welcome to me.’
The shepard was soe like the bishopp his brother,
The king cold not know the one from the other.

22 Quoth the king, Bishopp, thou art welcome to me
If thou can answer me my questions three.
Said the shepeard, If it please your grace,
Show mee what the first quest[i]on was.

23 ‘First,’ quoth the king, ’Tell mee in this stead,
With the crowne of gold vpon my head,
Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
Within one pennye what I am worth.’

24 Quoth the shepard, To make your grace noe offence,
I thinke you are worth nine and twenty pence;
For our Lord Iesus, that bought vs all,
For thirty pence was sold into thrall
Amongst the cursed Iewes, as I to you doe showe;
But I know Christ was one penye better then you.

25 Then the king laught, and swore by St Andrew
He was not thought to bee of such a small value.
‘Secondlye, tell mee with-out any doubt
How soone I may goe the world round about.’

26 Saies the shepard, It is noe time with your grace to scorne,
But rise betime with the sun in the morne,
And follow his course till his vprising,
And then you may know without any leasing.

27 And this [to] your grace shall proue the same,
You are come to the same place from whence you came;
[In] twenty-four houres, with-out any doubt,
Your grace may the world goe round about;
The world round about, euen as I doe say,
If with the sun you can goe the next way.

28 ‘And thirdlye tell me or euer I stint,
What is the thing, bishoppe, that I doe thinke.’
‘That shall I doe,’ quoth the shepeard; ’For veretye,
You thinke I am the bishopp of Canterburye.’

29 ‘Why, art not thou? the truth tell to me;
For I doe thinke soe,’ quoth the king, ’By St Marye.’
‘Not soe,’ quoth the shepeard; ’The truth shalbe knowne,
I am his poore shepeard; my brother is att home.’

30 ‘Why,’ quoth the king, ’if itt soe bee,
Ile make thee bishopp here to mee.’
‘Noe, Sir,’ quoth the shepard, ‘I pray you be still,
For Ile not bee bishop but against my will;
For I am not fitt for any such deede,
For I can neither write nor reede.’

31 ‘Why then,’ quoth the king, ‘Ile giue thee cleere
A pattent of three hundred pound a yeere;
That I will giue thee franke and free;
Take thee that, shepard, for coming to me.

32 ‘Free pardon Ile giue,’ the kings grace said,
‘To saue the bishopp, his land and his head;
With him nor thee Ile be nothing wrath;
Here is the pardon for him and thee both.’

33 Then the shepard he had noe more to say,
But tooke the pardon and rode his way:
When he came to the bishopps place,
The bishopp asket anon how all things was.

34 ‘Brother,’ quoth the shepard, ‘I haue well sped,
For I haue saued both your land and your head;
The king with you is nothing wrath,
For heere is the pardon for you and mee both.’

35 Then the bishopes hart was of a merry cheere:
‘Brother, thy paines Ile quitt them cleare;
For I will giue thee a patent to thee and to thine
Of fifty pound a yeere, land good and fine.’

36 . . . . . .
. . . .
‘I will to thee noe longer croche nor creepe,
Nor Ile serue thee noe more to keepe thy sheepe.’

37 Whereeuer wist you shepard before,
That had in his head witt such store
To pleasure a bishopp in such a like case,
To answer three questions to the kings grace?
Whereeuer wist you shepard gett cleare
Three hundred and fifty pound a yeere?

38 I neuer hard of his fellow before.
Nor I neuer shall: now I need to say noe more.
I neuer knew shepeard that gott such a liuinge
But David, the shepeard, that was a king.

Version B

1 IRR’rrLL tell you a story, a story anon,
Of a noble prince, and his name was King John;
For he was a prince, and a prince of great might,
He held up great wrongs, he put down great right.
Derry down, down hey, derry down

2 I’ll tell you a story, a story so merry,
Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury,
And of his house-keeping and high renown,
Which made him resort to fair London town.

3 ‘How now, father abbot? ’Tis told unto me
That thou keepest a far better house than I;
And for [thy] house-keeping and high renown,
I fear thou has treason against my crown.’

4 ‘I hope, my liege, that you owe me no grudge
For spending of my true-gotten goods:’
‘If thou dost not answer me questions three,
Thy head shall be taken from thy body.

5 ‘When I am set so high on my steed,
With my crown of gold upon my head,
Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth,
Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.

6 ‘And the next question you must not flout,
How long I shall be riding the world about;
And the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell to me truly what I do think.’

7 ‘O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
For I cannot answer your grace as yet;
But if you will give me but three days space,
I’ll do my endeavor to answer your grace.’

8 ‘O three days space I will thee give,
For that is the longest day thou hast to live.
And if thou dost not answer these questions right,
Thy head shall be taken from thy body quite.’

9 And as the shepherd was going to his fold,
He spy’d the old abbot come riding along:
‘How now, master abbot? You’r welcome home;
What news have you brought from good King John?’

10 ‘Sad news, sad news I have thee to give,
For I have but three days space for to live;
If I do not answer him questions three,
My head will be taken from my body.

11 ‘When he is set so high on his steed,
With his crown of gold upon his head,
Amongst all his nobility, with joy and much mirth,
I must tell him to one penny what he is worth.

12 ‘And the next question I must not flout,
How long he shall be riding the world about;
And the third question I must not shrink,
But tell him truly what he does think.’

13 ‘O master, did you never hear it yet,
That a fool may learn a wiseman wit?
Lend me but your horse and your apparel,
I’ll ride to fair London and answer the quarrel.’

14 ‘Now I am set so high on my steed,
With my crown of gold upon my head,
Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth,
Now tell me to one penny what I am worth.’

15 ‘For thirty pence our Saviour was sold,
Amongst the false Jews, as you have been told,
And nine and twenty’s the worth of thee,
For I think thou are one penny worser than he.’

16 ‘And the next question thou mayst not flout;
How long I shall be riding the world about.’
‘You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,
Until the next morning he rises again,
And then I am sure you will make no doubt
But in twenty-four hours you’l ride it about.’

17 ‘And the third question you must not shrink,
But tell me truly what I do think.’
‘All that I can do, and ’twill make you merry;
For you think I’m the Abbot of Canterbury,
But I’m his poor shepherd, as you may see,
And am come to beg pardon for he and for me.’

18 The king he turned him about and did smile,
Saying, Thou shalt be the abbot the other while:
‘O no, my grace, there is no such need,
For I can neither write nor read.’

19 ‘Then four pounds a week will I give unto thee
For this merry jest thou hast told unto me;
And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home,
Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.’

46. Captain Wedderburn's Courtship

Version A

1 THE laird of Bristoll’s daughter was in the woods walking,
And by came Captain Wetherbourn, a servant to the king;
And he said to his livery man, Wer’t not against the law,
I would tak her to mine ain bed, and lay her neist the wa.

2 ‘I’m into my father’s woods, amongst my father’s trees,
O kind sir, let mee walk alane, O kind sir, if you please;
The butler’s bell it will be rung, and I’ll be mist awa;
I’ll lye into mine ain bed, neither at stock nor wa.’

3 ‘O my bonny lady, the bed it’s not be mine,
For I’ll command my servants for to call it thine;
The hangings are silk satin, the sheets are holland sma,
And we’s baith lye in ae bed, but you’s lye neist the wa.

4 ‘And so, my bonny lady, -+-I do not know your name,-+-
But my name’s Captain Wetherburn, and I’m a man of fame;
Tho your father and a’ his men were here, I would na stand in awe
To tak you to mine ain bed, and lay you neist the wa.

5 ‘Oh my bonny, bonny lady, if you’ll gie me your hand,
You shall hae drums and trumpets to sound at your command;
Wi fifty men to guard you, sae weel their swords can dra,
And wee’s baith lye in ae bed, but you’s lye neist the wa.’

6 He’s mounted her upon a steid, behind his gentleman,
And he himself did walk afoot, to had his lady on,
With his hand about her midle sae jimp, for fear that she should fa;
She man lye in his bed, but she’ll not lye neist the wa.

7 He’s taen her into Edinburgh, his landlady cam ben:
‘And monny bonny ladys in Edinburgh hae I seen,
But the like of this fine creature my eyes they never sa;’
‘O dame bring ben a down-bed, for she’s lye neist the wa.’

8 ‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, a+end dinna trouble me,
Unless you get to my supper, and that is dishes three;
Dishes three to my supper, tho I eat nane at a’,
Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.

9 ‘You maun get to my supper a cherry but a stane,
And you man get to my supper a capon but a bane,
And you man get a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga,
Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll not lye neist the wa.’

10 ‘A cherry whan in blossom is a cherry but a stane;
A capon when he’s in the egg canna hae a bane;
The dow it is a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga;
And ye man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.’

11 ‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, a+end dinna me perplex,
Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions six;
Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa,
Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll not lye neist the wa.

12 ‘What is greener than the grass, what’s higher than the tree?
What’s war than a woman’s wiss, what’s deeper than the sea?
What bird sings first, and whereupon the dew down first does fa?
Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll lye neist the wa.’

13 ‘Virgus is greener than the grass, heaven’s higher than the tree;
The deil’s war than a woman’s wish, hell’s deeper than the sea;
The cock sings first, on the Sugar Loaf the dew down first does fa;
And ye man lye in my bed, betweest me and the wa.’

14 ‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, ‘I pray you give it oer,
Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions four;
Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa,
Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.

15 ‘You man get to me a plumb that does in winter grow;
And likewise a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro;
A sparrow’s horn, a priest unborn, this night to join us twa,
Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.’

16 ‘There is a plumb in my father’s yeard that does in winter grow;
Likewise he has a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro;
A sparrow’s horn, it may be found, there’s ane in every tae,
There’s ane upo the mouth of him, perhaps there may be twa.

17 ‘The priest is standing at the door, just ready to come in;
Nae man could sae that he was born, to lie it is a sin;
For a wild boar bored him mother’s side, he out of it did fa;
And you man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.’

18 Little kent Grizey Sinclair, that morning when she raise,
’Twas to be the hindermost of a’ her single days;
For now she’s Captain Wetherburn’s wife, a man she never saw,
And she man lye in his bed, but she’ll not lye neist the wa.

Version B

1 THE Lord of Rosslyn’s daughter gaed through the wud her lane,
And there she met Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the king.
He said unto his livery-man, Were’t na agen the law,
I wad tak her to my ain bed, and lay her at the wa.

2 ‘I’m walking here my lane,’ she says, ‘amang my father’s trees;
And ye may lat me walk my lane, kind sir, now gin ye please.
The supper-bell it will be rung, and I’ll be missd awa;
Sae I’ll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.’

3 He said, My pretty lady, I pray lend me your hand,
And ye’ll hae drums and trumpets always at your command;
And fifty men to guard ye wi, that weel their swords can draw;
Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’ll lie at the wa.

4 ‘Haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray let go my hand;
The supper-bell it will be rung, nae langer maun I stand.
My father he’ll na supper tak, gif I be missd awa;
Sae I’ll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.’

5 ‘O my name is Captain Wedderburn, my name I’ll neer deny,
And I command ten thousand men, upo yon mountains high.
Tho your father and his men were here, of them I’d stand na awe,
But should tak ye to my ain bed, and lay ye neist the wa.’

6 Then he lap aff his milk-white steed, and set the lady on,
And a’ the way he walkd on foot, he held her by the hand;
He held her by the middle jimp, for fear that she should fa;
Saying, I’ll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay thee at the wa.

7 He took her to his quartering-house, his landlady looked ben,
Saying, Monie a pretty ladie in Edinbruch I’ve seen;
But sic ’na pretty ladie is not into it a’:
Gae, mak for her a fine down-bed, and lay her at the wa.

8 ‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye lat me be,
For I’ll na lie in your bed till I get dishes three;
Dishes three maun be dressd for me, gif I should eat them a’,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.

9 ‘’Tis I maun hae to my supper a chicken without a bane;
And I maun hae to my supper a cherry without a stane;
And I maun hae to my supper a bird without a gaw,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’

10 ‘Whan the chicken’s in the shell, I am sure it has na bane;
And whan the cherry’s in the bloom, I wat it has na stane;
The dove she is a genty bird, she flees without a gaw;
Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’ll be at the wa.’

11 ‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye give me owre,
For I’ll na lie in your bed, till I get presents four;
Presents four ye maun gie me, and that is twa and twa,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.

12 ‘’Tis I maun hae some winter fruit that in December grew;
And I maun hae a silk mantil that waft gaed never through;
A sparrow’s horn, a priest unborn, this nicht to join us twa,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’

13 ‘My father has some winter fruit that in December grew;
My mither has a silk mantil the waft gaed never through;
A sparrow’s horn ye soon may find, there’s ane on evry claw,
And twa upo the gab o it, and ye shall get them a.

14 ‘The priest he stands without the yett, just ready to come in;
Nae man can say he eer was born, nae man without he sin;
He was haill cut frae his mither’s side, and frae the same let fa;
Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’se lie at the wa.’

15 ‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray don’t me perplex,
For I’ll na lie in your bed till ye answer questions six:
Questions six ye maun answer me, and that is four and twa,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.

16 ‘O what is greener than the gress, what’s higher than thae trees?
O what is worse than women’s wish, what’s deeper than the seas?
What bird craws first, what tree buds first, what first does on them fa?
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’

17 ‘Death is greener than the gress, heaven higher than thae trees;
The devil’s waur than women’s wish, hell’s deeper than the seas;
The cock craws first, the cedar buds first, dew first on them does fa;
Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’se lie at the wa.’

18 Little did this lady think, that morning whan she raise,
That this was for to be the last o a’ her maiden days.
But there’s na into the king’s realm to be found a blither twa,
And now she’s Mrs. Wedderburn, and she lies at the wa.

Version C

1 THE laird of Roslin’s daughter walked thro the wood her lane,
And by came Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the Queen;
He said unto his serving man, Wer’t not agaynst the law,
I would tak her to my ain house as lady o my ha.

2 He said, My pretty ladye, I pray give me your hand;
You shall have drums and trumpets always at your command;
With fifty men to guard you, that well their swords can draw,
And I’ll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay you next the wa.

3 ‘I’m walking in my feyther’s shaws:’ quo he, My charming maid,
I am much better than I look, so be you not afraid;
For I serve the queen of a’ Scotland, and a gentil dame is she;
So we’se be married ere the morn, gin ye can fancy me.

4 . . . . . .
. . . . .
‘The sparrow shall toot on his horn, gif naething us befa,
And I’ll mak you up a down-bed, and lay you next the wa.

5 ‘Now hold away from me, kind sir, I pray you let me be;
I wont be lady of your ha till you answer questions three;
Questions three you must answer me, and that is one and twa,
Before I gae to Woodland’s house, and be lady o your ha.

6 ‘You must get me to my supper a chicken without a bone;
You must get me to my supper a cherry without a stone;
You must get me to my supper a bird without a ga,
Before I go to Woodland’s house and be lady of your ha.’

7 ‘When the cherry is in the bloom, I’m sure it has no stone;
When the chicken’s in the shell, I’m sure it has nae bone;
The dove she is a gentil bird, and flies without a ga;
So I’ve answered you your questions three, and you’re lady of my ha.’

8 ‘Questions three you must answer me: What’s higher than the trees?
And what is worse than woman’s voice? What’s deeper than the seas?’
. . . . . .
. . . . .

9 He answered then so readily: Heaven’s higher than the trees;
The devil’s worse than woman’s voice; hell’s deeper than the seas;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

10 ‘One question still you must answer me, or you I laugh to scorn;
Go seek me out an English priest, of woman never born;’
. . . . . .
. . . . .

11 ‘Oh then,’ quo he, ’My young brother from mother’s side was torn,
And he’s a gentil English priest, of woman never born;’
. . . . . .
. . . . .

12 Little did his lady think, that morning when she raise,
It was to be the very last of all her mayden days;
. . . .
. . . . .

47. Proud Lady Margaret

Version A

1 RR’rrTWAS on a night, an evening bright,
When the dew began to fa,
Lady Margaret was walking up and down,
Looking oer her castle wa.

2 She looked east and she looked west,
To see what she could spy,
When a gallant knight came in her sight,
And to the gate drew nigh.

3 ‘You seem to be no gentleman,
You wear your boots so wide;
But you seem to be some cunning hunter,
You wear the horn so syde.’

4 ‘I am no cunning hunter,’ he said,
‘Nor neer intend to be;
But I am come to this castle
To seek the love of thee.
And if you do not grant me love,
This night for thee I’ll die.’

5 ‘If you should die for me, sir knight,
There’s few for you will meane;
For mony a better has died for me,
Whose graves are growing green.

6 [‘But ye maun read my riddle,’ she said,
‘And answer my questions three;
And but ye read them right,’ she said,
‘Gae stretch ye out and die.]

7 ‘Now what is the flower, the ae first flower,
Springs either on moor or dale?
And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird,
Sings on the evening gale?’

8 ‘The primrose is the ae first flower
Springs either on moor or dale,
And the thristlecock is the bonniest bird
Sings on the evening gale.’

9 [‘But what’s the little coin,’ she said,
‘Wald buy my castle bound?
And what’s the little boat,’ she said,
‘Can sail the world all round?’]

10 ‘O hey, how mony small pennies
Make thrice three thousand pound?
Or hey, how mony salt fishes
Swim a’ the salt sea round?’

11 ‘I think you maun be my match,’ she said,
‘My match and something mair;
You are the first eer got the grant
Of love frae my father’s heir.

12 ‘My father was lord of nine castles,
My mother lady of three;
My father was lord of nine castles,
And there’s nane to heir but me.

13 ‘And round about a’ thae castles
You may baith plow and saw,
And on the fifteenth day of May
The meadows they will maw.’

14 ‘O hald your tongue, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
‘For loud I hear you lie;
Your father was lord of nine castles,
Your mother was lady of three;
Your father was lord of nine castles,
But ye fa heir to but three.

15 ‘And round about a’ thae castles
You may baith plow and saw,
But on the fifteenth day of May
The meadows will not maw.

16 ‘I am your brother Willie,’ he said,
‘I trow ye ken na me;
I came to humble your haughty heart,
Has gard sae mony die.’

17 ‘If ye be my brother Willie,’ she said,
‘As I trow weel ye be,
This night I’ll neither eat nor drink,
But gae alang wi thee.’

18 ‘O hold your tongue, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
‘Again I hear you lie;
For ye’ve unwashen hands and ye’ve unwashen feet,
To gae to clay wi me.

19 ‘For the wee worms are my bedfellows,
And cauld clay is my sheets,
And when the stormy winds do blow,
My body lies and sleeps.’

Version B

1 THERE was a knight, in a summer’s night,
Appeard in a lady’s hall,
As she was walking up and down,
Looking oer her castle wall.

2 ‘God make you safe and free, fair maid,
God make you safe and free!’
‘O sae fa you, ye courteous knight,
What are your wills wi me?’

3 ‘My wills wi you are not sma, lady,
My wills wi you nae sma,
And since there’s nane your bower within,
Ye’se hae my secrets a’.

4 ‘For here am I a courtier,
A courtier come to thee,
And if ye winna grant your love,
All for your sake I’ll dee.’

5 ‘If that ye dee for me, sir knight,
Few for you will make meen;
For mony gude lord’s done the same,
Their graves are growing green.’

6 ‘O winna ye pity me, fair maid,
O winna ye pity me?
O winna ye pity a courteous knight,
Whose love is laid on thee?’

7 ‘Ye say ye are a courteous knight,
But I think ye are nane;
I think ye’re but a millar bred,
By the colour o your claithing.

8 ‘You seem to be some false young man,
You wear your hat sae wide;
You seem to be some false young man,
You wear your boots sae side.’

9 ‘Indeed I am a courteous knight,
And of great pedigree;
Nae knight did mair for a lady bright
Than I will do for thee.

10 ‘O I’ll put smiths in your smithy,
To shoe for you a steed,
And I’ll put tailors in your bower,
To make for you a weed.

11 ‘I will put cooks in your kitchen,
And butlers in your ha,
And on the tap o yourn father’s castle
I’ll big gude corn and saw.’

12 ‘If ye be a courteous knight,
As I trust not ye be,
Ye’ll answer some o the sma questions
That I will ask at thee.

13 ‘What is the fairest flower, tell me,
That grows in mire or dale?
Likewise, which is the sweetest bird
Sings next the nightingale?
Or what’s the finest thing,’ she says,
‘That king or queen can wile?’

14 ‘The primrose is the fairest flower
That grows in mire or dale;
The mavis is the sweetest bird
Next to the nightingale;
And yellow gowd’s the finest thing
That king or queen can wale.

15 ‘Ye hae asked many questions, lady,
I’ve you as many told;’
‘But how many pennies round
Make a hundred pounds in gold?

16 ‘How many of the small fishes
Do swim the salt seas round?
Or what’s the seemliest sight you’ll see
Into a May morning?’

17 ‘Berry-brown ale and a birken speal,
And wine in a horn green;
A milk-white lace in a fair maid’s dress
Looks gay in a May morning.’

18 ‘Mony’s the questions I’ve askd at thee,
And ye’ve answerd them a’;
Ye are mine, and I am thine,
Amo the sheets sae sma.

19 ‘You may be my match, kind sir,
You may be my match and more;
There neer was ane came sic a length
Wi my father’s heir before.

20 ‘My father’s lord o nine castles,
My mother she’s lady ower three,
And there is nane to heir them all,
No never a ane but me;
Unless it be Willie, my ae brother,
But he’s far ayont the sea.’

21 ‘If your father’s laird o nine castles,
Your mother lady ower three,
I am Willie your ae brother,
Was far beyond the sea.’

22 ‘If ye be Willie, my ae brother,
As I doubt sair ye be,
But if it’s true ye tell me now,
This night I’ll gang wi thee.’

23 ‘Ye’ve ower ill washen feet, Janet,
And ower ill washen hands,
And ower coarse robes on your body,
Alang wi me to gang.

24 ‘The worms they are my bed-fellows,
And the cauld clay my sheet,
And the higher that the wind does blaw,
The sounder I do sleep.

25 ‘My body’s buried in Dumfermline,
And far beyond the sea,
But day nor night nae rest coud get,
All for the pride o thee.

26 ‘Leave aff your pride, jelly Janet,’ he says,
‘Use it not ony mair;
Or when ye come where I hae been
You will repent it sair.

27 ‘Cast aff, cast aff, sister,’ he says,
‘The gowd lace frae your crown;
For if ye gang where I hae been,
Ye’ll wear it laigher down.

28 ‘When ye’re in the gude church set,
The gowd pins in your hair,
Ye take mair delight in your feckless dress
Than ye do in your morning prayer.

29 ‘And when ye walk in the church-yard,
And in your dress are seen,
There is nae lady that sees your face
But wishes your grave were green.

30 ‘You’re straight and tall, handsome withall,
But your pride owergoes your wit,
But if ye do not your ways refrain,
In Pirie’s chair ye’ll sit.

31 ‘In Pirie’s chair you’ll sit, I say,
The lowest seat o hell;
If ye do not amend your ways,
It’s there that ye must dwell.’

32 Wi that he vanishd frae her sight,
Wi the twinkling o an eye;
Naething mair the lady saw
But the gloomy clouds and sky.

Version C

1 ONCE there was a jolly hind squire
Appeard in a lady’s ha,
And aye she walked up and down,
Looking oer her castle wa.

2 ‘What is your wills wi me, kind sir?
What is your wills wi me?’
‘My wills are [not] sma wi thee, lady,
My wills are [not] sma wi thee.

3 ‘For here I stand a courtier,
And a courtier come to thee,
And if ye will not grant me your love,
For your sake I will die.’

4 ‘If you die for my sake,’ she says,
‘Few for you will make moan;
Many better’s died for my sake,
Their graves are growing green.

5 ‘You appear to be some false young man,
You wear your hat so wide;
You appear to be some false young man,
You wear your boots so side.

6 ‘An asking, asking, sir,’ she said,
‘An asking ye’ll grant me:’
‘Ask on, ask on, lady,’ he said,
‘What may your asking be?’

7 ‘What’s the first thing in flower,’ she said,
‘That springs in mire or dale?
What’s the next bird that sings,’ she says,
‘Unto the nightingale?
Or what is the finest thing,’ she says,
‘That king or queen can wile?’

8 ‘The primrose is the first in flower
That springs in mire or dale;
The thristle-throat is the next that sings
Unto the nightingale;
And yellow gold is the finest thing
That king or queen can wile.

9 ‘You have asked many questions, lady,
I’ve you as many told;’
‘But how many pennies round
Make a hundred pounds in gold?

10 ‘How many small fishes
Do swim the salt seas round?
Or what’s the seemliest sight you’ll see
Into a May morning?

11 ‘There’s ale into the birken scale,
Wine in the horn green;
There’s gold in the king’s banner
When he is fighting keen.’

12 ‘You may be my match, kind sir,’ she said,
‘You may be my match and more;
There neer was one came such a length
With my father’s heir before.

13 ‘My father’s lord of nine castles,
No body heir but me.’
‘Your father’s lord of nine castles,
Your mother’s lady of three;

14 ‘Your father’s heir of nine castles,
And you are heir to three;
For I am William, thy ae brother,
That died beyond the sea.’

15 ‘If ye be William, my ae brother,
This night, O well is me!
If ye be William, my ae brother,
This night I’ll go with thee.’

16 ‘For no, for no, jelly Janet,’ he says,
‘For no, that cannot be;
You’ve oer foul feet and ill washen hands
To be in my company.

17 ‘For the wee wee worms are my bedfellows,
And the cold clay is my sheet,
And the higher that the winds do blow,
The sounder I do sleep.

18 ‘Leave off your pride, jelly Janet,’ he says,
‘Use it not any more;
Or when you come where I have been
You will repent it sore.

19 ‘When you go in at yon church door,
The red gold on your hair,
More will look at your yellow locks
Than look on the Lord’s prayer.

20 ‘When you go in at yon church door,
The red gold on your crown;
When you come where I have been,
You’ll wear it laigher down.’

21 The jolly hind squire, he went away
In the twinkling of an eye,
Left the lady sorrowful behind,
With many bitter cry.

Version D

1 THERE cam a knicht to Archerdale,
His steed was winder sma,
An there he spied a lady bricht,
Luikin owre her castle wa.

2 ‘Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht,
Though on horseback ye do ride;
Ye seem to be some sutor’s son,
Your butes they are sae wide.’

3 ‘Ye dinna seem a lady gay,
Though ye be bound wi pride;
Else I’d gane bye your father’s gate
But either taunt or gibe.’

4 He turned aboot his hie horse head,
An awa he was boun to ride,
But neatly wi her mouth she spak:
Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.

5 ‘Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,
Tell me mair o your tale;
Tell me some o that wondrous lied
Ye’ve learnt in Archerdale.

6 ‘What gaes in a speal?’ she said,
‘What in a horn green?
An what gaes on a lady’s head,
Whan it is washen clean?’

7 ‘Ale gaes in a speal,’ he said,
‘Wine in a horn green;
An silk gaes on a lady’s head,
Whan it is washen clean.’

8 Aboot he turned his hie horse head,
An awa he was boun to ride,
When neatly wi her mouth she spak:
Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.

9 ‘Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,
Tell me mair o your tale;
Tell me some o that unco lied
You’ve learnt in Archerdale.

10 ‘Ye are as like my ae brither
As ever I did see;
But he’s been buried in yon kirkyaird
It’s mair than years is three.’

11 ‘I am as like your ae brither
As ever ye did see;
But I canna get peace into my grave,
A’ for the pride o thee.

12 ‘Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet,
Leave pride an vanitie;
If ye come the roads that I hae come,
Sair warned will ye be.

13 ‘Ye come in by yonder kirk
Wi the goud preens in your sleeve;
When you’re bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,
You’ll gie them a’ thier leave.

14 ‘Ye come in to yonder kirk
Wi the goud plaits in your hair;
When you’re bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,
You will them a’ forbear.’

15 He got her in her mither’s bour,
Puttin goud plaits in her hair;
He left her in her father’s gairden,
Mournin her sins sae sair.

Version E

1 FAIR MARGRET was a young ladye,
An come of high degree;
Fair Margret was a young ladye,
An proud as proud coud be.

2 Fair Margret was a rich ladye,
The king’s cousin was she;
Fair Margaret was a rich ladye,
An vain as vain coud be.

3 She war’d her wealth on the gay cleedin
That comes frae yont the sea,
She spent her time frae morning till night
Adorning her fair bodye.

4 Ae night she sate in her stately ha,
Kaimin her yellow hair,
When in there cum like a gentle knight,
An a white scarf he did wear.

5 ‘O what’s your will wi me, sir knight,
O what’s your will wi me?
You’re the likest to my ae brother
That ever I did see.

6 ‘You’re the likest to my ae brother
That ever I hae seen,
But he’s buried in Dunfermline kirk,
A month an mair bygane.’

7 ‘I’m the likest to your ae brother
That ever ye did see,
But I canna get rest into my grave,
A’ for the pride of thee.

8 ‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,
Leave pride an vanity;
Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,
Sair altered ye maun be.

9 ‘O ye come in at the kirk-door
Wi the gowd plaits in your hair;
But wud ye see what I hae seen,
Ye maun them a’ forbear.

10 ‘O ye come in at the kirk-door
Wi the gowd prins i your sleeve;
But wad ye see what I hae seen,
Ye maun gie them a’ their leave.

11 ‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,
Leave pride an vanity;
Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,
Sair altered ye maun be.’

12 He got her in her stately ha,
Kaimin her yellow hair,
He left her on her sick sick bed,
Sheding the saut saut tear.

48. Young Andrew

1 AS I was cast in my first sleepe,
A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew,
Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man,
Some men called him yonge Andrew.

2 The moone shone bright, and itt cast a fayre light,
Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, and my sweete!
For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere,
And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete.

3 Then he tooke her in his armes two,
And kissed her both cheeke and chin,
And twise or thrise he pleased this may
Before they tow did part in twinn.

4 Saies, Now, good sir, you haue had your will,
You can demand no more of mee;
Good sir, remember what you said before,
And goe to the church and marry mee.

5 ‘Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold;
. . . . .
Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold,
And I’le goe to the church and marry thee.

6 This ladye is gone to her fathers hall,
And well she knew where his red gold lay,
And counted forth five hundred pound,
Besides all other iuells and chaines:

7 was well counted vpon his knee;
And brought itt all to younge Andrew,
Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand,
And led her vp to an hill soe hye.

8 Shee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett,
(A pittyffull sight after yee shall see:)
‘Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,’ he sayes,
‘For noe foote further thoust gang with mee.’

9 But then shee put of her gowne of veluett,
With many a salt teare from her eye,
And in a kirtle of fine breaden silke
Shee stood beffore young Andrews eye.

10 Sais, O put off thy kirtle of silke,
Ffor some and all shall goe with mee;
And to my owne lady I must itt beare,
Who I must needs loue better then thee.

11 Then shee put of her kirtle of silke,
With many a salt teare still from her eye;
In a peticoate of scarlett redd
Shee stood before young Andrewes eye.

12 Saies, O put of thy peticoate,
For some and all of itt shall goe with mee;
And to my owne lady I will itt beare,
Which dwells soe farr in a strange countrye

13 But then shee put of her peticoate,
With many a salt teare still from her eye,
And in a smocke of braue white silke
She stood before young Andrews eye.

14 Saies, O put of thy smocke of silke,
For some and all shall goe with mee;
Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare,
That dwells soe farr in a strange countrye.

15 Sayes, O remember, young Andrew,
Once of a woman you were borne;
And for that birth that Marye bore,
I pray you let my smocke be vpon!

16 ‘Yes, fayre ladye, I know itt well,
Once of a woman I was borne;
Yett for noe birth that Mary bore,
Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.’

17 But then shee put of her head-geere fine;
Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound;
The hayre that was vpon this bony wench head
Couered her bodye downe to the ground.

18 Then he pulled forth a Scottish brand,
And held itt there in his owne right hand;
Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords point, ladye,
Or thow wilt goe naked home againe?

19 ‘Liffe is sweet,’ then, ’Sir,’ said shee,
‘Therfore I pray you leaue mee with mine;
Before I wold dye on your swords point,
I had rather goe naked home againe.

20 ‘My father,’ shee sayes, ’is a right good erle
As any remaines in his countrye;
If euer he doe your body take,
You’r sure to flower a gallow tree.

21 ‘And I haue seuen brethren,’ shee sayes,
‘And they are all hardy men and bold;
Giff euer th doe your body take,
You must neuer gang quicke ouer the mold.’

22 ‘If your father be a right good erle
As any remaines in his owne countrye,
Tush! he shall neuer by body take,
I’le gang soe fast ouer the sea.

23 ‘If you have seuen brethren,"] he sayes,
‘If they be neuer soe hardy or bold,
Tush! they shall neuer my body take,
I’le gang soe fast into the Scottish mold.’

24 Now this ladye is gone to her fathers hall,
When euery body their rest did take;
But the Erle which was her father
Lay waken for his deere daughters sake.

25 ‘But who is that,’ her father can say,
’That soe priuilye knowes the pinn?’
‘It’s Hellen, your owne deere daughter, father,
I pray you rise and lett me in.’

26 . . . . .
‘Noe, by my hood!’ quoth her father then,
‘My [house] thoust neuer come within,
Without I had my red gold againe.’

27 ‘Nay, your gold is gone, father!’ said shee,
. . . . .
‘Then naked thou came into this world,
And naked thou shalt returne againe.’

28 ‘Nay! God forgaue his death, father,’ shee sayes,
‘And soe I hope you will doe mee;’
‘Away, away, thou cursed woman,
I pray God an ill death thou may dye!’

29 Shee stood soe long quacking on the ground
Till her hart itt burst in three;
And then shee fell dead downe in a swoond,
And this was the end of this bonny ladye.

30 Ithe morning, when her father gott vpp,
A pittyffull sight there he might see;
His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,
The teares they trickeled fast from his eye.

31 . . . . . .
Sais, Fye of gold, and fye of fee!
For I sett soe much by my red gold
That now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!’

32 . . . . . .
But after this time he neere dought good day,
But as flowers doth fade in the frost,
Soe he did wast and weare away.

33 But let vs leaue talking of this ladye,
And talke some more of young Andrew;
Ffor false he was to this bonny ladye,
More pitty that he had not beene true.

34 He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,
Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales,
But there they cought him by such a braue wyle
That hee must come to tell noe more tales.

35 . . . . .
Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,
And shee came roaring like a beare,
And gaping like a feend of hell.

36 Soe they fought together like two lyons,
And fire betweene them two glashet out;
Th raught eche other such a great rappe,
That there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott.

37 But now young Andrew he is dead,
But he was neuer buryed vnder mold,
For ther as the wolfe devoured him,
There lyes all this great erles gold.

49. The Twa Brothers

Version A

1 THERE were twa brethren in the north,
They went to the school thegither;
The one unto the other said,
Will you try a warsle afore?

2 They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till Sir John fell to the ground,
And there was a knife in Sir Willie’s pouch,
Gied him a deadlie wound.

3 ‘Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon burn clear,
And wash the blood from off my wound,
And it will bleed nae mair.’

4 He took him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon burn clear,
And washd the blood from off his wound,
But aye it bled the mair.

5 ‘Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And lay my body there.’

6 He’s taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon kirk-yard,
And dug a grave baith deep and wide,
And laid his body there.

7 ‘But what will I say to my father dear,
Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’
‘Oh say that he’s to England gone,
To buy him a cask of wine.’

8 ‘And what will I say to my mother dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’
‘Oh say that he’s to England gone,
To buy her a new silk gown.’

9 ‘And what will I say to my sister dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’
‘Oh say that he’s to England gone,
To buy her a wedding ring.’

10 ‘But what will I say to her you loe dear,
Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?’
‘Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,
And home again will never come.’

Version B

1 THERE was two little boys going to the school,
And twa little boys they be,
They met three brothers playing at the ba,
And ladies dansing hey.

2 ‘It’s whether will ye play at the ba, brither,
Or else throw at the stone?’
‘I am too little, I am too young,
O brother let me alone.’

3 He pulled out a little penknife,
That was baith sharp and sma,
He gave his brother a deadly wound
That was deep, long and sair.

4 He took the holland sark off his back,
He tore it frae breast to gare,
He laid it to the bloody wound,
That still bled mair and mair.

5 ‘It’s take me on your back, brother,’ he says,
‘And carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And make me there a very fine grave,
That will be long and large.

6 ‘Lay my bible at my head,’ he says,
‘My chaunter at my feet,
My bow and arrows by my side,
And soundly I will sleep.

7 ‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
‘My father will ask for me;
You may tell him I am in Saussif town,
Learning my lesson free.

8 ‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
‘My mother will ask for me;
You may tell her I am in Sausaf town,
And I’ll come home merrily.

9 ‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
‘Lady Margaret will ask for me;
You may tell her I’m dead and in grave laid,
And buried in Sausaff toun.’

10 She put the small pipes to her mouth,
And she harped both far and near,
Till she harped the small birds off the briers,
And her true love out of the grave.

11 ‘What’s this? what’s this, lady Margaret?’ he says,
‘What’s this you want of me?’
‘One sweet kiss of your ruby lips,
That’s all I want of thee.’

12 ‘My lips they are so bitter,’ he says,
‘My breath it is so strong,
If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,
Your days will not be long.’

Version C

1 THERE were twa brithers at ae scule;
As they were coming hame,
Then said the ane until the other
‘John, will ye throw the stane?’

2 ‘I will not throw the stane, brither,
I will not play at the ba;
But gin ye come to yonder wood
I’ll warsle you a fa.’

3 The firsten fa young Johnie got,
It brought him to the ground;
The wee pen-knife in Willie’s pocket
Gied him a deadly wound.

4 ‘Tak aff, tak aff, my holland sark,
And rive it frae gore to gore,
And stap it in my bleeding wounds,
They’ll aiblins bleed noe more.’

5 He pouit aff his holland sark,
And rave it frae gore to gore,
And stapt it in his bleeding wounds,
But ay they bled the more.

6 ‘O brither, tak me on your back,
And bear me hence away,
And carry me to Chester kirk,
And lay me in the clay.’

7 ‘What will I say to your father,
This night when I return?’
‘Tell him I’m gane to Chester scule,
And tell him no to murn.’

8 ‘What will I say to your mother,
This nicht whan I gae hame?’
‘She wishd afore I cam awa
That I might neer gae hame.’

9 ‘What will I say to your true-love,
This nicht when I gae hame?’
‘Tell her I’m dead and in my grave,
For her dear sake alane.’

10 He took him upon his back
And bore him hence away,
And carried him to Chester kirk,
And laid him in the clay.

11 He laid him in the cauld cauld clay,
And he cuirt him wi a stane,
And he’s awa to his fathers ha,
Sae dowilie alane.

12 ‘You’re welcome, dear son,’ he said,
‘You’re welcome hame to me;
But what’s come o your brither John,
That gade awa wi thee?’

13 ‘Oh he’s awa to Chester scule,
A scholar he’ll return;
He bade me tell his father dear
About him no to murn.’

14 ‘You’re welcome hame, dear son,’ she said,
‘You’re welcome hame to me;
But what’s come o your brither John,
That gade awa wi thee?’

15 ‘He bade me tell his mother dear,
This nicht when I cam hame,
Ye wisht before he gade awa,
That he might neer return.’

16 Then next came up his true-love dear,
And heavy was her moan;
‘You’re welcome hame, dear Will,’ she said,
‘But whare’s your brither John?’

17 ‘O lady, cease your trouble now,
O cease your heavy moan;
He’s dead and in the cauld cauld clay,
For your dear sake alone.’

18 She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht,
She wept the sma brids frae the tree,
She wept the starns adoun frae the lift,
She wept the fish out o the sea.

19 ‘O cease your weeping, my ain true-love,
Ye but disturb my rest;’
‘Is that my ain true lover John,
The man that I loe best?’

20 ‘’Tis naething but my ghaist,’ he said,
‘That’s sent to comfort thee;
O cease your weeping, my true-love,
And ’twill gie peace to me.’

Version D

1 ‘O WILL ye gae to the school, brother?
Or will ye gae to the ba?
Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin,
To see whilk o’s maun fa?’

2 ‘It’s I winna gae to the school, brother,
Nor will I gae to the ba;
But I will gae to the wood a-warslin,
And it is you maun fa.’

3 They warstled up, they warstled down,
The lee-lang simmer’s day;
. . . . .
. . . .

4 ‘O lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to yon wall fair;
You’ll wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
And syne they’ll bleed nae mair.

5 ‘And ye’ll tak aff my hollin sark,
And riv’t frae gair to gair;
Ye’ll stap it in my bluidy wounds,
And syne they’ll bleed nae mair.’

6 He’s liftit his brother upon his back,
Taen him to yon wall fair;
He’s washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
But ay they bled mair and mair.

7 And he’s taen aff his hollin sark,
And riven’t frae gair to gair;
He’s stappit it in his bluidy wounds,
But ay they bled mair and mair.

8 ‘Ye’ll lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to Kirkland fair;
Ye’ll mak my greaf baith braid and lang,
And lay my body there.

9 Ye’ll lay my arrows at my head,
My bent bow at my feet,
My sword and buckler at my side,
As I was wont to sleep.

10 ‘Whan ye gae hame to your father,
He’ll speer for his son John:
Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.

11 ‘When ye gae hame to my sister,
She’ll speer for her brother John:
Ye’ll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon.

12 ‘Whan ye gae hame to my true-love,
She’ll speer for her lord John:
Ye’ll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
But hame ye fear he’ll never come.’

13 He’s gane hame to his father;
He speered for his son John:
‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.’

14 And whan he gaed hame to his sister,
She speered for her brother John:
‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon.’

15 And whan he gaed home to his true-love,
She speerd for her lord John:
‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair,
And hame I fear he’ll never come.’

16 ‘But whaten bluid’s that on your sword, Willie?
Sweet Willie, tell to me;’
‘O it is the bluid o my grey hounds,
They wadna rin for me.’

17 ‘It’s nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie,
Their bluid was never so red;
But it is the bluid o my true-love,
That ye hae slain indeed.’

18 That fair may wept, that fair may mournd,
That fair may mournd and pin’d:
‘When every lady looks for her love,
I neer need look for mine.’

19 ‘O whaten a death will ye die, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;’
‘Ye’ll put me in a bottomless boat,
And I’ll gae sail the sea.’

20 ‘Whan will ye come hame again, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;’
‘Whan the sun and moon dances on the green,
And that will never be.’

Version E

1 THERE were twa brothers at the scule,
And when they got awa,
‘It’s will ye play at the stane-chucking,
Or will ye play at the ba,
Or will ye gae up to yon hill head,
And there we’ll warsel a fa?’

2 ‘I winna play at the stane-chucking,
Nor will I play at the ba;
But I’ll gae up to yon bonnie green hill,
And there we’ll warsel a fa.’

3 They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till John fell to the ground;
A dirk fell out of William’s pouch,
And gave John a deadly wound.

4 ‘O lift me upon your back,
Take me to yon well fair,
And wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
And they’ll neer bleed nae mair.’

5 He’s lifted his brother upon his back,
Taen him to yon well fair;
He’s wash’d his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.

6 ‘Tak ye aff my holland sark,
And rive it gair by gair,
And row it in my bluidy wounds,
And they’ll neer bleed nae mair.’

7 He’s taken aff his holland sark,
And torn it gair by gair;
He’s rowit it in his bluidy wounds,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.

8 ‘Tak now aff my green cleiding,
And row me saftly in,
And tak me up to yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.’

9 He’s taken aff the green cleiding,
And rowed him saftly in;
He’s laid him down by yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.

10 ‘What will ye say to your father dear,
When ye gae hame at een?’
‘I’ll say ye’re lying at yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.’

11 ‘O no, O no, my brother dear,
O you must not say so;
But say that I’m gane to a foreign land,
Whare nae man does me know.’

12 When he sat in his father’s chair,
He grew baith pale and wan:
‘O what blude’s that upon your brow?
O dear son, tell to me;’
‘It is the blude of my gray steed,
He wadna ride wi me.’

13 ‘O thy steed’s blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude’s this upon your cheek?
O dear son, tell to me;’
‘It is the blude of my greyhound,
He wadna hunt for me.’

14 ‘O thy hound’s blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude’s this upon your hand?
O dear son, tell to me;’
‘It is the blude of my gay goss-hawk,
He wadna flee for me.’

15 ‘O thy hawk’s blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude’s this upon your dirk?
Dear Willie, tell to me;’
‘It is the blude of my ae brother,
O dule and wae is me!’

16 ‘O what will ye say to your father?
Dear Willie, tell to me;’
‘I’ll saddle my steed, and awa I’ll ride,
To dwell in some far countrie.’

17 ‘O when will ye come hame again?
Dear Willie, tell to me;’
‘When sun and mune leap on yon hill,
And that will never be.’

18 She turnd hersel right round about,
And her heart burst into three:
‘My ae best son is deid and gane,
And my tother ane I’ll neer see.’

Version F

1 THERE were twa brothers in the east,
Went to the school o Ayr;
The one unto the other did say,
Come let us wrestle here.

2 They wrestled up and wrestled down,
Till John fell to the ground;
There being a knife in Willie’s pocket,
Gae John his deadly wound.

3 ‘O is it for my gold, brother?
Or for my white monie?
Or is it for my lands sae braid,
That ye hae killed me?’

4 ‘It is not for your gold,’ he said,
‘Nor for your white monie;
It is by the hand o accident
That I hae killed thee.’

5 ‘Ye’ll take the shirt that’s on my back,
Rive it frae gair to gair,
And try to stop my bloody wounds,
For they bleed wonderous sair.’

6 He’s taen the shirt was on his back,
Reave it frae gare to gare,
And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,
But still they bled the mair.

7 ‘Ye’ll take me up upon your back,
Carry me to yon water clear,
And try to stop my bloody wounds,
For they run wonderous sair.’

8 He’s taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon water clear,
And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,
But still they bled the mair.

9 ‘Ye’ll take me up upon your back,
Carry me to yon church-yard;
Ye’ll dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And then ye’ll lay me there.

10 ‘Ye’ll put a head-stane at my head,
Another at my feet,
Likewise a sod on my breast-bane,
The souner I may sleep.

11 ‘Whenever my father asks of thee,
Saying, What’s become of John?
Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea,
For a cargo of good wine.

12 ‘And when my sweetheart asks of thee,
Saying, What’s become of John?
Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea,
To buy a wedding gown.

13 ‘And when my sister asks of thee,
Saying, William, where is John?
Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea,
To learn some merry sang.

14 ‘And when my mother asks of thee,
Saying, William, where is John?
Tell her I’m buried in green Fordland,
The grass growing ower my tomb.’

15 He’s taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon church-yard,
And dug a grave baith wide and deep,
And he was buried there.

16 He laid a head-stane at his head,
Another at his feet,
And laid a green sod on his breast,
The souner he might sleep.

17 His father asked when he came hame,
Saying, ‘William, where is John?’
Then John said, ‘He is ower the sea,
To bring you hame some wine.’

18 ‘What blood is this upon you, William,
And looks sae red on thee?’
‘It is the blood o my grey-hound,
He woudna run for me.’

19 ‘O that’s nae like your grey-hound’s blude,
William, that I do see;
I fear it is your own brother’s blood
That looks sae red on thee.’

20 ‘That is not my own brother’s blude,
Father, that ye do see;
It is the blood o my good grey steed,
He woudna carry me.’

21 ‘O that is nae your grey steed’s blude,
William, that I do see;
It is the blood o your brother John,
That looks sae red on thee.’

22 ‘It’s nae the blood o my brother John,
Father, that ye do see;
It is the blude o my good grey hawk,
Because he woudna flee.’

23 ‘O that is nae your grey hawk’s blood,
William, that I do see:’
‘Well, it’s the blude o my brother,
This country I maun flee.’

24 ‘O when will ye come back again,
My dear son, tell to me?’
‘When sun and moon gae three times round,
And this will never be.’

25 ‘Ohon, alas! now William, my son,
This is bad news to me;
Your brother’s death I’ll aye bewail,
And the absence o thee.’

Version G

1 AS John and William were coming home one day,
One Saturday afternoon,
Says John to William, Come and try a fight,
Or will you throw a stone?
Or will you come down to yonder, yonder town
Where the maids are all playing ball, ball, ball,
Where the maids are all playing ball?

2 Says William to John, I will not try a fight,
Nor will I throw a stone,
Nor will I come down to yonder town,
Where the maids are all playing ball.

3 So John took out of his pocket
A knife both long and sharp,
And stuck it through his brother’s heart,
And the blood came pouring down.

4 Says John to William, Take off thy shirt,
And tear it from gore to gore,
And wrap it round your bleeding heart,
And the blood will pour no more.’

5 So John took off his shirt,
And tore it from gore to gore,
And wrapped it round his bleeding heart,
And the blood came pouring more.

6 ‘What shall I tell your dear father,
When I go home to-night?’
‘You’ll tell him I’m dead and in my grave,
For the truth must be told.’

7 ‘What shall I tell your dear mother,
When I go home to-night?’
‘You’ll tell her I’m dead and in my grave,
For the truth must be told.’

8 ‘How came this blood upon your knife?
My son, come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of a rabbit I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.’

9 ‘The blood of a rabbit couldnt be so pure,
My son, come tell to me:’
‘It is the blood of a squirrel I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.’

10 ‘The blood of a squirrel couldnt be so pure,
My son, come tell to me:’
‘It is the blood of a brother I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.’

Version H

1 Two pretty boys lived in the North,
The went to the school so rare;
The one unto the other said,
We’ll try some battle of war.

2 The worselaid up, the worselaid down,
Till John lay on the ground;
A pen-knife out of William’s pocket
Gave John a deadly wound.

3 ‘O is it for my gold?’ he said,
‘Or for my rich monie?
Or is it for my land sa broad,
That you have killed me?’

4 ‘It’s neither for your gold,’ he said,
‘Or for your rich monie,
But it is for your land sa broad
That I have killed thee.’

5 ‘You’ll take [me] up upon your back,
Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;
You’ill houk a hole large and deep,
And lay my body there.

6 ‘You’ll put a good stone ou my head,
Another at me feet,
A good green turf upon my breast,
That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.

7 ‘And if my father chance to ask
What’s come of your brother John,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .

8 ‘What blood is this upon your coat?
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my grey hound,
It would not run for me.’

9 ‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my black horse,
It would not hunt for me.’

10 ‘The blood of your black horse was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my brother John,
Since better canna be.’

11 He put his foot upon a ship,
Saying, I am gane our the sea;
‘O when will you come back again,
I pray come tell to me.’

12 ‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,
That[’s] the day you’ll never see.’

50. The Bonny Hind

1 O MAY she comes, and may she goes,
Down by yon gardens green,
And there she spied a gallant squire
As squire had ever been.

2 And may she comes, and may she goes,
Down by yon hollin tree,
And there she spied a brisk young squire,
And a brisk young squire was he.

3 ‘Give me your green manteel, fair maid,
Give me your maidenhead;
Gif ye winna gie me your green manteel,
Gi me your maidenhead.’

4 He has taen her by the milk-white hand,
And softly laid her down,
And when he’s lifted her up again
Given her a silver kaim.

5 ‘Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir,
Perhaps there may be nane;
But if you be a courtier,
You’ll tell to me your name.’

6 ‘I am nae courtier, fair maid,
But new come frae the sea;
I am nae courtier, fair maid,
But when I court’ith thee.

7 ‘They call me Jack when I’m abroad,
Sometimes they call me John;
But when I’m in my father’s bower
Jock Randal is my name.’

8 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad,
Sae loud’s I hear ye lee!
Ffor I’m Lord Randal’s yae daughter,
He has nae mair nor me.’

9 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may,
Sae loud’s I hear ye lee!
For I’m Lord Randal’s yae yae son,
Just now come oer the sea.’

10 She’s putten her hand down by her spare,
And out she’s taen a knife,
And she has putn’t in her heart’s bluid,
And taen away her life.

11 And he’s taen up his bonny sister,
With the big tear in his een,
And he has buried his bonny sister
Amang the hollins green.

12 And syne he’s hyed him oer the dale,
His father dear to see:
‘Sing O and O for my bonny hind,
Beneath yon hollin tree!’

13 1 ‘What needs you care for your bonny hyn?
For it you needna care;
There’s aught score hyns in yonder park,
And five score hyns to spare.

14 ‘Four score of them are siller-shod,
Of thae ye may get three;’
‘But O and O for my bonny hyn,
Beneath yon hollin tree!’

15 ‘What needs you care for your bonny hyn?
For it you need na care;
Take you the best, gi me the warst,
Since plenty is to spare.’

16 ‘I care na for your hyns, my lord,
I care na for your fee;
But O and O for my bonny hyn,
Beneath the hollin tree!’

17 ‘O were ye at your sister’s bower,
Your sister fair to see,
Ye’ll think na mair o your bonny hyn
Beneath the hollin tree.’

51. Lizie Wan

Version A

1 LIZIE WAN sits at her father’s bower-door,
Weeping and making a mane,
And by there came her father dear:
‘What ails thee, Lizie Wan?’

2 ‘I ail, and I ail, dear father,’ she said,
‘And I’ll tell you a reason for why;
There is a child between my twa sides,
Between my dear billy and I.’

3 Now Lizie Wan sits at her father’s bower-door,
Sighing and making a mane,
And by there came her brother dear:
‘What ails thee, Lizie Wan?’

4 ‘I ail, I ail, dear brither,’ she said,
‘And I’ll tell you a reason for why;
There is a child bewteen my twa sides,
Between you, dear billy, and I.’

5 ‘And hast thou tald father and mother o that?
And hast thou tald sae o me?’
And he has drawn his gude braid sword,
That hung down by his knee.

6 And he has cutted aff Lizie Wan’s head,
And her fair body in three,
And he’s awa to his mothers bower,
And sair aghast was he.

7 ‘What ails thee, what ails thee, Geordy Wan?
What ails thee sae fast to rin?
For I see by thy ill colour
Some fallow’s deed thou hast done.’

8 ‘Some fallow’s deed I have done, mother,
And I pray you pardon me;
For I’ve cutted aff my greyhound’s head;
He wadna rin for me.’

9 ‘Thy greyhound’s bluid was never sae red,
O my son Geordy Wan!
For I see by thy ill colour
Some fallow’s deed thou hast done.’

10 ‘Some fallow’s deed I hae done, mother,
And I pray you pardon me;
For I hae cutted aff Lizie Wan’s head
And her fair body in three.’

11 ‘O what wilt thou do when thy father comes hame,
O my son Geordy Wan?’
‘I’ll set my foot in a bottomless boat,
And swim to the sea-ground.’

12 ‘And when will thou come hame again,
O my son Geordy Wan?’
‘The sun and the moon shall dance on the green
That night when I come hame.’

Version B

1 ROSIE she sat in her simmer bower,
Greitin and making grit mane,
When down by cam her father, saying,
What ails thee Rosie Ann?

2 ‘A deal, a deal, dear father,’ she said,
‘Great reason hae I to mane,
For there lyes a little babe in my side,
Between me and my brither John.’

3 Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
Weeping and making great mane,
And wha cam doun but her mither dear,
Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?

4 ‘A deal, a deal, dear mither,’ she said,
‘Great reason hae I to mane,
For there lyes a little babe in my side,
Between me and my brither John.’

5 Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
Greiting and making great mane,
And wha came doun but her sister dear,
Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?

6 ‘A deal, a deal, dear sister,’ she said,
‘Great reason hae I to mane,
For there lyes a little babe in my side,
Between me and my brither John.’

7 Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
Weeping and making great mane,
And wha cam doun but her fause, fause brither,
Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?

8 ‘A deal, a deal, dear brither,’ she said,
‘Great reason hae I to cry,
For there lyes a little babe in my side,
Between yoursell and I.’

9 ‘Weel ye hae tauld father, and ye hae tauld mither,
And ye hae tauld sister, a’ three;’
Syne he pulled out his wee penknife,
And he cut her fair bodie in three.

10 ‘O what blude is that on the point o your knife,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘It is my horse’s, that I did kill,
Dear mother and fair ladie.’

11 ‘The blude o your horse was neer sae red,
Dear son, come tell to me:’
‘It is my grandfather’s, that I hae killed,
Dear mother and fair ladie.’

12 ‘The blude o your grandfather was neer sae fresh,
Dear son, come tell to me:’
‘It is my sister’s, that I did kill,
Dear mother and fair ladie.’

13 ‘What will ye do when your father comes hame,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘I’ll set my foot on yon shipboard,
And I hope she’ll sail wi me.’

14 ‘What will ye do wi your bonny bonny young wife,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘I’ll set her foot on some other ship,
And I hope she’ll follow me.’

15 ‘And what will ye do wi your wee son,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘I’ll leave him wi you, my dear mother,
To keep in remembrance of me.’

16 ‘What will ye do wi your houses and lands,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘I’ll leave them wi you, my dear mother,
To keep my own babie.’

17 ‘And whan will you return again,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘When the sun and the mune meet on yon hill,
And I hope that’ll neer be.’

52. The King's Dochter Lady Jean

Version A

1 THE king’s young dochter was sitting in her window,
Sewing at her silken seam;
She lookt out o the bow-window,
And she saw the leaves growing green, my luve,
And she saw the leaves growing green.

2 She stuck her needle into her sleeve,
Her seam down by her tae,
And she is awa to the merrie green-wood,
To pu the nit and slae.

3 She hadna pu’t a nit at a’,
A nit but scarcely three,
Till out and spak a braw young man,
Saying, How daur ye bow the tree?

4 ‘It’s I will pu the nit,’ she said,
‘And I will bow the tree,
And I will come to the merrie green wud,
And na ax leive o thee.’

5 He took her by the middle sae sma,
And laid her on the gerss sae green,
And he has taen his will o her,
And he loot her up agen.

6 ‘Now syn ye hae got your will o me,
Pray tell to me your name;
For I am the king’s young dochter,’ she said,
‘And this nicht I daurna gang hame.’

7 ‘Gif ye be the king’s dochter,’ he said,
‘I am his auldest son;
I wish I had died on some frem isle,
And never had come hame!

8 ‘The first time I came hame, Jeanie,
Thou was na here nor born;
I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
And I had been forlorn!

9 ‘The neist time I came hame, Jeanie,
Thou was sittin on the nourice knee;
And I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
And I had never seen thee!

10 ‘And the neist time I came hame, Jeanie,
I met thee here alane;
I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
And I had neer come hame!’

11 She put her hand down by her side,
And doun into her spare,
And she pou’t out a wee pen-knife,
And she wounded hersell fu sair.

12 Hooly, hooly rase she up,
And hooly she gade hame,
Until she came to her father’s parlour,
And there she did sick and mane.

13 ‘O sister, sister, mak my bed,
O the clean sheets and strae,
O sister, sister, mak my bed,
Down in the parlour below.’

14 Her father he came tripping down the stair,
His steps they were fu slow;
‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ he said,
‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’

15 ‘O late yestreen, as I came hame,
Down by yon castil wa,
O heavy, heavy was the stane
That on my briest did fa!’

16 Her mother she came tripping doun the stair,
Her steps they were fu slow;
‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ she said,
‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’

17 ‘O late yestreen, as I cam hame,
Down by yon castil wa,
O heavy, heavy was the stane
That on my breast did fa!’

18 Her sister came tripping doun the stair,
Her steps they were fu slow;
‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ she said,
‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’
‘O late yestreen, as I cam hame,
Doun by yon castil wa,
O heavy, heavy was the stane
That on my breast did fa!’

19 Her brither he cam trippin doun the stair,
His steps they were fu slow;
He sank into his sister’s arms,
And they died as white as snaw.

Version B

1 LADY MARGARET sits in her bow-window,
Sewing her silken seam;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

2 She’s drapt the thimble at her tae,
And her scissars at her heel,
And she’s awa to the merry green-wood,
To see the leaves grow green.

3 She had scarsely bowed a branch,
Or plucked a nut frae the tree,
Till up and starts a fair young man,
And a fair young man was he.

4 ‘How dare ye shake the leaves?’ he said,
‘How dare ye break the tree?
How dare ye pluck the nuts,’ he said,
‘Without the leave of me?’

5 . . . . . .
. . . . .
‘Oh I know the merry green wood’s my ain,
And I’ll ask the leave of nane.’

6 He gript her by the middle sae sma,
He gently sat her down,
While the grass grew up on every side,
And the apple trees hang down.

7 She says, Young man, what is your name?
For ye’ve brought me to meikle shame;
For I am the king’s youngest daughter,
And how shall I gae hame?

8 ‘If you’re the king’s youngest daughter,
It’s I’m his auldest son,
And heavy heavy is the deed, sister,
That you and I have done.’

9 He had a penknife in his hand,
Hang low down by his gair,
And between the long rib and the short one
He woundit her deep and sair.

10 . . . . . .
. . . . .
And fast and fast her ruddy bright blood
Fell drapping on the ground.

11 She took the glove off her right hand,
And slowly slipt it in the wound,
And slowly has she risen up,
And slowly slipped home.

12 ‘O sister dear, when thou gaes hame
Unto thy father’s ha,
It’s make my bed baith braid and lang,
Wi the sheets as white as snaw.’

13 ‘When I came by the high church-yard
Heavy was the stain that bruised my heel,
. . . . . . . that bruised my heart,
I’m afraid it shall neer heal.’

Version C

1 AS Annie sat into her bower,
A thought came in her head,
That she would gang to gude greenwood,
Across the flowery mead.

2 She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower,
Nor broken a branch but twa,
Till by it came a gentle squire,
Says, Lady, come awa.

3 There’s nane that comes to gude greenwood
But pays to me a tein,
And I maun hae your maidenhead,
Or than your mantle green.

4 ‘My mantle’s o the finest silk,
Anither I can spin;
But gin you take my maidenhead,
The like I’ll never fin.’

5 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
There laid her low in gude greenwood,
And at her spierd nae leave.

6 When he had got his wills o her,
His wills as he had taen,
She said, If you rightly knew my birth,
Ye’d better letten alane.

7 ‘Is your father a lord o might?
Or baron o high degree?
Or what race are ye sprung frae,
That I should lat ye be?’

8 ‘O I am Castle Ha’s daughter,
O birth and high degree,
And if he knows what ye hae done,
He’ll hang you on a tree.’

9 ‘If ye be Castle Ha’s daughter,
This day I am undone;
If ye be Castle Ha’s daughter,
I am his only son.’

10 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jelly hind squire,
Sae loud as I hear you lie,
Castle Ha, he has but ae dear son,
And he is far beyond the sea.’

11 ‘O I am Castle Ha’s dear son,
A word I dinna lie;
Yes, I am Castle Ha’s dear son,
And new come oer the sea.

12 ‘’Twas yesterday, that fatal day,
That I did cross the faem;
I wish my bonny ship had sunk,
And I had neer come hame.’

13 Then dowie, dowie, raise she up,
And dowie came she hame,
And stripped aff her silk mantle,
And then to bed she’s gane.

14 Then in it came her mother dear,
And she steps in the fleer:
‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
What makes your lying here?’

15 ‘This morning fair, as I went out,
Near by yon castle wa,
Great and heavy was the stane
That on my foot did fa.’

16 ‘Hae I nae ha’s, hae I nae bowers,
Towers, or mony a town?
Will not these cure your bonny foot,
Gar you gae hale and soun?’

17 ‘Ye hae ha’s, and ye hae bowers,
And towers, and mony a town,
But nought will cure my bonny foot,
Gar me gang hale and soun.’

18 Then in it came her father dear,
And he trips in the fleer:
‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
What makes your lying here?’

19 ‘This morning fair, as I went out,
Near by yon castle wa,
Great and heavy was the stane
That on my foot did fa.’

20 ‘Hae I nae ha’s, hae I nae bowers,
And towers, and mony a town?
Will not these cure your bonny foot,
Gar you gang hale and soun?’

21 ‘O ye hae ha’s, and ye hae bowers,
And towers, and mony a town,
But nought will cure my bonny foot,
Gar me gang hale and soun.’

22 Then in it came her sister Grace;
As she steps in the fleer,
‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
What makes your lying here?

23 ‘Win up, and see your ae brother,
That’s new come ower the sea;’
‘Ohon, alas!’ says fair Annie,
‘He spake ower soon wi me.’

24 To her room her brother’s gane,
Stroked back her yellow hair,
To her lips his ain did press,
But words spake never mair.

Version D

1 THE lady’s taen her mantle her middle about,
Into the woods she’s gane,
. . . . . .
. . . . .

2 She hadna poud a flower o gude green-wood,
O never a flower but ane,
Till by he comes, an by he gangs,
Says, Lady, lat alane.

3 For I am forester o this wood,
And I hae power to pine
Your mantle or your maidenhead,
Which o the twa ye’ll twine.

4 ‘My mantle is o gude green silk,
Another I can card an spin;
But gin ye tak my maidenhead,
The like I’ll never fin.’

5 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her low at the foot o a tree,
At her high kin spierd nae leave.

6 ‘I am bold Burnet’s ae daughter,
You might hae lat me be:’
‘And I’m bold Burnet’s ae dear son,
Then dear! how can this dee?’

7 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jolly hind squire,
So loud’s I hear you lie!
Bold Burnet has but ae dear son,
He’s sailing on the sea.’

8 ‘Yesterday, about this same time,
My bonny ship came to land;
I wish she’d sunken in the sea,
And never seen the strand!

9 ‘Heal well this deed on me, lady,
Heal well this deed on me!’
‘Although I would heal it neer sae well,
Our God above does see.’

10 She’s taen her mantle her middle about,
And mourning went she hame,
And a’ the way she sighd full sair,
Crying, Am I to blame!

11 Ben it came her father dear,
Stout stepping on the flear:
‘Win up, win up, my daughter Janet,
And welcome your brother here.’

12 Up she’s taen her milk-white hand,
Streakd by his yellow hair,
Then turnd about her bonny face,
And word spake never mair.

53. Young Beichan

Version A

1 IN London city was Bicham born,
He longd strange countries for to see,
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handld him right cruely.

2 For thro his shoulder he put a bore,
An thro the bore has pitten a tree,
An he’s gard him draw the carts o wine,
Where horse and oxen had wont to be.

3 He’s casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
Where he coud neither hear nor see;
He’s shut him up in a prison strong,
An he’s handld him right cruely.

4 O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
I wot her name was Shusy Pye;
She’s doen her to the prison-house,
And she’s calld Young Bicham one word by.

5 ‘O hae ye ony lands or rents,
Or citys in your ain country,
Coud free you out of prison strong,
An coud mantain a lady free?’

6 ‘O London city is my own,
An other citys twa or three,
Coud loose me out o prison strong,
An coud mantain a lady free.’

7 O she has bribed her father’s men
Wi meikle goud and white money,
She’s gotten the key o the prison doors,
An she has set Young Bicham free.

8 She’s gi’n him a loaf o good white bread,
But an a flask o Spanish wine,
An she bad him mind on the ladie’s love
That sae kindly freed him out o pine.

9 ‘Go set your foot on good ship-board,
An haste you back to your ain country,
An before that seven years has an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me.’

10 It was long or seven years had an end
She longd fu sair her love to see;
She’s set her foot on good ship-board,
An turnd her back on her ain country.

11 She’s saild up, so has she doun,
Till she came to the other side;
She’s landed at Young Bicham’s gates,
An I hop this day she sal be his bride.

12 ‘Is this Young Bicham’s gates?’ says she,
‘Or is that noble prince within?’
‘He’s up the stairs wi his bonny bride,
An monny a lord and lady wi him.’

13 ‘O has he taen a bonny bride,
An has he clean forgotten me!’
An sighing said that gay lady,
I wish I were in my ain country!

14 But she’s pitten her han in her pocket,
An gin the porter guineas three;
Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,
An bid the bridegroom speak to me.

15 O whan the porter came up the stair,
He’s fa’n low down upon his knee:
‘Won up, won up, ye proud porter,
An what makes a’ this courtesy?’

16 I’ve been porter at your gates
This mair nor seven years an three,
But there is a lady at them now
The like of whom I never did see.

17 ‘For on every finger she has a ring,
An on the mid-finger she has three,
An there’s as meikle goud aboon her brow
As woud buy an earldome o lan to me.’

18 Then up it started Young Bicham,
An sware so loud by Our Lady,
‘It can be nane but Shusy Pye,
That has come oer the sea to me.’

19 O quickly ran he down the stair,
O fifteen steps he has made but three;
He’s tane his bonny love in his arms,
An a wot he kissd her tenderly.

20 ‘O hae you tane a bonny bride?
An hae you quite forsaken me?
An hae ye quite forgotten her
That gae you life an liberty?’

21 She’s lookit oer her left shoulder
To hide the tears stood in her ee;
‘Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,’ she says,
‘I’ll strive to think nae mair on thee.’

22 ‘Take back your daughter, madam,’ he says,
‘An a double dowry I’ll gi her wi;
For I maun marry my first true love,
That’s done and suffered so much for me.’

23 He’s take his bonny love by the han,
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He’s changd her name frae Shusy Pye,
An he’s cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

Version B

1 IN England was Young Brechin born,
Of parents of a high degree;
The selld him to the savage Moor,
Where they abused him maist cruellie.

2 Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore,
And thro evry bore they pat a tree;
They made him draw the carts o wine,
Which horse and owsn were wont to drie.

3 The pat him into prison strong,
Where he could neither hear nor see;
They pat him in a dark dungeon,
Where he was sick and like to die.

4 ‘Is there neer an auld wife in this town
That’ll borrow me to be her son?
Is there neer a young maid in this town
Will take me for her chiefest one?’

5 A Savoyen has an only daughter,
I wat she’s called Young Brichen by;
‘O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen?’ she says,
‘Or who is’t that does on me cry?

6 ‘O hast thou any house or lands,
Or hast thou any castles free,
That thou wadst gi to a lady fair
That out o prison wad bring thee?’

7 ‘O lady, Lundin it is mine,
And other castles twa or three;
These I wad gie to a lady fair
That out of prison wad set me free.’

8 She’s taen him by the milk-white hand,
And led him to a towr sae hie,
She’s made him drink the wine sae reid,
And sung to him like a mavosie.

9 O these two luvers made a bond,
For seven years, and that is lang,
That he was to marry no other wife,
And she’s to marry no other man.

10 n seven years were past and gane,
This young lady began to lang,
And she’s awa to Lundin gane,
To see if Brechin’s got safe to land.

11 When she came to Young Brechin’s yett,
She chappit gently at the gin;
‘Is this Young Brechin’s yett?’ she says,
‘Or is this lusty lord within?’
‘O yes, this is Lord Brechin’s yett,
And I wat this be his bridal een.’

12 She’s put her hand in her pocket,
And thrawin the porter guineas three;
‘Gang up the stair, young man,’ she says,
‘And bid your master come down to me.

13 ‘Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread,
And a bottle o his ae best wine,
And neer forget that lady fair
That did him out o prison bring.’

14 The porter tripped up the stair,
And fell low down upon his knee:
‘Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter,
What mean you by this courtesie?’

15 ‘O I hae been porter at your yett
This thirty years and a’ but three;
There stands the fairest lady thereat
That ever my twa een did see.

16 ‘On evry finger she has a ring,
On her mid-finger she has three;
She’s as much gold on her horse’s neck
As wad by a earldom o land to me.

17 ‘She bids you send o your ae best bread,
And a bottle o your ae best wine,
And neer forget the lady fair
That out o prison did you bring.’

18 He’s taen the table wi his foot,
And made the cups and cans to flee:
‘I’ll wager a’ the lands I hae
That Susan Pye’s come oer the sea.’

19 Then up and spak the bride’s mother:
‘And O an ill deid may ye die!
If ye didna except the bonny bride,
Ye might hae ay excepted me.’

20 ‘O ye are fair, and fair, madam,
And ay the fairer may ye be!
But the fairest day that eer ye saw,
Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.’

21 O when these lovers two did meet,
The tear it blinded baith their ee;
‘Gie me my faith and troth,’ she says,
‘For now fain hame wad I be.’

22 ‘Tak hame your daughter, madam,’ he says,
‘She’s neer a bit the war o me;
Except a kiss o her bonny lips,
Of her body I am free;
She came to me on a single horse,
Now I’ll send her hame in chariots three.’

23 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And he’s led her to a yard o stane;
He’s changed her name frae Susan Pye,
And calld her lusty Lady Jane.

Version C

1 YOUNG Bekie was as brave a knight
As ever saild the sea;
An he’s doen him to the court of France,
To serve for meat and fee.

2 He had nae been i the court of France
A twelvemonth nor sae long,
Til he fell in love with the king’s daughter,
An was thrown in prison strong.

3 The king he had but ae daughter,
Burd Isbel was her name;
An she has to the prison-house gane,
To hear the prisoner’s mane.

4 ‘O gin a lady woud borrow me,
At her stirrup-foot I wood rin;
Or gin a widow wad borrow me,
I woud swear to be her son.

5 ‘Or gin a virgin woud borrow me,
I woud wed her wi a ring;
I’d gi her ha’s, I’d gie her bowers,
The bonny towrs o Linne.’

6 O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but,
An barefoot came she ben;
It was no for want o hose an shoone,
Nor time to put them on.

7 But a’ for fear that her father dear
Had heard her making din:
She’s stown the keys o the prison-house dor
An latten the prisoner gang.

8 O whan she saw him, Young Bekie,
Her heart was wondrous sair!
For the mice but an the bold rottons
Had eaten his yallow hair.

9 She’s gien him a shaver for his beard,
A comber till his hair,
Five hunder pound in his pocket,
To spen, an nae to spair.

10 She’s gien him a steed was good in need,
An a saddle o royal bone,
A leash o hounds o ae litter,
An Hector called one.

11 Atween this twa a vow was made,
’Twas made full solemnly,
That or three years was come an gane,
Well married they should be.

12 He had nae been in’s ain country
A twelvemonth till an end,
Till he’s forcd to marry a duke’s daughter,
Or than lose a’ his land.

13 ‘Ohon, alas!’ says Young Beckie,
‘I know not what to dee;
For I canno win to Burd Isbel,
And she kensnae to come to me.’

14 O it fell once upon a day
Burd Isbel fell asleep,
An up it starts the Belly Blin,
An stood at her bed-feet.

15 ‘O waken, waken, Burd Isbel,
How [can] you sleep so soun,
Whan this is Bekie’s wedding day,
An the marriage gain on?

16 ‘Ye do ye to your mither’s bowr,
Think neither sin nor shame;
An ye tak twa o your mither’s marys,
To keep ye frae thinking lang.

17 ‘Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet,
An your marys in dainty green,
An ye pit girdles about your middles
Woud buy an earldome.

18 ‘O ye gang down by yon sea-side,
An down by yon sea-stran;
Sae bonny will the Hollans boats
Come rowin till your han.

19 ‘Ye set your milk-white foot abord,
Cry, Hail ye, Domine!
An I shal be the steerer o’t,
To row you oer the sea.’

20 She’s tane her till her mither’s bowr,
Thought neither sin nor shame,
An she took twa o her mither’s marys,
To keep her frae thinking lang.

21 She dressd hersel i the red scarlet,
Her marys i dainty green,
And they pat girdles about their middles
Woud buy an earldome.

22 An they gid down by yon sea-side,
An down by yon sea-stran;
Sae bonny did the Hollan boats
Come rowin to their han.

23 She set her milk-white foot on board,
Cried, Hail ye, Domine!
An the Belly Blin was the steerer o’t,
To row her oer the sea.

24 Whan she came to Young Bekie’s gate,
She heard the music play;
Sae well she kent frae a’ she heard,
It was his wedding day.

25 She’s pitten her han in her pocket,
Gin the porter guineas three;
‘Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter,
Bid the bride-groom speake to me.’

26 O whan that he cam up the stair,
He fell low down on his knee:
He haild the king, an he haild the queen,
An he haild him, Young Bekie.

27 ‘O I’ve been porter at your gates
This thirty years an three;
But there’s three ladies at them now,
Their like I never did see.

28 ‘There’s ane o them dressd in red scarlet,
And twa in dainty green,
An they hae girdles about their middles
Woud buy an earldome.’

29 Then out it spake the bierly bride,
Was a’ goud to the chin;
‘Gin she be braw without,’ she says,
‘We’s be as braw within.’

30 Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,
An the tears was in his ee:
‘I’ll lay my life it’s Burd Isbel,
Come oer the sea to me.’

31 O quickly ran he down the stair,
An whan he saw ’twas shee,
He kindly took her in his arms,
And kissd her tenderly.

32 ‘O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie,
The vow ye made to me,
Whan I took you out o the prison strong,
Whan ye was condemnd to die?

33 ‘I gae you a steed was good in need,
An a saddle o royal bone,
A leash o hounds o ae litter,
An Hector called one.’

34 It was well kent what the lady said,
That it wasnae a lee,
For at ilka word the lady spake,
The hound fell at her knee.

35 ‘Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,
A blessing gae her wi,
For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,
That’s come oer the sea to me.’

36 ‘Is this the custom o your house,
Or the fashion o your lan,
To marry a maid in a May mornin,
An send her back at even?’

Version D

1 YOUNG BEACHEN was born in fair London,
And foreign lands he langed to see;
He was taen by the savage Moor,
An the used him most cruellie.

2 Through his showlder they pat a bore,
And through the bore the pat a tree;
They made him trail their ousen carts,
And they used him most cruellie.

3 The savage Moor had ae daughter,
I wat her name was Susan Pay;
And she is to the prison house,
To hear the prisoner’s moan.

4 He made na his moan to a stocke,
He made na it to a stone,
Bit it was to the Queen of Heaven
That he made his moan.

5 ‘Gin a lady wad borrow me,
I at her foot wad run;
An a widdow wad borrow me,
I wad become her son.

6 ‘But an a maid wad borrow me,
I wad wed her wi a ring;
I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,
An of the high towers of Line.’

7 ‘Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,’ she says,
‘Sing oer yer sang to me;’
‘I never sang that sang, lady,
But I wad sing to thee.

8 ‘Gin a lady wad borrow me,
I at her foot wad run;
An a widdow wad borrow me,
I wad become her son.

9 ‘But an a maid wad borrow me,
I wad wed her wi a ring;
I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,
An of the high towers of Line.’

10 Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but,
An saftlly gaed she ben,
It was na for want of hose nor shoon,
Nor time to pet them on.

11 . . . . .
. . . . .
An she has staen the keys of the prison,
An latten Young Beachen gang.

12 She gae him a leaf of her white bread,
An a bottle of her wine,
She bad him mind on the lady’s love
That freed him out of pine.

13 She gae him a steed was guid in need,
A saddle of the bane,
Five hundred pown in his pocket,
Bad him gae speeding hame.

14 An a leash of guid grayhounds,
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .

15 Whan seven lang years were come and gane,
Shusie Pay thought lang,
An she is on to fair London,
As fast as she could gang.

16 Whan she cam to Young Beachen’s gate,
. . . . .
‘Is Young Beachan at hame,
Or is he in this countrie?’

17 ‘He is at hame, is hear,’ they said,
. . . . .
An sighan says her Susie Pay,
Has he quite forgotten me?

18 On every finger she had a ring,
On the middle finger three;
She gae the porter ane of them:
‘Get a word o your lord to me.’

19 He gaed up the stair,
Fell low down on his knee:
‘Win up, my proud porter,
What is your will wi me?’

20 ‘I hae been porter at yer gate
This thirty year and three;
The fairst lady is at yer gate
Mine eyes did ever see.’

21 Out spak the bride’s mither,
An a haghty woman was she:
‘If ye had na eccepted the bonny bride,
Ye might well ha eccepted me.’

22 ‘No disparagement to you, madam,
Nor none unto her Grace;
The sole of yonr lady’s foot
Is fairer than her face.’

23 He’s gaen the table wi his foot,
And couped it wi his knee:
‘I wad my head and a’ my land
’Tis Susie Pay, come oer the sea.’

24 The stair was thirty steps,
I wat he made them three;
He took her in his arms twa:
‘Susie Pay, ye’r welcome to me.’

25 ‘Gie me a shive of your white bread,
An a bottle of your wine;
Dinna ye mind on the lady’s love
That freed ye out of pine?’

26 He took her . . . .
Down to yon garden green,
An changed her name fra Susie Pay,
An called her bonny Lady Jean.

27 ‘Yer daughter came here on high horse-back,
She sal gae hame in coaches three,
An I sall double her tocher our,
She’s nane the war o me.’

28 ‘It’s na the fashion o our countrie,
Nor yet o yer nane,
To wed a maid in the morning,
An send her hame at een.’

29 ‘It’s na the fashion o my countrie,
Nor is it of my nane,
But I man mind on the lady’s love
That freed me out of pine.’

Version E

1 IN London was Young Beichan born,
He longed strange countries for to see,
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handled him right cruellie.

2 For he viewed the fashions of that land,
Their way of worship viewed he,
But to Mahound or Termagant
Would Beichan never bend a knee.

3 So in every shoulder they’ve putten a bore,
In every bore they’ve putten a tree,
And they have made him trail the wine
And spices on his fair bodie.

4 They’ve casten him in a dungeon deep,
Where he could neither hear nor see,
For seven years they kept him there,
Till he for hunger’s like to die.

5 This Moor he had but ae daughter,
Her name was called Susie Pye,
And every day as she took the air,
Near Beichan’s prison she passed by.

6 O so it fell upon a day
She heard Young Beichan sadly sing:
‘My hounds they all go masterless,
My hawks they flee from tree to tree,
My younger brother will heir my land,
Fair England again I’ll never see!’

7 All night long no rest she got,
Young Beichan’s song for thinking on;
She’s stown the keys from her father’s head,
And to the prison strong is gone.

8 And she has opend the prison doors,
I wot she opend two or three,
Ere she could come Young Beichan at,
He was locked up so curiouslie.

9 But when she came Young Beichan before,
Sore wonderd he that may to see;
He took her for some fair captive:
‘Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?’

10 ‘O have ye any lands,’ she said,
‘Or castles in your own countrie,
That ye could give to a lady fair,
From prison strong to set you free?’

11 ‘Near London town I have a hall,
With other castles two or three;
I’ll give them all to the lady fair
That out of prison will set me free.’

12 ‘Give me the truth of your right hand,
The truth of it give unto me,
That for seven years ye’ll no lady wed,
Unless it be along with me.’

13 ‘I’ll give thee the truth of my right hand,
The truth of it I’ll freely gie,
That for seven years I’ll stay unwed,
For the kindness thou dost show to me.’

14 And she has brib’d the proud warder
Wi mickle gold and white monie,
She’s gotten the keys of the prison strong,
And she has set Young Beichan free.

15 She’s gien him to eat the good spice-cake,
She’s gien him to drink the blood-red wine,
She’s bidden him sometimes think on her,
That sae kindly freed him out of pine.

16 She’s broken a ring from her finger,
And to Beichan half of it gave she:
‘Keep it, to mind you of that love
The lady bore that set you free.

17 ‘And set your foot on good ship-board,
And haste ye back to your own countrie,
And before that seven years have an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me.’

18 But long ere seven years had an end,
She longd full sore her love to see,
For ever a voice within her breast
Said, ‘Beichan has broke his vow to thee:’
So she’s set her foot on good ship-board,
And turnd her back on her own countrie.

19 She sailed east, she sailed west,
Till to fair England’s shore she came,
Where a bonny shepherd she espied,
Feeding his sheep upon the plain.

20 ‘What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?
What news hast thou to tell to me?’
‘Such news I hear, ladie,’ he says,
‘The like was never in this countrie.

21 ‘There is a wedding in yonder hall,
Has lasted these thirty days and three;
Young Beichan will not bed with his bride,
For love of one that’s yond the sea.’

22 She’s put her hand in her pocket,
Gien him the gold and white monie:
‘Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,
For the good news thou tellst to me.’

23 When she came to Young Beichan’s gate,
She tirled softly at the pin;
So ready was the proud porter
To open and let this lady in.

24 ‘Is this Young Beichan’s hall,’ she said,
‘O is that noble lord within?’
‘Yea, he’s in the hall among them all,
And this is the day o his weddin.’

25 ‘And has he wed anither love?
And has he clean forgotten me?’
And sighin said that gay ladie,
I wish I were in my own countrie!

26 And she has taen her gay gold ring,
That with her love she brake so free;
Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter,
And bid the bridegroom speak to me.

27 When the porter came his lord before,
He kneeled down low on his knee:
‘What aileth thee, my proud porter,
Thou art so full of courtesie?’

28 ‘I’ve been porter at your gates,
It’s thirty long years now and three;
But there stands a lady at them now,
The like o her did I never see.

29 ‘For on every finger she has a ring,
And on her mid-finger she has three,
And as meickle gold aboon her brow
As would buy an earldom to me.’

30 It’s out then spak the bride’s mother,
Aye and an angry woman was shee:
‘Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
And twa or three of our companie.’

31 ‘O hold your tongue, thou bride’s mother,
Of all your folly let me be;
She’s ten times fairer nor the bride,
And all that’s in your companie.

32 ‘She begs one sheave of your white bread,
But and a cup of your red wine,
And to remember the lady’s love
That last relievd you out of pine.’

33 ‘O well-a-day!’ said Beichan then,
‘That I so soon have married thee!
For it can be none but Susie Pye,
That sailed the sea for love of me.’

34 And quickly hied he down the stair;
Of fifteen steps he made but three;
He’s taen his bonny love in his arms,
And kist and kist her tenderlie.

35 ‘O hae ye taen anither bride?
And hae ye quite forgotten me?
And hae ye quite forgotten her
That gave your life and libertie?’

36 She looked oer her left shoulder,
To hide the tears stood in her ee:
‘Now fare thee well, Young Beichan,’ she says,
‘I’ll try to think no more on thee.’

37 ‘O never, never, Susie Pye,
For surely this can never be,
Nor ever shall I wed but her
That’s done and dreed so much for me.’

38 Then out and spak the forenoon bride:
‘My lord, your love it changeth soon;
This morning I was made your bride,
And another chose ere it be noon.’

39 O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,
Ye’re neer a whit the worse for me,
And whan ye return to your own countrie,
A double dower I’ll send with thee.’

40 He’s taen Susie Pye by the white hand,
And gently led her up and down,
And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,
‘Ye’re welcome, jewel, to your own.’

41 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He’s changed her name from Susie Pye,
And he’s call’d her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

Version F

1 IN the lands whre Lord Beichan was born,
Amang the stately steps of stane,
He wore the goud at his left shoulder,
But to the Holy Land he’s gane.

2 He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Amang the Prudents that was black,
He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Till the Prudent did Lord Beichan tak.

3 The gard him draw baith pleugh and harrow,
And horse and oxen twa or three;
They cast him in a dark dungeon,
Whare he coud neither hear nor see.

4 The Prudent had a fair daughter,
I wot they ca’d her Susy Pye,
And all the keys in that city
Hang at that lady by and bye.

5 It once fell out upon a day
That into the prison she did gae,
And whan she cam to the prison door,
She kneeled low down on her knee.

6 ‘O hae ye ony lands, Beichan,
Or hae ye ony castles hie,
Whar ye wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison I wad let thee?’

7 ‘Fair London’s mine, dear lady,’ he said,
‘And other places twa or three,
Whar I wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison ye wad let me.’

8 O she has opened the prison door,
And other places twa or three,
And gien him bread, and wine to drink,
In her own chamber privately.

9 O then she built a bonny ship,
And she has set it on the main,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It’s for to tak Lord Beichan hame.

10 O she’s gaen murning up and down,
And she’s gaen murnin to the sea,
Then to her father she has gane in,
Wha spak to her right angrily.

11 ‘O do ye mourn for the goud, daughter,
Or do ye mourn for the whyte monie?
Or do ye mourn for the English squire?
I wat I will gar hang him hie.’

12 ‘I neither mourn for the goud, father,
Nor do I for the whyte monie,
Nor do I for the English squire;
And I care na tho ye hang him hie.

13 ‘But I hae promised an errand to go,
Seven lang miles ayont the sea,
And blythe and merry I never will be
Untill that errand you let me.’

14 ‘That errand, daughter, you may gang,
Seven long miles beyond the sea,
Since blythe and merry you’ll neer be
Untill that errand I’ll let thee.’

15 O she has built a bonny ship,
And she has set it in the sea,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It’s all for to tak her a long journie.

16 And she’s sailed a’ the summer day,
I wat the wind blew wondrous fair;
In sight of fair London she has come,
And till Lord Beichan’s yett she walked.

17 Whan she cam till Lord Beichan’s yett,
She rappit loudly at the pin:
‘Is Beichan lord of this bonny place?
I pray ye open and let me in.

18 ‘And O is this Lord Beichan’s yett,
And is the noble lord within?’
‘O yes, it is Lord Beichan’s yett,
He’s wi his bride and mony a ane.’

19 ‘If you’ll gang up to Lord Beichan,
Tell him the words that I tell thee;
It will put him in mind of Susy Pye,
And the Holy Land, whareer he be.

20 ‘Tell him to send one bite of bread,
It’s and a glass of his gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady’s love
That loosed him out of prison strong.’

21 ‘I hae been porter at your yett,
I’m sure this therty lang years and three,
But the fairest lady stands thereat
That evir my twa eyes did see.

22 ‘On ilka finger she has a ring,
And on the foremost she has three;
As muckle goud is on her head
As wad buy an earldom of land to thee.

23 ‘She bids you send a bite of bread,
It’s and a glass of your gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady’s love
That let you out of prison strong.’

24 It’s up and spak the bride’s mother,
A weight of goud hung at her chin:
‘There is no one so fair without
But there are, I wat, as fair within.’

25 It’s up and spak the bride hersel,
As she sat by the gude lord’s knee:
‘Awa, awa, ye proud porter,
This day ye might hae excepted me.’

26 ‘Tak hence, tak hence your fair daughter,
Tak hame your daughter fair frae me;
For saving one kiss of her bonny lips,
I’m sure of her body I am free.

27 ‘Awa, awa, ye proud mither,
It’s tak your daughter fair frae me;
For I brought her home with chariots six,
And I’ll send her back wi coaches three.’

28 It’s he’s taen the table wi his fit,
And syne he took it wi his knee;
He gard the glasses and wine so red,
He gard them all in flinders flee.

29 O he’s gane down the steps of stairs,
And a’ the stately steps of stane,
Until he cam to Susy Pye;
I wat the tears blinded baith their eyne.

30 He led her up the steps of stairs,
And a’ the stately steps of stane,
And changed her name from Susy Pye,
And ca’d her lusty Lady Jane.

31 ‘O fye, gar cooks mak ready meat,
O fye, gar cooks the pots supply,
That it may be talked of in fair London,
I’ve been twice married in ae day.’

Version G

1 * * * *
‘O WHARR’rrS aught a’ yon flock o sheep,
An wha’s aught a’ yon flock o kye?
An wha’s aught a’ yon pretty castles,
That you sae often do pass bye?’

2 ‘They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s sheep,
They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s kye;
They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s castles,
That you sae often do pass bye.’

3 He’s tane [the] table wi his feet,
Made cups an candlesticks to flee:
‘I’ll lay my life ’tis Susy Pie,
Come owr the seas to marry me.’

Version H

1 YOUNG BEICHAN was in London born,
He was a man of hie degree;
He past thro monie kingdoms great,
Until he cam unto Grand Turkie.

2 He viewd the fashions of that land,
Their way of worship viewed he,
But unto onie of their stocks
He wadna sae much as bow a knee:

3 Which made him to be taken straight,
And brought afore their hie jurie;
The savage Moor did speak upricht,
And made him meikle ill to dree.

4 In ilka shoulder they’ve bord a hole,
And in ilka hole they’ve put a tree;
They’ve made him to draw carts and wains,
Till he was sick and like to dee.

5 But Young Beichan was a Christian born,
And still a Christian was he;
Which made them put him in prison strang,
And cauld and hunger sair to dree,
And fed on nocht but bread and water,
Until the day that he mot dee.

6 In this prison there grew a tree,
And it was unco stout and strang,
Where he was chained by the middle,
Until his life was almaist gane.

7 The savage Moor had but ae dochter,
And her name it was Susie Pye,
And ilka day as she took the air,
The prison door she passed bye.

8 But it fell ance upon a day,
As she was walking, she heard him sing;
She listend to his tale of woe,
A happy day for Young Beichan!

9 ‘My hounds they all go masterless,
My hawks they flee frae tree to tree,
My youngest brother will heir my lands,
My native land I’ll never see.’

10 ‘O were I but the prison-keeper,
As I’m a ladie o hie degree,
I soon wad set this youth at large,
And send him to his ain countrie.’

11 She went away into her chamber,
All nicht she never closd her ee;
And when the morning begoud to dawn,
At the prison door alane was she.

12 She gied the keeper a piece of gowd,
And monie pieces o white monie,
To tak her thro the bolts and bars,
The lord frae Scotland she langd to see;
She saw young Beichan at the stake,
Which made her weep maist bitterlie.

13 ‘O hae ye got onie lands,’ she says,
‘Or castles in your ain countrie?
It’s what wad ye gie to the ladie fair
Wha out o prison wad set you free?’

14 ‘It’s I hae houses, and I hae lands,
Wi monie castles fair to see,
And I wad gie a’ to that ladie gay,
Wha out o prison wad set me free.’

15 The keeper syne brak aff his chains,
And set Lord Beichan at libertie;
She filld his pockets baith wi gowd,
To tak him till his ain countrie.

16 She took him frae her father’s prison,
And gied to him the best o wine,
And a brave health she drank to him:
‘I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine!

17 ‘It’s seven lang years I’ll mak a vow,
And seven lang years I’ll keep it true;
If ye’ll wed wi na ither woman,
It’s I will wed na man but you.’

18 She’s tane him to her father’s port,
And gien to him a ship o fame:
‘Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord,
I fear I’ll neer see you again.’

19 Lord Beichan turnd him round about,
And lowly, lowly loutit he:
‘Ere seven lang years come to an end,
I’ll tak you to mine ain countrie.’

20 Then whan he cam to Glosgow town,
A happy, happy man was he;
The ladies a’ around him thrangd,
To see him come frae slaverie.

21 His mother she had died o sorrow,
And a’ his brothers were dead but he;
His lands they a’ were lying waste,
In ruins were his castles free.

22 Na porter there stood at his yett,
Na human creature he could see,
Except the screeching owls and bats,
Had he to bear him companie.

23 But gowd will gar the castles grow,
And he had gowd and jewels free,
And soon the pages around him thrangd,
To serve him on their bended knee.

24 His hall was hung wi silk and satin,
His table rung wi mirth and glee,
He soon forgot the lady fair
That lowsd him out o slaverie.

25 Lord Beichan courted a lady gay,
To heir wi him his lands sae free,
Neer thinking that a lady fair
Was on her way frae Grand Turkie.

26 For Susie Pye could get na rest,
Nor day nor nicht could happy be,
Still thinking on the Scottish lord,
Till she was sick and like to dee.

27 But she has builded a bonnie ship,
Weel mannd wi seamen o hie degree,
And secretly she stept on board,
And bid adieu to her ain countrie.

28 But whan she cam to the Scottish shore,
The bells were ringing sae merrilie;
It was Lord Beichan’s wedding day,
Wi a lady fair o hie degree.

29 But sic a vessel was never seen;
The very masts were tappd wi gold,
Her sails were made o the satin fine,
Maist beautiful for to behold.

30 But whan the lady cam on shore,
Attended wi her pages three,
Her shoon were of the beaten gowd,
And she a lady of great beautie.

31 Then to the skipper she did say,
‘Can ye this answer gie to me?
Where are Lord Beichan’s lands sae braid?
He surely lives in this countrie.’

32 Then up bespak the skipper bold,
For he could speak the Turkish tongue:
‘Lord Beichan lives not far away;
This is the day of his wedding.’

33 ‘If ye will guide me to Beichan’s yetts,
I will ye well reward,’ said she;
Then she and all her pages went,
A very gallant companie.

34 When she cam to Lord Beichan’s yetts,
She tirld gently at the pin;
Sae ready was the proud porter
To let the wedding guests come in.

35 ‘Is this Lord Beichan’s house,’ she says,
‘Or is that noble lord within?’
‘Yes, he is gane into the hall,
With his brave bride and monie ane.’

36 ‘Ye’ll bid him send me a piece of bread,
Bot and a cup of his best wine;
And bid him mind the lady’s love
That ance did lowse him out o pyne.’

37 Then in and cam the porter bold,
I wat he gae three shouts and three:
‘The fairest lady stands at your yetts
That ever my twa een did see.’

38 Then up bespak the bride’s mither,
I wat an angry woman was she:
‘You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride,
Tho she’d been three times as fair as she.’

39 ‘My dame, your daughter’s fair enough,
And aye the fairer mot she be!
But the fairest time that eer she was,
She’ll na compare wi this ladie.

40 ‘She has a gowd ring on ilka finger,
And on her mid-finger she has three;
She has as meikle gowd upon her head
As wad buy an earldom o land to thee.

41 ‘My lord, she begs some o your bread,
Bot and a cup o your best wine,
And bids you mind the lady’s love
That ance did lowse ye out o pyne.’

42 Then up and started Lord Beichan,
I wat he made the table flee:
‘I wad gie a’ my yearlie rent
’Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea.’

43 Syne up bespak the bride’s mother,
She was never heard to speak sae free:
‘Ye’ll no forsake my ae dochter,
Tho Susie Pye has crossd the sea?’

44 ‘Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam,
For she is neer the waur o me;
She cam to me on horseback riding,
And she sall gang hame in chariot free.’

45 He’s tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand,
And led her thro his halls sae hie:
‘Ye’re now Lord Beichan’s lawful wife,
And thrice ye’re welcome unto me.’

46 Lord Beichan prepard for another wedding,
Wi baith their hearts sae fu o glee;
Says, ‘I’ll range na mair in foreign lands,
Sin Susie Pye has crossd the sea.

47 ‘Fy! gar a’ our cooks mak ready,
And fy! gar a’ our pipers play,
And fy! gar trumpets gae thro the toun,
That Lord Beichan’s wedded twice in a day!’

Version I

1 IN London was Young Bechin born,
Foreign nations he longed to see;
He passed through many kingdoms great,
At length he came unto Turkie.

2 He viewed the fashions of that land,
The ways of worship viewed he,
But unto any of their gods
He would not so much as bow the knee.

3 every shoulder they made a bore,
In every bore they put a tree,
Then they made him the winepress tread,
And all in spite of his fair bodie.

4 They put him into a deep dungeon,
Where he could neither hear nor see,
And for seven years they kept him there,
Till for hunger he was like to die.

5 Stephen, their king, had a daughter fair,
Yet never a man to her came nigh;
And every day she took the air,
Near to his prison she passed by.

6 One day she heard Young Bechin sing
A song that pleased her so well,
No rest she got till she came to him,
All in his lonely prison cell.

7 ‘I have a hall in London town,
With other buildings two or three,
And I’ll give them all to the ladye fair
That from this dungeon shall set me free.’

8 She stole the keys from her dad’s head,
And if she oped one door ay she opened three,
Till she Young Bechin could find out,
He was locked up so curiouslie.

9 ‘I’ve been a porter at your gate
This thirty years now, ay and three;
There stands a ladye at your gate,
The like of her I neer did see.

10 ‘On every finger she has a ring,
On the mid-finger she has three;
She’s as much gold about her brow
As would an earldom buy to me.’

11 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
He gently led her through the green;
He changed her name from Susie Pie,
An he’s called her lovely Ladye Jean.

Version J

1 * * * *
SHERR’rrS taen the keys frae her fadder’s coffer,
Tho he keeps them most sacredlie,
And she has opend the prison strong,
And set Young Beichan at libertie.

2 . . . . . .
. . . . .
‘Gae up the countrie, my chile,’ she says,
‘Till your fadder’s wrath be turned from thee.’

3 She’s put her han intill her purse,
And gave the porter guineas three;
Says, ‘Tak ye that, ye proud porter,
And tell your master to speak wi me.

4 ‘Ye’ll bid him bring a shower o his best love,
But and a bottle o his wine,
And do to me as I did to him in time past,
And brought him out o muckle pine.’

5 He’s taen the table wi his foot,
And he has keppit it wi his knee:
‘I’ll wager my life and a’ my lan,
It’s Susan Pie come ower the sea.

6 ‘Rise up, rise up, my bonnie bride,
Ye’re neither better nor waur for me;
Ye cam to me on a horse and saddle,
But ye may gang back in a coach and three.’

Version K

1 * * * *
‘There is a marriage in yonder hall,
Has lasted thirty days and three;
The bridegroom winna bed the bride,
For the sake of one that’s owre the sea.’

2 ‘What news, what news, my brave young porter?
What news, what news have ye for me?’
‘As beautiful a ladye stands at your gate
As eer my two eyes yet did see.’

3 ‘A slice of bread to her get ready,
And a bottle of the best of wine;
Not to forget that fair young ladye
Who did release thee out of close confine.’

4 Lord Bechin in a passion flew,
And rent himself like a sword in three,
Saying, ‘I would give all my father’s riches
If my Sophia was ’cross the sea.’

5 Up spoke the young bride’s mother,
Who never was heard to speak so free,
Saying, ‘I hope you’ll not forget my only daughter,
Though your Sophia be ’cross the sea.’

6 ‘I own a bride I’ve wed your daughter,
She’s nothing else the worse of me;
She came to me on a horse and saddle,
She may go back in a coach and three.’

Version L

1 LORD BATEMAN was a noble lord,
A noble lord of high degree;
He shipped himself all aboard of a ship,
Some foreign country for to see.

2 He sailed east, he sailed west,
Until he came to famed Turkey,
Where he was taken and put to prison,
Until his life was quite weary.

3 All in this prison there grew a tree,
O there it grew so stout and strong!
Where he was chained all by the middle,
Until his life was almost gone.

4 This Turk he had one only daughter,
The fairest my two eyes eer see;
She steel the keys of her father’s prison,
And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.

5 O she took him to her father’s cellar,
And gave to him the best of wine;
And every health she drank unto him
Was, ‘I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was mine.’

6 ‘O have you got houses, have you got land,
And does Northumberland belong to thee?
And what would you give to the fair young lady
As out of prison would let you go free?’

7 ‘O I’ve got houses and I’ve got land,
And half Northumberland belongs to me;
And I will give it all to the fair young lady
As out of prison would let me go free.’

8 ‘O in seven long years, I’ll make a vow
For seven long years, and keep it strong,
That if you’ll wed no other woman,
O I will wed no other man.’

9 O she took him to her father’s harbor,
And gave to him a ship of fame,
Saying, Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman,
I fear I never shall see you again.

10 Now seven long years is gone and past,
And fourteen days, well known to me;
She packed up all her gay clothing,
And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.

11 O when she arrived at Lord Bateman’s castle,
How boldly then she rang the bell!
‘Who’s there? who’s there?’ cries the proud young porter,
‘O come unto me pray quickly tell.’

12 ‘O is this here Lord Bateman’s castle,
And is his lordship here within?’
‘O yes, O yes,’ cries the proud young porter,
‘He’s just now taking his young bride in.’

13 ‘O bid him to send me a slice of bread,
And a bottle of the very best wine,
And not forgetting the fair young lady
As did release him when close confine.’

14 O away and away went this proud young porter,
O away and away and away went he,
Until he come to Lord Bateman’s chamber,
When he went down on his bended knee.

15 ‘What news, what news, my proud young porter?
What news, what news? Come tell to me:’
‘O there is the fairest young lady
As ever my two eyes did see.

16 ‘She has got rings on every finger,
And on one finger she has got three;
With as much gay gold about her middle
As would buy half Northumberlee.

17 ‘O she bids you to send her a slice of bread,
And a bottle of the very best wine,
And not forgetting the fair young lady
As did release you when close confine.’

18 Lord Bateman then in passion flew,
And broke his sword in splinters three,
Saying, I will give half of my father’s land,
If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.

19 Then up and spoke this young bride’s mother,
Who never was heard to speak so free;
Saying, You’ll not forget my only daughter,
If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.

20 ‘O it’s true I made a bride of your daughter,
But she’s neither the better nor the worse for me;
She came to me with a horse and saddle,
But she may go home in a coach and three.’

21 Lord Bateman then prepared another marriage,
With both their hearts so full of glee,
Saying, I will roam no more to foreign countries,
Now that Sophia has crossed the sea.

Version M

1 YOUNG BONWELL was a squire’s ae son,
And a squire’s ae son was he;
He went abroad to a foreign land,
To serve for meat and fee.

2 He hadna been in that country
A twalmonth and a day,
Till he was cast in prison strong,
For the sake of a lovely may.

3 ‘O if my father get word of this,
At hame in his ain country,
He’ll send red gowd for my relief,
And a bag o white money.

4 ‘O gin an earl woud borrow me,
At his bridle I woud rin;
Or gin a widow woud borrow me,
I’d swear to be her son.

5 ‘Or gin a may woud borrow me,
I’d wed her wi a ring,
Infeft her wi the ha’s and bowers
O the bonny towers o Linne.’

6 But it fell ance upon a day
Dame Essels she thought lang,
And she is to the jail-house door,
To hear Young Bondwell’s sang.

7 ‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny Bondwell,
The sang ye sang just now:’
‘I never sang the sang, lady,
But I woud war’t on you.

8 ‘O gin my father get word o this,
At hame in his ain country,
He’ll send red gowd for my relief,
And a bag o white money.

9 ‘O gin an earl woud borrow me,
At his bridle I woud rin;
Or gin a widow would borrow me,
I’d swear to be her son.

10 ‘O gin a may woud borrow me,
I woud wed her wi a ring,
Infeft her wi the ha’s and bowers
O the bonny towers o Linne.’

11 She’s stole the keys o the jail-house door,
Where under the bed they lay;
She’s opend to him the jail-house door,
And set Young Bondwell free.

12 She gae’m a steed was swift in need,
A saddle o royal ben,
A hunder pund o pennies round,
Bade him gae roav an spend.

13 A couple o hounds o ae litter,
And Cain they ca’d the one;
Twa gay gos-hawks she gae likeways,
To keep him onthought lang.

14 When mony days were past and gane,
Dame Essels thought fell lang,
And she is to her lonely bower,
To shorten her wi a sang.

15 The sang has such a melody,
It lulld her fast asleep;
Up starts a woman, clad in green,
And stood at her bed-feet.

16 ‘Win up, win up, Dame Essels,’ she says,
‘This day ye sleep ower lang;
The morn is the squire’s wedding day,
In the bonny towers o Linne.

17 ‘Ye’ll dress yoursell in the robes o green,
Your maids in robes sae fair,
And ye’ll put girdles about their middles,
Sae costly, rich and rare.

18 ‘Ye’ll take your maries alang wi you,
Till ye come to yon strand;
There ye’ll see a ship, wi sails all up,
Come sailing to dry land.

19 ‘Ye’ll take a wand into your hand,
Ye’ll stroke her round about,
And ye’ll take God your pilot to be,
To drown ye’ll take nae doubt.’

20 Then up it raise her Dame Essels,
Sought water to wash her hands,
But aye the faster that she washd,
The tears they trickling ran.

21 Then in it came her father dear,
And in the floor steps he:
‘What ails Dame Essels, my daughter dear,
Ye weep sae bitterlie?

22 ‘Want ye a small fish frae the flood,
Or turtle frae the sea?
Or is there man in a’ my realm
This day has offended thee?’

23 ‘I want nae small fish frae the flood,
Nor turtle frae the sea;
But Young Bondwell, your ain prisoner,
This day has offended me.’

24 Her father turnd him round about,
A solemn oath sware he:
‘If this be true ye tell me now
High hanged he shall be.

25 ‘To-morrow morning he shall be
Hung high upon a tree:’
Dame Essels whisperd to hersel,
‘Father, ye’ve made a lie.’

26 She dressd hersel in robes o green,
Her maids in robes sae fair,
Wi gowden girdles round their middles,
Sae costly, rich and rare.

27 She’s taen her mantle her about,
A maiden in every hand;
They saw a ship, wi sails a’ up,
Come sailing to dry land.

28 She’s taen a wand intill her hand,
And stroked her round about,
And she’s taen God her pilot to be,
To drown she took nae doubt.

29 So they saild on, and further on,
Till to the water o Tay;
There they spied a bonny little boy,
Was watering his steeds sae gay.

30 ‘What news, what news, my little boy,
What news hae ye to me?
Are there any weddings in this place,
Or any gaun to be?’

31 ‘There is a wedding in this place,
A wedding very soon;
The morn’s the young squire’s wedding day,
In the bonny towers of Linne.’

32 O then she walked alang the way
To see what coud be seen,
And there she saw the proud porter,
Drest in a mantle green.

33 ‘What news, what news, porter?’ she said,
‘What news hae ye to me?
Are there any weddings in this place,
Or any gaun to be?’

34 ‘There is a wedding in this place,
A wedding very soon;
The morn is Young Bondwell’s wedding day,
The bonny squire o Linne.’

35 ‘Gae to your master, porter,’ she said,
‘Gae ye right speedilie;
Bid him come and speak wi a maid
That wishes his face to see.’

36 The porter’s up to his master gane,
Fell low down on his knee;
‘Win up, win up, my porter,’ he said,
‘Why bow ye low to me?’

37 hae been porter at your yetts
These thirty years and three,
But fairer maids than’s at them now
My eyes did never see.

38 ‘The foremost she is drest in green,
The rest in fine attire,
Wi gowden girdles round their middles,
Well worth a sheriff’s hire.’

39 Then out it speaks Bondwell’s own bride,
Was a’ gowd to the chin;
‘They canno be fairer thereout,’ she says,
‘Than we that are therein.’

40 ‘There is a difference, my dame,’ he said,
‘’Tween that ladye’s colour and yours;
As much difference as you were a stock,
She o the lily flowers.’

41 Then out it speaks him Young Bondwell,
An angry man was he:
‘Cast up the yetts baith wide an braid,
These ladies I may see.’

42 Quickly up stairs Dame Essel’s gane,
Her maidens next her wi;
Then said the bride, This lady’s face
Shows the porter’s tauld nae lie.

43 The lady unto Bondwell spake,
These words pronounced she:
O hearken, hearken, fause Bondwell,
These words that I tell thee.

44 Is this the way ye keep your vows
That ye did make to me,
When your feet were in iron fetters,
Ae foot ye coudna flee?

45 I stole the keys o the jail-house door
Frae under the bed they lay,
And opend up the jail-house door,
Set you at liberty.

46 Gae you a steed was swift in need,
A saddle o royal ben,
A hunder pund o pennies round,
Bade you gae rove an spend.

47 A couple o hounds o ae litter,
Cain they ca’ed the ane,
Twa gay gos-hawks as swift’s eer flew,
To keep you onthought lang.

48 But since this day ye’ve broke your vow,
For which ye’re sair to blame,
And since nae mair I’ll get o you,
O Cain, will ye gae hame?

49 ‘O Cain! O Cain!’ the lady cried,
And Cain did her ken;
They baith flappd round the lady’s knee,
Like a couple o armed men.

50 He’s to his bride wi hat in hand,
And haild her courteouslie:
‘Sit down by me, my bonny Bondwell,
What makes this courtesie?’

51 ‘An asking, asking, fair lady,
An asking ye’ll grant me;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Bondwell,
What may your askings be?’

52 ‘Five hundred pounds to you I’ll gie,
Of gowd an white monie,
If ye’ll wed John, my ain cousin;
He looks as fair as me.’

53 ‘Keep well your monie, Bondwell,’ she said,
‘Nae monie I ask o thee;
Your cousin John was my first love,
My husband now he’s be.’

54 Bondwell was married at morning ear,
John in the afternoon;
Dame Essels is lady ower a’ the bowers
And the high towers o Linne.

Version N

1 IN London was Young Bichen born,
He longd strange lands to see;
He set his foot on good ship-board,
And he sailed over the sea.

2 He had not been in a foreign land
A day but only three,
Till he was taken by a savage Moor,
And they used him most cruelly.

3 In every shoulder they put a pin,
To every pin they put a tree;
They made him draw the plow and cart,
Like horse and oxen in his country.

4 He had not servd the savage Moor
A week, nay scarcely but only three,
Till he has casten him in prison strong,
Till he with hunger was like to die.

5 It fell out once upon a day
That Young Bichen he made his moan,
As he lay bound in irons strong,
In a dark and deep dungeon.

6 ‘An I were again in fair England,
As many merry day I have been,
Then I would curb my roving youth
No more to see a strange land.

7 ‘O an I were free again now,
And my feet well set on the sea,
I would live in peace in my own country,
And a foreign land I no more would see.’

8 The savage Moor had but one daughter,
I wot her name was Susan Py;
She heard Young Bichen make his moan,
At the prison-door as she past by.

9 ‘O have ye any lands,’ she said,
‘Or have you any money free,
Or have you any revenues,
To maintain a lady like me?’

10 ‘O I have land in fair England,
And I have estates two or three,
And likewise I have revenues,
To maintain a lady like thee.’

11 ‘O will you promise, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘And keep your vow faithful to me,
That at the end of seven years
In fair England you’ll marry me?

12 ‘I’ll steal the keys from my father dear,
Tho he keeps them most secretly;
I’ll risk my life for to save thine,
And set thee safe upon the sea.’

13 She’s stolen the keys from her father,
From under the bed where they lay;
She opened the prison strong
And set Young Bichen at liberty.

14 She’s gone to her father’s coffer,
Where the gold was red and fair to see;
She filled his pockets with good red gold,
And she set him far upon the sea.

15 ‘O mind you well, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘The vows and oaths you made to me;
When you are come to your native land,
O then remember Susan Py!’

16 But when her father he came home
He missd the keys there where they lay;
He went into the prison strong,
But he saw Young Bichen was away.

17 ‘Go bring your daughter, madam,’ he says,
‘And bring her here unto me;
Altho I have no more but her,
Tomorrow I’ll gar hang her high.’

18 The lady calld on the maiden fair
To come to her most speedily;
‘Go up the country, my child,’ she says,
‘Stay with my brother two years or three.

19 ‘I have a brother, he lives in the isles,
He will keep thee most courteously
And stay with him, my child,’ she says,
‘Till thy father’s wrath be turnd from thee.’

20 Now will we leave young Susan Py
A while in her own country,
And will return to Young Bichen,
Who is safe arrived in fair England.

21 He had not been in fair England
Above years scarcely three,
Till he has courted another maid,
And so forgot his Susan Py.

22 The youth being young and in his prime,
Of Susan Py thought not upon,
But his love was laid on another maid,
And the marriage-day it did draw on.

23 But eer the seven years were run,
Susan Py she thought full long;
She set her foot on good ship-board,
And she has saild for fair England.

24 On every finger she put a ring,
On her mid-finger she put three;
She filld her pockets with good red gold,
And she has sailed oer the sea.

25 She had not been in fair England
A day, a day, but only three,
Till she heard Young Bichen was a bridegroom,
And the morrow to be the wedding-day.

26 ‘Since it is so,’ said young Susan,
‘That he has provd so false to me,
I’ll hie me to Young Bichen’s gates,
And see if he minds Susan Py.’

27 She has gone up thro London town,
Where many a lady she there did spy;
There was not a lady in all London
Young Susan that could outvie.

28 She has calld upon a waiting-man,
A waiting-man who stood near by:
‘Convey me to Young Bichen’s gates,
And well rewarded shals thou be.’

29 When she came to Young Bichen’s gate
She chapped loudly at the pin,
Till down there came the proud porter;
‘Who’s there,’ he says, ’That would be in?’

30 ‘Open the gates, porter,’ she says,
‘Open them to a lady gay,
And tell your master, porter,’ she says,
‘To speak a word or two with me.’

31 The porter he has opend the gates;
His eyes were dazzled to see
A lady dressd in gold and jewels;
No page nor waiting-man had she.

32 ‘O pardon me, madam,’ he cried,
‘This day it is his wedding-day;
He’s up the stairs with his lovely bride,
And a sight of him you cannot see.’

33 She put her hand in her pocket,
And therefrom took out guineas three,
And gave to him, saying, Please, kind sir,
Bring down your master straight to me.

34 The porter up again has gone,
And he fell low down on his knee,
Saying, Master, you will please come down
To a lady who wants you to see.

35 A lady gay stands at your gates,
The like of her I neer did see;
She has more gold above her eye
Nor would buy a baron’s land to me.

36 Out then spake the bride’s mother,
I’m sure an angry woman was she:
‘You’re impudent and insolent,
For ye might excepted the bride and me.’

37 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye proud woman,
I’m sure sae loud as I hear you lie;
She has more gold on her body
Than would buy the lands, the bride, and thee!’

38 ‘Go down, go down, porter,’ he says,
‘And tell the lady gay from me
That I’m up-stairs wi my lovely bride,
And a sight of her I cannot see.’

39 The porter he goes down again,
The lady waited patiently:
‘My master’s with his lovely bride,
And he’ll not win down my dame to see.’

40 From off her finger she’s taen a ring;
‘Give that your master,’ she says, ’From me,
And tell him now, young man,’ she says,
‘To send down a cup of wine to me.’

41 ‘Here’s ring for you, master,’ he says,
‘On her mid-finger she has three,
And you are desird, my lord,’ he says,
‘To send down a cup of wine with me.’

42 He hit the table with his foot,
He kepd it with his right knee:
‘I’ll wed my life and all my land
That is Susan Py, come o’er the sea!’

43 He has gone unto the stair-head,
A step he took but barely three;
He opend the gates most speedily,
And Susan Py he there could see.

44 ‘Is this the way, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘Is this the way you’ve guided me?
I relieved you from prison strong,
And ill have you rewarded me.

45 mind ye, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘The vows and oaths that ye made to me,
When ye lay bound in prison strong,
In a deep dungeon of misery?’

46 He took her by the milk-white hand,
And led her into the palace fine;
There was not a lady in all the palace
But Susan Py did all outshine.

47 The day concluded with joy and mirth,
On every side there might you see;
There was great joy in all England
For the wedding-day of Susan Py.

54. The Cherry-Tree Carol

Version A

1 JOSEPH was an old man,
and an old man was he,
When he wedded Mary,
in the land of Galilee.

2 Joseph and Mary walked
through an orchard good,
Where was cherries and berries,
so red as any blood.

3 Joseph and Mary walked
through an orchard green,
Where was berries and cherries,
as thick as might be seen.

4 O then bespoke Mary,
so meek and so mild:
‘Pluck me one cherry, Joseph,
for I am with child.’

5 O then bespoke Joseph,
with words most unkind:
‘Let him pluck thee a cherry
that brought thee with child.’

6 O then bespoke the babe,
within his mother’s womb:
‘Bow down then the tallest tree,
for my mother to have some.’

7 Then bowed down the highest tree
unto his mother’s hand;
Then she cried, See, Joseph,
I have cherries at command.

8 O then bespake Joseph:
‘I have done Mary wrong;
But cheer up, my dearest,
and be not cast down.’

9 Then Mary plucked a cherry,
as red as the blood,
Then Mary went home
with her heavy load.

10 Then Mary took her babe,
and sat him on her knee,
Saying, My dear son, tell me
what this world will be.

11 ‘O I shall be as dead, mother,
as the stones in the wall;
O the stones in the streets, mother,
shall mourn for me all.

12 ‘Upon Easter-day, mother,
my uprising shall be;
O the sun and the moon, mother,
shall both rise with me.’

Version B

1 JOSEPH was an old man,
and an old man was he,
And he married Mary,
the Queen of Galilee.

2 When Joseph was married,
and Mary home had brought,
Mary proved with child,
and Joseph knew it not.

3 Joseph and Mary walked
through a garden gay,
Where the cherries they grew
upon every tree.

4 O then bespoke Mary,
with words both meek and mild:
‘O gather me cherries, Joseph,
they run so in my mind.’

5 And then replied Joseph,
with words so unkind:
‘Let him gather thee cherries
that got thee with child.’

6 O then bespoke our Saviour,
all in his mother’s womb:
‘Bow down, good cherry-tree,
to my mother’s hand.’

7 The uppermost sprig
bowed down to Mary’s knee:
‘Thus you may see, Joseph,
these cherries are for me.’

8 ‘O eat your cherries, Mary,
O eat your cherries now;
O eat your cherries, Mary,
that grow upon the bough.’

9 As Joseph was a walking,
he heard an angel sing:
‘This night shall be born
our heavenly king.

10 ‘He neither shall be born
in housen nor in hall,
Nor in the place of Paradise,
but in an ox’s stall.

11 ‘He neither shall be clothed
in purple nor in pall,
But all in fair linen,
as were babies all.

12 ‘He neither shall be rocked
in silver nor in gold,
But in a wooden cradle,
that rocks on the mould.

13 ‘He neither shall be christened
in white wine nor red,
But with fair spring water,
with which we were christened.’

14 Then Mary took her young son,
and set him on her knee:
‘I pray thee now, dear child,
tell how this world shall be.’

15 ‘O I shall be as dead, mother,
as the stones in the wall;
O the stones in the street, mother,
shall mourn for me all.

16 ‘And upon a Wednesday
my vow I will make,
And upon Good Friday
my death I will take.

17 ‘Upon Easter-day, mother,
my rising shall be;
O the sun and the moon
shall uprise with me.

18 ’ The people shall rejoice,
and the birds they shall sing,
To see the uprising
of the heavenly king.’

Version C

1 JOSEPH was an old man,
an old man was he,
He married sweet Mary,
the Queen of Galilee.

2 As they went a walking
in the garden so gay,
Maid Mary spied cherries,
hanging over yon tree.

3 Mary said to Joseph,
with her sweet lips so mild,
‘Pluck those cherries, Joseph,
for to give to my child.’

4 O then replied Joseph,
with words so unkind,
‘I will pluck no cherries
for to give to thy child.’

5 Mary said to cherry-tree,
‘Bow down to my knee,
That I may pluck cherries,
by one, two, and three.’

6 The uppermost sprig then
bowed down to her knee:
‘Thus you may see, Joseph,
these cherries are for me.’

7 ‘O eat your cherries, Mary,
O eat your cherries now,
O eat your cherries, Mary,
that grow upon the bough.’

8 As Joseph was a walking
he heard angels sing,
‘This night there shall be born
our heavenly king.

9 ‘He neither shall be born
in house nor in hall,
Nor in the place of Paradise,
but in an ox-stall.

10 ‘He shall not be clothed
in purple nor pall,
But all in fair linen,
as wear babies all.

11 ‘He shall not be rocked
in silver nor gold,
But in a wooden cradle,
that rocks on the mould.

12 ‘He neither shall be christened
in milk nor in wine,
But in pure spring-well water,
fresh sprung from Bethine.’

13 Mary took her baby,
she dressed him so sweet;
She laid him in a manger,
all there for to sleep.

14 As she stood over him
she heard angels sing,
‘Oh bless our dear Saviour,
our heavenly king.’

Version D

1 O JOSEPH was an old man,
and an old man was he,
And he married Mary,
from the land of Galilee.

2 Oft after he married her,
how warm he were abroad,
. . . .
. . . .

3 Then Mary and Joseph
walkd down to the gardens cool;
Then Mary spied a cherry,
as red as any blood.

4 ‘Brother Joseph, pluck the cherry,
for I am with child:’
‘Let him pluck the cherry, Mary,
as is father to the child.’

5 Then our blessed Saviour spoke,
from his mother’s womb:
‘Mary shall have cherries,
and Joseph shall have none.’

6 From the high bough the cherry-tree
bowd down to Mary’s knee;
Then Mary pluckt the cherry,
by one, two, and three.

7 They went a little further,
and heard a great din:
‘God bless our sweet Saviour,
our heaven’s love in.’

8 Our Saviour was not rocked
in silver or in gold,
But in a wooden cradle,
like other babes all.

9 Our Saviour was not christend
in white wine or red,
But in some spring water,
like other babes all.

55. The Carnal and the Crane

1 AS I passed by a river side,
And there as I did reign,
In argument I chanced to hear
A Carnal and a Crane.

2 The Carnal said unto the Crane,
If all the world should turn,
Before we had the Father,
But now we have the Son!

3 ‘From whence does the Son come,
From where and from what place?’
He said, In a manger,
Between an ox and ass.

4 ‘I pray thee,’ said the Carnal,
‘Tell me before thou go,
Was not the mother of Jesus
Conceivd by the Holy Ghost?’

5 She was the purest virgin,
And the cleanest from sin;
She was the handmaid of our Lord
And mother of our king.

6 ‘Where is the golden cradle
That Christ was rocked in?
Where are the silken sheets
That Jesus was wrapt in?’

7 A manger was the cradle
That Christ was rocked in:
The provender the asses left
So sweetly he slept on.

8 There was a star in the east land,
So bright it did appear,
Into King Herod’s chamber,
And where King Herod were.

9 The Wise Men soon espied it,
And told the king on high
A princely babe was born that night
No king could eer destroy.

10 ‘If this be true,’ King Herod said,
‘As thou tellest unto me,
This roasted cock that lies in the dish
Shall crow full fences three.’

11 The cock soon freshly featherd was,
By the work of God’s own hand,
And then three fences crowed he,
In the dish where he did stand.

12 ‘Rise up, rise up, you merry men all,
See that you ready be;
All children under two years old
Now slain they all shall be.’

13 Then Jesus, ah, and Joseph,
And Mary, that was so pure,
They travelld into Egypt,
As you shall find it sure.

14 And when they came to Egypt’s land,
Amongst those fierce wild beasts,
Mary, she being weary,
Must needs sit down to rest.

15 ‘Come sit thee down,’ says Jesus,
‘Come sit thee down by me,
And thou shalt see how these wild beasts
Do come and worship me.’

16 First came the lovely lion,
Which Jesus’s grace did bring,
And of the wild beasts in the field
The lion shall be king.

17 We’ll choose our virtuous princess
Of birth and high degree,
In every sundry nation,
Whereer we come and see.

18 Then Jesus, ah, and Joseph,
And Mary, that was unknown,
They travelled by a husbandman,
Just while his seed was sown.

19 ‘God speed thee, man,’ said Jesus,
‘Go fetch thy ox and wain,
And carry home thy corn again
Which thou this day hast sown.’

20 The husbandman fell on his knees,
Even upon his face:
‘Long time hast thou been looked for,
But now thou art come at last.

21 ‘And I myself do now believe
Thy name is Jesus called;
Redeemer of mankind thou art,
Though undeserving all.’

22 ‘The truth, man, thou hast spoken,
Of it thou mayst be sure,
For I must lose my precious blood
For thee and thousands more.

23 ‘If any one should come this way,
And enquire for me alone,
Tell them that Jesus passed by
As thou thy seed did sow.’

24 After that there came King Herod,
With his train so furiously,
Enquiring of the husbandman
Whether Jesus passed by.

25 ‘Why, the truth it must be spoke,
And the truth it must be known;
For Jesus passed by this way
When my seed was sown.

26 ‘But now I have it reapen,
And some laid on my wain,
Ready to fetch and carry
Into my barn again.’

27 ‘Turn back,’ says the captain,
‘Your labor and mine’s in vain;
It’s full three quarters of a year
Since he his seed has sown.’

28 So Herod was deceived,
By the work of God’s own hand,
And further he proceeded
Into the Holy Land.

29 There’s thousands of children young
Which for his sake did die;
Do not forbid those little ones,
And do not them deny.

30 The truth now I have spoken,
And the truth now I have shown;
Even the Blessed Virgin
She’s now brought forth a son.

56. Dives and Lazarus

Version A

a. Sylvester, A Garland of Christmas Carols, p. 50, from an old Birmingham broadside. b. Husk, Songs of the Nativity, p. 94, from a Worcestershire broadside of the last century.

1 AS it fell out upon a day,
Rich Dives he made a feast,
And he invited all his friends,
And gentry of the best.

2 Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
And down at Dives’ door:
‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
Bestow upon the poor.’

3 ‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
That lies begging at my door;
No meat nor drink will I give thee,
Nor bestow upon the poor.’

4 Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
And down at Dive’s wall:
‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
Or with hunger starve I shall.’

5 ‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
That lies begging at my wall;
No meat nor drink will I give thee,
But with hunger starve you shall.’

6 Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
And down at Dive’s gate:
‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
For Jesus Christ sake.’

7 ‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
That lies begging at my gate;
No meat nor drink will I give thee,
For Jesus Christ his sake.’

8 Then Dives sent out his merry men,
To whip poor Lazarus away;
They had no power to strike a stroke,
But flung their whips away.

9 Then Dives sent out his hungry dogs,
To bite him as he lay;
They had no power to bite at all,
But licked his sores away.

10 As it fell out upon a day,
Poor Lazarus sickened and died;
Then came two angels out of heaven
His soul therein to guide.

11 ‘Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,
And go along with me;
For you’ve a place prepared in heaven,
To sit on an angel’s knee.’

12 As it fell out upon a day,
Rich Dives sickened and died;
Then came two serpents out of hell,
His soul therein to guide.

13 ‘Rise up, rise up, brother Dives,
And go with us to see
A dismal place, prepared in hell,
From which thou canst not flee.’

14 Then Dives looked up with his eyes,
And saw poor Lazarus blest:
‘Give me one drop of water, brother Lazarus,
To quench my flaming thirst.

15 ‘Oh had I as many years to abide
As there are blades of grass,
Then there would be an end, but now
Hell’s pains will ne’er be past.

16 ‘Oh was I now but alive again,
The space of one half hour!
Oh that I had my peace secure!
Then the devil should have no power.’

Version B

From memory, as sung by carol-singers at Christmas, in Worcestershire, at Hagley and Hartlebury, 1829-39: F. S. L., in Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, III, 76.

1 AS it fell out upon one day,
Rich Diverus he made a feast,
And he invited all his friends,
And gentry of the best.

2 And it fell out upon one day,
Poor Lazarus he was so poor,
He came and laid him down and down.
Evn down at Diverus’ door.

3 So Lazarus laid him down and down
Even down at Diverus’ door:
‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
Do bestow upon the poor.’

4 ‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
Lying begging at my door:
No meat, no drink will I give thee,
Nor bestow upon the poor.’

5 Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
Even down at Diverus’ wall:
‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
Or surely starve I shall.

6 ‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
Lying begging at my wall;
No meat, no drink will I give thee,
And therefore starve thou shall.’

7 Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
Even down at Diverus’ gate:
‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
For Jesus Christ his sake.’

8 ‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
Lying begging at my gate;
No meat, no drink will I give thee,
For Jesus Christ his sake.

9 Then Diverus sent out his merry men all,
To whip poor Lazarus away;
They had not power to whip one whip,
But threw their whips away.

10 Then Diverus sent out his hungry dogs,
To bite poor Lazarus away;
They had not power to bite one bite,
But licked his sores away.

11 And it fell out upon one day,
Poor Lazarus he sickened and died;
There came two angels out of heaven,
His soul thereto to guide.

12 ‘Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,
And come along with me;
There is a place prepared in heaven,
For to sit upon an angel’s knee.’

13 And it fell out upon one day
Rich Diverus he sickened and died;
There came two serpents out of hell,
His soul thereto to guide.

14 ‘Rise up, rise up, brother Diverus,
And come along with me;
There is a place prepared in hell,
For to sit upon a serpent’s knee.’

57. Brown Robyn's Confession

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 110. Motherwell’s MS., p. 580.

1 IT fell upon a Wodensday
Brown Robyn’s men went to sea,
But they saw neither moon nor sun,
Nor starlight wi their ee.

2 ‘We’ll cast kevels us amang,
See wha the unhappy man may be;’
The kevel fell on Brown Robyn,
The master-man was he.

3 ‘It is nae wonder,’ said Brown Robyn,
‘Altho I dinna thrive,
For wi my mither I had twa bairns,
And wi my sister five.

4 ‘But tie me to a plank o wude,
And throw me in the sea;
And if I sink, ye may bid me sink,
But if I swim, just lat me bee.’

5 They’ve tyed him to a plank o wude,
And thrown him in the sea;
He didna sink, tho they bade him sink;
He swimd, and they bade lat him bee.

6 He hadna been into the sea
An hour but barely three,
Till by it came Our Blessed Lady,
Her dear young son her wi.

7 ‘Will ye gang to your men again,
Or will ye gang wi me?
Will ye gang to the high heavens,
Wi my dear son and me?’

8 ‘I winna gang to my men again,
For they would be feared at mee;
But I woud gang to the high heavens,
Wi thy dear son and thee.’

9 ‘It’s for nae honour ye did to me, Brown Robyn,
It’s for nae guid ye did to mee;
But a’ is for your fair confession
You’ve made upon the sea.’

58. Sir Patrick Spens

Version A

a. Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 71: "given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland." b. Herd’s Scots Songs, 1769, p. 243.

1 THE king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
‘O whar will I get guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?’

2 Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne:
‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That sails upon the se.’

3 The king has written a braid letter,
And signd it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.

4 The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick red,
The teir blinded his ee.

5 ‘O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o’ the yeir,
To sail upon the se!

6 ‘Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne:’
‘O say na sae, my master deir,
For I feir a deadlie storme.

7 ‘Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in hir arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
That we will cum to harme.’

8 O our Scots nables wer richt laith
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre a’ the play wer playd,
Their hats they swam aboone.

9 O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.

10 O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
Wi thair gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they’ll se thame na mair.

11 Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,
It’s fiftie fadom deip,
And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,
Wi the Scots lords at his feit.

Version B

Herd’s MSS., II, 27, I, 49.

1 THE king he sits in Dumferling,
Drinking the blude reid wine: O
‘O where will I get a gude sailor,
That’l sail the ships o mine?’ O

2 Up then started a yallow-haird man,
Just be the kings right knee:
‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That ever saild the see.’

3 Then the king he wrote a lang letter,
And sealld it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
That was lyand at Leith Sands.

4 When Patrick lookd the letter on,
He gae loud laughters three;
But afore he wan to the end of it
The teir blindit his ee.

5 ‘O wha is this has tald the king,
Has tald the king o me?
Gif I but wist the man it war,
Hanged should he be.

6 ‘Come eat and drink, my merry men all,
For our ships maun sail the morn;
Bla’d wind, bla’d weet, bla’d sna or sleet,
Our ships maun sail the morn.’

7 ‘Alake and alas now, good master,
For I fear a deidly storm;
For I saw the new moon late yestreen,
And the auld moon in her arms.’

8 They had not saild upon the sea
A league but merely three,
When ugly, ugly were the jaws
That rowd unto their knee.

9 They had not saild upon the sea
A league but merely nine,
When wind and weit and snaw and sleit
Came blawing them behind.

10 ‘Then where will I get a pretty boy
Will take my steer in hand,
Till I go up to my tap-mast,
And see gif I see dry land?’

11 ‘Here am I, a pretty boy
That’l take your steir in hand,
Till you go up to your tap-mast,
And see an you see the land.’

12 Laith, laith were our Scottich lords
To weit their coal-black shoon;
But yet ere a’ the play was playd,
They wat their hats aboon.

13 Laith, laith war our Scottish lords
To weit their coal-black hair;
But yet ere a’ the play was playd,
They wat it every hair.

14 The water at St Johnston’s wall
Was fifty fathom deep,
And there ly a’ our Scottish lords,
Sir Patrick at their feet.

15 Lang, lang may our ladies wait
Wi the tear blinding their ee,
Afore they see Sir Patrick’s ships
Come sailing oer the sea.

16 Lang, lang may our ladies wait,
Wi their babies in their hands,
Afore they see Sir Patrick Spence
Come sailing to Leith Sands.

Version C

Motherwell’s MS., p. 493, "from the recitation of Buchanan, alias Mrs Notman, 9 September, 1826."

1 THE king sat in Dunfermline toun,
Drinking the blude red wine:
‘Where will I get a bold sailor,
To sail this ship o mine?’

2 Out then spak an auld auld knicht,
Was nigh the king akin:
‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever sailed the main.’

3 The king’s wrote a large letter,
Sealed it with his own hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on dry land.

4 The first three lines he looked on,
The tears did blind his ee;
The neist three lines he looked on
Not one word could he see.

5 ‘Wha is this,’ Sir Patrick says,
‘That’s tauld the king o me,
To set me out this time o the year
To sail upon the sea!

6 ‘Yestreen I saw the new new mune,
And the auld mune in her arm;
And that is the sign since we were born
Even of a deadly storm.

7 ‘Drink about, my merry boys,
For we maun sail the morn;
Be it wind, or be it weet,
Or be it deadly storm.’

8 We hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only ane,
Till cauld and watry grew the wind,
And stormy grew the main.

9 We hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only twa,
Till cauld and watry grew the wind,
Come hailing owre them a’.

10 We hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only three,
Till cold and watry grew the wind,
And grumly grew the sea.

11 ‘Wha will come,’ the captain says,
‘And take my helm in hand?
Or wha’ll gae up to my topmast,
And look for some dry land?

12 ‘Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy,
See what you can spy;
Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy,
See if any land we’re nigh.’

13 ‘We’re fifty miles from shore to shore,
And fifty banks of sand;
And we have all that for to sail
Or we come to dry land.’

14 ‘Come down, come down, my pretty boy,
I think you tarry lang;
For the saut sea’s in at our coat-neck
And out at our left arm.

15 ‘Come down, come down, my pretty boy,
I fear we here maun die;
For thro and thro my goodly ship
I see the green-waved sea.’

16 Our Scotch lords were all afraid
To weet their cork-heeled shoon;
But lang or a’ the play was played,
Their hats they swam abune.

17 The first step that the captain stept,
It took him to the knee,
And the next step that the captain stepped
They were a’ drownd in the sea.

18 Half owre, half owre to Aberdour
It’s fifty fadoms deep,
And there lay good Sir Patrick Spens,
And the Scotch lords at his feet.

19 Lang may our Scotch lords’ ladies sit,
And sew their silken seam,
Before they see their good Scotch lords
Come sailing owre the main.

20 Lang lang may Sir Patrick’s lady
Sit rocking her auld son,
Before she sees Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing owre the main.

Version D

Motherwell’s MS., p. 496, communicated by Kirkpatrick Sharpe.

1 THE king sits in Dumferling town,
Drinking the blood red wine: O
‘Where will I get a good skipper,
To sail seven ships o mine?’ O
Where will, etc?p

2 O up then spake a bra young man,
And a bra young man was he:
‘Sir Andrew Wood is the best skipper
That ever saild the sea.’

3 The king has written a bra letter,
And seald it wi his hand,
And ordered Sir Andrew Wood
To come at his command.

4 ‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
Has tauld the king o me?
For had he been a better man,
He might ha tauld a lee.’

5 As I came in by the Inch, Inch, Inch,
I heard an auld man weep:
‘Sir Andrew Wood and a’ his men
Are drowned in the deep!’

6 O lang lang may yon ladies stand,
Their fans into their hands,
Before they see Sir Andrew Wood
Come sailing to dry land.

7 O laith laith were our Scottish lords
To weit their cork-heeled shoon;
But ere that a’ the play was plaid,
They wat their heads aboon.

8 Nore-east, nore-west frae Aberdeen
Is fifty fanthom deep,
And there lies good Sir Andrew Wood,
And a’ the Scottish fleet.

Version E

Motherwell’s MS., p. 348.

1 THE king sits in Dumfermline toun,
Sae merrilie drinking wine; O
Says, Whare will I get a fine skipper,
Wud sail these ships of mine? O

2 Out and spak an auld rich knicht,
And an ill death may he die!
Says, Young Patrick is the best skipper
That ever set sail on sea.

3 The king did write a lang letter,
Sealed it with his own hand,
And he sent it to Young Patrick,
To come at his command.

4 When Young Patrick read the letter lang,
The tear blindit his ee;
Says Wha is this, or wha is that,
That’s tauld the king of me?
Altho he had been better than what he is,
He micht hae askt leave of me.

5 ‘But busk, O busk, my merry men a’,
O busk and mak you braw,
For blaw the wind what airt it will,
Our ship she must awa.

6 ‘Drink, O drink, my merrie men all,
Drink o the beer and wine,
For gin Wedensday by twal o’clock
We’ll a’ be in our lang hame.’

7 Out and spak a pretty little boy:
‘I fear a deadlie storm;
For I saw the new mune late yestreen,
And the old ane in her arm,
And readilie, maister,’ said he,
‘That’s the sign of a deadly storm.’

8 Aye they sat, and aye they drank,
They drank of the beer and wine,
And gin Wedensday gin ten o’clock,
Their hair was wat abune.

9 ‘Whare wuld I get a pretty little boy,
That wants to win hose and shoon,
Wuld up to the top of my mainmast go,
See if he could spy land?’

10 ‘O here am I, a pretty little boy,
Wants to win hose and shoon;
I’ll up to the top of your mainmast go,
Though I should neer come doun.’

11 ‘Come doun, come doun, my pretty little boy,
I think thou tarries lang;
For the jawe is coming in at my coat-neck,
Going out at my richt hand.’

12 But there cum a shouir out o the Norewest,
Of dreidfu hail and rain,
It made Young Patrick and his men
A’ flat wi the sea faem.

13 O is na it a great pitye
To see feather-beds on the main?
But it is a greater pitye, I think,
To see men doing the same.

14 There’s a brig at the back o Sanct John’s toun,
It’s fifty fadom deep,
And there lies a’ our brau Scots lords,
Young Patrick’s at their feet.

15 Young Patrick’s lady sits at hame,
She’s sewing her silken seam;
And aye when she looks to the salt sea waves,
‘I fear he’ll neer return.’

16 Young Patrick’s lady sits at hame
Rocking her oldest son;
And aye when she looks to the salt sea waves,
‘I’m feared he’ll neer come hame.’

Version F

Motherwell’s MS., p. 153, from the recitation of Mrs Thomson.

1 THE king he sits on Dunfermline hill,
Drinking baith beer and wine; O
Says, Whare shall I get a good skipper,
That will sail the salt sea fine? O

2 But out then speaks an Irish knight,
Sat by the king’s right knee:
‘Skipper Patrick is the best skipper
That ever my eyes did see.’

3 The king has written a lang letter,
And sealed it wi his hand,
And sent it to Skipper Patrick,
As he walked alang the sand.

4 ‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
That’s tauld the king of me?
For tho it had been the queen hersell,
She might hae let it be.

5 ‘But busk you, O busk, my merry men all,
Sae merrily busk and boune,
For blaw the wind where eer it will,
Our gude ship sails the morn.’

6 ‘O no, O no, our dear master,
It will be a deidly storm;
For yestreen I saw the new new mune,
Wi the auld mune in her arm;
It’s a token, maister, or ye were born,
It will be a deadly storm.’

7 ‘But busk, O busk, my merrie men all,
Our gude ship sails the morn,
For blow the wind whereer it will,
Our gude ship sails the morn.’

8 They had na sailed a day, a day,
A day but scarsely five,
Till Skipper Patrick’s bonny ship
Began to crack and rive.

9 It’s bonny was the feather beds
That swimmed alang the main,
But bonnier was our braw Scots lords,
They neer returned again.

10 Our Scots lords they are all laith
To weet their coal black shoon;
But I trow or a’ the play was played,
They wat their hair abune.

11 Our ladies may stand upon the sand,
Kembing down their yellow hair,
But they will neer see Skipper Patrick’s ship
Come sailing in nae mair.

12 Our ladies may stand upon the sand
Wi gloves upon their hand,
But they will never see Skipper Patrick’s ship
Come sailing into the land.

13 O vour and o vour to bonnie Aberdour
It’s fifty fadoms deep;
There you will find young Patrick lye,
Wi his Scots lords at his head.

14 Row owre, row owre to Aberdour,
It’s fifty fadom deep;
And there lies Earl Patrick Spens,
His men all at his feet.

Version G

Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 157, communicated by Scott.

1 THE king sits in Dunfermlin town,
Sae merrily drinkin the wine:
‘Whare will I get a mariner,
Will sail this ship o mine?’

2 Then up bespak a bonny boy,
Sat just at the king’s knee:
‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best seaman,
That eer set foot on sea.’

3 The king has written a braid letter,
Seald it wi his ain hand;
He has sent word to Sir Patrick,
To come at his command.

4 ‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
Has tald the king o me?
For I was never a good seaman,
Nor ever intend to be.’

5 They mounted sail on Munenday morn,
Wi a’ the haste they may,
And they hae landed in Norraway,
Upon the Wednesday.

6 They hadna been a month, a month
In Norraway but three,
Till lads o Norraway began to say,
Ye spend a’ our white monie.

7 ‘Ye spend a’ our good kingis goud,
But and our queenis fee:’
‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,
Sae weel’s I hear you lie.

8 ‘For I brought as much white money
As will gain my men and me;
I brought half a fou o good red goud
Out oer the sea with me.

9 ‘Be’t wind or weet, be’t snaw or sleet,
Our ships maun sail the morn:’
‘O ever alack! my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm.

10 ‘I saw the new moon late yestreen,
Wi the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we’ll suffer harm.’

11 They hadna sailed a league on sea,
A league but barely ane,
Till anchors brak, and tap-masts lap;
There came a deadly storm.

12 ‘Whare will I get a bonny boy
Will tak thir sails in hand,
That will gang up to the tap-mast,
See an he ken dry land?’

13 Laith, laith were our good Scots lords
To weet their leathern shoon;
But or the morn at fair day-light,
Their hats were wat aboon.

14 Mony was the feather bed,
That flotterd on the faem,
And mony was the good Scots lord
Gaed awa that neer cam hame,
And mony was the fatherless bairn
That lay at hame greetin.

15 It’s forty miles to Aberdeen,
And fifty fathoms deep;
And there lyes a’ our good Scots lords,
Wi Sir Patrick at their feet.

16 The ladies crackt their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,
A’ for the sake o their true loves,
For them they neer saw mair.

17 Lang, lang may our ladies stand,
Wi their fans in their hand,
Ere they see Sir Patrick and his men
Come sailing to the land.

Version H

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 64, ed. 1803; I, 299, ed. 1833; "taken from two MS. copies, collated with several verses recited by the editor’s friend, Robert Hamilton, Esq., Advocate."

1 THE king sits in Dumfermline town,
Drinking the blude-red wine: O
‘O whare will I get a skeely skipper,
To sail this new ship of mine?’ O

2 O up and spake an eldern knight,
Sat at the king’s right knee:
‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever saild the sea.’

3 Our king has written a braid letter,
And seald it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.

4 ‘To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway oer the faem;
The king’s daughter of Noroway,
’Tis thou maun bring her hame.’

5 The first word that Sir Patrick read,
Sae loud, loud laughed he;
The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
The tear blinded his ee.

6 ‘O wha is this has done this deed,
And tauld the king o me,
To send us out at this time of the year
To sail upon the sea?

7 ‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
Our ship must sail the faem;
The king’s daughter of Noroway,
’Tis we must fetch her hame.’

8 They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
Wi a’ the speed they may;
They hae landed in Noroway,
Upon a Wodensday.

9 They hadna been a week, a week
In Noroway but twae,
When that the lords o Noroway
Began aloud to say:

10 ‘Ye Scottishmen spend a’ our king’s goud,
And a’ our queenis fee!’
‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,
Fu loud I hear ye lie!

11 ‘For I brought as much white monie
As gane my men and me,
And I brought a half-fou o gude red goud
Out oer the sea wi me.

12 ‘Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a’,
Our gude ship sails the morn:’
‘Now, ever alake! my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm!

13 ‘I saw the new moo late yestreen,
Wi the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we’ll come to harm.’

14 They hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
And gurly grew the sea.

15 The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,
It was sic a deadly storm,
And the waves came oer the broken ship,
Till a’ her sides were torn.

16 ‘O where will I get a gude sailor,
To take my helm in hand,
Till I get up to the tall topmast,
To see if I can spy land?’

17 ‘O here am I, a sailor gude,
To take the helm in hand,
Till you go up to the tall topmast;
But I fear you’ll neer spy land.’

18 He hadna gane a step, a step,
A step but barely ane,
When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,
And the salt sea it came in.

19 ‘Gae fetch a web o the silken claith,
Another o the twine,
And wap them into our ship’s side,
And letna the sea come in.’

20 They fetched a web o the silken claith,
Another o the twine,
And they wapped them roun that gude ship’s side,
But still the sea came in.

21 O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords
To weet their cork-heeld shoon;
But lang or a’ the play was playd,
They wat their hats aboon.

22 And mony was the feather-bed
That flattered on the faem,
And mony was the gude lord’s son
That never mair cam hame.

23 The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,
A’ for the sake of their true loves,
For them they’ll see na mair.

24 O lang, lang may the ladyes sit,
Wi their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand.

25 And lang, lang may the maidens sit,
Wi their goud kaims in their hair,
A’ waiting for their ain dear loves,
For them they’ll see na mair.

26 O forty miles off Aberdeen
’Tis fifty fathoms deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi the Scots lords at his feet.

Version I

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 1; Motherwell’s MS., p. 550.

1 THE king sits in Dumfermline town,
A-drinking at the wine;
Says, Where will I get a good skipper,
Will sail the saut seas fine?

2 Out it speaks an eldren knight
Amang the companie:
‘Young Patrick Spens is the best skipper
That ever saild the sea.’

3 The king he wrote a braid letter,
And seald it wi his ring;
Says, Ye’ll gie that to Patrick Spens,
See if ye can him find.

4 He sent this not wi an auld man,
Nor yet a simple boy,
But the best o nobles in his train
This letter did convoy.

5 When Patrick lookd the letter upon
A light laugh then gae he;
But ere he read it till an end,
The tear blinded his ee.

6 Ye’ll eat and drink, my merry men a’,
An see ye be weell thorn;
For blaw it weet, or blaw it wind,
My guid ship sails the morn.’

7 Then out it speaks a guid auld man,
A guid death mat he dee!
‘Whatever ye do, my guid master,
Tak God your guide to bee.

8 ‘For late yestreen I saw the new moon,
The auld moon in her arm:’
‘Ohon, alas!’ says Patrick Spens,
‘That bodes a deadly storm.

9 ‘But I maun sail the seas the morn,
And likewise sae maun you;
To Noroway, wi our king’s daughter,
A chosen queen she’s now.

10 ‘But I wonder who has been sae base
As tauld the king o mee;
Even tho he ware my ae brither,
An ill death mat he dee!’

11 Now Patrick he riggd out his ship,
And sailed ower the faem,
But mony a dreary thought had hee,
While hee was on the main.

12 They hadna saild upon the sea
A day but barely three,
Till they came in sight o Noroway,
It’s there where they must bee.

13 They hadna stayed into that place
A month but and a day,
Till he causd the flip in mugs gae roun,
And wine in cans sae gay.

14 The pipe and harp sae sweetly playd,
The trumpets loudly soun;
In every hall where in they stayd,
Wi their mirth did reboun.

15 Then out it speaks an auld skipper,
An inbearing dog was hee:
‘Ye’ve stayd ower lang in Noroway,
Spending your king’s monie.’

16 Then out it speaks Sir Patrick Spens: ‘O how can a’ this bee?
I hae a bow o guid red gowd
Into my ship wi mee.

17 ‘But betide me well, betide me wae, This day I’se leave the shore,
And never spend my king’s monie
Mong Noroway dogs no more.’

18 Young Patrick hee is on the sea,
And even on the faem,
Wi five-an-fifty Scots lords’ sons,
That langd to bee at hame.

19 They hadna saild upon the sea
A day but barely three,
Till loud and boistrous grew the wind,
And stormy grew the sea.

20 ‘O where will I get a little wee boy
Will tak my helm in hand,
Till I gae up to my tapmast,
And see for some dry land?’

21 He hadna gane to his tapmast
A step but barely three,
Ere thro and thro the bonny ship’s side
He saw the green haw sea.

22 ‘There are five-an-fifty feather beds
Well packed in ae room;
And ye’ll get as muckle guid canvas
As wrap the ship a’ roun.

23 ‘Ye’ll pict her well, and spare her not,
And mak her hale and soun:’
But ere he had the word well spoke
The bonny ship was down.

24 O laith, laith were our guid lords’ sons
To weet their milk-white hands;
But lang ere a’ the play was ower,
They wat their gowden bands.

25 O laith, laith were our Scots lords’ sons
To weet their coal-black shoon;
But lang ere a’ the play was ower,
They wat their hats aboon.

26 It’s even ower by Aberdour
It’s fifty fathoms deep,
And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,
And a’s men at his feet.

27 It’s even ower by Aberdour,
There’s mony a craig and fin,
And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi mony a guid lord’s son.

28 Lang, lang will the ladyes look,
Into their morning weed,
Before they see young Patrick Spens
Come sailing ower the fleed.

29 Lang, lang will the ladyes look,
Wi their fans in their hand,
Before they see him Patrick Spens
Come sailing to dry land.

Version J

Miss Harris’s MS., fol. 4, from the singing of her mother.

1 HIE sits oor king in Dumfermline,
Sits birlin at the wine;
Says, Whare will I get a bonnie boy
That will sail the saut seas fine?
That will hie owre to Norraway,
To bring my dear dochter hame?

2 Up it spak a bonnie boy,
Sat by the king’s ain knie:
‘Sir Patrick Spens is as gude a skipper
As ever sailed the sea.’

3 The king has wrote a broad letter,
And signed it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
To read it gif he can.

4 The firsten line he luikit on,
A licht lauchter gae he;
But ere he read it to the end,
The tear blindit his ee.

5 ‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
Has tauld oor king o me?
I wad hae gien him twice as muckle thank
To latten that abee!

6 ‘But eat an drink, my merrie young men,
Eat, an be weel forn;
For blaw it wind, or blaw it weet,
Oor gude ship sails the morn.’

7 Up it spak his youngest son,
Sat by Sir Patrick’s knie:
‘I beg you bide at hame, father,
An I pray be ruled by me.

8 ‘For I saw the new mune late yestreen,
Wi the auld mune in her arms;
An ever an alake, my father dear,
It’s a token o diedly storms.’

9 ‘It’s eat an drink, my merrie young men,
Eat, an be weel forn;
For blaw it wind, or blaw it weet,
Oor gude ship sails the morn.’

10 They hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only three,
When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws
Cam drivin to their knie.

11 They hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only five,
When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws
Their gude ship began to rive.

12 They hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only nine,
When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws
Cam drivin to their chin.

13 ‘O whaur will I get a bonnie boy
Will tak the steer in hand,
Till I mount up to oor tapmast,
To luik oot for dry land?’

14 ‘O here am I, a bonnie boy,
Will tak the steer in hand,
Till you mount up to oor tapmast,
To luik oot for dry land.’

15 He’s gaen up to the tapmast,
To the tapmast sae hie;
He luikit around on every side,
But dry land he couldna see.

16 He luikit on his youngest son,
An the tear blindit he ee;
Says, I wish you had been in your mother’s bowr,
But there you’ll never be.

17 ‘Pray for yoursels, my merrie young men,
Pray for yoursels an me,
For the first landen that we will land
Will be in the boddam o the sea.’

18 Then up it raise the mermaiden,
Wi the comb an glass in her hand:
‘Here’s a health to you, my merrie young men,
For you never will see dry land.’

19 O laith, laith waur oor gude Scots lords
To weet their cork-heeled shoon;
But lang, lang ere the play was played,
Their yellow locks soomed aboun.

20 There was Saturday, an Sabbath day,
An Monnonday at morn,
That feather-beds an silken sheets
Can floatin to Kinghorn.

21 It’s och, och owre to Aberdour,
It’s fifty faddoms deep;
An there lie a’ oor gude Scots lords,
Wi Sir Patrick Spens at their feet.

22 O lang, lang will his lady sit,
Wi the fan into her hand,
Until she see her ain dear lord
Come sailin to dry land.

23 O lang, lang will his lady sit,
Wi the tear into her ee,
Afore she see her ain dear lord
Come hieing to Dundee.

24 O lang, lang will his lady sit,
Wi the black shoon on her feet,
Afore she see Sir Patrick Spens
Come drivin up the street.

Version K

Communicated by Mr Murison, as taken down from recitation in Old Deer by Mrs Murison.

1 IT’S when he read the letter ower
A licht lauch then leuch he;
But lang ere he wan the end o it
The saut tear filled his ee.

2 ‘O woe be to the man,’ he says,
‘That’s tauld the king o me;
Altho he be my ain brither,
Some ill death mat he dee!

3 . . . . . .
. . . .
‘For be it weet, or be it win,
My bonnie ship sails the morn.’
’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’

4 ‘For late the streen I saw the new meen,
Bit an the auld ane tee.
An it fears me sair, my good maister,
For a tempest in the sea.’

5 . . . . .
. . . . . .
Till up it rase the win an storm,
An a tempest i the sea.

6 . . . . . .
. . . . .
It’s throch an throu the comely cog
There comes the green raw sea.
’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’

7 ‘Call upo your men, maister,
An dinna call on me,
For ye drank them weel ere ye tuke the gate,
But O nane gae ye me.

8 ‘Ye beat my back, an beat my sides,
When I socht hose an sheen;
So call upo your men, maister,
As they lie drunk wi wine.’

9 ‘Come doon, come doon, my bonnie boy,
An tak my helm in han;
Gin ever we live to gae to lan,
I’ll wed ye wi my daughter Ann.’

10 ‘Ye used me ill, my guid maister,
When we was on the lan,
But nevertheless, my gude maister,
I’ll tak your helm in han.’

11 O laith, laith was oor bonny boys
To weet their cork-heeled shoes;
But lang ere a’ the play was played,
They wat their yallow broos.

12 O laith, laith was oor bonnie boys
To weet their cork-heeled sheen;
But lang ere a’ the play was played,
They wat their hair abeen.

13 ‘O lang, lang will my lady leuk,
Wi the lantern in her han,
Afore she see my bonnie ship
Come sailin to dry lan.’

14 Atween Leith an Aberdeen
Lies mony a craig an sea,
An there it lies young Patrick Spens,
An mony bonnie boys him wi.

Version L

Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 6, Motherwell’s MS., p. 156, from Mrs Gentles, Paisley, February 1825.

1 OUR ship it was a gudely ship,
Its topmast was of gold,
And at every tack of needlework
There hung a silver bell.

2 Up started the mermaid by our ship,
Wi the glass and the comb in her hand:
‘Reek about, reek about, my merrie men,
Ye are not far from land.’

3 ‘You lie, you lie, you pretty mermaid,
Sae loud as I hear you lie;
For since I have seen your face this nicht,
The land I will never see.’

4 We hadna sailed a league but ane,
A league but barely three,
Till all we and our goodly ship
Was all drowned in the sea.

5 Lang lang may our ladies stand,
Wi their seams into their hand,
Looking for Sir Patrick’s ship,
That will never come to land.

Version M

Buchan’s Gleaning, p. 196, "from a very intelligent old man."

1 THERE shall no man go to my ship
Till I say mass and dine,
And take my leave of my lady;
Go to my bonny ship syne.

2 When he was up at the top-mast head
Around could naething see,
But terrible storm in the air aboon,
And below the roaring sea.

3 ‘Come down, come down, my good master,
You see not what I see;
For thro an thro your bonny ship’s side
I see the green salt sea.’

4 Lang lang will the ladies look,
Wi their gown-tails owre their crown,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Sailing to Dumferline town.

Version N

Noted down from a female servant, by Joseph Robertson, July, 15, 1829, Adversaria, p. 67.

1 OWER and ower by Aberdour
There’s mony a cloudy stone,
And there is mony a gude lord’s son
I fear will never come home.

2 Lang, lang will his lady look,
Wi her baby in her arms,
But she’ll never see Earl Patrick Spens
Com walkin up the stran.

3 ‘I have a table in my room,
It cost me guineas nine;
I wad sink it in the sea
For ae sight o dry lan.

4 ‘There’s a coast o green velvet on my back,
I got it for my fee;
But tho I wad gie ten thousan punds,
Dry land I will never see.’

Version O

Gibb MS., p. 63.

1 BONNY were the feather beds
Cam sailin ower the faem,
But bonnier was the sexteen lords
Gaed out and neer cam hame.

2 Lang, lang may the nourice sit,
Wi the bonny babe on her knee,
Ere ever she see her good lord come,
To pay to her her fee.

3 An lang, lang will the lady sit,
Wi the gowd fan in her hand,
Ere ever she see her ain gude lord
Come skipping to dry land.

Version P

Kinloch MSS, I, 281.

1 FU laith, fu laith was our braw Scots lords
To weet their coal black shoon;
But ere the battle a’ was foucht,
Their hats war weet aboun.

2 Out and starts the mermaiden,
Wi a fan into her hand:
‘Keep up your hearts, my merry men a’,
For ye’re near the dry land.’

3 Out and spak Earl Patrick Graham,
Wi the saut tear in his ee:
‘Now sin we’ve seen the mermaiden,
Dry land we’ll never see.’

4 Down below Dunbarton castle,
Full fifty fathoms deep,
There lies a’ our braw Scots men,
Earl Patrick at their feet.

Version Q

Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, I, xiv, from a recited copy.

1 THEN up an cam a mermaid,
Wi a siller cup in her han:
‘Sail on, sail on, my gude Scotch lords,
For ye sune will see dry lan.’

2 ‘Awa, awa, ye wind woman,
An let your fleechin be;
For sen your face we’ve seen the day,
Dry lan we’ll never see.’

Version R

Communicated by Mr Macmath, from Mr William Traquair, S. S. C., Edinburgh; obtained originally in Perthsire.

58 ’TWAS late, late on a Saturday night,
And early on a Sunday morn,
That robes of silk and feather beds
Came floating to Kean-Gorn.

59. Sir Aldingar

Version A

Percy MS., p. 68; Hales and Furnivall, I, 166.

1 OUR king he kept a ffalse steward,
Men called him Sir Aldingar,
. . . . .
. . . .

2 He wold haue layen by our comely queene,
Her deere worshipp to haue betraide;
Our queene shee was a good woman,
And euer more said him nay.

3 Aldingar was offended in his mind,
With her hee was neuer content,
But he sought what meanes he cold find out,
In a fyer to haue her brent.

4 There came a lame lazer to the kings gates,
A lazar was blind and lame;
He tooke the lazar vpon his backe,
Vpon the queenes bed he did him lay.

5 He said, Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest;
Looke thou goe not away;
Ile make thee a whole man and a sound
In two howres of a day.

6 And then went forth Sir Aldingar,
Our queene for to betray,
And then he mett with our comlye king,
Saies, God you saue and see!

7 ‘If I had space, as I haue grace,
A message I wold say to thee:’
‘Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,
Say thou on and vnto me.’

8 ‘I can let you now see one of [the] greiuos[est] sights
that euer Christen king did see;
Our queene hath chosen a new, new loue,
She will haue none of thee.

9 ‘If shee had chosen a right good knight,
The lesse had beene her shame;
But she hath chosen a lazar man,
Which is both blinde and lame.’

10 ‘If this be true, thou Aldingar,
that thou dost tell to me,
Then will I make thee a rich knight
Both of gold and fee.

11 ‘But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,
That thou doest tell to me,
Then looke for noe other death
But to be hangd on a tree.
Goe with me,’ saide our comly king,
‘This lazar for to see.’

12 When the king he came into the queenes chamber,
Standing her bed befor,
‘There is a lodly lome,’ says Harry King,
‘For our dame Queene Elinor!

13 ‘If thou were a man, as thou art none,
Here thou sholdest be slaine;
But a paire of new gallowes shall be built,
Thoust hang on them soe hye.

14 ‘And [a] fayre fyer there shalbe bett,
And brent our queene shalbee:’
Fforth then walked our comlye king,
And mett with our comly queene.

15 Saies, God you saue, our queene, Madam,
And Christ you saue and see!
Heere you [haue] chosen a new, new loue,
And you will haue none of mee.

16 ‘If you had chosen a right good knight,
The lesse had beene your shame;
But you haue chosen a lazar man,
That is both blind and lame.’

17 ‘Euer alacke!’ said our comly queene,
‘Sir Aldingar is false to mee;
But euer alacke!’ said our comly queene,
‘Euer alas, and woe is mee!

18 ‘I had thought sweuens had neuer been true;
I haue prooued them true at the last;
I dreamed in my sweauen on Thursday at eueninge,
In my bed wheras I lay,

19 ‘I dreamed a grype and a grimlie beast
Had carryed my crowne away,
My gorgett and my kirtle of golde,
And all my faire heade-geere.

20 How he wold haue worryed me with his tush,
And borne me into his nest,
Saving there came a little hawk,
Flying out of the east.

21 ‘Saving there came a little hawke,
Which men call a merlion;
Vntill the ground he stroke him downe,
that dead he did fall downe.

22 ‘Giffe I were a man, as I am none,
A battell I would proue;
I wold fight with that false traitor;
Att him I cast my gloue!

23 ‘Seing I am able noe battell to make,
You must grant me, my leege, a knight,
To fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar,
To maintaine me in my right.’

24 ‘I’le giue thee forty dayes,’ said our king,
‘To seeke thee a man therin;
If thou find not a man in forty dayes,
In a hott fyer thou shall brenn.’

25 Our queene sent forth a messenger;
He rode fast into the south;
He rode the countryes through and through,
Soe ffar vnto Portsmouth.

26 . . . . . .
. . . . .
He cold find never a man in the south country
that wold fight with the knight soe keene.

27 The second messenger the queen forth sent
Rode far into the east;
But, blessed be God made sunn and moone!
He sped then all of the best.

28 As he rode then by one riuer side,
There he mett with a little child;
He seemed noe more in a mans likenesse
Then a child of four yeeres old.

29 He askt the queenes messenger how far he rode;
Loth he was him to tell;
The little one was offended att him,
Bid him adew, farwell.

30 Said, Turne thou againe, thou messenger,
Greete our queene well from me;
When bale is att hyest, boote is att next;
Helpe enough there may bee.

31 ‘Bid our queene remember what she did dreame
In her bedd wheras shee lay;
Shee dreamed the grype and the grimly beast
Had carryed her crowne away;

32 ‘Her gorgett and her kirtle of gold,
Alsoe her faire head-geere;
He wold haue werryed her with his tushe,
And borne her into his nest.

33 ‘Saving there came a little hawke,
Men call him a merlyon;
Vntill the ground he did strike him downe,
that dead he did ffall downe.

34 ‘Bidd the queene be merry att her hart,
Euermore light and glad;
When bale is att hyest, boote is at next,
Helpe enoughe there shalbe.’

35 Then the queenes messenger rode backe,
A gladed man then was hee;
When he came before our queene,
A gladd woman then was shee.

36 Shee gaue the messenger twenty pound,
O lord, in gold and ffee;
Saies, Spend and spare not while this doth last,
Then feitch thou more of me.

37 Our queene was put in a tunne to burne,
She thought no thing but death;
Th?e were ware of the little one
Came ryding forth of the east.

38 With a mu . . . . .
A louelie child was hee;
When he came to that fier,
He light the queene full nigh.

39 Said, Draw away these brands of fire
Lie burning before our queene,
And feitch me hither Sir Aldingar,
that is a knight soe keene.

40 When Aldingar see that little one,
Ffull litle of him hee thought;
If there had beene halfe a hundred such,
Of them he wold not haue wrought.

41 Hee sayd, Come hither, Sir Aldingar;
Thou seemust as bigge as a ffooder;
I trust to God, ere I haue done with thee,
God will send to vs [an] auger.

42 Saies, The first stroke that’s giuen, Sir Aldingar,
I will giue vnto thee,
And if the second giue thou may,
Looke then thou spare not mee.

43 The litle one pulld forth a well good sword,
I-wis itt was all of guilt;
It cast light there over that feild,
It shone soe all of guilt.

44 He stroke the first stroke att Aldingar,
He stroke away his leggs by his knee;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

45 Sayes, Stand vp, stand vp, thou false traitor,
And fight vpon thy feete;
For and thou thriue as thou begins,
Of a height wee shalbe meete.

46 ‘A preist, a preist,’ sayes Aldingar,
‘Me for to houzle and shriue!
A preist, a preist,’ sayes Aldingar,
‘While I am a man liuing a-liue!

47 ‘I wold haue laine by our comlie queene;
To it shee wold neuer consent;
I thought to haue betrayd her to our king,
In a fyer to haue had her brent.

48 ‘There came a lame lazar to the kings gates,
A lazar both blind and lame;
I tooke the lazar vpon my backe,
In the Queenes bed I did him lay.

49 ‘I bad him, Lie still, lazar, where he lay,
Looke he went not away;
I wold make him a whole man and a sound
In two houres of a day.

50 . . . . .
. . . . .
‘Euer alacke!’ sayes Sir Aldingar,
‘Falsing neuer doth well;

51 ‘Forgiue, forgiue me, queene, Madam!
For Christs loue forgiue me!’
‘God forgaue his death, Aldingar,
And freely I forgiue thee.’

52 ‘Now take thy wife, thou King Harry,
And loue her as thou shold;
Thy wiffe shee is as true to thee
As stone that lies on the castle wall.’

53 The lazar vnder the gallow tree
Was a pretty man and small;
The lazar vnder the gallow tree
Was made steward in King Henerys hall.

Version B

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 51, 1803. Communicated to Scott by K. Williamson Burnet, of Monboddo, as written down from the recitation of an old woman, long in the service of the Arbuthnot family.

1 THE birds sang sweet as ony bell,
The world had not their make;
The queen she’s gone to her chamber,
With Rodingham to talk.

2 ‘I love you well, my queene, my dame,
Bove land and rents so clear,
And for the love of you, my queen,
Would thole pain most severe.’

3 ‘If well you love me, Rodingham,
I’m sure so do I thee;
I love you well as any man,
Save the king’s fair bodye.’

4 ‘I love you well, my queen, my dame,
’Tis truth that I do tell;
And for to lye a night with you,
The salt seas I would sail.’

5 ‘Away, away, O Rodingham!
You are both stark and stoor;
Would you defile the king’s own bed,
And make his queen a whore?

6 ‘To-morrow you’d be taken sure,
And like a traitor slain,
And I’d be burned at a stake,
Altho I be the queen.’

7 All in an angry mood,
Untill he met a leper-man,
Just by the hard way-side.

8 He intoxicate the leper-man,
With liquors very sweet,
And gave him more and more to drink,
Until he fell asleep.

9 He took him in his arms two,
And carried him along,
Till he came to the queen’s own bed,
And there he laid him down.

10 He then steppd out of the queen’s bower,
As swift as any roe,
Till he came to the very place
Where the king himself did go.

11 The king said unto Rodingham,
What news have you to me?
He said, Your queen’s a false woman,
As I did plainly see.

12 He hastend to the queen’s chamber,
So costly and so fine,
Until he came to the queen’s own bed,
Where the leper-man was lain.

13 He looked on the leper-man,
Who lay on his queen’s bed;
He lifted up the snaw-shite sheets,
And thus he to him said.

14 ‘Plooky, plooky are your cheeks,
And plooky is your chin,
And plooky are your armis twa,
My bonny queen’s layne in.

15 ‘Since she has lain into your arms,
She shall not lye in mine;
Since she has kissd your ugsome mouth,
She never shall kiss mine.’

16 In anger he went to the queen,
Who fell upon her knee;
He said, You false, unchaste woman,
What’s this you’ve done to me?

17 The queen then turnd herself about,
The tear blinded her ee:
‘There’s not a knight in a’ your court
Dare give that name to me.’

18 He said, ’Tis true that I do say;
For I a proof did make;
You shall be taken from my bower,
And burned at a stake.

19 ‘Perhaps I’ll take my word again,
And may repent the same,
If that you’ll get a Christian man
To fight that Rodingham.’

20 ‘Alass! alass!’ then cried our queen,
‘Alas, and woe to me!
There’s not a man in all Scotland
Will fight with him for me.’

21 She breathed unto her messengers,
Sent them south, east, and west;
They could find none to fight with him,
Nor enter the contest.

22 She breathed on her messengers,
She sent them to the north;
And there they found Sir Hugh le Blond,
To fight him he came forth.

23 When unto him they did unfold
The circumstance all right,
He bade them go and tell the queen
That for her he would fight.

24 The day came on that was to do
That dreadful tragedy;
Sir hugh le Blond was not come up,
To fight for our lady.

25 ‘Put on the fire,’ the monster said,
‘It is twelve on the bell;’
’’Tis scarcely ten, now,’ said the king,
‘I heard the clock mysell.’

26 Before the hour the queen is brought,
The burning to proceed;
In a black velvet chair she’s set,
A token for the dead.

27 She saw the flames ascending high,
The tears blinded her ee:
‘Where is the worthy knight,’ she said,
‘Who is to fight for me?’

28 Then up and spak the king himsell:
‘My dearest, have no doubt,
For yonder comes the man himsel,
As bold as eer set out.’

29 They then advanced to fight the duel,
With swords of temperd steel;
Till down the blood of Rodingham
Came running to his heel.

30 Sir Hugh took out a lusty sword,
’Twas of the metal clear,
And he has pierced Rodingham
Till’s heart-blood did appear.

31 ‘Confess your treachery, now,’ he said,
‘This day before you die;’
‘I do confess my treachery,
I shall no longer lye.

32 ‘I like to wicked Haman am,
This day I shall be slain:’
The queen was brought to her chamber,
A good woman again.

33 The queen then said unto the king,
Arbattle’s near the sea;
Give it unto the northern knight,
That this day fought for me.

34 Then said the king, Come here, Sir Knight,
And drink a glass of wine,
And, if Arbattle’s not enough,
To it we’ll Fordoun join.

Version C

Dr Joseph Robertson’s Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 6.

1 THEY’VE putten her into prison strang,
A twalmon lang and mair,
Until the mice and wild rattens
Did tear her yallow hair.

2 ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’
‘One shake o your han,’ said Rodingham,
‘One shak o your han gie me:’
‘I cam na here for shaking hans,
But to fight maist desperatelie.’

3 ‘It’s nae ten strucken on the clock,
Nor eleven on the bell:’
‘We’ll doe ill deeds anew ere night,
Tho it were strucken twall.’

60. King Estmere

a. Percy’s Reliques, edition of 1794, I, 64. b. Reliques, edition of 1765, I, 58.

1 HEARKEN to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;
Ile tell you of two of the boldest brether
That ever borne were.

2 The tone of them was Adler Younge,
The tother was Kyng Estmere;
The were as bolde men in their deeds
As any were, farr and neare.

3 As they were drinking ale and wine
Within his brother’s hall,
‘When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
A wyfe to glad us all?’

4 Then bespake him Kyng Estmere,
And answered him hartilye:
‘I know not that ladye in any land,
That’s able to marrye with mee.’

5 ‘Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;
If I were kyng here in your stead,
That ladye shold be my queene.’

6 Saies, Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
Throughout merry England,
Where we might find a messenger
Betwixt us towe to sende.

7 Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brother,
Ile beare you companye;
Many a man throughe fals messengers is deceived,
And I feare lest soe shold wee.

8 Thus the renisht them to ryde,
Of twoe good renisht steeds,
And when the came to King Adlands halle,
Of redd gold shone their weeds.

9 And when the came to Kyng Adlands hall,
Before the goodlye gate,
There they found good Kyng Adland
Rearing himselfe theratt.

10 ‘Now Christ thee save, good Kyng Adland;
Now Christ you save and see:’
Sayd, You be welcome, King Estmere,
Right hartilye to mee.

11 ‘You have a daughter,’ said Adler Younge,
‘Men call her bright and sheene;
My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe,
Of Englande to be queene.’

12 ‘Yesterday was att my deere daughter
The king his sonne of Spayn,
And then she nicked him of naye,
And I doubt sheele do you the same.’

13 ‘The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim,
And ’leeveth on Mahound,
And pitye it were that fayre ladye
Shold marrye a heathen hound.’

14 ‘But grant to me,’ sayes Kyng Estmere,
‘For my love I you praye,
That I may see your daughter deere
Before I goe hence awaye.’

15 ‘Although itt is seven yeers and more
Since my daughter was in halle,
She shall come once downe for your sake,
To glad my guest?es alle.’

16 Downe then came that mayden fayre,
With ladyes laced in pall,
And halfe a hundred of bold knightes,
To bring her [from] bowre to hall,
And as many gentle squiers,
To tend upon them all.

17 The talents of golde were on her head sette
Hanged low downe to her knee,
And everye ring on her small finger
Shone of the chrystall free.

18 Saies, God you save, my deere madam, Saies,
God you save and see:
Said, You be welcome, Kyng Estmere,
Right welcome unto mee.

19 ‘And, if you love me, as you saye,
Soe well and hartilee,
All that ever you are comen about
Soone sped now itt shal bee.’

20 Then bespake her father deare:
My daughter, I saye naye;
Remember well the kyng of Spayne,
What he sayd yesterdaye.

21 ‘He wold pull downe my halles and castles,
And reave me of my lyfe;
I cannot blame him if he doe,
If I reave him of his wyfe.

22 ‘Your castles and your towres, father,
Are stronglye built aboute,
And therefore of the king his sonne of Spaine
Wee neede not stande in doubt.

23 ‘Plight me your troth, nowe, Kyng Estmere,
By heaven and your righte hand,
That you will marrye me to your wyfe,
And make me queene of your land.’

24 Then Kyng Estmere he plight his troth,
By heaven and his righte hand,
That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe,
And make her queene of his land.

25 And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre,
To goe to his owne countree,
To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes,
That marryed the might bee.

26 They had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle forthe of the towne,
But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
With kemp?es many one.

27 But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
With manye a bold barone,
Tone day to marrye Kyng Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home.

28 Shee sent one after Kyng Estmere,
In all the spede might bee,
That he must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and loose his ladye.

29 One whyle then the page he went,
Another while he ranne;
Till he had oretaken King Estmere,
I-wis he never blanne.

30 ‘Tydings, tydings, Kyng Estmere!’
‘What tydinges nowe, my boye?’
‘O tydinges I can tell to you,
That will you sore annoye.

31 ‘You had not ridden scant a mile,
A mile out of the towne,
But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
With kemp?es many a one.

32 ‘But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
With manye a bold barone,
Tone daye to marrye King Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carry her home.

33 ‘My ladye fayre she greetes you well,
And ever-more well by mee;
You must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and loose your ladye.’

34 Saies, Reade me, reade me, deere brother,
My reade shall ryse at thee,
Whether it is better to turne and fighte,
Or goe home and loose my ladye.

35 ‘Now hearken to me,’ sayes Adler Yonge,
‘And your reade must rise at me;
I quicklye will devise a waye
To sette thy ladye free.

36 ‘My mother was a westerne woman,
And learned in gramarye,
And when I learned at the schole,
Something shee taught itt mee.

37 ‘There growes an hearbe within this field,
And iff it were but knowne,
His color, which is whyte and redd,
It will make blacke and browne.

38 ‘His color, which is browne and blacke,
Itt will make redd and whyte;
That sworde is not in all Englande
Upon his coate will byte.

39 ‘And you shal be a harper, brother,
Out of the north countrye,
And Ile be your boy, soo faine of fighte,
And beare your harpe by your knee.

40 ‘And you shal be the best harper
That ever tooke harpe in hand,
And I wil be the best singer
That ever sung in this lande.

41 ‘Itt shal be written in our forheads,
All and in grammarye,
That we towe are the boldest men
That are in all Christentye.’

42 And thus they renisht them to ryde,
Of tow good renisht steedes,
And when they came to King Adlands hall,
Of redd gold shone their weedes.

43 And whan the came to Kyng Adlands hall
Untill the fayre hall-yate,
There they found a proud porter,
Rearing himselfe thereatt.

44 Sayes, Christ thee save, thou proud porter,
Sayes, Christ thee save and see:
‘Nowe you be welcome,’ sayd the porter,
‘Of what land soever ye bee.’

45 ‘Wee beene harpers,’ sayd Adler Younge,
‘Come out of the northe countrye;
Wee beene come hither untill this place
This proud weddinge for to see.’

46 Sayd, And your color were white and redd,
As it is blacke and browne,
I wolde saye King Estmere and his brother
Were comen untill this towne.

47 Then they pulled out a ryng of gold,
Layd itt on the porters arme:
‘And ever we will thee, proud porter,
Thow wilt saye us no harme.’

48 Sore he looked on Kyng Estmere,
And sore he handled the ryng,
Then opened to them the fayre hall-yates,
He lett for no kind of thyng.

49 Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede
Soe fayre att the hall-bord;
The froth that came from his brydle bitte
Light in Kyng Bremors beard.

50 Saies, Stable thy steed, thou proud harper,
Saies, Stable him in the stalle;
It doth not beseeme a proud harper
To stable his steed in a kyngs halle.

51 ‘My ladde he is so lither,’ he said,
‘He will doe nought that’s meete;
And is there any man in this hall
Were able him to beate?’

52 ‘Thou speakst proud words,’ sayes the king of Spaine,
‘Thou harper, here to mee;
There is a man within this halle
Will beate thy ladd and thee.’

53 ‘O let that man come downe,’ he said,
‘A sight of him wold I see;
And when hee hath beaten well my ladd,
Then he shall beate of mee.’

54 Downe then came the kemperye man,
And looked him in the eare;
For all the gold that was under heaven,
He durst not neigh him neare.

55 ‘And how nowe, kempe,’ said the kyng of Spaine,
‘And how, what aileth thee?’
He saies, It is writt in his forhead,
All and in grammarye,
That for all the gold that is under heaven,
I dare not neigh him nye.

56 Then Kyng Estmere pulld forth his harpe,
And plaid a pretty thinge;
The ladye upstart from the borde,
And wold have gone from the king.

57 ‘Stay thy harpe, thou proud harper,
For Gods love I pray thee;
For and thou playes as thou beginns,
Thou’lt till my bryde from mee.’

58 He stroake upon his harpe againe,
And playd a pretty thinge;
The ladye lough a loud laughter,
As shee sate by the king.

59 Saies, Sell me thy harpe, thou proud harper,
And thy string?es all;
For as many gold nobles thou shalt have
As heere bee ringes in the hall.’

60 ‘What wold ye doe with my harpe,’ he sayd,
‘If I did sell itt yee?’
‘To playe my wiffe and me a fitt,
When abed together wee bee.’

61 ‘Now sell me,’ quoth hee, ‘thy bryde soe gay,
As shee sitts by thy knee;
And as many gold nobles I will give
As leaves been on a tree.’

62 ‘And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay,
Iff I did sell her thee?
More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye
To lye by mee then thee.’

63 Hee played agayne both loud and shrille,
And Adler he did syng,
‘O ladye, this is thy owne true love,
Noe harper, but a kyng.

64 ‘O ladye, this is thy owne true love,
As playnlye thou mayest see,
And Ile rid thee of that foule paynim
Who partes thy love and thee.’

65 The ladye looked, the ladye blushte,
And blushte and lookt agayne,
While Adler he hath drawne his brande,
And hath the sowdan slayne.

66 Up then rose the kemperye men,
And loud they gan to crye:
‘Ah! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng,
And therefore yee shall dye.’

67 Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde,
And swith he drew his brand,
And Estmere he and Adler Yonge
Right stiffe in stour can stand.

68 And aye their swordes soe sore can byte,
Throughe help of gramarye,
That soone they have slayne the kempery men,
Or forst them forth to flee.

69 Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye,
And marryed her to his wiffe,
And brought her home to merry England,
With her to leade his life.

61. Sir Cawline

*Percy MS., p. 368; Hales and Furnivall, III, 3. * * * * **

1 AND in that land dwells a king
Which does beare the bell ouer all,
And with him there dwelled a curteous knight,
Sir Cawline men him call.

2 And he hath a ladye to his daughter,
Of ffashyon shee hath noe peer;
Knights and lordes they woed her both,
Trusted to haue beene her feere.

3 Sir Cawline loues her best of on?e,
But nothing durst hee say
To discreeue his councell to noe man,
But deerlye loued this may.

4 Till itt beffell vpon a day,
Great dill to him was dight;
The maydens loue remoued his mind,
To care-bed went the knight.

5 And one while he spread his armes him ffroe,
And cryed so pittyouslye:
‘Ffor the maydens loue that I haue most minde
This day may comfort mee,
Or else ere noone I shalbe dead!’
Thus can Sir Cawline say.

6 When our parish masse that itt was done,
And our king was bowne to dine,
He sayes, Where is Sir Cawline,

7 But then answered a curteous knight,
Ffast his hands wringinge:
‘Sir Cawline’s sicke, and like to be dead
Without and a good leedginge.’

8 ‘Ffeitch yee downe my daughter deere,
Shee is a leeche ffull ffine;
I, and take you doe and the baken bread,
And drinke he on the wine soe red,
And looke no daynti is ffor him to deare,
For ffull loth I wold him tine.’

9 This ladye is gone to his chamber,
Her maydens ffollowing nye;
‘O well,’ shee sayth, ‘how doth my lord?’
‘O sicke!’ againe saith hee.

10 ‘I, but rise vp wightlye, man, for shame!
Neuer lye here soe cowardlye!
Itt is told in my ffathers hall,
Ffor my loue you will dye.’

11 ‘Itt is ffor your loue, ffayre ladye,
that all this dill I drye;
Ffor if you wold comfort me with a kisse,
Then were I brought ffrom bale to blisse,
Noe longer here wold I lye.’

12 ‘Alas! soe well you know, Sir knight,’
. . . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . .

13 . . . . . .
I cannott bee your peere:
‘Ffor some deeds of armes ffaine wold I doe,
To be your bacheeleere.’

14 ‘Vpon Eldrige Hill there growes a thorne,
Vpon the mores brodinge;
And wold you, sir knight, wake there all night
To day of the other morninge?

15 ‘Ffor the eldrige king, that is mickle of might,
Will examine you beforne;
And there was neuer man that bare his liffe away
Since the day that I was borne.’

16 ‘But I will ffor your sake, ffaire ladye,
Walke on the bents [soe] browne,
And Ile either bring you a readye token,
Or Ile neuer come to you againe.’

17 But this ladye is gone to her chamber,
Her maydens ffollowing bright,
And Sir Cawlin’s gone to the mores soe broad,
Ffor to wake there all night.

18 Vnto midnight [that] the moone did rise,
He walked vp and downe,
And a lightsome bugle then heard he blow,
Ouer the bents soe browne;
Saies hee, And if cryance come vntill my hart,
I am ffarr ffrom any good towne.

19 And he spyed, ene a litle him by,
A ffuryous king and a ffell,
And a ladye bright his brydle led,
that seemlye itt was to see.

20 And soe fast hee called vpon Sir Cawline,
Oh man, I redd the fflye!
Ffor if cryance come vntill thy hart,
I am a-feard least thou mun dye.

21 He sayes, [No] cryance comes to my hart,
Nor ifaith I ffeare not thee;
Ffor because thou minged not Christ before,
Thee lesse me dreadeth thee.

22 But Sir Cawline he shooke a speare;
The king was bold, and abode;
And the timber these two children bore
Soe soone in sunder slode;
Ffor they tooke and two good swords,
And they layden on good loade.

23 But the elridge king was mickle of might,
And stiffly to the ground did stand;
But Sir Cawline, with an aukeward stroke,
He brought ffrom him his hand,
I, and fflying ouer his head soe hye,
[It] ffell downe of that lay land.

24 And his lady stood a litle thereby,
Ffast ringing her hands:
‘For the maydens loue that you haue most minde,
Smyte you my lord no more.

25 ‘And hees neuer come vpon Eldrige [Hill],
Him to sport, gamon, or play,
And to meete noe man of middle-earth
And that liues on Christs his lay.’

26 But he then vp and that eldryge king,
Sett him in his sadle againe,
And that eldryge king and his ladye
To their castle are they gone.

27 And hee tooke then vp and that eldryge sword,
As hard as any fflynt,
And soe he did those ringes fiue,
Harder then ffyer, and brent.

28 Ffirst he presented to the kings daughter
The hand, and then the sword,
. . . . . .
. . . . .
’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’

29 ‘But a serre buffett you haue him giuen,
The king and the crowne,’ shee sayd:
‘I, but four and thirty stripes
Comen beside the rood.’

30 And a gyant that was both stiffe [and] strong,
He lope now them amonge,
And vpon his squier fiue heads he bare,
Vnmackley made was hee.

31 And he dranke then on the kings wine,
And hee put the cup in his sleeue,
And all th?e trembled and were wan,
Ffor feare he shold them greeffe.

32 ‘Ill tell thee mine arrand, king,’ he sayes,
‘Mine errand what I doe heere;
Ffor I will bren thy temples hye,
Or Ile haue thy daughter deere;
Thou shalt ffind mee a ppeare.’
I, or else vpon yond more soe brood

33 The king he turned him round about,
Lord, in his heart he was woe!
Says, Is there noe knight of the Round Table
This matter will vndergoe?

34 ‘I, and hee shall haue my broad lands,
And keepe them well his liue;
I, and soe hee shall my daughter deere,
To be his weded wiffe.’

35 And then stood vp Sir Cawline,
His owne errand ffor to say:
‘Ifaith, I wold to God, Sir,’ sayd Sir Cawline,
‘that soldan I will assay.

36 ‘Goe ffeitch me downe my eldrige sword,
Ffor I woone itt att ffray:’
‘But away, away!’ sayd the hend soldan,
‘Thou tarryest mee here all day!’

37 But the hend soldan and Sir Cawline
Th?e ffought a summers day;
Now has hee slaine that hend soldan,
And brought his fiue heads away.

38 And the king has betaken him his broade lands,
And all his venison;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

39 ‘But take you doo and your lands [soe] broad,
And brooke them well your liffe;
Ffor you promised mee your daughter deere,
To be my weded wiffe.’

40 ‘Now by my ffaith,’ then sayes our king,
‘Ffor that wee will not striffe,
Ffor thou shalt haue my daughter dere,
To be thy weded wiffe.’

41 The other morninge Sir Cawline rose
By the dawning of the day,
And vntill a garden did he goe
His mattins ffor to say;
And that bespyed a ffalse steward,
A shames death that he might dye!

42 And he lett a lyon out of a bande,
Sir Cawline ffor to teare;
And he had noe wepon him vpon,
Nor noe wepon did weare.

43 But hee tooke then his mantle of greene,
Into the lyons mouth itt thrust;
He held the lyon soe sore to the wall
Till the lyons hart did burst.

44 And the watchmen cryed vpon the walls And sayd,
‘Sir Cawline’s slaine!
And with a beast is not ffull litle,
A lyon of mickle mayne:’
Then the kings daughter shee ffell downe,
‘For peerlesse is my payne!’

45 ‘O peace, my lady!’ sayes Sir Cawline,
‘I haue bought thy loue ffull deere;
O peace, my lady!’ sayes Sir Cawline,
‘Peace, lady, ffor I am heere!’

46 Then he did marry this kings daughter,
With gold and siluer bright,
And fiftene sonnes this ladye beere
To Sir Cawline the knight.

Appendix: Preface to Child's Earlier 1860 Collection

The sacred-texts.com mirror this edition draws on carries a preface at this point, but its own transcriber's note discloses that the preface is not from “The English and Scottish Popular Ballads” (1882–1898) at all. It was transcribed from Child's earlier and smaller collection, “English and Scottish Ballads” (8 vols., 1860) — a related but different work by the same editor, later superseded by the Popular Ballads. It is reproduced here, clearly labelled, for its own interest as Child's earliest statement of his editorial principles, and because the mirror provides no preface proper to the 1882–1898 edition that these five volumes actually transcribe. Its references to “eight Books,” “the first volume,” and “the eighth volume” describe the 1860 book's own structure, not this edition's.

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

THESE volumes have been compiled from the numerous collections of Ballads printed since the beginning of the last century. They contain all but two or three of the ancient ballads of England and Scotland, and nearly all those ballads which, in either country, have been gathered from oral tradition,—whether ancient or not. Widely different from the true popular ballads, the spontaneous products of nature, are the works of the professional ballad-maker, which make up the bulk of Garlands and Broadsides. These, though sometimes not without grace, more frequently not lacking in humor, belong to artificial literature,—of course to an humble department. [1] As many ballads of this second class have been admitted as it was thought might be wished for, perhaps I should say tolerated, by the "benevolent reader." No words could express the dulness and inutility of a collection which should embrace all the Roxburghe and Pepys broadsides—a scope with which this publication was most undeservedly credited by an English journal. But while the broadside ballads have been and must have been gleaned, the popular ballads demand much more liberal treatment. Many of the older ones are mutilated, many more are miserably corrupted, but as long as any traces of their originals are left, they are worthy of attention and have received it. When a ballad is extant in a variety of forms, all the most important versions are given.—Less than this would have seemed insufficient for a collection intended as a complement to an extensive series of the British Poets. To meet the objections of readers for pleasure, all those pieces which are wanting in general interest are in each volume inserted in an appendix.

The ballads are grouped in eight Books, nearly corresponding to the division of volumes. The arrangement in the several Books may be called chronological, by which is meant, an arrangement according to the probable antiquity of the story, not the age of the actual form or language. Exceptions to this rule will be observed, partly the result of oversight, partly of fluctuating views; the most noticeable case is in the First Book, where the ballads that stand at the beginning are certainly not so old as some that follow. Again, it is very possible that some pieces might with advantage be transferred to different Books, but it is believed that the general disposition will be found practically convenient. It is as follows:— BOOK I. contains Ballads involving Superstitions of various kinds,—as of Fairies, Elves, Water-spirits, Enchantment, and Ghostly Apparitions; and also some Legends of Popular Heroes.

BOOK II. Tragic Love-ballads.

BOOK III. other Tragic Ballads.

BOOK IV. Love-ballads not Tragic.

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

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

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

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

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

The Introductory Notices prefixed to the several ballads may seem dry and somewhat meagre. They will be found, it is believed, to comprise what is most essential even for the less cursory reader to know. These prefaces are intended to give an account of all the printed forms of each ballad, and references to the books in which they were first published. In many cases also, the corresponding ballads in other languages, especially in Danish, Swedish, and German, are briefly pointed out. But these last notices are very imperfect. Fascinating as such investigations are, they could not be allowed to interfere with the progress of the series of Poets of which this col lection of Ballads forms a part, nor were the necessary books immediately at hand. At a more favorable time the whole subject may be resumed, unless some person better qualified shall take it up in the interim.

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

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

F. J. C.

May, 1860.

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

F. J. C.

May, 1860.

Footnote

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

Colophon

This edition transcribes the 305 numbered ballads of Francis James Child's The English and Scottish Popular Ballads (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Company; issued in parts, 1882–1898) from the local sacred-texts.com mirror at neu/eng/child/, itself digitized from a ballad corpus assembled by Cathy Lynn Preston at the University of Colorado rather than scanned directly from the print volumes. All 305 ballad files (ch001–ch305) were verified present and complete against the mirror's own index; no ballad number is missing.

Several defects are disclosed rather than silently repaired, per this library's fidelity standard:

  • Missing critical apparatus. Child's full prose headnotes — the extended discussion of each ballad's history, analogues, and relations to other versions that fills much of the print edition — are not present in this etext. Only the brief manuscript or print source citation Child gave for each version survives. This is the mirror's own stated limitation, not an omission made in preparing this edition.
  • Mismatched front matter. The Preface and the "List of the Principal Collections of English and Scottish Ballads and Songs" carried by the mirror are not the front matter of this 1882–1898 edition. The mirror's own transcriber's note discloses that both were transcribed from Child's earlier, different collection, English and Scottish Ballads (1860, 8 vols.), rather than from The English and Scottish Popular Ballads itself. The mismatched bibliography is omitted here as apparatus that does not belong to this edition; the mismatched preface is reproduced only in Volume 1, as a clearly labelled appendix, for its historical interest.
  • No surviving volume divisions. The mirror's ballad files carry no page numbers, volume markers, or other indication of which of the original five print volumes any given ballad belonged to. This Good Works edition therefore divides the 305 ballads into five volumes by ballad-number range alone — chosen to balance file length at roughly 120,000–135,000 words each — and makes no claim to reproduce Child's original 1882–1898 print-volume boundaries, which are not recoverable from the local source.
  • Publication-year note. The mirror's own title page gives "[1886-98]" for the ballad printing, while its index page gives "[1882-1898]" for the collection as a whole; this edition follows the standard citation, 1882–1898 (the earliest parts appeared in 1882, the final part completing the collection in 1898).
  • One disclosed transcription glitch. Ballad 63 ("Child Waters"), Version A, contains two isolated bracket typos inherited from the mirror — "wee<de]." and "he<r]" — almost certainly transcriber's errors for "wee[de]." and "he[r]" (Child's own square brackets marking an editorial restoration). Both are left exactly as the mirror has them rather than silently corrected, per this library's standard against fabricating source text.
  • Simplified stanza numbering. Child cites a stanza as, e.g., "58A.14" (ballad 58, version A, stanza 14). Under this edition's heading structure the ballad number and version are already given by the section headings, so only the bare stanza number is shown before each stanza, to avoid repeating the same prefix hundreds of times per volume. The full citation is recovered by combining the heading with the stanza number shown.

No ballad text, version, or stanza has been abridged, paraphrased, or modernized. Curly quotation marks and the handful of numeric character references used by the mirror have been decoded to plain Unicode; sacred-texts.com's own site navigation, page-number gutters, and HTML markup have been removed.

Volume 1 covers ballads 1–61 (126,048 words of ballad text in this file).

Prepared for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church with AI-assisted transcription and editorial work.

🌲