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 2 of a five-volume Good Works Library edition, covering ballads 62 through 99, from “62. Fair Annie” to “99. Johnie Scott.” 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

• 62. Fair Annie
• 63. Child Waters
• 64. Fair Janet
• 65. Lady Maisry
• 66. Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet
• 67. Glasgerion
• 68. Young Hunting
• 69. Clerk Sanders
• 70. Willie and Lady Maisry
• 71. The Bent Sae Brown
• 72. The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owensford
• 73. Lord Thomas and Annet
• 74. Fair Margaret and Sweet William
• 75. Lord Lovel
• 76. The Lass of Roch Royal
• 77. Sweet William's Ghost
• 78. The Unquiet Grave
• 79. The Wife of Usher's Well
• 80. Old Robin of Portingale
• 81. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
• 82. The Bonny Birdy
• 83. Child Maurice
• 84. Bonny Barbara Allen
• 85. Lady Alice
• 86. Young Benjie
• 87. Prince Robert
• 88. Young Johnstone
• 89. Fause Foodrage
• 90. Jellon Grame
• 91. Fair Mary of Wallington
• 92. Bonny Bee Hom
• 93. Lamkin
• 94. Young Waters
• 95. The Maid Freed From the Gallows
• 96. The Gay Goshawk
• 97. Brown Robin
• 98. Brown Adam
• 99. Johnie Scott

62. Fair Annie

Version A

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 102, 1802, chiefly from the recitation of an old woman residing near Kirkhill, in West Lothian.

1 IT’S narrow, narrow, make your bed,
And learn to lie your lane;
For I’m ga’n oer the sea, Fair Annie,
A braw bride to bring hame.
Wi her I will get gowd and gear;
Wi you I neer got nane.

2 ‘But wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or brew my bridal ale?
And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
That I bring oer the dale?’

3 ‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread,
And brew your bridal ale,
And I will welcome your brisk bride,
That you bring oer the dale.’

4 ‘But she that welcomes my brisk bride
Maun gang like maiden fair;
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
And braid her yellow hair.’

5 ‘But how can I gang maiden-like,
When maiden I am nane?
Have I not born seven sons to thee,
And am with child again?’

6 She’s taen her young son in her arms,
Another in her hand,
And she’s up to the highest tower,
To see him come to land.

7 ‘Come up, come up, my eldest son,
And look oer yon sea-strand,
And see your father’s new-come bride,
Before she come to land.’

8 ‘Come down, come down, my mother dear,
Come frae the castle wa!
I fear, if langer ye stand there,
Ye’ll let yoursell down fa.’

9 And she gaed down, and farther down,
Her love’s ship for to see,
And the topmast and the mainmast
Shone like the silver free.

10 And she’s gane down, and farther down,
The bride’s ship to behold,
And the topmast and the mainmast
They shone just like the gold.

11 She’s taen her seven sons in her hand,
I wot she didna fail;
She met Lord Thomas and his bride,
As they came oer the dale.

12 ‘You’re welcome to your house, Lord Thomas,
You’re welcome to your land;
You’re welcome with your fair ladye,
That you lead by the hand.

13 ‘You’re welcome to your ha’s, ladye,
Your welcome to your bowers;
You’re welcome to your hame, ladye,
For a’ that’s here is yours.’

14 ‘I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie,
Sae dearly as I thank thee;
You’re the likest to my sister Annie,
That ever I did see.

15 ‘There came a knight out oer the sea,
And steald my sister away;
The shame scoup in his company,
And land whereer he gae!’

16 She hang ae napkin at the door,
Another in the ha,
And a’ to wipe the trickling tears,
Sae fast as they did fa.

17 And aye she served the lang tables,
With white bread and with wine,
And aye she drank the wan water,
To had her colour fine.

18 And aye she served the lang tables,
With white bread and with brown;
And ay she turned her round about,
Sae fast the tears fell down.

19 And he’s taen down the silk napkin,
Hung on a silver pin,
And aye he wipes the tear trickling
A’ down her cheek and chin.

20 And aye he turn’d him round about,
And smiled amang his men;
Says, Like ye best the old ladye,
Or her that’s new come hame?

21 When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ men bound to bed,
Lord Thomas and his new-come bride
To their chamber they were gaed.

22 Annie made her bed a little forbye,
To hear what they might say;
‘And ever alas!’ Fair Annie cried,
‘That I should see this day!

23 ‘Gin my seven sons were seven young rats,
Running on the castle wa,
And I were a grew cat mysell,
I soon would worry them a’.

24 ‘Gin my seven sons were seven young hares,
Running oer yon lilly lee,
And I were a grew hound mysell,
Soon worried they a’ should be.’

25 And wae and sad Fair Annie sat,
And drearie was her sang,
And ever, as she sobbd and grat,
‘Wae to the man that did the wrang!’

26 ‘My gown is on,’ said the new-come bride,
‘My shoes are on my feet,
And I will to Fair Annie’s chamber,
And see what gars her greet.

27 ‘What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie,
That ye make sic a moan?
Has your wine barrels cast the girds,
Or is your white bread gone?

28 ‘O wha was’t was your father, Annie,
Or wha was’t was your mother?
And had ye ony sister, Annie,
Or had ye ony brother?’

29 ‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father,
The Countess of Wemyss my mother;
And a’ the folk about the house
To me were sister and brother.’

30 ‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,
I wot sae was he mine;
And it shall not be for lack o gowd
That ye your love sall tyne.

31 ‘For I have seven ships o mine ain,
A’ loaded to the brim,
And I will gie them a’ to thee,
Wi four to thine eldest son:
But thanks to a’ the powers in heaven
That I gae maiden hame!’

Version B

Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 376, from the recitation of Mrs Arrot, of Aberbrothick.

1 THERE livd a lord on yon sea-side,
And he thought on a wile,
How he would go over the saut sea
A lady to beguile.

2 ‘O learn to mak your bed, Helen,
And learn to ly your lane,
For I’m gaun over the saut seas
A bright bride to bring hame.’

3 ‘How can I mak my bed,’ she says,
‘Unless I mak it wide,
Whan I have seven o your sons
To lie down by my side?

4 ‘And the first o your seven sons,
He rides a milk-white steed;
The second o your seven sons
He wears a milk-white weed.

5 ‘The third ane o your seven sons,
He draws baith ale and wine;
The fourth ane o your seven sons,
He serves you when you dine.

6 ‘The fifth ane o your seven sons,
He can baith read and write;
And the sixth ane o your seven sons,
He is a’ your heart’s delight.

7 ‘And the youngest o your seven sons,
He sleeps on my breast-bane;
Whan him and I ly down at night,
For him rest get I nane.’

8 ‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
And brew my bridal ale?
And wha will welcome my gae lady,
That I bring oer the dale?

9 ‘And sin ye’ve taen the turn in hand,
See that ye do it right,
And ilka chimly o the house,
That they be dearly dight.’

10 O a’ the day she washd and wrang,
And a’ the night she buik,
And she’s awa to her chamber,
To gie her young son suck.

11 ‘Come here, come here, my eldest son,
And see what ye may see;
For yonder comes your father dear,
Your mother-in-law side be.’

12 She’s taen a cake o the best bread,
A bottle o the best wine,
And a’ the keys upon her arm,
And to the yates she’s gaen.

13 ‘Ye are welcome hame, gay lady,’ she said,
‘And ay ye are welcome hame;
And sae is a’ the gentlewomen
That’s wi you ridden and gane.

14 ‘You are welcome hame, gay lord’ she said,
‘And ay ye are welcome hame;
And sae is a’ the gentlemen
That’s wi you ridden and gane.’

15 She saird them up, she saird them down,
She saird them till and frae;
But when she went behind their backs,
The tear did blind her ee.

16 Whan day was gane, and night was come,
And a’ man boun to bed,
The bridegroom and the bonny bride
In their chamber was laid.

17 Burd Helen and her seven sons
Lay in a bower near by;
. . . . .
. . . . .

18 ‘If my seven sons were seven grey ratts,
To rin frae wa to wa,
And I mysel a good grey cat,
I would bite their back a-twa.

19 ‘If my seven sons were seven grey hares,
And them to rin a race,
And I mysel a good greyhound,
I would gie them a chace.’

20 Up and spak the bonny bride,
In chamber where she lay:
‘There is a lady in this bower,
She will gae mad or day.’

21 ‘Lye still, lye still, my bonny bride,
Lye still and tak a sleep;
It’s but ane o my wine puncheons;
Nae langer wad it keep.’

22 ‘King Henry was my father dear,
Queen Catherine was my mother,
Lady Anne she was my sister dear,
And Frederick was my brother.

23 ‘And whan I was six years of age,
They ca’d me Mary Mild;
I was stown frae my father’s yate,
Whan I was but a child.’

24 Then up and spak the bonny bride,
By her lord as she lay:
‘Lye down, lye down, my dear sister,
There’s nae ill done for me.

25 ‘O seven ships conveyd me here,
And seven came oer the main;
And four o them shall stay wi you,
And three convey me hame.

26 ‘But when I gae hame to my father’s house,
They will laugh me to scorn,
To come awa a wedded wife,
Gae hame a maid the morn.’

Version C

Motherwell’s manuscript, p. 351, from the recitation of Janet Holmes, an old woman in Kilbarchan, who derived the ballad from her mother; July 18, 1825.

1 LEARN to mak you bed, honey,
And learn to lye your lane,
For I’m gaun owre the salt seas,
A fair lady to bring hame.

2 ‘And with her I’ll get gold and gear,
With thee I neer got nane;
I took you as a waaf woman,
I leave you as the same.’

3 ‘What aileth thee at me, my lord,
What aileth thee at me,
When seven bonnie sons I have born,
All of your fair bodie?

4 ‘The eldest of your seven sons,
He can both read and write;
The second of your sons, my lord,
Can do it more perfyte.

5 ‘The third one of your sons, my lord,
He waters your milk-white steed;
The fourth one of your sons, my lord,
With red gold shines his weed.

6 ‘The fifth one of your sons, my lord,
He serves you when you dine;
The sixth one now you do behold,
How he walks out and in.

7 ‘The seventh one of your sons, my lord,
Sucks hard at my breast-bane;
When a’ the house they are at rest,
For him I can get nane.

8 ‘And if you leave me thus forlorn,
A wainless wife I’ll be,
For anybody’s gold or gear
That is beyond the sea.’

9 ‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or wha will brew my ale?
Or wha will cook my kitchen neat,
Or give my men their meal?’

10 ‘For love I’ll bake your bridal bread,
To brew your ale I’m fain,
To cook your kitchen, as I have done,
Till you return again.’

11 ‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or wha will brew my ale?
Or wha will welcome my braw bride,
That I bring owre the dale?’

12 ‘For love I’ll bake your bridal bread,
For love I’ll brew your ale,
And I will welcome your braw bride
That you bring owre the dale.’

13 Her mind she keeped, but sair she weepd
The time that he was gane
. . . . . .
. . . . . .

14 ‘Go up, go up, my eldest son,
Go to the upmost ha,
And see if you see your father coming,
With your mother-to-be-in-law.’

15 ‘Put on, put on, O mother dear,
Put on your gouns so braw,
For yonder is my father coming,
With my mother-to-be-in-law.’

16 She’s taen the wheat-bread in one hand,
The red wines, which plenty were,
And she’s gane to the outmost gate,
And bid them welcome there.

17 ‘You’re welcome here, my brother dear,
Ye’re welcome, brother John;
Ye’re welcome a’ my brethern dear,
That has this journey gone.’

18 ‘I thank you, sister Annie,’ he says,
‘And I thank you heartilie,
And as you’ve welcomed home myself,
You’ll welcome my fair ladye.’

19 ‘If I had roses to my feet,
And ribbons to my gown,
And as leal a maid as your braw bride,
I would speak without a frown.’

20 He’s given her roses to her feet,
And ribbons to her gown,
And she has welcomed his braw bride,
But weel that was her own!

21 ‘I thank you, sister Annie,’ she says,
‘I thank you heartilie,
And if I be seven years about this place,
Rewarded you shall be.’

22 She served them up, she served them down,
And she served all their cries,
And aye as she came down the stair
The tears fell from her eyes.

23 When mass was sung, and all bells rung,
And all men boune for bed,
The good lord and his fair lady
Were in their chamber laid.

24 But poor Annie and her seven sons
Was in a room hard by,
And as she lay she sighed and wept,
And thus began to cry:

25 ‘O were my sons transformed to cats,
To speel this castle wa,
And I mysell a red blood-hound
That I might worry them a’!’

26 The bride she overhearing all,
And sair she rued her fate:
‘Awauk, awauk, my lord,’ she said,
‘Awauk, for well you may;
For There’s a woman in this gate
That will go mad ere day.

27 ‘I fear she is a leman of thine,
And a leman meek and mild;
Get up and pack her down the stairs,
Tho the woods were neer sae wild.’

28 ‘O yes, she is a leman of mine,
And a leman meek and kind,
And I will not pack her down the stairs,
For a’ the gear that’s thine.’

29 ‘O wha’s your father, Ann?’ she says,
‘Or wha’s your mother dear?
Or wha’s your sister, Ann?’ she says,
‘Or brother? let me hear.’

30 ‘King Easter he’s my father dear,
The Queen my mother was;
John Armstrang, in the west-airt lands,
My eldest brother is.’

31 ‘Then I’m your sister, Ann,’ she says,
‘And I’m a full sister to thee;
You were stolen awa when very young,
By the same lord’s treacherie.

32 ‘I’ve seven ships upon the sea,
All loaded to the brim,
And five of them I’ll give to thee,
And twa shall carry me hame.

33 ‘My mother shall mak my tocher up,
When I tell her how you thrive;
For we never knew where you was gone,
Or if you was alive.’

Version D

Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p.307.

1 ‘WHA will bake my bridal bread,
And brew my bridal ale?
And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
That I bring oer the dale?’

2 ‘I will bake your bridal bread,
And brew your bridal ale,
And I will welcome your brisk bride,
That you bring oer the dale.’

3 ‘But she that welcomes my brisk bride
Maun gang like maiden fair;
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
And braid her yellow hair.’

4 ‘But how can I gang maiden-like,
When maiden I am nane?
Have I not born seven sons to thee,
And am with child agen?’

5 She’s taen her young son in her arms,
Another in her hand,
And she’s up to the highest tower,
To see him come to land.

6 ‘You’re welcome to your house, master,
You’re welcome to your land;
You’re welcome with your fair lady,
That you lead by the hand.’
’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’

7 And ay she servd the lang tables,
With white bread and with wine,
And ay she drank the wan water,
To had her colour fine.

8 Now he’s taen down a silk napkin,
Hung on the silver pin,
And ay he wipes the tears trickling
Adown her cheek and chin.

Version E

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 20; Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 371.

1 ‘O WHA will bake my bridal bread,
And brew my bridal ale?
Wha will welcome my bright bride,
That I bring oer the dale?’

2 ‘O I will bake your bridal bread,
An brew your bridal ale;
An I will welcome your bright bride,
That you bring oer the dale.

3 ‘O she that welcomes my bright bride
Maun gang like maiden fair;
She maun lace her in her green cloathin,
An braid her yallow hair.’

4 ‘O how can I gang maiden like,
Whan maiden I am nane?
Whan I ha born you seven sons,
An am wi bairn again?’

5 The lady stood in her bowr door
An lookit oer the lan,
An there she saw her ain good lord,
Leadin his bride by the han.

6 She’s dressd her sons i the scarlet red,
Hersel i the dainty green,
An tho her cheek lookd pale and wan,
She well might ha been a queen.

7 She calld upon her eldest son:
‘Look yonder what you see;
For yonder comes your father dear,
Your step-mother him wi.

8 ‘O you’r welcome hame, my ain good lord,
To your ha’s but an your bowrs;
You’r welcome hame, my ain good lord,
To your castles an your towrs:
Sae is your bright bride you beside,
She’s fairer nor the flowers.’

9 ‘O whatn a lady’s that?’ she says,
‘That welcoms you an me?
If I’m lang lady about this place,
Some good I will her dee.
She looks sae like my sister Jane,
Was stoln i the bowr frae me.’

10 O she has servd the lang tables,
Wi the white bread an the wine;
But ay she drank the wan water,
To keep her colour fine.

11 ‘An she gid by the first table,
An leugh amo them a’;
But ere she reachd the second table,
She let the tears down fa.

12 She’s taen a napkin lang an white,
An hung’t upon a pin;
It was to dry her watry eyes,
As she went out and in.

13 Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung,
An a’ man boun to bed,
The bride but an the bonny bridegroom
In ae chamber was laid.

14 She’s taen her harp intill her han,
To harp this twa asleep;
An ay as she harped an she sang,
Full sorely did she weep.

15 ‘O seven fu fair sons I have born
To the good lord o this place,
An I wish that they were seven hares,
To run the castle race,
An I mysel a good gray houn,
An I woud gi them chase.

16 ‘O seven fu fair sons I have born
To the good lord o this ha;
I wish that they were seven rottons,
To rin the castle wa,
An I mysell a good gray cat,
I wot I woud worry them a’

17 ‘The earle o Richmond was my father,
An the lady was my mother,
An a’ the bairns bisides mysel
Was a sister an a brother.’

18 ‘Sing on, sing on, ye gay lady,
I wot ye hae sung in time;
Gin the earle o Richmond was your father,
I wot sae was he mine.’

19 ‘Rise up, rise up, my bierly bride;
I think my bed’s but caul;
I woudna hear my lady lament
For your tocher ten times taul.

20 ‘O seven ships did bring you here,
An an sal tak you hame;
The leve I’ll keep to your sister Jane,
For tocher she gat nane.’

Version F

Motherwell’s MS., p. 385; Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 327. From the recitation of Mrs Rule, Paisley, August 16, 1825.

1 ‘LEARN to mak your bed, Annie,
And learn to lie your lane,
For I maun owre the salt seas gang,
A brisk bride to bring hame.

2 ‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,
And tye it in your neck,
And see you look as maiden-like
As the first day that we met.’

3 ‘O how can I look maiden-like,
When a maid I’ll never be;
When seven brave sons I’ve born to thee,
And the eighth is in my bodie?

4 ‘The eldest of your sons, my lord,
Wi red gold shines his weed;
The second of your sons, my lord,
Rides on a milk-white steed.

5 ‘And the third of your sons, my lord,
He draws your beer and wine,
And the fourth of your sons, my lord,
Can serve you when you dine.

6 ‘And the fift of your sons, my lord,
He can both read and write,
And the sixth of your sons, my lord,
Can do it maist perfyte.

7 ‘And the sevent of your sons, my lord,
Sits on the nurse’s knee;
And how can I look maiden-like,
When a maid I’ll never be?

8 ‘But wha will bake your wedding bread,
And brew your bridal ale?
Or wha will welcome your brisk bride,
That you bring owre the dale?’

9 ‘I’ll put cooks in my kitchen,
And stewards in my hall,
And I’ll have bakers for my bread,
And brewers for my ale;
But you’re to welcome my brisk bride,
That I bring owre the dale.’

10 He set his fut into his ship,
And his cock-boat on the main;
He swore it would be year and day
Or he returned again.

11 When year and day was past and gane,
Fair Annie she thocht lang,
And she is up to her bower-head,
To behold both sea and land.

12 ‘Come up, come up, my eldest son,
And see now what you see;
O yonder comes your father dear,
And your stepmother-to-be.’

13 ‘Cast off your gown of black, mother,
Put on your gown of brown,
And I’ll put off my mourning weeds,
And we’ll welcome him home.’

14 She’s taken wine into her hand,
And she has taken bread,
And she is down to the water-side
To welcome them indeed.

15 ‘You’re welcome, my lord, you’re welcome, my lord,
You’re welcome home to me;
So is every lord and gentleman
That is in your companie.

16 ‘You’re welcome, my lady, you’re welcome, my lady,
You’re welcome home to me;
So is every lady and gentleman
That’s in your companye.’

17 ‘I thank you, my girl, I thank you, my girl,
I thank you heartilie;
If I live seven years about this house,
Rewarded you shall be.’

18 She served them up, she served them down,
With the wheat bread and the wine;
By aye she drank the cold water,
To keep her colour fine.

19 She servd them up, she servd them down,
With the wheat bread and the beer;
By aye she drank the cauld water,
To keep her colour clear.

20 When bells were rung and mass was sung,
And all were boune for rest,
Fair Annie laid her sons in bed,
And a sorrowful woman she was.

21 ‘Will I go to the salt, salt seas,
And see the fishes swim?
Or will I go to the gay green-wood,
And hear the small birds sing?’

22 Out and spoke an aged man,
That stood behind the door:
‘Ye will not go to the salt, salt seas,
To see the fishes swim;
Nor will ye go to the gay green-wood,
To hear the small birds sing.

23 ‘But ye’ll take a harp, into your hand,
Go to the chamber door,
And aye ye’ll harp, and aye ye’ll murn,
With the salt tears falling oer.’

24 She’s tane a harp into her hand,
Went to their chamber door,
And aye she harpd, and aye she murnd,
With the salt tears falling oer.

25 Out and spak the brisk young bride, I
n bride-bed where she lay:
‘I think I hear my sister Annie,
And I wish weel it may;
For a Scotish lord staw her awa,
And an ill death may he die!

26 ‘Wha was your father, my girl,’ she says,
‘Or wha was your mother?
Or had you ever a sister dear,
Or had you ever a brother?’

27 ‘King Henry was my father dear,
Queen Easter was my mother,
Prince Henry was my brother dear,
And Fanny Flower my sister.’

28 ‘If King Henry was your father dear,
And Queen Easter was your mother,
And Prince Henry was your brother dear,
Then surely I’m your sister.

29 ‘Come to your bed, my sister dear,
It neer was wrangd for me,
But an ae kiss of his merry mouth,
As we cam owre the sea.’

30 ‘Awa, awa, ye forenoon bride,
Awa, awa frae me!
I wudna hear my Annie greet,
For a’ the gold I got wi thee.’

31 ‘There was five ships of gay red gold
Came owre the seas with me;
It’s twa o them will take me hame,
And three I’ll leave wi thee.

32 ‘Seven ships o white money
Came owre the seas wi me;
Five o them I’ll leave wi thee,
And twa’ll tak me hame,
And my mother will mak my portion up,
When I return again.’

Version G

Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as current in County Meath, Ireland, 1860-70.

1 SHE served them up, she served them down,
She served them up with wine,
But still she drank the clear spring water,
To keep her color fine.

2 ‘I must get up, she must sit down,
She must sit in my place,
Or else be torn by wild horses
And thrown over the gates.’

3 ‘You wont get up, she wont sit down,
She wont sit in your place,
Nor yet be torn by wild horses,
Nor thrown over the gates.’

4 She called up her seven sons,
By one, by two, by three:
‘I wish you were all seven gray-hounds,
This night to worry me.’

5 ‘What ails you, fair Ellen? what ails you, fair?
Or why do you sigh and moan?’
‘The hoops are off my wine hogsheads,
And my wine is overflown.’

Version H

From Dr Thomas Davidson. Aberdeenshire.

1 ‘BUT wha will bake my bridal bread,
An brew my bridal ale,
And wha will welcome my bride hame,
Is mair that I can tell.’

2 ‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread,
And brew your bridal ale,
But wha will welcome your bride hame,
It’ll need tae be yersel.’

3 An she’s hung up a silken towel
Upon a golden pin,
...tae wipe her een,
As she gaed but and ben.

Version I

Kinloch MSS, I, 155, May, 1827. "Composed of three recited versions obtained in the west of Scotland."

1 ‘LEARN to mak your bed, Annie,
And learn to lie your lane;
For I am gaing oure the saut seas,
A brisk bride to bring hame.

2 ‘Wi her I will get gowd and gear;
Wi thee I neer gat nane;
I got thee as a waif woman,
I’ll leave thee as the same.

3 ‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or brew my bridal ale?
Or wha welcome my brisk bride,
That I’ll bring oure the dale?’

4 ‘O I will bake your bridal bread,
And brew your bridal ale;
But I downa welcam your brisk bride
That ye’ll bring frae the dale.’

5 ‘She that welcomes my brisk bride,
She maun took maiden-like;
She maun kaim doun her yellow locks,
And lay them in her neck.’

6 ‘O how can I look maiden-like,
When maiden I am nane?
For seven sons I hae born to thee,
And the eighth lies in my wame.

7 ‘But what aileth thee at me, my lord,
What aileth thee at me,
Whan seven braw sons I’ve born to thee,
Out of my fair bodie?

8 ‘The first ane of your sons, my lord,
Can baith read and write;
And the second of your sons, my lord,
Can do it maist perfyte.

9 ‘The third ane o your sons, my lord,
Can water your grey steed;
And the fourth ane o your sons, my lord,
Can bake your bridal bread.

10 ‘The fifth ane o your sons, my lord,
Can serve ye whan ye dine;
And the sixth ane o your sons, my lord,
Can brew your bridal wine.

11 ‘The seventh ane o your sons, my lord,
Lies close at my breist-bane;
Whan a’ the lave are fast asleep,
It’s rest I can get nane.’

12 He set his foot into the stirrup,
His hand upon the mane;
Says, It will be year and day, ladie,
Ere ye see me again.

13 Whan he had ae foot on the sea,
The ither on dry lan,
‘It will be year and day, ladie,
Till I come back again.’

14 Whan year and day war past and gane,
Fair Annie she thought lang;
And she went up to her hie tower,
Wi a silk seam in her hand.

15 She lookit east, she lookit west,
And south, below the sun,
And there she spied her ain gude lord,
Coming sailing to the lan.

16 She called up her seven braw sons,
By ane, twa, and by three:
‘See, yonder comes your father,
And your mother-for-to-be.’

17 And she called up her servants a’:
‘O come, behold and see!
O yonder comes your master dear,
And a new mistress brings he.

18 ‘Gae doun, gae doun, my eldest son,
Into the outmost ha,
And if ye welcome ane o them,
Be sure to welcome a’.’

19 Some ran east, and some ran west,
And some ran to the sea;
There was na ane in a’ his house
To welcome his new ladie.

20 But Annie’s to her coffer gane,
Tane out a silver kaim,
And she’s kaimd doun her yellow hair,
As she a maid had been.

21 And Annie has kaimd her lang yellow locks,
And laid them in her neck;
And she’s awa to the saut, saut sea,
To welcome his lady aff deck.

22 She durst na ca him her ain gude lord,
For angering o the bride;
But she did ca him master dear,
And I wat he was richt glad.

23 ‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, master,’ she said,
‘To your halls bot an your bouers;
And sae are a’ thir merry young men
That come alang with you.

24 ‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, fair ladie,
To your halls but an your bouers;
And sae are a’ thir gay ladies;
For a’ that’s here is yours.’

25 ‘I thank ye, I thank ye, fair maiden,
I thank ye kindlie;
If I be lang about this house,
Rewarded ye sall be.

26 ‘I have a brither o mine ain;
He’s newly come from sea;
I think it wad be a richt gude match
To marry him and thee.’

27 ‘I thank ye, I thank ye, fair ladie;
Gie your brither to whom like ye;
But there’s never ane in this warld
My wedding day sall see:
But one word o my master dear
In private wad I be.’
’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’

28 The first dish that fair Annie set doun,
She lookit baith pale and wan;
The neist dish that fair Annie set doun,
She was scarce able to stan.

29 ‘O is this your mistress, good lord,’ she says,
‘Although she looks modest and mild?
Then we will hunt her frae our house
Wi dogs and hawks sae wild.’

30 ‘She’s na my mistress, dear lady,’ he says,
‘Altho she looks modest and mild;
Nor will we hunt her frae our house
Wi dogs and hawks sae wild.’

31 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ men boun for bed,
The bonnie bride and the bridegroom
In bride’s bed they were laid.

32 Whan dinner was past, and supper was by,
And a’ were boun for bed,
Fair Annie and her seven sons
In a puir bye-chamber war laid.

33 Fair Annie took out her virginals,
And sadly did she play;
. . . . .
. . . . .

34 ‘O gin my sons were yon grey rats,
That climb the castle-wa,
And I mysel a bloody grey cat,
I’d rise and worry them a’.’

35 Then out and spak the bonny bride,
In bride’s bed whare she lay:
‘I think this is like my sister Anne,
That doth sae sadly play.’

36 ‘Lie still, lie still, my gay ladie,
Lie still and sleep a wee;
It’s nathing but an auld servant,
That waileth sae for me.’

37 ‘O gin my seven sons were seven young hares,
That rin round the castle wa,
And I mysel a bluidy grewhund,
I wad rise and worry them a’.’

38 The new bride waukenit in the nicht,
And blew upon her horn:
‘I think I hear my sister’s voice,
That was stown frae us a bairn.’

39 ‘Sleep on, sleep on, dear lady,’ he says,
‘It’s yon maiden in her dream,
. . . . . .
. . . . . .

40 ‘O wha was eer thy father, fair maid,
Or wha was eer thy mither?
Or wha was eer thy ae sister,
Or wha was eer thy brither?’

41 ‘King Henry was my father,’ she said,
‘Queen Elinore was my mither;
Fair Marion was my ae sister,
Earl Robert was my brither.’

42 ‘Sin King Henry was your father, fair maid,
And Queen Elinore your mither,
O I am een your ae sister,
And ye are just the ither.

43 ‘Come to your bed, fair Annie,’ she said,
‘Come to your bed full sune;
I may weel say, I daur weel say,
There is na evil dune.

44 ‘Seven ships of gold did bring me here,
But ane shall tak me hame;
Six I will leave to my sister Anne,
To bring up her children young.

45 ‘But whan I gang to my father’s ha,
And tirl on the pin,
The meanest in a’ my father’s house
Will ca me a forsaken ane.’

Version J

Buchan’s MSS, I, 66.

1 ‘LEARN, O learn, Fair Annie,’ he said,
‘O learn to lie your lane;
For I am going ower the sea,
To woo and to bring hame

2 ‘A brighter and a fairer dame
Than ever ye hae been;
For I am going ower the sea,
To chuse and bring her hame.’

3 ‘What aileth thee, my ain gude lord,
What aileth thee at me?
For seven braw sons hae I born
Unto your fair bodie.

4 ‘The eldest o your sons, my lord,
Is heir o a’ your land;
The second o your braw young sons
He rises at your right hand.

5 ‘The third o your braw young sons
He serves you when you dine;
The fourth o your braw sons, my lord,
He bring to you the wine.

6 ‘The fifth o your braw young sons
Right well can use the pen;
The sixth o your braw young sons,
He’s travelling but and ben.

7 ‘The seventh o your braw young sons,
He lies on my breast-bane,
The fairest flower amo them a’,
That lay my sides between.’

8 ‘But I am going ower the sea,
To woo and to bring hame
A lady wi some gowd and gear;
Wi you I never got nane.’

9 ‘Ye staw me awa in twall years auld,
Ye sought nae gowd wi me;
Ye put me to the schools o Ayr
For fully years three.

10 ‘But wha’ll be cook in your kitchen,
And butler in your ha?
And wha will govern your merry young men,
When ye are far awa?’

11 ‘O ye’ll be cook in my kitchen,
And butler in my ha,
And ye’ll wait on my merry young men,
And serve them ane and a’.’

12 ‘But wha will bake your bridal bread,
And wha will brew your ale?
And wha will welcome that lady
That ye bring ower the dale.

13 ‘O ye will bake my bridal bread,
And ye will brew my ale,
And ye will welcome that lady
That I bring ower the dale.

14 ‘Ye’ll bake bread, and ye’ll brew ale,
For three score knights and ten;
That day month I gang awa,
The same day I’ll come again.’

15 ‘O I will bake your bridal bread,
And I will brew your ale;
But oh, to welcome another woman
My heart will nae be hale.’

16 ‘Ye will put roses in your hair,
And ribbons in your sheen,
And ye will look fair maiden like,
Though maiden ye be nane.’

17 ‘O I’ll put roses in my hair,
And ribbons in my sheen,
And may be look as maiden-like
As the bride ye bring hame.’

18 Two of his sons he sent before,
And two rade by his side,
And three he left at hame wi her,
She was the brightest bride.

19 As she was gazing her around,
To view the rural plain,
And there she saw the bridal folk,
Merrily coming hame.

20 ‘Come here, come here, my boys a’,
Ye see not what I see;
For here I see your fair father,
And a step-mother to thee.

21 ‘O shall I call him honey, Sandy,
Husband, or my gude lord?
Or shall I call him my gude master,
Let well or woe betide?’

22 ‘Ye winna call him honey, mother,
For angering o the bride;
But ye’ll call him your gude master,
Let well or woe betide.’

23 She buskd her bonny boys in black,
Herself in simple green,
A kaim o gowd upon her hair,
As maiden she had been.

24 She’s taen the white bread in her lap,
The wine glass in her hand,
And she’s gane out upo the green,
To welcome the bride hame.

25 She woudna ca him her ain gude lord,
For angering o the bride:
‘Ye’re welcome hame, my gude master,
Your lands lie braid and wide.’

26 ‘O fair mat fa you, Fair Annie,
Sae well’s ye’ve welcomd me;
Ye might hae welcomd my new bride;
Some gift to you she’ll gie.’

27 ‘Ye’re welcome hame, ye new-come bride,
To your ha’s and your bowers;
Ye’re welcome hame, my lady gay,
Ye’re whiter that the flowers.’

28 ‘O wha is this,’ the bride did say,
‘Sae well that welcomes me?
If I’m lang lady o this place
Some gift to her I’ll gie.

29 ‘She’s likest to my dear sister
That eer my eyes did see;
A landit lord staw her awa,
An ill death mat he die!

30 ‘I hae a brother here this day,
Fairer ye neer did see;
And I woud think nae ill a match
Unto this fair ladie.’

31 ‘Ye’ll wed your brother on a stock,
Sae do ye on a stane;
I’ll wed me to the kingdom of heaven,
For I’ll neer wed a man.’

32 She servd the footmen o the beer,
The nobles o the wine;
But nane did cross her pale, pale lips,
For changing o her min.

33 When she came in unto the room
She leuch amo them a’,
But when she turnd her back about
She loot the saut tears fa.

34 She hanged up a silken cloath
Upon a siller pin;
It was to dry her twa blue eyes,
As she went out and in.

35 Her heart wi sorrow sair was filld,
Her breast wi milk ran out;
She aft went ot a quiet chamber,
And let her young son suck.

36 ‘There is a woman in this house
This day has served me;
But I’ll rise up, let her sit down,
She’s ate, that I may see.

37 ‘O wha is this,’ the bride coud say,
‘That serves this day sae well?
And what means a’ this bonny boys,
That follow at her heel?’

38 ‘This is my sister, Fair Annie,
That serves this day sae well,
And these are a’ her bauld brothers,
That follow at her heel.’

39 Then out it speaks the new-come bride,
Was full o jealousie:
‘I fear there’s something new, my lord,
Ye mean to hide frae me.

40 ‘But if she be your light leman
Has me sair beguild,
She shall gae out at my window,
And range the woods sae wild.’

41 When day was dane, and night drew on,
And a’ man bound for bed,
The bridegroom and the new-come bride
In ae chamber were laid.

42 The lady being left alone,
Nursing her fair young son,
She has taen up her gude lord’s harp,
She harped and she sung.

43 ‘Seven braw sons hae I born
To the lord o this place;
I wish they were seven hares
To run the castle race,
And I mysel a gude greyhound,
To gie them a’ a chace.’

44 ‘Lie near, lie near, my ain gude lord,
Lie near and speak wi me;
There is a woman in the house,
She will be wild ere day.’

45 ‘Lie still, lie still, my new-come bride,
Lie still and take your rest;
The pale’s out o my wine-puncheon,
And lang it winna rest.’

46 She held the harp still in her hand,
To harp them baith asleep,
And aye she harped and she sang,
And saut tears she did weep.

47 ‘Seven braw sons hae I born
To the gude lord o this ha;
I wish that they were seven brown rats,
To climb the castle wa,
And I mysel a gude grey cat,
To take them ane and a’.’

48 ‘Lie near, lie near, my ain gude lord,
Lie near and speak wi me;
There is a woman in this house,
She will be wild ere day.’

49 ‘Lie yond, lie yond, my new-come bride,
My sheets are wonderous cauld;
I woudna hear my love’s lament
For your gowd ten thousand fauld.’

50 ‘O wae be to you, ye fause lord,
Some ill death mat ye die!
For that’s the voice o my sister Ann,
Was stown frae yont the sea.’

51 ‘Fair mat fa ye, ye buirdly bride,
A gude death mat ye die!
For that’s the voice o your sister Ann,
Was stown frae yont the sea;
I came seeking Annie’s tocher,
I was not seeking thee.’

52 ‘Seven gude ships I hae brought here,
In seven I’se gae hame;
And a’ the gowd that I brought here,
It’s a’ gang back again.’

53 ‘Seven ships they brought you here,
But ye’ll gang hame in ane;
Ye’ll leave the rest to tocher Ann,
For wi her I got nane.’

54 ‘Seven ships they brought me here,
But I’ll gang hame in ane;
I’ll get my sister’s eldest son
To hae me maiden hame.

55 ‘My father wants not gowd nor gear,
He will get me a man;
And happy, happy will he be
To hear o his daughter Ann.

56 ‘I hae my sheen upon my feet,
My gloves upon my hand,
And ye’ll come to your bed, Annie,
For I’ve dane you nae wrang.’

63. Child Waters

Version A

Percy MS., p. 274; Hales and Furnivall, II, 269.

1 CHILDE Watters in his stable stoode,
And stroaket his milke-white steede;
To him came a ffaire young ladye
As ere did weare womans wee<de].

2 Saies, Christ you saue, good Chyld Waters!
Sayes, Christ you saue and see!
My girdle of gold, which was too longe,
Is now to short ffor mee.

3 ‘And all is with one chyld of yours,
I ffeele sturre att my side;
My gowne of greene, it is to strayght;
Before it was to wide.’

4 ‘If the child be mine, Faire Ellen,’ he sayd,
‘Be mine, as you tell mee,
Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,
Take them your owne to bee.

5 ‘If the child be mine, Ffaire Ellen,’ he said,
‘Be mine, as you doe sweare,
Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,
And make that child your heyre.’

6 Shee saies, I had rather haue one kisse,
Child Waters, of thy mouth,
Then I wold haue Cheshire and Lancashire both,
that lyes by north and south.

7 ‘And I had rather haue a twinkling,
Child Waters, of your eye,
Then I wold haue Cheshire and Lancashire both,
To take them mine oune to bee.’

8 ‘To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde
Soe ffarr into the north countrye;
The ffairest lady that I can ffind,
Ellen, must goe with mee.’
‘And euer I pray you, Child Watters,
Your ffootpage let me bee!’

9 ‘If you will my ffootpage be, Ellen,
As you doe tell itt mee,
Then you must cutt your gownne of greene
An inche aboue your knee.

10 ‘Soe must you doe your yellow lockes,
Another inch aboue your eye;
You must tell noe man what is my name;
My ffootpage then you shall bee.’

11 All this long day Child Waters rode,
Shee ran bare ffoote by his side;
Yett was he neuer soe curteous a knight
To say, Ellen, will you ryde?

12 But all this day Child Waters rode,
Shee ran barffoote thorow the broome;
Yett he was neuer soe curteous a knight
As to say, Put on your shoone.

13 ‘Ride softlye,’ shee said, ‘Child Watters;
Why doe you ryde soe ffast?
The child which is no mans but yours
My bodye itt will burst.’

14 He sayes, Sees thou yonder water, Ellen,
that fflowes from banke to brim?
‘I trust to god, Child Waters,’ shee said,
‘You will neuer see mee swime.’

15 But when shee came to the waters side,
Shee sayled to the chinne:
‘Except the lord of heauen be my speed,
Now must I learne to swime.’

16 The salt waters bare vp Ellens clothes,
Our Ladye bare vpp he<r] chinne,
And Child Waters was a woe man, good Lord,
To ssee Faire Ellen swime.

17 And when shee ouer the water was,
Shee then came to his knee:
He said, Come hither, Ffaire Ellen,
Loe yonder what I see!

18 ‘Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
Of redd gold shine the yates;
There’s four and twenty ffayre ladyes,
The ffairest is my wordlye make.

19 ‘Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
Of redd gold shineth the tower;
There is four and twenty ffaire ladyes,
The fairest is my paramoure.’

20 ‘I doe see the hall now, Child Waters,
that of redd gold shineth the yates;
God giue good then of your selfe,
And of your wordlye make!

21 ‘I doe see the hall now, Child Waters,
that of redd gold shineth the yates;
God giue good then of your selfe,
And of your paramoure!’

22 There were four and twenty ladyes,
Were playing att the ball,
And Ellen, was the ffairest ladye,
Must bring his steed to the stall.

23 There were four and twenty faire ladyes
Was playing att the chesse;
And Ellen, shee was the ffairest ladye,
Must bring his horsse to grasse.

24 And then bespake Child Waters sister,
And these were the words said shee:
You haue the prettyest ffootpage, brother,
that euer I saw with mine eye;
That euer I saw with mine eye;

25 ‘But that his belly it is soe bigg,
His girdle goes wonderous hye;
And euer I pray you, Child Waters,
Let him goe into the chamber with mee.’

26 ‘It is more meete for a little ffootpage,
that has run through mosse and mire,
To take his supper vpon his knee
And sitt downe by the kitchin fyer,
Then to goe into the chamber with any ladye
That weares soe [rich] attyre.’

27 But when th?e had supped euery one,
To bedd they took the way;
He sayd, Come hither, my little footpage,
Harken what I doe say.

28 And goe thee downe into yonder towne,
And low into the street;
The ffairest ladye that thou can find,
Hyer her in mine armes to sleepe,
And take her vp in thine armes two,
For filinge of her ffeete.

29 Ellen is gone into the towne,
And low into the streete;
The fairest ladye that shee cold find
Shee hyred in his armes to sleepe,
And tooke her in her armes two,
For filing of her ffeete.

30 ‘I pray you now, good Child Waters,
that I may creepe in att your bedds feete;
For there is noe place about this house
Where I may say a sleepe.’

31 This [night] and itt droue on affterward
Till itt was neere the day:
He sayd, Rise vp, my litle ffoote-page,
And giue my steed corne and hay;
And soe doe thou the good blacke oates,
that he may carry me the better away.

32 And vp then rose Ffaire Ellen,
And gaue his steed corne and hay,
And soe shee did and the good blacke oates,
that he might carry him the better away.

33 Shee layned her backe to the manger side,
And greiuouslye did groane;
And that beheard his mother deere,
And heard her make her moane.

34 Shee said, Rise vp, thou Child Waters,
I thinke thou art a cursed man;
For yonder is a ghost in thy stable,
that greiuouslye doth groane,
Or else some woman laboures of child,
Shee is soe woe begone.

35 But vp then rose Child Waters,
And did on his shirt of silke;
Then he put on his other clothes
On his body as white as milke.

36 And when he came to the stable-dore,
Full still that hee did stand,
that hee might heare now Faire Ellen,
That hee might heare now Faire Ellen,
How shee made her monand.

37 Shee said, Lullabye, my owne deere child!
Lullabye, deere child, deere!
I wold thy father were a king,
Thy mother layd on a beere!

38 ‘Peace now,’ he said, ‘good Faire Ellen,
And be of good cheere, I thee pray,
And the bridall and the churching both,
They shall bee vpon one day.’

Version B

a. Jamieson’s Brown MS., fol. 22, taken down from Mrs Brown’s recitation before 1783. b. A. Fraser Tytler’s Brown MS., No 9, as recited by Mrs Brown in 1800.

1 ‘I WARN ye all, ye gay ladies,
That wear scarlet an brown,
That ye dinna leave your father’s house,
To follow young men frae town.’

2 ‘O here am I, a lady gay,
That wears scarlet an brown,
Yet I will leave my father’s house,
An follow Lord John frae the town.’

3 Lord John stood in his stable-door,
Said he was bound to ride;
Burd Ellen stood in her bowr-door,
Said she’d rin by his side.

4 He’s pitten on his cork-heeld shoone,
An fast awa rade he;
She’s clade hersel in page array,
An after him ran she.

5 Till they came till a wan water,
An folks do ca it clyde;
Then he’s lookit oer his left shoulder,
Says, Lady, can ye wide?

6 ‘O I learnt it i my father house,
An I learnt it for my weal,
Wenneer I came to a wan water,
To swim like ony eel.’

7 But the firstin stap the lady stappit,
The water came til her knee;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said the lady,
‘This water’s oer deep for me.’

8 The nextin stap the lady stappit,
The water came till her middle;
An sighin says that gay lady,
I’ve wat my gouden girdle

9 The nextin stap the lady stappit,
The water came till her pap;
An the bairn that was in her twa sides
For caul begane to quake.

10 ‘Lye still, lye still, my ain dear babe,
Ye work your mither wae;
Your father rides on high horse-back,
Cares little for us twae.’

11 O about the midst o Clyden water
There was a yeard-fast stane;
He lightly turnd his horse about,
An tooke her on him behin.

12 ‘O tell me this now, good Lord John,
An a word ye dinna lee,
How far it is to your lodgin,
Whare we this night maun be?’

13 ‘O see you nae yon castle, Ellen,
That shines sae fair to see?
There is a lady in it, Ellen,
Will sunder you an me.

14 ‘There is a lady in that castle
Will sunder you and I:’
‘Betide me well, betide me wae,
I sal go there an try.’

15 ‘O my dogs sal eat the good white bread,
An ye sal eat the bran;
Then will ye sigh, an say, alas!
That ever I was a man!’

16 ‘O I sal eat the good white bread,
An your dogs sal eat the bran;
An I hope to live an bless the day,
That ever ye was a man.’

17 ‘O my horse sal eat the good white meal,
An ye sal eat the corn;
Then will ye curse the heavy hour
That ever your love was born.’

18 ‘O I sal eat the good white meal,
An your horse sal eat the corn;
An I ay sall bless the happy hour
That ever my love was born.’

19 O four an twenty gay ladies
Welcomd Lord John to the ha,
But a fairer lady than them a’
Led his horse to the stable sta.

20 An four an twenty gay ladies
Welcomd Lord John to the green,
But a fairer lady than them a’
At the manger stood alane.

21 Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung,
Ar a’ men boun to meat,
Burd Ellen at a bye-table
Amo the foot-men was set.

22 ‘O eat an drink, my bonny boy,
The white bread an the beer:’
‘The never a bit can I eat or drink,
My heart’s sae full of fear.’

23 ‘O eat an drink, my bonny boy,
The white bread an the wine:’
‘O I canna eat nor drink, master,
My heart’s sae full of pine.’

24 But out it spake Lord John’s mother,
An a wise woman was she:
‘Whare met ye wi that bonny boy,
That looks sae sad on thee?

25 ‘Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,
An sometimes deadly wan;
He’s liker a woman big wi bairn,
Than a young lord’s serving man.’

26 ‘O it makes me laugh, my mother dear,
Sic words to hear frae thee;
He is a squire’s ae dearest son,
That for love has followd me.

27 ‘Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy,
Gi my horse corn an hay:’
‘O that I will, my master dear,
As quickly as I may.’

28 She’s taen the hay under her arm,
The corn intill her han,
An she’s gane to the great stable,
As fast as eer she can.

29 ‘O room ye roun, my bonny broun steeds,
O room ye near the wa;
For the pain that strikes me thro my sides
Full soon will gar me fa.’

30 She’s leand her back against the wa;
Strong travail seizd her on;
An even amo the great horse feet
Burd Ellen brought forth her son.

31 Lord John’[s] mither intill her bowr
Was sitting all alone,
Whan, i the silence o the night,
She heard fair Ellen’s moan.

32 ‘Won up, won up, my son,’ she says,
‘Go se how a’ does fare;
For I think I hear a woman’s groans,
An a bairn greeting sair.’

33 O hastily he gat him up,
Stayd neither for hose nor shoone,
An he’s doen him to the stable-door,
Wi the clear light o the moon.

34 He strack the door hard wi his foot,
An sae has he wi his knee,
An iron locks an iron bars
Into the floor flung he:
‘Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,’ he says,
‘Ther’s nane come in but me.’

35 Up he has taen his bonny young son,
An gard wash him wi the milk;
An up has he taen his fair lady,
Gard row her in the silk.

36 ‘Cheer up your heart, Burd Ellen,’ he says,
‘Look nae mair sad nor wae;
For your marriage an your kirkin too
Sal baith be in ae day.’

Version C

Kinloch’s annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, Kinloch MSS, IV, 180.

1 ‘THE corn is turning ripe, Lord John,
The nuts are growing fu,
And ye are bound for your ain countrie,
Fain wad I go wi you.’

2 ‘Wi me, Margret, wi me, Margret,
What wad ye do wi me?
I’ve mair need o a pretty little boy,
To wait upon my steed.’

3 ‘It’s I will be your pretty little boy,
To wait upon your steed;
And ilka town that we come to,
A pack of hounds I’ll lead.’

4 ‘My hounds will eat o the bread o wheat,
And ye of the bread of bran;
And then you will sit and sigh,
That eer ye loed a man.’

5 The first water that they cam to,
I think they call it Clyde,
He saftly unto her did say,
Lady Margret, will ye ride?

6 The first step that she steppit in,
She steppit to the knee;
Says, Wae be to ye, waefu water,
For through ye I maun be.

7 The second step that she steppit in,
She steppit to the middle,
And sighd, and said, Lady Margret,
‘I’ve staind my gowden girdle.’

8 The third step that she steppit in,
She steppit to the neck;
The pretty babe within her sides,
The cauld it garrd it squake.

9 ‘Lie still my babe, lie still my babe,
Lie still as lang’s ye may,
For your father rides on horseback high,
Cares little for us twae.’

10 It’s whan she cam to the other side,
She sat doun on a stane;
Says, Them that made me, help me now,
For I am far frae hame.

11 ‘How far is it frae your mither’s bouer,
Gude Lord John tell to me?’
‘It’s therty miles, Lady Margaret,
It’s therty miles and three:
And yese be wed to ane o her serving men,
For yese get na mair o me.’

12 Then up bespak the wylie parrot,
As it sat on the tree,
‘Ye lee, ye lee, Lord John,’ it said,
‘Sae loud as I hear ye lee.

13 ‘Ye say it’s therty miles frae your mither’s bouer,
Whan it’s but barely three;
And she’ll neer be wed to a serving man,
For she’ll be your ain ladie.’

14 [‘O dinna ye see yon bonnie castle,
Lies on yon sunny lea?
And yese get ane o my mither’s men,
For yese get na mair o me.’]

15 [‘We’ll see I yon bonnie castle,
Lies on yon sunny lea,
But Ise neer hae nane o your mither’s men,
Tho I never gat mair o thee.’]

16 [Whan he cam to the porter’s yett
He tirled at the pin,
And wha sae ready as the bauld porter
To open and lat him in.]

17 Monie a lord and fair ladie
Met Lord John in the closs,
But the bonniest face amang them a’
Was hauding Lord John’s horse.

18 [Monie a lord and lady bricht
Met Lord John on the green,
But the bonniest boy amang them a’
Was standing by, him leen.]

19 Monie a lord and gay ladie
Sat dining in the ha,
But the bonniest face that was there
Was waiting on them a’.

20 O up bespak Lord John’s sister,
A sweet young maid was she:
‘My brither has brought a bonnie young page,
His like I neer did see;
But the red flits fast frae his cheek,
And the tear stands in his ee.’

21 But up bespak Lord John’s mither,
She spak wi meikle scorn:
‘He’s liker a woman gret wi bairn,
Than onie waiting-man.’

22 ‘It’s ye’ll rise up, my bonnie boy,
And gie my steed the hay:’
‘O that I will, my dear master,
As fast as I can gae.’

23 She took the hay aneath her arm,
The corn intil her hand,
But atween the stable-door and the staw,
Lady Margret made a stand.

24 [Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ men boun for bed,
Lord John, mither, and sister gay
In ae bour they were laid.]

25 [Lord John had na weel gat aff his claise,
Nor was he weel laid doun,
Till his mither heard a bairn greet,
And a woman’s heavy moan.]

26 [‘Win up, win up, Lord John,’ she said,
‘Seek neither hose nor shoon;
For I’ve heard a bairn loud greet,
And a woman’s heavy moan.’]

27 [Lord John raise, put on his claise,
Sought neither hose nor shoon,
Atween the ha and the stable-door
He made na a step but ane.]

28 ‘O open the door, Lady Margaret,
O open and let me in;
I want to see if my steed be fed,
Or my grey-hounds fit to rin.’

29 ‘I’ll na open the door, Lord John,’ she said,
‘I’ll na open it to thee,
Till ye grant to me my ae request,
And a puir ane it’s to me.

30 ‘Ye’ll gie to me a bed in an outhouse,
For my young son and me,
And the meanest servant in a’ the place,
To wait on him and me.’

31 [He’s tane the door wi his fit,
And he keppd it wi his knee,
He made the door o double deals
In splinders soon to flee.]

32 [‘An askin, an askin, grant me, Lord John,
An askin ye’ll grant me;
The meanest maid about the place
To bring a glass o water to me.’]

33 ‘I grant, I grant, Lady Margret,’ he said,
‘A’ that, and mair frae me,
The very best bed in a’ the place
To your young son and thee,
And my mither, and my sister dear,
To wait on him and thee.

34 ‘And a’ thae lands, and a’ thae rents,
They shall be his and thine;
Our wedding and our kirking day,
They sall be all in ane.’

35 And he has tane Lady Margaret,
And rowd her in the silk,
And he has tane his ain young son,
And washd him in the milk.

Version D

24 * * * *
Lord John rose, put on his clothes,
Sought neither stockens nor shoon,
An between the ha and the stable
He made not a step but one.

25 ‘O open, open, to me, Burd Ellen,
O open an let me in:’
‘O yes, O yes, will I, Lord John,
But not till I can win;
O yes, will I, Lord John,’ she says,
‘But I’m lyin wi your young son.’

26 He’s taen the door wi his foot,
An he kepped it wi his knee;
He made the door of double deals
In splinders soon to flee.

27 ‘An askin ye’ll grant me, Lord John,
An askin ye’ll grant me;
May the meanest maid about the place
Bring a glass o water to me?’

28 ‘O hold your tongue, Burd Ellen,’ he said,
‘Lat a’ your askins be;
For the best maid about the house
Shall bring a glass o wine to thee.

29 ‘An the best bed about it a’,
For my young son an thee;
My mother and my ae sister
Sal bear you company.

30 ‘Your marriage an your kirkin day
They sal be both in ane,
An a’ these ha’s an bowers, Burd Ellen,
They sal be yours an mine.’

Version E

1 ‘I BEG you bide at hame, Margaret,
An sew your silken seam;
If ye waur in the wide Hielands,
Ye wald be owre far frae hame.’

2 ‘I winna bide a hame,’ she said,
‘Nor sew my silken seam;
For if I waur in the wide Hielands,
I wald no be owre far frae hame.’

3 ‘My steed sall drink the blude-red wine,
An you the water wan;
I’ll mak you sigh, an say, alace,
That ever I loed a man!’

4 ‘Though your steed does drink the blude-red wine,
An me the water wan,
Yet will I sing, an merry be,
That ever I loed a man.’

5 ‘My hounds shall eat the bread o wheat,
An you the bread o bran;
I’ll mak you sigh, an say, alace,
That ever you loed Lord John!’

6 ‘Though your hounds do eat the bread o wheat,
An me the bread o bran,
Yet will I sing, an merrie be,
That ever I loed Lord John.’

7 He turned aboot his high horse head,
An awa he was boun to ride;
She kilted up her green clieden,
An after him she gaed.

8 Whan they cam to that water
Whilk a’ man ca the Clyde,
He turned aboot his high horse head,
Said, Ladie, will you ride?

9 ‘I learnt it in my mother’s bour,
I wish I had learnt it weel,
That I could swim this wan water
As weel as fish or eel.’

10 Whan at the middle o that water,
She sat doon on a stone;
He turned aboot his high horse head,
Says, Ladie, will ye loup on?

11 ‘I learnt in my mother’s bour,
I wish I had learnt it better,
That I culd swim this wan water
As weel as eel or otter.’

12 He has taen the narrow ford,
An she has taen the wide;
Lang, lang ere he was at the middle,
She was sittin at the ither side.

13 . . . . .
. . . . .
Wi sighen said that Fair Margaret,
Alace, I’m far frae hame!

14 ‘Hoo mony miles is’t to your castle?
Noo Lord John, tell to me;’
‘Hoo mony miles is’t to my castle?
It’s thirty miles an three:’
Wi sighen said that Fair Margaret,
It’ll never be gane by me!

15 But up it spak the wily bird,
As it sat on the tree,
‘Rin on, rin on noo, Fair Margaret,
It scarcely miles is three.’

16 Whan they cam to the wide Hielands,
An lichted on the green,
Every an spak Erse to anither,
But Margaret she spak nane.

17 Whan they waur at table set,
An birlin at the best,
Margaret set at a bye-table,
An fain she wald hain rest.

18 ‘Oh mither, mither, mak my bed
Wi clean blankets an sheets,
An lay my futeboy at my feet,
The sounder I may sleep.’

19 She has made Lord John his bed,
Wi clean blankets an sheets,
An laid his futeboy at his feet,
But neer a wink culd he sleep.

20 ‘Win up, win up noo, Fair Margaret,
An see that my steed has meat;
See that his corn is in his travisse,
Nor lyin amang his feet.’

21 Slowly, slowly rase she up,
An slowly put she on,
An slowly gaed she doon the stair,
Aye makin a heavy moan.

22 ‘An asken, an asken, gude Lord John,
I pray you grant it me;
For the warst bed in a’ your hoose,
To your young son an me.’

23 ‘Your asken is but sma, Margaret,
Sune grantet it shall be;
For the best bed in a’ my hoose
Is owre little for thee.’

24 ‘An asken, an asken, gude Lord John,
I pray you grant it me;
For the warst ale in a’ your hoose,
That ye wald gie to me.’

25 ‘Your asken is but sma, Margaret,
Sune grantet it sall be;
For the best wine in a’ my hoose
Is owre little for thee.

26 ‘But cheer up your heart noo, Fair Margaret,
For, be it as it may,
Your kirken an your fair weddin
Sall baith be on one day.’

Version F

1 LORD THOMAS stands in his stable-door,
Seeing his steeds kaimd down;
Lady Ellen sits at her bower-door,
Sewing her silver seam.

2 ‘O will ye stay at hame, Ellen,
And sew your silver seam?
Or will ye to the rank highlands?
For my lands lay far frae hame.’

3 ‘I winna stay at hame, Lord Thomas,
And sew my silver seam;
But I’ll gae to the rank highlands,
Tho your lands lay far frae hame.’

4 ‘An asking, an asking, Lord Thomas,
I pray thee grant it me;
How many miles into your fair tower,
And house where you would be?’

5 ‘Your asking fair, lady Ellen,’ he says,
‘Shall now be granted thee;
For to my castle where it stands
Is thirty miles and three:’
‘O wae is me,’ says Lady Ellen,
‘It will never be run by me.’

6 But up and spak the wily pyot,
That sat upon the tree:
‘Sae loud, sae loud, ye fause, fause knight,
Sae loud as I hear you lie!

7 ‘For to your dwelling-house,’ it says,
‘Of miles it’s scantly three:’
‘O weel is me,’ says Lady Ellen;
‘It shall be run by me.’

8 ‘O mither, mither, mak my bed,
And mak it braid and wide,
And lay my little page at my feet,
Whatever may betide.’

9 ‘An asking, an asking, Lord Thomas,
I pray thee grant it me;
O grant me a cup of cold water,
Between my young son and me.’

10 ‘What you do ask, Lady Ellen,
Shall soon be granted thee;
The best bread and the best wine,
Between my young son and thee.’

11 ‘I ask again, my good Lord Thomas,
I ask again of thee;
The poorest cot-house in your land,
Between my young son and me.’

12 ‘Your asking now, dear Lady Ellen,
I quickly grant to thee;
The best bower about my tower,
Between my young son and thee.’

Version G

1 THE knight he stands in stable-door,
Says he, I will go ride;
The lady’s kilted her gay cloathing,
And ran low by his side.

2 He has ridden, and she has run,
Till they came to yon water wan;
He has ridden, and she has run,
Like to his waiting man.

3 He has ridden, and she has run,
Till they came on to Clyde;
The knight he rode on high horseback,
But the lady she bot wide.

4 The first step that the lady stepped,
She stept into the knee;
The bairn that was between her sides
There he gied spartles three.

5 ‘Lie still, lie still, my bonny boy,
Ye work your mother woe;
Your father rides on high horseback,
Cares little for us two.’

6 The nextand step that lady stepped,
She stept into the pap;
The bairn that was between her sides
There spartled and he lap.

7 ‘Ly still, ly still, my bonny boy,
You work your mother’s woe;
Your father rides on high horseback,
Cares little for us two.’

8 In the middle of that water
There stands a yird-fast stone;
He turnd his horse head back again,
Said, Lady, loup ye on.

9 She hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
O never a mile but ane,
Till she grew sick, and so weary
She couldna ride nor gang.

10 ‘Ride on, ride on, my gay lady,
You see not what I see;
For yonder is my father’s castle,
A little beyond the lee,
And ye’ll get ane of my father’s men,
But, lady, neer lippen on me.’

11 There were four and twenty bonny ladies
Led Willie frae bower to ha,
But the bonniest lady among them a’
Led his steed to the sta.

12 When they were at the table set,
And sitting at their dine,
Out it spake his mother dear,
And she spake aye in time.

13 ‘Sometimes your boy’s red, Willie,
And other times he’s wan;
He looks like a woman wi bairn,
But no ways like a man.’

14 ‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Go look your master’s steed;
See that his meat be at his head,
And not among his feet.’

15 O healy, healy raise she up,
And healy gaed she down,
And healy opend the stable-door,
And as healy gaed she in,
And even among that big horse feet
She bear her dear young son.

16 As Willie’s mother was walking alone,
Between the bower and ha,
She thought she heard a bairn’s greet
And lady’s moan in the sta.

17 ‘Gude make ye safe, my ae son Willie,
Gude keep ye safe frae harm;
Ye might hae chosen a lighter foot-boy
Than a women in travilling.’

18 He hit the table wi his foot,
He kept it wi his knee,
Till silver cups and silver spoons
Into the floor did flee.

19 There was fifteen steps into that stair,
I wat he made them a’ but three;
He’s to the stable gane in haste,
And a’ to see his gay lady.

20 ‘I am not come o sic low kin,
Nor yet sic low degree,
That you needed to banish me frae your sight,
That ye left nae woman wi me.’

21 ‘I wish I’d drunken the wan water
When I did drink the wine,
Or when I left my lady gay,
And her at sic a time.

22 ‘But up ye’ll take my dear young son,
And wash him wi the milk,
And up ye’ll take my lady gay
And row her in the silk;
For her kirking and her fair wedding
Shall baith stand in ae day.’

Version H

1 * * * *
‘TURN back, turn back, O Burd Alone,
For the water’s both broad and long:’
First she went into the shoulders,
And sine unto the chin.

2 ‘How far is it to your hall, Lord John?
How far is it? I pray of thee:’
‘The nearest way unto my hall
Is thirty miles and three.

3 ‘Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone,
Ye’ll sink before ye win owre:’
‘I am too big with bairn,’ she says,
‘To sink or I win owre.’

4 ‘Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone,
Turn back, I pray of thee;
For I’ve got a wife and seven bairns,
I like far better than thee.’

5 And then spak a wild parrot,
Sat high upon the tree:
‘Gang on, gang on, O Burd Alone,
[He likes nane better nor thee.]

6 ‘For Lord John has neither wife nor bairns,
He likes better than thee,
And the nearest way to Lord John’s hall
Is only short miles three.’

7 When she was come to Lord John’s hall,
Lords, knights and ladies braw
Was there to welcome them hame;
But the bravest in the ha,
She waited at Lord John’s back,
Serving the tables a’.

8 When she was laid into her bed,
Amang the servants a’ ilk ane,
The mother heard a babie greet,
And a lady make a heavy maen.

9 ‘Rise up, rise up, Lord John,’ she said,
‘Bind on thy hose and shoon;
Thow might hae got some other lady
Then a lady big wi bairn.’

10 Lord John awa to the hay-loft,
Where his lady lay;
‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says,
‘O rise and let me in;
It’s I have got no loves without,
But I’ve got one within.’

11 ‘I ask three favours of you, Lord John,
I ask three favours of thee;
I ask a bottle of your sma, sma beer,
For your old son and me.’

12 ‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says,
‘O rise and let me in;
My wine and gin is at your command,
And that of my old son.’

13 ‘The next favour I ask of you, Lord John,
The next favour I ask of thee,
Is the meanest room in all your house,
For your young son and me.

14 ‘The next favour I ask of you, Lord John,
The next favour I ask of thee,
Is the meanest maid in a’ your house,
To wait on your yong son and me.’

15 ‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says,
‘O rise and let me in;
For thy bridal and thy banquet day
Shall both be held in ane.’

Version I

1 LORD JOHN stands in his stable-door,
Just on his way to ride;
Lady Ellen stands in her bower-door,
Says, Bide, Lord John, abide!

2 He did ride, and she did run,
A lief-lang simmer’s day,
Until they came till a wan water,
That a’ man did ca Tay.

3 The first step that she steppit in,
She steppit tae the cweet;
An sichan said that gay lady,
I fear this water’s deep!

4 The next step that she steppit in,
She steppit tae the knee;
An sichan said that gay lady,
This water’s deep for me!

5 Lord John hield down his high horse head,
Said, Lady, will ye ride?
‘O no! O no! kind sir,’ she said,
‘I’ll rather choose tae wide.’

6 The next step that she steppit in,
She steppit tae the chin;
An sichan said that gay lady,
I’ll wide nae farrer in.

7 The firsten town that they cam till,
She got a leash o huns tae lead,
. . . . .
. . . . .

8 When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
An a’ was ready tae dine,
. . . . .
. . . . .

9 When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
An a’ were bound for bed,
. . . . .
. . . . .

Version J

1 THE knight stands in his stable-door,
Says he, I will gae ride;
A lady stands in her bower-door,
Says, I’ll ride by your side.

2 ‘Ye shall not follow me, Burd Helen,
Except ye do this deed;
That is, to saddle to me my horse,
And bridle to me my steed,
And every town that ye come to,
A liesh o hounds to lead.’

3 ‘I will saddle to you your horse,
Sae will I bridle your steed;
And every town that we come to,
A liesh o hounds I’ll lead.’

4 Take warning a’, ye maidens fair,
That wear scarlet and brown;
In virtue leave your lammas beds,
To follow knights frae town.

5 ‘My dogs shall eat the white bread, Helen,
And you the dust and bran;
And you will sigh, and say, alas!
That eer our loves began.’

6 ‘Your dogs may eat the gude white bread,
And I the dust and bran;
Yet will I sing, and say, well’s me,
That eer our loves began.’

7 ‘My horse shall drink the gude red wine,
And you the water wan;
And then you’ll sigh, and say, alas!
That eer our loves began.’

8 ‘Your horse may drink the gude red wine,
And I the water wan;
But yet I’ll sing, and say, well’s me,
That eer our loves began.’

9 Then Willie lap on his white steed,
And straight awa did ride;
Burd Helen, drest in men’s array,
She walked by his side.

10 But he was neer sae lack a knight
As ance woud bid her ride,
And she was neer sae mean a may
As ance woud bid him bide.

11 Sweet Willie rade, Burd Helen ran,
A livelang summer’s tide,
Until she came to wan water,
For a’ men ca’s it Clyde.

12 The first an step that she wade in,
She wadit to the knee;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said that fair maid,
‘This water’s nae for me!’

13 The next an step that she wade in,
She wadit to the pap;
The babe within her sides twa,
Cauld water gart it quack.

14 ‘Lie still, lie still, my bonny bairn,
For a’ this winna dee;
Your father rides on high horseback,
Minds neither you nor me.’

15 In the midst of Clyde’s water,
There stands a yird-fast stone;
There he leant him ower his saddle-bow,
And set that lady on,
And brought her to the other side,
Then set her down again.

16 ‘O see ye not yon goodly towers,
And gowd towers stand sae hie?
There is a lady in yonder bower
Will sinder you and me.’

17 ‘I wish nae ill to your lady,
She neer wishd nane to me;
But I wish the maid maist o your love
That drees far mair for thee.

18 ‘I wish nae ill to your lady,
She neer comes in my thought;
But I wish the maid maist o your love
That dearest hae you bought.’

19 Four an twenty gay ladies
Led Willie thro bower and ha;
But the fairest lady amo them a’
Led his horse to the sta.

20 Four an twenty gay ladies
Were a’ at dinner set;
Burd Helen sat at a by-table,
A bit she coudna eat.

21 Out it spake her Dow Isbel,
A skilly dame was she:
‘O whare got ye this fine foot-page
Ye’ve brought alang wi thee?

22 ‘Sometimes his colour waxes red,
Sometimes it waxes wan;
He is liker a woman big wi bairn
Nor be a waiting man.’

23 ‘Win up, win up, my boy,’ he says,
‘At my bidding to be,
And gang and supper my gude steed,
See he be litterd tee.’

24 Then she is into stable gane,
Shut tee the door wi a pin,
And even amang Willie’s horse feet
Brought hame her bonny young son.

25 When day was gane, and night was come,
And a’ man bound for bed,
Sweet Willie and Dow Isbel
In ae chamber were laid.

26 They hadna been well lien down,
Nor yet well faen asleep,
Till up it wakens Sweet Willie,
And stood at Dow Isbel’s feet.

27 ‘I dreamd a dreary dream this night,
I wish it may be for guid;
Some rogue hae broke my stable-door,
And stown awa my steed.

28 ‘Win up, win up now, Dow Isbel,
At my bidding to be,
And ye’ll gae to my stable-door,
See that be true or lie.’

29 When she gaed to the stable-door,
She heard a grievous groan;
She thought she heard a bairn greet,
But and a woman’s moan.

30 ‘When I was in my bigly bower,
I wore but what I would;
This night I’m lighter ’mang Willie’s horse feet,
I fear I’ll die for cold.

31 ‘When I was in my bigly bower,
I wore gold to my tae;
This night I’m lighter mang Willie’s horse feet,
And fear I’ll die or day.

32 ‘When I was in my bigly bower,
I wore scarlet and green;
This night I’m lighter mang Willie’s horse feet,
And fear I’ll die my lane.’

33 Dow Isbel now came tripping hame,
As fast as gang coud she;
‘I thought your page was not a man,
Ye brought alang wi thee.

34 ‘As I gaed to your stable, Willie,
I heard a grievous groan;
I thought I heard a bairn greet,
But and a woman’s moan.

35 ‘She said, when in her bigly bower,
She wore but what she would;
But this night is lighter mang your horse feet,
And fears she’ll die for cold.

36 ‘She said, when in her bigly bower,
She wore gold to her tae;
But this night is lighter mang your horse feet,
And fears she’ll die or day.

37 ‘Win up, win up, now Sweet Willie,
At my bidding to be,
And speak some comfort to the maid,
That’s dreed sae much for thee.’

38 He is to the stable door gane,
As fast as gang coud he;
‘O open, O open, Burd Helen,’ he says,
‘Ye’ll open the door to me.’

39 ‘That was never my mother’s custom,
And hope it’s never be mine,
A knight into her companie,
When she drees a’ her pine.’

40 ‘O open the door, Burd Helen,’ he says,
‘O open the door to me;
For as my sword hangs by my gair,
I’ll gar it gang in three.’

41 ‘How can I open, how shall I open,
How can I open to thee,
When lying amang your great steed’s feet,
Your young son on my knee?’

42 He hit the door then wi his foot,
Sae did he wi his knee,
Till doors o deal, and locks o steel,
In splinders gart he flee.

43 ‘An asking, asking, Sweet Willie,
An asking ye’ll grant me;
The warst in bower in a’ your towers,
For thy young son and me.’

44 ‘Your asking’s nae sae great, Burd Helen,
But granted it shall be;
The best in bower in a’ my towers,
For my young son and thee.’

45 ‘An asking, asking, sweet Willie,
An asking ye’ll grant me;
The warst an woman about your bowers,
To wait on him and me.’

46 ‘The best an woman about my bowers,
To wait on him and thee,
And that’s my sister Dow Isbel,
And a gude woman is she.

47 ‘Ye will take up my little young son,
And wash him wi the milk;
And ye’ll take up my gay lady,
And row her in the silk.

48 ‘Be favourable to my lady,
Be favourable, if ye may;
Her kirking and her fair wedding
Shall baith stand on ae day.

49 ‘There is not here a woman living
But her shall be my bride,
And all is for the fair speeches
I got frae her at Clyde.’

Version K

1 Willie was a harper guid,
He was a harper fine;
He harped the burds out of the tree,
The fish out of the flood,
The milk out of a woman’s brist
That bab had never nean.

2 He harped out, an he harped in,
Till he harped them a’ aslep,
Unless it was her Fair Elen,
An she stood on her feett.

3 Willie stod in stabile dor,
He said he wad ride,
. . . . . .
. . . . .

4 ‘Na women mane gae we me, Hellen,
Na women mane gaie we me
Bat them that will saddle my hors,
An bridell my steed,
An elky toun that I come to
A lish of hons mane lead.’

5 ‘I will saddle yer hors, Willie,
An I will bridel yer steed,
An elky toun att we come tell
A leash of honds will lead.’

6 ‘The dogs sall eat the gued fite bread,
An ye the dou pran,
An ye sall bliss, an na curse,
That ever ye lied a man.’

7 ‘The dogs sall eat the whit bread,
An me the dou pran,
An I will bliss, an na curs,
That ear I loved a man.’

8 She has saddled his hors,
An she has bridled his stead,
An ealky toun att they came throu
A lish of honds did lead.

9 The dogs did eatt the whit bread,
An her the douey pran,
An she did bliss, an she did na curs,
That ever she loyed a man.

10 Fan they came to yon wan water
That a’ man caas Clayd,
He louked over his left shoder,
Says, Ellen, will ye ride?

11 ‘I learned it in my medder’s bour,
I wiss I had learned it better,
Fan I came to wane water
To sume as dos the otter.

12 ‘I learned in my midder’s bour,
I watt I learned it well,
Fan I came to wan water,
To sume as dos the ell.’

13 . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
Or the knight was in the middell of the water,
The lady was in the eather side.

14 She leaned her back to a stane,
Gaa a call opon:
‘O my back is right sore,
An I sae farr frae hame!

15 ‘Hou monny mill ha ye to rid,
An hou mony I to rine?’
‘Fifty mill ha I to rid,
Fifty you to rine,
An by that time I dou supos
Ye will be a dead woman.’

16 Out spak a bonny burd,
Sate on yon tree,
‘Gaa on, fair Ellen,
Ye ha scarcly milles three.’

17 Four-an-tuenty bony ladys
Mett Willie in the closs,
Bat the fairest lady among them a’
Took Willie frae his horse.

18 Four-an-trenty bonny ladys
Lead Willie to the table,
Bat the fairest lady among them a’
Led his hors to the stable.

19 She leaned betuen the gray folle an the waa,
An gae a call opon;
‘O my back is fue sore,
An I sae far fra home!

20 ‘Fan I was in my father’s bour,
I ware goud to my hell;
Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,
An the call it will me kell.

21 ‘Fan I was in my midder’s bour
I wear goud to my head;
Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,
And the calle will be my dead.’

22 ‘Fatten a heavey horse-boy, my son Willie,
Is this ye ha brought to me?
Some times he grous read, read,
An some times paill an wane;
He louks just leak a woman we bairn,
An no weis es leak a man.’

23 ‘Gett up, my heavey hors-boy,
Gie my hors corn an hay;’
‘By my soth,’ says her Fair Ellen,
‘Bat as fast as I may.’

24 ‘I dreamed a dream san the straine,
Gued read a’ dreams to gued!
I dreamed my stable-dor was opned
An stoun was my best steed.
Ye gae, my sister,
An see if the dream be gued.’

25 . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
She thought she hard a baby greet,
Bat an a lady mone.

26 . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘I think I hard a baby greet,
Bat an a lady mone.’

27 ‘A askend, Wikllie,’ she says,
‘An ye man grant it me;
The warst room in a’ yer house
To your young son an me.’

28 [‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,
Ye’r sure yer asken is free;]
The best room in a’ my house
To yer young son an ye.’

29 ‘[A] asken, Willie,’ she sayes,
‘An ye will grant it me;
The smallest bear in yer house
To [yer] young son an me.’

30 ‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,
Ye’r sure your asken is free;
The best bear in my house
[To yer young son an ye.]

31 ‘The best bear in my house
Is the black bear an the wine,
An ye sall haa that, Fair Ellen,
To you an yer young son.’

32 ‘[A] askent, Willie,’ she says,
‘An ye will grant [it] me;
The warst maid in yer house
To wait on yer young son an me.’

33 ‘The best maid in my house
Is my sister Meggie,
An ye sall ha her, Fair Ellen,
To wait on yer young son an ye.

34 ‘Chire up, Fair Ellen,
Chire up, gin ye may;
Yer kirking an yer fair weding
Sall baith stand in ae day.’

64. Fair Janet

Version A

1 ‘YE maun gang to your father, Janet,
Ye maun gang to him soon;
Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,
In case that his days are dune.’

2 Janet’s awa to her father,
As fast as she could hie:
‘O what’s your will wi me, father?
O what’s your will wi me?’

3 ‘My will wi you, Fair Janet,’ he said,
‘It is both bed and board;
Some say that he loe Sweet Willie,
But ye maun wed a French lord.’

4 ‘A French lord maun I wed, father?
A French lord maun I wed?
Then, by my sooth,’ quo Fair Janet,
‘He’s neer enter my bed.’

5 Janet’s awa to her chamber,
As fast as she could go;
Wha’s the first ane that tapped there,
But Sweet Willie her jo?

6 ‘O we maun part this love, Willie,
That has been lang between;
There’s a French lord coming oer the sea,
To wed me wi a ring;
There’s a French lord coming oer the sea,
To wed and tak me hame.’

7 ‘If we maun part this love, Janet,
It causeth mickle woe;
If we maun part this love, Janet,
It makes me into mourning go.’

8 ‘But ye maun gang to your three sisters,
Meg, Marion, and Jean;
Tell them to come to Fair Janet,
In case that her days are dune.’

9 Willie’s awa to his three sisters,
Meg, Marion, and Jean:
‘O haste, and gang to Fair Janet,
I fear that her days are dune.’

10 Some drew to them their silken hose,
Some drew to them their shoon,
Some drew to them their silk manteils,
Their covering to put on,
And they’re awa to Fair Janet,
By the hie light o the moon.

11 ‘O I have born this babe, Willie,
Wi mickle toil and pain;
Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie,
For nurse I dare be nane.’

12 He’s tane his young son in his arms,
And kisst him cheek and chin,
And he’s awa to his mother’s bower,
By the hie light o the moon.

13 ‘O open, open, mother,’ he says,
‘O open, and let me in;
The rain rains on my yellow hair,
And the dew drops oer my chin,
And I hae my young son in my arms,
I fear that his days are dune.’

14 With her fingers lang and sma
She lifted up the pin,
And with her arms lang and sma
Received the baby in.

15 ‘Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie,
And comfort your fair lady;
For where ye had but ae nourice,
Your young son shall hae three.’

16 Willie he was scarce awa,
And the lady put to bed,
Whan in and came her father dear:
‘Make haste, and busk the bride.’

17 ‘There’s a sair pain in my head, father,
There’s a sair pain in my side;
And ill, O ill, am I, father,
This day for to be a bride.’

18 ‘O ye maun busk this bonny bride,
And put a gay mantle on;
For she shall wed this auld French lord,
Gin she should die the morn.’

19 Some put on the gay green robes,
And some put on the brown;
But Janet put on the scarlet robes,
To shine foremost throw the town.

20 And some they mounted the black steed,
And some mounted the brown;
But Janet mounted the milk-white steed,
To ride foremost throw the town.

21 ‘O wha will guide your horse, Janet?
O wha will guide him best?’
‘O wha but Willie, my true-love?
He kens I loe him best.’

22 And when they cam to Marie’s kirk,
To tye the haly ban,
Fair Janet’s cheek looked pale and wan,
And her colour gaed an cam.

23 When dinner it was past and done,
And dancing to begin,
‘O we’ll go take the bride’s maidens,
And we’ll go fill the ring.’

24 O ben than cam the auld French lord,
Saying, Bride, will ye dance with me?
‘Awa, awa, ye auld French lord,
Your face I downa see.’

25 O ben than cam now Sweet Willie,
He cam with ane advance:
‘O I’ll go tak the bride’s maidens,
And we’ll go tak a dance.’

26 ‘I’ve seen ither days wi you, Willie,
And so has mony mae,
Ye would hae danced wi me mysel,
Let a’ my maidens gae.’

27 O ben than cam now Sweet Willie,
Saying, Bride, will ye dance wi me?
‘Aye, by my sooth, and that I will,
Gin my back should break in three.’

28 She had nae turned her throw the dance,
Throw the dance but thrice,
When she fell doun at Willie’s feet,
And up did never rise.

29 Willie’s taen the key of his coffer,
And gien it to his man:
‘Gae hame, and tell my mother dear
My horse he has me slain;
Bid her be kind to my young son,
For father he has nane.’

30 The tane was buried in Marie’s kirk,
And the tither in Marie’s quire;
Out of the tane there grew a birk,
And the tither a bonny brier.

Version B

1 ‘IF you do love me weel, Willie,
Ye’ll shew to me truelie;
Ye’ll build to me a bonnie ship,
And set her on the sea.’

2 He did love her very weel,
He shewed to her trulie;
He builded her a bonnie ship,
And set her on the sea.

3 They had not sailed one league, one league,
One league but only three,
Till sharp, sharp showers fair Janet took,
She grew sick and like to die.

4 ‘If you do love me weel, Willie,
Ye’ll shew to me trulye;
Ye’ll tak me to my mother’s bower,
Whare I was wont to be.’

5 He did love her very weel,
He shewed to her trulye;
He took her to her mother’s bower,
Whare she was wont to be.

6 ‘It’s ye’ll stand up at my richt side,
You will on tiptaes stand,
Until you hear your auld son weep,
But an you Janet mourn.

7 ‘Come take your auld son in your arms,
He is both large and lang;
Come take your auld son in your arms,
And for a nourice gang.’

8 He is to his mother’s bowers,
An hour or it struck nine:
‘I have a babe into my arms,
He’ll die nor nouricing.’

9 ‘Goe home, go home, my son,’ she says,
‘And mak thy Jenny blythe;
If ae nurse winna sere her son,
It’s I’ll provide him five.’

10 Fair Janet was nae weel lichter,
Nor weel doun on her side,
Till ben and cam her father dear,
Saying, Wha will busk our bride?

11 Ben and cam her brethren dear,
Saying, Wha will busk our bride?
And wha will saddle our bride’s horse?
Whom ahint will she ride?

12 ‘Hold your tongue, my brethren dear,
And let your folly be,
For I’m sae fair and full of hair
Sma busking will serve me.

13 ‘Hold your tongue, my brethren dear,
And let your folly be,
For I will ride behint William,
He will best wait on me.

14 ‘Willie, lay the saddle saft,
And lead the bridle soun,
And when we come to Mary’s Kirk,
Ye’ll set me hooly down.’

15 Supper scarslie was owre,
Nor musick weel fa’n to,
Till ben and cam the bride’s brethren,
Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me:
‘Awa, awa, my brethren dear,
For dancing’s no for me.’

16 Ben and came her ain bridegroom,
Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me;
She says, Awa, awa, ye southland dog,
Your face I downa see.

17 Ben and cam then Sweet Willie,
Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me:
‘Oh I will dance the floor once owre,
Tho my heart should break in three.’

18 ‘Oh no, oh no,’ said Sweet William,
‘Let no such things eer be;
But I will cut my glove in two,
And I’ll dance for thee and me.’

19 She hadna danced the floor once owre,
I’m sure she hadna thrice,
Till she fell in a deadly swound,
And from it neer did rise.

20 Out and spak her ain bridegroom,
And an angry man was he:
‘This day she has gien me the gecks,
Yet she must bear the scorn;
There’s not a bell in merry Linkum
Shall ring for her the morn.’

21 Out and spoke then Sweet William,
And a sorry man was he:
‘Altho she has gien you the gecks,
She will not bear the scorn;
There’s not a bell in merry Linkum
But shall ring for her the morn.’

22 There was not a bell in merry Linkum
But they tinkled and they rang,
And a’ the birds that flew above,
They changed their notes and sang.

Version C

1 LIVD ance twa luvers in yon dale,
And they luvd ither weel;
Frae evning late to morning aire
Of luving luvd their fill.

2 ‘Now, Willie, gif you luve me weel,
As sae it seems to me,
Gar build, gar build a bonny schip,
Gar build it speedilie.

3 ‘AnRR rrwe wLl saL the sea sae g-een,
Unto some far countrie,
Or we’ll sail to some bonie isle,
Stands lanely midst the sea.’

4 But lang or ere the schip was built,
Or deckd, or rigged out,
Came sick a pain in Annet’s back
That down she coud na lout.

5 ‘Now, Willie, gif ye luve me weel,
As sae it seems to me,
O haste, haste, bring me to my bowr,
And my bowr-maidens three.’

6 He’s taen her in his arms twa,
And kissd her, cheik and chin;
He’s brocht her to her ain sweet bowr,
But nae bowr-maid was in.

7 ‘Now leave my bower, Willie,’ she said,
‘Now leave me to my lane;
When she was travelling.’

8 He’s stepped three steps down the stair,
Upon the marble stane;
Sae loud’s he heard his young son’s greet,
But and his lady’s mane!

9 ‘Now come, now come, Willie,’ she said,
‘Tak your young son frae me,
And hie him to your mother’s bower,
With speed and privacie.’

10 He’s taen his young son in his arms,
He’s kissd him, cheik and chin;
He’s hied him to his mother’s bower,
By th’ ae light of the moon.

11 And with him came the bold barone,
And he spake up wi pride:
‘Gar seek, gar seek the bower-maidens,
Gar busk, gar busk the bryde.’

12 ‘My maidens, easy with my back,
And easy with my side;
O set my saddle saft, Willie,
I am a tender bryde.’

13 When she came to the burrow-town,
They gied her a broch and ring,
And when she came to . . .,
They had a fair wedding.

14 O up then spake the norland lord,
And blinkit wi his ee:
‘I trow this lady’s born a bairn,’
Then laucht loud lauchters three.

15 And up then spake the brisk bridegroom,
And he spake up wi pryde:
‘Gin I should pawn my wedding-gloves,
I will dance wi the bryde.’

16 ‘Now had your tongue, my lord,’ she said,
‘Wi dancing let me be;
I am sae thin in flesh and blude,
Sma dancing will serve me.’

17 But she’s taen Willie be the hand,
The tear blinded her ee:
‘But I wad dance wi my true-luve,
But bursts my heart in three.’

18 She’s taen her bracelet frae her arm,
Her garter frae her knee:
‘Gie that, gie that to my young son,
He’ll neer his mother see.’

19 ‘Gar deal, gar deal the bread, mother,
Gar deal, gar deal the wyne;
This day hath seen my true-love’s death,
This nicht shall witness myne.’

Version D

1 ‘IT never was my mother’s fashion,
As little will’t be mine,
For to hae gay lords within my room
When ladies are travailing.’

2 Lord William was scarsely down the stair,
A step but only ane,
Till he heard his auld son gie a cry,
And his lady a heavy maen.

3 ‘Turn back, turn back, Lord William,’ she says,
‘Take thy auld son in thy coat-neuk,
And see and reach thy mother’s bowers
Twa hours before day comes.’

4 He’s awa wi his auld son in his coat-neuk,
As fast as he can run,
And there he’s reached his mother’s bowers,
Twa hours before day came.

5 ‘O rise, O rise, my mother dear,
O rise and let me in,
For I’ve my auld son in my coat-neuk,
And he shivers at the chin.’

6 ‘Ye’re welcome hame to me, Lord William,
And so is thy auld son;
It’s where ye had but ae nourice,
Thy auld son he’ll hae four.’

7 His lady was scarsely in her bed,
Nor well faln owre asleep,
When four and twenty knights and lords
Came for the bride at last.

8 They dressed her up, they dressed her down,
They dressed her wondrous fine,
And just before her ain bedside
She lost her colour clean.

9 ‘Be hooly wi my head, maidens,
Be hooly wi my hair,
For it was washen late last night,
And now it’s very sair.’

10 Out then spoke a southern lord,
And oh but he spak bauld:
‘She is the likest that bore a child
That eer my eyes did see.’

11 Up then spak her auld, auld father,
And oh he spoke in time:
‘She neer bore a child since her birth
Except it was yestreen.’

12 Out then spoke a northern lord:
‘It’s bride, will ye dance wi me?’
‘Oh no, oh no, you northland lord,
It’s dancing’s no for me.’

13 Out then spoke a southland lord:
‘It’s bride, will ye dance wi me?’
‘Oh no, oh no, you southland lord,
I would as lief chuse to die.’

14 Out then spoke her ain bridegroom:
‘O bride, will ye dance wi me?’
‘Oh no, oh no, my ain bridegroom,
It’s dancing’s no for me.’

15 yes, I’ll dance, dear Willie,’ she said,
Out then spoke her ain Willy,
And oh he spoke fu fine:
‘O bride, O bride, will ye dance wi me,’
. . . . .

16 ‘Oh yes, oh yes, Willie,’ she said,
‘It’s I will dance with thee;
Oh yes, I’ll dance, dear Willie,’ she said,
‘Tho my back it gaes in three.’

17 She leaned her head on Willie’s breast,
And her back unto the wa:
‘O there’s the key of my coffer,
And pay weel the nouriss fee,
And aye when ye look on your auld son,
Ye may aye think on me.’

Version E

1 WILLIE and Fair Janet
Sat a’ day on yon hill;
And Janet she took sair pains,
And O but she grew ill.

2 ‘Fetch a woman to me, Willie,
O fetch a woman to me,
For without the help of woman, Willie,
Surely I will dee.’

3 ‘O tie a napkin on my face,
That naething I may see,
And what can a woman do, Janet,
But I will do for thee?’

4 She was na scarcely brought to bed,
Nor yet laid on her side,
Till in and cam her father there,
Crying, Fy, gae busk the bride.

5 ‘A wearyed bride am I, father,
A wearyed bride am I;
Must I gae wed that southlan lord,
And let Sweet Willie abe?’

6 ‘Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet,
What shall your cleeding be;
Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet,
And I will gie it to thee.

7 ‘Whether will you hae it of the berry brown,
Or of the holland green;
Or will you hae it of the crimson red,
Most lovely to be seen?’

8 ‘I will not hae’t of the berry brown,
Nor yet o the holly green;
But I will hae’t of the crimson red,
Most lovely to be seen.’

9 ‘Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet,
What man you’ll ride behind:’
‘O wha sae fitting as Sweet Willie?
He’ll fit my saddle fine.’

10 O they rode on, and they rode on,
Till they cam to Merrytown green;
But Sweet Willie and Fair Janet
Cam aye hoolie ahin.

11 O whan they cam to Merrytown,
And lighted on the green,
Monie a bluidy aith was sworn
That our bride was wi bairn.

12 Out and spake the bonny bride,
And she swore by her fingers ten:
‘If eer I was wi bairn in my life,
I was lighter sin yestreen.’

13 Up and raise he the bridegroom,
Says, Bride, will ye dance wi me?
‘Dance on, dance on, bridegroom,’ she says,
‘For I’ll dance nane wi thee.’

14 Up and raise her father then,
Says, Bride, will ye dance wi me?
‘Dance on, my father,’ she replied,
‘I pray thee let me be.’

15 Then up and raise he Sweet Willie,
And he had meikle pride:
‘I’ll lay my gloves in the bride’s han,
And I’ll dance for the bride.’

16 ‘O no, O no, O Sweet Willie,
O no, that shall na be;
For I will dance wi thee, Willie,
Tho my back should fa in three.’

17 She had na run a reel, a reel,
A reel but barely three,
Till pale and wan grew Fair Janet,
And her head took Willie’s knee.

18 Out and spake then the bridegroom,
And he spake wi great scorn:
‘There’s not a bell in Merrytown kirk
Shall ring for her the morn.’

19 Out and spak he Sweet Willie,
And his heart was almost gane:
‘’Tis a the bells in Merrytown kirk
Shall ring for her the morn.’

20 Willie was buried in Mary’s kirk,
etc., etc., etc.

Version F

1 HEY, love Willie, and how, love Willie,
And Willie my love shall be;
They’re thinking to sinder our lang love, Willie;
It’s mair than man can dee.

2 ‘Ye’ll mount me quickly on a steed,
A milk-white steed or gray,
And carry me on to gude greenwood,
Before that it be day.’

3 He mounted her upon a steed,
He chose a steed o gray;
He had her on to gude greenwood,
Before that it was day.

4 ‘O will ye gang to the cards, Meggie?
Or will ye gang wi me?
Or will ye hae a bower-woman,
To stay ere it be day?’

5 ‘I winna gang to the cards,’ she said,
‘Nor will I gae wi thee,
Nor will I hae a bower-woman,
To spoil my modestie.

6 ‘Ye’ll gie me a lady at my back,
An a lady me beforn,
An a midwife at my twa sides,
Till your young son be born.

7 ‘Ye’ll do me up, and further up,
To the top o yon greenwood tree;
For every pain myself shall hae,
The same pain ye maun drie.’

8 The first pain that did strike Sweet Willie,
It was into the side;
Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie,
These pains are ill to bide!

9 The nextan pain that strake Sweet Willie,
It was into the back;
Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie,
These pains are women’s wreck!

10 The nextan pain that strake Sweet Willie,
It was into the head;
Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie,
I fear my lady’s dead!

11 Then he’s gane on, and further on,
At the foot o yon greenwood tree;
There he got his lady lighter,
Wi his young son on her knee.

12 Then he’s taen up his little young son,
And kissd him, cheek and chin,
And he is on to his mother,
As fast as he could gang.

13 ‘Ye will take in my son, mother,
Gie him to nurses nine;
Three to wauk, and three to sleep,
And three to fanf between.’

14 Then he has left his mother’s house,
And frae her he has gane,
And he is back to his lady,
And safely brought her hame.

15 Then in it came her father dear,
Was belted in a brand:
‘It’s nae time for brides to lye in bed,
When the bridegroom’s send’s in town.

16 ‘There are four-and-twenty noble lords
A’ lighted on the green;
The fairest knight amang them a’,
He must be your bridegroom.’

17 ‘O wha will shoe my foot, my foot?
And wha will glove my hand?
And wha will prin my sma middle,
Wi the short prin and the lang?’

18 Now out it speaks him Sweet Willie,
Who knew her troubles best:
‘It is my duty for to serve,
As I’m come here as guest.

19 ‘Now I will shoe your foot, Maisry,
And I will glove your hand,
And I will prin your sma middle,
Wi the sma prin and the lang.’

20 ‘Wha will saddle my steed,’ she says,
‘And gar my bridle ring?
And wha will hae me to gude church-door,
This day I’m ill abound?’

21 ‘I will saddle your steed, Maisry,
And gar your bridle ring,
And I’ll hae you to gude church-door,
And safely set you down.’

22 ‘O healy, healy take me up,
And healy set me down,
And set my back until a wa,
My foot to yird-fast stane.’

23 He healy took her frae her horse,
And healy set her down,
And set her back until a wa,
Her foot to yird-fast stane.

24 When they had eaten and well drunken,
And a’ had thornd fine,
The bride’s father he took the cup,
For to serve out the wine.

25 Out it speaks the bridegroom’s brother,
An ill death mat he die!
‘I fear our bride she’s born a bairn,
Or else has it a dee.’

26 She’s taen out a Bible braid,
And deeply has she sworn;
‘If I hae born a bairn,’ she says,
‘Sin yesterday at morn,

27 ‘Or if I’ve born a bairn,’ she says,
‘Sin yesterday at noon,
There’s nae a lady amang you a’
That woud been here sae soon.’

28 Then out it spake the bridegroom’s man,
Mischance come ower his heel!
‘Win up, win up, now bride,’ he says,
‘And dance a shamefu reel.’

29 Then out it speaks the bride hersell,
And a sorry heart had she:
‘Is there nae ane amang you a’
Will dance this dance for me?’

30 Then out it speaks him Sweet Willie,
And he spake aye thro pride:
‘O draw my boots for me, bridegroom,
Or I dance for your bride.’

31 Then out it spake the bride hersell:
O na, this maunna be;
For I will dance this dance mysell,
Tho my back shoud gang in three.

32 She hadna well gane thro the reel,
Nor yet well on the green,
Till she fell down at Willie’s feet
As cauld as ony stane.

33 He’s taen her in his arms twa,
And haed her up the stair;
Then up it came her jolly bridegroom,
Says, What’s your business there?

34 Then Willie lifted up his foot,
And dang him down the stair,
And brake three ribs o the bridegroom’s side,
And a word he spake nae mair.

35 Nae meen was made for that lady,
When she was lying dead;
But a’ was for him Sweet Willie,
On the fields for he ran mad.

Version G

1 ‘WILL you marry the southland lord,
A queen of fair England to be?
Or will you burn for Sweet Willie,
The morn upon yon lea?’

2 ‘I will marry the southland lord,
Father, sen it is your will;
But I’d rather it were my burial-day,
For my grave I’m going till.

3 ‘O go, O go now, my bower-wife,
O go now hastilie,
O go now to Sweet Willie’s bower,
And bid him cum speak to me.’

4 And he is to his mother’s bower,
As fast as he could rin:
‘Open, open, my mother dear,
Open, and let me in.

5 ‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair,
The dew stands on my chin,
And I have something in my lap,
And I wad fain be in.’

6 ‘O go, O go now, Sweet Willie,
And make your lady blithe,
For wherever you had ae nourice,
Your young son shall hae five.’

7 Out spak Annet’s mother dear,
An she spak a word o’ pride;
Says, Whare is a’ our bride’s maidens,
They’re no busking the bride?

8 ‘O haud your tongue, my mother dear,
Your speaking let it be,
For I’m sae fair and full o flesh
Little busking will serve me.’

9 Out an spak the bride’s maidens,
They spak a word o pride;
Says, Whare is a’ the fine cleiding?
It’s we maun busk the bride.

10 ‘Deal hooly wi my head, maidens,
Deal hooly wi my hair;
For it was washen late yestreen,
And it is wonder sair.’

11 And Willie swore a great, great oath,
And he swore by the thorn,
That she was as free o a child that night
As the night that she was born.

12 ‘Ye hae gien me the gowk, Annet,
But I’ll gie you the scorn;
For there’s no a bell in a’ the town
Shall ring for you the morn.’

13 Out and spak then Sweet Willie:
Sae loud’s I hear you lie!
There’s no a bell in a’ the town
But shall ring for Annet and me.

65. Lady Maisry

Version A

1 THE young lords o the north country
Have all a wooing gone,
To win the love of Lady Maisry,
But o them she woud hae none.

2 O they hae courted Lady Maisry
Wi a’ kin kind of things;
An they hae sought her Lady Maisry
Wi brotches an wi’ rings.

3 An they ha sought her Lady Maisry
Frae father and frae mother;
An they ha sought her Lady Maisry
Frae sister an frae brother.

4 An they ha followd her Lady Maisry
Thro chamber an thro ha;
But a’ that they coud say to her,
Her answer still was Na.

5 ‘O had your tongues, young men,’ she says,
‘An think nae mair o me;
For I’ve gien my love to an English lord,
An think nae mair o me.’

6 Her father’s kitchy-boy heard that,
An ill death may he dee!
An he is on to her brother,
As fast as gang coud he.

7 ‘O is my father an my mother well,
But an my brothers three?
Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well,
There’s naething can ail me.’

8 ‘Your father and your mother is well,
But an your brothers three;
Your sister Lady Maisry’s well,
So big wi bairn gangs she.’

9 ‘Gin this be true you tell to me,
My mailison light on thee!
But gin it be a lie you tell,
You sal be hangit hie.’

10 He’s done him to his sister’s bowr,
Wi meikle doole an care;
An there he saw her Lady Maisry,
Kembing her yallow hair.

11 ‘O wha is aught that bairn,’ he says,
‘That ye sae big are wi’
And gin ye winna own the truth,
This moment ye sall dee.’

12 She turnd her right an roun about,
An the kem fell frae her han;
A trembling seizd her fair body,
An her rosy cheek grew wan.

13 ‘O pardon me, my brother dear,
An the truth I’ll tell to thee;
My bairn it is to Lord William,
An he is betrothd to me.’

14 ‘O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords,
Intill your ain country,
That ye draw up wi an English dog,
To bring this shame on me?

15 ‘But ye maun gi up the English lord,
Whan youre young babe is born;
For, gin you keep by him an hour langer,
Your life sall be forlorn.’

16 ‘I will gi up this English blood,
Till my young babe be born;
But the never a day nor hour langer,
Tho my life should be forlorn.’

17 ‘O whare is a’ my merry young men,
Whom I gi meat and fee,
To pu the thistle and the thorn,
To burn this wile whore wi?’

18 ‘O whare will I get a bonny boy,
To help me in my need,
To rin wi hast to Lord William,
And bid him come wi speed?’

19 O out it spake a bonny boy,
Stood by her brother’s side:
‘O I would rin your errand, lady,
Oer a’ the world wide.

20 ‘Aft have I run your errands, lady,
Whan blawn baith win and weet;
But now I’ll rin your errand, lady,
Wi sat tears on my cheek.’

21 O whan he came to broken briggs,
He bent his bow and swam,
An whan he came to the green grass growin,
He slackd his shoone and ran.

22 O whan he came to Lord William’s gates,
He baed na to chap or ca,
But set his bent bow till his breast,
An lightly lap the wa;
An, or the porter was at the gate,
The boy was i the ha.

23 ‘O is my biggins broken, boy?
Or is my towers won?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
Of a dear daughter or son?’

24 ‘Your biggin is na broken, sir,
Nor is your towers won;
But the fairest lady in a’ the lan
For you this day maun burn.’

25 ‘O saddle me the black, the black,
Or saddle me the brown;
O saddle me the swiftest steed
That ever rade frae a town.’

26 Or he was near a mile awa,
She heard his wild horse sneeze:
‘Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It’s na come to my knees.’

27 han he lighted at the gate,
She heard his bridle ring:
‘Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It’s far yet frae my chin.

28 ‘Mend up the fire to me, brother,
Mend up the fire to me;
For I see him comin hard an fast
Will soon men’t up to thee.

29 ‘O gin my hands had been loose, Willy,
Sae hard as they are boun,
I would have turnd me frae the gleed,
And castin out your young son.’

30 ‘O I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your father an your mother;
An I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your sister an your brother.

31 ‘An I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
The chief of a’ your kin;
An the last bonfire that I come to,
Mysel I will cast in.’

Version B

1 IN came her sister,
Stepping on the floor;
Says, It’s telling me, my sister Janet,
That you’re become a whore.

2 ‘A whore, sister, a whore, sister?
That’s what I’ll never be;
I’m no so great a whore, sister,
As liars does on me lee.

3 In came her brother,
Stepping on the floor;
Says, It’s telling me, my sister Janet,
That you’re become a whore.’

4 ‘A whore, brother, a whore, brother?
A whore I’ll never be;
I’m no so bad a woman, brother,
As liears does on me lee.’

5 In came her mother,
Stepping on the floor:
‘They are telling me, my daughter,
That you’re so soon become a whore.’

6 ‘A whore, mother, a whore, mother?
A whore I’ll never be;
I’m only with child to an English lord,
Who promised to marry me.’

7 In came her father,
Stepping on the floor;
Says, They tell me, my daughter Janet,
That you are become a whore.’

8 ‘A whore, father, a whore, father?
A whore I’ll never be;
I’m but with child to an English lord,
Who promisd to marry me.’

9 Then in it came an old woman,
The lady’s nurse was she,
And ere she could get out a word
The tear blinded her ee.

10 ‘Your father’s to the fire, Janet,
Your brother’s to the whin;
All for to kindle a bold bonfire,
To burn your body in.’

11 ‘Where will I get a boy,’ she said,
‘Will gain gold for his fee,
That would run unto fair England
For thy good lord to thee.’

12 ‘O I have here a boy,’ she said,
‘Will gain gold to his fee,
For he will run to fair England
For thy good lord to thee.’

13 Now when he found a bridge broken,
He bent his bow and swam,
And when he got where grass did grow,
He slacked it and ran.

14 And when he came to that lord’s gate,
Stopt not to knock or call,
But set his bent bow to his breast
And lightly leapt the wall;
And ere the porter could open the gate,
The boy was in the hall,

15 In presence of that noble lord,
And fell down on his knee:
‘What is it, my boy,’ he cried,
‘Have you brought unto me?

16 ‘Is my building broke into?
Or is my towers won?
Or is my true-love delivered
Of daughter or of son?’

17 ‘Your building is not broke,’ he cried,
‘Nor is your towers won,
Nor is your true-love delivered
Of daughter nor of son;
But if you do not come in haste,
Be sure she will be gone.

18 ‘Her father is gone to the fire,
Her brother to the whin,
To kindle up a bold bonfire,
To burn her body in.’

19 ‘Go saddle to me the black,’ he cried,
‘And do it very soon;
Get unto me the swiftest horse
That ever rade from the town.’

20 The first horse that he rade upon,
For he was raven black,
He bore him far, and very far,
But failed in a slack.

21 The next horse that he rode upon,
He was a bonny brown;
He bore him far, and very far,
But did at last fall down.

22 The next horse that he rode upon,
He as the milk was white;
Fair fall the mare that foaled that foal.
Took him to Janet’s sight!

23 And boots and spurs, all as he was,
Into the fire he lap,
Got one kiss of her comely mouth,
While her body gave a crack.

24 ‘O who has been so bold,’ he says,
‘This bonfire to set on?
Or who has been so bold,’ he says,
‘Her body for to burn?’

25 ‘O here are we,’ her brother said,
‘This bonfire who set on;
And we have been so bold,’ he said,
‘Her body for to burn.’

26 ‘O I’ll cause burn for you, Janet,
Your father and your mother;
And I’ll cause die for you, Janet,
Your sister and your brother.

27 ‘And I’ll cause mony back be bare,
And mony shed be thin,
And mony wife be made a widow,
And mony ane want their son.’

Version C

1 BEN came to her father dear,
Stepping upon the floor;
Says, It’s told me, my daughter Janet,
That you’re now become a whore.

2 ‘A whore, father, a whore, father?
That’s what I’ll never be,
Tho I am with bairn to an English lord,
That first did marry me.’

3 Soon after spoke her bower-woman,
And sorely did she cry:
‘Oh woe is me, my lady fair,
That ever I saw this day!

4 ‘For your father’s to the fire, Janet,
Your brother’s to the whin,
Even to kindle a bold bonefire,

5 ‘Where will I get a bonnie boy,
Will win gold to his fee,
That will run on to fair England
For my good lord to me?’

6 ‘Oh here am I, your waiting-boy,
Would win gold to my fee,
And will carry any message for you,
By land or yet by sea.’

7 And when he fand the bridges broke,
He bent his bow and swam,
But when he fand the grass growing,
He slacked it and ran.

8 And when he came to that lord’s gate,
Stopt not to knock nor call,
But set his bent bow to his breast,
And lightly lap the wall.

9 And ere the porter was at the gate
The boy was in the hall,
And in that noble lord’s presence
He on his knee did fall.

10 ‘O is my biggins broken?’ he said,
‘Or is my towers won?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
Of daughter of or son?’

11 ‘Your biggins are not broken,’ he said,
‘Nor is your towers won,
Nor is your lady lighter yet,
Of daughter or of son;
But if you stay a little time
Her life it will be gone.

12 ‘For her father’s gone to the fire,
Her brother to the whin,
Even to kindle a bold bonfire,
To burn her body in.’

13 ‘Go saddle for me in haste,’ he cried,
‘A brace of horses soon;
Go saddle for me the swiftest steeds
That ever rode to a town.’

14 The first steed that he rade on,
For he was as jet black,
He rode him far, and very far,
But he fell down in a slack.

15 The next steed that he rode on,
For he was a berry brown;
He bore him far, and very far,
But at the last fell down.

16 The next steed that he rode on,
He was as milk so white;
Fair fall the mare that foaled the foal
Took him to Janet’s lyke!

17 But boots and spurs, all as he was,
Into the fire he lap,
Took ae kiss of her comely mouth,
While her body gave a crack.

18 ‘O who has been so bold,’ he said,
‘This bonfire to set on?
Or who has been so bold,’ he cried,
‘My true-love for to burn?’

19 Her father cried, I’ve been so bold
This bonefire to put on;
Her brother cried, We’ve been so bold
Her body for to burn.

20 ‘Oh I shall hang for you, Janet,
Your father and your brother;
And I shall burn for you, Janet,
Your sister and your mother.

21 ‘Oh I shall make many bed empty,
And many shed be thin,
And many a wife to be a widow,
And many one want their son.

22 ‘Then I shall take a cloak of cloth,
A staff made of the wand,
And the boy who did your errand run
Shall be heir of my land.’

Version D

1 LADY MARGERY was her mother’s ain daughter,
And her father’s only heir,
And she’s away to Strawberry Castle,
To learn some unco lair.

2 She hadna been in Strawberry Castle
A year but only three,
Till she has proved as big with child,
As big as woman could be.

3 Word has to her father gone,
As he pat on his shoon,
That Lady Margery goes wi child,
Unto some English loon.

4 Word has to her mother gane,
As she pat on her gown,
That Lady Margery goes wi child,
Unto some English loon.

5 The father he likes her ill,
The mother she likes her waur,
But her father he wished her in a fire strang,
To burn for ever mair.

6 ‘Will ye hae this auld man, Lady Margery,
To be yeer warldly make?
Or will ye burn in fire strang,
For your true lover’s sake?’

7 ‘I wunna hae that old, old man
To be my worldly make,
But I will burn in fire strang,
For my true lover’s sake.’

8 ‘O who will put of the pot?
O who will put of the pan?
And who will build a bale-fire,
To burn her body in.’

9 The brother took of the pot,
The sister took of the pan,
And her mother builded a bold bale-fire,
To burn her body in.

10 ‘O where will I get a bony boy
That will run my errand soon?
That will run to Strawberry Castle,
And tell my love to come soon?’

11 But then started up a little boy,
Near to that lady’s kin:
‘Often have I gane your errands, madam,
But now it is time to rin.’

12 O when he came to Strawberry Castle,
He tirled at the pin;
There was nane sae ready as that lord himsell
To let the young body in.

13 ‘O is my towers broken?
Or is my castle wone?
Or is my lady Margery lighter
Of a daughter or a son?’

14 ‘Your towers are not broken,
Nor is your castle wone;
But the fairest lady of a’ the land
For thee this day does burn.’

15 ‘Go saddle for me the black, black horse,
Go saddle to me the brown;
Go saddle to me as swift a steed
As ever man rade on.’

16 They saddled to him the black horse,
They saddled to him the brown;
They’ve saddled to him as swift a steed
As ever man rade on.

17 He put his foot into the stirrup,
He bounded for to ride;
The silver buttons lap of his breast,
And his nose began to bleed.

18 He bursted fifteen gude stout steeds,
And four o them were dappled gray,
And the little foot-page ran aye before,
Crying, Mend it, an ye may!

19 When he came to the bale-fire,
He lighted wi a glent,
Wi black boots and clean spurs,
And through the fire he went.

20 He laid ae arm about her neck,
And the other beneath her chin;
He thought to get a kiss o her,
But her middle it gade in twain.

21 ‘But who has been so false,’ he said,
‘And who has been sae cruel,
To carry the timber from my ain wood
To burn my dearest jewel?

22 ‘But I’ll burn for ye, Lady Margery,
Yeer father and yeer mother;
And I’ll burn for ye, Lady Margery,
Yeer sister and yeer brother.

23 ‘I’ll do for ye, Lady Margery,
What never was done for nane;
I’ll make many lady lemanless,
And many a clothing thin.

24 ‘And I’ll burn for yeer sake, Lady Margery,
The town that yeer burnt in,
And [make] many a baby fatherless,
That’s naething o the blame.’

Version E

1 LADY MARJORY was her mother’s only daughter,
Her father’s only heir, O
And she is awa to Strawberry Castle,
To get some unco lair. O

2 She had na been in Strawberry Castle
A twelve month and a day,
Till Lady Marjory she gaes wi child,
As big as she can gae.

3 Word is to her father gone,
Before he got on his shoon,
That Lady Marjory she gaes wi child,
And it is to an Irish groom.

4 But word is to her mother gane,
Before that she gat on her gown,
That Lady Marjorie she goes wi child,
To a lord of high renown.

5 ‘O wha will put on the pot?’ they said,
‘Or wha will put on the pan?
Or wha will put on a bauld, bauld fire,
To burn Lady Marjorie in?’

6 Her father he put on the pot,
Her sister put on the pan,
And her brother he put on a bauld, bauld fire,
To burn Lady Marjorie in;
And her mother she sat in a golden chair,
To see her daughter burn.

7 ‘But where will I get a pretty little boy,
That will win hose and shoon,
That will go quickly to Strawberry Castle
And bid my lord come doun?’

8 ‘O here am I a pretty boy,
That’ll win hose and shoon,
That will rin quickly to Strawberry Castle,
And bid thy lord come doun.’

9 O when he came to broken brigs,
He bent his bow and swam,
And when he came to good dry land,
He let down his foot and ran.

10 When he came to Strawberry Castle,
He tirled at the pin;
None was so ready as the gay lord himsell
To open and let him in.

11 ‘O is there any of my towers burnt?
Or any of my castles broken?
Or is Lady Marjorie brought to bed,
Of a daughter or a son?’

12 ‘O there is nane of thy towers burnt,
Nor nane of thy castles broken,
But Lady Marjorie is condemned to die,
To be burnt in a fire of oaken.’

13 ‘O gar saddle to me the black,’ he said,
‘Gar saddle to me the brown;
Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed
That eer carried a man from town.’

14 He left the black into the slap,
The brown into the brae,
But fair fa that bonny apple-gray
That carried this gay lord away!

15 He took a little horn out of his pocket,
And he blew ’t both loud and shrill,
And the little life that was in her,
She hearkend to it full weel.

16 ‘Beet on, beet on, my brother dear,
I value you not one straw,
For yonder comes my own true-love,
I hear his horn blaw.

17 ‘Beet on, beet on, my father dear,
I value you not a pin,
For yonder comes my own true-love,
I hear his bridle ring.’

18 But when he came into the place,
He lap unto the wa;
He thought to get a kiss o her bonny lips,
But her body fell in twa.

19 ‘Oh vow, oh vow, oh vow,’ he said,
‘Oh vow but ye’ve been cruel!
Ye’ve taken the timber out of my own wood
And burnt my ain dear jewel.

20 ‘Now for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
I’ll burn both father and mother;
And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
I’ll burn both sister and brother.

21 ‘And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
I’ll burn both kith and kin;
But I will remember the pretty little boy
That did thy errand rin.’

Version F

1 FAIR MARJORYRR’rrS gaen into the school,
Between six and seven,
An she’s come back richt big wi bairn,
Between twalve and eleven.

2 It’s out then sprung her mither dear,
Stood stately on the flure:
‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory,
But ye’re sune becum a hure.’

3 ‘I’m not a hure, mither,’ she said,
‘Nor ever intend to be;
But I’m wi child to a gentleman,
An he swears he’ll marry me.’

4 [It’s out then sprung her father dear,
Stood stately on the flure:
‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory,
But ye’re sune becum a hure.’

5 ‘I’m not a hure, father,’ she said,
‘Nor ever intend to be;
But I’m wi child to a gentleman,
An he swears he will marry me.’

6 It’s out then sprung her brother dear,
Stood stately on the flure:
‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory,
But ye’re sune becum a hure.’

7 ‘I’m not a hure, brother,’ she said,
‘Nor ever intend to be;
But I’m wi child to a gentleman,
An he swears he will marry me.’

8 It’s out then sprung her sister dear,
Stood stately on the flure:
‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory,
But ye’re sune becum a hure.’

9 ‘I’m not a hure, sister,’ she said,
‘Nor ever intend to be;]
Ye’re but a young woman, sister,
An ye shuld speak sparinlie.’

10 Her father’s to the grene-wude gaen,
Her brither’s to the brume;
An her mither sits in her gowden chair,
To see her dochter burn.

11 . . . . . .
. . . . .
The sister she culd do naething,
And she sat down to greet.

12 ‘Oh whare will I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose an shoon,
That wull rin to Strawberry Castle for me,
And bid my true-love come?’

13 It’s out than spak a bonny boy,
That stude richt at her knee:
‘It’s I wull rin your errand, ladie,
Wi the saut tear i my ee.’

14 It’s whan he cam to broken brigg,
He bent his bow an swam,
An whan he cam whare green grass grew,
Set doon his feet an ran.

15 An whan he cam to Strawberry Castle,
He thirled at the pin,
An aye sae ready as the porter was
To rise and let him in.

16 ‘Gae saddle to me the black,’ he says,
‘Gae saddle to me the broun;
Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed
That eer set fute on grun.’

17 It’s first he burst the bonny black,
An syne the bonny broun,
But the dapple-gray rade still away,
Till he cam to the toun.

18 An aye he rade, an aye he rade,
An aye away he flew,
Till the siller buttons flew off his coat;
He took out his horn an blew.

19 An aye he blew, an aye he blew,
He blew baith loud an shrill,
An the little life that Marjory had,
She heard his horn blaw weel.

20 ‘Beik on, beik on, cruel mither,’ she said,
‘For I value you not a straw;
For if ever I heard my love in my life,
He’s comin here awa.’

21 When he cam unto the flames
He jamp in, butes and a’;
He thocht to hae kissd her red rosy lips,
But her body broke in twa.

22 I’ll burn for thy sake, Marjory,
The toun that thou lies in;
An I’ll mak the baby fatherless,
For I’ll throw mysel therein.

Version G

1 * * * *
‘MY father was the first good man
Who tied me to a stake;
My mother was the first good woman
Who did the fire make.

2 ‘My brother was the next good man
Who did the fire fetch;
My sister was the next good woman
Who lighted it with a match.

3 ‘They blew the fire, they kindled the fire,
Till it did reach my knee:
"[O mother, mother, quench the fire!
The smoke will smother me."]

4 ‘O had I but my little foot-page,
My errand he would run;
He would run unto gay London,
And bid my lord come home.’

5 Then there stood by her sister’s child,
Her own dear sister’s son:
‘O many an errand I’ve run for thee,
And but this one I’ll run.’

6 He ran, where the bridge was broken down
He bent his bow and swam;
He swam till he came to the good green turf,
He up on his feet and ran.

7 He ran till he came at his uncle’s hall;
His uncle sat at his meat:
‘Good mete, good mete, good uncle, I pray,
O if you knew what I’d got to say,
How little would you eat!’

8 ‘O is my castle broken down,
Or is my tower won?
Or is my gay lady brought o bed,
Of a daughter or a son?’

9 ‘Your castle is not broken down,
Your tower it is not won;
Your gay lady is not brought to bed,
Of a daughter or a son.

10 ‘But she has sent you a gay gold ring,
With a posy round the rim,
To know, if you have any love for her,
You’ll come to her burning.’

11 He called down his merry men all,
By one, by two, by three;
He mounted on his milk-white steed,
To go to Margery.

12 They blew the fire, they kindled the fire,
Till it did reach her head:
‘O mother, mother, quench the fire!
For I am nearly dead.’

13 She turned her head on her left shoulder,
Saw her girdle hang on the tree:
‘O God bless them that gave me that!
They’ll never give more to me.’

14 She turned her head on her right shoulder,
Saw her lord come riding home:
‘O quench the fire, my dear mother!
For I am nearly gone.’

15 He mounted off his milk-white steed,
And into the fire he ran,
Thinking to save his gay ladye,
But he had staid too long.

Version H

1 THERE stands a stane in wan water,
It’s lang ere it grew green;
Lady Maisry sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam.

2 Word’s gane to her mother’s kitchen,
And to her father’s ha,
That Lady Maisry is big wi bairn-+-
And her true-love’s far awa.

3 When her brother got word of this,
Then fiercely looked he:
‘Betide me life, betide me death,
At Maisry’s bower I’se be.

4 ‘Gae saddle to me the black, the black,
Gae saddle to me the brown;
Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
To hae me to the town.’

5 When he came to Maisry’s bower,
He turnd him round about,
And at a little shott-window,
He saw her peeping out.

6 ‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,
God make you safe and free!’
‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, my brother dear,
What are your wills wi me?’

7 ‘What’s come o a’ your green claithing,
Was ance for you too side?
And what’s become o your lang stays,
Was ance for you too wide?’

8 ‘O he that made my claithing short,
I hope he’ll make them side;
And he that made my stays narrow,
I hope he’ll make them wide.’

9 ‘O is it to a lord o might,
Or baron o high degree?
Or is it to any o your father’s boys,
Rides in the chase him wi?’

10 ‘It’s no to any Scottish lord,
Nor baron o high degree;
But English James, that little prince,
That has beguiled me.’

11 ‘O was there not a Scots baron
That could hae fitted thee,
That thus you’ve lovd an Englishman,
And has affronted me?’

12 She turnd her right and round about,
The tear blinded her ee:
‘What is the wrang I’ve done, brother,
Ye look sae fierce at me?’

13 ‘Will ye forsake that English blude,
When your young babe is born?’
‘I’ll nae do that, my brother dear,
Tho I shoud be forlorn.’

14 ‘I’se cause a man put up the fire,
Anither ca in the stake,
And on the head o yon high hill
I’ll burn you for his sake.

15 ‘O where are all my wall-wight men,
That I pay meat and fee,
For to hew down baith thistle and thorn,
To burn that lady wi?’

16 Then he has taen her, Lady Maisry,
And fast he has her bound;
And he causd the fiercest o his men
Drag her frae town to town.

17 Then he has causd ane of his men
Hew down baith thistle and thorn;
She carried the peats in her petticoat-lap,
Her ainsell for to burn.

18 Then ane pat up this big bauld fire,
Anither ca’d in the stake;
It was to burn her Lady Maisry,
All for her true-love’s sake.

19 But it fell ance upon a day,
Prince James he thought full lang;
He minded on the lady gay
He left in fair Scotland.

20 ‘O where will I get a little wee boy,
Will win gowd to his fee,
That will rin on to Adam’s high tower,
Bring tidings back to me?’

21 ‘O here am I, a little wee boy,
Will win gowd to my fee,
That will rin on to Adam’s high tower,
Bring tidings back to thee.’

22 Then he is on to Adam’s high tower,
As fast as gang coud he,
And he but only wan in time
The fatal sight to see.

23 He sat his bent bow to his breast,
And ran right speedilie,
And he is back to his master,
As fast as gang coud he.

24 ‘What news, what news, my little wee boy?
What news hae ye to me?’
‘Bad news, bad news, my master dear,
Bad news, as ye will see.’

25 ‘Are ony o my biggins brunt, my boy?
Or ony o my towers won?
Or is my lady lighter yet,
O dear daughter or son?’

26 ‘There’s nane o your biggins brunt, master,
Nor nane o your towers won,
Nor is your lady lighter yet,
O dear daughter nor son.

27 ‘There’s an has been [put up] a big bauld fire,
Anither ca’d in the stake,
And on the head o yon high hill,
They’re to burn her for your sake.’

28 ‘Gae saddle to me the black, the black,
Gae saddle to me the brown;
Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
To hae me to the town.’

29 Ere he was three miles near the town,
She heard his horse-foot patt:
‘Mend up the fire, my fause brother,
It scarce comes to my pap.’

30 Ere he was twa miles near the town,
She heard his bridle ring:
‘Mend up the fire, my fause brother,
It scarce comes to my chin.

31 ‘But look about, my fause brother,
Ye see not what I see;
I see them coming here, or lang
Will mend the fire for thee.’

32 Then up it comes him little Prince James,
And fiercely looked he:
‘I’se make my love’s words very true
She said concerning me.

33 ‘O wha has been sae bauld,’ he said,
‘As put this bonfire on?
And wha has been sae bauld,’ he said,
‘As put that lady in?’

34 Then out it spake her brother then,
He spoke right furiouslie;
Says, I’m the man that put her in:
Wha dare hinder me?

35 ‘If my hands had been loose,’ she said,
‘As they are fastly bound,
I woud hae looted me to the ground,
Gien you up your bonny young son.’

36 ‘I will burn, for my love’s sake,
Her father and her mother;
And I will burn, for my love’s sake,
Her sister and her brother.

37 ‘And I will burn, for my love’s sake,
The whole o a’ her kin;
And I will burn, for my love’s sake,
Thro Linkum and thro Lin.

38 ‘And mony a bed will I make toom,
And bower will I make thin;
And mony a babe shall thole the fire,
For I may enter in.’

39 Great meen was made for Lady Maisry,
On that hill whare she was slain;
But mair was for her ain true-love,
On the fields for he ran brain.

Version I

1 THERE lived a lady in Scotland,
Hey my love and ho my joy
There lived a lady in Scotland,
Who dearly loved me
There lived a lady in Scotland,
An she’s fa’n in love wi an Englishman,
And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in Dundee

2 The father unto the daughter came,
Who dearly loved me

2 Saying, Will you forsake that Englishman?

3 ‘If you will not that Englishman forsake,
Who dearly loved me

3 O I will burn you at a stake.’

4 ‘I will not that Englishman forsake,
Who dearly loved me

4 Tho you should burn me at a stake.

5 ‘O where will I get a pretty little boy,
Who dearly loves me

5 Who will carry tidings to my joy?’

6 ‘Here am I, a pretty little boy,
Who dearly loves thee

6 Who will carry tidings to thy joy.’

7 ‘Give to him this right-hand glove,
Who dearly loves me

7 Tell him to get another love.
For, etc.

8 ‘Give to him this little penknife,
Who dearly loves me

8 Tell him to get another wife.
For, etc.

9 ‘Give to him this gay gold ring;
Who dearly loves me

9 Tell him I’m going to my burning.’
An, etc.

10 The brother did the stake make,

10 Who dearly loved me

10 The father did the fire set.

10 An bonnie Susie Cleland was burnt in Dundee.

Version J

1 Lady Margery was the king’s ae daughter,
But an the prince’s heir; O
She’s away to Strawberry Castle,
To learn some English lair. O

2 She had not been in Strawberry Castle
A twelvemonth and a day
Till she’s even as big wi child
As ever a lady could gae.

3 Her father’s to the cutting o the birks,
Her mother to the broom,
And a’ for to get a bundle o sticks
To burn that fair lady in.

4 ‘O hold your hand now, father dear,
O hold a little while,
For if my true-love be yet alive
I’ll hear his bridle ring.

5 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy,
That will win hoes and shoon,
That will run to Strawberry Castle
And tell my love to come?’

6 She’s called on her waiting-maid
To bring out bread and wine:
‘Now eat and drink, my bonny boy,
Ye’ll neer eat mair o mine.’

7 Away that bonny boy he’s gaen,
As fast as he could rin;
When he cam where grass grew green
Set down his feet and ran.

8 And when he cam where brigs were broken
He bent his bow and swam;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

9 When he came to Strawberry Castle,
He lighted on the green;
Who was so ready as the noble lord
To rise and let the boy in!

10 ‘What news? what new, my pretty page?
What tydings do ye bring?
Is my lady lighter yet
Of a daughter or a son?’

11 ‘Bad news, bad news, my noble lord,
Bad tydings have I brung;
The fairest lady in a’ Scotland
This day for you does burn.’

12 He has mounted a stately steed
And he was bound to ride;
The silver buttons flew off his coat
And his nose began to bleed.

13 The second steed that lord mounted
Stumbled at a stone;
‘Alass! alass!’ he cried with grief,
‘My lady will be gone.’

14 When he came from Strawberry Castle
He lighted boots and a’;
He thought to have goten a kiss from her,
But her body fell in twa.

15 For the sake o Lady Margery
He’s cursed her father and mother,
For the sake o Lady Margery
He’s cursed her sister and brother.

16 And for the sake o Lady Margery
He’s cursed all her kin;
He cried, Scotland is the ae warst place
That ever my fit was in!

Version K

1 Marjorie was fer father’s dear,
Her mother’s only heir,
An she’s away to Strawberry Castle,
To learn some unco lear.

2 She had na been i Strawberry Castle
A year but barely three
Till Marjorie turnd big wi child,
As big as big could be.

3 ‘Will ye hae that old, old man
To be yer daily mate,
Or will ye burn in fire strong
For your true lover’s sake?’

4 ‘I winna marry that old, old man
To be my daily mate;
I’ll rather burn i fire strong
For my true lover’s sake.

5 ‘O where will I get a bonnie boy
That will win hose an shoon
An will gae rin to Strawberry Castle,
To gar my good lord come soon?’

6 ‘Here am I, a bonnie boy
That will win hose an shoon,
An I’ll gae rin to Strawberry Castle,
And gar your lord come soon.’

7 ‘Should ye come to a brocken brig,
Than bend your bow an swim;
An whan ye com to garse growin
Set down yer feet an rin.’

8 When eer he came to brigs broken,
He bent his bow an swam,
And whan he cam to grass growin
He set down his feet an ran.

7 When eer he cam to Strawberry Castle
He tirlt at the pin;
There was nane sae ready as that young lord
To open an let him in.

8 ‘Is there ony o my brigs broken?
Or ony o my castle win?
Or is my lady brought to bed
Of a daughter or a son?’

9 ‘There’s nane o a’ yer brigs broken,
Ther’s nane of your castles win;
But the fairest lady in a’ your land
This day for you will burn.’

10 ‘Gar saddle me the black, black horse,
Gar saddle me the brown,
Gar saddle me the swiftest stead
That eer carried man to town.’

11 He’s burstit the black unto the slack,
The grey unto the brae,
An ay the page that ran afore
Cried, Ride, sir, an ye may.

12 Her father kindlet the bale-fire,
Her brother set the stake,
Her mother sat an saw her burn,
An never cired Alack!

13 ‘Beet on, beet [on], my cruel father,
For you I cound nae friend;
But for fifteen well mete mile
I’ll hear my love’s bridle ring.’

14 When he cam to the bonnie Dundee,
He lightit wi a glent;
Wi jet-black boots an glittrin spurs
Through that bale-fire he went.

15 He thought his love wad hae datit him,
But she was dead an gane;
He was na sae wae for the lady
As he was for her yong son.

16 ‘But I’ll gar burn for you, Marjorie,
Yer father an yer mother,
An I’ll gar burn for you, Marjorie,
Your sister an your brother.

17 ‘An I will burn for you, Marjorie,
The town that ye’r brunt in,
An monie ane’s be fatherless
That has but little sin.’

66. Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet

Version A

1 LORD INGRAM and Chiel Wyet
Was baith born in one bower;
Laid baith their hearts on one lady,
The less was their honour.

2 Chiel Wyet and Lord Ingram
Was baith born in one hall;
Laid baith their hearts on one lady,
The worse did them befall.

3 Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery
From father and from mother;
Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery
From sister and from brother.

4 Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery
With leave of a’ her kin;
And every one gave full consent,
But she said no to him.

5 Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery
Into her father’s ha;
Chiel Wyet wood her Lady Maisery
Amang the sheets so sma.

6 Now it fell out upon a day,
She was dressing her head,
That ben did come her father dear,
Wearing the gold so red.

7 He said, Get up now, Lady Maisery,
Put on your wedding gown;
For Lord Ingram he will be here,
Your wedding must be done.

8 ‘I’d rather be Chiel Wyet’s wife,
The white fish for to sell,
Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife,
To wear the silk so well.

9 ‘I’d rather be Chiel Wyet’s wife,
With him to beg my bread,
Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife,
To wear the gold so red.

10 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy,
Will win gold to his fee,
And will run unto Chiel Wyet’s,
With this letter from me?’

11 ‘O here I am, the boy,’ says one,
‘Will win gold to my fee,
And carry away any letter
To Chiel Wyet from thee.’

12 And when he found the bridges broke,
He bent his bow and swam;
And when he found the grass growing,
He hastened and he ran.

13 And when he came to Chiel Wyet’s castle,
He did not knock nor call,
But set his bent bow to his breast,
And lightly leaped the wall;
And ere the porter opend the gate,
The boy was in the hall.

14 The first line he looked on,
A grieved man was he;
The next line he looked on,
A tear blinded his ee:
Says, I wonder what ails my one brother
He’ll not let my love be!

15 ‘But I’ll send to my brother’s bridal-+-
The bacon shall be mine-+-
Full four and twenty buck and roe,
And ten tun of the wine;
And bid my love be blythe and glad,
And I will follow syne.’

16 There was not a groom about that castle
But got a gown of green,
And all was blythe, and all was glad,
But Lady Maisery she was neen.

17 There was no cook about that kitchen
But got a gown of gray,
And all was blythe, and all was glad,
But Lady Maisery was wae.

18 Between Mary Kirk and that castle
Was all spread ower with garl,
To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens
From tramping on the marl.

19 From Mary Kirk and that castle
Was spread a cloth of gold,
To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens
From treading on the mold.

20 When mass was sung, and bells was rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maisery
In one bed they were laid.

21 When they were laid into their bed-+-
It was baith soft and warm-+-
He laid his hand over her side,
Says, I think you are with bairn.

22 ‘I told you once, so did I twice,
When ye came me to woo,
That Chiel Wyet, your one brother,
One night lay in my bower.

23 ‘I told you twice, I told you thrice,
Ere ye came me to wed,
That Chiel Wyet, your one brother,
One night lay in my bed.’

24 ‘O will you father your bairn on me,
And on no other man?
And I’ll give him to his dowry
Full fifty ploughs of land.’

25 ‘I will not father my bairn on you,
Nor on no wrongeous man,
Though ye would give him to his dowry
Five thousand ploughs of land.’

26 Then up did start him Chiel Wyet,
Shed by his yellow hair,
And gave Lord Ingram to the heart
A deep wound and a sair.

27 Then up did start him Lord Ingram,
Shed by his yellow hair,
And gave Chiel Wyet to the heart
A deep wound and a sair.

28 There was no pity for that two lords,
Where they were lying slain;
But all was for her Lady Maisery,
In that bower she gaed brain.

29 There was no pity for that two lords,
When they were lying dead;
But all was for her Lady Maisery,
In that bower she went mad.

30 Said, Get to me a cloak of cloth,
A staff of good hard tree;
If I have been an evil woman,
I shall beg till I dee.

31 ‘For a bit I’ll beg for Chiel Wyet,
For Lord Ingram I’ll beg three;
All for the good and honorable marriage
At Mary Kirk he gave me.’

Version B

1 LORD INGRAM and Gil Viett
Were baith born in ae ha;
They laid their love on ae lady,
An fate they coud na fa.

2 Lord Ingram and Gil Viett
Were baith laid in ae wame;
They laid their love on ae lady,
The greater was their shame.

3 Lord Ingram wood her Lady Masery
Frae father and frae mither;
Gill Viett wood her Lady Masery
Frae sister and frae brither.

4 Lord Ingram courted her Lady Masery
Among the company a’;
Gill Viett he wood her Lady Masery
Among the sheets so sma.

5 ‘Get up, my daughter dear,
Put on your bridal gown;
This day’s your bridal day
Wi Lord Ingram.’

6 ‘How can I get up,
An put on my bridal gown,
Or how marry the ae brither,
An the tither’s babe in my womb?’

7 ‘O laugh you at mysell, brither,
Or at my companie?
Or laugh ye at my bonnie bride,
She wad na laugh at thee?’

8 ‘I laugh na at yoursel, brither,
Nor at your companie;
Nor laugh I at your buirlie bride,
She wad na laugh at me.

9 ‘But there’s a brotch on a breast-bane,
A garlan on ane’s hair;
Gin ye kend what war under that,
Ye wad neer love woman mair.

10 ‘There is a brotch on a breast-bane,
An roses on ane’s sheen;
Gin ye kend what war under that,
Your love wad soon be deen.’

11 Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a’ man boun to bed,
Lord Ingram and Lady Masery
In ae chamer were laid.

12 He put his hand out oure his bonnie bride,
The babe between her sides did quake:
. . . . . .
. . . . .

13 ‘O father your babe on me, Lady Masery,
O father your babe on me.’
. . . . . .
. . . . .

14 ‘I may father my babe on a stock,
Sae may I on a stane,
But my babe shall never hae
A father but its ain.’

15 He took out a brand,
And laid it atween them twa;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

16 Gill Viett took out a long brand,
And stroakd it oer a stro,
An thro and thro Lord Ingram’s bodie
He made it come and go.

17 ‘Wae mat worth ye, Gill Viett,
An ill died mat ye die!
For I had the cup in my hand
To hae drunken her oer to thee.’

18 ‘[For] ae mile [I wad gae] for Gil Viett,
For Lord Ingram I wad hae gaen three;
An a’ for that in good kirk-door
Fair wedding he gave me.’

19 Gil Viett took a long brand,
An stroakd it on a stro,
An through and thro his own bodie
He made it come and go.

20 There was nae mean made for that godd lords,
In bowr whar they lay slain,
But a’ was for that lady,
In bowr whar she gaed brain.

21 There was nae mean made for that lady,
In bowr whar she lay dead,
But a’ was for the bonnie babe
That lay blabbering in her bleed.

Version C

1 LADY MAISDRY was a lady fair,
She maid her mither’s bed;
Auld Ingram was an aged knight,
And hee sought her to wed.

2 ‘’Tis I forbid ye, Auld Ingram,
For to seek me to spouse;
For Lord Wayets, your sister’s son,
Has been into my bowrs.

3 ‘’Tis I forbid ye, Auld Ingram,
For to seek me to wed;
For Lord Wayets, your sister’s son,
Has been into my bed.’

4 ‘’Tis he has bought to this lady
The robes of the brown;
‘And ever alas,’ says this lady,
‘The robs will pit mee down!’

5 And he has bought to this lady
The robs of the red;
‘And ever alas,’ says this lady,
‘The robs will be my dead!’

6 And he has bought to this lady
The chrystal and the lammer,
Sae has hee bought to her mither
The curches of the cammer.

7 Every ane o her se’n brethren
They had a hawk in hand,
And every lady i the place
They got a goud garland.

8 Every cuk in that kitchen
They gat a noble claith;
A’ was blyth at Auld Ingram’s cuming,
But Lady Maisdrey was wraith.

9 ‘Whare will I get a bonny boy,
Wad fain wun hos and shoon,
That wud rin on to my Wayets,
And quickly cume again?’

10 ‘Here am I, a bonny boy,
Wad fain wun hoes and shoon,
Wha wull rin on to your Wayets,
And quickly cume again.’

11 ‘Ye’l bid him, and ye’l pray him baith,
Gif ony prayer can dee,
To Mary Kirk to cume the morn,
My weary wadding to see.’

12 Lord Wayets lay our his castle wa,
Beheld baith dale and down,
And he beheld a bonny boy
Cume rinnen to the town.

13 ‘What news, what news, ye bonny boy?
What news ye hae to mee?
. . . . . .
. . . . .

14 ‘O is my ladie’s fauldis brunt?
Or is her towrs wun?
Or is my Maisdrey lighter yet
A dear dochter or sun?’

15 ‘Your ladie’s faulds they are not brunt,
Nor yet are her towrs wun,
Neither is Maisdrey lighter yet
A dear dochter or sun.

16 ‘But she bids ye and she prays ye baith,
Gif ony prayer can dee,
To Mary Kirk to cume the morn,
Her weary wadding to see.’

17 He dung the boord up wi his fit,
Sae did he wi his tae;
The silver cup that sat upon’t
I the fire he gard it flee:
‘O what na a lord in a’ Scotland
Dare marry my Maisdrey?’

18 ‘O ’tis but a feeble thought
To tell the tane and not the tither;
O ’tis but a feeble thought
To tell ’tis your mither’s brither.’

19 ‘’Tis I wull send to that wadding,
And I wul follow syne,
The fitches o the fallow deer
An the gammons o the swine,
An the nine hides o the noble cow;
’Twas slain in season time.

20 ‘’Tis I wul send to that wadding
Ten ton of the red wyne;
Much more I’ll send to that wadding,
An I wul follow syne.’

21 When he came in unto the ha,
Lady Maisdrey she did ween,
And twenty times he kist her mou
Before Auld Ingram’s een.

22 Nor to the kirk she wud ne gae,
Nor til’t she wudn ride,
Till four and twunty men she gat her before,
An twunty on ilka side,
An four and twunty milk-white dows
To flee aboon her head.

23 A loud laughter gae Lord Wayets
Mang the mids o his men:
‘Marry the lady wham they weel,
A maiden she is nane.’

24 ‘O laugh ye at my men, Wayets?
Or di ye laugh at me?
Or laugh ye at the beerly bride,
That’s gane to marry me?’

25 ‘I laugh na at your men, uncle,
Nor yet dive I at thee,
Bit I laugh at my lands sae braid,
Sae weel’s I do them see.’

26 Whan ene was cume, and ene-bells rung,
An a’ man gane to bed,
The bride bit and the silly bridegroom
In chambers they were laid.

27 Was na it a fell thing for to see,
Twa heads lye on a coad,
Lady Maisdrey like the moten goud,
Auld Ingram like a toad?

28 He turnd his face unto the stock,
And sound he fell asleep;
She turnd her fair face unto the wa,
An sa’t tears she did weep.

29 It fell about the mark midnight,
Auld Ingram began to turn him;
He pat his hands on’s lady’s sides,
An waly, sair was she murnin.

30 ‘What aileth thee, my lady dear?
Ever alas and wae’s me,
There is a baube betwixt thy sides!
O sae sair’s it grieves me.’

31 ‘Didn I tell ye that, Auld Ingram,
Or ye saught me to wed,
That Lord Wayets, your sister’s son,
Had been into my bed?’

32 ‘O father that bairn on me, Maisdrey,
O father it on me,
An ye sall hae a rigland shire
Your mornin’s gift to bee.’

33 ‘O sarbit,’ says the Lady Maisdrey,
‘That ever the like me befa,
To father my bairn on Auld Ingram,
Lord Wayets in my father’s ha!

34 ‘O sarbit,’ says the Lady Maisdrey,
‘That ever the like me betide,
To father my bairn on Auld Ingram,
An Lord Wayets beside!’

Version D

1 LORD INGRAM and Childe Viat
Were both bred in one ha;
They laid their luves on one ladye,
And frae her they could na fa.

2 Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisery,
He courted her frae ha to bower;
And even sae did Childe Viat,
Amang the summer flowers.

3 Lord Ingram courted Ladye Maisery,
He courted her frae bower to ha;
And even sae did Childe Viat,
Among the sheets sae sma.

4 Sir Ingram bought her Ladye Maisery
The steed that paid him well;
She wads he were ayont the sea,
Gin she had her true love.

5 Lord Ingram bought her Lady Maisery
The knives hafted wi steel;
She wads they were in his heart’s bluid,
Gin Childe Viat was weel.

6 Lord Ingram bought her Lady Maisery
The golden knobbed gloves;
She wads they were ayone the sea,
Gin she had her true love.

7 ‘There’s two swords in one scabbard,
They cost me many a pound;
Take you the best, leave me the worst,
We’s fight till they be done.’

8 The firsten stroke Lord Ingram gae,
He wounded Childe Viat nigh;
The nexten stroke Childe Viat gae,
Lord Ingram’s head did flie;
And fifty feet oer a burken buss
Lord Ingram’s head did flee.

9 There was no mane made for these two lords,
In bower where they lay slain;
But all was for this fair ladie,
In bower where she gaed brain.

10 ‘For one word I would gie for Childe Viat,
For Lord Ingram I would gie three;
And it’s a’ for the brave wedding
That he did to me gie.’

Version E

1 LORD INGRAM and Childe vyet
Were baith born in ae bower;
They fell in love wi ae lady,
Their honour was but poor.

2 Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet
Were baith bred in ae ha;
They laid their love on Lady Maisry,
The waur did them befa.

3 Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry
Frae father and frae mother;
Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry
Frae sister and frae brother.

4 Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry
Frae a’ her kith and kin;
Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry
But she said nay to him.

5 Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry
In the garden amo the flowers;
Childe Vyet courted Lady Maisry
Amo her ha’s and bowers.

6 Lord Ingram sent to Lady Maisry
A steed paced fu well;
She wishes he were ower the sea,
If Childe Vyet were well.

7 Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry
Frae her relations a’;
Childe Vyet courted Lady Maisry
Amo the sheets sae sma.

8 Lord Ingram bought to Lady Maisry
The siller knapped gloves;
She wishd his hands might swell in them,
Had she her ain true love.

9 Lord Ingram bought to Lady Maisry
The brands garnishd wi steel;
She wishd the same might pierce his heart,
Gin Childe Vyet were weell.

10 Child vyet bought to Lady Maisry
The fancy ribbons sma;
She had mair delight in her sma fancy
Than o Lord Ingram, gowd and a’.

11 Lord Ingram’s gane to her father,
And thus he did complain:
‘O am I doomd to die for love,
And nae be loved again?

12 ‘I hae sent to you daughter
The steed paced fu well;
She wishes I were ower the sea,
Gin Childe Vyet were well.

13 ‘I hae bought to your daughter
The siller knapped gloves;
She wishd my hands might swell in them,
Had she her ain true love.

14 ‘I hae bought to your daughter
The brands garnishd wi steel;
She wishd the same might pierce my heart,
Gin Childe Vyet were weell.

15 ‘Childe Vyet bought to your daughter
The fancy ribbons sma;
She’s mair delight in her sma fancy
Nor o me, gowd and a’.’

16 Her father turnd him round about,
A solemn oath sware he,
Saying, She shall be the bride this night,
And you bridegroom shall be.

17 ‘O had your tongue, my father dear,
Let a’ your passion be;
The reason that I love this man,
It is unknown to thee.’

18 Sweetly played the merry organs,
Intill her mother’s bower;
But still and dum stood Lady Maisry,
And let the tears down pour.

19 Sweetly played the harp sae fine,
Intill her fathers ha;
But still and dum stood Lady Maisry,
And let tears down fa.

20 Tween Marykirk and her mother’s bower,
Was a’ clad ower wi gowd,
For keeping o her snaw-white feet
Frae treading o the mould.

21 Lord Ingram gaed in at ae church-door,
Childe Vyet at another,
And lightly leugh him Childe Vyet
At Lord Ingram, his brother.

22 ‘O laugh ye at my men, brother?
Or do ye laugh at me?
Or laugh ye at young Lady Maisry,
This night my bride’s to be?’

23 ‘I laugh na at your men, brother,
Nor do I laugh at thee;
But I laugh at the knightless sport
That I saw wi my ee.

24 ‘It is a ring on ae finger,
A broach on ae breast-bane;
And if ye kent what’s under that,
Your love woud soon be dane.’

25 Lord Ingram and his merry young men
Out ower the plains are gane,
And pensively walkd him Childe Vyet,
Him single self alane.

26 When they had eaten and well drunken,
And a’ men bound for bed,
Lord Ingram and Lady Maisry
In ae chamber were laid.

27 He laid his hand upon her breast,
And thus pronounced he:
‘There is a bairn within your sides,
Wha may the father be?

28 ‘Wha ever be your bairn’s father,
Ye will father it on me;
The fairest castle o Snowdown
Your morning gift shall be.’

29 ‘Wha ever be my bairn’s father,
I’ll neer father it on thee;
For better love I my bairn’s father
’Nor ever I’ll love thee.’

30 Then he’s taen out a trusty brand,
Laid it between them tway;
Says, Lye ye there, ye ill woman,
A maid for me till day.

31 Next morning her father came,
Well belted wi a brand;
Then up it starts him Lord Ingram,
He was an angry man.

32 ‘If your daughter had been a gude woman,
As I thought she had been,
Cauld iron shoud hae never lien
The lang night us between.’

33 ‘Ohon, alas! my daughter dear,
What’s this I hear o thee?
I thought ye was a gude woman
As in the north countrie.’

34 ‘O had your tongue, my father dear,
Let a’ your sorrows be;
I never liked Lord Ingram,
Ye ken ye forced me.’

35 Then in it came him Childe Vyet,
Well belted wi a brand;
Then up it raise him Lord Ingram,
He was an angry man.

36 ‘Win up, win up, now Lord Ingram,
Rise up immediately,
That you and I the quarrel try,
Who gains the victory.

37 ‘I hae twa brands in ae scabbard,
That cost me mony pound;
Take ye the best, gie me the warst,
And I’ll fight where I stand.’

38 Then up it starts him Childe Vyet,
Shook back his yellow hair;
The first an stroke Childe Vyet drew,
He wounded Ingram sair.

39 Then up it starts him Lord Ingram,
Shed back his coal-black hair’
The first an stroke Lord Ingram drew,
Childe Vyet needed nae mair.

40 Nae meen was made for these twa knights,
Whan they were lying dead,
But a’ for her Lady Maisry,
That gaes in mournfu weed.

41 Says, ‘If I hae been an ill woman,
Alas and wae is me!
And if I’ve been an ill woman,
A gude woman I’ll be!

42 ‘Ye’ll take frae me my silk attire,
Bring me a palmer’s weed,
And thro the world, for their sakes,
I’ll gang and beg my bread.

43 ‘If I gang a step for Childe Vyet,
For Lord Ingram I’ll gang three;
All for the honour that he paid
At Marykirk to me.

44 ‘I’ll gang a step for Childe Vyet,
For Lord Ingram I’ll gang three;
It was into my mother’s bower
Childe Vyet wronged me.’

67. Glasgerion

Version A

1 GLASGERION was a kings owne sonne,
And a harper he was good;
He harped in the kings chamber,
Where cuppe and candle stoode,
And soe did hee in the queens chamber,
Till ladies waxed wood.

2 And then bespake the kings daughter,
And these words thus sayd shee:
. . . .
. . . . .

3 Saide, Strike on, strike on, Glasgerrion,
Of thy striking doe not blinne;
There’s neuer a stroke comes ouer thin harpe
But it glads my hart within.

4 ‘Faire might you fall, lady!’ quoth hee;
‘Who taught you now to speake?
I haue loued you, lady, seuen yeere;
My hart I durst neere breake.’

5 ‘But come to my bower, my Glasgerryon,
When all men are att rest;
As I am a ladie true of my promise,
Thou shalt bee a welcome guest.’

6 But hom then came Glasgerryon,
A glad man, Lord, was hee:
‘And come thou hither, Iacke, my boy,
Come hither vnto mee.

7 ‘For the kings daughter of Normandye,
Her loue is granted mee,
And beffore the cocke haue crowen,
Att her chamber must I bee.’

8 ‘But come you hither master,’ quoth hee,
‘Lay your head downe on this stone;
For I will waken you, master deere,
Afore it be time to gone.’

9 But vpp then rose that lither ladd,
And did on hose and shoone;
A coller he cast vpon his necke,
Hee seemed a gentleman.

10 And when he came to that ladies chamber,
He thrild vpon a pinn;
The lady was true of her promise,
Rose vp and lett him in.

11 He did not take the lady gay
To boulster nor to bedd,
But down vpon her chamber-flore
Full soone he hath her layd.

12 He did not kisse that lady gay
When he came nor when he youd;
And sore mistrusted that lady gay
He was of some churl s blood.

13 But home then came that lither ladd,
And did of his hose and shoone,
And cast that coller from about his necke;
He was but a churl s sonne:
‘Awaken,’ quoth hee, ’My master deere,
I hold it time to be gone.

14 ‘For I haue sadled your horsse, master,
Well bridled I haue your steed;
Haue not I serued a good breakfast,
When time comes I haue need.’

15 But vp then rose good Glasgerryon,
And did on both hose and shoone,
And cast a coller about his necke;
He was a kingees sonne.

16 And when he came to that ladies chamber,
He thrild vpon a pinn;
The lady was more then true of promise,
Rose vp and let him in.

17 Saies, Whether haue you left with me
Your braclett or your gloue?
Or are you returned backe againe
To know more of my loue?’

18 Glasgerryon swore a full great othe,
By oake and ashe and thorne,
‘Lady, I was neuer in your chamber
Sith the time that I was borne.’

19 ‘O then it was your litle foote-page
Falsly hath beguiled me:’
And then shee pulld forth a litle pen-kniffe,
That hanged by her knee,
Says, There shall neuer noe churl s blood
Spring within my body.

20 But home then went Glasgerryon,
A woe man, good [Lord], was hee;
Sayes, Come hither, thou Iacke, my boy,
Come thou hither to me.

21 Ffor if I had killed a man to-night,
Iacke, I wold tell it thee;
But if I haue not killed a man to-night,
Iacke, thou hast killed three!

22 And he puld out his bright browne sword,
And dryed it on his sleeue,
And he smote off that lither ladds head,
And asked noe man noe leaue.

23 He sett the swords poynt till his brest,
The pumill till a stone;
Thorrow that falsenese of that lither ladd
These three liues werne all gone.

Version B

1 GLENKINDIE was ance a harper gude,
He harped to the king;
And Glenkindie was ance the best harper
That ever harpd on a string.

2 He’d harpit a fish out o saut water,
Or water out o a stane,
Or milk out o a maiden’s breast,
That bairn had never nane.

3 He’s taen his harp intil his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
And ay as he harpit to the king,
To haud him unthought lang.

4 ‘I’ll gie you a robe, Glenkindie,
A robe o the royal pa,
Gin ye will harp i the winter’s night
Afore my nobles a’.’

5 He’s taen his harp intill his hand,
He’s harpit them a’ asleep,
Except it was the young countess,
That love did waukin keep.

6 And first he has harpit a grave tune,
And syne he has harpit a gay,
And mony a sich atween hands
I wat the lady gae.

7 Says, Whan day is dawen, and cocks hae crawen,
And wappit their wings sae wide,
It’s ye may come to my bower-door,
And streek you by my side.

8 But look that ye tell na Gib, your man,
For naething that ye dee;
For, an ye tell him Gib, your man,
He’ll beguile baith you and me.

9 He’s taen his harp intill his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
And he is hame to Gib, his man,
As fast as he could gang.

10 ‘O mith I tell you, Gib, my man,
Gin I a man had slain?’
‘O that ye micht, my gude master,
Altho ye had slain ten.’

11 ‘Then tak ye tent now, Gib, my man,
My bidden for to dee;
And but an ye wauken me in time,
Ye sall be hangit hie.

12 ‘Whan day has dawen, and cocks hae crawen,
And wappit their wings sae wide,
I’m bidden gang till yon lady’s bower,
And streek me by her side.’

13 ‘Gae hame to your bed, my good master;
Ye’ve waukit, I fear, oer lang;
For I’ll wauken you in as good time
As ony cock i the land.’

14 He’s taen his harp intill his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
Until he harpit his master asleep,
Syne fast awa did gang.

15 And he is till that lady’s bower,
As fast as he could rin;
When he cam till that lady’s bower,
He chappit at the chin.

16 ‘O wha is this,’ says that lady,
‘That opens nae and comes in?’
‘It’s I, Glenkindie, your ain true-love,
O open and lat me in!’

17 She kent he was nae gentle knicht
That she had latten in,
For neither when he gaed nor cam,
Kist he her cheek or chin.

18 He neither kist her when he cam,
Nor clappit her when he gaed,
And in and at her bower window,
The moon shone like the gleed.

19 ‘O ragged is your hose, Glenkindie,
And riven is your sheen,
And reaveld is your yellow hair,
That I saw late yestreen.’

20 ‘The stockings they are Gib, my man’s,
They came first to my hand,
And this is Gib, my man’s shoon,
At my bed-feet they stand;
I’ve reavelld a’ my yellow hair
Coming against the wind.’

21 He’s taen the harp intill his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
Until he cam to his master,
As fast as he could gang.

22 ‘Won up, won up, my good master,
I fear ye sleep oer lang;
There’s nae a cock in a’ the land
But was wappit his wings and crawn.’

23 Glenkindie’s tane his harp in hand,
He harpit and he sang,
And he has reachd the lady’s bower
Afore that eer he blan.

24 When he cam to the lady’s bower,
He chappit at the chin:
‘O wha is that at my bower-door,
That opens na and comes in?’
‘It’s I, Glenkindie, your ain true-love,
And in I canna win.’

25 ‘Forbid it, forbid it,’ says that lady,
‘That ever sic shame betide,
That I should first be a wild loon’s lass,
And than a young knight’s bride.’

26 He’s taen his harp intill his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
And he is hame to Gib, his man,
As fast as he could gang.

27 ‘Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man,
Till I pay you your fee;
Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man,
Weel payit sall ye be.’

28 And he has taen him Gib, his man,
And he has hangd him hie,
And he’s hangit him oer his ain yate,
As high as high could be.

29 There was nae pity for that lady,
For she lay cald and dead,
But a’ was for him, Glenkindie,
In bower he must go mad.

Version C

1 GLENKINNIE was as good a harper
As ever harpet tone;
He harpet fish out o the sea-flood,
And water out of a dry loan,
And milk out o the maiden’s breast
That bairn had never neen.

2 He harpit i the king’s palace,
He harpit them a’ asleep,
Unless it were Burd Bell alone,
And she stud on her feet.

3 ‘Ye will do ye home, Glenkinnie,
And ye will take a sleep,
And ye will come to my bower-door
Before the cock’s crowing.’

4 He’s taen out his milk-white steed,
And fast away rode he,
Till he came to his ain castle,
Where gold glanced never so hie.

5 ‘Might I tell ye, Jeck, my man,
Gin I had slain a man?’
‘Deed might [ye], my good master,
Altho ye had slain ten.’

6 ‘I’ve faun in love wi a gay ladie,
She’s daughter to the Queen,
And I maun be at her bower-door
Before the cock’s crowing.’

7 He’s taen out his master’s steed,
And fast awa rode he,
Until he cam to Burd Bell’s door,
Where gold glanced never so hie.

8 When he came to Burd Bell’s door,
He tirled at the pin,
And up she rose, away she goes,
To let Glenkinnie in.

9 . . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
That I combed out yestreen.

10 She looked out at a shot-window,
Atween her and the meen:
‘There is twa lovers beguiled the night,
And I fear I am ane.

11 ‘Ye shall na hae to say, Glenkindie,
When you sit at the wine,
That once you loved a queen’s daughter,
And she was your footman’s quean.’

68. Young Hunting

Version A

1 O LADY, rock never your young son young
One hour longer for me,
For I have a sweetheart in Garlick’s Wells
I love thrice better than thee.

2 ‘The very sols of my love’s feet
Is whiter then thy face:’
‘But nevertheless na, Young Hunting,
Ye’l stay wi me all night.’

3 She has birld in him Young Hunting
The good ale and the beer,
Till he was as fou drunken
As any wild-wood steer.

4 She has birld in him Young Hunting
The good ale and the wine,
Till he was as fou drunken
As any wild-wood swine.

5 Up she has tain him Young Hunting,
And she has had him to her bed,
. . . . .
. . . . .

6 And she has minded her on a little penknife,
That hangs low down by her gare,
And she has gin him Young Hunting
A deep wound and a sare.

7 Out an spake the bonny bird,
That flew abon her head:
‘Lady, keep well thy green clothing
Fra that good lord’s blood.’

8 ‘O better I’ll keep my green clothing
Fra that good lord’s blood
Nor thou can keep thy flattering toung,
That flatters in thy head.

9 ‘Light down, light down, my bonny bird,
Light down upon my hand,
. . . . . .
. . . . .

10 ‘O siller, O siller shall be thy hire,
An goud shall be thy fee,
An every month into the year,
Thy cage shall changed be.’

11 ‘I winna light down, I shanna light down,
I winna light on thy hand;
For soon, soon wad ye do to me
As ye done to Young Hunting.’

12 She has booted an spird him Young Hunting
As he had been gan to ride,
A hunting-horn about his neck,
An the sharp sourd by his side.

13 And she has had him to yon wan water,
For a’ man calls it Clyde,
. . . . .
. . . . .

14 The deepest pot intill it all
She has puten Young Hunting in;
A green truff upon his breast,
To hold that good lord down.

15 It fell once upon a day
The king was going to ride,
And he sent for him Young Hunting,
To ride on his right side.

16 She has turnd her right and round about,
She sware now by the corn,
‘I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,
Sen yesterday at morn.’

17 She has turnd her right and round about,
She swear now by the moon,
‘I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,
Sen yesterday at noon.

18 ‘It fears me sair in Clyde Water
That he is drownd therein:’
O thay ha sent for the king’s duckers,
To duck for Young Hunting.

19 They ducked in at the tae water-bank,
Thay ducked out at the tither:
‘We’ll duck no more for Young Hunting,
All tho he wear our brother.’

20 Out an spake the bonny bird,
That flew abon their heads,
. . . . .
. . . . .

21 ‘O he’s na drownd in Clyde Water,
He is slain and put therein;
The lady that lives in yon castil
Slew him and put him in.

22 ‘Leave aff your ducking on the day,
And duck upon the night;
Whear ever that sakeless knight lys slain,
The candels will shine bright.’

23 Thay left off their ducking o the day,
And ducked upon the night,
And where that sakeless knight lay slain,
The candles shone full bright.

24 The deepest pot intill it a’
Thay got Young Hunting in;
A green turff upon his brest,
To hold that good lord down.

25 O thay ha sent aff men to the wood
To hew down baith thorn an fern,
That they might get a great bonefire
To burn that lady in.
‘Put na the wyte on me,’ she says,
‘It was her May Catheren.’

26 Whan thay had tane her May Catheren,
In the bonefire set her in;
It wad na take upon her cheeks,
Nor take upon her chin,
Nor yet upon her yallow hair,
To healle the deadly sin.

27 Out they hae tain her May Catheren,
And they hay put that lady in;
O it took upon her cheek, her cheek,
An it took upon her chin,
An it took on her fair body,
She burnt like hoky-gren.

Version B

1 YOUNG REDINRR’rrS til the huntin gane,
Wi therty lords and three;
And he has til his true-love gane,
As fast as he could hie.

2 ‘Ye’re welcome here, my Young Redin,
For coal and candle-licht;
And sae are ye, my Young Redin,
To bide wi me the nicht.’

3 ‘I thank ye for your licht, ladie,
Sae do I for your coal;
But there’s thrice as fair a ladie as thee
Meets me at Brandie’s Well.’

4 Whan they war at their supper set,
And merrily drinking wine,
This ladie has tane a sair sickness,
And til her bed has gane.

5 Young Redin he has followed her,
And a dowie man was he;
He fund his true-love in her bouer,
And the tear was in her ee.

6 Whan he was in her arms laid,
And gieing her kisses sweet,
Then out she’s tane a little penknife,
And woundid him sae deep.

7 ‘O lang, lang is the winter nicht,
And slawly daws the day;
There is a slain knicht in my bouer,
And I wish he war away.’

8 Then up bespak her bouer-woman,
And she spak ae wi spite:
‘An there be a slain knicht in your bouer,
It’s yoursell that has the wyte.’

9 ‘O heal this deed on me, Meggy,
O heal this deed on me;
The silks that war shapen for me gen Pasche,
They sall be sewed for thee.’

10 ‘O I hae heald on my mistress
A twalmonth and a day,
And I hae heald on my mistress
Mair than I can say.’

11 They’ve booted him, and they’ve spurred him,
As he was wont to ride,
A huntin-horn round his neck,
And a sharp sword by his side;
In the deepest place o Clyde’s Water,
It’s there they’ve made his bed.

12 Sine up bespak the wylie parrot,
As he sat on the tree:
‘And hae ye killd him Young Redin,
Wha neer had love but thee?’

13 ‘Come doun, come doun, ye wylie parrot,
Come doun into my hand;
Your cage sall be o the beaten gowd,
Whan now it’s but the wand.’

14 ‘I winna come doun, I canna come doun,
I winna come doun to thee;
For as ye’ve dune to Young Redin,
Ye’ll do the like to me;
Ye’ll thraw my head aff my hause-bane,
And throw me in the sea.’

15 O there cam seekin Young Redin
Mony a lord and knicht,
And there cam seekin Young Redin
Mony a ladie bricht.

16 And they’ve til his true-love gane,
Thinking he was wi her;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

17 ‘I hae na seen him Young Redin
Sin yesterday at noon;
He turnd his stately steed about,
And hied him throw the toun.

18 ‘But ye’ll seek Clyde’s Water up and doun,
Ye’ll seek it out and in;
I hae na seen him Young Redin
Sin yesterday at noon.’

19 Then up bespak Young Redin’s mither,
And a dowie woman was scho:
‘There’s na a place in Clyde’s Water
But my son wad gae throw.’

20 They’ve sought Clyde’s Water up and doun,
They’ve sought it out and in,
And the deepest place in Clyde’s Water
They’ve fund Young Redin in.

21 O white, white war his wounds washen,
As white as a linen clout;
But as the traitor she cam near,
His wounds they gushit out.

22 ‘It’s surely been my bouer-woman,
O ill may her betide!
I neer wad slain him Young Redin,
And thrown him in the Clyde.’

23 Then they’ve made a big bane-fire,
The bouer-woman to brin;
It tuke not on her cheek, her cheek,
It tuke not on her chin,
But it tuke on the cruel hands
That pat Young Redin in.

24 Then They’ve tane out the bouer-woman,
And pat the ladie in;
It tuke na on her cheek, her cheek,
It tuke na on her chin,
But it tuke on the fause, fause arms
That Young Redin lay in.

Version C

1 The ladie stude in her bour-door,
In her bour-door as she stude,
She thocht she heard a bridle ring,
That did her bodie gude.

2 She thocht it had been her father dear,
Come ridin owre the sand;
But it was her true-love Riedan,
Come hiean to her hand.

3 ‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, Young Riedan,’ she said,
‘To coal an cannel-licht;
You’re welcome, you’re welcome, Young Riedan,
To sleep in my bour this nicht.’

4 ‘I thank you for your coal, madame,
An for your cannel tae;
There’s a fairer maid at Clyde’s Water,
I love better than you.’

5 ‘A fairer maid than me, Riedan?
A fairer maid than me?
A fairer maid than ten o me
You shurely neer did see.’

6 He leant him owre his saddle-bow,
To gie her a kiss sae sweet;
She keppit him on a little penknife,
An gae him a wound sae deep.

7 ‘O hide! oh hide! my bourswoman,
Oh hide this deed on me!
An the silks that waur shappit for me at Yule
At Pasch sall be sewed for thee.’

8 They saidled Young Riedan, they bridled Young Riedan,
The way he was wont to ride;
Wi a huntin-horn aboot his neck,
An a sharp sword by his side.

9 An they are on to Clyde’s Water,
An they rade it up an doon,
An the deepest linn in a’ Clyde’s Water
They flang him Young Riedan [in].

10 ‘Lie you there, you Young Riedan,
Your bed it is fu wan;
The [maid] you hae at Clyde’s Water,
For you she will think lang.’

11 Up it spak the wily bird,
As it sat on the tree:
‘Oh wae betide you, ill woman,
An an ill death may you dee!
For he had neer anither love,
Anither love but thee.’

12 ‘Come doon, come doon, my pretty parrot,
An pickle wheat aff my glue;
An your cage sall be o the beaten goud,
Whan it’s of the willow tree.’

13 ‘I winna come doon, I sanna come doon,
To siccan a traitor as thee:
For as you did to Young Riedan,
Sae wald you do to mee.’

14 Come doon, come doon, my pretty parrot,
An pickle wheat aff my hand;
An your cage sall be o the beaten goud,
Whan it’s o the willow wand.’

15 ‘I winna come doon, I sanna come doon,
To siccan a traitor as thee;
You wald thraw my head aff my hase-bane,
An fling it in the sea.’

16 It fell upon a Lammas-tide
The king’s court cam ridin bye:
‘Oh whare is it him Young Riedan?
It’s fain I wald him see.’

17 ‘Oh I hae no seen Young Riedan
Sin three lang weeks the morn;
It bodes me sair, and drieds me mair,
Clyde’s Water’s him forlorn.’

18 Up it spak the wily bird,
As it sat on the tree;
. . . . .
. . . . .

19 ‘Leave aff, leave aff your day-seekin,
An ye maun seek by nicht;
Aboon the place Young Riedan lies,
The cannels burn bricht.’

20 They gae up their day-seekin,
An they did seek by nicht;
An ower the place Young Riedan lay,
The cannels burnt bricht.

21 The firsten grip his mother got
Was o his yellow hair;
An was na that a dowie grip,
To get her ae son there!

22 The nexten grip his mother got
Was o his milk-white hand;
An wasna that a dowie grip,
To bring sae far to land!

23 White, white waur his wounds washen,
As white as ony lawn;
But sune’s the traitor stude afore,
Then oot the red blude sprang.

24 Fire wadna tak on her bourswoman,
Niether on cheek nor chin;
But it took fast on thae twa hands
That flang young Riedan in.

25 ‘Come oot, come oot, my bourswoman,
Come oot, lat me win in;
For as I did the deed mysell,
Sae man I drie the pine.’

Version D

1 EARL RICHARD has a hunting gone,
As fast as he can ride;
He’s a hunting-horn about his neck,
And a broadsword by his side.

2 ‘Licht down, licht down, Earl Richard,’ she says,
‘O licht down and come in,
And thou’ll get cheer and charcoal clear,
And torches for to burn.’

3 ‘I winna licht, I canna licht,
I winna licht at all;
A fairer lady then ten of thee
Meets me at Richard’s Wall.’

4 He louted owre his saddle-bow,
And for to kiss her sweet,
But little thocht o that penknife
Wherewith she wound him deep.

5 ‘Why wounds thou me so deep, lady?
Why stabs thou me so sore?
There’s not a lord like Earl Richard
Could love false woman more.’

6 She called upon her waiting-maid,
Long before it was day:
‘I have a dead man in my bower,
I wish he were away.’

7 ‘Keep ye your bower, my lily-flower,
Keep it free of all men’s blood;’
‘Oh I will keep it een as weel
As you or any maid.

8 ‘But siller will be thy wage,’ she says,
‘And gold will be thy fee,
And I mysell will gang alang
And bear thee companye.’

9 They booted him, and spurred him,
As he was wont to ride,
And they’re awa to Lorn’s Water,
To Lorn’s Water so wide.

10 They turned down his yellow hair,
Turnd up his milk-white feet:
‘Lye thou there, Earl Richard,’ she said,
‘Till the blood seep from thy bane;
That fairer maid than ten of me
Will look lang or thou come hame.’

11 As they were coming hame again,
Upon the road so hie,
There they spy’d a small pyet,
Was sitting on a tree.

12 ‘Where has thou been, fair lady?’ it says,
‘Whare has thou been so soon?
Or what did thou wi Earl Richard,
Was late wi thee yestreen?’

13 ‘Come down, come down, my wee pyet;
An thou’ll come to my knee,
I have a cage of beaten gold,
And I’ll bestow ’t on thee.’

14 ‘Keep thou thy cage of beaten gold,
And I will keep my tree;
For as thou did wi Earl Richard,
So wad thou do wi me;
Thou wad thraw the wee head aff my bouk,
And drown me in the sea.’

15 ‘Come down, come down, my wee pyet;
An thou’ll come to my hand,
I have a cage of beaten gold,
And thou’s be put therein.’

16 ‘Keep thou thy cage o beaten gold,
And I will keep my tree;
For as thou did wi Earl Richard,
So would thou do wi me.’

17 ‘Oh an I had my bow bendit,
And set unto my knee,
I wad shoot this wee pyet
Sits gabbling on the tree.’

18 ‘Before thou get thy bow bendit,
And set unto thy knee,
I’ll be at Earl Richard’s father,
Telling ill tales on thee.’

19 As they were coming hame again,
Upon the road so bricht,
There they saw Earl Richard’s father,
Coming marching in their sicht.

20 ‘Whare has thou been, fair lady?’ he says,
‘Whare has thou been back sae sune?
O what did thou wi my auld son,
Was late wi thee yestreen?’

21 She did swear by stars o licht,
And grass-green growing corn,
That she had not seen Earl Richard’s face
Since Saturday at morn;
‘But in Lorn’s Water, indeed,’ she says,
‘I fear his days are done.’

22 ‘There was not a ford in Lorn’s Water
But he could ride it weel;
And what did thou wi my auld son,
That went with thee afield?’

Version E

1 LORD WILLIAM was the bravest knight
That dwalt in fair Scotland,
And, though renowned in France and Spain,
Fell by a ladie’s hand.

2 As she was walking maid alone,
Down by yon shady wood,
She heard a smit o bridle reins,
She wishd might be for good.

3 ‘Come to my arms, my dear Willie,
You’re welcome hame to me;
To best o chear and charcoal red,
And candle burnin free.’

4 ‘I winna light, I darena light,
Nor come to your arms at a’;
A fairer maid than ten o you
I’ll meet at Castle-law.’

5 ‘A fairer maid than me, Willie?
A fairer maid than me?
A fairer maid than ten o me
Your eyes did never see.’

6 He louted owr his saddle-lap
To kiss here ere they part,
And wi a little keen bodkin,
She pierced him to the heart.

7 ‘Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,
As fast as ye can dree;
Your bonny lass at Castle-law
Will weary you to see.’

8 Out up then spake a bonny bird,
Sat high upon a tree:
‘How could you kill that noble lord?
He came to marry thee.’

9 ‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
And eat bread aff my hand;
Your cage shall be of wiry goud,
Whar now it’s but the wand.’

10 ‘Keep ye your cage o goud, lady,
And I will keep my tree;
As ye hae done to Lord William,
Sae wad ye do to me.’

11 She set her foot on her door-step,
A bonny marble stane,
And carried him to her chamber,
Oer him to make her mane.

12 And she has kept that good lord’s corpse
Three quarters of a year,
Until that word began to spread;
Then she began to fear.

13 Then she cryed on her waiting-maid,
Ay ready at her ca:
‘There is a knight into my bower,
’Tis time he were awa.’

14 The ane has taen him by the head,
The ither by the feet,
And thrown him in the wan water,
That ran baith wide and deep.

15 ‘Look back, look back, now, lady fair,
On him that loed ye weel;
A better man than that blue corpse
Neer drew a sword of steel.’

Version F

1 EARL RICHARD is a hunting gone,
As fast as he can ride,
His hunting-horn hung about his neck,
And a small sword by his side.

2 When he came to my lady’s gate
He tirled at the pin,
And wha was sae ready as the lady hersell
To open and let him in.

3 ‘O light, O light, Earl Richard,’ she says,
‘O light and stay a’ night;
You shall have cheer wi charcoal clear,
And candles burning bright.’

4 ‘I will not light, I cannot light,
I cannot light at all;
A fairer lady than ten of thee
Is waiting at Richard’s Wall.’

5 He stooped from his milk-white steed,
To kiss her rosy cheek;
She had a pen-knife in her hand,
And wounded him so deep.

6 ‘O lie ye there, Earl Richard,’ she says,
‘O lie ye there till morn;
A fairer lady than ten of me
Will think lang of your coming home.’

7 She called her servants ane by ane,
She called them twa by twa:
‘I have got a dead man in my bower,
I wish he were awa.’

8 The one has taen [him] by the hand,
And the other by the feet,
And they’ve thrown him in a deep draw-well,
Full fifty fathom deep.

9 Then up bespake a little bird,
That sat upon a tree:
‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye false lady,
And pay your maids their fee.’

10 ‘Come down, come down, my pretty bird,
That sits upon the tree;
I have a cage of beaten gold,
I’ll gie it unto thee.’

11 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,
And pay your maids their fee;
As ye have done to Earl Richard,
Sae wud ye do to me.’

12 ‘If I had an arrow in my hand,
And a bow bent on a string,
I’d shoot a dart at thy proud heart,
Amang the leaves sae green.’

Version G

1 SHE has calld to her her bower-maidens,
She has calld them one by one:
‘There is a dead man in my bower,
I wish that he was gone.’

2 They have booted him, and spurred him,
As he was wont to ride,
A hunting-horn around his waist,
A sharp sword by his side.

3 Then up and spake a bonie bird,
That sat upon the tree:
‘What hae ye done wi Earl Richard?
Ye was his gay lady.’

4 ‘Cum down, cum down, my bonie bird,
Cum sit upon my hand;
And ye sall hae a cage o the gowd,
Where ye hae but the wand.’

5 ‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
Nae ill woman for me;
What ye hae done to Earl Richard,
Sae wad ye do to mee.’

6 ‘O there’s a bird intill your bowir
That sings sae sad and sweet;
O there’s a bird intill your bour
Kept me frae my nicht’s sleep.’

7 And she sware by the grass sae greene,
Sae did she by the corn,
That she had not seen Earl Richard
Sen yesterday at morn.

Version H

1 * * * *
‘HAIL well, hail well, my little foot-page,
Hail well this deed on me,
And ever I live my life to brook,
I’se pay thee well thy fee.’

2 ‘It’s we’l beet him, and we’l spur him,
As gin he had been gain to ride,
Put a huntin-horn about his neck,
And a small sword by his side.

3 ‘And we’ll carry him to Clyde’s Water,
And there we’ll fling him in,
That we may have it to be said
In Clyde’s Water he drownd.’

4 O they bet him, and they spurrd him,
As gin he had been gain to ride,
Pat a huntin-horn about his neck,
But the sword on his wrang side.

5 And they hae carried him to Clyde’s Water,
And there they flang him in,
That they might have it to be said
In Clyde’s Water he drowned.

6 ‘It’s we’ll sen for the king’s doukers,
And douk it up and doun;
It’s we’ll sen for the king’s doukers,
And douk it out and in.’

7 Out it spak a little wee birdie,
As it sat on yon burn-brae:
. . . . .
. . . . .

8 ‘Ye may lay by your day doukers,
And turn you to the night,
And where the innocent blood lies slain,
The candles will burn fou bricht.’

9 O they hae brunt that gay ladie,
And blawn her in the air,
And nothing o that bower-man would burn
But the hands that buskd him rare.

Version I

1 * * * *
‘Come down, come down, thou bonnie bird,
Sit low upon my hand,
And thy cage shall be o the beaten gowd,
And not of hazel wand.’

2 ‘O woe, O woe be to thee, lady,
And an ill death may thou die!
For the way thou guided good Lord John,
Soon, soon would thou guide me.’

3 ‘Go bend to me my bow,’ she said,
‘And set it to my ee,
And I will gar that bonnie bird
Come quickly down to me.’

4 ‘Before thou bend thy bow, lady,
And set it to thy ee,
O I will be at yon far forest,
Telling ill tales on thee.’

Version J

1 ‘O lady, rock never your young son young
One hour langer for me;
For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells
I love far better than thee.

2 ‘The very sole o that ladye’s foot
Than thy face is far mair white:’
‘But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard,
Ye will bide in my bower a’ night?’

3 She birled him wi the ale and wine,
As they sat down to sup:
A living man he laid him down,
But I wot he neer rose up.

4 Then up and spake the popinjay,
That flew aboun her head:
‘Lady, keep weel your green cleiding
Frae gude Erl Richard’s bleid.’

5 ‘O better I’ll keep my green cleiding
Frae gude Erl Richard’s bleid,
Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung,
That trattles in thy head.’

6 She has calld upon her bower-maidens,
She has calld them ane by ane:
‘There lies a deid man in my bowr,
I wish that he were gane.’

7 They hae booted him, and spurred him,
As he was wont to ride,
A hunting-horn tied round his waist,
A sharp sword by his side;
And they hae had him to the wan water,
For a’ men call it Clyde.

8 Then up and spake the popinjay,
That sat upon the tree:
‘What hae ye down wi Erl Richard?
Ye were his gaye ladye.’

9 ‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
And sit upon my hand;
And thou sall hae a cage o gowd,
Where thou hast but the wand.’

10 ‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
Nae cage o gowd for me;
As ye hae dune to Erl Richard,
Sae wad ye do to me.’

11 She hadna crossd a rigg o land,
A rigg but barely ane,
When she met wi his auld father,
Came riding all alane.

12 ‘Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair,
Where hae ye been sae late?
We hae been seeking Erl Richard,
But him we canna get.’

13 ‘Erl Richard kens a’ the fords in Clyde,
He’ll ride them ane by ane;
And though the night was neer sae mirk,
Erl Richard will be hame.’

14 O it fell anes upon a day
The king was boun to ride,
And he has mist him Erl Richard,
Should hae ridden on his right side.

15 The ladye turnd her round about,
Wi mickle mournfu din:
‘It fears me sair o Clyde water,
That he is drownd therein.’

16 ‘Gar douk, gar douk,’ the king he cried,
‘Gar douk for gold and fee;
O wha will douk for Erl Richard’s sake,
Or wha will douk for me?’

17 They douked in at ae weil-heid,
And out aye at the other:
‘We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard,
Altho he were our brother.’

18 It fell that in that ladye’s castle
The king was boun to bed,
And up and spake the popinjay,
That flew abune his head.

19 ‘Leave aff your douking on the day,
And douk upon the night;
And wherever that sackless knight lies slain,
The candles will burn bright.’

20 ‘O there’s a bird within this bower,
That sings baith sad and sweet;
O there’s a bird within your bower
Keeps me frae my night’s sleep.’

21 They left the douking on the day,
And douked upon the night,
And where that sackless knight lay slain,
The candles burned bright.

22 The deepest pot in a’ the linn
They fand Erl Richard in;
A green turf tyed across his breast,
To keep that gude lord down.

23 Then up and spake the king himsell,
When he saw the deadly wound,
‘O wha has slain my right-hand man,
That held my hawk and hound?’

24 Then up and spake the popinjay,
Says, What needs a’ this din?
It was his light lemman took his life,
And hided him in the linn.

25 She swore her by the grass sae grene,
Sae did she by the corn,
She had na seen him Erl Richard
Since Moninday at morn.

26 ‘Put na the wyte on me,’ she said,
‘It was my may, Catherine:’
Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,
To burn that maiden in.

27 It wadna take upon her cheik,
Nor yet upon her chin,
Nor yet upon her yellow hair,
To cleanse the deadly sin.

28 The maiden touchd the clay-cauld corpse,
A drap it never bled;
The ladye laid her hand on him,
And soon the ground was red.

29 Out they hae ta’en her May Catherine,
And put her mistress in;
The flame tuik fast upon her cheik,
Tuik fast upon her chin,
Tuik fast upon her fair bodye,
She burnd like hollins grene.

Version K

1 LADY MAISRY forth from her bower came,
And stood on her tower-head;
She thought she heard a bridle ring,
The sound did her heart guid.

2 She thought it was her first true-love,
Whom she loved ance in time;
But it was her new love, Hunting,
Come frae the hunting o the hyn.

3 ‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,
God make you safe and free;
I’m come to take my last farewell,
And pay my last visit to thee.’

4 ‘O stay, O stay then, Young Hunting,
O stay with me this night;
Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear,
And candles burning bright.’

5 ‘Have no more cheer, you lady fair,
An hour langer for me;
I have a lady in Garmouth town
I love better than thee.’

6 ‘O if your love be changed, my love,
Since better canno be,
Nevertheless, for auld lang syne,
Ye’ll stay this night wi me.

7 ‘Silver, silver shall be your wage,
And gowd shall be your fee,
And nine times nine into the year
Your weed shall changed be.

8 ‘Will ye gae to the cards or dice,
Or to a tavern fine?
Or will ye gae to a table forebye,
And birl baith beer and wine?’

9 ‘I winna gang to the cards nor dice,
Nor to a tavern fine;
But I will gang to a table forebye,
And birl baith beer and wine.’

10 Then she has drawn for Young Hunting
The beer but and the wine,
Till she got him as deadly drunk
As ony unhallowed swine.

11 Then she’s taen out a trusty brand,
That hang below her gare,
Then she’s wounded him Young Hunting,
A deep wound and a sair.

12 Then out it speaks her comrade,
Being in the companie:
‘Alas! this deed that ye hae done
Will ruin baith you and me.’

13 ‘Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,
Heal well this deed on me,
The robes that were shapen for my bodie,
They shall be sewed for thee.’

14 ‘Tho I woud heal it never sae well,
And never sae well,’ said she,
‘There is a God above us baith
That can baith hear and see.’

15 They booted him, and spurred him,
As he’d been gaun to ride,
A hunting-horn about his neck,
A sharp sword by his side.

16 And they rode on, and farther on,
All the lang summer’s tide,
Until they came to wan water,
Where a’ man ca’s it Clyde.

17 And the deepest pot in Clyde’s water,
And there they flang him in,
And put a turf on his breast-bane,
To had Young Hunting down.

18 O out it speaks a little wee bird,
As she sat on the brier:
‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry,
And pay your maiden’s hire.’

19 ‘O I will pay my maiden’s hire,
And hire I’ll gie to thee;
If ye’ll conceal this fatal deed,
Ye’s hae gowd for your fee.’

20 Then out it speaks a bonny bird,
That flew aboon their head:
‘Keep well, keep well your green claithing
Frae ae drap o his bluid.’

21 ‘O I’ll keep well my green claithing
Frae ae drop o his bluid,
Better than I’ll do your flattering tongue,
That flutters in your head.

22 ‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
Light down upon my hand;
For ae gowd feather that’s in your wing,
I woud gie a’ my land.’

23 ‘How shall I come down, how can I come down,
How shall I come down to thee?
The things ye said to Young Hunting,
The same ye’re saying to me.’

24 But it fell out on that same day
The king was going to ride,
And he calld for him Young Hunting,
For to ride by his side.

25 Then out it speaks the little young son,
Sat on the nurse’s knee:
‘It fears me sair,’ said that young babe,
‘He’s in bower wi yon ladie.’

26 Then they hae calld her Lady Katharine,
And she sware by the thorn
That she saw not him Young Hunting
Sin yesterday at morn.

27 Then they hae calld her Lady Maisry,
And she sware by the moon
That she saw not him Young Hunting
Sin yesterday at noon.

28 ‘He was playing him at the Clyde’s Water,
Perhaps he has fa’en in:’
The king he calld his divers all,
To dive for his young son.

29 They div’d in thro the wan burn-bank,
Sae did they outthro the other:
‘We’ll dive nae mair,’ said these young men,
‘Suppose he were our brother.’

30 Then out it spake a little bird,
That flew aboon their head:
‘Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,
For there he lies indeed.

31 ‘But ye’ll leave aff your day diving,
And ye’ll dive in the night;
The pot where Young Hunting lies in,
The candles they’ll burn bright.

32 ‘There are twa ladies in yon bower,
And even in yon ha,
And they hae killd him Young Hunting,
And casten him awa.

33 ‘They booted him, and spurred him,
As he’d been gaun to ride,
A hunting-horn tied round his neck,
A sharp sword by his side

34 ‘The deepest pot o Clyde’s Water,
There they flang him in,
Laid a turf on his breast-bane,
To had Young Hunting down.’

35 Now they left aff their day diving,
And they dived on the night;
The pot that Young Hunting lay in,
The candles were burning bright.

36 The king he calld his hewers all,
To hew down wood and thorn,
For to put up a strong bale-fire,
These ladies for to burn.

37 And they hae taen her Lady Katharine,
And they hae pitten her in;
But it wadna light upon her cheek,
Nor woud it on her chin,
But sang the points o her yellow hair,
For healing the deadly sin.

38 Then they hae taen her Lady Maisry,
And they hae put her in:
First it lighted on her cheek,
And syne upon her chin,
And sang the points o her yellow hair,
And she burnt like keckle-pin.

69. Clerk Sanders

Version A

1 CLARK SANDERS and May Margret
Walkt ower yon graveld green,
And sad and heavy was the love,
I wat, it fell this twa between.

2 ‘A bed, a bed,’ Clark Sanders said,
‘A bed, a bed for you and I;’
‘Fye no, fye no,’ the lady said,
‘Until the day we married be.

3 ‘For in it will come my seven brothers,
And a’ their torches burning bright;
They’ll say, We hae but ae sister,
And here her lying wi a knight.’

4 ‘Ye’l take the sourde fray my scabbord,
And lowly, lowly lift the gin,
And you may say, your oth to save,
You never let Clark Sanders in.

5 ‘Yele take a napken in your hand,
And ye’l ty up baith your een,
An ye may say, your oth to save,
That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen.

6 ‘Yele take me in your armes twa,
Yele carrey me ben into your bed,
And ye may say, your oth to save,
In your bower-floor I never tread.’

7 She has taen the sourde fray his scabbord,
And lowly, lowly lifted the gin;
She was to swear, her oth to save,
She never let Clerk Sanders in.

8 She has tain a napkin in her hand,
And she ty’d up baith her eeen;
She was to swear, her oth to save,
She saw na him sene late yestreen.

9 She has taen him in her armes twa,
And carried him ben into her bed;
She was to swear, her oth to save,
He never in her bower-floor tread.

10 In and came her seven brothers,
And all their torches burning bright;
Says thay, We hae but ae sister,
And see there her lying wi a knight.

11 Out and speaks the first of them,
‘A wat they hay been lovers dear;’
Out and speaks the next of them,
‘They hay been in love this many a year.’

12 Out an speaks the third of them,
‘It wear great sin this twa to twain;’
Out an speaks the fourth of them,
‘It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.’

13 Out an speaks the fifth of them,
‘A wat they’ll near be twaind by me;’
Out an speaks the sixt of them,
‘We’l tak our leave an gae our way.’

14 Out an speaks the seventh of them,
‘Altho there wear no a man but me,
. . . . .
I bear the brand, I’le gar him die.’

15 Out he has taen a bright long brand,
And he has striped it throw the straw,
And throw and throw Clarke Sanders’ body
A wat he has gard cold iron gae.

16 Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt,
Intill his arms whare she lay,
And well and wellsom was the night,
A wat it was between these twa.

17 And they lay still, and sleeped sound,
Untill the day began to daw;
And kindly till him she did say
‘It’s time, trew-love, ye wear awa.’

18 They lay still, and sleeped sound,
Untill the sun began to shine;
She lookt between her and the wa,
And dull and heavy was his eeen.

19 She thought it had been a loathsome sweat,
A wat it had fallen this twa between;
But it was the blood of his fair body,
A wat his life days wair na lang.

20 ‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake
What other ladys would na thoule;
When seven years is come and gone,
There’s near a shoe go on my sole.

21 ‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake
What other ladies would think mare;
When seven years is come and gone,
Ther’s nere a comb go in my hair.

22 ‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake
What other ladies would think lack;
When seven years is come an gone,
I’le wear nought but dowy black.’

23 The bells gaed clinking throw the towne,
To carry the dead corps to the clay,
An sighing says her May Margret,
‘A wat I bide a doulfou day.’

24 In an come her father dear,
Stout steping on the floor;
. . . . .
. . . . .

25 ‘Hold your toung, my doughter dear,
Let all your mourning a bee;
I’le carry the dead corps to the clay,
An I’le come back an comfort thee.’

26 ‘Comfort well your seven sons,
For comforted will I never bee;
For it was neither lord nor loune
That was in bower last night wi mee.’

Version B

1 CLERK SAUNDERS and a gay lady
Was walking in yonder green,
And heavy, heavy was the love
That fell this twa lovers between.

2 ‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said,
‘And ay a bed for you and me;’
‘Never a ane,’ said the gay lady,
‘Till ance we twa married be.

3 ‘There would come a’ my seven brethern,
And a’ their torches burning bright,
And say, We hae but ae sister,
And behad, she’s lying wi you the night.’

4 ‘You’ll take a napkain in your hand,
And then you will tie up your een;
Then you may swear, and safe your aith,
You sawna Sandy sin yestreen.

5 ‘You’ll take me up upo your back,
And then you’ll carry me to your bed;
Then you may swear, and save your aith,
Your board [-floor] Sandy never tred.’

6 She’s taen him upo her back,
And she’s carried him unto her bed,
That she might swear, and safe her aith,
Her board-floor Sandy never tread.

7 She’s taen a napkin in her hand,
And lo she did tie up her een,
That she might swear, and safe her aith,
She sawna Sandy syne yestreen.

8 They were na weel into the room,
Nor yet laid weel into the bed,
. . . . .
. . . . .

9 When in came a’ her seven brethern,
And a’ their torches burning bright;
Says they, We hae but ae sister,
And behold, she’s lying wi you this night.

10 ‘I,’ bespake the first o them,
A wat an ill death mat he die!
‘I bear a brand into my hand
Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.’

11 ‘I,’ bespake the second of them,
A wat a good death mat he die!
‘We will gae back, let him alane,
His father has nae mair but he.’

12 ‘I,’ bespake the third o them,
A wat an ill death mat he die!
‘I bear the brand into my hand
Shall quickly help to gar him die.’

13 ‘I,’ bespake the fourth o them,
A wat an ill death mat he die!
‘I bear the brand into my hand
Shall never help to gar him die.’

14 ‘I,’ bespake the fifth o them,
A wat a good death mat he die!
‘Altho his father hae nae mair,
I’ll quickly help to gar him die.’

15 ‘I,’ bespake the sixth o them,
A wat a good death mat he die!
‘He’s a worthy earl’s son,
I’ll never help to gar him die.’

16 ‘I,’ bespake the seventh of them,
A wat an ill death mat he die!
‘I bear the brand into my hand
Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.’

17 They baith lay still, and sleeped sound,
Untill the sun began to sheen;
She drew the curtains a wee bit,
And dull and drowsie was his een.

18 ‘This night,’ said she, ’The sleepiest man
That ever my twa eyes did see
Hay lyen by me, and sweat the sheets;
A wite they’re a great shame to see.’

19 She rowd the claiths a’ to the foot,
And then she spied his deadly wounds:
‘O wae be to my seven brethern,
A wat an ill death mat they die!

20 ‘I’m sure it was neither rogue nor loun
I had into my bed wi me;
’Twas Clerk Saunders, that good earl’s son,
That pledgd his faith to marry me.’

Version C

1 IT was a sad and a rainy nicht
As ever raind frae toun to toun;
Clerk Saunders and his lady gay
They were in the fields sae broun.

2 ‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders cried,
‘A bed, a bed, let me lie doun;
For I am sae weet and sae wearie
That I canna gae nor ride frae toun.’

3 ‘A bed, a bed,’ his lady cried,
‘A bed, a bed, ye’ll neer get nane;
. . . . . .
. . . . .

4 ‘For I hae seven bauld brethren,
Bauld are they, and very rude;
And if they find ye in bouer wi me,
They winna care to spill your blude.’

5 ‘Ye’ll tak a lang claith in your hand,
Ye’ll haud it up afore your een,
That ye may swear, and save your aith,
That ye saw na Sandy sin yestreen.

6 ‘And ye’ll tak me in your arms twa,
Ye’ll carry me into your bed,
That ye may swear, and save your aith,
That in your bour-floor I never gaed.’

7 She’s taen a lang claith in her hand,
She’s hauden’t up afore her een,
That she might swear, and save her aith,
That she saw na Sandy sin yestreen.

8 She has taen him in her arms twa,
And carried him into her bed,
That she might swear, and save her aith,
That on her bour-floor he never gaed.

9 Then in there cam her firsten brother,
Bauldly he cam steppin in:
‘Come here, come here, see what I see!
We hae only but ae sister alive,
And a knave is in bour her wi.’

10 Then in and cam her second brother,
Says, Twa lovers are ill to twin;
And in and cam her thirden brother,
‘O brother dear, I say the same.’

11 Then in and cam her fourthen brother,
‘It’s a sin to kill a sleepin man;’
And in and cam her fifthen brother,
‘O brother dear, I say the same.’

12 Then in and cam her sixthen brother,
‘I wat he’s neer be steerd by me;’
But in and cam her seventhen brother,
‘I bear the hand that sall gar him dee.’

13 Then out he drew a nut-brown sword,
I wat he stript it to the stroe,
And thro and thro Clerk Saunder’s body
I wat he garrd cauld iron go.

14 Then they lay there in ither’s arms
Until the day began to daw;
Then kindly to him she did say,
‘It’s time, my dear, ye were awa.

15 ‘Ye are the sleepiest young man,’ she said,
‘That ever my twa een did see;
Ye’ve lain a’ nicht into my arms,
I’m sure it is a shame to be.’

16 She turnd the blankets to the foot,
And turnd the sheets unto the wa,
And there she saw his bluidy wound,
. . . . .

17 ‘O wae be to my seventhen brother,
I wat an ill death mot he dee!
He’s killd Clerk Saunders, an earl’s son,
I wat he’s killd him unto me.’

18 Then in and cam her father dear,
Cannie cam he steppin in;
Says, Haud your tongue, my dochter dear,
What need you mak sic heavy meane?

19 ‘We’ll carry Clerk Saunders to his grave,
And syne come back and comfort thee:’
‘O comfort weel your seven sons, father,
For man sall never comfort me;
Ye’ll marrie me wi the Queen o Heaven,
For man sall never enjoy me.’

Version D

1 * * * *
‘O I have seven bold brethren,
And they are all valiant men,
If they knew a man that would tread my bower
His life should not go along wi him.’

2 ‘Then take me up into your arms,
And lay me low down on your bed,
That ye may swear, and keep your oath clear,
That your bower-room I did na tread.

3 ‘Tie a handkerchief round your face,
And you must tye it wondrous keen,
That you may swear, and keep your oath clear,
Ye saw na me since late yestreen.’

4 But they were scarsley gone to bed,
Nor scarse fa’n owre asleep,
Till up and started her seven brethren,
Just at Lord Saunder’s feet.

5 Out bespoke the first brither,
‘Oh but love be wondrous keen!’
Out bespoke the second brither,
‘It’s ill done to kill a sleeping man.’

6 Out bespoke the third brither,
‘We had better gae and let him be;’
Out bespoke the fourth brither,
‘He’ll no be killd this night for me:’

7 Out bespoke the fifth brother,
‘This night Lord Saunders he shall die;
Tho there were not a man in all Scotland,
This night Lord Saunders he shall die.’

8 He took out a rousty rapier,
And he drew it three times thro the strae;
Between Lord Saunders’ short rib and his side
He gard the rusty rapier gae.

9 ‘Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,’ she said,
‘Awake, awake, for sin and shame!
For the day is light, and the sun shines bricht,
‘And I am afraid we will be taen.

10 ‘Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,’ she said,
‘Awake, awake, for sin and shame!
For the sheets they are asweat,’ she said,
‘And I am afraid we will be taen.

11 ‘I dreamed a dreary dream last night,
I wish it may be for our good,
That I was cutting my yellow hair,
And dipping it in the wells o blood.’

12 Aye she waukened at this dead man,
Aye she put on him to and fro;
Oh aye she waukend at this dead man,
But of his death she did not know.

13 ‘It’s I will do for my love’s sake
What many ladies would think lang;
Seven years shall come and go
Before a glove go on my hand.

14 ‘And I will do for my love’s sake
What many ladies would not do;
Seven years shall come and go
Before I wear stocking or shoe.

15 ‘Ther’ll neer a shirt go on my back,
There’ll neer a kame go in my hair,
There’ll never coal nor candle-light
Shine in my bower nae mair.’

Version E

1 AN ensign and a lady gay,
As they were walking on a green,
The ensign said to the lady gay,
Will you tak me to your bower at een?

2 ‘I have seven bluidy brithers,
Och and to you they have nae good will;
And if they catch you in my bower,
They’ll value not your bluid to spill.’

3 ‘O you may take me on your back,
And carry me to your chamber-bed,
That I may swear, and avow richt clear,
That your flowery bower I did never tread.

4 ‘O take a napkin from your pocket,
And with it blindfold my een,
That I may swear, and avow richt clear,
That your flowery bower I have never seen.’

5 O she’s taen him upon her back,
And carried him to her chamber-bed,
That he might swear, and avow it clear,
That her flowery [bower] he did never tread.

6 O she’s taen a napkin from her pocket,
And with it blinded baith his een,
That he might swear, and avow it clear,
That her flowery bower he had never seen.

7 They were not well into their bed,
Nor were they scarsely fallen asleep,
Till in there came her seven bluidy brithers,
And placed themselves at the ensign’s feet.

8 Said the first one to the second,
‘Och it is long since this love began;’
Said the second unto the third,
‘It’s a sin to kill a sleeping man.’

9 Said the third one to the fourth,
‘I will go to yon tavern hie;’
Said [the] fourth one to the fifth,
‘O if you will go, so will I.’

10 Said the fifth to the sixth,
‘Och it’s long since this love began;’
Said the sixth to the seventh,
‘It’s a sin to kill a sleeping man.’

11 Out then spoke the seventh bluidy brither,
Aye and an angry man was he:
‘Altho there was no more men alive,
The ensign’s butcher I will be.’

12 He’s taen out his rusty broad-sword,
And ran it three times along his throat,
And thro and thro the ensign’s body
The tempered steel it went thro and thro.

13 ‘O I have dreamed a dream,’ she said,
‘And such an dreams cannot be good;
I dreamed my bower was full of swine,
And the ensign’s clothes all dipped in blood.

14 ‘I have dreamed another dream,
And such an dreams are never good;
That I was combing down my yellow hair,
And dipping it in the ensign’s blood.’

15 ‘O hold your tongue, my sister dear,
And of your weeping let a be;
For I will get you a better match
Than eer the ensign, what was he?’

16 ‘So woe be to you, my seven bluidy brithers,
Aye and an ill death may you die!
For you durst not fight him in battle-field,
But you killed him sleeping in bed wi me.

17 ‘I’ll do more for my love’s sake
That other lovers would not incline;
Seven years shall come and go
Before I wash this face of mine.

18 ‘I will do for my love’s sake
What other lovers would not repair;
Seven years shall come and go
Before I comb down my yellow hair.

19 ‘I’ll do more for my love’s sake,
What other lovers will not do;
Seven years shall come and go
Before I cast off stocking and shoe.

20 ‘I will do for my love’s sake
What other lovers they will be slack;
Seven years shall come and go
Before I cast off my robes of black.

21 ‘Go make to me a high, high tower,
Be sure you make it stout and strong,
And on the top put an honour’s gate,
That my love’s ghost may go out and in.’

Version F

1 CLERK SAUNDERS was an earl’s son,
He livd upon sea-sand;
May Margaret was a king’s daughter,
She livd in upper land.

2 Clerk Saunders was an earl’s son,
Weel learned at the scheel;
May Margaret was a king’s daughter,
They baith loed ither weel.

3 He’s throw the dark, and throw the mark,
And throw the leaves o green,
Till he came to May Margaret’s door,
And tirled at the pin.

4 ‘O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,
Or are ye the bower within?’
O wha is that at my bower-door,
Sae weel my name does ken?’
‘It’s I, Clerk Saunders, your true-love,
You’ll open and lat me in.

5 ‘O will ye to the cards, Margaret,
Or to the table to dine?
Or to the bed, that’s weel down spread,
And sleep when we get time?’

6 ‘I’ll no go to the cards,’ she says,
‘Nor to the table to dine;
But I’ll go to a bed, that’s weel down spread,
And sleep when we get time.’

7 They were not weel lyen down,
And no weel fa’en asleep,
When up and stood May Margaret’s brethren,
Just up at their bed-feet.

8 ‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is aught yon noble steed,
That stands your stable in?’

9 ‘The steed is mine, and it may be thine,
To ride whan ye ride in hie;
. . . . .
. . . . .

10 ‘But awa, awa, my bald brethren,
Awa, and mak nae din;
For I am as sick a lady the nicht
As eer lay a bower within.’

11 ‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is aught yon noble hawk,
That stands your kitchen in?’

12 ‘The hawk is mine, and it may be thine,
To hawk whan ye hawk in hie;
. . . . .
. . . . .

13 ‘But awa, awa, my bald brethren,
Awa, and mak nae din;
For I’m ane o the sickest ladies this nicht
That eer lay a bower within.’

14 ‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
And dinna to us len,
O wha is that, May Margaret,
You and the wa between?’

15 ‘O it is my bower-maiden,’ she says,
‘As sick as sick can be;
O it is my bower-maiden,’ she says,
‘And she’s thrice as sick as me.’

16 ‘We hae been east, and we’ve been west,
And low beneath the moon;
But a’ the bower-women eer we saw
Hadna goud buckles in their shoon.’

17 Then up and spak her eldest brither,
Ay in ill time spak he:
‘It is Clerk Saunders, your true-love,
And never mat I the
But for this scorn that he has done
This moment he sall die.’

18 But up and spak her youngest brother,
Ay in good time spak he:
‘O but they are a gudelie pair!
True lovers an ye be,
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Sall never sinder ye.’

19 Syne up and spak her nexten brother,
And the tear stood in his ee:
‘You’ve loed her lang, and loed her weel,
And pity it wad be
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Shoud ever sinder ye.’

20 But up and spak her fifthen brother:
‘Sleep on your sleep for me;
But we baith sall never sleep again,
For the tane o us sall die.’

21 And up and spak her thirden brother,
Ay in ill time spak he:
‘Curse on his love and comeliness!
Dishonourd as ye be,
The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
Sall quickly sinder ye.’

22 The eldest brother has drawn his sword,
The second has drawn anither,
Between Clerk Saunders’ hause and collarbane
The cald iron met thegither.

23 ‘O wae be to you, my fause brethren,
And an ill death mat ye die!
Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field,
And no in bed wi me.’

Version G

1 CLERK SANDY and a lady gay
Where walking in the garden green,
And great and heavy was the love
That hae befa’en these twa between.

2 ‘A bed, a bed,’ said Clerk Sandy,
‘A bed, my love, for you and me;’
‘O never a foot,’ said the lady gay,
‘Till ance that we twa married be.

3 ‘My seven brithers will come in,
And a’ their torches burning bright;
They’ll say, We hae but ae sister,
And here she’s lying wi a knight.’

4 ‘Ye’ll take my brand I bear in hand,
And wi the same ye’ll lift the gin;
Then ye may swear, and save your oath,
That ye neer let Clerk Sandy in.

5 ‘Ye’ll take that kurchie on your head,
And wi the same tie up your een;
And ye will swear, and save your oath,
Ye saw not Sandy sin yestreen.

6 ‘Ye’ll lift me in your arms twa,
And carry me unto your bed;
Then ye may swear, and save your oath,
Clerk Sandy in your bower neer tread.’

7 She’s taen the brand he bare in hand,
And wi the same lifted the gin;
It was to swear, and save her oath,
She never loot Clerk Sandy in.

8 She’s taen the kurchie frae her head,
And wi the same tied up her een;
It was to swear, and save her oath,
She saw not Sandy sin yestreen.

9 She’s taen him in her arms twa,
And she’s carried him to her bed;
It was to swear, and save her oath,
Clerk Sandie in her bower neer tread.

10 They hadna kissd, nor love clapped,
Like other lovers when they meet,
Till in a quarter’s space and less
These two lovers fell sound asleep.

11 Then in it came her seven brothers,
And a’ their torches burning bright;
They said, We hae but ae sister,
And here she’s lying wi a knight.

12 O out it speaks the first o them,
‘We will awa and lat them be;’
Then out it speaks the second o them,
‘His father has nae mair but he.’

13 Out it speaks the third o them,
For he was standing on the birk:
‘Nae sweeter coud twa lovers lye,
Tho they’d been married in a kirk.’

14 Then out it speaks the fourth o them,
Mair fair and lovely is his buke:
‘Our sister dear we cannot blame,
Altho in him she pleasure took.’

15 Then out it speaks the fifth o them,
‘It were a sin to do them ill;’
Then out it spake the sixth o them,
‘It’s hard a sleeping man to kill.’

16 But out it speaks the seventh o them,
I wish an ill death mat he dee!
‘I wear the sharp brand by my side
That soon shall gar Clerk Sandy die.’

17 Then he’s taen out his trusty brand,
And he has stroakd it ower a strae;
And thro and thro Clerk Sandy’s middle
I wat he’s gart it come and gae.

18 The lady slept by her love’s side
Until the dawning o the day,
But what was dune she naething knew,
For when she wak’d these words did say:

19 ‘Awake, awake, now Clerk Sandy,
Awake, and turn you unto me;
Ye’re nae sae keen’s ye were at night,
When you and I met on the lee.’

20 O then she calld her chamber-maid
To bring her coal and candle seen:
‘I fear Clerk Sandy’s dead eneuch,
I had a living man yestreen.’

21 They hae lifted his body up,
They hae searched it round and round,
And even anent his bonny heart
Discovered the deadly wound.

22 She wrung her hands, and tore her hair,
And wrung her hands most bitterlie:
‘This is my fause brothers, I fear,
This night hae used this crueltie.

23 ‘But I will do for my love’s sake
Woud nae be done by ladies rare;
For seven years shall hae an end
Or eer a kame gang in my hair.

24 ‘O I will do for my love’s sake
What other ladies woud think lack;
For seven years shall hae an end
Or eer I wear but dowie black.

25 ‘And I will do for my love’s sake
What other ladies woudna thole;
Seven years shall hae an end
Or eer a shoe gang on my sole.’

26 In it came her father dear,
And he was belted in a brand;
Sae softly as he trad the floor,
And in her bower did stately stand.

27 Says, Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And ye’ll lat a’ your mourning be;
I’ll wed you to a higher match
Or eer his father’s son coud be.

28 ‘Wed well, wed well your seven sons;
I wish ill wedded they may be,
Sin they hae killd him Clerk Sandy!
For wedded shall I never be.’

29 His corpse was laid in the cauld clay,
The bells went tinkling thro the town;
‘Alas! alas!’ said the lady gay,
‘That eer I heard that waefu soun!’