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

The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Vol. 4 — Francis James Child

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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 4 of a five-volume Good Works Library edition, covering ballads 158 through 217, from “158. High Spencer's Feats in France” to “217. The Broom of Cowdenknows.” 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

158. High Spencer's Feats in France

Version A

1 THE court is kept att leeue London,
And euermore shall be itt;
The King sent for a bold embassador,
And Sir Hugh Spencer that he hight.

2 ‘Come hither, Spencer,’ saith our kinge,
‘And come thou hither vnto mee;
I must make thee an embassadour
Betweene the king of Ffrance and mee.

3 ‘Thou must comend me to the king of Ffrance,
And tell him thus and now from mee,
I wold know whether there shold be peace in his land,
Or open warr kept still must bee.

4 ‘Thou’st haue thy shipp at thy comande,
Thou’st neither want for gold nor fee;
Thou’st haue a hundred armed men,
All att thy bidding for to bee.’

5 The wind itt serued, and they sayled,
And towards Ffrance thus they be gone;
The wind did bring them safe to shore,
And safelye landed euerye one.

6 The Ffrenchmen lay on the castle-wall,
The English souldiers to behold:
‘You are welcome, traitors, out of England;
The heads of you are bought and sold.’

7 With that spake proud Spencer:
My leege, soe itt may not bee;
I am sent an embassador
Ffrom our English king to yee.

8 The king of England greetes you well,
And hath sent this word by mee;
He wold know whether there shold be peace in your land,
Or open warres kept still must bee.

9 ‘Comend me to the English kinge,
And tell this now from mee;
There shall neuer peace be kept in my land
While open warres kept there may bee.’

10 With that came downe the queene of Ffrance,
And an angry woman then was shee;
Saies, Itt had beene as fitt now for a king
To be in his chamber with his ladye,
Then to be pleading with traitors out of England,
Kneeling low vppon their knee.

11 But then bespake him proud Spencer,
For noe man else durst speake but hee:
You haue not wiped your mouth, madam,
Since I heard you tell a lye.

12 ‘O hold thy tounge, Spencer!’ shee said,
‘I doe not come to plead with thee;
Darest thou ryde a course of warr
With a knight that I shall put to thee?’

13 ‘But euer alacke!’ then Spencer sayd,
‘I thinke I haue deserued Gods cursse;
Ffor I haue not any armour heere,
Nor yett I haue noe iusting-horsse.’

14 ‘Thy shankes,’ quoth shee, ’Beneath the knee
Are verry small aboue the shinne
Ffor to doe any such honourablle deeds
As the Englishmen say thou has done.

15 ‘Thy shankes beene small aboue thy shoone,
And soe the beene aboue thy knee;
Thou art to slender euery way
Any good iuster for to bee.’

16 ‘But euer alacke,’ said Spencer then,
‘For one steed of the English countrye!’
With that bespake and one Ffrench knight,
This day thou’st haue the choyce of three.

17 The first steed he feiched out,
I-wis he was milke-white;
The first foot Spencer in stirropp sett,
His backe did from his belly tyte.

18 The second steed that he feitcht out,
I-wis that hee was verry browne;
The second foot Spencer in stirropp settt,
That horsse and man and all fell downe.

19 The third steed that he feitched out,
I-wis that he was verry blacke;
The third foote Spencer into the stirropp sett,
He leaped on to the geldings backe.

20 ‘But euer alacke,’ said Spencer then,
‘For one good steed of the English countrye!
Goe feitch me hither my old hacneye,
That I brought with me hither beyond the sea.’

21 But when his hackney there was brought,
Spencer a merry man there was hee;
Saies, With the grace of God and St George of England,
The feild this day shall goe with mee.

22 ‘I haue noe forgotten,’ Spencer sayd,
‘Since there was feild foughten att Walsingam,
When the horsse did heare the trumpetts sound,
He did beare ore both horsse and man.’

23 The day was sett, and togetther they mett,
With great mirth and melodye,
With minstrells playing, and trumpetts soundinge,
With drumes striking loud and hye.

24 The first race that Spencer run,
I-wis hee run itt wonderous sore;
He [hitt] the knight vpon his brest,
But his speare itt burst, and wold touch noe more.

25 ‘But euer alacke,’ said Spencer then,
‘For one staffe of the English countrye!
Without you’le bind me three together,’
Quoth hee, ’They’le be to weake for mee.’

26 With that bespake him the Ffrench knight,
Sayes, Bind him together the whole thirtye,
For I haue more strenght in my to hands
Then is in all Spencers bodye.

27 ‘But proue att parting,’ Spencer sayes,
‘Ffrench knight, here I tell itt thee;
For I will lay thee five to four
The bigger man I proue to bee.’

28 But the day was sett, and together they mett,
With great mirth and melodye,
With minstrells playing, and trumpetts soundinge,
With drummes strikeing loud and hye.

29 The second race that Spencer run,
I-wis hee ridd itt in much pride,
And he hitt the knight vpon the brest,
And draue him ore his horsse beside.

30 But he run thorrow the Ffrench campe;
Such a race was neuer run beffore;
He killed of King Charles his men
Att hand of thirteen or fourteen score.

31 But he came backe againe to the K[ing],
And kneeled him downe vpon his knee;
Saies, A knight I haue slaine, and a steed I haue woone,
The best that is in this countrye.

32 ‘But nay, by my faith,’ then said the King,
‘Spencer, soe itt shall not bee;
I’le haue that traitors head of thine,
To enter plea at my iollye.’

33 But Spencer looket him once about,
He had true bretheren left but four;
He killed ther of the Kings gard
About twelve or thirteen score.

34 ‘But hold thy hands,’ the King doth say,
‘Spencer, now I doe pray thee;
And I will goe into litle England,
Vnto that cruell kinge with thee.’

35 ‘Nay, by my faith,’ Spencer sayd,
‘My leege, for soe itt shall not bee;
For an you sett foot on English ground,
You shall be hanged vpon a tree.’

36 ‘Why then, comend [me] to that Englishe kinge,
And tell him thus now from mee,
That there shall neuer be open warres kept in my land
Whilest peace kept that there may bee.’

Version B

1 OUR king lay at Westminster,
as oft times he had done,
And he sent for Hugh Spencer,
to come to him anon.

2 Then in came Hugh Spencer,
low kneeling on his knee:
‘What’s the matter, my liege,
you sent so speedily for me?’

3 ‘Why you must go ambassadour
to France now, to see
Whether peace shall be taken,
aye, or open wars must be.’

4 ‘Who shall go with me?’
says Hugh Spencer, he:
‘That shall Hugh Willoughby
and John of Atherly.’
‘O then,’ says Hugh Spencer,
’we’ll be a merry company.’

5 When they came before the French king,
they kneeled low on the knee:
‘O rise up, and stand up,
whose men soer you be.’

6 The first that made answer
was Hugh Spencer, he:
‘We are English ambassadours,
come hither to see
Whether peace shall be taken,
aye, or open wars must be.’

7 Then spoke the French king,
and he spoke courteously:
The last time peace was broken,
it was neer along of me.

8 For you sunk my ships, slew my men,
and thus did ye;
And the last time peace was broken,
it was neer along of me.

9 Then in came Queen Maude,
and full as ill was she:
‘A chamber of presence
is better for thee,
Then amongst English shepherds,
low bending on the knee.’

10 The first that made answer
was Hugh Spencer, he:
‘We are no English shepherds,
Queen Maude, I tell thee,
But we’re knights, and knights fellows,
the worst man in our company.’

11 O then spoke Queen Maude,
and full as ill was she:
Thou shouldst be Hugh Spencer,
thou talkst so boldly.

12 And if thou beest Hugh Spencer,
as well thou seemst to be,
I’ve oft heard of thy justling,
and some of it would fain see.

13 I have a steed in my stable
that thou canst not ride;
I have a spear in my keeping
that thou canst not guide;
And I have a knight in my realm
that thou darest not abide.

14 Then Spencer askd Willoughby
and John of Atherly
Whether he should take this justling in hand,
aye, or let be.

15 O then spoke Hugh Willoughby
and John of Atherly:
If you won’t take it [in] hand,
why turn it unto we.

16 ‘It shall neer be said in England,’
says Hugh Spencer, he,
‘That I refused a good justling
and turned it to ye.

17 ‘Alas,’ says Hugh Spencer,
’Full sore may I moan,
I have nought here but an ambler,
my good steed’s at home.’

18 Then spoke a French knight,
and he spoke courteously:
I have thirty steeds in my stables,
the best of them take to thee.

19 ‘Gramercy,’ says Spencer,
‘aye, and gramercy;
If eer thou comest to England,
well rewarded shalt thou be.’

20 The first steed they brought him,
he was a milk-white:
‘Take that away,’ says Spencer,
’For I do not him like.’

21 The next steed they brought him,
he was a good dun:
‘Take that away,’ says Spencer,
’For he’s not for my turn.’

22 The next steed they brought him,
he was a dapple-grey:
‘Take that away,’ says Spencer,
’For he is not used to the way.’

23 The next steed they brought him,
he was a coal-black;
His eyes burnt in his head,
as if fire were in flax;
‘Come saddle me that horse,’ says Spencer,
’For I’ll have none but that.’

24 When that horse was saddled,
and Spencer got on,
With his spear at his foot,
O he was portly man!

25 ‘Now I am on that steede-back
that I could not ride,
That spear in my keeping
that I could not guide,
Come shew me that French knight
that I dare not abide.’

26 ‘It is a sign by thy sharp shin,
ay, and thy cropped knee,
That are no fit match
to justle with me:’
‘Why it makes no matter,’ says Spencer,
’you hear no brags of me.’

27 The first time they rode together,
now Sir Hugh and he,
He turnd him in his saddle
like an apple on a tree.

28 The next time they rode together,
now Sir Hugh and he,
He lit upon his breast-plate,
and he broke his spear in three.

29 ‘A spear now,’ says Spencer,
a+e spear now get me:’
’ thou shalt have one,’ says Willoughby,
’if in France one there be.’

30 ‘O tye two together,
and the stronger they’l be,
For the French is the better,
and the better shall be:’
‘Why it makes no matter,’ says Spencer,
’you hear no brags of me.’

31 The next time they rode together,
now Sir Hugh and he,
He threw him fifteen foot from his saddle,
and he broke his back in three:
‘Now I have slain thy justler,
Queen Maude, I tell thee.’

32 O then spoke Queen Maude,
and full as ill was she:
If thou’st slain my justler,
by the Kings laws thou’st dye.

33 ‘It shall neer be said in England,’
says Hugh Spencer, he;
‘It shall neer be said in England,’
says Hugh Willoughby;

34 ‘It shall neer be said in England,’
says John of Atherly,
‘That a queen of another nation
eer had her will of we.’

35 They laid their heads together,
and their backs to the wall;
There were four score of the Queen’s guards,
and they slew them all.

36 Then spoke the French king,
and he spoke courteously:
O hold thy hand, Spencer,
I dearly pray thee.

37 Thou art sharp as thy spear,
and as fierce as thy steed,
And the stour of thy lilly-white hand
makes my heart bleed.

38 Thou hadst twenty ships hither,
thou’st have twenty away;
Then hold thy hand, Spencer,
I dearly thee pray.

Version C

1 IT fell about the Martinmas time
The wind blew loud and cauld,
And all the knichts of fair Scotland
They drew them to sum hald.

2 Unless it was him young Sir Hugh,
And he beet to sail the sea,
Wi a letter between twa kings, to see an they
wald lat down the wars,
And live and lat them be.

3 On Friday shipped he, and lang
Ere Wodensday at noon
In fair France landed he,
. . .

4 He fell down before the King,
On his bare knees:
‘Gude mak ye safe and soun;’
‘Fat news o your contrie?’ he says.

5 ‘The news o our countrie,’ he says,
‘Is but news brought over the sea,
To see an ye’ll lat down the wars,
And live and lat them be.’

6 ‘Deed no,’ he says;
‘I’m but an auld man indeed,
But I’ll no lat down the wars,
And live and lat them be.’

7 It’s out it spak the Queen hersel: I have a shepherd’s sin
Would fight an hour wi you;
‘And by my seeth,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘That sight fain would I see.’

8 The firsten steed that he drew out,
He was the penny-gray;
He wad hae ridden oer meel or mor
A Leve-lang summer’s day.

9 O girths they brak, and great horse lap,
But still sat he on he:
‘A girth, a girth,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘A girth for charity!’
‘O every girth that you shall have,
Its gude lord shall hae three.’

10 The nexten steed that he drew out,
He was the penny-brown;
He wad hae ridden oer meel or mor
As ever the dew drap down.

11 O bridles brak, and great horse lap,
But still sat he on he:
‘A bridle, a bridle,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘A bridle for charitie!’
‘O every bridle that you shall have,
And its gude lord shall have three.’

12 The nexten steed that he drew out
He was the raven-black;
His een was glancin in his head
Like wild-fire in a slack;
‘Get here a boy,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘Cast on the saddle on that.’

13 O brands there brak, and great horse lap,
But still sat he on he:
‘A brand, a brand,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘A brand for charitie!’
‘O every brand that you sall have,
And its gude lord sall have three.’

14 He gave him a dep unto the heart,
And over the steed fell he:
‘I rather had gane you money,’ she says,
‘And free lands too,
That ye had foughten an hour wi him,
And than had latten him be.’

15 ‘If ye hae ony mair shepherd’s sins,’ he says,
‘Or cooks i your kitchie,
Or ony mair dogs to fell,
Ye’ll bring them here to me;
And gin they be a true-hearted Scotsman,
They’ll no be scorned by thee.’

159. Durham Field

1 LORDINGES, listen, and hold you still;
Hearken to me a litle;
I shall you tell of the fairest battell
That euer in England beffell.

2 For as it befell in Edward the Thirds dayes,
In England, where he ware the crowne,
Then all the cheefe chiualry of England
They busked and made them bowne.

3 y chosen all the best archers
That in England might be found,
And all was to fight with the king of Ffrance,
Within a litle stounde.

4 And when our king was ouer the water,
And on the salt sea gone,
Then tydings into Scotland came
That all England was gone.

5 Bowes and arrowes they were all forth,
At home was not left a man
But shepards and millers both,
And priests with shauen crownes.

6 Then the king of Scotts in a study stood,
As he was a man of great might;
He sware he wold hold his parlament in leeue London,
If he cold ryde there right.

7 Then bespake a squier, of Scottland borne,
And sayd, My leege, apace,
Before you come to leeue London,
Full sore you’le rue that race.

8 Ther beene bold yeomen in merry England,
Husbandmen stiffe and strong;
Sharpe swords they done weare,
Bearen bowes and arrowes longe.

9 The King was angrye at that word;
A long sword out he drew,
And there befor his royall companye
His owne squier hee slew.

10 Hard hansell had the Scottes that day,
That wrought them woe enoughe,
For then durst not a Scott speake a word
Ffor hanging att a boughe.

11 ‘The Earle of Anguish, where art thou?
In my coate-armor thou shalt bee,
And thou shalt lead the forward
Thorrow the English countrye.

12 ‘Take thee Yorke,’ then sayd the King,
‘In stead wheras it doth stand;
I’le make thy eldest sonne after thee
Heyre of all Northumberland.

13 ‘The Earle of Vaughan, where be yee?
In my coate-armor thou shalt bee;
The high Peak and Darbyshire
I giue it thee to thy fee.’

14 Then came in famous Douglas,
Saies, What shall my meede bee?
And I’le lead the vawward, lord,
Thorow the English countrye.

15 ‘Take thee Worster,’ sayd the King,
‘Tuxburye, Killingworth, Burton vpon Trent;
Doe thou not say another day
But I haue giuen thee lands and rent.

16 ‘Sir Richard of Edenborrow, where are yee?
A wise man in this warr!
I’le giue thee Bristow and the shire
The time that wee come there.

17 ‘My lord Nevill, where beene yee?
You must in this warres bee;
I’le giue thee Shrewsburye,’ saies the King,
‘And Couentrye faire and free.

18 ‘My lord of Hambleton, where art thou?
Thou art of my kin full nye;
I’le giue thee Lincolne and Lincolneshire,
And that’s enouge for thee.’

19 By then came in William Douglas,
As breeme as any bore;
He kneeled him downe vpon his knees,
In his hart he sighed sore.

20 Saies, I haue serued you, my louelye leege,
This thirty winters and four,
And in the Marches betweene England and Scottland
I haue beene wounded and beaten sore.

21 For all the good service that I haue done,
What shall my meed bee?
And I will lead the vanward
Thorrow the English countrye.

22 ‘Aske on, Douglas,’ said the king,
‘And granted it shall bee:’
‘Why then, I aske litle London,’ saies William Douglas,
‘Gotten giff that it bee.’

23 The King was wrath, and rose away,
Saies, Nay, that cannot bee!
For that I will keepe for my cheefe chamber,
Gotten if it bee.

24 But take thee North Wales and Weschaster,
The cuntrye all round about,
And rewarded thou shalt bee,
Of that take thou noe doubt.

25 Fiue score knights he made on a day,
And dubbd them with his hands;
Rewarded them right worthilye
With the townes in merry England.

26 And when the fresh knights they were made,
To battell the buske them bowne;
Iames Douglas went before,
And he thought to haue wonnen him shoone.

27 But the were mett in a morning of May
With the comminaltye of litle England;
But there scaped neuer a man away,
Through the might of Christ s hand.

28 But all onely Iames Douglas;
In Durham in the feild
An arrow stroke him in the thye;
Fast flinge[s he] towards the King.

29 The King looked toward litle Durham,
Saies, All things is not well!
For Iames Dowglas beares an arrow in his thye,
The head of it is of steele.

30 ‘How now Iames?’ then said the King,
‘How now, how may this bee?
And where beene all thy merrymen
That thou tooke hence with thee?’

31 ‘But cease, my king,’ saies Iames Douglas,
‘Aliue is not left a man!’
‘Now by my faith,’ saies the king of Scottes,
‘That gate was euill gone.

32 ‘But I’le reuenge thy quarrell well,
And of that thou may be faine;
For one Scott will beate fiue Englishmen,
If the meeten them on the plaine.’

33 ‘Now hold your tounge,’ saies Iames Douglas,
‘For in faith that is not soe;
For one English man is worth fiue Scotts,
When they meeten together thoe.

34 ‘For they are as egar men to fight
As a faulcon vpon a pray;
Alas! if euer the winne the vanward,
There scapes noe man away.’

35 ‘O peace thy talking,’ said the King,
‘They bee but English knaues,
But shepards and millers both,
And preists with their staues.’

36 The King sent forth one of his heralds of armes
To vew the Englishmen:
‘Be of good cheere,’ the herald said,
‘For against one wee bee ten.’

37 ‘Who leades those ladds?’ said the king of Scottes,
‘Thou herald, tell thou mee:’
The herald said, The Bishopp of Durham
Is captaine of that companye.

38 ‘For the Bishopp hath spred the King’s banner,
And to battell he buskes him bowne:’
‘I sweare by St. Andrewes bones,’ saies the King,
‘I’le rapp that preist on the crowne.’

39 The King looked towards litle Durham,
And that hee well beheld,
That the Earle Percy was well armed,
With his battell-axe entred the feild.

40 The King looket againe towards litle Durham,
Four ancyents there see hee;
There were to standards, six in a valley,
He cold not see them with his eye.

41 My Lord of Yorke was one of them,
My Lord of Carlile was the other,
And my Lord Ffluwilliams,
The one came with the other.

42 The Bishopp of Durham commanded his men,
And shortlye he them bade,
That neuer a man shold goe to the feild to fight
Till he had serued his God.

43 Fiue hundred preists said masse that day
In Durham in the feild,
And afterwards, as I hard say,
They bare both speare and sheeld.

44 The Bishopp of Durham orders himselfe to fight,
With his battell-axe in his hand;
He said, This day now I will fight
As long as I can stand!

45 ‘And soe will I,’ sayd my Lord of Carlile,
‘In this faire morning gay;’
‘And soe will I,’ said my Lord Ffluwilliams,
‘For Mary, that myld may.’

46 Our English archers bent their bowes
Shortlye and anon;
They shott ouer the Scottish oast
And scantlye toucht a man.

47 ‘Hold downe your hands,’ sayd the Bishopp of Durham,
‘My archers good and true:’
The second shoote that the shott,
Full sore the Scottes itt rue.

48 The Bishopp of Durham spoke on hye,
That both partyes might heare:
‘Be of good cheere, my merrymen all,
The Scotts flyen, and changen there cheere.’

49 But as the saidden, soe the didden,
They fell on heap s hye;
Our Englishmen laid on with their bowes,
As fast as they might dree.

50 The king of Scotts in a studye stood
Amongst his companye;
An arrow stoke him thorrow the nose,
And thorrow his armorye.

51 The King went to a marsh-side
And light beside his steede;
He leaned him downe on his sword-hilts,
To let his nose bleede.

52 There followed him a yeaman of merry England,
His name was Iohn of Coplande:
‘Yeeld thee, traytor!’ saies Coplande then,
‘Thy liffe lyes in my hand.’

53 ‘How shold I yeeld me,’ sayes the King,
‘And thou art noe gentleman?’
‘Noe, by my troth,’ sayes Copland there,
‘I am but a poore yeaman.

54 ‘What art thou better then I, Sir King?
Tell me if that thou can!
What art thou better then I, Sir King,
Now we be but man to man?’

55 The King smote angerly at Copland then,
Angerly in that stonde;
And then Copland was a bold yeaman,
And bore the King to the ground.

56 He sett the King upon a palfrey,
Himselfe upon a steede;
He tooke him by the bridle-rayne,
Towards London he can him lead.

57 And when to London that he came,
The King from Ffrance was new come home,
And there unto the king of Scottes
He sayd these words anon.

58 ‘How like you my shepards and my millers?
My priests with shaven crownes?’
‘By my fayth, they are the sorest fighting men
That ever I mett on the ground.

59 ‘There was never a yeaman in merry England
But he was worth a Scottish knight:’
‘I, by my troth,’ said King Edward, and laughe,
‘For you fought all against the right.’

60 But now the prince of merry England,
Worthilye under his sheelde,
Hath taken the king of Ffrance,
At Poytiers in the feelde.

61 The prince did present his father with that food,
The louely king off Ffrance,
And forward of his iourney he is gone:
God send us all good chance!

62 ‘You are welcome, brother!’ sayd the king of Scotts, to the king of Ffrance,
‘For I am come hither to soone;
Christ leeve that I had taken my way
Unto the court of Roome!’

63 ‘And soe wold I,’ said the king of Ffrance,
‘When I came over the streame,
That I had taken my iourney
Unto Ierusalem!’

64 Thus ends the battell of faire Durham,
In one morning of May,
The battell of Cressey, and the battle of Potyers,
All within one month s day.

65 Then was welthe and welfare in mery England,
Solaces, game, and glee,
And every man loved other well,
And the King loved good yeomanrye.

66 But God that made the grasse to growe,
And leaves on greenwoode tree,
Now save and keepe our noble king,
And maintaine good yeomanry!

160. The Knight of Liddesdale

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

161. The Battle of Otterburn

Version A

1 YT fell abowght the Lamasse tyde,
Whan husbondes wynnes ther haye,
The dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd hym to ryde,
In Ynglond to take a praye.

2 The yerlle of Fyffe, wythowghten stryffe,
He bowynd hym over Sulway;
The grete wolde ever to-gether ryde;
That raysse they may rewe for aye.

3 Over Hoppertope hyll they cam in,
And so down by Rodclyffe crage:
Vpon Grene Lynton they lyghted dowyn,
Styrande many a stage.

4 And boldely brente Northomberlond,
And haryed many a towyn;
They dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange,
To batell that were not bowyn.

5 Than spake a berne vpon the bent,
Of comforte that was not colde,
And sayd, We haue brente Northomberlond,
We haue all welth in holde.

6 Now we haue haryed all Bamborowe schyre,
All the welth in the worlde haue wee,
I rede we ryde to Newe Castell,
So styll and stalworthlye.

7 Vpon the morowe, when it was day,
The standerds schone full bryght;
To the Newe Castell the toke the waye,
And thether they cam full ryght.

8 Syr Henry Perssy laye at the New Castell,
I tell yow wythowtten drede;
He had byn a march-man all hys dayes,
And kepte Barwyke vpon Twede.

9 To the Newe Castell when they cam,
The Skottes they cryde on hyght,
‘Syr Hary Perssy, and thou byste within,
Com to the fylde, and fyght.

10 ‘For we haue brente Northomberlonde,
Thy erytage good and ryght,
And syne my logeyng I haue take
Wyth my brande dubbyd many a knyght.’

11 Syr Harry Perssy cam to the walles,
The Skottyssch oste for to se,
And sayd, And thou hast brente Northomberlond,
Full sore it rewyth me.

12 Yf thou hast haryed all Bamborowe schyre,
Thow hast done me grete envye;
For the trespasse thow hast me done,
The tone of vs schall dye.

13 ‘Where schall I byde the?’ sayd the Dowglas,
‘Or where wylte thow com to me?’
‘At Otterborne, in the hygh way,
[T]her mast thow well logeed be.

14 ‘[T]he roo full rekeles ther sche rinnes,
[T]o make the game a[nd] glee;
‘T]he fawken and the fesaunt both,
Among the holtes on hye.

15 ‘Ther mast thow haue thy welth at wyll,
Well looged ther mast be;
Yt schall not be long or I com the tyll,’
Sayd Syr Harry Perssye.

16 ‘Ther schall I byde the,’ sayd the Dowglas,
‘By the fayth of my bodye:’
‘Thether schall I com,’ sayd Syr Harry Perssy,
‘My trowth I plyght to the.’

17 A pype of wyne he gaue them over the walles,
For soth as I yow saye;
Ther he mayd the Dowglasse drynke,
And all hys ost that daye.

18 The Dowglas turnyd hym homewarde agayne,
For soth withowghten naye;
He toke hys logeyng at Oterborne,
Vpon a Wedynsday.

19 And ther he pyght hys standerd dowyn,
Hys getting more and lesse,
And syne he warned hys men to goo
To chose ther geldynges gresse.

20 A Skottysshe knyght hoved vpon the bent,
A wache I dare well saye;
So was he ware on the noble Perssy,
In the dawnyng of the daye.

21 He prycked to hys pavyleon-dore,
As faste as he myght ronne;
‘Awaken, Dowglas,’ cryed the knyght,
‘For hys love that syttes in trone.

22 ‘Awaken, Dowglas,’ cryed the knyght,
‘For thow maste waken wyth wynne;
Yender haue I spyed the prowde Perssye,
And seven stondardes wyth hym.’

23 ‘Nay by my trowth,’ the Dowglas sayed,
‘It ys but a fayned taylle;
He durst not loke on my brede banner
For all Ynglonde so haylle.

24 ‘Was I not yesterdaye at the Newe Castell,
That stondes so fayre on Tyne?
For all the men the Perssy had,
He coude not garre me ones to dyne.’

25 He stepped owt at his pavelyon-dore,
To loke and it were lesse:
‘Araye yow, lordynges, one and all,
For here bygynnes no peysse.

26 ‘The yerle of Mentaye, thow arte my eme,
The fowarde I gyve to the:
The yerlle of Huntlay, cawte and kene,
He schall be wyth the.

27 ‘The lorde of Bowghan, in armure bryght,
On the other hand he schall be;
Lord Jhonstoune and Lorde Maxwell,
They to schall be wyth me.

28 ‘Swynton, fayre fylde vpon your pryde!
To batell make yow bowen
Syr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde,
Syr Jhon of Agurstone!’

29 The Perssy cam byfore hys oste,
Wych was ever a gentyll knyght;
Vpon the Dowglas lowde can he crye,
‘I wyll holde that I haue hyght.

30 ‘For thou haste brente Northomberlonde,
And done me grete envye;
For thys trespasse thou hast me done,
The tone of vs schall dye.’

31 The Dowglas answerde hym agayne,
Wyth grett wurdes vpon hye,
And sayd, I haue twenty agaynst thy one,
Byholde, and thou maste see.

32 Wyth that the Perssy was grevyd sore,
For soth as I yow saye;
He lyghted dowyn vpon his foote,
And schoote hys horsse clene awaye.

33 Euery man sawe that he dyd soo,
That ryall was euer in rowght;
Euery man schoote hys horsse hym froo,
And lyght hym rowynde abowght.

34 Thus Syr Hary Perssye toke the fylde,
For soth as I yow saye;
Jhesu Cryste in hevyn on hyght
Dyd helpe hym well that daye.

35 But nyne thowzand, ther was no moo,
The cronykle wyll not layne;
Forty thowsande of Skottes and fowre
That day fowght them agayne.

36 But when the batell byganne to ioyne,
In hast ther cam a knyght;
The letters fayre furth hath he tayne,
And thus he sayd full ryght:

37 ‘My lorde your father he gretes yow well,
Wyth many a noble knyght;
He desyres yow to byde
That he may see thys fyght.

38 ‘The Baron of Grastoke ys com out of the west,
Wyth hym a noble companye;
All they loge at your fathers thys nyght,
And the batell fayne wolde they see.’

39 ‘For Jhesus love,’ sayd Syr Harye Perssy,
‘That dyed for yow and me,
Wende to my lorde my father agayne,
And saye thow sawe me not wyth yee.

40 ‘My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh knyght,
It nedes me not to layne,
That I schulde byde hym vpon thys bent,
And I haue hys trowth agayne.

41 ‘And if that I w[e]ynde of thys growende,
For soth, onfowghten awaye,
He wolde me call but a kowarde knyght
In hys londe another daye.

42 ‘Yet had I lever to be rynde and rente,
By Mary, that mykkel maye,
Then ever my manhood schulde be reprovyd
Wyth a Skotte another day.

43 ‘Wherfore schote, archars, for my sake,
And let scharpe arowes flee;
Mynstrells, playe vp for your waryson,
And well quyt it schall bee.

44 ‘Euery man thynke on hys trewe-love,
And marke hym to the Trenite;
For to God I make myne avowe
Thys day wyll I not flee.’

45 The blodye harte in the Dowglas armes,
Hys standerde stode on hye,
That euery man myght full well knowe;
By syde stode starr s thre.

46 The whyte lyon on the Ynglyssh perte,
For soth as I yow sayne,
The lucettes and the cressawntes both;
The Skottes favght them agayne.

47 Vpon Sent Androwe lowde can they crye,
And thrysse they schowte on hyght,
And syne merked them one owr Ynglysshe men,
As I haue tolde yow ryght.

48 Sent George the bryght, owr ladyes knyght,
To name they were full fayne;
Owr Ynglyssh men they cryde on hyght,
And thrysse the schowtte agayne.

49 Wyth that scharpe arowes bygan to flee,
I tell yow in sertayne;
Men of armes byganne to joyne,
Many a dowghty man was ther slayne.

50 The Perssy and the Dowglas mette,
That ether of other was fayne;
They swapped together whyll that the swette,
Wyth swordes of fyne collayne:

51 Tyll the bloode from ther bassonnettes ranne,
As the roke doth in the rayne;
‘Yelde the to me,’ sayd the Dowglas,
‘Or elles thow schalt be slayne.

52 ‘For I see by thy bryght bassonet,
Thow arte sum man of myght;
And so I do by thy burnysshed brande;
Thow arte an yerle, or elles a knyght.’

53 ‘By my good faythe,’ sayd the noble Perssye,
‘Now haste thow rede full ryght;
Yet wyll I never yelde me to the,
Whyll I may stonde and fyght.’

54 They swapped together whyll that they swette,
Wyth sword s scharpe and long;
Ych on other so faste thee beette,
Tyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn.

55 The Perssy was a man of strenghth,
I tell yow in thys stounde;
He smote the Dowglas at the sword s length
That he felle to the growynde.

56 The sworde was scharpe, and sore can byte,
I tell yow in sertayne;
To the harte he cowde hym smyte,
Thus was the Dowglas slayne.

57 The stonderdes stode styll on eke a syde,
Wyth many a grevous grone;
Ther the fowght the day, and all the nyght,
And many a dowghty man was slayne.

58 Ther was no freke that ther wolde flye,
But styffely in stowre can stond,
Ychone hewyng on other whyll they myght drye,
Wyth many a bayllefull bronde.

59 Ther was slayne vpon the Skott s syde,
For soth and sertenly,
Syr James a Dowglas ther was slayne,
That day that he cowde dye.

60 The yerlle of Mentaye he was slayne,
Grysely groned vpon the growynd;
Syr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde,
Syr Jhon of Agurstoune.

61 Syr Charll s Morrey in that place,
That never a fote wold flee;
Syr Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was,
Wyth the Dowglas dyd he dye.

62 Ther was slayne vpon the Skott s syde,
For soth as I yow saye,
Of fowre and forty thowsande Scottes
Went but eyghtene awaye.

63 Ther was slayne vpon the Ynglysshe syde,
For soth and sertenlye,
A gentell knight, Syr Jhon Fechewe,
Yt was the more pety.

64 Syr James Hardbotell ther was slayne,
For hym ther hartes were sore;
The gentyll Lovell ther was slayne,
That the Perssys standerd bore.

65 Ther was slayne vpon the Ynglyssh perte,
For soth as I yow saye,
Of nyne thowsand Ynglyssh men
Fyve hondert cam awaye.

66 The other were slayne in the fylde;
Cryste kepe ther sowlles from wo!
Seyng ther was so fewe fryndes
Agaynst so many a foo.

67 Then on the morne they mayde them beerys
Of byrch and haysell graye;
Many a wydowe, wyth wepyng teyres,
Ther makes they fette awaye.

68 Thys fraye bygan at Otterborne,
Bytwene the nyght and the day;
Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyffe,
And the Perssy was lede awaye.

69 Then was ther a Scottysh prisoner tayne,
Syr Hewe Mongomery was hys name;
For soth as I yow saye,
He borowed the Perssy home agayne.

70 Now let vs all for the Perssy praye
To Jhesu most of myght,
To bryng hys sowlle to the blysse of heven,
For he was a gentyll knyght.

Version B

1 IT fell and about the Lammas time,
When husbandmen do win their hay,
Earl Douglass is to the English woods,
And a’ with him to fetch a prey.

2 He has chosen the Lindsays light,
With them the gallant Gordons gay,
And the Earl of Fyfe, withouten strife,
And Sir Hugh Montgomery upon a grey.

3 They have taken Northumberland,
And sae hae they the north shire,
And the Otter Dale, they hae burnt it hale,
And set it a’ into fire.

4 Out then spake a bonny boy,
That servd ane o Earl Douglass kin;
Methinks I see an English host,
A-coming branken us upon.

5 ‘If this be true, my little boy,
And it be troth that thou tells me,
The brawest bower in Otterburn
This day shall be thy morning-fee.

6 ‘But if it be fase, my little boy,
But and a lie that thou tells me,
On the highest tree that’s in Otterburn
With my ain hands I’ll hing thee high.’

7 The boy’s taen out his little penknife,
That hanget low down by his gare,
And he gaed Earl Douglass a deadly wound,
Alack! a deep wound and a sare.

8 Earl Douglas said to Sir Hugh Montgomery,
Take thou the vanguard o the three,
And bury me at yon braken-bush,
That stands upon yon lilly lee.

9 Then Percy and Montgomery met,
And weel a wot they warna fain;
They swaped swords, and they twa swat,
And ay the blood ran down between.

10 ‘O yield thee, yield thee, Percy,’ he said,
‘Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low;’
‘Whom to shall I yield,’ said Earl Percy,
‘Now I see it maun be so?’

11 ‘O yield thee to yon braken-bush,
That grows upon yon lilly lee;
. . . .
. . . .

12 ‘I winna yield to a braken-bush,
Nor yet will I unto a brier;
But I would yield to Earl Douglass,
Or Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he was here.’

13 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery,
He stuck his sword’s point in the ground,
And Sir Hugh Montgomery was a courteous knight,
And he quickly broght him by the hand.

14 This deed was done at Otterburn,
About the breaking of the day;
Earl Douglass was buried at the braken-bush,
And Percy led captive away.

Version C

1 IT fell about the Lammas tide,
When the muir-men win their hay,
The doughty Douglas bound him to ride
Into England, to drive a prey.

2 He chose the Gordons and the Gra+emes,
With them the Lindesays, light and gay;
But the Jardines wald not with him ride,
And they rue it to this day.

3 And he has burnd the dales of Tyne,
And part of Bambrough shire,
And three good towers on Reidswire fells,
He left them all on fire.

4 And he marchd up to Newcastle,
And rode it round about:
‘O wha’s the lord of this castle?
Or wha’s the lady o’t?’

5 But up spake proud Lord Percy then,
And O but he spake hie!
I am the lord of this castle,
My wife’s the lady gay.

6 ‘If thou’rt the lord of this castle,
Sae weel it pleases me,
For, ere I cross the Border fells,
The tane of us shall die.’

7 He took a lang spear in his hand,
Shod with the metal free,
And for to meet the Douglas there
He rode right furiouslie.

8 But O how pale his lady lookd,
Frae aff the castle-wa,
When down before the Scottish spear
She saw proud Percy fa.

9 ‘Had we twa been upon the green,
And never an eye to see,
I wad hae had you, flesh and fell;
But your sword sall gae wi me.’

10 ‘But gae ye up to Otterbourne,
And, wait there dayis three,
And, if I come not ere three dayis end,
A fause knight ca ye me.’

11 ‘The Otterbourne’s a bonnie burn;
’Tis pleasant there to be;
But there is nought at Otterbourne
To feed my men and me.

12 ‘The deer rins wild on hill and dale,
The birds fly wild from tree to tree;
But there is neither bread nor kale
To fend my men and me.

13 ‘Yet I will stay at Otterbourne,
Where you shall welcome be;
And, if ye come not at three dayis end,
A fause lord I’ll ca thee.’

14 ‘Thither will I come,’ proud Percy said,
‘By the might of Our Ladye;’
‘There will I bide thee,’ said the Douglas,
‘My troth I plight to thee.’

15 They lighted high on Otterbourne,
Upon the bent sae brown;
They lighted high on Otterbourne,
And threw their pallions down.

16 And he that had a bonnie boy,
Sent out his horse to grass;
And he that had not a bonnie boy,
His ain servant he was.

17 But up then spake a little page,
Before the peep of dawn:
‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
For Percy’s hard at hand.’

18 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud!
Sae loud I hear ye lie:
For Percy had not men yestreen
To dight my men and me.

19 ‘But I have dreamd a dreary dream,
Beyond the Isle of Sky;
I saw a dead man win a fight,
And I think that man was I.’

20 He belted on his guid braid sword,
And to the field he ran,
But he forgot the helmet good,
That should have kept his brain.

21 When Percy with the Douglas met,
I wat he was fu fain;
They swakked their swords, till sair they swat,
And the blood ran down like rain.

22 But Percy with his good broad sword,
That could so sharply wound,
Has wounded Douglas on the brow,
Till he fell to the ground.

23 Then he calld on his little foot-page,
And said, Run speedilie,
And fetch my ain dear sister’s son,
Sir Hugh Montgomery.

24 ‘My nephew good,’ the Douglas said,
‘What recks the death of ane!
Last night I dreamd a dreary dream,
And I ken the day’s thy ain.

25 ‘My wound is deep; I fain would sleep;
Take thou the vanguard of the three,
And hide me by the braken-bush,
That grows on yonder lilye lee.

26 ‘O bury me by the braken-bush,
Beneath the blooming brier;
Let never living mortal ken
That ere a kindly Scot lies here.’

27 He lifted up that noble lord,
Wi the saut tear in his ee;
He hid him in the braken-bush,
That his merrie men might not see.

28 The moon was clear, the day drew near,
The spears in flinders flew,
But mony a gallant Englishman
Ere day the Scotsmen slew.

29 The Gordons good, in English blood
They steepd their hose and shoon;
The Lindsays flew like fire about,
Till all the fray was done.

30 The Percy and Montgomery met,
That either of other were fain;
They swapped swords, and they twa swat,
And aye the blood ran down between.

31 ‘Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy,’ he said,
‘Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low!’
‘To whom must I yield,’ quoth Earl Percy,
‘Now that I see that it must be so?’

32 ‘Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun,
Nor yet shalt thou yield to me;
But yield thee to the braken-bush,
That grows upon yon lilye lee.’

33 ‘I will not yield to a braken-bush,
Nor yet will I yield to a brier;
But I would yield to Earl Douglas,
Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here.’

34 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery,
He struck his sword’s point in the gronde;
The Montgomery was a courteous knight,
And quickly took him by the honde.

35 This deed was done at the Otterbourne,
About the breaking of the day;
Earl Douglas was buried at the braken-bush,
And the Percy led captive away.

Version D

1 THEN out an spak a little wee boy,
And he was near o Percy’s kin:
Methinks I see the English host
A coming branking us upon.

2 Wi nine waggons scaling wide,
And seven banners bearing high;
It was do any living gude
To see their bonny colours fly.

Version E

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

162. The Hunting of the Cheviot

Version A

1 THE Pers owt off Northombarlonde,
and avowe to God mayd he
That he wold hunte in the mowntayns
off Chyviat within days thre,
In the magger of dought Dogles,
and all that euer with him be.

2 The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat
he sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away:
‘Be my feth,’ sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn,
‘I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.’

3 The[n] the Pers owt off Banborowe cam,
with him a myghtee meany,
With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and bone;
and bone;
the wear chosen owt of shyars thre.

4 This begane on a Monday at morn,
in Cheviat the hillys so he;
The chylde may rue that ys vn-born,
it wos the mor pitt .

5 The dryvars thorowe the woodees went,
for to reas the dear;
Bomen byckarte vppone the bent
with ther browd aros cleare.

6 Then the wyld thorowe the woodees went,
on euery syd shear;
Greahondes thorowe the grevis glent,
for to kyll thear dear.

7 This begane in Chyviat the hyls abone,
yerly on a Monnyn-day;
Be that it drewe to the oware off none,
a hondrith fat hartees ded ther lay.

8 The blewe a mort vppone the bent,
the semblyde on sydis shear;
To the quyrry then the Pers went,
to se the bryttlynge off the deare.

9 He sayd, It was the Duglas promys
this day to met me hear;
But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;
a great oth the Pers swear.

10 At the laste a squyar off Northomberlonde
lokyde at his hand full ny;
He was war a the doughetie Doglas commynge,
with him a myghtt meany.

11 h with spear, bylle, and brande,
yt was a myghtti sight to se;
Hardyar men, both off hart nor hande,
wear not in Cristiant .

12 The wear twenti hondrith spear-men good,
withoute any feale;
The wear borne along be the watter a Twyde,
yth bowndees of Tividale.

13 ‘Leave of the brytlyng of the dear,’ he sayd,
a+end to your bo’ys lock ye tayk good hede;
For neuer sithe ye wear on your mothars borne
had ye neuer so mickle nede.’

14 The dougheti Dogglas on a stede,
he rode alle his men beforne;
His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede;
a boldar barne was never born.

15 ‘Tell me whos men ye ar,’ he says,
’or whos men that ye be:
Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Chyviat chays,
in the spyt of myn and of me.’

16 The first mane that ever him an answear mayd,
yt was the good lord Pers :
‘We wyll not tell the whoys men we ar,’ he says,
’Nor whos men that we be;
But we wyll hounte hear in this chays,
in the spyt of thyne and of the.

17 ‘The fattiste hartees in all Chyviat
we haue kyld, and cast to carry them away:’
‘Be my troth,’ sayd the doughet Dogglas agay[n],
’therfor the ton of vs shal de this day.’

18 Then sayd the dought Doglas
unto the lord Pers :
‘To kyll alle thes giltles men,
alas, it wear great pitt !

19 But, Pers, thowe art a lord of lande,
I am a yerle callyd within my contr ;
Let all our men vppone a parti stande,
and do the battell off the and of me.’

20 ‘Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne,’ sayd the lorde Pers,
’who-so-euer ther-to says nay!
Be my troth, doughtte Doglas,’ he says,
’Thow shalt neuer se that day.

21 ‘Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France,
nor for no man of a woman born,
But, and fortune be my chance,
I dar met him, on man for on.’

22 Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde,
Richard Wytharyngton was him nam;
‘It shal neuer be told in Sothe-Ynglonde,’ he says,
’To Kyng Herry the Fourth for sham.

23 ‘I wat youe byn great lordees twaw,
I am a poor squyar of lande;
I wylle neuer se my captayne fyght on a fylde,
and stande my selffe and loocke on,
But whylle I may my weppone welde,
I wylle not [fayle] both hart and hande.’

24 That day, that day, that dredfull day!
the first fit here I fynde;
And youe wyll here any mor a the hountynge a the Chyviat,
yet ys ther mor behynde.

25 The Yngglyshe men hade ther bowys yebent,
ther hartes wer good yenoughe;
The first off arros that the shote off,
seven skore spear-men the sloughe.

26 Yet byddys the yerle Doglas vppon the bent,
a captayne good yenoughe,
And that was sene verament,
for he wrought hom both woo and wouche.

27 The Dogglas partyd his ost in thre,
lyk a cheffe cheften off pryde;
With suar spears off myghtt tre,
the cum in on euery syde;

28 Thrughe our Yngglyshe archery
gave many a wounde fulle wyde;
Many a doughet the garde to dy,
which ganyde them no pryde.

29 The Ynglyshe men let ther bo’ys be,
and pulde owt brandes that wer brighte;
It was a hevy syght to se
bryght swordes on basnites lyght.

30 Thorowe ryche male and myneyeple,
many sterne the strocke done streght;
Many a freyke that was fulle fre,
ther vndar foot dyd lyght.

31 At last the Duglas and the Pers met,
lyk to captayns of myght and of mayne;
The swapte toghethar tylle the both swat,
with swordes that wear of fyn myllan.

32 Thes worth freckys for to fyght,
ther-to the wear fulle fayne,
Tylle the bloode owte off thear basnetes sprente,
as euer dyd heal or ra[y]n.

33 ‘Yelde the, Pers,’ sayde the Doglas,
a+end i feth I shalle the brynge
Wher thowe shalte haue a yerls wagis
of Jamy our Skottish kynge.

34 ‘Thoue shalte haue thy ransom fre,
I hight the hear this thinge;
For the manfullyste man yet art thowe
that euer I conqueryd in filde fighttynge.’

35 ‘Nay,’ sayd the lord Pers,
‘I tolde it the beforne,
That I wolde neuer yeldyde be
to no man of a woman born.’

36 With that ther cam an arrowe hastely,
forthe off a myghtt wane;
Hit hathe strekene the yerle Duglas
in at the brest-bane.

37 Thorowe lyvar and longees bathe
the sharpe arrowe ys gane,
That neuer after in all his lyffe-days
he spayke mo wordees but ane:
That was, Fyghte ye, my myrry men, whyllys ye may,
for my lyff-days ben gan.

38 The Pers leanyde on his brande,
and sawe the Duglas de;
He tooke the dede mane by the hande,
and sayd, Wo ys me for the!

39 ‘To haue savyde thy lyffe, I wolde haue partyde with
my landes for years thre,
For a better man, of hart nare of hande,
was nat in all the north contr .’

40 Off all that se a Skottishe knyght,
was callyd Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry;
He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght,
he spendyd a spear, a trusti tre.

41 He rod vppone a corsiare
throughe a hondrith archery:
He neuer stynttyde, nar neuer blane,
tylle he cam to the good lord Pers .

42 He set vppone the lorde Pers
a dynte that was full soare;
With a suar spear of a myghte tre
clean thorow the body he the Pers ber,

43 A the tothar syde that a man myght se
a large cloth-yard and mare:
Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Cristiant
then that day slan wear ther.

44 An archar off Northomberlonde
say slean was the lord Pers ;
He bar a bende bowe in his hand,
was made off trusti tre.

45 An arow that a cloth-yarde was lang
to the harde stele halyde he;
A dynt that was both sad and soar
he sat on Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry.

46 The dynt yt was both sad and sar
that he of Monggomberry sete;
The swane-fethars that his arrowe bar
with his hart-blood the wear wete.

47 Ther was neuer a freake wone foot wolde fle,
but still in stour dyd stand,
Heawyng on yche othar, whylle the myghte dre,
with many a balfull brande.

48 This battell begane in Chyviat
an owar befor the none,
And when even-songe bell was rang,
the battell was nat half done.

49 The tocke . . on ethar hande
be the lyght off the mone;
Many hade no strenght for to stande,
in Chyviat the hillys abon.

50 Of fifteen hondrith archars of Ynglonde
went away but seuenti and thre;
Of twenti hondrith spear-men of Skotlonde,
but even five and fifti.

51 But all wear slayne Cheviat within;
the hade no streng[th]e to stand on hy;
The chylde may rue that ys unborne,
it was the mor pitt .

52 Thear was slayne, withe the lord Pers,
Ser Johan of Agerstone,
Ser Rogar, the hinde Hartly,
Ser Wyllyam, the bolde Hearone.

53 Ser Jorg, the worth Loumle,
a knyghte of great renowen,
Ser Raff, the ryche Rugbe,
with dyntes wear beaten dowene.

54 For Wetharryngton my harte was wo,
that euer he slayne shulde be;
For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to,
yet he knyled and fought on hys kny.

55 Ther was slayne, with the dougheti Duglas,
Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry,
Ser Dauy Lwdale, that worth was,
his sistars son was he.

56 Ser Charls a Murr in that place,
that neuer a foot wolde fle;
Ser Hewe Maxwelle, a lorde he was,
with the Doglas dyd he dey.

57 So on the morrowe the mayde them byears
off birch and hasell so g[r]ay;
Many wedous, with wepyng tears,
cam to fache ther makys away.

58 Tivydale may carpe off care,
Northombarlond may mayk great mon,
For towe such captayns as slayne wear thear
on the March-parti shall neuer be non.

59 Word ys commen to Eddenburrowe,
to Jamy the Skottishe kynge,
That dougheti Duglas, lyff-tenant of the Marches,
Marches,
he lay slean Chyviot within.

60 His handd s dyd he weal and wryn7 he sayd, Alas, and woe ys me!
Such an othar captayn Skotland within,
he sayd, ye-feth shuld neuer be.

61 Worde ys commyn to lovly Londone,
till the fourth Harry our kynge,
That lord Pers, leyff-tenante of the Marchis,
he lay slayne Chyviat within.

62 ‘God haue merci on his solle,’ sayde Kyng Harry,
’good lord, yf thy will it be!
I haue a hondrith captayns in Ynglonde,’ he sayd,
a+es good as euer was he:
But, Pers, and I brook my lyffe,
thy deth well quyte shall be.’

63 As our noble kynge mayd his avowe,
lyke a noble prince of renowen,
For the deth of the lord Pers
he dyde the battell of Hombyll-down;

64 Wher syx and thritt Skottishe knyghtes
on a day wear beaten down;
Glendale glytteryde on ther armor bryght,
over castille, towar, and town.

65 This was the hontynge off the Cheviat,
that tear begane this spurn;
Old men that knowen t8e grownde well yenoughe
call it the battell of Otterburn.

66 At Otterburn begane this spurne,
vppone a Monnynday;
Ther was the dought Doglas slean,
the Pers neuer went away.

67 Ther was neuer a tym on the Marche-part s
sen the Doglas and the Pers met,
But yt ys mervele and the rede blude ronne not,
as the reane doys in the stret.

68 Ihesue Crist our balys bete,
and to the blys vs brynge!
Thus was the hountynge of the Chivyat:
God send vs alle good endyng!

Version B

1 GOD prosper long our noble king,
our liffes and saftyes all!
A woefull hunting once there did
in Cheuy Chase befall.

2 To driue the deere with hound and horne
Erle Pearcy took the way:
The child may rue that is vnborne
the hunting of that day!

3 The stout Erle of Northumberland
a vow to God did make
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
three sommers days to take,

4 The cheefest harts in Cheuy C[h]ase
to kill and beare away:
These tydings to Erle Douglas came
in Scottland, where he lay.

5 Who sent Erle Pearcy present word
he wold prevent his sport;
The English erle, not fearing that,
did to the woods resort,

6 With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
all chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of neede
to ayme their shafts arright.

7 The gallant greyhound[s] swiftly ran
to chase the fallow deere;
On Munday they began to hunt,
ere daylight did appeare.

8 And long before high noone the had
a hundred fat buckes slaine;
Then hauing dined, the drouyers went
to rouze the deare againe.

9 The bowmen mustered on the hills,
well able to endure;
Theire backsids all with speciall care
that day were guarded sure.

10 The hounds ran swiftly through the woods
the nimble deere to take,
That with their cryes the hills and dales
an eccho shrill did make.

11 Lord Pearcy to the querry went
to veiw the tender deere;
Quoth he, Erle Douglas promised once
this day to meete me heere;

12 But if I thought he wold not come,
noe longer wold I stay.
With that a braue younge gentlman
thus to the erle did say:

13 ‘Loe, yonder doth Erle Douglas come,
hys men in armour bright;
Full twenty hundred Scottish speres
all marching in our sight.

14 ‘All men of pleasant Tiuydale,
fast by the riuer Tweede:’
‘O ceaze your sportts!’ Erle Pearcy said,
a+end take your bowes with speede.

15 ‘And now with me, my countrymen,
your courage forth advance!
For there was neuer champion yett,
in Scottland nor in Ffrance,

16 ‘That euer did on horsbacke come,
[but], and if my hap it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
with him to breake a spere.’

17 Erle Douglas on his milke-white steede,
most like a baron bold,
Rode formost of his company,
whose armor shone like gold.

18 ‘Shew me,’ sayd hee, ’whose men you bee
that hunt soe boldly heere,
That without my consent doe chase
and kill my fallow deere.’

19 The first man that did answer make
was noble Pearcy hee,
Who sayd, Wee list not to declare
nor shew whose men wee bee;

20 ‘Yett wee will spend our deerest blood
thy cheefest harts to slay.’
Then Douglas swore a solempne oathe,
and thus in rage did say:

21 ‘Ere thus I will outbraued bee,
one of vs tow shall dye;
I know thee well, an erle thou art;
Lord Pearcy, soe am I.

22 ‘But trust me, Pearcye, pittye it were,
and great offence, to kill
Then any of these our guiltlesse men,
for they haue done none ill.

23 ‘Let thou and I the battell trye,
and set our men aside:’
‘Accurst bee [he!]’ Erle Pearcye sayd,
’By whome it is denyed.’

24 Then stept a gallant squire forth-+-
Witherington was his name-+-
Who said, ‘I wold not haue it told
to Henery our king, for shame,

25 ‘That ere my captaine fought on foote,
and I stand looking on.
You bee two Erles,’ quoth Witheringhton,
and I a squier alone;

26 ‘I’le doe the best that doe I may,
while I haue power to stand;
While I haue power to weeld my sword,
I’le fight with hart and hand.’

27 Our English archers bent their bowes;
their harts were good and trew;
Att the first flight of arrowes sent,
full foure score Scotts the slew.

28 To driue the deere with hound and horne,
Dauglas bade on the bent;
Two captaines moued with mickle might,
their speres to shiuers went.

29 They closed full fast on euerye side,
noe slacknes there was found,
But many a gallant gentleman
lay gasping on the ground.

30 O Christ! it was great greeue to see
how eche man chose his spere,
And how the blood out of their brests
did gush like water cleare.

31 At last these two stout erles did meet,
like captaines of great might;
Like lyons woode they layd on lode;
the made a cruell fight.

32 The fought vntill they both did sweat,
with swords of tempered steele,
Till blood downe their cheekes like raine
the trickling downe did feele.

33 ‘O yeeld thee, Pearcye!’ Douglas sayd,
a+end in faith I will thee bringe
Where thou shall high advanced bee
by Iames our Scottish king.

34 ‘Thy ransome I will freely giue,
and this report of thee,
Thou art the most couragious knight
[that ever I did see.]’

35 ‘Noe, Douglas!’ quoth Erle Percy then,
’Thy profer I doe scorne;
I will not yeelde to any Scott
that euer yett was borne!’

36 With that there came an arrow keene,
out of an English bow,
Which stroke Erle Douglas on the brest
a deepe and deadlye blow.

37 Who neuer sayd more words then these:
Fight on, my merry men all!
For why, my life is att [an] end,
lord Pearcy sees my fall.

38 Then leauing liffe, Erle Pearcy tooke
the dead man by the hand;
Who said, ‘Erle Dowglas, for thy life,
wold I had lost my land!

39 ‘O Christ! my verry hart doth bleed
for sorrow for thy sake,
For sure, a more redoubted knight
mischance cold neuer take.’

40 A knight amongst the Scotts there was
which saw Erle Douglas dye,
Who streight in hart did vow revenge
vpon the Lord Pearcye.

41 Sir Hugh Mountgomerye was he called,
who, with a spere full bright,
Well mounted on a gallant steed,
ran feircly through the fight,

42 And past the English archers all,
without all dread or feare,
And through Erle Percyes body then
he thrust his hatfull spere.

43 With such a vehement force and might
his body he did gore,
The staff ran through the other side
a large cloth-yard and more.

44 Thus did both these nobles dye,
whose courage none cold staine;
An English archer then perceiued
the noble erle was slaine.

45 He had [a] good bow in his hand,
made of a trusty tree;
An arrow of a cloth-yard long
to the hard head haled hee.

46 Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye
his shaft full right he sett;
The grey-goose-winge that was there-on
in his harts bloode was wett.

47 This fight from breake of day did last
till setting of the sun,
For when the rung the euening-bell
the battele scarse was done.

48 With stout Erle Percy there was slaine
Sir Iohn of Egerton,
Sir Robert Harcliffe and Sir William,
Sir Iames, that bold barron.

49 And with Sir George and Sir Iames,
both knights of good account,
Good Sir Raphe Rebbye there was slaine,
whose prowesse did surmount.

50 For Witherington needs must I wayle
as one in dolefull dumpes,
For when his leggs were smitten of,
he fought vpon his stumpes.

51 And with Erle Dowglas there was slaine
Sir Hugh Mountgomerye,
And Sir Charles Morrell, that from feelde
one foote wold neuer flee;

52 Sir Roger Heuer of Harcliffe tow,
his sisters sonne was hee;
Sir David Lambwell, well esteemed,
but saved he cold not bee.

53 And the Lord Maxwell, in like case,
with Douglas he did dye;
Of twenty hundred Scottish speeres,
scarce fifty-fiue did flye.

54 Of fifteen hundred Englishmen
went home but fifty-three;
The rest in Cheuy Chase were slaine,
vnder the greenwoode tree.

55 Next day did many widdowes come
their husbands to bewayle;
They washt their wounds in brinish teares,
but all wold not prevayle.

56 Theyr bodyes, bathed in purple blood,
the bore with them away;
They kist them dead a thousand times
ere the were cladd in clay.

57 The newes was brought to Eddenborrow,
where Scottlands king did rayne,
That braue Erle Douglas soddainlye
was with an arrow slaine.

58 ‘O heauy newes!’ King Iames can say;
‘Scottland may wittenesse bee
I haue not any captaine more
of such account as hee.’

59 Like tydings to King Henery came,
within as short a space,
That Pearcy of Northumberland
was slaine in Cheuy Chase.

60 ‘Now God be with him!’ said our king,
’Sith it will noe better bee;
I trust I haue within my realme
fiue hundred as good as hee.

61 ‘Yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say
but I will vengeance take,
And be revenged on them all
for braue Erle Percyes sake.’

62 This vow the king did well performe
after on Humble-downe;
In one day fifty knights were slayne,
with lords of great renowne.

63 And of the rest, of small account,
did many hundreds dye:
Thus endeth the hunting in Cheuy Chase,
made by the Erle Pearcye.

64 God saue our king, and blesse this land
with plentye, ioy, and peace,
And grant hencforth that foule debate
twixt noble men may ceaze!

163. The Battle of Harlaw

Version A

1 AS I cam in by Dunidier,
An doun by netherha,
There was fifty thousand Hielanmen
A-marching to Harlaw.
Wi a dree dree dradie drumtie dree.

2 As I cam on, an farther on,
An doun an by Balquhain,
Oh there I met Sir James the Rose,
Wi him Sir John the Gryme.

3 ‘O cam ye frae the Hielans, man?
An cam ye a’ the wey?
Saw ye Macdonell an his men,
As they cam frae the Skee?’

4 ‘Yes, me cam frae ta Hielans, man,
An me cam a’ ta wey,
An she saw Macdonell and his men,
As they cam frae ta Skee.’

5 ‘Oh was ye near Macdonell’s men?
Did ye their numbers see?
Come, tell to me, John Hielanman,
What micht their numbers be?’

6 ‘Yes, me was near, an near eneuch,
An me their numbers saw;
There was fifty thousan Hielanmen
A-marchin to Harlaw.’

7 ‘Gin that be true,’ says James the Rose,
‘We’ll no come meikle speed;
We’ll cry upo our merry men,
And lichtly mount our steed.’

8 ‘Oh no, oh no,’ says John the Gryme,
‘That thing maun never be;
The gallant Grymes were never bate,
We’ll try phat we can dee.’

9 As I cam on, an farther on,
An doun an by Harlaw,
They fell fu close on ilka side;
Sic fun ye never saw.

10 They fell fu close on ilka side,
Sic fun ye never saw;
For Hielan swords gied clash for clash,
At the battle o Harlaw.

11 The Hielanmen, wi their lang swords,
They laid on us fu sair,
An they drave back our merry men
Three acres breadth and mair.

12 Brave Forb s to his brither did say,
Noo brither, dinna ye see?
They beat us back on ilka side,
An we’se be forced to flee.

13 ‘Oh no, oh no, my brither dear,
That thing maun never be;
Tak ye your good sword in your hand,
An come your wa’s wi me.’

14 ‘Oh no, oh no, my brither dear,
The clans they are ower strang,
An they drive back our merry men,
Wi swords baith sharp an lang.’

15 Brave Forb s drew his men aside,
Said, Tak your rest a while,
Until I to Drumminnor send,
To fess my coat o mail.

16 The servan he did ride,
An his horse it did na fail,
For in twa hours an a quarter
He brocht the coat o mail.

17 Then back to back the brithers twa
Gaed in amo the thrang,
An they hewed doun the Hielanmen,
Wi swords baith sharp and lang.

18 Macdonell, he was young an stout,
Had on his coat o mail,
An he has gane oot throw them a’,
To try his han himsell.

19 The first ae straik that Forb s strack,
He garrt Macdonell reel,
An the neist ae straik that Forb s strack,
The great Macdonell fell.

20 An siccan a lierachie
I’m sure ye never saw
As wis amo the Hielanmen,
When they saw Macdonell fa.

21 An whan they saw that he was deid,
They turnd an ran awa,
An they buried him in Leggett’s Den,
A large mile frae Harlaw.

22 They rade, they ran, an some did gang,
They were o sma record;
But Forb s an his merry men,
They slew them a’ the road.

23 On Monanday, at mornin,
The battle it began,
On Saturday, at gloamin,
Ye’d scarce kent wha had wan.

24 An sic a weary buryin
I’m sure ye never saw
As wis the Sunday after that,
On the muirs aneath Harlaw.

25 Gin ony body speer at you
For them ye took awa,
Ye may tell their wives and bairnies
They’re sleepin at Harlaw.

Version B

1 AS I cam thro the Garrioch land,
And in by Over Ha,
There was sixty thousan Highland men
Marching to Harlaw.

11 The Highland men, with their broad sword,
Pushd on wi might and power,
Till they bore back the red-coat lads
Three furlongs long, and more.

15 Lord Forb s calld his men aside,
Says, Take your breath awhile,
Until I send my servant now
To bring my coat o mail.

164. King Henry Fifth's Conquest of France

1 AS our king lay musing on his bed,
He bethought himself upon a time
Of a tribute that was due from France,
Had not been paid for so long a time.
Fal, lal, etc.

2 He called for his lovely page,
His lovely page then called he,
Saying, You must go to the king of France,
To the king of France, sir, ride speedily.

3 O then went away this lovely page,
This lovely page then away went he;
And when he came to the king of France,
Low he fell down on his bended knee.

4 ‘My master greets you, worthy sir;
Ten ton of gold that is due to he,
That you will send him his tribute home,
Or in French land you soon will him see.’

5 ‘Your master’s young and of tender years,
Not fir to come into my degree,
And I will send him three tennis-balls,
That with them he may learn to play.’

6 O then returned this lovely page,
This lovely page then returned he,
And when he came to our gracious king,
Low he fell down on his bended knee.

7 ‘What news, what news, my trusty page?
What is the news you have brought to me?’
‘I have brought such news from the king of France
That you and he will never agree.

8 ‘He says you’re young and of tender years,
Not fit to come into his degree,
And he will send you three tennis-balls,
That with them you may learn to play.’

9 ‘Recruit me Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby Hills that are so free;
No marryd man nor no widow’s son;
For no widow’s curse shall go with me.’

10 They recruited Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby Hills that are so free;
No marryd man, nor no widow’s son;
Yet there was a jovial bold company.

11 O then we marchd into the French land,
With drums and trumpets so merrily;
And then bespoke the king of France,
‘Lo, yonder comes proud King Henry.’

12 The first shot that the Frenchmen gave,
They killd our Englishmen so free;
We killd ten thousand of the French,
And the rest of them they ran away.

13 And then we marched to Paris gates,
With drums and trumpets so merrily:
O then bespoke the king of France,
‘The Lord have mercy on my men and me!

14 ‘O I will send him his tribute home,
Ten ton of gold that is due to he,
And the finest flower that is in all France
To the Rose of England I will give free.’

165. Sir John Butler

1 BUT word is come to Warrington,
And Busye Hall is laid about;
Sir Iohn Butler and his merry men
Stand in full great doubt.

2 When they came to Busye Hall
Itt was the merke midnight,
And all the bridges were vp drawen,
And neuer a candle-light.

3 There they made them one good boate,
All of one good bull skinn;
William Sauage was one of the first
That euer came itt within.

4 Hee sayled ore his merrymen,
By two and two together,
And said itt was as good a bote
As ere was made of lether.

5 ‘Waken yoi, waken you, deare father!
God waken you within!
For heere is your vnckle Standlye
Come your hall within.’

6 ‘If that be true, Ellen Butler,
These tydings you tell mee,
A hundred pound in good redd gold
This night will not borrow mee.’

7 Then came downe Ellen Butler
And into her fathers hall,
And then came downe Ellen Butler,
And shee was laced in pall.

8 ‘Where is thy father, Ellen Butler?
Haue done, and tell itt mee:’
‘My father is now to London ridden,
As Christ shall haue part of mee.’

9 ‘Now nay, now nay, Ellen Butler,
Ffor soe itt must not bee;
Ffor ere I goe forth of this hall,
Your father I must see.’

10 The sought that hall then vp and downe
Theras Iohn Butler lay;
The sought that hall then vp and downe
Theras Iohn Butler lay.

11 Ffaire him Ffall, litle Holcrofft!
Soe merrilye he kept the dore,
Till that his head from his shoulders
Came tumbling downe the floore.

12 ‘Yeeld thee, yeelde thee, Iohn Butler!
Yeelde thee now to mee!’
‘I will yeelde me to my vnckle Stanlye,
And neere to false Peeter Lee.’

13 ‘A preist, a preist,’ saies Ellen Butler,
‘To housle and to shriue!
A preist, a preist,’ sais Ellen Butler,
‘While that my father is a man aliue!’

14 Then bespake him William Sauage,
A shames death may hee dye!
Sayes, He shall haue no other preist
But my bright sword and mee.

15 The Ladye Butler is to London rydden,
Shee had better haue beene att home;
Shee might haue beggd her owne marryed lord
Att her good brother Iohn.

16 And as shee lay in leeue London,
And as shee lay in her bedd,
Shee dreamed her owne marryed lord
Was swiminnge in blood soe red.

17 Shee called vp her merry men all,
Long ere itt was day;
Saies, Wee must ryde to Busye Hall,
With all speed that wee may.

18 Shee matt with three Kendall men,
Were ryding by the way:
‘Tydings, tydings, Kendall men,
I pray you tell itt mee!’

19 ‘Heauy tydings, deare madam;
Ffrom you wee will not leane;
The worthyest knight in merry England,
Iohn Butler, Lord! hee is slaine!’

20 ‘Ffarewell, farwell, Iohn Butler!
Ffor thee I must neuer see:
Ffarewell, farwell, Busiye Hall!
For thee I will neuer come nye.’

21 Now Ladye Butler is to London againe,
In all the speed might bee,
And when shee came before her prince,
Shee kneeled low downe on her knee.

22 ‘A boone, a boone, my leege!’ shee sayes,
‘Ffor Gods loue grant itt mee!’
‘What is thy boone,Lady Butler?
Or what wold thou haue of mee?

23 ‘What is thy boone, Lady Butler?
Or what wold thou haue of mee?’
‘That false Peeres of Lee, and my brother Stanley,
And William Sauage, and all, may dye.’

24 ‘Come you hither, Lady Butler,
Come you ower this stone;
Wold you haue three men for to dye,
All for the losse off one?

25 ‘Come you hither, Lady Butler,
With all the speed you may;
If thou wilt come to London, Lady Butler,
Thou shalt goe home Lady Gray.’

166. The Rose of England

1 THROUGHOUT a garden greene and gay,
A seemlye sight itt was to see
How flowers did flourish fresh and gay,
And birds doe sing melodiouslye.

2 In the midst of a garden there sprange a tree,
Which tree was of a mickle price,
And there vppon sprang the rose soe redd,
The goodlyest that euer sprange on rise.

3 This rose was faire, fresh to behold,
Springing with many a royall lance;
A crowned king, with a crowne of gold,
Ouer England, Ireland, and of Ffrance.

4 Then in came a beast men call a bore,
And he rooted this garden vpp and downe;
By the seede of the rose he sett noe store,
But afterwards itt wore the crowne.

5 Hee tooke the branches of this rose away,
And all in sunder did them teare,
And he buryed them vnder a clodd of clay,
Swore they shold neuer bloome nor beare.

6 Then came in an egle gleaming gay,
Of all faire birds well worth the best;
He took the branche of the rose away,
And bore itt to Latham to his nest.

7 But now is this rose out of England exiled,
This certaine truth I will not laine;
But if itt please you to sitt a while,
I’le tell you how the rose came in againe.

8 Att Milford Hauen he entered in;
To claime his right, was his delight;
He brought the blew bore in with him,
To encounter with the bore soe white.

9 The[n] a messenger the rose did send
To the egles nest, and bidd him hye:
‘To my father, the old egle, I doe [me] comend,
His aide and helpe I craue speedylye.’

10 Saies, I desire my father att my cominge
Of men and mony att my need,
And alsoe my mother of her deer blessing;
The better then I hope to speede.

11 And when the messenger came before thold egle,
He kneeled him downe vpon his knee;
Saith, Well greeteth you my lord the rose,
He hath sent you greetings here by me.

12 Safe from the seas Christ hath him sent,
Now he is entered England within:
‘Let vs thanke God,’ the old egle did say,
‘He shall be the flower of all his kine.

13 ‘Wend away, messenger, with might and maine;
Itt’s hard to know who a man may trust;
I hope the rose shall flourish againe,
And haue all things att his owne lust.’

14 Then Sir Rice ap Thomas drawes Wales with him;
A worthy sight itt was to see,
How the Welchmen rose wholy with him,
And shogged them to Shrewsburye.

15 Att that time was baylye in Shrewsburye
One Master Mitton, in the towne;
The gates were strong, and he mad them fast,
And the portcullis he lett downe.

16 And throug a garrett of the walls,
Ouer Severne these words said hee;
‘Att these gates no man enter shall;’
But he kept him out a night and a day.

17 These words Mitton did Erle Richmond tell
(I am sure the chronicles of this will not lye);
But when lettres came from Sir William Stanley of the Holt castle,
Then the gates were opened presentlye.

18 Then entred this towne the noble lord,
The Erle Richmond, the rose soe redd;
The Erle of Oxford, with a sword,
Wold haue smitt of the bailiffes head.

19 ‘But hold your hand,’ saies Erle Richmond,
‘Ffor his loue that dyed vpon a tree!
Ffor if wee begin to head so soone,
In England wee shall beare no degree.’

20 ‘What offence haue I made thee,’ sayd Erle Richmonde,
‘That thou kept me out of my towne?’
‘I know no king,’ sayd Mitton then,
‘But Richard now, that weares the crowne.’

21 ‘Why, what wilt thou say,’ said Erle Richmonde,
‘When I haue put King Richard downe?’
‘Why, then Ile be as true to you, my lord,
After the time that I am sworne.’

22 ‘Were itt not great pitty,’ sayd Erle Richmond,
‘That such a man as this shold dye,
Such loyall service by him done?
(The cronickles of this will not lye.)

23 ‘Thou shalt not be harmed in any case;’
He pardone[d] him presentlye;
They stayd not past a night and a day,
But towards Newport did they hye.

24 But [at] Attherston these lords did meete;
A worthy sight itt was to see,
How Erle Richmond tooke his hatt in his hand,
And said, Cheshire and Lancashire, welcome to me!

25 But now is a bird of the egle taken;
Ffrom the white bore he cannot flee;
Therfore the old egle makes great moane,
And prayes to God most certainly.

26 ‘O stedfast God, verament,’ he did say,
‘Thre persons in one god in Trinytye,
Saue my sonne, the young egle, this day
Ffrom all false craft and trecherye!’

27 Then the blew bore the vanward had;
He was both warry and wise of witt;
The right hand of them he tooke,
The sunn and wind of them to gett.

28 Then the egle followed fast vpon his pray,
With sore dints he did them smyte;
The talbott he bitt wonderous sore,
Soe well the vnicorne did him quite.

29 And then came in the harts head;
A worthy sight itt was to see,
The iacketts that were of white and redd,
How they laid about them lustilye.

30 But now is the feirce feeld foughten and ended,
And the white bore there lyeth slaine,
And the young egle is preserued,
And come to his nest againe.

31 But now this garden flourishes freshly and gay,
With fragrant flowers comely of hew,
And gardners itt doth maintaine;
I hope they will proue iust and true.

32 Our king, he is the rose soe redd,
That now does flourish fresh and gay:
Confound his foes, Lord, wee beseeche,
And loue His Grace both night and day!

167. Andrew Bartin

Version A

1 As itt beffell in m[i]dsumer-time,
When burds singe sweetlye on euery tree,
Our noble king, King Henery the Eighth,
Ouer the riuer of Thames past hee.

2 Hee was no sooner ouer the riuer,
Downe in a forrest to take the ayre,
But eighty merchants of London cittye
Came kneeling before King Henery there.

3 ‘O yee are welcome, rich merchants,
[Good saylers, welcome unto me!’]
They swore by the rood the were saylers good,
But rich merchants they cold not bee.

4 ‘To Ffrance nor Fflanders dare we nott passe,
Nor Burdeaux voyage wee dare not fare,
And all for a false robber that lyes on the seas,
And robb[s] vs of our merchants-ware.’

5 King Henery was stout, and he turned him about,
And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might,
‘I thought he had not beene in the world throughout
That durst haue wrought England such vnright.’

6 But euer they sighed, and said, alas!
Vnto King Harry this answere againe:
‘He is a proud Scott that will robb vs all
If wee were twenty shipps and hee but one.’

7 The king looket ouer his left shoulder,
Amongst his lords and barrons soe free:
‘Haue I neuer lord in all my realme
Will feitch yond traitor vnto mee?’

8 ‘Yes, that dare I!’ sayes my lord Chareles Howard,
Neere to the king wheras hee did stand;
‘If that Your Grace will giue me leaue,
My selfe wilbe the only man.’

9 ‘Thou shalt haue six hundred men,’ saith our king,
‘And chuse them out of my realme soe free;
Besids marriners and boyes,
To guide the great shipp on the sea.’

10 ‘I’le goe speake with Sir Andrew,’ sais Charles, my lord Haward
‘Vpon the sea, if hee be there;
I will bring him and his shipp to shore,
Or before my prince I will neuer come neere.’

11 The first of all my lord did call,
A noble gunner hee was one;
This man was three score yeeres and ten,
And Peeter Simon was his name.

12 ‘Peeter,’ sais hee, ‘I must sayle to the sea,
To seeke out an enemye; God be my speed!’
Before all others I haue chosen thee;
Of a hundred guners thoust be my head.’

13 ‘My lord,’ sais hee, ’if you haue chosen mee
Of a hundred gunners to be the head,
Hange me att your maine-mast tree
If I misse my marke past three pence bread.’

14 The next of all my lord he did call,
A noble bowman hee was one;
In Yorekeshire was this gentleman borne,
And William Horsley was his name.

15 RR’Hrrorsley,’ sayes hee, ‘I must sayle to the sea,
To seeke out an enemye; God be my speede!
Before all others I haue chosen thee;
Of a hundred bowemen thoust be my head.’

16 ‘My lord,’ sais hee, ’if you haue chosen mee
Of a hundred bowemen to be the head,
Hang me att your mainemast-tree
If I misse my marke past twelue pence bread.’

17 With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold,
This noble Howard is gone to the sea
On the day before midsummer-euen,
And out att Thames mouth sayled they.

18 They had not sayled dayes three
Vpon their iourney they tooke in hand,
But there they mett with a noble shipp,
And stoutely made itt both stay and stand.

19 ou must tell me thy name,’ sais Charles, my lord Haward,
‘Or who thou art, or from whence thou came,
Yea, and where thy dwelling is,
To whom and where thy shipp does belong.’

20 ‘My name,’ sayes hee, ’is Henery Hunt,
With a pure hart and a penitent mind;
I and my shipp they doe belong
Vnto the New-castle that stands vpon Tine.’

21 ‘Now thou must tell me, Harry Hunt,
As thou hast sayled by day and by night,
Hast thou not heard of a stout robber?
Men calls him Sir Andrew Bartton, knight.’

22 But euer he sighed, and sayd, Alas!
Ffull well, my lord, I know that wight;
He robd me of my merchants ware,
And I was his prisoner but yesternight.

23 As I was sayling vppon the sea,
And [a] Burdeaux voyage as I did fare,
He clasped me to his archborde,
And robd me of all my merchants-ware.

24 And I am a man both poore and bare,
And euery man will haue his owne of me,
And I am bound towards London to fare,
To complaine to my prince Henerye.

25 ‘That shall not need,’ sais my lord Haward;
‘If thou canst lett me this robber see,
Ffor euery peny he hath taken thee froe,
Thou shalt be rewarded a shilling,’ quoth hee.

26 ‘Now God forefend,’ saies Henery Hunt,
‘My lord, you shold worke soe farr amisse!
God keepe you out of that traitors hands!
For you wott full litle what a man hee is.

27 ‘Hee is brasse within, and steele without,
And beames hee beares in his topcastle stronge;
His shipp hath ordinance cleane round about;
Besids, my lord, hee is verry well mand.

28 ‘He hath a pinnace, is deerlye dight,
Saint Andrews crosse, that is his guide;
His pinnace beares nine score men and more,
Besids fifteen cannons on euery side.

29 ‘If you were twenty shippes, and he but one,
Either in archbord or in hall,
He wold ouercome you euerye one,
And if his beames they doe downe fall.’

30 ‘This is cold comfort,’ sais my Lord Haward,
‘To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea;
I’le bring him and his shipp to shore,
Or else into Scottland hee shall carrye mee.’

31 ‘Then you must gett a noble gunner, my lord,
That can sett well with his eye,
And sinke his pinnace into the sea,
And soone then ouercome will hee bee.

32 ‘And when that you haue done this,
If you chance Sir Andrew for to bord,
Lett no man to his topcastle goe;
And I will giue you a glasse, my lord,

33 ‘And then you need to feare no Scott,
Whether you sayle by day or by night;
And to-morrow, by seuen of the clocke,
You shall meete with Sir Andrew Bartton, knight.

34 ‘I was his prisoner but yester night,
And he hath taken mee sworne,’ quoth hee;
‘I trust my L[ord] God will me forgiue
And if that oath then broken bee.

35 ‘You must lend me sixe peeces, my lord,’ quoth hee,
‘Into my shipp, to sayle the sea,
And to-morrow, by nine of the clocke,
Your Honour againe then will I see.’

36 And the hache-bord where Sir Andrew lay
Is hached with gold deerlye dight:
‘Now by my faith,’ sais Charles, my lord Haward,
‘Then yonder Scott is a worthye wight!

37 ‘Take in your ancyents and your standards,
Yea that no man shall them see,
And put me forth a white willow wand,
As merchants vse to sayle the sea.’

38 But they stirred neither top nor mast,
But Sir Andrew they passed by:
‘Whatt English are yonder,’ said Sir Andrew,
‘That can so litle curtesye?

39 ‘I haue beene admirall ouer the sea
More then these yeeres three;
There is neuer an English dog, nor Portingall,
Can passe this way without leaue of mee.

40 t now yonder pedlers, they are past,
Which is no litle greffe to me:
Ffeich them backe,’ sayes Sir Andrew Bartton,
‘They shall all hang att my maine-mast tree.’

41 With that the pinnace itt shott of,
That my Lord Haward might itt well ken;
Itt stroke downe my lords foremast,
And killed fourteen of my lord his men.

42 ‘Come hither, Simon!’ sayes my lord Haward,
‘Looke that thy words be true thou sayd;
I’le hang thee att my maine-mast tree
If thou misse thy marke past twelue pence bread.’

43 Simon was old, but his hart itt was bold;
Hee tooke downe a peece, and layd itt full lowe;
He put in chaine yeards nine,
Besids other great shott lesse and more.

44 With that hee lett his gun-shott goe;
Soe well hee settled itt with his eye,
The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe,
Hee see his pinnace sunke in the sea.

45 When hee saw his pinace sunke,
Lord! in his hart hee was not well:
‘Cutt my ropes! itt is time to be gon!
I’le goe feitch yond pedlers backe my selfe!’

46 When my lord Haward saw Sir Andrew loose,
Lord! in his hart that hee was faine:
‘Strike on your drummes! spread out your ancyents!
Sound out your trumpetts! sound out amaine!’

47 ‘Ffight on, my men!’ sais Sir Andrew Bartton;
‘Weate, howsoeuer this geere will sway,
Itt is my lord Adm[i]rall of England
Is come to seeke mee on the sea.’

48 Simon had a sonne; with shott of a gunn-+--+-
Well Sir Andrew might itt ken-+--+-
He shott itt in att a priuye place,
And killed sixty more of Sr Andrews men.

49 Harry Hunt came in att the other syde,
And att Sir Andrew hee shott then;
He droue downe his formast-tree,
And killed eighty more of Sir Andriwes men.

50 ‘I haue done a good turne,’ sayes Harry Hunt;
‘Sir Andrew is not our kings freind;
He hoped to haue vndone me yesternight,
But I hope I haue quitt him well in the end.’

51 ‘Euer alas!’ sayd Sir Andrew Barton,
‘What shold a man either thinke or say?
Yonder false theeffe is my strongest enemye,
Who was my prisoner but yesterday.

52 ‘Come hither to me, thou Gourden good,
And be thou readye att my call,
And I will giue thee three hundred pound
If thou wilt lett my beames downe fall.’

53 With that hee swarued the maine-mast tree,
Soe did he itt with might and maine;
Horseley, with a bearing arrow,
Stroke the Gourden through the braine.

54 And he fell into the haches againe,
And sore of this wound that he did bleed;
Then word went throug Sir Andrews men,
That the Gourden hee was dead.

55 ‘Come hither to me, Iames Hambliton,
Thou art my sisters sonne, I haue no more;
I will giue [thee] six hundred pound
If thou will lett my beames downe fall.’

56 With that hee swarued the maine-mast tree,
Soe did hee itt with might and maine:
Horseley, with another broad arrow,
Strake the yeaman through the braine.

57 That hee fell downe to the haches againe;
Sore of his wound that hee did bleed;
Couetousness getts no gaine,
Itt is verry true, as the Welchman sayd.

58 But when hee saw his sisters sonne slaine,
Lord! in his heart hee was not well:
‘Goe feitch me downe my armour of proue,
Ffor I will to the topcastle my-selfe.

59 ‘Goe feitch me downe my armour of prooffe,
For itt is guilded with gold soe cleere;
God be with my brother, Iohn of Bartton!
Amongst the Portingalls hee did itt weare.’

60 But when hee had his armour of prooffe,
And on his body hee had itt on,
Euery man that looked att him
Sayd, Gunn nor arrow hee neede feare none.

61 ‘Come hither, Horsley!’ sayes my lord Haward,
‘And looke your shaft that itt goe right;
Shoot a good shoote in the time of need,
And for thy shooting thoust be made a knight.’

62 ‘I’le doe my best,’ sayes Horslay then,
‘Your Honor shall see beffore I goe;
If I shold be hanged att your mainemast,
I haue in my shipp but arrowes tow.’

63 But att Sir Andrew hee shott then;
Hee made sure to hitt his marke;
Vnder the spole of his right arme
Hee smote Sir Andrew quite throw the hart.

64 Yett from the tree hee wold not start,
But hee clinged to itt with might and maine;
Vnder the coller then of his iacke,
He stroke Sir Andrew thorrow the braine.

65 ‘Ffight on my men,’ sayes Sir Andrew Bartton,
‘I am hurt, but I am not slaine;
I’le lay mee downe and bleed a-while,
And then I’le rise and fight againe.

66 ‘Ffight on my men,’ sayes Sir Andrew Bartton,
‘These English doggs they bite soe lowe;
Ffight on for Scottland and Saint Andrew
Till you heare my whistle blowe!’

67 But when the cold not heare his whistle blow,
Sayes Harry Hunt, I’le lay my head
You may bord yonder noble shipp, my lord,
For I know Sir Andrew hee is dead.

68 With that they borded this noble shipp,
Soe did they itt with might and maine;
The found eighteen score Scotts aliue,
Besids the rest were maimed and slaine.

69 My lord Haward tooke a sword in his hand,
And smote of Sir Andrews head;
The Scotts stood by did weepe and mourne,
But neuer a word durst speake or say.

70 He caused his body to be taken downe,
And ouer the hatch-bord cast into the sea,
And about his middle three hundred crownes:
‘Whersoeuer thou lands, itt will bury thee.’

71 With his head they sayled into England againe,
With right good will, and force and main,
And the day beffore Newyeeres euen
Into Thames mouth they came againe.

72 My lord Haward wrote to King Heneryes grace,
With all the newes hee cold him bring:
‘Such a Newyeeres gifft I haue brought to your Gr[ace]
As neuer did subiect to any king.

73 ‘Ffor merchandyes and manhood,
The like is nott to be found;
The sight of these wold doe you good,
Ffor you haue not the like in your English ground.’

74 But when hee heard tell that they were come,
Full royally hee welcomed them home;
Sir Andrews shipp was the kings Newyeeres guifft;
A brauer shipp you neuer saw none.

75 Now hath our king Sir Andrews shipp,
Besett with pearles and precyous stones;
Now hath England two shipps of warr,
Two shipps of warr, before but one.

76 ‘Who holpe to this?’ sayes King Henerye,
‘That I may reward him for his paine:’
‘Harry Hunt, and Peeter Simon,
William Horseleay, and I the same.’

77 ‘Harry Hunt shall haue his whistle and chaine,
And all his iewells, whatsoeuer they bee,
And other rich giffts that I will not name,
For his good service he hath done mee.

78 ‘Horslay, right thoust be a knight,
Lands and liuings thou shalt haue store;
Howard shalbe erle of Nottingham,
And soe was neuer Howard before.

79 ‘Now, Peeter Simon, thou art old;
I will maintaine thee and thy sonne;
Thou shalt haue fiue hundred pound all in gold
Ffor the good service that thou hast done.’

80 Then King Henerye shiffted his roome;
In came the Queene and ladyes bright;
Other arrands they had none
But to see Sir Andrew Bartton, knight.

81 But when they see his deadly face,
His eyes were hollow in his head;
‘I wold giue a hundred pound,’ sais King Henerye,
‘The man were aliue as hee is dead!

82 ‘Yett for the manfull part that hee hath playd,
Both heere and beyond the sea,
His men shall haue halfe a crowne a day
To bring them to my brother, King Iamye.’

Version B

1 WHEN Flora, with her fragrant flowers,
Bedeckt the earth so trim and gay,
And Neptune, with his dainty showers,
Came to present the month of May,

2 King Henry would a progress ride;
Over the river of Thames past he,
Unto a mountain-top also
Did walk, some pleasure for to see.

3 Where forty merchants he espy’d,
With fifty sail, come towards him,
Who then no sooner were arriv’d,
But on their knees did thus complain.

4 ‘An ’t please Your Grace, we cannot sail
To France no voyage, to be sure,
But Sir Andrew Barton makes us quail,
And robs us of our merchant-ware.’

5 Vext was the king, and turned him,
Said to the lords of high degree,
Have I ner a lord within my realm
Dare fetch that traytor unto me?

6 To him repli’d Lord Charles Howard:
I will, my liege, with heart and hand;
If it please you grant me leave, he said,
I will perform what you command.

7 To him then spake King Henry:
I fear, my lord, you are too young.
‘No whit at all, my liege,’ quoth he;
‘I hope to prove in valour strong.

8 ‘The Scottish knight I vow to seek,
In what place soever he be,
And bring a shore, with all his might,
Or into Scotland he shall carry me.’

9 ‘A hundred men,’ the king then said,
‘Out of my realm shall chosen be,
Besides sailors and ship-boys
To guide a great ship on the sea.

10 ‘Bow-men and gunners of good skill
Shall for this service chosen be,
And they at thy command and will
In all affairs shall wait on thee.’

11 Lord Howard calld a gunner then
Who was the best in all the realm;
His age was threescore years and ten,
And Peter Simon was his name.

12 My lord calld then a bow-man rare,
Whose active hands had gained fame,
A gentleman born in Yorkshire,
And William Horsly was his name.

13 ‘Horsly,’ quoth he, ‘I must to sea,
To seek a traytor, with great speed;
Of a hundred bow-men brave,’ quoth he,
‘I have chosen thee to be the head.’

14 ‘If you, my lord, have chosen me
Of a hundred men to be the head,
Upon the main-mast I’le hanged be,
If twelve-score I miss one shillings breadth.’

15 Lord Howard then, of courage bold,
Went to the sea with pleasant chear,
Not curbd with winters piercing cold,
Though it was the stormy time of the year.

16 Not long he had been on the sea,
No more in days then number three,
Till one Henry Hunt he there espied,
A merchant of Newcastle was he.

17 To him Lord Howard cald out amain,
And strictly charged him to stand;
Demanding then from whence he came,
Or where he did intend to land.

18 The merchant then made him answer soon,
With heavy heart and careful mind,
‘My lord, my ship it doth belong
Unto Newcastle upon Tine.’

19 ‘Canst thou shew me,’ the lord did say,
‘As thou didst sail by day and night,
A Scottish rover on the sea,
His name is Andrew Barton, knight?’

20 Then to him the merchant sighd and said,
With grieved mind and well a way,
‘But over well I know that wight,
I was his prisoner but yesterday.

21 ‘As I, my lord, did pass from France,
A Burdeaux voyage to take so far,
I met with Sir Andrew Barton thence,
Who robd me of my merchant-ware.

22 ‘And mickle debts, God knows, I owe,
And every man did crave his own;
And I am bound to London now,
Of our gracious king to beg a boon.’

23 ‘Shew me him,’ said [Lord] Howard then,
‘Let me but once the villain see,
And one penny he hath from the tane,
I’le double the same with shillings three.’

24 ‘Now, God forbid,’ the merchant said;
‘I fear your aim that you will miss;
God bless you from his tyranny,
For little you know what man he is.

25 ‘He is brass within and steel without,
His ship most huge and mighty strong,
With eighteen pieces strong and stout,
He carrieth on each side along.

26 ‘With beams for his top-castle,
As also being huge and high,
That neither English nor Portugal
Can pass Sir Andrew Barton by.’

27 ‘Hard news thou shewst,’ then said the lord,
‘To welcome strangers to the sea;
But, as I said, I’le bring him aboard,
Or into Scotland he shall carry me.’

28 The merchant said, If you will do so,
Take counsel, then, I pray withal:
Let no man to his top-castle go,
Nor strive to let his beam[s] down fall.

29 ‘Lend me seven pieces of ordnance then,
Of each side of my ship,’ quoth he,
‘And to-morrow, my lord, twixt six and seven,
Again I will Your Honour see.

30 ‘A glass I’le set that may be seen
Whether you sail by day or night;
And to-morrow, be sure, before seven,
You shall see Sir Andrew Barton, knight.’

31 The merchant set my lord a glass,
So well apparent in his sight
That on the morrow, as his promise was,
He saw Sir Andrew Barton, knight.

32 The lord then swore a mighty oath,
‘Now by the heavens that be of might,
By faith, believe me, and by troth,
I think he is a worthy knight.

33 ‘Fetch me my lyon out of hand,’
Saith the lord, ’with rose and streamer high;
Set up withal a willow-wand,
That merchant-like I [may] pass by.’

34 Thus bravely did Lord Howard pass,
And did on anchor rise so high;
No top-sail at all he cast,
But as his foe he did him defie.

35 Sir Andrew Barton seeing him
Thus scornfully to pass by,
As though he cared not a pin
For him and all his company,

36 Then called he his men amain,
‘Fetch back yon pedler now,’ quoth he,
‘And against this way he comes again
I’le teach him well his courtesie.’

37 A piece of ordnance soon was shot
By this proud pirate fiercely then
Into Lord Howards middle deck,
Which cruel shot killd fourteen men.

38 He calld then Peter Simon, he;
‘Look now thy word do stand in stead,
For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast
If thou miss twelve score one penny breadth.’

39 Then Peter Simon gave a shot
Which did Sir Andrew mickle scare,
In at his deck it came so hot,
Killd fifteen of his men of war.

40 ‘Alas!’ then said the pyrate stout,
‘I am in danger now, I see;
This is some lord, I greatly doubt,
That is set on to conquer me.’

41 Then Henry Hunt, with rigor hot,
Came bravely on the other side,
Who likewise shot in at his deck,
And kild fifty of his men beside.

42 Then ‘Out, alas!’ Sir Andrew cri’d,
‘What may a man now think or say!
Yon merchant thief that pierceth me,
He was my prisoner yesterday.’

43 Then did he on Gordion call,
Unto top-castle for to go,
And bid his beams he should let fall,
‘For I greatly fear an overthrow.’

44 The lord cald Horsly now in hast:
‘Look that thy word stand now in stead,
For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast
If thou miss twelve score one Shillings breadth.’

45 Then up [the] mast-tree swarved he,
This stout and mighty Gordion;
But Horsly, he most happily
Shot him under the collar-bone.

46 Then calld he on his nephew then,
Said, Sisters sons I have no mo;
Three hundred pound I will give thee,
If thou wilt to top-castle go.

47 Then stoutly he began to climb,
From off the mast scornd to depart;
But Horsly soon prevented him,
And deadly piercd him to the heart.

48 His men being slain, then up amain
Did this proud pyrate climb with speed,
For armour of proof he had put on,
And did not dint of arrow dread.

49 ‘Come hither, Horsly,’ said the lord,
‘See thine arrow aim aright;
Great means to thee I will afford,
And if you speed, I’le make you a knight.’

50 Sir Andrew did climb up the tree,
With right good will and all his main;
Then upon the breast hit Horsly he,
Till the arrow return again.

51 Then Horsly spied a private place,
With a perfect eye, in a secret part;
His arrow swiftly flew apace,
And smote Sir Andrew to the heart.

52 ‘Fight on, fight on, my merry men all,
A little I am hurt, yet not slain;
I’le but lie down and bleed a while,
And come and fight with you again.

53 ‘And do not,’ he said, ’Fear English rogues,
And of your foes stand not in awe,
But stand fast by St Andrews cross,
Until you hear my whistle blow.’

54 They never heard his whistle blow,
Which made them [all] sore afraid:
Then Horsly said, My lord, aboard,
For now Sir Andrew Barton’s dead.

55 Thus boarded they this gallant ship,
With right good will and all their main,
Eighteen score Scots alive in it,
Besides as many more were slain.

56 The lord went where Sir Andrew lay,
And quickly thence cut off his head:
‘I should forsake England many a day,
If thou wert alive as thou art dead.’

57 Thus from the wars Lord Howard came,
With mickle joy and triumphing;
The pyrates head he brought along
For to present unto our king:

58 Who briefly then to him did say,
Before he knew well what was done,
‘Where is the knight and pyrate gay?
That I my self may give the doom.’

59 ‘You may thank God,’ then said the lord,
‘And four men in the ship,’ quoth he,
‘That we are safely come ashore,
Sith you had never such an enemy:

60 ‘That is Henry Hunt, and Peter Simon,
William Horsly, and Peters son;
Therefore reward them for their pains,
For they did service at their turn.’

61 To the merchant then the king did say,
‘In lue of what he hath from the tane,
I give to the a noble a day,
Sir Andrews whistle and his chain:

62 ‘To Peter Simon a crown a day,
And half-a-crown a day to Peters son,
And that was for a shot so gay,
Which bravely brought Sir Andrew down.

63 ‘Horsly, I will make thee a knight,
And in Yorkshire thou shalt dwell:
Lord Howard shall Earl Bury hight,
For this title he deserveth well.

64 ‘Seven shillings to our English men,
Who in this fight did stoutly stand,
And twelve pence a-day to the Scots, till they
Come to my brother kings high land.’

168. Flodden Field

1 KING JAMIE hath made a vow,
Keepe it well if he may!
That he will be at lovely London
Upon Saint James his day.

2 ‘Upon Saint James his day at noone,
At faire London will I be,
And all the lords in merrie Scotland,
They shall dine there with me.’

3 Then bespake good Queene Margaret,
The teares fell from her eye:
‘Leave off these warres, most noble king,
Keepe your fidelitie.

4 ‘The water runnes swift and wondrous deepe,
From bottome unto the brimme;
My brother Henry hath men good enough;
England is hard to winne.’

5 ‘Away,’ quoth he, ’with this silly foole!
In prison fast let her lie:
For she is come of the English bloud,
And for these words she shall dye.’

6 With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard,
The queenes chamberlaine that day:
‘If that you put Queene Margaret to death,
Scotland shall rue it alway.’

7 Then in a rage King Jamie did say,
‘Away with this foolish mome!
He shall be hanged, and the other be burned,
So soone as I come home.’

8 At Flodden Field the Scots came in,
Which made our English men faine;
At Bramstone Greene this battaile was seene,
There was King Jamie slaine.

9 Then presently the Scots did flie,
Their cannons they left behind;
Their ensignes gay were won all away,
Our souldiers did beate them blinde.

10 To tell you plaine, twelve thousand were slaine
That to the fight did stand,
And many prisoners tooke that day,
The best in all Scotland.

11 That day made many [a] fatherlesse child,
And many a widow poore,
And many a Scottish gay lady
Sate weeping in her bower.

12 Jack with a feather was lapt all in leather,
His boastings were all in vaine;
He had such a chance, with a new morrice-dance,
He never went home againe.

169. Johnie Armstrong

Version A

1 THERE dwelt a man in faire Westmerland,
Ionn Armestrong men did him call,
He had nither lands nor rents coming in,
Yet he kept eight score men in his hall.

2 He had horse and harness for them all,
Goodly steeds were all milke-white;
O the golden bands an about their necks,
And their weapons, they were all alike.

3 Newes then was brought unto the king
That there was sicke a won as hee,
That liv d lyke a bold out-law,
And robb d all the north country.

4 The king he writt an a letter then,
A letter which was large and long;
He sign d it with his owne hand,
And he promised to doe him no wrong.

5 When this letter came Ionn untill,
His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree:
‘Never was I sent for before any king,
My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee.

6 ‘And if wee goe the king before,
I would we went most orderly;
Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak,
Laced with silver laces three.

7 ‘Every won of you shall have his velvett coat,
Laced with silver lace so white;
O the golden bands an about your necks,
Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke.’

8 By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock,
Towards Edenburough gon was hee,
And with him all his eight score men;
Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see!

9 When Ionn came befower the king,
He fell downe on his knee;
‘O pardon, my soveraigne leige,’ he said,
‘O pardon my eight score men and mee!’

10 ‘Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong,
For thy eight score men nor thee;
For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock,
Both thou and them shall hang on the gallow-tree.’

11 But Ionn looke’d over his left shoulder,
Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee!
Saying, Asking grace of a graceles face-+--+-
Why there is none for you nor me.

12 But Ionn had a bright sword by his side,
And it was made of the mettle so free,
That had not the king, stept his foot aside,
He had smitten his head from his faire bodd .

13 Saying, Fight on, my merry men all,
And see that none of you be taine;
For rather then men shall say we were hange’d,
Let them report how we were slaine.

14 Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose,
And so besett poore Ionn rounde,
That fowerscore and tenn of Ionn s best men
Lay gasping all upon the ground.

15 Then like a mad man Ionn laide about,
And like a mad man then fought hee,
Untill a falce Scot came Ionn behinde,
And runn him through the faire boddee.

16 Saying, Fight on, my merry men all,
And see that none of you be taine;
For I will stand by and bleed but awhile,
And then will I come and fight againe.

17 Newes then was brought to young Ionn Armestrong,
As he stood by his nurses knee,
Who vowed if ere he live’d for to be a man,
O the treacherous Scots revengd hee’d be.

Version B

1 IS there never a man in all Scotland,
From the highest state to the lowest degree,
That can shew himself now before the king?
Scotland is so full of their traitery.

2 Yes, there is a man in Westmerland,
And John Armstrong some do him call;
He has no lands nor rents coming in,
Yet he keeps eightscore men within his hall.

3 He has horse and harness for them all,
And goodly steeds that be milk-white,
With their goodly belts about their necks,
With hats and feathers all alike.

4 The king he writ a lovely letter,
With his own hand so tenderly,
And has sent it unto John Armstrong,
To come and speak with him speedily.

5 When John he looked the letter upon,
Then, Lord! he was as blithe as a bird in a tree:
‘I was never before no king in my life,
My father, my grandfather, nor none of us three.

6 ‘But seeing we must [go] before the king,
Lord! we will go most valiantly;
You shall every one have a velvet coat,
Laid down with golden laces three.

7 ‘And you shall every one have a scarlet cloak,
Laid down with silver laces five,
With your golden belts about your necks,
With hats [and] brave feathers all alike.’

8 But when John he went from Guiltknock Hall!
The wind it blew hard, and full sore it did rain:
‘Now fare you well, brave Guiltknock Hall!
I fear I shall never see thee again.’

9 Now John he is to Edenborough gone,
And his eightscore men so gallantly,
And every one of them on a milk-white steed,
With their bucklers and swords hanging down to the knee.

10 But when John he came the king before,
With his eightscore men so gallant to see,
The king he moved his bonnet to him;
He thought he had been a king as well as he.

11 ‘O pardon, pardon, my soveraign leige,
Pardon for my eightscore men and me!
For my name it is John Armstrong,
And a subject of yours, my leige,’ said he.

12 ‘Away with thee, thou false traitor!
No pardon I will grant to thee,
But, to-morrow before eight of the clock,
I will hang thy eightscore men and thee.’

13 O how John looked over his left shoulder!
And to his merry men thus said he:
I have asked grace of a graceless face,
No pardon here is for you nor me.

14 Then John pulld out a nut-brown sword,
And it was made of mettle so free;
Had not the king moved his foot as he did,
John had taken his head from his body.

15 ‘Come, follow me, my merry men all,
We will scorn one foot away to fly;
It never shall be said we were hung like doggs;
No, wee’l fight it out most manfully.’

16 Then they fought on like champions bold-+--+-
For their hearts was sturdy, stout, and free-+--+-
Till they had killed all the kings good guard;
There was none left alive but onely three.

17 But then rise up all Edenborough,
They rise up by thousands three;
Then a cowardly Scot came John behind,
And run him thorow the fair body.

18 Said John, Fight on, my merry men all,
I am a little hurt, but I am not slain;
I will lay me down for to bleed a while,
Then I’le rise and fight with you again.

19 Then they fought on like mad men all,
Till many a man lay dead on the plain;
For they were resolved, before they would yield,
That every man would there be slain.

20 So there they fought couragiously,
’Till most of them lay dead there and slain,
But little Musgrave, that was his foot-page,
With his bonny grissell got away untain.

21 But when he came up to Guiltknock Hall,
The lady spyed him presently:
‘What news, what news, thou little foot-page?
What news from thy master and his company?’

22 ‘My news is bad, lady,’ he said,
‘Which I do bring, as you may see;
My master, John Armstrong, he is slain,
And all his gallant company.

23 ‘Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny grisel!
Full oft thou hast fed at the corn and hay,
But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine,
And thy sides shall be spurred no more, I say.’

24 O then bespoke his little son,
As he was set on his nurses knee:
‘If ever I live for to be a man,
My fathers blood revenged shall be.’

Version C

1 SUM speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,
And siclyke men of hie degrie;
Of a gentleman I sing a sang,
Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie.

2 The king he wrytes a luving letter,
With his ain hand sae tenderly:
And he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang,
To cum and speik with him speidily.

3 The Eliots and Armstrangs did convene,
They were a gallant company:
‘We’ill ryde and meit our lawful king,
And bring him safe to Gilnockie.

4 ‘Make kinnen and capon ready, then,
And venison in great plenty;
We’ill welcome hame our royal king;
I hope he’ill dyne at Gilnockie!’

5 They ran their horse on the Langum howm,
And brake their speirs with mekle main;
The ladys lukit frae their loft-windows,
‘God bring our men weil back again!’

6 When Johny came before the king,
With all his men sae brave to see,
The king he movit his bonnet to him;
He weind he was a king as well as he.

7 ‘May I find grace, my sovereign liege,
Grace for my loyal men and me?
For my name it is Johny Armstrang,
And subject of yours, my liege,’ said he.

8 ‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang!
Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit never a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

9 ‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,
And a bony gift I will give to thee;
Full four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids,
Were a’ foald in a yeir to me.

10 ‘I’ll gie thee all these milk-whyt steids,
That prance and nicher at a speir,
With as mekle gude Inglis gilt
As four of their braid backs dow beir.’

11 ‘Away, away, thou traytor strang!
Out o’ my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit never a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

12 ‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,
And a bony gift I’ll gie to thee;
Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills,
That gang throw a’ the yeir to me.

13 ‘These four-and-twenty mills complete
Sall gang for thee throw all the yeir,
And as mekle of gude reid wheit
As all their happers dow to bear.’

14 ‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang!
Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit never a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

15 ‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,
And a great gift I’ll gie to thee;
Bauld four-and-twenty sisters sons,
Sall for the fecht, tho all sould flee.’

16 ‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang!
Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

17 ‘Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king,
And a brave gift I’ll gie to thee;
All betwene heir and Newcastle town
Sall pay thair yeirly rent to thee.’

18 ‘Away, away, thou traytor, strang!
Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.’

19 ‘Ye lied, ye lied, now, king,’ he says,
‘Althocht a king and prince ye be,
For I luid naithing in all my lyfe,
I dare well say it, but honesty;

20 ‘But a fat horse, and a fair woman,
Twa bony dogs to kill a deir:
But Ingland suld haif found me meil and malt,
Gif I had livd this hundred yeir!

21 ‘Scho suld haif found me meil and malt,
And beif and mutton in all plentie;
But neir a Scots wyfe could haif said
That eir I skaithd her a pure flie.

22 ‘To seik het water beneth cauld yce,
Surely it is a great folie;
I haif asked grace at a graceless face,
But there is nane for my men and me.

23 ‘But had I kend, or I came frae hame,
How thou unkynd wadst bene to me,
I wad haif kept the border-syde,
In spyte of all thy force and thee.

24 ‘Wist Englands king that I was tane,
O gin a blyth man wald he be!
For anes I slew his sisters son,
And on his breist-bane brak a tree.’

25 John wore a girdle about his midle,
Imbroiderd owre with burning gold,
Bespangled with the same mettle,
Maist beautifull was to behold.

26 Ther hang nine targats at Johnys hat,
And ilk an worth three hundred pound:
‘What wants that knave that a king suld haif,
But the sword of honour and the crown!

27 ‘O whair gat thou these targats, Johnie,
That blink sae brawly abune thy brie?’
‘I gat them in the field fechting,
Wher, cruel king, thou durst not be.

28 ‘Had I my horse, and my harness gude,
And ryding as I wont to be,
It sould haif bene tald this hundred yeir
The meiting of my king and me.

29 ‘God be withee, Kirsty, my brither,
Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun!
Lang mayst thou live on the border-syde
Or thou se thy brither ryde up and doun.

30 ‘And God be withee, Kirsty, my son,
Whair thou sits on thy nurses knee!
But and thou live this hundred yeir,
Thy fathers better thoult never be.

31 ‘Farweil, my bonny Gilnock-Hall,
Whair on Esk-syde thou standest stout!
Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair,
I wald haif gilt thee round about.’

32 John murdred was at Carlinrigg,
And all his galant companie;
But Scotlands heart was never sae wae,
To see sae mony brave men die.

33 Because they savd their country deir
Frae Englishmen; nane were sae bauld,
Whyle Johnie livd on the border-syde,
Nane of them durst cum neir his hald.

170. The Death of Queen Jane

Version A

1 QUEEN JANE was in labour full six weeks and more,
And the women were weary, and fain would give oer:
‘O women, O women, as women ye be,
Rip open my two sides, and save my baby!’

2 ‘O royal Queen Jane, that thing may not be;
We’ll send for King Henry to come unto thee.’
King Henry came to her, and sate on her bed:
‘What ails my dear lady, her eyes look so red?’

3 ‘O royal King Henry, do one thing for me:
Rip open my two sides, and save my baby!’
‘O royal Queen Jane, that thing will not do;
If I lose your fair body, I’ll lose your baby too.’

4 She wept and she waild, and she wrung her hands sore;
O the flour of England must flurish no more!
She wept and she waild till she fell in a swoond,
They opend her two sides, and the baby was found.

5 The baby was christened with joy and much mirth,
Whilst poor Queen Jane’s body lay cold under earth:
There was ringing and singing and mourning all day,
The princess Eliz[abeth] went weeping away.

6 The trumpets in mourning so sadly did sound,
And the pikes and the muskets did trail on the ground.
. . . .
. . . .

Version B

1 QUEEN JEANIE, Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks and more,
Till women and midwives had quite gien her oer:
‘O if ye were women as women should be,
Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me.’

2 The doctor was called for and set by her bedside:
‘What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem so red?’
‘O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me,
To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?’

3 ‘Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that’s the thing I’ll neer do,
To rip up your two sides to save your babie:’
Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks and more,
Till midwives and doctors had quite gien her oer.

4 ‘O if ye were doctors as doctors should be,
Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry to me:’
King Henry was called for, and sat by her bedside,
‘What aileth thee, Jeanie? what aileth my bride?’

5 ‘King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for me,
To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?’
‘Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that’s what I’ll never do,
To rip up your two sides to save your babie.’

6 But with sighing and sobbing she’s fallen in a swoon,
Her side it was ript up, and her babie was found;
At this bonie babie’s christning there was meikle joy and mirth,
But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the earth.

7 Six and six coaches, and six and six more,
And royal King Henry went mourning before;
O two and two gentlemen carried her away,
But royal King Henry went weeping away.

8 O black were their stockings, and black were their bands,
And black were the weapons they held in their hands;
O black were their mufflers, and black were their shoes,
And black were the cheverons they drew on their luves.

9 They mourned in the kitchen, and they mournd in the ha,
But royal King Henry mournd langest of a’:
Farewell to fair England, farewell for evermore!
For the fair flower of England will never shine more.

Version C

1 QUEEN JEANY has traveld for three days and more,
Till the ladies were weary, and quite gave her oer:
‘O ladies, O ladies, do this thing for me,
To send for King Henry, to come and see me.’

2 King Henry was sent for, and sat by her bedside:
‘Why weep you, Queen Jeany? your eyes are so red.’
‘O Henry, O Henry, do this one thing for me,
Let my side straight be opend, and save my babie!’

3 ‘O Jeany, O Jeany, this never will do,
It will leese thy sweet life, and thy young babie too.’
She wept and she wailed, till she fell in a swoon:
Her side it was opened, the babie was found.

4 Prince Edward was christened with joy and with mirth,
But the flower of fair England lies cold in the earth.
O black was King Henry, and black were his men,
And black was the steed that King Henry rode on.

5 And black were the ladies, and black were their fans,
And black were the gloves that they wore on their hands,
And black were the ribbands they wore on their heads,
And black were the pages, and black were the maids.

6 The trumpets they sounded, the cannons did roar,
But the flower of fair England shall flourish no more.
. . . .
. . . .

Version D

1 QUEEN JANE was in travail for six weeks or more,
Till the women grew tired and fain would give oer:
‘O women, O women, good wives if ye be,
Go send for King Henrie, and bring him to me!’

2 King Henrie was sent for, he came with all speed,
In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the head:
‘King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie you be,
Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me!’

3 The surgeon was sent for, he came with all speed,
In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the head;
He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep slept she,
Then her right side was opened, and the babe was set free.

4 The babe it was christened, and put out and nursed,
While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the dust.
. . . .
. . . .

5 So black was the mourning, and white were the wands,
Yellow, yellow the torches they bore in their hands;
The bells they were muffled, and mournful did play,
While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the clay.

6 Six knights and six lords bore her corpse through the grounds,
Six dukes followed after, in black mourning gownds;
The flower of Old England was laid in cold clay,
Whilst the royal King Henrie came weeping away.

Version E

1 ‘YE midwives and women-kind, do one thing for me;
Send for my mother, to come and see me.’

2 Her mother was sent for, who came speedilie:
‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’

3 ‘O mother, dear mother, do one thing for me;
O send for King Henry, to come and see me.’

4 King Henry was sent for, who came speedilie:
‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’

5 ‘King Henry, King Henry, do one thing for me;
O send for a doctor, to come and see me.’

6 The doctor was sent for, who came speedilie:
‘O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee?’

7 ‘O doctor, oh doctor, do one thing for me;
Open my left side, and let my babe free.’

8 He opened her left side, and then all was oer,
And the best flower in England will flourish no more.

Version F

1 QUEEN JANE lies in labour six weeks or more,
Till the women were tired, go see her no more:
‘Oh women, oh women, if women you be,
You’ll send for King Henry, to come and see me.

2 ‘Oh King Henry, King Henry, if King Henry you be,
You’ll send for the doctor, to come and see me:
Oh doctor, oh doctor, if a doctor you be,
You’ll open my right side, and save my baby.’

3 They churchd her, they chimed her, they dug her her grave,
They buried her body, and christend her babe.

Version G

1 QUEEN JEANIE was in labour full three days and more,
Till a’ the good women was forced to gie her oer:
‘O guide women, gude women, gude women,’ quo she,
‘Will ye send for King Henry, to come and see me?’
Wi weeping and wailing, lamenting full sore,
That the flower of all England should flourish no more.

2 King Henry was sent for, who came in great speed,
Standing weeping and wailing at Queen Jeanie’s bedside;
Standing weeping and wailing, etc.

3 ‘O King Henry, King Henry, King Henry,’ quo she,
‘Will ye send for my mother . .

Version H

1 Queen Jane, O! Queen Jane, O! what a lady was she !
And six weeks and a day in labour was she;
Queen Jane was in labour for six weeks and more,
Till the women grew weary and fain would give oer.

2 ‘O women, O women, good wives as ye be,
Go send for King Henry and bring him to me.’
King Henry was sent for, and to her he came:
‘Dear lady, fair lady, your eyes they look dim.’

3 King Henry came to her, he came in all speed,
In a gown of red velvet, from the heel to the head:
‘King Henry, King Henry, if kind you will be,
Send for a good doctor, and let him come to me.’

4 The doctor was sent for, he came with all speed,
In a gown of black velvet from the heel to the head;
The doctor was sent for and to her he came:
‘Dear lady, fair lady, your labour’s in vain.’

5 ‘Dear doctor, dear doctor, will you do this for me?
O open my right side, and save my baby:’
Then out spake King Henry, That never can be,
I’d rather lose the branches than the top of the tree.

6 The doctor gave a caudle, the death-sleep slept she,
Then her right side was opened and the babe was set free;
The babe it was christened, and put out and nursd,
But the royal Queen Jane lay cold in the dust.

Version I

1 Queen Jeanie was in labor for seven weeks in summer,
The women all being tired and quite gave her over:
‘O women, dear women, if women you be,
Send for my mother to come and see me.’

2 Her mother was sent for and instantly came,
Knelt down at the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:
‘O mother, dear mother, if mother you be,
Send for my father to come and see me.’

3 The father was sent for and instantly came,
Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:
‘O father, dear father, if father you be,
Send for King Henry to come and see me.’

4 King Henry was sent for and instantly came,
Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:
‘O Henry, King Henry, if Henry you be,
Send for the doctor to come and see me.’

5 The doctor was sent for and instantly came,
Knelt down by the bedside where Queen Jeanie lay on:
‘O doctor, dear doctor, if doctor you be,
Open my left side and let the babe free.’

6 Her left side was opened, the young prince was found:
‘O doctor, dear doctor, lay me down on the ground.’

7 Her bones were all broken and laid at her feet,
And they anointed her body with the ointment so sweet,
And ay as they weeped they wrung their hands sore,
For the fair flower of England will flourish no more.

171. Thomas Cromwell

171 * * *
. . . .
. . . .
‘Ffor if your boone be askeable,
Soone granted it shalbe:

2 ‘If it be not touching my crowne,’ he said,
‘Nor hurting poore comminaltye.’
‘Nay, it is not touching your crowne,’ shee sayes,
‘Nor hurting poore cominaltye,

3 ‘But I begg the death of Thomas Cromwell,
For a false traitor to you is hee.’
‘Then feitch me hither the Earle of Darby
And the Earle of Shrewsbury,

4 ‘And bidde them bring Thomas Cromawell;
Let’s see what he can say to mee;’
For Thomas had woont to haue carryed his head vp,
But now he hanges it vppon his knee.

5 ‘How now? How now?’ the king did say,
‘Thomas, how is it with thee?’
‘Hanging and drawing, O king!’ he saide;
‘You shall neuer gett more from mee.’

172. Musselburgh Field

1 ON the tenth day of December,
And the fourth yeere of King Edwards raigne,
Att Musleboorrowe, as I remember,
Two goodly hosts there mett on a plaine.

2 All that night they camped there,
Soe did the Scotts, both stout and stubborne;
But "[wellaway,"] it was their song,
For wee haue taken them in their owne turne.

3 Over night they carded for our English mens coates;
They fished before their netts were spunn;
A white for sixpence, a red for two groates;
Now wisdome wold haue stayed till they had been woone.

4 Wee feared not but that they wold fight,
Yett itt was turned vnto their owne paine;
Thoe against one of vs that they were eight,
Yett with their owne weapons wee did them beat.

5 On the twelfth day in the morne
The made a face as the wold fight,
But many a proud Scott there was downe borne,
And many a ranke coward was put to flight.

6 But when they heard our great gunnes cracke,
Then was their harts turned into their hose;
They cast down their weapons, and turned their backes,
They ran soe fast that the fell on their nose.

7 The Lord Huntley, wee had him there;
With him hee brought ten thousand men,
Yett, God bee thanked, wee made them such a banquett
That none of them returned againe.

8 Wee chased them to D[alkeith]

173. Mary Hamilton

Version A

1 WORDRR’rrS gane to the kitchen,
And word’s gane to the ha,
That Marie Hamilton gangs wi bairn
To the hichest Stewart of a’.

2 He’s courted her in the kitchen,
He’s courted her in the ha,
He’s courted her in the laigh cellar,
And that was warst of a’.

3 She’s tyed it in her apron
And she’s thrown it in the sea;
Says, Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe!
You’l neer get mair o me.

4 Down them cam the auld queen,
Goud tassels tying her hair:
‘O marie, where’s the bonny wee babe
That I heard greet sae sair?’

5 ‘There never was a babe intill my room,
As little designs to be;
It was but a touch o my sair side,
Come oer my fair bodie.’

6 ‘O Marie, put on your robes o black,
Or else your robes o brown,
For ye maun gang wi me the night,
To see fair Edinbro town.’

7 ‘I winna put on my robes o black,
Nor yet my robes o brown;
But I’ll put on my robes o white,
To shine through Edinbro town.’

8 When she gaed up the Cannogate,
She laughd loud laughters three;
But whan she cam down the Cannogate
The tear blinded her ee.

9 When she gaed up the Parliament stair,
The heel cam aff her shee;
And lang or she cam down again
She was condemnd to dee.

10 When she cam down the Cannogate,
The Cannogate sae free,
Many a ladie lookd oer her window,
Weeping for this ladie.

11 ‘Ye need nae weep for me,’ she says,
‘Ye need nae weep for me;
For had I not slain mine own sweet babe,
This death I wadna dee.

12 ‘Bring me a bottle of wine,’ she says,
‘The best that eer ye hae,
That I may drink to my weil-wishers,
And they may drink to me.

13 ‘Here’s a health to the jolly sailors,
That sail upon the main;
Let them never let on to my father and mother
But what I’m coming hame.

14 ‘Here’s a health to the jolly sailors,
That sail upon the sea;
Let them never let on to my father and mother
That I cam here to dee.

15 ‘Oh little did my mother think,
The day she cradled me,
What lands I was to travel through,
What death I was to dee.

16 ‘Oh little did my father think,
The day he held up me,
What lands I was to travel through,
What death I was to dee.

17 ‘Last night I washd the queen’s feet,
And gently laid her down;
And a’ the thanks I’ve gotten the nicht
To be hangd in Edinbro town!

18 ‘Last nicht there was four Maries,
The nicht there’l be but three;
There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton,
And Marie Carmichael, and me.’

Version B

1 THERE were ladies, they lived in a bower,
And oh but they were fair!
The youngest o them is to the king’s court,
To learn some unco lair.

2 She hadna been in the king’s court
A twelve month and a day,
Till of her they could get na wark,
For wantonness and play.

3 Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
And word is up to Madame the Queen,
And that is warst of a’,
That Mary Hamilton has born a bairn,
To the hichest Stewart of a’.

4 ‘O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton,
O rise, and tell to me
What thou did with thy sweet babe
We sair heard weep by thee.’

5 ‘Hold your tongue, madame,’ she said,
‘And let your folly be;
It was a shouir o sad sickness
Made me weep sae bitterlie.’

6 ‘O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton,
O rise, and tell to me
What thou did with thy sweet babe
We sair heard weep by thee.’

7 ‘I put it in a piner-pig,
And set it on the sea;
I bade it sink, or it might swim,
It should neer come hame to me.’

8 ‘O rise,O rise, Mary Hamilton,
Arise, and go with me;
There is a wedding in Glasgow town
This day we’ll go and see.’

9 She put not on her black clothing,
She put not on her brown,
But she put on the glistering gold,
To shine thro Edinburgh town.

10 As they came into Edinburgh town,
The city for to see,
The bailie’s wife and the provost’s wife
Said, Och an alace for thee!

11 Gie never alace for me,’ she said,
‘Gie never alace for me;
It’s all for the sake of my poor babe,
This death that I maun die.’

12 As they gaed up the Tolbuith stair,
The stair it was sae hie,
The bailie’s son and the provost’s son
Said, Och an alace for thee!

13 ‘Gie never alace for me,’ she said,
‘Gie never alace for me!
It’s all for the sake of my puir babe,
This death I maun die.

14 ‘But bring to me a cup,’ she says,
‘A cup bot and a can,
And I will drink to all my friends,
And they’ll drink to me again.

15 re’s to you all, travellers,
Who travels by land or sea;
Let na wit to my father nor mother
The death that I must die.

16 ‘Here’s to you all, travellers,
That travels on dry land;
Let na wit to my father nor mother
But I am coming hame.

17 ‘Little did my mother think,
First time she cradled me,
What land I was to travel on,
Or what death I would die.

18 ‘Little did my mother think,
First time she tied my head,
What land I was to tread upon,
Or whare I would win my bread.

19 ‘Yestreen Queen Mary had four Maries,
This night she’ll hae but three;
She had Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.

20 ‘Yestreen I wush Queen Mary’s feet,
And bore her till her bed;
This day she’s given me my reward,
This gallows-tree to tread.

21 ‘Cast off, cast off my goun,’ she said,
‘But let my petticoat be,
And tye a napkin on my face,
For that gallows I downa see.’

22 By and cum the king himsell,
Lookd up with a pitiful ee:
‘Come down, come down, Mary Hamilton,
This day thou wilt dine with me.’

23 ‘Hold your tongue, my sovereign leige,
And let your folly be;
An ye had a mind to save my life,
Ye should na shamed me here.’

Version C

1 THERE lived a lord into the west,
And he had dochters three,
And the youngest o them is to the king’s court,
To learn some courtesie.

2 She was not in the king’s court
A twelvemonth and a day,
Till she was neither able to sit nor gang,
Wi the gaining o some play.

3 She went to the garden,
To pull the leaf aff the tree,
To tak this bonnie babe frae her breast,
But alas it would na do!

4 She rowed it in her handkerchief,
And threw it in the sea:
‘O sink ye, swim ye, wee wee babe!
Ye’ll get nae mair o me.’

5 Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
That Mary Myle she goes wi child
To the highest Steward of a’.

6 Down and came the queen hersell,
The queen hersell so free:
‘O mary Myle, whare is the child
That I heard weep for thee?’

7 ‘O hold your tongue now, Queen,’ she says,
‘O hold your tongue so free!
For it was but a shower o the sharp sickness,
I was almost like to die.’

8 ‘O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Myle,
O busk, and go wi me;
O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Mile,
It’s Edinburgh town to see.’

9 ‘I’ll no put on my robes o black,
No nor yet my robes [o] brown;
But I’ll put on my golden weed,
To shine thro Edinburgh town.’

10 When she went up the Cannongate-side,
The Cannongate-side so free,
Oh there she spied some ministers’ lads,
Crying Och and alace for me!

11 ‘Dinna cry och and alace for me!
Dinna cry o[c]h and alace for me!
For it’s all for the sake of my innocent babe
That I come here to die.’

12 When she went up the Tolbooth-stair,
The lap cam aff her shoe;
Before that she came down again,
She was condemned to die.

13 ‘O all you gallant sailors,
That sail upon the sea,
Let neither my father nor mother know
The death I am to die!

14 ‘O all you gallant sailors,
That sail upon the faem,
Let neither my father nor mother know
But I am coming hame!

15 ‘Little did my mother know,
The hour that she bore me,
What lands I was to travel in,
What death I was to die.

16 ‘Little did my father know,
When he held up my head,
What lands I was to travel in,
What was to be my deid.

17 ‘Yestreen I made Queen Mary’s bed,
Kembed doun her yellow hair;
Is this the reward I am to get,
To tread this gallows-stair!’

Version D

1 THERE lives a knight into the north,
And he had daughters three;
The ane of them was a barber’s wife,
The other a gay ladie.

2 And the youngest of them is to Scotland gane,
The queen’s Mary to be,
And a’ that they could say or do,
Forbidden she woudna be.

3 The prince’s bed it was sae saft,
The spices they were sae fine,
That out of it she couldna lye
While she was scarse fifteen.

4 She’s gane to the garden gay
To pu of the savin tree;
But for a’ that she could say or do,
The babie it would not die.

5 She’s rowed it in her handkerchief,
She threw it in the sea;
Says, Sink ye, swim ye, my bonnie babe!
For ye’ll get nae mair of me.

6 Queen Mary came tripping down the stair,
Wi the gold strings in her hair:
‘O whare’s the little babie,’ she says,
‘That I heard greet sae sair?’

7 ‘O hold your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame,
Let all those words go free!
It was mysell wi a fit o the sair colic,
I was sick just like to die.’

8 ‘O hold your tongue, Mary Hamilton,
Let all those words go free!
O where is the little babie
That I heard weep by thee?’

9 ‘I rowed it in my handkerchief,
And threw it in the sea;
I bade it sink, I bade it swim,
It would get nae mair o me.’

10 ‘O wae be to thee, Marie Hamilton,
And an ill deid may you die!
For if ye had saved the babie’s life
It might hae been an honour to thee.

11 ‘Busk ye, busk ye, Marie Hamilton,
O busk ye to be a bride!
For I am going to Edinburgh toun,
Your gay wedding to bide.

12 ‘You must not put on your robes of black,
Nor yet your robes of brown;
But you must put on your yellow gold stuffs,
To shine thro Edinburgh town.’

13 ‘I will not put on my robes of black,
Nor yet my robes of brown;
But I will put on my yellow gold stuffs,
To shine thro Edinburgh town,’

14 As she went up the Parliament Close,
A riding on her horse,
There she saw many a cobler’s lady,
Sat greeting at the cross.

15 ‘O what means a’ this greeting?
I’m sure its nae for me;
For I’m come this day to Edinburgh town
Weel wedded for to be.’

16 When she gaed up the Parliament stair,
She gied loud lauchters three;
But ere that she came down again,
She was condemned to die.

17 ‘O little did my mother think,
The day she prinned my gown,
That I was to come sae far frae hame
To be hangid in Edinburgh town.

18 ‘O what’ll my poor father think,
As he comes thro the town,
To see the face of his Molly fair
Hanging on the gallows-pin!

19 ‘Here’s a health to the marineres,
That plough the raging main!
Let neither my mother nor father know
But I’m coming hame again!

20 ‘Here’s a health to the sailors,
That sail upon the sea!
Let neither my mother nor father ken
That I came here to die!

21 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
This night she’ll hae but three;
There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.’

22 ‘O hald your tongue, Mary Hamilton,
Let all those words go free!
This night eer ye be hanged
Ye shall gang hame wi me.’

23 ‘O hald your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame,
Let all those words go free!
For since I have come to Edinburgh toun,
It’s hanged I shall be,
And it shall neer be said that in your court
I was condemned to die.’

Version E

1 ‘MY father was the Duke of York,
My mother a lady free,
Mysell a dainty damsell,
Queen Mary sent for me.

2 ‘Yestreen I washd Queen Mary’s feet,
Kam’d down her yellow hair,
And lay a’ night in the young man’s bed,
And I’ll rue t for evermair.

3 ‘The queen’s kale was aye sae het,
Her spice was aye sae fell,
Till they gart me gang to the young man’s bed,
And I’d a’ the wyte mysell.

4 ‘I was not in the queen’s service
A twelvemonth but barely ane,
Ere I grew as big wi bairn
As ae woman could gang.

5 ‘But it fell ance upon a day,
Was aye to be it lane,
I did take strong travilling
As ever yet was seen.’

6 Ben it came the queen hersell,
Was a’ gowd to the hair;
‘O where’s the bairn, Lady Maisry,
That I heard greeting sair?’

7 it came the queen hersell,
Was a’ gowd to the chin:
‘O where’s the bairn, Lady Maisry,
That I heard late yestreen.’

8 ‘There is no bairn here,’ she says,
‘Nor never thinks to be;
’Twas but a stoun of sair sickness
That ye heard seizing me.’

9 They sought it out, they sought it in,
They sought it but and ben,
But between the bolster and the bed
They got the baby slain.

10 ‘Come busk ye, busk ye, Lady Maisdry,
Come busk, an go with me;
For I will on to Edinburgh,
And try the verity.’

11 She woud not put on the black, the black,
Nor yet wad she the brown,
But the white silk and the red scarlet,
That shin’d frae town to town.

12 As she gaed down thro Edinburgh town
The burghers’ wives made meen,
That sic a dainty damsel
Sud ever hae died for sin.

13 Make never meen for me,’ she says,

146 never meen for me;
Seek never grace frae a graceless face,
For that ye’ll never see.’

14 As she gaed up the Tolbooth stair,
A light laugh she did gie;
But lang ere she came down again
She was condemned to die.

15 ‘A’ you that are in merchants-ships,
And cross the roaring faem,
Hae nae word to my father and mother,
But that I’m coming hame.

16 ‘Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,
Hold them a little while!
For yonder comes my father and mother,
That’s travelld mony a mile.

17 ‘Gie me some o your gowd, parents,
Some o your white monie,
To save me frae the head o yon hill,
Yon greenwood gallows-tree.’

18 ‘Ye’ll get nane o our gowd, daughter,
Nor nane o our white monie;
For we hae travelld mony a mile,
This day to see you die.’

19 ‘Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,
Hold them a little while!
For yonder comes him Warenston,
The father of my chile.

20 ‘Give me some o your gowd, Warenston,
Some o your white monie,
To save me frae the head o yon hill,
Yon greenwood gallows-tree.’

21 ‘I bade you nurse my bairn well,
And nurse it carefullie,
And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry,
And my body your fee.’

22 He’s taen out a purse o gowd,
Another o white monie,
And he’s tauld down ten thousand crowns,
Says, True love, gang wi me.

Version F

1 my father was the Duke of York,
My mother a lady free,
Mysel a dainty demosell,
Queen Mary sent for me.

2 The queen’s meat, it was sae sweet,
Her colthing was sae rare,
It made me lang for Sweet Willie’s bed,
An I’ll rue it ever maer.

3 Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,
And Lady Livinston, three,
We’ll never meet in Queen Mary’s bower,
Now Maries tho ye be.

4 Queen Mary sat in her bower,
Sewing her silver seam;
She thought she heard a baby greet,
But an a lady meen.

5 She threw her needle frae her,
Her seam out of her hand,
An she is on to Lady Mary’s bower,
As fast as she could gang.

6 ‘Open your door, Lady Mary,’ she says,
‘And lat me come in;
For I hear baby greet,
But an a lady meen.’

7 ‘There is na bab in my bower, madam,
Nor never thinks to be,
But the strong pains of gravel
This night has seized me.’

8 She pat her fit to the door,
But an her knee,
Baith of brass and iron bands
In flinders she gard flee.

9 She pat a hand to her bed-head,
An ither to her bed-feet,
An bonny was the bab
Was blabbering in its bleed.

10 ‘Wae worth ye, Lady Mary,
An ill dead sall ye die!
For an ye widna kept the bonny bab,
Ye might ha sen’t to me.’

11 ‘Lay na the wate on me, madam,
Lay na the wate on me!
For my fas love bare the brand at his side
That gared my barrine die.’

12 ‘Get up, Lady Beaton, get up, Lady Seton,
And Lady Livinstone three,
An we will on to Edinburgh,
An try this gay lady.’

13 As she came to the Cannongate,
The burgers’ wives they cryed
Hon ohon, ochree! . .
. . . .

14 ‘O had you still, ye burgers’ wives,
An make na meen for me;
Seek never grace of a graceless face,
For they hae nane to gie.

15 ‘Ye merchants and ye mariners,
That trade upon the sea,
O dinna tell in my country
The dead I’m gaen to die!

16 ‘Ye merchants and ye mariners,
That sail upo the faeme,
O dinna tell in my country
But that I’m comin hame!

17 ‘Little did my father think,
Whan he brought me our the sea,
That he wad see me yellow locks
Hang on a gallow’s tree.

18 ‘Little did my mither think
Whan she brought me fra hame,
That she maught see my yellow loks
Han[g] on a gallow-pin.

19 ‘O had your hand a while!
. . .
For yonder comes my father,
I’m sure he’l borrow me.

20 ‘O some of your goud, father,
An of your well won fee,
To save me [frae the high hill]
[And ] frae the gallow-tree!’

21 ‘Ye’s get nane of my goud,
Nor of my well won fee,
For I would gie five hundred pown
To see ye hangit hie.’

22 ‘O had yer hand a while!
. . .
Yonder is my love Willie,
Sure he will borrow me.

23 ‘O some o your goud, my love Willie,
An some o yer well won fee,
To save me frae the high hill,
And fra the gallow-tree!’

24 ‘Ye’s get a’ my goud,
And a’ my well won fee,
To save ye fra the headin-hill,
And frae the gallow-tree.’

Version G

1 O MARY HAMILTON to the kirk is gane,
Wi ribbons in her hair;
An the king thoct mair o Marie
Then onie that were there.

2 Mary Hamilton’s to the preaching gane,
Wi ribbons on her breast;
An the king thocht mair o Marie
Than he thocht o the priest.

3 Syne word is thro the palace gane,
I heard it tauld yestreen,
The king loes Mary Hamilton
Mair than he loes his queen.

4 A sad tale thro the town is gaen,
A sad tale on the morrow;
Oh Mary Hamilton has born a babe,
An slain it in her sorrow!

5 And down then cam the auld queen,
Goud tassels tied her hair:
‘What did ye wi the wee wee bairn
That I heard greet sae sair?’

6 ‘There neer was a bairn into my room,
An as little designs to be;
’Twas but a stitch o my sair side,
Cam owre my fair bodie.’

7 ‘Rise up now, Marie,’ quo the queen,
‘Rise up, an come wi me,
For we maun ride to Holyrood,
A gay wedding to see.’

8 The queen was drest in scarlet fine,
Her maidens all in green;
An every town that they cam thro
Took Marie for the queen.

9 But little wist Marie Hamilton,
As she rode oure the lea,
That she was gaun to Edinbro town
Her doom to hear and dree.

10 When she cam to the Netherbow Port,
She laughed loud laughters three;
But when she reached the gallows-tree,
The tears blinded her ee.

11 ‘Oh aften have I dressed my queen,
An put gowd in her hair;
The gallows-tree is my reward,
An shame maun be my share!

12 ‘Oh aften hae I dressed my queen,
An saft saft made her bed;
An now I’ve got for my reward
The gallows-tree to tread!

13 ‘There’s a health to all gallant sailors,
That sail upon the sea!
Oh never let on to my father and mither
The death that I maun dee!

14 ‘An I charge ye, all ye mariners,
When ye sail owre the main,
Let neither my father nor mither know
But that I’m comin hame.

15 ‘Oh little did my mither ken,
That day she cradled me,
What lands I was to tread in,
Or what death I should dee.

16 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The nicht she’ll hae but three;
There’s Marie Seaton, an Marie Beaton,
An Marie Carmichael, an me.’

Version H

1 ‘WHAN I was a babe, and a very little babe,
And stood at my mither’s knee,
Nae witch nor warlock did unfauld
The death I was to dree.

2 ‘But my mither was a proud woman,
A proud woman and a bauld;
And she hired me to Queen Mary’s bouer,
When scarce eleven years auld.

3 ‘O happy, happy is the maid,
That’s born of beauty free!
It was my dimpling rosy cheeks
That’s been the dule o me;
And wae be to that weirdless wicht,
And a’ his witcherie!’

4 Word’s gane up and word’s gane doun,
An word’s gane to the ha,
That Mary Hamilton was wi bairn,
An na body kend to wha.

5 But in and cam the queen hersel,
Wi gowd plait on her hair:
Says, Mary Hamilton, whare is the babe
That I heard greet sae sair?

6 ‘There is na babe within my bouer,
And I hope there neer will be;
But it’s me wi a sair and sick colic,
And I’m just like to dee.’

7 But they looked up, they looked down,
Atween the bowsters and the wa,
It’s there they got a bonnie lad-bairn,
But its life it was awa.

8 ‘Rise up, rise up, Mary Hamilton,
Rise up, and dress ye fine,
For you maun gang to Edinbruch,
And stand afore the nine.

9 ‘Ye’ll no put on the dowie black,
Nor yet the dowie brown;
But ye’ll put on the robes o red,
To sheen thro Edinbruch town.’

10 ‘I’ll no put on the dowie black,
Nor yet the dowie brown;
But I’ll put on the robes o red,
To sheen thro Edinbruch town.’

11 As they gaed thro Edinbruch town,
And down by the Nether-bow,
There war monie a lady fair
Siching and crying, Och how!

12 ‘O weep nae mair for me, ladies,
Weep nae mair for me!
Yestreen I killed my ain bairn,
The day I deserve to dee.

13 ‘What need ye hech and how, ladies?
What need ye how for me?
Ye never saw grace at a graceless face,
Queen Mary has nane to gie.’

14 ‘Gae forward, gae forward,’ the queen she said,
‘Gae forward, that ye may see;
For the very same words that ye hae said
Sall hang ye on the gallows-tree.’

15 As she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs,
She gied loud lauchters three;
But or ever she cam down again,
She was condemnd to dee.

16 ‘O tak example frae me, Maries,
O tak example frae me,
Nor gie your luve to courtly lords,
Nor heed their witchin’ ee.

17 ‘But wae be to the Queen hersel,
She micht hae pardond me;
But sair she’s striven for me to hang
Upon the gallows-tree.

18 ‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,
The nicht she’ll hae but three;
There was Mary Beatoun, Mary Seaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.

19 ‘Aft hae I set pearls in her hair,
Aft hae I lac’d her gown,
And this is the reward I now get,
To be hangd in Edinbruch town!

20 ‘O a’ ye mariners, far and near,
That sail ayont the faem,
O dinna let my father and mither ken
But what I am coming hame!

21 ‘O a’ ye mariners, far and near,
That sail ayont the sea,
Let na my father and mither ken
The death I am to dee!

22 ‘Sae, weep na mair for me. ladies,
Weep na mair for me;
The mither that kills her ain bairn
Deserves weel for to dee.’

Version I

1 MARIE HAMILTON’s to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons in her hair;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton
Than ony that were there.

2 Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons on her breast;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton
Then he listend to the priest.

3 Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,
Wi gloves upon her hands;
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than the queen and a’ her lands.

4 She hadna been about the king’s court
A month, but barely one,
Till she was beloved by a’ the king’s court,
And the king the only man.

5 She hadna been about the king’s court
A month, but barely three,
Till frae the king’s court Marie Hamilton,
Marie Hamilton durstna be.

6 The king is to the Abbey gane,
To pu the Abbey-tree,
To scale the babe frae Marie’s heart,
But the thing it wadna be.

7 O she has rowd it in her apron,
And set it on the sea:
‘Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe!
Ye’s get nae mair o me.’

8 Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,
And word is to the noble room,
Amang the ladyes a’,
That Marie Hamilton’s brought to bed,
And the bonny babe’s mist and awa.

9 Scarcely had she lain down again,
And scarcely fa’en asleep,
When up then started our gude queen,
Just at her bed-feet,
Saying, Marie Hamilton, where’s your babe?
For I am sure I heard it greet.

10 ‘O no, O no, my noble queen,
Think no such thing to be!
’Twas but a stitch into my side,
And sair it troubles me.’

11 ‘Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton,
Get up and follow me;
For I am going to Edinburgh town,
A rich wedding for to see.’

12 O slowly, slowly raise she up,
And slowly put she on,
And slowly rode she out the way,
Wi mony a weary groan.

13 The queen was clad in scarlet,
Her merry maids all in green,
And every town that they cam to,
They took Marie for the queen.

14 ‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,
Ride hooly now wi me!
For never, I am sure, a wearier burd
Rade in your cumpanie.’

15 But little wist Marie Hamilton,
When she rade on the brown,
That she was gaen to Edinburgh town,
And a’ to be put down.

16 ‘Why weep ye so, ye burgess-wives,
Why look ye so on me?
O I am going to Edinburgh town
A rich wedding for to see!’

17 When she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs,
The corks frae her heels did flee;
And lang or eer she cam down again
She was condemnd to die.

18 When she cam to the Netherbow Port,
She laughed loud laughters three;
But when she cam to the gallows-foot,
The tears blinded her ee.

19 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The night she’ll hae but three;
There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton,
And Marie Carmichael, and me.

20 ‘O often have I dressed my queen,
And put gold upon her hair;
But now I’ve gotten for my reward
The gallows to be my share.

21 ‘Often have I dressd my queen,
And often made her bed;
But now I’ve gotten for my reward
The gallows-tree to tread.

22 ‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,
When ye sail ower the faem,
Let neither my father nor mother get wit
But that I’m coming hame!

23 ‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,
That sail upon the sea,
Let neither my father nor mother get wit
This dog’s death I’m to die!

24 For if my father and mother got wit,
And my bold brethren three,
O mickle wad be the gude red blude
This day wad be spilt for me!

25 ‘O little did my mother ken,
That day she cradled me,
The lands I was to travel in,
Or the death I was to die!’

Version J

1 My mother was a proud, proud woman,
A proud, proud woman and a bold;
She sent me to Queen Marie’s bour,
When scarcely eleven years old.

2 Queen Marie’s bread it was sae sweet,
An her wine it was sae fine,
That I hae lien in a young man’s arms,
An I rued it aye synsyne.

3 Queen Marie she cam doon the stair,
Wi the goud kamis in her hair:
‘Oh whare oh whare is the wee wee babe
I heard greetin sae sair?’

4 ‘It’s no a babe, a babie fair,
Nor ever intends to be;
But I mysel, wi a sair colic,
Was seek and like to dee.’

5 They socht the bed baith up an doon,
Frae the pillow to the straw,
An there they got the wee wee babe,
But its life was far awa.

6 ‘Come doon, come doon, Marie Hamilton,
Come doon and speak to me;
. . . .
. . . .

7 ‘You’ll no put on your dowie black,
Nor yet your dowie broun;
But you’ll put on your ried, ried silk,
To shine through Edinborough toun.’

8 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The nicht she’ll hae but three;
There was Marie Bethune, an Marie Seaton,
An Marie Carmichael, an me.

9 ‘Ah, little did my mother ken,
The day she cradled me,
The lands that I sud travel in,
An the death that I suld dee.’

10 Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The nicht she has but three;
For the bonniest Marie amang them a’
Was hanged upon a tree.

Version K

1 QUEEN MARY had four serving-maids,
As braw as braw could be,
But ane o them has fa’n wi bairn,
And for it she maun die.

2 But whan the babie it was born,
A troubled woman was she;
She rowed it up in a handkerchief,
And flang it in the sea.

3 Out then spoke a bonnie wee burd,
And it spak sharp and keen:
‘O what did ye do wi your wee babie,
Ye had in your arms yestreen?’

4 ‘O I tyed it up in a napkin,
And flang it in the sea;
I bade it sink, I bade it soom,
’Twad get nae mair o me.’

5 Out and spak King Henrie,
And an angry man was he:
‘A’ for the drowning o that wee babe
High hanged ye shall be.’

6 ‘I’ll no put on a goun o black,
Nor yet a goun o green,
But I’ll put on a goun o gowd,
To glance in young men’s een.

7 ‘O gin ye meet my father or mother,
Ye may tell them frae me,
’Twas for the sake o a wee wee bairn
That I came here to die.

8 ‘Yestreen four Maries made Queen Mary’s bed,
This nicht there’ll be but three,
A Mary Beaton, a Mary Seaton,
A Mary Carmichael, and me.

9 ‘O what will my three brithers say,
When they come hame frae see,
When they see three locks o my yellow hair
Hinging under a gallows-tree!’

Version L

1 DOUN and cam the queen hersell,
Wi the goud links in her hair:
‘O what did ye do wi the braw lad bairn
That I heard greet sae sair?

2 ‘There was never a babe into my room,
Nor ever intends to be;
It was but a fit o the sair colic,
That was like to gar me die.’

3 Doun and cam the king himsell,
And an angry man was he:
‘If ye had saved that braw child’s life,
It might hae been an honour to thee.’

4 They socht the chamer up and doun,
And in below the bed,
And there they fand a braw lad-bairn
Lying lapperin in his blood.

5 She rowed it up in her apron green,
And threw it in the sea:
‘Een sink or swim, you braw lad bairn!
Ye’ll neer get mair o me.’

6 When she gaed up the Cannogate,
She gied loud lauchters three;
But or she cam to the Cowgate Head
The tears did blind her ee.

7 ‘Come a’ ye jovial sailors,
That sail upon the sea,
Tell neither my father nor mother
The death that I’m to die!

8 ‘Come a’ ye jovial sailors,
That sail upon the main,
See that ye tell baith my father and mother
That I’m coming sailing hame!

9 ‘My father he’s the Duke of York,
And my mother’s a gay ladie,
And I mysell a pretty fair lady,
And the king fell in love with me.’

Version M

1 THEN down cam Queen Marie,
Wi gold links in her hair,
Saying, Marie Mild, where is the child,
That I heard greet sae sair?

2 ‘There was nae child wi me, madam,
There was nae child wi me;
It was but me in a sair cholic,
When I was like to die.’

3 ‘I’m not deceived,’ Queen Marie said,
‘No, no, indeed not I!
So Marie Mild, where is the child?
For sure I heard it cry.’

4 She turned down the blankets fine,
Likewise the Holland sheet,
And underneath, there strangled lay
A lovely baby sweet.

5 ‘O cruel mother,’ said the queen,
‘Some fiend possessed thee;
But I will hang thee for this deed,
My Marie tho thou be!’

6 When she cam to the Netherbow Port
She laught loud laughters three;
But when she cam to the gallows-foot,
The saut tear blinded her ee.

7 ‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,
The night she’ll hae but three;
There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beaton,
And Marie Carmichael, and me.

8 ‘Ye mariners, ye mariners,
That sail upon the sea,
Let not my father or mother wit
The death that I maun die!

9 ‘I was my parents’ only hope,
They neer had ane but me;
They little thought when I left hame,
They should nae mair me see!’

Version N

1 THE streen the queen had four Maries,
This nicht she’ll hae but three;
There’s Mary Heaton, an Mary Beaton,
An Mary Michel, an me,
An I mysel was Mary Mild,
An flower oer a’ the three.

2 Mary’s middle was aye sae neat,
An her clothing aye sae fine,
It caused her lie in a young man’s airms,
An she’s ruet it aye sin syne.

3 She done her doon yon garden green,
To pull the deceivin tree,
For to keep back that young man’s bairn,
But forward it would be.

4 ‘Ye winna put on the dowie black,
Nor yet will ye the broon,
But ye’ll put on the robes o red,
To shine through Edinburgh toon.’

5 She hasna pitten on the dowie black,
Nor yet has she the broon,
But she’s pitten on the robes o red,
To shine thro Edinburgh toon.

6 When she came to the mariners’ toon,
The mariners they were playin,
. . . .
. . . .

7 ‘Ye needna play for me, mariners,
Ye needna play for me;
Ye never saw grace in a graceless face,
For there’s nane therein to be.

8 ‘Seven years an I made Queen Mary’s bed,
Seven years an I combed her hair,
An a hansome reward noo she’s gien to me,
Gien me the gallows-tows to wear!

9 ‘Oh little did my mither think,
The day she cradled me,
What road I’d hae to travel in,
Or what death I’d hae to dee!’

Version O

1 THERE lived a lord into the south,
And he had dochters three,
And the youngest o them went to the king’s court,
To learn some courtesie.

2 She rowd it in a wee wee clout
. . .
. . . .
. . . .

3 She rowd it in a wee wee clout
And flang’t into the faem,
Saying, sink ye soon, my bonny babe!
I’ll go a maiden hame.

4 ‘O woe be to you, ye ill woman,
An ill death may ye die!
Gin ye had spared the sweet baby’s life,
It might hae been an honour to thee.’

5 She wadna put on her gowns o black,
Nor yet wad she o brown,
But she wad put on her gowns o gowd,
To glance through Embro town.

6 ‘Come saddle not to me the black,’ she says,
‘Nor yet to me the brown,
But come saddle to me the milk-white steed,
That I may ride in renown.’

Version P

1 MY father’s the duke of Argyll,
My mither’s a lady gay,
And I mysel am a dainty dame,
And the king desired me.

2 schawd [me] up, he schawed me doun,
He schawd me to the ha;
He schawd me to the low cellars,
And that was waurst of a’.

Version Q

1 THE Duke of York was my father,
My mother a lady free,
Myself a dainty damosell,
Queen Marie sent for me.

2 The queen’s meat it was sae sweet,
Her cleiding it was sae rare,
It gart me grien for sweet Willie,
And I’ll rue it evermair.

Version R

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

Version S

1 There lived a lord into the South,
An he had daughters three;
The youngest o them’s gaen to the king’s court,
To learn some courtesie.

2 She had na been in the king’s court
A twelvemonth an a day,
When word is thro the kitchen gaen,
An likewise thro the ha,
That Mary Moil was gane wi child
To the highest steward of a’.

3 She rowd it into a basket
An flang ’t into the sea,
Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe,
Ye’se neer get mair o me.

4 She rowd it into a basket
An flang ’t into the faem,
Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe,
I’se gang a maiden hame.

5 O whan the news cam to the king
An angry man was he;
He has taen the table wi his foot,
An in flinders gart it flie.

6 ‘O woe be to you, ye ill woman,
An ill death may ye die!
Gin ye had spared the sweet baby’s life,
It might have been an honour to thee.

7 ‘O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Moil,
O busk, and gang wi me,
For agen the morn at ten o clock
A rare sight ye sall see.’

8 She wadna put on her gown o black,
Nor yet wad she o brown,
But she wad put on her gown o gowd,
To glance thro Embro town.

9 O whan she cam to the Netherbow Port
She gied loud laughters three,
But whan she cam to the gallows-foot
The tear blinded her ee.

10 Saying, O ye mariners, mariners,
That sail upon the sea,
Let not my father nor mother to wit
The death that I maun die.

11 ‘For little did father or mother wit,
The day they cradled me,
What foreign lands I should travel in,
Or what death I should die.

12 ‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries,
The night she’ll hae but three;
There was Mary Seton, an Mary Beaton,
An Mary Carmichael, an me.’

Version T

1 There was a duke, and he dwelt in York,
And he had daughters three;
One of them was an hostler-wife,
And two were gay ladies.

2 O word’s gane to Queen Mary’s court,
As fast as it coud gee,
That Mary Hamilton’s born a bairn,
And the baby they coud na see.

3 Then came the queen and a’ her maids,
Swift tripping down the stair:
‘Where is the baby, Mary,
That we heard weep sae sair?’

4 ‘O say not so, Queen Mary,
Nor bear ill tales o me,
For this is but a sore sickness
That oft times troubles me.’

5 They sought it up, they sought it down,
They sought it below the bed,
And there the[y] saw the bonny wee babe,
Lying wallowing in its bluid.

6 ‘Now busk ye, busk ye, Mary Hamilton,
Busk ye and gang wi me,
For I maun away to Edinbro town,
A rich wedding to see.’

7 Mary wad na put on the black velvet,
Nor yet wad put on the brown,
But she’s put on the red velvet,
To shine thro Edinbro town.

8 When she came unto the town,
And near the Tolbooth stair,
There stood many a lady gay,
Weeping for Mary fair.

9 ‘O haud yeer tongue[s], ye ladys a’,
And weep na mair for me!
O haud yeer tongues, ye ladys a’,
For it’s for my fault I dee.

10 ‘The king he took me on his knee
And he gae three drinks to me,
And a’ to put the babie back,
But it wad na gang back for me.

11 ‘O ye mariners, ye mariners a’,
That sail out-owr the sea,
Let neither my father nor mother get wit
What has become o me!

12 ‘Let neither my father nor mother ken,
Nor my bauld brethren three,
For muckle wad be the gude red bluid
That wad be shed for me.

13 ‘Aft hae I laced Queen Mary’s back,
Aft hae I kaimed her hair,
And a’ the reward she’s gein to me ’s
The gallows to be my heir.

14 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Marys,
The night she’l hae but three;
There was Mary Seatoun, and Mary Beatoun,
An Mary Carmichal, an me.’

Version U

1 ‘My father was the Duke of York,
My mother a gay ladye,
And I myself a daintie dame;
The queen she sent for me.

2 ‘But the queen’s meat it was sae sweet,
And her clothing was sae rare,
It made me long for a young man’s bed,
And I rued it evermair.’

3 But worid is up, and word is down,
Amang the ladyes a’,
That Marie’s born a babe sin yestreen,
That babe it is awa.

4 But the queen she gat wit of this,
She calld for a berry-brown gown,
And she’s awa to Marie’s bower,
The bower that Marie lay in.

5 ‘Open your door, my Marie,’ she says,
‘My bonny and fair Marie;
They say you have born a babe sin yestreen,
That babe I fain wad see.’

6 ‘It is not sae wi me, madam,
It is not sae wi me;
It is but a fit of my sair sickness,
That oft times troubles me.’

7 ‘Get up, get up, my Marie,’ she says,
‘My bonny and fair Marie,
And we’ll away to Edinburgh town,
And try the verity.’

8 Slowly, slowly, gat she up,
And slowly pat she on,
And slowly went she to that milk-steed,
To ride to Edinburgh town.

9 But when they cam to Edinburgh,
And in by the Towbooth stair,
There was mony a virtuous ladye
Letting the tears fa there.

10 ‘Why weep ye sae for me, madams?
Why weep ye sae for me?
For sin ye brought me to this town
This death ye gar me die.’

11 When she cam to the Netherbow Port,
She gae loud laughters three;
But when she cam to the gallows-foot
The tear blinded her ee.

12 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The night she’ll hae but three;
There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beatoun,
And Marie Carmichael, and me.

13 ‘My love he was a pottinger,
Mony drink he gae me,
And a’ to put back that bonnie babe,
But alas! it wad na do.

14 ‘I pat that bonny babe in a box,
And set it on the sea;
O sink ye, swim ye, bonny babe!
Ye’s neer get mair o me.

15 ‘O all ye jolly sailors,
That sail upon the sae,
Let neither my father nor mother ken
The death that I maun die.

16 ‘But if my father and mother kend
The death that I maun die,
O mony wad be the good red guineas
That wad be gien for me.’

Version V

1 ‘My father was the Duke of York,
My mother the gay ladie,
An I myself a maiden bright,
An the queen desired me.’

2 But there word gane to the kitchen,
There’s word gane to the ha,
That Mary mild she gangs wi child
To the uppermost stewart of a’.

3 Than they sought but, and they sou[ght] ben,
They sought aneath the bed,
An there the fand the bonnie lad-bairn,
Lyin lappin in his blood.

4 ‘Gae buss ye, Marie Hamilton,
Gae buss ye, buss ye bra,
For ye maun away to Edin[brough] town,
The queen’s birthday . . ’.’

5 She wadna put on her black, bla[ck] silk,
Nor wad she put on the brown,
But she pat on the glisterin stufs,
To glister in Edinbrough town.

6 An whan she cam to the water-gate
Loud laughters gae she three,
But whan she cam to the Netherbow Port
The tear blinded Marie’s ee

7 ’Twas up than spak Queen Marie’s nurse,
An a sorry woman was she:
‘Whae sae clever o fit and ready o wit
Has telld sic news o thee!’

8 ‘Oft have I Queen Marie’s head
Oft have I caimd her hair,
An a’ the thanks I’ve gotten for that
Is the gallows to be my heir!

9 ‘Oft have I dressd Queen Marie’s head,
An laid her in her bed,
An a’ the thanks I’ve gotten for that
Is the green gallows-tree to tread!

10 ‘O spare, O spare, O judge,’ she cried,
‘O spair a day for me!’
‘There is nae law in our land, ladie,
To let a murderer be.’

11 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The night she’ll hae but three;
There was Marie Seaton, and Ma[rie] Bea[ton],
An Marie Carmichael, an me.

12 ‘O if my father now but kend
The death that I’m to die,
O muckle, muckle wad be the red gowd
That he wad gie for me.

13 ‘An if my brothers kend the death
That I am now to die,
O muckle, muckle wad be the red blood
That wad be shed for me.’

Version W

1 There lived a man in the North Countree
And he had doghters three;
The youngest o them’s to Edinbourgh gaen,
Ane o the queen’s Marys to be.

2 Queen Mary’s bread it was sae white,
And her wine it ran sae clear,
It shewed her the way to the butler’s bed,
And I wait she’s bought dear.

3 For Mary’s to the garden gaen,
To eat o the saven tree,
And a’ ’s to pit her young son back,
But back he wad na be.

4 So Mary’s to her chamber gaen,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

5 Queen Mary she came down the stair,
And a’ her maids afore her:
‘Oh, Mary Miles, where is the child
That I have heard greet sae sore O?’

6 ‘There is no child with me, madam,
There is no child with me;
It was only a bit of a cholick I took,
And I thought I was gawen to dee.’

7 So they looked up, and they looked down,
And they looked beneath the bed-foot,
And there they saw a bonnie boy,
Lying weltering in his blood.

8 . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
‘Since that you have killed your own dear child,
The same death you shall dee.’

9 When Mary came afore the court,
A loud laugh laughed she;
But when she came to the [gallows-]fit
The tear blinded her ee.

10 ‘O wha will comb Queen Mary’s heed?
Or wha will brade her hair?
And wha will lace her middle sae jimp
Whan [I] am nae langer there?

11 ‘Yestreen the queen [had] four Maries,
The night she’ll hae but three;
There was Mary Seaten, and Mary Beaten,
And Mary Carmichal, and me.

12 ‘I’ll not put on my robes of black,
Nor yet my robes of brown,
But I’ll put on a shining braw garb,
That will shine thro Edinbourgh town.’

13 Oh, whan she came to the Cannongate,
The Cannongate sae hee,
There mony a lord and belted knight
Was grieved for her beautee.

14 And whan she came to [the] Hee Town,
The Hee Town sae hee,

Version X

1 There livd a lord in the West Country,
And he had daughters three;
The youngest o them’s to the queen’s court,
To learn some courtesy.

2 She hadna been at the queen’s court
A year but and a day
Till she has fa’n as big wi child,
As big as she coud gae.

3 She’s gane into the garden
To pu the sycamore tree,
And taen the bony bairn in her arms
And thrown it in the sea.

4 She rowd it in her apron
And threw it in the sea:
‘Gae sink or soom, my bony sweet babe,
Ye’ll never get mair o me.’

5 Then in an came Queen Mary,
Wi gowd rings on her hair:
‘O Mary mild, where is the child
That I heard greet sae sair?’

6 ‘It wasna a babe, my royal liege,
Last night that troubled me,
But it was a fit o sair sickness,
And I was lyken to dee.’

7 ‘O hold yere tongue, Mary Hamilton,
Sae loud as I hear ye lee!
For I’ll send you to Enbro town,
The verity to see.’

8 She wadna put on the ribbons o black,
Nor yet wad she the brown,
But she wad put on the ribbons o gowd,
To gae glittring through Enbro town.

9 As she rade up the Sands o Leith,
Riding on a white horse,
O little did she think that day
To die at Enbro Corss!

10 As she rade up the Cannongate,
She leugh loud laughters three,
And mony a lord and lady said,
‘Alas for that lady!’

11 ‘Ye needna say Oh, ye needna cry Eh,
Alas for that lady!
Ye’ll neer see grace in a graceless face,
As little ye’ll see in me.’

12 When she came to the Netherbow Port,
She leugh loud laughters three,
But ere she came to the gallows-foot
The tear blinded her eie;
Saying, Tye a white napkin owr my face,
For that gibbet I downa see.

13 ‘O hold yere hand, Lord Justice!
O hold it a little while!
I think I see my ain true-love
Come wandring mony a mile.

14 ‘O have ye brought me ony o my gowd?
Or ony o my weel-won fee?
Or are ye come to see me hangd,
Upon this gallows-tree?’

15 ‘O I hae brought ye nane o yere gowd,
Nor nane o yere weel-won fee,
But I am come to see ye hangd,
And hangit ye shall be.’

16 ‘O all ye men and mariners,
That sail for wealth or fame,
Let never my father or mother get wit
But what I’m coming hame.

17 ‘O all ye men and mariners,
That sail upon the sea,
Let never my father or mother get wit
The death that I maun dee.

18 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The night she’ll hae but three;
There was Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.’

Version Y

1 ‘Yestreen the queen had four Marys,
The night she’ll hae but three;
She had Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,
And Mary Carmichael, and me.

2 ‘My feather was the Duke of York,
My mother a gay lady,
And I mysell a bonnie young may,
And the king fell in love we me.

3 ‘The king’s kisses they were so sweet,
And his wine it was so strong,
That I became a mother
Before fifteen years old.’

4 ‘O tell the truth now, Mary,
And sett this matter right;
What hae ye made o the babey
Was greeting yesternight?’

5 ‘O I will tell you, madam the queen,
I winna tell a lie;
I put it in a bottomless boat
And bad it sail the sea.’

6 ‘Ye lie, ye lie now, Mary,
Sae loud’s I hear you lie!
You wasnae out o the palace,
So that coud never be.’

7 ‘Weel I will tell you, madam,
Though it should gar me weep;
I stabbd it we my little pen-knife,
And bad it take a sleep.’

8 When she came up the Netherbow,
She geed loud laughters three;
But when she came out o the Parliament Close
The tear blinded her ee.

9 ‘O little does my feather ken
The death I am to die,
Or muckel wad be the red, red gould
Wad be payed doun for me.

10 ‘O little does my mother think
The death that I am to die,
Or monie wad be the saut, saut tears
That she wad shed for me.

11 ‘O never lett my brothers ken
The death that I am to die,
For muckel wad be the red, red blood
That wad be shed for me.

12 ‘Aft hae I washd the king’s bonnie face,
Kaimd doun his yellow hair,
And this is a’ the reward he’s geen me,
The gallows to be my share.’

Version Z

1 ‘Buss ye, bonny Marie Hamilton,
Buss and gae wi me,
For ye maun gae to Edinborough,
A great wedding to see.’

2 ‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,
Ride hooly now wi me,
For never, I’m sure, a wearier bride
Rode in your cumpany.’

3 Little wist Marie Hamilton,
When she rode on the brown,
That she was gawn to Edinborough,
And a’ to be put down.

4 When she came to the Council stairs,
She ga loud laughters three;
But or that she came down again
She was condemmd to dee.

5 ‘O ye mariners, mariners, mariners,
When ye sail oer the faem,
Let never my father nor mother to wit
But I’m just coming hame.

6 ‘Let never my father nor mother to wit,
Nor my bauld brether[en] three,
Or meckle wad be the red, red gowd
This day be gien for me.

7 ‘Let never my father or mother to wit,
Nor my bauld brethren three,
Or meckle war the red, red blude
This day wad fa for me.’

Version Aa

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

Version Bb

1 Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
But the nicht she’ll hae but three;
There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton,
And Mary Carmichell, and me.

2 Oh little did my mither think,
At nicht when she cradled me,
That I wad sleep in a nameless grave
And hang on the gallows-tree.
Yestreen, etc.

3 They’ll tie a kerchief round my een,
And they’ll na let me see t’ dee,
And they’ll spread my story thro a’ the land,
Till it reaches my ain countrie.

4 I wish I micht sleep in the auld kirkyard,
Beneath the hazel tree,
Where aft we played in the long simmer nichts,
My brithers and sisters and me.

174. Earl Bothwell

1 WOE worth thee, woe worth thee, false Scottlande!
Ffor thou hast euer wrought by a sleight;
For the worthyest prince that euer was borne,
You hanged vnder a cloud by night.

2 The Queene of France a letter wrote,
And sealed itt with hart and ringe,
And bade him come Scottland within,
And shee wold marry him and crowne him king.

3 To be a king, itt is a pleasant thing,
To bee a prince vnto a peere;
But you haue heard, and so haue I too,
A man may well by gold to deere.

4 There was an Italyan in that place,
Was as wel beloued as euer was hee;
Lord David was his name,
Chamberlaine vnto the queene was hee.

5 Ffor if the king had risen forth of his place,
He wold haue sitt him downe in the cheare,
And tho itt beseemed him not soe well,
Altho the king had beene present there.

6 Some lords in Scottland waxed wonderous wroth,
And quarrelld with him for the nonce;
I shall you tell how itt beffell,
Twelue daggers were in him all att once.

7 When this queene see the chamberlaine was slaine,
For him her cheeks shee did weete,
And made a vow for a twelue month and a day
The king and shee wold not come in one sheete.

8 Then some of the lords of Scottland waxed wrothe,
And made their vow vehementlye,
‘For death of the queenes chamberlaine
The king himselfe he shall dye.’

9 They strowed his chamber ouer with gunpowder,
And layd greene rushes in his way;
Ffor the traitors thought that night
The worthy king for to betray.

10 To bedd the worthy king made him bowne,
To take his rest, that was his desire;
He was no sooner cast on sleepe,
But his chamber was on a blasing fyer.

11 Vp he lope, and a glasse window broke,
He had thirty foote for to fall;
Lord Bodwell kept a priuy wach
Vnderneath his castle-wall:
‘Who haue wee heere?’ sayd Lord Bodwell;
‘Answer me, now I doe call.’

12 ‘King Henery the Eighth my vnckle was;
Some pitty show for his sweet sake!
Ah, Lord Bodwell, I know thee well;
Some pitty on me I pray thee take!’

13 ‘I’le pitty thee as much,’ he sayd,
‘And as much favor I’le show to thee
As thou had on the queene’s chamberlaine
That day thou deemedst him to dye.’

14 Through halls and towers this king they ledd,
Through castles and towers that were hye,
Through an arbor into an orchard,
And there hanged him in a peare tree.

15 When the gouernor of Scottland he heard tell
That the worthye king he was slaine,
He hath banished the queene soe bitterlye
That in Scottland shee dare not remaine.

16 But shee is fled into merry England,
And Scottland to a side hath laine,
And through the Queene of Englands good grace
Now in England shee doth remaine.

175. The Rising in the North

1 LISTEN liuely lordings all,
And all that beene this place within:
If you’le giue eare vnto my songe,
I will tell you how this geere did begin.

2 It was the good Erle Of Westmorlande,
A noble erle was call d hee,
And he wrought treason against the crowne;
Alas, itt was the more pittye!

3 And soe itt was the Erle of Northumberland,
Another good noble erle was hee;
They tooken both vpon one part,
Against the crowne they wolden bee.

4 Earle Pearcy is into his garden gone,
And after walkes his awne ladye:
‘I heare a bird sing in my eare
That I must either fight or flee.’

5 ‘God forbidd,’ shee sayd, ’good my lord,
That euer soe that it shalbee!
But goe to London to the court,
And faire fall truth and honestye!’

6 ‘But nay, now nay, my ladye gay,
That euer it shold soe bee;
My treason is knowen well enoughe;
Att the court I must not bee.’

7 ‘But goe to the court yet, good my lord,
Take men enowe with thee;
If any man will doe you wronge,
Your warrant they may bee.’

8 ‘But nay, now nay, my lady gay,
For soe itt must not bee;
If I goe to the court, ladye,
Death will strike me, and I must dye.’

9 ‘But goe to the court yett, [good] my lord,
I my-selfe will ryde with thee;
If any man will doe you wronge,
Your borrow I shalbee.’

10 ‘But nay, now nay, my lady gay,
For soe it must not bee;
For if I goe to the court, ladye,
Thou must me neuer see.

11 ‘But come hither, thou litle foot-page,
Come thou hither vnto mee,
For thou shalt goe a message to Master Norton,
In all the hast that euer may bee.

12 Comend me to that gentleman;
Bring him here this letter from mee,
And say, I pray him earnestlye
That hee will ryde in my companye.’

13 But one while the foote-page went,
Another while he rann;
Vntill he came to Master Norton,
The foot-page, neuer blanne.

14 And when he came to Master Nortton,
He kneeled on his knee,
And tooke the letter betwixt his hands,
And lett the gentleman it see.

15 And when the letter itt was reade,
Affore all his companye,
I-wis, if you wold know the truth,
There was many a weeping eye.

16 He said, Come hither, Kester Nortton,
A fine fellow thou seemes to bee;
Some good councell, Kester Nortton,
This day doe thou giue to mee.

17 ‘Marry, I’le giue you councell, father,
If you’le take councell att me,
That if you haue spoken the word, father,
That backe againe you doe not flee.’

18 ‘God a mercy! Christopher Nortton,
I say, God a mercye!
If I doe liue and scape with liffe,
Well advanced shalt thou bee.

19 ‘But come you hither, my nine good sonnes,
In mens estate I thinke you bee;
How many of you, my children deare,
On my part that wilbe?’

20 But eight of them did answer soone,
And spake full hastilye;
Sayes, We wilbe on your part, father,
Till the day that we doe dye.

21 ‘But God a mercy! my children deare,
And euer I say God a mercy!
And yett my blessing you shall haue,
Whether-soeuer I liue or dye.

22 ‘But what sayst thou, thou Ffrancis Nortton,
Mine eldest sonne and mine heyre trulye?
Some good councell, Ffrancis Nortton,
This day thou giue to me.’

23 ‘But I will giue you councell, father,
If you will take councell att mee;
For if you wold take my councell, father,
Against the crowne you shold not bee.’

24 ‘But fye vpon thee, Ffrancis Nortton!
I say fye vpon thee!
When thou was younge and tender af age
I made full much of thee.’

25 ‘But your head is white, father,’ he sayes,
‘And your beard is wonderous gray;
Itt were shame for your countrye
If you shold rise and flee away.’

26 ‘But fye vpon thee, thou coward Ffrancis!
Thou neuer tookest that of mee!
When thou was younge and tender of age
I made too much of thee.’

27 ‘But I will goe with you, father,’ quoth hee;
‘Like a naked man will I bee;
He that strikes the first stroake against the crowne,
An ill death may hee dye!’

28 But then rose vpp Master Nortton, that esquier,
With him a full great companye;
And then the erles they comen downe
To ryde in his companye.

29 Att Whethersbye the mustered their men,
Vpon a full fayre day;
Thirteen thousand there were seene
To stand in battel ray.

30 The Erle of Westmoreland, he had in his ancyent
The dunn bull in sight most hye,
And three doggs with golden collers
Were sett out royallye.

31 The Erle of Northumberland, he had in his ancyent
The halfe moone in sight soe hye,
As the Lord was crucifyed on the crosse,
And set forth pleasantlye.

32 And after them did rise good Sir George Bowes,
After them a spoyle to make;
The erles returned backe againe,
Thought euer that knight to take.

33 This barron did take a castle then,
Was made of lime and stone;
The vttermost walls were ese to be woon;
The erles haue woon them anon.

34 But tho they woone the vttermost walls,
Quickly and anon,
The innermust walles the cold not winn;
The were made of a rocke of stone.

35 But newes itt came to leeue London,
In all the speede that euer might bee;
And word it came to our royall queene
Of all the rebells in the north countrye.

36 Shee turned her grace then once about,
And like a royall queene shee sware;
Sayes, I will ordaine them such a breake-fast
As was not in the north this thousand yeere!

37 Shee caused thirty thousand men to be made,
With horsse and harneis all quicklye;
And shee caused thirty thousand men to be made,
To take the rebells in the north countrye.

38 They tooke with them the false Erle of Warwicke,
Soe did they many another man;
Vntill they came to Yorke castle,
I-wis they neuer stinted nor blan.

39 . . . .
. . . .
‘Spread thy ancyent, Erle of Westmoreland!
The halfe-moone faine wold wee see!’

40 But the halfe-moone is fled and gone,
And the dun bull vanished awaye;
And Ffrancis Nortton and his eight sonnes
Are fled away most cowardlye.

41 Ladds with mony are counted men,
Men without mony are counted none;
But hold your tounge! why say you soe?
Men wilbe men when mony is gone.

176. Northumberland Betrayed by Douglas

1 NOW list and lithe, you gentlemen,
And I’st tell you the veretye,
How they haue dealt with a banished man,
Driuen out of his countrye.

2 When as hee came on Scottish ground,
As woe and wonder be them amonge!
Ffull much was there traitorye
The wrought the Erle of Northumberland.

3 When they were att the supper sett,
Beffore many goodly gentlemen,
The fell a flouting and mocking both,
And said to the Erle of Northumberland:

4 ‘What makes you be soe sad, my lord,
And in your mind soe sorrowffullye?
In the north of Scottland to-morrow there’s a shooting,
And thither thou’st goe, my Lord Percye.

5 ‘The buttes are sett, and the shooting is made,
And there is like to be great royaltye,
And I am sworne into my bill
Thither to bring my Lord Pearcy.’

6 ‘I’le giue thee my hand, Douglas,’ he sayes,
‘And be the faith in my bodye,
If that thou wilt ryde to the worlds end,
I’le ryde in thy companye.’

7 And then bespake the good ladye,
Marry a Douglas was her name:
‘You shall byde here, good English lord;
My brother is a traiterous man.

8 ‘He is a traitor stout and stronge,
As I’st tell you the veretye;
For he hath tane liuerance of the Erle,
And into England he will liuor thee.’

9 ‘Now hold thy tounge, thou goodlye ladye,
And let all this talking bee;
Ffor all the gold that’s in Loug Leuen,
William wold not liuor mee.

10 ‘It wold breake truce betweene England and Scottland,
And freinds againe they wold neuer bee,
If he shold liuor a bani[s]ht erle,
Was driuen out of his owne countrye.’

11 ‘Hold your tounge, my lord,’ shee sayes,
‘There is much falsehood them amonge;
When you are dead, then they are done,
Soone they will part them freinds againe.

12 ‘If you will giue me any trust, my lord,
I’le tell you how you best may bee;
You’st lett my brother ryde his wayes,
And tell those English lords, trulye,

13 ‘How that you cannot with them ryde,
Because you are in an ile of the sea;
Then, ere my brother come againe,
To Edenborrow castle I’le carry thee.

14 ‘I’le liuor you vnto the Lord Hume,
And you know a trew Scothe lord is hee,
For he hath lost both land and goods
In ayding of your good bodye.’

15 ‘Marry, I am woe, woman,’ he sayes,
‘That any freind fares worse for mee;
For where one saith it is a true tale,
Then two will say it is a lye.

16 ‘When I was att home in my [realme],
Amonge my tennants all trulye,
In my time of losse, wherin my need stoode,
They came to ayd me honestlye.

17 ‘Therfore I left a many a child fatherlese,
And many a widdow to looke wanne;
And therfore blame nothing, ladye,
But the woeffull warres which I began.’

18 ‘If you will giue me noe trust, my lord,
Nor noe credence you will giue mee,
And you’le come hither to my right hand,
Indeed, my lorid, I’le lett you see.’

19 Saies, I neuer loued noe witchcraft,
Nor neuer dealt with treacherye,
But euermore held the hye way;
Alas, that may be seene by mee!

20 ‘If you will not come your selfe, my lord,
You’le lett your chamberlaine goe with mee,
Three words that I may to him speake,
And soone he shall come againe to thee.’

21 When Iames Swynard came that lady before,
Shee let him see thorrow the weme of her ring
How many there was of English lords
To wayte there for his master and him.

22 ‘But who beene yonder, my good ladye,
That walkes soe royallye on yonder greene?’
‘Yonder is Lord Hunsden, Iamye,’ she saye[d],
‘Alas, hee’le doe you both tree and teene!’

23 ‘And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye,
That walkes soe royallye him beside?’
‘Yond is Sir William Drurye, Iamy,’ shee sayd,
‘And a keene captain hee is, and tryde.’

24 ‘How many miles is itt, thou good ladye,
Betwixt yond English lord and mee?’
‘Marry, thrise fifty mile, Iamy,’ shee sayd,
‘And euen to seale and by the sea.

25 ‘I neuer was on English ground,
Nor neuer see itt with mine eye,
But as my witt and wisedome serues,
And as [the] booke it telleth mee.

26 ‘My mother, shee was a witch woman,
And part of itt shee learned mee;
Shee wold let me see out of Lough Leuen
What they dyd in London cytye.’

27 ‘But who is yonde, thou good laydye,
That comes yonder with an osterne face?’
‘Yond’s Sir Iohn Forster, Iamye,’ shee sayd;
‘Methinkes thou sholdest better know him then I.’
‘Euen soe I doe, my goodlye ladye,
And euer alas, soe woe am I!’

28 He pulled his hatt ouer his eyes,
And, Lord, he wept soe tenderlye!
He is gone to his master againe,
And euen to tell him the veretye.

29 ‘Now hast thou beene with Marry, Iamy,’ he sayd,
‘Euen as thy tounge will tell to mee;
But if thou trust in any womans words,
Thou must refraine good companye.’

30 ‘It is noe words, my lord,’ he sayes;
‘Yonder the men shee letts me see,
How many English lords there is
Is wayting there for you and mee.

31 ‘Yonder I see the Lord Hunsden,
And hee and you is of the third degree;
A greater enemye, indeed, my Lord,
In England none haue yee.’

32 ‘And I haue beene in Lough Leven
The most part of these yeeres three:
Yett had I neuer noe out-rake,
Nor good games that I cold see.

33 ‘And I am thus bidden to yonder shooting
By William Douglas all trulye;
Therfore speake neuer a word out of thy mouth
That thou thinkes will hinder mee.’

34 Then he writhe the gold ring of his fingar
And gaue itt to that ladye gay;
Sayes, That was a legacye left vnto mee
In Harley woods where I cold bee.

35 ‘Then farewell hart, and farewell hand,
And farwell all good companye!
That woman shall neuer beare a sonne
Shall know soe much of your priuitye.’

36 ‘Now hold thy tounge, ladye,’ hee sayde,
‘And make not all this dole for mee,
For I may well drinke, but I’st neuer eate,
Till againe in Lough Leuen I bee.’

37 He tooke his boate att the Lough Leuen,
For to sayle now ouer the sea,
And he hath cast vpp a siluer wand,
Saies, Fare thou well, my good ladye!
The ladye looked ouer her left sholder;
In a dead swoone there fell shee.

38 ‘Goe backe againe, Douglas!’ he sayd,
‘And I will goe in thy companye,
For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane,
And euer, alas, shee will but dye!

39 ‘If ought come to yonder ladye but good,
Then blamed sore that I shall bee,
Because a banished man I am,
And driuen out of my owne countrye.’

40 ‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes,
‘And lett all such talking bee;
There’s ladyes enow in Lough Leuen
And for to cheere yonder gay ladye.’

41 ‘And you will not goe your selfe, my lord,
You will lett my chamberlaine go with mee;
Wee shall now take our boate againe,
And soone wee shall ouertake thee.’

42 ‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes,
‘And lett now all this talking bee;
Ffor my sister is craftye enoughe
For to beguile thousands such as you and mee.’

43 When they had sayled fifty myle,
Now fifty mile vpon the sea,
Hee had forgotten a message that hee
Shold doe in Lough Leuen trulye:
Hee asked, how farr it was to that shooting
That William Douglas promised mee.

44 ‘Now faire words makes fooles faine,
And that may be seene by thy master and thee;
Ffor you may happen think itt soone enoughe
When-euer you that shooting see.’

45 Iamye pulled his hatt now ouer his browe,
I wott the teares fell in his eye;
And he is to his master againe,
And for to tell him the veretye.

46 ‘He sayes fayre words makes fooles faine,
And that may be seene by you and mee,
Ffor wee may happen thinke itt soone enoughe
When-euer wee that shooting see.

47 ‘Hold vpp thy head, Iamye,’ the erle sayd,
‘And neuer lett thy hart fayle thee;
He did itt but to proue thee with,
And see how thow wold take with death trulye.’

48 When they had sayled other fifty mile,
Other fifty mile vpon the sea,
Lord Peercy called to him, himselfe,
And sayd, Douglas, what wilt thou doe with mee?

49 ‘Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord,
That you may goe as a shipp att sea;
Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe,
That you may pricke her while shee’le awaye.’

50 ‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth,
‘That thou needest to floute mee?
For I was counted a horsseman good
Before that euer I mett with thee.

51 ‘A false Hector hath my horsse,
And euer an euill death may hee dye!
And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres
And all the geere belongs to mee.’

52 When the had sayled other fifty mile,
Other fifty mile vpon the sea,
The landed low by Barwicke-side;
A deputed lord landed Lord Percye.

177. The Earl of Westmoreland

1 ‘HOW long shall fortune faile me now,
And keepe me heare in deadlye dreade?
How long shall I in bale abide,
In misery my life to leade?

2 ‘To fall from my rose, it was my chance;
Such was the Queene of England free;
I tooke a lake, and turned my backe,
On Bramaball More shee caused my flye.

3 ‘One gentle Armstrong that I doe ken,
Alas, with thee I dare not mocke!
Thou dwellest soe far on the west border,
Thy name is called the Lord Iocke.’

4 Now hath Armstrong taken noble Nevill,
And as one Martinfield did Profecye;
He hath taken the Lord Dakers,
A lords sonne of great degree.

5 He hath taken old Master Nortton,
And sonnes four in his companye;
Hee hath taken another gentleman,
Called Iohn of Carnabie.

6 Then bespake him Charles Nevill;
To all his men, I wott, sayd hee,
Sayes, I must into Scottland fare;
Soe nie the borders is noe biding for me.

7 When he came to Humes Castle,
And all his noble companye;
The Lord Hume halched them right soone,
Saying, Banished men, welcome to mee!

8 They had not beene in Humes Castle
Not a month and dayes three,
But the regent of Scottland and he got witt
That banished men there shold be.

9 ‘I’le write a letter,’ sayd the regent then,
‘And send to Humes Castle hastilye,
To see whether Lord Hume wilbe soe good
To bring the banished men vnto mee.

10 ‘That lord and I haue beene att deadlye fuyde,
And hee and I cold neuer agree;
Writting a letter, that will not serue;
The banished men must not speake with me.

11 ‘But I will send for the garrison of Barwicke,
That they will come all with speede,
And with them will come a noble captaine,
Which is called Captain Reade.’

12 Then the Lord Hume he got witt
They wold seeke vnto Nevill, where he did lye;
He tooke them out of the castle of Hume,
And brought them into the castle of Camelye.

13 Then bespake him Charles Nevill,
To all his men, I wott, spoke hee,
Sayes, I must goe take a noble shippe,
And wee’le be marriners vpon the sea.

14 I’le seeke out fortune where it doth lye;
In Scottland there is noe byding for mee;
Then the tooke leaue with fayre Scottland,
For they are sealing vpon the sea.

15 They had not sayled vpon the sea
Not one day and monthes three,
But they were ware of a Noble shippe,
That fiue topps bare all soe hye.

16 Then Nevill called to Martinfeeld,
Sayd, Martinffeeld, come hither to mee;
Some good councell, Martinfeeld,
I pray thee giue it vnto mee.

17 Thou told me when I was in England fayre,
Before that I did take the sea,
Thou neuer sawst noe banner borne
But thou wold ken it with thine eye.

18 Thou neuer saw noe man in the face,
Iff thou had seene before with thine eye,
[But] thou coldest haue kend the freind by thy foe,
And then haue told it vnto mee.

19 Thou neuer heard noe speeche spoken,
Neither in Greeke nor Hebrewe,
[But] thou coldest haue answered them in any language,
And then haue told it vnto mee.

20 ‘Master, master, see you yonder faire ancyent?
Yonder is the serpent and the serpents head,
The mould-warpe in the middest of itt,
And itt all shines with gold soe redde.

21 ‘Yonder is Duke Iohn of Austria,
A noble warryour on the sea,
Whose dwelling is in Ciuill land,
And many men, God wot, hath hee.’

22 Then bespake him Martinfeelde,
To all his fellowes, I wot, said hee,
Turne our noble shipp about,
And that’s a token that wee will flee.

23 ‘Thy councell is not good, Martinfeeld;
Itt falleth not out fitting for mee;
I rue the last time I turnd my backe;
I did displease my prince and the countrye.’

24 Then bespake him noble Nevill,
To all his men, I wott, sayd hee,
Sett me vp my faire Dun Bull,
With gilden hornes hee beares all soe hye.

25 And I will passe yonder noble Duke,
By the leaue of mild Marye;
For Yonder is the Duke of Austria,
That trauells now vpon the sea.

26 And then bespake this noble Duke,
Vnto his men then sayd hee,
Yonder is sure some nobleman,
Or else some youth that will not flee.

27 I will put out a pinace fayre,
A harold of armes vpon the sea,
And goe thy way to yonder noble shippe,
And bring the masters name to mee.

28 When the herald of armes came before noble Nevill,
He fell downe low vpon his knee:
‘You must tell me true what is your name,
And in what countrye your dwelling may bee.’

29 ‘That will I not doe,’ sayd noble Nevill,
‘By Mary mild, that mayden free,
Except I first know the masters name,
And in what country his dwelling may bee.’

30 Then bespake the herald of armes,
O that he spoke soe curteouslye!
Duke Iohn of Austria is my masters name,
He will neuer lene it vpon the sea.

31 He hath beene in the citye of Rome,
His dwelling is in Ciuillee:
‘Then wee are poore Brittons,’ the Nevill can say,
‘Where wee trauell vpon the sea.

32 ‘And Charles Nevill itt is my name,
I will neuer lene it vpon the sea;
When I was att home in England faire,
I was the Erle of Westmoreland,’ sayd hee.

33 Then backe is gone this herald of armes
Whereas this noble duke did lye;
‘Loe, yonder are poore Brittons,’ can he say,
‘Where the trauell vpon the sea.

34 ‘And Charles Nevill is thier masters name,
He will neuer lene it vpon the sea;
When he was at home in England fayre,
He was the Erle of Westmoreland, said hee.’

35 Then bespake this noble duke,
And euer he spake soe hastilye,
And said, Goe backe to yonder noble-man,
And bid him come and speake with me.

36 For I haue read in the Booke of Mable,
There shold a Brittaine come ouer the sea,
Charles Nevill with a childs voice:
I pray God that it may be hee.

37 When these two nobles they didden meete,
They halched eche other right curteouslye;
Yett Nevill halched Iohn the sooner
Because a banished man, alas! was hee.

38 ‘Call in your men,’ sayd this noble duke,
‘Faine your men that I wold see;’
‘Euer alas!’ said noble Nevill,
‘They are but a litle small companye.’

39 First he called in Martinfield,
That Martinffeeld that cold prophecye;
He call[ed] in then Lord Dakers,
A lords sonne of high degree.

40 Then called he in old Master Nortton,
And sonnes four in his companye;
He called in one other gentleman,
Called Iohn of Carnabye.

41 ‘Loe! these be all my men,’ said noble Nevill,
‘And all that’s in my companye;
When we were att home in England fayre,
Our prince and wee cold not agree.’

42 Then bespake this noble duke:
To try your manhood on the sea,
Old Master Nortton shall goe ouer into France,
And his sonnes four in his companye.

43 my lord Dakers shall goe over into Ffrance,
There a captaine for to bee;
And those two other gentlemen wold goe with him,
And for to fare in his companye.

44 And you your-selfe shall goe into Ciuill land,
And Marttinffeild that can prophecye;
‘That will I not doe,’ sayd noble Nevill,
‘By Mary mild, that mayden free.

45 ‘For the haue knowen me in wele and woe,
In neede, scar[s]nesse and pouertye;
Before I’le part with the worst of them,
I’le rather part with my liffe,’ sayd hee.

46 And then bespake this noble duke,
And euer he spake soe curteouslye;
Sayes, You shall part with none of them,
There is soe much manhood in your bodye.

47 Then these two noblemen labored together,
Pleasantlye vpon the sea;
Their landing was in Ciuill land,
In Ciuilee that faire citye.

48 Three nights att this dukes Nevill did lye,
And serued like a nobleman was hee;
Then the duke made a supplication,
And sent it to the queene of Ciuilee.

49 Saying, Such a man is your citye within,
I mett him pleasantlye vpon the sea;
He seemes to be a noble man,
And captaine to your Grace he faine wold bee.

50 Then the queene sent for [these] noble men
For to come into her companye;
When Nevill came before the queene,
Hee kneeled downe vpon his knee.

51 Shee tooke him vp by the lilly-white hand,
Said, Welcome, my lord, hither to me;
You must first tell me your name,
And in what countrye thy dwelling may bee.

52 He said, Charles Nevill is my name;
I will neuer lene it in noe countrye;
When I was att home in England fayre,
I was the Erle of Westmoreland trulye.

53 The queene made him captaine ouer forty thousand,
Watch and ward within Ciuill land to keepe,
And for to warr against the heathen soldan,
And for to helpe her in her neede.

54 When the heathen soldan he gott witt,
In Barbarye where he did lye,
Sainge, Such a man is in yonder citye within,
And a bold venturer by sea is hee,

55 Then the heathen soldan made a letter,
And sent it to the queene instantlye,
And all that heard this letter reade
Where it was rehersed in Ciuillee.

56 Saying, Haue you any man your land within
Man to man dare fight with mee?
And both our lands shalbe ioyned in one,
And cristened lands they both shalbe.

57 Shee said, I haue noe man my land within
Man to man dare fight with thee;
But euery day thou shalt haue a battell,
If it be for these weekes three.

58 All beheard him Charles Nevill,
In his bedd where he did lye,
And when he came the queene before,
He fell downe low vpon his knee.

59 ‘Grant me a boone, my noble dame,
For Chrissts loue that dyed on tree;
Ffor I will goe fight with yond heathen soldan,
If you will bestowe the manhood on mee.’

60 Then bespake this curteous queene,
And euer shee spoke soe curteouslye:
Though you be a banished man out of your realme,
It is great pitye that thou shold dye.

61 Then bespake this noble duke,
As hee stood hard by the queenes knee:
As I haue read in the Booke of Mable,
There shall a Brittone come ouer the sea,

62 And Charles Nevill shold be his name;
But a childs voyce, I wott, hath hee,
And if he be in Christendome;
For hart and hand this man hath hee.

63 Then the queenes councell cast their heads together,
. . . .
That Nevill shold fight with the heathen soldan
That dwelt in the citye of Barbarye.

64 The battell and place appointed was
In a fayre greene, hard by the sea,
And they shood meete att the Headless Crosse,
And there to fight right manfullye.

65 Then Nevill cald for the queenes ancient,
And faine that ancient he wold see;
The brought him forth the broken sword,
With bloodye hands therein trulye.

66 The brought him forth the headless crosse,
In that ancyent it was seene;
‘O this is a token,’ sayd Martinfeeld,
‘That sore ouerthrowen this prince hath beene.

67 ‘O sett me vp my fayre Dun Bull,
And trumpetts blow me farr and nee,
Vntill I come within a mile of the Headlesse Crosse,
That the Headlesse Crosse I may see.’

68 Then lighted downe noble Nevill,
And sayd, Marttinffeeld, come hither to me;
Heere I make thee choice captain over my host
Vntill againe I may thee see.

69 Then Nevill rode to the Headlesse Crosse,
Which stands soe fayre vpon the sea;
There was he ware of the heathen soldan,
Both fowle and vglye for to see.

70 Then the soldan began for to call;
Twise he called lowd and hye,
And sayd, What is this? Some kitchin boy
That comes hither to fight with mee?

71 Then bespake him Charles Nevill,
But a childs voice, I wott, had hee:
‘Thou spekest soe litle of Gods might,
Much more lesse I doe care for thee.’

72 Att the first meeting that these two mett,
The heathen soldan and the christen man,
The broke their speares quite in sunder,
And after that on foote did stand.

73 The next meeting that these two mett,
The swapt together with swords soe fine;
The fought together till they both swett,
Of blowes that were both derf and dire.

74 They fought an houre in battell strong;
The soldan marke[d] Nevill with his eye;
‘There shall neuer man me ouercome
Except it be Charles Nevill,’ sayd hee.

75 Then Nevill he waxed bold,
And cunning in fight, I wott, was hee;
Euen att the gorgett of the soldans iacke
He stroke his head of presentlye.

76 Then kneeled downe noble Nevill,
And thanked God for his great grace,
That he shold come soe farr into a strang[e] land,
To ouercome the soldan in place.

77 Hee tooke the head vpon his sword-poynt,
And carryed it amongst his host soe fayre;
When the saw the soldans head,
They thanked God on their knees there.

78 Seuen miles from the citye the queene him mett,
With procession that was soe fayre;
Shee tooke the crowne beside her heade,
And wold haue crowned him king there.

79 ‘Now nay! Now nay! my noble dame,
For soe, I wott, itt cannott bee;
I haue a ladye in England fayre,
And wedded againe I wold not bee.’

80 The queene shee called for her penman,
I wot shee called him lowd and hye,
Saying, Write him downe a hundred pound a day,
To keepe his men more merrylye.

81 ‘I thanke your Grace,’ sayd noble Nevill,
‘For this worthy gift you haue giuen to me;
If euer your Grace doe stand in neede,
Champion to your Highnesse again I’le bee.’

178. Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

Version A

1 IT befell at Martynmas,
When wether waxed colde,
Captaine Care said to his men,
We must go take a holde.
?? Syck, sike, and to-towe sike,
And sike and like to die;
The sikest nighte that euer I abode,
God lord haue mercy on me!

2 ‘Haille, master, and wether you will,
And wether ye like it best;’
‘To the castle of Crecrynbroghe,
And there we will take our reste.’

3 ‘I knowe wher is a gay castle,
Is builded of lyme and stone;
Within their is a gay ladie,
Her lord is riden and gone.’

4 The ladie she lend on her castle-walle,
She loked vpp and downe;
There was she ware of an host of men,
Come riding to the towne.

5 ‘Se yow, my meri men all,
And se yow what I see?
Yonder I see an host of men,
I muse who they bee.’

6 She thought he had ben her wed lord,
As he comd riding home;
Then was it traitur Captaine Care
The lord of Ester-towne.

7 They wer no soner at supper sett,
Then after said the grace,
Or Captaine Care and all his men
Wer lighte aboute the place.

8 ‘Gyue ouer thi howsse, thou lady gay,
And I will make the a bande;
To-nighte thou shall ly within my armes,
To-morrowe thou shall ere my lande.’

9 Then bespacke the eldest sonne,
That was both whitt and redde:
O mother dere, geue ouer your howsse,
Or elles we shalbe deade.

10 ‘I will not geue ouer my hous,’ she saithe,
‘Not for feare of my lyffe;
It shalbe talked throughout the land,
The slaughter of a wyffe.

11 ‘Fetch me my pestilett,
And charge me my gonne,
That I may shott at yonder bloddy butcher,
The lord of Easter-towne.’

12 Styfly vpon her wall she stode,
And lett the pellettes flee;
But then she myst the blody bucher,
And she slew other three.

13 ‘[I will] not geue ouer my hous,’ she saithe,
‘Netheir for lord nor lowne;
Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care,
The lord of Easter-towne.

14 ‘I desire of Captine Care,
And all his bloddye band,
That he would saue my eldest sonne,
The eare of all my lande.’

15 ‘Lap him in a shete,’ he sayth,
‘And let him downe to me,
And I shall take him in my armes,
His waran shall I be.’

16 The captayne sayd unto him selfe:
Wyth sped, before the rest,
He cut his tonge out of his head,
His hart out of his brest.

17 He lapt them in a handkerchef,
And knet it of knotes three,
And cast them ouer the castell-wall,
At that gay ladye.

18 ‘Fye vpon the, Captayne Care,
And all thy bloddy band!
For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne,
The ayre of all my land.’

19 Then bespake the yongest sonne,
That say on the nurses knee,
Sayth, Mother gay, geue ouer your house;
It smoldereth me.

20 ‘I wold geue my gold,’ she saith,
‘And so I wolde my fee,
For a blaste of the westryn wind,
To dryue the smoke from thee.

21 ‘Fy vpon the, John Hamleton,
That euer I paid the hyre!
For thou hast broken my castle-wall,
And kyndled in the fyre.’

22 The lady gate to her close parler,
The fire fell aboute her head;
She toke vp her childern thre,
Seth, Babes, we are all dead.

23 Then bespake the hye steward,
That is of hye degree;
Saith, Ladie gay, you are in close,
Wether ye fighte or flee.

24 Lord Hamleton dremd in his dream,
In Caruall where he laye,
His halle were all of fyre,
His ladie slayne or daye.

25 ‘Busk and bowne, my merry men all,
Even and go ye with me;
For I dremd that my haal was on fyre,
My lady slayne or day.’

26 He buskt him and bownd hym,
And like a worthi knighte;
And when he saw his hall burning,
His harte was no dele lighte.

27 He sett a trumpett till his mouth,
He blew as it plesd his grace;
Twenty score of Hamlentons
Was light aboute the place.

28 ‘Had I knowne as much yesternighte
As I do to-daye,
Captaine Care and all his men
Should not haue gone so quite.

29 ‘Fye vpon the, Captaine Care,
And all thy blody bande!
Thou haste slayne my lady gay,
More wurth then all thy lande.

30 ‘If thou had ought eny ill will,’ he saith,
‘Thou shoulde haue taken my lyffe,
And haue saved my children thre,
All and my louesome wyffe.’

Version B

1 ‘FFAITH, master, whither you will,
Whereas you like the best;
Vnto the castle of Bittons-borrow,
And there to take your rest.’

2 ‘But yonder stands a castle faire,
Is made of lyme and stone;
Yonder is in it a fayre lady,
Her lord is ridden and gone.’

3 The lady stood on her castle-wall,
She looked vpp and downe;
She was ware of an hoast of men,
Came rydinge towards the towne.

4 ‘See you not, my merry men all,
And see you not what I doe see?
Methinks I see a hoast of men;
I muse who they shold be.’

5 She thought it had beene her louly lord,
He had come ryding home;
It was the traitor, Captaine Carre,
The lord of Westerton-towne.

6 They had noe sooner super sett,
And after said the grace,
But the traitor, Captaine Carre,
Was light about the place.

7 ‘Giue over thy house, thou lady gay,
I will make thee a band;
All night with-in mine armes thou’st lye,
To-morrow be the heyre of my land.’

8 ‘I’le not giue over my house,’ shee said,
‘Neither for ladds nor man,
Nor yet for traitor Captaine Carre,
Vntill my lord come home.

9 ‘But reach me my pistoll pe[c]e,
And charge you well my gunne;
I’le shoote at the bloody bucher,
The lord of Westerton.’

10 She stood vppon her castle-wall
And let the bulletts flee,
And where shee mist .
. . .

11 But then bespake the litle child,
That sate on the nurses knee;
Saies, Mother deere, giue ore this house,
For the smoake it smoothers me.

12 ‘I wold giue all my gold, my childe,
Soe wold I doe all my fee,
For one blast of the westerne wind
To blow the smoke from thee.’

13 But when shee saw the fier
Came flaming ore her head,
Shee tooke then vpp her children two,
Sayes, Babes, we all beene dead!

14 But Adam then he fired the house,
A sorrowfull sight to see;
Now hath he burned this lady faire
And eke her children three.

15 Then Captaine Carre he rode away,
He staid noe longer at that tide;
He thought that place it was to warme
Soe neere for to abide.

16 He calld vnto his merry men all,
Bidd them make hast away;
‘For we haue slaine his children three,
All and his lady gay.’

17 Worde came to louly London,
To London wheras her lord lay,
His castle and his hall was burned,
All and his lady gay.

18 Soe hath he done his children three,
More dearer vnto him
Then either the siluer or the gold,
That men soe faine wold win.

19 But when he looket this writing on,
Lord, in is hart he was woe!
Saies, I will find thee, Captaine Carre,
Wether thou ryde or goe!

20 Buske yee, bowne yee, my merrymen all,
With tempered swords of steele,
For till I haue found out Captaine Carre,
My hart it is nothing weele.

21 But when he came to Dractons-borrow,
Soe long ere it was day,
And ther he found him Captaine Carre;
That night he ment to stay.

Version C

178 * * *
‘LUK ye to yon hie castel,
Yon hie castel we see;
A woman’s wit’s sun oercum,
She’ll gie up her house to me.’

2 She ca’d to her merry men a’,
‘Bring me my five pistols and my lang gun;’
The first shot the fair lady shot,
She shot seven of Gordon’s men.

3 He turned round about his back,
And sware he woud ha his desire,
And if that castel was built of gowd,
It should gang a’ to fire.

4 Up then spak her doughter deere,
She had nae mair than she:
‘Gie up your house, now, mither deere,
The reek it skomfishes me.’

5 ‘I’d rather see you birnt,’ said she,
‘And doun to ashes fa,
Ere I gie up my house to Adam of Gordon,
And to his merry men a’.

6 ‘I’ve four and twenty kye
Gaing upo the muir;
I’d gie em for a blast of wind,
The reek it blaws sae sour.’

7 Up then spak her little young son,
Sits on the nourrice knee:
‘Gie up your house, now, mither deere,
The reek it skomfishes me.’

8 ‘I’ve twenty four ships
A sailing on the sea;
I’ll gie em for a blast of southern wind,
To blaw the reek frae thee.

9 ‘I’d rather see you birnt,’ said she,
‘And grund as sma as flour,
Eer I gie up my noble house,
To be Adam of Gordon’s hure.’

Version D

1 IT fell about the Martinmas,
When the wind blew schrile and cauld,
Said Edom o Gordon to his men,
We maun draw to a hald.

2 ‘And what an a hald sall we draw to,
My merry men and me?
We will gae to the house of the Rhodes,
To see that fair lady.’

3 She had nae sooner busket her sell,
Nor putten on her gown,
Till Edom o Gordon and his men
Were round about the town.

4 They had nae sooner sitten down,
Nor sooner said the grace,
Till Edom o Gordon and his men
Were closed about the place.

5 The lady ran up to her tower-head,
As fast as she could drie,
To see if by her fair speeches
She could with him agree.

6 As soon he saw the lady fair,
And hir yates all locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his heart was aghast.

7 ‘Cum down to me, ye lady fair,
Cum down to me; let’s see;
This night ye’s ly by my ain side,
The morn my bride sall be.’

8 ‘I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon,
I winnae cum down to thee;
I winnae forsake my ane dear lord,
That is sae far frae me.’

9 ‘Gi up your house, ye fair lady,
Gi up your house to me,
Or I will burn yoursel therein,
Bot and your babies three.’

10 ‘I winnae gie up, you fals Gordon,
To nae sik traitor as thee,
Tho you should burn mysel therein,
Bot and my babies three.’

11 ‘Set fire to the house,’ quoth fals Gordon,
‘Sin better may nae bee;
And I will burn hersel therein,
Bot and her babies three.’

12 ‘And ein wae worth ye, Jock my man!
I paid ye weil your fee;
Why pow ye out my ground-wa-stane,
Lets in the reek to me?

13 ‘And ein wae worth ye, Jock my man!
For I paid you weil your hire;
Why pow ye out my ground-wa-stane,
To me lets in the fire?’

14 ‘Ye paid me weil my hire, lady,
Ye paid me weil my fee,
But now I’m Edom of Gordon’s man,
Maun either do or die.’

15 O then bespake her youngest son,
Sat on the nurses knee,
‘Dear mother, gie owre your house,’ he says,
‘For the reek it worries me.’

16 ‘I winnae gie up my house, my dear,
To nae sik traitor as he;
Cum weil, cum wae, my jewels fair,
Ye maun tak share wi me.’

17 O then bespake her dochter dear,
She was baith jimp and sma;
‘O row me in a pair o shiets,
And tow me owre the wa.’

18 They rowd her in a pair of shiets,
And towd her owre the wa,
But on the point of Edom’s speir
She gat a deadly fa.

19 O bonny, bonny was hir mouth,
And chirry were her cheiks,
And clear, clear was hir yellow hair,
Whereon the reid bluid dreips!

20 Then wi his speir he turnd hir owr;
O gin hir face was wan!
He said, You are the first that eer
I wist alive again.

21 He turned hir owr and owr again;
O gin hir skin was whyte!
He said, I might ha spard thy life
To been some mans delyte.

22 ‘Busk and boon, my merry men all,
For ill dooms I do guess;
I cannae luik in that boony face,
As it lyes on the grass.’

23 ‘Them luiks to freits, my master deir,
Then freits will follow them;
Let it neir be said brave Edom o Gordon
Was daunted with a dame.’

24 O then he spied hir ain deir lord,
As he came owr the lee;
He saw his castle in a fire,
As far as he could see.

25 ‘Put on, put on, my mighty men,
As fast as ye can drie!
For he that’s hindmost of my men
Sall neir get guid o me.’

26 And some they raid, and some they ran,
Fu fast out-owr the plain,
But lang, lang eer he coud get up
They were a’ deid and slain.

27 But mony were the mudie men
Lay gasping on the grien;
For o fifty men that Edom brought out
There were but five ged heme.

28 And mony were the mudie men
Lay gasping on the grien,
And mony were the fair ladys
Lay lemanless at heme.

29 And round and round the waes he went,
Their ashes for to view;
At last into the flames he flew,
And bad the world adieu.

Version E

1 IT fell about the Martinmas time,
When the wind blew shrill and cauld,
Said Captain Gordon to his men,
We’ll a’ draw to som hauld.

2 ‘And whatena hauld shall we draw to,
To be the nearest hame?’
‘We will draw to the ha o bonny Cargarff;
The laird is na at hame.’

3 The lady sat on her castle-wa,
Beheld both dale and down;
And she beheld the fause Gordon
Come halycon to the town.

4 ‘Now, Lady Cargarff, gie ower yer house,
Gie ower yer house to me;
Now, Lady Cargarff, gie ower yer house,
Or in it you shall die.’

5 ‘I’ll no gie ower my bonny house,
To lord nor yet to loun;
I’ll no gie ower my bonny house
To the traitors of Auchindown.’

6 Then up and spak her youngest son,
Sat at the nourice’s knee:
‘O mother dear, gie ower yer house,
For the reek o’t smothers me.’

7 ‘I would gie a’ my goud, my child,
Sae would I a’ my fee,
For ae blast o the westlan win,
To blaw the reek frae thee.’

8 Then up and spak her eldest heir,
He spak wi muckle pride:
‘Now mother dear, keep weel yer house,
And I’ll fight by yer side.’

Version F

1 IT fell about the Martinmas time,
When the wind blew snell and cauld,
That Adam o Gordon said to his men,
Where will we get a hold?

2 See [ye] not where yonder fair castle
Stands on yon lily lee?
The laird and I hae a deadly feud,
The lady fain would I see.

3 As she was up on the househead,
Behold, on looking down,
She saw Adam o Gordon and his men,
Coming riding to the town.

4 The dinner was not well set down,
Nor the grace was scarcely said,
Till Adam o Gordon and his men
About the walls were laid.

5 ‘It’s fause now fa thee, Jock my man!
Thou might a let me be;
Yon man has lifted the pavement-stone,
An let in the low unto me.’

6 ‘Seven years I served thee, fair ladie,
You gave me meat and fee;
But now I am Adam o Gordon’s man,
An maun either do it or die.’

7 ‘Come down, come down, my lady Loudoun,
Come down thou unto me!
I’ll wrap thee on a feather-bed,
Thy warrand I shall be.’

8 ‘I’ll no come down, I’ll no come down,
For neither laird no[r] loun;
Nor yet for any bloody butcher
That lives in Altringham town.

9 ‘I would give the black,’ she says,
‘And so would I the brown,
If that Thomas, my only son,
Could charge to me a gun.’

10 Out then spake the lady Margaret,
As she stood on the stair;
The fire was at her goud garters,
The lowe was at her hair.

11 ‘I would give the black,’ she says,
‘And so would I the brown,
For a drink of yon water,
That runs by Galston Town.’

12 Out then spake fair Annie,
She was baith jimp and sma
‘O row me in a pair o sheets,
And tow me down the wa!’

13 ‘O hold the tongue, thou fair Annie,
And let thy talkin be;
For thou must stay in this fair castle,
And bear thy death with me.’

14 ‘O mother,’ spoke the lord Thomas,
As he sat on the nurse’s knee,
‘O mother, give up this fair castle,
Or the reek will worrie me.’

15 ‘I would rather be burnt to ashes sma,
And be cast on yon sea-foam,
Before I’d give up this fair castle,
And my lord so far from home.

16 ‘My good lord has an army strong,
He’s now gone oer the sea;
He bad me keep this gay castle,
As long as it would keep me.

17 ‘I’ve four-and-twenty brave milk kye,
Gangs on yon lily lee;
I’d give them a’ for a blast of wind,
To blaw the reek from me.’

18 O pittie on yon fair castle,
That’s built with stone and lime!
But far mair pittie on Lady Loudoun,
And all her children nine!

Version G

1 IT was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the wind blew schill and cauld,
That Adam o Gordon said to his men,
Whare will we get a hauld?

2 ‘Do ye not see yon bonnie castell,
That stands on Loudon lee?
The lord and I hae a deadlie feed,
And his lady fain wuld I see.’

3 Lady Campbell was standing in the close,
A preenin o her goun,
Whan Adam o Gordon and his men
Cam riding thro Galston toun.

4 The dinner was na weel set doun,
Nor yet the grace weel said,
Till Adam o Gordon and a’ his men
Around the wa’s war laid.

5 ‘Come doun, come down, Ladie Campbell,’ he said,
‘Come doun and speak to me;
I’ll kep thee in a feather bed,
And thy warraner I will be.’

6 ‘I winna come doun and speak to thee,
Nor to ony lord nor loun;
Nor yet to thee, thou bloody butcher,
The laird o Auchruglen toun.’

7 ‘Come doun, come doun, Ladye Campbell,’ he said,
‘Cum doun and speak to me;
I’ll kep thee on the point o my sword,
And thy warraner I will be.’

8 ‘I winna come doun and speak to thee,
Nor to ony lord or loun,
Nor yet to thee, thou bludie butcher,
The laird o Auchruglen toun.’

9 ‘Syne gin ye winna come doun,’ he said,
‘A’ for to speak to me,
I’ll tye the bands around my waist,
And fire thy death sall be.’

10 ‘I’d leifer be burnt in ashes sma,
And cuist in yon sea-faem,
Or I’d gie up this bonnie castell,
And my gude lord frae hame.

11 ‘For my gude lord’s in the army strong,
He’s new gane ower the sea;
He bade me keep this bonnie castell,
As lang’s it wuld keep me.’

12 ‘Set fire to the house,’ said bauld Gordon,
‘Set fire to the house, my men;
We’ll gar Lady Campbell come for to rew
As she burns in the flame.’

13 ‘O wae be to thee, Carmichael,’ she said,
‘And an ilk death may ye die!
For ye hae lifted the pavement-stane,
And loot up the lowe to me.

14 ‘Seven years ye war about my house,
And received both meat and fee:’
‘And now I’m Adam o Gordon’s man,
I maun either do or dee.’

15 ‘Oh I wad gie the black,’ she said,
‘And I wuld gie the brown,
All for ae cup o the cauld water
That rins to Galstoun toun.’

16 Syne out and spak the auld dochter,
She was baith jimp and sma:
‘O row me in a pair o sheets,
And fling me ower the wa!’

17 They row’t her in a pair o sheets,
And flang her ower the wa,
And on the point o Gordon’s sword
She gat a deadlie fa.

18 He turned her ower, and ower again,
And oh but she looked wan!
‘I think I’ve killed as bonnie a face
As ere the sun shined on.’

19 He turned her ower, and ower again,
And oh but she lookt white!
‘I micht hae spared this bonnie face,
To hae been some man’s delight!’

20 Syne out and spak Lady Margaret,
As she stood on the stair:
‘The fire is at my gowd garters,
And the lowe is at my hair.’

21 Syne out and spak fair Ladie Ann,
Frae childbed whare she lay:
‘Gie up this bonnie castell, mother,
And let us win away.’

22 ‘Lye still, lye still, my fair Annie,
And let your talking be;
For ye maun stay in this bonnie castell
And dree your death wi me.’

23 ‘Whatever death I am to dree,
I winna die my lane:
I’ll tak a bairn in ilka arm
And the third is in my wame.’

24 Syne out and spak her youngest son,
A bonnie wee boy was he:
‘Gae doun, gae doun, mother,’ he said,
‘Or the lowe will worry me.’

25 ‘I’d leifer be brent in ashes sma
And cuist in yon sea-faem,
Or I’d gie up this bonnie castell,
And my guid lord frae hame.

26 ‘For my gude lord’s in the army strong,
He’s new gane ower the sea;
But gin he eer returns again,
Revenged my death sall be.’

27 Syne out and spak her waitin-maid:
Receive this babe frae me,
And save the saikless babie’s life,
And I’ll neer seek mair fee.

28 ‘How can I tak the bairn?’ she said,
‘How can I tak’t?’ said she,
‘For my hair was ance five quarters lang,
And ’tis now brent to my bree.’

29 She rowit it in a feather-bed,
And flang it ower the wa,
But on the point o Gordon’s sword
It gat a deidlie fa.

30 ‘I wuld gie Loudon’s bonnie castell,
And Loudon’s bonnie lee,
All gin my youngest son Johnnie
Could charge a gun to me.

31 ‘Oh, I wuld gie the black,’ she said,
‘And sae wuld I the bay,
Gin young Sir George could take a steed
And quickly ride away.’

32 Syne out and spak her auldest son,
As he was gaun to die:
‘Send doun your chamber-maid, mother,
She gaes wi bairn to me.’

33 ‘Gin ye were not my eldest son,
And heir o a’ my land,
I’d tye a sheet around thy neck,
And hang thee with my hand.

34 ‘I would gie my twenty gude milk-kye,
That feed on Shallow lee,
A’ for ae blast o the norland wind,
To blaw the lowe frae me.’

35 Oh was na it a pitie o yon bonnie castell,
That was biggit wi stane and lime!
But far mair pity o Lady Ann Campbell,
That was brunt wi her bairns nine.

36 Three o them war married wives,
And three o them were bairns,
And three o them were leal maidens,
That neer lay in men’s arms.

37 And now Lord Loudon he’s come hame,
And a sorry man was he:
‘He micht hae spared my lady’s life,
And wreakit himsell on me!

38 ‘But sin we’ve got thee, bauld Gordon,
Wild horses shall thee tear,
For murdering o my ladie bricht,
Besides my children dear.’

Version H

1 It fell about the Martinmass time,
When the wind blew shill and cald,
That Adam McGordon said to his men,
Where will we get a hall?

2 ‘There is a hall here near by,
Well built with lime and stone;
There is a lady there within
As white as the . . bone.’

3 ‘Seven year and more this lord and I
Has had a deadly feud,
And now, since her good lord’s frae hame,
His place to me she’ll yield.’

4 She looked oer her castle-wall,
And so she looked down,
And saw Adam McGordon and his men
Approaching the wood-end.

5 ‘Steik up, steik up my yett,’ she says,
‘And let my draw-bridge fall;
There is meickle treachery
Walking about my wall.’

6 She had not the sentence past,
Nor yet the word well said,
When Adam McGordon and his men
About the walls were laid.

7 She looked out at her window,
And then she looked down,
And then she saw Jack, her own man,
Lifting the pavement-stane.

8 ‘Awa, awa, Jack my man!
Seven year I paid you meat and fee,
And now you lift the pavement-stane
To let in the low to me.’

9 ‘I yield, I yield, O lady fair,
Seven year ye paid me meat and fee;
But now I am Adam McGordon’s man,
I must either do or die.’

10 ‘If ye be Adam McGordon’s man,
As I true well ye be,
Prove true unto your own master,
And work your will to me.’

11 ‘Come down, come down, my lady Campbell,
Come down into my hand;
Ye shall lye all night by my side,
And the morn at my command.’

12 ‘I winna come down,’ this lady says,
‘For neither laird nor lown,
Nor to no bloody butcher’s son,
The Laird of Auchindown.

13 ‘I wald give all my kine,’ she says,
‘So wald I fifty pound,
That Andrew Watty he were here;
He would charge me my gun.

14 ‘He would charge me my gun,
And put in bullets three,
That I might shoot that cruel traitor
That works his wills on me.’

15 He shot in, and [s]he shot out,
The value of an hour,
Until the hall Craigie North
Was like to be blawn in the air.

16 ‘He fired in, and she fired out,
The value of houris three,
Untill the hall Craigie North
The reik went to the sea.

17 ‘O the frost, and ae the frost,
The frost that freezes fell!
I cannot stay within my bower,
The powder it blaws sae bald.’

18 But then spake her oldest son,
He was both white and red;
‘O mither dear, yield up your house!
We’ll all be burnt to deed.’

19 Out then spake the second son,
He was both red and fair;
‘O brother dear, would you yield up your house,
And you your father’s heir!’

20 Out then spake the little babe,
Stood at the nurse’s knee;
‘O mither dear, yield up your house!
The reik will worry me.’

21 Out then speaks the little nurse,
The babe upon her knee;
‘O lady, take from me your child!
I’ll never crave my fee.’

22 ‘Hold thy tongue, thou little nurse,
Of thy prating let me bee;
For be it death or be it life,
Thou shall take share with me.

23 ‘I wald give a’ my sheep,’ she says,
‘T[hat] . . yon . . s]ha],
I had a drink of that wan water
That runs down by my wa.’

Version I

1 It fell about the Martimas time,
Fan the wind blue loud an calld,
Said Edom of Gordon to his men,
We man dra till a hall.

2 ‘An fatten a hall will we dra tell,
My merry men a’ an me?
We will to the house of Rothes,
An see that gay lady.’

3 The lady louked our castell-wa,
Beheld the day ga doun,
An she saa Edun of Gordon,
Fase Edom of Ach[en]doun.

4 ‘Gee our yer house, ye gay lady,
Gee our yer house to me;
The night ye’s be my leall leman,
The morn my lady free.’

5 ‘I winn gee our my bonny house,
To leard nor yet to loun,
Nor will I gee our my bonny house
To fase Edom of Achendoun.

6 ‘Bat ye gett me Cluny, Gight, or Glack,
Or get him young Lesmore,
An I ell gee our my bonny house
To ony of a’ the four.’

7 ‘Ye’s nether gett Cluny, Gight, nor Glack,
Nor yet him young Lesmore,
An ye man gee our yer bonny house,
Winten ony of a’ the four.’

8 The ladie shot out of a shot-windou,
It didne hurt his head,
It only grased his knee
. . . . . .

9 ‘Ye hast, my merry men a’,
Gather hathorn an fune,
. . . . . . .
To see gin this lady will burn.’

10 ‘Wai worth ye, Joke, my man!
I paid ye well yer fee,
An ye tane out the quin -stane,
Laten in the fire to me.

11 ‘Wai worth ye, Joke, my man!
I paid ye well yer hair,
An ye t[a]en out the qunie-stane,
To me laten in the fire.’

12 ‘Ye paid me well my meatt, lady,
Ye paid me well my fee,
Bat nou I am Edom of Gordon’s man,
Mane eather dee’d or dree.

13 ‘Ye paid me well my meatt, lady,
Ye paid me well my hire,
But nou I am Edom of Gordon’s man,
To ye mane lat the fire.’

14 Out spak her doughter,
She was bath jimp an smaa;
‘Ye take me in a pair of shets,
Lat me our the castell-waa.’

15 The pat her in a pair of shets,
Lute her oure the castell-waa;
On the point of Edom of Gordon’s lance
She got a deadly faa.

16 Cherry, cherry was her cheeks,
An bonny was her eyen;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

17 He turned her about,
. . . . . . .
‘I might haa spared that bonny face
To ha ben some man’s delight.

18 ‘Chirry is yer chik,
An bonny is yer eayn;
Ye’r the first face I ever saa dead
I wist liveng agen.’

19 Out spak one of his men,
As he stad by a stane;
‘Lat it never be sade brave Edom of Gordon
Was dantoned by a dame.’

20 Out spake the bonny barn,
Ti sat on the nurce’s knee;
‘Gee out yer house, my mider dear,
The reak it smothers me.’

21 ‘I wad gee a’ my silks,’ she says,
‘That lays in mony a fall,
To haa ye on the head of Mont Gannell,
To gett three gasps of the call.

22 ‘I wad gee a’ my goud,’ she says,
‘Far it lays out an in,
To haa ye on the head of Mount Ganill,
To get three gasps of the wind.’

23 . . . . . . . that gued lord,
As he came fraa the sea,
‘I see the house of Rothes in fire,
God safe my gay ladie!’

179. Rookhope Ryde

1 ROOKHOPE stands in a pleasant place,
If the false thieves wad let it be;
But away they steal our goods apace,
And ever an ill death may they die!

2 And so is the men of Thirlwa ’nd Williehaver,
And all their companies thereabout,
That is minded to do mischief,
And at their stealing stands not out.

3 But yet we will not slander them all,
For there is of them good enough;
It is a sore consumed tree
That on it bears not one fresh bough.

4 Lord God! is not this a pitiful case,
That men dare not drive their goods to t’ fell,
But limmer thieves drives them away,
That fears neither heaven nor hell?

5 Lord, send us peace into the realm,
That every man may live on his own!
I trust to God, if it be his will,
That Weardale men may never be overthrown.

6 For great troubles they’ve had in hand,
With borderers pricking hither and thither,
But the greatest fray that eer they had
Was with the ’Men’ of Thirlwa ’nd Williehaver.

7 They gatherd together so royally,
The stoutest men and the best in gear,
And he that rade not on a horse,
I wat he rade on a weil-fed mear.

8 So in the morning, before they came out,
So well, I wot, they broke their fast;
In the [forenoon they came] unto a bye fell,
Where some of them did eat their last.

9 When they had eaten aye and done,
They sayd some captains here needs must be:
Then they choosed forth Harry Corbyl,
And ‘Symon Fell,’ and Martin Ridley.

10 Then oer the moss, where as they came,
With many a brank and whew,
One of them could to another say,
‘I think this day we are men enew.

11 ‘For Weardale men is a journey taen;
They are so far out-oer yon fell
That some of them’s with the two earls,
And others fast in Barnard castell.

12 ‘There we shal get gear enough,
For there is nane but women at hame;
The sorrowful fend that they can make
Is loudly cries as they were slain.’

13 Then in at Rookhope-head they came,
And there they thought tul a had their prey,
But they were spy’d coming over the Dry Rig,
Soon upon Saint Nicholas’ day.

14 Then in at Rookhope-head they came,
They ran the forest but a mile;
They gatherd together in four hours
Six hundred sheep within a while.

15 And horses I trow they gat
But either ane or twa,
And they gat them all but ane
That belanged to great Rowley.

16 That Rowley was the first man that did them spy;
With that he raised a mighty cry;
The cry it came down Rookhope burn,
And spread through Weardale hasteyly.

17 Then word came to the bailif’s house,
At the East Gate, where he did dwell;
He was walkd out to the Smale Burns,
Which stands above the Hanging Well.

18 His wife was wae when she heard tell,
So well she wist her husband wanted gear;
She gard saddle him his horse in haste,
And neither forgot sword, jack, nor spear.

19 The bailif got wit before his gear came
That such news was in the land;
He was sore troubled in his heart,
That on no earth that he could stand.

20 His brother was hurt three days before,
With limmer thieves that did him prick;
Nineteen bloody wounds lay him upon;
What ferly was’t that he lay sick?

21 But yet the bailif shrinked nought,
But fast after them he did hye,
And so did all his neighbours near,
That went to bear him company.

22 But when the bailiff was gathered,
And all his company,
They were numberd to never a man
But forty [or] under fifty.

23 The thieves was numberd a hundred men,
I wat they were not of the worst
That could be choosed out of Thirlwa ’nd Williehaver,
. . . .

24 But all that was in Rookhope-head,
And all that was i Nuketon Cleugh,
Where weardale men oertook the thieves,
And there they gave them fighting eneugh.

25 So sore they made them fain to flee,
As many was ‘a’’ out of hand,
And, for tul have been at home again,
They would have been in iron bands;

26 And for the space of long seven years,
As sore they mighten a had their lives;
But there was never one of them
That ever thought to have seen their ’wives.’

27 About the time the fray began,
I trow it lasted but an hour,
Till many a man lay weaponless,
And was sore wounded in that stour.

28 Also before that hour was done,
Four of the thieves were slain,
Besides all those that wounded were,
And eleven prisoners there was taen.

29 George Carrick and his brother Edie,
Them two, I wot, they were both slain;
Harry Corbyl and Lennie Carrick
Bore them company in their pain.

30 One of our Weardale men was slain,
Rowland Emerson his name hight;
I trust to God his soul is well,
Because he ’Fought’ unto the right.

31 But thus they sayd: ‘We’ll not depart
While we have one; speed back again!’
And when they came amongst the dead men,
There they found George Carrick slain.

32 And when they found George Carrick slain,
I wot it went well near their ’Heart;’
Lord, let them never make a better end
That comes to play them sicken a ’part!’

33 I trust to God, no more they shal,
Except it be one for a great chance;
For God wil punish all those
With a great heavy pestilence.

34 Thir limmer thieves, they have good hearts,
They nevir think to be oerthrown;
Three banners against Weardale men they bare,
As if the world had been all their own.

35 Thir Weardale men, they have good hearts,
They are as stif as any tree;
For, if they’d every one been slain,
Never a foot back man would flee.

36 And such a storm amongst them fell
As I think you never heard the like,
For he that bears his head so high,
He oft-times falls into the dyke.

37 And now I do entreat you all,
As many as are persent here,
To pray for [the] singer of this song,
For he sings to make blithe your cheer.

180. King James and Brown

1 AS I did walke my selfe alone,
And by one garden greene,
I heard a yonge prince make great moane,
Which did turne my hart to teene.

2 ‘O Lord!’ he then said vntou me,
‘Why haue I liued soe long?
For yonder comes a cruell Scott,’
Quoth hee, ’that will doe me some ronge.’

3 And then came traitor Douglas there,
He came for to betray his king;
Some they brought bills, and some they brought bowes,
And some the brought other things.

4 The king was aboue in a gallery,
With a heauy heart;
Vnto his body was sett about
With swords and speares soe sharpe.

5 ‘Be you the lordes of Scottland,’ he said,
‘That hither for councell seeke to me?
Or bee you traitors to my crowne,
My blood that you wold see?’

6 ‘Wee are the lords of Scottland,’ they said,
‘Nothing we come to craue of thee;
But wee be traitors to thy crowne,
Thy blood that wee will see.’

7 ‘O fye vpon you, you false Scotts!
For you neuer all trew wilbe;
My grandfather you haue slaine,
And caused my mother to flee.

8 ‘My grandfather you haue slaine,
And my owne father you hanged on a tree;
And now,’ quoth he, ’The like treason
You haue now wrought for me.

9 ‘Ffarwell hart, and farwell hand!
Farwell all pleasures alsoe!
Farwell th . . my head
. . . .

10 . . . .
. . . .
‘If thou wilt . .
And soe goe away with mee.’

11 ‘Goe marry thy daughter to whome thou wilt,’
Quoth Browne; ’Thou marrys none to me;
For I’le not be a traitor,’ quoth Browne,
‘For all the gold that euer I see.’

12 This Douglas, hearing Browne soe say,
Began to flee away full fast;
‘But tarry a while,’ saies lusty Browne,
‘I’le make you to pay before you passe.’

13 He hath taken the Douglas prisoner,
And hath brought him before the king;
He kneeled low vpon the knee,
For pardon there prainge.

14 ‘How shold I pardon thee,’ saith the king,
‘And thou’le remaine a traitor still?
For euer since that I was borne,’
Quoth he, ’Thou hast sought my blood to spill.’

15 ‘For if you will grant me my pardon,’ he said,
‘Out of this place soe free,
I wilbe sworne before your Grace
A trew subiect to bee.’

16 ‘God for-gaue his death,’ said the king,
‘When he was nayled vpon a tree;
And as free as euer God forgaue his death,
Douglas,’ quoth he, ‘I’le forgiue thee.

17 ‘And all the traitors in Scottland,’
Quoth he, ’Both great and small;
As free as euer God forgaue his death,
Soe free I will forgiue them all.’

18 ‘I thanke you for your pardon, king,
That you haue granted forth soe plaine;
If I liue a twelue month to an end,
You shall not aliue remaine.

19 ‘Tomorrow yet, or ere I dine,
I meane to doo thee one good turne;
For Edenborrow, that is thine owne,’
Quoth he, ‘I will both h[arry] and [burne].’

20 Thus Douglas hied towards Edenborrow,
And many of his men were gone beffore;
And after him on euery side,
With him there went some twenty score.

21 But when that they did see him come,
They cryed lowd with voices, saying,
‘Yonder comes a false traitor,
That wold haue slaine our king.’

22 They chaynd vp the gates of Edenborrow,
And there the made them wonderous fast,
And there Browne sett on Douglas againe,
And quicklye did him ouer cast.

23 But worde came backe againe to the king,
With all the speed that euer might bee,
That traitor Douglas there was taken,
And his body was there to see.

24 ‘Bring me his taker,’ quoth the king,
‘Come, quickly bring him vnto me!
I’le giue a thousand pound a yeere,
What man soeuer he bee.’

25 But then they called lusty Browne;
Sayes, ‘Browne, come thou hither to mee.
How oft hast thou foughten for my sake,
And alwayes woone the victory?’

26 ‘The first time that I fought for you,
It was in Edenborrow, king;
If there I had not stoutly stood,
My leege, you neuer had beene king.

27 ‘The second time I fought for you,
Here I will tell you in this place;
I killd the sheriffs sonne of Carlile,’
Quoth he, ’That wold haue slaine your Grace.

28 ‘The third time that I fought for you,
Here for to let you vnderstand,
I slew the Bishopp of St Andrew[s],’
Quoth he, ’with a possat in [his hand],’

29 . . . quoth hee,
‘That euer my manhood I did trye;
I’le make a vow for Englands sake
That I will neuer battell flee.’

30 ‘God amercy, Browne,’ then said the king,
‘And God amercy heartilye!
Before I made thee but a knight,
But now an earle I will make thee.

31 ‘God saue the queene of England,’ he said,
‘For her blood is verry neshe;
As neere vnto her I am
As a colloppe shorne from the fleshe.

32 ‘If I be false to England,’ he said,
‘Either in earnest or in iest,
I might be likened to a bird,’
Quoth he, ’That did defile it nest.’

181. The Bonnie Earl o' Moray

Version A

1 YE Highlands, and ye Lawlands,
Oh where have you been?
They have slain the Earl of Murray,
And they layd him on the green.

2 ‘Now wae be to thee, Huntly!
And wherefore did you sae?
I bade you bring him wi you,
But forbade you him to slay.’

3 He was a braw gallant,
And he rid at the ring;
And the bonny Earl of Murray,
Oh he might have been a king!

4 He was a braw gallant,
And he playd at the ba;
And the bonny Earl of Murray
Was the flower amang them a’.

5 He was a braw gallant,
And he playd at the glove;
And the bonny Earl of Murray,
Oh he was the Queen’s love!

6 Oh lang will his lady
Look oer the castle Down,
Eer she see the Earl of Murray
Come sounding thro the town!
Eer she, etc.

Version B

1 ‘OPEN the gates,
and let him come in;
He is my brother Huntly,
he’ll do him nae harm.’

2 The gates they were opent,
they let him come in,
But fause traitor Huntly,
he did him great harm.

3 He’s ben and ben,
and ben to his bed,
And with a sharp rapier
he stabbed him dead.

4 The lady came down the stair,
wringing her hands:
‘He has slain the Earl o Murray,
the flower o Scotland.’

5 But Huntly lap on his horse,
rade to the king:
‘Ye’re welcome hame, Huntly,
and whare hae ye been?

6 ‘Whare hae ye been?
and how hae ye sped?’
‘I’ve killed the Earl o Murray,
dead in his bed.’

7 ‘Foul fa you, Huntly!
and why did ye so?
You might have taen the Earl o Murray,
and saved his life too.’

8 ‘Her bread it’s to bake,
her yill is to brew;
My sister’s a widow,
and sair do I rue.

9 ‘Her corn grows ripe,
her meadows grow green,
But in bonny Dinnibristle
I darena be seen.’

182. The Laird of Logie

Version A

1 I WILL sing, if ye will hearken,
If ye will hearken unto me;
The king has taen a poor prisoner,
The wanton laird o Young Logie.

2 Young Logie’s laid in Edinburgh chapel,
Carmichael’s the keeper o the key;
And May Margaret’s lamenting sair,
A’ for the love of Young Logie.

3 ‘Lament, lament na, May Margaret,
And of your weeping let me be;
For ye maun to the king himsell,
To seek the life of Young Logie.’

4 May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,
And she has curld back her yellow hair:
‘If I canna get Young Logie’s life,
Farewell to Scotland for evermair!’

5 When she came before the king,
She knelit lowly on her knee:
‘O what’s the matter, May Margaret?
And what needs a’ this courtesie?’

6 ‘A boon, a boon, my noble liege,
A boon, a boon, I beg o thee,
And the first boon that I come to crave
Is to grant me the life of Young Logie.’

7 ‘O na, O na, May Margaret,
Forsooth, and so it mauna be;
For a’ the gowd o fair Scotland
Shall not save the life of Young Logie.’

8 But she has stown the king’s redding-kaim,
Likewise the queen her wedding knife,
And sent the tokens to Carmichael,
To cause Young Logie get his life.

9 She sent him a purse o the red gowd,
Another o the white monie;
She sent him a pistol for each hand,
And bade him shoot when he gat free.

10 When he came to the Tolbooth stair,
There he let his volley flee;
It made the king in his chamber start,
Een in the bed where he might be.

11 ‘Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a’,
And bid Carmichael come speak to me;
For I’ll lay my life the pledge o that
That yon’s the shot o Young Logie.’

12 When Carmichael came before the king,
He fell low down upon his knee;
The very first word that the king spake
Was, Where’s the laird of Young Logie?

13 Carmichael turnd him round about,
I wot the tear blinded his ee:
‘There came a token frae your Grace
Has taen away the laird frae me.’

14 ‘Hast thou playd me that, Carmichael?
And hast thou playd me that?’ quoth he;
‘The morn the Justice Court’s to stand,
And Logie’s place ye maun supplie.’

15 Carmichael’s awa to Margaret’s bower,
Even as fast as he may dree:
‘O if Young Logie be within,
Tell him to come and speak with me.’

16 May Margaret turnd her round about,
I wot a loud laugh laughed she:
‘The egg is chippd, the bird is flown,
Ye’ll see nae mair of Young Logie.’

17 The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith,
The tother at the Queen’s Ferrie,
And she’s gotten a father to her bairn,
The wanton laird of Young Logie.

Version A2

1 I will sing, if ye will harken,
An ye wad listen unto me;
I’ll tell ye of a merry passage
Of the wanton laird of Young Logie.

2 Young Logie’s laid in Edinborough chapel,
Carmichaell’s keeper of the key;
I heard a may lamenting sair,
All for the laird of Young Logie.

3 ‘Lament, lament na, May Margret,
And o your weeping let me be;
For ye maun to the king your sell,
And ask the life of Young Logie.’

4 May Margaret has kilted her green cleeding,
And she’s currld back her yellow hair,
And she’s away to the king hersell,
And adieu to Scotland for ever mair!

5 When she came before the king,
She fell low down on her knee:
‘It’s what’s your will wi me, May Margret,
And what makes all this courtesey?’
‘Naething, naething, my sovreign liege,
But grant me the life of Young Logie.’

6 ‘O no, O no, May Margret,
No, in sooth it maun na be;
For the morn, or I taste meat or drink,
Hee hanged shall Young Logie be.’

7 She has stolen the king’s reeding-comb,
But an the queen her wedding-knife,
And she has sent it to Carmichaell,
To cause Young Logie come by life.

8 She sent him a purse of the red gold,
Another of the white money,
And sent him a pistol into each hand,
And bade him shoot when he got fra.

9 When he came to the Tolbooth stair,
There he loot his volley flee,
Which made the king in his chamber start,
Even in the chamber where he lay.

10 ‘Gae out, gae out, my merrie men,
And gar Carmichael come speake wi me,
For I’ll lay my life the pledge of that,
That yon’s the volley of Young Logie.’

11 When Carmichael came before the king,
He fell low down on his knee;
The very first word that the king spake,
‘How dois the laird o Young Logie?’

12 Carmichael turnd him round about,
A wait the salt tear blint his eye:
‘There came a tacken frae the king
Has taen the laird awa frae me.’

13 ‘Hast thou playd me that, Carmichael?
Hast thou playd me that?’ quo he;
‘The morn the Justice Court’s to stand,
And Logie’s place ye maun supply.’

14 Carmichal’s away to May Margr[e]t’s bower,
Een as fast as he may dree:
‘It’s if Young Logie be within,
Tell him to come speak to me.’

15 May Margret’s turnd her round about,
A wait a loud laughter gae she:
‘The egg is cheeped and the bird is flown,
And seek ye the laird of Young Logie.’

16 The one is sheppd at the pier o Leith,
The other at the Queen’s Ferry,
And she has gotten a father to her bairn,
The wanton laird of Young [Logie].

Version B

1 O LISTEN, gude peopell, to my tale,
Listen to what I tel to thee;
The king has taiken a poor prisoner,
The wanton laird of Ochiltrie.

2 When news came to our guidly queen,
Sche sicht, and said right mournfullie,
‘O what will cum of Lady Margret!
Wha beirs sick luve to Ochiltrie.’

3 Lady Margret tore hir yellow hair
When as the queen tald hir the saim:
‘I wis that I had neir bin born,
Nor neir had knawn Ochiltrie’s naim!’

4 ‘Fie, na!’ quoth the queen, ’That maunna be;
Fie, na! that maunna be;
I’ll fynd ye out a better way
To saif the lyfe of Ochiltrie.’

5 The queen sche trippit up the stair,
And lowlie knielt upon hir knie:
‘The first boon which I cum to craive
Is the life of gentel Ochiltrie.’

6 ‘O iff you had askd me castels or towirs,
I wad hae gin thaim, twa or thrie;
Bot a’ the monie in fair Scotland
Winna buy the lyfe of Ochiltrie.’

7 The queen sche trippit down the stair,
And down she gade richt mournfullie:
‘It’s a’ the monie in fair Scotland
Winna buy the lyfe of Ochiltrie!’

8 Lady Margaret tore her yellow hair
When as the queen tald hir the saim:
‘I’ll tak a knife and end my lyfe,
And be in the grave as soon as him!’

9 ‘Ah, na! Fie, na!’ quoth the queen,
‘Fie, na! Fie, na! this maunna be;
I’ll set ye on a better way
To loose and set Ochiltrie frie.’

10 The queen sche slippit up the stair,
And sche gaid up richt privatlie,
And sche has stoun the prison-keys,
And gane and set Ochiltrie frie.

11 And sche’s gien him a purse of gowd,
And another of whyt monie;
Sche’s gien him twa pistoles by’s syde,
Saying to him, Shute, when ye win frie.

12 And when he cam to the queen’s window,
Whaten a joyfou shute gae he!
‘Peace be to our royal queen,
And peace be in her companie!’

13 ‘O whaten a voyce is that?’ quoth the king,
‘Whaten a voyce is that?’ quoth he;
‘Whaten a voyce is that?’ quoth the king;
‘I think it’s the voyce of Ochiltrie.

14 ‘Call to me a’ my gaolours,
Call thaim by thirtie and by thrie;
Whairfoir the morn, at twelve a clock,
It’s hangit schall they ilk ane be.’

15 ‘O didna ye send your keyis to us?
Ye sent thaim be thirtie and be thrie,
And wi thaim sent a strait command
To set at lairge young Ochiltrie.’

16 ‘Ah, na! Fie, na!’ quoth the queen,
‘Fie, my dear luve, this maunna be!
And iff ye’re gawn to hang thaim a’,
Indeed ye maun begin wi me.’

17 The tane was schippit at the pier of Leith,
The ither at the Queen’s Ferrie,
And now the lady has gotten hir luve,
The winsom laird of Ochiltrie.

Version C

1 THE young laird of Logie is to prison cast;
Carmichael’s the keeper of the key;
Lady Margaret, the queen’s cousin, is very sick,
And it’s all for love of Young Logie.

2 She’s into the queen’s chamber gone,
She has kneeld low down on her knee;
Says she, You must go to the king yourself;
It’s all for a pardon to Young Logie.

3 The queen is unto the king’s chamber gone,
She has kneeld low down on her knee:
‘O what is the matter, my gracious queen?
And what means all this courtesie?

4 ‘Have not I made thee queen of fair Scotland?
The queen of England I trow thou be;
Have I not made thee my wedded wife?
Then what needs all this courtesie?’

5 ‘You have made me queen of [fair] Scotland,
The queen of England I surely be;
Since you have made me your wedded wife,
Will you grant a pardon for Young Logie?’

6 The king he turned him right round about,
I think an angry man was he:
‘The morrow, before it is twelve o’clock,
O hangd shall the laird of Logie be.’

7 The queen she’s into her chamber gone,
Amongst her maries, so frank and free;
‘You may weep, you may weep, Margaret,’ she says,
‘For hanged must the laird of Logie be.’

8 She has torn her silken scarf and hood,
And so has she her yellow hair:
‘Now fare you well, both king and queen,
And adieu to Scotland for ever mair!’

9 She has put off her goun of silk,
And so has she her gay clothing:
‘Go fetch me a knife, and I’ll kill myself,
Since the laird of Logie is not mine.’

10 Then out bespoke our gracious queen,
And she spoke words most tenderlie;
‘Now hold your hand, Lady Margaret,’ she said,
‘And I’ll try to set Young Logie free.’

11 She’s up into the king’s chamber gone,
And among his nobles so free;
‘Hold away, hold away!’ says our gracious king,
‘No more of your pardons for Young Logie.

12 ‘Had you but askd me for houses and land,
I would have given you castles three;
Or anything else shall be at your command,
But only a pardon for Young Logie.’

13 ‘Hold your hand now, my sovereign liege,
And of your anger let it be;
For the innocent blood of Lady Margret
It will rest on the head of thee and me.’

14 The king and queen are gone to their bed,
But as he was sleeping so quietly,
She has stole the keys from below his head,
And has sent to set Young Logie free.

15 Young Logie he’s on horseback got,
Of chains and fetters he’s got free;
As he passd by the king’s window,
There he has fired vollies three.

16 The king he awakend out of his sleep,
Out of his bed came hastilie;
Says, I’ll lay all my lands and rents
That yonder’s the laird of Logie free.’

17 The king has sent to the prison strong,
He has calld for his keepers three;
Says, How does all your prisoners?
And how does the young laird of Logie?

18 ‘Your Majesty sent me your wedding-ring,
With your high command to set him free;’
‘Then tomorrow, before that I eat or drink,
I surely will hang you keepers three.’

19 Then out bespoke our gracious queen,
And she spoke words most tenderlie;
‘If ever you begin to hang a man for this,
Your Majesty must begin with me.’

20 The one took shipping at [the pier of] Leith,
The other at the Queen’s Ferrie;
Lady Margaret has gotten the man she loves,
I mean the young laird of Logie.

Version D

1 PRETTY is the story I hae to tell,
Pretty is the praisin o itsel,
An pretty is the prisner oor king’s tane,
The rantin young laird o Logie.

2 Has he brunt? or has he slain?
Or has he done any injurie?
Oh no, no, he’s done nothing at all,
But stown a kiss frae the queen’s marie.

3 Ladie Margaret cam doon the stair,
Wringin her hands an tearin her hair;
Cryin, Oh, that ever I to Scotland cam,
Aye to see Young Logie dee!

4 ‘Had your tongue noo, Lady Margaret,
An a’ your weepin lat a bee!
For I’ll gae to the king my sell,
An plead for life to Young Logie.’

5 ‘First whan I to Scotland cam,
You promised to gie me askens three;
The first then o these askens is
Life for the young laird o Logie.’

6 ‘If you had asked house or lands,
They suld hae been at your command;
But the morn, ere I taste meat or drink,
High hanged sall Young Logie be.’

7 Lady Margaret cam doon the stair,
Wringin her hands an tearin her hair;
Cryin, Oh, that ever I to Scotland cam,
A’ to see Young Logie dee!

8 ‘Haud your tongue noo, Lady Margaret,
An a’ your weepin lat a bee!
For I’ll counterfiet the king’s hand-write,
An steal frae him his right-hand gloe,
An send them to Pitcairn’s wa’s,
A’ to lat Young Logie free.’

9 She counterfieted the king’s hand-write,
An stole frae him his richt hand gloe,
An sent them to Pitcairn’s wa’s,
A’ to let Young Logie free.

10 The king luikit owre his castle-wa,
Was luikin to see what he cald see:
‘My life to wad an my land to pawn,
Yonder comes the young laird o Logie!’

11 ‘Pardon, oh pardon! my lord the king,
Aye I pray you pardon me;
For I counterfieted your hand-write,
An stole frae you your richt hand gloe,
An sent them to Pitcairn’s wa’s,
A’ to set Young Logie free.’

12 ‘If this had been done by laird or lord,
Or by baron of high degree,
I’se mak it sure, upon my word,
His life suld hae gane for Young Logie.

13 ‘But since it is my gracious queen,
A hearty pardon we will gie,
An for her sake we’ll free the loon,
The rantin young laird o Logie.’

Version E

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

183. Willie Macintosh

Version A

1 ‘TURN, Willie Macintosh,
Turn, I bid you;
Gin ye burn Auchindown,
Huntly will head you.’

2 ‘Head me or hang me,
That canna fley me;
I’ll burn Auchendown
Ere the life lea me.’

3 Coming down Deeside,
In a clear morning,
Auchindown was in flame,
Ere the cock-crawing.

4 But coming oer Cairn Croom,
And looking down, man,
I saw Willie Macintosh
Burn Auchindown, man,

5 ‘Bonny Willie Macintosh,
Whare left ye your men?’
‘I left them in the Stapler,
But they’ll never come hame.’

6 ‘Bonny Willie Macintosh,
Whare now is your men?’
‘I left them in the Stapler,
Sleeping in their sheen.’

Version B

1 AS I came in by Fiddich-side,
In a May morning,
I met Willie Mackintosh,
An hour before the dawning.

2 ‘Turn again, turn again,
Turn again, I bid ye;
If ye burn Auchindown,
Huntly he will head ye.’

3 ‘Head me, hang me,
That sall never fear me;
I’ll burn Auchindown
Before the life leaves me.’

4 As I came in by Auchindown,
In a may morning,
Auchindown was in a bleeze,
An hour before the dawning.

5 Crawing, crawing,
For my crowse crawing,
I lost the best feather i my wing
For my crowse crawing.

184. The Lads of Wamphray

1 TWIXT the Girthhead and Langwood-end
Livd the Galiard and Galiard’s men.

2 It is the lads of Lethenha,
The greatest rogues among them a’.

3 It is the lads of Leverhay,
That drove the Crichtons’ gier away.

4 It is the lads o the Kirkhill,
The gay Galiard and Will o Kirkhill,

5 But and the lads o Stefenbiggin,
They broke the house in at the riggin.

6 The lads o Fingland and Hellbackhill,
They were neer for good, but aye for ill.

7 Twixt the Staywood Bass and Langside Hill,
They stelld the broked cow and branded bull.

8 It is the lads o the Girthhead,
The diel’s in them for pride and greed.

9 . . . .
. . . .

10 The Galiard is to the stable gane;
Instead of the Dun, the Blind he’s taen.

11 ‘Come out now, Simmy o the Side,
Come out and see a Johnston ride!

12 ‘Here’s the boniest horse in a’ Nithside,
And a gentle Johnston aboon his hide.’

13 Simmy Crichton’s mounted then,
And Crichtons has raised mony a ane.

14 The Galiard thought his horse had been fleet,
But they did outstrip him quite out o sight.

15 As soon as the Galiard the Crichton he saw,
Beyond the saugh-bush he did draw.

16 The Crichtons there the Galiard hae taen,
And nane wi him but Willy alane.

17 ‘O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang,
And I vow I’ll neer do a Crichton wrang!

18 ‘O Simmy, Simmy, now let me be,
And a peck o goud I’ll gie to thee!

19 ‘O Simmy, Simmy, let me gang,
And my wife shall heap it wi her hand!’

20 But the Crichtons wadna let Willy bee,
But they hanged him high upon a tree.

21 O think then Will he was right wae,
When he saw his uncle guided sae.

22 ‘But if ever I live Wamphray to see,
My uncle’s death revenged shall be!’

23 Back to Wamphray Willy’s gane,
And riders has raised mony a ane.

24 Saying, My lads, if ye’ll be true,
Ye’s a’ be clad in the noble blue.

25 Back to Nidsdale they are gane,
And away the Crichtons’ nout they hae taen.

26 As they came out at the Wallpath-head,
The Crichtons bad them light and lead.

27 And when they came to the Biddess-burn,
The Crichtons bad them stand and turn.

28 And when they came to the Biddess-strand,
The Crichtons they were hard at hand.

29 But when they cam to the Biddess-law,
The Johnstons bad them stand and draw.

30 Out then spake then Willy Kirkhill:
‘Of fighting, lads, ye’s hae your fill.’

31 Then off his horse Willy he lap,
And a burnishd brand in his hand he took.

32 And through the Crichtons Willy he ran,
And dang them down both horse and man.

33 O but these lads were wondrous rude,
When the Biddess-burn ran three days blood!

34 ‘I think, my lads, we’ve done a noble deed;
We have revengd the Galiard’s blood.

35 ‘For every finger o the Galiard’s hand,
I vow this day I’ve killed a man.’

36 And hame for Wamphray they are gane,
And away the Crichtons’ nout they’ve taen.

37 ‘Sin we’ve done na hurt, nor we’ll take na wrang,
But back to Wamphray we will gang.’

38 As they came in at Evanhead,
At Reaklaw-holm they spred abread.

39 ‘Drive on, my lads, it will be late;
We’ll have a pint at Wamphray Gate.

40 ‘For where eer I gang, or eer I ride,
The lads o Wamphr[a]y’s on my side.

41 ‘For of a’ the lads that I do ken,
The lads o Wamphr[a]y’s king o men.’

185. Dick o the Cow

1 NOW Liddisdale has lain long in,
Fa la
There is no rideing there a ta;
Fa la
Their horse is growing so lidder and fatt
That are lazie in the sta.
Fa la la didle

2 Then John Armstrang to Willie can say,
Billie, a rideing then will we;
England and us has been long at a feed;
Perhaps we may hitt of some bootie.

3 Then they’r comd on to Hutton Hall,
They rade that proper place about;
But the laird he was the wiser man,
For he had left nae gear without.

4 Then he had left nae gear to steal,
Except six sheep upon a lee;
Says Johnie, I’de rather in England die
Before their six sheep good to Liddesdale with me.

5 ‘But how cald they the man we last with mett,
Billie, as we came over the know?’
‘That same he is an innocent fool,
And some men calls him Dick o the Cow.’

6 ‘That fool has three as good kyne of his own
As in a’ Cumberland, billie,’ quoth he:
‘Betide my life, betide my death,
These three kyne shal go to Liddisdaile with me.’

7 Then they’re comd on to the poor fool’s house,
And they have broken his wals so wide;
They have loosd out Dick o the Cow’s kyne three,
And tane three coerlets off his wife’s bed.

8 Then on the morn, when the day grew light,
The shouts and crys rose loud and high:
‘Hold thy tongue, my wife,’ he says,
‘And of thy crying let me bee.

9 ‘Hald thy tongue, my wife,’ he says,
‘And of thy crying let me bee,
And ay that where thou wants a kow,
Good sooth that I shal bring the three.’

10 Then Dick’s comd on to lord and master,
And I wate a drerie fool [was] he:
‘Hald thy tongue, my fool,’ he says,
‘For I may not stand to jest with thee.’

11 ‘Shame speed a your jesting, my lord,’ quo Dickie,
‘For nae such jesting grees with me;
Liddesdaile has been in my house this last night,
And they have tane my three kyne from me.

12 ‘But I may nae langer in Cumberland dwel,
To be your poor fool and your leel,
Unless ye give me leave, my lord,
To go to Liddisdale and steal.’

13 ‘To give thee leave, my fool,’ he says,
‘Thou speaks against mine honour and me;
Unless thou give me thy trouth and thy right hand
Thou’l steal frae nane but them that sta from thee.’

14 ‘There is my trouth and my right hand;
My head shal hing on Hairibie,
I’le never crose Carlele sands again,
If I steal frae a man but them that sta frae me.’

15 Dickie has tane leave at lord and master,
And I wate a merrie fool was he;
He has bought a bridle and a pair of new spurs,
And has packed them up in his breek-thigh.

16 Then Dickie’s come on for Puddinburn,
Even as fast as he may drie;
Dickie’s come on for Puddinburn,
Where there was thirty Armstrongs and three.

17 ‘What’s this comd on me!’ quo Dick,
‘What meakle wae’s this happend on me,’ quo he,
‘Where here is but ae innocent fool,
And there is thirty Armstrongs and three!’

18 Yet he’s comd up to the hall among them all;
So wel he became his courtisie:
‘Well may ye be, my good Laird’s Jock!
But the deil bless all your companie.

19 ‘I’m come to plain of your man Fair Johnie Armstrong,
And syne his billie Willie,’ qou he;
‘How they have been in my house this last night,
And they have tane my three ky frae me.’

20 Quo Johnie Armstrong, We’ll him hang;
‘Nay,’ thain quo Willie, ’we’ll him slae;’
But up bespake another young man, We’le nit him in a four-nooked sheet,
Give him his burden of batts, and lett him gae.

21 Then up bespake the good Laird’s Jock,
The best falla in the companie:
Fitt thy way down a little while, Dick,
And a peice of thine own cow’s hough I’l give to thee.

22 But Dicki’s heart it grew so great
That never a bitt of it he dought to eat;
But Dickie was warr of ane auld peat-house,
Where there al the night he thought for to sleep.

23 Then Dickie was warr of that auld peat-house,
Where there al the night he thought for to ly;
And a’ the prayers the poor fool prayd was,
‘I wish I had a mense for my own three kye!’

24 Then it was the use of Puddinburn,
And the house of Mangertoun, all haile!
These that came not at the first call
They gott no more meat till the next meall.

25 The lads, that hungry and aevery was,
Above the door-head they flang the key;
Dickie took good notice to that;
Says, There’s a bootie younder for me.

26 Then Dickie’s gane into the stable,
Where there stood thirty horse and three;
He has ty’d them a’ with St Mary knot,
All these horse but barely three.

27 He has ty’d them a’ with St Mary knott,
All these horse but barely three;
He has loupen on one, taken another in his hand,
And out at the door and gane is Dickie.

28 Then on the morn, when the day grew light,
The shouts and cryes rose loud and high;
‘What’s that theife?’ quo the good Laird’s Jock;
‘Tel me the truth and the verity.

29 ‘What’s that theife?’ quo the good Laird’s Jock;
‘See unto me ye do not lie:’
‘Dick o the Cow has been in the stable this last night,
And has my brother’s horse and mine frae me.’

30 ‘Ye wad never be teld it,’ quo the Laird’s Jock;
‘Have ye not found my tales fu leel?
Ye wade never out of England bide,
Till crooked and blind and a’ wad steal.’

31 ‘But will thou lend me thy bay?’ Fair John Armstrong can say,
‘There’s nae mae horse loose in the stable but he;
And I’le either bring ye Dick o the Kow again,
Or the day is come that he must die.’

32 ‘To lend thee my bay,’ the Laird’s Jock can say,
‘He’s both worth gold and good monie;
Dick o the Kow has away twa horse,
I wish no thou should no make him three.’

33 He has tane the Laird’s jack on his back,
The twa-handed sword that hang lieugh by his thigh;
He has tane the steel cap on his head,
And on is he to follow Dickie.

34 Then Dickie was not a mile off the town,
I wate a mile but barely three,
Till John Armstrang has oertane Dick o the Kow,
Hand for hand on Cannobei lee.

35 ‘Abide th[e], bide now, Dickie than,
The day is come that thow must die;’
Dickie looked oer his left shoulder;
‘Johnie, has thow any mo in thy company?

36 ‘There is a preacher in owr chapell,
And a’ the lee-lang day teaches he;
When day is gane, and night is come,
There’s never a word I mark but three.

37 ‘The first and second’s Faith and Conscience;
The third is, Johnie, Take head of thee;
But what faith and conscience had thow, traitor,
When thou took my three kye frae me?

38 ‘And when thou had tane my three kye,
Thou thought in thy heart thou was no wel sped;
But thou sent thi billie Willie oer the know,
And he took three coerlets of my wife’s bed.’

39 Then Johne lett a spear fa leaugh by his thigh,
Thought well to run the innocent through;
But the powers above was more than his,
He ran but the poor fool’s jerkin through.

40 Together they ran or ever they blan-+--+-
This was Dickie, the fool, and hee-+--+-
Dickie could not win to him with the blade of the sword,
But he feld [him] with the plummet under the eye.

41 Now Dickie has [feld] Fair John Armstrong,
The prettiest man in the south countrey;
‘Gramercie,’ then can Dickie say,
‘I had twa horse, thou has made me three.’

42 He has tane the laird’s jack off his back,
The twa-handed sword that hang leiugh by his thigh;
He has tane the steel cape off his head:
‘Johnie, I’le tel my master I met with thee.’

43 When John wakend out of his dream,
I wate a dreiry man was he:
‘Is thou gane now, Dickie, than?
The shame gae in thy company!

44 ‘Is thou gane now, Dickie, than?
The shame go in thy companie!
For if I should live this hundred year,
I shal never fight with a fool after thee.’

45 Then Dickie comed home to lord and master,
Even as fast as he may driee:
‘Now Dickie, I shal neither eat meat nor drink
Till high hanged that thou shall be!’

46 ‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo Dickie,
‘That was no the promise ye made to me;
For I’d never gane to Liddesdale to steal
Till that I sought my leave at thee.’

47 ‘But what gart thow steal the Laird’s-Jock’s horse?
And, limmer, what gart thou steal him?’ quo he;
‘For lang might thow in Cumberland dwelt
Or the Laird’s Jock had stoln ought frae thee.’

48 ‘Indeed I wate ye leed, my lord,
And even so loud as I hear ye lie;
I wan him frae his man, Fair John Armstrong,
Hand for hand on Cannobie lee.

49 ‘There’s the jack was on his back,
The twa-handed sword that hung lewgh by his thigh;
There’s the steel cap was on his head;
I have a’ these takens to lett you see.’

50 ‘If that be true thou to me tels-+--+-
I trow thou dare not tel a lie-+--+-
I’le give thee twenty pound for the good horse,
Wel teld in thy cloke-lap shall be.

51 ‘And I’le give thee one of my best milk-kye,
To maintain thy wife and children three;
[And that may be as good, I think,
As ony twa o thine might be.’

52 ‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo Dicke,
‘Trow ye ay to make a fool of me?
I’le either have thirty pound for the good horse,
Or els he’s gae to Mattan fair wi me:’

53 Then he has given him thirty pound for the good horse,
All in gold and good monie;
He has given him one of his best milk-kye,
To maintain his wife and children three.

54 Then Dickie’s come down through Carlile town,
Even as fast as he may drie:
The first of men that he with mett
Was my lord’s brother, Bailife Glazenberrie.

55 ‘Well may ye be, my good Ralph Scrupe!’
‘Welcome, my brother’s fool!’ quo he;
‘Where did thou gett Fair Johnie Armstrong’s horse?’
‘Where did I get him but steall him,’ quo he.

56 ‘But will thou sell me Fair Johnie Armstrong[’s] horse?
And, billie, will thou sel him to me?’ quo he:
‘Ay, and tel me the monie on my cloke-lap,
For there’s not one fathing I’le trust thee.’

57 ‘I’le give thee fifteen pound for the good horse,
Wel told on thy cloke-lap shal be;
And I’le give [thee] one of my best milk-kye,
To maintain thy wife and children three.’

58 ‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo Dick,
‘Trow ye ay to make a fool of me?’ quo he:
‘I’le either have thirty pound for the good horse,
Or else he’s to Mattan Fair with me.’

59 He has given him thirty pound for the good horse,
All in gold and good monie;
He has given him one of his best milk-kye,
To maintain his wife and children three.

60 Then Dickie lap a loup on high,
And I wate a loud laughter leugh he:
‘I wish the neck of the third horse were browken,
For I have a better of my own, and onie better can be.’

61 Then Dickie comd hame to his wife again;
Judge ye how the poor fool he sped;
He has given her three score of English pounds
For the three auld coerlets was tane of her bed.

62 ‘Hae, take thee there twa as good kye,
I trow, as al thy three might be;
And yet here is a white-footed naigg;
I think he’le carry booth thee and me.

63 ‘But I may no longer in Cumberland dwell;
The Armstrongs the’le hang me high:’
But Dickie has tane leave at lord and master,
And Burgh under Stanemuir there dwels Dickie.

186. Kinmont Willie

1 O HAVE ye na heard o the fause Sakelde?
O have ye na heard o the keen Lord Scroop?
How they hae taen bauld Kinmont Willie,
On Hairibee to hang him up?

2 Had Willie had but twenty men,
But twenty men as stout as he,
Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont taen,
Wi eight score in his companie.

3 They band his legs beneath the steed,
They tied his hands behind his back;
They guarded him, fivesome on each side,
And they brought him ower the Liddelrack.

4 They led him thro the Liddel-rack,
And also thro the carlisle sands;
They brought him to Carlisle castell,
To be at my Lord Scroope’s commands.

5 ‘My hands are tied, but my tongue is free,
And whae will dare this deed avow?
Or answer by the border law?
Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?’

6 ‘Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver!
There’s never a Scot shall set ye free;
Before ye cross my castle-yate,
I trow ye shall take farewell o me.’

7 ‘Fear na ye that, my lord,’ quo Willie;
‘By the faith o my bodie, Lord Scroop,’ he said,
‘I never yet lodged in a hostelrie
But I paid my lawing before I gaed.’

8 Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper,
In Branksome Ha where that he lay,
That Lord Scroope has taen the Kinmont Willie,
Between the hours of night and day.

9 He has taen the table wi his hand,
He garrd the red wine spring on hie;
‘Now Christ’s curse on my head,’ he said,
‘But avenged of Lord Scroop I’ll be!

10 ‘O is my basnet a widow’s curch?
Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?
Or my arm a ladye’s lilye hand?
That an English lord should lightly me.

11 ‘And have they taen him Kinmont Willie,
Against the truce of Border tide,
And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch
Is keeper here on the Scottish side?

12 ‘And have they een taen him Kinmont Willie,
Withouten either dread or fear,
And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch
Can back a steed, or shake a spear?

13 ‘O were there war between the lands,
As well I wot that there is none,
I would slight Carlisle castell high,
Tho it were builded of marble-stone.

14 ‘I would set that castell in a low,
And sloken it with English blood;
There’s nevir a man in Cumberland
Should ken where Carlisle castell stood.

15 ‘But since nae war’s between the lands,
And there is peace, and peace should be,
I’ll neither harm English lad or lass,
And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!’

16 He has calld him forty marchmen bauld,
I trow they were of his ain name,
Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, calld
The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.

17 He has calld him forty marchmen bauld,
Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch,
With spur on heel, and splent on spauld,
And gleuves of green, and feathers blue.

18 There were five and five before them a’,
Wi hunting-horns and bugles bright;
And five and five came wi Buccleuch,
Like Warden’s men, arrayed for fight.

19 And five and five like a mason-gang,
That carried the ladders lang and hie;
And five and five like broken men;
And so they reached the Woodhouselee.

20 And as we crossd the Bateable Land,
When to the English side we held,
The first o men that we met wi,
Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde!

21 ‘Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?’
Quo fause Sakelde; ’Come tell to me!’
‘We go to hunt an English stag,
Has trespassd on the Scots countrie.’

22 ‘Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men?’
Quo fause Sakelde; ’Come tell me true!’
‘We go to catch a rank reiver,
Has broken faith wi the bauld Buccleuch.’

23 ‘Where are ye gaun, ye mason-lads,
Wi a’ your ladders lang and hie?’
‘We gang to herry a corbie’s nest,
That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.’

24 ‘Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?’
Quo fause Sakelde; ’Come tell to me!’
Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band,
And the nevir a word o lear had he.

25 ‘Why trespass ye on the English side?
Row-footed outlaws, stand!’ quo he;
The neer a word had Dickie to say,
Sae he thrust the lance thro his fause bodie.

26 Then on we held for carlisle toun,
And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we crossd;
The water was great, and meikle of spait,
But the nevir a horse nor man we lost.

27 And when we reachd the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind was rising loud and hie;
And there the laird garrd leave our steeds,
For fear that they should stamp and nie.

28 And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind began full loud to blaw;
But ’twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,
When we came beneath the castel-wa.

29 We crept on knees, and held our breath,
Till we placed the ladders against the wa;
And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell
To mount the first before us a’.

30 He has taen the watchman by the throat,
He flung him down upon the lead:
‘Had there not been peace between our lands,
Upon the other side thou hadst gaed.

31 ‘Now sound out, trumpets!’ quo Buccleuch;
‘Let’s waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!’
Then loud the Warden’s trumpets blew
‘O whae dare meddle wi me?’

32 Then speedilie to wark we gaed,
And raised the slogan ane and a’,
And cut a hole thro a sheet of lead,
And so we wan to the castel-ha.

33 They thought King James and a’ his men
Had won the house wi bow and speir;
It was but twenty Scots and ten
That put a thousand in sic a stear!

34 Wi coulters and wi forehammers,
We garrd the bars bang merrilie,
Untill we came to the inner prison,
Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie.

35 And when we cam to the lower prison,
Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie,
‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie,
Upon the morn that thou’s to die?’

36 ‘O I sleep saft, and I wake aft,
It’s lang since sleeping was fleyd frae me;
Gie my service back to my wyfe and bairns,
And a’ gude fellows that speer for me.’

37 Then Red Rowan has hente him up,
The starkest men in Teviotdale:
‘Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,
Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.

38 ‘Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!
My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!’ he cried;
‘I’ll pay you for my lodging-maill
When first we meet on the border-side.’

39 Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
We bore him down the ladder lang;
At every stride Red Rowan made,
I wot the Kinmont’s airns playd clang.

40 ‘O mony a time,’ quo Kinmont Willie,
‘I have ridden horse baith wild and wood;
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan
I ween my legs have neer bestrode.

41 ‘And mony a time,’ quo Kinmont Willie,
‘I’ve pricked a horse out oure the furs;
But since the day I backed a steed
I nevir wore sic cumbrous spurs.’

42 We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank,
When a’ the Carlisle bells were rung,
And a thousand men, in horse and foot,
Cam wi the keen Lord Scroope along.

43 Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water,
Even where it flowd frae bank to brim,
And he has plunged in wi a’ his band,
And safely swam them thro the stream.

44 He turned him on the other side,
And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he:
‘If ye like na my visit in merry England,
In fair Scotland come visit me!’

45 All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,
He stood as still as rock of stane;
He scarcely dared to trew his eyes
When thro the water they had gane.

46 ‘He is either himsell a devil frae hell,
Or else him mother a witch maun be;
I wad na have ridden that wan water
For a’ the gowd in Christentie.’

187. Jock o the Side

Version A

1 * * * * *
PEETER a Whifield he hath slaine,
And Iohn a Side, he is tane,
And Iohn is bound both hand and foote,
And to the New-castle he is gone.

2 But tydinges came to the Sybill o the Side,
By the water-side as shee rann;
Shee tooke her kirtle by the hem,
And fast shee runn to Mangerton.

3 . . . .
The lord was sett downe at his meate;
When these tydings shee did him tell,
Neuer a morsell might he eate.

4 But lords, the wrunge their fingars white,
Ladyes did pull themselues by the haire,
Crying, Alas and weladay!
For Iohn o the Side wee shall neuer see more.

5 ‘But wee’le goe sell our droues of kine,
And after them our oxen sell,
And after them our troopes of sheepe,
But wee will loose him out of the New Castell.’

6 But then bespake him Hobby Noble,
And spoke these words wonderous hye;
Sayes, Giue my fiue men to my selfe,
And I’le feitch Iohn o the Side to thee.

7 ‘Yea, thou’st haue fiue, Hobby Noble,
Of the best that are in this countrye;
I’le giue thee fiue thousand, Hobby Noble,
That walke in Tyuidale trulye.’

8 ‘Nay, I’le haue but fiue,’ saies Hobby Noble,
‘That shall walke away with mee;
Wee will ryde like noe men of warr;
But like poore badgers wee wilbe.’

9 They stuffet vp all their baggs with straw,
And their steeds barefoot must bee;
‘Come on, my bretheren,’ sayes Hobby Noble,
‘Come on your wayes, and goe with mee.’

10 And when they came to Culerton ford,
The water was vp, they cold it not goe;
And then they were ware of a good old man,
How his boy and hee were at the plowe.

11 ‘But stand you still,’ sayes Hobby Noble,
‘Stand you still heere at this shore,
And I will ryde to Yonder old man,
And see w[h]ere the gate it lyes ore.

12 ‘But Christ you saue, father!’ quoth hee,
‘Crist both you saue and see!
Where is the way ouer this ford?
For Christ’s sake tell itt mee!’

13 ‘But I haue dwelled heere three score yeere,
Soe haue I done three score and three;
I neuer sawe man nor horsse goe ore,
Except itt were a horse of tree.’

14 ‘But fare thou well, thou good old man!
The devill in hell I leave with thee,
Noe better comfort heere this night
Thow giues my bretheren heere and me.’

15 But when he came to his brether againe,
And told this tydings full of woe,
And then they found a well good gate
They might ryde ore by two and two.

16 And when they were come ouer the forde,
All safe gotten att the last,
‘Thankes be to God!’ sayes Hobby Nobble,
‘The worst of our perill is past.’

17 And then they came into Howbrame wood,
And there then they found a tree,
And cutt itt downe then by the roote;
The lenght was thirty foote and three.

18 And four of them did take the planke,
As light as it had beene a flee,
And carryed itt to the New Castle,
Where as Iohn a Side did lye.

19 And some did climbe vp by the walls,
And some did climbe vp by the tree,
Vntill they came vpp to the top of the castle,
Where Iohn made his moane trulye.

20 He sayd, God be with thee, Sybill o the Side!
My owne mother thou art, quoth hee;
If thou knew this night I were here,
A woe woman then woldest thou bee.

21 And fare you well, Lord Mangerton!
And euer I say God be with thee!
For if you knew this night I were heere,
You wold sell your land for to loose mee.

22 And fare thou well, Much, Millers sonne!
Much, Millars sonne, I say;
Thou has beene better att merke midnight
Then euer thou was att noone o the day.

23 And fare thou well, my good Lord Clough!
Thou art thy fathers sonne and heire;
Thou neuer saw him in all thy liffe
But with him durst thou breake a speare.

24 ‘Wee are brothers childer nine or ten,
And sisters children ten or eleven.
We neuer came to the feild to fight,
But the worst of us was counted a man.’

25 But then bespake him Hoby Noble,
And spake these words vnto him;
Saies, Sleepest thou, wakest thou, Iohn o the Side,
Or art thou this castle within?

26 ‘But who is there,’ quoth Iohn oth Side,
‘That knowes my name soe right and free?’
‘I am a bastard-brother of thine;
This night I am comen for to loose thee.’

27 ‘Now nay, now nay,’ quoth Iohn o the Side;
‘Itt feares me sore that will not bee;
Ffor a pecke of gold and silver,’ Iohn sayd,
‘In faith this night will not loose mee.’

28 But then bespake him Hobby Noble,
And till his brother thus sayd hee;
Sayes, Four shall take this matter in hand,
And two shall tent our geldings free.

29 Four did breake one dore without,
Then Iohn brake fiue himsell;
But when they came to the iron dore,
It smote twelue vpon the bell.

30 ‘Itt feares me sore,’ sayd Much, the Miller,
‘That heere taken wee all shalbee;’
‘But goe away, bretheren,’ sayd Iohn a Side,
‘For euer alas! this will not bee.’

31 ‘But fye vpon thee!’ sayd Hobby Noble;
‘Much, the Miller, fye vpon thee!
‘It sore feares me,’ said Hobby Noble,
‘Man that thou wilt neuer bee.’

32 But then he had Fflanders files two or three,
And hee fyled downe that iron dore,
And tooke Iohn out of the New Castle,
And sayd, Looke thou neuer come heere more!

33 When he had him forth of the New Castle,
‘Away with me, Iohn, thou shalt ryde:’
But euer alas! itt could not bee;
For Iohn cold neither sitt nor stryde.

34 But then he had sheets two or three,
And bound Iohns boults fast to his feete,
And sett him on a well good steede,
Himselfe on another by him seete.

35 Then Hobby Noble smiled and loug[h]e,
And spoke these worde in mickle pryde:
Thou sitts soe finely on thy geldinge
That, Iohn, thou rydes like a bryde.

36 And when they came thorrow Howbrame towne,
Iohns horsse there stumbled at a stone;
‘Out and alas!’ cryed Much, the Miller,
‘Iohn, thou’le make vs all be tane.’

37 ‘But fye vpon thee!’ saies Hobby Noble,
‘Much, the Millar, fye on thee!
I know full well,’ sayes Hobby Noble,
‘Man that thou wilt neuer bee.’

38 And when the came into Howbrame wood,
He had Fflanders files two or three
To file Iohns bolts beside his feete,
That hee might ryde more easilye.

39 Sayes, ‘Iohn, now leape ouer a steede!’
And Iohn then hee lope ouer fiue:
‘I know well,’ sayes Hobby Noble,
‘Iohn, thy fellow is not aliue.’

40 Then he brought him home to Mangerton;
The lord then he was att his meate;
But when Iohn o the Side he there did see,
For faine hee cold noe more eate.

41 He sayes, Blest be thou, Hobby Noble,
That euer thou wast man borne!
Thou hast feitched vs home good Iohn oth Side,
That was now cleane from vs gone.

Version B

1 ‘NOW Liddisdale has ridden a raid,
But I wat they had better staid at hame;
For Mitchel o Winfield he is dead,
And my son Johnie is prisner tane.’
With my fa ding diddle, la la dow diddle.

2 For Mangerton House auld Downie is gane;
Her coats she has kilted up to her knee,
And down the water wi speed she rins,
While tears in spaits fa fast frae her eie.

3 Then up and bespake the lord Mangerton:
‘What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?’
‘Bad news, bad news, my lord Mangerton;
Mitchel is killd, and tane they hae my son Johnie.’

4 ‘Neer fear, sister Downie,’ quo Mangerton;
‘I hae yokes of oxen four and twentie,
My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a’ weel filld,
And I’ll part wi them a’ ere Johnie shall die.

5 ‘Three men I’ll take to set him free,
Weel harnessd a’ wi best o steel;
The English rogues may hear, and drie
The weight o their braid swords to feel.

6 ‘The Laird’s Jock ane, the Laird’s Wat twa,
Oh, Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be;
Thy coat is blue, thou has been true,
Since England banishd thee, to me.’

7 Now Hobie was a English man,
In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born;
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banishd him neer to return.

8 Lord Mangerton them orders gave,
‘Your horses the wrang way maun a’ be shod;
Like gentlemen ye must not seem,
But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road.

9 ‘Your armour gude ye maunna shaw,
Nor ance appear like men o weir;
As country lads be all arrayd,
Wi branks and brecham on ilk mare.’

10 Sae now a’ their horses are shod the wrang way,
And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine,
Jock his lively bay, Wat’s on his white horse behind,
And on they rode for the water o Tyne.

11 At the Choler-ford they a’ light down,
And there, wi the help o the light o the moon,
A tree they cut, wi fifteen naggs upo ilk side,
To climb up the wa o Newcastle town.

12 But when they cam to Newcastle town,
And were alighted at the wa,
They fand their tree three ells oer laigh,
They fand their stick baith short and sma.

13 Then up and spake the Laird’s ain Jock,
‘There’s naething for ’t, the gates we maun force;’
But when they cam the gates unto,
A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.

14 His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung,
Wi hand or foot he neer playd paw;
His life and his keys at anes they hae tane,
And cast his body ahind the wa.

15 Now soon they reach Newcastle jail,
And to the prisner thus they call:
‘Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o the Side?
Or is thou wearied o thy thrall?’

16 Jock answers thus, wi dolefu tone:
Aft, aft I wake, I seldom sleip;
But wha’s this kens my name sae weel,
And thus to hear my waes do[es] seik?

17 Then up and spake the good Laird’s Jock,
‘Neer fear ye now, my billie,’ quo he;
‘For here’s the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat,
And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free.’

18 ‘Oh, had thy tongue, and speak nae mair,
And o thy tawk now let me be!
For if a’ Liddisdale were here the night,
The morn’s the day that I maun die.

19 ‘Full fifteen stane o Spanish iron
They hae laid a’ right sair on me;
Wi locks and keys I am fast bound
Into this dungeon mirk and drearie.’

20 ‘Fear ye no that,’ quo the Laird’s Jock;
‘A faint heart neer wan a fair ladie;
Work thou within, we’ll work without,
And I’ll be bound we set thee free.’

21 The first strong dore that they came at,
They loosed it without a key;
The next chaind dore that they cam at,
They gard it a’ in flinders flee.

22 The prisner now, upo his back,
The Laird’s Jock’s gotten up fu hie;
And down the stair him, irons and a’,
Wi nae sma speed and joy brings he.

23 ‘Now, Jock, I wat,’ quo Hobie Noble,
‘Part o the weight ye may lay on me;’
‘I wat weel no,’ quo the Laird’s Jock,
‘I count him lighter than a flee.’

24 Sae out at the gates they a’ are gane,
The prisner’s set on horseback hie;
And now wi speed they’ve tane the gate,
While ilk ane jokes fu wantonlie.

25 ‘O Jock, sae winsomely’s ye ride,
Wi baith your feet upo ae side!
Sae weel’s ye’re harnessd, and sae trig!
In troth ye sit like ony bride.’

26 The night, tho wat, they didna mind,
But hied them on fu mirrilie,
Until they cam to Cholerford brae,
Where the water ran like mountains hie.

27 But when they came to Cholerford,
There they met with an auld man;
Says, Honest man, will the water ride?
Tell us in haste, if that ye can.

28 ‘I wat weel no,’ quo the good auld man;
‘Here I hae livd this threty yeirs and three.
And I neer yet saw the Tyne sae big,
Nor rinning ance sae like a sea.’

29 Then up and spake the Laird’s saft Wat,
The greatest coward in the company;
‘Now halt, now halt, we needna try’t;
The day is comd we a’ maun die!’

30 ‘Poor faint-hearted thief!’ quo the Laird’s Jock,
‘There’ll nae man die but he that’s fie;
I’ll lead ye a’ right safely through;
Lift ye the prisner on ahint me.’

31 Sae now the water they a’ hae tane,
By anes and twas they a’ swam through;
‘Here are we a’ safe,’ says the Laird’s Jock,
‘And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now?’

32 They scarce the ither side had won,
When twenty men they saw pursue;
Frae Newcastle town they had been sent,
A’ English lads, right good and true.

33 But when the land-sergeant the water saw,
‘It winna ride, my lads,’ quo he;
Then out he cries, Ye the prisner may take,
But leave the irons, I pray, to me.

34 ‘I wat weel no,’ cryd the Laird’s Jock,
‘I’ll keep them a’, shoon to my mare they’ll be;
My good grey mare, for I am sure,
She’s bought them a’ fu dear frae thee.’

35 Sae now they’re away for Liddisdale,
Een as fast as they coud them hie;
The prisner’s brought to his ain fire-side,
And there o’s airns they make him free.

36 ‘Now, Jock, my billie,’ quo a’ the three,
‘The day was comd thou was to die;
But thou’s as weel at thy ain fire-side,
Now sitting, I think, tween thee and me.’

37 They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl,
And after it they maun hae anither,
And thus the night they a’ hae spent,
Just as they had been brither and brither.

Version C

1 ‘NOW Liddisdale has ridden a rade,
But I wat they had a better staid at home;
For Michel of Windfield he is slain,
And my son Jonny, they have him tane.’
With my fa dow diddle, lal la dow didle

2 Now Downy’s down the water gone,
With all her cots unto her arms,
And she gave never over swift running
Untill she came to Mengertown.

3 Up spack Lord Mengertown and says,
What news, what news now, sister Downy? what news hast thou to me?
‘Bad news, bad news, Lord Mengertown,
For Michal of Windfield he is slain, and my son Jonny they have him tain.’

4 Up speaks Lord Mengertown and says, I have four and twenty yoke of oxen,
And four and twenty good milk-ky,
And three times as mony sheep,
And I’ll gie them a’ before my son Jonny die.

5 I will tak three men unto myself;
The Laird’s Jack he shall be ane,
The Laird’s Wat another,
For, Hobbie Noble, thow must be ane.

6 . . . .
. thy cot is of the blue;
For ever since thou cam to Liddisdale
To Mengertown thou hast been true.

7 Now Hobbie hath mounted his frienged gray,
And the Laird’s Jack his lively bey,
And Watt with the ald horse behind,
And they are away as fast as they can ride.

8 Till they are come to the Cholar foord,
And there they lighted down;
And there they cut a tree with fifty nags upo each side,
For to clim Newcastle wall.

9 And when they came there . .
It wad not reach by ellish three;
‘There’s nothing for’t,’ says the Laird’s Jack,
‘But forceing o New Castle gate.’

10 And when they came there,
There was a proud porter standing,
And I wat they were obliged to wring his neck in twa.

11 Now they are come to New Castle gile:
Says they, Sleep thou, wakes thou, John o the Side?

12 Says he, Whiles I wake, but seldom sleep;
Who is there that knows my name so well?

13 Up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says,
. . . .
Here is Jack and Watt and Hobby Noble,
Come this night to set thee free.

14 Up speaks John of the Side and says,
O hold thy tongue now, billy, and of thy talk now let me be;
For if a’ Liddisdale were here this night,
The morn is the day that I must die.

15 For their is fifty stone of Spanish iron
Laid on me fast wee lock and key,
. . . .
. . . .

16 Then up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says,
A faint heart neer wan a fair lady;
Work thou within and we without,
And this night we’el set thee free.

17 The first door that they came at
They lowsed without either lock or key,
. . . .
And the next they brock in flinders three.

18 Till now Jack has got the prisner on his back,
And down the tolbooth stair came he;
. . . .
. . . .

19 Up spack Hobby Noble and says,
O man, I think thou may lay some weight o the prisner upo me;
‘I wat weel no,’ says the Laird’s Jack,
‘For I do not count him as havy as ane poor flee.’

20 So now they have set him upo horse back,
And says, O now so winsomly as thou dost ride,
Just like a bride, wee beth thy feet
Unto a side.

21 Now they are away wee him as fast as they can heye,
Till they are come to Cholar foord brae head;
And they met an ald man,
And says, Will the water ride?

22 ‘I wat well no,’ says the ald man,
‘For I have lived here this thirty years and three,
. . . .
And I think I never saw Tyne running so like a sea.’

23 Up speaks the Laird’s Watt and says-+--+-
The greatest coward of the companie-+--+-
. . . .
‘Now, dear billies, the day is come that we must a’ die.’

24 Up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says, Poor cowardly thief,
They will never one die but him that’s fee;
. . . .
Set the prisner on behind me.

25 So they have tain the water by ane and two,
Till they have got safe swumd through.

26 Be they wan safe a’ through,
There were twenty men pursueing them from New Castle town.

27 Up speaks the land-sergeant and says,
If you be gone with the rog, cast me my irons.

28 ‘I wat weel no,’ says the Laird’s Jack,
‘For I will keep them to shew my good grey mere;
. . . .
For I am sure she has bought them dear.’

29 ‘Good sooth,’ says the Laird’s Jack,
‘The worst perel is now past.’

30 So now they have set him upo hoseback,
And away as fast as they could hye,
Till they brought him into Liddisdale,
And now they have set him down at his own fireside.

31 And says, now John,
The day was come that thou was to die,
But thou is full as weel sitting at thy own fireside.
. . . .

32 And now they are falln to drink,
And they drank a whole week one day after another,
And if they be not given over,
They are all drinking on yet.

Version D

1 LIDDISDAILE has ridden a raid,
But they had better ha staid at hame;
For Michael o Wingfield he is slain,
And Jock o the Side they hae taen.

2 Dinah’s down the water gane,
Wi a’ her coats untill her knes,
. . . .
To Mangerton came she.

3 . . . . .
How now? how now? What’s your will wi me?
. . . .
. . . .

4 To the New Castle h[e] is gane.

5 They have cuttin their yad’s tailes,
They’ve cut them a little abune the hough,
And they nevir gave oer s. . . . d running
Till they came to Hathery Haugh.

6 And when they came to Chollerton ford
Tyne was mair running like a sea.
. . . .
. . . .

7 And when they came to Swinburne wood,
Quickly they ha fellen a tree;
Twenty snags on either side,
And on the top it had lang three.

8 ‘My mare is young, she wul na swim,’
. . . .
. . . .
. . . .

9 . . . .
‘Now Mudge the Miller, fie on thee!
Tak thou mine, and I’ll tak thine,
And the deel hang down thy yad and thee.’

188. Archie o Cawfield

Version A

1 LATE in an evening forth as I went,
’Twas on the dawning of the day;
I heard two brothers make their moan,
I listend well what they did say.

2 . . . .
. . .
We were three born brethren,
There[s] one of us condemnd to die.

3 Then up bespake Jock the laird:
‘If I had but a hundre men,
A hundred o th best i Christenty,
I wad go on to fair Dumfries, I wad loose my brother and set him free.’

4 So up bespak then Dicky Ha,
He was the wisest o the three:
‘A hundre men we’ll never get,
Neither for gold nor fee,
But some of them will us betray;
They’l neither fight for gold nor fee.

5 ‘Had I but ten well-wight men,
Ten o the best i Christenty,
I wad gae on to fair Dumfries,
I wad loose my brother and set him free.

6 ‘Jocky Ha, our cousin, ’s be the first man’
(For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he);
‘An ever we come till a pinch,
He’ll be as good as ony three.’

7 They mounted ten well-wight men,
Ten o the best i Christenty;
. . . .
. . . .

8 There was horsing and horsing of haste,
And cracking o whips out oer the lee,
Till they came to fair Barngliss,
And they ca’d the smith right quietly.

9 He has shod them a’ their horse,
He’s shod them siccer and honestly,
And he as turnd the Cawkers backwards oer,
Where foremost they were wont to be.

10 And there was horsing, horsing of haste,
And cracking of whips out oer the lee,
Until they came to the Bonshaw wood,
Where they held their council privately.

11 Some says, We’ll gang the Annan road,
It is the better road, said they;
Up bespak then Dicky Ha,
The wisest of that company.

12 ‘Annan road’s a publick road,
It’s no the road that makes for me;
But we will through at Hoddam ford,
It is the better road,’ said he.

13 And there was horsing, horsing o haste,
And cracking of whips out oer the lea,
Until they came to fair Dumfries,
And it was newly strucken three.

14 Up bespake then Jocky Ha,
For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he:
‘I have a mare, they ca her Meg,
She is the best i Christenty;
An ever we come till a pinch,
She’ll bring awa both thee and me.’

15 ‘But five we’ll leave to had our horse,
And five will watch, guard for to be;
Who is the man,’ said Dicky then,
‘To the prison-door will go with me?’

16 Up bespak then Jocky Ha,
For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he:
‘I am the man,’ said Jocky than,
‘To the prison-door I’ll go with thee.’

17 They are up the jail-stair,
They stepped it right soberly,
Until they came to the jail-door;
They ca’d the prisoner quietly.

18 ‘O sleeps thou, wakest thou, Archie, my billy?
O sleeps thou, wakes thou, dear billy?’
‘Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I wake;
But who’s that knows my name so well?’ [said he.]
‘I am thy brother Dicky,’ he says;
‘This night I’m come to borrow thee.’

19 But up bespake the prisoner then,
And O but he spake woefully!
‘Today had been a justice-court,
. . .
And a’ Liddesdale were here the night,
The morn’s the day at I’se to die.’

20 ‘What is thy crime, Archie, my billy?
What is the crime they lay to thee?’
‘I brake a spear i the warden’s breast,
For saving my master’s land,’ said he.

21 ‘If that be a’ the crime they lay to thee, Archie, my billy,
If that be the crime they lay to thee,
Work thou within, and me without,
And thro good strength I’ll borrow thee.’

22 ‘I cannot work,billy,’ he says,
‘I cannot work, billy, with thee,
For fifteen stone of Spanish iron
Lyes fast to me with lock and key.’

23 When Dicky he heard that,
‘Away, thou crabby chiel!’ cried he;
He’s taen the door aye with his foot,
And fast he followd it with his knee.
Till a’ the bolts the door hung on,
O th’ prison-floor he made them flee.

24 ‘Thou’s welcome, welcome, Archy, my billy,
Thou’s aye right dear welcome to me;
There shall be straiks this day,’ he said,
‘This day or thou be taen from me.’

25 He’s got the prisoner on o his back,
He’s gotten him irons and aw,
. . . .
. . .

26 Up bespake then Jocky Ha,
‘Let some o th’ prisoner lean on me;’
‘The diel o there,’ quo Dicky than,
‘He’s no the wightdom of a flea.’

27 They are on o that gray mare,
And they are on o her aw three,
And they linked the irons about her neck,
And galloped the street right wantonly.

28 ‘To horse, to horse,’ then, a+ell,’ he says,
‘Horse ye with all the might ye may,
For the jailor he will waken next;
And the prisoners had a’ wan away.’

29 There was horsing, horsing of haste,
And cracking o whips out oer the lea,
Until they came to the Bonshaw Shield;
There they held their council privately.

30 Some says, ‘We’ll gang the Annan road;
It is the better road,’ said they;
But up bespak than Dicky Ha,
The wisest of that company:

31 ‘Annan road’s a publick road,
It’s not the road that makes for me;
But we will through at Annan Holme,
It is the better road,’ said he;
‘An we were in at Wamfrey Gate,
The Johnstones they will a’ help me.’

32 But Dicky lookd oer his left shoulder,
I wait a wiley look gave he;
He spied the leiutenant coming,
An a hundre men of his company.

33 ‘So horse ye, horse ye, lads!’ he said,
‘O horse ye, sure and siccerly!
For yonder is the lieutenant,
With a hundred men of his company.’

34 There was horsing, horsing of haste,
And cracking o whips out oer the lea.
Until they came to Annan Holme,
And it was running like a sea.

35 But up bespake the lieutenant,
Until a bonny lad said he,
‘Who is the man,’ said the leiutenant,
‘Rides foremost of yon company?’

36 Then up bespake the bonny lad,
Until the lieutenant said he,
‘Some men do ca him Dicky Ha,
Rides foremost of yon company.’

37 ‘O haste ye, haste ye!’ said the leiutenant,
‘Pursue with a’ the might ye may!
For the man had needs to be well saint
That comes thro the hands o Dicky Ha.’

38 But up bespak Jock the laird,
‘This has been a dearsome night to me;
I’ve a colt of four years old,
I wait he wannelld like the wind;
If ever he come to the deep,
He will plump down, leave me behind.’

39 ‘Wae light o thee and thy horse baith, Jock,
And even so thy horse and thee!
Take thou mine, and I’ll take thine,
Foul fa the worst horse i th’ company!
I’ll cast the prisoner me behind;
There’ll no man die but him that’s fee.’

40 There they’ve a’ taen the flood,
And they have taen it hastily;
Dicky was the hindmost took the flood,
And foremost on the land stood he.

41 Dicky’s turnd his horse about,
And he has turnd it hastilly:
‘Come through, come thro, my lieutenant,
Come thro this day, and drink wi me,
And thy dinner’s be dressd in Annan Holme,
It sall not cost thee one penny.’

42 ‘I think some witch has bore the, Dicky,
Or some devil in hell been thy daddy;
I woud not swum that wan water double-horsed,
For a’ the gold in Christenty.

43 ‘But throw me thro my irons, Dicky,
I wait they cost me full dear;’
‘O devil be there,’ quo Jocky Hall,
‘They’l be good shoon to my gray mare.’

44 O up bespoke then Jock the laird,
‘This has been a dearsome night to me;
For yesternight the Cawfield was my ain,
Landsman again I never sall be.’

45 ‘Now wae light o thee and thy lands baith, Jock,
And even so baith the land and thee!
For gear will come and gear will gang,
But three brothers again we never were to be.’

Version B

1 AS I was walking mine alane,
It was by the dawning o the day,
I heard twa brothers make their maine,
And I listned well what they did say.

2 The eldest to the youngest said,
‘O dear brother, how can this be!
There was three brethren of us born,
And one of us is condemnd to die.’

3 ‘O chuse ye out a hundred men,
A hundred men in Christ[e]ndie,
And we’ll away to Dumfries town,
And set our billie Archie free.’

4 ‘A hundred men you cannot get,
Nor yet sixteen in Christendie;
For some of them will us betray,
And other some will work for fee.

5 ‘But chuse ye out eleven men,
And we ourselves thirteen will be,
And we’ill away to Dumfries town,
And borrow bony billie Archie.’

6 There was horsing, horsing in haste,
And there was marching upon the lee,
Untill they came to the Murraywhat,
And they lighted a’ right speedylie.

7 ‘A smith, a smith,!’ Dickie he crys,
‘A smith, a smith, right speedily,
To turn back the cakers of our horses feet!
For it is forward we woud be.’

8 There was a horsing, horsing in haste,
There was marching on the lee,
Untill they came to Dumfries port,
And there they lighted right manfulie.

9 ‘There[’s] six of us will hold the horse,
And other five watchmen will be;
But who is the man among you a’
Will go to the Tolbooth door wi me?’

10 p then spake Jokie Hall
(Fra the laigh of Tiviotdale was he),
‘If it should cost my life this very night,
I’ll ga to the Tollbooth door wi thee.’

11 ‘O sleepst thou, wakest thow, Archie laddie?
O sleepst thou, wakest thow, dear billie?’
‘I sleep but saft, I waken oft,
For the morn’s the day that I man die.’

12 ‘Be o good cheer now, Archie lad,
Be o good cheer now, dear billie;
Work thow within and I without,
And the morn thou’s dine at Cafield wi me.’

13 ‘O work, O work, Archie?’ he cries,
‘O work, O work? ther’s na working for me;
For ther’s fifteen stane o Spanish iron,
And it lys fow sair on my body.’

14 O Jokie Hall stept to the door,
And he bended it back upon his knee,
And he made the bolts that the door hang on
Jump to the wa right wantonlie.

15 He took the prisoner on his back,
And down the Tollbooth stairs came he;
Out then spak Dickie and said,
Let some o the weight fa on me;
‘O shame a ma!’ co Jokie Ha,
‘For he’s no the weight of a poor flee.’

16 The gray mare stands at the door,
And I wat neer a foot stirt she,
Till they laid the links out oer her neck,
And her girth was the gold-twist to be.

17 And they came down thro Dumfries town,
And O but they came bonily!
Until they came to Lochmaben port,
And they leugh a’ the night manfulie.

18 There was horsing, horsing in haste,
And there was marching on the lee,
Untill they came to the Murraywhat,
And they lihgted a’ right speedilie.

19 ‘A smith, a smith!’ Dickie he cries,
‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie,
To file off the shakles fra my dear brother!
For it is forward we wad be.’

20 They had not filtt a shakle of iron,
A shakle of iron but barely three,
Till out then spake young Simon brave,
‘Ye do na see what I do see.

21 ‘Lo yonder comes Liewtenant Gordon,
And a hundred men in his company:’
‘O wo is me!’ then Archie cries,
‘For I’m the prisoner, and I must die.’

22 O there was horsing, horsing in haste,
And there was marching upon the lee,
Untill they came to Annan side,
And it was flowing like the sea.

23 ‘I have a colt, and he’s four years old,
And he can amble like the wind,
But when he comes to the belly deep,
He lays himself down on the ground.’

24 ‘But I have a mare, and they call her Meg,
And she’s the best in Christendie;
Set ye the prisoner me behind;
Ther’ll na man die but he that’s fae!’

25 Now they did swim that wan water,
And O but they swam bonilie!
Untill they came to the other side,
And they wrang their cloathes right drunk[i]lie.

26 ‘Come through, come through, Lieutenant Gordon!
Come through, and drink some wine wi me!
For ther’s a ale-house neer hard by,
And it shall not cost thee one penny.’

27 ‘Throw me my irons, Dickie!’ he cries,
‘For I wat they cost me right dear;’
‘O shame a ma!’ cries Jokie Ha,
‘For they’ll be good shoon to my gray mare.’

28 ‘Surely thy minnie has been some witch,
Or thy dad some warlock has been;
Else thow had never attempted such,
Or to the bottom thow had gone.

29 ‘Throw me my irons, Dickie!’ he cries,
‘For I wot they cost me dear enough;’
‘O shame a ma!’ cries Jokie Ha,
‘They’ll be good shakles to my plough.’

30 ‘Come through, come through, Liewtenant Gordon!
Come throw, and drink some wine wi me!
For yesterday I was your prisoner,
But now the night I am set free.’

Version C

1 AS I walked on a pleasant green-+--+-
’Twas on the first morning of May-+--+-
I heard twa brothers make their moan,
And hearkend well what they did say.

2 The first he gave a grievous sigh,
And said, Alas, and wae is me!
We hae a brother condemned to death,
And the very morn must hanged be.

3 Then out it speaks him Little Dick,
I wat a gude fellow was he:
‘Had I three men unto mysell,
Well borrowed shoud Bell Archie be.’

4 Out it speaks him Johnny Ha,
A better fellow by far was he:
‘Ye shall hae six men and yoursell,
And me to bear you companie.

5 ‘Twa for keepers o the guard,
See that to keep it sickerlie,
And twa to come, and twa to gang,
And twa to speak wi Bell Archie.

6 ‘But we winna gang like men o weir,
Nor yet will we like cavalliers;
But we will gang like corn-buyers,
And we’ll put brechens on our mares.’

7 Then they are to the jail-house doors,
And they hae tirled at the pin:
‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Bell Archie?
Quickly rise, lat us come in.’

8 ‘I sleep not aft, I lie not saft;
Wha’s there that knocks and kens my name?’
‘It is your brothers Dick and John;
Ye’ll open the door, lat us come in.’

9 ‘Awa, awa, my brethren dear,
And ye’ll had far awa frae me;
If ye be found at jail-house door,
I fear like dogs they’ll gar ye die.’

10 ‘Ohon, alas! my brother dear,
Is this the hearkening ye gie to me?
If ye’ll work therein as we thereout,
Well borrowd should your body be.’

11 ‘How can I work therein, therein,
Or yet how can I work thereout,
When fifty tons o Spanish iron
Are my fair body round about?’

12 He put his fingers to the lock,
I wat he handled them sickerlie,
And doors of deal, and bands of steel,
He gart them all in flinders flee.

13 He’s taen the prisoner in his arms,
And he has kissd him cheek and chin:
‘Now since we’ve met, my brother dear,
There shall be dunts ere we twa twine.’

14 He’s taen the prisoner on his back,
And a’ his heavy irons tee,
But and his marie in his hand,
And straight to Annan gate went he.

15 But when they came to Annan water,
It was roaring like the sea:
‘O stay a little, Johnny Ha,
Here we can neither fecht nor flee.

16 ‘O a refreshment we maun hae,
We are baith dry and hungry tee;
We’ll gang to Robert’s at the mill,
It stands upon yon lily lee.’

17 Up in the morning the jailor raise,
As soon’s ’twas light that he coud see;
Wi a pint o wine and a mess sae fine,
Into the prison-house went he.

18 When he came to the prison-door,
A dreary sight he had to see;
The locks were shot, the doors were broke,
And a’ the prisoners won free.

19 ‘Ye’ll gae and waken Annan town,
Raise up five hundred men and three;
And if these rascals may be found,
I vow like dogs I’ll gar them die.

20 ‘O dinna ye hear proud Annan roar,
Mair loud than ever roard the sea?
We’ll get the rascals on this side,
Sure they can neither fecht nor flee.

21 ‘Some gar ride, and some gar rin,
Wi a’ the haste that ye can make;
We’ll get them in some tavern-house,
For Annan water they winna take.’

22 As Little Dick was looking round,
All for to see what he could see,
Saw the proud sheriff trip the plain,
Five hundred men his companie.

23 ‘O fare ye well, my bonny wife,
Likewise farewell, my children three!
Fare ye well, ye lands o Cafield!
For you again I neer will see.

24 ‘For well I kent, ere I came here,
That Annan water woud ruin me;
My horse is young, he’ll nae lat ride,
And in this water I maun die.’

25 Out it speaks him Johnny Ha,
I wat a gude fellow was he:
‘O plague upo your cowardly face!
The bluntest man I eer did see.

26 ‘Gie me your horse, take ye my mare,
The devil drown my mare and thee!
Gie me the prisoner on behind,
And nane will die but he that’s fay.’

27 He quickly lap upo the horse,
And strait the stirrups siccarlie,
And jumpd upo the other side,
Wi the prisoner and his irons tee.

28 The sheriff then came to the bank,
And heard its roaring like the sea;
Says, How these men they hae got ower,
It is a marvel unto me.

29 ‘I wadna venture after them,
For a’ the criminals that I see;
Nevertheless now, Johnny Ha,
Throw ower the fetters unto me.’

30 ‘Deil part you and the fetters,’ he said,
‘As lang as my mare needs a shee;
If she gang barefoot ere they be done,
I wish an ill death mat ye die.’

31 ‘Awa, awa, now Johnny Ha,
Your talk to me seems very snell;
Your mither’s been some wild rank witch,
And you yoursell an imp o hell.’

Version D

1 ‘SEVEN years have I loved my love,
And seven years my love’s loved me,
But now to-morrow is the day
That billy Archie, my love, must die.’

2 O then out spoke him Little Dickie,
And still the best fellow was he:
‘Had I but five men and my self,
Then we would borrow billy Archie.’

3 Out it spoke him Caff o Lin,
And still the worst fellow was he:
‘You shall have five men and yourself,
And I will bear you companye.’

4 We will not go like to dragoons,
Nor yet will we like grenadiers,
But we will go like corn-dealers,
And lay our brechams on our meares.

5 ‘And twa of us will watch the road,
And other twa will go between,
And I will go to jail-house door,
And hold the prisoner unthought lang.’

6 ‘Who is this at jail-house door,
So well as they do know the gin?’
‘It’s I myself,’ [said] him Little Dickie,
‘And oh sae fain’s I would be in!’

7 ‘Away, away, now, Little Dickie!
Away let all your folly be!
If the Lord Lieutenant come on you,
Like unto dogs he’ll cause you die.’

8 ‘Hold you, hold you, billy Archie,
And now let all your folly be!
Tho I die without, you’ll not die within,
For borrowed shall your body be.’

9 ‘Away, away, now, Little Dickie!
Away, let all this folly be!
An hundred pounds of Spanish irons
Is all bound on my fair bodie.’

10 Wi plough-culters and gavellocks
They made the jail-house door to flee;
‘And in God’s name,’ said Little Dickie,
‘Cast you the prisoner behind me!’

11 They had not rode a great way off,
Will all the haste that ever could be,
Till they espied the Lord Lieutenant,
With a hundred men in’s companie.

12 But when they came to wan water,
It now was rumbling like the sea;
Then were they got into a strait,
As great a strait as well could be.

13 Then out did speak him Caff o Lin,
And aye the warst fellow was he:
‘Now God be with my wife and bairns!
For fatherless my babes will be.

14 ‘My horse is young, he cannot swim;
The water’s deep, and will not wade;
My children must be fatherless,
My wife a widow, whateer betide.’

15 hen cried out him Little Dickie,
And still the best fellow was he:
‘Take you my mare, I’ll take your horse,
And Devil drown my mare and thee!’

16 Now they have taken the wan water,
Tho it was roaring like the sea,
And whan they got to the other side,
I wot they bragged right crouselie,

17 ‘Come thro, come thro now, Lord Lieutenant!
O do come thro, I pray of thee!
There is an alehouse not far off,
We’ll dine you and your companye.’

18 ‘Away, away, now, Little Dickie!
O now let all your taunting be!
There’s not a man in the king’s army
That would have tried what’s done by thee.

19 ‘Cast back, cast back my fetters again!
Cast back my fetters! I say to thee;
And get you gane the way you came,
I wish no prisoners like to thee.’

20 ‘I have a mare, she’s called Meg,
The best in all our low countrie;
If she gang barefoot till they are done,
An ill death may your lordship die!’

Version E

1 . . . .
. . . .
‘We’ll awa to bonnie Dundee,
And set our brither Archie free.’

2 They broke through locks, and they broke through bars,
And they broke through everything that cam in their way,
Until they cam to a big iron gate,
And that’s where brother Archie lay.
[Little John says]

3 . . . .
‘O brither Archie speak to me,
. . . .
For we are come to set ye free.’

4 . . . .
‘Such a thing it canna be,
For there’s fifty pund o gude Spanish airn
Atween my neckbane and my knee.’

Version F

1 AS I walked out one morning in May,
Just before the break of day,
I heard two brothers a making their moan,
And I listened a while to what they did say.
I heard, etc.

2 ‘We have a brother in prison,’ said they,
‘Oh in prison lieth he!
If we had but ten men just like ourselves,
The prisoner we would soon set free.’

3 ‘Oh, no, no, no!’ Bold Dickie said he,
‘Oh no, no, no, that never can be!
For forty men is full little enough
And I for to ride in their companie.

4 ‘Ten to hold the horses in,
Ten to guard the city about,
Ten for to stand at the prison-door,
And ten to fetch poor Archer out.’

5 They mounted their horses, and so rode they,
Who but they so merrilie!
They rode till they came to a broad river’s side,
And there they alighted so manfullie.

6 They mounted their horses, and so swam they,
Who but they so merrilie!
They swam till they came to the other side,
And there they alighted so manfullie.

7 They mounted their horses, and so rode they,
Who but they so merrilie!
They rode till they came to that prison-door,
And then they alighted so manfullie.

8 . . . .
. . . .
‘For I have forty men in my companie,
And I have come to set you free.’

9 ‘Oh no, no, no!’ poor Archer says he,
‘Oh no, no, no, that never can be!
For I have forty pounds of good Spanish iron
Betwixt my ankle and my knee.’

10 Bold Dickie broke lock, Bold Dickie broke key,
Bold Dickie broke everything that he could see;
He took poor Archer under one arm,
And carried him out so manfullie.

11 They mounted their horses, and so rode they,
Who but they so merrilie!
They rode till they came to that broad river’s side,
And there they alighted so manfullie.

12 ‘Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,’ poor Archer says he,
‘Take my love home to my wife and children three;
For my horse grows lame, he cannot swim,
And here I see that I must die.’

13 They shifted their horses, and so swam they,
Who but they so merrilie!
They swam till they came to the other side,
And there they alighted so manfullie.

14 ‘Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,’ poor Archer says he,
‘Look you yonder there and see;
For the high-sheriff he is a coming,
With an hundred men in his companie.’

15 ‘Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,’ High-sheriff said he,
‘You’re the damndest rascal that ever I see!
Go bring me back the iron you’ve stole,
And I will set the prisoner free.’

16 ‘Oh no, no, no!’ Bold Dickie said he,
‘Oh no, no, no, that never can be!
For the iron ’twill do to shoe the horses,
The blacksmith rides in our companie.’

17 ‘Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,’ High-sheriff says he,
‘You’re the damndest rascal that ever I see!’
‘I thank ye for nothing,’ Bold Dickie says he,
‘And you’re a damned fool for following me.’

189. Hobie Noble

1 FOUL fa the breast first treason bred in!
That Liddisdale may safely say,
For in it there was baith meat and drink,
And corn unto our geldings gay.
Fala la diddle, etc.

2 We were stout-hearted men and true,
As England it did often say;
But now we may turn our backs and fly,
Since brave Noble is seld away.

3 Now Hobie he was an English man,
And born into Bewcastle dale,
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banishd him to Liddisdale.

4 At Kershope-foot the tryst was set,
Kershope of the lily lee;
And there was traitour Sim o the Mains,
With him a private companie.

5 Then Hobie has graithd his body weel,
I wat it was wi baith good iron and steel;
And he has pulld out his fringed grey,
And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel.

6 Then Hobie is down the water gane,
Een as fast as he may drie;
Tho they shoud a’ brusten and broken their hearts,
Frae that tryst Noble he would not be.

7 ‘Weel may ye be, my feiries five!
And aye, what is your wills wi me?’
Then they cryd a’ wi ae consent,
Thou ’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.

8 Wilt thou with us in England ride?
And thy safe-warrand we will be,
If we get a horse worth a hyndred punds,
Upon his back that thou shalt be.

9 ‘I dare not with you into England ride,
The land-sergeant has me at feid;
I know not what evil may betide
For Peter of Whitfield his brother’s dead.

10 ‘And Anton Shiel, he loves not me,
For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;
The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not,
For nae gear frae me he eer coud keep.

11 ‘But will ye stay till the day gae down,
Until the night come oer the grund,
And I’ll be a guide worth ony twa
That may in Liddisdale be fund.

12 ‘Tho dark the night as pick and tar,
I’ll guide ye oer yon hills fu hie,
And bring ye a’ in safety back,
If you’ll be true and follow me.’

13 He’s guided them oer moss and muir,
Oer hill and houp, and mony ae down,
Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,
And there brave Noble he lighted down.

14 Then word is gane to the land-sergeant,
In Askirton where that he lay:
‘The deer that ye hae hunted lang
Is seen into the Waste this day.’

15 ‘Then Hobie Noble is that deer;
I wat he carries the style fu hie!
Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back,
And set yourselves at little ee.

16 ‘Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,
See they shaft their arrows on the wa!
Warn Willeva and Spear Edom,
And see the morn they meet me a’.

17 ‘Gar meet me on the Rodrie-haugh,
And see it be by break o day;
And we will on to Conscowthart Green,
For there, I think, w’ll get our prey.’

18 Then Hobie Noble has dreamd a dream,
In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;
He thought his horse was neath him shot,
And he himself got hard away.

19 The cocks could crow, and the day could dawn,
And I wat so even down fell the rain;
If Hobie had no wakend at that time,
In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or slain.

20 ‘Get up, get up, my feiries five-+--+-
For I wat here makes a fu ill day-+--+-
And the warst clock of this companie
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.’

21 Now Hobie thought the gates were clear,
But, ever alas! it was not sae;
They were beset wi cruel men and keen,
That away brave Noble could not gae.

22 ‘Yet follow me, my feiries five,
And see of me ye keep good ray,
And the worst clock of this companie
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.’

23 There was heaps of men now Hobie before,
And other heaps was him behind,
That had he been as wight as Wallace was
Away brave Noble he could not win.

24 Then Hobie he had but a laddies sword,
But he did more than a laddies deed;
In the midst of Conscouthart Green,
He brake it oer Jers a Wigham’s head.

25 Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble,
Wi his ain bowstring they band him sae;
And I wat his heart was neer sae sair
As when his ain five band him on the brae.

26 They have tane him [on] for West Carlisle;
They askd him if he knew the way;
Whateer he thought, yet little he said;
He knew the way as well as they.

27 They hae tane him up the Ricker-gate;
The wives they cast their windows wide,
And ilka wife to anither can say,
That’s the man loosd Jock o the Side!

28 ‘Fy on ye, women! why ca ye me man?
For it’s nae man that I’m usd like;
I’m but like a forfoughen hound,
Ha been fighting in a dirty syke.’

29 Then they hae tane him up thro Carlisle town,
And set him by the chimney-fire;
They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,
And that was little his desire.

30 Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat
And after that a can o beer;
Then they cried a’, wi ae consent,
Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer!

31 Confess my lord’s horse, Hobie, they say,
And the morn in Carlisle thou’s no die;
‘How shall I confess them?’ Hobie says,
‘For I never saw them with mine eye.’

32 n Hobie has sworn a fu great aith,
By the day that he was gotten or born,
He never had onything o my lord’s
That either eat him grass or corn.

33 ‘Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton!
For I think again I’ll neer thee see;
I wad betray nae lad alive,
For a’ the goud in Christentie.

34 ‘And fare thee well now, Liddisdale,
Baith the hie land and the law!
Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!
For goud and gear he’ll sell ye a’.

35 ‘I’d rather be ca’d Hobie Noble,
In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut,
Before I were ca’d traitor Mains,
That eats and drinks of meal and maut.’

190. Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead

1 IT fell about the Martinmas tyde,
Whan our Border steeds get corn and hay,
The Captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde,
And he’s ower to Tividale to drive a prey.

2 The first ae guide that they met wi,
It was high up in Hardhaughswire;
The second guide that they met wi,
It was laigh down in Borthwick water.

3 ‘What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?’
‘Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee;
But gin ye’ll gae to the Fair Dodhead,
Mony a cow’s cauf I’ll let thee see.’

4 And when they cam to the Fair Dodhead,
Right hastily they clam the peel;
They loosed the kye out, ane and a’,
And ranshakled the house right weel.

5 Now Jamie Telfer’s heart was sair,
The tear aye rowing in his ee;
He pled wi the Captain to hae his gear,
Or else revenged he wad be.

6 The Captain turned him round and leugh;
Said, Man, there’s naething in thy house
But ae auld sword without a sheath,
That hardly now wad fell a mouse.

7 The sun was na up, but the moon was down,
It was the gryming of a new-fa’n snaw;
Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot,
Between the Dodhead and the Stobs’s Ha.

8 And when he cam to the fair tower-yate,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,
Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot,
‘Whae’s this that brings the fray to me?’

9 ‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be;
There’s naething left at the Fair Dodhead
But a waefu wife and bairnies three.’

10 ‘Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha,
For succour ye’se get nane frae me;
Gae seek your succour where ye paid blackmail,
For, man, ye neer paid money to me.’

11 Jamie has turned him round about,
I wat the tear blinded his ee:
‘I’ll neer pay mail to Elliot again,
And the Fair Dodhead I’ll never see.

12 ‘My hounds may a’ rin masterless,
My hawks may fly frae tree to tree,
My lord may grip my vassal-lands,
For there again maun I never be!’

13 He has turned him to the Tiviot-side,
Een as fast as he could drie,
Till he cam to the Coultart Cleugh,
And there he shouted baith loud and hie.

14 Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve:
‘Whae’s this that brings the fray to me?’
‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead,
A harried man I trew I be.

15 ‘There’s naething left in the Fair Dodhead
But a greeting wife and bairnies three,
And sax poor ca’s stand in the sta,
A’ routing loud for their minnie.’

16 ‘Alack a wae!’ quo auld Jock Grieve,
‘Alack, my heart is sair for thee!
For I was married on the elder sister,
And you on the youngest of a’ the three.’

17 Then he has taen out a bonny black,
Was right weel fed wi corn and hay,
And he’s set Jamie Telfer on his back,
To the Catslockhill to tak the fray.

18 And whan he cam to the Catslockhill,
He shouted loud and cried weel hie,
Till out and spak him William’s Wat,
‘O whae’s this brings the fray to me?’

19 ‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead,
A harried man I think I be;
The Captain o Bewcastle has driven my gear;
For God’s sake, rise and succour me!’

20 ‘Alas for wae!’ quo William’s Wat,
‘Alack, for thee my heart is sair!
I never cam bye the Fair Dodhead
That ever I fand thy basket bare.’

21 He’s set his twa sons on coal-black steeds,
Himsel upon a freckled gray,
And they are on wi Jamie Telfer,
To Branksome Ha to tak the fray.

22 And when they cam to Branksome Ha,
They shouted a’ baith loud and hie,
Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch,
Said, Whae’s this brings the fray to me?

23 ‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer o the Fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be;
There’s nought left in the Fair Dodhead
But a greeting wife and bairnies three.’

24 ‘Alack for wae!’ quo the gude auld lord,
‘And ever my heart is wae for thee!
But fye, gar cry on Willie, my son,
And see that he cum to me speedilie.

25 ‘Gar warn the water, braid and wide!
Gar warn it sune and hastilie!
They that winna ride for Telfer’s dye,
Let them never look in the face o me!

26 ‘Warn Wat o Harden and his sons,
Wi them will Borthwick water ride;
Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh,
And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside.

27 ‘Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,
And warn the Currors o the Lee;
As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack,
Warn doughty Willie o Gorrinberry.’

28 The Scotts they rade, the Scotts they ran,
Sae starkly and sae steadilie,
And aye the ower-word o the thrang
Was, Rise for Branksome readilie!

29 The gear was driven the Frostylee up,
Frae the Frostylee unto the plain,
Whan Willie has lookd his men before,
And saw the kye right fast driving.

30 ‘Whae drives thir kye,’ can Willie say,
‘To make an outspeckle o me?’
‘It’s I, the Captain o Bewcastle, Willie;
I winna layne my name for thee.’

31 ‘O will ye let Tefler’s kye gae back?
Or will ye do aught for regard o me?
Or, by the faith of my body,’ quo Willie Scott,
‘I’se ware my dame’s cauf’s skin on thee.’

32 ‘I winna let the kye gae back,
Neither for thy love nor yet thy fear;
But I will drive Jamie Telfer’s kye
In spite of every Scott that’s here.’

33 ‘Set on them, lads!’ quo Willie than;
‘Fye, lads, set on them cruellie!
For ere they win to the Ritterford,
Mony a toom saddle there sall be!’

34 Then till’t they gaed, wi heart and hand;
The blows fell thick as bickering hail;
And mony a horse ran masterless,
And mony a comely cheek was pale.

35 But Willie was stricken ower the head,
And through the knapscap the sword has gane;
And Harden grat for very rage,
Whan Willie on the grund lay slane.

36 But he’s taen aff his gude steel cap,
And thrice he’s waved it in the air;
The Dinlay snaw was neer mair white
Nor the lyart locks of Harden’s hair.

37 ‘Refenge! revenge!’ auld Wat can cry;
‘Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie!
We’ll neer see Tiviot side again,
Or Willie’s death revenged sall be.’

38 O mony a horse ran masterless,
The splintered lances flew on hie;
But or they wan to the Kershope ford,
The Scotts had gotten the victory.

39 John o Brigham there was slane,
And John o Barlow, as I hear say,
And thirty mae o the Captain’s men
Lay bleeding on the grund that day.

40 The Captain was run through the thick of the thigh,
And broken was his right leg-bane;
If he had lived this hundred years,
He had never been loved by woman again.

41 ‘Hae back the kye!’ the Captain said;

146 kye, I trow, to some they be;
For gin I suld live a hundred years
There will neer fair lady smile on me.’

42 Then word is gane to the Captain’s bride,
Even in the bower where that she lay,
That her lord was prisoner in enemy’s land,
Since into Tividale he had led the way.

43 ‘I wad lourd have had a winding-sheet,
And helped to put it ower his head,
Ere he had been disgraced by the border Scot,
Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead!’

44 There was a wild gallant amang us a’,
His name was Watty wi the Wudspurs,
Cried, On for his house in Stanegirthside,
If ony man will ride with us!

45 When they cam to the Stanegirthside,
They dang wi trees and burst the door;
They loosed out a’ the Captain’s kye,
And set them forth our lads before.

46 There was an auld wyfe ayont the fire,
A wee bit o the Captain’s kin:
‘Whae dar loose out the Captain’s kye,
Or answer to him and his men?’

47 ‘It’s I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye,
I winna layne my name frae thee;
And I will loose out the Captain’s kye
In scorn of a’ his men and he.’

48 Whan they cam to the Fair Dodhead,
they were a wellcum sight to see,
For instead of his ain ten milk-kye,
Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three.

49 And he has paid the rescue-shot,
Baith wi gowd and white monie,
And at the burial o Willie Scott
I wat was mony a weeping ee.

191. Hughie Graham

Version A

1 AS it befell upon one time,
About mid-summer of the year,
Every man was taxt of his crime,
For stealing the good Lord Bishop’s mare.

2 The good Lord Screw he sadled a horse,
And rid after this same scrime;
Before he did get over the moss,
There was he aware of Sir Hugh of the Grime.

3 ‘Turn, O turn, thou false traytor,
Turn, and yield thyself unto me;
Thou hast stolen the Lord Bishops mare,
And now thou thinkest away to flee.’

4 ‘No, soft, Lord Screw, that may not be!
Here is a broad sword by my side,
And if that thou canst conquer me,
The victory will soon be try’d.’

5 ‘I ner was afraid of a traytor bold,
Although thy name be Hugh in the Grime;
I’le make thee repent thy speeches foul,
If day and life but give me time.’

6 ‘Then do thy worst, good Lord Screw,
And deal your blows as fast as you can;
It will be try’d between me and you
Which of us two shall be the best man.’

7 Thus as they dealt their blows so free,
And both so bloody at that time,
Over the moss ten yeomen they see,
Come for to take Sir Hugh in the Grime.

8 Sir Hugh set his back against a tree,
And then the men encompast him round;
His mickle sword from his hand did flee,
And then they brought Sir Hugh to the ground.

9 Sir Hugh of the Grime now taken is
And brought back to Garlard town;
[Then cry’d] the good wives all in Garlard town,
‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou ’st ner gang down.’

10 The good Lord Bishop is come to the town,
And on the bench is set so high;
And every man was taxt to his crime,
At length he called Sir Hugh in the Grime.

11 ‘Here am I, thou false bishop,
Thy humours all to fulfill;
I do not think my fact so great
But thou mayst put it into thy own will.’

12 The quest of jury-men was calld,
The best that was in Garlard town;
Eleven of them spoke all in a breast,
‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou ’st ner gang down.’

13 Then another questry-men was calld,
The best that was in Rumary;
Twelve of them spoke all in a breast,
‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou’st now guilty.’

14 Then came down my good Lord Boles,
Falling down upon his knee:
‘Five hundred peices of gold would I give,
To grant Sir Hugh in the Grime to me.’

15 ‘Peace, peace, my good Lord Boles,
And of your speeches set them by!
If there be eleven Grimes all of a name,
Then by my own honour they all should dye.’

16 Then came down my good Lady Ward,
Falling low upon her knee:
‘Five hundred measures of gold I’le give,
To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to em.’

17 ‘Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward,
None of your proffers shall him buy!
For if there be twelve Grimes all of a name,
By my own honour they all should dye.’

18 Sir Hugh of the Grime’s condemnd to dye,
And of his friends he had no lack;
Fourteen foot he leapt in his ward,
His hands bound fast upon his back.

19 Then he lookt over his left shoulder,
To see whom he could see or spy;
Then was he aware of his father dear,
Came tearing his hair most pittifully.

20 ‘Peace, peace, my father dear,
And of your speeches set them by!
Though they have bereavd me of my life,
They cannot bereave me of heaven so high.’

21 He lookt over his right shoulder,
To see whom he could see or spye;
There was he aware of his mother dear,
Came tearing her hair most pittifully.

22 ‘Pray have me remembred to Peggy, my wife;
As she and I walkt over the moor,
She was the cause of [the loss of] my life,
And with the old bishop she plaid the whore.

23 ‘Here, Johnny Armstrong, take thou my sword,
That is made of the mettle so fine,
And when thou comst to the border-side,
Remember the death of Sir Hugh of the Grime.’

Version B

1 OUR lords are to the mountains gane,
A hunting o the fallow deer,
And they hae gripet Hughie Graham,
For stealing o the bishop’s mare.

2 And they hae tied him hand and foot,
And led him up thro Stirling town;
The lads and lasses met him there,
Cried, Hughie Graham, thou art a loun!

3 ‘O lowse my right hand free,’ he says,
‘And put my braid sword in the same,
He’s no in Stirling town this day
Daur tell the tale to Hughie Graham.’

4 Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord,
As he sat by the bishop’s knee:
‘Five hundred white stots I’ll gie you,
If ye’ll let Hughie Graham gae free.’

5 ‘O haud your tongue,’ the bishop says,
‘And wi your pleading let me be!
For tho ten Grahams were in his coat,
Highie Graham this day shall die.’

6 Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord,
As she sat by the bishop’s knee:
‘Five hundred white pence I’ll gee you,
If ye’ll gie Hughie Graham to me.’

7 ‘O haud your tongue now, lady fair,
And wi your pleading let it be!
Altho ten Grahams were in his coat,
It’s for my honour he maun die.’

8 They’ve taen him to the gallows-knowe,
He looked to the gallows-tree,
Yet never colour left his cheek,
Nor ever did he blink his ee.

9 At length he looked round about,
To see whatever he could spy,
And there he saw his auld father,
And he was weeping bitterly.

10 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,
And wi your weeping let it be!
Thy weeping’s sairer on my heart
Than a’ that they can do to me.

11 ‘And ye may gie my brother John
My sword that’s bent in the middle clear,
And let him come at twelve o’clock,
And see me pay the bishop’s mare.

12 ‘And ye may gie my brother James
My sword that’s bent in the middle brown,
And bid him come at four o’clock,
And see his brother High cut down.

13 ‘Remember me to Maggy my wife,
The niest time ye gang oer the moor;
Tell her, she staw the bishop’s mare,
Tell her, she was the bishop’s whore.

14 ‘And ye may tell my kith and kin
I never did disgrace their blood,
And when they meet the bishop’s cloak,
To mak it shorter by the hood.’

Version C

1 GUDE Lord Scroope’s to the hunting gane,
He has ridden oer moss and muir,
And he has grippet Hughie the Gra+eme,
For stealing o the bishop’s mare.

2 ‘Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be!
Here hangs a broad sword by my side,
And if that thou canst conquer me,
The matter it may soon be tryed.’

3 ‘I neer was afraid of a traitor thief;
Although thy name be Hughie the Gra+eme,
I’ll make thee repent thee of thy deeds,
If God but grant me life and time.’

4 ‘Then do your worst now, goo Lord Scroope,
And deal your blows as hard as you can;
It shall be tried, within an hour,
Which of us two is the better man.’

5 But as they were dealing their blows so free,
And both so bloody ay the time,
Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall,
All for to take brave Hughie the Gra+eme.

6 Then they hae grippit Hughie the Gra+eme,
And brought him up through Carlisle town;
The lasses and lads stood on the walls,
Crying, Hughie the Gra+eme, thou’se neer gae down!

7 Then they hae chosen a jury of men,
The best that were in Carlisle town,
And twelve of them cried out at once,
Hughie the Gra+eme, thou must gae down!

8 Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume,
As he sat by the judge’s knee:
‘Twenty white owsen, my gude lord,
If you’ll grant Hughie the Gra+eme to me.’

9 ‘O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume,
Forsooth and sae it mauna be;
For were there but three Gra+emes of the name,
They suld be hanged a’ for me.’

10 RR’rrtwas up and spake the gude Lady Hume,
As she sat by the judge’s knee:
‘A peck of white pennies, my good lord judge,
If you’ll grant Hughie the Gra+eme to me.’

11 ‘O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,
Forsooth and so ti mustna be;
Were he but the one Gra+eme of the name,
He suld be hanged high for me.’

12 ‘If I be guilty,’ said Hughie the Gra+eme,
‘Of me my friends shall hae small talk;’
And he has loupd fifteen feet and three,
Though his hands they were tied behind his back.

13 He looked over his left shoulder,
And for to see what he might see;
There was he aware of his auld father,
Came tearing his hair most piteouslie.

14 ‘O hald your tongue, my father,’ he says,
‘And see that ye dinna weep for me!
For they may ravish me of my life,
But they canna banish me fro heaven hie.

15 ‘Fare ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife!
The last time we came ower the muir
’Twas thou bereft me of my life,
And wi the bishop thou playd the whore.

16 ‘Here, Johnnie Armstrang, take thou my sword,
That is made o the metal sae fine,
And when thou comest to the English side
Remember the death of Hughie the Gra+eme.’

Version D

1 GOOD Lord John is a hunting gone,
Over the hills and dales so far,
For to take Sir Hugh in the Grime,
For stealing of the bishop’s mare.
He derry derry down

2 Hugh in the Grime was taken then
And carried to Carlisle town;
The merry women came out amain,
Saying, The name of Grime shall never go down!

3 O then a jury of women was brought,
Of the best that could be found;
Eleven of them spoke all at once,
Saying, The name of Grime shall never go down!

4 And then a jury of men was brought,
More the pity for to be!
Eleven of them spoke all at once,
Saying, Hugh in the Grime, you are guilty.

5 Hugh in the Grime was cast to be hangd,
Many of his friends did for him lack;
For fifteen foot in the prisin he did jump,
With his hands tyed fast behind his back.

6 Then bespoke our good Lady Ward,
As she set on the bench so high:
‘A peck of white pennys I’ll give to my lord,
If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.

7 ‘And if it be not full enough,
I’ll stroke it up with my silver fan;
And if it be not full enough,
I’ll heap it up with my own hand.’

8 ‘Hold your tongue now, Lady Ward,
And of your talkitive let it be!
There is never a Grime came in this court
That at thy bidding shall saved be.’

9 Then bespoke our good Lady Moor,
As she sat on the bench so high:
‘A yoke of fat oxen I’ll give to my lord,
If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.’

10 ‘Hold your tongue now, good Lady Moor,
And of your talkitive let it be!
There is never a Grime came to this court
That at thy bidding shall saved be.’

11 Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out of the door,
With his hand out of the bar;
There he spy’d his father dear,
Tearing of his golden hair.

12 ‘Hold your tongue, good father dear,
And of your weeping let it be!
For if they bereave me of my life,
They cannot bereave me of the heavens so high.’

13 Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out at the door,
Oh, what a sorry heart had he!
There [he] spy’d his mother dear,
Weeping and wailing ‘Oh, woe is me!’

14 Hold your tongue now, mother dear,
And of your weeping let it be!
For if they bereave me of my life,
They cannot bereave me of heaven’s fee.

15 ‘I’ll leave my sword to Johnny Armstrong
That is made of mettal so fine,
That when he comes to the border-side
He may think of Hugh in the Grime.’

Version E

1 LORD HOME he is a hunting gane,
Through the woods and valleys clear,
And he has taen Sir Hugh the Gra+eme,
For stealing o the bishop’s mare.

2 They hae taen Sir Hugh the Gra+eme,
Led him down thro Strieveling town;
Fifeteen o them cried a’ at ance,
‘Sir Hugh the Gra+eme he must go down!’

3 They hae causd a court to sit,
Mang a’ their best nobilitie;
Fifeteen o them cried a’ at ance,
Sir Hugh the Gra+eme he now must die!’

4 Out is speaks the lady Black,
And o her will she was right free:
‘A thousand pounds, my lord, I’ll gie,
If Hugh the Gra+eme set free to me.’

5 ‘Hold your tongue, ye Lady Black,
And ye’ll let a’ your pleadings be!
Though ye woud gie me thousands ten,
It’s for my honour he must die.’

6 Then out it speaks her Lady Bruce,
And o her will she was right free:
‘A hundred steeds, my lord, I’ll gie,
If ye’ll gie Hugh the Gra+eme to me.’

7 ‘O hold your tongue, ye Lady Bruce,
And ye’ll let a’ your pleadings be!
Though a’ the Gra+emes were in this court,
It’s for my honour he must die.’

8 He looked over his shoulder,
It was to see what he coud see,
And there he saw his auld father,
Weeping and wailing bitterlie.

9 ‘O hold your tongue, my old father,
And ye’ll let a’ your mourning be!
Though they bereave me o my life,
They canno had the heavens frae me.

10 ‘Ye’ll gie my brother John the sword
That’s pointed wi the metal clear,
And bid him come at eight o’clock,
And see me pay the bishop’s mare.

11 ‘And, brother James, take here the sword
That’s pointed wi the metal brown;
Come up the morn at eight o’clock,
And see your brother putten down.

12 ‘And, brother Allan, take this sword
That’s pointed wi the metal fine;
Come up the morn at eight o’clock,
And see the death o Hugh the Gra+eme.

13 ‘Ye’ll tell this news to Maggy my wife,
Niest time ye gang to Strievling town,
She is the cause I lose my life,
She wi the bishop playd the loon.’

14 Again he ower his shoulder lookd,
It was to see what he could see,
And there he saw his little son,
Was screaming by his nourice knee.

15 Then out it spake the little son,
‘Since ’tis the morn that he must die,
If that I live to be a man,
My father’s death revengd shall be.’

16 ‘If I must die,’ Sir Hugh replied,
‘My friends o me they will think lack;’
He leapd a wa eighteen feet high,
Wi his hands bound behind his back.

17 Lord Home then raised ten armed men,
And after him they did pursue;
But he has trudged ower the plain
As fast as ony bird that flew.

18 He looked ower his left shoulder,
It was to see what he coud see;
His brother John was at his back,
And a’ thee rest o his brothers three.

19 Some they wound, and some they slew,
They fought sae fierce and valiantly;
They made his enemies for to yield,
And sent Sir Hugh out ower the sea.

Version F

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

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

Version G

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

Version H

1 Lairds and lords a hounting gane,
Out-over hills and valleys clear,
And there they met Hughie Grame,
Was riding on the bishop’s mare.

2 And they have tied him hand and foot,
And they have carried him to Stirling town;
The lads and lasses there about
Crys, Hughie Grame, you are a lown!

3 ‘If I be a lown,’ says he,
‘I am sure my friends has had bad luck;’
We that he jumpted fifteen foot,
With his hands tied behind his back.

4 Out and spoke Laidy Whiteford,
As she sat by the bishop’s knee;
‘Four-and-twenty milk-kie I’ll give to thee,
If Hughie Grame you will let free.’

5 ‘Hold your tongue, my laidy Whiteford,
And of your pleading now lay by;
If fifty Grames were in his coat,
Upon my honour he shall die.’

6 Out and spoke Lord Whiteford,
As he sat by the bishop’s knee;
‘Four-and-twenty stots I’ll give thee,
If Hughie Grame you will let free.’

7 ‘Hold your tongue, my lord Whiteford,
And of your pleading now lay by;
If twenty Grames were in his coat,
Upon my honour he shall die.’

8 ‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,
The first time she comes through the mu[ir],
She was the causer of my death,
For with the bishop [she] plaid the whore.

9 ‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,
The first time she comes through the town,
She was the causer of my death,
For with the bishop [she ] plaid the lown.’

10 He looked oer his left shoulder,
To see what he could spy or see,
And there he spied his old father,
Was weeping bitterly.

11 ‘Hold your tongue, my dear father,
And of your weeping now lay by;
They may rub me of my sweet life,
But not from me the heavence high.

12 ‘You may give my brother John
The sword that’s of the mettle clear,
That he may come the morn at four o clock
To see me pay the bishop’s mare.

13 ‘You may give my brother James
The sword that’s of the mettle brown;
Tell him to come the morn at four o clock
To see his brother Hugh cut down.’

14 Up and spoke his oldest son,
As he sat by his nurse’s knee;
‘If ere I come to be a man,
Revenged for my father[’s] death I’ll be.’

Version I

1 Ye dukes and lords that hunt and go
Out-over moors and mountains clear,
And they have taen up poor Hughie Gra+eme,
For stealing of the bishope’s mare.

1 Fall all the day, fall all the daudy,
Fall all the day, fall the daudy O.

2 They hae tied him hand and foot,
They hae led him thro the town;
The lads and lassies they all met,
Cried, Hughie Gra+eme, ye’ve playd the loon!

3 ‘O if that I had playd the loon,
My friends of me they hae bad luck;’
With that he jumped fifteen feet,
Wi his hands tied fast behind his back.

4 Up then spoke my lady Whiteford,
As she sat by the bishope’s knee;
‘Five hundred white pence I’ll give thee,
If you let Hughie Gra+eme go free.’

5 ‘I’ll hae nane of your hundred pense,
And your presents you may lay by;
For if Gra+eme was ten times in his coat,
By my honour, Hugh shall die.’

6 Up then spoke my lord Whiteford,
As he sat by the bishope’s knee;
‘Five score of good stotts I’ll thee give,
If you’ll sett Hughie Gra+eme but free.’

7 ‘I’ll have none of your hundred stotts,
And all your presents you may keep to yoursell;
‘For if Gra+eme was ten times in his coat
Hugh shall die, and die he shall.’

8 Then they hae tied him hand and foot,
And they hae led [him] to the gallows high;
The lads and lassies they all met,
Cried, Hughie Gra+eme, thou art to die!

9 Now’s he looked oer his left shoulder,
All for to see what he could spy,
And there he saw his father dear,
Stood weeping there most bitterlie.

10 ‘O hold your tongue now, father,’ he said,
‘And of your weeping lai’d now by;
For they can rob me of my life,
But they cannot rob me of the heavens high.

11 ‘But you must give to my brother John
The sword that’s bent in the middle clear,
And tell him to come at twelve o clock
And see me pay the bishope’s mare.

12 ‘And you may give to my brother James
The sword that’s bent in the middle brown,
And tell him to come at four o clock
And see his brother Hugh cut down.

13 ‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,
The first time she comes thro the town,
She was the occasion of my death
And wi the bishope playd the loon.

14 ‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,
The first time she comes thro the fair,
She was the occasion of my death,
And from the bishope stole the mare.’

192. The Lochmaben Harper

Version A

1 HEARD ye eer of the silly blind harper,
That long livd in Lochmaben town,
How he wad gang to fair England,
To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown?
Sing, Faden dilly and faden dilly
Sing, Faden dilly and deedle dan

2 But first he gaed to his gude wife,
Wi a’ the speed that he coud thole;
‘This wark,’ quo he, ’will never work
Without a mare that has a foal.’

3 Quo she, Thou has a gude gray mare,
That’al rin oer hills baith law and hie;
Gae tak the gray mare in thy hand,
And leave the foal at hame wi me.

4 ‘And tak a halter in thy hose,
And o thy purpose dinna fail;
But wap it oer the Wanton’s nose,
And tie her to the gray mare’s tail.

5 ‘Syne ca her out at yon back geate,
Oer moss and muir and ilka dale;
For she’ll neer let the Wanton bite
Till she come hame to her ain foal.’

6 So he is up to England gane,
Even as fast as he can hie,
Till he came to King Henry’s geate;
And wha was there but King Henry?

7 ‘Come in,’ quo he, ’Thou silly blind harper,
And of thy harping let me hear;’
‘O, by my sooth,’ quo the silly blind harper,
‘I’d rather hae stabling for my mare.’

8 The king he looks oer his left shoulder,
And says unto his stable-groom,
Gae tak the silly poor harper’s mare,
And tie her side my Wanton Brown.

9 And ay he harpit, and ay he carpit,
Till a’ the lords had fitted the floor;
They thought the music was sae sweet,
And they forgot the stable-door.

10 And ay he harpit, and ay he carpit,
Till a’ the nobles were sound asleep;
Than quietly he took aff his shoon,
And safly down the stair did creep.

11 Syne to the stable-door he hies,
Wi tread as light as light coud be,
And when he opned and gaed in,
There he fand thirty gude steads and three.

12 He took the halter frae his hose,
And of his purpose did na fail;
He slipt it oer the Wanton’s nose,
And tied it to his gray mare’s tail.

13 He ca’d her out at yon back geate,
Oer moss and muir and ilka dale,
And she loot neer the Wanton bite,
But held her still gaun at her tail.

14 The gray mare was right swift o fit,
And did na fail to find the way,
For she was at Lochmaben geate
Fu lang three hours ere ’twas day.

15 When she came to the harper’s door,
There she gave mony a nicher and sneer;
‘Rise,’ quo the wife, ’Thou lazey lass,
Let in thy master and his mare.’

16 Then up she rose, pat on her claes,
And lookit out through the lock-hole;
‘O, by my sooth,’ then quoth the lass,
‘Our mare has gotten a braw big foal!’

17 ‘Come had thy peace, thou foolish lass,
The moon’s but glancing in thy eye;
I’ll wad my hail fee against a groat,
It’s bigger than eer our foal will be.’

18 The neighbours too that heard the noise
Cried to the wife to put hir in;
‘By my sooth,’ then quo the wife,
‘She’s better than ever he rade on.’

19 But on the morn, at fair day light,
When they had ended a’ thier chear,
King Henry’s Wanton Brown was stawn,
And eke the poor old harper’s mare.

20 ‘Allace! allace!’ says the silly blind harper,
‘Allace, allace, that I came here!
In Scotland I’ve tint a braw cowte-foal,
In England they’ve stawn my gude gray mare.’

21 ‘Come had thy tongue, thou silly blind harper,
And of thy allacing let me be;
For thou shalt get a better mare,
And weel paid shall thy cowte-foal be.’

Version B

1 HARD ye tell of the silly blind harper?
Long he lived in Lochmaben town;
He’s away to fair Carlisle,
To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown.
Sing, Fadle didle dodle didle
Sing, Fadle didle fadle doo

2 He has mounted his auld gray mare,
And ridden oer both hills and mire,
Till he came to fair Carlisle town,
And askd for stabling to his mare.

3 ‘Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper,
‘Some of thy harping let us hear;’
‘By my sooth,’ says the silly blind harper,
‘I would rather hae stabling to my mare.’

4 The king looked oer his left shoulder
And called to his stable-groom:
‘Gae stable up the harper’s mare,
And just beyond the Wanton Brown.’

5 Ay he carped, and ay he harped,
Till a’ the lords gaed thro the floor;
But and the musick was sae sweet
The groom forgot the key o the stable-door.

6 Ay he harped, and ay he carped,
Till a’ the lords fell fast asleep,
And, like a fause deceiver as he was,
He quickly down the stair did creep.

7 He pulld a colt-halter out o his hoe,
On purpose as I shall to you tell;
He sliped it oer the Wanton’s nose,
And tyed it to his gray mare’s tail.

8 ‘My blessing light upon my wife!
I think she be a daily flower;
She told me to ken my ain gray mare
When eer I felt her by the ewer.’

9 ‘Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper,
Some of thy harping let us hear:’
‘Oh and alas!’ says the silly blind harper,
‘Oh and alas that eer I came here!

10 ‘For in Scotland I lost a good brown foal,
And in England a good gray mare,
. . . . .
. . . . .

11 ‘Harp on, harp on, thou silly blind harper,
Some of thy harping let us hear,
And thy brown foal shall be well payed,
And thou’s hae a far better gray mare.’

12 Ay he harped, and ay he carped,
And some of his harping he let them hear,
And his brown foal it was well payed,
And he got a better gray mare.

13 His mare’s away to Lochmaben,
Wi mony a nicker and mony a sneer;
His wife cry’s, Rise up, you lazy lass,
Let in your master and his mare.

14 The lazy lass was loth to rise;
She looked through a little hole;
‘By my troth,’ crys the lazy lass,
‘Our mare has brought a bonie foal.’

15 ‘Rise up, rise up, thou lazy lass,
And, een as the sun it shines sae clear,
I’ll wager my life against a groat
The foal was better than ever the mare.’

Version C

1 ITRR’rrS hae ye heard tell o the auld harper
That lang lived in Lochmaben town,
How he maun awa to England fair,
To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown?
Faw aiden diden an diden an diden
Faw aiden diden faw aiden dee

2 Out then bespak his gude auld wife,
I wat she spak out very wiselie;
‘Ye’ll ride the mear to England fair,
But the foal ye’ll leave at hame wi me.

3 ‘Ye’ll hide your halter in o your hose,
And o your purpose ye’ll no fail;
Ye’ll cast a hook on the Wanton’s nose,
And tie him to the gray mear’s tail.

4 ‘Ye’ll lead them awa by a back yett,
And hound them out at a wee hole;
The mear she’ll neer [let] the Wanton bait
Till hame at Lochmaben town wi her foal.’

5 Awa then rade the auld harper,
I wat he rade right merrilie,
Until he cam to England fair,
Where wonned the gude King Henerie.

6 ‘Light down, light down, ye auld harper,
And some o your harping let me hear;
‘O williwa!’ quo the auld harper,
Will I get stabling for my mear?’

7 And aye he harped and he carped,
Till a’ the lordlings fell asleep;
Syne bundled his fiddles upon his back,
And down the stairs fu fast did creep.

8 He’s taen the halter out o his hose,
And o his purpose he didna fail;
He’s cast a hook on the Wanton’s nose,
And tied him to the gray mear’s tale.

9 He’s led them awa by the back yett,
And hounded them out at a wee hole;
The mear she neer let the Wanton bait
Till hame at Lochmaben town wi her foal.

10 And when they cam to the house-end,
Wi mony a nicker but an a neigh,
They waukend the auld wife out o her sleep;
She was a-dreaming she was fouie.

11 ‘Rise up, rise up, my servant-lass,
Let in your master and his mear;’
‘It’s by my sooth,’ the wee lassie goud say,
‘I’m in a sleeping drowsy air.’

12 Wi mony a graunt she turned her round,
And keekit through at a wee hole;
‘It’s by my sooth!’ the wee lassie goud say,
‘Our mear has gotten a braw brown foal!’

13 Lie still, lie still, ye lazy lass,
It’s but the moon shines in your ee;’
‘Na, by my sooth,’ the lassie goud say,
‘And he’s bigger than ony o his degree.’

14 Then lightly rose the gude auld wife,
I wat the first up in a’ the town;
She took the grit oats intil her lap
And fodderd King Henry’s Wanton Brown.

15 King Henry’s groom rase in the morn,
And he was of a sorry cheer:
‘King Henry’s Wanton Brown’s awa,
And sae is the silly auld harper’s mear!’

16 Up then rase the auld harper,
And loudly he did curse and swear:
‘In Scotland they but steald my foal,
In England ye hae steald my mear!’

17 ‘It’s haud your tongue,"] King Henry did say,
‘Ye’ll hae nae cause to curse or swear;
Here’s thirty guineas for your foal,
And three times thirty for your mear.’

Version D

1 THERE was a poor silly harper-man,
And he lived in Lochmaben toon,
And he has wagered wi lairds and lords,
And mony a guinea against a croon.
Tum tid iddly
Dodaly diddely
Tidaly diddaly
Dodaly dan

2 And he has wagered wi lairds and lords,
And mony a guinea against a croon,
That into England he would go.
And steal King Henerie’s Wanton Broun.

3 Out spak the silly poor harper’s wife,
And O but she spak wililie:
‘If into England you do go,
Leave the wee-wee foal wi me.’

4 The harper he got on to ride,
And O but he rode richt highlie!
The very first man that he did meet,
They said it was King Henerie.

5 ‘Licht doon, licht doon, ye silly poor harper,
And o your harping let me hear;’
‘And by my sooth,’ quoth the silly poor harper,
‘I’d rather hae stabling for my mear.’

6 O he lookit ower his left shoulder,
And saw ane of the stable-grooms:
‘Go take the sillie poor harper’s mear,
And stable her by my Wanton Brown.’

7 And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit,
Till a’ the nobles fell on the floor,
And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit,
Till they forgot the key of the stabel-door.

8 And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit,
Till a’ the nobles fell fast asleep;
He has taen his harp upon his back,
And doon the stair did softly creep.

9 He has taen a halter frae his hose,
And o his purpose did not fail;
He coost a wap on Wanton’s nose,
And tyed her to his ain mear’s tail.

10 He ca’d her through at the bye-yett,
Through mony a syre and mony a hole;
She never loot Wanton licht till she
Was at Lochmaben, at her foal.

11 And she came oer Lochmaben heights,
Wi mony a nicker and mony a sneeze,
And waukend the silly poor harper’s wife,
As she was a sleeping at her ease.

12 ‘Rise up, rise up, ye servant-lass,
Let in the maister and the mear;’
‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass,
‘I think my maister be na here.’

13 Up then rose the servant-lass,
And lookit through a wee, wee hole;
‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass,
‘Our mear has gotten a waly foal.’

14 ‘Ye clatter, ye clatter, ye servant-lass,
It is the moon shines in your ee;’
‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass,
‘It’s mair than ever her ain will be.’

15 It’s whan the stable-groom awoke,
Put a’ the nobles in a fear;
King Henerie’s Wanton Brown was stown,
And Oh! the silly poor harper’s mear.

16 Out then spak the silly poor harper,
Says, Oh, this loos I douna thole!
In England fair a guid grey mear,
In fair Scotland a guid cout-foal.

17 ‘Haud your tongue, ye sillie poor harper,
And wi your carping let me be;
Here’s ten pounds for your auld gray mear,
And a weel paid foal it’s be to thee!’

18 And O the silly poor harper’s wife,
She’s aye first up in Lochmaben toun;
She’s stealing the corn and stealing the hay,
And wappin it oer to Wanton Broun.

Version E

1 THERE was a jolly harper-man,
That harped aye frae toun to toun;
A wager he made, with two knights he laid
To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown.

2 Sir Roger he wagered five ploughs o land,
Sir Charles wagered five thousand pound,
And John he’s taen the deed in hand,
To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown.

3 He’s taen his harp into his hand,
And he gaed harping thro the toun,
And as the king in his palace sat,
His ear was touched wi the soun.

4 ‘Come in, come in, ye harper-man,
Some o your harping let me hear;’
‘Indeed, my liege, and by your grace,
I’d rather hae stabling to my mare.’

5 ‘Ye’ll gang to yon outer court,
That stands a little below the toun;
Ye’ll find a stable snug and neat,
Where stands my stately Wanton Brown.’

6 He’s down him to the outer court,
That stood a little below the toun;
There found a stable snug and neat,
For stately stood the Wanton Brown.

7 Then he has fixd a good strong cord
Unto his grey mare’s bridle-rein,
And tied it unto that steed’s tail,
Syne shut the stable-door behin.

8 Then he harped on, and he carped on,
Till all were fast asleep;
Then down thro bower and ha he’s gone,
Even on his hands and feet.

9 He’s to yon stable snug and neat,
That lay a little below the toun;
For there he placed his ain grey mare,
Alang wi Henry’s Wanton Brown.

10 ‘Ye’ll do you down thro mire and moss,
Thro mony bog and lairy hole;
But never miss your Wanton slack;
Ye’ll gang to Mayblane, to your foal.’

11 As soon’s the door he had unshut,
The mare gaed prancing frae the town,
An at her bridle-rein was tied
Henry’s statey Wanton Brown.

12 Then she did rin thro mire an moss,
Thro mony bog an miery hole;
But never missed her Wanton slack
Till she reachd Mayblane, to her foal.

13 When the king awaked from sleep
He to the harper-man did say,
O waken ye, waken ye, jolly John,
We’ve fairly slept till it is day.

14 ‘Win up, win up, ye harper-man,
Some mair o harping ye’ll gie me:’
He said, My liege, wi a’ my heart,
But first my gude grey mare maun see.

15 Then forth he ran, and in he came,
Dropping mony a feigned tear:
‘Some rogue[s] hae broke the outer court,
An stown awa my gude grey mare.’

16 ‘Then by my sooth,’ the king replied,
‘If there’s been rogues into the toun,
I fear, as well as your grey mare,
Awa is my stately Wanton Brown.’

17 ‘My loss is great,’ the harper said,
‘My loss is twice as great, I fear;
In Scotland I lost a gude grey steed,
An here I’ve lost a gude grey mare.’

18 ‘Come on, come on, ye harper-man,
Some o your music lat me hear;
Well paid ye’se be, John, for the same,
An likewise for your gude grey mare.’

19 When that John his money received,
Then he went harping frae the toun,
But little did King Henry ken
He’d stown awa his Wanton Brown.

20 The knights then lay ower castle-wa,
An they beheld baith dale an down,
An saw the jolly harper-man
Come harping on to Striveling toun.

21 Then, ‘By my sooth,’ Sir Roger said,
‘Are ye returned back to toun?
Idoubt my lad ye hae ill sped
Of stealing o the Wanton Brown.’

22 ‘I hae been into fair England,
An even into Lunan toun,
An in King Henry’s outer court,
An stown awa the Wanton Brown.’

23 ‘Ye lie, ye lie,’ Sir Charles he said,
‘An aye sae loud’s I hear ye lie;
Twall armed men, in armour bright,
They guard the stable night and day.’

24 ‘But I did harp them all asleep,
An managed my business cunninglie;
If ye make light o what I say,
Come to my stable an ye’ll see.

25 ‘My music pleasd the king sae well
Mair o my harping he wishd to hear;
An for the same he paid me well,
And also for my gude grey mare.’

26 Then he drew out a gude lang purse,
Well stored wi gowd an white monie,
An in a short time after this
The Wanton Brown he lat them see.

27 Sir Roger produced his ploughs o land,
Sir Charles produced his thousand pounds,
Then back to Henry, the English king,
Restored the stately Wanton Brown.

193. The Death of Parcy Reed

Version A

1 THE Liddesdale Crosiers hae ridden a race,
And they had far better staid at hame,
For they have lost a gallant gay,
Young Whinton Crosier it was his name.

2 For Parcy Reed he has him taen,
And he’s delivered him to law,
But auld Crosier has made answer
That he’ll gar the house of the Troughend fa.

3 So as it happened on a day
That Parcy Reed is a hunting gane,
And the three false Halls of Girsonsfield
They all along with him are gane.

4 They hunted up and they hunted down,
They hunted all Reedwater round,
Till weariness has on him siezed;
At the Batinghope he’s fallen asleep.

5 O some they stole his powder-horn,
And some put water in his lang gun:
‘O waken, waken, Parcy Reed!
For we do doubt thou sleeps too sound.

6 ‘O waken, O waken, Parcy Reed!
For we do doubt thou sleeps too long;
For yonder’s the five Crosiers coming,
They’re coming by the Hingin Stane.

7 ‘If they be five men, we are four,
If ye will all stand true to me;
Now every one of you may take one,
And two of them ye may leave to me.’

8 ‘We will not stay, nor we dare not stay,
O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee;
For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed,
That they will slay both us and thee.’

9 ‘O stay, O stay, O Tommy Hall,
O stay, O man, and fight with me!
If we see the Troughend again,
My good black mare I will give thee.’

10 ‘I will not stay, nor I dare not stay,
O Parcy Reed, to fight for thee;
For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed,
That they will slay both me and thee.’

11 ‘O stay, O stay, O Johnnie Hall,
O stay, O man, and fight for me!
If I see the Troughend again,
Five yoke of oxen I will give thee.’

12 ‘I will not stay, nor I dare not stay,
O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee;
For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed,
That they will slay both me and thee.’

13 ‘O stay, O stay, O Willie Hall,
O stay, O man, and fight for me!
If we see the Troughend again,
The half of my land I will give thee.’

14 ‘I will not stay, nor I dare not stay,
O Parcy Reed, for to fight with thee;
For thou wilt find, O Parcy Reed,
That they will slay both me and thee.’

15 ‘Now foul fa ye, ye traitors all,
That ever ye should in England won!
You have left me in a fair field standin,
And in my hand an uncharged gun.

16 ‘O fare thee well, my wedded wife!
O fare you well, my children five!
And fare thee well, my daughter Jane,
That I love best that’s born alive!

17 ‘O fare thee well, my brother Tom!
And fare you well his children five!
If you had been with me this day,
I surely had been man alive.

18 ‘Farewell all friends! as for my foes,
To distant lands may they be tane,
And the three false Halls of Girsonsfield,
They’ll never be trusted nor trowed again.’

Version B

1 GOD send the land deliverance
Frae every reaving, riding Scot;
We’ll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,
We’ll sune hae neither staig nor stot.

2 The outlaws come fare Liddesdale,
They herry Redesdale far and near;
The rich man’s gelding it maun gang,
They canna pass the puir man’s mear.

3 Sure it were weel, had ilka thief
Around his neck a halter strang;
And curses heavy may they light
On traitors vile oursels amang.

4 Now Parcy Reed has Crosier taen,
He has delivered him to the law;
But Crosier says he’ll do waur than that,
He’ll make the tower o Troughend fa.

5 And Crosier says he will do waur,
He will do waur if waur can be;
He’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless,
And then, the land it may lie lee.

6 ‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed,
‘The morning sun is on the dew;
The cauler breeze frae off the fells
Will lead the dogs to the quarry true.

7 ‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed,
And to the hunting he has gane;
And the three fause Ha’s o Girsonsfield
Alang wi him he has them taen.

8 They hunted high, they hunted low,
By heathery hill and birken shaw;
They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,
And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe.

9 They hunted high, they hunted low,
They made the echoes ring amain;
With music sweet o horn and hound,
They merry made fair Redesdale glen.

10 They hunted high, they hunted low,
They hunted up, they hunted down,
Until the day was past the prime,
And it grew late in the afternoon.

11 They hunted high in Batinghope,
When as the sun was sinking low;
Says Parcy then, Ca off the dogs,
We’ll bait our steeds and homeward go.

12 They lighted high in Batinghope,
Atween the brown and benty ground;
They had but rested a little while
Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.

13 There’s nane may lean on a rotten staff,
But him that risks to get a fa;
There’s nane may in a traitor trust,
And traitors black were every Ha.

14 They’ve stown the bridle off his steed,
And they’ve put water in his lang gun;
Theya’ve fixed his sword within the sheath
That out again it winna come.

15 ‘Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,
Or by your enemies be taen;
For yonder are the five Crosiers
A-coming owre the Hingin-stane.’

16 ‘If they be five, and we be four,
Sae that ye stand alang wi me,
Then every man ye will take one,
And only leave but two to me:
We will them meet as brave men ought,
And make them either fight or flee.’

17 ‘We mayna stand, we canna stand,
We daurna stand alang wi thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and we.’

18 ‘O turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha,
O turn thee, man, and fight wi me;
When ye come to Troughend again,
My gude black naig I will gie thee;
He cost full twenty pound o gowd,
Atween my brother John and me.’

19 ‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me.’

20 ‘O turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha,
O turn thee, man, and fight wi me;
When ye come to Troughend again,
A yoke o owsen I’ll gie thee.’

21 ‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me.’

22 ‘O turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha,
O turn now, man, and fight wi me;
If ever we come to Troughend again,
My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’

23 ‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me.’

24 ‘O shame upon ye, traitors a’!
I wish your hames ye may never see;
Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig,
And I can neither fight nor flee.

25 ‘Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig,
And ye’ve put water i my lnag gun;
Ye’ve fixed my sword within the sheath
That out again it winna come.’

26 He had but time to cross himsel,
A prayer he hadna time to say,
Till round him came the Crosiers keen,
All riding graithed and in array.

27 ‘Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,
Thou art the very man we sought;
Owre lang hae we been in your debt,
Now will we pay you as we ought.

28 ‘We’ll pay thee at the nearest tree,
Where we shall hang thee like a hound;’
Brave Parcy raisd his fankit sword,
And felld the foremost to the ground.

29 Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed,
Alake, he was an unarmed man;
Four weapons pierced him all at once,
As they assailed him there and than.

30 They fell upon him all at once,
They mangled him most cruellie;
The slightest wound might caused his deid,
And they hae gien him thirty-three;
They hacket off his hands and feet,
And left him lying on the lee.

31 ‘Now, Parcy Reed, we’ve paid our debt,
Ye canna weel dispute the tale,’
The Crosiers said, and off they rade;
They rade the airt o Liddesdale.

32 It was the hour o gloaming gray,
When herds come in frae fauld and pen;
A herd he saw a huntsman lie,
Says he, Can this be Laird Troughen?

33 ‘There’s some will ca me Parcy Reed,
And some will ca me Laird Troughen;
It’s little matter what they ca me,
My faes hae made me ill to ken.

34 ‘There’s some will ca me Parcy Reed,
And speak my praise in tower and town;
It’s little matter what they do now,
My life-blood rudds the heather brown.

35 ‘There’s some will ca me Parcy Reed,
And a’ my virtues say and sing;
I would much rather have just now
A draught o water frae the spring.’

36 The herd flung aff his clouted shoon
And to the nearest fountain ran;
He made his bonnet serve a cup,
And wan the blessing o the dying man.

37 ‘Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,
Ye maun do mair, as I you tell;
Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,
And bear likewise my last farewell.

38 ‘A farewell to my wedded wife,
A farewell to my brother John,
Wha sits into the Troughend tower
Wi heart as black as any stone.

39 ‘A farewell to my daughter Jean,
A farewell to my young sons five;
Had they been at their father’s hand,
I had this night been man alive.

40 ‘A farewell to my followers a’,
And a’ my neighbours gude at need;
Bid them think how the treacherous Ha’s
Betrayed the life o Parcy Reed.

41 ‘The laird o Clennel bears my bow,
The laird o Brandon bears my brand;
Wheneer they ride i the Border-side,
They’ll mind the fate o the laird Troughend.’

Version B2

1 O Parcy Reed has Crozer taen,
And has deliverd him to the law;
But Crozer says he’ll do warse than that,
For he’ll gar the tower of the Troughend fa.

2 And Crozer says he will do warse,
He will do warse, if warse can be;
For he’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless,
And then the land it may lie lea.

3 O Parcy Reed has ridden a raid,
But he had better have staid at hame;
For the three fause Ha’s of Girsenfield
Alang with him he has them taen.

4 He’s hunted up, and he’s hunted down,
He’s hunted a’ the water of Reed,
Till wearydness has on him taen,
I the Baitinghope he’s faen asleep.

5 . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
And the fause, fause Ha’s o Girsenfield,
They’ll never be trowed nor trusted again.

6 They’ve taen frae him his powther-bag,
And they’ve put water i his lang gun;
They’ve put the sword into the sheathe
That out again it’ll never come.

7 ‘Awaken ye, awaken ye, Parcy Reed,
For I do fear ye’ve slept owre lang;
For yonder are the five Crozers,
A coming owre by the hinging-stane.’

8 ‘If they be five and we be four,
If that ye will stand true to me,
If every man ye will take one,
Ye surely will leave two to me.

9 ‘O turn, O turn, O Johny Ha,
O turn now, man, and fight wi me;
If ever ye come to Troughend again,
A good black nag I will gie to thee;
He cost me twenty pounds o gowd
Atween my brother John and me.’

10 ‘I winna turn, I canna turn;
I darena turn and fight wi thee;
For they will find out Parcy Reed,
And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’

11 ‘O turn, O turn now, Willie Ha,
O turn, O man, and fight wi me,
And if ever ye come to the Troughend again
A yoke of owsen I will gie thee.’

12 ‘I winna turn, I canna turn;
I darena turn and fight wi thee;
For they will find out Parcy Reed,
And they will kill baith thee and me.’

13 ‘O turn, O turn, O Thommy Ha,
O turn now, man, and fight wi me;
If ever ye come to the Troughend again,
My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.;

14 ‘I winna turn, I darena turn;
I winna turn and fight with thee;
For they will find out Parcy Reed,
And then they’ll kill baith thee and me.’

15 ‘O woe be to ye, traitors a’!
I wish England ye may never win;
Ye’ve left me in the field to stand,
And in my hand an uncharged gun.’

16 ‘Ye’ve taen frae me my powther-bag,
And ye’ve put water i my lang gun;
Ye’ve put the sword into the sheath
That out again it’ll never come.

17 ‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!
And fare ye weel, my brother John!
That sits into the Troughend ha
With heart as black as any stone.

18 ‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!
And fare ye weel now, my sons five!
For hae ye been wi me this day
I surely had been man alive.

19 ‘O fare ye weel, my married wife!
And fare ye weel now, my sons five!
And fare ye weel, my daughter Jean!
I loved ye best ye were born alive.

20 ‘O some do ca me Parcy Reed,
And some do ca me Laird Troughend,
But it’s nae matter what they ca me,
My faes have made me ill to ken.

21 ‘The laird o Clennel wears my bow,
The laird o Brandon wears my brand;
Whae ever rides i the Border side
Will mind the liard o the Troughend.’

194. The Laird of Wariston

Version A

1 DOWN by yon garden green
Sae merrily as she gaes;
She has twa weel-made feet,
And she trips upon her taes.

2 She has twa weel-made feet,
Far better is her hand;
She’s as jimp in the middle
As ony willow-wand.

3 ‘Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be,
It’s I will make you lady
Of a’ the lands you see.’

4 He spak a word in jest;
Her answer wasna good;
He threw a plate at her face,
Made it a’ gush out o blood.

5 She wasna frae her chamber
A step but barely three,
When up and at her richt hand
There stood Man’s Enemy.

6 ‘Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be,
I’ll learn you a wile
Avenged for to be.’

7 The Foul Thief knotted the tether,
She lifted his head on hie,
The nourice drew the knot
That gard lord Waristoun die.

8 Then word is gane to Leith,
Also to Edinburgh town,
That the lady had killd the laird,
The laird o Waristoun.

9 ‘Tak aff, tak aff my hood,
But lat my petticoat be;
Put my mantle oer my head,
For the fire I downa see.

10 ‘Now, a’ ye gentle maids,
Tak warning now by me,
And never marry ane
But wha pleases your ee.

11 ‘For he married me for love,
But I married him for fee;
And sae brak out the feud
That gard my dearie die.’

Version B

1 IT was at dinner as they sat,
And whan they drank the wine,
How happy war the laird and lady
Of bonnie Wariston!

2 The lady spak but ae word,
The matter to conclude;
The laird strak her on the mouth,
Till she spat out o blude.

3 She did not know the way
Her mind to satisfy,
Till evil cam in to [her] head
All by the Enemy.

4 ‘At evening when ye sit,
And whan ye drink the wine,
See that ye fill the glass weill up
To the laird o Wariston.’

5 So at table whan they sat,
And whan they drank the wine,
She made the glass aft gae round
To the laird o Wariston.

6 The nurice she knet the knot,
And O she knet it sicker!
The lady did gie it a twig,
Till it began to wicker.

7 But word’s gane doun to Leith,
And up to Embro toun,
That the lady she has slain the laird,
The laird o Waristoun.

8 Word has gane to her father, the grit Dunipace,
And an angry man was he;
Cries, Gar mak a barrel o pikes,
And row her down some lea!

9 She said, Wae be to ye, Wariston,
I wish ye may sink for sin!
For I have been your wife
These nine years, running ten;
And I never loved ye sae well
As now whan ye’re lying slain.

10 ‘But tak aff this gowd brocade,
And let my petticoat stay,
And tie a handkerchief round my face,
That the people may not see.’

Version C

1 ‘MY mother was an ill woman,
In fifteen years she marrid me;
I hadna wit to guide a man,
Alas! ill counsel guided me.

2 ‘O Warriston, O Warriston,
I wish that ye may sink for sin!
I was but bare fifteen years auld,
Whan first I enterd your yates within.

3 ‘I hadna been a month married,
Till my gude lord went to the sea;
I bare a bairn ere he came hame,
And set it on the nourice knee.

4 ‘But it fell ance upon a day,
That my gude lord returnd from sea;
Then I did dress in the best array,
As blythe as ony bird on tree.

5 ‘I took my young son in my arms,
Likewise my nourice me forebye,
And I went down to yon shore-side,
My gude lord’s vessel I might spy.

6 ‘My lord he stood upon the deck,
I wyte he haild me courteouslie:
Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay,
Whae’s aught that bairn on your knee?’

7 She turnd her right and round about,
Says, ‘Why take ye sic dreads o me?
Alas! I was too young married,
To love another man but thee.’

8 ‘Now hold your tongue, my lady gay,
Nae mair falsehoods ye’ll tell to me;
This bonny bairn is not mine,
You’ve loved another while I was on sea.’

9 In discontent then hame she went,
And aye the tear did blin her ee;
Says, Of this wretch I’ll be revenged
For these harsh words he’s said to me.

10 She’s counselld wi her father’s steward
What way she coud revenged be;
Bad was the counsel then he gave,
It was to gar her gude lord dee.

11 The nourice took the deed in hand,
I wat she was well paid her fee;
She kiest the knot, and the loop she ran,
Which soon did gar this young lord dee.

12 His brtother lay in a room hard by,
Alas! that night he slept too soun;
But then he wakend wi a cry,
‘I fear my brother’s putten down.

13 ‘O get me coal and candle light,
And get me some gude companie;’
But before the light was brought,
Warriston he was gart dee.

14 They’ve taen the lady and fause nourice,
In prison strong they hae them boun;
The nourice she was hard o heart,
But the bonny lady fell in swoon.

15 In it came her brother dear,
And aye a sorry man was he:
‘I woud gie a’ the lands I heir,
O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

16 ‘O borrow me, brother, borrow me?
O borrowd shall I never be;
For I gart kill my ain gude lord,
And life is nae pleasure to me.’

17 In it came her mother dear,
I wyte a sorry woman was she:
‘I woud gie my white monie and gowd,
O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

18 ‘Borrow me, mother, borrow me?
O borrowd shall I never be;
For I gart kill my ain gude lord,
And life’s now nae pleasure to me.’

19 Then in ti came her father dear,
I wyte a sorry man was he;
Says, ‘Ohon, alas! my bonny Jean,
If I had you at hame wi me!

20 Seven daughters I hae left at hame,
As fair women as fair can be;
But I woud gie them ane by ane,
O bonny Jean, to borrow thee.’

21 ‘O borrow me, father, borrow me?
O borrowd shall I never be;
I that is worthy o the death,
It is but right that I shoud dee.’

22 Then out is speaks the king himsell,
And aye as he steps in the fleer;
Says, ‘I grant you your life, lady,
Because you are of tender year.’

23 ‘A boon, a boon, my liege the king,
The boon I ask, ye’ll grant to me;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Jean,
Whateer ye ask it’s granted be.’

24 ‘Cause take me out at night, at night,
Lat not the sun upon me shine,
And take me to yon heading-hill,
Strike aff this dowie head o mine.

25 ‘Ye’ll take me out at night, at night,
When there are nane to gaze and see,
And hae me to yon heading-hill,
And ye’ll gar head me speedilie.’

26 They’ve taen her out at nine at night,
Loot not the sun upon her shine,
And had her to yon heading-hill,
And headed her baith neat and fine.

27 Then out it speaks the king himsell,
I wyte a sorry man was he:
‘I’ve travelld east, I’ve travelld west,
And sailed far beyond the sea,
But I never saw a woman’s face
I was sae sorry to see dee.

28 ‘But Warriston was sair to blame,
For slighting o his lady so;
He had the wyte o his ain death,
And bonny lady’s overthrow.’

195. Lord Maxwell's Last Goodnight

Version A

1 ‘GOOD lord of the land, will you stay thane
About my faither’s house,
And walk into these gardines green,
In my arms I’ll the embraice.

2 ‘Ten thousand times I’ll kiss thy face;
Make sport, and let’s be mery:’
‘I thank you, lady, fore your kindness;
Trust me, I may not stay with the.

3 ‘For I have kil’d the laird Johnston;
I vallow not the feed;
My wiked heart did still incline;
He was my faither’s dead.

4 ‘Both night and day I did proced,
And a’ on him revainged to be;
But now have I gotten what I long sowght,
Trust me, I may not stay with the.

5 ‘Adue, Dumfriese, that proper place!
Fair well, Carlaurike faire!
Adue the castle of the Trive,
And all my buldings there!

6 ‘Adue, Lochmaben gaits so faire,
And the Langhm shank, where birks bobs bony!
Adue, my leady and only joy!
Trust me, I may not stay with the.

7 ‘Adue, fair Eskdale, up and doun,
Wher my poor frends do duell!
The bangisters will beat them doun,
And will them sore compell.

8 ‘I’ll reveinge the cause mysell,
Again when I come over the sea;
Adue, my leady and only joy!
Fore, trust me, I may not stay with the.

9 ‘Adue, Dumlanark! fals was ay,
And Closburn! in a band;
The laird of the Lag from my faither fled
When the Jhohnstones struek of his hand.

10 ‘They wer three brethren in a band;
I pray they may never be merry;
Adue, my leady and only joy!
Trust me, I may not stay with the.

11 ‘Adue, madam my mother dear,
But and my sister[s] two!
Fair well, Robin in the Orchet!
Fore the my heart is wo.

12 ‘Adue, the lillie, and fair well, rose,
And the primros, spreads fair and bony!
Adue, my leady and only joy!
Fore, trust me, I may not stay with the.’

13 He took out a good gold ring,
Where at hang sygnets three:
‘Take thou that, my own kind thing,
And ay have mind of me.

14 ‘Do not mary another lord
Agan or I come over the sea;
Adue, my leady and only joy!
For, trust me, I may not stay with the.’

15 The wind was fair, and the ship was clare,
And the good lord went away;
The most part of his frends was there,
Giving him a fair convoy.

16 They drank the wine, they did not spare,
Presentting in that good lord’s sight;
Now he is over the floods so gray;
Lord Maxwell has te’n his last good-night.

Version B

1 ‘ADIEW, madam my mother dear,
But and my sisters tow!
Adiew, fair Robert of Oarchyardtoan!
For thee my heart is woe.

2 ‘Adiew, the lilly and the rose,
The primrose, sweet to see!
Adiew, my lady and only joy!
For I manna stay with thee.

3 ‘Tho I have killed the laird Johnston,
What care I for his feed?
My noble mind dis still incline;
He was my father’s dead.

4 ‘Both night and day I laboured oft
Of him revenged to be,
And now I’ve got what I long sought;
But I manna stay with thee.

5 ‘Adiew, Drumlanrig! false was ay,
And Cloesburn! in a band,
Where the laird of Lagg fra my father fled
When the Johnston struck off his hand.

6 ‘They were three brethren in a band;
Joy may they never see!
But now I’ve got what I long sought,
And I maunna stay with thee.

7 ‘Adiew, Dumfries, my proper place,
But and Carlaverock fair,
Adiew, the castle of the Thrieve,
And all my buildings there!

8 ‘Adiew, Lochmaben’s gates so fair,
The Langholm shank, where birks they be!
Adiew, my lady and only joy!
And, trust me, I maunna stay with thee.

9 ‘Adiew, fair Eskdale, up and down,
Where my poor friends do dwell!
The bangisters will ding them down,
And will them sore compel.

10 ‘But I’ll revenge that feed mysell
When I come ou’r the sea;
Adiew, my lady and only joy!
For I maunna stay with thee.’

11 ‘Lord of the land, will you go then
Unto my father’s place,
And walk into their gardens green,
And I will you embrace.

12 ‘Ten thousand times I’ll kiss your face,
And sport, and make you merry;’
‘I thank thee, my lady, for thy kindness,
But, trust me, I maunna stay with thee.’

13 Then he took off a great gold ring,
Where at hang signets three:
‘Hae, take thee that, my ain dear thing,
And still hae mind of me.

14 ‘But if thow marry another lord
Ere I come ou’r the sea-+--+-
Adiew, my lady and only joy!
For I maunna stay with thee.’

15 The wind was fair, the ship was close,
That good lord went away,
And most part of his friends were there,
To give him a fair convay.

16 They drank thair wine, they did not spare,
Even in the good lord’s sight;
Now he is oer the floods so gray,
And Lord Maxwell has taen his goodnight.

196. The Fire of Frendruahgt

Version A

1 THE eighteenth of October,
A dismal tale to hear
How good Lord John and Rothiemay
Was both burnt in the fire.

2 When steeds was saddled and well bridled,
And ready for to ride,
Then out it came her false Frendraught,
Inviting them to bide.

3 Said, ‘Stay this night untill we sup,
The morn untill we dine;

146 be a token of good greement

146 your good lord and mine.’

4 ‘We’ll turn again,’ said good Lord John;
‘But no,’ said Rothiemay,
‘My steed’s trapand, my bridle’s broken,
I fear the day I’m fey.’

5 When mass was sung, and bells was rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then good Lord John and Rothiemay
In one chamber was laid.

6 They had not long cast off their cloaths,
And were but now asleep,
When the weary smoke began to rise,
Likewise the scorching heat.

7 ‘O waken, waken, Rothiemay!
O waken, brother dear!
And turn you to our Saviour;
There is strong treason here.’

8 When they were dressed in their cloaths,
And ready for to boun,
The doors and windows was all secur’d,
The roof-tree burning down.

9 He did him to the wire-window,
As fast as we could gang;
Says, Wae to the hands put in the stancheons!
For out we’ll never win.

10 When he stood at the wire-window,
Most doleful to be seen,
He did espy her Lady Frendraught,
Who stood upon the green.

11 Cried, Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught!
Will ye not sink with sin?
For first your husband killed my father,
And now you burn his son.

12 O then out spoke her Lady Frendraught,
And loudly did she cry;
‘It were grteat pity for good Lord John,
But none for Rothiemay;
But the keys are casten in the deep draw-well,
Ye cannot get away.’

13 While he stood in this dreadful plight,
Most piteous to be seen,
There called out his servant Gordon,
As he had frantic been:

14 ‘O loup, O loup, my dear master!
O loup and come to me!
I’ll catch you in my arms two,
One foot I will not flee.

15 ‘O loup, O loup, my dear master!
O loup and come away!
I’ll catch you in my arms two,
But Rothiemay may lie.’

16 ‘The fish shall never swim in the flood,
Nor corn grow through the clay,
Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled
Twin me and Rothiemay.

17 ‘But I cannot loup, I cannot come,
I cannot win to thee;
My head’s fast in the wire-window,
My feet burning from me.

18 ‘My eyes are seething in my head,
My flesh roasting also,
My bowels are boiling with my blood;
Is not that a woeful woe?

19 ‘Take here the rings from my white fingers,
That are so long and small,
And give them to my lady fair,
Where she sits in her hall.

20 ‘So I cannot loup, I cannot come,
I cannot loup to thee;
My earthly part is all consumed,
My spirit but speaks to thee.’

21 Wringing her hands, tearing her hair,
His lady she was seen,
And thus addressed his servant Gordon,
Where he stood on the green.

22 ‘O wae be to you, George Gordon!
An ill death may you die!
So safe and sound as you stnad there,
And my lord bereaved from me.’

23 ‘I bad him loup, I bad him come,
I bad him loup to me;
I’d catch him in my arms two,
A foot I should not flee. &c.

24 ‘He threw me the rings from his white fingers,
Which were so long and small,
To give to you, his lady fair,
Where you sat in your hall.’ &c.

25 Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay,
O bonny Sophia was her name,
Her waiting maid put on her cloaths,
But I wot she tore them off again.

26 And aft she cried, Ohon! alas! alas!
A sair heart’s ill to win;
I wan a sair heart when I married him,
And the day it’s well returnd again.

Version B

196 * * *
‘YERR’rrLL stay this night wi me, Lord John,
Ye’ll stay this night wi me,
For there is appearence of good greement
Betwixt Frendraught and thee.’

2 ‘How can I bide, or how shall I bide,
Or how can I bide wi thee,
Sin my lady is in the lands of Air,
And I long till I her see?’

3 ‘Oh stay this night wi me, Lord John,
Oh stay this night wi me,
And bonny [’s] be the morning-gift
That I will to you gie.

4 ‘I’ll gie you a Strathboggie lands,
And the laigh lands o Strathray,
. . . . .
. . . . .

5 ‘Ye’ll saty this night wi me, Lord John,
Ye’ll stay this night wi me,
And I’ll lay you in a bed of down,
And Rothiemay you wi.’

6 When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And a’ men bun to bed,
Gude Lord John and Rothiemay
In one chamber were laid.

7 Out hes he taen his little psalm-buik,
And verses sang he three,
And aye at every verse’s end,
‘God end our misery!’

8 The doors were shut, the keys were thrown
Into a vault of stone,
. . . . .
. . . . .

9 He is dune him to the weir-window,
The stauncheons were oer strong;
There he saw him Lord George Gordon
Come haisling to the town.

10 ‘What news, what news now, George Gordon?
Whats news hae you to me?
. . . . .
. . . . .

11 He’s dune him to the weir-window,
The stauncheons were oer strang;
And there he saw the Lady Frendraught,
Was walking on the green.

12 ‘Open yer doors now, Lady Frendraught,
Ye’ll open yer doors to me;
And bonny’s be the mornin-gift
That I shall to you gie.

13 ‘I’ll gie you a’ Straboggie lands,
And the laigh lands o Strathbrae,
. . . . .
. . . . .

14 ‘Now there’s the rings frae my fingers,
And the broach frae my breast-bone;
Ye’ll gae that to my gude ladye
. . . . .

15 ‘How can I loup, or how shall I loup?
How can I loup to thee?
When the blood is boiling in my body,
And my feet burnin frae me?’

16 ‘If I was swift as any swallow,
And then had wings to fly,
I could fly on to fause Frendraught
And cry vengeance till I die.’

Version C

1 IT was in October the woe began-+--+-
It lasts for now and aye,-+--+-
The burning o the bonny house o fause Frendraught,
Lord John and Rothiemay.

2 When they were in their saddles set,
And ready to ride away,
The lady sat down on her bare knees,
Beseeching them to stay.

3 ‘Ye’s hae a firlot o the gude red gowd,
Well straiket wi a wan;
And if that winna please you well,
I’ll heap it wi my han.’

4 Then out it spake the gude Lord John,
And said to Rothiemay,
‘It is a waman that we’re come o,
And a woman we’ll obey.’

5 When a’ man was well drunken,
And a’ man bound for bed,
The doors were lockd, the windows shut,
And the keys were casten by.

6 When a’ man was well drunken,
And a’ man bound for sleep,
The dowy reek began to rise,
And the joists began to crack.

7 He’s deen him to the wire-window,
And ruefu strack and dang;
But they would neither bow nor brack,
The staunchions were so strang.

8 He’s deen him back and back again,
And back to Rothiemay;
Says, Waken, waken, brother dear!
Waken, Rothiemay!

9 ‘Come let us praise the Lord our God,
The fiftieth psalm and three;
For the reek and smoke are us about,
And there’s fause treason tee.

10 ‘O mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught!
As ye walk on the green:’
‘The keys are in the deep draw-well,
The doors were lockt the streen.’

11 ‘O woe be to you, Lady Frendraught!
And ill death may you die!
For think na ye this a sad torment
Your own flesh for to burn?’

12 George Chalmers was a bonny boy;
He leapt the stanks so deep,
And he is on to Rothiemay,
His master for to help.

13 Colin Irving was a bonny boy,
And leapt the stanks so deep:
‘Come down, come down, my master dear!
In my arms I’ll thee kep.’

14 ‘Come down? come down? how can I come?
How can I come to thee?
My flesh is burning me about,
And yet my spirit speaks to thee.’

15 He’s taen a purse o the gude red gowd,
And threw it oer the wa:
‘It’s ye’ll deal that among the poor,
Bid them pray for our souls a’.’

16 He’s taen the rings off his fingers,
And threw them oer the wa;
Says, Ye’ll gie that to my lady dear,
From me she’ll na get more.

17 ‘Bid her make her bed well to the length,
But no more to the breadth,
For the day will never dawn
That I’ll sleep by her side.’

18 Ladie Rothiemay came on the morn,
She kneeled it roun and roun:
‘Restore your lodgers, fause Frendraught,
That ye burnd here the streen.

19 ‘O were I like yon trutle-dove,
Had I wings for to flie,
I’d fly about fause Frendraught
Crying vengeance till I die.

20 ‘Frendraught fause, all thro the ha’s,
Both back and every side;
For ye’ve betrayd the gay Gordons,
And lands wherein they ride.

21 ‘Frendraught fause, all thro the ha’s;
I wish you’d sink for sin;
For first you killd my own good lord,
And now you’ve burnd my son.

22 ‘I caredna sae muckle for my good lord
I saw him in battle slain,
But a’ is for my own son dear,
The heir o a’ my lan.

23 ‘I caredna sae muckle for my good lord
I saw him laid in clay,
But a’ is for my own son dear,
The heir o Rothiemay.’

Version D

1 THE reek it rose, and the flame it flew,
And oh! the fire augmented high,
Until it came to Lord John’s chamber-window,
And to the bed where Lord John lay.

2 ‘O help me, help me, Lady Frennet!
I never ettled harm to thee;
And if my father slew thy lord,
Forget the deed and rescue me.’

3 He looked east, he looked west,
To see if any help was nigh;
At length his little page he saw,
Who to his lord aloud did cry:

4 ‘Loup doun, loup doun, my master dear!
What though the window’s dreigh and hie?
I’ll catch you in my arms twa,
And never a foot from you I’ll flee.’

5 ‘How can I loup, you little page?
How can I leave this window hie?
Do you not see the blazing low,
And my twa legs burnt to my knee?’

Version E

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

197. James Grant

1 ‘AWAY with you, away with you, James de Grant!
And, Douglas, ye’ll be slain;
For Baddindalloch’s at your gates,
With many brave Highland men.’

2 ‘Baddindalloch has no feud at me,
And I have none at him;
Cast up my gates baith broad and wide,
Let Baddindalloch in.’

3 ‘James de Grant has made a vaunt,
And leaped the castle-wa;
But, if he comes this way again,
He’ll no win sae well awa.

4 ‘Take him, take him, brave Gordons,
O take him, fine fellows a’!
If he wins but ae mile to the Highland hills,
He’ll defy you Gordons a’.’

198. Bonny John Seton

Version A

1 UPON the eighteenth day of June,
A dreary day to see,
The southern lords did pitch their camp
Just at the bridge of Dee.

2 Bonny John Seton of Pitmeddin,
A bold baron was he,
He made his testament ere he went out,
The wiser man was he.

3 He left his land to his young son,
His lady her dowry,
A thousand crowns to his daughter Jean,
Yet on the nurse’s knee.

4 Then out came his lady fair,
A tear into her ee;
Says, Stay at home, my own good lord,
O stay at home with me!

5 He looked over his left shoulder,
Cried, Souldiers, follow me!
O then she looked in his face,
An angry woman was she:
‘God send me back my steed again,
But neer let me see thee!’

6 His name was Major Middleton
That manned the bridge of Dee,
His name was Colonel Henderson
That let the cannons flee.

7 His name was Major Middleton
That manned the bridge of Dee,
And his name was Colonel Henderson
That dung Pitmeddin in three.

8 Some rode on the black and grey,
And some rode on the brown,
But the bonny John Seton
Lay gasping on the ground.

9 Then bye there comes a false Forbes,
Was riding from Driminere;
Says, Here there lies a proud Seton;
This day they ride the rear.

10 Cragievar said to his men,
‘You may play on your shield;
For the proudest Seton in all the lan
This day lies on the field.’

11 ‘O spoil him! spoil him!’ cried Cragievar,
‘Him spoiled let me see;
For on my word,’ said Cragievar,
‘He had no good will at me.’

12 They took from him his armour clear,
His sword, likewise his shield;
Yea, they have left him naked there,
Upon the open field.

13 The Highland men, they’re clever men
At handling sword and shield,
But yet they are too naked men
To stay in battle field.

14 The Highland men are clever men
At handling sword or gun,
But yet they are too naked men
To bear the cannon’s rung.

15 For a cannon’s roar in a summer night
Is like thunder in the air;
There’s not a man in Highland dress
Can face the cannon’s fire.

Version B

1 IT fell about the month of June,
On Tuesday, timouslie,
The northern lords hae pitchd their camps
Beyond the brig o Dee.

2 They ca’ed him Major Middleton
That mand the brig o Dee;
They ca’ed him Colonel Henderson
That gard the cannons flee.

3 Bonny John Seton o Pitmedden,
A brave baron was he;
He made his tesment ere he gaed,
And the wiser man was he.

4 He left his lands unto his heir,
His ladie her dowrie;
Ten thousand crowns to Lady Jane,
Sat on the nourice knee.

5 Then out it speaks his lady gay,
‘O stay my lord wi me;
For word is come, the cause is won
Beyond the brig o Dee.’

6 He turned him right and round about
And a light laugh hae he;
Says, I wouldna for my lands sae broad
I stayed this night wi thee.

7 He’s taen his sword then by his side,
His buckler by his knee,
And laid his leg in oer his horse,
Said, Sodgers, follow me!

8 So he rade on, and further on,
Till to the third mile corse;
The Covenanters’ cannon balls
Dang him aff o his horse.

9 Up then rides him Cragievar,
Said, Wha’s this lying here?
It surely is the Lord o Aboyne,
For Huntly was not here.

10 Then out is speaks a fause Forbes,
Lived up in Druminner;
‘My lord, this is a proud Seton,
The rest will ride the thinner.’

11 ‘Spulyie him, spulyie him,’ said Craigievar,
‘O spulyie him, presentlie;
For I could lay my lugs in pawn
He had nae gude will at me.’

12 They’ve taen the shoes frae aff his feet,
The garters frae his knee,
Likewise the gloves upon his hands;
They’ve left him not a flee.

13 His fingers they were sae sair swelld
The rings would not come aff;
They cutted the grips out o his ears,
Took out the gowd signots.

14 Then they rade on, and further on,
Till they came to the Crabestane,
And Craigievar, he had a mind
To burn a’ Aberdeen.

15 Out is speaks the gallnt Montrose,
Grace on his fair body!
‘We winna burn the bonny burgh,
We’ll even laet it be.’

16 Then out it speaks the gallant Montrose,
‘Your purpose I will break;
We winna burn the bonny burgh,
We’ll nevver build its make.

17 ‘I see the women and their children
Climbing the craigs sae hie;
We’ll sleep this night in the bonny burgh,
And even lat it be.’

199. Bonnie House o' Airlie

Version A

1 IT fell on a day, and a bonny simmer day,
When green grew aits and barley,
That there fell out a great dispute
Between Argyll and Airlie.

2 Argyll has raised an hunder men,
An hunder harnessd rarely,
And he’s awa by the back of Dunkell,
To plunder the castle of Airlie.

3 Lady Ogilvie looks oer her bower-window.
And oh, but she looks weary!
And there she spy’d the great Argyll,
Come to plunder the bonny house of Airlie.

4 ‘Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie,
Come down, and kiss me fairly:’
‘O I winna kiss the fause Argyll,
If he should na leave a standing stane in Airlie.’

5 He hath taken her by the left shoulder,
Says, Dame where lies thy dowry?
‘O it’s east and west yon wan water side,
And it’s down by the banks of the Airlie.’

6 They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down,
They hae sought it maist severely,
Till they fand it in the fair plumb-tree
That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie.

7 He hath taken her by the middle sae small,
And O but she grat sairly!
And laid her down by the bonny burn-side,
Till they plundered the castle of Airlie.

8 ‘Gif my gude lord war here this night,
As he is with King Charlie,
Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord,
Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie.

9 ‘Gif my gude lord war now at hame,
As he is with his king,
There durst nae a Campbell in a’ Argyll
Set fit on Airlie green.

10 ‘Ten bonny sons I have born unto him,
The eleventh neer saw his daddy;
But though I had an hundred mair,
I’d gie them a’ to King Charlie.’

Version B

1 IT fell on a day, a clear summer day,
When the corn grew green and bonny,
That there was a combat did fall out
’Tween Argyle and the bonny house of Airly.

2 Argyle he did raise five hundred men,
Five hundred men, so many,
And he did place them by Dunkeld,
Bade them shoot at the bonny house of Airly.

3 The lady looked over her own castle-wa,
And oh, but she looked weary!
And there she espied the gleyed Argyle,
Come to plunder the bonny house of Airly.

4 ‘Come down the stair now, Madam Ogilvie,
And let me kiss thee kindly;
Or I vow and I swear, by the sword that I wear,
That I winna leave a standing stone at Airly.’

5 ‘O how can I come down the stair,
And how can I kiss thee kindly,
Since you vow and you swear, by the sword that you wear,
That you winna leave a standing stone on Airly?’

6 ‘Come down the stair then, Madam Ogilvie,
And let me see thy dowry;’
‘O ’tis east and it is west, and ’tis down by yon burn-side,
And it stands at the planting sae bonny.

7 ‘But if my brave lord had been at hame this day,
As he is wi Prince Charlie,
There durst na a Campbell in all Scotland
Set a foot on the bowling-green of Airly

8 ‘O I hae born him seven, seven sons,
And an eighth neer saw his daddy,
And tho I were to bear him as many more,
They should a’ carry arms for Prince Charlie.’

Version C

1 IT fell on a day, on a bonny summer day,
When the corn grew green and yellow,
That there fell out a great dispute
Between Argyle and Airley.

2 The great Argyle raised five hundred men,
Five hundred men and many,
And he has led them down by the bonny Dunkeld,
Bade them shoot at the bonny house of Airley.

3 The lady was looking oer her castle-wa,
And O but she looked weary!
And there she spied the great Argyle,
Came to plunder the bonny house of Airley.

4 ‘Come down stairs now, Madam,’ he says,
‘Now come down and kiss me fairly;’
‘I’ll neither come down nor kiss you,’ she says,
‘Tho you should na leave a standing stane in Airley.’

5 ‘I ask but one favour of you, Argyle,
And I hope you’ll grant me fairly
To tak me to some doak dowey glen,
That I may na see the plundering of Airley.’

6 He has taen her by the left shoulder,
And O but she looked weary!
And he has led her down to the top of the town,
Bade her look at the plundering of Airley.

7 ‘Fire on, fire on, my merry men all,
And see that ye fire clearly;
For I vow and I swear by the broad sword I wear
That I winna leave a standing stane in Airley.

8 ‘You may tell it to your lord,’ he says,
‘You may tell it to Lord Airley,
That one kiss o his gay lady
Wad hae sav’d all the plundering of Airley.’

9 ‘If the great Sir John had been but at hame,
As he is this night wi Prince Charlie,
Neither Argyle nor no Scottish lord
Durst hae plundered the bonny house of Airley.

10 ‘Seven, seven sons hae I born unto him,
And the eight neer saw his dady,
And altho I were to have a hundred more,
The should a’ draw their sword for Prince Charlie.’

Version D

1 O GLEYD Argyll has written to Montrose
To see gin the fields they were fairly,
And to see whether he should stay at hame,

146 come to plunder bonnie Airly.

2 Then great Montrose has written to Argyll
And that the fields they were fairly,
And not to keep his men at hame,
But to come and plunder bonnie Airly.

3 The lady was looking oer her castle-wa,
She was carrying her courage sae rarely,
And there she spied him gleyd Arguill,
Was coming for to plunder bonnie Airly.

4 ‘Wae be to ye, gleyd Argyll!
And are ye there sae rarely?
Ye might hae kept your men at hame,
And not come to plunder bonnie Airly.’

5 ‘And wae be to ye, Lady Ogilvie!
And are ye there sae rarely?
Gin ye had bowed when first I bade,
I never wad hae plunderd bonnie Airly.’

6 ‘But gin my guid lord had been at hame,
As he is wi Prince Charlie,
There durst not a rebel on a’ Scotch ground
Set a foot on the bonnie green of Airly.

7 ‘But ye’ll tak me by the milk-white hand,
And ye’ll lift me up sae rarely,
And ye’ll throw me outoure my [ain] castle-wa,
Let me neuer see the plundering of Airly.’

8 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And he’s lifted her up sae rarely,
And he’s thrown her outoure her ain castle-wa,
And she neuer saw the plundering of Airly.

9 Now gleyd Argyll he has gane hame,
Awa frae the plundering of Airly,
And there he has met him Captain Ogilvie,
Coming over the mountains sae rarely.

10 ‘O wae be to ye, gleyd Argyll!
And are you there sae rarely?
Ye might hae kept your men at hame,
And no gane to plunder bonnie Airly.’

11 ‘O wae be to ye, Captain Ogilvie!
And are you there sae rarely?
Gin ye wad hae bowed when first I bade,
I neer wad hae plunderd bonnie Airly.’

12 ‘But gin I had my lady gay,
bot and my sister Mary,
One fig I wad na gie for ye a’,
Nor yet for the plundering of Airly.’

200. The Gypsy Laddie

Version A

1 THE gypsies came to our good lord’s gate,
And wow but they sang sweetly!
They sang sae sweet and sae very compleat
That down came the fair lady.

2 And she came tripping down the stair,
And a’ her maids before her;
As soon as they saw her well-far’d face,
They coost the glamer oer her.

3 ‘Gae tak frae me this gay mantile,
And bring to me a plaidie;
For if kith and kin and a’ had sworn,
I’ll follow the gypsie laddie.

4 ‘Yestreen I lay in a well-made bed,
And my good lord beside me;
This night I’ll ly in a tenant’s barn,
Whatever shall betide me.’

5 ‘Come to your bed,’ says Johny Faa,
‘Oh come to your bed, my deary;
For I vow and I swear, by the hilt of my sword,
That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

6 ‘I’ll go to bed to my Johny Faa,
I’ll go to bed to my deary;
For I vow and I swear, by what past yestreen,
That my lord shall nae mair come near me.

7 ‘I’ll mak a hap to my Johnny Faa,
And I’ll mak a hap to my deary;
And he’s get a’ the coat gaes round,
And my lord shall nae mair come near me.’

8 And when our lord came hame at een,
And speir’d for his fair lady,
The tane she cry’d, and the other reply’d,
‘She’s away with the gypsie laddie.’

9 ‘Gae saddle to me the black, black steed,
Gae saddle and make him ready;
Before that I either eat or sleep,
I’ll gae seek my fair lady.’

10 And we were fifteen well-made men,
Altho we were nae bonny;
And we were a’ put down for ane,
A fair young wanton lady.

Version B

1 The gypsies they came to my lord Cassilis’ yett,
And O but they sang bonnie!
They sang sae sweet and sae complete
That down came our fair ladie.

2 She came tripping down the stairs,
And all her maids before her;
As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face,
They coost their glamourie owre her.

3 She gave to them the good wheat bread,
And they gave her the ginger;
But she gave them a far better thing,
The gold ring off her finger.

4 ‘Will ye go with me, my hinny and my heart?
Will ye go with me, my dearie?
And I will swear, by the staff of my spear,
That your lord shall nae mair come near thee.’

5 ‘Sae take from me my silk mantel,
And bring to me a plaidie,
For I will travel the world owre
Along with the gypsie laddie.

6 ‘I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa,
I could sail the seas with my dearie;
I could sail the seas with my Jockie Faa,
And with pleasure could drown with my dearie.

7 They wandred high, they wandred low,
They wandred late and early,
Untill they came to an old tenant’s-barn,
And by this time she was weary.

8 ‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed,
And my noble lord beside me,
And now I must ly in an old tenant’s-barn,
And the black crew glowring owre me.’

9 ‘O hold your tongue, my hinny and my heart,
O hold your tongue, my dearie,
For I will swear, by the moon and the stars,
That thy lord shall nae mair come near thee.’

10 They wandred high, they wandred low,
They wandred late and early,
Untill they came to that wan water,
And by this time she was wearie.

11 ‘Aften have I rode that wan water,
And my lord Cassilis beside me,
And now I must set in my white feet and wade,
And carry the gypsie laddie.’

12 By and by came home this noble lord,
And asking for his ladie,
The one did cry, the other did reply,
‘She is gone with the gypsie laddie.’

13 ‘Go saddle to me the black,’ he says,
‘The brown rides never so speedie,
And I will neither eat nor drink
Till I bring home my ladie.’

14 He wandred high, he wandred low,
He wandred late and early,
Untill he came to that wan water,
And there he spied his ladie.

15 ‘O wilt thou go home, my hinny and my heart,
O wilt thou go home, my dearie?
And I’l close thee in a close room,
Where no man shall come near thee."]

16 ‘I will not go home, my hinny and my heart,
I will not go home, my dearie;
If I have brewn good beer, I will drink of the same,
And my lord shall nae mair come near me.

17 ‘But I will swear, by the moon and the stars,
And the sun that shines so clearly,
That I am as free of the gypsie gang
As the hour my mother did bear me.’

18 They were fifteen valiant men,
Black, but very bonny,
And they lost all their lives for one,
The Earl of Cassillis’ ladie.

Version C

1 THERE cam singers to Earl Cassillis’ gates,
And oh, but they sang bonnie!
They sang sae sweet and sae complete,
Till down cam the earl’s lady.

2 She cam tripping down the stair,
And all her maids before her;
As soon as they saw her weel-faurd face,
They coost their glamourye owre her.

3 They gave her o the gude sweetmeats,
The nutmeg and the ginger,
And she gied them a far better thing,
Ten gold rings aff her finger.

4 ‘Tak from me my silken cloak,
And bring me down my plaidie;
For it is gude eneuch,’ she said,
‘To follow a Gipsy Davy.

5 ‘Yestreen I rode this water deep,
And my gude lord beside me;
But this nicht I maun set in my pretty fit and wade,
A wheen blackguards wading wi me.

6 ‘Yestreen I lay in a fine feather-bed,
And my gude lord beyond me;
But this nicht I maun lye in some cauld tenant’s-barn,
A wheen blackguards waiting on me.’

7 ‘Come to thy bed, my bonny Jeanie Faw,
Come to thy bed, my dearie,
For I do swear, by the top o my spear,
Thy gude lord’ll nae mair come near thee.’

8 When her good lord cam hame at nicht,
It was asking for his fair ladye;
One spak slow, and another whisperd out,
‘She’s awa wi Gipsey Davy!’

9 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said,
‘Come saddle and mak him readie!
For I’ll neither sleep, eat, nor drink
Till I find out my lady.’

10 They socht her up, they socht her doun,
They socht her thro nations many,
Till at length they found her out in Abbey dale,
Drinking wi Gipsey Davy.

11 ‘Rise, oh rise, my bonnie Jeanie Faw,
Oh rise, and do not tarry!
Is this the thing ye promised to me
When at first I did thee marry?’

12 They drank her cloak, so did they her goun,
They drank her stockings and her shoon,
And they drank the coat that was nigh to her smock,
And they pawned her pearled apron.

13 They were sixteen clever men,
Suppose they were na bonny;
They are a’ to be hangd on ae tree,
For the stealing o Earl Cassilis’ lady.

14 ‘We are sixteen clever men,
One woman was a’ our mother;
We are a’ to be hanged on ae day,
For the stealing of a wanton lady.’

Version D

1 THERE came Gyptians to Corse Field yeats,
Black, tho they warna bonny;
They danced so neat and they danced so fine,
Till down came the bonny lady.

2 She came trippin down the satir,
And her nine maidens afore her;
But up and starts him Johny Fa,
And he cast the glamour oer her.

3 ‘Ye’ll take frae me this gay mantle,
And ye’ll gie to me a plaidie;
For I shall follow Johny Fa,
Lat weel or woe betide me.’

4 They’ve taen frae her her fine mantle,
And they’ve gaen to her a plaidie,
And she’s awa wi Johny Fa,
Whatever may betide her.

5 When they came to a wan water,
I wite it wasna bonny,
. . . . .
. . . . .

6 ‘Yestreen I wade this wan water,
And my good lord was wi me;
The night I man cast aff my shoes and wide,
And the black bands widen wi me.

7 ‘Yestreen I lay in a well made bed,
And my good lord lay wi me;
The night I maun ly in a tenant’s barn,
And the black bands lyin wi me.’

8 ‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johnie Fa,
‘Come to yer bed, my dearie,
And I shall swer, by the coat that I wear,
That my hand it shall never go near thee.’

9 ‘I will never come to yer bed,
I will never be yer dearie;
For I think I hear his horse’s foot
That was once called my dearie.’

10 ‘Come to yer bed,’ says Johny Fa,
‘Come to yer bed, my dearie,
And I shall swear, by the coat that I wear,
That my hand it shall never go oer thee.’

11 ‘I will niver come to yer bed,
I will niver be yer dearie;
For I think I hear his bridle ring
That was once called my dearie.’

12 When that good lord came hame at night,
He called for his lady;
The one maid said, and the other replied,
‘She’s aff wi the Gyptian laddy.’

13 ‘Ye’ll saddle to me the good black steed,
Tho the brown it was never so bonny;
Before that ever I eat or drink,
I shall have back my lady.’

14 ‘Yestreen we were fifteen good armed men;
Tho black, we werena bonny;
The night we a’ ly slain for one,
It’s the Laird o Corse Field’s lady.’

Version E

1 THE gypsies they came to Lord Cassle’s yet,
And O but they sang ready!
They sang sae sweet and sae complete
That down came the lord’s fair lady.

2 O she came tripping down the stair,
Wi a’ her maids afore her,
And as soon as they saw her weelfared face
They cuist their glaumry owre her.

3 She gaed to them the gude white bread,
And they gaed to her the ginger,
Then she gaed to them a far brawer thing,
The gowd rings af her finger.

4 Quo she to her maids, There’s my gay mantle,
And bring to me my plaidy,
And tell my lord whan he comes hame
I’m awa wi a gypsie laddie.

5 For her lord he had to the hounting gane,
Awa in the wild green wuddie,
And Jockie Faw, the gypsie king,
Saw him there wi his cheeks sae ruddy.

6 On they mounted, and af they rade,
Ilk gypsie had a cuddy,
And whan through the stincher they did prance
They made the water muddy.

7 Quo she, Aft times this water I hae rade,
Wi many a laord and lady,
But never afore did I it wade
To folow a gypsie laddie.

8 ‘Aft hae I lain in a saft feather-bed,
Wi my gude lord aside me,
But now I maun sleep in an auld reeky kilt,
Alang wi a gypsie laddie.’

9 Sae whan that the yirl he came hame,
His servants a’ stood ready;
Some took his horse, and some drew his boots,
But gane was his fair lady.

10 And whan he came ben to the parlour-door,
He asked for his fair lady,
But dome denied, and ithers some replied,
‘She’s awa wi a gypsie laddie.’

11 ‘Then saddle,’ quoth he, ’My gude black naig,
For the brown is never sae speedy;
As I will neither eat nor drink
Till I see my fair lady.

12 ‘I met wi a cheel as I rade hame,
And thae queer stories said he;
Sir, I saw this day a fairy queen
Fu pack wi a gypsie laddie.

13 ‘I hae been east, and I hae been west,
And in the lang town o Kircadie,
But the bonniest lass that ever I saw
Was following a gypsie laddie.’

14 Sae his lordship has rade owre hills and dales,
And owre mony a wild hie mountain,
Until that he heard his ain lady say,
‘Now my lord will be hame frae the hounting.’

15 ‘Than will you come hame, my hinnie and my love?’
Quoth he to his charming dearie,
‘And I’ll keep ye aye in a braw close room,
Where the gypsies will never can steer ye.’

16 Said she, ‘I can swear by the sun and the stars,
And the moon whilk shines sae clearie,
That I am as chaste for the gypsie Jockie Faw
As the day my minnie did bear me.’

17 ‘Gif ye wad swear by the sun,’ said he,
‘And the moon, till ye wad deave me,
Ay and tho ye wad take a far bigger aith,
My dear, I wadna believe ye.

18 ‘I’ll tak ye hame, and the gypsies I’ll hang,
Ay, I’ll make them girn in a wuddie,
And afterwards I’ll burn Jockie Faw,
Wha fashed himself wi my fair lady.

19 Quoth the gypsies, We’re fifteen weel-made men,
Tho the maist o us be ill bred ay,
Yet it wad be a pity we should a’ hang for ane,
Wha fashed himself wi your fair lady.

20 Quoth the lady, My lord, forgive them a’,
For they nae ill eer did ye,
And gie ten guineas to the chief, Jockie Faw,
For he is a worthy laddie.

21 The lord he hearkened to his fair dame,
And O the gypsies war glad ay!
They danced round and round their merry Jockie Faw,
And roosed the gypsie laddie.

22 Sae the lord rade hame wi his charming spouse,
Owre the hills and the haughs sae whunnie,
And the gypsies slade down by yon bonny burnside,
To beek themsells there sae sunnie.

Version F

1 THE gypsies came to the Earl o Cassilis’ gate,
And O but they sang bonnie!
They sang sae sweet and sae complete
That down cam our fair ladie.

2 And she cam tripping down the stair,
Wi her twa maids before her;
As soon as they saw her weel-far’d face,
They coost their glamer oer her.

3 ‘O come wi me,’ says Johnnie Faw,
‘O come wi me, my dearie,
For I vow and swear, by the hilt of my sword,
Your lord shall nae mair come near ye.’

4 ‘Here, tak frae me this gay mantile,
And gie to me a plaidie;
Tho kith and kin and a’ had sworn,
I’ll follow the gypsie laddie.

5 ‘Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed,
And my gude lord beside me;
This night I’ll lie in a tenant’s barn,
Whatever shall betide me.

6 ‘Last night I lay in a weel-made bed,
Wi silken hangings round me;
But now I’ll lie in a farmer’s barn,
Wi the gypsies all around me.

7 ‘The first ale-house that we come at,
We’ll hae a pot o brandie;
The next ale-house that we came at,
We’ll drink to gypsie Geordie.’

8 Now when our lord cam home at een,
He speir’d for his fair lady;
The ane she cried, [the] tither replied,
‘She’s awa wi the gypsie laddie.’

9 ‘Gae saddle me the gude black steed;
The bay was neer sae bonnie;
For I will neither eat nor sleep
Till I be wi my lady.’

10 Then he rode east, and he rode west,
And he rode near Strabogie,
And there he found his ain dear wife,
Drinking wi gypsie Geordie.

11 ‘And what made you leave your houses and land?
Or what made you leave your money?
Or what made you leave your ain wedded lord,
To follow the gypsie laddie?

12 ‘Then come thee hame, my ain dear wife,
Then come thee hame, my hinnie,
And I do swear, by the hilt of my sword,
The gypsies nae mair shall come near thee.’

13 Then we were seven weel-made men,
But lack! we were nae bonnie,
And we were a’ put down for ane,
For the Earl o Cassilis’ ladie.

Version G

1 THERE was seven gypsies all in a gang,
They were brisk and bonny; O
They rode till they came to the Earl of Casstle’s house,
And there they sang most sweetly. O

2 The Earl of Castle’s lady came down,
With the waiting-maid beside her;
As soon as her fair face they saw,
They called their grandmother over.

3 They gave to her a nutmeg brown,
And a race of the best ginger;
She gave to them a far better thing,
’Twas the ring from off her finger.

4 She pulld off her high-heeld shoes,
They was made of Spanish leather;
She put on her highland brog[u]es,
To follow the gypsey loddy.

5 At night when my good lord came home,
Enquring for his lady,
The waiting-maid made this reply,
‘She’s following the gypsey loddy.’

6 ‘Come saddle me my milk-white steed,
Come saddle it so bonny,
As I may go seek my own wedded wife,
That’s following the gypsey loddy.

7 ‘Have you been east? have you been west?
Or have you been brisk and bonny?
Or have you seen a gay lady,
A following the gypsey loddy?’

8 He rode all that summer’s night,
And part of the next morning;
At length he spy’d his own wedded wife,
She was cold, wet, and weary.

9 ‘Why did you leave your houses and land?
Or why did you leave your money?
Or why did you leave your good wedded lord,
To follow the gypsey loddy?’

10 ‘O what care I for houses and land?
Or what care I for money?
So as I have brewd, so will I return;
So fare you well, my honey!’

11 There was seven gypsies in a gang,
And they was brisk and bonny,
And they’re to be hanged all on a row,
For the Earl of Castle’s lady.

Version H

1 THERE came a gang o gipsies by,
And they was singing so merry, O
Till they gained the heart o my lady gay,
. . . . .

2 As soon as the lord he did come in,
Enquired for his lady, O
And some o the sarvants did-a reply,
’Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’ O

3 ‘O saddle me the bay, and saddle me the grey,
Till I go and sarch for my lady;’
And some o the sarvants did-a reply,
‘Her’s away wi the gipsy laddie.’

4 And he rode on, and he rode off,
Till he came to the gipsies’ tentie,
And there he saw his lady gay,
By the side o the gipsy laddie.

5 ‘Didn’t I leave you houses and land?
And didn’t I leave you money?
Didn’t I leave you three pretty babes
As ever was in yonder green island?’

6 ‘What care I for houses and land?
And what care I for money?
What do I care for three pretty babes?
. . . . .

7 ‘The tother night you was on a feather bed,
Now you’re on a straw one,’
. . . . .
. . . . .

Version I

1 THERE come seven gypsies on a day,
Oh, but they sang bonny! O
And they sang so sweet, and they sang so clear,
Down cam the earl’s ladie. O

2 They gave to her the nutmeg,
And they gave to her the ginger;
But she gave to them a far better thing,
The seven gold rings off her fingers.

3 When the earl he did come home,
Enquiring for his ladie,
One of the servants made this reply,
‘She’s awa with the gypsie lad[d]ie.’

4 ‘Come saddle for me the brown,’ he said,
‘For the black was neer so speedy,
And I will travel night and day
Till I find out my ladie.

5 ‘Will you come home, my dear?’ he said,
‘Oh will you come home, my honey?
And, by the point of my broad sword,
A hand I’ll neer lay on you.’

6 ‘Last night I lay on a good feather-bed,
And my own wedded lord beside me,
And tonight I’ll lie in the ash-corner,
With the gypsies all around me.

7 ‘They took off my high-heeled shoes,
That were made of Spanish leather,
And I have put on coarse Lowland brogues,
To trip it oer the heather.’

8 ‘The Earl of Cashan is lying sick;
Not one hair I’m sorry;
I’d rather have a kiss from his fair lady’s lips
Than all his gold and his money.’

Version J

1 THERE was a gip came oer the land,
He sung so sweet and gaily;
He sung with glee, neath the wild wood tree,
He charmed the great lord’s lady.
Ring a ding a ding go ding go da,
Ring a ding a ding go da dy,
Ring a ding a ding go ding go da,
She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.

2 The lord he came home late that night;
Enquiring for his lady,
‘She’s gone, she’s gone,’ said his old servantman,
‘She’s gone with the gipsey Davy.’

3 ‘Go saddle me my best black mare;
The grey is neer so speedy;
For I’ll ride all night, and I’ll ride all day,
Till I overtake my lady.’

4 Riding by the river-side,
The grass was wet and dewy;
Seated with her gipsey lad,
It’s there he spied his lady.

5 ‘Would you forsake your house and home?
Would you forsake your baby?
Would you forsake your own true love,
And go with the gipsey Davy?’

6 ‘Yes, I’ll forsake my house and home,
Yes, I’ll forsake my baby;
What care I for my true love?
I love the gipsey Davy.’

7 The great lord he rode home that night,
He took good care of his baby,
And ere six months had passed away
He married another lady.

Version K

1 ‘GO bring me down my high-heeled shoes,
Made of the Spanish leather,
And I’ll take off my low-heeled shoes,
And away we’ll go together.’
Lumpy dumpy linky dinky day
Lumpy dumpy linky dinky daddy

2 They brought her down her high-heeled shoes,
Made of the Spanish leather,
And she took off her low-heeled shoes,
And away they went together.

3 And when Lord Garrick he got there,
Inquiring for his lady,
Then up steps his best friend:
‘She’s gone with a gipsy laddie.’

4 ‘Go saddle me my bonny brown,
For the grey is not so speedy,
And away we’ll go to the Misty Mount,
And overtake my lady.’

5 They saddled him his bonny brown,
For the grey was not so speedy,
And away they went to the Misty Mount,
And overtook his lady.

6 And when Lord Garrick he got there,
’Twas in the morning early,
And there he found his lady fair,
And she was wet and weary.

7 ‘And it’s fare you well, my dearest dear,
And it’s fare you well for ever,
And if you don’t go with me now,
Don’t let me see you never.’

Version L

1 A band of gypsies, all in a road,
All so black and brawny, oh
Away come a lady all dressed in silk,
To follow the roving gypsies. oh
The gypsies, oh!
The gypsies, oh!
To follow the roving gypsies, oh!

2 Her husband came home at ten o’clock of night,
An asked for his lady fair;
The servant informed him very soon
She had gone with the roving gypsies.

3 ‘Saddle to me my bonny gray mare,
Saddle to me my pony;
I will go where the green grass grow,
To find out the roving gypsies.

4 ‘Last night she slept in a fair feather-bed,
And blankets by bonins;
Tonight she sleeps in a cold shed-barn,
Through following the roving gypsies.

5 ‘Why did you leave your houses and your lands?
Why did you leave your babies?
Why did you leave your decent married man,
To follow the roving gypsies?’

6 ‘What cares I for my houses and my lands?
What cares I for my babies?
What cares I for my decent married man?
I will go with the roving gypsies.’

201. Bessy Bell and Mary Gray

1 O BESSIE BELL and Mary Gray,
They war twa bonnie lasses;
They bigget a bower on yon burn-brae,
And theekit it oer wi rashes.

2 They theekit it oer wi rashes green,
They theekit it oer wi heather;
But the pest cam frae the burrows-town,
And slew them baith thegither.

3 They thought to lye in Methven kirk-yard,
Amang their noble kin;
But they maun lye in Stronach haugh,
To biek forenent the sin.

4 And Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
They war twa bonnie lasses;
They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,
And theekit it oer wi rashes.

202. The Battle of Philiphaugh

1 ON Philiphaugh a fray began,
At Hairheadwood it ended;
The Scots outoer the Gra+emes they ran,
Sae merrily they bended.

2 Sir David frae the Border came,
Wi heart an hand came he;
Wi him three thousand bonny Scots,
To bear him company.

3 Wi him three thousand valiant men,
A noble sight to see!
A cloud o mist them weel conceald,
As close as eer might be.

4 When they came to the Shaw burn,
Said he, Sae weel we frame,
I think it is convenient
That we should sing a psalm.

5 When they came to the Lingly burn,
As daylight did appear,
They spy’d an aged father,
And he did draw them near.

6 ‘Come hither, aged father,’
Sir David he did cry,
‘And tell me where Montrose lies,
With al his great army.’

7 ‘But first you must come tell to me,
If friends or foes you be;
I fear you are Montrose’s men,
Come frae the north country.’

8 ‘No, we are nane o Montrose’s men,
Nor eer intend to be;
I am Sir David Lesly,
That’s speaking unto thee.’

9 "[If you’re Sir David Lesly,
As I think weel ye be,
I am sorry ye hae brought so few
Into your company.

10 ‘There’s fifteen thousand armed men
Encamped on yon lee;
Ye’ll never be a bite to them,
For aught that I can see.

11 ‘But halve your men in equal parts,
Your purpose to fulfill;
Let ae half keep the water-side,
The rest gae round the hill.

12 ‘Your nether party fire must,
Then beat a flying drum;
And then they’ll think the day’s their ain,
And frae the trench they’ll come.

13 ‘Then, those that are behind them maun
Gie shot, baith grit and sma;
And so, between your armies twa,
Ye may make them to fa.’

14 ‘O were ye ever a soldier?’
Sir David Lesly said;
‘O yes; I was at Solway Flow,
Where we were all betrayd.

15 ‘Again I was at curst Dunbar,
And was a prisner taen,
And many weary night and day
In prison I hae lien.’

16 ‘If ye will lead these men aright,
Rewarded shal ye be;
But, if that ye a traitor prove,
I’ll hang thee on a tree.’

17 ‘Sir, I will not a traitor prove;
Montrose has plunderd me;
I’ll do my best to banish him
Away frae this country.’

18 He halvd his men in equal parts,
His purpose to fulfill;
The one part kept the water-side,
The other gaed round the hill.

19 The nether party fired brisk,
Then turnd and seemd to rin;
And then they a’ came frae the trench,
And cry’d The day’s our ain!

20 The rest then ran into the trench,
And loosd their cannons a’:
And thus, between his armies twa,
He made them fast to fa.

21 Now let us a’ for Lesly pray
And his brave company,
For they hae vanquishd great Montrose,
Our cruel enemy.

203. The Baron of Brackley

Version A

1 Inverey cam doun Deeside, whistlin and playin,
He was at brave Braikley’s yett ere it was dawin.

2 He rappit fu loudly and wi a great roar,
Cried, Cum doun, cum doun, Braikley, and open the door.

3 ‘Are ye sleeping, Baronne, or are ye wakin?
Ther’s sharpe swords at your yett, will gar your blood spin.

4 ‘Open the yett, Braikley, and lat us within,
Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin.’

5 Out spak the brave baronne, owre the castell-wa:
‘Are ye cum to spulyie and plunder mi ha?

6 ‘But gin ye be gentlemen, licht and cum in:
Gin ye drink o my wine, ye’ll nae gar my bluid spin.

7 ‘Gin ye be hir’d widifus, ye may gang by,
Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky.

8 ‘Ther spulyie like rievers o wyld kettrin clan,
Who plunder unsparing baith houses and lan.

9 ‘Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum [in],
Ther’s meat an drink i my ha for every man.

10 ‘Gin ye bir’d widifus, ye may gang by,
Gang doun to the lawlands, and steal horse and ky.’

11 Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she lay,
‘Get up, get up, Braikley, and be not afraid;
The’r but young hir’d widifus wi belted plaids.’

12 ‘Cum kiss me, mi Peggy, I’le nae langer stay,
For I will go out and meet Inverey.

13 ‘But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din,
For yon same hir’d widifus will prove themselves men.’

14 She called on her marys, they cam to her hand;
Cries, Bring me your rocks, lassies, we will them command.

15 ‘Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky,
Or me an mi women will them defy.

16 ‘Cum forth then, mi maidens, and show them some play;
We’ll ficht them, and shortly the cowards will fly.

17 ‘Gin I had a husband, whereas I hae nane,
He woud nae ly i his bed and see his ky taen.

18 ‘Ther’s four-and-twenty milk-whit calv5s, tw1l o them ky,
In the woods o Glentanner, it’s ther thei a’ ly.

19 ‘Ther’s goat i the Etnach, and sheep o the brae,
An a’ will be plunderd by young Inverey.’

20 ‘Now haud your tongue, Peggy, and gie me a gun,
Ye’ll see me gae furth, but I’ll never cum in.

21 ‘Call mi brother William, mi unkl also,
Mi cousin James Gordon; we’ll mount and we’ll go.’

22 When Braikley was ready and stood i the closs,
He was the bravest baronne that eer mounted horse.

23 Whan all wer assembld o the castell green,
No man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen

24 . . . . .
‘Turn bak, brother William, ye are a bridegroom;

25 ‘Wi bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill;
O sichin and sobbin she’ll soon get her fill.’

26 ‘I’m no coward, brother, ’tis kend I’m a man;
I’ll ficht i your quarral as lang’s I can stand.

27 ‘I’ll ficht, my dear brother, wi heart and gude will,
And so will young Harry that lives at the mill.

28 ‘But turn, mi dear brother, and nae langer stay:
What’ll cum o your ladie, gin Braikley thei slay?

29 ‘What’ll cum o your ladie and bonnie young son?
O what’ll cum o them when Braikley is gone?’

30 ‘I never will turn: do you think I will fly?
But here I will ficht, and here I will die.’

31 ‘Strik dogs,’ crys Inverey, a+end ficht till ye’re slayn,
For we are four hundered, ye are but four men.

32 ‘Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honour is gone,
Your lands we will plunder, your castell we’ll burn.’

33 At the head o the Etnach the battel began,
At Little Auchoilzie thei killd the first man.

34 First thei killd ane, and soon they killd twa,
Thei killd gallant Braikley, the flour o them a’.

35 Thei killd William Gordon, and James o the Knox,
And brave Alexander, the flour o Glenmuick.

36 What sichin and moaning was heard i the glen,
For the Baronne o Braikley, who basely was slayn!

37 ‘Cam ye bi the castell, and was ye in there?
Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?’

38 ‘Yes, I cam by Braikley, and I gaed in there,
And there [saw] his ladie braiding her hair.

39 ‘She was rantin, and dancin, and singin for joy,
And vowin that nicht she woud feest Inverey.

40 ‘She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in,
Was kind to the man that had slayn her baronne.’

41 Up spake the son on the nourice’s knee,
‘Gin I live to be a man, revenged I’ll be.’

42 Ther’s dool i the kitchin, and mirth i the ha,
The Baronne o Braikley is dead and awa.

Version B

1 ‘Baron of Brackley, are ye in there?
The’re sharp swords at yer yetts, winna ye spear.’

2 If they be gentlemen, lat them cum in;
But if they be reavers, we’ll gar them be taen.’

3 It is na gentlemen, nor yet pretty lads,
But a curn hir’d widdifus, wears belted plaids.’

4 She called on her women and bade them come in:
‘Tack a’ yer rocks, lasses, and we’ll them coman.

5 ‘We’ll fecht them, we’ll slight them, we’ll do what we can,
And I vow we will shoot them altho we shod bang.

6 ‘Rise up, John,’ she said, a+end turn in yer kye,
For they’ll hae them to the Hielands, and you they’l defie.’

7 ‘Had your still, Catharine, and still yer young son,
For ye’ll get me out, but I’ll never cum in.’

8 ‘If I had a man, as I hae na nane,
He wudna lye in his bed and see his kye tane.’

9 ‘Ye’ll cum kiss me, my Peggy, and bring me my gun,
For I’m gaing out, but I’ll never cum in.’

10 There was twenty wi Invery, twenty and ten;
There was nane wi the baron but his brother and him.

11 At the head of Reneeten the battle began;
Ere they wan Auchoilzie, they killed mony a man.

12 They killed Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock,
The mullertd’s four sons up at Glenmuick.

13 They killed Harry Gordon and Harry of the Knock,
And they made the brave baron like kail to a pot.

14 First they killed ane, and then they killed twa,
Then they killed the brave baron, the flower o them a’.

15 Then up came Craigievar, and a party wi him[
If he had come an hour sooner, Brackley had not been slain.

16 ‘Came ye by Brackley? and was ye in there?
Or say ye his lady, was making great care?’

17 ‘I came by Brackley, and I was in there,
But I saw his lady no making great care.

18 ‘For she eat wi them, drank wi them, welcomed them in;
She drank to the villain that killed her guid man.

19 ‘Woe to ye, Kate Fraser! sorry may yer heart be,
To see yer brave baron’s blood cum to yer knee.’

20 There is dule in the kitchen, and mirth i the ha,
But the Baron o B[r]ackley is dead and awa.

Version C

1 O Inverey came down Dee side, whistling and playing;
He’s landed at Braikly’s yates at the day dawing.

2 Says, Baron of Braikly, are ye within?
There’s sharp swords at the yate will gar your blood spin.

3 The lady raise up, to the window she went;
She heard her kye lowing oer hill and oer bent.

4 ‘O rise up, John,’ she says, ’Turn back your kye;
They’re oer the hills rinning, they’re skipping away.’

5 ‘Come to your bed, Peggie, and let the kye rin,
For were I to gang out, I would never get in.’

6 Then she’s cry’d on her women, they quickly came ben:
‘Take up your rocks, lassies, and fight a’ like men.

7 ‘Though I’m but a woman, to head you I’ll try,
Nor let these vile Highland-men steal a’ our kye.’

8 Then up gat the baron, and cry’d for his graith;
Says, Lady, I’ll gang, tho to leave you I’m laith.

9 ‘Come, kiss me, my Peggie, nor think I’m to blame;
For I may well gang out, but I’ll never win in.’

10 When the Baron of Braikly rade through the close,
A gallanter baron neer mounted a horse.

11 Tho there came wi Inverey thirty and three,
There was nane wi bonny Braikly but his brother and he.

12 Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw;
But against four and thirty, wae’s me, what was twa?

13 Wi swords and wi daggers they did him surround,
And they’ve pierc’d bonny Braikly wi mony a wound.

14 Frae the head of the Dee to the banks of the Spey,
The Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey.

15 ‘O came ye by Braikly, and was ye in there?
Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?’

16 ‘O I came by Braikly, and I was in there,
But I saw not his Peggy dear riving her hair.’

17 ‘O fye on ye, lady! how could ye do sae?
You opend your yate to the faus Inverey.’

18 She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in;
She welcomd the villain that slew her baron.

19 She kept him till morning, syne bad him be gane,
And showd him the road that he woud na be tane.

20 ‘Thro Birss and Aboyne,’ she says, ’lyin in a tour,
Oer the hills of Glentanor you’ll skip in an hour.’

21 There is grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha,
But the Baron of Braikly is dead and awa.

Version D

1 ‘Baron o Breachell, are ye within?
The sharp souerd is at yer gate, Breachell, we’ll gar yer blood spin.’

2 ‘Thei’r at yer gate, Breachel, the’r neither men nor lads,
But fifty heard widifas, wi belted plaids.’

3 ‘O if I had a man,’ she says, a+es it looks I had nane,
He widna sit in the house and see my kye tane.

4 ‘But lasses tak down yer rocks, and we will defend
. . . . . . . .

5 ‘O kiss me, dear Peggy, and gee me down my gun,
I may well ga out, but I’ll never come in.’

6 Out spak his brither, says, Gee me yer hand;
I’ll fight in yer cause sae lang as I may stand.

7 Whan the Baron o Breachell came to the closs,
A braver baron neir red upon horse.

8 . . . . . . . .
I think the silly heard widifas are grown fighten men.

9 First they killed ane, and syen they killed twa,
And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

10 They killed Sandy Gordon, Sandy Gordon o the Knock,
The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuick.

11 First they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa,
And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

12 Up came Crigevar and a’ his fighten men:
‘Had I come an hour soonur, he sudna been slain.’

13 For first they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa,
And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

14 ‘O came ye by Breachell, lads? was ye in their?
Saw ye Peggy Dann riving her hair?’

15 ‘We cam by Breachell, lads, we was in there,
And saw Eggie Dann cairling her hair.

16 ‘She eat wi them, drank wi them, bad them come in
To her house an bours that had slain her baron.

17 ‘Come in, gentlemen, eat and drink wi me;
Tho ye ha slain my baron, I ha na a wite at ye.’

18 ‘O was [ye] at Glenmuik, lads? was ye in theire?
Saw ye Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair?’

19 ‘We was at Glenmuik, lads, we was in there,
We saw Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair.

20 ‘Wi the tear in her eye, seven bairns at her foot,
The eighth on her knee . . .

21 The killed Peter Gordon, Peter Gordon of the Knock,
The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuik.

22 First they killed ane, and syn they killed twa,
And the Baron of Breachell is dead and awa.

204. Jamie Douglas

Version A

1 I WAS a lady of high renown
As lived in the north countrie;
I was a lady of high renown
Whan Earl Douglas loved me.

2 Whan we came through Glasgow toun,
We war a comely sight to see;
My gude lord in velvet green,
And I mysel in cramasie.

3 Whan we cam to Douglas toun,
We war a fine sight to behold;
My gude lord in cramasie,
And I myself in shining gold.

4 Whan that my auld son was born,
And set upon the nurse’s knee,
I was as happy a woman as eer was born,
And my gude lord he loved me.

5 But oh, an my young son was born,
And set upon the nurse’s knee,
And I mysel war dead and gane,
For a maid again I’ll never be!

6 There cam a man into this house,
And Jamie Lockhart was his name,
And it was told to my gude lord
That I was in the bed wi him.

7 There cam anither to this house,
And a bad friend he was to me;
He put Jamie’s shoon below my bed-stock,
And bade my gude lord come and see.

8 O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,
And ae an ill death may ye dee!
For ye was the first and the foremost man
That parted my gude lord and me.

9 Whan my gude lord cam in my room,
This grit falsehood for to see,
He turnd about, and, wi a gloom,
He straucht did tak farewell o me.

10 ‘O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!
O fare thee well, once dear to me!
O fare thee well, my once lovely maid!
For wi me again ye sall never be.’

11 ‘Sit doun, sit doun, Jamie Douglas,
Sit thee doun and dine wi me,
And Ill set thee on a chair of gold,
And a silver towel on thy knee.’

12 ‘Whan cockle-shells turn silver bells,
And mussels they bud on a tree,
Whan frost and snaw turns fire to burn,
Then I’ll sit down and dine wi thee.’

13 O wae be unto thee, Blackwood,
And ae an ill death may ye dee!
Ye war the first and the foremost man
That parted my gude lord and me.

14 Whan my father he heard word
That my gude lord had forsaken me,
He sent fifty o his brisk dragoons
To fesh me hame to my ain countrie.

15 That morning before I did go,
My bonny palace for to leave,
I went into my gude lord’s room,
But alas! he wad na speak to me.

16 ‘Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!
Fare thee well, my ever dear to me!
Fare thee well, Jamie Douglas!
Be kind to the three babes I’ve born to thee.’

Version B

1 WALY, waly up the bank!
And waly, waly down the brae!
And waly, waly to yon burn-side,
Where me and my love wunt to gae!

2 As I lay sick, and very sick,
And sick was I, and like to die,
And Blacklaywood put in my love’s ears
That he staid in bower too lang wi me.

3 As I lay sick, and very sick,
And sick was I, and like to die,
And walking into my garden green,
I heard my good lord lichtlie me.

4 Now woe betide ye, Blacklaywood!
I’m sure an ill death you must die;
Ye’ll part me and my ain good lord,
And his face again I’ll never see.

5 ‘Come down stairs now, Jamie Douglas,
Come down stairs and drink wine wi me;
I’ll set thee into a chair of gold,
And not one farthing shall it cost thee.’

6 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,
And muscles grow on every tree,
When frost and snaw turn fiery baas,
I’ll come down the stair and drink wine wi thee.’

7 ‘What’s needs me value you, Jamie Douglas,
More than you do value me?
The Earl of Mar is my father,
The Duke of York is my brother gay.

8 ‘But when my father gets word o this,
I trow a sorry man he’ll be;
He’ll send four score o his soldiers brave
To tak me hame to mine ain countrie.’

9 As I lay owre my castell-wa,
I beheld my father comin for me,
Wi trumpets sounding on every side;
But they werena music at a’ for me.

10 ‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
And fare ye weel, my own good lord!
For my face again ye shall never see.

11 ‘And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
And fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!
But my youngest son shall gae wi me.’

12 ‘What ails ye at yer youngest son,
Sits smilin at the nurse’s knee?
I’m sure he never knew any harm,
Except it was from his nurse or thee.’

13 . . . . . . .
. . . . . .
And when I was into my coaches set,
He made his trumpets a’ to soun.

14 I’ve heard it said, and it’s oft times seen,
The hawk that flies far frae her nest;
And a’ the world shall plainly see
It’s Jamie Douglas that I love best.

15 Ive heard it said, and [it’s] oft times seen,
The hawk that flies from tree to tree;
And a’ the world shall plainly see
It’s for Jamie Douglas I maun die.

Version C

1 O WALLY, wally up yon bank!
And wally down yon brae!
And wally, wally up yon burn-side,
Where me and my lord wont to gae!

2 I leand me on yon saugh sae sweet,
I leand me on yon saugh sae sour,
And my gude lord has forsaken me,
And he swears he’ll never loe me more.

3 There came a young man to this town,
And Jamie Lockhart was his name;
Fause Blackwood lilted in my lord’s ear
That I was in the bed wi him.

4 ‘Come up, come up, Jamie Douglas,
Come up, come up and dine wi me,
And I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,
And use you kindly on my knee.’

5 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,
And mussels hing on every tree,
When frost and snow turn fire-brands,
Then I’ll come up and dine wi thee.’

6 When my father and mother they got word
That my good lord had forsaken me,
They sent fourscore of soldiers brave
To bring me hame to my ain countrie.

7 That day that I was forc’d to go,
My pretty palace for to leave,
I went to the chamber were my lord lay,
But alas! he wad na speak to me.

8 ‘O fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
I hope your father will prove mair kind
To you than he has been to me.

9 ‘You take every one to be like yoursel,
You take every one that comes unto thee;
But I could swear by the heavens high
That I never knew anither man but thee.

10 ‘O foul fa ye, fause Blackwood,
And an ill death now may ye die!
For ye was the first occasioner
Of parting my gude lord and me.’

11 Whan we gaed in by Edinburgh town,
My father and mither they met me,
Wi trumpets sounding on every side;
But alas! they could ne cherish me.

12 ‘Hold your tongue, daughter,’ my father said,
‘And with your weeping let me be;
And we’ll get out a bill of divorce,
And I’ll get a far better lord to thee.’

13 ‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she says,
‘And with your talking let me be;
I wad na gie a kiss a my ain lord’s lips
For a’ the men in the west country.’

14 Oh an I had my baby born,
And set upon the nurse’s knee,
And I myself were dead and gone!
For a maid again I will never be.

Version D

1 I FELL sick, and very, very sick,
Sick I was, and like to dee;
A friend o mine cam frae the west,
A friend o mine came me to see,
And the black told it to my gude lord
He was oure lang in the chamber wi me.

2 ‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas,
Come doun and drink wine wi me;
I’ll set ye on a chair of gold,
And not ae farthing will it cost thee.’

3 ‘Whan cockle-shells turn siller bells,
And fishes flee frae tree to tree,
Whan frost and snaw turn fire-beams,
I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’

4 ‘What ails ye at your young son James,
That sits upo the nurse’s knee?
I’m sure he never did ye no harm,
If it war na for the nurse or me.

5 ‘What care I for you, Jamie Douglas?
Not a small pin I value thee;
For my father he is the Earl of York,
And of that my mither’s the gay ladie;
They will send fourscore of his soldiers bold
For to tak me hame to my ain countrie.’

6 Whan I was set in my coach and six,
Taking fareweel o my babies three,
‘I beg your father’s grace to be kind,
For your face again I’ll never see.’

7 As I was walking up London streets,
My father was coming to meet me,
Wi trumpets sounding on every side;
But that was na music at a’ for me.

8 ‘Hold your tongue, my dochter dear,
And of your weeping let abee;
A bill of divorcement I’ll send to him,
A far better match I’ll get for thee.’

9 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,
And with your folly let abee;
There’ll never man sleep in my twa arms,
Sin my gude lord has forsaken me.’

10 As I was sitting at my bouer-window,
What a blythe sicht did I see!
I saw four score of his soldiers bold,
And I wishd that they were coming for me.

11 Out bespeaks the foremost man,
And what a weel-spoken man was he!
‘If the Marquis o Douglas’s lady be within,
You’ll bid her come doun and speak to me.’

12 It’s out bespak my auld father then,
I wat an angry man was he;
‘Ye may gang back the road ye cam,
For her face again ye’ll never see.’

13 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,
And with your folly let abee;
For I’ll ga back, and I’ll ne’er return;
Do ye think I love you as weel as he?’

14 As I cam in by the Orange gate,
What a blythe sicht did I see!
I saw Jamie Douglas coming me to meet,
And at his foot was his babies three.

15 ‘Ga fetch, ga fetch a bottle of wine,
That I may drink to my gay ladie;’
She took the cup into her hand,
But her bonnie heart it broke in three.

Version E

1 I LAY sick, and very sick,
And I was bad, and like to dee;
. . . .
A friend o mine cam to visit me,
And Blackwood whisperd in my lord’s ear
That he was oure lang in chamber wi me.

2 ‘O what need I dress up my head,
Nor what need I caim doun my hair,
Whan my gude lord has forsaken me,
And says he will na love me mair!

3 ‘But oh, an my young babe was born,
And set upon some nourice knee,
And I mysel war dead and gane!
For a maid again I’ll never be.’

4 ‘Na mair o this, my dochter dear,
And of your mourning let abee;
For a bill of divorce I’ll gar write for him,
A mair better lord I’ll get for thee.’

5 ‘Na mair o this, my father dear,
And of your folly let abee;
For I wad ne gie ae look o my lord’s face
For aw the lords in the haill cuntree.

6 ‘But I’ll cast aff my robes o red,
And I’ll put on my robes o blue,
And I will travel to some other land,
To see gin my love will on me rue.

7 ‘There shall na wash come on my face,
There shall na kaim come on my hair;
There shall neither coal nor candle-licht
Be seen intil my bouer na mair.

8 ‘O wae be to thee, Blackwood,
And an ill death may ye dee!
Foe ye’ve been the haill occasion
Of parting my lord and me.’

Version F

1 WALY, waly up yon bank!
And waly, waly up yon brae!
And waly, waly by yon river-side,
Where me and my love were wont to gae!

2 My mither tauld me when I was young
That young men’s love was ill to trow;
But to her I would give nae ear,
And alas! my ain wand dings me now.

3 ‘But gin I had wist or I had kisst
That young man’s love was sae ill to win,
I would hae lockt my heart wi a key o gowd,
And pinnd it wi a sillar pin.

4 When lairds and lords cam to this toun,
And gentlemen o a high degree,
I took my auld son in my arms,
And went to my chamber pleasantly.

5 But when gentlemen come thro this toun,
And gentlemen o a high degree,
I must sit alane in the dark,
And the babie on the nurse’s knee.

6 I had a nurse, and she was fair,
She was a dearly nurse to me;
She took my gay lord frae my side,
And used him in her company.

7 Awa! awa, thou false Blackwood!
Ay and an ill death may thou die!
Thou wast the first occasioner
Of parting my gay lord and me.

8 When I was sick, and very sick,
Sick I was, and like to die,
I drew me near to my stair-head,
And I heard my own lord lichtly me.

9 ‘Come doun, come doun, thou Earl of March,
Come doun, come doun and dine with me;
I’ll set thee on a chair of gowd,
And treat thee kindly on my knee!’

10 ‘When cockle-shells grow sillar bells,
And mussells grow on every tree,
When frost and snaw turns fiery ba’s,
Then I’ll come doun and dine with thee.’

11 When my father and mother got word
That my gay lord had forsaken me,
They sent three score of soldiers bold
To bring me to my own countrie.

12 When I in my coach was set,
My tenants all was with me tane;
They set them doun upon their knees,
And they begd me to come back again.

13 Fare ye weel, Jamie Douglas!
And fare ye weel, my babies three!
I wish your father may be kind
To these three faces that I do see.

14 When we cam in by Edinbro toun,
My father and mother they met me;
The cymbals sounded on every side,
But alace! the gave no comfort to me.

15 ‘Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your weeping let abee,
And I’ll give him a bill of divorce,
And I’ll get as good a lord to thee.’

16 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your scoffing let me bee;
I would rather hae a kiss of my own lord’s mouth
As all the lords in the north countrie.’

Version G

1 O WALY, waly up the bank!
And waly, waly down the brae!
And waly by yon river side,
Where me and my lord was wont to gae!

2 An I had wit what I wit now,
Before I came over the river Tay,
I would hae staid at Lord Torchard’s yetts,
And I micht hae been his own lady gay.

3 When I lay sick, and was very sick,
A friend of mine came me to see;
When our Blacklywood told it in my lord’s ears
That he staid too long in chamber with me.

4 Woe be to thee, thou Blacklywood!
I wish an ill death may thou die;
For thou’s been the first and occasion last
That put strife between my good lord and me.

5 When my father he heard of this,
His heart was like for to break in three;
He sent fourscore of his soldiers brave
For to take me home to mine own countree.

6 In the morning when I arose,
My bonnie palace for to see,
I came unto my lord’s room-door,
But he would not speak one word to me.

7 ‘Come down the stair, my lord Jamie Douglas,
Come down and speak one word with me;
I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,
And the never a penny it will cost thee.’

8 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells,
And grass grows over the highest tree,
When frost and snaw turns fiery bombs,
Then will I come down and drink wine with thee.’

9 O what need I care for Jamie Douglas
More than he needs to care for me?
For the Pord of Murray’s my father dear,
And the Dike of York’s daughter my mother be.

10 Thou thocht that I was just like thyself,
And took every one that I did see;
But I can swear by the heavens above
That I never knew a man but thee.

11 But fare thee well, my lord Jamie Douglas!
And fare you weel, my sma childer three!
God grant your father grace to be kind
Till I see you all in my own countrie.

12 Quickly, quickly then rose he up,
And quickly, quickly came he down;
When I was in my coaches set,
He made his trumpets all to sound.

13 As we came in by Edinburgh town,
My loving father came to meet me,
With trumpets sounding on every side;
But it was not comfort at all to me.

14 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your weeping pray let abee;
A bill of divorcement I’ll to him send,
And a better lord I will chose for thee.’

15 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your flattery pray let abee;
I’ll never lye in another man’s arms,
Since my Jamie Douglas has forsaken me.’

16 It’s often said in a foreign land
That the hawk she flies far from her nest;
It’s often said, and it’s very true,
He’s far from me this day that I luve best.

Version H

1 O WALY, waly up the bank!
And waly, waly doun the brae!
And waly, waly by yon burn-side,
Whare me and my luve was wont to gae!

2 If I had kent what I ken now,
I wud neer hae crossed the waters o Tay;
For an I had staid at Argyle’s yetts,
I might hae been his lady gay.

3 When I lay sick, and very sick,
And very sick, just like to die,
A gentleman, a friend of mine own,
A gentleman came me to see;
But Blackliewoods sounded in my luve’s ears
He was too long in chamer with me.

4 O woe be to thee, Blackliewoods,
But an an ill death may you die!
Thou’s been the first and occasion last
That eer put ill twixt my luve and me.

5 ‘Come down the stairs now, Jamie Douglas,
Come down the stairs and drink wine wi me;
I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,
And it’s not one penny it will cost thee.’

6 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells,
And gowd grows oer yon lily lea,
When frost and snaw grows fiery bombs,
I will come down and drink wine wi thee.’

7 ‘What ails you at our youngest son,
That sirs upon the nurse’s knee?
I’m sure he’s never done any harm
And it’s not to his ain nurse and me.’

8 My loving father got word of this,
But and an angry man was he;
He sent three score of his soldiers brave
To take me to my own countrie.

9 ‘O fare ye weel now, Jamie Douglas!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
God grant your father may prove kind
Till I see you in my own countrie.’

10 When she was set into her coach
. . . .
. . . .
. . . .

11 ‘Cheer up your heart, my loving daughter,
Cheer up your heart, let your weeping bee!
A bill of divorce I will write to him,
And a far better lord I’ll provide for thee.’

12 It’s very true, and it’s often said,
The hawk she’s flown and she’s left her nest;
But a’ the warld may plainly see
They’re far awa that I luve best.

Version I

1 ‘O WALY, waly up yon bank!
And waly, waly down yon brae!
And waly, waly by yon burn-bank,
Where me and my lord wont to gae!

2 ‘A gentleman of good account,
A friend of mine, came to visit me,
And Blackly whispered in my lord’s ears
He was too long in chamber with me.

3 ‘When my father came to hear ’t,
I wot an angry man was he;
He sent five score of his soldiers bright
To take me safe to my own countrie.

4 ‘Up in the mornin when I arose,
My bonnie palace for to lea,
And when I came to my lord’s door,
The neer a word he would speak to me.

5 ‘Come down, come down, O Jamie Douglas,
And drink the Orange wine with me;
I’ll set thee in a chair of gold,
That neer a penny it cost thee.’

6 ‘When sea and sand turns foreign land,
And mussels grow on every tree,
When cockle-shells turn silver bells,
I’ll drink the Orange wine with thee.’

7 ‘Wae be to you, Blackly,’ she said,
‘Aye and an ill death may you die!
You are the first, and I hope the last,
That eer made my lord lichtly me.’

8 ‘Fare ye weel then, Jamie Douglas!
I value you as little as you do me;
The Earl of Mar is my father dear,
And I soon will see my own countrie.

9 ‘Ye thought that I was like yoursell,
And loving each ane I did see;
But here I swear, by the day I die,
I never loved a man but thee.

10 ‘Fare ye weel, my servants all!
And you, my bonny children three!
God grant your father grace to be kind
Till I see you safe in my own countrie.’

11 ‘As I came into Edinburgh toune,
With trumpets sounding my father met me;
But no mirth nor musick sounds in my ear,
Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.’

12 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your weeping let abee;
I’ll send a bill of divorce to the Earl of March,
And get a better lord for thee.’

13 ‘Hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your folly let abee;
No other lord shall lye in my arms,
Since the Earl of March has forsaken me.

14 ‘An I had known what I know now,
I’d never crossed the water o Tay,
But stayed still at Atholl’s gates;
He would have made me his lady gay.’

15 When she came to her father’s lands,
The tenants a’ came her to see;
Never a word she could speak to them,
But the buttons off her clothes did flee.

16 ‘The linnet is a bonnie bird,
And aften flees far frae its nest;
So all the warld may plainly see
They’re far awa that I luve best.’

Version J

1 O WALY, waly up yon bank!
And waly, waly doun yon brae!
And waly, waly by yon burn-side,
Where me and my luve used to gae!

2 Oh Johnie, Johnie, but love is bonnie
A little while, when it is new;
But when love grows aulder, it grows mair caulder,
And it fades awa like the mornin dew.

3 I leaned my back against an aik,
I thocht it was a trusty tree;
But first [it] bowed, and syne it brak,
And sae did my fause luve to me.

4 Once I lay sick, and very sick,
And a friend of mine cam to visit me,
But the small bird whispered in my love’s ears
That he was ower lang in the room wi me.

5 ‘It’s come down stairs, my Jamie Douglas,
Come down stairs, luve, and dine wi me;
I’ll set you on a chair of gold,
And court ye kindly on my knee.’

6 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells,
And gold it grows on every tree,
When frost and snaw turns fiery balls,
Then, love, I’ll come down and dine wi thee.’

7 If I had known what I know now,
That love it was sae ill to win,
I should neer hae wet my chefry cheek
For onie man or woman’s son.

8 When my father he cam to know
That my first luve had sae slighted me,
He sent four score of his soldiers bright
To guard me home to my own countrie.

9 Slowly, slowly rose I up,
And slowly, slowly I came down,
And when he saw me sit in my coach,
He made his drums and trumpets sound.

10 It’s fare ye weel, my pretty palace!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
And I hope your father will get mair grace,
And love you better that he’s done to me.

11 When we came near to bonnie Edinburgh toun,
My father cam for to meet me;
He made his drums and trumpets sound,
But they were no comfort at all to me.

12 ‘It’s hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your weeping pray let be;
For a bill of divorcement I’ll send to him,
And a better husband I’ll you supply.’

13 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your folly pray now let be;
For there’s neer a lord shall enter my bower,
Since my first love has so slighted me.’

Version K

1 O WALY, waly up the bank!
And waly, waly doun the brae!
And waly by yon river-side,
Where me and my love were wont to gae!

2 A gentleman, a friend of mine,
Came to the toun me for to see,
. . . .
. . .

3 ‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas,
Come doun the stair and drink wine wi me;
For a chair of gold I will set thee in,
And not one farthing it will cost thee.’

4 ‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells,
And mussels grow on ilka tree,
When frost and snaw turns out fire-bombs,
Then I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’

5 But when her father heard of this,
O but an angry man was he!
And he sent four score of his ain regiment
To bring her hame to her ain countrie.

6 O when she was set in her coach and six,
And the saut tear was in her ee,
Saying, Fare you well, my bonnie palace!
And fare ye weel, my children three!

7 O when I came into Edinburgh toun,
My loving father for to see,
The trumpets were sounding on every side,
But they were not music at all for me.

8 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your folly I pray let be;
For a bill of divorcement I’ll send him,
And a better lord I’ll provide for thee.’

9 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your folly I pray let be;
For if I had stayed in fair Orange Green,
I might have been his gay ladye.’

Version L

1 WHEN I fell sick, an very sick,
An very sick, just like to die,
A gentleman of good account
He came on purpose to visit me;
But his blackie whispered in my lord’s ear
He was owre lang in the room wi me.

2 ‘Gae, little page, an tell your lord,
Gin he will come and dine wi me
I’ll set him on a chair of gold
And serve him on my bended knee.’

3 The little page gaed up the stair:
‘Lord Douglas, dine wi your ladie;
She’ll set ye on a chair of gold,
And serve you on her bended knee.’

4 ‘When cockle-shells turn silver bells,
When wine drieps red frae ilka tree,
When frost and snaw will warm us a’,
Then I’ll cum down an dine wi thee."]

5 But whan my father gat word o this,
O what an angry man was he!
He sent fourscore o his archers bauld
To bring me safe to his countrie.

6 When I rose up then in the morn,
My goodly palace for to lea,
I knocked at my lord’s chamber-door,
But neer a word wad he speak to me.

7 But slowly, slowly, rose he up,
And slowly, slowly, cam he down,
And when he saw me set on my horse,
He caused his drums and trumpets soun.

8 ‘Now fare ye weel, my goodly palace!
And fare ye weel, my children three!
God grant your father grace to love you
Far more than ever he loved me.’

9 He thocht that I was like himsel,
That had a woman in every hall;
But I could swear, by the heavens clear,
I never loved man but himsel.

10 As on to Embro town we cam,
My guid father he welcomed me;
He caused his minstrels meet to sound,
It was nae music at a’ to me.

11 ‘Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear,
Leave off your weeping, let it be;
For Jamie’s divorcement I’ll send over;
Far better lord I’ll provide for thee.’

12 ‘Now haud your tongue, my father dear,
And of such talking let me be;
For never a man shall come to my arms,
Since my lord has sae slighted me.’

13 O an I had neer crossed the Tweed,
Nor yet been owre the river Dee,
I might hae staid at Lord Orgul’s gate,
Where I wad hae been a gay ladie.

14 The ladies they will cum to town,
And they will cum and visit me;
But I’ll set me down now in the dark,
For ochanie! who’ll comfort me?

15 An wae betide ye, black Fastness,
Ay, and an ill deid may ye die!
Ye was the first and foremost man
Wha parted my true lord and me.

Version M

1 EARL DOUGLAS, than wham never knight
Had valour moe ne courtesie,
Yet he’s now blamet be a’ the land
For lightlying o his gay lady.

2 ‘Go, little page, and tell your lord,
Gin he will cum and dine wi me,
I’ll set him on a seat of gold,
I’ll serve him on my bended knee.’

3 The little page gaed up the stair:
‘Lord Douglas, dine wi your lady;
She’ll set ye on a seat of gold,
And serve ye on her bended knee.’

4 ‘When cockle-shells turn siller bells,
When mussels grow on ilka tree,
When frost and snow sall warm us a’,
Then I sall dyne wi my ladie.

5 ‘Now wae betide ye, black Fastness,
Ay and an ill dead met ye die!
Ye was the first and foremost man
Wha parted my true lord and me.’

Version N

1 SHE looked out at her father’s window,
To take a view of the countrie;
Who did she see but Jamie Douglas,
And along with him her children three!

2 There came a soldier to the gate,
And he did knock right hastilie:
‘If Lady Douglas be within,
Bid her come down and speak to me.’

3 ‘O come away, my lady fair,
Come away now alang with me,
For I have hanged fause Blackwood,
At the very place where he told the lie.’

Version O

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

205. Loudon Hill, or Dromclog

1 YOURR’rrL marvel when I tell ye o
Our noble Burly and his train,
When last he marchd up through the land,
Wi sax-and-twenty westland men.

2 Than they I neer o braver heard,
For they had a’ baith wit and skill;
They proved right well, as I heard tell,
As they cam up oer Loudoun Hill.

3 Weel prosper a’ the gospel-lads
That are into the west countrie
Ay wicked Claverse to demean,
And ay an ill dead may he die!

4 For he’s drawn up i battle rank,
An that baith soon an hastilie;
But they wha live till simmer come,
Some bludie days for this will see.

5 But up spak cruel Claverse then,
Wi hastie wit an wicked skill,
‘Gae fire on yon westlan men;
I think it is my sovreign’s will.’

6 But up bespake his cornet then,
‘It’s be wi nae consent o me;
I ken I’ll neer come back again,
An mony mae as weel as me.

7 ‘There is not ane of a’ yon men
But wha is worthy other three;
There is na ane amang them a’
That in his cause will stap to die.

8 ‘An as for Burly, him I knaw;
He’s a man of honour, birth, an fame;
Gie him a sword into his hand,
He’ll fight thysel an other ten.’

9 But up spake wicked Claverse then-+--+-
I wat his heart it raise fu hie-+--+-
And he has cry’d, that a’ might hear,
‘Man, ye hae sair deceived me.

10 ‘I never kend the like afore,
Na, never since I came frae hame,
That you sae cowardly here suld prove,
An yet come of a noble Gra+eme.’

11 But up bespake his cornet then,
‘Since that it is your honour’s will,
Mysel shall be the foremost man
That shall gie fire on Loudoun Hill.

12 ‘Your command I’ll lead them on,
But yet wi nae consent o me;
For weel I ken I’ll neer return,
And mony mae as weel as me.’

13 Then up he drew in battle rank-+--+-
I wat he had a bonny train-+--+-
But the first time that bullets flew
Ay he lost twenty o his men.

14 Then back he came the way he gaed,
I wat right soon an suddenly;
He gave command amang his men,
And sent them back, and bade them flee.

15 Then up came Burly, bauld an stout,
Wi ’s little train o westland men,
Wha mair than either aince or twice
In Edinburgh confind had been.

16 They hae been up to London sent,
An yet they’re a’ come safely down;
Sax troop o horsemen they hae beat,
And chased them into Glasgow town.

206. Bothwell Bridge

1 ‘O BILLIE, billie, bonny billie,
Will ye go to the wood wi me?
We’ll ca our horse hame masterless,
An gar them trow slain men are we.’

2 ‘O no, O no!’ says Earlstoun,
‘For that’s the thing that maunna be;
For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill,
Where I maun either gae or die.’

3 So Earlstoun rose in the morning,
An mounted by the break o day,
An he has joind our Scottish lads,
As they were marching out the way.

4 ‘Now, farewell, father! and farewell, mother!
An fare ye weel, my sisters three!
An fare ye well, my Earlstoun!
For thee again I’ll never see.’

5 So they’re awa to Bothwell Hill,
An waly, they rode bonnily!
When the Duke o Monmouth saw them comin,
He went to view their company.

6 ‘Ye’re welcome, lads,’ then Monmouth said,
Ye’re welcome, brave Scots lads, to me;
And sae are you, brave Earlstoun,
The foremost o your company.

7 ‘But yield your weapons ane an a’,
O yield your weapons, lads, to me;
For, gin ye’ll yield your weapons up,
Ye’se a’ gae hame to your country.’

8 Out then spak a Lennox lad,
And waly, but he spoke bonnily!
‘I winna yield my weapons up,
To you nor nae man that I see.’

9 Then he set up the flag o red,
A’ set about wi bonny blue:
‘Since ye’ll no cease, and be at peace,
See that ye stand by ither true.’

10 They stelld their cannons on the height,
And showrd their shot down in the how,
An beat our Scots lads even down;
Thick they lay slain on every know.

11 As eer you saw the rain down fa,
Or yet the arrow frae the bow,
Sae our Scottish lads fell even down,
An they lay slain on every know.

12 ‘O hold your hand,’ the Monmouth cry’d,
‘Gie quarters to yon men for me;’
But wicked Claverhouse swore an oath
His cornet’s death revengd sud be.

13 ‘O hold your hand,’ Monmouth cry’d,
‘If ony thing you’ll do for me;
Hold up your hand, you cursed Gra+eme,
Else a rebel to our king ye’ll be.’

14 Then wicked Claverhouse turnd about-+--+-
I wot an angry man was he-+--+-
And he has lifted up his hat,
And cry’d, God bless his Majesty!

15 Than he’s awa to London town,
Ay een as fast as he can dree;
Fause witnesses he has wi him taen,
An taen Monmouth’s head frae his body.

16 Alang the brae beyond the brig,
Mony brave man lies cauld and still;
But lang we’ll mind, and sair we’ll rue,
The bloody battle of Bothwell Hill.

207. Lord Delamere

Version A

1 GOOD people, give attention, a story you shall hear,
It is of the king and my lord Delamere;
The quarrel it arose in the Parliament House,
Concdrning some taxations going to be put in force.
Ri toora loora la.

2 Says my lord Delamere to his Majesty soon,
‘If it please you, my liege, of you I’ll soon beg a boon.’
‘Then what is your boon? let me it understand:’
‘It’s to have all the poor men you have in your land.

3 ‘And I’ll take them to Cheshire, and there I will sow
Both hempseed and flaxseed, and [hang] them all in a row.
Why, they’d better be hanged, and stopped soon their breath,
If it please you, my liege, than to starve them to death.’

4 Then up starts a French lord, as we do hear,
Saying, ‘Thou art a proud Jack,’ to my lord Delamere;
‘Thou oughtest to be stabbed’-+--+-then he turnd him about-+--+-
‘For affronting the king in the Parliament House.’

5 Then up starts his grace, the Duke of Devonshire,
Saying, I’ll fight in defence of my lord Delamere.
Then a stage was erected, to battle they went,
To kill or to be killed was our noble duke’s intent.

6 The very first push, as we do understand,
The duke’s sword he bended it back into his hand.
He waited a while, but nothing he spoke,
Till on the king’s armour his rapier he broke.

7 An English lord, who by that stage did stand,
Threw Devonshire another, and he got it in his hand:
‘Play low for your life, brave Devonshire,’ said he,
‘Play low for your life, or a dead man you will be.’

8 Devonshire dropped on his knee, and gave him his death-wound;
O then that French lord fell dead upon the ground.
The king called his guards, and he unto them did say,
‘Bring Devonshire down, and take the dead man away.’

9 ‘No, if it please you, my liege, no! I’ve slain him like a man;
I’m resolved to see what clothing he’s got on.
Oh, fie upon your treachery, your treachery!’ said he,
‘Oh, king, ’twas your intention to have took my life away.

10 ‘For he fought in your armour, whilst I have fought in bare;
The same thou shalt win, king, before thou does it wear.’
Then they all turned back to the Parliament House,
And the nobles made obesiance with their hands to their mouths.

11 ‘God bless all the nobles we have in our land,
And send the Church of England may flourish still and stand;
For I’ve injured no king, no kingdom, nor no crown,
But I wish that every honest man might enjoy his own.’

Version B

1 GOOD people give attention to a story you shall hear:
Between the king and my lord Delamere,
A quarrel arose in the Parliament House,
Concerning the taxes to be put in force.
With my fal de ral de ra.

2 I wonder, I wonder that James, our good king,
So many hard taxes upon the poor should bring;
So many hard taxes, as I have heard them say,
Makes many a good farmer to break and run away.

3 Such a rout has been in the parliament, as I hear,
Betwixt a Dutch lord and my lord Delamere.
He said to the king, as he sat on the throne,
‘If it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon.’

4 ‘O what is thy boon? Come. let me understand.’
‘’Tis to give me all the poor you have in the land;
I’ll take them down to Cheshire, and there I will sow
Both hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them in a row.

5 ‘It’s better, my liege, they should die a shorter death
Than for your Majesty to starve them on earth.’
With that up starts a Dutch lord, as we hear,
And he says, ‘Thou proud Jack,’ to my lord Delamere,

6 ‘Thou ought to be stabbed,’ and he turned him about,
‘For affronting the king in the Parliament House.’
Then up got a brave duke, the Duke of Devonshire,
Who said, I will fight for my lord Delamere.

7 ‘He is under age, as I’ll make it appear,
So I’ll stand in defence of my lord Delamere.’
A stage then was built, and to battle they went,
To kill or be killed it was their intent.

8 The very first blow, as we understand,
Devonshire’s rapier went back to his hand;
Then he mused awhile, but not a word spoke,
When against the king’s armour his rapier he broke.

9 O then he stept backward, and backward stept he,
And then stept forward my lord Willoughby;
He gave him a rapier, and thus he did say;
Play low, Devonshire, there’s treachery, I see.

10 He knelt on his knee, and he gave him the wound,
With that the Dutch lord fell dead on the ground:
The king calld his soldiers, and thus he did say:
Call Devonshire down, take the dead man away.

11 He answered, My liege, I’ve killed him like a man,
And it is my intent to see what clothing he’s got on.
O treachery! O treachery! as I well may say,
It was your intent, O king, to take my life away.

12 ‘He fought in your armour, while I fought him bare,
And thou, king, shalt win it before thou dost it wear;
I neither do curse king, parliament, or throne,
But I wish every honest man may enjoy his own.

13 ‘The rich men do flourish with silver and gold,
While poor men are starving with hunger and cold;
And if they hold on as they have begun,
They’ll make little England pay dear for a king.’

Version C

1 O THE Duchess of Devonshire was standing hard by;
Upon her dear husband she cast her lovely eye:
‘Oh, fie upon treachery! there’s been treachery I say,
It was your full intent to have taen my duke’s life away.’

2 Then away to the parliament these votes all went again,
And there they acted like just and honest men.
I neither curse my king, nor kingdom, crown or throne,
But I wish every honest man to enjoy but what is his own.

Version D

1 IN the Parliament House a great rout has been there,
Betwixt our good king and the lord Delaware:
Says Lord Delaware to his Majesty full soon,
‘Will it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon?’

2 ‘What’s your boon?’ says the king, ’Now let me understand.’
‘It’s, give me all the poor men we’ve starving in this land,
And without delay I’ll hie me to Lincolnshire,
To sow hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them all there.

3 ‘For with hempen cord it’s better to stop each poor man’s breath
Than with famine you should see your subjects starve to death.’
Up starts a Dutch lord, who to Delaware did say,
Thou deservest to be stabbd! then he turnd himself away.

4 ‘Thou deservest to be stabbd, and the dogs have thine ears,
For insulting our king, in this parliament of peers.’
Up sprang a Welsh lord, the brave Duke of Devonshire:
‘In young Delaware’s defence, I’ll fight this Dutch lord, my sire.

5 ‘For he is in the right, and I’ll make it so appear;
Him I dare to single combat, for insulting Delaware.’
A stage was soon erected, and to combat they went;
For to kill or to be killd, it was either’s full intent.

6 But the very first flourish, when the heralds gave command,
The sword of brave Devonshire bent backward on his hand.
In suspense he paused a while, scannd his foe before he strake,
Then against the king’s armour his bent sword he brake.

7 Then he sprang from the stage to a soldier in the ring,
Saying, Lend your sword, that to an end this tragedy we bring.
Though he’s fighting me in armour, while I am fighting bare,
Even more than this I’d venture for young Lord Delaware.

8 Leaping back on the stage, sword to buckler now resounds,
Till he left the Dutch lord a bleeding in his wounds.
This seeing, cries the king to his guards without delay,
Call Devonshire down! take the dead man away!

9 ‘No,’ says brave Devonshire, ‘I’ve fought him as a man;
Since he’s dead, I will keep the trophies I have won.
For he fought me in your armour, while I fought him bare,
And the same you must win back, my liege, if ever you them wear.

10 ‘God bless the Church of England! may it prosper on each hand,
And also every poor man now starving in this land.
And while I pray success may crown our king upon his throne,
I’ll wish every poor man may long enjoy his own.’

208. Lord Dernwentwater

Version A

1 OUR king has wrote a lang letter,
And sealed it owre with gold;
He sent to my lord Dunwaters,
To read it if he could.

2 He has not sent it with a boy, with a boy,
Nor with anie Scotch lord;
But he’s sent it with the noblest knight
Eer Scotland could afford.

3 The very first line that my lord did read,
He gave a smirkling smile;
Before he had the half o’t read,
The tears from his eyes did fall.

4 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said,
‘Come saddle to me with speed;
For I must away to fair London town,
For me was neer more need.’

5 Out and spoke his lady gay,
In child-bed where she lay:
‘I would have you make your will, my lord Dunwaters,
Before you go away.’

6 ‘I leave to you, my eldest son,
My houses and my land;
I leave to you, my second son,
Ten thousand pounds in hand.

7 ‘I leave to you, my lady gay-+--+-
You are my wedded wife-+--+-
I leave to you, the third of my estate;
That’ll keep you in a lady’s life.’

8 They had not rode a mile but one,
Till his horse fell owre a stane:
‘It’s warning gude eneuch,’ my lord Dunwaters said,
‘Alive I’ll neer come hame.’

9 When they came into fair London town,
Into the courtiers’ hall,
The lords and knichts in fair London town
Did him a traitor call.

10 ‘A traitor! a traitor!’ says my lord,
‘A traitor! how can that be,
An it was na for the keeping of five thousand men
To fight for King Jamie?

11 ‘O all you lords and knichts in fair London town,
Come out and see me die;
O all you lords and knichts into fair London town,
Be kind to my ladie.

12 ‘There’s fifty pounds in my richt pocket,
Divide it to the poor;
There’s other fifty pounds in my left pocket,
Divide it from door to door.’

Version B

1 THE king he wrote a love-letter,
And he sealed it up with gold,
And he sent it to Lord Derwentwater,
For to read it if he could.

2 The first two lines that he did read,
They made him for to smile;
But the next two lines he looked upon
Made the tears from his eyes to fall.

3 ‘Oh,’ then cried out his lady fair,
As she in child-bed lay,
‘Make your will, make your will, Lord Derwentwater,
Before that you go away.’

4 ‘Then here’s for thee, my lady fair,
. . . .
A thousand pounds of beaten gold,
To lead you a lady’s life.’

5 . . . .
. . his milk-white steed,
The ring dropt from his little finger,
And his nose it began to bleed.

6 He rode, and he rode, and he rode along,
Till he came to Westminster Hall,
Where all the lords of England’s court
A traitor did him call.

7 ‘Oh, why am I a traitor?’ said he;
‘Indeed, I am no such thing;
I have fought the battles valiantly
Of James, our noble king.’

8 O then stood up an old gray-headed man,
With a pole-axe in his hand:
‘’Tis your head, ’tis your head, Lord Derwentwater,
’Tis your head that I demand.’

9 . . . .
His eyes with weeping sore,
He laid his head upon the block,
And words spake never more.

Version C

1 THE king has written a broad letter,
And seald it up with gold,
And sent it to the lord of Derwentwater,
To read it if he would.

2 He sent it with no boy, no boy,
Nor yet with eer a slave,
But he sent it with as good a knight
As eer a king could have.

3 When he read the three first lines,
He then began to smile;
And when he read the three next lines
The tears began to sile.

Version D

1 THE king has written a braid letter,
And seald it up wi gowd,
And sent it to Lord Derntwater,
To read it if he coud.

2 The first lines o’t that he read,
A blythe, blythe man was he;
But ere he had it half read through,
The tear blinded his ee.

3 ‘Go saddle to me my milk-white horse,
Go saddle it with speed;
For I maun ride to Lun[n]on town,
To answer for my head.’

4 ‘Your will, your will, my lord Derntwater,
Your will before ye go;
For you will leave three dochters fair,
And a wife to wail and woe.’

5 ‘My will, my will, my lady Derntwater?
Ye are my wedded wife;
Be kind, be kind to my dochters dear,
If I should lose my life.’

6 He set his ae fit on the grund,
The tither on the steed;
The ring upon his finger burst,
And his nose began to bleed.

7 He rode till he cam to Lunnon town,
To a place they ca Whiteha;
And a’ the lords o merry England
A traitor him gan ca.

8 ‘A traitor! a traitor! O what means this?
A traitor! what mean ye?’
‘It’s a’ for the keeping o five hundred men
To fecht for bonny Jamie.’

9 Then up started a gray-headed man,
Wi a braid axe in his hand:
‘Your life, your life, my lord Derntwater,
Your life’s at my command.’

10 ‘My life, my life, ye old gray-headed man,
My life I’ll freely gie;
But before ye tak my life awa
Let me speak twa words or three.

11 ‘I’ve fifty pounds in ae pocket,
Go deal it frae door to door;
I’ve fifty five i the other pocket,
Go gie it to the poor.

12 ‘The velvet coat that I hae on,
Ye may take it for your fee;
And a’ ye lords o merry Scotland
Be kind to my ladie!’

Version E

1 THE king wrote a letter to my lord Derwentwater,
And he sealed it with gold;
He sent it to my Lord Derwentwater,
To read it if he could.

2 He sent it by no boy,
He sent it by no slave,
But he sent it by as true a knight
As heart could wish or have.

3 The very first line that he looked upon
Made him for to laugh and to smile;
The very next line that he looked upon,
The tears from his eyes did fall.

4 He called to his stable-boy
To saddle his bonny grey steed,
‘That I unto loving London
May ride away with speed.’

5 ‘His wife heard him say so,
In childbed as she lay;
Says she, ‘My lord Derwentwater,
Make thy will before thou goest away.’

6 ‘It’s to my little son I give
My houses and my land,
And to my little daughter
Ten thousand pounds in hand.

7 ‘And unto thee, my lady gay,
Who is my wedded wife,
The third part of my estate thou shalt have,
To maintain thee through thy life.’

8 He set his foot in the level stirrup,
And mounted his bonny grey steed;
The gold rings from his fingers did break,
And his nose began for to bleed.

9 He had not ridden past a mile or two,
When his horse stumbled over a stone;
‘These are tokens enough,’ said my lord Derwentwater,
‘That I shall never return.’

10 He rode and he rode till he came to merry London,
And near to that famous hall;
The lords and knights of merry London,
They did him a traitor call.

11 ‘A traitor! a traitor! a traitor!’ he cried,
‘A traitor! how can that be,
Unless it’s for keeping five hundred men
For to fight for King Jamie?’

12 It’s up yon steps there stands a good old man,
With a broad axe in his hand;
Says he, ‘Now, my lord Derwentwater,
Thy life’s at my command.’

13 ‘My life, my life, thou good old man,
My life I’ll give to thee,
And the green coat of velvet on my back
Thou mayst take it for thy fee.

14 ‘There’s fifty pounds and five in my right pocket,
Give that unto the poor;
There’s twenty pounds and five in my left pocket,
Deal that from door to door.’

15 Then he laid his head on the fatal block,

Version F

1 THE king has written a broad letter,
And seald it with his hand,
And sent it on to Lord Arnwaters,
To read and understand.

2 Now he has sent it by no boy,
No boy, nor yet a slave,
But one of England’s fairest knights,
The one that he would have.

3 When first he on the letter lookd,
Then he began to smile;
But ere he read it to an end,
The tears did trickling fall.

4 He calld upon his saddle-groom
To saddle his milk-white steed,
‘For I unto London must go,
For me there is much need.’

5 Out then speaks his gay lady,
In child-bed where she lay:
‘Make your will, make your will, my knight,
For fear ye rue the day.’

6 ‘I’ll leave unto my eldest son
My houses and my lands;
I’ll leave unto my youngest son
Full forty thousand pounds.

7 ‘I’ll leave unto my gay lady,
And to my loving wife,
The second part of my estate,
To maintain a lady’s life.’

8 He kissd her on the pillow soft,
In child-bed where she lay,
And bade farewell, neer to return,
Unto his lady gay.

9 He put his foot in the stirup,
His nose began to bleed;
The ring from ’s finger burst in two
When he mounted on his steed.

10 He had not rode a mile or two
Till his horse stumbled down;
‘A token good,’ said Lord Arnwaters,
‘I’ll never reach London town.’

11 But when into Westminster Hall,
Amongst the nobles all,
‘A traitor, a traitor, Lord Arnwaters,
A traitor,’ they did him call.

12 ‘A traitor? a traitor how call ye me?
And a traitor how can I be
For keeping seven thousand valiant men
To fight for brave Jamie?’

13 Up then came a brave old man,
With a broad ax in his hand:
‘Your life, your life, Lord Arnwaters,
Your life’s at my command.’

14 ‘My life, my life, my brave old man,
My life I’ll give to thee,
And the coat of green that’s on my back
You shall have for your fee.

15 ‘There’s fifty pounds in one pocket,
Pray deal’t among the poor;
There’s fifty and four in the other pocket,
Pray deal’t from door to door.

16 ‘There’s one thing more I have to say,
This day before I die;
To beg the lords and nobles all
To be kind to my lady.’

Version G

1 THE king has wrote a long letter,
And sealed it with his han,
And he has sent it to my lord Dunwaters,
To read it if he can.

2 The very first line he lookit upon,
It made him to lauch and to smile;
The very next line he lookit upon,
The tear from his eye did fall.

3 ‘As for you, my auldest son,
My houses and my land;
And as for you, my youngest son,
Ten thousand pound in hand.

4 ‘As for you, my gay lady,
You being my wedded wife,
The third of my estate I will leave to you,
For to keep you in a lady’s life.’

Version H

1 THE king he wrote a letter,
And seal d it with gold,
And sent it to Lor Derwentwater,
To read it if he could.

2 The first three lines he looked upon,
They made him to smile;
And the next three lines he looked upon
Made tears fall from his eyes.

3 O then bespoke his gay lady,
As she on a sick-bed lay:
‘Make your will, my lord,
Before you go away.’

4 ‘O there is for my eldest son
My houses and my land,
And there is for my youngest son
Ten thousand pounds in hand.

5 ‘There is for you, my gay lady,
My true and lawful wife,
The third part of my whole estate,
To maintain you a lady’s life.’

6 Then he called to his stable-groom
To bring him his gray steed;
For he must to London go,
The king had sent indeed.

7 When he put his foot in the stirrup,
To mount his grey steed,
His gold ring from his finger burst,
And his nose began to bleed.

8 He had not gone but half a mile
When it began to rain;
‘Now this is a token,’ his lordship said,
‘That I shall not return again.’

9 When he unto London came,
A mob did at him rise,
And they call d him a traitor,
Made the tears fall from his eyes.

10 ‘A traitor, a traitor!’ his lordship said,
. . . .
Is it for keeping eight score men
To fight for pretty Jimmee?’

11 O then bespoke a grave man,
With a broad axe in his hand:
‘Hold your tongue, Lord Derwentwater,
Your life lies at my command.’

12 ‘My life, my life,’ his lordship said,
‘My life I will give to thee,
And the black velvet coat upon my back,
Take it for thy fee.’

13 Then he laid his head upon the block,
He did such courage show,
And asked the executioner
To cut it off at one blow.

Version I

1 KING GEORGE he did a letter write,
And sealed it up with gold,
And sent it to Lord Derwentwater,
To read it if he could.

2 He sent his letter by no post,
He sent it by no page,
But sent it by a gallant knight
As eer did combat wage.

3 The first line that my lord lookd on
Struck him with strong surprise;
The second, more alarming still,
Made tears fall from his eyes.

4 He called up his stable-groom,
Saying, Saddle me well my steed,
For I must up to London go,
Of me there seems great need.

5 His lady, hearing what he said,
As she in child-bed lay,
Cry’d, My dear lord, pray make your will
Before you go away.

6 ‘I’ll leave to thee, my eldest son,
My houses and my land;
I’ll leave to thee, my younger son,
Ten thousand pounds in hand.

7 ‘I’ll leave to thee, my lady gay,
My lawful married wife,
A third part of my whole estate,
To keep thee a lady’s life.’

8 He knelt him down by her bed-side,
And kissed her lips so sweet;
The words that passd, alas! presaged
They never more should meet.

9 Again he calld his stable-groom,
Saying, Bring me out my steed,
For I must up to London go,
With instant haste and speed.

10 He took the reins into his hand,
Which shook with fear and dread;
The rings from off his fingers dropt,
His nose gushd out and bled.

11 He had but ridden miles two or three
When stumbling fell his steed;
‘Ill omens these,’ Derwentwater said,
‘That I for James must bleed.’

12 As he rode up Westminster street,
In sight of the White Hall,
The lords and ladies of London town
A traitor they did him call.

13 ‘A traitor!’ Lord Derwentwater said,
‘A traitor how can I be,
Unless for keeping five hundred men
Fighting for King Jemmy?’

14 Then started forth a grave old man,
With a broad-mouthd axe in hand:
‘Thy head, thy head, Lord Derwentwater,
Thy head’s at my command.’

15 ‘My head, my head, thou grave old man,
My head I will give thee;
Here’s a coat of velvet on my back
Will surely pay thy fee.

16 ‘But give me leave,’ Derwentwater said,
‘To speak words two or three;
Ye lords and ladies of London town,
Be kind to my lady.

17 ‘Here’s a purse of fifty sterling pounds,
Pray give it to the poor;
Here’s one of forty-five beside
You may dole from door to door.’

18 He laid his head upon the block,
The axe was sharp and strong,
. . . .
. . .

Version J

1 The king has written a brod letter,
An sealled it our with gould,
An sent it to Lord Darnwater,
To read it if he could.

2 Whan Lord Darnwater saa the letter,
A light laughter lough he;
Bat or he read it to an end
The tear blinded his eye,
An sighan said him good Lord Darnwater,
I am near the day to dei.

3 Out spak his lady,
In child-bed wher she lay;
‘My d[ea]r Lord Darnweter, what is to becom of me,
An my young famely?’

4 ‘I will leave my young famely
As well as I cane;
For I will leave to my lady
The third part of my land,
An I will live to my e[l]dest son,
The tua part of my land.

5 ‘An I will live to my eldest daught[er]
Five thousand pound of gold,
An I will live to my second daughter
Three thousand pound of gold.

6 ‘Ye saddel to me my littel gray horse,
That I had wont to ried;
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .

7 The first stape Lord Darnwater staped,
He stumbled on a ston;
Said Lord Darnwater,
I feer I ill never come home.

8 When he came to fair London city,
An near unt[o] the toun,
‘A trater! a trater!’ said they,
‘A trator wee see!’

9 ‘A trater?’ said good Lord Darnwater,
‘A trator I nier could be,
Unless it was bringen three hundred men
To fight for young Jamie.’

10 But when he came to Tour Hill
Befor him came a bold man,
. . . . . . . .
With a broad aix in his hand.

11 . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
‘Hear is five ginies of gold an my green velvet coat,
For to be your fee.’

12 ‘Ye nobels all,
Come hear to see me die,
An ye peopell of fair Sco[t]land,
Be kind to my family.’

13 Lord Darnuater was dumed to die, to die,
Good Lord Darnwater was dumed to die.

209. Geordie

Version A

1 THERE was a battle in the north,
And nobles there was many,
And they hae killd Sir Charlie Hay,
And they laid the wyte on Geordie.

2 O he has written a lang letter,
He sent it to his lady:
‘Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town,
To see what word’s o Geordie.’

3 When first she lookd the letter on,
She was baith red and rosy;
But she had na read a word but twa
Till she wallowt like a lily.

4 ‘Gar get to me my gude grey steed,
My menyie a’ gae wi me,
For I shall neither eat nor drink
Till Enbrugh town shall see me.’

5 And she has mountit her gude grey steed,
Her menyie a’ gaed wi her,
And she did neither eat nor drink
Till Enbrugh town did see her.

6 And first appeard the fatal block,
And syne the aix to head him,
And Geordie cumin down the stair,
And bands o airn upon him.

7 But tho he was chaind in fetters strang,
O airn and steel sae heavy,
There was na ane in a’ the court
Sae bra a man as Geordie.

8 O she’s down on her bended knee,
I wat she’s pale and weary:
‘O pardon, pardon, noble king,
And gie me back my dearie!

9 ‘I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear,
The seventh neer saw his daddie;
O pardon, pardon, noble king,
Pity a waefu lady!’

10 ‘Gar bid the headin-man mak haste,’
Our king reply’d fu lordly:
‘O noble king, tak a’ that’s mine,
But gie me back my Geordie!’

11 The Gordons cam, and the Gordons ran,
And they were stark and steady,
And ay the word amang them a’
Was, Gordons, keep you ready!

12 An aged lord at the king’s right hand
Says, Noble king, but hear me;
Gar her tell down five thousand pound,
And gie her back her dearie.

13 Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns,
Some gae her dollars many,
And she’s telld down five thousand pound,
And she’s gotten again her dearie.

14 She blinkit blythe in her Geordie’s face,
Says, Dear I’ve bought thee, Geordie;
But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green
Or I had tint my laddie.

15 He claspit her by the middle sma,
And he kist her lips sae rosy:
‘The fairest flower o woman-kind
Is my sweet, bonie lady!’

Version B

1 ‘THERE was a battle i the north
Amang our nobles many,
And they have killed Sir Charles Hay,
And they’ve taen thrae me my Geordie.’

2 ‘O where’ll I gett a wi bit boy,
A bonnie boy that’s ready,
That will gae in to my biggin
With a letter to my ladie?’

3 Then up and startit a wi bit boy,
An a bonnie boy was ready:
‘It’s I’ll gae in to your biggin
Wi a letter to your ladie.’

4 When the day was fair an the way was clear,
An the wi bit boy was ready,
An he’s gane in to his biggin,
Wi a letter to his ladie.

5 When she lookd the letter on,
She was no a wearit ladie;
But when she lookit the other side,
She mourned for her Geordie.

6 ‘Gar sadle to me the black,’ she says,
‘For the brown rade neer sey bonnie,
An I’ll gae down to Enbro town,
An see my true-love Geordie.’

7 When she cam to the water-side,
The cobles war na ready;
She’s turnd her horse’s head about,
An in by the Queen’s Ferry.

8 When she cam to the West Port,
There war poor folks many;
She dealt crowns an the ducatdowns,
And bade them pray for Geordie.

9 When she cam to the Parliament Closs,
There amang our nobles many,
Cravats an caps war standing there,
But low, low lay her Geordie.

10 When she gaed up the tolbooth-stairs,
Amang our nobles manie,
The napkin’s tyed oer Geordie’s face,
And the gallows makin ready.

11 ‘O wad ye hae his lands or rents?
Or wad ye hae his monie?
Take a’, a’ frae him but his sark alone,
Lesve me my true-love Geordie.’

12 The captain pu’d her on his knee,
An ca’d her heart an honey:
‘An ye wad wait se’en years for me,
Ye wad never jump for Geordie.’

13 ‘O hold your tongue, you foolish man,
Your speech it’s a’ but folly;
For an ye wad wait till the day ye die,
I wad neer take John for Geordie.’

14 ‘Twas up and spak the Lord Corstarph,
The ill gae wi his body!
‘O Geordie’s neck it war on a block,
Gif I had his fair ladie!’

15 ‘O haud yer tongue, ye foolish man,
Yer speech is a’ but folly;
For if Geordie’s neck war on a block,
Ye soud neer enjoy his ladie.

16 ‘It’s I hae se’en weel gawn mills,
I wait they a’ gang daily;
I’ll gie them a’ an amang ye a’
For the sparin o my Geordie.

17 ‘I hae ele’en bairns i the wast,
I wait the’re a’ to Geordie;
I’d see then a’ streekit afore mine eyes
Afore I lose my Geordie.

18 ‘I hae ele’en bairns i the wast,
The twalt bears up my body;
The youngest’s on his nurse’s knee,
An he never saw his dadie.

19 ‘I hae se’en uncles in the north,
They gang baith proud an lordly;
I’d see them a’ tread down afore my eyes
Afore I lose my Geordie.’

20 Then out an spak an English lord,
The ill gae wi his bodie!
‘It’s I gard hang Sir Francie Grey,
An I’ll soon gar hang your Geordie.’

21 It’s out an spak than a Scottish lord,
May the weel gae wi his body!
‘It’s I’ll cast of my coat an feght
Afore ye lose your Geordie.’

22 It’s out then spak an English lord,
May the ill gae wi his bodie!
‘Before the morn at ten o’clock,
I’s hae the head o Geordie.’

23 Out then spak the Scottish lord,
May the weel gae wi his body!
‘I’ll fight i bluid up to the knees
Afore ye lose your Geordie.’

24 But out an spak the royal king,
May the weel gae wi his body!
‘There’s be bluidie heads amang us a’
Afore ye lose your Geordie.’

25 ‘Twas up than spak the royal queen,
‘May the weel gae wi his body!
Tell down, tell down five hunder pound,
An ye’s get wi you yer Geordie.’

26 Some gae her gold, some gae her crowns,
Some gae her ducats many,
An she’s telld down five hundred pound,
An she’s taen away her Geordie.

27 An ay she praisd the powers above,
An a’ the royal family,
An ay she blessed the royal queen,
For sparin o her Geordie.

28 . . . .
. . . .
Nae bird sang sweeter in the bush
Than she did wi her Geordie.

29 ‘It’s wo be to my Lord Costorph,
It’s wo be to him daily!
For if Geordie’s neck had been on the block
He had neer enjoyd his ladie.

30 ‘Gar print me ballants weel,’ she said,
‘Gar print me ballants many,
Gar print me ballants weel,’ she said,
‘That I am a worthy ladie.’

Version C

1 THERE was a battle in the north,
Among the nobles many;
The Laird of Geight he’s killd a man,
And there’s nane to die but Geordie.

2 ‘What news? what news, my bonny boy?
What news hae ye frae Geordie?’
‘He bids ye sew his linen shirts,
For he’s sure he’ll no need many.’

3 ‘Go saddle the black, go saddle the brown,
Go saddle to me the bonny;
For I will neither eat nor drink
Until I see my Geordie.’

4 They’ve saddled the black, they’ve saddled the brown,
They’ve saddled her the bonny,
And she is away to Edinborough town,
Straight away to see her Geordie.

5 When she came to the sea-side,
The boats they were nae ready;
She turned her horse’s head about,
And swimd at the Queen’s Ferry.

6 And when she came to the prison-door,
There poor folks they stood many;
She dealt the red guineas them among,
And bade them pray weel for Geordie.

7 And when she came into the hall,
Amang the nobles many,
The napkin’s tied on Geordie’s face,
And the head’s to gae frae Geordie.

8 ‘I have born ten bonny sons,
And the eleventh neer sa his dadie,
And I will bear them all oer again
For the life o bonny Geordie.

9 ‘I have born the Laird of Gight,
And the Laird of bonny Pernonnie;
And I will gie them all to thee
For the life of my bonny Geordie.’

10 Up then spoke [a kind-hearted man],
Wha said, He’s done good to many;
If ye’ll tell down ten hundred crowns
Away ye shall hae yer Geordie.

11 Some telld shillings, and some telld crowns,
But she telld the red guineas many,
Till they’ve telld down ten hundred crowns,
And away she’s got her Geordie.

12 [It’s up then spoke an Irish lord,
And O but he spoke bauldly!]
‘I wish his head had been on the block,
That I might hae got his fair lady.’

13 She turned about . .
And O but she spoke boldly!
‘A pox upon your nasty face!
Will ye eer be compared to my Geordie?’

14 She set him on a milk-white steed,
Herself upon another;
The thrush on the briar neer sang so clear
As she sang behind her Geordie.

Version D

1 THERE was a battle i the north
Among the nobles many,
The Laird of Gigh he’s killd a man,
The brother of his lady.

2 ‘Where will I get a man or boy,
That will win both goud and money,
That will run into the north,
And fetch to me my lady?’

3 Up then spake a bonny boy,
He was both blythe and merry;
‘O I will run into the north,
And fetch to you your lady.’

4 ‘You may tell her to sew me a gude side shirt,
She’ll no need to sew me mony;
Tell her to bring me a gude side shirt,
It will be the last of any.’

5 He has written a broad letter,
And he’s seald it sad and sorry;
He’s gaen it to that bonny boy,
To take to his fair lady.

6 Away the bonny boy he’s gaen,
He was both blythe and merrie;
He’s to that fair lady gane,
And taen her word frae Geordie.

7 When she looked the letter on,
She was both sad and sorrie:
‘O I’ll away to fair Edinburgh town
Myself and see my Geordie.

8 ‘Gar saddle to me the black,’ she says,
‘The brown was neer sae bonny;
And I’ll straight to Edinburgh
Myself and see my Geordie.’

9 When she came to that wan water,
The boats was not yet ready;
She wheeld her horse’s head around,
And swimd at the Queen’s Ferry.

10 When she came to the Parliament Close,
Amang the poor folks many,
She dealt the crowns with duckatoons,
And bade them pray for Geordy.

11 When she came to the Parliament House,
Among the nobles many,
The rest sat all wi hat on head,
But hat in hand sat Geordie.

12 Up bespake an English lord,
And he spake blythe and merrie;
‘Was Geordie’s head upon the block,
I am sure I would have his lady.’

13 Up bespake that lady fair,
And O but she was sorrie!
‘If Geordie’s head were on the block,
There’s never a man gain his lady.

14 ‘I have land into the north,
And I have white rigs many,
And I could gie them a’ to you
To save the life of Geordie.

15 ‘I have seven children in the north,
And they seem very bonnie,
And I could bear them a’ over again
For to win the life o Geordie.’

16 Up bespake the gude Argyle;
He has befriended many;
‘If ye’ll tell down ten hundred crowns,
Ye’s win the life o Geordie.’

17 Some gaed her shillings, some her crowns,
And some gaed her guineas many,
And she’s telld down ten hundred crowns,
And she’s wone the life o Geordie.

18 When she came down through Edinborough,
And Geordie in her hand, O,
‘Where will I get a writer’s [house],
A writer’s house so ready,
That I may write into the north
I have wone the life o Geordie’?

Version E

1 THERE was a battle in the north,
And rebels there were many,
And they were a’ brought before the king,
And taken was my geordie.
My Geordie O, O my Geordie O,
O the love I bear to Geordie!
For the very ground I walk upon
Bears witness I love Geordie.

2 As she went up the tolbooth-stair,
The cripples there stood many,
And she dealt the red gold them among,
For to pray for her love Geordie.

3 And when she came unto the hall
The nobles there stood many,
And every one stood hat on head,
But hat in hand stood Geordie.

4 O up bespoke a baron bold,
And O but he spoke bonnie!
‘Such lovers true shall not parted be,’
And she’s got her true-love Geordie.

5 When she was mounted on her high horse,
And on behind her Geordie,
Nae bird on the brier eer sang sae clear
As the young knight and his lady.
O my Geordie O, O my Geordie O,
O the love I bear to Geordie!
The very stars in the firmament
Bear tokens I love Geordie.

Version F

1 ‘GEORDIE Lukely is my name,
And many a one doth ken me; O
Many an ill deed I hae done,
But now death will owrecome me. O

2 ‘I neither murdered nor yet have I slain,
I never murdered any;
But I stole fyfteen o the king’s bay horse,
And I sold them in Bohemia.

3 ‘Where would I get a pretty little boy,
That would fain win gold and money,
That would carry this letter to Stirling town,
And give it to my lady?’

4 ‘Here am I, a pretty little boy,
That wud fain win gold and money;
I’ll carry your letter to Stirling town,
And give it to your lady.’

5 As he came in by Stirling town
He was baith weet and weary;
The cloth was spread, and supper set,
And the ladies dancing merry.

6 When she read the first of it,
She was baith glad and cheery;
But before she had the half o’t read,
She was baith sad and sorry.

7 ‘Come saddle to me the bonnie dapple gray,
Come saddle to me the wee poney;
For I’ll awa to the king mysell,
And plead for my ain love Geordie.’

8 She gaed up the Cannogate,
Amang the puir folk monie;
She made the handfus o red gold fly,
And bade them pray for Geordie,
And aye she wrang her lily-white hands,
Saying, I am a wearyd lady!

9 Up and spoke the king himsell,
And oh, but he spok bonnie!
‘It’s ye may see by her countenance
That she is Geordie’s lady.’

10 Up and spoke a bold bluidy wretch,
And oh, but he spoke boldly!
‘Tho [thou] should pay ten thousand pounds,
Thou’ll never get thy own love Geordie.

11 ‘For I had but ae brother to mysell,
I loved him best of any;
They cutted his head from his fair bodie,
And so will they thy love Geordie.’

12 Up and spoke the king again,
And oh, but he spak bonnie!
‘If thou’ll pay me five thousand pound,
I’ll gie thee hame thy love Geordie.’

13 She put her hand in her pocket,
She freely paid the money,
And she’s awa to the Gallows Wynd,
To get her nain love Geordie.

14 As she came up the Gallows Wynd,
The people was standing many;
The psalms was sung, and the bells was rung,
And silks and cords hung bonnie.

15 The napkin was tyed on Geordie’s face,
And the hangman was just readie:
‘Hold your hand, you bluidy wretch!
O hold it from my Geordie!
For I’ve got a remit from the king,
That I’ll get my ain love Geordie.’

16 When he heard his lady’s voice,
He was baith blythe and merry:
‘There’s many ladies in this place,
Have not I a worthy ladie?’

17 She mounted him on the bonnie dapple grey,
Herself on the wee poney,
And she rode home on his right hand,
All for the pride o Geordie.

Version G

1 THE weather it is clear, and the wind blaws fair,
And yonder a boy rins bonnie,
And he is awa to the gates of Hye,
With a letter to my dear ladie.

2 The first line that she lookit on,
She was baith red and rosy;
She droppit down, and she dropt in a swoon,
Crys, Och and alace for Geordie!

3 ‘Gar saddle to me the black, black horse;
The brown is twice as bonnie;
But I will neither eat nor drink
Till I relieve my Geordie.’

4 When she cam to the canny Cannygate,
Amang the puir folk many,
She made the dollars flee amang them a’,
And she bade them plead for Geordie.

5 When she came to the tolbooth-gate,
Amang the nobles many,
She made the red gold flee amang them a’,
And she bade them plead for Geordie.

6 Out and spoke the king himsell,
‘Wha’s aught this weary lady?’
Out and spoke a pretty little page,
‘She’s the Earl o Cassilis lady.’

7 ‘Has he killed? or has he slain?
Or has he ravishd any?’
‘He stole three geldings out o yon park,
And sold them to Balleny.’

8 ‘Pleading is idle,’ said the king,
‘Pleading is idle with any;
But pay you down five hundred pund,
And tak you hame your Geordie.’

9 Some gave marks, and som gave crowns,
Some gave dollars many;
She’s paid down the five hundred pund,
And she’s relieved her Geordie.

10 The lady smiled in Geordie’s face:
‘Geordie, I have bocht thee;
But down in yon green there had been bluidy breeks
Or I had parted wi thee.’

Version H

1 ‘WILL ye go to the Hielans, my bonny lad?
Will ye go to the Hielans, Geordie?
Though ye tak the high road and I tak the low,
I will be in the Hielans afore ye.’

2 He hadna been in the high Hielans
A month but barely twa, O,
Till he was laid in Prison strong,
For hunting the king’s deer and rae, O.

3 ‘O where will I get a bonny, bonny boy,
That will run my errand cannie,
And gae quickly on to the bonny Bog o Gight,
Wi a letter to my lady?’

4 ‘O here am I, a bonny, bonny boy,
That will run your errand cannie,
And will gae on to the bonny Bog o Gight,
Wi a letter to your lady.’

5 When she did get this broad letter,
A licht, licht laugh gae she, O;
But before she read it to an end
The saut tear was in her ee, O.

6 ‘O has he robbd? or has he stown?
Or has he kill d ony?
Or what is the ill that he has done,
That he’s gaun to be hangd sae shortly?’

7 ‘He hasna robbd, ha hasna stown,
He hasna kill d ony;
But he has hunted the king’s deer and rae,
And he willl be hang d shortly.’

8 ‘Come saddle to me the bonny brown steed,
For the black never rade sae bonny,
And I will gae on to Edinboro town
To borrow the life o my Geordie.’

9 The first water-side that she cam to,
The boatman wasna ready;
She gae anither skipper half-a-crown,
To boat her oer the ferry.

10 When she cam on to Edinboro town,
The poor stood thick and mony;
She dealt them money roun and roun,
Bade them pray for the life o her Geordie.

11 When she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,
She saw there nobles mony,
And ilka noble stood hat on head,
But hat in hand stood Geordie.

12 Then out it spak an English lord,
And vow, but he spake bonny!
‘If ye pay down ten thousand crouns,
Ye’ll get the life o your Geordie.’

13 Some gae her marks, some gae her crouns,
Some gae her guineas rarely,
Till she paid down ten thousand crouns,
And she got the life o her Geordie.

14 Then out it spak an Irish lord,
O wae befa his body!
‘It’s a pity the knicht didna lose his head,
That I micht hae gotten his lady.’

15 But out it spak the lady hersel,
And vow, but she spak bonny!
‘The pock-marks are on your Irish face,
You could not compare wi my Geordie!’

16 When she was in the saddle set,
And on ahint her Geordie,
The bird on the bush neer sang sae sweet,
As she sung to her love Geordie.

17 ‘First I was mistress o bonny Auchindown,
And I was lady o a’ Carnie,
But now I have come to the bonny Bog o Gight,
The wife o my true-love Geordie.

18 If I were in the high Hielans,
I would hear the white kye lowing;
But I’d rather be on the bonny banks o Spey,
To see the fish-boaties rowing.’

Version I

1 ‘I choosed my love at the bonny yates of Gight,
Where the birks an the flowers spring bony,
But pleasures I had never one,
But crosses very mony.

2 ‘First I was mistress of Pitfan
And madam of Kincraigie,
And now my name is bonny Lady Anne,
And I am Gight’s own lady.

3 ‘He does not use me as his wife,
Nor cherish me as his lady,
But day by day he saddles the grey,
And rides off to Bignet’s lady.’

4 Bignet he got word of this,
That Gight lay wi his lady;
He swore a vow, and kept it true,
To be revengd on ’s body.

5 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy
Will run my errand shortly,
That woud run on to the bonny yates o Gight
Wi a letter to my lady?’

6 Gight has written a broad letter,
And seald it soon and ready,
And sent it on to Gight’s own yates,
For to acquaint his lady.

7 The first of it she looked on,
O dear! she smiled bonny;
But as she read it till an end
The tears were thick an mony.

8 ‘Come saddle to me the black,’ she says,
‘Come saddle him soon and shortly,
Ere I ride down to Edinburgh town,
Wi a lang side sark to Geordy.’

9 When she came to the boat of Leith,
I wad she did na tarry;
She gave the boatman a guinea o gold
To boat her oer the ferry.

10 As she gaed oer the pier of Leith,
Among the peerls many,
She dealt the crowns and dukedoons,
Bade them a’ pray for Geordy.

11 As she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,
Among the nobles many,
Every one sat hat on head,
But hat in hand stood Geordy.

12 ‘Has he brunt? or has he slain?
Or has he robb d any?
Or has he done any other crime,
That gars you head my Geordy?’

13 ‘He hasna brunt, he hasna slain,
He hasna robbed any;
But he has done another crime,
For which he will pay dearly.’

14 In it comes First Lord Judge,
Says, George, I’m sorry for you;
You must prepare yourself for death,
For there’ll be nae mercy for you.

15 In it comes his Second Lord Judge,
Says, George I’m sorry for you;
You must prepare yourself for death,
For there’ll be nae mercy for you.

16 Out it speaks Gight’s lady herself,
And vow, but she spake wordy!
‘Is there not a lord among you all
Can plead a word for Geordy?’

17 Out it speaks the first Lord Judge:
‘What lady’s that amang you
That speaks to us so boldly here,
And bids us plead for Geordy?’

18 Out then spake a friend, her own,
And says, It’s Gight’s own lady,
Who is come to plead her own lord’s cause,
To which she’s true and steady.

19 The queen, looking oer her shott-window,
Says, Ann, I’m soory for you;
If ye’ll tell down ten thousand crowns,
Ye shall get home your Geordy.

20 She’s taen the hat out of his hand,
And dear! it set her bonny;
She’s beggd the red gold them among,
And a’ to borrow Geordy.

21 She turnd her right and round about
Among the nobles many;
Some gave her dollars, some her crowns,
And some gave guineas many.

22 She spread her mantle on the floor,
O dear! she spread it bonny,
And she told down that noble sum;
Says, Put on your hat, my Geordy.

23 But out it speaks him gleid Argyle,
Says, Woe be to your body!
I wish that Gight had lost his head,
I should enjoyd his lady.

24 She looked oer her left shoulder,
A proud look and a saucy;
Says, Woe be to you, gleid Argyle!
Ye’ll neer be like my Geordy.

25 ‘You’ll hae me to some writer’s house,
And that baith seen and shortly,
That I may write down Gight’s lament,
And how I borrowed Geordy.’

26 When she was in her saddle set,
And aye behind her Geordy,
Birds neer sang blyther in the bush
Than she behind her Geordy.

27 ‘O bonny George, but I love thee well,
And O sae dear as I love thee!
The sun and moon and firmament above
Bear witness how I love thee!’

28 ‘O bonny Ann, but I love thee well,
And O but sae dear as I love thee!
The birds in the air, that fly together pair and pair,
Bear witness, Ann, that I love thee!’

Version J

1 ‘FIRST I was lady o Black Riggs,
And then into Kincraigie;
Now I am the Lady o Gight,
And my love he’s ca’d Geordie.

2 ‘I was the mistress o Pitfan,
And madam o Kincraigie;
But now my name is Lady Anne,
And I am Gight’s own lady.

3 ‘We courted in the woods o Gight,
Where birks and flowrs spring bonny;
But pleasures I had never one,
But sorrows thick and mony.

4 ‘He never ownd me as his wife,
Nor honourd me as his lady,
But day by day he saddles the grey,
And rides to Bignet’s lady.’

5 When Bignet he got word of that,
That Gight lay wi his lady,
He’s casten him in prison strong,
To ly till lords were ready.

6 ‘Where will I get a little wee boy,
That is baith true and steady,
That will run on to bonny Gight,
And bring to me my lady?’

7 ‘O here am I, a little wee boy,
That is baith true and steady,
That will run to the yates of Gight,
And bring to you your lady.’

8 ‘Ye’ll bid her saddle the grey, the grey,
The brown rode neer so smartly;
Ye’ll bid her come to Edinbro town,
A’ for the life of Geordie.’

9 The night was fair, the moon was clear,
And he rode by Bevany,
And stopped at the yates o Gight,
Where leaves were thick and mony.

10 The lady lookd oer castle-wa,
And dear, but she was sorry!
‘Here comes a page frae Edinbro town;
A’ is nae well wi Geordie.

11 ‘What news, what news, my little boy?
Come tell me soon and shortly;’
‘Bad news, bad news, my lady,’ he said,
‘They’re going to hang your Geordie.’

12 ‘Ye’ll saddle to me the grey, the grey,
The brown rade neer so smartly;
And I’ll awa to Edinbro town,
Borrow the life o Geordie.’

13 When she came near to Edinbro town,
I wyte she didna tarry,
But she has mounted her grey steed,
And ridden the Queen’s Ferry.

14 When she came to the boat of Leith,
I wat she didna tarry;
She gae the boatman a guinea o gowd
To boat her ower the ferry.

15 When she came to the pier o Leith,
The poor they were sae many;
She dealt the gowd right liberallie,
And bade them pray for Geordie.

16 When she gaed up the tolbooth-stair,
The nobles there were many:
And ilka ane stood hat on head,
But hat in hand stood Geordie.

17 She gae a blink out-ower them a’,
And three blinks to her Geordie;
But when she saw his een fast bound,
A swoon fell in this lady.

18 ‘Whom has he robbd? What has he stole?
Or has he killed ony?
Or what’s the crime that he has done,
His foes they are sae mony?’

19 ‘He hasna brunt, he hasna slain,
He hasna robbed ony;
But he has done another crime,
For which he will pay dearly.’

20 Then out it speaks Lord Montague,
O wae be to his body!
‘The day we hangd young Charles Hay,
The morn we’ll head your Geordie.’

21 Then out it speaks the king himsell,
Vow, but he spake bonny!
‘Come here, young Gight, confess your sins,
Let’s hear if they be mony.

22 ‘Come here, young Gight, confess your sins,
See ye be true and steady;
And if your sins they be but sma,
Then ye’se win wi your lady.’

23 ‘Nane have I robbd, nought have I stown,
Nor have I killed ony;
But ane of the king’s best brave steeds,
I sold him in Bevany.’

24 Then out it speaks the king again,
Dear, but he spake bonny!
‘That crime’s nae great; for your lady’s sake,
Put on your hat now, Geordie.’

25 Then out it speaks Lord Montague,
O wae be to his body!
‘There’s guilt appears in Gight’s ain face,
Ye’ll cross-examine Geordie.’

26 ‘Now since it all I must confess,
My crimes’ baith great and mony:
A woman abused, five orphan babes,
I killd them for their money.’

27 Out it speaks the king again,
And dear, but he was sorry!
‘Your confession brings confusion,
Take aff your hat now, Geordie.’

28 Then out it speaks the lady hersell,
Vow, but she was sorry!
‘Now all my life I’ll wear the black,
Mourn for the death o Geordie.’

29 Lord Huntly then he did speak out,
O fair mot fa his body!
‘I there will fight doublet alane
Or ony thing ails Geordie.’

30 Then out it speaks the king again,
Vow, but he spake bonny!
‘If ye’ll tell down ten thousand crowns,
Ye’ll buy the life o Geordie.’

31 She spread her mantle on the ground,
Dear, but she spread it bonny!
Some gae her crowns, some ducadoons,
And some gae dollars mony:
Then she tauld down ten thousand crowns,
‘Put on your hat, my Geordie.’

32 Then out it speaks Lord Montague,
Wae be to his body!
‘I wisht that Gight wanted the head;
I might enjoyd his lady.’

33 Out it speaks the lady hersell,
‘Ye need neer wish my body;
O ill befa your wizzend snout!
Woud ye compare wi Geordie?’

34 When she was in her saddle set,
Riding the leys sae bonny,
The fiddle and fleet playd neer sae sweet
As she behind her Geordie.

35 ‘O Geordie, Geordie, I love you well,
Nae jealousie coud move me;
The birds in air, that fly in pairs,
Can witness how I love you.

36 ‘Ye’ll call for one, the best o clerks,
Ye’ll call him soon amd shortly,
As he may write what I indite,
A’ this I’ve done for Geordie.’

37 He turned him right and round about,
And high, high looked Geordie:
‘A finger o Bignet’s lady’s hand
Is worth a’ your fair body.’

38 ‘My lands may a’ be masterless,
My babes may want their mother;
But I’ve made a vow, will keep it true,
I’ll be bound to no other.’

39 These words they causd a great dispute,
And proud and fierce grew Geordie;
A sharp dagger he pulled out,
And pierced the heart o ’s lady.

40 The lady’s dead, and Gight he’s fled,
And left his lands behind him;
Altho they searched south and north,
There were nane there coud find him.

41 Now a’ that lived into Black Riggs,
And likewise in Kincraigie,
For seven years were clad in black,
To mourn for Gight’s own lady.

Version K

1 ‘I HAVE eleven babes into the north,
And the twelfth is in my body,O
And the youngest o them’s in the nurse’s arms,
He neer yet saw his daddy.’ O

2 Some gied her ducks, some gied her drakes,
And some gied her crowns monie,
And she’s paid him down five thousand pound,
And she’s gotten hame her Geordie.

Version L

1 AND soon she came to the water broad,
Nor boat nor barge was ready;
She turned her horse’s head to the flood,
And swam through at Queensferry.

2 But when she to the presence came,
‘Mang earls high and lordlie,
There hat on head sat every man,
While hat in hand stood Geordie.

Version M

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

Version N

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

210. Bonnie James Campbell

Version A

1 O it’s up in the Highlands,
and along the sweet Tay,
Did bonie James Campbell
ride monie a day.

2 Sadled and bridled,
and bonie rode he;
Hame came horse, hame came sadle,
but neer hame cam he.

3 And doun cam his sweet sisters,
greeting sae sair,
And down cam his bonie wife,
tearing her hair.

4 ‘My house is unbigged,
my barn’s unbeen,
My corn’s unshorn,
my meadow grows green.’

Version B

1 Saddled and briddled
and booted rade he;
Toom hame cam the saddle,
but never cam he.

2 Down cam his auld mither,
greetin fu sair,
And down cam his bonny wife,
wringin her hair.

3 Saddled and briddled
and booted rade he;
Toom hame cam the saddle,
but never cam he.

Version C

1 Hie upon Hielands,
and laigh upon Tay,
Bonnie George Campbell
rode out on a day.

2 He saddled, he bridled,
and gallant rode he,
And hame cam his guid horse,
but never cam he.

3 Out cam his mother dear,
greeting fu sair,
And out cam his bonnie bryde,
riving her hair.

4 ‘The meadow lies green,
the corn is unshorn,
But bonnie George Campbell
will never return.’

5 Saddled and bridled
and booted rode he,
A plume in his helmet,
a sword at his knee.

6 But toom cam his saddle,
all bloody to see,
Oh, hame cam his guid horse,
but never cam he!

Version D

1 High upon Highlands,
and low upon Tay,
Bonnie George Campbell
rode out on a day.

2 ‘My meadow lies green,
and my corn is unshorn,
My barn is to build,
and my babe is unborn.

211. Bewick and Graham

1 OLD Grahame [he] is to Carlisle gone,
Where Sir Robert Bewick there met he;
In arms to the wine they are gone,
And drank till they were both merry.

2 Old Grahame he took up the cup,
And said, ‘Brother Bewick, here’s to thee;
And here’s to our two sons at home,
For they live best in our country.’

3 ‘Nay, were thy son as good as mine,
And of some books he could but read,
With sword and buckler by his side,
To see how he could save his head,

4 ‘They might have been calld two bold brethren
Where ever they did go or ride;
They might [have] been calld two bold brethren,
They might have crackd the Border-side.

5 ‘Thy son is bad, and is but a lad,
And bully to my son cannot be;
For my son Bewick can both write and read,
Amd sure I am that cannot he.’

6 ‘I put him to school, but he would not learn,
I bought him books, but he would not read;
But my blessing he’s never have
Till I see how his hand can save his head.’

7 Old Grahame called for an account,
And he askd what was for to pay;
There he paid a crown, so it went round,
Which was all for good wine and hay.

8 Old Grahame is into the stable gone,
Where stood thirty good steeds and three;
He’s taken his own steed by the head,
And home rode he right wantonly.

9 When he came home, there did he espy,
A loving sight to spy or see,
There did he espy his own three sons,
Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he.

10 There did he espy his own three sons,
Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he:
‘Where have you been all day, father,
That no counsel you would take by me?’

11 ‘Nay, I have been in Carlisle town,
Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me;
He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad,
And a baffled man by thou I be.

12 ‘He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad,
And bully to his son cannot be;
For his son Bewick can both write and read,
And sure I am that cannot thee.

13 ‘I put thee to school, but thou would not learn,
I bought thee books, but thou would not read;
But my blessing thou’s never have
Till I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.’

14 ‘Oh, pray forbear, my father dear;
That ever such a thing should be!
Shall I venture my body in field to fight
With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’

15 ‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?
Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?
If thou do not end this quarrel soon,
Here is my glove thou shalt fight me.’

16 Christy stoopd low unto the ground,
Unto the ground, as you’ll understand:
‘O father, put on your glove again,
The wind hath blown it from your hand.’

17 ‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?
Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?
If thou do not end this quarrel soon,
Here is my hand thou shalt fight me.’

18 Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone,
And for to study, as well might be,
Whether to fight with his father dear,
Or with his bully Bewick he.

19 ‘If it be [my] fortune my bully to kill,
As you shall boldly understand,
In every town that I ride through,
They’ll say, There rides a brotherless man!

20 ‘Nay, for to kill my bully dear,
I think it will be a deadly sin;
And for to kill my father dear,
The blessing of heaven I neer shall win.

21 ‘O give me your blessing, father,’ he said,
‘And pray well for me to thrive;
If it be my fortune my bully to kill,
I swear I’ll neer come home alive.’

22 He put on his back a good plate-jack,
And on his head a cap of steel,
With sword and buckler by his side;
O gin he did not become them well!

23 ‘O fare thee well, my father dear!
And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town!
If it be my fortune my bully to kill,
I swear I’ll neer eat bread again.’

24 Now we’ll leave talking of Christy Grahame,
And talk of him again belive;
But we will talk of bonny Bewick,
Where he was teaching his scholars five.

25 Now when he had learnd them well to fence,
To handle their swords without any doubt,
He’s taken his own sword under his arm,
And walkd his father’s close about.

26 He lookd between him and the sun,
To see what farleys he could see;
There he spy’d a man with armour on,
As he came riding over the lee.

27 ‘I wonder much what man yon be
That so boldly this way does come;
I think it is my nighest friend,
I think it is my bully Grahame.

28 ‘O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame!
O man, thou art my dear, welcome!
O man, thou art my dear, welcome!
For I love thee best in Christendom.’

29 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of thy bullyship let me be!
The day is come I never thought on;
Bully, I’m come here to fight with thee.’

30 ‘O no! not so, O bully Grahame!
That eer such a word should spoken be!
I was thy master, thou was my scholar:
So well as I have learn d thee.’

31 My father he was in Carlisle town,
Where thy father Bewick there met he;
He said I was bad, and he calld me a lad,
And a baffled man by thou I be.’

32 ‘Away, away, O bully Grahame.
And of all that talk, man, let us be!
We’ll take three men of either side
To see if we can our fathers agree.’

33 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of thy bullyship let me be!
But if thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’

34 ‘O no! not so, my bully Grahame!
That eer such a word should spoken be!
Shall I venture my body in field to fight
With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’

35 ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of all that care, man, let us be!
If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’

36 ‘Now, if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,
As God’s will’s, man, it all must be;
But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,
’Tis home again I’ll never gae.’

37 ‘Thou art of my mind then, bully Bewick,
And sworn-brethren will we be;
If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’

38 He flang his cloak from [off] his shoulders,
His psalm-book out of his hand flang he,
He clapd his hand upon the hedge,
And oer lap he right wantonly.

39 When Grahame did see his bully come,
The salt tear stood long in his eye:
‘Now needs must I say that thou art a man,
That dare venture thy body to fight with me.

40 ‘Now I have a harness on my back;
I know that thou hath none on thine;
But as little as thou hath on thy back,
Sure as little shall there be on mine.’

41 He flang his jack from off his back,
His steel cap from his head flang he;
He’s taken his sword into his hand,
He’s tyed his horse unto a tree.

42 Now they fell to it with two broa[d swords],
For two long hours fought Bewick [and he];
Much sweat was to be seen on them both,
But never a drop of blood to see.

43 ‘Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward stroke,
An ackward stroke surely struck he;
He struck him now under the left breast,
Then down to the ground as dead fell he.

44 ‘Arise, arise, O bully Bewick,
Arise, and speak three words to me!
Whether this be thy deadly wound,
Or God and good surgeons will mend thee.’

45 ‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,
And pray do get thee far from me!
Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart,
And so no further can I gae.

46 ‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,
And get thee far from me with speed!
And get thee out of this country quite!
That none may know who’s done the deed.’

47 ‘O if this be true, my bully dear,
The words that thou dost tell to me,
The vow I made, and the vow I’ll keep;
I swear I’ll be the first that die.

48 Then he stuck his sword in a moody-hill,
Where he lap thirty good foot and three;
First he bequeathed his soul to God,
And upon his own sword-point lap he.

49 Now Grahame he was the first that died,
And then came Robin Bewick to see;
‘Arise, arise, O son!’ he said,
‘For I see thou’s won the victory.

50 ‘Arise, arise, O son!’ he said,
‘For I see thou’s won the victory:’
‘[Father, co]uld ye not drunk your wine at home,
[And le]tten me and my brother be?

51 ‘Nay, dig a grave both low and wide,
And in it us two pray bury;
But bury my bully Grahame on the sun-side,
For I’m sure he’s won the victory.’

52 Now we’ll leave talking of these two brethren,
In Carlisle town where they lie slain,
And talk of these two good old men,
Where they were making a pitiful moan.

53 With that bespoke now Robin Bewick:
‘O man, was I not much to blame?
I have lost one of the liveliest lads
That ever was bred unto my name.’

54 With that bespoke my good lord Grahame:
‘O man, I have lost the better block;
I have lost my comfort and my joy,
I have lost my key, I have lost my lock.

55 ‘Had I gone through all Ladderdale,
And forty horse had set on me,
Had Christy Grahame been at my back,
So well as he woud guarded me.’

56 I have no more of my song to sing,
But two or three words to you I’ll name;
But ’twill be talk’d in Carlisle town
That these two [old] men were all the blame.

212. The Duke of Athole's Nurse

Version A

212 * * *
‘WHERE shall I gang, my ain true love?
Where shall I gang to hide me?
For weel ye ken i yere father’s bowr
It wad be death to find me.’

2 ‘O go you to yon tavern-house,
An there count owre your lawin,
An, if I be a woman true,
I’ll meet you in the dawin.’

3 O he’s gone to yon tavern-house,
An ay he counted his lawin,
An ay he drank to her guid health
Was to meet him in the dawin.

4 O he’s gone to yon tavern-house,
An counted owre his lawin,
When in there cam three armed men,
To meet him in the dawin.

5 ‘O woe be unto woman’s wit!
It has beguiled many;
She promised to come hersel,
But she sent three men to slay me.’

Version B

1 ‘YE are the Duke of Athol’s nurse,
And I’m the new-come darling;
I’ll gie you my gay gold rings
To get ae word of my leman.’

2 ‘I am the Duke Athol’s nurse,
And ye’re the new-come darling;
Keep well your gay gold rings,
Ye sall get twa words o your leman.’

3 He leand oure his saddle-bow,
It was not for to kiss her:
‘Anither woman has my heart,
And I but come here to see ye.’

4 ‘If anither woman has your heart,
O dear, but I am sorry!
Ye hie you down to yon ale house,
And stay untill ’t be dawing,
And if I be a woman true
I’ll meet you in the dawing.’

5 He did him down to yon ale-house,
And drank untill ’t was dawing;
He drank the bonnie lassie’s health
That was to clear his lawing.

6 He lookit out of a shot-window,
To see if she was coming,
And there he seed her seven brithers,
So fast as they were running!

7 He went up and down the house,
Says, ‘Landlady, can you save me?
For yonder comes her seven brithers,
And they are coming to slay me.’

8 So quick she minded her on a wile
How she might protect him!
She dressd him in a suit of woman’s attire
And set him to her baking.

9 ‘Had you a quarterer here last night,
Or staid he to the dawing?
Shew us the room the squire lay in,
We are come to clear his lawing.’

10 ‘I had a quarterer here last night,
But he staid not to the dawing;
He called for a pint, and paid as he went,
You have nothing to do with his lawing.’

11 They searchd the house baith up and down,
The curtains they spaird not to rive em,
And twenty times they passd
The squire at his baking.

Version C

1 AS I went down by the Duke of Athole’s gates,
Where the bells of the court were ringing,
And there I heard a fair maid say,
O if I had but ae sight o my Johnie!

2 ‘O here is your Johnie just by your side;
What have ye to say to your Johnie?
O here is my hand, but anither has my heart,
So ye’ll never get more o your Johnie.’

3 ‘O ye may go down to yon ale-house,
And there do sit till the dawing;
And call for the wine that is very, very fine,
And I’ll come and clear up your lawing.’

4 So he’s gane down to yon ale-house,
And he has sat till the dawing;
And he’s calld for the wine that’s very, very fine,
But she neer cam to clear up his lawing.

5 Lang or the dawing he oure the window looks,
To see if his true-love was coming,
And there he spied twelve weel armd boys,
Coming over the plainstanes running.

6 ‘O landlady, landlady, what shall I do?
For my life it’s not worth a farthing!’
‘O young man,’ said she, ’Tak counsel by me,
And I will be your undertaking.

7 ‘I will clothe you in my own body-clothes
And I’ll send you like a girl to the baking:’
And loudly, loudly they rapped at the door,
And loudly, loudly they rapp d.

8 ‘O had you any strangers here late last night?
Or were they lang gane or the dawing?
O had you any strangers here late last night?
We are now come to clear up his lawing.’

9 ‘O I had a stranger here late last night,
But he was lang gane or the dawing;
He called for a pint, and he paid it as he went,
And ye’ve no more to do with his lawing.’

10 ‘O show me the room that your stranger lay in,
If he was lang gane or the dawing:’
She showed them the room that her stranger lay in,
But he was lang gane or the dawing.

11 O they stabbed the feather-bed all round and round,
And the curtains they neer stood to tear them;
And they gade as they cam, and left a’ things undone,
And left the young squire by his baking.

Version D

1 AS I cam in by the Duke of Athole’s gate,
I heard a fair maid singing,
Wi a bonny baby on her knee,
And the bells o the court were ringing.

2 ‘O it’s I am the Duke of Athole’s nurse,
And the place does well become me;
But I would gie a’ my half-year’s fee
Just for a sight o my Johnie.

3 ‘If ye’ll gae down to yon ale-house,
And stop till it be dawing,
And ca for a pint o the very, very best,
And I’ll come and clear up your lawing.’

4 O he’s gane down to yon ale-house,
And stopt till it was dawing;
He ca’d for a pint o the very, very best,
But she cam na to clear up his lawing.

5 He looked out at the chamber-window,
To see if she was coming;
And there he spied ten armed men,
Across the plain coming running.

6 ‘O landlady, landlady, what shall I do?
For my life is not worth a farthing;
I paid you a guinea for my lodging last night,
But I fear I’ll never see sun shining.’

7 ‘If ye will be advised by me,
I’ll be your undertaking;
I’ll dress you up in my ain body-clothes
And set you to the baking.’

8 So loudly at the door they rapt,
So loudly are they calling,
‘O had you a stranger here last night,
Or is he within your dwelling?’

9 ‘O I had a stranger here last night,
But he wos gane or dawing;
He ca’d for a pint, and he paid it or he went,
And I hae nae mair to do wi his lawing.’

10 They stabd the feather-beds round and round,
The curtains they spared na to tear them;
But they went as they came, and left a’ things undone,
And the young man busy baking.

Version E

1 ‘I AM the Duke o Athole’s nurse,
My part does well become me,
And I wad gie aw my half-year’s fee
For ae sicht o my Johnie.’

2 ‘Keep weill, keep weill your half-year’s fee,
For ye’ll soon get a sicht o your Johnie;
But anither woman has my heart,
And I’m sorry for to leave ye.’

3 RR’rrye’ll dow ye doun to yon changehouse,
And ye’ll drink till the day be dawin;
At ilka pint’s end ye’ll drink my health out,
And I’ll come and pay for the lawin.’

4 Ay he ranted and he sang,
And drank till the day was dawin,
And ay he drank the bonnie lassy’s health
That was coming to pay the lawin.

5 He spared na the sack, tho it was dear,
The wine nor the sugar-candy,
. . . .
. . . .

6 He’s dune him to the shot-window,
To see an she was coming,
And there he spied twelve armed men,
That oure the plain cam rinning.

7 He’s dune him doun to the landlady,
To see gin she wad protect him;
She’s buskit him up into women’s claiths
And set him till a baking.

8 Sae loudly as they rappit at the yett,
Sae loudly as they callit,
‘Had ye onie strangers here last nicht,
That drank till the day was dawin?’

Version F

1 AS I gaed in yon greenwood-side,
I heard a fair maid singing;
Her voice was sweet, she sang sae complete
That all the woods were ringing.

2 ‘O I’m the duke o Athole’s nurse,
My post is well becoming;
But I woud gie a’ my half-year’s fee
For ae sight o my leman.’

3 ‘Ye say, ye’re the Duke o Athole’s nurse,
Your post is well becoming;
Keep well, keep well your half-year’s fee,
Ye’se hae twa sights o your leman.’

4 He leand him ower his saddle-bow
And cannilie kissd his dearie:
‘Ohon and alake! anither has my heart,
And I darena mair come near thee.’

5 ‘Ohon and alake! if anither hae your heart,
These words hae fairly undone me;
But let us set a time, tryst to meet again,
Then in gude friends you will twine me.

6 ‘Ye will do you down to yon tavern-house
And drink till the day be dawing,
And, as sure as I ance had a love for you,
I’ll come there and clear your lawing.

7 ‘Ye’ll spare not the wine, altho it be fine,
Nae Malago, tho it be rarely,
But ye’ll aye drink the bonnie lassie’s health
That’s to clear your lawing fairly.’

8 Then he’s done him down to yon tavern-house
And drank till day was dawing,
And aye he drank the bonnie lassie’s health
That was coming to clear his lawing.

9 And aye as he birled, and aye as he drank,
The gude beer and the brandy,
He spar’d not the wine, altho it was fine,
The sack nor the sugar candy.

10 ‘It’s a wonder to me,’ the knight he did say,
‘My bonnie lassie’s sae delaying;
She promised, as sure as she loved me ance,
She woud be here by the dawing.’

11 He’s done him to a shott-window,
A little before the dawing,
And there he spied her nine brothers bauld,
Were coming to betray him.

12 ‘Where shall I rin? where shall I gang?
Or where shall I gang hide me?
She that was to meet me in friendship this day
Has sent nine men to slay me!’

13 He’s gane to the landlady o the house,
Says, ‘O can you supply me?
For she that was to meet me in friendship this day
Has sent nine men to slay me.’

14 She gae him a suit o her ain female claise
And set him to the baking;
The bird never sang mair sweet on the bush
Nor the knight sung at the baking.

15 As they came in at the ha-door,
Sae loudly as they rappit!
And when they came upon the floor,
Sae loudly as they chappit!

16 ‘O had ye a stranger here last night,
Who drank till the day was dawing?
Come show us the chamber where he lyes in,
We’ll shortly clear his lawing.’

17 ‘I had nae stranger here last night
That drank till the day was dawing;
But ane that took a pint, and paid it ere he went,
And there’s naething to clear o his lawing.’

18 A lad among the rest, being o a merry mood,
To the young knight fell a-talking;
The wife took her foot and gae him a kick,
Says, Be busy, ye jilt, at your baking.

19 They stabbed the house baith but and ben,
The curtains they spared nae riving,
And for a’ that they search and ca,
For a kiss o the knight they were striving.

213. Sir James the Rose

1 O HEARD ye of Sir James the Rose,
The young heir of Buleighen?
For he has killd a gallant squire,
An ’s friends are out to take him.

2 Now he’s gone to the house of Marr,
Where the nourrice was his leman;
To see his dear he did repair,
Thinking she would befriend him.

3 ‘Where are you going, Sir James?’ she says,
‘Or where now are you riding?’
‘O I am bound to a foreign land,
For now I’m under hiding.

4 ‘Where shall I go? Where shall I run?
Where shall I go to hide me?
For I have killd a gallant squire,
And they’re seeking to slay me.’

5 ‘O go ye down to yon ale-house,
And I’ll pay there your lawing;
And, if I be a woman true,
I’ll meet you in the dawing.’

6 ‘I’ll not go down to yon ale-house,
For you to pay my lawing;
There’s forty shillings for one supper,
I’ll stay in ’t till the dawing.’

7 He’s turnd him right and round about
And rowd him in his brechan,
And he has gone to take a sleep,
In the lowlands of Buleighen.

8 He was not well gone out of sight,
Nor was he past Milstrethen,
Till four and twenty belted knights
Came riding oer the Leathen.

9 ‘O have you seen Sir James the Rose,
The young heir of Buleighen?
For he has killd a gallant squire,
And we’re sent out to take him.’

10 ‘O I have seen Sir James,’ she says,
‘For he past here on Monday;
If the steed be swift that he rides on,
He’s past the gates of London.’

11 But as they were going away,
Then she calld out behind them;
‘If you do seek Sir James,’ she says,
‘I’ll tell you where you’ll find him.

12 ‘You’ll seek the bank above the mill,
In the lowlands of Buleighen,
And there you’ll find Sir James the Rose,
Lying sleeping in his brechan.

13 ‘You must not wake him out of sleep,
Nor yet must you affright him,
Till you run a dart quite thro his heart,
And thro the body pierce him.’

14 They sought the bank above the mill,
In the lowlands of Buleighan,
And there they found Sir James the Rose,
A sleeping in his brechan.

15 Then out bespoke Sir John the Gra+eme,
Who had the charge a keeping;
‘It’s neer be said, dear gentlemen,
We’ll kill him when he’s sleeping.’

16 They seizd his broadsword and his targe,
And closely him surrounded;
But when he wak’d out of his sleep,
His senses were confounded.

17 ‘O pardon, pardon, gentlemen!
Have mercy now upon me!’
‘Such as you gave, such you shall have,
And so we’ll fall upon thee.’

18 ‘Donald my man, wait me upon,
And I’ll give you my brechan,
And, if you stay here till I die,
You’ll get my trews of tartan.

19 ‘There is fifty pounds in my pocket,
Besides my trews and brechan;
You’ll get my watch and diamond ring;
And take me to Loch Largon.’

20 Now they have taken out his heart
And stuck it on a spear,
Then took it to the House of Marr,
And gave it to his dear.

21 But when she saw his bleeding heart
She was like one distracted;
She smote her breaxt, and wrung her hands,
Crying, ‘What now have I acted!

22 ‘Sir James the Rose, now for thy sake
O but my heart’s a breaking!
Curst be the day I did thee betray,
Thou brave knight of Buleighen.’

23 Then up she rose, and forth she goes,
All in that fatal hour,
And bodily was born away,
And never was seen more.

24 But where she went was never kend,
And so, to end the matter,
A traitor’s end, you may depend,
Can be expect’d no better.

214. The Braes o Yarrow

Version A

1 ‘I dreamed a dreary dream this night,
That fills my heart wi sorrow;
I dreamed I was pouing the heather green
Upon the braes of Yarrow.

2 ‘O true-love mine, stay still and dine,
As ye ha done before, O;’
‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine,
And frae the braes of Yarrow.’

3 I dreamed a dreary dream this night,
That fills my heart wi sorrow;
I dreamed my luve came headless hame,
O frae the braes of Yarrow!

4 ‘O true-luve mine, stay still and dine,
As ye ha done before, O;’
‘O I’ll be hame by hours nine,
And frae the braes of Yarrow.’

5 ‘O are ye going to hawke,’ she says,
‘As ye ha done before, O?
Or are ye going to weild your brand,
Upon the braes of Yarrow?’

6 ‘O I am not going to hawke,’ he says,
‘As I have done before, O,
But for to meet your brother Jhon,
Upon the braes of Yarrow,

7 As he gade down yon dowy den,
Sorrow went him before, O;
Nine well-wight men lay waiting him,
Upon the braes of Yarrow.

8 ‘I have your sister to my wife,
‘Ye’ think me an unmeet marrow;
But yet one foot will I never flee
Now frae the braes of Yarrow.’

9 ‘Than’ four he killd and five did wound,
That was an unmeet marrow!
‘And he had weel nigh wan the day
Upon the braes of Yarrow.’

10 ‘Bot’ a cowardly ’loon’ came him behind,
Our Lady lend him sorrow!
And wi a rappier pierced his heart,
And laid him low on Yarrow.

11 ‘Now Douglas’ to his sister’s gane,
Wi meikle dule and sorrow:
‘Gae to your luve, sister,’ he says,
‘He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’

12 As she went down yon dowy den,
Sorrow went her before, O;
She saw her true-love lying slain
Upon the braes of Yarrow.

13 ‘She swoond thrice upon his breist
That was her dearest marrow;
Said, Ever alace and wae the day
Thou wentst frae me to Yarrow!’

14 She kist his mouth, she kaimed his hair,
As she had done before, O ;
She ’wiped’ the blood that trickled doun
Upon the braes of Yarrow.

15 Her hair it was three quarters lang,
It hang baith side and yellow;
She tied it round ’Her’ white hause-bane,
‘And tint her life on Yarrow.’

Version B

1 THREE lords sat drinking at the wine
I the bonny braes o Yarrow,
An there cam a dispute them between,
Who was the Flower o Yarrow.

2 ‘I’m wedded to your sister dear,
Ye coont nae me your marrow;
I stole her fae her father’s back,
An made her the Flower o Yarrow.’

3 ‘Will ye try hearts, or will ye try hans,
I the bonnie braes o Yarrow?
Or will ye try the weel airmt sword,
I the bonnie braes o Yarrow?’

4 ‘I winna try hearts, I winna try hans,
I the bonnie braes o Yarrow,
But I will try the weel airmt sword,
I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

5 ‘Ye’ll stay at home, my own good lord,
Ye’ll stay at home tomorrow;
My brethren three they will slay thee,
I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

6 ‘Bonnie, bonnie shines the sun,
An early sings the sparrow;
Before the clock it will strinke nine
An I’ll be home tomorrow.’

7 She’s kissed his mouth, an combed his hair,
As she had done before, O;
She’s dressed him in his noble bow,
An he’s awa to Yarrow.

8 As he gaed up yon high, high hill,
An doon the dens o Yarrow,
An there he spied ten weel airmt men
I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.

9 It’s five he wounded, an five he slew,
I the bonnie braes o Yarrow;
There cam a squire out o the bush,
An pierced his body thorough.

10 ‘I dreamed a dream now sin the streen,
God keep us a’ fae sorrow!
That my good lord was sleepin soun
I the bonnie braes o Yarrow.’

11 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
An tak it not in sorrow;
I’ll wed you wi as good a lord
As you’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’

12 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,
An wed your sons wi sorrow;
For a fairer flower neer sprang in May nor June
Nor I’ve lost this day in Yarrow.’

13 Fast did she gang, fast did she rin,
Until she cam to Yarrow,
An there she fan her own good lord,
He was sleepin soun in Yarrow.

14 She’s taen three lachters o her hair,
That hung doon her side sae bonny,
An she’s tied roon his middle tight,
An she’s carried him hame frae Yarrow.

15 This lady being big wi child,
She was fu a grief an sorrow;
Her heart did break, and then she died,
She did not live till morrow.

Version C

1 THERE were three lords birling at the wine
On the dowie downs o Yarrow;
They made a compact them between
They would go fight tomorrow.

2 ‘Thou took our sister to be thy bride,
And thou neer thocht her thy marrow;
Thou stealed her frae her daddie’s back,
When she was the rose o Yarrow.’

3 ‘Yes, I took thy sister to be my bride,
And I made her my marrow;
I stealed her frae her daddie’s back,
And she’s still the rose o Yarrow.’

4 He is hame to his lady gane,
As he had done before! O;
Says, Madam. I must go and fight
On the dowie downs o Yarrow.

5 ‘Stay at hame, my lord,’ she said,
‘For that will cause much sorrow;
For my brethren three they will slay thee,
On the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

6 ‘Hold your tongue, my lady fair,
For what needs a’ this sorrow?
For I’ll be hame gin the clock strikes nine,
From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

7 She wush his face, she kamed his hair,
As she had dune before, O;
She dressed him up in his armour clear,
Sent him furth to fight on Yarrow.

8 ‘Come you here to hawk or hound,
Or drink the wine that’s so clear, O?
Or come you here to eat in your words,
That you’re not the rose o Yarrow?’

9 ‘I came not here to hawk or hound,
Nor to drink the wine that’s so clear, O;
Nor I came not here to eat in my words,
For I’m still the rose o Yarrow.’

10 Then they a’ begoud to fight,
I wad they focht richt sore, O,
Till a cowardly man came behind his back,
And pierced his body thorough.

11 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, it’s my man John,
As ye have done before, O,
And tell it to my gay lady
That I soundly sleep on Yarrow.’

12 His man John he has gane hame,
As he had dune before, O,
And told it to his gay lady,
That he soundly slept on Yarrow.

13 ‘I dreamd a dream now since the streen,
God keep us a’ frae sorrow!
That my lord and I was pu’ing the heather green
From the dowie downs o Yarrow.’

14 Sometimes she rade, sometimes she gaed,
As she had dune before, O,
And aye between she fell in a soune,
Lang or she cam to Yarrow.

15 Her hair it was five quarters lang,
’Twas like the gold for yellow;
She twisted it round his milk-white hand,
And she’s drawn him hame from Yarrow.

16 Out and spak her father dear,
Says, What needs a’ this sorrow?
For I’ll get you a far better lord
Than ever died on Yarrow.

17 ‘O hold your tongue, father,’ she said,
‘For ye’ve bred a’ my sorrow;
For that rose’ll neer spring sae sweet in May
As that rose I lost on Yarrow.’

Version D

1 THERE were three lords drinking of wine
On the bonny braes of Yarrow;
There fell a combat them between,
Wha was the rose of Yarrow.

2 Up then spak a noble lord,
And I wot it was bot sorrow:
‘I have as fair a flower,’ he said,
‘As ever sprang on Yarrow.’

3 Then he went hame to his ain house,
For to sleep or the morrow,
But the first sound the trumpet gae
Was, Mount and haste to Yarrow.

4 ‘Oh stay at hame,’ his lady said,
‘Oh stay untill the morrow,
And I will mount upon a steed,
And ride with you to Yarrow.’

5 ‘Oh hawd your tongue, my dear,’ said he,
‘And talk not of the morrow;
This day I have to fight again,
In the dowy deans of Yarrow.’

6 As he went up yon high, high hill,
Down the dowy deans of Yarrow,
There he spy’d ten weel armd men,
There was nane o them his marrow.

7 Five he wounded and five he slew,
In the dowy deans of Yarrow,
But an English-man out of a bush
Shot at him a lang sharp arrow.

8 ‘Ye may gang hame, my brethren three,
Ye may gang hame with sorrow,
And say this to my fair lady,
I am sleeping sound on Yarrow.’

9 ‘Sister, sister, I dreamt a dream-+--+-
You read a dream to gude, O!
That I was puing the heather green
On the bonny braes of Yarrow.’

10 ‘Sister, sister, I’ll read your dream,
But alas! it’s unto sorrow;
Your good lord is sleeping sound,
He is lying dead on Yarrow.’

11 She as pu’d the ribbons of her head,
And I wot it was wi sorrow,
And she’s gane up yon high, high hill,
Down the dowy deans of Yarrow.

12 Her hair it was five quarters lang,
The colour of it was yellow;
She as ty’d it round his middle jimp,
And she as carried him frae Yarrow.

13 ‘O hawd your tongue!’ her father says,
‘What needs a’ this grief and sorrow?
I’ll wed you on as fair a flower
As ever sprang on Yarrow.’

14 ‘No, hawd your tongue, my father dear,
I’m fow of grief and sorrow;
For a fairer flower ne[v]er sprang
Than I’ve lost this day on Yarrow.’

15 This lady being big wi bairn,
And fow of grief and sorrow,
She as died within her father’s arms,
And she died lang or the morrow.

Version E

1 LATE at een, drinkin the wine,
Or early in a mornin,
The set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawnin.

2 ‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!
O stay at hame, my marrow!
My cruel brother will you betray,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’

3 ‘O fare ye weel, my lady gaye!
O fare ye weel, my Sarah!
For I maun gae, tho I neer return
Frae the dowy banks o Yarrow.’

4 She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,
As she had done before, O;
She belted on his noble brand,
An he’s awa to Yarrow.

5 O he’s gane up yon high, high hill-+--+-
I wat he gaed wi sorrow-+--+-
An in a den spied nine armd men,
I the dowy houms o Yarrow.

6 ‘O ir ye come to drink the wine,
As ye hae doon before, O?
Or ir ye come to wield the brand,
On the bonny banks o Yarrow?’

7 ‘I im no come to drink the wine,
As I hae don before, O,
But I im come to wield the brand,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow.’

8 Four he hurt, an five he slew,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow,
Till that stubborn knight came him behind,
An ran his body thorrow.

9 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John,
An tell your sister Sarah
To come an lift her noble lord,
Who’s sleepin sound on Yarrow.’

10 ‘Yestreen I dreamd a dolefu dream;
I kend there wad be sorrow;
I dreamd I pu’d the heather green,
On the dowy banks o Yarrow.’

11 She gaed up yon high, high hill-+--+-
I wat she gaed wi sorrow-+--+-
An in a den spy’d nine dead men,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow.

12 She kissd his cheek, she kaimd his hair,
As oft she did before, O;
She drank the red blood frae him ran,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow.

13 ‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,
For what needs a’ this sorrow?
I’ll wed you on a better lord
Than him you lost on Yarrow.’

14 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,
An dinna grieve your Sarah;
A better lord was never born
Than him I lost on Yarrow.

15 ‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,
For they hae bred our sorrow;
I wiss that they had a’ gane mad
Whan they cam first to Yarrow.’

Version F

1 LATE in the eenin, drinkin the wine,
Or early in the mornin,
The set a combat them between,
To fight it out i the dawnin.

2 She’s kissd his lips, an she’s caimd his hair,
As shee did ay afore, O,
She’s belted him in his noble brown,
Afore he gaed to Yarrow.

3 Then he’s away oer yon high hill-+--+-
A wait he’s gane wi sorrow-+--+-
An in a den he spied nine armd men,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

4 ‘If I see ye a’, ye’r nine for ane,
But ane’s [un]equal marrow;
Yet as lang ’s I’m able wield my brand,
I’ll fight an bear ye marrow.

5 ‘There are twa swords into my sheath,
The’re ane an equal marrow;
Now wale the best, I’ll take the warst,
An, man for man, I’ll try ye.’

6 He has slain a’ the nine men,
A ane an equal marrow,
But up there startit a stuborn lord,
That gard him sleep on Yarrow.

7 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my sister Anne,
An tell yer sister Sarah
That she may gang and seek her lord,
He’s lyin sleepin on Yarrow.’

8 ‘I dreamd a dream now sin yestreen,
I thought it wad be sorrow;
I thought I was pouin the hether green
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.’

9 Then she’s away oer yon high hill-+--+-
I wat she’s gane wi sorrow-+--+-
And in a den she’s spy’d ten slain men,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

10 ‘My love was a’ clad oer last night
Wi the finest o the tartan,
But now he’s a’ clad oer wi red,
An he’s red bluid to the garten.’

11 She’s kissd his lips, she’s caimd his hair,
As she had done before, O;
She drank the red bluid that frae him ran,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

12 ‘Tak hame your ousen, father, and yer kye,
For they’ve bred muckle sorrow;
I wiss that they had a’ gaen mad
Afore they came to Yarrow.’

13 ‘O haud yer tongue, my daughter dear,
For this breeds ay but sorrow;
I’ll wed you to a better lord
Than him you lost on Yarrow.’

14 ‘O haud yer tongue, my father dear,
For ye but breed mair sorrow;
A better rose will never spring
Than him I’ve lost on Yarrow.’

15 This lady being big wi child,
An fu o lamentation,
She died within her father’s arms,
Amang this stuborn nation.

Version G

214 * * *
SHE kissd his mouth and she combd his hair,
As she had done before, O,
She belted him in his noble broun,
Before he went to Yarrow.

2 O he’s gone up yon high, [high] hill-+--+-
I wat it was with sorrow-+--+-
In a den he spied nine weal armd men,
On the bonny banks of Yarrow.

3 ‘I see that you are nine for one,
Which are of an unequal marrow;
As lang ’s I’m able to wield my bran,
I’ll fight and be your marrow.’

4 O he has killed them a’ but one,
Which bred to him great sorrow;
For up and rose that stubborn lord,
Made him sleep sound in Yarrow.

5 ‘Rise up, rise up, my daughter Ann,
Go tell your sister Sarah
She may rise up go lift her lord;
He’s sleeping sound in Yarrow.’

6 She’s gone up yon high, high hill-+--+-
I wat it was with sorrow-+--+-
And in a den she spied nine slain men,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

7 O she kissed his mouth, and she combd his hair,
As she had done before, O;
She drank the bleed that from him ran,
On the dowie banks o Yarrow.

8 ‘Take hame your oxen, tak hame your kye,
They’ve bred to me great sorrow;
I wish they had all now gone mad
First when they came to Yarrow.’

9 ‘O hold your tongue now, daughter dear,
These words to me ’s great sorrow;
I’ll wed you on a better lord
Than you have lost on Yarrow.’

10 ‘O hold your tongue now, father dear,
These words to me ’s great sorrow;
A brighter O shall there never spread
Than I have lost in Yarrow.’

11 This lady being big with child,
And full of lamentation,
She died unto her father’s arms,
Among the stubborn nation.

Version H

1 ’TWAS late at evening drinking wine,
And early in the morning,
He set a combat them among,
And he fought it in the morning.

2 ‘I have two swords by my side,
They cost me both gold and money;
Take ye the best, I’ll take the worst,
Come man for man, I’ll try ye.’

3 He has foughten them all round,
His equal man and marrow,
While up bespake the stubborn lord,
‘He’s made them sleep in Yarrow.’

4 He says, Go home, my daughter Ann,
And tell your sister Sarah
To come and lift her stubborn lord;
The lad’s made him sleep in Yarrow.

5 As she gaed up yon high, high hill,
I wot she gaed right sorrow,
And in a den spied nine well armd men,
In the dowie dens of Yarrow.

6 ‘My love was dressd in the finest robes,
And of the finest tartan,
And now he’s a’ clad oer wi red,
He’s bloody to the gartan!’

7 ‘O hold yer tongue, daughter!’ he says,
‘That would breed but sorrow;
Ye shall be wed to a finer lord
Than the one you’ve lost in Yarrow.’

8 ‘Hold your tongue, father!’ she says,
‘For that will breed but sorrow;
A finer lord can neer be born
Than the one I’ve lost in Yarrow.

9 ‘Take hame yer ox, and take hame yer kye,
You’ve bred me muckle sorrow;
I wish they’d a’ gane mad that day,
That day they came to Yarrow.’

10 This woman being big wi child,
And full of lamentation,
She died into her father’s arms,
Among that stubborn nation.

Version I

1 TEN lords sat drinking at the wine
Intill a morning early;
There fell a combat them among,
It must be fought, nae parley.

2 ‘O stay at hame, my ain gude lord!
O stay, my ain dear marrow!’
‘Sweetest min, I will be thine,
An dine wi you tomorrow.’

3 She kissd his lips, an combed his hair,
As she had done before O,
Gied him a brand down by his side,
An he is on to Yarrow.

4 As he gaed oer yon dowey knowe,
As he had dane before O,
Nine armed men lay in a den,
Upo the braes o Yarrow.

5 ‘O came ye here to hunt or hawk,
As ye had dane before O?
Or came ye here to wiel your brand,
Upo the braes o Yarrow?’

6 ‘I came nae here to hunt nor hawk,
As I hae done before O;
But I came here to wiel my brand,
Upo the braes o Yarrow?’

7 Four he hurt, an five he slew,
Till down it fell himsell O;
There stood a fause lord him behin,
Who thrust his body thorrow.

8 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John,
An tell your sister sorrow;
Your mither woud come take up her son,
Aff o the braes o Yarrow.’

9 As he gaed oer yon high, high hill,
As he had dane before O,
There he met his sister dear,
Came rinnin fast to Yarrow.

10 ‘I dreamd a dream last night,’ she says,
‘I wish it binna sorrow;
I dreamd I was puing the heather green
Upo the braes o Yarrow.’

11 ‘I’ll read your dream, sister,’ he says,
‘I’ll read it into sorrow;
Ye’re bidden gae take up your luve,
He’s sleeping sound on Yarrow.’

12 She’s torn the ribbons frae her head-+--+-
They were baith thick an narrow-+--+-
She’s kilted up her green claithing,
An she’s awa to Yarrow.

13 She’s taen him in her arms twa,
An gaen him kisses thorough,
An wi her tears she bath’d his wounds,
Upo the braes o Yarrow.

14 Her father, looking oer the castle-wa,
Beheld his daughter’s sorrow;
‘O had your tongue, daughter,’ he says,
‘An lat be a’ your sorrow!
I’ll wed you wi a better lord
Than he that died on Yarrow.’

15 ‘O had your tongue, father,’ she says,
‘An lat be till tomorrow!
A better lord there coudna be
Than he that died on Yarrow.’

16 She kissd his lips, an combd his hair,
As she had done before O,
An wi a crack her head did brack,
Upo the braes o Yarrow.

Version J

1 IN Thoro town there lives a maid,
I am sure she has no marrow;
For she has forsaken both lords and knights,
And loved a servant-lad in Galla.

2 Evening and morning her page he ran,
Her page he ran wi sorrow,
With letters bound, just frae the town,
To the servant-lad in Galla.

3 Her father he got word of that,
And he’s bred all her sorrow;
He sent him forth to fight wi nine,
In the dowie glens of Yarrow.

4 She washd his face, she combd his hair,
She thought he had no marrow;
Wi a thrusty rapier by his side,
She sent him forth to Yarrow.

5 She’s taen fareweel of him that day,
As she had done before, O,
And she’s comd back to her bonny bower,
But her love’s away to Yarrow.

6 He wanderd up, he wandred down,
His heart was full of sorrow;
There he spied nine gentlemen,
Watering their steeds in Yarrow.

7 ‘O come away, young man,’ they said,
‘I’m sure ye’r no our marrow;
Ye’r welcome here, young man,’ they said,
‘For the bonny lass o Thorro.’

8 ‘Nine against one, weel do ye ken,
That’s no an equal marrow;
Yet for my love’s sake I’ll venture my life,
In the dowie glens of Yarrow.’

9 Five was wounded, and four was slain,
Amongst them a’ he had no marrow;
He’s mounted on his horse again,
Cries, I have won the bonny lass of Thorro!

10 Up then spake her father dear-+--+-
And he’s bred all her sorrow-+--+-
And wi a broad sword ran him through,
In the dowie glens of Yarrow.

11 ‘I have dreamd a dream, father,
I doubt I have dreamd for sorrow;
I dreamd I was pouing the heather green
Wi my true love in Yarrow.’

12 ‘O I will read your dream, daughter,
Although it be for your sorrow;
Go, and ye’ll find your love lying sound,
In a heather-bush in Yarrow.’

13 She’s calld on her maidens then-+--+-
Her heart was full of sorrow-+--+-
And she’s away wi her maidens twa,
To the dowie glens o Yarrow.

14 She wandered up, she wandred down,
In the dowie glens of Yarrow,
And there she spied her lobe lying sound,
In a heather-bush in Yarrow.

15 She’s washd hin in the clear well-strand,
She’s dry’d him wi the holland,
And aye she sighd, and said, Alass!
For my love I had him chosen.

16 His hair it was three quarters long,
Three quarters long and yellow;
And she’s rapt it round her middle small,
And brought it home to Thorro.

17 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And talk no more of sorrow;
I’ll soon wed you on a better match
Than your servant-lad in Galla.’

18 ‘O you may wed a’ your seven sons,
I wish you may wed them in sorrow:
O you may wed a’ your seven sons,
For you’ll neer wed the bonny lass of Thoro.’

19 This lady being big wi child,
And her heart was full wi sorrow,
She died between her father’s arms,
In the bonny house of Thorro.

Version K

1 THERE lived a lady in the south,
She thought she had not her marrow;
And she was courted by nine gentlemen,
In the dowie dens in Yarrow.

2 All their offers they proved in vain,
She thought that they were not her marrow;
She has forsaken a’ the nine,
Loved a servant-lad on Galla.

3 RR rrup bespoke her father dear,
Who bred them a’ this sorrow;
You must go far, far to fight the nine,
In the dowie den in Yarrow,’

4 She washd his face, she combd his hair,
Her heart being full of sorrow,
With a rusted rapier down by his side,
To fight his foes in Yarrow.

5 He’s ridden east, he’s ridden west,
He’s ridden into Yarrow,
And there he espied all the nine,
Watering their steeds in Yarrow.

6 ‘Ye’r welcome, welcome, young man,’ they said,
‘But I think ye are not our marrow;’
‘But I’ll fight ye all out, one by one,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’

7 Four he has wounded, five he has slain,
He left then a’ sound in Yarrow;
He turned him round with rejoyfull looks,
Says, I wone the lady of Thoro.

8 Up then spoke her father dear,
Who bred them a’ this sorrow;
He’s taen out a broadsword and run him through,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

9 ‘I dreamed a dream last night,’ she says,
‘I fear it is for sorrow;
I dreand I was pulling the heather green
With my true love in Yarrow.’

10 ‘I’ll read your dream now, daughter dear,
I fear it is for sorrow;
You will find your true-love lying sound,
In a heather bush in Yarrow.’

11 She’s ridden east, she’s ridden west,
She’s ridden into Yarrow;
There she found her true lover sound,
In a heather bush in Yarrow.

12 His hair it was five quarters lang,
It was baith lang and yellow;
She’s tied it to her horse’s mane,
She’s trailed him home from Yarrow.

13 ‘O woe be to you, father dear!
You’ve bred me all this sorrow;’
So she died between her father’s arms,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

Version L

1 AT Dryhope lived a lady fair,
The fairest flower in Yarrow,
And she refused nine noble men
For a servan lad in Gala.

2 Her father said that he should fight
The nine lords all to-morrow,
And he that should the victor be
Would get the Rose of Yarrow.

3 Quoth he, You’re nine, an I’m but ane,
And in that there’s no much marrow;
Yet I shall fecht ye, man for man,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

4 She kissed his lips, and combed his hair,
As oft she’d done before, O,
An set him on her milk-white steed,
Which bore him on to Yarrow.

5 When he got oer yon high, high hill,
An down the dens o Yarrow,
There did he see the nine lords all,
But there was not one his marrow.

6 ‘Now here ye’re nine, an I’m but ane,
But yet I am not sorrow;
For here I’ll fecht ye, man for man,
For my true love in Yarrow.’

7 Then he wheeld round, and fought so fierce
Till the seventh fell in Yarrow,
When her brother sprang from a bush behind,
And ran his body thorough.

8 He never spoke more words than these,
An they were words o sorrow;
‘Ye may tell my true love, if ye please,
That I’m sleepin sound in Yarrow.’

9 They’ve taen the young man by the heels
And trailed him like a harrow,
And then they flung the comely youth
In a whirlpool o Yarrow.

10 The lady said, I dreamed yestreen-+--+-
I fear it bodes some sorrow-+--+-
That I was pu’in the heather green
On the scroggy braes o Yarrow.’

11 Her brother said, I’ll read your dream,
But it should cause nae sorrow;
Ye may go seek your lover hame,
For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow.

12 Then she rode oer yon gloomy height,
An her heart was fu o sorrow,
But only saw the clud o night,
Or heard the roar o Yarrow.

13 But she wandered east, so did she wast,
And searched the forest thorough,
Until she spied her ain true love,
Lyin deeply drowned in Yarrow.

14 His hair it was five quarters lang,
Its colour was the yellow;
She twined it round her lily hand,
And drew him out o Yarrow.

15 She kissed his lips, and combed his head,
As oft she’d done before, O;
She laid hin oer her milk-white steed,
An bore him home from Yarrow.

16 She washed his wounds in yon well-strand,
And dried him wi the hollan,
And aye she sighed, and said, Alas!
For my love I had him chosen.

17 ‘Go hold your tongue,’ her father said,
‘There’s little cause for sorrow;
I’ll wed ye on a better lad
Than ye hae lost in Yarrow.’

18 ‘Haud your ain tongue, my faither dear,
I canna help my sorrow;
A fairer flower neer sprang in May
Than I hae lost in Yarrow.

19 ‘I meant to make my bed fu wide,
But you may make it narrow;
For now I’ve nane to be my guide
But a deid man drowned in Yarrow.’

20 An aye she screighed, and cried Alas!
Till her heart did break wi sorrow,
An sank into her faither’s arms,
Mang the dowie dens o Yarrow.

Version M

1 O AY he sat, and ay he drank,
An ay he counted the laying,
An ay he drank to the lass’es health
Was to meet him in the dawning.

2 Up he gaes on yon high, high hill,
An a wat he geas wi sorrow,
An in a den he spy’d nine well armd men,
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.

3 ‘Oh woe be to young women’s wit!
For the’ve bred to me meikle sorrow;
She promisd for to meet me here,
An she’s sent nine men to slay me.

4 ‘But there is two swords in my scabba[rd],
They cost me gold and money;
Tak ye the best, and I’ll tak the wa[rst],
An come man for man, I’ll not fly yo[u].’

5 Ay he stood, an ay he fought,
Till it was near the dawning,
Then up an rose her brother James,
An has slain him in the dawning.

6 ‘O the last night I dreamd a dream,
God keep us a’ frae sorrow!
I dreamd I was powing the heather green
In the dowie banks of Yarrow.’

7 Up she gaes on yon high, high hill,
An a wat she gaes with sorrow,
An in a den she spy’d nine slain men,
In the dowie banks of Yarrow.

8 ‘O the last time I saw my love
He was a’ clad oer in tartan;
But now he’s a’ clad oer in red,
An he’s a’ blood to the gartin.’

9 She kist his mouth, an she’s combd his hair,
As she had done before, O,
She drank the blood that from him ran,
In the dowie banks of Yarrow.

10 ‘O hold your tongue now. daughter,’ he says,
‘An breed to me no more sorrow;
For I’ll wed you on a better match
Than you have lost on Yarrow.’

11 ‘Hold your tongue now, father,’ she says,
‘An breed to me no more sorrow;
For a better rose will never spring
Than I have lost on Yarrow.’

Version N

1 THE cock did craw, and the day did daw,
And the moon shone fair and clearly;
Sir James gade out o his castle-yett,
To meet fair Anne, his dearie.

2 ‘O come down, come down, my true-love Anne,
And speak but ae word to me!
But ae kiss o your bonny mouth
Wad yield much comfort to me.’

3 ‘O how can I come down?’ she says,
‘Or how can I win to thee?
When there is nane that I can trust
Wad safe convey me to thee.

4 ‘But gang doun, gang doun, to yon hostess’ house,
And there take on yere lawing,
And, as I’m a woman kind and true,
I’ll meet you at the dawing.’

5 Then he gade thro the good green-wood,
And oer the moor sae eerie,
And lang he stayd, and sair he sighd,
But he never mair saw his dearie.

6 And ay he sat, and lang he drank,
And ay he counted his lawing,
Till fifteen men did him surround,
To slay him or the dawing.

7 ‘O she promisd ance to meet me this night,
But I find she deceived me;
She promisd ance to meet me this night,
And she’s sent fifteen to slay me!

8 ‘There are twa swords in my scabard,
They cost me gowd and money;
Take ye the best, and gie me the warst,
And man for man I’ll try ye.’

9 Then they fought on, and on they fought,
Till maist o them were fallen,
When her brother John cam him behind,
And slew him at the dawing.

10 Then he’s away to his sister Anne,
To the chamber where’s she’s lying:
‘Come doun, come doun, my sister Anne,
And take up your true-love Jamie!

11 ‘Come doun, come doun now, sister Anne!
For he’s sleeping in yon logie;
Sound, sound he sleeps, nae mair to wake,
And nae mair need ye be vogie.’

12 ‘I dreamd a drearie dream yestreen,
Gin it be true, it will prove my sorrow;
I dreamd my luive had lost his life,
Within the yetts o Gowrie.

13 ‘O wae betide ye, lassies o Gowrie
For ye hae sleepit soundly;
Gin ye had keepit your yetts shut,
Ye might hae sav’d the life o my Jamie.

14 ‘Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise
Were o the finest tartan;
But lang or ere the day did daw
They war a’ red bluid to the garten.

15 ‘Yestreen my luive had a suit o claise
Were o the apple reamin;
But lang or ere the day did daw
The red bluid had them streamin.’

16 In yon fair ha, where the winds did blaw,
When the moon shone fair and clearly,
She’s thrawn her green skirt oer her head,
And ay she cried out mercy.

Version O

1 ‘I DREAMD a dreary dream last night,
God keep us a’ frae sorrow!
I dreamd I pu’d the birk sae green
Wi my true love on Yarrow.’

2 ‘I’ll read your dream, my sister dear,
I’ll tell you a’ your sorrow;
You pu’d the birk wi your true luve,
He’s killd, he’s killd on Yarrow!’

3 ‘O gentle wind, that blaweth south
To where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,
And tell me how he fareth!

4 ‘But oer yon glen run armed men,
Have wrought me dule and sorrow;
They’ve slain, they’ve slain the comliest swain,
He bleeding lies on Yarrow.’

Version P

1 ‘GET up, get up now, sister Ann,
I fear we’ve wrought you sorrow;
Get up, ye’ll find your true love slain,
Among the banks of Yarrow.’

2 ‘I made my love a suit of clothes,
I clad him all in tartan,
But ere the morning sun arose,
He was a’ bluid to the gartan.’

Version Q

1 There lived a lady in the West,
I neer could find her marrow;
She was courted by nine gentlemen,
And a ploughboy-lad in Yarrow.

2 These nine sat drinking at the wine,
Sat drinking wine in Yarrow;
They made a vow among themselves
To fight for her in Yarrow.

3 She washed his face, she kaimed his hair,
As oft she’d done before, O,
She made him like a knight sae bright,
To fight for her in Yarrow.

4 As he walked up yon high, high hill,
And down by the holmes of Yarrow,
There he saw nine arm d men,
Come to fight with him in Yarrow.

5 ‘There’s nine of you, there’s one of me,
It’s an unequal marrow;
But I’ll fight you all one by one,
On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

6 Three he slew, and three they flew,
And three he wounded sorely,
Till her brother John he came in beyond,
And pierced his heart most foully.

7 ‘Go home, go home, thou false young man,
And tell thy sister Sarah
That her true-love John lies dead and gone
On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

8 ‘O father dear, I dreamed a dream,
I’m afraid it will bring sorrow;
I dreamed I was pulling the heather-bell
In the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

9 ‘O daughter dear, I read your dream,
I doubt it will prove sorrow;
For your true-love John lies dead and gone
On the dowie dens of Yarrow.’

10 As she walked up yon high, high hill,
And down by the holmes of Yarrow,
There she saw her true-love John,
Lying pale and dead on Yarrow.

11 Her hair it being three quarters long--
The colour it was yellow-+-
She wrapped it round his middle sma,
And carried him hame to Yarrow.

12 ‘O father dear, you’ve seven sons,
You may wed them a’ tomorrow,
But a fairer flower I never saw
Than the lad I loved in Yarrow.’

13 The fair maid being great with child,
It filled her heart with sorrow;
She died within her lover’s arms,
Between that day and morrow.

Version R

1 There were three lords drinking at the wine
In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow:
‘Shall we go play at cards and dice,
As we have done before, O?
Or shall we go play at the single sword,
In the Leader Haughs of Yarrow?’

2 Three he wounded, and five he slew,
As he had [done] before, O,
But an English lord lap from a bush,
And he proved all the sorrow;
He had a spear three quarters long,
And her thrust his body thorogh.

3 ‘I dreamed . . . .
I wis it prove nae sorrow!
I dreamed I was puing the apples green
In the dowie howms o Yarrow.’

4 ‘O sister, sister, I’ll read your dream,
And I’ll read it in sorrow;
Ye may gae bring hame your ain true-love,
For he’s sleepin sound in Yarrow.’

5 She sought him east, she sought him west,
She sought him all the forest thorogh;
She found him asleep at the middle yett,
In the dowie howms o Yarrow.

6 Her hair it was three quarters lang,
And the colour of it was yellow;
She’s bound it round his middle waist,
And borne him hame from Yarrow.

Version S

1 There lived a lady in the South,
Ye would scarcely find her marrow;
She was courted by nine gentlemen
An a ploughman-lad frae Yarrow.

2 Ae nicht the nine sat drinkin wine
To the lass wha had nae marrow,
When the ploughman swore, tho they were a score
He wad fecht them a’ in Yarrow.

3 It’s he’s gane ower yon high, high hill,
And doon yon glen sae narrow,
An there he saw nine arm d men,
To fecht wi him in Yarrow.

4 ‘There’s nine o you an I’m but ane,
An that’s an unequal marrow,
But wi this gude blade and powerfu arm
I’ll lay you low on Yarrow.’

5 It’s three he slew, and three withdrew,
And three lay dead on Yarrow,
But in behind cam her brother John,
An pierced his body thorough.

6 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, you fause young man,
An tell your sister sorrow,
That her true-love John lies dead and gone
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’

7 ‘O father dear, I’ve dreamed a dream,
I’m feared it will prove sorrow;
I dreamed I was puin the heather-bells sweet
On the bonny braes o Yarrow.’

8 ‘O daughter dear, your dream is read,
I’m feared it will prove sorrow;
Your true-love John lies dead and gone
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’

9 It’s she’s gane ower yon high, high hill,
An doon yon glen sae narrow,
An there she saw her true-love John
Lyin cauld an dead on Yarrow.

10 She washed his face an combed his hair,
Wi muckle grief an sorrow,
pshe rowed him i the plaid she wore,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

11 Her hair it was three quarters lang,
The colour being yellow;
She tied it round his middle sma,
An carried him hame frae Yarrow.

12 ‘O daughter dear, I pray forbear,
I’ll wed you to another marrow;
I’ll wed you to some fitter match
Than the lad that died on Yarrow.’

13 ‘O father dear, you hae seven sons,
Should you wed them a’ to-morrow,
A fairer flower never grew in June
Than the lad that died on Yarrow.’

14 This lady, being six months with child
To the ploughman lad of Yarrow,
She fell into her father’s arms
An died wi grief on Yarrow.

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

Version A

1 ‘WILLYRR’rrS rare, and Willy’s fair,
And Willy’s wondrous bony,
And Willy heght to marry me,
Gin eer he marryd ony.

2 ‘Yestreen I made my bed fu brade,
The night I’ll make it narrow,
For a’ the live-long winter’s night
I lie twin’d of my marrow.

3 ‘O came you by yon water-side?
Pu’d you the rose or lilly?
Or came you by yon meadow green?
Or saw you my sweet Willy?’

4 She sought him east, she sought him west,
She sought him brade and narrow;
Sine, in the clifting of a craig,
She found him drownd in Yarrow.

Version B

1 SHE sought him east, she sought him west,
She sought him braid and narrow,
Till in the clintin of a craig
She found him drownd in Yarrow.

2 She’s taen three links of her yellow hair,
That hung down lang and yellow,
And she’s tied it about sweet Willie’s waist,
An drawn him out of Yarrow.

Version C

1 ‘WILLIERR’rrS fair, an Willie’s rare,
An Willie’s wondrous bonny,
An Willie’s promised to marry me,
If eer he marry ony.’

2 ‘O sister dear, I’ve dreamed a dream,
I’m afraid it’s unco sorrow;
I dreamed I was pu’in the heather green,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’

3 ‘O sister dear, I’ll read your dream,
I’m afraid it will be sorrow;
Ye’ll get a letter ere it’s een
Your lover’s drowned in Yarrow.’

4 She socht him up, she socht him doun,
In mickle dule an sorrow;
She found him neath a buss o brume,
In the dowie dens o Yarrow.

5 Her hair it was three quarters lang,
Its colour it was yallow;
She tied it to his middle sma,
An pu’ed him oot o Yarrow.

6 ‘My bed it was made wide yestreen,
The nicht it sall be narrow;
There’s neer a man lie by my side
Since Willie’s drowned in Yarrow.’

Version D

1 ‘WILLIERR’rrS fair, and Willie’s rare,
An he is wondrous bonnie,
An Willie has promist to marry me,
Gin ever he marry ony.’

2 ‘Ye’s get Jammie, or ye’s [get] Johnnie,
Or ye’s get bonny Peter;
Ye’s get the wale o a’ my sons,
But leave me Willie the writer.’

3 ‘I winna hae Jamie, I winna hae Johnie,
I winna hae bonny Peter;
I winna hae ony o a’ your sons,
An I get na Willie the writer.’

4 . . . .
. . . .
There was threescore and ten brisk young men
Was boun to briddal-stool wi him:

5 ‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’,
I forgot something behind me;
I forgat my mither’s blessing,
To hae to bride-stool wi me.’

6 ‘God’s blessin an mine gae wi ye,Willie,
God’s blessing an mine gae wi ye;
For ye’re nae ane hour but bare nineteen,
Fan ye’re gauin to meet your Meggie.’

7 They rode on, and farther on,
Till they came to the water o Gamrie,
An they a’ wan safe through,
Unless it was sweet Willie.

8 The first ae step that Willie’s horse steppit,
He steppit to the bridle;
The next ae step that Willie’s horse steppit,
Toom grew Willie’s saddle.

9 They rod on, an farther on,
Till they came to the kirk of Gamrie.
. . . .
. . . .

10 Out spak the bonny bride,
. . . .
‘Whar is the man that’s to gie me his han
This day at the kirk of Gamrie?’

11 Out spak his brother John,
An O bat he was sorrie!
‘It fears me much, my bonny bride,
He sleeps oure soun in Gamerie.’

12 The ribbons that were on her hair-+--+-
An they were thick and monny-+--+-
She rive them a’, let them down fa,
An is on [to] the water o Gamerie.

13 She sought it up, she sought it down,
She sought it braid and narrow;
An in the deepest pot o Gamerie,
There she got sweet Willie.

14 She has kissd his comely mouth,
As she had done before [O]:
‘Baith our mithers sall be alike sorry,
For we’s baith sleep in Gamery.’

Version E

1 ‘O WILLIE is fair, and Willie is rare,
And Willie is wondrous bonny,
And willie says he’ll marry me,
Gin ever he marry ony.’

2 ‘O ye’se get James or ye’se get George,
Or ye’se get bonny Johnnie;
Ye’se get the flower o a’ my sons,
Gin ye’ll forsake my Willie.’

3 ‘O what care I for James or George,
Or yet for bonny Peter?
I dinna value their love a leek,
An I getna Willie the writer.

4 ‘O Willie has a bonny hand,
And dear but it is bonny!’
‘He has nae mair for a’ his land;
What woud ye do wi Willie?’

5 ‘O Willie has a bonny face,
And dear but it is bonny!’
‘But Willie has nae other grace;
What woud ye do wi Willie?’

6 ‘Willie’s fair, and Willie’s rare,
And Willie’s wondrous bonny;
There’s nane wi him that can compare,
I love him best of ony.’

7 On Wednesday, that fatal day,
The people were convening;
Besides all this, threescore and ten,
To gang to the bride-steel wi him.

8 ‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’,
I’ve forgot something behind me;
I’ve forgot to get my mother’s blessing,
To gae to the bride-steel wi me.’

9 ‘Your Peggy she’s but bare fifteen,
And ye are scarcely twenty;
The water o Gamery is wide and braid;
My heavy curse gang wi thee!’

10 Then they rode on, and further on,
Till they came on to Gamery;
The wind was loud, the stream was proud,
And wi the stream gaed Willie.

11 Then they rode on, and further on,
Till they came to the kirk o Gamery;
And every one on high horse sat,
But Willie’s horse rade toomly.

12 When they were settled at that place,
The people fell a mourning,
And a council held amo them a’,
But sair, sair wept Kinmundy.

13 Then out it speaks the bride hersell,
Says, What means a’ this mourning?
Where is the man amo them a’
That shoud gie me fair wedding?

14 Then out it speaks his brother John,
Says, Meg, I’ll tell you plainly;
The stream was strong, the clerk rade wrong,
And Willie’s drownd in Gamery.

15 She put her hand up to her head,
Where were the ribbons many;
She rave them a’, let them down fa’,
And straightway ran to Gamery.

16 She sought it up, she sought it down,
Till she was wet and weary;
And in the middle part o it,
There she got her deary.

17 Then she stroakd back his yellow hair,
And kissd his mou sae comely:
‘My mother’s heart’s be as wae as thine!
We’se baith asleep in the water o Gamery.’

Version F

1 WHAN Willie was in his saddle set,
And all his merry men wi him,
‘Stay still, stay still, my merry men all,
I’ve forgot something behind me.

2 ‘Gie me God’s blessing an yours, mither,
To hae me on to Gamery;
Gie me God’s blessing an yours, mither,
To gae to the bride-stool wi me.’

3 ‘I’ll gie ye God’s blessing an mine, Willie,
To hae you on to Gamery;
Ye’s hae God’s blessing an mine, Willie,
To gae to the bride-stool wi you.

4 . . . .
. . . .
‘But Gamery it is wide and deep,
An ye’ll never see your wedding;’

5 Some rede back, an some rede fore,
An some rede on to Gamery;
The bonniest knight’s saddle among them all
Aught me this day for wedding?

6 Out it spake the bride hersell,
Says, What makes all this riding?
Where is the knight amongst you all
Aught me this day for wedding?

7 Out it spake the bridegroom’s brother,
Says, Margaret, I’ll tell you plainly;
The knight ye should hae been wedded on
Is drownd in the Water o Gamery.

8 She’s torn the ribbons aff her head-+--+-
They were baith thick and mony-+--+-
She kilted up her green claithing,
And she has passed the Gamery.

9 She’s plunged in, so did she down,
That was baith black an jumly,
And in the middle o that water
She found her ain sweet Willie.

10 She’s taen him in her arms twa
And gied him kisses many:
‘My mother’s be as wae as thine!
We’ll baith lie in the Water o Gamery.’

Version G

1 ‘O STAY at hame, my ain son Willie,
And let your bride tak Johnie!
O stay at hame, my ain son Willie!
For my blessing gaes not wi thee.’

2 ‘I canna stay, nor I winna stay,
And let my bride tak Johnie;
I canna stay, nor I winna stay,
Though your blessing gaes na wi me.

3 ‘I have a steed in my stable
That cost me monie a pennie,
And on that steed I winna dread
To ride the water o Genrie.’

4 The firsten step that Willie stept,
He steppit to the bellie;
The wind blew loud, the stream ran proud,
And awa wi it gaed Willie.

5 And when the bride gaed to the kirk,
Into the kirk o Ganrie,
She cuist her ee among them a’,
But she sawna her love Willie.

6 Out and spak her auld brither,
Saying, Peggie, I will tell thee;
The man ye should been married till
Lyes in the water o Genrie.

7 She tore the ribbons aff her head,
That were baith rich and manie,
And she has kiltit up her coat,
And ran to the water o Ganrie.

8 She’s sought him up, sae did she doun,
Thro a’ the water o Ganrie;
In the deepest weil in a’ the burn,
Oh, there she fand her Willie!

9 She has taen him in her arms twa,
Sae fondly as she kisst him!
Said, ‘My mither sall be as wae as thine,’
And she’s lain doun aside him.

Version H

1 THEY were saddled a’, they were briddled a’,
Bridegroom and a’ was ready;
‘Stop,’ says he, ’My nobles a’,
For I’ve left something behind me.

2 ‘It is your blessing, mother dear,
To bound [to] the bride-styl with me:’
‘God’s blessing now, my son,’ says she,
‘And mine and a’ gang wi ye!

3 ‘For ye are scarce nineteen years of age
When ye met in wi bonny Maggie,
And I’m sure, my dear, she’ll welcome you
This day in the kirk o Gemrie.’

4 It’s they have ridden up, it’s they have ridden down,
And joy was in their gallant company;
It’s they have ridden up, and they have ridden down,
Till they came to the water o Gemrie.

5 When they came to the water, it was flooded;
In the middle Sweet William he fell;
The spray brook over his horse’s mane,
And the wind sang his funeral knell.

6 ‘O much is the pity! O much is the pity!’
Cried that joyful company;
‘O much is the pity! O much is the pity!’
But alas! now are woeful and wae.

7 Hame and hame came his stead,
And ran to its ain stable;
They’ve gien it corn and hay to eat,
As much as it was able.

8 His mother she was a waefu woman,
As dung as woman could be;
‘My son,’ says she, ’is either hurt or slain,
Or drowned in the waters of Gemrie.’

9 It’s up and spak her daughter Ann:
‘What needs be a’ this mourning?
He’s lighted at yon bonny kirk-style,
And his steed has run away from him.’

10 ‘O had yer tongue, my daughter Ann,
Nor scold na me about mourning;
Hadna my son there men enew
To hae taken his steed from him?’

11 They’ve ridden up, they’ve ridden down,
Till they came to the kirk o Gemrie;
There they saw his winsome bride,
Alone at the kirk-style standing.

12 ‘Where away is the man,’ says she,
‘That promised me fair wedding?
This day he vowd to meet me here,
But O he’s lang o coming!’

13 Up and spak his brother John,
Says, ‘Meg, I’ll tell ye plainly;
The stream was strang, and we rade wrang,
And he’s drownd in the water o Gemrie.’

14 She’s torn the ribons frae her hair,
That were baith thick and many;
She’s torn them a’, lettin them fa’,
And she’s away to the waters o Gemrie.

15 She[’s] sought him up, she’s sought him down,
Until that she’s gotten his body,
And she’s laid it on the green, green grass,
And flung her mantle oer him.

16 ‘O Willie was red, but O now he’s white!
And Willie was wondrous bonny,
And Willie said he’d marry me,
Gin ere he married oney.

17 ‘He was red, he was white, he was my delight,
And aye, aye I thought him bonny;
But now since Willie has dy’d for me,
I will sleep wi him in the same grave at Gemrie.’

216. The Mother's Malison, or, Clyde's Water

Version A

1 ‘YE gie corn unto my horse,
An meat unto my man,
For I will gae to my true-love’s gates
This night, gin that I can.’

2 ‘O stay at hame this ae night, Willie,
This ae bare night wi me;
The best bed in a’ my house
Sall be well made to thee.’

3 ‘I carena for your beds, mither,
I carena ae pin,
For I’ll gae to my love’s gates
This night, gin I can win.’

4 ‘O stay, my son Willie, this night,
This ae night wi me;
The best hen in a’ my roost
Sall be well made ready for thee.’

5 ‘I carena for your hens, mither,
I carena ae pin;
I sall gae to my love’s gates
This night, gin I can win.’

6 ‘Gin ye winna stay, my son Willie,
This ae bare night wi me,
Gin Clyde’s water be deep and fu o flood,
My malisen drown ye!’

7 He rode up yon high hill,
An down yon dowie glen;
The roaring of Clyde’s water
Wad hae fleyt ten thousand men.

8 ‘O spare me, Clyde’s water,
O spare me as I gae!
Mak me your wrack as I come back,
But spare me as I gae!’

9 He rade in, and farther in,
Till he came to the chin;
And he rade in, and farther in,
Till he came to dry lan.

10 An whan he came to his love’s gates,
He tirled at the pin:
‘Open your gates, Meggie,
Open your gates to me,
For my beets are fu o Clyde’s water,
And the rain rains oure my chin.’

11 ‘I hae nae lovers therout,’ she says,
‘I hae nae love within;
My true-love is in my arms twa,
An nane will I lat in.’

12 ‘Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night,
Open your gates to me;
For Clyde’s water is fu o flood,
An my mither’s malison ’ll drown me.’

13 ‘Ane o my chamers is fu o corn,’ she says,
‘An ane is fu o hay;
Anither is fu o Gentlemen,
An they winna move till day.’

14 Out waked her May Meggie,
Out o her drousy dream:
‘I dreamed a dream sin the yestreen,
God read a’ dreams to guid!
That my true-love Willie
Was staring at my bed-feet.’

15 ‘Now lay ye still, my ae dochter,
An keep my back fra the call,
For it’s na the space of hafe an hour
Sen he gad fra yer hall.’

16 ‘An hey, Willie, an hoa, Willie,
Winne ye turn agen?’
But ay the louder that she crayed
He rod agenst the wind.

17 He rod up yon high hill,
An doun yon douey den;
The roring that was in Clid[e]’s water
Wad ha flayed ten thousand men.

18 He road in, an farder in,
Till he came to the chine;
An he road in, an farder in,
Bat neuer mare was seen.

19 Ther was na mare seen of that guid lord
Bat his hat frae his head;
Ther was na mare seen of that lady
Bat her comb an her sneed.

20 Ther waders went up an doun
Eadying Claid’s water
Hav don us wrang

Version B

1 ‘GIE corn to my horse, mither,
Gie meat unto my man,
For I maun gang to Margaret’s bower
Before the nicht comes on.’

2 ‘O stay at hame now, my son Willie,
The wind blaws cald and sour;
The nicht will be baith mirk and late
Before ye reach her bower.’

3 ‘O the nicht were ever sae dark,
Or the wind blew never sae cald,
I will be In my Margaret’s bower
Before twa hours be tald.’

4 ‘O gin ye gang to May Margaret,
Without the leave of me,
Clyde’s water’s wide and deep enough,
My malison drown thee!’

5 He mounted on his coal-black steed,
And fast he rade awa,
But ere he came to Clyde’s water
Fu loud the wind did blaw.

6 As he rode oer yon hich, hich hill,
And down yon dowie den,
There was a roar in Clyde’s water
Wad feard a hunder men.

7 His heart was warm, his pride was up;
Sweet Willie kentna fear;
But yet his mither’s malison
Ay sounded in his ear.

8 O he has swam through Clyde’s water,
Tho it was wide and deep,
And he came to May Margaret’s door,
When a’ were fast asleep.

9 O he’s gane round and round about,
And tirled at the pin;
But doors were steekd, and windows barrd,
And nane wad let him in.

10 ‘O open the door to me, Margaret!
O open amd lat me in!
For my boots are full o Clyde’s water
And frozen to the brim.’

11 ‘I darena open the door to you,
Nor darena lat you in,
For my mither she is fast asleep,
And I darena mak nae din.’

12 ‘O gin ye winna open the door,
Nor yet be kind to me,
Now tell me o some out-chamber
Where I this nicht may be.’

13 ‘Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie,
Nor here ye canna be;
For I’ve nae chambers out nor in,
Nae ane but barely three.

14 ‘The tane o them is fu o corn,
The tither is fu o hay;
The tither is fu o merry young men;
They winna remove till day.’

15 ‘O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret,
Sin better manna be;
I’ve win my mither’s malison,
Coming this nicht to thee.’

16 He’s mounted on his coal-black steed,
O but his heart was wae!
But, ere he came to Clyde’s water,
’Twas half up oer the brae.

17 . . . .
. . .
. . he plunged in,
But never raise again.

Version C

1 WILLIE stands in his stable-door,
And clapping at his steed,
And looking oer his white fingers
His nose began to bleed.

2 ‘Gie corn to my horse, mother,
And meat to my young man,
And I’ll awa to Maggie’s bower;
I’ll win ere she lie down.’

3 ‘O bide this night wi me, Willie,
O bide this night wi me;
The best an cock o a’ the reest
At your supper shall be.’

4 ‘A’ your cocks, and a’ your reests,
I value not a prin,
For I’ll awa to Meggie’s bower;
I’ll win ere she lie down.’

5 ‘Stay this night wi me, Willie,
O stay this night wi me;
The best an sheep in a’ the flock
At your supper shall be.’

6 ‘A’ your sheep, and a’ your flocks,
I value not a prin,
For I’ll awa’ to Meggie’s bower;
I’ll win ere she lie down.’

7 ‘O an ye gang to Meggie’s bower,
Sae sair against my will,
The deepest pot in Clyde’s water,
My malison ye’s feel.’

8 ‘The guid steed that I ride upon
Cost me thrice thretty pound;
And I’ll put trust in his swift feet
To hae me safe to land.’

9 As he rade ower yon high, high hill,
And down yon dowie den,
The noise that was in Clyde’s water
Woud feard five huner men.

10 ‘O roaring Clyde, ye roar ower loud,
Your streams seem wondrous strang;
Make me your wreck as I come back,
But spare me as I gang!’

11 Then he is on to Maggie’s bower,
And tirled at the pin;
‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie,’ he said,
‘Ye’ll open, lat me come in.’

12 ‘O wha is this at my bower-door,
That calls me by my name?’
‘It is your first love, sweet Willie,
This night newly come hame.’

13 ‘I hae few lovers thereout, thereout,
As few hae I therein;
The best an love that ever I had
Was here jusr late yestreen.’

14 ‘The warstan stable in a’ your stables,
For my puir steed to stand!
The warstan bower in a’ your bowers,
For me to lie therin!
My boots are fu o Clyde’s water,
I’m shivering at the chin.’

15 ‘My barns are fu o corn, Willie,
My stables are fu o hay;
My bowers are fu o gentlemen,
They’ll nae remove till day.’

16 ‘O fare ye well, my fause Meggie,
O farewell, and adieu!
I’ve gotten my mither’s malison
This night coming to you.’

17 As he rode ower yon high, high hill,
And down yon dowie den,
The rushing that was in Clyde’s water
Took Willie’s cane frae him.

18 He leand him ower his saddle-bow,
To catch his cane again;
The rushing that was in Clyde’s water
Took Willie’s hat frae him.

19 He leand him ower his saddle-bow,
To catch his hat thro force;
The rushing that was in Clyde’s water
Took Willie frae his horse.

20 His brither stood upo the bank,
Says, Fye, man, will ye drown?
Ye’ll turn ye to your high horse head
And learn how to sowm.

21 ‘How can I turn to my horse head
And learn how to sowm?
I’ve gotten my mither’s malison,
It’s here that I maun drown.’

22 The very hour this young man sank
Into the pot sae deep,
Up it wakend his love Meggie
Out o her drowsy sleep.

23 ‘Come here, come here, my mither dear,
And read this dreary dream;
I dreamd my love was at our gates,
And nane wad let him in.’

24 ‘Lye still, lye still now, my Meggie,
Lye still and tak your rest;
Sin your true-love was at your yates,
It’s but twa quarters past.’

25 Nimbly, nimbly raise she up,
And nimbly pat she on,
And the higher that the lady cried,
The louder blew the win.

26 The first an step that she steppd in,
She stepped to the queet;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said that lady,
‘This water’s wondrous deep.’

27 The next an step that she wade in,
She wadit to the knee;
Says she, ‘I coud wide farther in,
If I my love coud see.’

28 The next an step that she wade in,
She wadit to the chin;
The deepest pot in Clyde’s water
She got sweet Willie in.

29 ‘You’ve had a cruel mither, Willie,
And I have had anither;
But we shall sleep in Clyde’s water
Like sister an like brither.’

217. The Broom of Cowdenknows

Version A

1 THERE was a troop of merry gentlemen
Was riding atween twa knows,
And they heard the voice of a bonny lass,
In a bught milking her ews.

2 There’s ane o them lighted frae off his steed,
And has ty’d him to a tree,
And he’s gane away to yon ew-bught,
To hear what it might be.

3 ‘O pity me, fair maid,’ he said,
‘Take pity upon me;
O pity me, and my milk-white steed
That’s trembling at yon tree.’

4 ‘As for your steed, he shall not want
The best of corn and hay;
But as to you yoursel, kind sir,
I’ve naething for to say.’

5 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the green gown-sleeve,
And he as led her into the ew-bught,
Of her friends he speerd nae leave.

6 He as put his hand in his pocket,
And given her guineas three:
‘If I dinna come back in half a year,
Then luke nae mair for me.

7 ‘Now show to me the king’s hie street,
Now show to me the way;
Now show to me the king’s hie street,
And the fair water of Tay.’

8 She showd to him the king’s hie street,
She showd to him the way;
She showd him the way that he was to go,
By the fair water of Tay.

9 When she came home, her father said,
‘Come, tell to me right plain;
I doubt you’ve met some in the way,
You have not been your lain.’

10 ‘The night it is baith mist and mirk,
You may gan out and see;
The night is mirk and misty too,
There’s nae body been wi me.

11 ‘There was a tod came to your flock,
The like I neer did see;
When he spake, he lifted his hat,
He had a bonny twinkling eee.’

12 When fifteen weeks were past and gane,
Full fifteen weeks and three,
Then she began to think it lang
For the man wi the twinkling eee.

13 It fell out on a certain day,
When she cawd out her father’s ky,
There was a troop of gentlemen
Came merrily riding by.

14 ‘Weel may ye sigh and sob,’ says ane,
‘Weel may you sigh and see;
Weel may you sigh, and say, fair maid,
Wha’s gotten this bairn wi thee?’

15 She turned her sel then quickly about,
And thinking meikle shame,
‘O no, kind sir, it is na sae,
For it has a dad at hame.’

16 ‘O hawd your tongue, my bonny lass,
Sae loud as I hear you lee!
For dinna you mind that summer night
I was in the bught wi thee?’

17 He lighted off his milk-white steed,
And set this fair maid on;
‘Now caw out your ky, good father,’ he said,
‘She’ll neer caw them out again.

18 ‘I am the laird of Knottington,
I’ve fifty plows and three;
I’ve gotten now the bonniest lass
That is in the hale country.’

Version B

1 IT was on an evning sae saft and sae clear
A bonny lass was milking the kye,
And by came a troup of gentlemen,
And rode the bonny lassie by.

2 Then one of them said unto her,
‘Bonny lass, prythee shew me the way:’
‘O if I do sae, it may breed me wae,
For langer I dare nae stay.’

3 But dark and misty was the night
Before the bonny lass came hame:
‘Now where hae you been, my ae doughter?
I am sure you was nae your lane.’

4 ‘O father, a tod has come oer your lamb,
A gentleman of high degree,
And ay whan he spake he lifted his hat,
And bonny, bonny blinkit his ee.’

5 Or eer six months were past and gane,
Six months but and other three,
The lassie begud for to fret and to frown,
And think lang for his blinkin ee.

6 ‘O wae be to my father’s shepherd,
An ill death may he die!
He bigged the bughts sae far frae hame,
And trysted a gentleman to me!’

7 It fell upon another fair evening
The bonny lassie was milking her ky,
And by came the troop of Gentlemen,
And rode the bonny lassie by.

8 Then one of them stopt, and said to her,
‘Whae’s aught that baby ye are wi?’
That lassie began for to blush, and think,
To a father as good as ye.

9 ‘O had your tongue, my bonny may,
Sae loud I hear you lie!
O dinnae you mind the misty night
I was in the bught with thee?’

10 Now he’s come aff his milk-white steed,
And he has taen her hame:
‘Now let your father bring hame the ky,
You neer mair shall ca them agen.

11 ‘I am a lord of castles and towers,
With fifty ploughs of land and three,
And I have gotten the bonniest lass
That is in this countrie.’

Version C

1 IT was on a day whan a lovely may
Was cawing out her father’s kye,
And she spied a troop o’ gentlemen,
As they war passing bye.

2 ‘O show me the way, my pretty maid,
O show me the way,’ said he;
‘My steed has just now rode wrong,
And the way I canna see.’

3 ‘O haud you on the same way,’ she said,
‘O haud ye on’t again,
For, if ye haud on the king’s hieway,
Rank rievers will do ye na harm.’

4 He took her by the milk-white hand,
And by the gerss-green sleeve,
And he has taiglet wi the fair may,
And of her he askd na leave.

5 Whan ance he got her gudwill,
Of her he craved na mair,
But he poud out a ribbon frae his pouch,
And snooded up the may’s hair.

6 He put his hand into his pouch,
And gave her guineas three:
‘If I come na back in twenty weeks,
Ye need na look mair for me.’

7 But whan the may did gang hame,
Her father did her blame;
‘Whare hae ye been now, dame?’ he said
‘For ye’ve na been your lane.’

8 ‘The nicht is misty and mirk, father,
Ye may come to the door and see;
The nicht is misty and mirk, father,
And there’s na body wi me.

9 ‘But there cam o tod to your flock, father,
The like o him I never saw;
Or he had tane the lambie that he had,
I wad rather he had tane them aw.

10 ‘But he seemd to be a gentleman,
Or a man of some pious degree;
For whanever he spak, he lifted up his hat,
And he had [a] bonnie twinkling ee.’

11 Whan twenty weeks were come and gane,
Twenty weeks and three,
The lassie began to grow thick in the waist,
And thoucht lang for his twinkling ee.

12 It fell upon a day whan bonnie may
Was cawing out the kye,
She spied the same troop o gentlemen,
As they war passing bye.

13 ‘O well may you save, my pretty may,
Weill may you save and see!
Weill may ye save, my lovely may!
Go ye wi child to me?’

14 But the may she turnd her back to him,
She begoud to think meikle shame;
‘Na, na, na, na, kind sir,’ she said,
‘I’ve a gudeman o my ain.’

15 ‘Sae loud as I hear ye lie, fair may,
Sae loud as I hear ye lee!
Dinna ye mind o yon misty nicht
Whan I was in the bucht wi thee?’

16 He lichted aff his hie, hie horse,
And he set the bonnie may on:
‘Now caw out your kye, gud father,
Ye maun caw them out your lone.

17 ‘For lang will ye caw them out,
And weary will ye be,
Or ye get your dochter again
. . .

18 He was the laird o Ochiltree,
Of therty ploughs and three,
And he has stown awa the loveliest may
In aw the south cuntree.

Version D

1 O BONNIE May is to the yowe-buchts gane,
For to milk her daddie’s yowes,
And ay she sang, and her voice it rang
Out-ower the tap o the knows, knows, knowes,
Out-owr the tap o the knowes.

2 Ther cam a troop gentilmen,
As they were rydand by,
And ane o them he lichtit doun,
For to see May milkand her kye.

3 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonnie lass,
Milk on, milk on,’ said he,
‘For out o the buchts I winna gang
Till ye shaw me owr the lee.’

4 ‘Ryde on, ryde on, ye rank rydars,
Your steeds are stout and strang,
For out o the yowe-buchts I winna gae,
For fear that ye do me some wrang.’

5 He took her by the milk-white hand,
And by the green gown-sleive,
And thare he took the will o her,
Bot o her he askit nae leive.

6 But whan he gat his will o her
He loot her up again,
And a’ this bonny maid said or did
Was, Kind sir, tell me your name.

7 He pou’t out a sillar kame,
Sayand, Kame your yellow hair;
And, gin I be na back in three quarters o a year,
It’s o me ye’ll see nae mair.

8 He pu’t out a silken purse
And he gied her guineas thrie,
Saying, Gin I may na be back in three quarters o a year,
It will pay the nourice fee.

9 He put his fut into the stirrup
And rade after his men,
And a’ that his men said or did
Was, Kind maister, ye’ve taiglit lang.

10 ‘I hae rade east, I hae rade wast,
And I hae rade owr the knowes,
But the bonniest lassie that I ever saw
Was in the yowe-buchts, milkand her yowes.’

11 She put the pail upon her heid,
And she’s gane merrilie hame,
And a’ that her faither said or did
Was, Kind dochter, ye’ve taiglit lang.

12 ‘Oh, wae be to your men, faither,
And an ill deth may they die!
For they cawit a’ the yowes out-owre the knowes,
And they left naebody wi me.

13 ‘There cam a tod unto the bucht,
The like I never saw,
And afore that he took the ane that he took,
I wad leifar he had tane ither twa.

14 ‘There cam a tod unto the bucht,
The like I never did see,
And, ay as he spak, he liftit his hat,
And he had a bonnie twinkland ee.’

15 It was on a day, and it was a fine simmer day,
She was cawing out her faither’s kye,
There cam a troup o gentilmen,
And they rade ways the lass near by.

16 ‘Wha has dune to you this ill, my dear?
Wha has dune to you this wrang?’
And she had na a word to say for hersell
But, ‘Kind sir, I hae a man o my ain.’

17 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, bonnie May,’ he says,
‘Aloud I hear ye lie!
For dinna ye mind yon bonnie simmer nicht
Whan ye war in the yowe-buchts wi me?

18 ‘Licht doun, licht doun, my foremaist man,
Licht doun and let her on,
For monie a time she cawit her faither’s kye,
But she’ll neir caw them again.

19 ‘For I am the laird o Ochiltree Wawis,
I hae threttie pleuchs and thrie,
And I hae tane awa the bonniest lass
That is in a’ the north countrie.’

Version E

1 THERE was a may, and a bonnie may,
In the bught, milking the ewes,
And by came a troop of gentlemen,
And they rode by and by.

2 ‘O I’ll give thee my milk-white steed,
It cost me three hundred pound,
If ye’ll go to yon sheep-bught,
And bring yon fair maid doun.’

3 ‘Your steed ye canna want, master,
But pay to ane a fee;
Fifty pound of good red gold,
To be paid down to me.’

4 ‘Come shew me the way, pretty may,’ he said,
‘For our steeds are quite gone wrong;
Will you do to me such a courtesy
As to shew us the near-hand way?’

5 ‘O go ye doun to yon meadow,
Where the people are mowing the hay;
Go ye doun to yon meadow,
And they’ll shew you the near-hand way.’

6 But he’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He’s bowed her body to the ground,
Of her kin he asked no leave.

7 When he lifted her up again
He’s gien her guineas three:
‘If I be na back gin three quarters o a year,
Ye need neer think mair on me.’

8 ‘O where hast thou been, bonnie may,’ he said,
‘O where hast thou been sae lang?
O where hast thou been, bonnie may?’ he said,
‘Thou hast na been sae lang thy lane.’

9 ‘O come to the door and see, father,
O come to the door and see,
And see such a weety and a windy night;
There were nobody wi me.

10 ‘But wae be to your herd, father,
And an ill death may he die!
For he left the ewes strayed owre the knowes,
And he left naebody wi me.

11 ‘But there came a tod to your bught, father,
The like o him I neer saw;
For or he had taen the bonnie lamb he took,
Ye had as weel hae gien them a’.

12 There came a tod to your bught, father,
The like o him I neer did see;
For aye when he spak he lifted up his hat,
And he had a bonnie twinkling ee.’

13 But when twenty weeks were come and gane,
Aye, twenty weeks and three,
This lassie began to spit and to spew,
And to lang for the twinkling ee.

14 It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,
She was ca’ing out her father’s kye,
And by came a troop of gentlemen,
And they rode by and by.

15 ‘O wha got the bairn wi thee, bonnie may?
O wha got the bairn wi thee?’
. . . .
. . . .

16 She turned hersell right round about,
She began to blush and think shame,
And never a word this bonnie lassie spok
But ‘I have a good-man at hame.’

17 ‘Thou lie, thou lie, my bonnie may,
Sae loud I hear thee lie!
Do ye mind o the weety and windy night
When I was in the ewe-bught wi thee?

18 ‘Light off, light off, the gentlest of my men,
And set her on behind,
And ca out your kye, good father, yoursell,
For she’ll never ca them out again.’

19 He was the laird o twenty plough o land,
Aye, twenty plough and three,
And he’s taen awa the bonniest lass
Was in a’ the south countrie.

Version F

1 BONNY MAY has to the ewe-bughts gane,
To milk her father’s ewes,
An aye as she milked her bonny voice rang
Far out amang the knowes.

2 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may,
Milk on, milk on,’ said he;
‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may;
Will ye shew me out-ower the lea?’

3 ‘Ride on, ride on, stout rider,’ she said,
‘Yere steed’s baith stout and strang;
For out o the eww-bught I daurna come,
For fear ye do me wrang.’

4 But he’s tane her by the milk-white hand,
An by the green gown-sleeve,
An he’s laid her low on the dewy grass,
An at nae ane spiered he leave.

5 Then he’s mounted on his milk-white steed,
An ridden after his men,
An a’ that his men they said to him
Was, Dear master, ye’ve tarried lang.

6 ‘I’ve ridden east, an I’ve ridden wast,
An I’ve ridden amang the knowes,
But the bonniest lassie eer I saw
Was milkin her daddie’s yowes.’

7 She’s taen the milk-pail on her heid,
An she’s gane langin hame,
An a her father said to her
Was, Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.

8 ‘Oh, wae be to your shepherds! father,
For they take nae care o the sheep;
Fro they’ve bygit the ewe-bught far frae hame,
An they’ve trysted a man to me.

9 ‘There came a tod unto the bucht,
An a waefu tod was he,
An, or ever he had tane that ae ewe-lamb,
I had rather he had tane ither three.’

10 But it fell on a day, an a bonny summer day,
She was ca’in out her father’s kye,
An bye came a troop o gentlemen,
Cam ridin siwftly bye.

11 Out an spoke the foremost ane,
Says, Lassie hae ye got a man?
She turned herself saucy round about,
Says, Yes, I’ve ane at hame.

12 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye my bonny may,
Saw loud as I hear ye lee!
For dinna ye mind that misty nicht
Ye were in the ewe-bughts wi me?’

13 He ordered ane o his men to get down;
Says, Lift her up behind me;
Your father may ca in the kye when he likes,
They sall neer be ca’ed in by thee.

14 ‘For I’m the laird o Athole swaird,
Wi fifty ploughs an three,
An I hae gotten the bonniest lass
In a’ the north countrie.’

Version G

1 O THE broom, and the bonny, bonny broom,
And the broom of the Cowdenknows!
And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang,
I the bought, milking the ewes.

2 The hills were high on ilka side,
An the bought i the lirk o the hill,
And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang
Out-oer the head o yon hill.

3 There was a troop o gentlemen
Came riding merrilie by,
And one o them has rode out o the way,
To the bought to the bonny may.

4 ‘Well may ye save an see, bonny lass,
An weel may ye save an see!’
‘An sae wi you, ye weel-bred knight,
And what’s your will wi me?’

5 ‘The night is misty and mirk, fair may,
And I have ridden astray,
And will ye be so kind, fair may,
As come out and point my way?’

6 ‘Ride out, ride out, ye ramp rider!
Your steed’s baith stout and strang;
For out of the bought I dare na come,
For fear at ye do me wrang.’

7 ‘O winna ye pity me, bonny lass?
O winna ye pity me?
An winna ye pity my poor steed,
Stands trembling at yon tree?’

8 ‘I wadna pity your poor steed,
Tho it were tied to a thorn;
For if ye wad gain my love the night
Ye wad slight me ere the morn.

9 ‘For I ken you by your weel-busked hat,
And your merrie twinkling ee,
That ye’re the laird o the Oakland hills,
An ye may weel seem for to be.’

10 ‘But I am not the laird o the Oakland hills,
Ye’re far mistaen o me;
But I’m ane o the men about his house,
An right aft in his companie.’

11 He’s taen her by the middle jimp,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
He’s lifted her over the fauld-dyke,
And speerd at her sma leave.

12 O he’s taen out a purse o gowd,
And streekd her yellow hair:
‘Now take ye that, my bonnie may,
Of me till you hear mair.’

13 O he’s leapt on his berry-brown steed,
An soon he’s oertaen his men;
And ane and a’ cried out to him,
O master, ye’ve tarryd lang!

14 ‘O I hae been east, and I hae been west,
An I hae been far oer the knows,
But the bonniest lass that ever I saw
Is i the bought, milkin the ewes.’

15 She set the cog upon her head,
An she’s gane singing hame:
‘O where hae ye been, my ae daughter?
Ye hae na been your lane.’

16 ‘O nae body was wi me, father,
O nae body has been wi me;
The night is misty and mirk, father,
Ye may gang to the door and see.

17 ‘But wae be to your ewe-herd, father,
And an ill deed may he die!
He bug the bought at the back o the know
And a tod has frighted me.

18 ‘There came a tod to the bought-door,
The like I never saw;
And ere he had taken the lamb he did
I had lourd he had taen them a’.’

19 O whan fifteen weeks was come and gane,
Fifteen weeks and three,
That lassie began to look thin and pale,
An to long for his merry-twinkling ee.

20 It fell on a day, on a het simmer day,
She was ca’ing out her father’s kye,
By came a troop o gentlemen,
A’ merrilie riding bye.

21 ‘Weel may ye save an see, bonny may!
Weel may ye save and see!
Weel I wat ye be a very bonny may,
But whae’s aught that babe ye are wi?’

22 Never a word could that lassie say,
For never a ane could she blame,
An never a word could the lassie say,
But, I have a good man at hame.

23 ‘Ye lied, ye lied, my very bonny may,
Sae loud as I hear you lie!
For dinna ye mind that misty night
I was i the bought wi thee?

24 ‘I ken you by your middle sae jimp,
An your merry-twinkling ee,
That ye’re the bonny lass i the Cowdenknow,
An ye may weel seem for to be.’

25 Than he’s leapd off his berry-brown steed,
An he’s set that fair may on:
‘Caw out your kye, gude father, yoursel,
For she’s never caw them out again.

26 I am the laird of the Oakland hills,
I hae thirty plows and three,
An I hae gotten the bonniest lass
That’s in a’ the south country.’

Version H

1 THERE was a may, a maiden sae gay,
Went out wi her milking-pail;
Lang she foucht or her ewes wad bucht,
And syne she a milking fell.

2 And ay as she sang the rocks they rang,
Her voice gaed loud and shill;
Ye wad hae heard the voice o the maid
On the tap o the ither hill.

3 And ay she sang, and the rocks they rang,
Her voice gaed loud and hie;
Till by there cam a troop o gentlemen,
A riding up that way.

4 ‘Weel may ye sing, ye bonnie may,
Weel and weel may ye sing!
The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk,
And we hae ridden wrang.’

5 ‘Haud by the gate ye cam, kind sir,
Haud by the gate ye cam;
But tak tent o the rank river,
For our streams are unco strang.’

6 ‘Can ye na pity me, fair may,
Canna ye pity me?
Canna ye pity my puir steed,
Stands trembling at yon tree?’

7 ‘What pity wad ye hae, kind sir?
What wad ye hae frae me?
If he has neither corn nor hay,
He has gerss at libertie.’

8 ‘Can ye na pity me, fair may,
Can ye na pity me?
Can ye na pity a gentle knicht
That’s deeing for love o thee?’

9 He’s tane her by the milk-white hand,
And by the gerss-green sleeve;
He’s laid her laigh at the bucht-end,
At her kin speird na leave.

10 ‘After ye hae tane your will o me,
Your will as ye hae tane,
Be as gude a gentle knicht
As tell to me your name.’

11 ‘Some do call me Jack,’ says he,
‘And some do call me John;
But whan I’m in the king’s hie court
Duke William is my name.

12 ‘But I ken by your weel-faurd face,
And by your blinking ee,
That ye are the Maid o the Cowdenknows,
And seem very weel to be.’

13 ‘I am na the maid o the Cowdenknows,
Nor does not thnk to be;
But I am ane o her best maids,
That’s aft in her companie.

14 ‘But I ken by your black, black hat,
And by your gay gowd ring,
That ye are the Laird o Rochna hills,
Wha beguiles a’ our women.’

15 ‘I am na the Laird o Rochna hills,
Nor does na think to be;
But I am ane o his best men,
That’s aft in his companie.’

16 He’s put his hand in his pocket
And tane out guineas three;
Says, Tak ye that, my bonnie may;
It’ll pay the nourice fee.

17 She’s tane her cog upon her head,
And fast, fast gaed she hame:
‘Whare hae ye been, my dear dochter?
Ye hae na been your lane.

18 ‘The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk;
Ye may look out and see;
The ewes war skippin oure the knowes,
They wad na bucht in for me.

19 ‘But wae be to your shepherd, father,
An ill death may he dee!
He bigget the buchts sae far frae the toun,
And he trysted a man to me.

20 ‘There cam a tod amang the flock,
The like o him I neer did see;
Afore he had tane the lamb that he took,
I’d rather he’d tane ither three.’

21 Whan twenty weeks war past and gane,
Twenty weeks and three,
The lassie begoud to spit and spue,
And thought lang for ’s blinkin ee.

22 ’Twas on a day, and a day near bye,
She was ca’ing out the kye,
That by cam a troop o merry gentlemen,
Cam riding bye that way.

23 ‘Wha’s gien ye the scorn, bonnie may?
O wha’s done ye the wrang?’
‘Na body, na body, kind sir,’ she said,
‘My baby’s father’s at hame.’

24 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, fause may,’ he said,
‘Sae loud as I hear ye lee!
Dinna ye mind o the mirk misty nicht
I buchted the ewes wi thee?’

25 ‘Weel may I mind yon mirk misty nicht,
Weel may I mind,’ says she;
‘For ay when ye spak ye lifted up your hat,
Ye had a merry blinkin ee.’

26 He’s turned him round and richt about,
And tane the lassie on;
‘Ca out your kye, auld father,’ he said,
‘She sall neer ca them again.

27 ‘For I am the Laird o Rochna hills,
O thirty plows and three;
And I hae gotten the bonniest lass
O a’ the west countrie.’

28 ‘And I’m the Maid o the Cowdenknows,
O twenty plows and three;
And I hae gotten the bonniest lad
In a’ the north countrie.’

Version I

1 THE lassie sang sae loud, sae loud,
The lassie sang sae shill;
The lassie sang, and the greenwud rang,
At the farther side o yon hill.

2 Bye there cam a troop o merry gentlemen,
They aw rode merry bye;
The very first and the foremaist
Was the first that spak to the may.

3 ‘This is a mark and misty nicht,
And I have ridden wrang;
If ye wad be sae gude and kind
As to show me the way to gang.’

4 ‘If ye binna the laird o Lochnie’s lands,
Nor nane o his degree,
I’ll show ye a nearer road that will keep you frae
The glen-waters and the raging sea.’

5 ‘I’m na the laird o Lochnie’s lands,
Nor nane o his degree;
But I am as brave a knicht,
And ride aft in his company.

6 ‘Have ye na pity on me, pretty maid?
Have ye na pity on me?
Have ye na pity on my puir steed,
That stands trembling by yon tree?’

7 ‘What pity wad ye hae, kind sir?
What pity wad ye hae frae me?
Though your steed has neither corn nor hay,
It has gerss at its liberty.’

8 He has trysted the pretty maid
Till they cam to the brume,
And at the end o yon ew-buchts
It’s there they baith sat doun.

9 Till up she raise, took up her milk-pails,
And away gaed she hame;
Up bespak her auld father,
‘It’s whare hae ye been sae lang?’

10 ‘This is a mark and a misty nicht,
Ye may gang to the door and see;
The ewes hae taen a skipping out-oure the knows,
They winna bucht in for me.

11 ‘I may curse my father’s shepherd;
Some ill death mat he dee!
He has buchted the ewes sae far frae the toun,
And has trysted the young men to me.’

Version J

1 IT was a dark and a misty night,
. . . .
And by came a troop o gentlemen,
Said, Lassie, shew me the way.

2 ‘Oh well ken I by your silk mantle,
And by your grass-green sleeve,
That you are the maid of the Cowdenknows,
And may well seem to be.’

3 ‘I’m nae the maid of the Cowdenknows,
Nor ever think to be;
I am but ane of her hirewomen,
Rides aft in her companie.

4 ‘Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed,
And by your merry winking ee,
That you are the laird of Lochinvar,
And may well seem to be.’

5 ‘I’m nae the laird of Lochinvar,
Nor may well seem to be;
But I am one of his merry young men,
And am oft in his companie.’

6 ‘The tod was among your sheep, father,
You may look forth and see;
And before he had taen tha lamb he’s taen
I had rather he had taen three.’

7 When twenty weeks were come and gane,
Twenty weeks and three,
The lassie she turned pale and wan
. . . .

8 . . . .
And was caain out her father’s kye,
When by came a troop of gentlemen,
Were riding along the way.

9 ‘Fair may it fa thee, weel-fa’rt may!
Wha’s aught the bairn ye’re wi?’
‘O I hae a husband o my ain,
To father my bairn te.’

10 ‘You lie, you lie, you weel-far’d may,
Sae loud ’s I hear you lie!
Do you mind the dark and the misty night
I was in the bught wi thee?’

11 ‘Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed,
And by your merry winkin ee,
That you are the laird of Lochinvar,
That was in the bught wi me.’

Version K

1 * * * * *
THERE was four and twenty gentlemen,
As they were ridin by,
And aff there loups the head o them,
Cums in to this fair may.

2 ‘It’s a mark and a mark and a misty night,
And we canna know the way;
And ye wad be as gude to us
As shew us on the way.’

3 ‘Ye’ll get a boy for meat,’ she says,
‘Ye’ll get a boy for fee,
. . . .
That will shew you the right way.’

4 ‘We’ll get a boy for meat,’ he says,
‘We’ll get a boy for fee,
But we do not know where to seek
That bonny boy out.’

5 ‘It’s foul befa my auld father’s men,
An ill death mat they die!
They’ve biggit the ewe bucht sae far frae the town
They’ve tristed the men to me.’

Version L

1 O THE broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom grows oer the burn!
Aye when I mind on’s bonny yellow hair,
I aye hae cause to mourn.
?? There was a bonny, a well-fared may,
In the fauld milking her kye,
When by came a troop of merry gentlemen,
And sae merrily they rode by.
O the broom, etc.

2 The maid she sang till the hills they rang,
And a little more forebye,
Till in came ane of these gentlemen
To the bught o the bonny may.

3 ‘Well mat ye sing, fair maid,’ he says,
‘In the fauld, milking your kye;
The night is misty, weet and dark,
And I’ve gane out o my way.’

4 ‘Keep on the way ye ken, kind sir,
Keep on the way ye ken;
But I pray ye take care o Clyde’s water,
For the stream runs proud and fair.’

5 ‘I ken you by your lamar beads,
And by your blinking ee,
That your mother has some other maid
To send to the ewes than thee.’

6 ‘I ken you by your powderd locks,
And by your gay gold ring,
That ye are the laird o Rock-rock lays,
That beguiles all young women.’

7 ‘I’m not the laird o the Rock-rock lays,
Nor ever hopes to be;
But I am one o the finest knights
That’s in his companie.

8 ‘Are ye the maid o the Cowden Knowes?
I think you seem to be;’
‘No, I’m not the maid o the Cowden Knowes,
Nor ever hopes to be;
But I am one of her mother’s maids,
And oft in her companie.’

9 ‘He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by her grass-green sleeve,
He’s set her down upon the ground
Of her kin spierd nae leave.

10 He’s gien her a silver comb,
To comb her yellow hair;
He bade her keep it for his sake,
For fear she never got mair.

11 He pat his hand in his pocket,
He’s gien her guineas three;
Says, Take ye that, fair maid, he says,
’Twill pay the nourice’s fee.

12 She’s taen the milk-pail on her head,
And she gaed singing hame,
And a’ that her auld father did say,
‘Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.’

13 ‘Woe be to your shepherd, father,
And an ill death mat he die!
He’s biggit the bught sae far frae the town,
And trystit a man to me.

14 ‘There came a tod into the bught,
The like o ’m I neer did see;
Before he’d taen the lamb he’s taen,
I’d rather he’d taen other three.’

15 Or eer six months were past and gane,
Six months but other three,
This lassie begud for to fret and frown,
And lang for his blinking ee.

16 It fell upon another day,
When ca’ing out her father’s kye,
That by came the troop o gentlemen,
Sae merrily riding by.

17 Then ane of them stopt, and said to her,
‘Wha’s aught that bairn ye’re wi?’
The lassie began for to blush, and think,
To a father as good as ye.

18 She turnd her right and round about
And thought nae little shame;
Then a’ to him that she did say,
‘I’ve a father to my bairn at hame.’

19 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-fared may,
Sae loud’s I hear ye lie!
For dinna ye mind yon misty night
I was in the bught wi thee?

20 ‘I gave you a silver comb,
To comb your yellow hair;
I bade you keep it for my sake,
For fear ye’d never get mair.

21 ‘I pat my hand in my pocket,
I gae you guineas three;
I bade you keep them for my sake,
And pay the nourice’s fee.’

22 He’s lappen aff his berry-brown steed
And put that fair maid on;
‘Ca hame your kye, auld father,’ he says,
‘She shall never mair return.

23 ‘I am the laird o the Rock-rock lays,
Hae thirty ploughs and three,
And this day will wed the fairest maid
That eer my eyes did see.’
O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom grows oer the burn!
Aye when she minds on his yellow hair,
She shall neer hae cause to mourn.

Version M

1 ’TWAS on a misty day, a fair maiden gay
Went out to the Cowdenknowes;
Lang, lang she thought ere her ewes woud bught,
Wi her pail for to milk the ewes.
O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang,
In the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.

2 And aye as she sang the greenwoods rang,
Her voice was sae loud and shrill;
They heard the voice of this well-far’d maid
At the other side o the hill.

3 ‘My mother she is an ill woman,
And an ill woman is she;
Or than she might have got some other maid
To milk her ewes without me.

4 ‘My father was ance a landed laird,
As mony mair have been;
But he held on the gambling trade
Till a ’s free lands were dune.

5 ‘My father drank the brandy and beer,
My mother the wine sae red;
Gars me, poor girl, gang maiden lang,
For the lack o tocher guid.’

6 There was a troop o merry gentlemen
Came riding alang the way,
And one o them drew the ewe-bughts unto,
At the voice of this lovely may.

7 ‘O well may you sing, my well-far’d maid,
And well may you sing, I say,
For this is a mirk and a misty night,
And I’ve ridden out o my way.’

8 ‘Ride on, ride on, young man,’ she said,
‘Ride on the way ye ken;
But keep frae the streams o the Rock-river,
For they run proud and vain.

9 ‘Ye winna want boys for meat, kind sir,
And ye winna want men for fee;
It sets not us that are young women
To show young men the way.’

10 ‘O winna ye pity me, fair maid?
O winna ye pity me?
O winna ye pity my poor steed,
Stnads trembling at yon tree?’

11 ‘Ride on, ride on, ye rank rider,
Your steed’s baith stout and strang;
For out o the ewe-bught I winna come,
For fear that ye do me wrang.

12 ‘For well ken I by your high-colld hat,
And by your gay gowd ring,
That ye are the Earl o Rock-rivers,
That beguiles a’ our young women.’

13 ‘O I’m not the earl o the Rock-rivers,
Nor ever thinks to be;
But I am ane o his finest knights,
Rides aft in his companie.

14 ‘I know you well by your lamar beads,
And by your merry winking ee,
That ye are the maid o the Cowdenknowes,
And may very well seem to be.’

15 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
He’s laid her down by the ewe-bught-wa,
At her he spiered nae leave.

16 When he had had got his wills o her,
And his wills he had taen,
He lifted her up by the middle sae sma,
Says, Fair maid, rise up again.

17 Then he has taen out a siller kaim,
Kaimd down her yellow hair;
Says, Fair maid, take that, keep it for my sake,
Case frae me ye never get mair.

18 Then he put his hand in his pocket,
And gien her guineas three;
Says, Take that, fair maiden, till I return,
’Twill pay the nurse’s fee.

19 Then he lap on his milk-white steed,
And he rade after his men,
And a’ that they did say to him,
‘Dear master, ye’ ve tarried lang.’

20 ‘I’ve ridden east, I’ve ridden west,
And over the cowdenknowes,
But the bonniest lass that eer I did see,
Was i the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.’

21 She’s taen her milk-pail on her head,
And she gaed singing hame;
But a’ that her auld father did say,
‘Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.’
‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
Aye sae sair ’s I may rue the day,
In the ewe-bughts, milking my ewes.

22 ‘O this is a mirk and a misty night,
O father, as ye may see;
The ewes they ran skipping over the knowes,
And they woudna bught in for me.

23 . . . .
. . . .
‘Before that he’d taen the lamb that he took,
I rather he’d taen other three.’

24 When twenty weeks were come and gane,
And twenty weeks and three,
The lassie’s colour grew pale and wan,
And she longed this knight to see.

25 Says, ‘Wae to the fox came amo our flock!
I wish he had taen them a’
Before that he’d taen frae me what he took;
It’s occasiond my downfa.’

26 It fell ance upon a time
She was ca’ing hame her kye,
There came a troop o merry gentlemen,
And they wyled the bonny lassie by.

27 But one o them spake as he rode past,
Says, Who owes the bairn ye are wi?
A little she spake, but thought wi hersell,
‘Perhaps to ane as gude as thee.’

28 O then she did blush as he did pass by,
And dear! but she thought shame,
And all that she did say to him,
‘Sir, I have a husband at hame.’

29 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-far’d maid,
Sae loud as I hear you lie!
For dinna ye mind yon misty night,
Ye were in the bught wi me?
‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
Aye sae sweet as I heard you sing,
In the ewe-bughts, milking your ewes.’

30 ‘O well do I mind, kind sir,’ she said,
‘As ye rode over the hill;
Ye took frae me my maidenhead,
Fell sair against my will.
‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
And aye sae sair as I rue the day
I met you, milking my ewes.

31 ‘And aye as ye spake, ye lifted your hat,
Ye had a merry winking ee;
I ken you well to be the man,
Then kind sir, O pity me!’

32 ‘Win up, win up, fair maiden,’ he said,
‘Nae langer here ye’ll stay;
This night ye’se be my wedded wife,
Without any more delay.’

33 He lighted aff his milk-white steed
And set the lassie on;
‘Ca in your kye, auld man,’ he did say,
‘She’ll never ca them in again.

34 ‘I am the Earl o the Rock-rivers,
Hae fifty ploughs and three,
And am sure I’ve chosen the fairest maid
That ever my eyes did see.’

35 Then he stript her o the robes o grey,
Donned her in the robes o green,
And when she came to her lord’s ha
They took her to be some queen.
O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom o the Cowdenknowes!
And aye sae sweet as the bonny lassie sang,
That ever she milked the ewes.

Version N

1 O THERE war a troop o merry gentlemen
Cam riding oure the knowes,
And they hear the voice o a bonny lass,
In the bichts, milking the yowes.

2 ‘O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!
O saved may ye be!
My steed he has riden wrang,
Fain wad I ken the way.’

3 She has tane the steed by the bridle-reins,
Has led him till the way,
And he has tane out three gowd rings,
Gien them to that bonnie may.

4 And he has tane her by the milk-white hand
And by the gerss-green sleeve,
And he laid her doun on the side o yon hill,
At her daddie speird na leave.

5 Now she has hame to her father gane,
Her father did her blame:
‘O whare hae ye been, my ae dochter?
For ye hae na been your lane.’

6 ‘O the nicht is mirk, and very, very wet,
Ye may gang to the door and see;
O there’s nabody been wi me, father,
There’s nabody been wi me.

7 ‘But there cam a tod to your bucht, father,
The like o him I neer saw;
Afore you’d gien him the lamb that he took,
Ye’d rather hae gien them a’.

8 ‘O wae be to my father’s sheep-hird,
An ill death may he dee!
For bigging the bucht sae nar the road,
Let the Lochinvar to me!’

9 She’s tane her pig and her cog in her hand,
And she’s gane to milk the kye;
But ere she was aware, the Laird o Lochinvar
Cam riding in the way.

10 ‘O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!
I wish ye may be sound;
O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may!
What maks thy belly sae round?’

11 O she has turnd hersel round about,
And she within her thoucht shame:
‘O it’s nabody’s wills wi me, kind sir,
For I hae a gudeman o my ain.’

12 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, my bonnie may,
Weel do I ken ye lee!
For dinna ye mind o the three gowd rings
I gied ye o the new moneye?’

13 ‘O weel do I mind thee, kind sir,
O weel do I mind thee;
For ae when ye spak ye lifted up your hat,
And ye had a bonnie twinklin ee.’

14 ‘O ye need na toil yoursel, my dear,
Neither to card nor to spin;
For there’s ten pieces I gie unto thee;
Keep them for your lying in.’

15 Now she has hame to her father gane,
As fast as she could hie;
And she was na weel crownd wi joy
Till her auld son gat she.

16 But she’ll na tell the daddie o it
Till father not to mither,
And she’ll na tell the daddie o it
To sister nor to brither.

17 And word is to the Lochinvar,
And word is to him gane,
That sic a tenant’s dochter
Has born a bastard son:

18 And she’ll na tell the daddie o it
To father nor to mither,
And she’ll na tell the daddie o it
Till sister nor to brither.

19 ‘O weel do I ken the reason o that,
And the reason weel do I ken;
O weel ken I the reason o that;
It’s to some o her father’s men.

20 ‘But I will awa to Littlejohn’s house,
Shule them out o the door;
For there’s na tenant on a’ my land
Shall harbour an arrant hure.’

21 Then out and spak the house-keeper,
‘Ye’d better lat her abee;
For an onie harm befa this may,
A’ the wyte will be on me.’

22 O he has turnd himsel round about,
Within himsel thoucht he
‘Better do I loe her little finger
Than a’ thy haill bodie.

23 ‘Gae saddle to me my six coach-mares,
Put a’ their harness on,
And I will awa to Littlejohn’s house
For reports o this bastard son.’

24 Now whan he cam to Littlejohn’s house,
Littlejohn was at the door:
‘Ye rascal, ye rogue, ye impudent dog,
Will ye harbour an arrant hure!’

25 ‘O pardon me, my sovereign liege,
O pardon me, I pray;
Oh that the nicht that she was born
She’d deed the very neist day!’

26 But he is in to his bonnie lassie gane,
And has bolted the door behind,
And there he has kissd his bonnie lassie sweet,
It’s over and over again.

27 ‘Ye did weel, ye did weel, my bonnie may,
To keep the secret twixt me and thee;
For I am the laird o the Ochilberry swair,
The lady o ’t I’ll mak thee.

28 ‘Come doun, come duun, now gentlemen a’,
And set this fair lady on;
Mither, ye may milk the ewes as ye will,
For she’ll neer milk them again.

29 ‘For I am the laird o the Ochilberry swair,
O thirty plows and three,
And I hae gotten the bonniest may
That’s in a’ the south countrie.’

Colophon

This edition transcribes the 305 numbered ballads of Francis James Child's The English and Scottish Popular Ballads (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Company; issued in parts, 1882–1898) from the local sacred-texts.com mirror at neu/eng/child/, itself digitized from a ballad corpus assembled by Cathy Lynn Preston at the University of Colorado rather than scanned directly from the print volumes. All 305 ballad files (ch001–ch305) were verified present and complete against the mirror's own index; no ballad number is missing.

Several defects are disclosed rather than silently repaired, per this library's fidelity standard:

  • Missing critical apparatus. Child's full prose headnotes — the extended discussion of each ballad's history, analogues, and relations to other versions that fills much of the print edition — are not present in this etext. Only the brief manuscript or print source citation Child gave for each version survives. This is the mirror's own stated limitation, not an omission made in preparing this edition.
  • Mismatched front matter. The Preface and the "List of the Principal Collections of English and Scottish Ballads and Songs" carried by the mirror are not the front matter of this 1882–1898 edition. The mirror's own transcriber's note discloses that both were transcribed from Child's earlier, different collection, English and Scottish Ballads (1860, 8 vols.), rather than from The English and Scottish Popular Ballads itself. The mismatched bibliography is omitted here as apparatus that does not belong to this edition; the mismatched preface is reproduced only in Volume 1, as a clearly labelled appendix, for its historical interest.
  • No surviving volume divisions. The mirror's ballad files carry no page numbers, volume markers, or other indication of which of the original five print volumes any given ballad belonged to. This Good Works edition therefore divides the 305 ballads into five volumes by ballad-number range alone — chosen to balance file length at roughly 120,000–135,000 words each — and makes no claim to reproduce Child's original 1882–1898 print-volume boundaries, which are not recoverable from the local source.
  • Publication-year note. The mirror's own title page gives "[1886-98]" for the ballad printing, while its index page gives "[1882-1898]" for the collection as a whole; this edition follows the standard citation, 1882–1898 (the earliest parts appeared in 1882, the final part completing the collection in 1898).
  • One disclosed transcription glitch. Ballad 63 ("Child Waters"), Version A, contains two isolated bracket typos inherited from the mirror — "wee<de]." and "he<r]" — almost certainly transcriber's errors for "wee[de]." and "he[r]" (Child's own square brackets marking an editorial restoration). Both are left exactly as the mirror has them rather than silently corrected, per this library's standard against fabricating source text.
  • Simplified stanza numbering. Child cites a stanza as, e.g., "58A.14" (ballad 58, version A, stanza 14). Under this edition's heading structure the ballad number and version are already given by the section headings, so only the bare stanza number is shown before each stanza, to avoid repeating the same prefix hundreds of times per volume. The full citation is recovered by combining the heading with the stanza number shown.

No ballad text, version, or stanza has been abridged, paraphrased, or modernized. Curly quotation marks and the handful of numeric character references used by the mirror have been decoded to plain Unicode; sacred-texts.com's own site navigation, page-number gutters, and HTML markup have been removed.

Volume 4 covers ballads 158–217 (125,035 words of ballad text in this file).

Prepared for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church with AI-assisted transcription and editorial work.

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