The Child Ballads

The English and Scottish Popular Ballads
Edited by Francis J. Child
(Five Volumes)
Dover Publications, New York, 1965
(First published in 1884-1898)




Based on files of Cathy Lynn Preston (preston@spot.colorado.edu)
Formatted by David Stampe stampe@hawaii.edu

Index
(Numbers followed by the letter A have variants.)

Child 1A: Riddles Wisely Expounded
Child 2A: The Elfin Knight
Child 3A: The Fause Knight on the Road
Child 4A: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
Child 5A: Gil Brenton
Child 6A: Willie’s Lady
Child 7A: Earl Brand
Child 8A: Erlinton
Child 9A: The Fair Flower of Northumberland
Child 10A: The Twa Sisters
Child 11A: The Cruel Brother
Child 12A: Lord Rendal
Child 13A: Edward
Child 14A: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie
Child 15A: Leesom Brand
Child 16A: Sheath and Knife
Child 17A: Hind Horn
Child 18A: Sir Lionel
Child 19A: King Orfeo
Child 20A: The Cruel Mother
Child 21A: The Maid and the Palmer
Child 22: St. Stephen and Herod
Child 23: Judas
Child 24A: Bonnie Annie
Child 25A: Willie’s Lyke-Wake
Child 26: The Three Ravens
Child 27: The Whummil Bore
Child 28: Burd Ellen and Young Tamlane
Child 29: The Boy and the Mantle
Child 30: King Arthur and King Cornwall
Child 31: The Marriage of Sir Gawain
Child 32: King Henry
Child 33A: Kempy Kay
Child 34A: Kemp Owyne
Child 35: Allison Gross
Child 36: The Laily Worm and the Machrel of the Sea
Child 37A: Thomas Rymer
Child 38A: The Wee Wee Man
Child 39A: Tam Lin
Child 40: The Queen of Elfan’s Nourice
Child 41A: Hind Etin
Child 42A: Clerk Colvill
Child 43A: The Broomfield Hill
Child 44: The Two Magicians
Child 45A: King John and the Bishop
Child 46A: Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship
Child 47A: Proud Lady Margaret
Child 48: Young Andrew
Child 49A: The Twa Brothers
Child 50: The Bonny Hind
Child 51A: Lizie Wan
Child 52A: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean
Child 53A: Young Beichan
Child 54A: The Cherry-Tree Carol
Child 55: The Carnal and the Crane
Child 56A: Dives and Lazarus
Child 57: Brown Robyn’s Confession
Child 58A: Sir Patrick Spens
Child 59A: Sir Aldingar
Child 60: King Estmere
Child 61: Sir Cawline
Child 62A: Fair Annie
Child 63A: Child Waters
Child 64A: Fair Janet
Child 65A: Lady Maisry
Child 66A: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet
Child 67A: Glasgerion
Child 68A: Young Hunting
Child 69A: Clerk Sanders
Child 70A: Willie and Lady Maisry
Child 71: The Bent Sae Brown
Child 72A: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford
Child 73A: Lord Thomas and Annet
Child 74A: Fair Margaret and Sweet William
Child 75A: Lord Lovel
Child 76A: The Lass of Roch Royal
Child 77A: Sweet William’s Ghost
Child 78A: The Unquiet Grave
Child 79A: The Wife of Usher’s Well
Child 80: Old Robin of Portingale
Child 81A: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
Child 82: The Bonny Birdy
Child 83A: Child Maurice
Child 84A: Bonny Barbara Allen
Child 85A: Lady Alice
Child 86A: Young Benjie
Child 87A: Prince Robert
Child 88A: Young Johnstone
Child 89A: Fause Foodrage
Child 90A: Jellon Grame
Child 91A: Fair Mary of Wallington
Child 92A: Bonny Bee Hom
Child 93A: Lamkin
Child 94: Young Waters
Child 95A: The Maid Freed From the Gallows
Child 96A: The Gay Goshawk
Child 97A: Brown Robin
Child 98A: Brown Adam
Child 99A: Johnie Scott
Child 100A: Willie o Winesberry
Child 101A: Willie o Couglas Dale
Child 102A: Willie and Earl Richard’s Daughter
Child 103A: Rose the Red and White Lily
Child 104A: Prince Heathen
Child 105: The Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington
Child 106: The Famous Flower of Serving Men
Child 107A: Will Steward and John
Child 108: Christopher White
Child 109A: Tom Potts
Child 110A: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter
Child 111: Crow and Pie
Child 112A: Blow Away the Morning Dew
Child 113: The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry
Child 114A: Johnie Cock
Child 115A: Robyn and Gandeleyn
Child 116A: Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough and William of Cloudesly
Child 117A: The Gest of Robyn Hode
Child 118A: Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne
Child 119A: Robin Hood and the Monk
Child 120A: Robin Hood’s Death
Child 121A: Robin Hood and the Potter
Child 122A: Robin Hood and the Butcher
Child 123A: Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar
Child 124A: The Jolly Pindar of Wakefield
Child 125A: Robin Hood and Little John
Child 126A: Robin Hood and the Tanner
Child 127A: Robin Hood and the Tinker
Child 128A: Robin Hood and the Newly Revived
Child 129A: Robin Hood and the Prince of Aragon
Child 130A: Robin Hood and the Scotchman
Child 131A: Robin Hood and the Ranger
Child 132A: The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood
Child 133A: Robin Hood and the Beggar, I
Child 134A: Robin Hood and the Beggar, II
Child 135A: Robin Hood and the Shepherd
Child 136A: Robin Hood’s Delight
Child 137A: Robin Hood and the Pedlars
Child 138A: Robin Hood and Allen a Dale
Child 139A: Robin Hood’s Progress to Nottingham
Child 140A: Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires
Child 141A: Robin Hood Rescuing Will Stutly
Child 142A: Little John a Begging
Child 143A: Robin Hood and the Bishop
Child 144A: Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford
Child 145A: Robin Hood and Queen Katherine
Child 146A: Robin Hood’s Chase
Child 147A: Robin Hood’s Golden Prize
Child 148A: The Noble Fisherman or Robin Hood’s Preferment
Child 149A: Robin Hood’s Birth, Breeding, Valor and Marriage
Child 150A: Robin Hood and Maid Marian
Child 151A: The King’s Disguise, and Friendship with Robin Hood
Child 152A: Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow
Child 153A: Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight
Child 154A: A True Tale of Robin Hood
Child 155A: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter
Child 156A: Queen Eleanor’s Confession
Child 157A: Gude Wallace
Child 158A: High Spencer’s Feats in France
Child 159A: Durham Field
Child 160A: The Knight of Liddesdale
Child 161A: The Battle of Otterburn
Child 162A: The Hunting of the Cheviot
Child 163A: The Battle of Harlaw
Child 164A: King Henry Fifth’s Conquest of France
Child 165A: Sir John Butler
Child 166A: The Rose of England
Child 167A: Andrew Bartin
Child 168A: Flodden Field
Child 169A: Johnie Armstrong
Child 170A: The Death of Queen Jane
Child 171A: Thomas Cromwell
Child 172A: Musselburgh Field
Child 173A: Mary Hamilton
Child 174A: Earl Bothwell
Child 175A: The Rising in the North
Child 176A: Northumberland Betrayed by Douglas
Child 177A: The Earl of Westmoreland
Child 178A: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon
Child 179A: Rookhope Ryde
Child 180A: King James and Brown
Child 181A: The Bonnie Earl o’ Moray
Child 182A: The Laird of Logie
Child 183A: Willie Macintosh
Child 184A: The Lads of Wamphray
Child 185A: Dick o the Cow
Child 186A: Kinmont Willie
Child 187A: Jock o the Side
Child 188A: Archie o Cawfield
Child 189A: Hobie Noble
Child 190A: Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead
Child 191A: Hughie Graham
Child 192A: The Lochmaben Harper
Child 193A: The Death of Parcy Reed
Child 194A: The Laird of Wariston
Child 195A: Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight
Child 196A: The Fire of Frendruahgt
Child 197A: James Grant
Child 198A: Bonny John Seton
Child 199A: Bonnie House o’ Airlie
Child 200A: The Gypsy Laddie
Child 201A: Bessy Bell and Mary Gray
Child 202A: The Battle of Philiphaugh
Child 203A: The Baron of Brackley
Child 204A: Jamie Douglas
Child 205A: Loudon Hill, or Dromclog
Child 206A: Bothwell Bridge
Child 207A: Lord Delamere
Child 208A: Lord Dernwentwater
Child 209A: Geordie
Child 210A: Bonnie James Campbell
Child 211A: Bewick and Graham
Child 212A: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse
Child 213A: Sir James the Rose
Child 214A: The Braes o Yarrow
Child 215A: Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or, The Water o Gamrie
Child 216A: The Mother’s Malison, or, Clyde’s Water
Child 217A: The Broom of Cowdenknows
Child 218A: The False Lover Won Back
Child 219A: The Gardener
Child 220A: The Bonny Lass of Anglesley
Child 221A: Katherine Jafray
Child 222A: Bonny Baby Livingston
Child 223A: Epie Morrie
Child 224A: The Lady of Arngosk
Child 225A: Rob Roy
Child 226A: Lizie Lindsay
Child 227A: Bonny Lizie Baillie
Child 228A: Glasgow Peggie
Child 229A: Earl Crawford
Child 230A: The Slaughter of the Laird of Mellerstain
Child 231A: The Earl of Errol
Child 232A: Richie Story
Child 233A: Andrew Lammie
Child 234A: Charlie MacPherson
Child 235A: The Earl of Aboyne
Child 236A: The Laird o Drum
Child 237A: The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter
Child 238A: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie
Child 239A: Lord Saltoun and Auchanachie
Child 240A: The Rantin Laddie
Child 241A: The Baron o Leys
Child 242A: The Coble o Cargin
Child 243A: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)
Child 244A: James Hatley
Child 245A: Young Allan
Child 246A: Redesdale and Wise William
Child 247A: Lady Elspat
Child 248A: The Grey Cock, or, Saw You My Father
Child 249A: Auld Matrons
Child 250A: Henry Martyn
Child 251A: Lang Johnny More
Child 252A: The Kitchie-Boy
Child 253A: Thomas o Yonderdale
Child 254A: Lord William, or Lord Lundy
Child 255A: Willie’s Fatal Visit
Child 256A: Alison and Willie
Child 257A: Burd Isabel and Earl Patrick
Child 258A: Broughty Wa’s
Child 259A: Lord Thomas Stuart
Child 260A: Lord Thomas and Lady Margaret
Child 261A: Lady Isabel
Child 262A: Lord Livingston
Child 263A: The New-Slain Knight
Child 264A: The White Fisher
Child 265A: The Knight’s Ghost
Child 266A: John Thomson and the Turk
Child 267A: The Heir of Linne
Child 268A: The Twa Knights
Child 269A: Lady Diamond
Child 270A: The Earl of Mar’s Daughter
Child 271A: The Lord of Lorn and the False Steward
Child 272A: The Suffolk Miracle
Child 273A: King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth
Child 274A: Our Goodman
Child 275A: Get Up and Bar the Door
Child 276A: The Friar in the Well
Child 277A: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin
Child 278A: The Farmer’s Curst Wife
Child 279A: The Jolly Beggar
Child 280A: The Beggar-Laddie
Child 281A: The Keach I the Creel
Child 282A: Jock the Leg and the Merry Merchant
Child 283A: The Crafty Farmer
Child 284A: John Dory
Child 285A: The George Aloe and the Sweepstake
Child 286A: The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity)
Child 287A: Captain Ward and the Rainbow
Child 288A: The Young Earl of Essex’s Victory Over the Emperor of Germany
Child 289A: Mermaid
Child 290A: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie
Child 291A: Child Owlet
Child 292A: The West-Country Damosel’s Complaint
Child 293A: John of Hazelgreen
Child 294A: Dugal Quin
Child 295A: The Brown Girl
Child 296A: Walter Lesly
Child 297A: Earl Rothes
Child 298A: Young Peggy
Child 299A: Trooper and Maid
Child 300A: Blancheflour and Jellyflorice
Child 301A: The Queen of Scotland
Child 302A: Young Bearwell
Child 303A: The Holy Nunnery
Child 304A: Young Ronald
Child 305A: The Outlaw Murray

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


		 Child 1B: Riddles Wisely Expounded

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


		 Child 1C: Riddles Wisely Expounded

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


		 Child 1D: Riddles Wisely Expounded

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


		 Child 1[E]: Riddles Wisely Expounded

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



		 Child 2A: The Elfin Knight

2A.1	MY plaid awa, my plaid awa,
	And ore the hill and far awa,
	And far awa to Norrowa,
	My plaid shall not be blown awa.
	The elphin knight sits on yon hill,
 Refrain:	Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba
	He blaws his horn both lowd and shril.
 Refrain:	The wind hath blown my plaid awa
2A.2	He blowes it east, he blowes it west,
	He blowes it where he lyketh best.
2A.3	‘I wish that horn were in my kist,
	Yea, and the knight in my armes two.’
2A.4	She had no sooner these words said,
	When that the knight came to her bed.
2A.5	‘Thou art over young a maid,’ quoth he,
	‘Married with me thou il wouldst be.’
2A.6	‘I have a sister younger than I,
	And she was married yesterday.’
2A.7	‘Married with me if thou wouldst be,
	A courtesie thou must do to me.
2A.8	‘For thou must shape a sark to me,
	Without any cut or heme,’ quoth he.
2A.9	‘Thou must shape it knife-and-sheerlesse,
	And also sue it needle-threedlesse.’
2A.10	‘If that piece of courtesie I do to thee,
	Another thou must do to me.
2A.11	‘I have an aiker of good ley-land,
	Which lyeth low by yon sea-strand.
2A.12	‘For thou must eare it with thy horn,
	So thou must sow it with thy corn.
2A.13	‘And bigg a cart of stone and lyme,
	Robin Redbreast he must trail it hame.
2A.14	‘Thou must barn it in a mouse-holl,
	And thrash it into thy shoes soll.
2A.15	thou must winnow it in thy looff,
	And also seck it in thy glove.
2A.16	‘For thou must bring it over the sea,
	And thou must bring it dry home to me.
2A.17	en thou hast gotten thy turns well done,
	Then come to me and get thy sark then.’
2A.18	‘I’l not quite my plaid for my life;
	It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’
2A.18r	The wind shall not blow my plaid awa
2A.19	‘My maidenhead I’l then keep still,
	Let the elphin knight do what he will.’
2A.19r	The wind’s not blown my plaid awa


		 Child 2B.b: The Elfin Knight

2B.1	MY plaid awa, my plaid awa,
	And owre the hills and far awa,
	And far awa to Norrowa,
	My plaid shall not be blawn awa.
	The Elphin knight sits on yon hill,
 Refrain:	Ba, ba, ba, lillie ba
	He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill.
 Refrain:	The wind hath blawn my plaid awa
2B.2	He blaws it east, he blaws it west,
	He blaws it where he liketh best.
2B.3	‘I wish that horn were in my kist,
	Yea, and the knight in my arms niest.’
2B.4	She had no sooner these words said,
	Than the knight came to her bed.
2B.5	‘Thou art oer young a maid,’ quoth he,
	‘Married with me that thou wouldst be.’
2B.6	‘I have a sister, younger than I,
	And she was married yesterday.’
2B.7	‘Married with me if thou wouldst be,
	A curtisie thou must do to me.
2B.8	‘It’s ye maun mak a sark to me,
	Without any cut or seam,’ quoth he.
2B.9	‘And ye maun shape it, knife-, sheerless,
	And also sew it needle-, threedless.’
2B.10	‘If that piece of courtisie I do to thee,
	Another thou must do to me.
2B.11	‘I have an aiker of good ley land,
	Which lyeth low by yon sea strand.
2B.12	‘It’s ye maun till’t wi your touting horn,
	And ye maun saw’t wi the pepper corn.
2B.13	‘And ye maun harrow’t wi a thorn,
	And hae your wark done ere the morn.
2B.14	‘And ye maun shear it wi your knife,
	And no lose a stack o’t for your life.
2B.15	‘And ye maun stack it in a mouse hole,
	And ye maun thrash it in your shoe sole.
2B.16	‘And ye maun dight it in your loof,
	And also sack it in your glove.
2B.17	‘And thou must bring it over the sea,
	Fair and clean and dry to me.
2B.18	‘And when that ye have done your wark,
	Come back to me, and ye’ll get your sark.’
2B.19	‘I’ll not quite my plaid for my life;
	It haps my seven bairns and my wife.’
2B.20	‘My maidenhead I’ll then keep still,
	Let the elphin knight do what he will.


		 Child 2C: The Elfin Knight

2C.1	THERE stands a knicht at the tap o yon hill,
 Refrain:	Oure the hills and far awa
	He has blawn his horn loud and shill.
 Refrain:	The cauld wind’s blawn my plaid awa
2C.2	‘If I had the horn that I hear blawn,
	And the knicht that blaws that horn!’
2C.3	She had na sooner thae words said,
	Than the elfin knicht cam to her side.
2C.4	‘Are na ye oure young a may
	Wi onie young man doun to lie?’
2C.5	‘I have a sister younger than I,
	And she was married yesterday.’
2C.6	‘Married wi me ye sall neer be nane
	Till ye mak to me a sark but a seam.
2C.7	‘And ye maun shape it knife-,sheer-less,
	And ye maun sew it needle-, threed-less.
2C.8	‘And ye maun wash it in yon cistran,
	Whare water never stood nor ran.
2C.9	‘And ye maun dry it on yon hawthorn,
	Whare the sun neer shon sin man was born.’
2C.10	‘Gin that courtesie I do for thee,
	Ye maun do this for me.
2C.11	‘Ye’ll get an acre o gude red-land
	Atween the saut sea and the sand.
2C.12	‘I want that land for to be corn,
	And ye maun aer it wi your horn.
2C.13	‘And ye maun saw it without a seed,
	And ye maun harrow it wi a threed.
2C.14	‘And ye maun shear it wi your knife,
	And na tyne a pickle o’t for your life.
2C.15	‘And ye maun moue it in yon mouse-hole
	And ye maun thrash it in your shoe-sole.
2C.16	‘And ye maun fan it wi your luves,
	And ye maun sack it in your gloves.
2C.17	‘And ye maun bring it oure the sea,
	Fair and clean and dry to me.
2C.18	‘And whan that your wark is weill deen,
	Yese get your sark without a seam.’


		 Child 2D: The Elfin Knight

2D.1	THE Elfin knight stands on yon hill,
 Refrain:	Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw
	Blawing his horn loud and shrill.
 Refrain:	And the wind has blawin my plaid awa
2D.2	‘If I had yon horn in my kist,
	And the bonny laddie here that I luve best!
2D.3	‘I hae a sister eleven years auld,
	And she to the young men’s bed has made bauld.
2D.4	‘And I mysell am only nine,
	And oh! sae fain, luve, as I woud be thine.’
2D.5	‘Ye maun make me a fine Holland sark,
	Without ony stitching or needle wark.
2D.6	‘And ye maun wash it in yonder well,
	Where the dew never wat, nor the rain ever fell.
2D.7	‘And ye maun dry it upon a thorn
	That never budded sin Adam was born.’
2D.8	‘Now sin ye’ve askd some things o me,
	It’s right I ask as mony o thee.
2D.9	‘My father he askd me an acre o land,
	Between the saut sea and the strand.
2D.10	‘And ye maun plow’t wi your blawing horn,
	And ye maun saw’t wi pepper corn.
2D.11	And ye maun harrow’t wi a single tyne,
	And ye maun shear’t wi a sheep’s shank bane.
2D.12	‘And ye maun big it in the sea,
	And bring the stathle dry to me.
2D.13	‘And ye maun barn ’t in yon mouse hole,
	And ye maun thrash’t in your shee sole.
2D.14	‘And ye maun sack it in your gluve,
	And ye maun winno’t in your leuve.
2D.15	‘And ye maun dry’t without candle or coal,
	And grind it without quirn or mill.
2D.16	‘Ye’ll big a cart o stane and lime,
	Gar Robin Redbreast trail it syne.
2D.17	‘When ye’ve dune, and finishd your wark,
	Ye’ll come to me, luve, and get your sark.’


		 Child 2E: The Elfin Knight

2E.1	THE Elfin Knight sits on yon hill,
 Refrain:	Ba ba lilly ba
	Blowing his horn loud and shill.
 Refrain:	And the wind has blawn my plaid awa
2E.2	‘I love to hear that horn blaw;
	I wish him [here] owns it and a’.’
2E.3	That word it was no sooner spoken,
	Than Elfin Knight in her arms was gotten.
2E.4	‘You must mak to me a sark,
	Without threed, sheers or needle wark.’


		 Child 2F: The Elfin Knight

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


		 Child 2G: The Elfin Knight

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


		 Child 2H: The Elfin Knight

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


		 Child 2I: The Elfin Knight

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


		 Child 2J: The Elfin Knight

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


		 Child 2K: The Elfin Knight

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


		 Child 2L: The Elfin Knight

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


		 Child 2[M]: The Elfin Knight

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



		Child 3A: The Fause Knight on the Road

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


		Child 3B: The Fause Knight on the Road

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


	 Child 3[C]: The Fause Knight on the Road

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



	 Child 4A: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

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


	 Child 4B: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

4B.1	THERE came a bird out o a bush,
	On water for to dine,
	An sighing sair, says the king’s daughter,
	‘O wae’s this heart o mine!’
4B.2	He’s taen a harp into his hand,
	He’s harped them all asleep,
	Except it was the king’s daughter,
	Who one wink couldna get.
4B.3	He’s luppen on his berry-brown steed,
	Taen ’er on behind himsell,
	Then baith rede down to that water
	That they ca Wearie’s Well.
4B.4	‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
	No harm shall thee befall;
	Oft times I’ve watered my steed
	Wi the waters o Wearie’s Well.’
4B.5	The first step that she stepped in,
	She stepped to the knee;
	And sighend says this lady fair,
	‘This water’s nae for me.’
4B.6	‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
	No harm shall thee befall;
	Oft times I’ve watered my steed
	Wi the water o Wearie’s Well.’
4B.7	The next step that she stepped in,
	She stepped to the middle;
	‘O,’ sighend says this lady fair,
	I’ve wat my gowden girdle.’
4B.8	‘Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
	No harm shall thee befall;
	Oft times have I watered my steed
	Wi the water o Wearie’s Well.’
4B.9	The next step that she stepped in,
	She stepped to the chin;
	‘O,’ sighend says this lady fair,
	‘They sud gar twa loves twin.’
4B.10	‘Seven king’s-daughters I’ve drownd there,
	In the water o Wearie’s Well,
	And I’ll make you the eight o them,
	And ring the common bell.’
4B.11	‘Since I am standing here,’ she says,
	‘This dowie death to die,
	One kiss o your comely mouth
	I’m sure wad comfort me.’
4B.12	He louted him oer his saddle bow,
	To kiss her cheek and chin;
	She’s taen him in her arms twa,
	An thrown him headlong in.
4B.13	‘Since seven king’s daughters ye’ve drowned there,
	In the water o Wearie’s Well,
	I’ll make you bridegroom to them a’,
	An ring the bell mysell.’
4B.14	And aye she warsled, and aye she swam,
	And she swam to dry lan;
	She thanked God most cheerfully
	The dangers she oercame.


	 Child 4C: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

4C.1	FALSE Sir John a wooing came
	To a maid of beauty fair;
	May Colven was this lady’s name,
	Her father’s only heir.
4C.2	He wood her butt, he wood her ben,
	He wood her in the ha,
	Until he got this lady’s consent
	To mount and ride awa.
4C.3	He went down to her father’s bower,
	Where all the steeds did stand,
	And he’s taken one of the best steeds
	That was in her father’s land.
4C.4	He’s got on and she’s got on,
	And fast as they could flee,
	Until they came to a lonesome part,
	A rock by the side of the sea.
4C.5	‘Loup off the steed,’ says false Sir John,
	‘Your bridal bed you see;
	For I have drowned seven young ladies,
	The eight one you shall be.
4C.6	‘Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,
	All and your silken gown,
	For it’s oer good and oer costly
	To rot in the salt sea foam.
4C.7	‘Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,
	All and your embroiderd shoen,
	For they’re oer good and oer costly
	To rot in the salt sea foam.’
4C.8	‘O turn you about, O false Sir John,
	And look to the leaf of the tree,
	For it never became a gentleman
	A naked woman to see.’
4C.9	He turnd himself straight round about,
	To look to the leaf of the tree;
	So swift as May Colven was
	To throw him in the sea.
4C.10	‘O help, O help, my May Colven,
	O help, or else I’ll drown;
	I’ll take you home to your father’s bower,
	And set you down safe and sound.’
4C.11	‘No help, no help, O false Sir John,
	No help, nor pity thee;
	Tho seven king’s-daughters you have drownd,
	But the eight shall not be me.’
4C.12	So she went on her father’s steed,
	As swift as she could flee,
	And she came home to her father’s bower
	Before it was break of day.
4C.13	Up then and spoke the pretty parrot:
	‘May Colven, where have you been?
	What has become of false Sir John,
	That woo’d you so late the streen?
4C.14	‘He woo’d you butt, he woo’d you ben,
	He woo’d you in the ha,
	Until he got your own consent
	For to mount and gang awa.’
4C.15	‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,
	Lay not the blame upon me;
	Your cup shall be of the flowered gold,
	Your cage of the root of the tree.’
4C.16	Up then spake the king himself,
	In the bed-chamber where he lay:
	‘What ails the pretty parrot,
	That prattles so long or day?’
4C.17	‘There came a cat to my cage door,
	It almost a worried me,
	And I was calling on May Colven
	To take the cat from me.’


	 Child 4D: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

4D.1	O HEARD ye of a bloody knight,
	Lived in the south country?
	For he has betrayed eight ladies fair
	And drowned them in the sea.
4D.2	Then next he went to May Collin,
	She was her father’s heir,
	The greatest beauty in the land,
	I solemnly declare.
4D.3	‘I am a knight of wealth and might,
	Of townlands twenty-three;
	And you’ll be lady of them all,
	If you will go with me.’
4D.4	‘Excuse me, then, Sir John,’ she says;
	‘To wed I am too young;
	Without I have my parents’ leave,
	With you I darena gang.’
4D.5	‘Your parents’ leave you soon shall have,
	In that they will agree;
	For I have made a solemn vow
	This night you’ll go with me.’
4D.6	From below his arm he pulled a charm,
	And stuck it in her sleeve,
	And he has made her go with him,
	Without her parents’ leave.
4D.7	Of gold and silver she has got
	With her twelve hundred pound,
	And the swiftest steed her father had
	She has taen to ride upon.
4D.8	So privily they went along,
	They made no stop or stay,
	Till they came to the fatal place
	That they call Bunion Bay.
4D.9	It being in a lonely place,
	And no house there was nigh,
	The fatal rocks were long and steep,
	And none could hear her cry.
4D.10	‘Light down,’ he said, ’Fair May Collin,
	Light down and speak with me,
	For here I’ve drowned eight ladies fair,
	And the ninth one you shall be.’
4D.11	‘Is this your bowers and lofty towers,
	So beautiful and gay?
	Or is it for my gold,’ she said,
	‘You take my life away?’
4D.12	‘Strip off,’ he says, ’Thy jewels fine,
	So costly and so brave,
	For they are too costly and too fine
	To throw in the sea wave.’
4D.13	‘Take all I have my life to save,
	O good Sir John, I pray;
	Let it neer be said you killed a maid
	Upon her wedding day.’
4D.14	‘Strip off,’ he says, ’Thy Holland smock,
	That’s bordered with the lawn,
	For it’s too costly and too fine
	To rot in the sea sand.’
4D.15	‘O turn about, Sir John,’ she said,
	‘Your back about to me,
	For it never was comely for a man
	A naked woman to see.’
4D.16	But as he turned him round about,
	She threw him in the sea,
	Saying, ‘Lie you there, you false Sir John,
	Where you thought to lay me.
4D.17	‘O lie you there, you traitor false,
	Where you thought to lay me,
	For though you stripped me to the skin,
	Your clothes you’ve got with thee.’
4D.18	Her jewels fine she did put on,
	So costly, rich and brave,
	And then with speed she mounts his steed,
	So well she did behave.
4D.19	That lady fair being void of fear,
	Her steed being swift and free,
	And she has reached her father’s gate
	Before the clock struck three.
4D.20	Then first she called the stable groom,
	He was her waiting man;
	Soon as he heard his lady’s voice
	He stood with cap in hand.
4D.21	‘Where have you been, fair May Collin?
	Who owns this dapple grey?’
	‘It is a found one,’ she replied,
	‘That I got on the way.’
4D.22	Then out bespoke the wily parrot
	Unto fair May Collin:
	‘What have you done with false Sir John,
	That went with you yestreen?’

4D.23	‘O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,
	And talk no more to me,
	And where you had a meal a day
	O now you shall have three.’
4D.24	Then up bespoke her father dear,
	From his chamber where he lay:
	‘What aileth thee, my pretty Poll,
	That you chat so long or day?’
4D.25	The cat she came to my cage-door,
	The thief I could not see,
	And I called to fair May Collin,
	To take the cat from me.’
4D.26	Then first she told her father dear
	The deed that she had done,
	And next she told her mother dear
	Concerning false Sir John.
4D.27	‘If this be true, fair May Collin,
	That you have told to me,
	Before I either eat or drink
	This false Sir John I’ll see.’
4D.28	Away they went with one consent,
	At dawning of the day,
	Until they came to Carline Sands,
	And there his body lay.
4D.29	His body tall, by that great fall,
	By the waves tossed to and fro,
	The diamond ring that he had on
	Was broke in pieces two.
4D.30	And they have taken up his corpse
	To yonder pleasant green,
	And there they have buried false Sir John,
	For fear he should be seen.


	 Child 4E: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

4E.1	AN outlandish knight came from the north lands,
	And he came a-wooing to me;
	He told me he’d take me unto the north lands,
	And there he would marry me.
4E.2	‘Come, fetch me some of your father’s gold,
	And some of your mother’s fee,
	And two of the best nags out of the stable,
	Where they stand thirty and three.’
4E.3	She fetched him some of her father’s gold,
	And some of her mother’s fee,
	And two of the best nags out of the stable,
	Where they stood thirty and three.
4E.4	She mounted her on her milk-white steed,
	He on the dapple grey;
	They rode till they came unto the sea-side,
	Three hours before it was day.
4E.5	‘Light off, light off thy milk-white steed,
	And deliver it unto me;
	Six pretty maids have I drowned here,
	And thou the seventh shalt be.
4E.6	‘Pull off, pull off thy silken gown,
	And deliver it unto me;
	Methinks it looks too rich and too gay
	To rot in the salt sea.
4E.7	‘Pull off, pull off thy silken stays,
	And deliver them unto me;
	Methinks they are too fine and gay
	To rot in the salt sea.
4E.8	‘Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock,
	And deliver it unto me;
	Methinks it looks too rich and gay
	To rot in the salt sea.’
4E.9	‘If I must pull off my Holland smock,
	Pray turn thy back unto me;
	For it is not fitting that such a ruffian
	A naked woman should see.’
4E.10	He turned his back towards her
	And viewed the leaves so green;
	She catched him round the middle so small,
	And tumbled him into the stream.
4E.11	He dropped high and he dropped low,
	Until he came to the side;
	‘Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden,
	And I will make you my bride.’
4E.12	‘Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,
	Lie there instead of me;
	Six pretty maids have you drowned here,
	And the seventh has drowned thee.’
4E.13	She mounted on her milk-white steed,
	And led the dapple grey;
	She rode till she came to her own father’s hall,
	Three hours before it was day.
4E.14	The parrot being in the window so high,
	Hearing the lady, did say,
	‘I’m afraid that some ruffian has led you astray,
	That you have tarried so long away.’
4E.15	‘Don’t prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot,
	Nor tell no tales of me;
	Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,
	Although it is made of a tree.’
4E.16	The king being in the chamber so high,
	And hearing the parrot, did say,
	‘What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot,
	That you prattle so long before day?’
4E.17	‘It’s no laughing matter,’ the parrot did say,
	‘That so loudly I call unto thee,
	For the cats have got into the window so high,
	And I’m afraid they will have me.’
4E.18	‘Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot,
	Well turned, well turned for me;
	Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,
	And the door of the best ivory.’


	 Child 4F: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

4F.1	’GO fetch me some of your father’s gold,
	And some of your mother’s fee,
	And I’ll carry you into the north land,
	And there I’ll marry thee.’
4F.2	She fetchd him some of her father’s gold,
	And some of her mother’s fee;
	She carried him into the stable,
	Where horses stood thirty and three.
4F.3	She leapd on a milk-white steed,
	And he on a dapple-grey;
	They rode til they came to a fair river’s side,
	Three hours before it was day.
4F.4	‘O light, O light, you lady gay,
	O light with speed, I say,
	For six knight’s daughters have I drowned here,
	And you the seventh must be.’
4F.5	‘Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle
	That grows so near the brim,
	For fear it should tangle my golden locks,
	Or freckle my milk-white skin.’
4F.6	He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle
	That grows so near the brim,
	And with all the strength that pretty Polly had
	She pushd the false knight in.
4F.7	‘Swim on, swim on, thou false knight,
	And there bewail thy doom,
	For I don’t think thy cloathing too good
	To lie in a watry tomb.’
4F.8	She leaped on her milk-white steed,
	She led the dapple grey;
	She rid till she came to her father’s house,
	Three hours before it was day.
4F.9	‘Who knocked so loudly at the ring?’
	The parrot he did say;
	‘O where have you been, my pretty Polly,
	All this long summer’s day?’
4F.10	‘O hold your tongue, parrot,
	Tell you no tales of me;
	Your cage shall be made of beaten gold,
	Which is now made of a tree.’
4F.11	O then bespoke her father dear,
	As he on his bed did lay:
	‘O what is the matter, my parrot,
	That you speak before it is day?’
4F.12	‘The cat’s at my cage, master,
	And sorely frighted me,
	And I calld down my Polly
	To take the cat away.’


	 Child 4[G]: Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

4[G.1]	‘Now steal me some of your father’s gold,
	And some of your mother’s fee,
	And steal the best steed in your father’s stable,
	Where there lie thirty three.’
4[G.2]	She stole him some of her father’s gold,
	And some of her mother’s fee,
	And she stole the best steed from her father’s stable,
	Where there lay thirty three.
4[G.3]	And she rode on the milk-white steed,
	And he on the barb so grey,
	Until they came to the green, green wood,
	Three hours before it was day.
4[G.4]	‘Alight, alight, my pretty colleen,
	Alight immediately,
	For six knight’s daughters I drowned here,
	And thou the seventh shall be.’
4[G.5]	‘Oh hold your tongue, you false knight villain,
	Oh hold your tongue,’ said she;
	‘’Twas you that promised to marry me,
	For some of my father’s fee.’
4[G.6]	‘Strip off, strip off your jewels so rare,
	And give them all to me;
	I think them too rich and too costly by far
	To rot in the sand with thee.’
4[G.7]	‘Oh turn away, thou false knight villain,
	Oh turn away from me;
	Oh turn away, with your back to the cliff,
	And your face to the willow-tree.’
4[G.8]	He turned about, with his back to the cliff,
	And his face to the willow-tree;
	So sudden she took him up in her arms,
	And threw him into the sea.
4[G.9]	‘Lie there, lie there, thou false knight villain,
	Lie there instead of me;
	’Twas you that promised to marry me,
	For some of my father’s fee.’
4[G.10]	‘Oh take me by the arm, my dear,
	And hold me by the hand,
	And you shall be my gay lady,
	And the queen of all Scotland.’
4[G.11]	‘I’ll not take you by the arm, my dear,
	Nor hold you by the hand;
	And I won’t be your gay lady,
	And the queen of all Scotland.’
4[G.12]	And she rode on the milk-white steed,
	And led the barb so grey,
	Until she came back to her father’s castle,
	One hour before it was day.
4[G.13]	And out then spoke her parrot so green,
	From the cage wherein she lay:
	Where have you now been, my pretty colleen,
	This long, long summer’s day?
4[G.14]	‘Oh hold your tongue, my favourite bird,
	And tell no tales on me;
	Your cage I will make of the beaten gold,
	And hang in the willow-tree.’
4[G.15]	Out then spoke her father dear,
	From the chamber where he lay:
	Oh what hath befallen my favourite bird,
	That she calls so loud for day?
4[G.16]	‘’Tis nothing at all, good lord,’ she said,
	‘’Tis nothing at all indeed;
	It was only the cat came to my cage-door,
	And Icalled my pretty colleen.’



			Child 5A: Gil Brenton

5A.1	GIL BRENTON has sent oer the fame,
	He’s woo’d a wife an brought her hame.
5A.2	Full sevenscore o ships came her wi,
	The lady by the greenwood tree.
5A.3	There was twal an twal wi beer an wine,
	An twal an twal wi muskadine:
5A.4	An twall an twall wi bouted flowr,
	An twall an twall wi paramour:
5A.5	An twall an twall wi baken bread,
	An twall an twall wi the goud sae red.
5A.6	Sweet Willy was a widow’s son,
	An at her stirrup-foot he did run.
5A.7	An she was dressd i the finest pa,
	But ay she loot the tears down fa.
5A.8	An she was dickd wi the fairest flowrs,
	But ay she loot the tears down pour.
5A.9	‘O is there water i your shee?
	Or does the win blaw i your glee?
5A.10	‘Or are you mourning i your meed
	That eer you left your mither gueede?
5A.11	‘Or are ye mourning i your tide
	That ever ye was Gil Brenton’s bride?’
5A.12	[re] is nae water i my shee,
	Nor does the win blaw i my glee:
5A.13	‘Nor am I mourning i my tide
	That eer I was Gil Brenton’s bride:
5A.14	‘But I am mourning i my meed
	That ever I left my mither gueede.
5A.15	‘But, bonny boy, tell to me
	What is the customs o your country.’
5A.16	‘The customs o’t, my dame,’ he says,
	‘Will ill a gentle lady please.
5A.17	‘Seven king’s daughters has our king wedded,
	An seven king’s daughters has our king bedded.
5A.18	‘But he’s cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,
	An sent them mourning hame again.
5A.19	‘But whan you come to the palace yate,
	His mither a golden chair will set.
5A.20	‘An be you maid or be you nane,
	O sit you there till the day be dane.
5A.21	‘An gin you’re sure that you are a maid,
	Ye may gang safely to his bed.
5A.22	‘But gin o that you be na sure,
	Then hire some woman o youre bowr.’
5A.23	O whan she came to the palace yate,
	His mither a golden chair did set.
5A.24	An was she maid or was she nane,
	She sat in it till the day was dane.
5A.25	An she’s calld on her bowr woman,
	That waiting was her bowr within.
5A.26	‘Five hundred pound, maid, I’ll gi to the,
	An sleep this night wi the king for me.’
5A.27	Whan bells was rung, an mass was sung,
	An a’ man unto bed was gone,
5A.28	Gil Brenton an the bonny maid
	Intill ae chamber they were laid.
5A.29	‘O speak to me, blankets, an speak to me, sheets,
	An speak to me, cods, that under me sleeps;
5A.30	‘Is this a maid that I ha wedded?
	Is this a maid that I ha bedded?’
5A.31	‘It’s nae a maid that you ha wedded,
	But it’s a maid that you ha bedded.
5A.32	‘Your lady’s in her bigly bowr,
	An for you she drees mony sharp showr.’
5A.33	O he has taen him thro the ha,
	And on his mither he did ca.
5A.34	‘I am the most unhappy man
	That ever was in christend lan.
5A.35	‘I woo’d a maiden meek an mild,
	An I’ve marryed a woman great wi child.’
5A.36	‘O stay, my son, intill this ha,
	An sport you wi your merry men a’.
5A.37	‘An I’ll gang to yon painted bowr,
	An see how’t fares wi yon base whore.’
5A.38	The auld queen she was stark an strang;
	She gard the door flee aff the ban.
5A.39	The auld queen she was stark an steer;
	She gard the door lye i the fleer.
5A.40	‘O is your bairn to laird or loon?
	Or is it to your father’s groom?’
5A.41	‘My bairn’s na to laird or loon,
	Nor is it to my father’s groom.
5A.42	‘But hear me, mither, on my knee,
	An my hard wierd I’ll tell to thee.
5A.43	‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
	We was the fairest under heaven.
5A.44	‘We had nae mair for our seven years wark
	But to shape an sue the king’s son a sark.
5A.45	‘O it fell on a Saturday’s afternoon,
	Whan a’ our langsome wark was dane,
5A.46	‘We keist the cavils us amang,
	To see which shoud to the greenwood gang.
5A.47	‘Ohone, alas! for I was youngest,
	An ay my wierd it was the hardest.
5A.48	‘The cavil it did on me fa,
	Which was the cause of a’ my wae.
5A.49	‘For to the greenwood I must gae,
	To pu the nut but an the slae;
5A.50	‘To pu the red rose an the thyme,
	To strew my mother’s bowr and mine.
5A.51	‘I had na pu’d a flowr but ane,
	Till by there came a jelly hind greeme,
5A.52	‘Wi high-colld hose an laigh-colld shoone,
	An he ’peard to be some kingis son.
5A.53	‘An be I maid or be I nane,
	He kept me there till the day was dane.
5A.54	‘An be I maid or be I nae,
	He kept me there till the close of day.
5A.55	‘He gae me a lock of yallow hair,
	An bade me keep it for ever mair.
5A.56	‘He gae me a carket o gude black beads,
	An bade me keep them against my needs.
5A.57	‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
	An bade me ke[e]p it aboon a’ thing.
5A.58	‘He gae to me a little pen-kniffe,
	An bade me keep it as my life.’
5A.59	‘What did you wi these tokens rare
	That ye got frae that young man there?’
5A.60	‘O bring that coffer hear to me,
	And a’ the tokens ye sal see.’
5A.61	An ay she ranked, an ay she flang,
	Till a’ the tokens came till her han.
5A.62	‘O stay here, daughter, your bowr within,
	Till I gae parley wi my son.’
5A.63	O she has taen her thro the ha,
	An on her son began to ca.
5A.64	‘What did you wi that gay gold ring
	I bade you keep aboon a’ thing?
5A.65	‘What did you wi that little pen-kniffe
	I bade you keep while you had life?
5A.66	‘What did you wi that yallow hair
	I bade you keep for ever mair?
5A.67	‘What did you wi that good black beeds
	I bade you keep against your needs?’
5A.68	‘I gae them to a lady gay
	I met i the greenwood on a day.
5A.69	‘An I would gi a’ my father’s lan,
	I had that lady my yates within.
5A.70	‘I would gi a’ my ha’s an towrs,
	I had that bright burd i my bowrs.’
5A.71	‘O son, keep still your father’s lan;
	You hae that lady your yates within.
5A.72	‘An keep you still your ha’s an towrs;
	You hae that bright burd i your bowrs.’
5A.73	Now or a month was come an gone,
	This lady bare a bonny young son.
5A.74	An it was well written on his breast-bane
	‘Gil brenton is my father’s name.’


			Child 5B: Gil Brenton

5B.1	COSPATRICK has sent oer the faem,
	Cospatrick brought his ladye hame.
5B.2	And fourscore ships have come her wi,
	The ladye by the grenewood tree.
5B.3	There were twal and twal wi baken bread,
	And twal and twal wi gowd sae reid:
5B.4	And twal and twal wi bouted flour,
	And twal and twal wi the paramour.
5B.5	Sweet Willy was a widow’s son,
	And at her stirrup he did run.
5B.6	And she was clad in the finest pall,
	But aye she let the tears down fall.
5B.7	‘O is your saddle set awrye?
	Or rides your steed for you owre high?
5B.8	‘Or are you mourning in your tide
	That you suld be Cospatrick’s bride?’
5B.9	‘I am not mourning at this tide
	That I suld be Cospatrick’s bride;
5B.10	‘But I am sorrowing in my mood
	That I suld leave my mother good.
5B.11	‘But, gentle boy, come tell to me,
	What is the custom of thy countrye?’
5B.12	‘The custom thereof, my dame,’ he says,
	‘Will ill a gentle laydye please.
5B.13	‘Seven king’s daughters has our lord wedded,
	And seven king’s daughters has our lord bedded;
5B.14	‘But he’s cutted their breasts frae their breast bane,
	And sent them mourning hame again.
5B.15	‘Yet, gin you’re sure that you’re a maid,
	Ye may gae safely to his bed;
5B.16	‘But gif o that ye be na sure,
	Then hire some damsell o your bour.’
5B.17	The ladye’s calld her bour-maiden,
	That waiting was into her train;
5B.18	‘Five thousand merks I will gie thee,
	To sleep this night with my lord for me.’
5B.19	When bells were rung, and mass was sayne,
	And a’ men unto bed were gane,
5B.20	Cospatrick and the bonny maid,
	Into ae chamber they were laid.
5B.21	‘Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,
	And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web;
5B.22	‘And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie,
	Is this a true maiden that lies by me?’
5B.23	‘It is not a maid that you hae wedded,
	But it is a maid that you hae bedded.
5B.24	‘It is a liel maiden that lies by thee,
	But not the maiden that it should be.’
5B.25	O wrathfully he left the bed,
	And wrathfully his claiths on did.
5B.26	And he has taen him thro the ha,
	And on his mother he did ca.
5B.27	‘I am the most unhappy man
	That ever was in christen land!
5B.28	‘I courted a maiden meik and mild,
	And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi child.’
5B.29	‘O stay, my son, into this ha,
	And sport ye wi your merrymen a’;
5B.30	‘And I will to the secret bour,
	To see how it fares wi your paramour.’
5B.31	The carline she was stark and sture;
	She aff the hinges dang the dure.
5B.32	‘O is your bairn to laird or loun?
	Or is it to your father’s groom?’
5B.33	‘O hear me, mother, on my knee,
	Till my sad story I tell to thee.
5B.34	‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
	We were the fairest under heaven.
5B.35	‘It fell on a summer’s afternoon,
	When a’ our toilsome task was done,
5B.36	‘We cast the kavils us amang,
	To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.
5B.37	‘O hon, alas! for I was youngest,
	And aye my wierd it was the hardest.
5B.38	‘The kavil it on me did fa,
	Whilk was the cause of a’ my woe.
5B.39	‘For to the grene-wood I maun gae,
	To pu the red rose and the slae;
5B.40	‘To pu the red rose and the thyme,
	To deck my mother’s bour and mine.
5B.41	‘I hadna pu’d a flower but ane,
	When by there came a gallant hende,
5B.42	‘Wi high-colld hose and laigh-colld shoon,
	And he seemd to be sum king’s son.
5B.43	‘And be I maid or be I nae,
	He kept me there till the close o day.
5B.44	‘And be I maid or be I nane,
	He kept me there till the day was done.
5B.45	‘He gae me a lock o his yellow hair,
	And bade me keep it ever mair.
5B.46	‘He gae me a carknet o bonny beads,
	And bade me keep it against my needs.
5B.47	‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
	And bade me keep it abune a’ thing.’
5B.48	‘What did ye wi the tokens rare
	That ye gat frae theat gallant there?’
5B.49	‘O bring that coffer unto me,
	And a’ the tokens ye sall see.’
5B.50	‘Now stay, daughter, your bour within,
	While I gae parley wi my son.’
5B.51	O she has taen her thro the ha,
	And on her son began to ca.
5B.52	‘What did you wi the bonny beads
	I bade ye keep against your needs?
5B.53	‘What did you wi the gay gowd ring
	I bade ye keep abune a’ thing?’
5B.54	‘I gae them a’ to a ladye gay
	I met in grene-wood on a day.
5B.55	‘But I wad gie a’ my halls and tours,
	I had that ladye within my bours.
5B.56	‘But I wad gie my very life,
	I had that ladye to my wife.’
5B.57	‘Now keep, my son, your ha’s and tours;
	Ye have that bright burd in your bours.
5B.58	‘And keep, my son, your very life;
	Ye have that ladye to your wife.’
5B.59	Now or a month was cum and gane,
	The ladye bore a bonny son.
5B.60	And ’twas weel written on his breast-bane,
	‘Cospatrick is my father’s name.’
5B.61	‘O rowe my ladye in satin and silk,
	And wash my son in the morning milk.’


			Child 5C: Gil Brenton

5C.1	WE were sisters, we were seven,
	We were the fairest under heaven.
5C.2	And it was a’ our seven years wark
	To sew our father’s seven sarks.
5C.3	And whan our seven years wark was done,
	We laid it out upo the green.
5C.4	We coost the lotties us amang,
	Wha wad to the greenwood gang.
5C.5	To pu the lily but and the rose,
	To strew witha’ our sisters’ bowers.
5C.6	. . . . . I was youngest,
	. . . . . my weer was hardest.
5C.7	And to the greenwood I bud gae,
	. . . . .
5C.8	There I met a handsome childe,
	. . . . .
5C.9	High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon,
	He bore him like a king’s son.
5C.10	An was I weel, or was I wae,
	He keepit me a’ the simmer day.
5C.11	An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t],
	He keepit me a’ the simmer night.
5C.12	He gae to me a gay gold ring,
	And bade me keep it aboon a’ thing.
5C.13	He gae to me a cuttie knife,
	And bade me keep it as my life:
5C.14	Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
	For fear we wad neer meet mair.
	* * * * *
5C.15	Next there came shippes three,
	To carry a’ my bridal fee.
5C.16	Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk,
	Wrought wi maids’ hands like milk.
5C.17	They came toom and light to me,
	But heavie went they waie frae me.
5C.18	y were fu o baken bread,
	They were fu of wine sae red.
5C.19	My dowry went a’ by the sea,
	But I gaed by the grenewode tree.
5C.20	An I sighed and made great mane,
	As thro the grenewode we rade our lane.
5C.21	An I ay siched an wiped my ee,
	That eer the grenewode I did see.
5C.22	‘Is there water in your glove,
	Or win into your shoe?
	O[r] am I oer low a foot-page
	To rin by you, ladie?’
5C.23	‘O there’s nae water in my glove,
	Nor win into my shoe;
	But I am maning for my mither
	Wha’s far awa frae me.’
	* * * * *
5C.24	‘Gin ye be a maiden fair,
	Meikle gude ye will get there.
5C.25	‘If ye be a maiden but,
	Meikle sorrow will ye get.
5C.26	‘For seven king’s daughters he hath wedded,
	But never wi ane o them has bedded.
5C.27	‘He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane,
	An sends them back unto their dame.
5C.28	‘He sets their backs unto the saddle,
	An sends them back unto their father.
5C.29	‘But be ye maiden or be ye nane,
	To the gowden chair ye draw right soon.
5C.30	‘But be ye leman or be ye maiden,
	Sit nae down till ye be bidden.’
5C.31	Was she maiden or was she nane,
	To the gowden chair she drew right soon.
5C.32	she leman or was she maiden,
	She sat down ere she was bidden.
5C.33	Out then spake the lord’s mother;
	Says, ‘This is not a maiden fair.
5C.34	‘In that chair nae leal maiden
	Eer sits down till they be bidden.’
5C.35	The Billie Blin then outspake he,
	As he stood by the fair ladie.
5C.36	‘The bonnie may is tired wi riding,
	Gaurd her sit down ere she was bidden.’
	* * * * *
5C.37	But on her waiting-maid she ca’d:
	‘Fair ladie, what’s your will wi me?’
	‘O ye maun gie yere maidenheid
	This night to an unco lord for me.’
5C.38	‘I hae been east, I hae been west,
	I hae been far beyond the sea,
	But ay, by grenewode or by bower,
	I hae keepit my virginitie.
5C.39	‘But will it for my ladie plead,
	I’ll gie’t this night to an unco lord.’
	* * * * *
5C.40	When bells were rung an vespers sung,
	An men in sleep were locked soun,
5C.41	Childe Branton and the waiting-maid
	Into the bridal bed were laid.
5C.42	‘O lie thee down, my fair ladie,
	Here are a’ things meet for thee;
5C.43	‘Here’s a bolster for yere head,
	Here is sheets an comelie weids.’
	* * * * *
5C.44	‘Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin,
	If this fair dame be a leal maiden.’
5C.45	‘I wat she is as leal a wight
	As the moon shines on in a simmer night.
5C.46	‘I wat she is as leal a may
	As the sun shines on in a simmer day.
5C.47	‘But your bonnie bride’s in her bower,
	Dreeing the mither’s trying hour.’
5C.48	Then out o his bridal bed he sprang,
	An into his mither’s bower he ran.
5C.49	‘O mither kind, O mither dear,
	This is nae a maiden fair.
5C.50	‘The maiden I took to my bride
	Has a bairn atween her sides.
5C.51	‘The maiden I took to my bower
	Is dreeing the mither’s trying hour.’
5C.52	Then to the chamber his mother flew,
	And to the wa the door she threw.
5C.53	She stapt at neither bolt nor ban,
	Till to that ladie’s bed she wan.
5C.54	Says, ‘Ladie fair, sae meek an mild,
	Wha is the father o yere child?’
5C.55	‘O mither dear,’ said that ladie,
	‘I canna tell gif I sud die.
5C.56	‘We were sisters, we were seven,
	We were the fairest under heaven.
5C.57	‘And it was a’ our seven years wark
	To sew our father’s seven sarks.
5C.58	‘And whan our seven years wark was done,
	We laid it out upon the green.
5C.59	‘We coost the lotties us amang,
	Wha wad to the greenwode gang;
5C.60	‘To pu the lily but an the rose,
	To strew witha’ our sisters’ bowers.
5C.61	. . . . . ‘I was youngest,
	. . . . . my weer was hardest.
5C.62	‘And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae.
	. . . .
5C.63	‘There I met a handsome childe,
	. . . .
5C.64	‘Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon,
	He seemed to be some king’s son.
5C.65	‘And was I weel or was I wae,
	He keepit me a’ the simmer day.
5C.66	‘Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht,
	He keepit me a’ the simmer night.
5C.67	‘He gae to me a gay gold ring,
	An bade me keep it aboon a’ thing;
5C.68	‘Three lauchters o he yellow hair,
	For fear that we suld neer meet mair.
5C.69	‘O mither, if ye’ll believe nae me,
	Break up the coffer, an there ye’ll see.’
5C.70	An ay she coost, an ay she flang,
	Till her ain gowd ring came in her hand.
5C.71	And scarce aught i the coffer she left,
	Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft,
5C.72	Three lauchters o his yellow hair,
	Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare.
5C.73	She cried to her son, ‘Where is the ring
	Your father gave me at our wooing,
	An I gae you at your hunting?
5C.74	‘What did ye wi the cuttie knife,
	I bade ye keep it as yere life?’
5C.75	‘O haud yere tongue, my mither dear;
	I gae them to a lady fair.
5C.76	‘I wad gie a’ my lands and rents,
	I had that ladie within my brents.
5C.77	‘I wad gie a’ my lands an towers,
	I had that ladie within my bowers.’
5C.78	‘Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents;
	Ye hae that ladie within yere brents.
5C.79	‘Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers;
	Ye hae that lady within your bowers.’
5C.80	Then to his ladie fast ran he,
	An low he kneeled on his knee.
5C.81	‘O tauk ye up my son,’ said he,
	‘An, mither, tent my fair ladie.
5C.82	‘O wash him purely i the milk,
	And lay him saftly in the silk.
5C.83	‘An ye maun bed her very soft,
	For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.’
5C.84	It was weel written on his breast-bane
	Childe Branton was the father’s name.
5C.85	It was weel written on his right hand
	He was the heir o his daddie’s land.


			Child 5D: Gil Brenton

5D.1	WE were sisters, sisters seven,
 Refrain:	Bowing down, bowing down
	The fairest women under heaven.
 Refrain:	And aye the birks a-bowing
5D.2	They kiest kevels them amang,
	Wha woud to the grenewood gang.
5D.3	The kevels they gied thro the ha,
	And on the youngest it did fa.
5D.4	Now she must to the grenewood gang,
	To pu the nuts in grenewood hang.
5D.5	She hadna tarried an hour but ane
	Till she met wi a highlan groom.
5D.6	He keeped her sae late and lang
	Till the evening set and birds they sang.
5D.7	He gae to her at their parting
	A chain o gold and gay gold ring;
5D.8	And three locks o his yellow hair;
	Bade her keep them for evermair.
5D.9	When six lang months were come and gane.
	A courtier to this lady came.
5D.10	Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay,
	And so he set their wedding-day.
5D.11	A little boy to the ha was sent,
	To bring her horse was his intent.
5D.12	As she was riding the way along,
	She began to make a heavy moan.
5D.13	‘What ails you, lady,’ the boy said,
	‘That ye seem sae dissatisfied?
5D.14	‘Are the bridle reins for you too strong?
	Or the stirrups for you too long?’
5D.15	‘But, little boy, will ye tell me
	The fashions that are in your countrie?’
5D.16	‘The fashions in our ha I’ll tell,
	And o them a’ I’ll warn you well.
5D.17	‘When ye come in upon the floor,
	His mither will meet you wi a golden chair.
5D.18	‘But be ye maid or be ye nane,
	Unto the high seat make ye boun.
5D.19	‘Lord Dingwall aft has been beguild
	By girls whom young men hae defiled.
5D.20	‘He’s cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,
	And sent them back to their ain hame.’
5D.21	When she came in upon the floor,
	His mother met her wi a golden chair.
5D.22	But to the high seat she made her boun:
	She knew that maiden she was nane.
5D.23	When night was come, they went to bed,
	And ower her breast his arm he laid.
5D.24	He quickly jumped upon the floor,
	And said, ‘I’ve got a vile rank whore.’
5D.25	Unto his mother he made his moan,
	Says, ‘Mother dear, I am undone.
5D.26	‘Ye’ve aft tald, when I brought them hame,
	Whether they were maid or nane.
5D.27	‘I thought I’d gotten a maiden bright;
	I’ve gotten but a waefu wight.
5D.28	‘I thought I’d gotten a maiden clear,
	But gotten but a vile rank whore.’
5D.29	‘When she came in upon the floor,
	I met her wi a golden chair.
5D.30	‘But to the high seat she made her boun,
	Because a maiden she was nane.’
5D.31	‘I wonder wha’s tauld that gay ladie
	The fashion into our countrie.’
5D.32	‘It is your little boy I blame,
	Whom ye did send to bring her hame.’
5D.33	Then to the lady she did go,
	And said, ‘O Lady, let me know
5D.34	‘Who has defiled your fair bodie:
	Ye’re the first that has beguiled me.’
5D.35	‘O we were sisters, sisters seven,
	The fairest women under heaven.
5D.36	‘And we kiest kevels us amang,
	Wha woud to the grenewood gang;
5D.37	‘For to pu the finest flowers,
	To put around our summer bowers.
5D.38	‘I was the youngest o them a’;
	The hardest fortune did me befa.
5D.39	‘Unto the grenewood I did gang,
	And pu’d the nuts as they down hang.
5D.40	‘I hadna stayd an hour but ane
	Till I met wi a highlan groom.
5D.41	‘He keeped me sae late and lang
	Till the evening set and birds they sang.
5D.42	‘He gae to me at our parting
	A chain of gold and gay gold ring;
5D.43	‘And three locks o his yellow hair;
	Bade me keep them for evermair.
5D.44	‘Then for to show I make nae lie,
	Look ye my trunk, and ye will see.’
5D.45	Unto the trunk then she did go,
	To see if that were true or no.
5D.46	And aye she sought, and aye she flang,
	Till these four things came to her hand.
5D.47	Then she did to her ain son go,
	And said, ‘My son, ye’ll let me know,
5D.48	‘Ye will tell to me this thing:
	What did you wi my wedding-ring?’
5D.49	‘Mother dear, I’ll tell nae lie:
	I gave it to a gay ladie.
5D.50	‘I would gie a’ my ha’s and towers,
	I had this bird within my bowers.’
5D.51	‘Keep well, keep well your lands and strands;
	Ye hae that bird within your hands.
5D.52	‘Now, my son, to your bower ye’ll go:
	Comfort your ladie, she’s full o woe.’
5D.53	Now when nine months were come and gane,
	The lady she brought hame a son.
5D.54	It was written on his breast-bane
	Lord Dingwall was his father’s name.
5D.55	He’s taen his young son in his arms,
	And aye he praisd his lovely charms.
5D.56	And he has gien him kisses three,
	And doubled them ower to his ladie.


			Child 5E: Gil Brenton

5E.1	LORD BENWALL he’s a hunting gone;
 Refrain:	Hey down, etc.
	He’s taken with him all his merry men.
 Refrain:	Hey, etc.
5E.2	As he was walking late alone,
	He spyed a lady both brisk and young.
5E.3	He keeped her so long and long,
	From the evening late till the morning came.
5E.4	All that he gave her at their parting
	Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.
5E.5	Lord Benwall he’s a wooing gone,
	And he’s taken with him all his merry men.
5E.6	As he was walking the Haleigh throw,
	He spy’d seven ladyes all in a row.
5E.7	He cast a lot among them all;
	Upon the youngest the lot did fall.
5E.8	He wedded her and brought her home,
	And by the way she made great moan.
5E.9	‘What aileth my dearest and dayly flower?
	What ails my dear, to make such moan?
5E.10	‘Does the steed carry you too high?
	Or does thy pillow sit awry?
5E.11	‘Or does the wind blow in thy glove?
	Or is thy heart after another love?’
5E.12	‘The steed does not carry me too high,
	Nor does my pillow sit awry.
5E.13	‘Nor does the wind blow in my glove,
	Nor is my heart after another love.’
5E.14	When they were doun to supper set,
	The weary pain took her by the back.
5E.15	‘What ails my dearest and dayly flower?
	What ails my dearest, to make such moan?’
5E.16	‘I am with child, and it’s not to thee,
	And oh and alas, what shall I doe!’
5E.17	‘I thought I had got a maid so mild;
	But I have got a woman big with child.
5E.18	‘I thought I had got a dayly flower;
	I have gotten but a common whore.’
	* * * * *
5E.19	‘Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall,
	And cherrish up your merry men all.’
	* * * * *
5E.20	‘As I was walking once late alone,
	I spy’d a lord, both brisk and young.
5E.21	‘He keeped me so long and long,
	From evening late till the morning came.
5E.22	‘All that he gave me at our parting
	Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.
5E.23	‘If you will not believe what I tell to thee,
	There’s the key of my coffer, you may go and see.’
5E.24	His mother went, and threw and flang,
	Till to her hand the ring it came.
5E.25	‘Lord Benwall, wilt thou tell to me
	Where is the ring I gave to thee?’
5E.26	‘Now I would give all my lands and tower,
	To have that lady in my bower.
5E.27	‘I would give all my lands and rents,
	To have that lady in my tents.’
5E.28	‘You need not give all your lands and tower,
	For you have that lady in your power.
5E.29	‘You need not give all your lands and rents,
	For you have that lady in your tents.’
5E.30	Now it was written on the child’s breast-bone
	Lord Benwall’s sirname and his name.
5E.31	It was written on the child’s right hand
	That he should be heir of Lord Benwall’s land.
5E.32	‘Canst cloath my lady in the silk,
	And feed my young son with the milk.’


			Child 5F: Gil Brenton

5F.1	THERE were three sisters in a bouir,
 Refrain:	Eh down and Oh down
	And the youngest o them was the fairest flour.
 Refrain:	Eh down and O down
5F.2	And we began our seven years wark,
	To sew our brither John a sark.
5F.3	When seven years was come and gane,
	There was nae a sleeve in it but ane.
5F.4	But we coost kevils us amang
	Wha wud to the green-wood gang.
5F.5	But tho we had coosten neer sae lang,
	The lot it fell on me aye to gang.
5F.6	I was the youngest, and I was the fairest,
	And alace! my wierd it was aye the sairest.
5F.7	. . .
	Till I had to the woods to gae.
5F.8	To pull the cherrie and the slae,
	And to seek our ae brither, we had nae mae.
5F.9	But as I was walking the leas o Lyne,
	I met a youth gallant and fine;
5F.10	Wi milk white stockings and coal black shoon;
	He seemed to be some gay lord’s son.
5F.11	But he keepit me there sae lang, sae lang,
	Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.
5F.12	Would I wee or would I way,
	He keepit me the lang simmer day.
5F.13	Would I way or would I wight,
	He keepit me the simmer night.
5F.14	But guess what was at our parting?
	A pair o grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.
	ring.
5F.15	He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,
	In token that we might meet mair.
5F.16	But when nine months were come and gane,
	This gallant lord cam back again.
5F.17	He’s wed this lady, and taen her wi him;
	But as they were riding the leas o Lyne,
5F.18	This lady was not able to ride,
	. . .
5F.19	‘O does thy saddle set thee aside?
	Or does thy steed ony wrang way ride?
5F.20	‘Or thinkst thou me too low a groom?
	. . .
5F.21	‘Or hast thou musing in thy mind
	For the leaving of thy mother kind?’
5F.22	‘My saddle it sets not me aside,
	Nor does my steed ony wrang way ride.
5F.23	‘Nor think I thee too low a groom
	. . .
5F.24	‘But I hae musing in my mind
	For the leaving of my mother kind.’
5F.25	‘I’ll bring thee to a mother of mine,
	As good a mother as eer was thine.’
5F.26	‘A better mother she may be,
	But an unco woman she’ll prove to me.’
5F.27	But when lords and ladies at supper sat,
	Her pains they struck her in the back.
5F.28	When lords and ladies were laid in bed,
	Her pains they struck her in the side.
5F.29	‘Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Brangwill,
	For I’m wi child and you do not know’t.’
5F.30	He took up his foot and gave her sic a bang
	Till owre the bed the red blood sprang.
5F.31	He is up to his mother’s ha,
	Calling her as hard as he could ca.
5F.32	‘I went through moss and I went through mure,
	Thinking to get some lily flouir.
5F.33	. . .
	‘But to my house I have brocht a hure.
5F.34	‘I thocht to have got a lady baith meek and mild,
	But I’ve got a woman that’s big wi child.’
5F.35	‘O rest you here, Lord Brangwill,’ she said,
	‘Till I relieve your lady that lyes so low.’
5F.36	‘O daughter dear, will you tell to me
	Who is the father of your babie?’
5F.37	‘Yes, mother dear, I will tell thee
	Who is the father of my babie.
5F.38	‘As I was walking the leas o Lyne,
	I met a youth gallant and fine;
5F.39	th milk-white stockings and coal-black shoon;
	He seemed to be sum gay lord’s son.
5F.40	‘He keepit me sae lang, sae lang,
	Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.
5F.41	‘Would I wee or would I way,
	He keepit me the lang simmer day.
5F.42	‘Would I way or would I wight,
	He keepit me the simmer night.
5F.43	‘But guess ye what was at our parting?
	A pair of grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.
5F.44	‘He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,
	In token that we might meet mair.’
5F.45	‘O dochter dear, will ye show me
	These tokens that he gave to thee?’
5F.46	‘Altho my back should break in three,
	Unto my coffer I must be.’
5F.47	‘Thy back it shall not break in three,
	For I’ll bring thy coffer to thy knee.’
5F.48	Aye she coost, and aye she flang,
	Till these three tokens came to her hand.
5F.49	Then she is up to her sons’s ha,
	Calling him hard as she could ca.
5F.50	‘O son, O son, will you tell me
	. . .
5F.51	‘What ye did wi the grass green gloves and gay gold ring
	That ye gat at your own birth-een?’
5F.52	‘I gave them to as pretty a may
	As ever I saw in a simmer day.
5F.53	‘I wud rather than a’ my lands sae broad
	That I had her as sure as eer I had.
5F.54	‘I would rather than a’ my lands sae free
	I had her here this night wi me.’
5F.55	‘I wish you good o your lands sae broad,
	For ye have her as sure as eer ye had.
5F.56	‘I wish ye good o your lands sae free,
	For ye have her here this night wi thee.’
5F.57	‘Gar wash my auld son in the milk,
	Gar deck my lady’s bed wi silk.’
5F.58	He gave his auld son kisses three,
	But he doubled them a’ to his gay ladye.


			Child 5G: Gil Brenton

5G.1	AS Bothwell was walking in the lowlands alane,
 Refrain:	Hey down and a down
	He met six ladies sae gallant and fine.
 Refrain:	Hey down and a down
5G.2	He cast his lot among them a’,
	And on the youngest his lot did fa.
5G.3	He’s brought her frae her mother’s bower,
	Unto his strongest castle and tower.
5G.4	But ay she cried and made great moan,
	And ay the tear came trickling down.
5G.5	‘Come up, come up,’ said the foremost man,
	‘I think our bride comes slowly on.’
5G.6	‘O lady, sits your saddle awry,
	Or is your steed for you owre high?’
5G.7	‘My saddle is not set awry,
	Nor carries me my steed owre high;
5G.8	‘But I am weary of my life,
	Since I maun be Lord Bothwell’s wife.’
5G.9	He’s blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill,
	Up start the deer on evry hill.
5G.10	He’s blawn his horn sae lang and loud,
	Up start the deer in gude green-wood.
5G.11	His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa,
	And she saw them riding ane and a’.
5G.12	She’s calld upon her maids by seven,
	To mak his bed baith saft and even.
5G.13	She’s calld upon her cooks by nine,
	To make their dinner fair and fine.
5G.14	When day was gane, and night was come,
	‘What ails my love on me to frown?
5G.15	‘Or does the wind blow in your glove?
	Or runs your mind on another love?’
5G.16	‘Nor blows the wind within my glove,
	Nor runs my mind on another love;
5G.17	‘But I nor maid nor maiden am,
	For I’m wi bairn to another man.’
5G.18	‘I thought I’d a maiden sae meek and sae mild,
	But I’ve nought but a woman wi child.’
5G.19	His mother’s taen her up to a tower,
	And lockit her in her secret bower.
5G.20	‘Now, doughter mine, come tell to me,
	Wha’s bairn this is that you are wi.’
5G.21	‘O mother dear, I canna learn
	Wha is the faither of my bairn.
5G.22	‘But as I walkd in the lowlands my lane,
	I met a gentleman gallant and fine.
5G.23	‘He keepit me there sae late and sae lang,
	Frae the evning late till the morning dawn.
5G.24	‘And a’ that he gied me to my propine
	Was a pair of green gloves and a gay gold ring;
5G.25	‘Three lauchters of his yellow hair,
	In case that we shoud meet nae mair.’
5G.26	His lady mother went down the stair:
	. . .
5G.27	‘Now son, now son, come tell to me,
	Where’s the green gloves I gave to thee?’
5G.28	‘I gied to a lady sae fair and so fine
	The green gloves and a gay gold ring.
5G.29	‘But I wad gie my castles and towers,
	I had that lady within my bowers.
5G.30	‘But I wad gie my very life,
	I had that lady to be my wife.’
5G.31	‘Now keep, now keep your castles and towers,
	You have that lady within your bowers.
5G.32	‘Now keep, now keep your very life,
	You have that lady to be your wife.’
5G.33	‘O row my lady in sattin and silk,
	And wash my son in the morning milk.’


			Child 5H: Gil Brenton

5H.1	WE were seven sisters in a bower,
 Refrain:	Adown adown, and adown and adown
	The flower of a’ fair Scotland ower.
 Refrain:	Adown adown, and adown and adown
5H.2	We were sisters, sisters seven,
	The fairest women under heaven.
5H.3	There fell a dispute us amang,
	Wha would to the greenwood gang.
5H.4	They kiest the kevels them amang,
	O wha would to the greenwood gang.
5H.5	The kevels they gied thro the ha,
	And on the youngest it did fa.
5H.6	The kevel fell into her hand,
	To greenwood she was forced to gang.
5H.7	She hedna pued a flower but ane,
	When by there came an earl’s son.
5H.8	‘And was he well or was he wae,
	He keepet me that summer’s day.’
5H.9	And was he weel or was he weight,
	He keepet her that summer’s night.
5H.10	And he gave her a gay goud ring
	His mother got at her wedding.
	* * * * *
5H.11	‘Oh is yer stirrup set too high?
	Or is your saddle set awry?
5H.12	‘Oh is yer stirrup set too side?
	Or what’s the reason ye canna ride?’
	* * * * *
5H.13	When all were at the table set,
	Then not a bit could this lady eat.
5H.14	When all made merry at the feast,
	This lady wished she were at her rest.
	* * * * *



		 Child 6A: Willie’s Lady

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



			 Child 7A: Earl Brand

7A.1	OH did ye ever hear o brave Earl Bran?
 Refrain:	Ay lally, o lilly lally
	He courted the king’s daughter of fair England.
 Refrain:	All i the night sae early
7A.2	She was scarcely fifteen years of age
	Till sae boldly she came to his bedside.
7A.3	‘O Earl Bran, fain wad I see
	A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.’
7A.4	‘O lady, I have no steeds but one,
	And thou shalt ride, and I will run.’
7A.5	‘O Earl Bran, my father has two,
	And thou shall have the best o them a.’
7A.6	They have ridden oer moss and moor,
	And they met neither rich nor poor.
7A.7	Until they met with old Carl Hood;
	He comes for ill, but never for good.
7A.8	‘Earl Bran, if ye love me,
	Seize this old carl, and gar him die.’
7A.9	‘O lady fair, it wad be sair,
	To slay an old man that has grey hair.
7A.10	‘O lady fair, I’ll no do sae;
	I’ll gie him a pound, and let him gae.’
7A.11	‘O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day?
	Or where hae ye stolen this lady away?’
7A.12	‘I have not ridden this lee lang day.
	Nor yet have I stolen this lady away.
7A.13	‘She is my only, my sick sister,
	Whom I have brought from Winchester.’
7A.14	‘If she be sick, and like to dead,
	Why wears she the ribbon sae red?
7A.15	‘If she be sick, and like to die,
	Then why wears she the gold on high?’
7A.16	When he came to his lady’s gate,
	Sae rudely as he rapped at it.
7A.17	‘O where’s the lady o this ha?’
	‘She’s out with her maids to play at the ba.
7A.18	‘Ha, ha, ha! ye are a’ mistaen:
	Gae count your maidens oer again.
7A.19	‘I saw her far beyond the moor,
	Away to be the Earl o Bran’s whore.’
7A.20	The father armed fifteen of his best men,
	To bring his daughter back again.
7A.21	Oer her left shoulder the lady looked then:
	‘O Earl Bran, we both are tane.’
7A.22	‘If they come on me ane by ane,
	Ye may stand by and see them slain.
7A.23	‘But if they come on me one and all,
	Ye may stand by and see me fall.’
7A.24	They have come on him ane by ane,
	And he has killed them all but ane.
7A.25	And that ane came behind his back,
	And he’s gien him a deadly whack.
7A.26	But for a’ sae wounded as Earl Bran was,
	He has set his lady on her horse.
7A.27	They rode till they came to the water o Doune,
	And then he alighted to wash his wounds.
7A.28	‘O Earl Bran, I see your heart’s blood!’
	’Tis but the gleat o my scarlet hood.’
7A.29	They rode till they came to his mother’s gate,
	And sae rudely as he rapped at it.
7A.30	‘O my son’s slain, my son’s put down,
	And a’ for the sake of an English loun.’
7A.31	‘O say not sae, my dear mother,
	But marry her to my youngest brother.
	* * * * *
7A.32	‘This has not been the death o ane,
	But it’s been that of fair seventeen.’
	* * * * *


			 Child 7B: Earl Brand

7B.1	‘RISE up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas,’ she says,
	‘And put on your armour so bright;
	Let it never be said that a daughter of thine
	Was married to a lord under night.
7B.2	‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
	And put on your armour so bright,
	And take better care of your youngest sister,
	For your eldest’s awa the last night.’
7B.3	He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed,
	And himself on a dapple grey,
	With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
	And lightly they rode away.
7B.4	Lord William lookit oer his left shoulder,
	To see what he could see,
	And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold,
	Come riding over the lee.
7B.5	‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said,
	‘And hold my steed in your hand,
	Until that against your seven brethren bold,
	And your father, I mak a stand.’
7B.6	She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
	And never shed one tear,

	Until that she saw her seven brethren fa,
	And her father hard fighting, who lovd her so dear.
7B.7	‘O hold your hand, Lord William!’ she said,
	‘For your strokes they are wondrous sair;
	True lovers I can get many a ane,
	But a father I can never get mair.’
7B.8	O she’s taen out her handkerchief,
	It was o the holland sae fine,
	And aye she dighted her father’s bloody wounds,
	That were redder than the wine.
7B.9	‘O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
	‘O whether will ye gang or bide?’
	‘I’ll gang, I’ll gang, Lord William,’ she said,
	‘For ye have left me no other guide.’
7B.10	He’s lifted her on a milk-white steed,
	And himself on a dapple grey,
	With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
	And slowly they baith rade away.
7B.11	O they rade on, and on they rade,
	And a’ by the light of the moon,
	Until they came to yon wan water,
	And there they lighted down.
7B.12	They lighted down to tak a drink
	Of the spring that ran sae clear,
	And down the stream ran his gude heart’s blood,
	And sair she gan to fear.
7B.13	‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says,
	‘For I fear that you are slain;’
	‘’Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,
	That shines in the water sae plain.’
7B.14	O they rade on, and on they rade,
	And a’ by the light of the moon,
	Until they cam to his mother’s ha door,
	And there they lighted down.
7B.15	‘Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says,
	‘Get up, and let me in!
	Get up, get up, lady mother,’ he says,
	‘For this night my fair lady I’ve win.
7B.16	‘O mak my bed, lady mother,’ he says,
	‘O mak it braid and deep,
	And lay Lady Margret close at my back,
	And the sounder I will sleep.’
7B.17	Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,
	Lady Margret lang ere day,
	And all true lovers that go thegither,
	May they have mair luck than they!
7B.18	Lord William was buried in St. Mary’s kirk,
	Lady Margret in Mary’s quire;
	Out o the lady’s grave grew a bonny red rose,
	And out o the knight’s a briar.
7B.19	And they twa met, and they twa plat,
	And fain they wad be near;
	And a’ the warld might ken right weel
	They were twa lovers dear.
7B.20	But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
	And wow but he was rough!
	For he pulld up the bonny brier,
	And flang’t in St. Mary’s Loch.


			 Child 7C: Earl Brand

7C.1	‘RISE up, rise up, my seven brave sons,
	And dress in your armour so bright;
	Earl Douglas will hae Lady Margaret awa
	Before that it be light.
7C.2	‘Arise, arise, my seven brave sons,
	And dress in your armour so bright;
	It shall never be said that a daughter of mine
	Shall go with an earl or a knight.’
7C.3	‘O will ye stand, fair Margaret,’ he says,
	‘And hold my milk-white steed,
	Till I fight your father and seven brethren,
	In yonder pleasant mead?’
7C.4	She stood and held his milk-white steed,
	She stood trembling with fear,
	Until she saw her seven brethren fall,
	And her father that loved her dear.
7C.5	‘Hold your hand, Earl Douglas,’ she says,
	‘Your strokes are wonderous sair;
	I may get sweethearts again enew,
	But a father I’ll ne’er get mair.’
7C.6	She took out a handkerchief
	Was made o’ the cambrick fine,
	And aye she wiped her father’s bloody wounds,
	And the blood sprung up like wine.
7C.7	‘Will ye go, fair Margaret?’ he said,
	‘Will ye now go, or bide?’
	‘Yes, I’ll go, sweet William,’ she said,
	‘For ye’ve left me never a guide.
7C.8	‘If I were to go to my mother’s house,
	A welcome guest I would be;
	But for the bloody deed that’s done this day
	I’ll rather go with thee.’
7C.9	He lifted her on a milk-white steed
	And himself on a dapple gray;
	They drew their hats out over their face,
	And they both went weeping away.
7C.10	They rode, they rode, and they better rode,
	Till they came to yon water wan;
	They lighted down to gie their horse a drink
	Out of the running stream.
7C.11	‘I am afraid, Earl Douglas,’ she said,
	‘I am afraid ye are slain;’
	I think I see your bonny heart’s blood
	Running down the water wan.’
7C.12	‘Oh no, oh no, fair Margaret,’ he said,
	‘Oh no, I am not slain;
	It is but the scad of my scarlet cloak
	Runs down the water wan.’
7C.13	He mounted her on a milk-white steed
	And himself on a dapple gray,
	And they have reached Earl Douglas’ gates
	Before the break of day.
7C.14	‘O rise, dear mother, and make my bed,
	And make it braid and wide,
	And lay me down to take my rest,
	And at my back my bride.’
7C.15	She has risen and made his bed,
	She made it braid and wide;
	She laid him down to take his rest,
	And at his back his bride.
7C.16	Lord William died ere it was day,
	Lady Margaret on the morrow;
	Lord William died through loss of blood and wounds,
	Fair Margaret died with sorrow.
7C.17	The one was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	The other in Mary’s quire;
	The one sprung up a bonnie bush,
	And the other a bonny brier.
7C.18	These twa grew, and these twa threw,
	Till they came to the top,
	And when they could na farther gae,
	They coost the lovers’ knot.


			 Child 7D: Earl Brand

7D.1	‘SLEEPST thou or wakst thou, Lord Montgomerie,
	Sleepst thou or wakst thou, I say?
	Rise up, make a match for your eldest daughter,
	For the youngest I carry away.’
7D.2	‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
	Dress yourselves in the armour sae fine;
	For it ne’er shall be said that a churlish knight
	Eer married a daughter of mine.’
	* * * * *
7D.3	‘Loup aff, loup aff, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
	‘And hold my steed in your hand,
	And I will go fight your seven brethren,
	And your father, where they stand.’
7D.4	Sometimes she gaed, sometimes she stood,
	But never dropt a tear,
	Until she saw her brethren all slain,
	And her father who lovd her so dear.
7D.5	‘Hold thy hand, sweet William,’ she says,
	‘Thy blows are wondrous sore;
	Sweethearts I may have many a one,
	But a father I’ll never have more.’
7D.6	O she’s taken her napkin frae her pocket,
	Was made o the holland fine,
	And ay as she dichted her father’s bloody wounds,
	They sprang as red as the wine.
7D.7	‘Two chooses, two chooses, Lady Margret,’ he says,
	‘Two chooses I’ll make thee;
	Whether to go back to your mother again,
	Or go along with me.’
7D.8	‘For to go home to my mother again,
	An unwelcome guest I’d be;
	But since my fate has ordered it so,
	I’ll go along with thee.’
7D.9	He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,
	Himself on the dapple gray,
	And blawn his horn baith loud and shill,
	And it sounded far on their way.
7D.10	They rode oer hill, they rode oer dale,
	They rode oer mountains so high,
	Until they came to that beautiful place
	Where Sir William’s mother did lie.
7D.11	‘Rise up, rise up, lady mother,’ he said,
	‘Rise up, and make much o your own;
	Rise up, rise up, lady mother,’ he said,
	‘For his bride’s just new come home.’
7D.12	Sir Willian he died in the middle o the night,
	Lady Margaret died on the morrow;
	Sir William he died of pure pure love,
	Lady Margaret of grief and sorrow.


			 Child 7E: Earl Brand

7E.1	HE has lookit over his left shoulder,
	And through his bonnie bridle rein,
	And he spy’d her father and her seven bold brethren,
	Come riding down the glen.
7E.2	‘O hold my horse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
	O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,
	Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren,
	As they come riding down the glen.’
7E.3	Some time she rade, and some time she gaed,
	Till she that place did near,
	And there she spy’d her seven bold brethren slain,
	And her father who loved her so dear.
7E.4	‘O hold you hand, sweet William,’ she said,
	‘Your bull baits are wondrous sair;
	Sweet-hearts I may get many a one,
	But a father I will never get mair.’
7E.5	She has taken a napkin from off her neck,
	That was of the cambrick so fine,
	And aye as she wiped her father’s bloody wounds,
	The blood ran red as the wine.
	* * * * *
7E.6	He set her upon the milk-white steed,
	Himself upon the brown;
	He took a horn out of his pocket,
	And they both went weeping along.


			 Child 7F: Earl Brand

7F.1	. . .
	. . .
	Sayes ‘Christ thee saue, good Child of Ell!
	Christ saue thee and thy steede!
7F.2	‘My father sayes he will [eat] noe meate,
	Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good,
	Till he haue slaine the Child of Ell,
	And haue seene his harts blood.’
7F.3	‘I wold I were in my sadle sett,
	And a mile out of the towne;
	I did not care for your father
	And all his merry men!
7F.4	‘I wold I were in my sadle sett,
	And a little space him froe;
	I did not care for your father
	And all that long him to!’
7F.5	He leaned ore his saddle bow
	To kisse this lady good;
	The tears that went them two betweene
	Were blend water and blood.
7F.6	He sett himselfe on one good steed,
	This lady on a palfray,
	And sett his litle horne to his mouth,
	And roundlie he rode away.
7F.7	He had not ridden past a mile,
	A mile out of the towne,
	. . .
	. . .
7F.8	Her father was readye with her seuen brether,
	He said, ‘Sett thou my daughter downe!
	For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne,
	To carry her forth of this towne!’
7F.9	But lowd thou lyest, Sir Iohn the knight,
	Thou now doest lye of me;
	A knight me gott, and a lady me bore;
	Soe neuer did none by thee.
7F.10	‘But light now downe, my lady gay,
	Light downe and hold my horsse,
	Whilest I and your father and your brether
	Doe play vs at this crosse.
7F.11	‘But light now downe, my owne trew loue,
	And meeklye hold my steede,
	Whilest your father [and your seuen brether] bold
	* * * * *


			Child 7[G]: Earl Brand

7[G.1]	* * * *
	‘Gude Earl Brand, I long to see
 Refrain:	Faldee faldee fal deediddle a dee
7[G.1]	All your grey hounds running over the lea.’
 Refrain:	And the brave knights in the valley
7[G.2]	‘Gude lady fair, I have not a steed but one,
	But you shall ride and I shall run.’
7[G.3]	They’re ower moss and they’re ower mure,
	And they saw neither rich nor pure.
7[G.4]	Until that they came to auld Karl Hude;
	He’s aye for ill and never for gude.
7[G.5]	‘Gude Earl Brand, if ye love me,
	Kill auld Karl Hude, and gar him die.’
7[G.6]	‘O fair ladie, we’ll do better than sae:
	Gie him a penny and let him gae.’
7[G.7]	‘Gude Earl Brand, whare hae ye been,
	Or whare hae ye stown this lady sheen?’
7[G.8]	‘She’s not my lady, but my sick sister,
	And she’s been at the wells of Meen.’
7[G.9]	‘If she was sick, and very sair,
	She wadna wear the red gold on her hair.
7[G.10[	‘Or if she were sick, and like to be dead,
	She wadna wear the ribbons red.’
7[G.11]	He cam till he cam to her father’s gate,
	And he has rappit furious thereat.
7[G.12]	‘Where is the lady o this hall?’
	‘She’s out wi her maidens, playing at the ball.’
7[G.13]	‘If you’ll get me fyfteen wale wight men,
	Sae fast as I’ll fetch her back again.’
7[G.14]	She’s lookit ower her left collar-bane:
	‘O gude Earl Brand, we baith are taen.’
7[G.15]	‘Light down, light down, and hold my steed;
	Change never your cheer till ye see me dead.
7[G.16]	‘If they come on me man by man,
	I’ll be very laith for to be taen.
7[G.17]	‘But if they come on me one and all,
	The sooner you will see me fall.’
7[G.18]	O he has killd them all but one,
	And wha was that but auld Karl Hude.
7[G.19]	And he has come on him behind,
	And put in him the deadly wound.
7[G.20]	O he has set his lady on,
	And he’s come whistling all along.
7[G.21]	hGude Earl Brand, I see blood:’
	‘It’s but the shade o my scarlet robe.’
7[G.22]	They cam till they cam to the water aflood;
	He’s lighted down and he’s wushen aff the blood.
7[G.23]	His mother walks the floor alone:
	‘O yonder does come my poor son.
7[G.24]	‘He is both murderd and undone,
	And all for the sake o an English loon.’
7[G.25]	‘Say not sae, my dearest mother,
	Marry her on my eldest brother.’
7[G.26]	She set her fit up to the wa,
7[G.26r]	Faldee faldee fal deediddle adee
7[G.26]	She’s fallen down dead amang them a’.
7[G.26r]	And the brave knights o the valley


			Child 7[H]: Earl Brand

7[H.1]	Did you ever hear of good Earl Brand,
 Refrain:	Aye lally an lilly lally
7[H.1]	And the king’s daughter of fair Scotland?
 Refrain:	And the braw knights o Airly
7[H.2]	She was scarce fifteen years of age
	When she came to Earl Brand’s bed.
 Refrain:	Wi the braw knights o Airly
7[H.3]	‘O Earl Brand, I fain wad see
	Our grey hounds run over the lea.’
 Refrain:	Mang the braw bents o Airly
7[H.4]	‘O,’ says Earl Brand, ‘I’ve nae steads but one,
	And you shall ride and I shall run.’
 Refrain:	Oer the braw heights o Airly
7[H.5]	‘O,’ says the lady, ‘I hae three,
	And ye shall hae yeer choice for me.’
 Refrain:	Of the braw steeds o Airly
7[H.6]	So they lap on, and on they rade,
	Till they came to auld Carle Hood.
 Refrain:	Oer the braw hills o Airly
7[H.7]	Carl Hood’s aye for ill, and he’s no for good,
	He’s aye for ill, and he’s no for good.
 Refrain:	Mang the braw hills o Airly
7[H.8]	‘Where hae ye been hunting a’ day,
	And where have ye stolen this fair may?’
 Refrain:	I’ the braw nights sae airly
7[H.9]	‘She is my sick sister dear,
	New comd home from another sister.’
 Refrain:	I the braw nights sae early
7[H.10]	‘O,’ says the lady, ’if ye love me,
	Gie him a penny fee and let him gae.’
7[H.10r]	I the braw nights sae early
7[H.11]	He’s gane home to her father’s bower,
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
7[H.12]	‘Where is the lady o this ha?’
	‘She’s out wi the young maids, playing at the ba.’
7[H.12r]	I the braw nights so early
7[H.13]	‘No,’ says another, ’She’s riding oer the moor,
	And a’ to be Earl Brand’s whore.’
7[H.13r]	I the braw nights so early
7[H.14]	The king mounted fifteen weel armed men,
	A’ to get Earl Brand taen.
7[H.14r]	I the braw hills so early
7[H.15]	The lady looked over her white horse mane:
	‘O Earl Brand, we will be taen.’
7[H.15r]	In the braw hills so early
7[H.16]	He says, If they come one by one,
	Ye’ll no see me so soon taen.
7[H.16r]	In the braw hills so early
7[H.17]	So they came every one but one,
	And he has killd them a’ but ane.
7[H.17r]	In the braw hills so early
7[H.18]	And that one came behind his back,
	And gave Earl Brand a deadly stroke.
7[H.18r]	In the braw nights of Airly
7[H.19]	For as sair wounded as he was,
	He lifted the lady on her horse.
7[H.19r]	In the braw nights so early
7[H.20]	‘O Earl Brand, I see thy heart’s bluid!’
	‘It’s but the shadow of my scarlet robe.’
7[H.20r]	I the braw nights so early
7[H.21]	He came to his mother’s home;
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
7[H.22]	She looked out and cryd her son was gone,
	And a’ for the sake [of] an English loon.
	. . . . .
7[H.23]	‘What will I do wi your lady fair?’
	‘Marry her to my eldest brother.’
7[H.23r]	The brawest knight i Airly


			Child 7[I]: Earl Brand

7[I.1]	‘Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas,’ she said,
	‘And draw to your arms so bright;
	Let it never be said a daughter of yours
	Shall go with a lord or a knight.
7[I.2]	‘Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
	And draw to your armour so bright;
	Let it never be said a sister of yours
	Shall go with a lord or a night.’
7[I.3]	He looked over his left shoulder,
	To see what he could see,
	And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold,
	And her father that lov’d her tenderly.
7[I.4]	‘Light down, light down, Lady Margret,’ he said,
	‘And hold my steed in thy hand.
	That I may go fitht with your seven brethren bold,
	And your father who’s just at hand.’
7[I.5]	O there she stood, and bitter she stood,
	And never did shed a tear,
	Till once she saw her seven brethren slain,
	And her father she lovd so dear.
7[I.6]	‘Hold, hold your hand, William,’ she said,
	‘For thy strokes are wondrous sore;
	For sweethearts I may get many a one,
	But a father I neer will get more.’
7[I.7]	She took out a handkerchief of holland so fine
	And wip’d her father’s bloody wound,
	Which ran more clear than the red wine,

	And forked on the cold ground.
7[I.8]	‘O chuse you, chuse you, Margret,’ he said,
	‘Whether you will go or bide!’
	‘I must go with you, Lord William,’ she said,
	‘Since you’ve left me no other guide.’
7[I.9]	He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
	And himself on a dapple grey,
	With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
	And they slowly both rode away.
7[I.10]	Away they rode, and better they rode,
	Till they came to yonder sand,
	Till once they came to yon river side,
	And ther they lighted down.
7[I.11]	They lighted down to take a drink
	Of the spring that ran so clear,
	And there she spy’d his bonny heart’s blood,
	A running down the stream.
7[I.12]	‘Hold up, hold up, Lord William,’ she says,
	‘For I fear that you are slain;’
	‘’Tis nought but the shade of my scarlet clothes,
	That is sparkling down the stream.’
7[I.13]	He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
	And himself on a dapple grey,
	With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
	And slowly they rode away.
7[I.14]	Ay they rode, and better they rode,
	Till they came to his mother’s bower;
	Till once they came to his mother’s bower,
	And down they lighted there.
7[I.15]	‘O mother, mother, make my bed,
	And make it saft and fine,
	And lay my lady close at my back,
	That I may sleep most sound.’
7[I.16]	Lord William he died eer middle o the night,
	Lady Margret long before the morrow;
	Lord William he died for pure true love,
	And Lady Margret died for sorrow.
7[I.17]	Lord William was bury’d in Lady Mary’s kirk,
	The other in Saint Mary’s quire;
	Out of William’s grave sprang a red rose,
	And out of Margret’s a briar.
7[I.18]	And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
	As they wad fain been near;
	And by this you may ken right well
	They were twa lovers dear.



			 Child 8A: Erlinton

8A.1	ERLINTON had a fair daughter;
	I wat he weird her in a great sin;
	For he has built a bigly bower,
	An a’ to put that lady in.
8A.2	An he has warnd her sisters six,
	An sae has he her brethren se’en,
	Outher to watch her a’ the night,
	Or else to seek her morn an een.
8A.3	She hadna been i that bigly bower
	Na not a night but barely ane,
	Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
	Chappd at the door, cryin ‘Peace within!’
8A.4	‘O whae is this at my bower door,
	That chaps sae late, nor kens the gin?’
	‘O it is Willie, your ain true love,
	I pray you rise an let me in!’
8A.5	‘But in my bower there is a wake,
	An at the wake there is a wane;
	But I’ll come to the green-wood the morn,
	Whar blooms the brier, by mornin dawn.’
8A.6	Then she’s gane to her bed again,
	Where she has layen till the cock crew thrice,
	Then she said to her sisters a’,
	‘Maidens, ’tis time for us to rise.’
8A.7	She pat on her back her silken gown,
	An on her breast a siller pin,
	An she’s tane a sister in ilka hand,
	An to the green-wood she is gane.
8A.8	She hadna walkd in the green-wood
	Na not a mile but barely ane,
	Till there was Willie, her ain true love,
	Whae frae her sister has her taen.
8A.9	He took her sisters by the hand,
	He kissd them baith, an sent them hame,
	An he’s taen his true love him behind,
	And through the green-wood they are gane.
8A.10	They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood
	Na not a mile but barely ane,
	When there came fifteen o the boldest knights
	That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane.
8A.11	The foremost was an aged knight,
	He wore the grey hair on his chin:
	Says, ‘Yield to me thy lady bright,
	An thou shalt walk the woods within.’
8A.12	‘For me to yield my lady bright
	To such an aged knight as thee,
	People wad think I war gane mad,
	Or a’ the courage flown frae me.’
8A.13	But up then spake the second knight,
	I wat he spake right boustouslie:
	‘Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright,
	Or here the tane of us shall die.’
8A.14	‘My lady is my warld’s meed;
	My life I winna yield to nane;
	But if ye be men of your manhead,
	Ye’ll only fight me ane by ane.’
8A.15	He lighted aff his milk-white steed,
	An gae his lady him by the head,
	Sayn, ‘See ye dinna change your cheer,
	Untill ye see my body bleed.’
8A.16	He set his back unto an aik,
	He set his feet against a stane,
	An he has fought these fifteen men,
	An killd them a’ but barely ane.
8A.17	. . . . .
	. . . .
	For he has left that aged knight,
	An a’ to carry the tidings hame.
8A.18	When he gaed to his lady fair,
	I wat he kissd her tenderlie:
	‘Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought;
	Now we shall walk the green-wood free.’


			 Child 8B: Erlinton

8B.1	THERE was a knight, an he had a daughter,
	An he wad wed her, wi muckle sin;
	Sae he has biggit a bonnie bower, love,
	An a’ to keep his fair daughter in.
8B.2	But she hadna been in the bonnie bower, love,
	And no twa hours but barely ane,
	Till up started Tammas, her ain true lover,
	And O sae fain as he wad been in.
8B.3	‘For a’ sae weel as I like ye, Tammas,
	An for a’ sae weel as I like the gin,
	I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love,
	Na no this night wad I let thee in.
8B.4	‘But yonder is a bonnie greenwud,
	An in the greenwud there is a wauk,
	An I’ll be there an sune the morn, love,
	It’s a’ for my true love’s sake.
8B.5	‘On my right hand I’ll have a glove, love,
	An on my left ane I’ll have nane;
	I’ll have wi’ me my sisters six, love,
	An we will wauk the wuds our lane.’
8B.6	They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud,
	Na no an hour but barely ane,
	Till up start Tammas, her ain true lover,
	He’s taen her sisters her frae mang.
8B.7	An he has kissed her sisters six, love,
	An he has sent them hame again,
	But he has keepit his ain true lover,
	Saying, ‘We will wauk the wuds our lane.’
8B.8	They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud
	Na no an hour but barely ane,
	Till up start fifteen o the bravest outlaws
	That ever bure either breath or bane.
8B.9	An up bespake the foremost man, love,
	An O but he spake angrily:
	‘Either your life--or your lady fair, sir,
	This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.’
8B.10	‘My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir,
	An O my life, but it lies me near!
	But before I lose my lady fair, sir,
	I’ll rather lose my life sae dear.’
8B.11	Then up bespak the second man, love,
	An aye he spake mair angrily,
	Saying, ‘Baith your life, and your lady fair, sir,
	This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.’
8B.12	‘My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir,
	An O my life, but it lies me near!
	But before I lose my lady fair, sir,
	I’ll rather lose my life sae dear.
8B.13	‘But if ye’ll be men to your manhood,
	As that I will be unto mine,
	I’ll fight ye every ane man by man,
	Till the last drop’s blude I hae be slain.
8B.14	‘O sit ye down, my dearest dearie,
	Sit down and hold my noble steed,
	And see that ye never change your cheer
	Until ye see my body bleed.’
8B.15	He’s feughten a’ the fifteen outlaws,
	The fifteen outlaws every ane,
	He’s left naething but the auldest man
	To go and carry the tidings hame.
8B.16	An he has gane to his dearest dear,
	An he has kissed her, cheek and chin,
	Saying, ‘Thou art mine ain, I have bought thee dear,
	An we will wauk the wuds our lane.’


			 Child 8C: Erlinton

8C.1	AS Robin Hood sat by a tree,
	He espied a prettie may,
	And when she chanced him to see,
	She turnd her head away.
8C.2	‘O feare me not, thou prettie mayde,
	And doe not flie from mee;
	I am the kindest man,’ he said,
	‘That ever eye did see.’
8C.3	Then to her he did doffe his cap,
	And to her lowted low;
	‘To meete with thee I hold it good hap,
	If thou wilt not say noe.’
8C.4	Then he put his hand around her waste,
	Soe small, so tight, and trim,
	And after sought her lip to taste,
	And she to kissed him.
8C.5	‘Where dost thou dwell, my prettie maide?
	I prithee tell to me;’
	‘I am a tanner’s daughter,’ she said,
	‘John Hobbes of Barneslee.’
8C.6	‘And whither goest thou, pretty maide?
	Shall I be thy true love?’
	‘If thou art not afeard,’ she said,
	‘My true love thou shalt prove.’
8C.7	‘What should I feare?’ then he replied;
	‘I am thy true love now;’
	‘I have two brethren, and their pride
	Would scorn such one as thou.’
8C.8	‘That will we try,’ quoth Robin Hood;
	‘I was not made their scorne;
	Ile shed my blood to doe the[e] good,
	As sure as they were borne.’
8C.9	‘My brothers are proude and fierce and strong;’
	‘I am,’ said he, ’The same,
	And if they offer thee to wrong,
	Theyle finde Ile play their game.
8C.10	‘Through the free forrest I can run,
	The king may not controll;
	They are but barking tanners’ sons,
	To me they shall pay toll.
8C.11	‘And if not mine be sheepe and kine,
	I have cattle on my land;
	On venison eche day I may dine,
	Whiles they have none in hand.’
8C.12	These wordes had Robin Hood scarce spoke,
	When they two men did see,
	Come riding till their horses smoke:
	‘My brothers both,’ cried shee.
8C.13	Each had a good sword by his side,
	And furiouslie they rode
	To where they Robin Hood espied,
	That with the maiden stood.
8C.14	‘Flee hence, flee hence, away with speede!’
	Cried she to Robin Hood,
	‘For if thou stay, thoult surely bleede;
	I could not see thy blood.’
8C.15	‘With us, false maiden, come away,
	And leave that outlawe bolde;
	Why fledst thou from thy home this day,
	And left thy father olde?’
8C.16	Robin stept backe but paces five,
	Unto a sturdie tree;
	‘Ile fight whiles I am left alive;
	Stay thou, sweete maide, with mee.’
8C.17	He stood before, she stoode behinde,
	The brothers two drewe nie;
	‘Our sister now to us resign,
	Or thou full sure shalt die.’
8C.18	Then cried the maide, ‘My brethren deare,
	With ye Ile freely wend,
	But harm not this young forrester,
	Noe ill doth he pretend.’
8C.19	‘Stande up, sweete maide, I plight my troth;
	Fall thou not on thy knee;
	Ile force thy cruell brothers both
	To bend the knee to thee.
8C.20	‘Stand thou behinde this sturdie oke,
	I soone will quell their pride;
	Thoult see my sword with furie smoke,
	And in their hearts’ blood died.’
8C.21	He set his backe against a tree,
	His foote against a stone;
	The first blow that he gave so free
	Cleft one man to the bone.
8C.22	The tanners bold they fought right well,
	And it was one to two;
	But Robin did them both refell,
	All in the damsell’s viewe.
8C.23	The red blood ran from Robins brow,
	All downe unto his knee;
	‘O holde your handes, my brethren now,
	I will goe backe with yee.’
8C.24	‘Stand backe, stand backe, my pretty maide,
	Stand backe and let me fight;
	By sweete St. James be no[t] afraide
	But I will it requite.’
8C.25	Then Robin did his sword uplift,
	And let it fall againe;
	The oldest brothers head it cleft,
	Right through unto his braine.
8C.26	‘O hold thy hand, bolde forrester,
	Or ill may thee betide;
	Slay not my youngest brother here,
	He is my father’s pride.’
8C.27	‘Away, for I would scorne to owe,
	My life to the[e], false maide!’
	The youngest cried, and aimd a blow
	That lit on Robin’s head.
8C.28	Then Robin leand against the tree,
	His life nie gone did seeme;
	His eyes did swim, he could not see
	The maiden start betweene.
8C.29	It was not long ere Robin Hood
	Could welde his sword so bright;
	Upon his feete he firmly stood,
	And did renew the fight.
8C.30	Untill the tanner scarce could heave
	His weapon in the aire;
	But Robin would not him bereave
	Of life, and left him there.
8C.31	Then to the greenewood did he fly,
	And with him went the maide;
	For him she vowd that she would dye,
	He’d live for her, he said.



	 Child 9A: The Fair Flower of Northumberland

9A.1	IT was a knight in Scotland borne
 Refrain:	Follow, my love, come over the strand
	Was taken prisoner, and left forlorne,
 Refrain:	Even by the good Earle of Northumberland.
9A.2	Then was he cast in prison strong,
	Where he could not walke nor lie along,
 Refrain:	Even by the goode Earle of Northumberland.
9A.3	And as in sorrow thus he lay,
	The Earle’s sweete daughter walkt that way,
 Refrain:	And she the faire flower of Northumberland.
9A.4	And passing by, like an angell bright,
	The prisoner had of her a sight,
 Refrain:	And she the faire flower of Northumberland.
9A.5	And loud to her this knight did crie,
	The salt teares standing in his eye,
 Refrain:	And she the faire flower of Northumberland.
9A.6	‘Faire lady,’ he said, ’Take pity on me,
	And let me not in prison dye,
 Refrain:	And you the faire flower of Northumberland.’
9A.7	‘Faire Sir, how should I take pity on thee,
	Thou being a foe to our countrey,
 Refrain:	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’
9A.8	‘Faire lady, I am no foe,’ he said,
	‘Through thy sweet love heere was I stayd,
 Refrain:	For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.’
9A.9	‘Why shouldst thou come heere for love of me,
	Having wife and children in thy countrie?
 Refrain:	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’
9A.10	‘I sweare by the blessed Trinitie,
	I have no wife nor children, I,
9A.10r	Nor dwelling at home in merrie Scotland.
9A.11	‘If curteously you will set me free,
	I vow that I will marrie thee,
9A.11r	So soone as I come in faire Scotland.
9A.12	‘Thou shalt be a lady of castles and towers,
	And sit like a queene in princely bowers,
9A.12r	When I am at home in faire Scotland.’
9A.13	Then parted hence this lady gay,
	And got her father’s ring away,
9A.13r	To helpe this sad knight into faire Scotland.
9A.14	Likewise much gold she got by sleight,
	And all to help this forlorne knight
9A.14r	To wend from her father to faire Scotland.
9A.15	Two gallant steedes, both good and able,
	She likewise tooke out of the stable,
9A.15r	To ride with this knight into faire Scotland.
9A.16	And to the jaylor she sent this ring,
	The knight from prison forth to bring,
9A.16r	To wend with her into faire Scotland.
9A.17	This token set the prisoner free,
	Who straight went to this faire lady,
9A.17r	To wend with her into faire Scotland.
9A.18	A gallant steede he did bestride,
	And with the lady away did ride,
9A.18r	And she the faire flower of Northumberland.
9A.19	They rode till they came to a water cleare:
	‘Good Sir, how should I follow you heere,
9A.19r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland?
9A.20	‘The water is rough and wonderfull deepe,
	An[d] on my saddle I shall not keepe,
9A.20r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’
9A.21	‘Feare not the foord, faire lady,’ quoth he,
	‘For long I cannot stay for thee,
9A.21r	And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.’
9A.22	The lady prickt her wanton steed,
	And over the river swom with speede,
9A.22r	And she the faire flower of Northumberland.
9A.23	From top to toe all wet was shee:
	‘This have I done for love of thee,
9A.23r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’
9A.24	Thus rode she all one winter’s night,
	Till Edenborow they saw in sight,
9A.24r	The chiefest towne in all Scotland.
9A.25	‘Now chuse,’ quoth he, ’Thou wanton flower,
	Whe’r thou wilt be my paramour,
9A.25r	Or get thee home to Northumberland.
9A.26	‘For I have wife, and children five,
	In Edenborow they be alive;
9A.26r	Then get thee home to faire England.
9A.27	‘This favour shalt thou have to boote,
	Ile have thy horse, go thou on foote,
9A.27r	Go, get thee home to Northumberland.’
9A.28	‘O false and faithlesse knight,’ quoth shee,
	‘And canst thou deale so bad with me,
9A.28r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland?
9A.29	‘Dishonour not a ladie’s name,
	But draw thy sword and end my shame,
9A.29r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’
9A.30	He tooke her from her stately steed,
	And left her there in extreme need,
9A.30r	And she the faire flower of Northumberland.
9A.31	Then sate she downe full heavily;
	At length two knights came riding by,
9A.31r	Two gallant knights of faire England.
9A.32	She fell downe humbly on her knee,
	Saying, ‘Courteous knights, take pittie on me,
9A.32r	And I the faire flower of Northumberland.

9A.33	‘I have offended my father deere,
	And by a false knight that brought me heere,
9A.33r	From the good Earle of Northumberland.’
9A.34	They tooke her up behind them then,
	And brought her to her father’s againe,
9A.34r	And he the good Earle of Northumberland.
9A.35	All you faire maidens be warned by me,
	Scots were never true, nor never will be,
9A.35r	To lord, nor lady, nor faire England.


	 Child 9B: The Fair Flower of Northumberland

9B.1	THE provost’s daughter went out a walking,
 Refrain:	A may’s love whiles is easy won
	She heard a poor prisoner making his moan,
 Refrain:	And she was the fair flower of Northumberland.
9B.2	‘If any lady would borrow me
 Refrain:	Out into the prison strong,
9B.2	I would make her a lady of high degree,
 Refrain:	For I am a great lord in fair Scotland.’
9B.3	She’s done her to her father’s bed-stock,
 Refrain:	A may’s love whiles is easy won
9B.3	She’s stolen the keys o many braw lock,
 Refrain:	And she’s loosd him out o the prison strong.
9B.4	She’s done her to her father’s stable,
 Refrain:	A may’s love whiles is easy won
9B.4	She’s taen out a steed that was both swift and able,
 Refrain:	To carry them both to fair Scotland.
9B.5	O when they came to the Scottish cross,
 Refrain:	A may’s whiles is easy won
9B.5	‘Ye brazen-faced whore, light off o my horse,
 Refrain:	And go get you back to Northumberland!’
9B.6	O when they came to the Scottish moor,
 Refrain:	A may’s love whiles is easy won
9B.6	‘Get off o my horse, you’re a brazen-faced whore,
 Refrain:	So go get you back to Northumberland!’
9B.7	‘O pity on me, O pity,’ said she,
 Refrain:	‘O that my love was so easy won!
9B.7	Have pity on me as I had upon thee,
 Refrain:	When I loosd you out of the prison strong.’
9B.8	‘O how can I have pity on thee?
 Refrain:	O why was your love so easy won!
9B.8	When I have a wife and children three
 Refrain:	More worthy than a’ Northumberland.’
9B.9	‘Cook in your kitchen I will be,
 Refrain:	O that my love was so easy won!
9B.9	And serve your lady most reverently,
 Refrain:	For I darena go back to Northumberland.’
9B.10	‘Cook in my kitchen you shall not be,
9B.10r	Why was your love so easy won!
9B.10	For I will have no such servants as thee,
9B.10r	So get you back to Northumberland.’
9B.11	But laith was he the lassie to tyne,
9B.11r	A may’s love whiles is easy won
9B.11	He’s hired an old horse and feed an old man,
9B.11r	To carry her back to Northumberland.
9B.12	O when she came her father before,
9B.12r	A may’s love whiles is easy won
9B.12	She fell down on her knees so low
9B.12r	For she was the fair flower of Northumberland.
9B.13	‘O daughter, O daughter, why was ye so bold,
9B.13r	Or why was your love so easy won,
9B.13	To be a Scottish whore in your fifteen year old?
9B.13r	And you the fair flower of Northumberland!’
9B.14	Her mother she gently on her did smile,
9B.14r	O that her love was so easy won!
9B.14	‘She is not the first that the Scotts have beguild,
9B.14r	But she’s still the fair flower of Northumberland.
9B.15	‘She shanna want gold, she shanna want fee,
9B.15r	Altho that her love was so easy won,
9B.15	She shanna want gold to gain a man wi,
9B.15r	And she’s still the fair flower of Northumberland.’


	 Child 9C: The Fair Flower of Northumberland

9C.1	AS I went by a jail-house door,
 Refrain:	Maid’s love whiles is easy won
	I saw a prisoner standing there,
 Refrain:	‘I wish I were home in fair Scotland.
9C.2	‘Fair maid, will you pity me?
	Ye’ll steal the keys, let me gae free:
 Refrain:	I’ll make you my lady in fair Scotland.
9C.3	‘I’m sure you have no need of me,
	For ye have a wife and bairns three,
 Refrain:	That lives at home in fair Scotland.’
9C.4	He swore by him that was crownd with thorn,
	That he never had a wife since the day he was born,
 Refrain:	But livd a free lord in fair Scotland.
9C.5	She went unto her father’s bed-head,
	She’s stown the key o mony a lock,
 Refrain:	She’s let him out o prison strong.
9C.6	She’s went to her father’s stable,
	She’s stown a steed baith wight and able,
 Refrain:	To carry them on to fair Scotland.
9C.7	They rode till they came to a muir,
	He bade her light aff, they’d call her a whore,
 Refrain:	If she didna return to Northumberland.
9C.8	They rode till they came to a moss,
	He bade her light aff her father’s best horse,
 Refrain:	And return her again to Northumberland.
9C.9	‘I’m sure I have no need of thee,
	When I have a wife and bairns three,
 Refrain:	That lives at home in fair Scotland.’
9C.10	‘I’ll be cook in your kitchen,
	And serve your lady handsomelie,
9C.10r	For I darena gae back to Northumberland.’
9C.11	‘Ye cannot be cook in my kitchen,
	My lady cannot fa sic servants as thee,
9C.11r	So ye’ll return again to Northumberland.’
9C.12	When she went thro her father’s ha,
	She looted her low amongst them a’,
9C.12r	She was the fair flower o Northumberland.
9C.13	Out spake her father, he spake bold,
	‘How could ye be a whore in fifteen years old,
9C.13r	And you the flower of Northumberland?’
9C.14	Out spake her mother, she spake wi a smile,
	‘She’s nae the first his coat did beguile,
9C.14r	Ye’re welcome again to Northumberland.’


	 Child 9D: The Fair Flower of Northumberland

9D.1	SHE’S gane down to her father’s stable,
 Refrain:	O my dear, and my love that she wan
	She’s taen out a black steed baith sturdy and able,
 Refrain:	And she’s away to fair Scotland.
9D.2	When they came to Scotland bridge,
	‘Light off, you whore, from my black steed,
 Refrain:	And go your ways back to Northumberland.’
9D.3	‘O take me by the body so meek,
	And throw me in the water so deep,
 Refrain:	For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’
9D.4	‘I’ll no take thee by the body so meek,
	Nor throw thee in the water so deep;
 Refrain:	Thou may go thy ways back to Northumberland.’
9D.5	‘Take me by the body so small,
	And throw me in yon bonny mill-dam,
 Refrain:	For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’


	 Child 9E: The Fair Flower of Northumberland

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



	 Child 9[F]: The Fair Flower of Northumberland

9[F.1]	* * * *
	She stole the keys from her father’s bed-head,
 Refrain:	O but her love it was easy won!
9[F.1]	She opened the gates, she opened them wide,
 Refrain:	She let him out o the prison strong.
9[F.2]	She went into her father’s stable,
 Refrain:	O but her love it was easy won!
9[F.2]	She stole a steed that was both stout and strong,
 Refrain:	To carry him hame frae Northumberland.
	* * * * *
9[F.3]	‘I’ll be cook in your kitchen,
 Refrain:	Noo sure my love has been easy won!
9[F.3]	I’ll serve your own lady with hat an with hand,
 Refrain:	For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.’
9[F.4]	‘I need nae cook in my kitchin,
 Refrain:	O but your love it was easy won!
9[F.4]	Ye’ll serve not my lady with hat or with hand,
 Refrain:	For ye maun gae back to Northumberland.’
9[F.5]	When she gaed hame, how her father did ban!
 Refrain:	‘O but your love it was easy won!
9[F.5]	A fair Scottish girl, not sixteen years old,
 Refrain:	Was once the fair flower o Northumberland!’


	 Child 9[G]: The Fair Flower of Northumberland

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



		 Child 10A: The Twa Sisters

10A.1	THERE were two sisters, they went playing,
 Refrain:	With a hie downe downe a downe-a
	To see their father’s ships come sayling in.
 Refrain:	With a hy downe downe a downe-a
10A.2	And when they came unto the sea-brym,
	The elder did push the younger in.
10A.3	‘O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne,
	And drawe me up upon the dry ground.’
10A.4	‘O sister, O sister, that may not bee,
	Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree.’
10A.5	Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam,
	Until she came unto the mill-dam.
10A.6	The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe,
	And up he betook her withouten her life.
10A.7	What did he doe with her brest-bone?
	He made him a violl to play thereupon.
10A.8	What did he doe with her fingers so small?
	He made him peggs to his violl withall.
10A.9	What did he doe with her nose-ridge?
	Unto his violl he made him a bridge.
10A.10	What did he doe with her veynes so blew?
	He made him strings to his violl thereto.
10A.11	What did he doe with her eyes so bright?
	Upon his violl he played at first sight.
10A.12	What did he doe with her tongue so rough?
	Unto the violl it spake enough.
10A.13	What did he doe with her two shinnes?
	Unto the violl they danc’d Moll Syms.
10A.14	Then bespake the treble string,
	‘O yonder is my father the king.’
10A.15	Then bespake the second string,
	‘O yonder sitts my mother the queen.’
10A.16	And then bespake the strings all three,
	‘O yonder is my sister that drowned mee.’
10A.17	‘Now pay the miller for his payne,
	And let him bee gone in the divel’s name.’


		 Child 10B: The Twa Sisters

10B.1	THERE was twa sisters in a bowr,
 Refrain:	Edinburgh, Edinburgh
	There was twa sisters in a bowr,
 Refrain:	Stirling for ay
	There was twa sisters in a bowr,
	There came a knight to be their wooer.
 Refrain:	Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay
10B.2	He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,
	But he lovd the youngest above a’ thing.
10B.3	He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,
	But lovd the youngest as his life.
10B.4	The eldest she was vexed sair,
	An much envi’d her sister fair.
10B.5	Into her bowr she could not rest,
	Wi grief an spite she almos brast.
10B.6	Upon a morning fair an clear,
	She cried upon her sister dear:
10B.7	‘O sister, come to yon sea stran,
	An see our father’s ships come to lan.’
10B.8	She’s taen her by the milk-white han,
	An led her down to yon sea stran.
10B.9	The younges[t] stood upon a stane,
	The eldest came an threw her in.
10B.10	She tooke her by the middle sma,
	An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.
10B.11	‘O sister, sister, tak my han,
	An Ise mack you heir to a’ my lan.
10B.12	‘O sister, sister, tak my middle,
	An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle.
10B.13	‘O sister, sister, save my life,
	An I swear Ise never be nae man’s wife.’
10B.14	‘Foul fa the han that I should tacke,
	It twin’d me an my wardles make.
10B.15	‘Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair
	Gars me gae maiden for evermair.’
10B.16	Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,
	Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.
10B.17	O out it came the miller’s son,
	An saw the fair maid swimmin in.
10B.18	‘O father, father, draw your dam,
	Here’s either a mermaid or a swan.’
10B.19	The miller quickly drew the dam,
	An there he found a drownd woman.
10B.20	You coudna see her yallow hair
	For gold and pearle that were so rare.
10B.21	You coudna see her middle sma
	For gouden girdle that was sae braw.
10B.22	You coudna see her fingers white,
	For gouden rings that was sae gryte.
10B.23	An by there came a harper fine,
	That harped to the king at dine.
10B.24	When he did look that lady upon,
	He sighd and made a heavy moan.
10B.25	He’s taen three locks o her yallow hair,
	An wi them strung his harp sae fair.
10B.26	The first tune he did play and sing,
	Was, ‘Farewell to my father the king.’
10B.27	The nextin tune that he playd syne,
	Was, ‘Farewell to my mother the queen.’
10B.28	The lasten tune that he playd then,
	Was, ‘Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.’


		 Child 10C: The Twa Sisters

10C.1	THERE were two sisters sat in a bour;
 Refrain:	Binnorie, O Binnorie
	There came a knight to be their wooer.
 Refrain:	By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie
10C.2	He courted the eldest with glove and ring,
	But he loed the youngest aboon a’ thing.
10C.3	He courted the eldest with broach and knife,
	But he loed the youngest aboon his life.
10C.4	The eldest she was vexed sair,
	And sore envied her sister fair.
10C.5	The eldest said to the youngest ane,
	‘Will ye go and see our father’s ships come in?’
10C.6	She’s taen her by the lilly hand,
	And led her down to the river strand.
10C.7	The youngest stude upon a stane,
	The eldest came and pushed her in.
10C.8	She took her by the middle sma,
	And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw.
10C.9	‘O sister, sister, reach your hand,
	And ye shall be heir of half my land.’
10C.10	‘O sister, I’ll not reach my hand,
	And I’ll be heir of all your land.
10C.11	‘Shame fa the hand that I should take,
	It’s twin’d me and my world’s make.’
10C.12	‘O sister, reach me but your glove,
	And sweet William shall be your love.’
10C.13	‘Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,
	And sweet William shall better be my love.
10C.14	‘Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair
	Garrd me gang maiden evermair.’
10C.15	Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam,
	Until she came to the miller’s dam.
10C.16	‘O father, father, draw your dam,
	There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’
10C.17	The miller hasted and drew his dam,
	And there he found a drowned woman.
10C.18	You could not see her yellow hair,
	For gowd and pearls that were sae rare.
10C.19	You could na see her middle sma,
	Her gowden girdle was sae bra.
10C.20	A famous harper passing by,
	The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.
10C.21	And when he looked that ladye on,
	He sighed and made a heavy moan.
10C.22	He made a harp of her breast-bone,
	Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.
10C.23	The strings he framed of her yellow hair,
	Whose notes made sad the listening ear.
10C.24	He brought it to her father’s hall,
	And there was the court assembled all.
10C.25	He laid this harp upon a stone,
	And straight it began to play alone.
10C.26	‘O yonder sits my father, the king,
	And yonder sits my mother, the queen.
10C.27	‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh,
	And by him my William, sweet and true.’
10C.28	But the last tune that the harp playd then,
	Was ‘Woe to my sister, false Helen!’


		 Child 10D: The Twa Sisters

10D.1	THERE lived three sisters in a bouer,
 Refrain:	Edinbruch, Edinbruch
	There lived three sisters in a bouer,
 Refrain:	Stirling for aye
	There lived three sisters in a bouer,
	The youngest was the sweetest flowr.
 Refrain:	Bonnie St Johnston stands upon Tay
10D.2	There cam a knicht to see them a’,
	And on the youngest his love did fa.
10D.3	He brought the eldest ring and glove,
	But the youngest was his ain true-love.
10D.4	He brought the second sheath and knife,
	But the youngest was to be his wife.
10D.5	The eldest sister said to the youngest ane,
	‘Will ye go and see our father’s ships come in?’
10D.6	And as they walked by the linn,
	The eldest dang the youngest in.
10D.7	‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
	And ye’ll be heir to a’ my land.’
10D.8	‘Foul fa the hand that I wad take,
	To twin me o my warld’s make.’
10D.9	‘O sister, sister, tak my glove,
	And yese get Willie, my true-love.’
10D.10	‘Sister, sister, I’ll na tak your glove,
	For I’ll get Willie, your true-love.’
10D.11	Aye she swittert, and aye she swam,
	Till she cam to yon bonnie mill-dam.
10D.12	The miller’s dochter cam out wi speed,
	It was for water, to bake her bread.
10D.13	‘O father, father, gae slack your dam;
	There’s in’t a lady or a milk-white swan.’
	* * * * *
10D.14	They could na see her coal-black eyes
	For her yellow locks hang oure her brees.
10D.15	They could na see her weel-made middle
	For her braid gowden girdle.
	* * * * *
10D.16	And by there cam an auld blind fiddler,
	And took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.
	* * * * *
10D.17	The first spring that the bonnie fiddle playd,
	‘Hang my cruel sister, Alison,’ it said.


		 Child 10E: The Twa Sisters

10E.1	THERE livd twa sisters in a bower,
 Refrain:	Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch!
	There lived twa sisters in a bower,
 Refrain:	Stirling for aye!
	The youngest o them O she was a flower!

 Refrain:	Bonny Sanct Johnstoune that stands upon Tay!
10E.2	There cam a squire frae the west,
	He loed them baith, but the youngest best.
10E.3	He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,
	But he loed the youngest aboon a’ thing.
10E.4	‘O sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?
	Our father’s ships sail bonnilie.’
10E.5	The youngest sat down upon a stane;
	The eldest shot the youngest in.
10E.6	‘O sister, sister, lend me your hand,
	And you shall hae my gouden fan.
10E.7	‘O sister, sister, save my life,
	And ye shall be the squire’s wife.’
10E.8	First she sank, and then she swam,
	Untill she cam to Tweed mill-dam.
10E.9	The millar’s daughter was baking bread,
	She went for water, as she had need.
10E.10	‘O father, father, in our mill-dam
	There’s either a lady, or a milk-white swan.’
10E.11	They could nae see her fingers small,
	Wi diamond rings they were coverd all.
10E.12	They could nae see her yellow hair,
	Sae mony knots and platts were there.
10E.13	They could nae see her lilly feet,
	Her gowden fringes war sae deep.
10E.14	Bye there cam a fiddler fair,
	And he’s taen three taits o her yellow hair.


		 Child 10F: The Twa Sisters

10F.1	THERE was two ladies livd in a bower,
 Refrain:	Hey with a gay and a grinding O
	The youngest o them was the fairest flower
 Refrain:	About a’ the bonny bows o London.
10F.2	There was two ladies livd in a bower,
	An wooer unto the youngest did go.
10F.3	The oldest one to the youngest did say,
	‘Will ye take a walk with me today,
 Refrain:	And we’ll view the bonny bows o London.
10F.4	‘Thou’ll set thy foot whare I set mine,
	Thou’ll set thy foot upon this stane.’
10F.5	‘I’ll set my foot where thou sets thine:’
	The old sister dang the youngest in,
 Refrain:	At, etc.
10F.6	‘O sister dear, come tak my hand,
	Take my life safe to dry land,’
 Refrain:	At, etc.
10F.7	‘It’s neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,
	It’s neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,
 Refrain:	At, etc.
10F.8	‘It’s thy cherry cheeks and thy white briest bane
	Gars me set a maid owre lang at hame.’
10F.9	She clasped her hand[s] about a brume rute,
	But her cruel sister she lowsed them out.
10F.10	Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,
	Till she cam to the miller’s dam.
10F.11	The miller’s bairns has muckle need,
	They were bearing in water to bake some breid.
10F.12	Says, ‘Father, dear father, in our mill-dam,
	It’s either a fair maid or a milk-white swan.’
10F.13	The miller he’s spared nae his hose nor his shoon
	Till he brocht this lady till dry land.
10F.14	I wad he saw na a bit o her feet,
	Her silver slippers were made so neat.
10F.15	I wad he saw na a bit o her skin,
	For ribbons there was mony a ane.
10F.16	He laid her on a brume buss to dry,
	To see wha was the first wad pass her by.
10F.17	Her ain father’s herd was the first man
	That by this lady gay did gang.
10F.18	He’s taen three links of her yellow hair,
	And made it a string to his fiddle there.
10F.19	He’s cut her fingers long and small
	To be fiddle-pins that neer might fail.
10F.20	The very first spring that the fiddle did play,
	‘Hang my auld sister,’ I wad it did say.
10F.21	‘For she drowned me in yonder sea,
	God neer let her rest till she shall die,’
10F.21r	At the bonny bows o London.


		 Child 10G: The Twa Sisters

10G.1	THERE were three sisters lived in a bouir,
 Refrain:	Hech, hey, my Nannie O
	And the youngest was the fairest flouir.
 Refrain:	And the swan swims bonnie O
10G.2	‘O sister, sister, gang down to yon sand,
	And see your father’s ships coming to dry land.’
10G.3	O they have gane down to yonder sand,
	To see their father’s ships coming to dry land.
10G.4	‘Gae set your fit on yonder stane,
	Till I tye up your silken goun.’
10G.5	She set her fit on yonder stane,
	And the auldest drave the youngest in.
10G.6	‘O sister, sister, tak me by the hand,
	And ye’ll get a’ my father’s land.
10G.7	‘O sister, sister, tak me by the gluve,
	An ye’ll get Willy, my true luve.’
10G.8	She had a switch into her hand,
	And ay she drave her frae the land.
10G.9	O whiles she sunk, and whiles she swam,
	Until she swam to the miller’s dam.
10G.10	The miller’s daughter gade doun to Tweed,
	To carry water to bake her bread.
10G.11	‘O father, O father, what’s yon in the dam?
	It’s either a maid or a milk-white swan.’
10G.12	They have tane her out till yonder thorn,
	And she has lain till Monday morn.
10G.13	She hadna, hadna twa days lain,
	Till by there came a harper fine.
10G.14	He made a harp o her breast-bane,
	That he might play forever thereon.


		 Child 10H: The Twa Sisters

10H.1	THERE were three sisters lived in a hall,
 Refrain:	Hey with the gay and the grandeur O
	And there came a lord to court them all.
 Refrain:	At the bonnie bows o London town.
10H.2	He courted the eldest with a penknife,
	And he vowed that he would take her life.
10H.3	He courted the youngest with a glove,
	And he said that he’d be her true love.
10H.4	‘O sister, O sister, will you go and take a walk,
	And see our father’s ships how they float?
10H.5	‘O lean your foot upon the stone,
	And wash your hand in that sea-foam.’
10H.6	She leaned her foot upon the stone,
	But her eldest sister has tumbled her down.
10H.7	‘O sister, sister, give me your hand,
	And I’ll make you lady of all my land.’
10H.8	‘O I’ll not lend to you my hand,
	But I’ll be lady of your land.’
10H.9	‘O sister, sister, give me your glove,
	And I’ll make you lady of my true love.’
10H.10	‘It’s I’ll not lend to you my glove,
	But I’ll be lady of your true love.’
10H.11	Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,
	Until she came to a miller’s dam.
10H.12	The miller’s daughter was coming out wi speed,
	For water for to bake some bread.
10H.13	‘O father, father, stop the dam,
	For it’s either a lady or a milk-white swan.’
10H.14	He dragged her out unto the shore,
	And stripped her of all she wore.
10H.15	By cam a fiddler, and he was fair,
	And he buskit his bow in her bonnie yellow hair.
	By cam her father’s harper, and he was fine,
10H.16	he made a harp o her bonny breast-bone.
10H.17	When they came to her father’s court,
	The harp [and fiddle these words] spoke:
10H.18	‘O God bless my father the king,
	And I wish the same to my mother the queen.
10H.19	‘My sister Jane she tumbled me in,
	. . . . .
	* * * * *


		 Child 10I: The Twa Sisters

10I.1	THERE war twa sisters lived in a bouer,
 Refrain:	Binnorie and Binnorie
	There cam a squire to court them baith.
 Refrain:	At the bonnie mill-streams o Binnorie
10I.2	He courted the eldest with Jewels and rings,
	But he lovd the youngest the best of all things.
10I.3	He courted the eldest with a penknife,
	He lovd the youngest as dear as his life.
10I.4	It fell ance upon a day
	That these twa sisters hae gane astray.
10I.5	It was for to meet their father’s ships that had come in.
	. . . . .
10I.6	As they walked up the linn,
	The eldest dang the youngest in.
10I.7	‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
	And ye’ll hae Lud John and aw his land.’
10I.8	With a silver wand she pushd her in,
	. . . . .
10I.9	‘O sister, sister, tak my glove,
	And ye sall hae my ain true love.’
10I.10	The miller’s dochter cam out wi speed.
	It was for a water to bake her bread.
10I.11	‘O father, father, gae slack your dam;
	There’s either a white fish or a swan.’
	* * * * *
10I.12	Bye cam a blind fiddler that way,
	And he took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.
10I.13	And the first spring that he playd,
	It said, ‘It was my sister threw me in.’


		 Child 10J: The Twa Sisters

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


		 Child 10K: The Twa Sisters

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


		 Child 10L: The Twa Sisters

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


		 Child 10M: The Twa Sisters

10M.1	THERE lived twa sisters in yonder ha,
 Refrain:	Bin’orie O an Bin’orie
	They hadna but ae lad atween them twa,
 Refrain:	He’s the bonnie miller lad o Bin’orie.
10M.2	It fell oot upon a day,
	The auldest ane to the youngest did say,
 Refrain:	At the bonnie mill-dams o Bin’orie,
10M.3	‘O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams,
	To hear the blackbird thrashin oer his songs?
 Refrain:	At the,’ etc.
10M.4	‘O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams,
	To see oor father’s fish-boats come safe to dry lan?
 Refrain:	An the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.’
10M.5	They hadna been an oor at the dams,
	Till they heard the blackbird thrashin oer his tune,
 Refrain:	At the, etc.
10M.6	They hadna been an oor at the dams
	Till they saw their father’s fish-boats come safe to dry lan,
 Refrain:	Bat they sawna the bonnie miller laddie.
10M.7	They stood baith up upon a stane,
	An the eldest ane dang the youngest in,
 Refrain:	I the, etc.
10M.8	She swam up, an she swam doon,
	An she swam back to her sister again,
 Refrain:	I the, etc.
10M.9	‘O sister, O sister, len me your han,
	An yes be heir to my true love,
 Refrain:	He’s the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.’
10M.10	‘It was not for that love at I dang you in,
	But ye was fair and I was din,
10M.10r	And yes droon i the dams o Binorie.’
10M.11	The miller’s daughter she cam oot,
	For water to wash her father’s hans,
10M.11r	Frae the, etc.
10M.12	‘O father, O father, ye will fish your dams,
	An ye’ll get a white fish or a swan,
10M.12r	I the,’ etc.
10M.13	They fished up and they fished doon,
	But they got nothing but a droonet woman,
10M.13r	I the, etc.
10M.14	Some o them kent by her skin sae fair,
	But weel kent he by her bonnie yallow hair
10M.14r	She’s the bonnie miller’s lass o Binorie.
10M.15	Some o them kent by her goons o silk,
	But weel kent he by her middle sae jimp,
10M.15r	She’s the bonnie miller’s lass o Binorie.
10M.16	Mony ane was at her oot-takin,
	But mony ane mair at her green grave makin,
10M.16r	At the bonny mill-dams o Binorie.


		 Child 10N: The Twa Sisters

10N.1	THERE were twa sisters livd in a bouir,
 Refrain:	Binnorie, O Binnorie
	Their father was a baron of pouir.
 Refrain:	By the bonnie mildams of Binnorie
10N.2	The youngest was meek, and fair as the may
	Whan she springs in the east wi the gowden day.
10N.3	The eldest austerne as the winter cauld,
	Ferce was her saul, and her seiming was bauld.
10N.4	A gallant squire can sweet Isabel to wooe;
	Her sister had naething to luve I trow.
10N.5	But filld was she wi dolour and ire,
	To see that to her the comlie squire
10N.6	Preferd the debonair Isabel:
	Their hevin of luve of spyte was her hell.
10N.7	Till ae ein she to her sister can say,
	‘Sweit sister, cum let us wauk and play.’
10N.8	They wauked up, and they wauked down,
	Sweit sang the birdis in the vallie loun.
10N.9	Whan they cam to the roaring lin,
	She drave unweiting Isabel in.
10N.10	‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,
	And ye sall hae my silver fan.
10N.11	‘O sister, sister, tak my middle,
	And ye sall hae my gowden girdle.’
10N.12	Sumtimes she sank, sumtimes she swam,
	Till she cam to the miller’s dam.
10N.13	The miller’s dochtor was out that ein,
	And saw her rowing down the streim.
10N.14	‘O father deir, in your mil-dam
	There is either a lady or a milk-white swan!’
10N.15	Twa days were gane, whan to her deir
	Her wraith at deid of nicht cold appeir.
10N.16	‘My luve, my deir, how can ye sleip,
	Whan your Isabel lyes in the deip!
10N.17	‘My deir, how can ye sleip bot pain
	Whan she by her cruel sister is slain!’
10N.18	Up raise he sune, in frichtfu mude:
	‘Busk ye, my meiny, and seik the flude.’
10N.19	They socht her up and they socht her doun,
	And spyd at last her glisterin gown.
10N.20	They raisd her wi richt meidle care;
	Pale was her cheik and grein was her hair.


		 Child 10O: The Twa Sisters

10O.1	THERE were twa sisters in a bower,
 Refrain:	Hey wi the gay and the grinding
	And ae king’s son has courted them baith.
 Refrain:	At the bonny bonny bows o London
10O.2	He courted the youngest wi broach and ring,
	He courted the eldest wi some other thing.
10O.3	It fell ance upon a day
	The eldest to the youngest did say,
10O.4	‘Will ye gae to yon Tweed mill-dam,
	And see our father’s ships come to land?’
10O.5	They baith stood up upon a stane,
	The eldest dang the youngest in.
10O.6	She swimmed up, sae did she down,
	Till she came to the Tweed mill-dam.
10O.7	The miller’s servant he came out,
	And saw the lady floating about.
10O.8	‘O master, master, set your mill,
	There is a fish, or a milk-white swan.’
10O.9	They could not ken her yellow hair,
	[For] the scales o gowd that were laid there.
10O.10	They could not ken her fingers sae white,
	The rings o gowd they were sae bright.
10O.11	They could not ken her middle sae jimp,
	The stays o gowd were so well laced.
10O.12	They could not ken her foot sae fair,
	The shoes o gowd they were so rare.
10O.13	Her father’s fiddler he came by,
	Upstarted her ghaist before his eye.
10O.14	‘Ye’ll take a lock o my yellow hair,
	Ye’ll make a string to your fiddle there.
10O.15	‘Ye’ll take a lith o my little finger bane,
	And ye’ll make a pin to your fiddle then.’
10O.16	He’s taen a lock o her yellow hair,
	And made a string to his fiddle there.
10O.17	He’s taen a lith o her little finger bane,
	And he’s made a pin to his fiddle then.
10O.18	The firstand spring the fiddle did play,
	Said, ‘Ye’ll drown my sister, as she’s dune me.’


		 Child 10P: The Twa Sisters

10P.1	THERE were twa ladies in a bower,
 Refrain:	Hey my bonnie Nannie O
	The old was black and the young ane fair.
 Refrain:	And the swan swims bonnie O
10P.2	Once it happened on a day
	The auld ane to the young did say,
10P.3	The auld ane to the young did say,
	‘Will you gae to the green and play?’
10P.4	‘O sister, sister, I daurna gang,
	For fear I file my silver shoon.’
10P.5	It was not to the green they gaed,
	But it was to the water of Tweed.
10P.6	She bowed her back and she’s taen her on,
	And she’s tumbled her in Tweed mill-dam.
10P.7	‘O sister, O sister, O tak my hand,
	And I’ll mak you heir of a’ my land.’
10P.8	‘O sister, O sister, I’ll no take your hand,
	And I’ll be heir of a’ your land.’
10P.9	‘O sister, O sister, O tak my thumb,
	And I’ll give you my true-love John.’
10P.10	‘O sister, O sister, I’ll no tak your thumb,
	And I will get your true-love John.’
10P.11	Aye she swattered and aye she swam,
	Until she came to the mouth of the dam.
10P.12	The miller’s daughter went out to Tweed,
	To get some water to bake her bread.
10P.13	In again she quickly ran:
	‘Here’s a lady or a swan in our mill-dam.’
10P.14	Out went the miller and his man
	And took the lady out of the dam.
10P.15	They laid her on the brae to dry;
	Her father’s fiddler then rode by.
10P.16	When he this lady did come near,
	Her ghost to him then did appear.
10P.17	‘When you go to my father the king,
	You’ll tell him to burn my sister Jean.
10P.18	‘When you go to my father’s gate,
	You’ll play a spring for fair Ellen’s sake.
10P.19	‘You’ll tak three links of my yellow hair,
	And play a spring for evermair.’


		 Child 10Q: The Twa Sisters

10Q.1	THERE dwelt twa sisters in a bower,
 Refrain:	Oh and ohone, and ohone and aree!
	And the youngest she was the fairest flower.
 Refrain:	On the banks of the Banna, ohone and aree!
10Q.2	There cam a knight to court the twa,
	But on the youngest his love did fa.
10Q.3	He courted the eldest with ring and wi glove,
	But he gave the youngest all his love.
10Q.4	He courted the eldest with brooch and wi knife,
	But he loved the youngest as his life.
10Q.5	‘O sister, O sister, will ye come to the stream,
	To see our father’s ships come in?’
10Q.6	The youngest stood upon a stane,
	Her sister came and pusht her in.
10Q.7	‘O sister, O sister, come reach me your hand,
	And ye shall hae all our father’s land.
10Q.8	‘O sister, O sister, come reach me your glove,
	And you shall hae William to be your true love.’
10Q.9	‘I did not put you in with the design
	Just for to pull you out again.’
10Q.10	Some time she sank, some time she swam,
	Until she came to a miller’s dam.
10Q.11	The miller’s daughter dwelt on the Tweed,
	She went for water to bake her bread.
10Q.12	‘O faither, faither, come drag me your dam,
	For there’s aither a lady in’t, or a milk-white swan.’
10Q.13	The miller went, and he dragd his dam,
	And he brought her fair body to lan.
10Q.14	They couldna see her waist sae sma
	For the goud and silk about it a’.
10Q.15	They couldna see her yallow hair
	For the pearls and jewels that were there.
10Q.16	Then up and spak her ghaist sae green,
	‘Do ye no ken the king’s dochter Jean?
10Q.17	‘Tak my respects to my father the king,
	And likewise to my mother the queen.
10Q.18	‘Tak my respects to my true love William,
	Tell him I deid for the love of him.
10Q.19	‘Carry him a lock of my yallow hair,
	To bind his heart for evermair.’


		 Child 10R: The Twa Sisters

10R.1	THERE was a king of the north countree,
 Refrain:	Bow down, bow down, bow down
	There was a king of the north countree,
	And he had daughters one, two, three.
 Refrain:	I’ll be true to my love, and my love’ll be true to me
10R.2	To the eldest he gave a beaver hat,
	And the youngest she thought much of that.
10R.3	To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain,
	And the eldest she thought much of the same.
10R.4	These sisters were walking on the bryn,
	And the elder pushed the younger in.
10R.5	‘Oh sister, oh sister, oh lend me your hand,
	And I will give you both houses and land.’
10R.6	‘I’ll neither give you my hand nor glove,
	Unless you give me your true love.’
10R.7	Away she sank, away she swam,
	Until she came to a miller’s dam.
10R.8	The miller and daughter stood at the door,
	And watched her floating down the shore.
10R.9	‘Oh father, oh father, I see a white swan,
	Or else it is a fair woman.’
10R.10	The miller he took up his long crook,
	And the maiden up from the stream he took.
10R.11	‘I’ll give to thee this gay gold chain,
	If you’ll take me back to my father again.’
10R.12	The miller he took the gay gold chain,
	And he pushed her into the water again.
10R.13	The miller was hanged on his high gate
	For drowning our poor sister Kate.
10R.14	The cat’s behind the buttery shelf,
	If you want any more, you may sing it yourself.


		 Child 10S: The Twa Sisters

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


		 Child 10T: The Twa Sisters

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


		 Child 10U: The Twa Sisters

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


		 Child 10[V]: The Twa Sisters

10[V].1	There dwelt twa sisters in a bower,
 Refrain:	Benorie, O Benorie
10[V.1]	The youngest o them was the fairest flower.
 Refrain:	In the merry milldams o Benorie
10[V.2]	There cam a wooer them to woo,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
10[V.3]	He’s gien the eldest o them a broach and a real,
	Because that she loved her sister weel.
 Refrain:	At etc.’p
10[V.4]	He’s gien the eldest a gay penknife,
	He loved the youngest as dear as his life.
 Refrain:	At etc.
10[V.5]	‘O sister, O sister, will ye go oer yon glen,
	And see my father’s ships coming in?’
 Refrain:	At etc.
10[V.6]	‘O sister dear, I darena gang,
	Because I’m feard ye throw me in.’
 Refrain:	The etc.
10[V.7]	‘O set your foot on yon sea stane,
	And was yeer hands in the sea foam.’
 Refrain:	At etc.
10[V.8]	She set her foot on yon sea stane,
	To wash her hands in the sea foam.
 Refrain:	At etc.
10[V.9]	. . . . .
	But the eldest has thrown the youngest in.
 Refrain:	The etc.
10[V.10]	‘O sister, O sister, lend me your hand,
	And ye’se get William and a’ his land.’
10[V.10r]	At etc.
10[V.11]	The miller’s daughter cam out clad in red,
	Seeking water to bake her bread.
10[V.11r]	At etc.
10[V.12]	‘O father, O father, gae fish yeer mill-dam,
	There’s either a lady or a milk-[white] swan.’
10[V.12r]	In etc.
10[V.13]	The miller cam out wi his lang cleek,
	And he cleekit the lady out by the feet.
10[V.13r]	From the bonny milldam, etc.
10[V.14]	Ye wadna kend her pretty feet,
	The American leather was sae neat.
10[V.14r]	In etc.
10[V.15]	Ye wadna kend her pretty legs,
	The silken stockings were so neat tied.
10[V.15r]	In etc.
10[V.16]	Ye wadna kend her pretty waist,
	The silken stays were sae neatly laced.
10[V.16r]	In etc.
10[V.17]	Ye wadna kend her pretty face,
	It was sae prettily preend oer wi lace.
10[V.17r]	In etc.
10[V.18]	Ye wadna kend her yellow hair,
	It was sae besmeared wi dust and glar.
10[V.18r]	In etc.
10[V.19]	By cam her father’s fiddler fine,
	And that lady’s spirit spake to him.
10[V.19r]	From etc.
10[V.20]	She bad him take three taits o her hair,
	And make them three strings to his fiddle sae rare.
10[V.20r]	At etc.
10[V.21]	‘Take two of my fingers, sae lang and sae white,
	And make them pins to your fiddle sae neat.’
10[V.21r]	At etc.
10[V.22]	The ae first spring that the fiddle played
	Was, Cursed be Sir John, my ain true-love.
10[V.22r]	At etc.
10[V.23]	The next spring that the fiddle playd
	Was, Burn burd Hellen, she threw me in.
10[V.23r]	The etc.


		 Child 10[W]: The Twa Sisters

10[W].1	Ther were three ladies playing at the ba,
 Refrain:	Norham, down by Norham
10[W.1]	And there cam a knight to view them a’.
 Refrain:	By the bonnie mill-dams o Norham
10[W.2]	He courted the aldest wi diamonds and rings,
	But he loved the youngest abune a’ things.
	* * * * *
10[W.3]	‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,
	And pull my poor body unto dry land.
10[W.4]	‘Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your glove,
	And you shall have my own true love!’
10[W.5]	Oot cam the miller’s daughter upon Tweed,
	To carry in water to bake her bread.
10[W.6]	‘Oh father, oh father, there’s a fish in your dam;
	It either is a lady or a milk-white swan.’
10[W.7]	Oot cam the miller’s man upon Tweed,
	And there he spied a lady lying dead.
10[W.8]	He could not catch her by the waist,
	For her silken stays they were tight laced.
10[W.9]	But he did catch her by the hand,
	And pulled her poor body unto dry land.
10[W.10]	He took three taets o her bonnie yellow hair,
	To make harp strings they were so rare.
10[W.11]	The very first tune that the bonnie harp played
	Was The aldest has cuisten the youngest away.


		 Child 10[X]: The Twa Sisters

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


		 Child 10[Y]: The Twa Sisters

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



		 Child 11A: The Cruel Brother

11A.1	THERE was three ladies playd at the ba,
 Refrain:	With a hey ho and a lillie gay
	There came a knight and played oer them a’.
 Refrain:	As the primrose spreads so sweetly
11A.2	The eldest was baith tall and fair,
	But the youngest was beyond compare.
11A.3	The midmost had a graceful mien,
	But the youngest lookd like beautie’s queen.
11A.4	The knight bowd low to a’ the three,
	But to the youngest he bent his knee.
11A.5	The ladie turned her head aside,
	The knight he woo’d her to be his bride.
11A.6	The ladie blushd a rosy red,
	And sayd, ‘Sir knight, I’m too young to wed.’
11A.7	‘O ladie fair, give me your hand,
	And I’ll make you ladie of a’ my land.’
11A.8	‘Sir knight, ere ye my favor win,
	You maun get consent frae a’ my kin.’
11A.9	He’s got consent frae her parents dear,
	And likewise frae her sisters fair.
11A.10	He’s got consent frae her kin each one,
	But forgot to spiek to her brother John.
11A.11	Now, when the wedding day was come,
	The knight would take his bonny bride home.
11A.12	And many a lord and many a knight
	Came to behold that ladie bright.
11A.13	And there was nae man that did her see,
	But wishd himself bridegroom to be.
11A.14	Her father dear led her down the stair,
	And her sisters twain they kissd her there.
11A.15	Her mother dear led her thro the closs,
	And her brother John set her on her horse.
11A.16	She leand her oer the saddle-bow,
	To give him a kiss ere she did go.
11A.17	He has taen a knife, baith lang and sharp,
	And stabbd that bonny bride to the heart.
11A.18	She hadno ridden half thro the town,
	Until her heart’s blude staind her gown.
11A.19	‘Ride softly on,’ says the best young man,
	‘For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.’
11A.20	‘O lead me gently up yon hill,
	And I’ll there sit down, and make my will.’
11A.21	‘O what will you leave to your father dear?’
	‘The silver-shod steed that brought me here.’
11A.22	‘What will you leave to your mother dear?’
	‘My velvet pall and my silken gear.’
11A.23	‘What will you leave your sister Anne?’
	‘My silken scarf and my gowden fan.’
11A.24	at will you leave to your sister Grace?’
	My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.’
11A.25	‘What will you leave to your brother John?’
	‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’
11A.26	‘What will you leave to your brother John’s wife?’
	‘The wilderness to end her life.’
11A.27	This ladie fair in her grave was laid,
	And many a mass was oer her said.
11A.28	But it would have made your heart right sair,
	To see the bridegroom rive his haire.


		 Child 11B: The Cruel Brother

11B.1	A GENTLEMAN cam oure the sea,
 Refrain:	Fine flowers in the valley
	And he has courted ladies three.
 Refrain:	With the light green and the yellow
11B.2	One o them was clad in red:
	He asked if she wad be his bride.
11B.3	One o them was clad in green:
	He asked if she wad be his queen.
11B.4	The last o them was clad in white:
	He asked if she wad be his heart’s delight.
11B.5	‘Ye may ga ask my father, the king:
	Sae maun ye ask my mither, the queen.
11B.6	‘Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne:
	And dinna forget my brither John.’
11B.7	He has asked her father, the king:
	And sae did he her mither, the queen.
11B.8	And he has asked her sister Anne:
	But he has forgot her brother John.
11B.9	Her father led her through the ha,
	Her mither danced afore them a’.
11B.10	Her sister Anne led her through the closs,
	Her brither John set her on her horse.
11B.11	It’s then he drew a little penknife,
	And he reft the fair maid o her life.
11B.12	‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the foremost man;
	‘I think our bride comes hooly on.’
11B.13	‘Ride up, ride up,’ said the second man;
	‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’
11B.14	Up than cam the gay bridegroom,
	And straucht unto the bride he cam.
11B.15	‘Does your side-saddle sit awry?
	Or does your steed . . .
11B.16	‘Or does the rain run in your glove?
	Or wad ye chuse anither love?’
11B.17	‘The rain runs not in my glove,
	Nor will I e’er chuse anither love.
11B.18	‘But O an I war at Saint Evron’s well,
	There I wad licht, and drink my fill!
11B.19	‘Oh an I war at Saint Evron’s closs,
	There I wad licht, and bait my horse!’
11B.20	Whan she cam to Saint Evron’s well,
	She dought na licht to drink her fill.
11B.21	Whan she cam to Saint Evron’s closs,
	The bonny bride fell aff her horse.
11B.22	‘What will ye leave to your father, the king?’
	‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’
11B.23	‘What will ye leave to your mother, the queen?’
	‘The bluidy robes that I have on.’
11B.24	‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’
	‘My gude lord, to be wedded on.’
11B.25	‘What will ye leave to your brither John?’
	‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’
11B.26	‘What will ye leave to your brither’s wife?’
	‘Grief and sorrow a’ the days o her life.’
11B.27	‘What will ye leave to your brither’s bairns?’
	‘The meal-pock to hang oure the arms.’
11B.28	Now does she neither sigh nor groan:
	She lies aneath yon marble stone.


		 Child 11C: The Cruel Brother

11C.1	THERE waur three ladies in a ha,
 Refrain:	Hech hey an the lily gey
	By cam a knicht, an he wooed them a’.
 Refrain:	An the rose is aye the redder aye
11C.2	The first ane she was cled in green;
	‘Will you fancy me, an be my queen?’
11C.3	‘You may seek me frae my father dear,
	An frae my mither, wha did me bear.
11C.4	‘You may seek me frae my sister Anne,
	But no, no, no frae my brither John.’
11C.5	The niest ane she was cled in yellow;
	‘Will you fancy me, an be my marrow?’
11C.6	‘Ye may seek me frae my father dear,
	An frae my mither, wha did me bear.
11C.7	‘Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne,
	But no, no, no frae my brither John.’
11C.8	The niest ane she was cled in red:
	‘Will ye fancy me, an be my bride?’
11C.9	‘Ye may seek me frae my father dear,
	An frae my mither wha did me bear.
11C.10	‘Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne,
	An dinna forget my brither John.’
11C.11	He socht her frae her father, the king,
	An he socht her frae her mither, the queen.
11C.12	He socht her frae her sister Anne,
	But he forgot her brither John.
11C.13	Her mither she put on her goun,
	An her sister Anne preened the ribbons doun.
11C.14	Her father led her doon the close,
	An her brither John set her on her horse.
	* * * * *
11C.15	Up an spak our foremost man:
	‘I think our bonnie bride’s pale an wan.’
	* * * * *
11C.16	‘What will ye leave to your father dear?’
	‘My . . . . . an my . . . . . chair.’
11C.17	‘What will ye leave to your mither dear?’
	‘My silken screen I was wont to wear.’
11C.18	‘What will ye leave to your sister Anne?’
	‘My silken snood an my golden fan.’
11C.19	‘What will you leave to your brither John?’
	‘The gallows tree to hang him on.’


		 Child 11D: The Cruel Brother

11D.1	THERE were three ladies playing at ball,
 Refrain:	Farin-dan-dan and farin-dan-dee
	There came a white knight, and he wooed them all.
 Refrain:	With adieu, sweet honey, wherever you be
11D.2	He courted the eldest with golden rings,
	And the others with many fine things.
 Refrain:	And adieu, etc.


		 Child 11E: The Cruel Brother

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


		 Child 11F: The Cruel Brother

11F.1	THERE did three knights come from the west,
 Refrain:	With the high and the lily oh
	And these three knights courted one lady.
 Refrain:	As the rose was so sweetly blown
11F.2	The first knight came was all in white,
	And asked of her, if she’d be his delight.
11F.3	The next knight came was all in green,
	And asked of her, if she’d be his queen.
11F.4	The third knight came was all in red,
	And asked of her, if she would wed.
11F.5	‘Then have you asked of my father dear,
	Likewise of her who did me bear?
11F.6	‘And have you asked of my brother John?
	And also of my sister Anne?’
11F.7	‘Yes, I have asked of your father dear,
	Likewise of her who did you bear.
11F.8	‘And I have asked of your sister Anne,
	But I’ve not asked of your brother John.’
11F.9	Far on the road as they rode along,
	There did they meet with her brother John.
11F.10	She stooped low to kiss him sweet,
	He to her heart did a dagger meet.
11F.11	‘Ride on, ride on,’ cried the serving man,
	‘Methinks your bride she looks wondrous wan.’
11F.12	‘I wish I were on yonder stile,
	For there I would sit and bleed awhile.
11F.13	‘I wish I were on yonder hill,
	There I’d alight and make my will.’
11F.14	‘What would you give to your father dear?’
	‘The gallant steed which doth me bear.’
11F.15	‘What would you give to your mother dear?’
	‘My wedding shift which I do wear.
11F.16	‘But she must wash it very clean,
	For my heart’s blood sticks in evry seam.’
11F.17	‘What would you give to your sister Anne?’
	‘My gay gold ring and my feathered fan.’
11F.18	‘What would you give to your brother John?’
	‘A rope and gallows to hang him on.’
11F.19	‘What would you give to your brother John’s wife?’
	‘A widow’s weeds, and a quiet life.’


		 Child 11G: The Cruel Brother

11G.1	THERE was three ladys in a ha,
 Refrain:	Fine flowers i the valley
	There came three lords amang them a’,
 Refrain:	Wi the red, green, and the yellow
11G.2	The first of them was clad in red:
	‘O lady fair, will you be my bride?’
11G.3	The second of them was clad in green:
	‘O lady fair, will you be my queen?’
11G.4	The third of them was clad in yellow:
	‘O lady fair, will you be my marrow?’
11G.5	‘You must ask my father dear,
	Likewise the mother that did me bear.’
11G.6	‘You must ask my sister Ann,
	And not forget my brother John.’
11G.7	‘I have askt thy father dear,
	Likewise thy mother that did thee bear.
11G.8	‘I have askt thy sister Ann,
	But I forgot thy brother John.’
11G.9	Her father led her through the ha,
	Her mother dancd before them a’.
11G.10	Her sister Ann led her through the closs,
	Her brother John put her on her horse.
11G.11	‘You are high and I am low;
	Let me have a kiss before you go.’
11G.12	She was louting down to kiss him sweet,
	Wi his penknife he wounded her deep.
	* * * * *
11G.13	‘O lead me over into yon stile,
	That I may stop and braeth a while.
11G.14	‘O lead me over to yon stair,
	For there I’ll ly and bleed ne mair.’
11G.15	‘O what will you leave your father dear?’
	‘That milk-white steed that brought me here.’
11G.16	‘O what will you leave your mother dear?’
	‘The silken gown that I did wear.’
11G.17	‘What will you leave your sister Ann?’
	‘My silken snood and golden fan.’
11G.18	‘What will you leave your brother John?’
	‘The highest gallows to hang him on.’
11G.19	‘What will you leave your brother John’s wife?’
	‘Grief and sorrow to end her life.’
11G.20	‘What will ye leave your brother John’s bairns?’
	‘The world wide for them to range.’


		 Child 11H: The Cruel Brother

11H.1	SHE louted down to gie a kiss,
 Refrain:	With a hey and a lilly gay
	He stuck his penknife in her hass.
 Refrain:	And the rose it smells so sweetly
11H.2	de up, ride up,’ cry’d the foremost man;
	‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’


		 Child 11I: The Cruel Brother

11I.1	THERE war three bonnie boys playing at the ba,
 Refrain:	Hech hey and a lily gay
	There cam three ladies to view them a’.
 Refrain:	And the rose it smells sae sweetlie
11I.2	The first ane was clad in red:
	‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my bride.’
11I.3	The next o them was clad in green:
	‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my queen.’
11I.4	The tither o them was clad in yellow:
	‘O,’ says he, ’ye maun be my marrow.’
11I.5	‘Ye maun gang to my father’s bouer,
	To see gin your bride he’ll let me be.’
11I.6	Her father led her doun the stair,
	Her mither at her back did bear.
11I.7	Her sister Jess led her out the closs,
	Her brother John set her on the horse.
11I.8	She loutit doun to gie him a kiss;
	He struck his penknife thro her breist.
11I.9	‘Ride on, ride on,’ says the foremaist man;
	‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’
11I.10	‘Ride on, ride on,’ says the merry bride-groom;
	‘I think my bride’s blude is rinnin doun.’
11I.11	‘O gin I war at yon bonnie hill,
	I wad lie doun and bleed my fill!
11I.12	‘O gin I war at yon bonnie kirk-yard,
	I wad mak my testament there!’
11I.13	‘What will ye leave to your father dear?’
	‘The milk-white steed that brocht me here.’
11I.14	‘What will ye leave to your mother dear?’
	‘The bluidy robes that I do wear.’
11I.15	‘What will ye leave to your sister Ann?’
	‘My silken snood and gowden fan.’
11I.16	‘What will ye leave to your sister Jess?’
	‘The bonnie lad that I loe best.’
11I.17	‘What will ye leave to your brother John?’
	‘The gallows pin to hang him on.’
11I.18	‘What will ye leave to your brother John’s wife?’
	‘Sorrow and trouble a’ her life.’
11I.19	‘What will ye leave to your brother’s bairns?’
	‘The warld’s wide, and let them beg.’


		 Child 11J: The Cruel Brother

11J.1	THERE were three sisters playing ball,
 Refrain:	With the high and the lily O
	And there came three knights to court them all.
 Refrain:	With the rosey sweet, heigh ho
11J.2	The eldest of them was drest in green:
	‘I wish I had you to be my queen.’
11J.3	The second of them was drest in red:
	‘I wish I had you to grace my bed.’
11J.4	The youngest of them was drest in white:
	‘I wish I had you to be my wife.’
11J.5	‘Did ye ask my father brave?
	Or did ye ask my mother fair?
11J.6	‘Or did ye ask my brother John?
	For without his will I dare not move on.’
11J.7	‘I did ask your parents dear,
	But I did not see your brother John.’
	* * * * *
11J.8	‘Ride on, ride on,’ said the first man,
	‘For I fear the bride comes slowly on.’
11J.9	‘Ride on, ride on,’ said the next man,
	‘For lo! the bride she comes bleeding on.’
	* * * * *
11J.10	‘What will you leave your mother dear?’
	‘My heart’s best love for ever and aye.’
11J.11	‘What will ye leave your sister Anne?’
	‘This wedding garment that I have on.’
11J.12	‘What will ye leave your brother John’s wife?’
	‘Grief and sorrow all the days of her life.’
11J.13	‘What will ye leave your brother John?’
	‘The highest gallows to hang him on.’
11J.14	‘What will ye leave your brother John’s son?’
	‘The grace of God to make him a man.’


		 Child 11K: The Cruel Brother

11K.1	THERE were three ladies playing at ball,
 Refrain:	Gilliver, Gentle, and Rosemary
	There came three knights and looked over the wall.
 Refrain:	Sing O the red rose and the white lilly
11K.2	The first young knight, he was clothed in red,
	And he said, ‘Gentle lady, with me will you wed?’
11K.3	The second young knight, he was clothed in blue,
	And he said, ‘To my love I shall ever be true.’
11K.4	The third young knight, he was clothed in green,
	And he said, ‘Fairest maiden, will you be my queen?’
11K.5	The lady thus spoke to the knight in red,
	‘With you, sir knight, I never can wed.’
11K.6	The lady then spoke to the knight in blue,
	And she said, ‘Little faith I can have in you.’
11K.7	The lady then spoke to the knight in green,
	And she said, ‘’Tis at court you must seek for a queen.’
11K.8	The three young knights then rode away,
	And the ladies they laughed, and went back to their play.
 Refrain:	Singing, etc.


		 Child 11[L]: The Cruel Brother

11[L].1	There were three ladies playing at the ba,
 Refrain:	With a hey and a lilly gay
11[L.1]	When the King o Fairies rode by them a’.
 Refrain:	And the roses they grow sweetlie
11[L.2]	The foremost one was clad in blue;
	He askd at her if she’d be his doo.
11[L.3]	The second of them was clad in red;
	He asked at her if she’d be his bride.
11[L.4]	The next of them was clad in green;
	He askd at her if she’d be his queen.
11[L.5]	‘Go you ask at my father then,
	And you may ask at my mother then.
11[L.6]	‘You may ask at my sister Ann,
	And not forget my brother John.’
11[L.7]	‘O I have askd at your father then,
	And I have askd at your mother then.
11[L.8]	‘And I have askd at your sister Ann,
	But I’ve quite forgot your brother John.’
11[L.9]	Her father led her down the stair,
	Her mother combd down her yellow hair.
11[L.10]	Her sister Ann led her to the cross,
	And her brother John set her on her horse.
11[L.11]	‘Now you are high and I am low,
	Give me a kiss before ye go.’
11[L.12]	She’s lootit down to gie him a kiss,
	He gave her a deep wound and didna miss.
11[L.13]	And with a penknife as sharp as a dart,
	And he has stabbit her to the heart.
11[L.14]	‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the foremost man,
	‘I think our bride looks pale an wan.’
11[L.15]	‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the middle man,
	‘I see her heart’s blude trinkling down.’
11[L.16]	‘Ride on, ride,’ says the Fairy King,
	‘She will be dead lang ere we win hame.’
11[L.17]	‘O I wish I was at yonder cross,
	Where my brother John put me on my horse.
11[L.18]	‘I wish I was at yonder thorn,
	I wad curse the day that ere I was born.
11[L.19]	‘I wish I was at yon green hill,
	Then I wad sit and bleed my fill.’
11[L.20]	‘What will you leave your father then?’
	‘The milk-white steed that I ride on.’
11[L.21]	‘What will you leave your mother then?’
	‘My silver Bible and my golden fan.’
11[L.22]	‘What will ye leave your sister Ann?’
	‘My good lord, to be married on.’
11[L.23]	‘What will ye leave your sister Pegg?’
	‘The world wide to go and beg.’
11[L.24]	‘What will you leave your brother John?’
	‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’
11[L.25]	‘What will you leave your brother’s wife?’
	‘Grief and sorrow to end her life.’


		 Child 11[M]: The Cruel Brother

11[M].1	There was three ladies playing at the ba,
 Refrain:	With a hay and a lilly gay
11[M.1]	A gentleman cam amang them a’.
 Refrain:	And the roses grow sweet aye
11[M.2]	The first of them was clad in yellow,
	And he askd at her gin she’d be his marrow.
11[M.3]	The next o them was clad in green;
	He askd at her gin she’d be his queen.
11[M.4]	The last o them [was] clad in red;
	He askd at her gin she’d be his bride.
11[M.5]	‘Have ye asked at my father dear?
	Or have ye asked my mother dear?
11[M.6]	‘Have ye asked my sister Ann?
	Or have ye asked my brother John?’
11[M.7]	‘I have asked yer father dear,
	And I have asked yer mother dear.
11[M.8]	‘I have asked yer sister Ann,
	But I’ve quite forgot your brother John.’
11[M.9]	Her father dear led her thro them a’,
	Her mother dear led her thro the ha.
11[M.10]	Her sister Ann led her thro the closs,
	And her brother John stabbed her on her horse.
11[M.11]	‘Ride up, ride up,’ says the foremost man,
	‘I think our bride looks pale and wan.’
11[M.12]	‘Ride up,’ cries the bonny bridegroom,
	‘I think the bride be bleeding.’
11[M.13]	‘This is the bludy month of May,
	Me and my horse bleeds night and day.
11[M.14]	‘O an I were at yon green hill,
	I wad ly down and bleed a while.
11[M.15]	‘O gin I was at yon red cross,
	I wad light down and corn my horse.
11[M.16]	‘O an I were at yon kirk-style,
	I wad lye down and soon be weel.’
11[M.17]	When she cam to yon green hill,
	Then she lay down and bled a while.
11[M.18]	And when she cam to yon red cross,
	Then she lighted and corned her horse.
11[M.19]	‘What will ye leave your father dear?’
	‘My milk-white steed, which cost me dear.’
11[M.20]	‘What will ye leave your mother dear?’
	‘The bludy clothes that I do wear.’
11[M.21]	‘What will ye leave your sister Ann?’
	‘My silver bridle and my golden fan.’
11[M.22]	‘What will ye leave your brother John?’
	‘The gallows-tree to hang him on.’
11[M.23]	‘What will ye leave to your sister Pegg?’
	‘The wide world for to go and beg.’
11[M.24]	When she came to yon kirk-style,
	Then she lay down, and soon was weel.


		 Child 11[N]: The Cruel Brother

11[N].1	Then out bespak the foremost priest:
 Refrain:	Wi a heigh ho and a lilly gay
11[N.1]	I think she’s bleedin at the breast.
 Refrain:	The flowers they spring so sweetly



			Child 12A: Lord Rendal

12A.1	‘O WHERE ha you been, Lord Randal, my son?
	And where ha you been, my handsome young man?’
	‘I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
12A.2	‘An what met ye there, Lord Randal, my son?
	An wha met you there, my handsome young man?’
	‘O I met wi my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m wearied wi huntin, an fain wad lie down.’
12A.3	‘And what did she give you, Lord Randal, my son?
	And what did she give you, my handsome young man?’
	‘Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.’
12A.4	‘And wha gat your leavins, Lord Randal, my son?
	And wha gat your leavins, my handsom young man?’
	‘My hawks and my hounds; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
12A.5	d what becam of them, Lord Randal, my son?
	And what becam of them, my handsome young man?’
	‘They stretched their legs out an died; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.’
12A.6	‘O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son!
	I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!’
	‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’
12A.7	‘What d’ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal, my son?
	What d’ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?’
	‘Four and twenty milk kye; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’
12A.8	‘What d’ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal, my son?
	What d’ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?’
	‘My gold and my silver; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m sick at the heart, an I fain wad lie down.’
12A.9	‘What d’ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
	What d’ye leave to your brother, my handsome young man?’
	‘My houses and my lands; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’
12A.10	‘What d’ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
	What d’ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?’
	‘I leave her hell and fire; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.’


			Child 12B: Lord Rendal

12B.1	‘O WHARE hae ye been a’ day, Lord Donald, my son?
	O whare hae ye been a’ day, my jollie young man?’
	‘I’ve been awa courtin; mither, mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.2	‘What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?
	What wad ye hae for your supper, my jollie young man?’
	‘I’ve gotten my supper; mither, mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.3	‘What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald,my son?
	What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man?’
	‘A dish of sma fishes; mither mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.4	‘Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
	Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man?’
	‘In my father’s black ditches; mither, mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.5	‘What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
	What like were your fishes, my jollie young man?’
	‘Black backs and spreckld bellies; mither, mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.6	‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Donald, my son!
	O I fear ye are poisond, my jollie young man!’
	‘O yes! I am poisond; mither mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.7	‘What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald my son?
	What will ye leave to your father, my jollie young man?’
	‘Baith my houses and land; mither, mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.8	‘What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son?
	What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie young man?’
	‘My horse and the saddle; mither, mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.9	‘What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son?
	What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young man?’
	‘Baith my gold box and rings; mither, mak my bed sune,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
12B.10	‘What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son?
	What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man?’
	‘The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree,
	And lat her hang there for the poysoning o me.’


			Child 12C: Lord Rendal

12C.1	‘WHAT’S become of your hounds, King Henrie, my son?
	What’s become of your hounds, my pretty little one?’
	‘They all died on the way; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’
12C.2	‘What gat ye to your supper, King Henry, my son?
	What gat ye to your supper, my pretty little one?’
	‘I gat fish boiled in broo; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’
12C.3	‘What like were the fish, King Henry, my son?
	What like were the fish, my pretty little one?’
	‘They were spreckled on the back and white on the belly; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’
12C.4	‘What leave ye to your father, King Henry, my son?
	What leave ye to your father, my pretty little one?’
	‘The keys of Old Ireland, and all that’s therein; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’
12C.5	at leave ye to your brother, King Henry, my son?
	What leave ye to your brother, my pretty little one?’
	‘The keys of my coffers and all that’s therein; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’
12C.6	‘What leave ye to your sister, King Henry, my son?
	What leave ye to your sister, my pretty little one?’
	‘The world’s wide, she may go beg; mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’
12C.7	‘What leave ye to your trew-love, King Henry, my son?
	What leave ye to your trew-love, my pretty little one?’
	‘The highest hill to hang her on, for she’s poisoned me and my hounds all; mother, make my bed soon,
	Oh I’m sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’


			Child 12D: Lord Rendal

12D.1	‘O WHERE hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
	O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?’
	‘I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
12D.2	‘Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
	Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?’
	‘I din’d wi my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
12D.3	‘What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?
	What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?’
	‘I gat eels boild in broo; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
12D.4	‘What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?
	What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?’
	‘O they swelld and they died; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.’
12D.5	‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my son!
	O I fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man!’
	‘O yes! I am poisond; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.’


			Child 12E: Lord Rendal

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


			Child 12F: Lord Rendal

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


			Child 12G: Lord Rendal

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


			Child 12H: Lord Rendal

12H.1	‘WHERE was you all day, my own pretty boy?
	Where was you all day, my comfort and joy?’
	‘I was fishing and fowling; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.2	‘What did you have for your breakfast, my own pretty boy?
	What did you have for your breakfast, my comfort and joy?’
	‘A cup of strong poison; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.3	‘I fear you are poisoned, my own pretty boy,
	I fear you are poisoned, my comfort and joy!’
	‘O yes, I am poisoned; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.4	‘What will you leave to your father, my own pretty boy?
	What will you leave to your father, my comfort and joy?’
	‘I’ll leave him my house and my property; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.5	‘What will you leave to your mother, my own pretty boy?
	What will you leave to your mother, my comfort and joy?’
	‘I’ll leave her my coach and four horses; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.6	‘What will you leave to your brother, my own pretty boy?
	What will you leave to your brother, my comfort and joy?’
	‘I’ll leave him my bow and my fiddle; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.7	‘What will you leave to your sister, my own pretty boy?
	What will you leave to your sister, my comfort and joy?’
	‘I’ll leave her my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.8	‘What will you leave to your servant, my own pretty boy?
	What will you leave to you servant, my comfort and joy?’
	‘I’ll leave him the key of my small silver box; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.9	‘What will you leave to your children, my own pretty boy?
	What will you leave to your children, my comfort and joy?’
	‘The world is wide all round for to beg; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.10	‘What will you leave to your wife, my own pretty boy?
	What will you leave to your wife, my comfort and joy?’
	‘I’ll leave her the gallows, and plenty to hang her; mother, make my bed soon,
	There’s a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.’
12H.11	‘Where shall I make it, my own pretty boy?
	Where shall I make it, my comfort and joy?’
	‘Above in the churchyard, and dig it down deep,
	Put a stone to my head and a flag to my feet,
	And leave me down easy until I’ll take a long sleep.’


			Child 12I: Lord Rendal

12I.1	‘O WHERE have you been, Tiranti, my son?
	O where have you been, my sweet little one?’
	‘I have been to my grandmother’s; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’
12I.2	‘What did you have for your supper, Tiranti, my son?
	What did you have for your supper, my sweet little one?’
	‘I had eels fried in butter; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’
12I.3	‘Where did the eels come from, Tiranti, my son?
	Where did the eels come from, my sweet little one?’
	‘From the corner of the haystack; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’
12I.4	‘What color were the eels, Tiranti, my son?
	What color were the eels, my sweet little one?’
	‘They were streak d and strip d; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’
12I.5	‘What’ll you give to your father, Tiranti, my son?
	What’ll you give to your father, my sweet little one?’
	‘All my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’
12I.6	‘What’ll you give to your mother, Tiranti, my son?
	What’ll you give to your mother, my sweet little one?’
	‘A coach and six horses; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’
12I.7	‘What’ll you give to your grandmother, Tiranti, my son?
	What’ll you give to your grandmother, my sweet little one?’
	‘A halter to hang her; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’
12I.8	‘Where’ll you have your bed made, Tiranti, my son?
	Where’ll you have your bed made, my sweet little one?’
	‘In the corner of the churchyard; mother, make my bed soon,
	For I’m sick to my heart, and I’m faint to lie down.’


			Child 12J: Lord Rendal

12J.1	‘O WHARE hae ye been a’ day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?
	O whare hae ye been a’ day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
	‘I’ve been at my step-mother’s; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!
	I’ve been at my step-mother’s; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’
12J.2	‘O what did ye get at your step-mother’s, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’ [Twice.]
	‘I gat a wee wee fishie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’ [Twice.]
12J.3	‘O whare gat she the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
	‘In a dub before the door; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’
12J.4	‘What did ye wi the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
	‘I boild it in a wee pannie; oh mak my bed, mammy, now!’
12J.5	‘Wha gied ye the banes o the fishie till, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?’
	‘I gied them till a wee doggie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!’
12J.6	‘O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?
	O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?’
	‘It shot out its fit and died, and sae maun I do too;
	Oh mak my bed, mammy, now, now, oh mak my bed, mammy, now!’


			Child 12K: Lord Rendal

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


			Child 12L: Lord Rendal

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


			Child 12M: Lord Rendal

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


			Child 12N: Lord Rendal

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


			Child 12O: Lord Rendal

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


		 Child 12[P]: Lord Rendal

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


		 Child 12[Q]: Lord Rendal

12[Q].1	‘O whare hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?
	O whare hae ye been, my handsome young man?’
	‘Oer the peat moss mang the heather, mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
12[Q.6]	‘What leave ye to your father, Lord Randal, my son?
	What leave ye to your father, my handsome young man?’
	‘I leave my houses and land, mother, mak my bed soon,
	For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
12[Q.7]	‘What leave ye to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?
	What leave ye to your brother, my handsome young man?’
	‘O the guid milk-white steed that I rode upon,
	For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’
12[Q.8]	‘What leave ye to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?
	What leave ye to your true-love, my handsome young man?’
	‘O a high, high gallows, to hang her upon,
	For I’m weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.’


		 Child 12[R]: Lord Rendal

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


		 Child 12[S]: Lord Rendal

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


		 Child 12[U]: Lord Rendal

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



			 Child 13A: Edward

13A.1	‘WHAT bluid’s that on thy coat lap,
	Son Davie, son Davie?
	What bluid’s that on thy coat lap?
	And the truth come tell to me.’

13A.2	‘It is the bluid of my great hawk,
	Mother lady, mother lady:
	It is the bluid of my great hawk,
	And the truth I have told to thee.’
13A.3	‘Hawk’s bluid was neer sae red,
	Son Davie, son Davie:
	Hawk’s bluid was neer sae red,
	And the truth come tell to me.’
13A.4	‘It is the bluid of my greyhound,
	Mother lady, mother lady:
	It is the bluid of my greyhound,
	And it wadna rin for me.’
13A.5	‘Hound’s bluid was neer sae red,
	Son Davie, son Davie:
	Hound’s bluid was neer sae red,
	And the truth come tell to me.’
13A.6	‘It is the bluid o my brither John,
	Mother lady, mother lady:
	It is the bluid o my brither John,
	And the truth I have told to thee.’
13A.7	‘What about did the plea begin,
	Son Davie, son Davie?’
	‘It began about the cutting of a willow wand
	That would never been a tree.’
13A.8	‘What death dost thou desire to die,
	Son Davie, son Davie?
	What death dost thou desire to die?
	And the truth come tell to me.’
13A.9	‘I’ll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
	Mother lady, mother lady:
	I’ll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
	And ye’ll never see mair o me.’
13A.10	‘What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife,
	Son Davie, son Davie?’
	‘Grief and sorrow all her life,
	And she’ll never see mair o me.’
13A.11	‘What wilt thou leave to thy old son,
	Son Davie, son Davie?’
	‘I’ll leave him the weary world to wander up and down,
	And he’ll never get mair o me.’
13A.12	‘What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear,
	Son Davie, son Davie?’
	‘A fire o coals to burn her, wi hearty cheer,
	And she’ll never get mair o me.’


			 Child 13B: Edward

13B.1	‘WHY dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
	Edward, Edward,
	Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,
	And why sae sad gang yee O?’
	‘O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
	Mither, mither,
	O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,
	And I had nae mair bot hee O.’
13B.2	‘Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
	Edward, Edward,
	Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
	My deir son I tell thee O.’
	‘O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
	Mither, mither,
	O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
	That erst was sae fair and frie O.’
13B.3	‘Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
	Edward, Edward,
	Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
	Sum other dule ye drie O.’
	‘O I hae killed my fadir deir,
	Mither, mither,
	O I hae killed my fadir deir,
	Alas, and wae is mee O!’
13B.4	‘And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that,
	Edward, Edward?
	And whatten penance will ye drie for that?
	My deir son, now tell me O.’
	‘Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
	Mither, mither,
	Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
	And Ile fare ovir the sea O.’
13B.5	‘And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,
	Edward, Edward?
	And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,
	That were sae fair to see O?’
	‘Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,
	Mither, mither,
	Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,
	For here nevir mair maun I bee O.’
13B.6	‘And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
	Edward, Edward?
	And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
	Whan ye gang ovir the sea O?’
	‘The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,
	Mither, mither,
	The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,
	For thame nevir mair wul I see O.’
13B.7	‘And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir,
	Edward, Edward?
	And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir?
	My deir son, now tell me O.’
	‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
	Mither, mither,
	The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
	Sic counseils ye gave to me O.’


			 Child 13C: Edward

13C.1	‘O WHAT did the fray begin about?
	My son, come tell to me:’
	‘It began about the breaking o the bonny hazel wand,
	And a penny wad hae bought the tree.’



	 Child 14A: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie

14A.1	THERE were three ladies lived in a bower,
 Refrain:	Eh vow bonnie
	And they went out to pull a flower.
 Refrain:	On the bonnie banks o Fordie
14A.2	They hadna pu’ed a flower but ane,
	When up started to them a banisht man.
14A.3	He’s taen the first sister by her hand,
	And he’s turned her round and made her stand.
14A.4	‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
	Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’
14A.5	‘It’s I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
	But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’
14A.6	He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by,
	For to bear the red rose company.
14A.7	He’s taken the second ane by the hand,
	And he’s turned her round and made her stand.
14A.8	‘It’s whether will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
	Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’
14A.9	‘I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
	But I’ll rather die by your wee pen-knife.’
14A.10	He’s killed this may, and he’s laid her by,
	For to bear the red rose company.
14A.11	He’s taken the youngest ane by the hand,
	And he’s turned her round and made her stand.
14A.12	Says, ‘Will ye be a rank robber’s wife,
	Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?’
14A.13	‘I’ll not be a rank robber’s wife,
	Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife.
14A.14	‘For I hae a brother in this wood,
	And gin ye kill me, it’s he’ll kill thee.’
14A.15	‘What’s thy brother’s name? come tell to me.’
	‘My brother’s name is Baby Lon.’
14A.16	‘O sister, sister, what have I done!
	O have I done this ill to thee!
14A.17	‘O since I’ve done this evil deed,
	Good sall never be seen o me.’
14A.18	He’s taken out his wee pen-knife,
	And he’s twyned himsel o his ain sweet life.


	 Child 14B: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie

14B.1	THERE wond three ladies in a bower,
 Refrain:	Annet and Margret and Marjorie
	And they have gane out to pu a flower.
 Refrain:	And the dew it lyes on the wood, gay ladie
14B.2	They had nae pu’d a flower but ane,
	When up has started a banished man.
14B.3	He has taen the eldest by the hand,
	He has turned her about and bade her stand.
14B.4	‘Now whether will ye be a banisht man’s wife,
	Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’
14B.5	‘I will na be ca’d a banished man’s wife,
	I’ll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.’
14B.6	And he has taen out his little pen-knife,
	And frae this lady he has taen the life.
14B.7	He has taen the second by the hand,
	He has turned her about and he bad her stand.
14B.8	‘Now whether will ye be a banisht man’s wife,
	Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’
14B.9	‘I will na be ca’d a banished man’s wife;
	I’ll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.’
14B.10	And he has taen out his little pen-knife,
	And frae this lady he has taen the life.
14B.11	He has taen the youngest by the hand,
	He has turned her about and he bad her stand.
14B.12	‘Now whether will ye be a banished man’s wife,
	Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?’
14B.13	‘I winnae be called a banished man’s wife,
	Nor yet will I be sticked wi your pen-knife.
14B.14	‘But gin my three brethren had been here,
	Ye had nae slain my sisters dear.’
	* * * * *


	 Child 14C: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie

14C.1	THERE were three sisters on a road,
 Refrain:	Gilly flower gentle rosemary
	And there they met a banished lord.
 Refrain:	And the dew it hings over the mulberry tree
14C.2	The eldest sister was on the road,
	And there she met with the banished lord.
14C.3	‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
	Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’
14C.4	‘I’ll rather consent to lose my life
	Before I’ll be a banished lord’s wife.’
14C.5	‘It’s lean your head upon my staff,’
	And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff.
14C.6	He flang her in amang the broom,
	Saying, ‘Lye ye there till another ane come.’
14C.7	The second sister was on the road,
	And there she met with the banished lord.
14C.8	‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
	Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’
14C.9	‘I’ll rather consent to lose my life
	Before I’ll be a banished lord’s wife.’
14C.10	‘It’s lean your head upon my staff,’
	And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff.
14C.11	He flang her in amang the broom,
	Saying, ‘Lie ye there till another ane come.’
14C.12	The youngest sister was on the road,
	And there she met with the banished lord.
14C.13	‘O will ye consent to lose your life,
	Or will ye be a banished lord’s wife?’
14C.14	‘O if my three brothers were here,
	Ye durstna put me in such a fear.’
14C.15	‘What are your three brothers, altho they were here,
	That I durstna put you in such a fear?’
14C.16	‘My eldest brother’s a belted knight,
	The second, he’s a . . .
14C.17	‘My youngest brother’s a banished lord,
	And oftentimes he walks on this road.’
	* * * * *


	 Child 14D: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie

14D.1	THERE were three sisters, they lived in a bower,
 Refrain:	Sing Anna, sing Margaret, sing Marjorie
	The youngest o them was the fairest flower.
 Refrain:	And the dew goes thro the wood, gay ladie
14D.2	The oldest of them she’s to the wood gane,
	To seek a braw leaf and to bring it hame.
14D.3	There she met with an outlyer bold,
	Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.
14D.4	‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
	Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’
14D.5	‘O kind sir, if I hae’t at my will,
	I’ll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.’
14D.6	He’s taen out his we pen-knife,
	He’s twinned this young lady of her sweet life
14D.7	He wiped his knife along the dew;
	But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.
14D.8	The second of them she’s to the wood gane,
	To seek her old sister, and to bring her hame.
14D.9	There she met with an outlyer bold,
	Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.
14D.10	‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
	Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’
14D.11	‘O kind sir, if I hae’t at my will,
	I’ll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.’
14D.12	He’s taen out his we pen-knife,
	He’s twinned this young lady of her sweet life.
14D.13	He wiped his knife along the dew;
	But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.
14D.14	The youngest of them she’s to the wood gane,
	To seek her two sisters, and to bring them hame.
14D.15	There she met with an outlyer bold,
	Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.
14D.16	‘Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
	Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?’
14D.17	‘If my three brethren they were here,
	Such questions as these thou durst nae speer.’
14D.18	‘Pray, what may thy three brethren be,
	That I durst na mak so bold with thee?’
14D.19	‘The eldest o them is a minister bred,
	He teaches the people from evil to good.
14D.20	‘The second o them is a ploughman good,
	He ploughs the land for his livelihood.
14D.21	‘The youngest of them is an outlyer bold,
	Lies many a long night in the woods so cold.’
14D.22	He stuck his knife then into the ground,
	He took a long race, let himself fall on.


	 Child 14E: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie

14E.1	THE Duke o Perth had three daughters,
 Refrain:	Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
	And Elizabeth’s to the greenwud gane,
 Refrain:	To pu the rose and the fair lilie.
14E.2	But she hadna pu’d a rose, a rose,
 Refrain:	A double rose, but barely three,
14E.2	Whan up and started a Loudon lord,
 Refrain:	Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.
14E.3	‘Will ye be called a robber’s wife?
	Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?
 Refrain:	For pu’in the rose and the fair lilie,
	For pu’in them sae fair and free.’
14E.4	‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife,
	I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,
 Refrain:	For pu’in,’ etc.
14E.5	Then out he’s tane his little pen-knife,
	And he’s parted her and her sweet life,
	And thrown her oer a bank o brume,
	There never more for to be found.
14E.6	The Duke o Perth had three daughters,
 Refrain:	Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
14E.6	And Margaret’s to the greenwud gane,
 Refrain:	To pu the rose and the fair lilie.
14E.7	She hadna pu’d a rose, a rose,
 Refrain:	A double rose, but barely three,
14E.7	When up and started a Loudon lord,
 Refrain:	Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.
14E.8	‘Will ye be called a robber’s wife?
	Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?
 Refrain:	For pu’in,’ etc.
14E.9	‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife,
	I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,
 Refrain:	For pu’in,’ etc.
14E.10	Then out he’s tane his little pen-knife,
	And he’s parted her and her sweet life,
14E.10r	For pu’in, etc.
14E.11	The Duke o Perth had three daughters,
 Refrain:	Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;
14E.11	And Mary’s to the greenwud gane,
 Refrain:	To pu the rose and the fair lilie.
14E.12	She hadna pu’d a rose, a rose,
14E.12r	A double rose, but barely three,
14E.12	When up and started a Loudon lord,
14E.12r	Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.
14E.13	‘O will ye be called a robber’s wife?
	Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?
14E.13r	For pu’in,’ etc.
14E.14	‘Before I’ll be called a robber’s wife,
	I’ll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,
14E.14r	For pu’in,’ etc.
14E.15	But just as he took out his knife,
	To tak frae her her ain sweet life,
	Her brother John cam ryding bye,
	And this bloody robber he did espy.
14E.16	But when he saw his sister fair,
	He kennd her by her yellow hair;
	He calld upon his pages three,
	To find this robber speedilie.
14E.17	‘My sisters twa that are dead and gane,
	For whom we made a heavy maene,
	It’s you that’s twinnd them o their life,
	And wi your cruel bloody knife.
14E.18	‘Then for their life ye sair shall dree;
	Ye sall be hangit on a tree,
	Or thrown into the poisond lake,
	To feed the toads and rattle-snake.’


	 Child 14[F]: Babylon or The Bonnie Banks o Fordie

14[F].1	There were three sisters going from home,
 Refrain:	All in a lea and alony, oh
14[F.1]	They met a man, and he made them stand,
 Refrain:	Down by the bonny banks of Airdrie, oh.
14[F.2]	He took the first one by the hand,
	He turned her round, and he made her stand.
14[F.3]	Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife?
	Or will you die by my penknife?
14[F.4]	‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife,
	But I will die by your penknife.’
14[F.5]	Then he took the second by her hand,
	He turned her round, and he made her stand.
14[F.6]	Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife?
	Or will you die by my penknife?
14[F.7]	‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife,
	But I will die by your penknife.’
14[F.8]	He took the third one by the hand,
	He turned her round, and he made her stand.
14[F.9]	Saying, Will you be a robber’s wife?
	Or will you die by my penknife?
14[F.10]	‘Oh, I wont be a robber’s wife,
	And I wont die by you penknife.
14[F.11]	‘If my two brothers had been here,
	You would not have killed my sisters two.’
14[F.12]	‘What was your two brothers’ names?’
	‘One was John, and the other was James.’
14[F.13]	‘Oh, what did your two brothers do?’
	‘One was a minister, the other such as you.’
14[F.14]	‘Oh, what is this that I have done?
	I have killed my sisters, all but one.
14[F.15]	‘And now I’ll take out my penknife,
	And here I’ll end my own sweet life.’



		 Child 15A: Leesom Brand

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


		 Child 15B: Leesom Brand

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



		 Child 16A: Sheath and Knife

16A.1	IT is talked the warld all over,
 Refrain:	The brume blooms bonnie and says it is fair
	That the king’s dochter gaes wi child to her brither.
 Refrain:	And we’ll never gang doun to the brume onie mair
16A.2	He’s taen his sister doun to her father’s deer park,
	Wi his yew-tree bow and arrows fast slung to his back.
16A.3	‘Now when that ye hear me gie a loud cry,
	Shoot frae thy bow an arrow and there let me lye.
16A.4	‘And when that ye see I am lying dead,
	Then ye’ll put me in a grave, wi a turf at my head.’
16A.5	Now when he heard her gie a loud cry,
	His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let fly.
 Refrain:	Now they’ll never, etc.
16A.6	He has made a grave that was lang and was deep,
	And he has buried his sister, wi her babe at her feet.
 Refrain:	And they’ll never, etc.
16A.7	And when he came to his father’s court hall,
	There was music and minstrels and dancing and all.
 Refrain:	But they’ll never, etc.
16A.8	‘O Willie, O Willie, what makes thee in pain?’
	‘I have lost a sheath and knife that I’ll never see again.’
 Refrain:	For we’ll never, etc.
16A.9	‘There is ships o your father’s sailing on the sea
	That will bring as good a sheath and a knife unto thee.’
16A.10	‘There is ships o my father’s sailing on the sea,
	But sic a sheath and a knife they can never bring to me.’
16A.10r	Now we’ll never, etc.


		 Child 16B: Sheath and Knife

16B.1	AE lady has whispered the other,
 Refrain:	The broom grows bonnie, the broom grows fair
	Lady Margaret’s wi bairn to Sir Richard, her brother.
 Refrain:	And we daur na gae doun to the broom nae mair
	* * * * *
16B.2	‘And when ye hear me loud, loud cry,
	O bend your bow, let your arrow fly.
 Refrain:	And I daur na, etc.
16B.3	‘But when ye see me lying still,
	O then you may come and greet your fill.’
	* * * * *
16B.4	‘It’s I hae broken my little pen-knife
	That I loed dearer than my life.’
 Refrain:	And I daur na, etc.
	* * * * *
16B.5	‘It’s no for the knife that my tears doun run,
	But it’s a’ for the case that my knife was kept in.’


		 Child 16C: Sheath and Knife

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


		 Child 16D: Sheath and Knife

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


		 Child 16[E]: Sheath and Knife

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


		 Child 16[F]: Sheath and Knife

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



			 Child 17A: Hind Horn

17A.1	IN Scotland there was a babie born,
 Refrain:	Lill lal, etc.
	And his name it was called young Hind Horn.
 Refrain:	With a fal lal, etc.
17A.2	He sent a letter to our king
	That he was in love with his daughter Jean.
17A.3	He’s gien to her a silver wand,
	With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon.
17A.4	She’s gien to him a diamond ring,
	With seven bright diamonds set therein.
17A.5	‘When this ring grows pale and wan,
	You may know by it my love is gane.’
17A.6	One day as he looked his ring upon,
	He saw the diamonds pale and wan.
17A.7	He left the sea and came to land,
	And the first that he met was an old beggar man.
17A.8	‘What news, what news?’ said young Hind Horn;
	‘No news, no news,’ said the old beggar man.
17A.9	‘No news,’ said the beggar, ’No news at a’,
	But there is a wedding in the king’s ha.
17A.10	‘But there is a wedding in the king’s ha,
	That has halden these forty days and twa.’
17A.11	‘Will ye lend me your begging coat?
	And I’ll lend you my scarlet cloak.
17A.12	‘Will you lend me your beggar’s rung?
	And I’ll gie you my steed to ride upon.
17A.13	‘Will you lend me your wig o hair,
	To cover mine, because it is fair?’
17A.14	The auld beggar man was bound for the mill,
	But young Hind Horn for the king’s hall.
17A.15	The auld beggar man was bound for to ride,
	But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride.
17A.16	When he came to the king’s gate,
	He sought a drink for Hind Horn’s sake.
17A.17	The bride came down with a glass of wine,
	When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring.
17A.18	‘O got ye this by sea or land?
	Or got ye it off a dead man’s hand?’
17A.19	‘I got not it by sea, I got it by land,
	And I got it, madam, out of your own hand.’
17A.20	‘O I’ll cast off my gowns of brown,
	And beg wi you frae town to town.
17A.21	‘O I’ll cast off my gowns of red,
	And I’ll beg wi you to win my bread.’
17A.22	‘Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown,
	For I’ll make you lady o many a town.
17A.23	‘Ye needna cast off your gowns of red,
	It’s only a sham, the begging o my bread.’
17A.24	The bridegroom he had wedded the bride,
	But young Hind Horn he took her to bed.


			 Child 17B: Hind Horn

17B.1	I NEVER saw my love before,
 Refrain:	With a hey lillelu and a ho lo lan
	Till I saw her thro an oger bore.
 Refrain:	With a hey down and a hey diddle downie
17B.2	She gave to me a gay gold ring,
	With three shining diamonds set therein.
17B.3	And I gave to her a silver wand,
	With three singing lavrocks set thereon.
17B.4	‘What if these diamonds lose their hue,
	Just when your love begins for to rew?’
17B.5	He’s left the land, and he’s gone to sea,
	And he’s stayd there seven years and a day.
17B.6	But when he looked this ring upon,
	The shining diamonds were both pale and wan.
17B.7	He’s left the seas and he’s come to the land,
	And there he met with an auld beggar man.
17B.8	‘What news, what news, thou auld beggar man
	For it is seven years sin I’ve seen lan.’
17B.9	‘No news,’ said the old beggar man, ‘at all,
	But there is a wedding in the king’s hall.’
17B.10	‘Wilt thou give to me thy begging coat?
	And I’ll give to thee my scarlet cloak.
17B.11	‘Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff?
	And I’ll give to thee my good gray steed.’
17B.12	The old beggar man was bound for to ride,
	But Young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride.
17B.13	When he came to the king’s gate,
	He asked a drink for Young Hynd Horn’s sake.
17B.14	The news unto the bonnie bride came
	That at the yett there stands an auld man.
17B.15	‘There stands an auld man at the king’s gate;
	He asketh a drink for young Hyn Horn’s sake.’
17B.16	‘I’ll go thro nine fires so hot,
	But I’ll give him a drink for Young Hyn Horn’s sake.’
17B.17	She gave him a drink out of her own hand;
	He drank out the drink and he dropt in the ring.
17B.18	‘Got thou’t by sea, or got thou’t by land?
	Or got thou’t out of any dead man’s hand?’
17B.19	‘I got it not by sea, but I got it by land,
	For I got it out of thine own hand.’
17B.20	‘I’ll cast off my gowns of brown,
	And I’ll follow thee from town to town.
17B.21	‘I’ll cast off my gowns of red,
	And along with thee I’ll beg my bread.’
17B.22	‘Thou need not cast off thy gowns of brown,
	For I can make thee lady of many a town.
17B.23	‘Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red,
	For I can maintain thee with both wine and bread.’
17B.24	The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride wed,
	But Young Hyn Horn took the bride to bed.


			 Child 17C: Hind Horn

17C.1	YOUNG Hyn Horn’s to the king’s court gone,
 Refrain:	Hoch hey and an ney O
	He’s fallen in love with his little daughter Jean.
 Refrain:	Let my love alone, I pray you
17C.2	He’s bocht to her a little gown,
	With seven broad flowers spread it along.
17C.3	She’s given to him a gay gold ring.
	The posie upon it was richt plain.
17C.4	‘When you see it losing its comely hue,

	So will I my love to you.’
17C.5	Then within a little wee,
	Hyn Horn left land and went to sea.
17C.6	When he lookt his ring upon,
	He saw it growing pale and wan.
17C.7	Then within a little [wee] again,
	Hyn Horn left sea and came to the land.
17C.8	As he was riding along the way,
	There he met with a jovial beggar.
17C.9	‘What news, what news, old man?’ he did say:
	‘This is the king’s young dochter’s wedding day.’
17C.10	‘If this be true you tell to me,
	You must niffer clothes with me.
17C.11	‘You’ll gie me your cloutit coat,
	I’ll gie you my fine velvet coat.
17C.12	‘You’ll gie me your cloutit pock,
	I’ll gie you my purse; it’ll be no joke.’
17C.13	‘Perhaps there[’s] nothing in it, not one bawbee;’
	‘Yes, there’s gold and silver both,’ said he.
17C.14	‘You’ll gie me your bags of bread,
	And I’ll gie you my milk-white steed.’
17C.15	When they had niffered all, he said,
	‘You maun learn me how I’ll beg.’
17C.16	‘When you come before the gate,
	You’ll ask for a drink for the highman’s sake.’
17C.17	When that he came before the gate,
	He calld for a drink for the highman’s sake.
17C.18	The bride cam tripping down the stair,
	To see whaten a bold beggar was there.
17C.19	She gave him a drink with her own hand;
	He loot the ring drop in the can.
17C.20	‘Got ye this by sea or land?
	Or took ye’t aff a dead man’s hand?’
17C.21	‘I got na it by sea nor land,
	But I got it aff your own hand.’
17C.22	The bridegroom cam tripping down the stair,
	But there was neither bride nor beggar there.
17C.23	Her ain bridegroom had her first wed,
	But Young Hyn Horn had her first to bed.


			 Child 17D: Hind Horn

17D.1	NEAR Edinburgh was a young son born,
 Refrain:	Hey lilelu an a how low lan
	An his name it was called young Hyn Horn.
 Refrain:	An it’s hey down down deedle airo
17D.2	Seven long years he served the king,
	An it’s a’ for the sake of his daughter Jean.
17D.3	The king an angry man was he;
	He send young Hyn Horn to the sea.
	* * * * *
17D.4	An on his finger she put a ring.
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
17D.5	‘When your ring turns pale and wan,
	Then I’m in love wi another man.’
	* * * * *
17D.6	Upon a day he lookd at his ring,
	It was as pale as anything.
17D.7	He’s left the sea, an he’s come to the lan,
	An there he met an auld beggar man.
17D.8	‘What news, what news, my auld beggar man?
	What news, what news, by sea or by lan?’
17D.9	‘Nae news, nae news,’ the auld beggar said,
	‘But the king’s dochter Jean is going to be wed.’
17D.10	‘Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar-weed,
	An I’ll gie thee my gude gray steed.’
	* * * * *
17D.11	When he cam to our guid king’s yet,
	He sought a glass o wine for young Hyn Horn’s sake.
17D.12	He drank out the wine, an he put in the ring,
	An he bade them carry’t to the king’s dochter Jean.
	* * * * *
17D.13	‘O gat ye’t by sea, or gat ye’t by lan?
	Or gat ye’t aff a dead man’s han?’
17D.14	‘I gat na’t by sea, I gat na’t by lan,
	But I gat it out of your own han.’
	* * * * *
17D.15	take away my bridal gown,
	For I’ll follow him frae town to town.’
17D.16	‘Ye need na leave your bridal gown,
	For I’ll make ye ladie o’ mony a town.’


			 Child 17E: Hind Horn

17E.1	* * * *
	HYND HORN he has lookt on his ring,
 Refrain:	Hey ninny ninny, how ninny nanny
	And it was baith black and blue,
	And she is either dead or she’s married.
 Refrain:	And the barck and the broom blooms bonnie
17E.2	Hynd Horn he has shuped to land,
	And the first he met was an auld beggar man.
17E.3	‘What news, what news, my silly auld man?
	For it is seven years syne I have seen land.
17E.4	‘What news, what news, my auld beggar man?
	What news, what news, by sea or by land?’
17E.5	‘There is a king’s dochter in the east,
	And she has been marryed these nine nights past.
17E.6	‘Intil the bride’s bed she winna gang
	Till she hears tell of her Hynd Horn.’
17E.7	‘Cast aff, cast aff thy auld beggar weed,
	And I will gie thee my gude gray steed.’


			 Child 17F: Hind Horn

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


			 Child 17G: Hind Horn

17G.1	‘HYNDE HORN’S bound love, and Hynde Horn’s free,
	Whare was ye born, or in what countrie?’
17G.2	‘In gude greenwud whare I was born,
	And all my friends left me forlorn.
17G.3	‘I gave my love a silver wand;
	That was to rule oure all Scotland.
17G.4	‘My love gave me a gay gowd ring;
	That was to rule abune a’ thing.’
17G.5	‘As lang as that ring keeps new in hue,
	Ye may ken that your love loves you.
17G.6	‘But whan that ring turns pale and wan,
	Ye may ken that your love loves anither man.’
17G.7	He hoisted up his sails, and away sailed he,
	Till that he cam to a foreign countrie.
17G.8	He looked at his ring; it was turnd pale and wan;
	He said, ‘I wish I war at hame again.’
17G.9	He hoisted up his sails, and hame sailed he,
	Until that he came to his ain countrie.
17G.10	The first ane that he met wi
	Was wi a puir auld beggar man.
17G.11	‘What news, what news, my silly old man?
	What news hae ye got to tell to me?’
17G.12	‘Na news, na news,’ the puir man did say,
	‘But this is our queen’s wedding day.’
17G.13	‘Ye’ll lend me your begging weed,
	And I’ll gie you my riding steed.’
17G.14	‘My begging weed is na for thee,
	Your riding steed is na for me.’
17G.15	But he has changed wi the beggar man,
	. . . . .
17G.16	‘Which is the gate that ye used to gae?
	And what are the words ye beg wi?’
17G.17	‘Whan ye come to yon high hill,
	Ye’ll draw your bent bow nigh until.
17G.18	‘Whan ye come to yonder town,
	Ye’ll let your bent bow low fall down.
17G.19	‘Ye’ll seek meat for St Peter, ask for St Paul,
	And seek for the sake of Hynde Horn all.
17G.20	‘But tak ye frae nane of them a’,
	Till ye get frae the bonnie bride hersel O.’
17G.21	Whan he cam to yon high hill,
	He drew his bent bow nigh until.
17G.22	And whan he cam to yonder town,
	He lute his bent bow low fall down.
17G.23	He saught meat for St Peter, he askd for St Paul,
	And he sought for the sake of Hynde Horn all.
17G.24	But he would tak frae nane o them a’,
	Till he got frae the bonnie bride hersel O.
17G.25	The bride cam tripping doun the stair,
	Wi the scales o red gowd on her hair.
17G.26	Wi a glass of red wine in her hand,
	To gie to the puir auld beggar man.
17G.27	It’s out he drank the glass o wine,
	And into the glass he dropt the ring.
17G.28	‘Got ye’t by sea, or got ye’t by land,
	Or got ye’t aff a drownd man’s hand?’
17G.29	‘I got na’t by sea, I got na’t by land,
	Nor got I it off a drownd man’s hand.
17G.30	‘But I got it at my wooing,
	And I’ll gie it at your wedding.’
17G.31	‘I’ll tak the scales o gowd frae my head,
	I’ll follow you, and beg my bread.
17G.32	‘I’ll tak the scales of gowd frae my hair,
	I’ll follow you, for evermair.’
17G.33	She has tane the scales o gowd frae her head,
	She has followed him to beg her bread.
17G.34	She has tane the scales o gowd frae her hair,
	And she has followed him for evermair.
17G.35	But atween the kitchen and the ha,
	There he lute his cloutie cloak fa.
17G.36	And the red gowd shined oure him a’,
	And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown awa.


			 Child 17H: Hind Horn

17H.1	‘HYND HORN fair, and Hynd Horn free,
	O where were you born, in what countrie?’
17H.2	‘In gude greenwood, there I was born,
	And all my forbears me beforn.
17H.3	‘O seven years I served the king,
	And as for wages, I never gat nane;
17H.4	‘But ae sight o his ae daughter,
	And that was thro an augre bore.
17H.5	‘My love gae me a siller wand,
	’Twas to rule ower a’ Scotland.
17H.6	‘And she gae me a gay gowd ring,
	The virtue o’t was above a’ thing.’
17H.7	‘As lang’s this ring it keeps the hue,
	Ye’ll know I am a lover true:
17H.8	‘But when the ring turns pale and wan,
	Ye’ll know I love another man.’
17H.9	He hoist up sails, and awa saild he,
	And saild into a far countrie.
17H.10	And when he lookd upon his ring,
	He knew she loved another man.
17H.11	He hoist up sails and home came he,
	Home unto his ain countrie.
17H.12	The first he met on his own land,
	It chancd to be a beggar man.
17H.13	‘What news, what news, my gude auld man?
	What news, what news, hae ye to me?’
17H.14	‘Nae news, nae news,’ said the auld man,
	‘The morn’s our queen’s wedding day.’
17H.15	‘Will ye lend me your begging weed?
	And I’ll lend you my riding steed.’
17H.16	‘My begging weed will ill suit thee,
	And your riding steed will ill suit me.’
17H.17	But part be right, and part be wrang,
	Frae the beggar man the cloak he wan.
17H.18	‘Auld man, come tell to me your leed;
	What news ye gie when ye beg your bread.’
17H.19	‘As ye walk up unto the hill,
	Your pike staff ye lend ye till.
17H.20	‘But whan ye come near by the yett,
	Straight to them ye will upstep.
17H.21	‘Take nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul,
	Nane frae high or low o them all.
17H.22	‘And frae them all ye will take nane,
	Until it comes frae the bride’s ain hand.’
17H.23	He took nane frae Peter nor frae Paul,
	Nane frae the high nor low o them all.
17H.24	And frae them all he would take nane,
	Until it came frae the bride’s ain hand.
17H.25	The bride came tripping down the stair,
	The combs o red gowd in her hair.
17H.26	A cup o red wine in her hand,
	And that she gae to the beggar man.
17H.27	Out o the cup he drank the wine,
	And into the cup he dropt the ring.
17H.28	‘O got ye’t by sea, or got ye’t by land,
	Or got ye’t on a drownd man’s hand?’
17H.29	‘I got it not by sea, nor got it by land,
	Nor got I it on a drownd man’s hand.
17H.30	‘But I got it at my wooing gay,
	And I’ll gie’t you on your wedding day.’
17H.31	‘I’ll take the red gowd frae my head,
	And follow you, and beg my bread.
17H.32	‘I’ll take the red gowd frae my hair,
	And follow you for evermair.’
17H.33	Atween the kitchen and the ha,
	He loot his cloutie cloak down fa.
17H.34	And wi red gowd shone ower them a’,
	And frae the bridegroom the bride he sta.


			Child 17[I]: Hind Horn

17[I.1]	* * * *
	She gave him a gay gold ring,
 Refrain:	Hey lillelu and how lo lan
17[I.1]	But he gave her a far better thing.
 Refrain:	With my hey down and a hey diddle downie
17[I.2]	He gave her a silver wan,
	With nine bright laverocks thereupon.
	* * * * *
17[I.3]	Young Hynd Horn is come to the lan,
	There he met a beggar man.
17[I.4]	‘What news, what news do ye betide?’
	‘Na news but Jeanie’s the prince’s bride.’
17[I.5]	‘Wilt thou give me thy begging weed?
	And I’ll give thee my good grey steed.
17[I.6]	‘Wilt thou give me thy auld grey hair?
	And I’ll give ye mine that is thrice as fair.’
17[I.7]	The beggar he got on for to ride,
	But young Hynd Horn is bound for the bride.
17[I.8]	First the news came to the ha,
	Then to the room mang the gentles a’.
17[I.9]	‘There stands a beggar at our gate,
	Asking a drink for young Hynd Horn’s sake.’
17[I.10]	‘I’ll ga through nine fires hot
	To give him a drink for young Hynd Horn’s sake.’
17[I.11]	She gave him the drink, and he dropt in the ring;
	They lady turned baith pale an wan.
17[I.12]	‘Oh got ye it by sea, or got ye it by lan?
	Or got ye it off some dead man’s han?’
17[I.13]	‘I got it not by sea, nor I got it not by lan,
	But I got it off thy milk-white han.’
17[I.14]	‘I’ll cast off my dress of red,
	And I’ll go with thee and beg my bread.
17[I.15]	‘I’ll cast off my dress of brown,
	And follow you from city to town.
17[I.16]	‘I’ll cast off my dress of green,
	For I am not ashamed with you to be seen.’
17[I.17]	‘You need not cast off your dress of red,
	For I can support thee on both wine and bread.
17[I.18]	‘You need not cast off your dress of brown,
	For I can keep you a lady in any town.
17[I.19]	‘You need not cast off your dress of green,
	For I can maintain you as gay as a queen.’



			Child 18A: Sir Lionel

18A.1	SIR EGRABELL had sonnes three,
 Refrain:	Blow thy horne, good hunter
	Sir Lyonell was one of these.
 Refrain:	As I am a gentle hunter
18A.2	Sir Lyonell wold on hunting ryde,
	Vntill the forrest him beside.
18A.3	And as he rode thorrow the wood,
	Where trees and harts and all were good,
18A.4	And as he rode over the plaine,
	There he saw a knight lay slaine.
18A.5	And as he rode still on the plaine,
	He saw a lady sitt in a graine.
18A.6	‘Say thou, lady, and tell thou me,
	What blood shedd heere has bee.’
18A.7	‘Of this blood shedd we may all rew,
	Both wife and childe and man alsoe.
18A.8	‘For it is not past 3 days right
	Since Sir Broninge was mad a knight.
18A.9	‘Nor it is not more than 3 dayes agoe
	Since the wild bore did him sloe.’
18A.10	‘Say thou, lady, and tell thou mee,
	How long thou wilt sitt in that tree.’
18A.11	She said, ‘I will sitt in this tree
	Till my friends doe feitch me.’
18A.12	‘Tell me, lady, and doe not misse,
	Where that your friends dwellings is.’
18A.13	‘Downe,’ shee said, ’in yonder towne,
	There dwells my freinds of great renowne.’
18A.14	Says, ‘Lady, Ile ryde into yonder towne
	And see wether your friends beene bowne.
18A.15	‘I my self wilbe the formost man
	That shall come, lady, to feitch you home.’
18A.16	But as he rode then by the way,
	He thought it shame to goe away;
18A.17	And vmbethought him of a wile,
	How he might that wilde bore beguile.
18A.18	‘Sir Egrabell,’ he said, ’My father was;
	He neuer left lady in such a case;
18A.19	‘Noe more will I’ . . .
	* * * * *
18A.20	‘And a[fter] that thou shalt doe mee
	Thy hawkes and thy lease alsoe.
18A.21	‘Soe shalt thou doe at my command
	The litle fingar on thy right hand.’
18A.22	‘Ere I wold leaue all this with thee,
	Vpoon this ground I rather dyee.’
18A.23	The gyant gaue Sir Lyonell such a blow,
	The fyer out of his eyen did throw.
18A.24	He said then, ’if I were saffe and sound,
	As with-in this hower I was in the ground,
18A.25	‘It shold be in the next towne told
	How deare thy buffett it was sold;
18A.26	‘And it shold haue beene in the next towne said
	How well thy buffett it were paid.’
18A.27	‘Take 40 daies into spite,
	To heale thy wounds that beene soe wide.
18A.28	‘When 40 dayes beene at an end,
	Heere meete thou me both safe and sound.
18A.29	And till thou come to me againe,
	With me thoust leaue thy lady alone.’
18A.30	When 40 dayes was at an end,
	Sir Lyonell of his wounds was healed sound.
18A.31	He tooke with him a litle page,
	He gaue to him good yeomans wage.
18A.32	And as he rode by one hawthorne,
	Even there did hang his hunting horne.
18A.33	He sett his bugle to his mouth,
	And blew his bugle still full south.
18A.34	He blew his bugle lowde and shrill;
	The lady heard, and came him till.
18A.35	Sayes, ’The gyant lyes vnder yond low,
	And well he heares your bugle blow.
18A.36	‘And bidds me of good cheere be,
	This night heele supp with you and me.’
18A.37	Hee sett that lady vppon a steede,
	And a litle boy before her yeede.
18A.38	And said, ’lady, if you see that I must dye,
	As euer you loued me, from me flye.
18A.39	‘But, lady, if you see that I must liue,’
	* * * * *


			Child 18B: Sir Lionel

18B.1	A KNIGHT had two sons o sma fame,
 Refrain:	Hey nien nanny
	Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Graeme.
 Refrain:	And the norlan flowers spring bonny
18B.2	And to the youngest he did say,
	‘What occupation will you hae?
 Refrain:	When the, etc.
18B.3	‘Will you gae fee to pick a mill?
	Or will you keep hogs on yon hill?’
 Refrain:	While the, etc.
18B.4	‘I winna fee to pick a mill,
	Nor will I keep hogs on yon hill.
 Refrain:	While the, etc.
18B.5	‘But it is said, as I do hear,
	That war will last for seven year,
 Refrain:	And the, etc.
18B.6	‘With a giant and a boar
	That range into the wood o Tore.
 Refrain:	And the, etc.
18B.7	‘You’ll horse and armour to me provide,
	That through Tore wood I may safely ride.’
 Refrain:	When the, etc.
18B.8	The knicht did horse and armour provide,
	That through Tore wood Graeme micht safely ride.
 Refrain:	When the, etc.
18B.9	Then he rode through the wood o Tore,
	And up it started the grisly boar.
 Refrain:	When the, etc.
18B.10	The firsten bout that he did ride,
	The boar he wounded in the left side.
18B.10r	When the, etc.
18B.11	The nexten bout at the boar he gaed,
	He from the boar took aff his head.
18B.11r	And the, etc.
18B.12	As he rode back through the wood o Tore,
	Up started the giant him before.
18B.12r	And the, etc.
18B.13	‘O cam you through the wood o Tore,
	Or did you see my good wild boar?’
18B.13r	And the, etc.
18B.14	‘I cam now through the wood o Tore,
	But woe be to your grisly boar.
18B.14r	And the, etc.
18B.15	‘The firsten bout that I did ride,
	I wounded your wild boar in the side.
18B.15r	And the, etc.
18B.16	‘The nexten bout at him I gaed,
	From your wild boar I took aff his head.’
18B.16r	And the, etc.
18B.17	‘Gin you have cut aff the head o my boar,
	It’s your head shall be taen therfore.
18B.17r	And the, etc.
18B.18	‘I’ll gie you thirty days and three,
	To heal your wounds, then come to me.’
18B.18r	While the, etc.
18B.19	‘It’s after thirty days and three,
	When my wounds heal, I’ll come to thee.’
18B.19r	When the, etc.
18B.20	So Graeme is back to the wood o Tore,
	And he’s killd the giant, as he killd the boar.
18B.20r	And the, etc.


			Child 18C: Sir Lionel

18C.1	SIR ROBERT BOLTON had three sons,
 Refrain:	Wind well thy horn, good hunter
	And one of them was called Sir Ryalas.
 Refrain:	For he was a jovial hunter
18C.2	He rang’d all round down by the woodside,
	Till up in the top of a tree a gay lady he spy’d.
 Refrain:	For he was, etc.
18C.3	‘O what dost thou mean, fair lady?’ said he;
	‘O the wild boar has killed my lord and his men thirty.’
 Refrain:	As thou beest, etc.
18C.4	‘O what shall I do this wild boar to see?’
	‘O thee blow a blast, and he’ll come unto thee.’
 Refrain:	As thou beest, etc.
18C.5	[Then he put his horn unto his mouth],
	Then he blowd a blast full north, east, west and south.
 Refrain:	As he was, etc.
18C.6	And the wild boar heard him full into his den;
	Then he made the best of his speed unto him.
 Refrain:	To Sir Ryalas, etc.
18C.7	Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong,
	He thrashd down the trees as he came along.
 Refrain:	To Sir Ryalas, etc.
18C.8	‘O what dost thou want of me?’ the wild boar said he;
	‘O I think in my heart I can do enough for thee.’
 Refrain:	For I am, etc.
18C.9	Then they fought four hours in a long summer’s day,
	Till the wild boar fain would have gotten away.
 Refrain:	From Sir Ryalas, etc.
18C.10	Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword with might,
	And he fairly cut his head off quite.
18C.10r	For he was, etc.
18C.11	Then out of the wood the wild woman flew:
	‘Oh thou hast killed my pretty spotted pig!
18C.11r	As thou beest, etc.
18C.12	‘There are three things I do demand of thee,
	It’s thy horn, and thy hound, and thy gay lady.’
18C.12r	As thou beest, etc.
18C.13	‘If these three things thou dost demand of me,
	It’s just as my sword and thy neck can agree.’
18C.13r	For I am, etc.
18C.14	Then into his locks the wild woman flew,
	Till she thought in her heart she had torn him through.
18C.14r	As he was, etc.
18C.15	Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword again,
	And he fairly split her head in twain.
18C.15r	For he was, etc.
18C.16	In Bromsgrove church they both do lie;
	There the wild boar’s head is picturd by
18C.16r	Sir Ryalas, etc.


			Child 18D: Sir Lionel

18D.1	AS I went up one brook, one brook,
 Refrain:	Well wind the horn, good hunter
	I saw a fair maiden sit on a tree top.
 Refrain:	As thou art the jovial hunter
18D.2	I said, ‘Fair maiden, what brings you here?’
	‘It is the wild boar that has drove me here.’
 Refrain:	As thou art, etc.
18D.3	‘I wish I could that wild boar see;’
 Refrain:	Well wind the horn, good hunter,
	And the wild boar soon will come to thee.’
 Refrain:	As thou art, etc.
18D.4	Then he put his horn unto his mouth,
	And he blowd both east, west, north and south.
 Refrain:	As he was, etc.
18D.5	The wild boar hearing it into his den,
	[Then he made the best of his speed unto him].
18D.6	He whetted his tusks for to make them strong,
	And he cut down the oak and the ash as he came along.
 Refrain:	For to meet with, etc.
18D.7	They fought five hours one long summer’s day,
	Till the wild boar he yelld, and he’d fain run away.
 Refrain:	And away from, etc.
18D.8	O then he cut his head clean off,
	. . . . .
18D.9	Then there came an old lady running out of the wood,
	Saying, ‘You have killed my pretty, my pretty spotted pig.’
 Refrain:	As thou art, etc.
18D.10	Then at him this old lady she did go,
	And he clove her from the top of her head to her toe.
18D.10r	As he was, etc.
18D.11	In Bromsgrove churchyard this old lady lies,
	And the face of the boar’s head there is drawn by,
18D.11r	That was killed by, etc.


			Child 18E: Sir Lionel

18E.1	THERE was an old man and sons he had three;
 Refrain:	Wind well, Lion, good hunter
	A friar he being one of the three,
	With pleasure he ranged the north country.
 Refrain:	For he was a jovial hunter
18E.2	As he went to the woods some pastime to see,
	He spied a fair lady under a tree,
	Sighing and moaning mournfully.
 Refrain:	He was, etc.
18E.3	‘What are you doing, my fair lady?’

	‘I’m fightened the wild boar he will kill me;
	He has worried my lord and wounded thirty.’
 Refrain:	As thou art, etc.
18E.4	Then the friar he put his horn to his mouth,
	And he blew a blast, east, west, north and south,
	And the wild boar from his den he came forth.
 Refrain:	Unto the, etc.
	* * * * *


			Child 18F: Sir Lionel

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



			Child 19A: King Orfeo

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



		 Child 20A: The Cruel Mother

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


		 Child 20B: The Cruel Mother

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


		 Child 20C: The Cruel Mother

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


		 Child 20D: The Cruel Mother

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


		 Child 20E: The Cruel Mother

20E.1	THERE was a lady, she lived in Lurk,
 Refrain:	Sing hey alone and alonie O
	She fell in love with her father’s clerk.
 Refrain:	Down by yon greenwood sidie O
20E.2	She loved him seven years and a day,
	Till her big belly did her betray.
20E.3	She leaned her back unto a tree,
	And there began her sad misery.
20E.4	She set her foot unto a thorn,
	And there she got her two babes born.
20E.5	She took out her wee pen-knife,
	She twind them both of their sweet life.
20E.6	She took the sattins was on her head,
	She rolled them in both when they were dead.
20E.7	She howkit a grave forenent the sun,
	And there she buried her twa babes in.
20E.8	As she was walking thro her father’s ha,
	She spied twa boys playing at the ba.
20E.9	‘O pretty boys, if ye were mine,
	I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.’
20E.10	‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
	Thou neer dressed us in the silks so fine.
20E.11	‘For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk,
	And thou fell in love with thy father’s clerk.
20E.12	‘Thou loved him seven years and a day,
	Till thy big belly did thee betray.
20E.13	‘Thou leaned thy back unto a tree,
	And there began thy sad misery.

20E.14	‘Thou set thy foot unto a thorn,
	And there thou got thy two babes born.
20E.15	‘Thou took out thy wee pen-knife,
	And twind us both of our sweet life.
20E.16	‘Thou took the sattins was on thy head,
	Thou rolled us both in when we were dead.
20E.17	‘Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun,
	And there thou buried thy twa babes in.
20E.18	‘But now we’re both in [the] heavens hie,
	There is pardon for us, but none for thee.’
20E.19	‘My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!’
	‘There is pardon for us, but none for thee.’


		 Child 20F: The Cruel Mother

20F.1	IT fell ance upon a day,
 Refrain:	Edinburgh, Edinburgh
	It fell ance upon a day,
 Refrain:	Stirling for aye
	It fell ance upon a day
	The clerk and lady went to play.
 Refrain:	So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay
20F.2	‘If my baby be a son,
	I’ll make him a lord of high renown.’
20F.3	She’s leand her back to the wa,
	Prayd that her pains might fa.
20F.4	She’s leand her back to the thorn,
	There was her baby born.
20F.5	‘O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,
	You’ll never suck by my side mair.’
20F.6	She’s riven the muslin frae her head,
	Tied the baby hand and feet.
20F.7	Out she took her little pen-knife,
	Twind the young thing o its sweet life.
20F.8	She’s howked a hole anent the meen,
	There laid her sweet baby in.
20F.9	She had her to her father’s ha,
	She was the meekest maid amang them a’.
20F.10	It fell ance upon a day,
	She saw twa babies at their play.
20F.11	‘O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,
	I’d cleathe you in the silks sae fine.’
20F.12	‘O wild mother, when we were thine,
	You cleathd us not in silks so fine.
20F.13	‘But now we’re in the heavens high,
	And you’ve the pains o hell to try.’
20F.14	She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,
	There I wat she got a fa.


		 Child 20G: The Cruel Mother

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


		 Child 20H: The Cruel Mother

20H.1	THERE was a lady brisk and smart,
 Refrain:	All in a lone and a lonie O
	And she goes with child to her father’s clark.
 Refrain:	Down by the greenwood sidie O
20H.2	Big, big oh she went away,
	And then she set her foot to a tree.
20H.3	Big she set her foot to a stone,
	Till her three bonnie babes were borne.
20H.4	She took the ribbons off her head,
	She tied the little babes hand and feet.
20H.5	She howkit a hole before the sun,
	She’s laid these three bonnie babes in.
20H.6	She covered them over with marble stone,
	For dukes and lords to walk upon.
20H.7	She lookit over her father’s castle wa,
	She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba.
20H.8	The first o them was clad in red,
	To shew the innocence of their blood.
20H.9	The neist o them was clad in green,
	To shew that death they had been in.
20H.10	The next was naked to the skin,
	To shew they were murderd when they were born,
20H.11	‘O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
	I wad dress you in the satins so fine.’
20H.12	‘O mother dear, when we were thine,
	Thou did not use us half so kind.’
20H.13	‘O bonnie babes, an ye be mine,
	Whare hae ye been a’ this time?’
20H.14	‘We were at our father’s house,
	Preparing a place for thee and us.’
20H.15	‘Whaten a place hae ye prepar’d for me?’
	‘Heaven’s for us, but hell’s for thee.
20H.16	‘O mother dear, but heaven’s high;
	That is the place thou’ll ne’er come nigh.
20H.17	‘O mother dear, but hell is deep;
	’Twill cause thee bitterlie to weep.’


		 Child 20I: The Cruel Mother

20I.1	THE minister’s daughter of New York,
 Refrain:	Hey wi the rose and the lindie, O
	Has faen in love wi her father’s clerk.
 Refrain:	Alone by the green burn sidie, O
20I.2	She courted him six years and a day,
	At length her belly did her betray.
20I.3	She did her down to the greenwood gang,
	To spend awa a while o her time.
20I.4	She lent her back unto a thorn,
	And she’s got her twa bonny boys born.
20I.5	She’s taen the ribbons frae her hair,
	Bound their bodyes fast and sair.
20I.6	She’s put them aneath a marble stane,
	Thinking a maiden to gae hame.
20I.7	Looking oer her castle wa,
	She spied her bonny boys at the ba.
20I.8	‘O bonny babies, if ye were mine,
	I woud feed you with the white bread and wine.
20I.9	‘I woud feed you wi the ferra cow’s milk,
	And dress you in the finest silk.’
20I.10	‘O cruel mother, when we were thine,
	We saw none of your bread and wine.
20I.11	‘We saw none of your ferra cow’s milk,
	Nor wore we of your finest silk.’
20I.12	‘O bonny babies, can ye tell me,
	What sort of death for you I must die?’
20I.13	‘Yes, cruel mother, we’ll tell to thee,
	What sort of death for us you must die.
20I.14	‘Seven years a fowl in the woods,
	Seven years a fish in the floods.
20I.15	‘Seven years to be a church bell,
	Seven years a porter in hell.’
20I.16	‘Welcome, welcome, fowl in the wood[s],
	Welcome, welcome, fish in the flood[s].
20I.17	‘Welcome, welcome, to be a church bell,
	But heavens keep me out of hell.’


		 Child 20J: The Cruel Mother

20J.1	SHE leant her back against a thorn,
 Refrain:	Hey for the Rose o’ Malindie O
	And there she has twa bonnie babes born.
 Refrain:	Adoon by the green wood sidie O
20J.2	She’s taen the ribbon frae her head,
	An hankit their necks till they waur dead.
20J.3	She luikit outowre her castle wa,
	An saw twa nakit boys, playin at the ba.
20J.4	‘O bonnie boys, waur ye but mine,
	I wald feed ye wi flour-bread an wine.’
20J.5	‘O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
	Ye didna feed us wi flour-bread an wine.’
20J.6	‘O bonnie boys, gif ye waur mine,
	I wald clied ye wi silk sae fine.’
20J.7	‘O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
	You didna clied us in silk sae fine.
20J.8	‘Ye tuik the ribbon aff your head,
	An’ hankit our necks till we waur dead.
	* * * * *
20J.9	‘Ye sall be seven years bird on the tree,
	Ye sall be seven years fish i the sea.
20J.10	‘Ye sall be seven years eel i the pule,
	An ye sall be seven years doon into hell.’
20J.11	‘Welcome, welcome, bird on the tree,
	Welcome, welcome, fish i the sea.
20J.12	‘Welcome, welcome, eel i the pule,
	But oh for gudesake, keep me frae hell!’


		 Child 20K: The Cruel Mother

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


		 Child 20L: The Cruel Mother

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


		 Child 20M: The Cruel Mother

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


		 Child 20[N]: The Cruel Mother

20[N].1	As I lookit oer my father’s castle wa,
 Refrain:	All alone and alone O
20[N.1]	I saw two pretty babes playing at the ba.
 Refrain:	Down by yon green-wood sidie
20[N.2]	‘O pretty babes, gin ye were mine,’
 Refrain:	Hey the loch o the Loanie
20[N.2]	‘I would clead ye o the silk sae fine.’
 Refrain:	Down by that green-wood sidie
20[N.3]	‘O sweet darlings, gin ye were mine,’
 Refrain:	Hey the loch o the Loanie
20[N.3]	‘I would feed ye on the morning’s milk.’
 Refrain:	Down by the green-wood sidie
20[N.4]	‘O mither dear, when we were thine,’
 Refrain:	By the lock o the Loanie
20[N.4]	‘Ye neither dressd us wi silk nor twine.’
 Refrain:	Down by this green-wood sidie
20[N.5]	‘But ye tuke out your little pen-knife,’
 Refrain:	By, etc.
20[N.5]	‘And there ye tuke yer little babes’ life.’
 Refrain:	Down by the, etc.
20[N.6]	‘O mither dear, when this ye had done,’
 Refrain:	Alone by, etc.
20[N.6]	‘Ye unkirtled yersel, and ye wrapt us in ’t.’
 Refrain:	Down by the, etc.
20[N.7]	‘Neist ye houkit a hole fornent the seen.’
 Refrain:	All alone and alone O
20[N.7]	‘And tearless ye stappit your little babes in’
 Refrain:	Down by the, etc.
20[N.8]	‘But we are in the heavens high,’
 Refrain:	And far frae the loch o the Loanie
20[N.8]	‘But ye hae the pains o hell to d[r]ie.’
 Refrain:	Before ye leave the green-wood sidie


		 Child 20[N2]: The Cruel Mother

20[N2].1	There was a duke’s daughter lived at York,
 Refrain:	All alone and alone a
20[N2.1]	And she fell in love with her father’s clarke.
 Refrain:	Down by the greenwood side a, side a,
	Down, etc.
20[N2.2]	She loved him seven long years and a day,
	Till at last she came big-bellied away.
20[N2.3]	She set her back against a thorn,
	And there she had two pretty babes born.
20[N2.4]	She took out a penknife long and short,
	And she pierc’d these pretty babes to the tender heart.
20[N2.5]	So as she was walking in her father’s hall,
	She saw three pretty babes playing at ball.
20[N2.6]	The one was clothed in purple, the other in pall,
	And the other was cloathed in no cloths at all.
20[N2.7]	‘O pretty babes, pretty babes, will you be mine?
	You shall be clothed in scarlet so fine,
	And ye shall drink ale, beer, and wine.’
20[N2.8]	‘We are three angels, as other angels be,
	And the hotest place in hell is reserved for thee.’


		 Child 20[O]: The Cruel Mother

20[O].1	There was a duke’s daughter lived in York,
 Refrain:	Come bend and bear away the bows of yew
20[O.1]	So secretly she loved her father’s clark.
 Refrain:	Gentle hearts, be to me true.
20[O.2]	She loved him long and many a day,
	Till big with child she went away.
20[O.3]	She went into the wide wilderness;
	Poor she was to be pitied for heaviness.
20[O.4]	She leant her back against a tree,
	And there she endurd much misery.
20[O.5]	She leant her back against an oak,
	With bitter sighs these words she spoke.
20[O.6]	She set her foot against a thorne,
	And there she had two pretty babes born.
20[O.7]	She took her filliting off her head,
	And there she ty’d them hand and leg.
20[O.8]	She had a penknife long [and] sharp,
	And there she stuck them to the heart.
20[O.9]	She dug a grave, it was long and deep,
	And there she laid them in to sleep.
20[O.10]	The coldest earth it was their bed,
	The green grass was their coverlid.
20[O.11]	As she was a going by her father’s hall,
	She see three children a playing at ball.
20[O.12]	One was drest in scarlet fine,
	And the other[s was naked] as ere they was born.
20[O.13]	‘O mother, O mother, if these children was mine,
	I wold dress them [in] scarlet fine.’
20[O.14]	‘O mother, O mother, when we was thine,
	You did not dress [us] in scarlet fine.
20[O.15]	‘You set your back against a tree,
	And there you endured great misery.
20[O.16]	‘You set your foot against a thorne,
	And there you had us pritty babes born.
20[O.17]	‘You took your filliting off your head,
	And there you bound us, hand to leg.
20[O.18]	‘You had a penknife long and sharp,
	And there you stuck us to the heart.
20[O.19]	‘You dug a grave, it was long and deep,
	And there you laid us in to sleep.
20[O.20]	The coldest earth it was our bed,
	The green grass was our coverlid.
20[O.21]	‘O mother, mother, for your sin
	Heaven-gate you shall not enter in.
20[O.22]	‘O mother, mother, for your sin
	Hell-gates stands open to let you in.’
20[O.23]	The lady’s cheeks lookd pale and wan,
	‘Alass I,’ said she, ’what have I done!’
20[O.24]	She tore her silken locks of hair,
	And dy’d away in sad despair.
20[O.25]	Young ladies all, of beauty bright,
	Take warning by her last good-night.


		 Child 20[Q]: The Cruel Mother

20[Q].1	There was a lady, a lady of York,
 Refrain:	Ri fol i diddle i gee wo
20[Q.1]	She fell a-courting in her own father’s park.
 Refrain:	Down by the greenwood side, O
20[Q.2]	She leaned her back against the stile,
	There she had two pretty babes born.
20[Q.3]	And she had nothing to lap ’em in,
	But she had a penknife sharp and keen.
20[Q.4]	. . . . . . . . .
	There she stabbed them right through the heart.
20[Q.5]	She wiped the penknife in the sludge;
	The more she wiped it, the more the blood showed.
20[Q.6]	As she was walking in her own father’s park,
	She saw two pretty babes playing with a ball.
20[Q.7]	‘Pretty babes, pretty babes, if you were mine,
	I’d dress you up in silks so fine.’
20[Q.8]	‘Dear mother, dear mother, [when we were thine,]
	You dressed us not in silks so fine.
20[Q.9]	‘Here we go to the heavens so high,
	You’ll go to bad when you do die.’



		 Child 21A: The Maid and the Palmer

21A.1	THE maid shee went to the well to washe,
 Refrain:	Lillumwham, lillumwham!
	The mayd shee went to the well to washe,
 Refrain:	Whatt then? what then?
	The maid shee went to the well to washe,
	Dew fell of her lilly white fleshe.
 Refrain:	Grandam boy, grandam boy, heye!
	Leg a derry, leg a merry, mett, mer, whoope, whir!
	Driuance, larumben, grandam boy, heye!
21A.2	While shee washte and while shee ronge,
	While shee hangd o the hazle wand.
21A.3	There came an old palmer by the way,
	Sais, ‘God speed thee well, thou faire maid!’
21A.4	‘Hast either cupp or can,
	To giue an old palmer drinke therin?’
21A.5	Sayes, ‘I have neither cupp nor cann,
	To giue an old palmer drinke therin.’
21A.6	‘But an thy lemman came from Roome,
	Cupps and canns thou wold find soone.’
21A.7	She sware by God & good St. John,
	Lemman had shee neuer none.
21A.8	Sais, ‘Peace, faire mayd, you are forsworne!
	Nine children you haue borne.
21A.9	‘Three were buryed vnder thy bed’s head,
	Other three vnder thy brewing leade.
21A.10	‘Other three on yon play greene;
	Count, maid, and there be 9.’
21A.11	‘But I hope you are the good old man
	That all the world beleeues vpon.
21A.12	‘Old palmer, I pray thee,
	Pennaunce that thou wilt giue to me.’
21A.13	‘Penance I can giue thee none,
	But 7 yeere to be a stepping-stone.
21A.14	‘Other seaven a clapper in a bell,
	Other 7 to lead an ape in hell.
21A.15	‘When thou hast thy penance done,
	Then thoust come a mayden home.’


		 Child 21B: The Maid and the Palmer

21B.1	‘SEVEN years ye shall be a stone,
 Refrain:	. . . . .
	For many a poor palmer to rest him upon.
 Refrain:	And you the fair maiden of Gowden-gane
21B.2	‘Seven years ye’ll be porter of hell,
	And then I’ll take you to mysell.’
	* * * * *
21B.3	‘Weel may I be a’ the other three,
	But porter of hell I never will be.’
 Refrain:	And I, etc.



		 Child 22: St. Stephen and Herod

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



			 Child 23: Judas

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



		 Child 24A: Bonnie Annie

24A.1	THERE was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,
	He had a fair lady, and one only dochter.
24A.2	O she was fair, O dear, she was bonnie!
	A ship’s captain courted her to be his honey.
24A.3	There cam a ship’s captain out owre the sea sailing,
	He courted this young thing till he got her wi bairn.
24A.4	‘Ye’ll steal your father’s gowd, and your mother’s money,
	And I’ll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.’
24A.5	She’s stown her father’s gowd, and her mother’s money,
	But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.
	* * * * *
24A.6	‘There’s fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me,
	There’s fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me.’
24A.7	They’ve casten black bullets twice six and forty,
	And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.
24A.8	‘Ye’ll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,
	Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie.’
24A.9	He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,
	He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.
24A.10	‘What can a woman do, love, I’ll do for ye;’
	‘Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.’
24A.11	‘Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,
	Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.’
24A.12	‘I’ve laid about, steerd about, laid about cannie,
	But all I can do, she winna sail for me.
24A.13	‘Ye’ll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,
	And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie.’
24A.14	He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,
	He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie.
24A.15	As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam,
	And she was at Ireland as soon as them.
24A.16	He made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,
	And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.


		 Child 24B: Bonnie Annie

24B.1	DOWN in Dumbarton there wonnd a rich merchant,
	Down in Dumbarton there wond a rich merchant,
	And he had nae family but ae only dochter.
 Refrain:	Sing fal lal de deedle, fal lal de deedle lair, O a day
24B.2	There cam a rich squire, intending to woo her,
	He wooed her until he had got her wi babie.
24B.3	‘Oh what shall I do! oh what shall come o me!
	Baith father and mither will think naething o me.’
24B.4	‘Gae up to your father, bring down gowd and money,
	And I’ll take ye ower to a braw Irish ladie.’
24B.5	She gade to her father, brought down gowd and money,
	And she’s awa ower to a braw Irish ladie.
24B.6	She hadna sailed far till the young thing cried ‘Women!’
	‘What women can do, my dear, I’ll do for you.’
24B.7	‘O haud your tongue, foolish man, dinna talk vainly,
	For ye never kent what a woman driet for you.
24B.8	‘Gae wash your hands in the cauld spring water,
	And dry them on a towel a’ giltit wi silver.
24B.9	‘And tak me by the middle, and lift me up saftlie,
	And throw me ower shipboard, baith me and my babie.’
24B.10	He took her by the middle, and lifted her saftly,
	And threw her ower shipboard, baith her and her babie.
24B.11	Sometimes she did sink, sometimes she did float it,
	Until that she cam to the high banks o Yarrow.
24B.12	‘O captain tak gowd, O sailors tak money,
	And launch out your sma boat till I sail for my honey.’
24B.13	‘How can I tak gowd, how can I tak money?
	My ship’s on a sand bank, she winna sail for me.’
24B.14	The captain took gowd, the sailors took money,
	And they launchd out their sma boat till he sailed for his honey.
24B.15	‘Mak my love a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,
	Whar the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow,
	And bury my love on the high banks o Yarrow.’
24B.16	They made her a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,
	And buried her deep on the high banks o Yarrow.



		 Child 25A: Willie’s Lyke-Wake

25A.1	‘WILLIE, Willie, I’ll learn you a wile,’
 Refrain:	And the sun shines over the valleys and a’
	‘How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.’
 Refrain:	Amang the blue flowrs and the yellow and a’
25A.2	‘Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead,
	And tak your winding-sheet around your head.
25A.3	‘Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat,
	To ring your dead-bell at your lover’s yett.’
25A.4	He lay doun just as he war dead,
	And took his winding-sheet round his head.
25A.5	He gied the bellman his bell-groat,
	To ring his dead-bell at his lover’s yett.
25A.6	‘O wha is this that is dead, I hear?’
	‘O wha but Willie that loed ye sae dear.’
25A.7	She is to her father’s chamber gone,
	And on her knees she’s fallen down.
25A.8	‘O father, O father, ye maun grant me this;
	I hope that ye will na tak it amiss.
25A.9	‘That I to Willie’s burial should go;
	For he is dead, full well I do know.’
25A.10	‘Ye’ll tak your seven bauld brethren wi thee,
	And to Willie’s burial straucht go ye.’
25A.11	It’s whan she cam to the outmost yett,
	She made the silver fly round for his sake.
25A.12	It’s whan she cam to the inmost yett,
	She made the red gowd fly round for his sake.
25A.13	As she walked frae the court to the parlour there,
	The pretty corpse syne began for to steer.
25A.14	He took her by the waist sae neat and sae sma,
	And threw her atween him and the wa.
25A.15	‘O Willie, O Willie, let me alane this nicht,
	O let me alane till we’re wedded richt.’
25A.16	‘Ye cam unto me baith sae meek and mild,
	But I’ll mak ye gae hame a wedded wife wi child.’


		 Child 25B: Willie’s Lyke-Wake

25B.1	‘O Willie my son, what makes you sae sad?’
 Refrain:	As the sun shines over the valley
	‘I lye sarely sick for the love of a maid.’
 Refrain:	Amang the blue flowers and the yellow
25B.2	‘Were she an heiress or lady sae free,
	That she will take no pity on thee?
25B.3	‘O Willie, my son, I’ll learn you a wile,
	How this fair maid ye may beguile.
25B.4	‘Ye’ll gie the principal bellman a groat,
	And ye’ll gar him cry your dead lyke-wake.’
25B.5	Then he gae the principal bellman a groat,
	He bade him cry his dead lyke-wake.
25B.6	This maiden she stood till she heard it a’,
	And down frae her cheeks the tears did fa.
25B.7	She is hame to her father’s ain bower:
	‘I’ll gang to yon lyke-wake ae single hour.’
25B.8	‘Ye must take with you your ain brither John;
	It’s not meet for maidens to venture alone.’
25B.9	‘I’ll not take with me my brither John,
	But I’ll gang along, myself all alone.’
25B.10	When she came to young Willie’s yate,
	His seven brithers were standing thereat.
25B.11	Then they did conduct her into the ha,
	Amang the weepers and merry mourners a’.
25B.12	When she lifted up the covering sae red,
	With melancholy countenance to look on the dead,
25B.13	He’s taen her in his arms, laid her gainst the wa,
	Says, ‘Lye ye here, fair maid, till day.’
25B.14	‘O spare me, O spare me, but this single night,
	And let me gang hame a maiden sae bright.’
25B.15	‘Tho all your kin were about your bower,
	Ye shall not be a maiden ae single hour.
25B.16	‘Fair maid, ye came here without a convoy,
	But ye shall return wi a horse and a boy.
25B.17	‘Ye came here a maiden sae mild,
	But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife with child.’


		 Child 25C: Willie’s Lyke-Wake

25C.1	‘O WILLIE, Willie, what makes thee so sad?’
 Refrain:	And the sun shines over the valley
	‘I have loved a lady these seven years and mair.’
 Refrain:	Down amang the blue flowers and the yellow
25C.2	‘O Willie, lie down as thou were dead,
	And lay thy winding-sheet down at thy head.
25C.3	‘And gie to the bellman a belling-great,
	To ring the dead-bell at thy love’s bower-yett.’
25C.4	He laid him down as he were dead,
	And he drew the winding-sheet oer his head.
25C.5	He gied to the bellman a belling-great,
	To ring the dead-bell at his love’s bower-yett.
	* * * * *
25C.6	When that she came to her true lover’s gate,
	She dealt the red gold and all for his sake.
25C.7	And when that she came to her true lover’s bower,
	She had not been there for the space of half an hour,
25C.8	Till that she cam to her true lover’s bed,
	And she lifted the winding-sheet to look at the dead.
25C.9	He took her by the hand so meek and sma,
	And he cast her over between him and the wa.
25C.10	‘Tho all your friends were in the bower,
	I would not let you go for the space of half an hour.
25C.11	‘You came to me without either horse or boy,
	But I will send you home with a merry convoy.’


		 Child 25D: Willie’s Lyke-Wake

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


		 Child 25[E]: Willie’s Lyke-Wake

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



		 Child 26: The Three Ravens

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



		 Child 27: The Whummil Bore

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



		Child 28: Burd Ellen and Young Tamlane

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



		 Child 29: The Boy and the Mantle

29.1	IN the third day of May
	to Carleile did come
	A kind curteous child,
	that cold much of wisdome.
29.2	A kirtle and a mantle
	this child had vppon,
	With brauches and ringes
	full richelye bedone.
29.3	He had a sute of silke,
	about his middle drawne;
	Without he cold of curtesye,
	he thought itt much shame.
29.4	‘God speed thee, King Arthur,
	sitting att thy meate!
	And the goodly Queene Gueneuer!
	I cannott her forgett.
29.5	‘I tell you lords in this hall,
	I hett you all heede,
	Except you be the more surer,
	is you for to dread.’
29.6	He plucked out of his potewer,
	and longer wold not dwell,
	He pulled forth a pretty mantle,
	betweene two nut-shells.
29.7	‘Haue thou here, King Arthure,
	haue thou heere of mee;
	Giue itt to thy comely queene,
	shapen as itt is alreadye.
29.8	‘Itt shall neuer become that wiffe

that	hath once done amisse:’
	Then euery knight in the kings court
	began to care for his.
29.9	Forth came dame Gueneuer,
	to the mantle shee her bed;
	The ladye shee was new-fangle,
	but yett shee was affrayd.
29.10	When shee had taken the mantle,
	shee stoode as she had beene madd;
	It was from the top to the toe
	as sheeres had itt shread.
29.11	One while was itt gaule,
	another while was itt greene;
	another while was itt wadded;
	ill itt did her beseeme.
29.12	Another while was it blacke,
	and bore the worst hue;
	‘By my troth,’ quoth King Arthur,
	‘I thinke thou be not true.’
29.13	Shee threw downe the mantle,
that	bright was of blee,
	Fast with a rudd redd
	to her chamber can shee flee.
29.14	Shee curst the weauer and the walker
	that clothe that had wrought,
	And bade a vengeance on his crowne
that	hither hath itt brought.
29.15	‘I had rather be in a wood,
	vnder a greene tree,
	Then in King Arthurs court
	shamed for to bee.’
29.16	Kay called forth his ladye,
	and bade her come neere;
	Saies, ‘Madam, and thou be guiltye,
	I pray thee hold thee there.’
29.17	Forth came his ladye
	shortlye and anon,
	Boldlye to the mantle
	then is shee gone.
29.18	When she had tane the mantle,
	and cast it her about,
	Then was shee bare
	all aboue the buttocckes.
29.19	Then euery knight
that	was in the kings court
	Talked, laughed, and showted,
	full oft att that sport.
29.20	Shee threw downe the mantle,
that	bright was of blee,
	Ffast with a red rudd
	to her chamber can shee flee.
29.21	Forth came an old knight,
	pattering ore a creede,
	And he proferred to this little boy
	twenty markes to his meede,
29.22	And all the time of the Christmasse
	willinglye to feede;
	For why, this mantle might
	doe his wiffe some need.
29.23	When shee had tane the mantle,
	of cloth that was made,
	Shee had no more left on her
	but a tassell and a threed:
	Then euery knight in the kings court
	bade euill might shee speed.
29.24	Shee threw downe the mantle,
that	bright was of blee,
	And fast with a redd rudd
	to her chamber can shee flee.
29.25	Craddocke called forth his ladye,
	and bade her come in;
	Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye,
	with a litle dinne.
29.26	‘Winne this mantle, ladye,
	and it shalbe thine
	If thou neuer did amisse
	since thou wast mine.’
29.27	Forth came Craddockes ladye
	shortlye and anon,
	But boldlye to the mantle
	then is shee gone.
29.28	When shee had tane the mantle,
	and cast itt her about,
	Vpp att her great toe
	itt began to crinkle and crowt;
	Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle,
	and shame me not for nought.
29.29	‘Once I did amisse,
	I tell you certainlye,
	When I kist Craddockes mouth
	vnder a greene tree,
	When I kist Craddockes mouth
	before he marryed mee.’
29.30	When shee had her shreeuen,
	and her sines shee had tolde,
	The mantle stoode about her
	right as shee wold;
29.31	Seemelye of coulour,
	glittering like gold;
	Then euery knight in Arthurs court
	did her behold.
29.32	Then spake dame Gueneuer
	to Arthur our king:
	‘She hath tane yonder mantle,
	not with wright but with wronge!
29.33	‘See you not yonder woman
that	maketh her selfe soe clene?
	I haue seene tane out of her bedd
	of men fiueteene;
29.34	‘Preists, clarkes, and wedded men,
	from her by-deene;
	Yett she taketh the mantle,
	and maketh her-selfe cleane!’
29.35	Then spake the litle boy
that	kept the mantle in hold;
	Sayes ‘King, chasten thy wiffe;
	of her words shee is to bold.
29.36	‘Shee is a bitch and a witch,
	and a whore bold;
	King, in thine owne hall
	thou art a cuchold.’
29.37	The litle boy stoode
	looking ouer a dore;
	He was ware of a wyld bore,
	wold haue werryed a man.
29.38	He pulld forth a wood kniffe,
	fast thither that he ran;
	He brought in the bores head,
	and quitted him like a man.
29.39	He brought in the bores head,
	and was wonderous bold;
	He said there was neuer a cucholds kniffe
	carue itt that cold.
29.40	Some rubbed their kniues
	vppon a whetstone;
	Some threw them vnder the table,
	and said they had none.
29.41	King Arthur and the child
	stood looking them vpon;
	All their kniues edges
	turned backe againe.
29.42	Craddoccke had a litle kniue
	of iron and of steele;
	He birtled the bores head
	wonderous weele,
That	euery knight in the kings court
	had a morssell.
29.43	The litle boy had a horne,
	of red gold that ronge;
	He said, ’There was noe cuckolde
	shall drinke of my horne,
	But he shold itt sheede,
	either behind or beforne.’
29.44	Some shedd on their shoulder,
	and some on their knee;
	He that cold not hitt his mouth
	put it in his eye;
	And he that was a cuckhold,
	euery man might him see.
29.45	Craddoccke wan the horne
	and the bores head;
	His ladye wan the mantle
	vnto her meede;
	Euerye such a louely ladye,
	God send her well to speede!



	 Child 30: King Arthur and King Cornwall

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



		 Child 31: The Marriage of Sir Gawain

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



			 Child 32: King Henry

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



			 Child 33A: Kempy Kay

33A.1	KEMPY KAYE’s a wooing gane,
	Far, far ayont the sea,
	And he has met with an auld, auld man,
	His gudefaythir to be.
33A.2	‘It’s I’m coming to court your daughter dear,
	And some part of your gear:’
	‘And by my sooth,’ quoth Bengoleer,
	‘She’ll sare a man a wear.
33A.3	‘My dochter she’s a thrifty lass,
	She span seven year to me,
	And if it were weel counted up,
	Full three heire it would be.
33A.4	‘What’s the matter wi you, my fair creature,
	You look so pale and wan?
	I’m sure you was once the fairest creature
	That ever the sun shined on.
33A.5	‘Gae scrape yoursel, and gae scart yoursel,
	And mak your brucket face clean,
	For the wooers are to be here to nighte,
	And your body’s to be seen.’
33A.6	Sae they scrapit her, and they scartit her,
	Like the face of an aussy pan;
	Syne in cam Kempy Kay himself,
	A clever and tall young man.
33A.7	His teeth they were like tether-sticks,
	His nose was three fit lang,
	Between his shouthers was ells three,
	And tween his eyne a span.
33A.8	He led his dochter by the hand,
	His dochter ben brought he:
	‘O is she not the fairest lass
	That’s in great Christendye?’
33A.9	Ilka hair intil her head
	Was like a heather-cowe,
	And ilka louse anunder it
	Was like a bruckit ewe.
33A.10	She had tauchy teeth and kaily lips,
	And wide lugs, fou o hair;
	Her pouches fou o peasemeal-daighe
	A’ hinging down her spare.
33A.11	Ilka eye intil her head
	Was like a rotten plumbe,
	And down browed was the queyne,
	And sairly did she gloom.
33A.12	Ilka nail upon her hand
	Was like an iron rake,
	And ilka tooth intil her head
	Was like a tether-stake.
	* * * * *
33A.13	She gied to him a gravat,
	O the auld horse’s sheet,
	And he gied her a gay gold ring,
	O the auld couple-root.


			 Child 33B: Kempy Kay

33B.1	KEMPY KAYE is a wooing gane,
	Far ayont the sea,
	And there he met wi auld Goling,
	His gudefather to be, be,
	His gudefather to be.
33B.2	‘Whar are ye gaun, O Kempy Kaye,
	Whar are ye gaun sae sune?’
	‘O I am gaun to court a wife,
	And think na ye that’s a weel dune?’
33B.3	‘An ye be gaun to court a wife,
	As ye do tell to me,
	’Tis ye sall hae my Fusome Fug,
	Your ae wife for to be.’
33B.4	Whan auld Goling cam to the house,
	He lookit thro a hole,
	And there he saw the dirty drab
	Just whisking oure the coal.
33B.5	‘Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug,
	And mak your foul face clean,
	For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw
	Is come develling doun the green.’
33B.6	Up then rose the Fusome Fug,
	To mak her foul face clean;
	And aye she cursed her mither
	She had na water in.
33B.7	She rampit out, and she rampit in,
	She rampit but and ben;
	The tittles and tattles that hang frae her tail
	Wad muck an acre o land.
33B.8	She had a neis upon her face
	Was like an auld pat-fit;
	Atween her neis bot an her mou
	Was inch thick deep wi dirt.
33B.9	She had twa een intil her head
	War like twa-rotten plums;
	The heavy brows hung doun her face,
	And O I vow she glooms!
33B.10	He gied to her a braw silk napkin,
	Was made o’ an auld horse-brat:
	‘I ne’er wore a silk napkin a’ my life,
	But weel I wat Ise wear that.’
33B.11	He gied to her a braw gowd ring,
	Was made frae an auld brass pan:
	‘I neer wore a gowd ring in a’ my life,
	But now I wat Ise wear ane.’
33B.12	Whan thir twa lovers had met thegither,
	O kissing to get their fill,
	The slaver that hang atween their twa gabs
	Wad hae tetherd a ten year auld bill.


			 Child 33C: Kempy Kay

33C.1	KEMPY KAYE’s a wooing gane,
	And far beyond the sea, a wee
	And there he met wi Drearylane,
	His gay gudefather to be. a wee
33C.2	‘Gude een, gude een,’ quo Drearylane,
	‘Gude een, gude een,’ quo he, a wee
	‘I’ve come your dochter’s love to win,
	I kenna how it will do.’ a wee
33C.3	‘My dochter she’s a thrifty lass,
	She’s spun this gay seven year,
	And if it come to gude guiding,
	It will be half a heer.’
33C.4	‘Rise up, rise up, ye dirty slut,
	And wash your foul face clean;
	The wooers will be here the night
	That suld been here yestreen.’
33C.5	They took him ben to the fire en,
	And set him on a chair;
	He looked on the lass that he loved best,
	And thought she was wondrous fair.
33C.6	The een that was in our bride’s head
	Was like twa rotten plooms;
	She was a chaunler-chaftit quean,
	And O but she did gloom!
33C.7	The skin that was on our bride’s breast
	Was like a saffron bag,
	And aye her hand was at her neek,
	And riving up the scabs.
33C.8	The hair that was on our bride’s head
	Was like a heather-cow,
	And every louse that lookit out
	Was like a brockit ewe.
33C.9	Betwixd Kempy’s shouthers was three ells,
	His nose was nine feet lang,
	His teeth they were like tether sticks,
	Between his eyne a span.
33C.10	So aye they kissed, and aye they clapped,
	I wat they kissed weel;
	The slaver that hang between their mouths
	Wad hae tethered a twa year auld bill.


			 Child 33D: Kempy Kay

33D.1	* * * *
	The father came unto the door,
	And keeked thro the key-hole, a wee
	And there he saw his dochter Jean,
	Sitting on a coal. a wee
33D.2	They scartit her, and scrapit her,
	Wi the hand o a rusty pan, a wee
	Her father he did all his best
	For to get her a man. a wee
33D.3	She is to the stoups gane,
	There is nae water in;
	She’s cursed the hands and ban’d the feet
	That did na bring it in.
33D.4	Out then spak her auld mither,
	In her bed whare she lay:
	‘If there is nae water in the house,
	Gae harl her thro the lin.’
33D.5	O she is to the taipy tapples gane,
	That stood for seven year,
	And there she washed her foul face clean,
	And dried it wi a huggar.
33D.6	He’s gien her a gay gold ring,
	Just like a cable-rope,
	And she’s gien him a gay gravat,
	Made out o the tail o a sark.


			 Child 33E: Kempy Kay

33E.1	‘GUD een, gud een,’ says Chickmakin,
	‘Ye’re welcome here,’ says Drowsy Lane;
	‘I’m comd to court your daughter Jean,
	And marry her wi yer will, a wee.’
33E.2	‘My daughter Jean’s a thrifty lass,
	She’s spun these seven lang years to me,
	And gin she spin another seven,
	She’ll munt a half an heir, a wee.’
33E.3	Drowsy Lane, it’s he’s gane hame,
	And keekit through the hole, a wee
	And there he saw his daughter Jean
	A reeking oer the coal. a wee
33E.4	‘Get up, get up, ye dirty bitch,
	And wash yer foul face clean,
	For they are to be here the night
	That should hae been here yestreen.’
33E.5	Up she rose, pat on her clothes,
	She’s washen her foul face clean;
	She cursed the hands, she ban’d the feet,
	That wadna bring the water in.
33E.6	She rubbit hersel, she scrubbit hersel,
	Wi the side of a rustit pan, a wee,
	And in a little came Chickmakin,
	A braw young lad indeed was he.
33E.7	His teeth they were like tether-steeks,
	His nose was five feet lang;
	Between his shoulders was nine yards broad,
	And between his een a span.
33E.8	Ilka hair into his head
	Was like a heather-cowe,
	And ilka louse that lookit out
	Was like a brookit ewe.
33E.9	Thae twa kissd and thae twa clapt,
	And thae twa kissd their fill,
	And aye the slaver between them hang
	Wad tetherd a ten-pund bull.
33E.10	They twa kissd and they twa clapt,
	And they gaed to their bed, a wee,
	And at their head a knocking stane
	And at their feet a mell, a wee.
33E.11	The auld wife she lay in her bed:
	‘And gin ye’ll do my bidding a wee,
	And gin ye’ll do my bidding,’ quoth she,
	‘Yees whirl her oer the lea, a wee.’


			 Child 33F: Kempy Kay

33F.1	AS I cam oer yon misty muir,
	And oer yon grass-green hill,
	There I saw a campy carle
	Going to the mill.
 Refrain:	And bar aye yer bower door weel weel,
	And bar ay yer bower door weel.
33F.2	I lookit in at her window,
	And in at her hove hole,
	And there I saw a fousome fag,
	Cowering oer a coal.
33F.3	‘Get up, get up, ye fousome fag,
	And make yer face fou clean;
	For the wooers will be here the night,
	And your body will be seen.’
33F.4	He gave her a gay cravat,
	’Twas of an auld horse-sheet;
	He gave her a gay goud ring,
	’Twas of an auld tree root.
33F.5	He laid his arms about her neck,
	They were like kipple-roots;
	And aye he kissd her wi his lips,
	They were like meller’s hoops.
33F.6	When they were laid in marriage bed,
	And covered oer wi fail,
	The knocking mell below their heads
	Did serve them wondrous weel.
33F.7	Ilka pap into her breasts
	Was like a saffron bag,
	And aye his hand at her a . . e
	Was tearing up the scabs.
33F.8	Ilka hair into her head
	Was like a heather-cow,
	And ilka louse that lookit out
	Was like a brookit ewe.


			 Child 33G: Kempy Kay

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



			Child 34A: Kemp Owyne

34A.1	HER mother died when she was young,
	Which gave her cause to make great moan;
	Her father married the warst woman
	That ever lived in Christendom.
34A.2	She served her with foot and hand,
	In every thing that she could dee,
	Till once, in an unlucky time,
	She threw her in ower Craigy’s sea.
34A.3	Says, ‘Lie you there, dove Isabel,
	And all my sorrows lie with thee;
	Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,
	And borrow you with kisses three,
	Let all the warld do what they will,
	Oh borrowed shall you never be!’
34A.4	Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang,
	And twisted thrice about the tree,
	And all the people, far and near,
	Thought that a savage beast was she.
34A.5	These news did come to Kemp Owyne,
	Where he lived, far beyond the sea;
	He hasted him to Craigy’s sea,
	And on the savage beast lookd he.
34A.6	Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
	And twisted was about the tree,
	And with a swing she came about:
	‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me.
34A.7	‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,
	‘That I have found in the green sea;
	And while your body it is on,
	Drawn shall your blood never be;
	But if you touch me, tail or fin,
	I vow my belt your death shall be.’
34A.8	He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
	The royal belt he brought him wi;
	Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
	And twisted twice about the tree,
	And with a swing she came about:
	‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me.
34A.9	‘Here is a royal ring,’ she said,
	‘That I have found in the green sea;
	And while your finger it is on,
	Drawn shall your blood never be;
	But if you touch me, tail or fin,
	I swear my ring your death shall be.’
34A.10	He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
	The royal ring he brought him wi;
	Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
	And twisted ance about the tree,
	And with a swing she came about:
	‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me.
34A.11	‘Here is a royal brand,’ she said,
	‘That I have found in the green sea;
	And while your body it is on,
	Drawn shall your blood never be;
	But if you touch me, tail or fin,
	I swear my brand your death shall be.’
34A.12	He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
	The royal brand he brought him wi;
	Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short,
	And twisted nane about the tree,
	And smilingly she came about,
	As fair a woman as fair could be.


			Child 34B: Kemp Owyne

34B.1	COME here, come here, you freely feed,
	An lay your head low on my knee;
	The hardest weird I will you read
	That eer war read to a lady.
34B.2	‘O meikle dollour sall you dree,
	An ay the sat seas oer ye[’s] swim;
	An far mair dollour sall ye dree
	On Eastmuir craigs, or ye them clim.
34B.3	‘I wot ye’s be a weary wight,
	An releived sall ye never be
	Till Kempion, the kingis son,
	Come to the craig and thrice kiss thee.’
34B.4	O meickle dollour did she dree,
	An ay the sat seas oer she swam;
	An far mair dollour did she dree
	On Eastmuir craigs, or them she clam;
	An ay she cried for Kempion,
	Gin he would come till her han.
34B.5	Now word has gane to Kempion
	That sich a beast was in his lan,
	An ay be sure she would gae mad
	Gin she gat nae help frae his han.
34B.6	‘Now by my sooth,’ says Kempion,
	‘This fiery beast I[’ll] gang to see;’
	‘An by my sooth,’ says Segramour,
	‘My ae brother, I’ll gang you wi.’
34B.7	O biggit ha they a bonny boat,
	An they hae set her to the sea,
	An Kempion an Segramour
	The fiery beast he gane to see:
	A mile afore they reachd the shore,
	I wot she gard the red fire flee.
34B.8	‘O Segramour, keep my boat afloat,
	An lat her no the lan so near;
	For the wicked beast she’ll sure gae mad,
	An set fire to the land an mair.’
34B.9	‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+-
	An it is na for the fear o thee-+-
	Till Kempion, the kingis son,
	Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’
34B.10	He’s louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
	An he has gien her kisses ane;
	Awa she gid, an again she came,
	The fieryest beast that ever was seen.
34B.11	‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+-
	An it is na for fear o thee-+-
	Till Kempion, the kingis son,
	Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’
34B.12	He louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
	An he has gien her kisses twa;
	Awa she gid, an again she came,
	The fieryest beast that ever you saw.
34B.13	‘O out o my stye I winna rise-+-
	An it is na for fear o ye-+-
	Till Kempion, the kingis son,
	Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’
34B.14	He’s louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
	An he has gien her kisses three;
	Awa she gid, an again she came,
	The fairest lady that ever coud be.
34B.15	‘An by my sooth,’ say[s] Kempion,
	‘My ain true love-+-for this is she-+-
	O was it wolf into the wood,
	Or was it fish intill the sea,
	Or was it man, or wile woman,
	My true love, that misshapit thee?’
34B.16	‘It was na wolf into the wood,
	Nor was it fish into the sea,
	But it was my stepmother,
	An wae an weary mot she be.
34B.17	‘O a heavier weird light her upon
	Than ever fell on wile woman;
	Her hair’s grow rough, an her teeth’s grow lang,
	An on her four feet sal she gang.
34B.18	‘Nane sall tack pitty her upon,
	But in Wormie’s Wood she sall ay won,
	An relieved sall she never be,
	Till St Mungo come oer the sea.’



		 Child 35: Allison Gross

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



	 Child 36: The Laily Worm and the Machrel of the Sea

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



		 Child 37A: Thomas Rymer

37A.1	TRUE THOMAS lay oer yond grassy bank,
	And he beheld a ladie gay,
	A ladie that was brisk and bold,
	Come riding oer the fernie brae.
37A.2	Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
	Her mantel of the velvet fine,
	At ilka tett of her horse’s mane
	Hung fifty silver bells and nine.
37A.3	True Thomas he took off his hat,
	And bowed him low down till his knee:
	‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
	For your peer on earth I never did see.’
37A.4	‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says,
	‘That name does not belong to me;
	I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
	And I’m come here for to visit thee.
	* * * * *
37A.5	‘But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,
	True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
	For ye maun serve me seven years,
	Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.’
37A.6	She turned about her milk-white steed,
	And took True Thomas up behind,
	And aye wheneer her bridle rang,
	The steed flew swifter than the wind.
37A.7	For forty days and forty nights
	He wade thro red blude to the knee,
	And he saw neither sun nor moon,
	But heard the roaring of the sea.
37A.8	O they rade on, and further on,
	Until they came to a garden green:
	‘Light down, light down, ye ladie free,
	Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.’
37A.9	‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says,
	‘That fruit maun not be touched by thee,
	For a’ the plagues that are in hell
	Light on the fruit of this countrie.
37A.10	‘But I have a loaf here in my lap,
	Likewise a bottle of claret wine,
	And now ere we go farther on,
	We’ll rest a while, and ye may dine.’
37A.11	When he had eaten and drunk his fill,
	‘Lay down your head upon my knee,’
	The lady sayd, re we climb yon hill,
	And I will show you fairlies three.
37A.12	‘O see not ye yon narrow road,
	So thick beset wi thorns and briers?
	That is the path of righteousness,
	Tho after it but few enquires.
37A.13	‘And see not ye that braid braid road,
	That lies across yon lillie leven?
	That is the path of wickedness,
	Tho some call it the road to heaven.
37A.14	‘And see not ye that bonny road,
	Which winds about the fernie brae?
	That is the road to fair Elfland,
	Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae.
37A.15	‘But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
	Whatever you may hear or see,
	For gin ae word you should chance to speak,
	You will neer get back to your ain countrie.’
37A.16	He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
	And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
	And till seven years were past and gone
	True Thomas on earth was never seen.


		 Child 37B: Thomas Rymer

37B.1	As Thomas lay on Huntlie banks-+-
	A wat a weel bred man was he-+-
	And there he spied a lady fair,
	Coming riding down by the Eildon tree.
37B.2	The horse she rode on was dapple gray,
	And in her hand she held bells nine;
	I thought I heard this fair lady say
	These fair siller bells they should a’ be mine.
37B.3	It’s Thomas even forward went,
	And lootit low down on his knee:
	‘Weel met thee save, my lady fair,
	For thou’rt the flower o this countrie.’
37B.4	‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she says,
	‘O no, O no, that can never be,
	For I’m but a lady of an unco land,
	Comd out a hunting, as ye may see.
37B.5	‘O harp and carp, Thomas,’ she says,
	‘O harp and carp, and go wi me;
	It’s be seven years, Thomas, and a day,
	Or you see man or woman in your ain countrie.’
37B.6	It’s she has rode, and Thomas ran,
	Until they cam to yon water clear;
	He’s coosten off his hose and shon,
	And he’s wooden the water up to the knee.
37B.7	It’s she has rode, and Thomas ran,
	Until they cam to yon garden green;
	He’s put up his hand for to pull down ane,
	For the lack o food he was like to tyne.
37B.8	‘Hold your hand, Thomas,’ she says,
	‘Hold your hand, that must not be;
	It was a’ that cursed fruit o thine
	Beggared man and woman in your countrie.
37B.9	‘But I have a loaf and a soup o wine,
	And ye shall go and dine wi me;
	And lay yer head down in my lap,
	And I will tell ye farlies three.
37B.10	‘It’s dont ye see yon broad broad way,
	That leadeth down by yon skerry fell?
	It’s ill’s the man that dothe thereon gang,
	For it leadeth him straight to the gates o hell.
37B.11	‘It’s dont ye see yon narrow way,
	That leadeth down by yon lillie lea?
	It’s weel’s the man that doth therein gang,
	For it leads him straight to the heaven hie.’
	* * * * *
37B.12	It’s when she cam into the hall-+-
	I wat a weel bred man was he-+-
	They’ve asked him question[s], one and all,
	But he answered none but that fair ladie.
37B.13	O they speerd at her where she did him get,
	And she told them at the Eildon tree;
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .


		 Child 37C: Thomas Rymer

37C.1	TRUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
	A ferlie he spied wi’ his ee,
	And there he saw a lady bright,
	Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
37C.2	Her shirt was o the grass-green silk,
	Her mantle o the velvet fyne,
	At ilka tett of her horse’s mane
	Hang fifty siller bells and nine.
37C.3	True Thomas, he pulld aff his cap,
	And louted low down to his knee:
	‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
	For thy peer on earth I never did see.’
37C.4	‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said,
	‘That name does not belang to me;
	I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
	That am hither come to visit thee.
37C.5	‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said,
	‘Harp and carp along wi me,
	And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
	Sure of your bodie I will be.’
37C.6	‘Betide me weal, betide me woe,
	That weird shall never daunton me;’
	Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
	All underneath the Eildon Tree.
37C.7	‘Now, ye maun go wi me,’ she said,
	‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
	And ye maun serve me seven years,
	Thro weal or woe, as may chance to be.’
37C.8	She mounted on her milk-white steed,
	She’s taen True Thomas up behind,
	And aye wheneer her bridle rung,
	The steed flew swifter than the wind.
37C.9	O they rade on, and farther on-+-
	The steed gaed swifter than the wind-+-
	Untill they reached a desart wide,
	And living land was left behind.
37C.10	‘Light down, light down, now, True Thomas,
	And lean your head upon my knee;
	Abide and rest a little space,
	And I will shew you ferlies three.
37C.11	‘O see ye not yon narrow road,
	So thick beset with thorns and briers?
	That is the path of righteousness,
	Tho after it but few enquires.
37C.12	‘And see not ye that braid braid road,
	That lies across that lily leven?
	That is the path of wickedness,
	Tho some call it the road to heaven.
37C.13	‘And see not ye that bonny road,
	That winds about the fernie brae?
	That is the road to fair Elfland,
	Where thou and I this night maun gae.
37C.14	‘But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
	Whatever ye may hear or see,
	For, if you speak word in Elflyn land,
	Ye’ll neer get back to your ain countrie.’
37C.15	O they rade on, and farther on,
	And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee,
	And they saw neither sun nor moon,
	But they heard the roaring of the sea.
37C.16	It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,
	And they waded thro red blude to the knee;
	For a’ the blude that’s shed on earth
	Rins thro the springs o that countrie.
37C.17	Syne they came on to a garden green,
	And she pu’d an apple frae a tree:
	‘Take this for thy wages, True Thomas,
	It will give the tongue that can never lie.’
37C.18	‘My tongue is mine ain,’ True Thomas said;
	‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
	I neither dought to buy nor sell,
	At fair or tryst where I may be.
37C.19	‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
	Nor ask of grace from fair ladye:’
	‘Now hold thy peace,’ the lady said,
	‘For as I say, so must it be.’
37C.20	He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
	And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
	And till seven years were gane and past
	True Thomas on earth was never seen.



		 Child 38A: The Wee Wee Man

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


		 Child 38B: The Wee Wee Man

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


		 Child 38C: The Wee Wee Man

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


		 Child 38D: The Wee Wee Man

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


		 Child 38E: The Wee Wee Man

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


		 Child 38F: The Wee Wee Man

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


		 Child 38G: The Wee Wee Man

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



			 Child 39A: Tam Lin

39A.1	O I FORBID you, maidens a’,
	That wear gowd on your hair,
	To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
	For young Tam Lin is there.
39A.2	There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
	But they leave him a wad,
	Either their rings, or green mantles,
	Or else their maidenhead.
39A.3	Janet has kilted her green kirtle
	A little aboon her knee,
	And she has broded her yellow hair
	A little aboon her bree,
	And she’s awa to Carterhaugh,
	As fast as she can hie.
39A.4	When she came to Carterhaugh
	Tam Lin was at the well,
	And there she fand his steed standing,
	But away was himsel.
39A.5	She had na pu’d a double rose,
	A rose but only twa,
	Till up then started young Tam Lin,
	Says, Lady, thou’s pu nae mae.
39A.6	Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet,
	And why breaks thou the wand?
	Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh
	Withoutten my command?
39A.7	‘Carterhaugh, it is my ain,
	My daddie gave it me;
	I’ll come and gang by Carterhaugh,
	And ask nae leave at thee.’
	* * * * *
39A.8	Janet has kilted her green kirtle
	A little aboon her knee,
	And she has snooded her yellow hair
	A little aboon her bree,
	And she is to her father’s ha,
	As fast as she can hie.
39A.9	Four and twenty ladies fair
	Were playing at the ba,
	And out then cam the fair Janet,
	Ance the flower amang them a’.
39A.10	Four and twenty ladies fair
	Were playing at the chess,
	And out then cam the fair Janet,
	As green as onie glass.
39A.11	Out then spak an auld grey knight,
	Lay oer the castle wa,
	And says, Alas, fair Janet, for thee
	But we’ll be blamed a’.
39A.12	‘Haud your tongue, ye auld fac’d knight,
	Some ill death may ye die!
	Father my bairn on whom I will,
	I’ll father nane on thee.’
39A.13	Out then spak her father dear,
	And he spak meek and mild;
	‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says,
	‘I think thou gaes wi child.’
39A.14	‘If that I gae wi child, father,
	Mysel maun bear the blame;
	There’s neer a laird about your ha
	Shall get the bairn’s name.
39A.15	‘If my love were an earthly knight,
	As he’s an elfin grey,
	I wad na gie my ain true-love
	For nae lord that ye hae.
39A.16	‘The steed that my true-love rides on
	Is lighter than the wind;
	Wi siller he is shod before,
	Wi burning gowd behind.’
39A.17	Janet has kilted her green kirtle
	A little aboon her knee,
	And she has snooded her yellow hair
	A little aboon her bree,
	And she’s awa to Carterhaugh,
	As fast as she can hie.
39A.18	When she cam to Carterhaugh,
	Tam Lin was at the well,
	And there she fand his steed standing,
	But away was himsel.
39A.19	She has na pu’d a double rose,
	A rose but only twa,
	Till up then started young Tam Lin,
	Says Lady, thou pu’s nae mae.
39A.20	Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet,
	Amang the groves sae green,
	And a’ to kill the bonie babe
	That we gat us between?
39A.21	‘O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,’ she says,
	‘For’s sake that died on tree,
	If eer ye was in holy chapel,
	Or chirstendom did see?’
39A.22	‘Roxbrugh he was my grandfather,
	Took me with him to bide,
	And ance it fell upon a day
	That wae did me betide.
39A.23	‘And ance it fell upon a day,
	A cauld day and a snell,
	When we were frae the hunting come,
	That frae my horse I fell;
	The Queen o Fairies she caught me,
	In yon green hill to dwell.
39A.24	‘And pleasant is the fairy land,
	But, an eerie tale to tell,
	Ay at the end of seven years
	We pay a tiend to hell;
	I am sae fair and fu o flesh,
	I’m feard it be mysel.
39A.25	‘But the night is Halloween, lady,
	The morn is Hallowday;
	Then win me, win me, an ye will,
	For weel I wat ye may.
39A.26	‘Just at the mirk and midnight hour
	The fairy folk will ride,
	And they that wad their true-love win,
	At Miles Cross they maun bide.’
39A.27	‘But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin,
	Or how my true-love know,
	Amang sae mony unco knights
	The like I never saw?’
39A.28	‘O first let pass the black, lady,
	And syne let pass the brown,
	But quickly run to the milk-white steed,
	Pu ye his rider down.
39A.29	‘For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed,
	And ay nearest the town;
	Because I was an earthly knight
	They gie me that renown.
39A.30	‘My right hand will be glovd, lady,
	My left hand will be bare,
	Cockt up shall my bonnet be,
	And kaimd down shall my hair,
	And thae’s the takens I gie thee,
	Nae doubt I will be there.
39A.31	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
	Into an esk and adder;
	But hold me fast, and fear me not,
	I am your bairn’s father.
39A.32	‘They’ll turn me to a bear sae grim,
	And then a lion bold;
	But hold me fast, and fear me not,
	As ye shall love your child.
39A.33	‘Again they’ll turn me in your arms
	To a red het gaud of airn;
	But hold me fast, and fear me not,
	I’ll do to you nae harm.
39A.34	‘And last they’ll turn me in your arms
	Into the burning gleed;
	Then throw me into well water,
	O throw me in wi speed.
39A.35	‘And then I’ll be your ain true-love,
	I’ll turn a naked knight;
	Then cover me wi your green mantle,
	And cover me out o sight.’
39A.36	Gloomy, gloomy was the night,
	And eerie was the way,
	As fair Jenny in her green mantle
	To Miles Cross she did gae.
39A.37	About the middle o the night
	She heard the bridles ring;
	This lady was as glad at that
	As any earthly thing.
39A.38	First she let the black pass by,
	And syne she let the brown;
	But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,
	And pu’d the rider down.
39A.39	Sae weel she minded whae he did say,
	And young Tam Lin did win;
	Syne coverd him wi her green mantle,
	As blythe’s a bird in spring.
39A.40	Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
	Out of a bush o broom:
	‘Them that has gotten young Tam Lin
	Has gotten a stately groom.’
39A.41	Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
	And an angry woman was she:
	‘Shame betide her ill-far’d face,
	And an ill death may she die,
	For she’s taen awa the boniest knight
	In a’ my companie.
39A.42	‘But had I kend, Tam Lin,’ she says,
	‘What now this night I see,
	I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,
	And put in twa een o tree.’


			 Child 39B: Tam Lin

39B.1	I FORBID ye, maidens a’,
	That wear goud on your gear,
	To come and gae by Carterhaugh,
	For young Tom Line is there.
39B.2	There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
	But they leave him a wad.
	Either their things or green mantles,
	Or else their maidenhead.
39B.3	But Janet has kilted her green kirtle
	A little above her knee,
	And she has broded her yellow hair
	A little above her bree,
	And she has gaen for Carterhaugh,
	As fast as she can hie.
39B.4	When she came to Carterhaugh
	Tom Line was at the well,
	And there she fand his steed standing,
	But away was himsell.
39B.5	She hadna pu’d a double rose,
	A rose but only twae,
	Till up then started young Tom Line,

	Says, Lady, thou’s pu nae mae.
39B.6	Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet?
	Why breaks thou the wand?
	Why comest thou to Carterhaugh
	Withouthen my command?
39B.7	‘Fair Carterhaugh it is my ain,
	My daddy gave it me;
	I’ll come and gae by Carterhaugh,
	And ask nae leave at thee.’
	* * * * *
39B.8	Janet has kilted her green kirtle
	A little aboon her knee,
	And she has snooded her yellow hair
	A little aboon her bree,
	And she is on to her father’s ha,
	As fast as she can hie.
39B.9	Four and twenty ladies fair
	Were playing at the ba,
	And out then came fair Janet,
	The flowr amang them a’.
39B.10	Four and twenty ladies fair
	Were playing at the chess,
	Out then came fair Janet,
	As green as ony glass.
39B.11	Out spak an auld grey-headed knight,
	Lay owre the castle wa,
	And says, Alas, fair Janet,
	For thee we’ll be blam’d a’.
39B.12	‘Had your tongue, you auld grey knight,
	Some ill dead may ye die!
	Father my bairn on whom I will,
	I’ll father nane on thee.’
39B.13	Out then spak her father dear,
	He spak baith thick and milde;
	‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says,
	‘I think ye gae wi childe.’
39B.14	‘If that I gae wi child, father,
	Mysell bears a’ the blame;
	There’s not a laird about your ha
	Shall get the bairnie’s name.
39B.15	‘If my lord were an earthly knight,
	As he’s an elfish grey,
	I wad na gie my ain true-love
	For nae lord that ye hae.’
39B.16	Janet has kilted her green kirtle
	A little aboon her knee,
	And she has snooded her yellow hair
	A little aboon her bree,
	And she’s away to Carterhaugh,
	As fast as she can hie.
39B.17	When she came to Carterhaugh,
	Tom Line was at the well,
	And there she faund his steed standing,
	But away was himsell.
39B.18	She hadna pu’d a double rose,
	A rose but only twae,
	Till up then started young Tom Line,
	Says, Lady, thou’s pu na mae.
39B.19	Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet,
	Out owr yon groves sae green,
	And a’ to kill your bonny babe,
	That we gat us between?
39B.20	‘O tell me, tell me, Tom,’ she says,
	‘For’s sake who died on tree,
	If eer ye were in holy chapel,
	Or christendom did see.’
39B.21	‘Roxburgh he was my grandfather,
	Took me with him to bide,
	And ance it fell upon a day
	That wae did me betide.
39B.22	‘Ance it fell upon a day,
	A cauld day and a snell,
	When we were frae the hunting come,
	That from my horse I fell.
39B.23	‘The Queen of Fairies she came by,
	Took me wi her to dwell,
	Evn where she has a pleasant land
	For those that in it dwell,
	But at the end o seven years,
	They pay their teind to hell.
39B.24	‘The night it is gude Halloween,
	The fairie folk do ride,
	And they that wad their true-love win,
	At Miles Cross they maun bide.’
39B.25	‘But how shall I thee ken, Thomas,
	Or how shall I thee knaw,
	Amang a pack o uncouth knights
	The like I never saw?’
39B.26	‘The first company that passes by,
	Say na, and let them gae;
	The next company that passes by,
	Say na, and do right sae;
	The third company that passes by,
	Then I’ll be ane o thae.
39B.27	‘Some ride upon a black, lady,
	And some ride on a brown,
	But I ride on a milk-white steed,
	And ay nearest the town:
	Because I was an earthly knight
	They gae me that renown.
39B.28	‘My right hand will be glovd, lady,
	My left hand will be bare,
	And thae’s the tokens I gie thee,
	Nae doubt I will be there.
39B.29	‘Then hie thee to the milk-white steed,
	And pu me quickly down,
	Cast thy green kirtle owr me,
	And keep me frae the rain.
39B.30	‘They’ll turn me in thy arms, lady,
	An adder and a snake;
	But hold me fast, let me na gae,
	To be your warldly mate.
39B.31	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
	A grey greyhound to girn;
	But hald me fast, let me na gae,
	The father o your bairn.
39B.32	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
	A red het gad o iron;
	Then haud me fast, and be na feard,
	I’ll do to you nae harm.
39B.33	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
	A mother-naked man;
	Cast your green kirtle owr me,
	To keep me frae the rain.
39B.34	‘First dip me in a stand o milk,
	And then a stand o water;
	Haud me fast, let me na gae,
	I’ll be your bairnie’s father.’
39B.35	Janet has kilted her green kirtle
	A little aboon her knee,
	And she has snooded her yellow hair
	A little aboon her bree,
	And she is on to Miles Cross,
	As fast as she can hie.
39B.36	The first company that passd by,
	She said na, and let them gae;
	The next company that passed by,
	She said na, and did right sae;
	The third company that passed by,
	Then he was ane o thae.
39B.37	She hied her to the milk-white steed,
	And pu’d him quickly down;
	She cast her green kirtle owr him,
	To keep him frae the rain;
	Then she did all was orderd her,
	And sae recoverd him.
39B.38	Then out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
	Out o a bush o broom:
	‘They that hae gotten young Tom Line
	Hae got a stately groom.’
39B.39	Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
	Out o a bush of rye:
	‘Them that has gotten young Tom Line
	Has the best knight in my company.
39B.40	‘Had I kend, Thomas,’ she says,
	‘A lady wad hae borrowd thee,
	I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,
	Put in twa een o tree.
39B.41	‘Had I but kend, Thomas,’ she says,
	‘Before I came frae hame,
	I had taen out that heart o flesh,
	Put in a heart o stane.’


			 Child 39C: Tam Lin

39C.1	* * * *
	SHE\R’\rS prickt hersell and prind hersell,
	By the ae light o the moon,
	And she’s awa to Kertonha,
	As fast as she can gang.
39C.2	‘What gars ye pu the rose, Jennet?
	What gars ye break the tree?
	What gars you gang to Kertonha
	Without the leave of me?’
39C.3	‘Yes, I will pu the rose, Thomas,
	And I will break the tree;
	For Kertonha shoud be my ain,
	Nor ask I leave of thee.’
39C.4	‘Full pleasant is the fairy land,
	And happy there to dwell;
	I am a fairy, lyth and limb,
	Fair maiden, view me well.
39C.5	‘O pleasant is the fairy land,
	How happy there to dwell!
	But ay at every seven years end
	We’re a’ dung down to hell.
39C.6	‘The morn is good Halloween,
	And our court a’ will ride;
	If ony maiden wins her man,
	Then she may be his bride.
39C.7	‘But first ye’ll let the black gae by,
	And then ye’ll let the brown;
	Then I’ll ride on a milk-white steed,
	You’ll pu me to the ground.
39C.8	‘And first, I’ll grow into your arms
	An esk but and an edder;
	Had me fast, let me not gang,
	I’ll be your bairn’s father.
39C.9	‘Next, I’ll grow into your arms
	A toad but and an eel;
	Had me fast, let me not gang,
	If you do love me leel.
39C.10	‘Last, I’ll grow into your arms
	A dove but and a swan;
	Then, maiden fair, you’ll let me go,
	I’ll be a perfect man.’
	* * * * *


			 Child 39D: Tam Lin

39D.1	O ALL you ladies young and gay,
	Who are so sweet and fair,
	Do not go into Chaster’s wood,
	For Tomlin will be there.
39D.2	Fair Margret sat in her bonny bower,
	Sewing her silken seam,
	And wished to be in Chaster’s wood,
	Among the leaves so green.
39D.3	She let her seam fall to her foot,
	The needle to her toe,
	And she has gone to Chaster’s wood,
	As fast as she could go.
39D.4	When she began to pull the flowers,
	She pulld both red and green;
	Then by did come, and by did go,
	Said, Fair maid, let aleene.
39D.5	‘O why pluck you the flowers, lady,
	Or why climb you the tree?
	Or why come ye to Chaster’s wood
	Without the leave of me?’
39D.6	‘O I will pull the flowers,’ she said,
	‘Or I will break the tree,
	For Chaster’s wood it is my own,
	I’ll no ask leave at thee.’
39D.7	He took her by the milk-white hand,
	And by the grass green sleeve,
	And laid her low down on the flowers,
	At her he asked no leave.
39D.8	The lady blushed, and sourly frowned,
	And she did think great shame;
	Says, ’if you are a gentleman,
	You will tell me your name.’
39D.9	‘First they did call me Jack,’ he said,
	‘And then they called me John,
	But since I lived in the fairy court
	Tomlin has always been my name.
39D.10	‘So do not pluck that flower, lady,
	That has these pimples gray;
	They would destroy the bonny babe
	That we’ve got in our play.’
39D.11	‘O tell me, Tomlin,’ she said,
	‘And tell it to me soon,
	Was you ever at good church-door,
	Or got you christendoom?’
39D.12	‘O I have been at good church-door,
	And aff her yetts within;
	I was the Laird of Foulis’s son,
	The heir of all this land.
39D.13	‘But it fell once upon a day,
	As hunting I did ride,
	As I rode east and west yon hill
	There woe did me betide.
39D.14	‘O drowsy, drowsy as I was!
	Dead sleep upon me fell;
	The Queen of Fairies she was there,
	And took me to hersell.
39D.15	‘The Elfins is a pretty place,
	In which I love to dwell,
	But yet at every seven years’ end
	The last here goes to hell;
	And as I am ane o flesh and blood,
	I fear the next be mysell.
39D.16	‘The morn at even is Halloween;
	Our fairy court will ride,
	Throw England and Scotland both,
	Throw al the world wide;
	And if ye would me borrow,
	At Rides Cross ye may bide.
39D.17	‘You may go into the Miles Moss,
	Between twelve hours and one;
	Take holy water in your hand,
	And cast a compass round.
39D.18	‘The first court that comes along,
	You’ll let them all pass by;
	The next court that comes along,
	Salute them reverently.
39D.19	‘The next court that comes along
	Is clad in robes of green,
	And it’s the head court of them all,
	For in it rides the queen.
39D.20	‘And I upon a milk-white steed,
	With a gold star in my crown;
	Because I am an earthly man
	I’m next to the queen in renown.
39D.21	‘Then seize upon me with a spring,
	Then to the ground I’ll fa,
	And then you’ll hear a rueful cry
	That Tomlin is awa.
39D.22	‘Then I’ll grow in your arms two
	Like to a savage wild;
	But hold me fast, let me not go,
	I’m father of your child.
39D.23	‘I’ll grow into your arms two
	Like an adder or a snake;
	But hold me fast, let me not go,
	I’ll be your earthly maick.
39D.24	‘I’ll grow into your arms two
	Like iron in strong fire;
	But hold me fast, let me not go,
	Then you’ll have your desire.’
39D.25	She rid down to Miles Cross,
	Between twelve hours and one,
	Took holy water in her hand,
	And cast a compass round.
39D.26	The first court that came along,
	She let them all pass by;
	The next court that came along
	Saluted reverently.
39D.27	The next court that came along
	Were clad in robes of green,
	When Tomlin, on a milk-white steed,
	She saw ride with the queen.
39D.28	She seized him in her arms two,
	He to the ground did fa,
	And then she heard a ruefull cry
	‘Tomlin is now awa.’
39D.29	He grew into her arms two
	Like to a savage wild;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	The father of her child.
39D.30	He grew into her arms two
	Like an adder or a snake;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	He was her earthly maick.
39D.31	He grew into her arms two
	Like iron in hot fire;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	He was her heart’s desire.
39D.32	Then sounded out throw elphin court,
	With a loud shout and a cry,
	That the pretty maid of Chaster’s wood
	That day had caught her prey.
39D.33	‘O stay, Tomlin,’ cried Elphin Queen,
	‘Till I pay you your fee;’
	‘His father has lands and rents enough,
	He wants no fee from thee.’
39D.34	‘O had I known at early morn
	Tomlin would from me gone,
	I would have taken out his heart of flesh
	Put in a heart of stone.’


			 Child 39E: Tam Lin

39E.1	LADY MARGARET is over gravel green,
	And over gravel grey,
	And she’s awa to Charteris ha,
	Lang lang three hour or day.
39E.2	She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower,
	A flower but only ane,
	Till up and started young Tamlin,
	Says, Lady, let alane.
39E.3	She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower,
	A flower but only twa,
	Till up and started young Tamlene,
	Atween her and the wa.
39E.4	‘How daur you pu my flower, madam?
	How daur ye break my tree?
	How daur ye come to Charter’s ha,
	Without the leave of me?’
39E.5	‘Weel I may pu the rose,’ she said,
	‘But I daurna break the tree;
	And Charter’s ha is my father’s,
	And I’m his heir to be.’
39E.6	‘If Charteris ha be thy father’s,
	I was ance as gude mysell;
	But as I came in by Lady Kirk,
	And in by Lady Well,
39E.7	‘Deep and drowsy was the sleep
	On my poor body fell;
	By came the Queen of Faery,
	Made me with her to dwell.
39E.8	‘But the morn at een is Halloween,
	Our fairy foks a’ do ride;
	And she that will her true-love win,
	At Blackstock she must bide.
39E.9	‘First let by the black,’ he said,
	‘And syne let by the brown;
	But when you see the milk-white steed,
	You’ll pull his rider down.
39E.10	‘You’ll pull him into thy arms,
	Let his bricht bridle fa,
	And he’ll fa low into your arms
	Like stone in castle’s wa.
39E.11	‘They’ll first shape him into your arms
	An adder or a snake;
	But hold him fast, let him not go,
	He’ll be your world’s make.
39E.12	‘They’ll next shape him into your arms
	Like a wood black dog to bite;
	Hold him fast, let him not go,
	For he’ll be your heart’s delight.
39E.13	‘They’ll next shape [him] into your arms
	Like a red-het gaud o airn;
	But hold him fast, let him not go,
	He’s the father o your bairn.
39E.14	‘They’ll next shape him into your arms
	Like the laidliest worm of Ind;
	But hold him fast, let him not go,
	And cry aye "[Young Tamlin."]’
	* * * * *
39E.15	Lady Margaret first let by the black,
	And syne let by the brown,
	But when she saw the milk-white steed
	She pulled the rider down.
39E.16	She pulled him into her arms,
	Let his bright bridle fa’,
	And he fell low into her arms,
	Like stone in castle’s wa.
39E.17	They first shaped him into arms
	An adder or a snake;
	But she held him fast, let him not go,
	For he’d be her warld’s make.
39E.18	They next shaped him into her arms
	Like a wood black dog to bite;
	But she held him fast, let him not go,
	For he’d be her heart’s delight.
39E.19	They next shaped him into her arms
	Like a red-het gaud o airn;
	But she held him fast, let him not go,
	He’d be father o her bairn.
39E.20	They next shaped him into her arms
	Like the laidliest worm of Ind;
	But she held him fast, let him not go,
	And cried aye ‘Young Tamlin.’
39E.21	The Queen of Faery turned her horse about,
	Says, Adieu to thee, Tamlene!
	For if I had kent what I ken this night,
	If I had kent it yestreen,
	I wad hae taen out thy heart o flesh,
	And put in a heart o stane.


			 Child 39F: Tam Lin

39F.1	* * * *
	SHE\R’\rS taen her petticoat by the band,
	Her mantle owre her arm,
	And she’s awa to Chester wood,
	As fast as she could run.
39F.2	She scarsely pulled a rose, a rose,
	She scarse pulled two or three,
	Till up there starts Thomas
	On the Lady Margaret’s knee.
39F.3	She’s taen her petticoat by the band,
	Her mantle owre her arm,
	And Lady Margaret’s gane hame agen,
	As fast as she could run.
39F.4	Up starts Lady Margaret’s sister,
	An angry woman was she:
	‘If there ever was a woman wi child,
	Margaret, you are wi!’
39F.5	Up starts Lady Margaret’s mother,
	An angry woman was she:
	‘There grows ane herb in yon kirk-yard
	That will scathe the babe away.’
39F.6	She took her petticoats by the band,
	Her mantle owre her arm,
	And she’s gane to yon kirk-yard
	As fast as she could run.
39F.7	She scarcely pulled an herb, an herb,
	She scarse pulled two or three,
	Till up starts there Thomas
	Upon this Lady Margret’s knee.
39F.8	‘How dare ye pull a rose?’ he says,
	‘How dare ye break the tree?
	How dare ye pull this herb,’ he says,
	‘To scathe my babe away?
39F.9	‘This night is Halloweve,’ he said,
	‘Our court is going to waste,
	And them that loves their true-love best
	At Chester bridge they’ll meet.
39F.10	‘First let pass the black,’ he says,
	‘And then let pass the brown,
	But when ye meet the milk-white steed,
	Pull ye the rider down.
39F.11	‘They’ll turn me to an eagle,’ he says,
	‘And then into an ass;
	Come, hold me fast, and fear me not,
	The man that you love best.
39F.12	‘They’ll turn me to a flash of fire,
	And then to a naked man;
	Come, wrap you your mantle me about,
	And then you’ll have me won.’
39F.13	She took her petticoats by the band,
	Her mantle owre her arm,
	And she’s awa to Chester bridge,
	As fast as she could run.
39F.14	And first she did let pass the black,
	And then let pass the brown,
	But when she met the milk-white steed,
	She pulled the rider down.
39F.15	They turned him in her arms an eagle,
	And then into an ass;
	But she held him fast, and feared him not,
	The man that she loved best.
39F.16	They turned him into a flash of fire,
	And then into a naked man;
	But she wrapped her mantle him about,
	And then she had him won.
39F.17	‘O wae be to ye, Lady Margaret,
	And an ill death may you die,
	For you’ve robbed me of the bravest knight
	That eer rode in our company.’


			 Child 39G: Tam Lin

39G.1	TAKE warning, a’ ye ladies fair,
	That wear gowd on your hair,
	Come never unto Charter’s woods,
	For Tam-a-line he’s there.
39G.2	Even about that knight’s middle
	O’ siller bells are nine;
	Nae ane comes to Charter wood,
	And a maid returns again.
39G.3	Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,
	Sewing at her silken seam;
	And she langd to gang to Charter woods,
	To pou the roses green.
39G.4	She hadna poud a rose, a rose,
	Nor broken a branch but ane,
	Till by it came him true Tam-a-line,
	Says, Ladye, lat alane.
39G.5	O why pou ye the rose, the rose?
	Or why brake ye the tree?
	Or why come ye to Charter woods,
	Without leave askd of me?
39G.6	‘I will pou the rose, the rose,
	And I will brake the tree;
	Charter woods are a’ my ain,
	I’ll ask nae leave o thee.’
39G.7	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	And by the grass-green sleeve,
	And laid her low on gude green wood,
	At her he spierd nae leave.
39G.8	When he had got his wills of her,
	His wills as he had taen,
	He’s taen her by the middle sma,
	Set her to feet again.
39G.9	She turnd her right and round about,
	To spier her true-love’s name,
	But naething heard she, nor naething saw,
	As a’ the woods grew dim.
39G.10	Seven days she tarried there,
	Saw neither sun nor meen;
	At length, by a sma glimmering light,
	Came thro the wood her lane.
39G.11	When she came to her father’s court,
	As fine as ony queen;
	But when eight months were past and gane,
	Got on the gown o’ green.
39G.12	Then out it speaks an eldren knight,
	As he stood at the yett:
	‘Our king’s daughter, she gaes wi bairn,
	And we’ll get a’ the wyte.’
39G.13	‘O had your tongue, ye eldren man,
	And bring me not to shame;
	Although that I do gang wi bairn,
	Yese naeways get the blame.
39G.14	‘Were my love but an earthly man,
	As he’s an elfin knight,
	I woudna gie my ain true love
	For a’ that’s in my sight.’
39G.15	Then out it speaks her brither dear,
	He meant to do her harm:
	‘There is an herb in Charter wood
	Will twine you an the bairn.’
39G.16	She’s taen her mantle her about,
	Her coffer by the band,
	And she is on to Charter wood,
	As fast as she coud gang.
39G.17	She hadna poud a rose, a rose,
	Nor braken a branch but ane,
	Till by it came him Tam-a-Line,
	Says, Ladye, lat alane.
39G.18	O why pou ye the pile, Margaret,
	The pile o the gravil green,
	For to destroy the bonny bairn
	That we got us between?
39G.19	O why pou ye the pile, Margaret,
	The pile o the gravil gray,
	For to destroy the bonny bairn
	That we got in our play?
39G.20	For if it be a knave-bairn,
	He’s heir o a’ my land;
	But if it be a lass-bairn,
	In red gowd she shall gang.
39G.21	‘If my luve were an earthly man,
	As he’s an elfin rae,
	I coud gang bound, love, for your sake,
	A twalmonth and a day.’
39G.22	‘Indeed your love’s an earthly man,
	The same as well as thee,
	And lang I’ve haunted Charter woods,
	A’ for your fair bodie.’
39G.23	‘O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,
	O tell, an tell me true,
	Tell me this night, an mak nae lie,
	What pedigree are you?’
39G.24	‘O I hae been at gude church-door,
	An I’ve got christendom;
	I’m the Earl o’ Forbes’ eldest son,
	An heir ower a’ his land.
39G.25	‘When I was young, o three years old,
	Muckle was made o me;
	My step-mother put on my claithes,
	An ill, ill sained she me.
39G.26	‘Ae fatal morning I went out,
	Dreading nae injury,
	And thinking lang, fell soun asleep,
	Beneath an apple tree.
39G.27	‘Then by it came the Elfin Queen,
	And laid her hand on me;
	And from that time since ever I mind,
	I’ve been in her companie.
39G.28	‘O Elfin it’s a bonny place,
	In it fain woud I dwell;
	But ay at ilka seven years’ end
	They pay a tiend to hell,
	And I’m sae fou o flesh an blude,
	I’m sair feard for mysell.’
39G.29	‘O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,
	O tell, an tell me true;
	Tell me this night, an mak nae lie,
	What way I’ll borrow you?’
39G.30	‘The morn is Halloweven night,
	The elfin court will ride,
	Through England, and thro a’ Scotland,
	And through the world wide.
39G.31	‘O they begin at sky setting,
	Rides a’ the evening tide;
	And she that will her true-love borrow,
	[At] Miles-corse will him bide.
39G.32	‘Ye’ll do you down to Miles-corse,
	Between twall hours and ane,
	And full your hands o holy water,
	And cast your compass roun.
39G.33	‘Then the first an court that comes you till
	Is published king and queen;
	The next an court that comes you till,
	It is maidens mony ane.
39G.34	‘The next an court that comes you till
	Is footmen, grooms and squires;
	The next an court that comes you till
	Is knights, and I’ll be there.
39G.35	‘I Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,
	A goud star on my crown;
	Because I was an earthly knight,
	Got that for a renown.
39G.36	‘And out at my steed’s right nostril,
	He’ll breathe a fiery flame;
	Ye’ll loot you low, and sain yoursel,
	And ye’ll be busy then.
39G.37	‘Ye’ll take my horse then by the head,
	And lat the bridal fa;
	The Queen o’ Elfin she’ll cry out,
	True Tam-a-Line’s awa.
39G.38	‘Then I’ll appear in your arms
	Like the wolf that neer woud tame;
	Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
	Case we neer meet again.
39G.39	‘Then I’ll appear in your arms
	Like the fire that burns sae bauld;
	Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
	I’ll be as iron cauld.
39G.40	‘Then I’ll appear in your arms
	Like the adder an the snake;
	Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
	I am your warld’s make.
39G.41	‘Then I’ll appear in your arms
	Like to the deer sae wild;
	Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
	And I’ll father your child.
39G.42	‘And I’ll appear in your arms
	Like to a silken string;
	Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
	Till ye see the fair morning.
39G.43	‘And I’ll appear in your arms
	Like to a naked man;
	Ye’ll had me fast, lat me not go,
	And wi you I’ll gae hame.’
39G.44	Then she has done her to Miles-corse,
	Between twall hours an ane,
	And filled her hands o holy water,
	And kiest her compass roun.
39G.45	The first an court that came her till
	Was published king and queen;
	The niest an court that came her till
	Was maidens mony ane.
39G.46	The niest an court that came her till
	Was footmen, grooms and squires;
	The niest an court that came her till
	Was knights, and he was there.
39G.47	True Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,
	A gowd star on his crown;
	Because he was an earthly man,
	Got that for a renown.
39G.48	And out at the steed’s right nostril,
	He breathd a fiery flame;
	She loots her low, an sains hersell,
	And she was busy then.
39G.49	She’s taen the horse then by the head,
	And loot the bridle fa;
	The Queen o Elfin she cried out,
	‘True Tam-a-Line’s awa.’
39G.50	‘Stay still, true Tam-a-Line,’ she says,
	‘Till I pay you your fee:’
	‘His father wants not lands nor rents,
	He’ll ask nae fee frae thee.’
39G.51	‘Gin I had kent yestreen, yestreen,
	What I ken weel the day,
	I shoud taen your fu fause heart,
	Gien you a heart o clay.’
39G.52	Then he appeared in her arms
	Like the wolf that neer woud tame;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	Case they neer meet again.
39G.53	Then he appeared in her arms
	Like the fire burning bauld;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	He was as iron cauld.
39G.54	And he appeared in her arms
	Like the adder an the snake;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	He was her warld’s make.
39G.55	And he appeared in her arms
	Like to the deer sae wild;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	He’s father o her child.
39G.56	And he appeared in her arms
	Like to a silken string;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	Till she saw fair morning.
39G.57	And he appeared in her arms
	Like to a naked man;
	She held him fast, let him not go,
	And wi her he’s gane hame.
39G.58	These news hae reachd thro a’ Scotland,
	And far ayont the Tay,
	That Lady Margaret, our king’s daughter,
	That night had gaind her prey.
39G.59	She borrowed her love at mirk midnight,
	Bare her young son ere day,
	And though ye’d search the warld wide,
	Ye’ll nae find sic a may.


			 Child 39H: Tam Lin

39H.1	I FORBID ye, maidens a’,
	That wears gowd in your hair,
	To come or gang by Carterhaugh,
	For young Tam Lane is there.
39H.2	I forbid ye, maidens a’,
	That wears gowd in your green,
	To come or gang by Carterhaugh,
	For fear of young Tam Lane.
39H.3	‘Go saddle for me the black,’ says Janet,
	‘Go saddle for me the brown,
	And I’ll away to Carterhaugh,
	And flower mysell the gown.
39H.4	‘Go saddle for me the brown,’ says Janet,
	‘Go saddle for me the black,
	And I’ll away to Carterhaugh,
	And flower mysel a hat.’
	* * * * *
39H.5	She had not pulld a flowr, a flowr,
	A flower but only three,
	Till up there startit young Tam Lane,
	Just at bird Janet’s knee.
39H.6	‘Why pullst thou the herb, Janet,
	And why breaks thou the tree?
	Why put you back the bonny babe
	That’s between you and me?’
39H.7	‘If my child was to an earthly man,
	As it is to a wild buck rae,
	I would wake him the length of the winter’s night,
	And the lea lang simmer’s day.’
39H.8	‘The night is Halloween, Janet,
	When our gude neighbours will ride,
	And them that would their true-love won
	At Blackning Cross maun bide.
39H.9	‘Many will the black ride by,
	And many will the brown,
	But I ride on a milk-white steed,
	And ride nearest the town:
	Because I was a christened knight
	They gie me that renown.
39H.10	‘Many will the black ride by,
	But far mae will the brown;
	But when ye see the milk-white stead,
	Grip fast and pull me down.
39H.11	‘Take me in yer arms, Janet,
	An ask, an adder lang;
	The grip ye get ye maun haud fast,
	I’ll be father to your bairn.
39H.12	‘Take me in your arms, Janet,
	An adder and a snake;
	The grip ye get ye maun haud fast,
	I’ll be your warld’s make.’
	* * * * *
39H.13	Up bespak the Queen of Fairies,
	She spak baith loud and high:
	‘Had I kend the day at noon
	Tam Lane had been won from me,
39H.14	‘I wad hae taen out his heart o flesh,
	Put in a heart o tree,
	That a’ the maids o Middle Middle Mist
	Should neer hae taen Tam Lane frae me.’
39H.15	Up bespack the Queen of Fairies,
	And she spak wi a loud yell:
	‘Aye at every seven year’s end
	We pay the kane to hell.
	And the koors they hae gane round about,
	And I fear it will be mysel.’


			 Child 39I: Tam Lin

39I.1	‘O I FORBID ye, maidens a’,
	That wear gowd on your hair,
	To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
	For young Tamlane is there.
39I.2	‘There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
	But maun leave him a wad,
	Either gowd rings, or green mantles,
	Or else their maidenheid.
39I.3	‘Now gowd rings ye may buy, maidens,
	Green mantles ye may spin,
	But, gin ye lose your maidenheid,
	Ye’ll neer get that agen.’
39I.4	But up then spak her, fair Janet,
	The fairest o a’ her kin:
	‘I’ll cum and gang to Carterhaugh,
	And ask nae leave o him.’
39I.5	Janet has kilted her green kirtle
	A little abune her knee,
	And she has braided her yellow hair
	A little abune her bree.
39I.6	And when she came to Carterhaugh,
	She gaed beside the well,
	And there she fand his steed standing,
	But away was himsell.
39I.7	She hadna pu’d a red red rose,
	A rose but barely three,
	Till up and starts a wee wee man,
	At lady Janet’s knee.
39I.8	Says, Why pu ye the rose, Janet?
	What gars ye break the tree?
	Or why come ye to Carterhaugh,
	Withouten leave o me?
39I.9	Says, Carterhaugh it is mine ain,
	My daddie gave it me;
	I’ll come and gang to Carterhaugh,
	And ask nae leave o thee.
39I.10	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	Among the leaves sae green,
	And what they did I cannot tell,
	The green leaves were between.
39I.11	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	Among the roses red,
	And what they did I cannot say,
	She neer returnd a maid.
39I.12	When she cam to her father’s ha,
	She looked pale and wan;
	They thought she’d dreed some sair sickness,
	Or been with some leman.
39I.13	She didna comb her yellow hair
	Nor make meikle o her head,
	And ilka thing that lady took
	Was like to be her deid.
39I.14	It’s four and twenty ladies fair
	Were playing at the ba;
	Janet, the wightest of them anes,
	Was faintest o them a’.
39I.15	Four and twenty ladies fair
	Were playing at the chess;
	And out there came the fair Janet,
	As green as any grass.
39I.16	Out and spak an auld grey-headed knight,
	Lay oer the castle wa:
	‘And ever, alas! for thee, Janet,
	But we’ll be blamed a’!’
39I.17	‘Now haud your tongue, ye auld grey knight,
	And an ill deid may ye die!
	Father my bairn on whom I will,
	I’ll father nane on thee.’
39I.18	Out then spak her father dear,
	And he spak meik and mild:
	‘And ever, alas! my sweet Janet,
	I fear ye gae with child.’
39I.19	‘And if I be with child, father,
	Mysell maun bear the blame;
	There’s neer a knight about your ha
	Shall hae the bairnie’s name.
39I.20	‘And if I be with child, father,
	’Twill prove a wondrous birth,
	For weel I swear I’m not wi bairn
	To any man on earth.
39I.21	‘If my love were an earthly knight,
	As he’s an elfin grey,
	I wadna gie my ain true love
	For nae lord that ye hae.’
39I.22	She prinkd hersell and prinnd hersell,
	By the ae light of the moon,
	And she’s away to Carterhaugh,
	To speak wi young Tamlane.
39I.23	And when she cam to Carterhaugh,
	She gaed beside the well,
	And there she saw the steed standing,
	But away was himsell.
39I.24	She hadna pu’d double rose,
	A rose but only twae,
	When up and started young Tamlane,
	Says, Lady, thou pu’s nae mae.
39I.25	Why pu ye the rose, Janet,
	Within this garden grene,
	And a’ to kill the bonny babe
	That we got us between?
39I.26	‘The truth ye’ll tell to me, Tamlane,
	A word ye mauna lie;
	Gin eer ye was in haly chapel,
	Or sained in Christentie?’
39I.27	‘The truth I’ll tell to thee, Janet,
	A word I winna lie;
	A knight me got, and a lady me bore,
	As well as they did thee.
39I.28	‘Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire,
	Dunbar, Earl March, is thine;
	We loved when we were children small,
	Which yet you well may mind.
39I.29	‘When I was a boy just turnd of nine,
	My uncle sent for me,
	To hunt and hauk, and ride with him,
	And keep him companie.
39I.30	‘There came a wind out of the north,
	A sharp wind and a snell,
	And a deep sleep came over me,
	And frae my horse I fell.
39I.31	‘The Queen of Fairies keppit me
	In yon green hill to dwell,
	And I’m a fairy, lyth and limb,
	Fair ladye, view me well.
39I.32	‘Then would I never tire, Janet,
	In Elfish land to dwell,
	But aye, at every seven years,
	They pay the teind to hell;
	And I am sae fat and fair of flesh,
	I fear ’twill be mysell.
39I.33	‘This night is Halloween, Janet,
	The morn is Hallowday,
	And gin ye dare your true love win,
	Ye hae nae time to stay.
39I.34	‘The night it is good Halloween,
	When fairy folk will ride,
	And they that wad their true-love win,
	At Miles Cross they maun bide.’
39I.35	‘But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane?
	Or how shall I thee knaw,
	Amang so many unearthly knights,
	The like I never saw?’
39I.36	‘The first company that passes by,
	Say na, and let them gae;
	The next company that passes by,
	Say na, and do right sae;
	The third company that passes by,
	Then I’ll be ane o thae.
39I.37	‘First let pass the black, Janet,
	And syne let pass the brown,
	But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
	And pu the rider down.
39I.38	‘For I ride on the milk-white steed,
	And aye nearest the town;
	Because I was a christend knight,
	They gave me that renown.
39I.39	‘My right hand will be gloved, Janet,
	My left hand will be bare;
	And these the tokens I gie thee,
	Nae doubt I will be there.
39I.40	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
	An adder and a snake;
	But had me fast, let me not pass,
	Gin ye wad be my maik.
39I.41	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
	An adder and an ask;
	They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
	A bale that burns fast.
39I.42	‘They’ll turn me in your arms, Janet,
	A red-hot gad o airn;
	But haud me fast, let me not pass,
	For I’ll do you no harm.
39I.43	‘First dip me in a stand o milk,
	And then in a stand o water;
	But had me fast, let me not pass,
	I’ll be your bairn’s father.
39I.44	‘And next they’ll shape me in your arms
	A tod but and an eel;
	But had me fast, nor let me gang,
	As you do love me weel.
39I.45	‘They’ll shape me in your arms, Janet,
	A dove but and a swan,
	And last they’ll shape me in your arms
	A mother-naked man;
	Cast your green mantle over me,
	I’ll be myself again.’
39I.46	Gloomy, gloomy, was the night,
	And eiry was the way,
	As fair Janet, in her green mantle,
	To Miles Cross she did gae.
39I.47	About the dead hour o the night
	She heard the bridles ring,
	And Janet was as glad o that
	As any earthly thing.
39I.48	And first gaed by the black black steed,
	And then gaed by the brown;
	But fast she gript the milk-white steed,
	And pu’d the rider down.
39I.49	She pu’d him frae the milk-white steed,
	And loot the bridle fa,
	And up there raise an erlish cry,
	‘He’s won amang us a’!’
39I.50	They shaped him in fair Janet’s arms
	An esk but and an adder;
	She held him fast in every shape,
	To be her bairn’s father.
39I.51	They shaped him in her arms at last
	A mother-naked man,
	She wrapt him in her green mantle,
	And sae her true love wan.
39I.52	Up then spake the Queen o Fairies,
	Out o a bush o broom:
	‘She that has borrowd young Tamlane
	Has gotten a stately groom.’
39I.53	Up then spake the Queen o Fairies,
	Out o a bush o rye:
	‘She’s taen awa the bonniest knight
	In a’ my cumpanie.
39I.54	‘But had I kennd, Tamlane,’ she says,
	‘A lady wad borrowd thee
	I wad taen out thy twa grey een,
	Put in twa een o tree.
39I.55	‘Had I but kennd, Tamlane,’ she says,
	‘Before ye came frae hame,
	I wad taen out your heart o flesh,
	Put in a heart o stane.
39I.56	‘Had I but had the wit yestreen
	That I hae coft the day,
	I’d paid my kane seven times to hell
	Ere you’d been won away.’


			 Child 39[J]: Tam Lin

39[J.1]	* * * *
	‘The night, the night is Halloween,
	Tommorow’s Hallowday,
 . . . . . .
	. . . . . .
39[J.2]	‘The night, the night is Halloween,
	Our seely court maun ride,
	Thro England and thro Ireland both,
	And a’ the warld wide.
	* * * * *
39[J.3]	‘The firsten court that comes ye bye,
	You’ll lout, and let them gae;
	The seconden court that comes you bye,
	You’ll hail them reverently.
39[J.4]	‘The thirden court that comes you by,
	Sae weel’s ye will me ken,
	For some will be on a black, a black,
	And some will be on a brown,
	But I will be on a bluid-red steed,
	And will ride neist the queen.
39[J.5]	‘The thirden court that comes you bye,
	Sae weel’s ye will me ken,
	For I’ll be on a bluid-red steed,
	Wi three stars on his crown.
39[J.6]	‘Ye’ll tak the horse head in yer hand,
	And grip the bridle fast;
	The Queen o Elfin will gie a cry,
	‘True Tamas is stown awa!’
39[J.7]	‘And I will grow in your twa hands
	And adder and an eel;
	But the grip ye get ye’ll hold it fast,
	I’ll be father to yer chiel.
39[J.8]	‘I will wax in your twa hans
	As hot as any coal;
	But if you love me as you say,
	You’ll think of me and thole.
39[J.9]	‘O I will grow in your twa hands
	An adder and a snake;
	The grip ye get now hold it fast,
	And I’ll be your world’s mait.
39[J.10]	‘O I’ll gae in at your gown sleeve,
	And out at your gown hem,
	And I’ll stand up before thee then
	A freely naked man.
39[J.11]	‘O I’ll gae in at your gown sleeve,
	And out at your gown hem,
	And I’ll stand before you then,
	But claithing I’ll hae nane.
39[J.12]	‘Ye’ll do you down to Carden’s Ha,
	And down to Carden’s stream,
	And there you’ll see our seely court,
	As they come riding hame.’
	* * * * *
39[J.13]	‘It’s nae wonder, my daughter Janet,
	Ture Tammas ye thought on;
	An he were a woman as he’s a man,
	My bedfellow he should be.’


			Child 39[J2]: Tam Lin

39[J2].1	The maid that sits in Katherine’s Hall,
	Clad in her robes so black,
	She has to yon garden gone,
	For flowers to flower her hat.
39[J2.2]	She had not pulled the red, red rose,
	A double rose but three,
	When up there starts a gentleman,
	Just at this lady’s knee.
39[J2.3]	Says, Who’s this pulls the red, red rose?
	Breaks branches off the tree?
	Or who’s this treads my garden-grass,
	Without the leave of me?
39[J2.4]	‘Yes, I will pull the red, red rose,
	Break branches off the tree,
	This garden in Moorcartney wood,
	Without the leave o thee.’
39[J2.5:	He took her by the milk-white hand
	And gently laid her down,
	Just in below some shady trees
	Where the green leaves hung down.
39[J2.6]	‘Come tell to me, kind sir,’ she said,
	‘What before you never told;
	Are you an earthly man?’ said she,
	‘A knight or a baron bold?’
39[J2.7]	‘I’ll tell to you, fair lady,’ he said,
	‘What before I neer did tell;
	I’m Earl Douglas’s second son,
	With the queen of the fairies I dwell.
39[J2.8]	‘When riding through yon forest-wood,
	And by yon grass-green well,
	A sudden sleep me overtook,
	And off my steed I fell.
39[J2.9]	Ther queen of the fairies, being there,
	Made me with her to dwell,
	And still once in the seven years
	We pay a teind to hell.
39[J2.10]	‘And because I am an earthly man,
	Myself doth greatly fear,
	For the cleverest man in all our train
	To Pluto must go this year.
39[J2.11]	‘This night is Halloween, lady,
	And the fairies they will ride;
	The maid that will her true-love win
	At Miles Cross she may bide.’
39[J2.12]	‘But how shall I thee ken, though, sir?
	Or how shall I thee know,
	Amang a pack o hellish wraiths,
	Before I never saw?’
39[J2.13]	‘Some rides upon a black horse, lady,
	And some upon a brown,

	But I myself on a milk-white steed,
	And I aye nearest the toun.
39[J2.14]	‘My right hand shall be covered, lady,
	My left hand shall be bare,
	And that’s a token good enough
	That you will find me there.
39[J2.15]	‘Take the Bible in your right hand,
	With God for to be your guide,
	Take holy water in thy left hand,
	And throw it on every side.’
39[J2.16]	She’s taen her mantle her about,
	A cane into her hand,
	And she has unto Miles Cross gone,
	As hard as she can gang.
39[J2.17]	First she has letten the black pass by,
	And then she has letten the brown,
	But she’s taen a fast hold o the milk-white steed,
	And she’s pulled Earl Thomas doun.
39[J2.18]	The queen of the fairies being there,
	Sae loud she’s letten a cry,
	‘The maid that sits in Katherine’s Hall
	This night has gotten her prey.
39[J2.19]	‘But hadst thou waited, fair lady,
	Till about this time the morn,
	He would hae been as far from thee or me
	As the wind that blew when he was born.’
39[J2.20]	They turned him in this lady’s arms
	Like the adder and the snake;
	She held him fast; why should she not?
	Though her poor heart was like to break.
39[J2.21]	They turned him in this lady’s arms
	Like two red gads of airn;
	She held him fast; why should she not?
	She knew they could do her no harm.
39[J2.22]	They turned him in this lady’s arms
	Like to all things that was vile;
	She held him fast; why should she not?
	The father of her child.
39[J2.23]	They turned him in this lady’s arms
	Like to a naked knight;
	She’s taen him hame to her ain bower,
	And clothed him in armour bright.


			 Child 39[K]: Tam Lin

39[K].1	Leady Margat stands in her boor-door,
	Clead in the robs of green;
	She longed to go to Charters Woods,
	To pull the flowers her lean.
39[K.2]	She had not puld a rose, a rose,
	O not a rose but one,
	Till up it starts True Thomas,
	Said, Leady, let alone.
39[K.3]	‘Why pull ye the rose, Marget?
	Or why break ye the tree?
	Or why come ye to Charters Woods
	Without the leave of me?’
39[K.4]	‘I will pull the rose,’ she said,
	‘And I will break the tree,
	For Charters Woods is all my own,
	And I’l ask no leave of the.’
39[K.5]	He’s tean her by the milk-white hand,
	And by the grass-green sleeve,
	And laid her lo at the foot of the tree,
	At her he askt no leave.
39[K.6]	It fell once upon a day
	They wer a pleaying at the ba,
	And every one was reed and whyte,
	Leady Marget’s culler was all awa.
39[K.7]	Out it speaks an elder man,
	As he stood in the gate,
	‘Our king’s daughter she gos we bern,
	And we will get the wait.’
39[K.8]	‘If I be we bern,’ she said,
	‘My own self beer the blame!
	There is not a man in my father’s court
	Will get my bern’s name.’
39[K.9]	‘There grows a flower in Charters Woods,
	It grows on gravel greay,
	It ould destroy the boney young bern
	That ye got in your pley.’
39[K.10]	She’s tean her mantle her about,
	Her green glove on her hand,
	And she’s awa to Charters Woods,
	As fest as she could gang.
39[K.11]	She had no puld a pile, a pile,
	O not a pile but one,
	Up it startid True Thomas,
	Said, Leady, lat alean.
39[K.12]	Why pull ye the pile, Marget,
	That grows on gravel green,
	For to destroy the boney young bern
	That we got us between?’
39[K.13]	‘If it were to an earthly man,
	As [it is] to an elphan knight,
	I ould walk for my true-love’s sake
	All the long winter’s night.’
39[K.14]	‘When I was a boy of eleven years old,
	And much was made of me,
	I went out to my father’s garden,
	Fell asleep at yon aple tree:
	The queen of Elphan [she] came by,
	And laid on her hands on me.
39[K.15]	‘Elphan it’s a boney place,
	In it fain wid I dwall;
	But ey at every seven years end
	We pay the teene to hell:
	I’m so full of flesh and blood
	I’m sear feart for mysel.
39[K.16]	‘The morn’s Hallow Even’s night,
	When a’ our courts do ride,
	Through England and through Irland,
	Through a’ the world wide:
	And she that would her true-love borrow
	At Miles Corse she may bide.
39[K.17]	‘The first an court that ye come till,
	Ye let them a’ pass by;
	The next an court that ye come till,
	Ye hile them reverendly.
39[K.18]	‘The next an court the ye come till,
	An therein rides the queen,
	Me upon a milk-whyte steed,
	And a gold star in my croun;
	Because I am a erle’s soon,
	I get that for my renoun.
39[K.19]	‘Ye take me in your armes,
	Give me a right sear fa;
	The queen of Elphan she’l cry out,
	True Thomas is awa!
39[K.20]	‘First I’l be in your armes
	The fire burning so bold;
	Ye hold me fast, let me no pass
	Till I be like iron cold.
39[K.21]	‘Next I’l be in your armes
	The fire burning so wild;
	Ye hold me fast, let me no pass,
	I’m the father of your child.’
39[K.22]	The first court that came her till,
	She let them a’ pass by;
	The nex an court that came her till,
	She helt them reverendly.
39[K.23]	The nex an court that came her till,
	And therein read the queen,
	True Thomas on a milk-whyte steed,
	A gold star in his croun;
	Because he was a earl’s soon,
	He got that for his renoun.
39[K.24]	She’s tean him in her arms,
	Geen him a right sore fa;
	The queen of Elphan she cried out,
	True Thomas is awa!
39[K.25]	He was into her arms
	The fire burning so bold;
	She held him fast, let him no pass
	Till he was like iron cold.
39[K.26]	He was into her arms
	The fire burning so wild;
	She held him fast, let him no pass,
	He was the father of her child.
39[K.27]	The queen of Elphan she cried out,
	An angry woman was she,
	‘Let Leady Marget an her true-love be,
	She’s bought him dearer than me.’


			 Child 39[L]: Tam Lin

39[L].1	I charge ye, a’ ye ladies fair,
	That wear goud in your hair,
	To come an gang bye Carterhaugh,
	For young Tam Lien is there.
	* * * * *
39[L.2]	Then Janet kiltit her green cleadin
	A wee aboon her knee,
	An she’s gane away to Carterhaugh,
	As fast as she can dree.
39[L.3]	When Janet cam to Carterhaugh,
	Tam Lien was at the wall,
	An there he left his steed stannin,
	But away he gaed his sell.
39[L.4]	She had na pu’d a red, red rose,
	A rose but only thre,
	Till up then startit young Tam Lien,
	Just at young Jenet’s knee.
39[L.5]	‘What gars ye pu the rose, Janet,
	Briek branches frae the tree,
	An come an gang by Carterhaugh,
	An speir nae leave of me?’
39[L.6]	‘What need I speir leave o thee, Tam?
	What need I speir leave o thee,
	When Carterhaugh is a’ mine ain,
	My father gae it me?’
	* * * * *
39[L.7]	She’s kiltit up her green cleadin
	A wee aboon her knee,
	An she’s away to her ain bower-door,
	As fast as she can dree.
	* * * * *
39[L.8]	There war four-an-twentie fair ladies
	A’ dancin in a chess,
	An some war blue an some war green,
	But Janet was like the gress.
39[L.9]	There war four-an-twentie fair ladies
	A’ playin at the ba,
	An some war red an som wer white,
	But Jennet was like the snaw.


			 Child 39[M]: Tam Lin

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


			 Child 39[N]: Tam Lin

39[N].1	‘Gowd rings I can buy, Thomas,
	Green mantles I can spin,
	But gin ye take my maidenheid
	I’ll neer get that again.’
39[N.2]	Out and spak the queen o fairies,
	Out o a shot o wheat,
	‘She that has gotten young Tamlane
	Has gotten my heart’s delight.’



		Child 40: The Queen of Elfan’s Nourice

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



			 Child 41A: Hind Etin

41A.1	LADY MARGARET sits in her bower door,
	Sewing at her silken seam;
	She heard a note in Elmond’s wood,
	And wishd she there had been.
41A.2	She loot the seam fa frae her side,
	And the needle to her tae,
	And she is on to Elmond’s wood
	As fast as she coud gae.
41A.3	She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut,
	Nor broken a branch but ane,
	Till by it came a young hind chiel,
	Says, Lady, lat alane.
41A.4	O why pu ye the nut, the nut,
	Or why brake ye the tree?
	For I am forester o this wood:
	Ye shoud spier leave at me.
41A.5	‘I’ll ask leave at no living man,
	Nor yet will I at thee;
	My father is king oer a’ this realm,
	This wood belongs to me.’
41A.6	She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut,
	Nor broken a branch but three,
	Till by it came him Young Akin,
	And gard her lat them be.
41A.7	The highest tree in Elmond’s wood,
	He’s pu’d it by the reet,
	And he has built for her a bower,
	Near by a hallow seat.
41A.8	He’s built a bower, made it secure
	We carbuncle and stane;
	Tho travellers were never sae nigh,
	Appearance it had nane.
41A.9	He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood,
	For six lang years and one,
	Till six pretty sons to him she bear,
	And the seventh she’s brought home.
41A.10	It fell ance upon a day,
	This guid lord went from home,
	And he is to the hunting gane,
	Took wi him his eldest son.
41A.11	And when they were on a guid way,
	Wi slowly pace did walk,
	The boy’s heart being something wae,
	He thus began to talk:
41A.12	‘A question I woud ask, father,
	Gin ye woudna angry be:’
	‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
	Ye’se nae be quarrelld by me.’
41A.13	‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet,
	I never can see them dry;
	And I wonder what aileth my mither,
	To mourn continually.’
41A.14	‘Your mither was a king’s daughter,
	Sprung frae a high degree,
	And she might hae wed some worthy prince,
	Had she nae been stown by me.
41A.15	‘I was her father’s cup-bearer,
	Just at that fatal time;
	I catchd her on a misty night,
	Whan summer was in prime.
41A.16	‘My luve to her was most sincere,
	Her luve was great for me,
	But when she hardships doth endure,
	Her folly she does see.’
41A.17	‘I’ll shoot the buntin o the bush,
	The linnet o the tree,
	And bring them to my dear mither,
	See if she’ll merrier be.’
41A.18	It fell upo another day,
	This guid lord he thought lang,
	And he is to the hunting gane,
	Took wi him his dog and gun.
41A.19	Wi bow and arrow by his side,
	He’s aff, single, alane,
	And left his seven children to stay
	Wi their mither at hame.
41A.20	‘O I will tell to you, mither,
	Gin ye wadna angry be:’
	‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
	Ye’se nae be quarrelld by me.’
41A.21	‘As we came frae the hynd-hunting,
	We heard fine music ring:’
	‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy,
	I wish I’d been there my lane.’
41A.22	He’s taen his mither by the hand,
	His six brithers also,
	And they are on thro Elmond’s wood,
	As fast as they coud go.
41A.23	They wistna weel where they were gaen,
	Wi the stratlins o their feet;
	They wistna weel where they were gaen,
	Till at her father’s yate.
41A.24	‘I hae nae money in my pocket,
	But royal rings hae three;
	I’ll gie them you, my little young son,
	And ye’ll walk there for me.
41A.25	‘Ye’ll gie the first to the proud porter,
	And he will lat you in;
	Ye’ll gie the next to the butler-boy,
	And he will show you ben;
41A.26	‘Ye’ll gie the third to the minstrel
	That plays before the king;
	He’ll play success to the bonny boy
	Came thro the wood him lane.’
41A.27	He gae the first to the proud porter,
	And he opend an let him in;
	He gae the next to the butler-boy,
	And he has shown him ben;
41A.28	He gae the third to the minstrel
	That playd before the king;
	And he playd success to the bonny boy
	Came thro the wood him lane.
41A.29	Now when he came before the king,
	Fell low down on his knee;
	The king he turned round about,
	And the saut tear blinded his ee.
41A.30	‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
	Gang frae my companie;
	Ye look sae like my dear daughter,
	My heart will birst in three.’
41A.31	‘If I look like your dear daughter,
	A wonder it is none;
	If I look like your dear daughter,
	I am her eldest son.’
41A.32	‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
	Where may my Margaret be?’
	‘She’s just now standing at your yates,
	And my six brithers her wi.’
41A.33	‘O where are all my porter-boys
	That I pay meat and fee,
	To open my yates baith wide and braid?
	Let her come in to me.’
41A.34	When she came in before the king,
	Fell low down on her knee;
	‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
	This day ye’ll dine wi me.’
41A.35	‘Ae bit I canno eat, father,
	Nor ae drop can I drink,
	Till I see my mither and sister dear,
	For lang for them I think.’
41A.36	When she came before the queen,
	Fell low down on her knee;
	‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear
	This day ye’se dine wi me.’
41A.37	‘Ae bit I canno eat, mither,
	Nor ae drop can I drink,
	Until I see my dear sister,
	For lang for her I think.’
41A.38	When that these two sisters met,
	She haild her courteouslie;
	‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
	This day ye’se dine wi me.’
41A.39	‘Ae bit I canno eat, sister,
	Nor ae drop can I drink,
	Until I see my dear husband,
	For lang for him I think.’
41A.40	‘O where are all my rangers bold
	That I pay meat and fee,
	To search the forest far an wide,
	And bring Akin to me?’
41A.41	Out it speaks the little wee boy:
	Na, na, this maunna be;
	Without ye grant a free pardon,
	I hope ye’ll nae him see.
41A.42	‘O here I grant a free pardon,
	Well seald by my own han;
	Ye may make search for Young Akin,
	As soon as ever you can.’
41A.43	They searchd the country wide and braid,
	The forests far and near,
	And found him into Elmond’s wood,
	Tearing his yellow hair.
41A.44	‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
	Win up, and boun wi me;
	We’re messengers come from the court,
	The king wants you to see.’
41A.45	‘O lat him take frae me my head,
	Or hang me on a tree;
	For since I’ve lost my dear lady,
	Life’s no pleasure to me.’
41A.46	‘Your head will nae be touchd, Akin,
	Nor hangd upon a tree;
	Your lady’s in her father’s court,
	And all he wants is thee.’
41A.47	When he came in before the king,
	Fell low down on his knee;
	‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
	This day ye’se dine wi me.’
41A.48	But as they were at dinner set,
	The boy asked a boun:
	‘I wish we were in the good church,
	For to get christendoun.
41A.49	‘We hae lived in guid green wood
	This seven years and ane;
	But a’ this time, since eer I mind,
	Was never a church within.’
41A.50	‘Your asking’s nae sae great, my boy,
	But granted it shall be;
	This day to guid church ye shall gang,
	And your mither shall gang you wi.’
41A.51	When unto the guid church she came,
	She at the door did stan;
	She was sae sair sunk down wi shame,
	She coudna come farer ben.
41A.52	Then out it speaks the parish priest,
	And a sweet smile gae he:
	‘Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,
	Present your babes to me.’
41A.53	Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick,
	And likewise James and John;
	They calld the eldest Young Akin,
	Which was his father’s name.
41A.54	Then they staid in the royal court,
	And livd wi mirth and glee,
	And when her father was deceasd,
	Heir of the crown was she.


			 Child 41B: Hind Etin

41B.1	MAY MARGRET stood in her bouer door,
	Kaiming doun her yellow hair;
	She spied some nuts growin in the wud,
	And wishd that she was there.
41B.2	She has plaited her yellow locks
	A little abune her bree,
	And she has kilted her petticoats
	A little below her knee,
	And she’s aff to Mulberry wud,
	As fast as she could gae.
41B.3	She had na pu’d a nut, a nut,
	A nut but barely ane,
	Till up started the Hynde Etin,
	Says, Lady, let thae alane!
41B.4	‘Mulberry wuds are a’ my ain;
	My father gied them me,
	To sport and play when I thought lang;
	And they sall na be tane by thee.’
41B.5	And ae she pu’d the tither berrie,
	Na thinking o’ the skaith,
	And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,
	I wad be unco laith.
41B.6	But he has tane her by the yellow locks,
	And tied her till a tree,
	And said, For slichting my commands,
	An ill death sall ye dree.
41B.7	He pu’d a tree out o the wud,
	The biggest that was there,
	And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,
	And put May Margret there.
41B.8	‘Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;
	My wuds are free for thee;
	And gif I tak ye to mysell,
	The better ye’ll like me.’
41B.9	Na rest, na rest May Margret took,
	Sleep she got never nane;
	Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
	Her head upon a stane.
41B.10	‘O tak me out,’ May Margret cried,
	‘O tak me hame to thee,
	And I sall be your bounden page
	Until the day I dee.’
41B.11	He took her out o the dungeon deep,
	And awa wi him she’s gane;
	But sad was the day an earl’s dochter
	Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin.
	* * * * *
41B.12	It fell out ance upon a day
	Hynde Etin’s to the hunting gane,
	And he has tane wi him his eldest son,
	For to carry his game.
41B.13	‘O I wad ask ye something, father,
	An ye wadna angry be;’
	‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
	Ask onie thing at me.’
41B.14	‘My mother’s cheeks are aft times weet,
	Alas! they are seldom dry;’
	‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
	Tho she should brast and die.
41B.15	‘For your mother was an earl’s dochter,
	Of noble birth and fame,
	And now she’s wife o Hynde Etin,
	Wha neer got christendame.
41B.16	‘But we’ll shoot the laverock in the lift,
	The buntlin on the tree,
	And ye’ll tak them hame to your mother,
	And see if she’ll comforted be.’
	* * * * *
41B.17	‘I wad ask ye something, mother,
	An ye wadna angry be;’
	‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
	Ask onie thing at me.’
41B.18	‘Your cheeks they are aft times weet,
	Alas! they’re seldom dry;’
	‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
	Tho I whould brast and die.
41B.19	‘For I was ance an earl’s dochter,
	Of noble birth and fame,
	And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
	Wha neer got christendame.’
	* * * * *


			 Child 41C: Hind Etin

41C.1	‘O WELL like I to ride in a mist,
	And shoot in a northern win,
	And far better a lady to steal,
	That’s come of a noble kin.’
41C.2	Four an twenty fair ladies
	Put on this lady’s sheen,
	And as mony young gentlemen
	Did lead her ower the green.
41C.3	Yet she preferred before them all
	Him, young Hastings the Groom;
	He’s coosten a mist before them all,
	And away this lady has taen.
41C.4	He’s taken the lady on him behind,
	Spared neither grass nor corn,
	Till they came to the wood o Amonshaw,
	Where again their loves were sworn.
41C.5	And they hae lived in that wood
	Full mony a year and day,
	And were supported from time to time
	By what he made of prey.
41C.6	And seven bairns, fair and fine,
	There she has born to him,
	And never was in gude church-door,
	Nor ever got gude kirking.
41C.7	Ance she took harp into her hand,
	And harped them a’ asleep,
	Then she sat down at their couch-side,
	And bitterly did weep.
41C.8	Said, Seven bairns hae I born now
	To my lord in the ha;
	I wish they were seven greedy rats,
	To run upon the wa,
	And I mysel a great grey cat,
	To eat them ane and a’.
41C.9	For ten lang years now I hae lived
	Within this cave of stane,
	And never was at gude church-door,
	Nor got no gude churching.
41C.10	O then out spake her eldest child,
	And a fine boy was he:
	O hold your tongue, my mother dear;
	I’ll tell you what to dee.
41C.11	Take you the youngest in your lap,
	The next youngest by the hand,
	Put all the rest of us you before,
	As you learnt us to gang.
41C.12	And go with us unto some kirk-+-
	You say they are built of stane-+-
	And let us all be christened,
	And you get gude kirking.
41C.13	She took the youngest in her lap,
	The next youngest by the hand,
	Set all the rest of them her before,
	As she learnt them to gang.
41C.14	And she has left the wood with them,
	And to the kirk has gane,
	Where the gude priest them christened,
	And gave her gude kirking.



		 Child 42A: Clerk Colvill

42A.1	CLARK COLVEN and his gay ladie,
	As they walked to yon garden green,
	A belt about her middle gimp,
	Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen:
42A.2	‘O hearken weel now, my good lord,
	O hearken weel to what I say;
	When ye gang to the wall o Stream,
	O gang nae neer the well-fared may.’
42A.3	‘O haud your tongue, my gay ladie,
	Tak nae sic care o me;
	For I nae saw a fair woman
	I like so well as thee.’
42A.4	He mounted on his berry-brown steed,
	And merry, merry rade he on,
	Till he came to the wall o Stream,
	And there he saw the mermaiden.
42A.5	‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may,
	And ay’s ye wash your sark o silk:’
	‘It’s a’ for you, ye gentle knight,
	My skin is whiter than the milk.’
42A.6	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	He’s taen her by the sleeve sae green,
	And he’s forgotten his gay ladie,
	And away with the fair maiden.
	* * * * *
42A.7	‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven,
	‘And aye sae sair’s I mean my head!’
	And merrily leugh the mermaiden,
	‘O win on till you be dead.
42A.8	‘But out ye tak your little pen-knife,
	And frae my sark ye shear a gare;
	Row that about your lovely head,
	And the pain ye’ll never feel nae mair.’
42A.9	Out he has taen his little pen-knife,
	And frae her sark he’s shorn a gare,
	Rowed that about his lovely head,
	But the pain increased mair and mair.
42A.10	‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven,
	‘An aye sae sair’s I mean my head!’
	And merrily laughd the mermaiden,
	‘It will ay be war till ye be dead.’
42A.11	Then out he drew his trusty blade,
	And thought wi it to be her dead,
	But she’s become a fish again,
	And merrily sprang into the fleed.
42A.12	He’s mounted on his berry-brown steed,
	And dowy, dowy rade he home,
	And heavily, heavily lighted down
	When to his ladie’s bower-door he came.
42A.13	‘Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed,
	And, gentle ladie, lay me down;
	Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow,
	’Twill never be bent by me again.’
42A.14	His mither she has made his bed,
	His gentle ladie laid him down,
	His brither he has unbent his bow,
	’Twas never bent by him again.


		 Child 42B: Clerk Colvill

42B.1	CLERK COLVILL and his lusty dame
	Were walking in the garden green;
	The belt around her stately waist
	Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.
42B.2	‘O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,
	Or it will cost ye muckle strife,
	Ride never by the wells of Slane,
	If ye wad live and brook your life.’
42B.3	‘Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,
	Now speak nae mair of that to me;
	Did I neer see a fair woman,
	But I wad sin with her body?’
42B.4	He’s taen leave o his gay lady,
	Nought minding what his lady said,
	And he’s rode by the wells of Slane,
	Where washing was a bonny maid.
42B.5	‘Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,
	That wash sae clean your sark of silk;’
	‘And weel fa you, fair gentleman,
	Your body whiter than the milk.’
	* * * * *
42B.6	Then loud, loud cry’d the Clerk Colvill,
	‘O my head it pains me sair;’
	‘Then take, then take,’ the maiden said,
	‘And frae my sark you’ll cut a gare.’
42B.7	Then she’s gied him a little bane-knife,
	And frae her sark he cut a share;
	She’s ty’d it round his whey-white face,
	But ay his head it aked mair.
42B.8	Then louder cry’d the Clerk Colvill,
	‘O sairer, sairer akes my head;’
	‘And sairer, sairer ever will,’
	The maiden crys, ’Till you be dead.’
42B.9	Out then he drew his shining blade,
	Thinking to stick her where she stood,
	But she was vanishd to a fish,
	And swam far off, a fair mermaid.
42B.10	‘O mother, mother, braid my hair;
	My lusty lady, make my bed;
	O brother, take my sword and spear,
	For I have seen the false mermaid.’


		 Child 42C: Clerk Colvill

42C.1	CLERK COLIN and his mother dear
	Were in the garden green;
	The band that was about her neck
	Cost Colin pounds fifteen;
	The belt about her middle sae sma
	Cost twice as much again.
42C.2	‘Forbidden gin ye wad be, love Colin,
	Forbidden gin ye wad be,
	And gang nae mair to Clyde’s water,
	To court yon gay ladie.’
42C.3	‘Forbid me frae your ha, mother,
	Forbid me frae your bour,
	But forbid me not frae yon ladie;
	She’s fair as ony flour.
42C.4	‘Forbidden I winna be, mother,
	Forbidden I winna be,
	For I maun gang to Clyde’s water,
	To court yon gay ladie.’
42C.5	An he is on his saddle set,
	As fast as he could win,
	An he is on to Clyde’s water,
	By the lee licht o the moon.
42C.6	An when he cam to the Clyde’s water
	He lichted lowly down,
	An there he saw the mermaiden,
	Washin silk upon a stane.
42C.7	‘Come down, come down, now, Clerk Colin,
	Come down an [fish] wi me;
	I’ll row ye in my arms twa,
	An a foot I sanna jee.’
	* * * * *
42C.8	‘O mother, mother, mak my bed,
	And, sister, lay me doun,
	An brother, tak my bow an shoot,
	For my shooting is done.’
42C.9	He wasna weel laid in his bed,
	Nor yet weel fa’en asleep,
	When up an started the mermaiden,
	Just at Clerk Colin’s feet.
42C.10	‘Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin,
	Will ye lie there an die?
	Or will ye gang to Clyde’s water,
	To fish in flood wi me?’
42C.11	‘I will lie here an die,’ he said,
	‘I will lie here an die;
	In spite o a’ the deils in hell
	I will lie here an die.’



		 Child 43A: The Broomfield Hill

43A.1	there was a knight and a lady bright,
	Had a true tryste at the broom;
	The ane gaed early in the morning,
	The other in the afternoon.
43A.2	And ay she sat in her mother’s bower door,
	And ay she made her mane:
	‘O whether should I gang to the Broomfield Hill,
	Or should I stay at hame?
43A.3	‘For if I gang to the Broomfield Hill,
	My maidenhead is gone;
	And if I chance to stay at hame,
	My love will ca me mansworn.’
43A.4	Up then spake a witch-woman,
	Ay from the room aboon:
	‘O ye may gang to the broomfield Hill,
	And yet come maiden hame.
43A.5	‘For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill,
	Ye’ll find your love asleep,
	With a silver belt about his head,
	And a broom-cow at his feet.
43A.6	‘Take ye the blossom of the broom,
	The blossom it smells sweet,
	And strew it at your true-love’s head,
	And likewise at his feet.
43A.7	‘Take ye the rings off your fingers,
	Put them on his right hand,
	To let him know, when he doth awake,
	His love was at his command.’
43A.8	She pu’d the broom flower on Hive Hill,
	And strewd on’s white hals-bane,
	And that was to be wittering true
	That maiden she had gane.
43A.9	‘O where were ye, my milk-white steed,
	That I hae coft sae dear,
	That wadna watch and waken me
	When there was maiden here?’
43A.10	‘I stamped wi my foot, master,
	And gard my bridle ring,
	But na kin thing wald waken ye,
	Till she was past and gane.’
43A.11	‘And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk,
	That I did love sae dear,
	That wadna watch and waken me
	When there was maiden here.’
43A.12	‘I clapped wi my wings, master,
	And aye my bells I rang,
	And aye cry’d, Waken, waken, master,
	Before the ladye gang.’
43A.13	‘But haste and haste, my gude white steed,
	To come the maiden till,
	Or a’ the birds of gude green wood
	Of your flesh shall have their fill.’
43A.14	‘Ye need na burst your gude white steed
	Wi racing oer the howm;
	Nae bird flies faster through the wood,
	Than she fled through the broom.’


		 Child 43B: The Broomfield Hill

43B.1	‘I\R’\rLL wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager with you
	Five hundred merks and ten,
	That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green wood,
	And a maiden return agen.’
43B.2	‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager, I’ll wager with you
	Five hundred merks and ten,
	That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood,
	And a maiden return agen.’
	* * * * *
43B.3	She’s pu’d the blooms aff the broom-bush,
	And strewd them on’s white hass-bane:
	‘This is a sign whereby you may know
	That a maiden was here, but she’s gane.’
43B.4	‘O where was you, my good gray steed,
	That I hae loed sae dear?
	O why did you not awaken me
	When my true love was here?’
43B.5	‘I stamped with my foot, master,
	And gard my bridle ring,
	But you wadnae waken from your sleep
	Till your love was past and gane.’
43B.6	‘Now I may sing as dreary a sang
	As the bird sung on the brier,
	For my true love is far removd,
	And I’ll neer see her mair.’


		 Child 43C: The Broomfield Hill

43C.1	THERE was a knight and lady bright
	Set trysts amo the broom,
	The one to come at morning ear,
	The other at afternoon.
43C.2	‘I’ll wager a wager wi you,’ he said,
	‘An hundred merks and ten,
	That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills,
	Return a maiden again.’
43C.3	‘I’ll wager a wager wi you,’ she said,
	‘A hundred pounds and ten,
	That I will gang to Broomfield Hills,
	A maiden return again.’
43C.4	The lady stands in her bower door,
	And thus she made her mane:
	‘O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills,
	Or shall I stay at hame?
43C.5	‘If I do gang to Broomfield Hills,
	A maid I’ll not return;
	But if I stay from Broomfield Hills,
	I’ll be a maid mis-sworn.’
43C.6	Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife,
	Sat in the bower aboon:
	‘O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills,
	Ye shall not stay at hame.
43C.7	‘But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills,
	Walk nine times round and round;
	Down below a bonny burn bank,
	Ye’ll find your love sleeping sound.
43C.8	‘Ye’ll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,
	Strew’t at his head and feet,
	And aye the thicker that ye do strew,
	The sounder he will sleep.
43C.9	‘The broach that is on your napkin,
	Put it on his breast bane,
	To let him know, when he does wake,
	That’s true love’s come and gane.
43C.10	‘The rings that are on your fingers,
	Lay them down on a stane,
	To let him know, when he does wake,
	That’s true love’s come and gane.
43C.11	‘And when ye hae your work all done,
	Ye’ll gang to a bush o’ broom,
	And then you’ll hear what he will say,
	When he sees ye are gane.’
43C.12	When she came to Broomfield Hills,
	She walkd it nine times round,
	And down below yon burn bank,
	She found him sleeping sound.
43C.13	She pu’d the bloom frae aff the broom,
	Strew’d it at ’s head and feet,
	And aye the thicker that she strewd,
	The sounder he did sleep.
43C.14	The broach that was on her napkin,
	She put on his breast bane,
	To let him know, when he did wake,
	His love was come and gane.
43C.15	The rings that were on her fingers,
	She laid upon a stane,
	To let him know, when he did wake,
	His love was come and gane.
43C.16	Now when she had her work all dune,
	She went to a bush o broom,
	That she might hear what he did say,
	When he saw she was gane.
43C.17	‘O where were ye, my guid grey hound,
	That I paid for sae dear,
	Ye didna waken me frae my sleep
	When my true love was sae near?’
43C.18	‘I scraped wi my foot, master,
	Till a’ my collars rang,
	But still the mair that I did scrape,
	Waken woud ye nane.’
43C.19	‘Where were ye, my berry-brown steed,
	That I paid for sae dear,
	That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep
	When my love was sae near?’
43C.20	‘I patted wi my foot, master,
	Till a’ my bridles rang,
	But still the mair that I did patt,
	Waken woud ye nane.’
43C.21	‘O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk,
	That I paid for sae dear,
	That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep
	When ye sae my love near?’
43C.22	‘I flapped wi my wings, master,
	Till a’ my bells they rang,
	But still the mair that I did flap,
	Waken woud ye nane.’
43C.23	‘O where were ye, my merry young men,
	That I pay meat and fee,
	Ye woudna waken me out o’ my sleep
	When my love ye did see?’
43C.24	‘Ye’ll sleep mair on the night, master,
	And wake mair on the day;
	Gae sooner down to Broomfield Hills
	When ye’ve sic pranks to play.
43C.25	‘If I had seen any armed men
	Come riding over the hill-+-
	But I saw but a fair lady
	Come quietly you until.’
43C.26	‘O wae mat worth you, my young men,
	That I pay meat and fee,
	That ye woudna waken me frae sleep
	When ye my love did see.
43C.27	‘O had I waked when she was nigh,
	And o her got my will,
	I shoudna cared upon the morn
	Tho sma birds o her were fill.’
43C.28	When she went out, right bitter wept,
	But singing came she hame;
	Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills,
	And maid returnd again.


		 Child 43D: The Broomfield Hill

43D.1	‘I\R’\rLL wager, I’ll wager,’ says Lord John,
	‘A hundred merks and ten,
	That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields,
	And a maid return again.’
43D.2	‘But I’ll lay a wager wi you, Lord John,
	A’ your merks oure again,
	That I’ll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields,
	And a maid return again.’
43D.3	Then Lord John mounted his grey steed,
	And his hound wi his bells sae bricht,
	And swiftly he rade to the bonny broomfields,
	Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht.
43D.4	‘Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed,
	My lady will soon be here,
	And I’ll lay my head aneath this rose sae red,
	And the bonnie burn sae near.’
43D.5	But sound, sound was the sleep he took,
	For he slept till it was noon,
	And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away,
	Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon.
43D.6	She strawed the roses on the ground,
	Threw her mantle on the brier,
	And the belt around her middle sae jimp,
	As a taiken that she’d been there.
43D.7	The rustling leaves flew round his head,
	And rousd him frae his dream;
	He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green,
	That his love had been there and was gane.
43D.8	‘O whare was ye, my gude grey steed,
	That I coft ye sae dear,
	That ye didna waken your master,
	Whan ye kend that his love was here?’
43D.9	‘I pautit wi my foot, master,
	Garrd a’ my bridles ring,
	And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
	For now is the hour and time.’
43D.10	‘Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound,
	That I coft ye sae dear,
	That ye didna waken your master,
	Whan ye kend that his love was here?’
43D.11	‘I pautit wi my foot, master,
	Garrd a’ my bells to ring,
	And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
	For now is the hour and time.’
43D.12	‘But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks,
	That I coft ye sae dear,
	That ye didna waken your master,
	Whan ye kend that his love was here?’
43D.13	‘O wyte na me, now, my master dear,
	I garrd a’ my young hawks sing,
	And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
	For now is the hour and time.’
43D.14	‘Then be it sae, my wager gane,
	’Twill skaith frae meikle ill,
	For gif I had found her in bonnie broomfields,
	O her heart’s blude ye’d drunken your fill.’


		 Child 43E: The Broomfield Hill

43E.1	‘I\R’\rLL wager, I’ll wager wi you, fair maid,
	Five hunder punds and ten,
	That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower,
	An a maid return back agen.’
43E.2	‘I’ll wager, I’ll wager wi you, kin’ sir,
	Five hunder punds and ten,
	That a maid I’ll gang to the bonnie green bower,
	An a maid return again.’
43E.3	But when she cam to the bonnie green bower,
	Her true-love was fast asleep;
	Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,
	An his breath was wondrous sweet.
43E.4	Sometimes she went to the crown o his head,
	Sometimes to the soles o his feet,
	Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,
	An his breath was wondrous sweet.
43E.5	She’s taen a ring frae her finger,
	Laid it upon his breast-bane;
	It was for a token that she had been there,
	That she had been there, but was gane.
43E.6	‘Where was you, where was ye, my merry men a’,
	That I do luve sae dear,
	That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
	When my true love was here?
43E.7	‘Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk,
	That I do luve sae dear,
	That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
	Whan my true love was here?’
43E.8	‘Wi my wings I flaw, kin’ sir,
	An wi my bill I sang,
	But ye woudna waken out o yer sleep
	Till your true love was gane.’
43E.9	‘Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed,
	That I do luve sae dear,
	That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
	When my true love was here?’
43E.10	‘I stampit wi my fit, maister,
	And made my bridle ring,
	But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep,
	Till your true love was gane.’


		 Child 43F: The Broomfield Hill

43F.1	A NOBLE young squire that livd in the west,
	He courted a young lady gay,
	And as he was merry, he put forth a jest,
	A wager with her he would lay.
43F.2	‘A wager with me?’ the young lady reply’d,
	‘I pray, about what must it be?
	If I like the humour you shan’t be deny’d;
	I love to be merry and free.’
43F.3	Quoth he, ‘I will lay you an hundred pounds,
	A hundred pounds, aye, and ten,
	That a maid if you go to the merry broomfield,
	That a maid you return not again.’
43F.4	‘I’ll lay you that wager,’ the lady she said,
	Then the money she flung down amain;
	‘To the merry broomfield I’ll go a pure maid,
	The same I’ll return home again.’
43F.5	He coverd her bett in the midst of the hall
	With an hundred and ten jolly pounds,
	And then to his servant straightway he did call,
	For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds.
43F.6	A ready obedience the servant did yield,
	And all was made ready oer night;
	Next morning he went to the merry broomfield,
	To meet with his love and delight.
43F.7	Now when he came there, having waited a while,
	Among the green broom down he lies;
	The lady came to him, and coud not but smile,
	For sleep then had closed his eyes.
43F.8	Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur’d,
	Down from her own finger so fair,
	That when he awaked he might be assur’d
	His lady and love had been there.
43F.9	She left him a posie of pleasant perfume,
	Then stept from the place where he lay;
	Then hid herself close in the besom of the broom,
	To hear what her true-love would say.
43F.10	He wakend and found the gold ring on his hand,
	Then sorrow of heart he was in:
	‘My love has been here, I do well understand,
	And this wager I now shall not win.
43F.11	‘O where was you, my goodly gawshawk,
	The which I have purchasd so dear?
	Why did you not waken me out of my sleep
	When the lady, my lover, was here?’
43F.12	‘O with my bells did I ring, master,
	And eke with my feet did I run;
	And still did I cry, Pray awake, master,
	She’s here now, and soon will be gone.’
43F.13	‘O where was you, my gallant greyhound,
	Whose collar is flourishd with gold?
	Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my sleep
	When thou didst my lady behold?’
43F.14	‘Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when she came,
	And likewise my coller I shook,
	And told you that here was the beautiful dame,
	But no notice of me then you took.’
43F.15	‘O where was thou, my serving-man,
	Whom I have cloathed so fine?
	If you had wak’d me when she was here,
	The wager then had been mine.’
43F.16	‘In the night ye should have slept, master,
	And kept awake in the day;
	Had you not been sleeping when hither she came,
	Then a maid she had not gone away.’
43F.17	Then home he returnd, when the wager was lost,
	With sorrow of heart, I may say;
	The lady she laughd to find her love crost,-+-
	This was upon midsummer-day.
43F.18	‘O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald,
	And heard you when you did complain;
	And thus I have been to the merry broomfield,
	And a maid returnd back again.
43F.19	‘Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine,
	For now ’tis as clear as the sun,
	The money, the money, the money is mine,
	The wager I fairly have won.’



		 Child 44: The Two Magicians

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



		 Child 45A: King John and the Bishop

45A.1	OFF an ancient story Ile tell you anon,
	Of a notable prince that was called King Iohn,
	In England was borne, with maine and with might;
	Hee did much wrong and mainteined litle right.
45A.2	This noble prince was vexed in veretye,
	For he was angry with the Bishopp of Canterbury;
	Ffor his house-keeping and his good cheere,
	Th rode post for him, as you shall heare.
45A.3	They rode post for him verry hastilye;
	The king sayd the bishopp kept a better house then hee:
	A hundred men euen, as I [have heard] say,
	The bishopp kept in his house euerye day,
	And fifty gold chaines, without any doubt,
	In veluett coates waited the bishopp about.
45A.4	The bishopp, he came to the court anon,
	Before his prince that was called King Iohn.
	As soone as the bishopp the king did see,
	‘O,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp, thow art welcome to mee.
	There is noe man soe welcome to towne
	As thou that workes treason against my crowne’
45A.5	‘My leege,’ quoth the bishopp, ‘I wold it were knowne
	I spend, your grace, nothing but that that’s my owne;
	I trust your grace will doe me noe deare
	For spending my owne trew gotten geere.’
45A.6	‘Yes,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp, thou must needs dye,
	Eccept thou can answere mee questions three;
	Thy head shalbe smitten quite from thy bodye,
	And all thy liuing remayne vnto mee.
45A.7	‘First,’ quoth the king, ’Tell me in this steade,
	With this crowne of gold heere vpon my head,
	Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
	Lett me know within one pennye what I am worth.
45A.8	‘Secondlye, tell me without any dowbt
	How soone I may goe the whole world about;
	And thirdly, tell mee or euer I stinte,
	What is the thing, bishopp, that I doe thinke.
	Twenty dayes pardon thoust haue trulye,
	And come againe and answere mee.’
45A.9	The bishopp bade the king god night att a word;
	He rode betwixt Cambridge and Oxenford,
	But neuer a doctor there was soe wise
	Cold shew him these questions or enterprise.
45A.10	Wherewith the bishopp was nothing gladd,
	But in his hart was heauy and sadd,
	And hyed him home to a house in the countrye,
	To ease some part of his melanchollye.
45A.11	His halfe-brother dwelt there, was feirce and fell,
	Noe better but a shepard to the bishoppe himsell;
	The shepard came to the bishopp anon,
	Saying, My Lord, you are welcome home!
45A.12	‘What ayles you,’ quoth the shepard, ’that you are soe sadd,
	And had wonte to haue beene soe merry and gladd?’
	‘Nothing,’ quoth the bishopp, ‘I ayle att this time;
	Will not thee availe to know, brother mine.’
45A.13	‘Brother,’ quoth the shepeard, ’you haue heard itt,
That	a foole may teach a wisemane witt;
	Say me therfore whatsoeuer you will,
	And if I doe you noe good, Ile doe you noe ill.’
45A.14	Quoth the bishop: I haue beene att the court anon,
	Before my prince is called King Iohn,
	And there he hath charged mee
	Against his crowne with traitorye.
45A.15	If I cannott answer his misterye,
	Three questions hee hath propounded to mee,
	He will haue my land soe faire and free,
	And alsoe the head from my bodye.
45A.16	The first question was, to tell him in that stead,
	With the crowne of gold vpon his head,
	Amongst his nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
	To lett him know within one penye what hee is worth.
45A.17	And secondlye, to tell him with-out any doubt
	How soone he may goe the whole world about;
	And thirdlye, to tell him, or ere I stint,
	What is the thinge that he does thinke.
45A.18	‘Brother,’ quoth the shepard, ’you are a man of learninge;
	What neede you stand in doubt of soe small a thinge?
	Lend me,’ quoth the shepard, ’your ministers apparrell,
	Ile ryde to the court and answere your quarrell.
45A.19	‘Lend me your serving men, say me not nay,
	With all your best horsses that ryd on the way;
	Ile to the court, this matter to stay;
	Ile speake with King Iohn and heare what heele say.’
45A.20	The bishopp with speed prepared then
	To sett forth the shepard with horsse and man;
	The shepard was liuely without any doubt;
	I wott a royall companye came to the court.
45A.21	The shepard hee came to the court anon
	Before [his] prince that was called King Iohn.
	As soone as the king the shepard did see,
	‘O,’ quoth the king, ’Bishopp thou art welcome to me.’
	The shepard was soe like the bishopp his brother,
	The king cold not know the one from the other.
45A.22	Quoth the king, Bishopp, thou art welcome to me
	If thou can answer me my questions three.
	Said the shepeard, If it please your grace,
	Show mee what the first quest[i]on was.
45A.23	‘First,’ quoth the king, ’Tell mee in this stead,
	With the crowne of gold vpon my head,
	Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
	Within one pennye what I am worth.’
45A.24	Quoth the shepard, To make your grace noe offence,
	I thinke you are worth nine and twenty pence;
	For our Lord Iesus, that bought vs all,
	For thirty pence was sold into thrall
	Amongst the cursed Iewes, as I to you doe showe;
	But I know Christ was one penye better then you.
45A.25	Then the king laught, and swore by St Andrew
	He was not thought to bee of such a small value.
	‘Secondlye, tell mee with-out any doubt
	How soone I may goe the world round about.’
45A.26	Saies the shepard, It is noe time with your grace to scorne,
	But rise betime with the sun in the morne,
	And follow his course till his vprising,
	And then you may know without any leasing.
45A.27	And this [to] your grace shall proue the same,
	You are come to the same place from whence you came;
	[In] twenty-four houres, with-out any doubt,
	Your grace may the world goe round about;
	The world round about, euen as I doe say,
	If with the sun you can goe the next way.
45A.28	‘And thirdlye tell me or euer I stint,
	What is the thing, bishoppe, that I doe thinke.’
	‘That shall I doe,’ quoth the shepeard; ’For veretye,
	You thinke I am the bishopp of Canterburye.’
45A.29	‘Why, art not thou? the truth tell to me;
	For I doe thinke soe,’ quoth the king, ’By St Marye.’
	‘Not soe,’ quoth the shepeard; ’The truth shalbe knowne,
	I am his poore shepeard; my brother is att home.’
45A.30	‘Why,’ quoth the king, ’if itt soe bee,
	Ile make thee bishopp here to mee.’
	‘Noe, Sir,’ quoth the shepard, ‘I pray you be still,
	For Ile not bee bishop but against my will;
	For I am not fitt for any such deede,
	For I can neither write nor reede.’
45A.31	‘Why then,’ quoth the king, ‘Ile giue thee cleere
	A pattent of three hundred pound a yeere;
That	I will giue thee franke and free;
	Take thee that, shepard, for coming to me.
45A.32	‘Free pardon Ile giue,’ the kings grace said,
	‘To saue the bishopp, his land and his head;
	With him nor thee Ile be nothing wrath;
	Here is the pardon for him and thee both.’
45A.33	Then the shepard he had noe more to say,
	But tooke the pardon and rode his way:
	When he came to the bishopps place,
	The bishopp asket anon how all things was.
45A.34	‘Brother,’ quoth the shepard, ‘I haue well sped,
	For I haue saued both your land and your head;
	The king with you is nothing wrath,
	For heere is the pardon for you and mee both.’
45A.35	Then the bishopes hart was of a merry cheere:
	‘Brother, thy paines Ile quitt them cleare;
	For I will giue thee a patent to thee and to thine
	Of fifty pound a yeere, land good and fine.’
45A.36	. . . . . .
	. . . .
	‘I will to thee noe longer croche nor creepe,
	Nor Ile serue thee noe more to keepe thy sheepe.’
45A.37	Whereeuer wist you shepard before,
That	had in his head witt such store
	To pleasure a bishopp in such a like case,
	To answer three questions to the kings grace?
	Whereeuer wist you shepard gett cleare
	Three hundred and fifty pound a yeere?
45A.38	I neuer hard of his fellow before.
	Nor I neuer shall: now I need to say noe more.
	I neuer knew shepeard that gott such a liuinge
	But David, the shepeard, that was a king.


		 Child 45B: King John and the Bishop

45B.1	I\R’\rLL tell you a story, a story anon,
	Of a noble prince, and his name was King John;
	For he was a prince, and a prince of great might,
	He held up great wrongs, he put down great right.
 Refrain:	Derry down, down hey, derry down
45B.2	I’ll tell you a story, a story so merry,
	Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury,
	And of his house-keeping and high renown,
	Which made him resort to fair London town.
45B.3	‘How now, father abbot? ’Tis told unto me
	That thou keepest a far better house than I;
	And for [thy] house-keeping and high renown,
	I fear thou has treason against my crown.’
45B.4	‘I hope, my liege, that you owe me no grudge
	For spending of my true-gotten goods:’
	‘If thou dost not answer me questions three,
	Thy head shall be taken from thy body.
45B.5	‘When I am set so high on my steed,
	With my crown of gold upon my head,
	Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth,
	Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.
45B.6	‘And the next question you must not flout,
	How long I shall be riding the world about;
	And the third question thou must not shrink,
	But tell to me truly what I do think.’
45B.7	‘O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
	For I cannot answer your grace as yet;
	But if you will give me but three days space,
	I’ll do my endeavor to answer your grace.’
45B.8	‘O three days space I will thee give,
	For that is the longest day thou hast to live.
	And if thou dost not answer these questions right,
	Thy head shall be taken from thy body quite.’
45B.9	And as the shepherd was going to his fold,
	He spy’d the old abbot come riding along:
	‘How now, master abbot? You’r welcome home;
	What news have you brought from good King John?’
45B.10	‘Sad news, sad news I have thee to give,
	For I have but three days space for to live;
	If I do not answer him questions three,
	My head will be taken from my body.
45B.11	‘When he is set so high on his steed,
	With his crown of gold upon his head,
	Amongst all his nobility, with joy and much mirth,
	I must tell him to one penny what he is worth.
45B.12	‘And the next question I must not flout,
	How long he shall be riding the world about;
	And the third question I must not shrink,
	But tell him truly what he does think.’
45B.13	‘O master, did you never hear it yet,
	That a fool may learn a wiseman wit?
	Lend me but your horse and your apparel,
	I’ll ride to fair London and answer the quarrel.’
45B.14	‘Now I am set so high on my steed,
	With my crown of gold upon my head,
	Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth,
	Now tell me to one penny what I am worth.’
45B.15	‘For thirty pence our Saviour was sold,
	Amongst the false Jews, as you have been told,
	And nine and twenty’s the worth of thee,
	For I think thou are one penny worser than he.’
45B.16	‘And the next question thou mayst not flout;
	How long I shall be riding the world about.’
	‘You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,
	Until the next morning he rises again,
	And then I am sure you will make no doubt
	But in twenty-four hours you’l ride it about.’
45B.17	‘And the third question you must not shrink,
	But tell me truly what I do think.’
	‘All that I can do, and ’twill make you merry;
	For you think I’m the Abbot of Canterbury,
	But I’m his poor shepherd, as you may see,
	And am come to beg pardon for he and for me.’
45B.18	The king he turned him about and did smile,
	Saying, Thou shalt be the abbot the other while:
	‘O no, my grace, there is no such need,
	For I can neither write nor read.’
45B.19	‘Then four pounds a week will I give unto thee
	For this merry jest thou hast told unto me;
	And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home,
	Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.’



	  Child 46A: Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship

46A.1	THE laird of Bristoll’s daughter was in the woods walking,
	And by came Captain Wetherbourn, a servant to the king;
	And he said to his livery man, Wer’t not against the law,
	I would tak her to mine ain bed, and lay her neist the wa.
46A.2	‘I’m into my father’s woods, amongst my father’s trees,
	O kind sir, let mee walk alane, O kind sir, if you please;
	The butler’s bell it will be rung, and I’ll be mist awa;
	I’ll lye into mine ain bed, neither at stock nor wa.’
46A.3	‘O my bonny lady, the bed it’s not be mine,
	For I’ll command my servants for to call it thine;
	The hangings are silk satin, the sheets are holland sma,
	And we’s baith lye in ae bed, but you’s lye neist the wa.
46A.4	‘And so, my bonny lady, -+-I do not know your name,-+-
	But my name’s Captain Wetherburn, and I’m a man of fame;
	Tho your father and a’ his men were here, I would na stand in awe
	To tak you to mine ain bed, and lay you neist the wa.
46A.5	‘Oh my bonny, bonny lady, if you’ll gie me your hand,
	You shall hae drums and trumpets to sound at your command;
	Wi fifty men to guard you, sae weel their swords can dra,
	And wee’s baith lye in ae bed, but you’s lye neist the wa.’
46A.6	He’s mounted her upon a steid, behind his gentleman,
	And he himself did walk afoot, to had his lady on,
	With his hand about her midle sae jimp, for fear that she should fa;
	She man lye in his bed, but she’ll not lye neist the wa.
46A.7	He’s taen her into Edinburgh, his landlady cam ben:
	‘And monny bonny ladys in Edinburgh hae I seen,
	But the like of this fine creature my eyes they never sa;’
	‘O dame bring ben a down-bed, for she’s lye neist the wa.’
46A.8	‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, a+end dinna trouble me,
	Unless you get to my supper, and that is dishes three;
	Dishes three to my supper, tho I eat nane at a’,
	Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.
46A.9	‘You maun get to my supper a cherry but a stane,
	And you man get to my supper a capon but a bane,
	And you man get a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga,
	Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll not lye neist the wa.’
46A.10	‘A cherry whan in blossom is a cherry but a stane;
	A capon when he’s in the egg canna hae a bane;
	The dow it is a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga;
	And ye man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.’
46A.11	‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, a+end dinna me perplex,
	Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions six;
	Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa,
	Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll not lye neist the wa.
46A.12	‘What is greener than the grass, what’s higher than the tree?
	What’s war than a woman’s wiss, what’s deeper than the sea?
	What bird sings first, and whereupon the dew down first does fa?
	Before I lye in your bed, but I’ll lye neist the wa.’
46A.13	‘Virgus is greener than the grass, heaven’s higher than the tree;
	The deil’s war than a woman’s wish, hell’s deeper than the sea;
	The cock sings first, on the Sugar Loaf the dew down first does fa;
	And ye man lye in my bed, betweest me and the wa.’
46A.14	‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, ‘I pray you give it oer,
	Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions four;
	Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa,
	Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.
46A.15	‘You man get to me a plumb that does in winter grow;
	And likewise a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro;
	A sparrow’s horn, a priest unborn, this night to join us twa,
	Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.’
46A.16	‘There is a plumb in my father’s yeard that does in winter grow;
	Likewise he has a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro;
	A sparrow’s horn, it may be found, there’s ane in every tae,
	There’s ane upo the mouth of him, perhaps there may be twa.
46A.17	‘The priest is standing at the door, just ready to come in;
	Nae man could sae that he was born, to lie it is a sin;
	For a wild boar bored him mother’s side, he out of it did fa;
	And you man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.’
46A.18	Little kent Grizey Sinclair, that morning when she raise,
	’Twas to be the hindermost of a’ her single days;
	For now she’s Captain Wetherburn’s wife, a man she never saw,
	And she man lye in his bed, but she’ll not lye neist the wa.


	  Child 46B: Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship

46B.1	THE Lord of Rosslyn’s daughter gaed through the wud her lane,
	And there she met Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the king.
	He said unto his livery-man, Were’t na agen the law,
	I wad tak her to my ain bed, and lay her at the wa.
46B.2	‘I’m walking here my lane,’ she says, ‘amang my father’s trees;
	And ye may lat me walk my lane, kind sir, now gin ye please.
	The supper-bell it will be rung, and I’ll be missd awa;
	Sae I’ll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.’
46B.3	He said, My pretty lady, I pray lend me your hand,
	And ye’ll hae drums and trumpets always at your command;
	And fifty men to guard ye wi, that weel their swords can draw;
	Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’ll lie at the wa.
46B.4	‘Haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray let go my hand;
	The supper-bell it will be rung, nae langer maun I stand.
	My father he’ll na supper tak, gif I be missd awa;
	Sae I’ll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.’
46B.5	‘O my name is Captain Wedderburn, my name I’ll neer deny,
	And I command ten thousand men, upo yon mountains high.
	Tho your father and his men were here, of them I’d stand na awe,
	But should tak ye to my ain bed, and lay ye neist the wa.’
46B.6	Then he lap aff his milk-white steed, and set the lady on,
	And a’ the way he walkd on foot, he held her by the hand;
	He held her by the middle jimp, for fear that she should fa;
	Saying, I’ll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay thee at the wa.
46B.7	He took her to his quartering-house, his landlady looked ben,
	Saying, Monie a pretty ladie in Edinbruch I’ve seen;
	But sic ’na pretty ladie is not into it a’:
	Gae, mak for her a fine down-bed, and lay her at the wa.
46B.8	‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye lat me be,
	For I’ll na lie in your bed till I get dishes three;
	Dishes three maun be dressd for me, gif I should eat them a’,
	Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.
46B.9	‘’Tis I maun hae to my supper a chicken without a bane;
	And I maun hae to my supper a cherry without a stane;
	And I maun hae to my supper a bird without a gaw,
	Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’
46B.10	‘Whan the chicken’s in the shell, I am sure it has na bane;
	And whan the cherry’s in the bloom, I wat it has na stane;
	The dove she is a genty bird, she flees without a gaw;
	Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’ll be at the wa.’
46B.11	‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye give me owre,
	For I’ll na lie in your bed, till I get presents four;
	Presents four ye maun gie me, and that is twa and twa,
	Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.
46B.12	‘’Tis I maun hae some winter fruit that in December grew;
	And I maun hae a silk mantil that waft gaed never through;
	A sparrow’s horn, a priest unborn, this nicht to join us twa,
	Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’
46B.13	‘My father has some winter fruit that in December grew;
	My mither has a silk mantil the waft gaed never through;
	A sparrow’s horn ye soon may find, there’s ane on evry claw,
	And twa upo the gab o it, and ye shall get them a.
46B.14	‘The priest he stands without the yett, just ready to come in;
	Nae man can say he eer was born, nae man without he sin;
	He was haill cut frae his mither’s side, and frae the same let fa;
	Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’se lie at the wa.’
46B.15	‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray don’t me perplex,
	For I’ll na lie in your bed till ye answer questions six:
	Questions six ye maun answer me, and that is four and twa,
	Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.
46B.16	‘O what is greener than the gress, what’s higher than thae trees?
	O what is worse than women’s wish, what’s deeper than the seas?
	What bird craws first, what tree buds first, what first does on them fa?
	Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’
46B.17	‘Death is greener than the gress, heaven higher than thae trees;
	The devil’s waur than women’s wish, hell’s deeper than the seas;
	The cock craws first, the cedar buds first, dew first on them does fa;
	Sae we’ll baith lie in ae bed, and ye’se lie at the wa.’
46B.18	Little did this lady think, that morning whan she raise,
	That this was for to be the last o a’ her maiden days.
	But there’s na into the king’s realm to be found a blither twa,
	And now she’s Mrs. Wedderburn, and she lies at the wa.


	  Child 46C: Captain Wedderburn’s Courtship

46C.1	THE laird of Roslin’s daughter walked thro the wood her lane,
	And by came Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the Queen;
	He said unto his serving man, Wer’t not agaynst the law,
	I would tak her to my ain house as lady o my ha.
46C.2	He said, My pretty ladye, I pray give me your hand;
	You shall have drums and trumpets always at your command;
	With fifty men to guard you, that well their swords can draw,
	And I’ll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay you next the wa.
46C.3	‘I’m walking in my feyther’s shaws:’ quo he, My charming maid,
	I am much better than I look, so be you not afraid;
	For I serve the queen of a’ Scotland, and a gentil dame is she;
	So we’se be married ere the morn, gin ye can fancy me.
46C.4	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘The sparrow shall toot on his horn, gif naething us befa,
	And I’ll mak you up a down-bed, and lay you next the wa.
46C.5	‘Now hold away from me, kind sir, I pray you let me be;
	I wont be lady of your ha till you answer questions three;
	Questions three you must answer me, and that is one and twa,
	Before I gae to Woodland’s house, and be lady o your ha.
46C.6	‘You must get me to my supper a chicken without a bone;
	You must get me to my supper a cherry without a stone;
	You must get me to my supper a bird without a ga,
	Before I go to Woodland’s house and be lady of your ha.’
46C.7	‘When the cherry is in the bloom, I’m sure it has no stone;
	When the chicken’s in the shell, I’m sure it has nae bone;
	The dove she is a gentil bird, and flies without a ga;
	So I’ve answered you your questions three, and you’re lady of my ha.’
	* * * * *
46C.8	‘Questions three you must answer me: What’s higher than the trees?
	And what is worse than woman’s voice? What’s deeper than the seas?’
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
46C.9	He answered then so readily: Heaven’s higher than the trees;
	The devil’s worse than woman’s voice; hell’s deeper than the seas;
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
46C.10	‘One question still you must answer me, or you I laugh to scorn;
	Go seek me out an English priest, of woman never born;’
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
46C.11	‘Oh then,’ quo he, ’My young brother from mother’s side was torn,
	And he’s a gentil English priest, of woman never born;’
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
46C.12	Little did his lady think, that morning when she raise,
	It was to be the very last of all her mayden days;
	. . . .
	. . . . .



		 Child 47A: Proud Lady Margaret

47A.1	\R’\rTWAS on a night, an evening bright,
	When the dew began to fa,
	Lady Margaret was walking up and down,
	Looking oer her castle wa.
47A.2	She looked east and she looked west,
	To see what she could spy,
	When a gallant knight came in her sight,
	And to the gate drew nigh.
47A.3	‘You seem to be no gentleman,
	You wear your boots so wide;
	But you seem to be some cunning hunter,
	You wear the horn so syde.’
47A.4	‘I am no cunning hunter,’ he said,
	‘Nor neer intend to be;
	But I am come to this castle
	To seek the love of thee.
	And if you do not grant me love,
	This night for thee I’ll die.’
47A.5	‘If you should die for me, sir knight,
	There’s few for you will meane;
	For mony a better has died for me,
	Whose graves are growing green.
47A.6	[‘But ye maun read my riddle,’ she said,
	‘And answer my questions three;
	And but ye read them right,’ she said,
	‘Gae stretch ye out and die.]
47A.7	‘Now what is the flower, the ae first flower,
	Springs either on moor or dale?
	And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird,
	Sings on the evening gale?’
47A.8	‘The primrose is the ae first flower
	Springs either on moor or dale,
	And the thristlecock is the bonniest bird
	Sings on the evening gale.’
47A.9	[‘But what’s the little coin,’ she said,
	‘Wald buy my castle bound?
	And what’s the little boat,’ she said,
	‘Can sail the world all round?’]
47A.10	‘O hey, how mony small pennies
	Make thrice three thousand pound?
	Or hey, how mony salt fishes
	Swim a’ the salt sea round?’
47A.11	‘I think you maun be my match,’ she said,
	‘My match and something mair;
	You are the first eer got the grant
	Of love frae my father’s heir.
47A.12	‘My father was lord of nine castles,
	My mother lady of three;
	My father was lord of nine castles,
	And there’s nane to heir but me.
47A.13	‘And round about a’ thae castles
	You may baith plow and saw,
	And on the fifteenth day of May
	The meadows they will maw.’
47A.14	‘O hald your tongue, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
	‘For loud I hear you lie;
	Your father was lord of nine castles,
	Your mother was lady of three;
	Your father was lord of nine castles,
	But ye fa heir to but three.
47A.15	‘And round about a’ thae castles
	You may baith plow and saw,
	But on the fifteenth day of May
	The meadows will not maw.
47A.16	‘I am your brother Willie,’ he said,
	‘I trow ye ken na me;
	I came to humble your haughty heart,
	Has gard sae mony die.’
47A.17	‘If ye be my brother Willie,’ she said,
	‘As I trow weel ye be,
	This night I’ll neither eat nor drink,
	But gae alang wi thee.’
47A.18	‘O hold your tongue, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
	‘Again I hear you lie;
	For ye’ve unwashen hands and ye’ve unwashen feet,
	To gae to clay wi me.
47A.19	‘For the wee worms are my bedfellows,
	And cauld clay is my sheets,
	And when the stormy winds do blow,
	My body lies and sleeps.’


		 Child 47B: Proud Lady Margaret

47B.1	THERE was a knight, in a summer’s night,
	Appeard in a lady’s hall,
	As she was walking up and down,
	Looking oer her castle wall.
47B.2	‘God make you safe and free, fair maid,
	God make you safe and free!’
	‘O sae fa you, ye courteous knight,
	What are your wills wi me?’
47B.3	‘My wills wi you are not sma, lady,
	My wills wi you nae sma,
	And since there’s nane your bower within,
	Ye’se hae my secrets a’.
47B.4	‘For here am I a courtier,
	A courtier come to thee,
	And if ye winna grant your love,
	All for your sake I’ll dee.’
47B.5	‘If that ye dee for me, sir knight,
	Few for you will make meen;
	For mony gude lord’s done the same,
	Their graves are growing green.’
47B.6	‘O winna ye pity me, fair maid,
	O winna ye pity me?
	O winna ye pity a courteous knight,
	Whose love is laid on thee?’
47B.7	‘Ye say ye are a courteous knight,
	But I think ye are nane;
	I think ye’re but a millar bred,
	By the colour o your claithing.
47B.8	‘You seem to be some false young man,
	You wear your hat sae wide;
	You seem to be some false young man,
	You wear your boots sae side.’
47B.9	‘Indeed I am a courteous knight,
	And of great pedigree;
	Nae knight did mair for a lady bright
	Than I will do for thee.
47B.10	‘O I’ll put smiths in your smithy,
	To shoe for you a steed,
	And I’ll put tailors in your bower,
	To make for you a weed.
47B.11	‘I will put cooks in your kitchen,
	And butlers in your ha,
	And on the tap o yourn father’s castle
	I’ll big gude corn and saw.’
47B.12	‘If ye be a courteous knight,
	As I trust not ye be,
	Ye’ll answer some o the sma questions
	That I will ask at thee.
47B.13	‘What is the fairest flower, tell me,
	That grows in mire or dale?
	Likewise, which is the sweetest bird
	Sings next the nightingale?
	Or what’s the finest thing,’ she says,
	‘That king or queen can wile?’
47B.14	‘The primrose is the fairest flower
	That grows in mire or dale;
	The mavis is the sweetest bird
	Next to the nightingale;
	And yellow gowd’s the finest thing
	That king or queen can wale.
47B.15	‘Ye hae asked many questions, lady,
	I’ve you as many told;’
	‘But how many pennies round
	Make a hundred pounds in gold?
47B.16	‘How many of the small fishes

	Do swim the salt seas round?
	Or what’s the seemliest sight you’ll see
	Into a May morning?’
	* * * * *
47B.17	‘Berry-brown ale and a birken speal,
	And wine in a horn green;
	A milk-white lace in a fair maid’s dress
	Looks gay in a May morning.’
47B.18	‘Mony’s the questions I’ve askd at thee,
	And ye’ve answerd them a’;
	Ye are mine, and I am thine,
	Amo the sheets sae sma.
47B.19	‘You may be my match, kind sir,
	You may be my match and more;
	There neer was ane came sic a length
	Wi my father’s heir before.
47B.20	‘My father’s lord o nine castles,
	My mother she’s lady ower three,
	And there is nane to heir them all,
	No never a ane but me;
	Unless it be Willie, my ae brother,
	But he’s far ayont the sea.’
47B.21	‘If your father’s laird o nine castles,
	Your mother lady ower three,
	I am Willie your ae brother,
	Was far beyond the sea.’
47B.22	‘If ye be Willie, my ae brother,
	As I doubt sair ye be,
	But if it’s true ye tell me now,
	This night I’ll gang wi thee.’
47B.23	‘Ye’ve ower ill washen feet, Janet,
	And ower ill washen hands,
	And ower coarse robes on your body,
	Alang wi me to gang.
47B.24	‘The worms they are my bed-fellows,
	And the cauld clay my sheet,
	And the higher that the wind does blaw,
	The sounder I do sleep.
47B.25	‘My body’s buried in Dumfermline,
	And far beyond the sea,
	But day nor night nae rest coud get,
	All for the pride o thee.
47B.26	‘Leave aff your pride, jelly Janet,’ he says,
	‘Use it not ony mair;
	Or when ye come where I hae been
	You will repent it sair.
47B.27	‘Cast aff, cast aff, sister,’ he says,
	‘The gowd lace frae your crown;
	For if ye gang where I hae been,
	Ye’ll wear it laigher down.
47B.28	‘When ye’re in the gude church set,
	The gowd pins in your hair,
	Ye take mair delight in your feckless dress
	Than ye do in your morning prayer.
47B.29	‘And when ye walk in the church-yard,
	And in your dress are seen,
	There is nae lady that sees your face
	But wishes your grave were green.
47B.30	‘You’re straight and tall, handsome withall,
	But your pride owergoes your wit,
	But if ye do not your ways refrain,
	In Pirie’s chair ye’ll sit.
47B.31	‘In Pirie’s chair you’ll sit, I say,
	The lowest seat o hell;
	If ye do not amend your ways,
	It’s there that ye must dwell.’
47B.32	Wi that he vanishd frae her sight,
	Wi the twinkling o an eye;
	Naething mair the lady saw
	But the gloomy clouds and sky.


		 Child 47C: Proud Lady Margaret

47C.1	ONCE there was a jolly hind squire
	Appeard in a lady’s ha,
	And aye she walked up and down,
	Looking oer her castle wa.
47C.2	‘What is your wills wi me, kind sir?
	What is your wills wi me?’
	‘My wills are [not] sma wi thee, lady,
	My wills are [not] sma wi thee.
47C.3	‘For here I stand a courtier,
	And a courtier come to thee,
	And if ye will not grant me your love,
	For your sake I will die.’
47C.4	‘If you die for my sake,’ she says,
	‘Few for you will make moan;
	Many better’s died for my sake,
	Their graves are growing green.
47C.5	‘You appear to be some false young man,
	You wear your hat so wide;
	You appear to be some false young man,
	You wear your boots so side.
47C.6	‘An asking, asking, sir,’ she said,
	‘An asking ye’ll grant me:’
	‘Ask on, ask on, lady,’ he said,
	‘What may your asking be?’
47C.7	‘What’s the first thing in flower,’ she said,
	‘That springs in mire or dale?
	What’s the next bird that sings,’ she says,
	‘Unto the nightingale?
	Or what is the finest thing,’ she says,
	‘That king or queen can wile?’
47C.8	‘The primrose is the first in flower
	That springs in mire or dale;
	The thristle-throat is the next that sings
	Unto the nightingale;
	And yellow gold is the finest thing
	That king or queen can wile.
47C.9	‘You have asked many questions, lady,
	I’ve you as many told;’
	‘But how many pennies round
	Make a hundred pounds in gold?
47C.10	‘How many small fishes
	Do swim the salt seas round?
	Or what’s the seemliest sight you’ll see
	Into a May morning?
	* * * * *
47C.11	‘There’s ale into the birken scale,
	Wine in the horn green;
	There’s gold in the king’s banner
	When he is fighting keen.’
47C.12	‘You may be my match, kind sir,’ she said,
	‘You may be my match and more;
	There neer was one came such a length
	With my father’s heir before.
47C.13	‘My father’s lord of nine castles,
	No body heir but me.’
	‘Your father’s lord of nine castles,
	Your mother’s lady of three;
47C.14	‘Your father’s heir of nine castles,
	And you are heir to three;
	For I am William, thy ae brother,
	That died beyond the sea.’
47C.15	‘If ye be William, my ae brother,
	This night, O well is me!
	If ye be William, my ae brother,
	This night I’ll go with thee.’
47C.16	‘For no, for no, jelly Janet,’ he says,
	‘For no, that cannot be;
	You’ve oer foul feet and ill washen hands
	To be in my company.
47C.17	‘For the wee wee worms are my bedfellows,
	And the cold clay is my sheet,
	And the higher that the winds do blow,
	The sounder I do sleep.
47C.18	‘Leave off your pride, jelly Janet,’ he says,
	‘Use it not any more;
	Or when you come where I have been
	You will repent it sore.
47C.19	‘When you go in at yon church door,
	The red gold on your hair,
	More will look at your yellow locks
	Than look on the Lord’s prayer.
47C.20	‘When you go in at yon church door,
	The red gold on your crown;
	When you come where I have been,
	You’ll wear it laigher down.’
47C.21	The jolly hind squire, he went away
	In the twinkling of an eye,
	Left the lady sorrowful behind,
	With many bitter cry.


		 Child 47D: Proud Lady Margaret

47D.1	THERE cam a knicht to Archerdale,
	His steed was winder sma,
	An there he spied a lady bricht,
	Luikin owre her castle wa.
47D.2	‘Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht,
	Though on horseback ye do ride;
	Ye seem to be some sutor’s son,
	Your butes they are sae wide.’
47D.3	‘Ye dinna seem a lady gay,
	Though ye be bound wi pride;
	Else I’d gane bye your father’s gate
	But either taunt or gibe.’
47D.4	He turned aboot his hie horse head,
	An awa he was boun to ride,
	But neatly wi her mouth she spak:
	Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.
47D.5	‘Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,
	Tell me mair o your tale;
	Tell me some o that wondrous lied
	Ye’ve learnt in Archerdale.
47D.6	‘What gaes in a speal?’ she said,
	‘What in a horn green?
	An what gaes on a lady’s head,
	Whan it is washen clean?’
47D.7	‘Ale gaes in a speal,’ he said,
	‘Wine in a horn green;
	An silk gaes on a lady’s head,
	Whan it is washen clean.’
47D.8	Aboot he turned his hie horse head,
	An awa he was boun to ride,
	When neatly wi her mouth she spak:
	Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.
47D.9	‘Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,
	Tell me mair o your tale;
	Tell me some o that unco lied
	You’ve learnt in Archerdale.
47D.10	‘Ye are as like my ae brither
	As ever I did see;
	But he’s been buried in yon kirkyaird
	It’s mair than years is three.’
47D.11	‘I am as like your ae brither
	As ever ye did see;
	But I canna get peace into my grave,
	A’ for the pride o thee.
47D.12	‘Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet,
	Leave pride an vanitie;
	If ye come the roads that I hae come,
	Sair warned will ye be.
47D.13	‘Ye come in by yonder kirk
	Wi the goud preens in your sleeve;
	When you’re bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,
	You’ll gie them a’ thier leave.
47D.14	‘Ye come in to yonder kirk
	Wi the goud plaits in your hair;
	When you’re bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,
	You will them a’ forbear.’
47D.15	He got her in her mither’s bour,
	Puttin goud plaits in her hair;
	He left her in her father’s gairden,
	Mournin her sins sae sair.


		 Child 47E: Proud Lady Margaret

47E.1	FAIR MARGRET was a young ladye,
	An come of high degree;
	Fair Margret was a young ladye,
	An proud as proud coud be.
47E.2	Fair Margret was a rich ladye,
	The king’s cousin was she;
	Fair Margaret was a rich ladye,
	An vain as vain coud be.
47E.3	She war’d her wealth on the gay cleedin
	That comes frae yont the sea,
	She spent her time frae morning till night
	Adorning her fair bodye.
47E.4	Ae night she sate in her stately ha,
	Kaimin her yellow hair,
	When in there cum like a gentle knight,
	An a white scarf he did wear.
47E.5	‘O what’s your will wi me, sir knight,
	O what’s your will wi me?
	You’re the likest to my ae brother
	That ever I did see.
47E.6	‘You’re the likest to my ae brother
	That ever I hae seen,
	But he’s buried in Dunfermline kirk,
	A month an mair bygane.’
47E.7	‘I’m the likest to your ae brother
	That ever ye did see,
	But I canna get rest into my grave,
	A’ for the pride of thee.
47E.8	‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,
	Leave pride an vanity;
	Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,
	Sair altered ye maun be.
47E.9	‘O ye come in at the kirk-door
	Wi the gowd plaits in your hair;
	But wud ye see what I hae seen,
	Ye maun them a’ forbear.
47E.10	‘O ye come in at the kirk-door
	Wi the gowd prins i your sleeve;
	But wad ye see what I hae seen,
	Ye maun gie them a’ their leave.
47E.11	‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,
	Leave pride an vanity;
	Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,
	Sair altered ye maun be.’
47E.12	He got her in her stately ha,
	Kaimin her yellow hair,
	He left her on her sick sick bed,
	Sheding the saut saut tear.



			Child 48: Young Andrew

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



		  Child 49A: The Twa Brothers

49A.1	THERE were twa brethren in the north,
	They went to the school thegither;
	The one unto the other said,
	Will you try a warsle afore?
49A.2	They warsled up, they warsled down,
	Till Sir John fell to the ground,
	And there was a knife in Sir Willie’s pouch,
	Gied him a deadlie wound.
49A.3	‘Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
	Carry me to yon burn clear,
	And wash the blood from off my wound,
	And it will bleed nae mair.’
49A.4	He took him up upon his back,
	Carried him to yon burn clear,
	And washd the blood from off his wound,
	But aye it bled the mair.
49A.5	‘Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
	Carry me to yon kirk-yard,
	And dig a grave baith wide and deep,
	And lay my body there.’
49A.6	He’s taen him up upon his back,
	Carried him to yon kirk-yard,
	And dug a grave baith deep and wide,
	And laid his body there.
49A.7	‘But what will I say to my father dear,
	Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’
	‘Oh say that he’s to England gone,
	To buy him a cask of wine.’
49A.8	‘And what will I say to my mother dear,
	Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’
	‘Oh say that he’s to England gone,
	To buy her a new silk gown.’
49A.9	‘And what will I say to my sister dear,
	Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar’s John?’
	‘Oh say that he’s to England gone,
	To buy her a wedding ring.’
49A.10	‘But what will I say to her you loe dear,
	Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?’
	‘Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,
	And home again will never come.’


		  Child 49B: The Twa Brothers

49B.1	THERE was two little boys going to the school,
	And twa little boys they be,
	They met three brothers playing at the ba,
	And ladies dansing hey.
49B.2	‘It’s whether will ye play at the ba, brither,
	Or else throw at the stone?’
	‘I am too little, I am too young,
	O brother let me alone.’
49B.3	He pulled out a little penknife,
	That was baith sharp and sma,
	He gave his brother a deadly wound
	That was deep, long and sair.
49B.4	He took the holland sark off his back,
	He tore it frae breast to gare,
	He laid it to the bloody wound,
	That still bled mair and mair.
49B.5	‘It’s take me on your back, brother,’ he says,
	‘And carry me to yon kirk-yard,
	And make me there a very fine grave,
	That will be long and large.
49B.6	‘Lay my bible at my head,’ he says,
	‘My chaunter at my feet,
	My bow and arrows by my side,
	And soundly I will sleep.
49B.7	‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
	‘My father will ask for me;
	You may tell him I am in Saussif town,
	Learning my lesson free.
49B.8	‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
	‘My mother will ask for me;
	You may tell her I am in Sausaf town,
	And I’ll come home merrily.
49B.9	‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
	‘Lady Margaret will ask for me;
	You may tell her I’m dead and in grave laid,
	And buried in Sausaff toun.’
49B.10	She put the small pipes to her mouth,
	And she harped both far and near,
	Till she harped the small birds off the briers,
	And her true love out of the grave.
49B.11	‘What’s this? what’s this, lady Margaret?’ he says,
	‘What’s this you want of me?’
	‘One sweet kiss of your ruby lips,
	That’s all I want of thee.’
49B.12	‘My lips they are so bitter,’ he says,
	‘My breath it is so strong,
	If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,
	Your days will not be long.’


		  Child 49C: The Twa Brothers

49C.1	THERE were twa brithers at ae scule;
	As they were coming hame,
	Then said the ane until the other
	‘John, will ye throw the stane?’
49C.2	‘I will not throw the stane, brither,
	I will not play at the ba;
	But gin ye come to yonder wood
	I’ll warsle you a fa.’
49C.3	The firsten fa young Johnie got,
	It brought him to the ground;
	The wee pen-knife in Willie’s pocket
	Gied him a deadly wound.
49C.4	‘Tak aff, tak aff, my holland sark,
	And rive it frae gore to gore,
	And stap it in my bleeding wounds,
	They’ll aiblins bleed noe more.’
49C.5	He pouit aff his holland sark,
	And rave it frae gore to gore,
	And stapt it in his bleeding wounds,
	But ay they bled the more.
49C.6	‘O brither, tak me on your back,
	And bear me hence away,
	And carry me to Chester kirk,
	And lay me in the clay.’
49C.7	‘What will I say to your father,
	This night when I return?’
	‘Tell him I’m gane to Chester scule,
	And tell him no to murn.’
49C.8	‘What will I say to your mother,
	This nicht whan I gae hame?’
	‘She wishd afore I cam awa
	That I might neer gae hame.’
49C.9	‘What will I say to your true-love,
	This nicht when I gae hame?’
	‘Tell her I’m dead and in my grave,
	For her dear sake alane.’
49C.10	He took him upon his back
	And bore him hence away,
	And carried him to Chester kirk,
	And laid him in the clay.
49C.11	He laid him in the cauld cauld clay,
	And he cuirt him wi a stane,
	And he’s awa to his fathers ha,
	Sae dowilie alane.
49C.12	‘You’re welcome, dear son,’ he said,
	‘You’re welcome hame to me;
	But what’s come o your brither John,
	That gade awa wi thee?’
49C.13	‘Oh he’s awa to Chester scule,
	A scholar he’ll return;
	He bade me tell his father dear
	About him no to murn.’
49C.14	‘You’re welcome hame, dear son,’ she said,
	‘You’re welcome hame to me;
	But what’s come o your brither John,
	That gade awa wi thee?’
49C.15	‘He bade me tell his mother dear,
	This nicht when I cam hame,
	Ye wisht before he gade awa,
	That he might neer return.’
49C.16	Then next came up his true-love dear,
	And heavy was her moan;
	‘You’re welcome hame, dear Will,’ she said,
	‘But whare’s your brither John?’
49C.17	‘O lady, cease your trouble now,
	O cease your heavy moan;
	He’s dead and in the cauld cauld clay,
	For your dear sake alone.’
49C.18	She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht,
	She wept the sma brids frae the tree,
	She wept the starns adoun frae the lift,
	She wept the fish out o the sea.
49C.19	‘O cease your weeping, my ain true-love,
	Ye but disturb my rest;’
	‘Is that my ain true lover John,
	The man that I loe best?’
49C.20	‘’Tis naething but my ghaist,’ he said,
	‘That’s sent to comfort thee;
	O cease your weeping, my true-love,
	And ’twill gie peace to me.’


		  Child 49D: The Twa Brothers

49D.1	‘O WILL ye gae to the school, brother?
	Or will ye gae to the ba?
	Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin,
	To see whilk o’s maun fa?’
49D.2	‘It’s I winna gae to the school, brother,
	Nor will I gae to the ba;
	But I will gae to the wood a-warslin,
	And it is you maun fa.’
49D.3	They warstled up, they warstled down,
	The lee-lang simmer’s day;
	. . . . .
	. . . .
49D.4	‘O lift me up upon your back,
	Tak me to yon wall fair;
	You’ll wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
	And syne they’ll bleed nae mair.
49D.5	‘And ye’ll tak aff my hollin sark,
	And riv’t frae gair to gair;
	Ye’ll stap it in my bluidy wounds,
	And syne they’ll bleed nae mair.’
49D.6	He’s liftit his brother upon his back,
	Taen him to yon wall fair;
	He’s washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
	But ay they bled mair and mair.
49D.7	And he’s taen aff his hollin sark,
	And riven’t frae gair to gair;
	He’s stappit it in his bluidy wounds,
	But ay they bled mair and mair.
49D.8	‘Ye’ll lift me up upon your back,
	Tak me to Kirkland fair;
	Ye’ll mak my greaf baith braid and lang,
	And lay my body there.
49D.9	Ye’ll lay my arrows at my head,
	My bent bow at my feet,
	My sword and buckler at my side,
	As I was wont to sleep.
49D.10	‘Whan ye gae hame to your father,
	He’ll speer for his son John:
	Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair,
	Learning the school alone.
49D.11	‘When ye gae hame to my sister,
	She’ll speer for her brother John:
	Ye’ll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
	The green grass growin aboon.
49D.12	‘Whan ye gae hame to my true-love,
	She’ll speer for her lord John:
	Ye’ll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
	But hame ye fear he’ll never come.’
49D.13	He’s gane hame to his father;
	He speered for his son John:
	‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair,
	Learning the school alone.’
49D.14	And whan he gaed hame to his sister,
	She speered for her brother John:
	‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair,
	The green grass growin aboon.’
49D.15	And whan he gaed home to his true-love,
	She speerd for her lord John:
	‘It’s I left him into Kirkland fair,
	And hame I fear he’ll never come.’
49D.16	‘But whaten bluid’s that on your sword, Willie?
	Sweet Willie, tell to me;’
	‘O it is the bluid o my grey hounds,
	They wadna rin for me.’
49D.17	‘It’s nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie,
	Their bluid was never so red;
	But it is the bluid o my true-love,
	That ye hae slain indeed.’
49D.18	That fair may wept, that fair may mournd,
	That fair may mournd and pin’d:
	‘When every lady looks for her love,
	I neer need look for mine.’
49D.19	‘O whaten a death will ye die, Willie?
	Now, Willie, tell to me;’
	‘Ye’ll put me in a bottomless boat,
	And I’ll gae sail the sea.’
49D.20	‘Whan will ye come hame again, Willie?
	Now, Willie, tell to me;’
	‘Whan the sun and moon dances on the green,
	And that will never be.’


		  Child 49E: The Twa Brothers

49E.1	THERE were twa brothers at the scule,
	And when they got awa,
	‘It’s will ye play at the stane-chucking,
	Or will ye play at the ba,
	Or will ye gae up to yon hill head,
	And there we’ll warsel a fa?’
49E.2	‘I winna play at the stane-chucking,
	Nor will I play at the ba;
	But I’ll gae up to yon bonnie green hill,
	And there we’ll warsel a fa.’
49E.3	They warsled up, they warsled down,
	Till John fell to the ground;
	A dirk fell out of William’s pouch,
	And gave John a deadly wound.
49E.4	‘O lift me upon your back,
	Take me to yon well fair,
	And wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
	And they’ll neer bleed nae mair.’
49E.5	He’s lifted his brother upon his back,
	Taen him to yon well fair;
	He’s wash’d his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
	But they bleed ay mair and mair.
49E.6	‘Tak ye aff my holland sark,
	And rive it gair by gair,
	And row it in my bluidy wounds,
	And they’ll neer bleed nae mair.’
49E.7	He’s taken aff his holland sark,
	And torn it gair by gair;
	He’s rowit it in his bluidy wounds,
	But they bleed ay mair and mair.
49E.8	‘Tak now aff my green cleiding,
	And row me saftly in,
	And tak me up to yon kirk-style,
	Whare the grass grows fair and green.’
49E.9	He’s taken aff the green cleiding,
	And rowed him saftly in;
	He’s laid him down by yon kirk-style,
	Whare the grass grows fair and green.
49E.10	‘What will ye say to your father dear,
	When ye gae hame at een?’
	‘I’ll say ye’re lying at yon kirk-style,
	Whare the grass grows fair and green.’
49E.11	‘O no, O no, my brother dear,
	O you must not say so;
	But say that I’m gane to a foreign land,
	Whare nae man does me know.’
49E.12	When he sat in his father’s chair,
	He grew baith pale and wan:
	‘O what blude’s that upon your brow?
	O dear son, tell to me;’
	‘It is the blude of my gray steed,
	He wadna ride wi me.’
49E.13	‘O thy steed’s blude was neer sae red,
	Nor eer sae dear to me:
	O what blude’s this upon your cheek?
	O dear son, tell to me;’
	‘It is the blude of my greyhound,
	He wadna hunt for me.’
49E.14	‘O thy hound’s blude was neer sae red,
	Nor eer sae dear to me:
	O what blude’s this upon your hand?
	O dear son, tell to me;’
	‘It is the blude of my gay goss-hawk,
	He wadna flee for me.’
49E.15	‘O thy hawk’s blude was neer sae red,
	Nor eer sae dear to me:
	O what blude’s this upon your dirk?
	Dear Willie, tell to me;’
	‘It is the blude of my ae brother,
	O dule and wae is me!’
49E.16	‘O what will ye say to your father?
	Dear Willie, tell to me;’
	‘I’ll saddle my steed, and awa I’ll ride,
	To dwell in some far countrie.’
49E.17	‘O when will ye come hame again?
	Dear Willie, tell to me;’
	‘When sun and mune leap on yon hill,
	And that will never be.’
49E.18	She turnd hersel right round about,
	And her heart burst into three:
	‘My ae best son is deid and gane,
	And my tother ane I’ll neer see.’


		  Child 49F: The Twa Brothers

49F.1	THERE were twa brothers in the east,
	Went to the school o Ayr;
	The one unto the other did say,
	Come let us wrestle here.
49F.2	They wrestled up and wrestled down,
	Till John fell to the ground;
	There being a knife in Willie’s pocket,
	Gae John his deadly wound.
49F.3	‘O is it for my gold, brother?
	Or for my white monie?
	Or is it for my lands sae braid,
	That ye hae killed me?’
49F.4	‘It is not for your gold,’ he said,
	‘Nor for your white monie;
	It is by the hand o accident
	That I hae killed thee.’
49F.5	‘Ye’ll take the shirt that’s on my back,
	Rive it frae gair to gair,
	And try to stop my bloody wounds,
	For they bleed wonderous sair.’
49F.6	He’s taen the shirt was on his back,
	Reave it frae gare to gare,
	And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,
	But still they bled the mair.
49F.7	‘Ye’ll take me up upon your back,
	Carry me to yon water clear,
	And try to stop my bloody wounds,
	For they run wonderous sair.’
49F.8	He’s taen him up upon his back,
	Carried him to yon water clear,
	And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,
	But still they bled the mair.
49F.9	‘Ye’ll take me up upon your back,
	Carry me to yon church-yard;
	Ye’ll dig a grave baith wide and deep,
	And then ye’ll lay me there.
49F.10	‘Ye’ll put a head-stane at my head,
	Another at my feet,
	Likewise a sod on my breast-bane,
	The souner I may sleep.
49F.11	‘Whenever my father asks of thee,
	Saying, What’s become of John?
	Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea,
	For a cargo of good wine.
49F.12	‘And when my sweetheart asks of thee,
	Saying, What’s become of John?
	Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea,
	To buy a wedding gown.
49F.13	‘And when my sister asks of thee,
	Saying, William, where is John?
	Ye’ll tell frae me, I’m ower the sea,
	To learn some merry sang.
49F.14	‘And when my mother asks of thee,
	Saying, William, where is John?
	Tell her I’m buried in green Fordland,
	The grass growing ower my tomb.’
49F.15	He’s taen him up upon his back,
	Carried him to yon church-yard,
	And dug a grave baith wide and deep,
	And he was buried there.
49F.16	He laid a head-stane at his head,
	Another at his feet,
	And laid a green sod on his breast,
	The souner he might sleep.
49F.17	His father asked when he came hame,
	Saying, ‘William, where is John?’
	Then John said, ‘He is ower the sea,
	To bring you hame some wine.’
49F.18	‘What blood is this upon you, William,
	And looks sae red on thee?’
	‘It is the blood o my grey-hound,
	He woudna run for me.’
49F.19	‘O that’s nae like your grey-hound’s blude,
	William, that I do see;
	I fear it is your own brother’s blood
	That looks sae red on thee.’
49F.20	‘That is not my own brother’s blude,
	Father, that ye do see;
	It is the blood o my good grey steed,
	He woudna carry me.’
49F.21	‘O that is nae your grey steed’s blude,
	William, that I do see;
	It is the blood o your brother John,
	That looks sae red on thee.’
49F.22	‘It’s nae the blood o my brother John,
	Father, that ye do see;
	It is the blude o my good grey hawk,
	Because he woudna flee.’
49F.23	‘O that is nae your grey hawk’s blood,
	William, that I do see:’
	‘Well, it’s the blude o my brother,
	This country I maun flee.’
49F.24	‘O when will ye come back again,
	My dear son, tell to me?’
	‘When sun and moon gae three times round,
	And this will never be.’
49F.25	‘Ohon, alas! now William, my son,
	This is bad news to me;
	Your brother’s death I’ll aye bewail,
	And the absence o thee.’


		  Child 49G: The Twa Brothers

49G.1	AS John and William were coming home one day,
	One Saturday afternoon,
	Says John to William, Come and try a fight,
	Or will you throw a stone?
	Or will you come down to yonder, yonder town
	Where the maids are all playing ball, ball, ball,
	Where the maids are all playing ball?
49G.2	Says William to John, I will not try a fight,
	Nor will I throw a stone,
	Nor will I come down to yonder town,
	Where the maids are all playing ball.
49G.3	So John took out of his pocket
	A knife both long and sharp,
	And stuck it through his brother’s heart,
	And the blood came pouring down.
49G.4	Says John to William, Take off thy shirt,
	And tear it from gore to gore,
	And wrap it round your bleeding heart,
	And the blood will pour no more.’
49G.5	So John took off his shirt,
	And tore it from gore to gore,
	And wrapped it round his bleeding heart,
	And the blood came pouring more.
49G.6	‘What shall I tell your dear father,
	When I go home to-night?’
	‘You’ll tell him I’m dead and in my grave,
	For the truth must be told.’
49G.7	‘What shall I tell your dear mother,
	When I go home to-night?’
	‘You’ll tell her I’m dead and in my grave,
	For the truth must be told.’
49G.8	‘How came this blood upon your knife?
	My son, come tell to me;’
	‘It is the blood of a rabbit I have killed,
	O mother, pardon me.’
49G.9	‘The blood of a rabbit couldnt be so pure,
	My son, come tell to me:’
	‘It is the blood of a squirrel I have killed,
	O mother, pardon me.’
49G.10	‘The blood of a squirrel couldnt be so pure,
	My son, come tell to me:’
	‘It is the blood of a brother I have killed,
	O mother, pardon me.’


		 Child 49[H]: The Twa Brothers

49[H].1	Two pretty boys lived in the North,
	The went to the school so rare;
	The one unto the other said,
	We’ll try some battle of war.
49[H.2]	The worselaid up, the worselaid down,
	Till John lay on the ground;
	A pen-knife out of William’s pocket
	Gave John a deadly wound.
49[H.3]	‘O is it for my gold?’ he said,
	‘Or for my rich monie?
	Or is it for my land sa broad,
	That you have killed me?’
49[H.4]	‘It’s neither for your gold,’ he said,
	‘Or for your rich monie,
	But it is for your land sa broad
	That I have killed thee.’
49[H.5]	‘You’ll take [me] up upon your back,
	Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;
	You’ill houk a hole large and deep,
	And lay my body there.
49[H.6]	‘You’ll put a good stone ou my head,
	Another at me feet,
	A good green turf upon my breast,
	That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.
49[H.7]	‘And if my father chance to ask
	What’s come of your brother John,
	. . . . . . .
	. . . . . . . .
	* * * * *
49[H.8]	‘What blood is this upon your coat?
	I pray come tell to me;’
	‘It is the blood of my grey hound,
	It would not run for me.’
49[H.9]	‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red,
	I pray come tell to me;’
	‘It is the blood of my black horse,
	It would not hunt for me.’
49[H.10]	‘The blood of your black horse was near so red,
	I pray come tell to me;’
	‘It is the blood of my brother John,
	Since better canna be.’
	* * * * *
49[H.11]	He put his foot upon a ship,
	Saying, I am gane our the sea;
	‘O when will you come back again,
	I pray come tell to me.’
49[H.12]	‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,
	That[’s] the day you’ll never see.’



		  Child 50: The Bonny Hind

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



			 Child 51A: Lizie Wan

51A.1	LIZIE WAN sits at her father’s bower-door,
	Weeping and making a mane,
	And by there came her father dear:
	‘What ails thee, Lizie Wan?’
51A.2	‘I ail, and I ail, dear father,’ she said,
	‘And I’ll tell you a reason for why;
	There is a child between my twa sides,
	Between my dear billy and I.’
51A.3	Now Lizie Wan sits at her father’s bower-door,
	Sighing and making a mane,
	And by there came her brother dear:
	‘What ails thee, Lizie Wan?’
51A.4	‘I ail, I ail, dear brither,’ she said,
	‘And I’ll tell you a reason for why;
	There is a child bewteen my twa sides,
	Between you, dear billy, and I.’
51A.5	‘And hast thou tald father and mother o that?
	And hast thou tald sae o me?’
	And he has drawn his gude braid sword,
	That hung down by his knee.

51A.6	And he has cutted aff Lizie Wan’s head,
	And her fair body in three,
	And he’s awa to his mothers bower,
	And sair aghast was he.
51A.7	‘What ails thee, what ails thee, Geordy Wan?
	What ails thee sae fast to rin?
	For I see by thy ill colour
	Some fallow’s deed thou hast done.’
51A.8	‘Some fallow’s deed I have done, mother,
	And I pray you pardon me;
	For I’ve cutted aff my greyhound’s head;
	He wadna rin for me.’
51A.9	‘Thy greyhound’s bluid was never sae red,
	O my son Geordy Wan!
	For I see by thy ill colour
	Some fallow’s deed thou hast done.’
51A.10	‘Some fallow’s deed I hae done, mother,
	And I pray you pardon me;
	For I hae cutted aff Lizie Wan’s head
	And her fair body in three.’
51A.11	‘O what wilt thou do when thy father comes hame,
	O my son Geordy Wan?’
	‘I’ll set my foot in a bottomless boat,
	And swim to the sea-ground.’
51A.12	‘And when will thou come hame again,
	O my son Geordy Wan?’
	‘The sun and the moon shall dance on the green
	That night when I come hame.’


			 Child 51B: Lizie Wan

51B.1	ROSIE she sat in her simmer bower,
	Greitin and making grit mane,
	When down by cam her father, saying,
	What ails thee Rosie Ann?
51B.2	‘A deal, a deal, dear father,’ she said,
	‘Great reason hae I to mane,
	For there lyes a little babe in my side,
	Between me and my brither John.’
51B.3	Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
	Weeping and making great mane,
	And wha cam doun but her mither dear,
	Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?
51B.4	‘A deal, a deal, dear mither,’ she said,
	‘Great reason hae I to mane,
	For there lyes a little babe in my side,
	Between me and my brither John.’
51B.5	Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
	Greiting and making great mane,
	And wha came doun but her sister dear,
	Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?

51B.6	‘A deal, a deal, dear sister,’ she said,
	‘Great reason hae I to mane,
	For there lyes a little babe in my side,
	Between me and my brither John.’
51B.7	Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
	Weeping and making great mane,
	And wha cam doun but her fause, fause brither,
	Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?
51B.8	‘A deal, a deal, dear brither,’ she said,
	‘Great reason hae I to cry,
	For there lyes a little babe in my side,
	Between yoursell and I.’
51B.9	‘Weel ye hae tauld father, and ye hae tauld mither,
	And ye hae tauld sister, a’ three;’
	Syne he pulled out his wee penknife,
	And he cut her fair bodie in three.
51B.10	‘O what blude is that on the point o your knife,
	Dear son, come tell to me?’
	‘It is my horse’s, that I did kill,
	Dear mother and fair ladie.’
51B.11	‘The blude o your horse was neer sae red,
	Dear son, come tell to me:’
	‘It is my grandfather’s, that I hae killed,
	Dear mother and fair ladie.’
51B.12	‘The blude o your grandfather was neer sae fresh,
	Dear son, come tell to me:’
	‘It is my sister’s, that I did kill,
	Dear mother and fair ladie.’
51B.13	‘What will ye do when your father comes hame,
	Dear son, come tell to me?’
	‘I’ll set my foot on yon shipboard,
	And I hope she’ll sail wi me.’
51B.14	‘What will ye do wi your bonny bonny young wife,
	Dear son, come tell to me?’
	‘I’ll set her foot on some other ship,
	And I hope she’ll follow me.’
51B.15	‘And what will ye do wi your wee son,
	Dear son, come tell to me?’
	‘I’ll leave him wi you, my dear mother,
	To keep in remembrance of me.’
51B.16	‘What will ye do wi your houses and lands,
	Dear son, come tell to me?’
	‘I’ll leave them wi you, my dear mother,
	To keep my own babie.’
51B.17	‘And whan will you return again,
	Dear son, come tell to me?’
	‘When the sun and the mune meet on yon hill,
	And I hope that’ll neer be.’



	  Child 52A: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean

52A.1	THE king’s young dochter was sitting in her window,
	Sewing at her silken seam;
	She lookt out o the bow-window,
	And she saw the leaves growing green, my luve,
	And she saw the leaves growing green.
52A.2	She stuck her needle into her sleeve,
	Her seam down by her tae,
	And she is awa to the merrie green-wood,
	To pu the nit and slae.
52A.3	She hadna pu’t a nit at a’,
	A nit but scarcely three,
	Till out and spak a braw young man,
	Saying, How daur ye bow the tree?
52A.4	‘It’s I will pu the nit,’ she said,
	‘And I will bow the tree,
	And I will come to the merrie green wud,
	And na ax leive o thee.’
52A.5	He took her by the middle sae sma,
	And laid her on the gerss sae green,
	And he has taen his will o her,
	And he loot her up agen.
52A.6	‘Now syn ye hae got your will o me,
	Pray tell to me your name;
	For I am the king’s young dochter,’ she said,
	‘And this nicht I daurna gang hame.’
52A.7	‘Gif ye be the king’s dochter,’ he said,
	‘I am his auldest son;
	I wish I had died on some frem isle,
	And never had come hame!
52A.8	‘The first time I came hame, Jeanie,
	Thou was na here nor born;
	I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
	And I had been forlorn!
52A.9	‘The neist time I came hame, Jeanie,
	Thou was sittin on the nourice knee;
	And I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
	And I had never seen thee!
52A.10	‘And the neist time I came hame, Jeanie,
	I met thee here alane;
	I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
	And I had neer come hame!’
52A.11	She put her hand down by her side,
	And doun into her spare,
	And she pou’t out a wee pen-knife,
	And she wounded hersell fu sair.
52A.12	Hooly, hooly rase she up,
	And hooly she gade hame,
	Until she came to her father’s parlour,
	And there she did sick and mane.
52A.13	‘O sister, sister, mak my bed,
	O the clean sheets and strae,
	O sister, sister, mak my bed,
	Down in the parlour below.’
52A.14	Her father he came tripping down the stair,
	His steps they were fu slow;
	‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ he said,
	‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’
52A.15	‘O late yestreen, as I came hame,
	Down by yon castil wa,
	O heavy, heavy was the stane
	That on my briest did fa!’
52A.16	Her mother she came tripping doun the stair,
	Her steps they were fu slow;
	‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ she said,
	‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’
52A.17	‘O late yestreen, as I cam hame,
	Down by yon castil wa,
	O heavy, heavy was the stane
	That on my breast did fa!’
52A.18	Her sister came tripping doun the stair,
	Her steps they were fu slow;
	‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ she said,
	‘Ye’re lying far ower low.’
	‘O late yestreen, as I cam hame,
	Doun by yon castil wa,
	O heavy, heavy was the stane
	That on my breast did fa!’
52A.19	Her brither he cam trippin doun the stair,
	His steps they were fu slow;
	He sank into his sister’s arms,
	And they died as white as snaw.


	  Child 52B: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean

52B.1	LADY MARGARET sits in her bow-window,
	Sewing her silken seam;
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
52B.2	She’s drapt the thimble at her tae,
	And her scissars at her heel,
	And she’s awa to the merry green-wood,
	To see the leaves grow green.
52B.3	She had scarsely bowed a branch,
	Or plucked a nut frae the tree,
	Till up and starts a fair young man,
	And a fair young man was he.
52B.4	‘How dare ye shake the leaves?’ he said,
	‘How dare ye break the tree?
	How dare ye pluck the nuts,’ he said,
	‘Without the leave of me?’
52B.5	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘Oh I know the merry green wood’s my ain,
	And I’ll ask the leave of nane.’
52B.6	He gript her by the middle sae sma,
	He gently sat her down,
	While the grass grew up on every side,
	And the apple trees hang down.
52B.7	She says, Young man, what is your name?
	For ye’ve brought me to meikle shame;
	For I am the king’s youngest daughter,
	And how shall I gae hame?
52B.8	‘If you’re the king’s youngest daughter,
	It’s I’m his auldest son,
	And heavy heavy is the deed, sister,
	That you and I have done.’
52B.9	He had a penknife in his hand,
	Hang low down by his gair,
	And between the long rib and the short one
	He woundit her deep and sair.
52B.10	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	And fast and fast her ruddy bright blood
	Fell drapping on the ground.
52B.11	She took the glove off her right hand,
	And slowly slipt it in the wound,
	And slowly has she risen up,
	And slowly slipped home.
	* * * * *
52B.12	‘O sister dear, when thou gaes hame
	Unto thy father’s ha,
	It’s make my bed baith braid and lang,
	Wi the sheets as white as snaw.’
	* * * * *
52B.13	‘When I came by the high church-yard
	Heavy was the stain that bruised my heel,
	. . . . . . . that bruised my heart,
	I’m afraid it shall neer heal.’
	* * * * *


	  Child 52C: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean

52C.1	AS Annie sat into her bower,
	A thought came in her head,
	That she would gang to gude greenwood,
	Across the flowery mead.
52C.2	She hadna pu’d a flower, a flower,
	Nor broken a branch but twa,
	Till by it came a gentle squire,
	Says, Lady, come awa.
52C.3	There’s nane that comes to gude greenwood
	But pays to me a tein,
	And I maun hae your maidenhead,
	Or than your mantle green.
52C.4	‘My mantle’s o the finest silk,
	Anither I can spin;
	But gin you take my maidenhead,
	The like I’ll never fin.’
52C.5	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	And by the grass-green sleeve,
	There laid her low in gude greenwood,
	And at her spierd nae leave.
52C.6	When he had got his wills o her,
	His wills as he had taen,
	She said, If you rightly knew my birth,
	Ye’d better letten alane.
52C.7	‘Is your father a lord o might?
	Or baron o high degree?
	Or what race are ye sprung frae,
	That I should lat ye be?’
52C.8	‘O I am Castle Ha’s daughter,
	O birth and high degree,
	And if he knows what ye hae done,
	He’ll hang you on a tree.’
52C.9	‘If ye be Castle Ha’s daughter,
	This day I am undone;
	If ye be Castle Ha’s daughter,
	I am his only son.’
52C.10	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jelly hind squire,
	Sae loud as I hear you lie,
	Castle Ha, he has but ae dear son,
	And he is far beyond the sea.’
52C.11	‘O I am Castle Ha’s dear son,
	A word I dinna lie;
	Yes, I am Castle Ha’s dear son,
	And new come oer the sea.
52C.12	‘’Twas yesterday, that fatal day,
	That I did cross the faem;
	I wish my bonny ship had sunk,
	And I had neer come hame.’
52C.13	Then dowie, dowie, raise she up,
	And dowie came she hame,
	And stripped aff her silk mantle,
	And then to bed she’s gane.
52C.14	Then in it came her mother dear,
	And she steps in the fleer:
	‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
	What makes your lying here?’
52C.15	‘This morning fair, as I went out,
	Near by yon castle wa,
	Great and heavy was the stane
	That on my foot did fa.’
52C.16	‘Hae I nae ha’s, hae I nae bowers,
	Towers, or mony a town?
	Will not these cure your bonny foot,
	Gar you gae hale and soun?’
52C.17	‘Ye hae ha’s, and ye hae bowers,
	And towers, and mony a town,
	But nought will cure my bonny foot,
	Gar me gang hale and soun.’
52C.18	Then in it came her father dear,
	And he trips in the fleer:
	‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
	What makes your lying here?’
52C.19	‘This morning fair, as I went out,
	Near by yon castle wa,
	Great and heavy was the stane
	That on my foot did fa.’
52C.20	‘Hae I nae ha’s, hae I nae bowers,
	And towers, and mony a town?
	Will not these cure your bonny foot,
	Gar you gang hale and soun?’
52C.21	‘O ye hae ha’s, and ye hae bowers,
	And towers, and mony a town,
	But nought will cure my bonny foot,
	Gar me gang hale and soun.’
52C.22	Then in it came her sister Grace;
	As she steps in the fleer,
	‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
	What makes your lying here?
52C.23	‘Win up, and see your ae brother,
	That’s new come ower the sea;’
	‘Ohon, alas!’ says fair Annie,
	‘He spake ower soon wi me.’
52C.24	To her room her brother’s gane,
	Stroked back her yellow hair,
	To her lips his ain did press,
	But words spake never mair.


	  Child 52D: The King’s Dochter Lady Jean

52D.1	THE lady’s taen her mantle her middle about,
	Into the woods she’s gane,
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
52D.2	She hadna poud a flower o gude green-wood,
	O never a flower but ane,
	Till by he comes, an by he gangs,
	Says, Lady, lat alane.
52D.3	For I am forester o this wood,
	And I hae power to pine
	Your mantle or your maidenhead,
	Which o the twa ye’ll twine.
52D.4	‘My mantle is o gude green silk,
	Another I can card an spin;
	But gin ye tak my maidenhead,
	The like I’ll never fin.’
52D.5	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	And by the grass-green sleeve,
	And laid her low at the foot o a tree,
	At her high kin spierd nae leave.
52D.6	‘I am bold Burnet’s ae daughter,
	You might hae lat me be:’
	‘And I’m bold Burnet’s ae dear son,
	Then dear! how can this dee?’
52D.7	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jolly hind squire,
	So loud’s I hear you lie!
	Bold Burnet has but ae dear son,
	He’s sailing on the sea.’
52D.8	‘Yesterday, about this same time,
	My bonny ship came to land;
	I wish she’d sunken in the sea,
	And never seen the strand!
52D.9	‘Heal well this deed on me, lady,
	Heal well this deed on me!’
	‘Although I would heal it neer sae well,
	Our God above does see.’
52D.10	She’s taen her mantle her middle about,
	And mourning went she hame,
	And a’ the way she sighd full sair,
	Crying, Am I to blame!
52D.11	Ben it came her father dear,
	Stout stepping on the flear:
	‘Win up, win up, my daughter Janet,
	And welcome your brother here.’
52D.12	Up she’s taen her milk-white hand,
	Streakd by his yellow hair,
	Then turnd about her bonny face,
	And word spake never mair.



		  Child 53A: Young Beichan

53A.1	IN London city was Bicham born,
	He longd strange countries for to see,
	But he was taen by a savage Moor,
	Who handld him right cruely.
53A.2	For thro his shoulder he put a bore,
	An thro the bore has pitten a tree,
	An he’s gard him draw the carts o wine,
	Where horse and oxen had wont to be.
53A.3	He’s casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
	Where he coud neither hear nor see;
	He’s shut him up in a prison strong,
	An he’s handld him right cruely.
53A.4	O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
	I wot her name was Shusy Pye;
	She’s doen her to the prison-house,
	And she’s calld Young Bicham one word by.
53A.5	‘O hae ye ony lands or rents,
	Or citys in your ain country,
	Coud free you out of prison strong,
	An coud mantain a lady free?’
53A.6	‘O London city is my own,
	An other citys twa or three,
	Coud loose me out o prison strong,
	An coud mantain a lady free.’
53A.7	O she has bribed her father’s men
	Wi meikle goud and white money,
	She’s gotten the key o the prison doors,
	An she has set Young Bicham free.
53A.8	She’s gi’n him a loaf o good white bread,
	But an a flask o Spanish wine,
	An she bad him mind on the ladie’s love
	That sae kindly freed him out o pine.
53A.9	‘Go set your foot on good ship-board,
	An haste you back to your ain country,
	An before that seven years has an end,
	Come back again, love, and marry me.’
53A.10	It was long or seven years had an end
	She longd fu sair her love to see;
	She’s set her foot on good ship-board,
	An turnd her back on her ain country.
53A.11	She’s saild up, so has she doun,
	Till she came to the other side;
	She’s landed at Young Bicham’s gates,
	An I hop this day she sal be his bride.
53A.12	‘Is this Young Bicham’s gates?’ says she,
	‘Or is that noble prince within?’
	‘He’s up the stairs wi his bonny bride,
	An monny a lord and lady wi him.’
53A.13	‘O has he taen a bonny bride,
	An has he clean forgotten me!’
	An sighing said that gay lady,
	I wish I were in my ain country!
53A.14	But she’s pitten her han in her pocket,
	An gin the porter guineas three;
	Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,
	An bid the bridegroom speak to me.
53A.15	O whan the porter came up the stair,
	He’s fa’n low down upon his knee:
	‘Won up, won up, ye proud porter,
	An what makes a’ this courtesy?’
53A.16	I’ve been porter at your gates
	This mair nor seven years an three,
	But there is a lady at them now
	The like of whom I never did see.
53A.17	‘For on every finger she has a ring,
	An on the mid-finger she has three,
	An there’s as meikle goud aboon her brow
	As woud buy an earldome o lan to me.’
53A.18	Then up it started Young Bicham,
	An sware so loud by Our Lady,
	‘It can be nane but Shusy Pye,
	That has come oer the sea to me.’
53A.19	O quickly ran he down the stair,
	O fifteen steps he has made but three;
	He’s tane his bonny love in his arms,
	An a wot he kissd her tenderly.
53A.20	‘O hae you tane a bonny bride?
	An hae you quite forsaken me?
	An hae ye quite forgotten her
	That gae you life an liberty?’
53A.21	She’s lookit oer her left shoulder
	To hide the tears stood in her ee;
	‘Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,’ she says,
	‘I’ll strive to think nae mair on thee.’
53A.22	‘Take back your daughter, madam,’ he says,
	‘An a double dowry I’ll gi her wi;
	For I maun marry my first true love,
	That’s done and suffered so much for me.’
53A.23	He’s take his bonny love by the han,
	And led her to yon fountain stane;
	He’s changd her name frae Shusy Pye,
	An he’s cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.


		  Child 53B: Young Beichan

53B.1	IN England was Young Brechin born,
	Of parents of a high degree;
	The selld him to the savage Moor,
	Where they abused him maist cruellie.
53B.2	Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore,
	And thro evry bore they pat a tree;
	They made him draw the carts o wine,
	Which horse and owsn were wont to drie.
53B.3	The pat him into prison strong,
	Where he could neither hear nor see;
	They pat him in a dark dungeon,
	Where he was sick and like to die.
53B.4	‘Is there neer an auld wife in this town
	That’ll borrow me to be her son?
	Is there neer a young maid in this town
	Will take me for her chiefest one?’
53B.5	A Savoyen has an only daughter,
	I wat she’s called Young Brichen by;
	‘O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen?’ she says,
	‘Or who is’t that does on me cry?
53B.6	‘O hast thou any house or lands,
	Or hast thou any castles free,
	That thou wadst gi to a lady fair
	That out o prison wad bring thee?’
53B.7	‘O lady, Lundin it is mine,
	And other castles twa or three;
	These I wad gie to a lady fair
	That out of prison wad set me free.’
53B.8	She’s taen him by the milk-white hand,
	And led him to a towr sae hie,
	She’s made him drink the wine sae reid,
	And sung to him like a mavosie.
53B.9	O these two luvers made a bond,
	For seven years, and that is lang,
	That he was to marry no other wife,
	And she’s to marry no other man.
53B.10	n seven years were past and gane,
	This young lady began to lang,
	And she’s awa to Lundin gane,
	To see if Brechin’s got safe to land.
53B.11	When she came to Young Brechin’s yett,
	She chappit gently at the gin;
	‘Is this Young Brechin’s yett?’ she says,
	‘Or is this lusty lord within?’
	‘O yes, this is Lord Brechin’s yett,
	And I wat this be his bridal een.’
53B.12	She’s put her hand in her pocket,
	And thrawin the porter guineas three;
	‘Gang up the stair, young man,’ she says,
	‘And bid your master come down to me.
53B.13	‘Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread,
	And a bottle o his ae best wine,
	And neer forget that lady fair
	That did him out o prison bring.’
53B.14	The porter tripped up the stair,
	And fell low down upon his knee:
	‘Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter,
	What mean you by this courtesie?’
53B.15	‘O I hae been porter at your yett
	This thirty years and a’ but three;
	There stands the fairest lady thereat
	That ever my twa een did see.
53B.16	‘On evry finger she has a ring,
	On her mid-finger she has three;
	She’s as much gold on her horse’s neck
	As wad by a earldom o land to me.
53B.17	‘She bids you send o your ae best bread,
	And a bottle o your ae best wine,
	And neer forget the lady fair
	That out o prison did you bring.’
53B.18	He’s taen the table wi his foot,
	And made the cups and cans to flee:
	‘I’ll wager a’ the lands I hae
	That Susan Pye’s come oer the sea.’
	* * * * *
53B.19	Then up and spak the bride’s mother:
	‘And O an ill deid may ye die!
	If ye didna except the bonny bride,
	Ye might hae ay excepted me.’
53B.20	‘O ye are fair, and fair, madam,
	And ay the fairer may ye be!
	But the fairest day that eer ye saw,
	Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.’
53B.21	O when these lovers two did meet,
	The tear it blinded baith their ee;
	‘Gie me my faith and troth,’ she says,
	‘For now fain hame wad I be.’
53B.22	‘Tak hame your daughter, madam,’ he says,
	‘She’s neer a bit the war o me;
	Except a kiss o her bonny lips,
	Of her body I am free;
	She came to me on a single horse,
	Now I’ll send her hame in chariots three.’
53B.23	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	And he’s led her to a yard o stane;
	He’s changed her name frae Susan Pye,
	And calld her lusty Lady Jane.


		  Child 53C: Young Beichan

53C.1	YOUNG Bekie was as brave a knight
	As ever saild the sea;
	An he’s doen him to the court of France,
	To serve for meat and fee.
53C.2	He had nae been i the court of France
	A twelvemonth nor sae long,
	Til he fell in love with the king’s daughter,
	An was thrown in prison strong.
53C.3	The king he had but ae daughter,
	Burd Isbel was her name;
	An she has to the prison-house gane,
	To hear the prisoner’s mane.
53C.4	‘O gin a lady woud borrow me,
	At her stirrup-foot I wood rin;
	Or gin a widow wad borrow me,
	I woud swear to be her son.
53C.5	‘Or gin a virgin woud borrow me,
	I woud wed her wi a ring;
	I’d gi her ha’s, I’d gie her bowers,
	The bonny towrs o Linne.’
53C.6	O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but,
	An barefoot came she ben;
	It was no for want o hose an shoone,
	Nor time to put them on.
53C.7	But a’ for fear that her father dear
	Had heard her making din:
	She’s stown the keys o the prison-house dor
	An latten the prisoner gang.
53C.8	O whan she saw him, Young Bekie,
	Her heart was wondrous sair!
	For the mice but an the bold rottons
	Had eaten his yallow hair.
53C.9	She’s gien him a shaver for his beard,
	A comber till his hair,
	Five hunder pound in his pocket,
	To spen, an nae to spair.
53C.10	She’s gien him a steed was good in need,
	An a saddle o royal bone,
	A leash o hounds o ae litter,
	An Hector called one.
53C.11	Atween this twa a vow was made,
	’Twas made full solemnly,
	That or three years was come an gane,
	Well married they should be.
53C.12	He had nae been in’s ain country
	A twelvemonth till an end,
	Till he’s forcd to marry a duke’s daughter,
	Or than lose a’ his land.
53C.13	‘Ohon, alas!’ says Young Beckie,
	‘I know not what to dee;
	For I canno win to Burd Isbel,
	And she kensnae to come to me.’
53C.14	O it fell once upon a day
	Burd Isbel fell asleep,
	An up it starts the Belly Blin,
	An stood at her bed-feet.
53C.15	‘O waken, waken, Burd Isbel,
	How [can] you sleep so soun,
	Whan this is Bekie’s wedding day,
	An the marriage gain on?
53C.16	‘Ye do ye to your mither’s bowr,
	Think neither sin nor shame;
	An ye tak twa o your mither’s marys,
	To keep ye frae thinking lang.
53C.17	‘Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet,
	An your marys in dainty green,
	An ye pit girdles about your middles
	Woud buy an earldome.
53C.18	‘O ye gang down by yon sea-side,
	An down by yon sea-stran;
	Sae bonny will the Hollans boats
	Come rowin till your han.
53C.19	‘Ye set your milk-white foot abord,
	Cry, Hail ye, Domine!
	An I shal be the steerer o’t,
	To row you oer the sea.’
53C.20	She’s tane her till her mither’s bowr,
	Thought neither sin nor shame,
	An she took twa o her mither’s marys,
	To keep her frae thinking lang.
53C.21	She dressd hersel i the red scarlet,
	Her marys i dainty green,
	And they pat girdles about their middles
	Woud buy an earldome.
53C.22	An they gid down by yon sea-side,
	An down by yon sea-stran;
	Sae bonny did the Hollan boats
	Come rowin to their han.
53C.23	She set her milk-white foot on board,
	Cried, Hail ye, Domine!
	An the Belly Blin was the steerer o’t,
	To row her oer the sea.
53C.24	Whan she came to Young Bekie’s gate,
	She heard the music play;
	Sae well she kent frae a’ she heard,
	It was his wedding day.
53C.25	She’s pitten her han in her pocket,
	Gin the porter guineas three;
	‘Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter,
	Bid the bride-groom speake to me.’
53C.26	O whan that he cam up the stair,
	He fell low down on his knee:
	He haild the king, an he haild the queen,
	An he haild him, Young Bekie.
53C.27	‘O I’ve been porter at your gates
	This thirty years an three;
	But there’s three ladies at them now,
	Their like I never did see.
53C.28	‘There’s ane o them dressd in red scarlet,
	And twa in dainty green,
	An they hae girdles about their middles
	Woud buy an earldome.’
53C.29	Then out it spake the bierly bride,
	Was a’ goud to the chin;
	‘Gin she be braw without,’ she says,
	‘We’s be as braw within.’
53C.30	Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,
	An the tears was in his ee:
	‘I’ll lay my life it’s Burd Isbel,
	Come oer the sea to me.’
53C.31	O quickly ran he down the stair,
	An whan he saw ’twas shee,
	He kindly took her in his arms,
	And kissd her tenderly.
53C.32	‘O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie,
	The vow ye made to me,
	Whan I took you out o the prison strong,
	Whan ye was condemnd to die?
53C.33	‘I gae you a steed was good in need,
	An a saddle o royal bone,
	A leash o hounds o ae litter,
	An Hector called one.’
53C.34	It was well kent what the lady said,
	That it wasnae a lee,
	For at ilka word the lady spake,
	The hound fell at her knee.
53C.35	‘Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,
	A blessing gae her wi,
	For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,
	That’s come oer the sea to me.’
53C.36	‘Is this the custom o your house,
	Or the fashion o your lan,
	To marry a maid in a May mornin,
	An send her back at even?’


		  Child 53D: Young Beichan

53D.1	YOUNG BEACHEN was born in fair London,
	And foreign lands he langed to see;
	He was taen by the savage Moor,
	An the used him most cruellie.
53D.2	Through his showlder they pat a bore,
	And through the bore the pat a tree;
	They made him trail their ousen carts,
	And they used him most cruellie.
53D.3	The savage Moor had ae daughter,
	I wat her name was Susan Pay;
	And she is to the prison house,
	To hear the prisoner’s moan.
53D.4	He made na his moan to a stocke,
	He made na it to a stone,
	Bit it was to the Queen of Heaven
	That he made his moan.
53D.5	‘Gin a lady wad borrow me,
	I at her foot wad run;
	An a widdow wad borrow me,
	I wad become her son.
53D.6	‘But an a maid wad borrow me,
	I wad wed her wi a ring;
	I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,
	An of the high towers of Line.’
53D.7	‘Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,’ she says,
	‘Sing oer yer sang to me;’
	‘I never sang that sang, lady,
	But I wad sing to thee.
53D.8	‘Gin a lady wad borrow me,
	I at her foot wad run;
	An a widdow wad borrow me,
	I wad become her son.
53D.9	‘But an a maid wad borrow me,
	I wad wed her wi a ring;
	I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,
	An of the high towers of Line.’
53D.10	Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but,
	An saftlly gaed she ben,
	It was na for want of hose nor shoon,
	Nor time to pet them on.
53D.11	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	An she has staen the keys of the prison,
	An latten Young Beachen gang.
53D.12	She gae him a leaf of her white bread,
	An a bottle of her wine,
	She bad him mind on the lady’s love
	That freed him out of pine.
53D.13	She gae him a steed was guid in need,
	A saddle of the bane,
	Five hundred pown in his pocket,
	Bad him gae speeding hame.
53D.14	An a leash of guid grayhounds,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
53D.15	Whan seven lang years were come and gane,
	Shusie Pay thought lang,
	An she is on to fair London,
	As fast as she could gang.
53D.16	Whan she cam to Young Beachen’s gate,
	. . . . .
	‘Is Young Beachan at hame,
	Or is he in this countrie?’
53D.17	‘He is at hame, is hear,’ they said,
	. . . . .
	An sighan says her Susie Pay,
	Has he quite forgotten me?
53D.18	On every finger she had a ring,
	On the middle finger three;
	She gae the porter ane of them:
	‘Get a word o your lord to me.’
53D.19	He gaed up the stair,
	Fell low down on his knee:
	‘Win up, my proud porter,
	What is your will wi me?’
53D.20	‘I hae been porter at yer gate
	This thirty year and three;
	The fairst lady is at yer gate
	Mine eyes did ever see.’
53D.21	Out spak the bride’s mither,
	An a haghty woman was she:
	‘If ye had na eccepted the bonny bride,
	Ye might well ha eccepted me.’
53D.22	‘No disparagement to you, madam,
	Nor none unto her Grace;
	The sole of yonr lady’s foot
	Is fairer than her face.’
53D.23	He’s gaen the table wi his foot,
	And couped it wi his knee:
	‘I wad my head and a’ my land
	’Tis Susie Pay, come oer the sea.’
53D.24	The stair was thirty steps,
	I wat he made them three;
	He took her in his arms twa:
	‘Susie Pay, ye’r welcome to me.’
53D.25	‘Gie me a shive of your white bread,
	An a bottle of your wine;
	Dinna ye mind on the lady’s love
	That freed ye out of pine?’
53D.26	He took her . . . .
	Down to yon garden green,
	An changed her name fra Susie Pay,
	An called her bonny Lady Jean.
53D.27	‘Yer daughter came here on high horse-back,
	She sal gae hame in coaches three,
	An I sall double her tocher our,
	She’s nane the war o me.’
53D.28	‘It’s na the fashion o our countrie,
	Nor yet o yer nane,
	To wed a maid in the morning,
	An send her hame at een.’
53D.29	‘It’s na the fashion o my countrie,
	Nor is it of my nane,
	But I man mind on the lady’s love
	That freed me out of pine.’


		  Child 53E: Young Beichan

53E.1	IN London was Young Beichan born,
	He longed strange countries for to see,
	But he was taen by a savage Moor,
	Who handled him right cruellie.
53E.2	For he viewed the fashions of that land,
	Their way of worship viewed he,
	But to Mahound or Termagant
	Would Beichan never bend a knee.
53E.3	So in every shoulder they’ve putten a bore,
	In every bore they’ve putten a tree,
	And they have made him trail the wine
	And spices on his fair bodie.
53E.4	They’ve casten him in a dungeon deep,
	Where he could neither hear nor see,
	For seven years they kept him there,
	Till he for hunger’s like to die.
53E.5	This Moor he had but ae daughter,
	Her name was called Susie Pye,
	And every day as she took the air,
	Near Beichan’s prison she passed by.
53E.6	O so it fell upon a day
	She heard Young Beichan sadly sing:
	‘My hounds they all go masterless,
	My hawks they flee from tree to tree,
	My younger brother will heir my land,
	Fair England again I’ll never see!’
53E.7	All night long no rest she got,
	Young Beichan’s song for thinking on;
	She’s stown the keys from her father’s head,
	And to the prison strong is gone.
53E.8	And she has opend the prison doors,
	I wot she opend two or three,
	Ere she could come Young Beichan at,
	He was locked up so curiouslie.
53E.9	But when she came Young Beichan before,
	Sore wonderd he that may to see;
	He took her for some fair captive:
	‘Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?’
53E.10	‘O have ye any lands,’ she said,
	‘Or castles in your own countrie,
	That ye could give to a lady fair,
	From prison strong to set you free?’
53E.11	‘Near London town I have a hall,
	With other castles two or three;
	I’ll give them all to the lady fair
	That out of prison will set me free.’
53E.12	‘Give me the truth of your right hand,
	The truth of it give unto me,
	That for seven years ye’ll no lady wed,
	Unless it be along with me.’
53E.13	‘I’ll give thee the truth of my right hand,
	The truth of it I’ll freely gie,
	That for seven years I’ll stay unwed,
	For the kindness thou dost show to me.’
53E.14	And she has brib’d the proud warder
	Wi mickle gold and white monie,
	She’s gotten the keys of the prison strong,
	And she has set Young Beichan free.
53E.15	She’s gien him to eat the good spice-cake,
	She’s gien him to drink the blood-red wine,
	She’s bidden him sometimes think on her,
	That sae kindly freed him out of pine.
53E.16	She’s broken a ring from her finger,
	And to Beichan half of it gave she:
	‘Keep it, to mind you of that love
	The lady bore that set you free.
53E.17	‘And set your foot on good ship-board,
	And haste ye back to your own countrie,
	And before that seven years have an end,
	Come back again, love, and marry me.’
53E.18	But long ere seven years had an end,
	She longd full sore her love to see,
	For ever a voice within her breast
	Said, ‘Beichan has broke his vow to thee:’
	So she’s set her foot on good ship-board,
	And turnd her back on her own countrie.
53E.19	She sailed east, she sailed west,
	Till to fair England’s shore she came,
	Where a bonny shepherd she espied,
	Feeding his sheep upon the plain.
53E.20	‘What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?
	What news hast thou to tell to me?’
	‘Such news I hear, ladie,’ he says,
	‘The like was never in this countrie.
53E.21	‘There is a wedding in yonder hall,
	Has lasted these thirty days and three;
	Young Beichan will not bed with his bride,
	For love of one that’s yond the sea.’
53E.22	She’s put her hand in her pocket,
	Gien him the gold and white monie:
	‘Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,
	For the good news thou tellst to me.’
53E.23	When she came to Young Beichan’s gate,
	She tirled softly at the pin;
	So ready was the proud porter
	To open and let this lady in.
53E.24	‘Is this Young Beichan’s hall,’ she said,
	‘O is that noble lord within?’
	‘Yea, he’s in the hall among them all,
	And this is the day o his weddin.’
53E.25	‘And has he wed anither love?
	And has he clean forgotten me?’
	And sighin said that gay ladie,
	I wish I were in my own countrie!
53E.26	And she has taen her gay gold ring,
	That with her love she brake so free;
	Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter,
	And bid the bridegroom speak to me.
53E.27	When the porter came his lord before,
	He kneeled down low on his knee:
	‘What aileth thee, my proud porter,
	Thou art so full of courtesie?’
53E.28	‘I’ve been porter at your gates,
	It’s thirty long years now and three;
	But there stands a lady at them now,
	The like o her did I never see.
53E.29	‘For on every finger she has a ring,
	And on her mid-finger she has three,
	And as meickle gold aboon her brow
	As would buy an earldom to me.’
53E.30	It’s out then spak the bride’s mother,
	Aye and an angry woman was shee:
	‘Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
	And twa or three of our companie.’
53E.31	‘O hold your tongue, thou bride’s mother,
	Of all your folly let me be;
	She’s ten times fairer nor the bride,
	And all that’s in your companie.
53E.32	‘She begs one sheave of your white bread,
	But and a cup of your red wine,
	And to remember the lady’s love
	That last relievd you out of pine.’
53E.33	‘O well-a-day!’ said Beichan then,
	‘That I so soon have married thee!
	For it can be none but Susie Pye,
	That sailed the sea for love of me.’
53E.34	And quickly hied he down the stair;
	Of fifteen steps he made but three;
	He’s taen his bonny love in his arms,
	And kist and kist her tenderlie.
53E.35	‘O hae ye taen anither bride?
	And hae ye quite forgotten me?
	And hae ye quite forgotten her
	That gave your life and libertie?’
53E.36	She looked oer her left shoulder,
	To hide the tears stood in her ee:
	‘Now fare thee well, Young Beichan,’ she says,
	‘I’ll try to think no more on thee.’
53E.37	‘O never, never, Susie Pye,
	For surely this can never be,
	Nor ever shall I wed but her
	That’s done and dreed so much for me.’
53E.38	Then out and spak the forenoon bride:
	‘My lord, your love it changeth soon;
	This morning I was made your bride,
	And another chose ere it be noon.’
53E.39	O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,
	Ye’re neer a whit the worse for me,
	And whan ye return to your own countrie,
	A double dower I’ll send with thee.’
53E.40	He’s taen Susie Pye by the white hand,
	And gently led her up and down,
	And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,
	‘Ye’re welcome, jewel, to your own.’
53E.41	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	And led her to yon fountain stane;
	He’s changed her name from Susie Pye,
	And he’s call’d her his bonny love, Lady Jane.


		  Child 53F: Young Beichan

53F.1	IN the lands whre Lord Beichan was born,
	Amang the stately steps of stane,
	He wore the goud at his left shoulder,
	But to the Holy Land he’s gane.
53F.2	He was na lang in the Holy Land,
	Amang the Prudents that was black,
	He was na lang in the Holy Land,
	Till the Prudent did Lord Beichan tak.
53F.3	The gard him draw baith pleugh and harrow,
	And horse and oxen twa or three;
	They cast him in a dark dungeon,
	Whare he coud neither hear nor see.
53F.4	The Prudent had a fair daughter,
	I wot they ca’d her Susy Pye,
	And all the keys in that city
	Hang at that lady by and bye.
53F.5	It once fell out upon a day
	That into the prison she did gae,
	And whan she cam to the prison door,
	She kneeled low down on her knee.
53F.6	‘O hae ye ony lands, Beichan,
	Or hae ye ony castles hie,
	Whar ye wad tak a young thing to,
	If out of prison I wad let thee?’
53F.7	‘Fair London’s mine, dear lady,’ he said,
	‘And other places twa or three,
	Whar I wad tak a young thing to,
	If out of prison ye wad let me.’
53F.8	O she has opened the prison door,
	And other places twa or three,
	And gien him bread, and wine to drink,
	In her own chamber privately.
53F.9	O then she built a bonny ship,
	And she has set it on the main,
	And she has built a bonny ship,
	It’s for to tak Lord Beichan hame.
53F.10	O she’s gaen murning up and down,
	And she’s gaen murnin to the sea,
	Then to her father she has gane in,
	Wha spak to her right angrily.
53F.11	‘O do ye mourn for the goud, daughter,
	Or do ye mourn for the whyte monie?
	Or do ye mourn for the English squire?
	I wat I will gar hang him hie.’
53F.12	‘I neither mourn for the goud, father,
	Nor do I for the whyte monie,
	Nor do I for the English squire;
	And I care na tho ye hang him hie.
53F.13	‘But I hae promised an errand to go,
	Seven lang miles ayont the sea,
	And blythe and merry I never will be
	Untill that errand you let me.’
53F.14	‘That errand, daughter, you may gang,
	Seven long miles beyond the sea,
	Since blythe and merry you’ll neer be
	Untill that errand I’ll let thee.’
53F.15	O she has built a bonny ship,
	And she has set it in the sea,
	And she has built a bonny ship,
	It’s all for to tak her a long journie.
53F.16	And she’s sailed a’ the summer day,
	I wat the wind blew wondrous fair;
	In sight of fair London she has come,
	And till Lord Beichan’s yett she walked.
53F.17	Whan she cam till Lord Beichan’s yett,
	She rappit loudly at the pin:
	‘Is Beichan lord of this bonny place?
	I pray ye open and let me in.
53F.18	‘And O is this Lord Beichan’s yett,
	And is the noble lord within?’
	‘O yes, it is Lord Beichan’s yett,
	He’s wi his bride and mony a ane.’
53F.19	‘If you’ll gang up to Lord Beichan,
	Tell him the words that I tell thee;
	It will put him in mind of Susy Pye,
	And the Holy Land, whareer he be.
53F.20	‘Tell him to send one bite of bread,
	It’s and a glass of his gude red wine,
	Nor to forget the lady’s love
	That loosed him out of prison strong.’
	* * * * *
53F.21	‘I hae been porter at your yett,
	I’m sure this therty lang years and three,
	But the fairest lady stands thereat
	That evir my twa eyes did see.
53F.22	‘On ilka finger she has a ring,
	And on the foremost she has three;
	As muckle goud is on her head
	As wad buy an earldom of land to thee.
53F.23	‘She bids you send a bite of bread,
	It’s and a glass of your gude red wine,
	Nor to forget the lady’s love
	That let you out of prison strong.’
53F.24	It’s up and spak the bride’s mother,
	A weight of goud hung at her chin:
	‘There is no one so fair without
	But there are, I wat, as fair within.’
53F.25	It’s up and spak the bride hersel,
	As she sat by the gude lord’s knee:
	‘Awa, awa, ye proud porter,
	This day ye might hae excepted me.’
	* * * * *
53F.26	‘Tak hence, tak hence your fair daughter,
	Tak hame your daughter fair frae me;
	For saving one kiss of her bonny lips,
	I’m sure of her body I am free.
53F.27	‘Awa, awa, ye proud mither,
	It’s tak your daughter fair frae me;
	For I brought her home with chariots six,
	And I’ll send her back wi coaches three.’
53F.28	It’s he’s taen the table wi his fit,
	And syne he took it wi his knee;
	He gard the glasses and wine so red,
	He gard them all in flinders flee.
53F.29	O he’s gane down the steps of stairs,
	And a’ the stately steps of stane,
	Until he cam to Susy Pye;
	I wat the tears blinded baith their eyne.
53F.30	He led her up the steps of stairs,
	And a’ the stately steps of stane,
	And changed her name from Susy Pye,
	And ca’d her lusty Lady Jane.
53F.31	‘O fye, gar cooks mak ready meat,
	O fye, gar cooks the pots supply,
	That it may be talked of in fair London,
	I’ve been twice married in ae day.’


		  Child 53G: Young Beichan

53G.1	* * * *
	‘O WHA\R’\rS aught a’ yon flock o sheep,
	An wha’s aught a’ yon flock o kye?
	An wha’s aught a’ yon pretty castles,
	That you sae often do pass bye?’
53G.2	‘They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s sheep,
	They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s kye;
	They’re a’ Lord Beekin’s castles,
	That you sae often do pass bye.’
	* * * * *
53G.3	He’s tane [the] table wi his feet,
	Made cups an candlesticks to flee:
	‘I’ll lay my life ’tis Susy Pie,
	Come owr the seas to marry me.’


		  Child 53H: Young Beichan

53H.1	YOUNG BEICHAN was in London born,
	He was a man of hie degree;
	He past thro monie kingdoms great,
	Until he cam unto Grand Turkie.
53H.2	He viewd the fashions of that land,
	Their way of worship viewed he,
	But unto onie of their stocks
	He wadna sae much as bow a knee:
53H.3	Which made him to be taken straight,
	And brought afore their hie jurie;
	The savage Moor did speak upricht,
	And made him meikle ill to dree.
53H.4	In ilka shoulder they’ve bord a hole,
	And in ilka hole they’ve put a tree;
	They’ve made him to draw carts and wains,
	Till he was sick and like to dee.
53H.5	But Young Beichan was a Christian born,
	And still a Christian was he;
	Which made them put him in prison strang,
	And cauld and hunger sair to dree,
	And fed on nocht but bread and water,
	Until the day that he mot dee.
53H.6	In this prison there grew a tree,
	And it was unco stout and strang,
	Where he was chained by the middle,
	Until his life was almaist gane.
53H.7	The savage Moor had but ae dochter,
	And her name it was Susie Pye,
	And ilka day as she took the air,
	The prison door she passed bye.
53H.8	But it fell ance upon a day,
	As she was walking, she heard him sing;
	She listend to his tale of woe,
	A happy day for Young Beichan!
53H.9	‘My hounds they all go masterless,
	My hawks they flee frae tree to tree,
	My youngest brother will heir my lands,
	My native land I’ll never see.’
53H.10	‘O were I but the prison-keeper,
	As I’m a ladie o hie degree,
	I soon wad set this youth at large,
	And send him to his ain countrie.’
53H.11	She went away into her chamber,
	All nicht she never closd her ee;
	And when the morning begoud to dawn,
	At the prison door alane was she.
53H.12	She gied the keeper a piece of gowd,
	And monie pieces o white monie,
	To tak her thro the bolts and bars,
	The lord frae Scotland she langd to see;
	She saw young Beichan at the stake,
	Which made her weep maist bitterlie.
53H.13	‘O hae ye got onie lands,’ she says,
	‘Or castles in your ain countrie?
	It’s what wad ye gie to the ladie fair
	Wha out o prison wad set you free?’
53H.14	‘It’s I hae houses, and I hae lands,
	Wi monie castles fair to see,
	And I wad gie a’ to that ladie gay,
	Wha out o prison wad set me free.’
53H.15	The keeper syne brak aff his chains,
	And set Lord Beichan at libertie;
	She filld his pockets baith wi gowd,
	To tak him till his ain countrie.
53H.16	She took him frae her father’s prison,
	And gied to him the best o wine,
	And a brave health she drank to him:
	‘I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine!
53H.17	‘It’s seven lang years I’ll mak a vow,
	And seven lang years I’ll keep it true;
	If ye’ll wed wi na ither woman,
	It’s I will wed na man but you.’
53H.18	She’s tane him to her father’s port,
	And gien to him a ship o fame:
	‘Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord,
	I fear I’ll neer see you again.’
53H.19	Lord Beichan turnd him round about,
	And lowly, lowly loutit he:
	‘Ere seven lang years come to an end,
	I’ll tak you to mine ain countrie.’
	* * * * *
53H.20	Then whan he cam to Glosgow town,
	A happy, happy man was he;
	The ladies a’ around him thrangd,
	To see him come frae slaverie.
53H.21	His mother she had died o sorrow,
	And a’ his brothers were dead but he;
	His lands they a’ were lying waste,
	In ruins were his castles free.
53H.22	Na porter there stood at his yett,
	Na human creature he could see,
	Except the screeching owls and bats,
	Had he to bear him companie.
53H.23	But gowd will gar the castles grow,
	And he had gowd and jewels free,
	And soon the pages around him thrangd,
	To serve him on their bended knee.
53H.24	His hall was hung wi silk and satin,
	His table rung wi mirth and glee,
	He soon forgot the lady fair
	That lowsd him out o slaverie.
53H.25	Lord Beichan courted a lady gay,
	To heir wi him his lands sae free,
	Neer thinking that a lady fair
	Was on her way frae Grand Turkie.
53H.26	For Susie Pye could get na rest,
	Nor day nor nicht could happy be,
	Still thinking on the Scottish lord,
	Till she was sick and like to dee.
53H.27	But she has builded a bonnie ship,
	Weel mannd wi seamen o hie degree,
	And secretly she stept on board,
	And bid adieu to her ain countrie.
53H.28	But whan she cam to the Scottish shore,
	The bells were ringing sae merrilie;
	It was Lord Beichan’s wedding day,
	Wi a lady fair o hie degree.
53H.29	But sic a vessel was never seen;
	The very masts were tappd wi gold,
	Her sails were made o the satin fine,
	Maist beautiful for to behold.
53H.30	But whan the lady cam on shore,
	Attended wi her pages three,
	Her shoon were of the beaten gowd,
	And she a lady of great beautie.
53H.31	Then to the skipper she did say,
	‘Can ye this answer gie to me?
	Where are Lord Beichan’s lands sae braid?
	He surely lives in this countrie.’
53H.32	Then up bespak the skipper bold,
	For he could speak the Turkish tongue:
	‘Lord Beichan lives not far away;
	This is the day of his wedding.’
53H.33	‘If ye will guide me to Beichan’s yetts,
	I will ye well reward,’ said she;
	Then she and all her pages went,
	A very gallant companie.
53H.34	When she cam to Lord Beichan’s yetts,
	She tirld gently at the pin;
	Sae ready was the proud porter
	To let the wedding guests come in.
53H.35	‘Is this Lord Beichan’s house,’ she says,
	‘Or is that noble lord within?’
	‘Yes, he is gane into the hall,
	With his brave bride and monie ane.’
53H.36	‘Ye’ll bid him send me a piece of bread,
	Bot and a cup of his best wine;
	And bid him mind the lady’s love
	That ance did lowse him out o pyne.’
53H.37	Then in and cam the porter bold,
	I wat he gae three shouts and three:
	‘The fairest lady stands at your yetts
	That ever my twa een did see.’
53H.38	Then up bespak the bride’s mither,
	I wat an angry woman was she:
	‘You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride,
	Tho she’d been three times as fair as she.’
53H.39	‘My dame, your daughter’s fair enough,
	And aye the fairer mot she be!
	But the fairest time that eer she was,
	She’ll na compare wi this ladie.
53H.40	‘She has a gowd ring on ilka finger,
	And on her mid-finger she has three;
	She has as meikle gowd upon her head
	As wad buy an earldom o land to thee.
53H.41	‘My lord, she begs some o your bread,
	Bot and a cup o your best wine,
	And bids you mind the lady’s love
	That ance did lowse ye out o pyne.’
53H.42	Then up and started Lord Beichan,
	I wat he made the table flee:
	‘I wad gie a’ my yearlie rent
	’Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea.’
53H.43	Syne up bespak the bride’s mother,
	She was never heard to speak sae free:
	‘Ye’ll no forsake my ae dochter,
	Tho Susie Pye has crossd the sea?’
53H.44	‘Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam,
	For she is neer the waur o me;
	She cam to me on horseback riding,
	And she sall gang hame in chariot free.’
53H.45	He’s tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand,
	And led her thro his halls sae hie:
	‘Ye’re now Lord Beichan’s lawful wife,
	And thrice ye’re welcome unto me.’
53H.46	Lord Beichan prepard for another wedding,
	Wi baith their hearts sae fu o glee;
	Says, ‘I’ll range na mair in foreign lands,
	Sin Susie Pye has crossd the sea.
53H.47	‘Fy! gar a’ our cooks mak ready,
	And fy! gar a’ our pipers play,
	And fy! gar trumpets gae thro the toun,
	That Lord Beichan’s wedded twice in a day!’


		  Child 53I: Young Beichan

53I.1	IN London was Young Bechin born,
	Foreign nations he longed to see;
	He passed through many kingdoms great,
	At length he came unto Turkie.
53I.2	He viewed the fashions of that land,
	The ways of worship viewed he,
	But unto any of their gods
	He would not so much as bow the knee.
53I.3	every shoulder they made a bore,
	In every bore they put a tree,
	Then they made him the winepress tread,
	And all in spite of his fair bodie.
53I.4	They put him into a deep dungeon,
	Where he could neither hear nor see,
	And for seven years they kept him there,
	Till for hunger he was like to die.
53I.5	Stephen, their king, had a daughter fair,
	Yet never a man to her came nigh;
	And every day she took the air,
	Near to his prison she passed by.
53I.6	One day she heard Young Bechin sing
	A song that pleased her so well,
	No rest she got till she came to him,
	All in his lonely prison cell.
53I.7	‘I have a hall in London town,
	With other buildings two or three,
	And I’ll give them all to the ladye fair
	That from this dungeon shall set me free.’
53I.8	She stole the keys from her dad’s head,
	And if she oped one door ay she opened three,
	Till she Young Bechin could find out,
	He was locked up so curiouslie.
	* * * * *
53I.9	‘I’ve been a porter at your gate
	This thirty years now, ay and three;
	There stands a ladye at your gate,
	The like of her I neer did see.
53I.10	‘On every finger she has a ring,
	On the mid-finger she has three;
	She’s as much gold about her brow
	As would an earldom buy to me.’
	* * * * *
53I.11	He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	He gently led her through the green;
	He changed her name from Susie Pie,
	An he’s called her lovely Ladye Jean.


		  Child 53J: Young Beichan

53J.1	* * * *
	SHE\R’\rS taen the keys frae her fadder’s coffer,
	Tho he keeps them most sacredlie,
	And she has opend the prison strong,
	And set Young Beichan at libertie.
	* * * * *
53J.2	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘Gae up the countrie, my chile,’ she says,
	‘Till your fadder’s wrath be turned from thee.’
	* * * * *
53J.3	She’s put her han intill her purse,
	And gave the porter guineas three;
	Says, ‘Tak ye that, ye proud porter,
	And tell your master to speak wi me.
53J.4	‘Ye’ll bid him bring a shower o his best love,
	But and a bottle o his wine,
	And do to me as I did to him in time past,
	And brought him out o muckle pine.’
53J.5	He’s taen the table wi his foot,
	And he has keppit it wi his knee:
	‘I’ll wager my life and a’ my lan,
	It’s Susan Pie come ower the sea.
53J.6	‘Rise up, rise up, my bonnie bride,
	Ye’re neither better nor waur for me;
	Ye cam to me on a horse and saddle,
	But ye may gang back in a coach and three.’


		  Child 53K: Young Beichan

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


		  Child 53L: Young Beichan

53L.1	LORD BATEMAN was a noble lord,
	A noble lord of high degree;
	He shipped himself all aboard of a ship,
	Some foreign country for to see.
53L.2	He sailed east, he sailed west,
	Until he came to famed Turkey,
	Where he was taken and put to prison,
	Until his life was quite weary.
53L.3	All in this prison there grew a tree,
	O there it grew so stout and strong!
	Where he was chained all by the middle,
	Until his life was almost gone.
53L.4	This Turk he had one only daughter,
	The fairest my two eyes eer see;
	She steel the keys of her father’s prison,
	And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.
53L.5	O she took him to her father’s cellar,
	And gave to him the best of wine;
	And every health she drank unto him
	Was, ‘I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was mine.’
53L.6	‘O have you got houses, have you got land,
	And does Northumberland belong to thee?
	And what would you give to the fair young lady
	As out of prison would let you go free?’
53L.7	‘O I’ve got houses and I’ve got land,
	And half Northumberland belongs to me;
	And I will give it all to the fair young lady
	As out of prison would let me go free.’
53L.8	‘O in seven long years, I’ll make a vow
	For seven long years, and keep it strong,
	That if you’ll wed no other woman,
	O I will wed no other man.’
53L.9	O she took him to her father’s harbor,
	And gave to him a ship of fame,
	Saying, Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman,
	I fear I never shall see you again.
53L.10	Now seven long years is gone and past,
	And fourteen days, well known to me;
	She packed up all her gay clothing,
	And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.
53L.11	O when she arrived at Lord Bateman’s castle,
	How boldly then she rang the bell!
	‘Who’s there? who’s there?’ cries the proud young porter,
	‘O come unto me pray quickly tell.’
53L.12	‘O is this here Lord Bateman’s castle,
	And is his lordship here within?’
	‘O yes, O yes,’ cries the proud young porter,
	‘He’s just now taking his young bride in.’
53L.13	‘O bid him to send me a slice of bread,
	And a bottle of the very best wine,
	And not forgetting the fair young lady
	As did release him when close confine.’
53L.14	O away and away went this proud young porter,
	O away and away and away went he,
	Until he come to Lord Bateman’s chamber,
	When he went down on his bended knee.
53L.15	‘What news, what news, my proud young porter?
	What news, what news? Come tell to me:’
	‘O there is the fairest young lady
	As ever my two eyes did see.
53L.16	‘She has got rings on every finger,
	And on one finger she has got three;
	With as much gay gold about her middle
	As would buy half Northumberlee.
53L.17	‘O she bids you to send her a slice of bread,
	And a bottle of the very best wine,
	And not forgetting the fair young lady
	As did release you when close confine.’
53L.18	Lord Bateman then in passion flew,
	And broke his sword in splinters three,
	Saying, I will give half of my father’s land,
	If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.
53L.19	Then up and spoke this young bride’s mother,
	Who never was heard to speak so free;
	Saying, You’ll not forget my only daughter,
	If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.
53L.20	‘O it’s true I made a bride of your daughter,
	But she’s neither the better nor the worse for me;
	She came to me with a horse and saddle,
	But she may go home in a coach and three.’
53L.21	Lord Bateman then prepared another marriage,
	With both their hearts so full of glee,
	Saying, I will roam no more to foreign countries,
	Now that Sophia has crossed the sea.


		  Child 53M: Young Beichan

53M.1	YOUNG BONWELL was a squire’s ae son,
	And a squire’s ae son was he;
	He went abroad to a foreign land,
	To serve for meat and fee.
53M.2	He hadna been in that country
	A twalmonth and a day,
	Till he was cast in prison strong,
	For the sake of a lovely may.
53M.3	‘O if my father get word of this,
	At hame in his ain country,
	He’ll send red gowd for my relief,
	And a bag o white money.
53M.4	‘O gin an earl woud borrow me,
	At his bridle I woud rin;
	Or gin a widow woud borrow me,
	I’d swear to be her son.
53M.5	‘Or gin a may woud borrow me,
	I’d wed her wi a ring,
	Infeft her wi the ha’s and bowers
	O the bonny towers o Linne.’
53M.6	But it fell ance upon a day
	Dame Essels she thought lang,
	And she is to the jail-house door,
	To hear Young Bondwell’s sang.
53M.7	‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny Bondwell,
	The sang ye sang just now:’
	‘I never sang the sang, lady,
	But I woud war’t on you.
53M.8	‘O gin my father get word o this,
	At hame in his ain country,
	He’ll send red gowd for my relief,
	And a bag o white money.
53M.9	‘O gin an earl woud borrow me,
	At his bridle I woud rin;
	Or gin a widow would borrow me,
	I’d swear to be her son.
53M.10	‘O gin a may woud borrow me,
	I woud wed her wi a ring,
	Infeft her wi the ha’s and bowers
	O the bonny towers o Linne.’
53M.11	She’s stole the keys o the jail-house door,
	Where under the bed they lay;
	She’s opend to him the jail-house door,
	And set Young Bondwell free.
53M.12	She gae’m a steed was swift in need,
	A saddle o royal ben,
	A hunder pund o pennies round,
	Bade him gae roav an spend.
53M.13	A couple o hounds o ae litter,
	And Cain they ca’d the one;
	Twa gay gos-hawks she gae likeways,
	To keep him onthought lang.
53M.14	When mony days were past and gane,
	Dame Essels thought fell lang,
	And she is to her lonely bower,
	To shorten her wi a sang.
53M.15	The sang has such a melody,
	It lulld her fast asleep;
	Up starts a woman, clad in green,
	And stood at her bed-feet.
53M.16	‘Win up, win up, Dame Essels,’ she says,
	‘This day ye sleep ower lang;
	The morn is the squire’s wedding day,
	In the bonny towers o Linne.
53M.17	‘Ye’ll dress yoursell in the robes o green,
	Your maids in robes sae fair,
	And ye’ll put girdles about their middles,
	Sae costly, rich and rare.
53M.18	‘Ye’ll take your maries alang wi you,
	Till ye come to yon strand;
	There ye’ll see a ship, wi sails all up,
	Come sailing to dry land.
53M.19	‘Ye’ll take a wand into your hand,
	Ye’ll stroke her round about,
	And ye’ll take God your pilot to be,
	To drown ye’ll take nae doubt.’
53M.20	Then up it raise her Dame Essels,
	Sought water to wash her hands,
	But aye the faster that she washd,
	The tears they trickling ran.
53M.21	Then in it came her father dear,
	And in the floor steps he:
	‘What ails Dame Essels, my daughter dear,
	Ye weep sae bitterlie?
53M.22	‘Want ye a small fish frae the flood,
	Or turtle frae the sea?
	Or is there man in a’ my realm
	This day has offended thee?’
53M.23	‘I want nae small fish frae the flood,
	Nor turtle frae the sea;
	But Young Bondwell, your ain prisoner,
	This day has offended me.’
53M.24	Her father turnd him round about,
	A solemn oath sware he:
	‘If this be true ye tell me now
	High hanged he shall be.
53M.25	‘To-morrow morning he shall be
	Hung high upon a tree:’
	Dame Essels whisperd to hersel,
	‘Father, ye’ve made a lie.’
53M.26	She dressd hersel in robes o green,
	Her maids in robes sae fair,
	Wi gowden girdles round their middles,
	Sae costly, rich and rare.
53M.27	She’s taen her mantle her about,
	A maiden in every hand;
	They saw a ship, wi sails a’ up,
	Come sailing to dry land.
53M.28	She’s taen a wand intill her hand,
	And stroked her round about,
	And she’s taen God her pilot to be,
	To drown she took nae doubt.
53M.29	So they saild on, and further on,
	Till to the water o Tay;
	There they spied a bonny little boy,
	Was watering his steeds sae gay.
53M.30	‘What news, what news, my little boy,
	What news hae ye to me?
	Are there any weddings in this place,
	Or any gaun to be?’
53M.31	‘There is a wedding in this place,
	A wedding very soon;
	The morn’s the young squire’s wedding day,
	In the bonny towers of Linne.’
53M.32	O then she walked alang the way
	To see what coud be seen,
	And there she saw the proud porter,
	Drest in a mantle green.
53M.33	‘What news, what news, porter?’ she said,
	‘What news hae ye to me?
	Are there any weddings in this place,
	Or any gaun to be?’
53M.34	‘There is a wedding in this place,
	A wedding very soon;
	The morn is Young Bondwell’s wedding day,
	The bonny squire o Linne.’
53M.35	‘Gae to your master, porter,’ she said,
	‘Gae ye right speedilie;
	Bid him come and speak wi a maid
	That wishes his face to see.’
53M.36	The porter’s up to his master gane,
	Fell low down on his knee;
	‘Win up, win up, my porter,’ he said,
	‘Why bow ye low to me?’
53M.37	hae been porter at your yetts
	These thirty years and three,
	But fairer maids than’s at them now
	My eyes did never see.
53M.38	‘The foremost she is drest in green,
	The rest in fine attire,
	Wi gowden girdles round their middles,
	Well worth a sheriff’s hire.’
53M.39	Then out it speaks Bondwell’s own bride,
	Was a’ gowd to the chin;
	‘They canno be fairer thereout,’ she says,
	‘Than we that are therein.’
53M.40	‘There is a difference, my dame,’ he said,
	‘’Tween that ladye’s colour and yours;
	As much difference as you were a stock,
	She o the lily flowers.’
53M.41	Then out it speaks him Young Bondwell,
	An angry man was he:
	‘Cast up the yetts baith wide an braid,
	These ladies I may see.’
53M.42	Quickly up stairs Dame Essel’s gane,
	Her maidens next her wi;
	Then said the bride, This lady’s face
	Shows the porter’s tauld nae lie.
53M.43	The lady unto Bondwell spake,
	These words pronounced she:
	O hearken, hearken, fause Bondwell,
	These words that I tell thee.
53M.44	Is this the way ye keep your vows
	That ye did make to me,
	When your feet were in iron fetters,
	Ae foot ye coudna flee?
53M.45	I stole the keys o the jail-house door
	Frae under the bed they lay,
	And opend up the jail-house door,
	Set you at liberty.
53M.46	Gae you a steed was swift in need,
	A saddle o royal ben,
	A hunder pund o pennies round,
	Bade you gae rove an spend.
53M.47	A couple o hounds o ae litter,
	Cain they ca’ed the ane,
	Twa gay gos-hawks as swift’s eer flew,
	To keep you onthought lang.
53M.48	But since this day ye’ve broke your vow,
	For which ye’re sair to blame,
	And since nae mair I’ll get o you,
	O Cain, will ye gae hame?
53M.49	‘O Cain! O Cain!’ the lady cried,
	And Cain did her ken;
	They baith flappd round the lady’s knee,
	Like a couple o armed men.
53M.50	He’s to his bride wi hat in hand,
	And haild her courteouslie:
	‘Sit down by me, my bonny Bondwell,
	What makes this courtesie?’
53M.51	‘An asking, asking, fair lady,
	An asking ye’ll grant me;’
	‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Bondwell,
	What may your askings be?’
53M.52	‘Five hundred pounds to you I’ll gie,
	Of gowd an white monie,
	If ye’ll wed John, my ain cousin;
	He looks as fair as me.’
53M.53	‘Keep well your monie, Bondwell,’ she said,
	‘Nae monie I ask o thee;
	Your cousin John was my first love,
	My husband now he’s be.’
53M.54	Bondwell was married at morning ear,
	John in the afternoon;
	Dame Essels is lady ower a’ the bowers
	And the high towers o Linne.


		  Child 53N: Young Beichan

53N.1	IN London was Young Bichen born,
	He longd strange lands to see;
	He set his foot on good ship-board,
	And he sailed over the sea.
53N.2	He had not been in a foreign land
	A day but only three,
	Till he was taken by a savage Moor,
	And they used him most cruelly.
53N.3	In every shoulder they put a pin,
	To every pin they put a tree;
	They made him draw the plow and cart,
	Like horse and oxen in his country.
53N.4	He had not servd the savage Moor
	A week, nay scarcely but only three,
	Till he has casten him in prison strong,
	Till he with hunger was like to die.
53N.5	It fell out once upon a day
	That Young Bichen he made his moan,
	As he lay bound in irons strong,
	In a dark and deep dungeon.
53N.6	‘An I were again in fair England,
	As many merry day I have been,
	Then I would curb my roving youth
	No more to see a strange land.
53N.7	‘O an I were free again now,
	And my feet well set on the sea,
	I would live in peace in my own country,
	And a foreign land I no more would see.’
53N.8	The savage Moor had but one daughter,
	I wot her name was Susan Py;
	She heard Young Bichen make his moan,
	At the prison-door as she past by.
53N.9	‘O have ye any lands,’ she said,
	‘Or have you any money free,
	Or have you any revenues,
	To maintain a lady like me?’
53N.10	‘O I have land in fair England,
	And I have estates two or three,
	And likewise I have revenues,
	To maintain a lady like thee.’
53N.11	‘O will you promise, Young Bichen,’ she says,
	‘And keep your vow faithful to me,
	That at the end of seven years
	In fair England you’ll marry me?
53N.12	‘I’ll steal the keys from my father dear,
	Tho he keeps them most secretly;
	I’ll risk my life for to save thine,
	And set thee safe upon the sea.’
53N.13	She’s stolen the keys from her father,
	From under the bed where they lay;
	She opened the prison strong
	And set Young Bichen at liberty.
53N.14	She’s gone to her father’s coffer,
	Where the gold was red and fair to see;
	She filled his pockets with good red gold,
	And she set him far upon the sea.
53N.15	‘O mind you well, Young Bichen,’ she says,
	‘The vows and oaths you made to me;
	When you are come to your native land,
	O then remember Susan Py!’
53N.16	But when her father he came home
	He missd the keys there where they lay;
	He went into the prison strong,
	But he saw Young Bichen was away.
53N.17	‘Go bring your daughter, madam,’ he says,
	‘And bring her here unto me;
	Altho I have no more but her,
	Tomorrow I’ll gar hang her high.’
53N.18	The lady calld on the maiden fair
	To come to her most speedily;
	‘Go up the country, my child,’ she says,
	‘Stay with my brother two years or three.
53N.19	‘I have a brother, he lives in the isles,
	He will keep thee most courteously
	And stay with him, my child,’ she says,
	‘Till thy father’s wrath be turnd from thee.’
53N.20	Now will we leave young Susan Py
	A while in her own country,
	And will return to Young Bichen,
	Who is safe arrived in fair England.
53N.21	He had not been in fair England
	Above years scarcely three,
	Till he has courted another maid,
	And so forgot his Susan Py.
53N.22	The youth being young and in his prime,
	Of Susan Py thought not upon,
	But his love was laid on another maid,
	And the marriage-day it did draw on.
53N.23	But eer the seven years were run,
	Susan Py she thought full long;
	She set her foot on good ship-board,
	And she has saild for fair England.
53N.24	On every finger she put a ring,
	On her mid-finger she put three;
	She filld her pockets with good red gold,
	And she has sailed oer the sea.
53N.25	She had not been in fair England
	A day, a day, but only three,
	Till she heard Young Bichen was a bridegroom,
	And the morrow to be the wedding-day.
53N.26	‘Since it is so,’ said young Susan,
	‘That he has provd so false to me,
	I’ll hie me to Young Bichen’s gates,
	And see if he minds Susan Py.’
53N.27	She has gone up thro London town,
	Where many a lady she there did spy;
	There was not a lady in all London
	Young Susan that could outvie.
53N.28	She has calld upon a waiting-man,
	A waiting-man who stood near by:
	‘Convey me to Young Bichen’s gates,
	And well rewarded shals thou be.’
53N.29	When she came to Young Bichen’s gate
	She chapped loudly at the pin,
	Till down there came the proud porter;
	‘Who’s there,’ he says, ’That would be in?’
53N.30	‘Open the gates, porter,’ she says,
	‘Open them to a lady gay,
	And tell your master, porter,’ she says,
	‘To speak a word or two with me.’
53N.31	The porter he has opend the gates;
	His eyes were dazzled to see
	A lady dressd in gold and jewels;
	No page nor waiting-man had she.
53N.32	‘O pardon me, madam,’ he cried,
	‘This day it is his wedding-day;
	He’s up the stairs with his lovely bride,
	And a sight of him you cannot see.’
53N.33	She put her hand in her pocket,
	And therefrom took out guineas three,
	And gave to him, saying, Please, kind sir,
	Bring down your master straight to me.
53N.34	The porter up again has gone,
	And he fell low down on his knee,
	Saying, Master, you will please come down
	To a lady who wants you to see.
53N.35	A lady gay stands at your gates,
	The like of her I neer did see;
	She has more gold above her eye
	Nor would buy a baron’s land to me.
53N.36	Out then spake the bride’s mother,
	I’m sure an angry woman was she:
	‘You’re impudent and insolent,
	For ye might excepted the bride and me.’
53N.37	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye proud woman,
	I’m sure sae loud as I hear you lie;
	She has more gold on her body
	Than would buy the lands, the bride, and thee!’
53N.38	‘Go down, go down, porter,’ he says,
	‘And tell the lady gay from me
	That I’m up-stairs wi my lovely bride,
	And a sight of her I cannot see.’
53N.39	The porter he goes down again,
	The lady waited patiently:
	‘My master’s with his lovely bride,
	And he’ll not win down my dame to see.’
53N.40	From off her finger she’s taen a ring;
	‘Give that your master,’ she says, ’From me,
	And tell him now, young man,’ she says,
	‘To send down a cup of wine to me.’
53N.41	‘Here’s ring for you, master,’ he says,
	‘On her mid-finger she has three,
	And you are desird, my lord,’ he says,
	‘To send down a cup of wine with me.’
53N.42	He hit the table with his foot,
	He kepd it with his right knee:
	‘I’ll wed my life and all my land
	That is Susan Py, come o’er the sea!’
53N.43	He has gone unto the stair-head,
	A step he took but barely three;
	He opend the gates most speedily,
	And Susan Py he there could see.
53N.44	‘Is this the way, Young Bichen,’ she says,
	‘Is this the way you’ve guided me?
	I relieved you from prison strong,
	And ill have you rewarded me.
53N.45	mind ye, Young Bichen,’ she says,
	‘The vows and oaths that ye made to me,
	When ye lay bound in prison strong,
	In a deep dungeon of misery?’
53N.46	He took her by the milk-white hand,
	And led her into the palace fine;
	There was not a lady in all the palace
	But Susan Py did all outshine.
53N.47	The day concluded with joy and mirth,
	On every side there might you see;
	There was great joy in all England
	For the wedding-day of Susan Py.



		 Child 54A: The Cherry-Tree Carol

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


		 Child 54B: The Cherry-Tree Carol

54B.1	JOSEPH was an old man,
	and an old man was he,
	And he married Mary,
	the Queen of Galilee.
54B.2	When Joseph was married,
	and Mary home had brought,
	Mary proved with child,
	and Joseph knew it not.
54B.3	Joseph and Mary walked
	through a garden gay,
	Where the cherries they grew
	upon every tree.
54B.4	O then bespoke Mary,
	with words both meek and mild:
	‘O gather me cherries, Joseph,
	they run so in my mind.’
54B.5	And then replied Joseph,
	with words so unkind:
	‘Let him gather thee cherries
	that got thee with child.’
54B.6	O then bespoke our Saviour,
	all in his mother’s womb:
	‘Bow down, good cherry-tree,
	to my mother’s hand.’
54B.7	The uppermost sprig
	bowed down to Mary’s knee:
	‘Thus you may see, Joseph,
	these cherries are for me.’
54B.8	‘O eat your cherries, Mary,
	O eat your cherries now;
	O eat your cherries, Mary,
	that grow upon the bough.’
54B.9	As Joseph was a walking,
	he heard an angel sing:
	‘This night shall be born
	our heavenly king.
54B.10	‘He neither shall be born
	in housen nor in hall,
	Nor in the place of Paradise,
	but in an ox’s stall.
54B.11	‘He neither shall be clothed
	in purple nor in pall,
	But all in fair linen,
	as were babies all.
54B.12	‘He neither shall be rocked
	in silver nor in gold,
	But in a wooden cradle,
	that rocks on the mould.
54B.13	‘He neither shall be christened
	in white wine nor red,
	But with fair spring water,
	with which we were christened.’
54B.14	Then Mary took her young son,
	and set him on her knee:
	‘I pray thee now, dear child,
	tell how this world shall be.’
54B.15	‘O I shall be as dead, mother,
	as the stones in the wall;
	O the stones in the street, mother,
	shall mourn for me all.
54B.16	‘And upon a Wednesday
	my vow I will make,
	And upon Good Friday
	my death I will take.
54B.17	‘Upon Easter-day, mother,
	my rising shall be;
	O the sun and the moon
	shall uprise with me.
54B.18	’ The people shall rejoice,
	and the birds they shall sing,
	To see the uprising
	of the heavenly king.’


		 Child 54C: The Cherry-Tree Carol

54C.1	JOSEPH was an old man,
	an old man was he,
	He married sweet Mary,
	the Queen of Galilee.
54C.2	As they went a walking
	in the garden so gay,
	Maid Mary spied cherries,
	hanging over yon tree.
54C.3	Mary said to Joseph,
	with her sweet lips so mild,
	‘Pluck those cherries, Joseph,
	for to give to my child.’
54C.4	O then replied Joseph,
	with words so unkind,
	‘I will pluck no cherries
	for to give to thy child.’
54C.5	Mary said to cherry-tree,
	‘Bow down to my knee,
	That I may pluck cherries,
	by one, two, and three.’
54C.6	The uppermost sprig then
	bowed down to her knee:
	‘Thus you may see, Joseph,
	these cherries are for me.’
54C.7	‘O eat your cherries, Mary,
	O eat your cherries now,
	O eat your cherries, Mary,
	that grow upon the bough.’
54C.8	As Joseph was a walking
	he heard angels sing,
	‘This night there shall be born
	our heavenly king.
54C.9	‘He neither shall be born
	in house nor in hall,
	Nor in the place of Paradise,
	but in an ox-stall.
54C.10	‘He shall not be clothed
	in purple nor pall,
	But all in fair linen,
	as wear babies all.
54C.11	‘He shall not be rocked
	in silver nor gold,
	But in a wooden cradle,
	that rocks on the mould.
54C.12	‘He neither shall be christened
	in milk nor in wine,
	But in pure spring-well water,
	fresh sprung from Bethine.’
54C.13	Mary took her baby,
	she dressed him so sweet;
	She laid him in a manger,
	all there for to sleep.
54C.14	As she stood over him
	she heard angels sing,
	‘Oh bless our dear Saviour,
	our heavenly king.’


		 Child 54D: The Cherry-Tree Carol

54D.1	O JOSEPH was an old man,
	and an old man was he,
	And he married Mary,
	from the land of Galilee.
54D.2	Oft after he married her,
	how warm he were abroad,
	. . . .
	. . . .
54D.3	Then Mary and Joseph
	walkd down to the gardens cool;
	Then Mary spied a cherry,
	as red as any blood.
54D.4	‘Brother Joseph, pluck the cherry,
	for I am with child:’
	‘Let him pluck the cherry, Mary,
	as is father to the child.’
54D.5	Then our blessed Saviour spoke,
	from his mother’s womb:
	‘Mary shall have cherries,
	and Joseph shall have none.’
54D.6	From the high bough the cherry-tree
	bowd down to Mary’s knee;
	Then Mary pluckt the cherry,
	by one, two, and three.
54D.7	They went a little further,
	and heard a great din:
	‘God bless our sweet Saviour,
	our heaven’s love in.’
54D.8	Our Saviour was not rocked
	in silver or in gold,
	But in a wooden cradle,
	like other babes all.
54D.9	Our Saviour was not christend
	in white wine or red,
	But in some spring water,
	like other babes all.



		 Child 55: The Carnal and the Crane

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



		 Child 56A: Dives and Lazarus

a. Sylvester, A Garland of Christmas Carols, p. 50, from an old Birmingham broadside. b. Husk, Songs of the Nativity, p. 94, from a Worcestershire broadside of the last century.

56A.1	AS it fell out upon a day,
	Rich Dives he made a feast,
	And he invited all his friends,
	And gentry of the best.
56A.2	Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
	And down at Dives’ door:
	‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
	Bestow upon the poor.’
56A.3	‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
	That lies begging at my door;
	No meat nor drink will I give thee,
	Nor bestow upon the poor.’
56A.4	Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
	And down at Dive’s wall:
	‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
	Or with hunger starve I shall.’
56A.5	‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
	That lies begging at my wall;
	No meat nor drink will I give thee,
	But with hunger starve you shall.’
56A.6	Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
	And down at Dive’s gate:
	‘Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
	For Jesus Christ sake.’
56A.7	‘Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
	That lies begging at my gate;
	No meat nor drink will I give thee,
	For Jesus Christ his sake.’
56A.8	Then Dives sent out his merry men,
	To whip poor Lazarus away;
	They had no power to strike a stroke,
	But flung their whips away.
56A.9	Then Dives sent out his hungry dogs,
	To bite him as he lay;
	They had no power to bite at all,
	But licked his sores away.
56A.10	As it fell out upon a day,
	Poor Lazarus sickened and died;
	Then came two angels out of heaven
	His soul therein to guide.
56A.11	‘Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,
	And go along with me;
	For you’ve a place prepared in heaven,
	To sit on an angel’s knee.’
56A.12	As it fell out upon a day,
	Rich Dives sickened and died;
	Then came two serpents out of hell,
	His soul therein to guide.
56A.13	‘Rise up, rise up, brother Dives,
	And go with us to see
	A dismal place, prepared in hell,
	From which thou canst not flee.’
56A.14	Then Dives looked up with his eyes,
	And saw poor Lazarus blest:
	‘Give me one drop of water, brother Lazarus,
	To quench my flaming thirst.
56A.15	‘Oh had I as many years to abide
	As there are blades of grass,
	Then there would be an end, but now
	Hell’s pains will ne’er be past.
56A.16	‘Oh was I now but alive again,
	The space of one half hour!
	Oh that I had my peace secure!
	Then the devil should have no power.’


		  Child 56B: Dives and Lazarus

From memory, as sung by carol-singers at Christmas, in Worcestershire, at Hagley and Hartlebury, 1829-39: F. S. L., in Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, III, 76.

56B.1	AS it fell out upon one day,
	Rich Diverus he made a feast,
	And he invited all his friends,
	And gentry of the best.
56B.2	And it fell out upon one day,
	Poor Lazarus he was so poor,
	He came and laid him down and down.
	Evn down at Diverus’ door.
56B.3	So Lazarus laid him down and down
	Even down at Diverus’ door:
	‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
	Do bestow upon the poor.’
56B.4	‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
	Lying begging at my door:
	No meat, no drink will I give thee,
	Nor bestow upon the poor.’
56B.5	Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
	Even down at Diverus’ wall:
	‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
	Or surely starve I shall.
56B.6	‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
	Lying begging at my wall;
	No meat, no drink will I give thee,
	And therefore starve thou shall.’
56B.7	Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
	Even down at Diverus’ gate:
	‘Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
	For Jesus Christ his sake.’
56B.8	‘Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
	Lying begging at my gate;
	No meat, no drink will I give thee,
	For Jesus Christ his sake.
56B.9	Then Diverus sent out his merry men all,
	To whip poor Lazarus away;
	They had not power to whip one whip,
	But threw their whips away.
56B.10	Then Diverus sent out his hungry dogs,
	To bite poor Lazarus away;
	They had not power to bite one bite,
	But licked his sores away.
56B.11	And it fell out upon one day,
	Poor Lazarus he sickened and died;
	There came two angels out of heaven,
	His soul thereto to guide.
56B.12	‘Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,
	And come along with me;
	There is a place prepared in heaven,
	For to sit upon an angel’s knee.’
56B.13	And it fell out upon one day
	Rich Diverus he sickened and died;
	There came two serpents out of hell,
	His soul thereto to guide.
56B.14	‘Rise up, rise up, brother Diverus,
	And come along with me;
	There is a place prepared in hell,
	For to sit upon a serpent’s knee.’



		Child 57: Brown Robyn’s Confession

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 110. Motherwell’s MS., p. 580.

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



		  Child 58A: Sir Patrick Spens
	
a. Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 71: "given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland." b. Herd’s Scots Songs, 1769, p. 243.

58A.1	THE king sits in Dumferling toune,
	Drinking the blude-reid wine:
	‘O whar will I get guid sailor,
	To sail this schip of mine?’
58A.2	Up and spak an eldern knicht,
	Sat at the kings richt kne:
	‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
	That sails upon the se.’
58A.3	The king has written a braid letter,
	And signd it wi his hand,
	And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
	Was walking on the sand.
58A.4	The first line that Sir Patrick red,
	A loud lauch lauched he;
	The next line that Sir Patrick red,
	The teir blinded his ee.
58A.5	‘O wha is this has don this deid,
	This ill deid don to me,
	To send me out this time o’ the yeir,
	To sail upon the se!
58A.6	‘Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,
	Our guid schip sails the morne:’
	‘O say na sae, my master deir,
	For I feir a deadlie storme.
58A.7	‘Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
	Wi the auld moone in hir arme,
	And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
	That we will cum to harme.’
58A.8	O our Scots nables wer richt laith
	To weet their cork-heild schoone;
	Bot lang owre a’ the play wer playd,
	Their hats they swam aboone.
58A.9	O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
	Wi thair fans into their hand,
	Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
	Cum sailing to the land.
58A.10	O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
	Wi thair gold kems in their hair,
	Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
	For they’ll se thame na mair.
58A.11	Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,
	It’s fiftie fadom deip,
	And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,
	Wi the Scots lords at his feit.

	
		 Child 58 B: Sir Patrick Spens
	
Herd’s MSS., II, 27, I, 49.

58B.1	THE king he sits in Dumferling,
	Drinking the blude reid wine: O
	‘O where will I get a gude sailor,
	That’l sail the ships o mine?’ O
58B.2	Up then started a yallow-haird man,
	Just be the kings right knee:
	‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
	That ever saild the see.’
58B.3	Then the king he wrote a lang letter,
	And sealld it with his hand,
	And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
	That was lyand at Leith Sands.
58B.4	When Patrick lookd the letter on,
	He gae loud laughters three;
	But afore he wan to the end of it
	The teir blindit his ee.
58B.5	‘O wha is this has tald the king,
	Has tald the king o me?
	Gif I but wist the man it war,
	Hanged should he be.
58B.6	‘Come eat and drink, my merry men all,
	For our ships maun sail the morn;
	Bla’d wind, bla’d weet, bla’d sna or sleet,
	Our ships maun sail the morn.’
58B.7	‘Alake and alas now, good master,
	For I fear a deidly storm;
	For I saw the new moon late yestreen,
	And the auld moon in her arms.’
58B.8	They had not saild upon the sea
	A league but merely three,
	When ugly, ugly were the jaws
	That rowd unto their knee.
58B.9	They had not saild upon the sea
	A league but merely nine,
	When wind and weit and snaw and sleit
	Came blawing them behind.
58B.10	‘Then where will I get a pretty boy
	Will take my steer in hand,
	Till I go up to my tap-mast,
	And see gif I see dry land?’
58B.11	‘Here am I, a pretty boy
	That’l take your steir in hand,
	Till you go up to your tap-mast,
	And see an you see the land.’
58B.12	Laith, laith were our Scottich lords
	To weit their coal-black shoon;
	But yet ere a’ the play was playd,
	They wat their hats aboon.
58B.13	Laith, laith war our Scottish lords
	To weit their coal-black hair;
	But yet ere a’ the play was playd,
	They wat it every hair.
58B.14	The water at St Johnston’s wall
	Was fifty fathom deep,
	And there ly a’ our Scottish lords,
	Sir Patrick at their feet.
58B.15	Lang, lang may our ladies wait
	Wi the tear blinding their ee,
	Afore they see Sir Patrick’s ships
	Come sailing oer the sea.
58B.16	Lang, lang may our ladies wait,
	Wi their babies in their hands,
	Afore they see Sir Patrick Spence
	Come sailing to Leith Sands.
	
		  Child 58C: Sir Patrick Spens
	
Motherwell’s MS., p. 493, "from the recitation of Buchanan, alias Mrs Notman, 9 September, 1826."
58C.1	THE king sat in Dunfermline toun,
	Drinking the blude red wine:
	‘Where will I get a bold sailor,
	To sail this ship o mine?’
58C.2	Out then spak an auld auld knicht,
	Was nigh the king akin:
	‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
	That ever sailed the main.’
58C.3	The king’s wrote a large letter,
	Sealed it with his own hand,
	And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
	Was walking on dry land.
58C.4	The first three lines he looked on,
	The tears did blind his ee;
	The neist three lines he looked on
	Not one word could he see.
58C.5	‘Wha is this,’ Sir Patrick says,
	‘That’s tauld the king o me,
	To set me out this time o the year
	To sail upon the sea!
58C.6	‘Yestreen I saw the new new mune,
	And the auld mune in her arm;
	And that is the sign since we were born
	Even of a deadly storm.
58C.7	‘Drink about, my merry boys,
	For we maun sail the morn;
	Be it wind, or be it weet,
	Or be it deadly storm.’
58C.8	We hadna sailed a league, a league,
	A league but only ane,
	Till cauld and watry grew the wind,
	And stormy grew the main.
58C.9	We hadna sailed a league, a league,
	A league but only twa,
	Till cauld and watry grew the wind,
	Come hailing owre them a’.
58C.10	We hadna sailed a league, a league,
	A league but only three,
	Till cold and watry grew the wind,
	And grumly grew the sea.
58C.11	‘Wha will come,’ the captain says,
	‘And take my helm in hand?
	Or wha’ll gae up to my topmast,
	And look for some dry land?
58C.12	‘Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy,
	See what you can spy;
	Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy,
	See if any land we’re nigh.’
58C.13	‘We’re fifty miles from shore to shore,
	And fifty banks of sand;
	And we have all that for to sail
	Or we come to dry land.’
58C.14	‘Come down, come down, my pretty boy,
	I think you tarry lang;
	For the saut sea’s in at our coat-neck
	And out at our left arm.
58C.15	‘Come down, come down, my pretty boy,
	I fear we here maun die;
	For thro and thro my goodly ship
	I see the green-waved sea.’
58C.16	Our Scotch lords were all afraid
	To weet their cork-heeled shoon;
	But lang or a’ the play was played,
	Their hats they swam abune.
58C.17	The first step that the captain stept,
	It took him to the knee,
	And the next step that the captain stepped
	They were a’ drownd in the sea.
58C.18	Half owre, half owre to Aberdour
	It’s fifty fadoms deep,
	And there lay good Sir Patrick Spens,
	And the Scotch lords at his feet.
58C.19	Lang may our Scotch lords’ ladies sit,
	And sew their silken seam,
	Before they see their good Scotch lords
	Come sailing owre the main.
58C.20	Lang lang may Sir Patrick’s lady
	Sit rocking her auld son,
	Before she sees Sir Patrick Spens
	Come sailing owre the main.


		  Child 58D: Sir Patrick Spens

Motherwell’s MS., p. 496, communicated by Kirkpatrick Sharpe.

58D.1	THE king sits in Dumferling town,
	Drinking the blood red wine: O
	‘Where will I get a good skipper,
	To sail seven ships o mine?’ O
	Where will, etc?p
58D.2	O up then spake a bra young man,
	And a bra young man was he:
	‘Sir Andrew Wood is the best skipper
	That ever saild the sea.’
58D.3	The king has written a bra letter,
	And seald it wi his hand,
	And ordered Sir Andrew Wood
	To come at his command.
58D.4	‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
	Has tauld the king o me?
	For had he been a better man,
	He might ha tauld a lee.’
58D.5	As I came in by the Inch, Inch, Inch,
	I heard an auld man weep:
	‘Sir Andrew Wood and a’ his men
	Are drowned in the deep!’
58D.6	O lang lang may yon ladies stand,
	Their fans into their hands,
	Before they see Sir Andrew Wood
	Come sailing to dry land.
58D.7	O laith laith were our Scottish lords
	To weit their cork-heeled shoon;
	But ere that a’ the play was plaid,
	They wat their heads aboon.
58D.8	Nore-east, nore-west frae Aberdeen
	Is fifty fanthom deep,
	And there lies good Sir Andrew Wood,
	And a’ the Scottish fleet.


		  Child 58E: Sir Patrick Spens

Motherwell’s MS., p. 348.

58E.1	THE king sits in Dumfermline toun,
	Sae merrilie drinking wine; O
	Says, Whare will I get a fine skipper,
	Wud sail these ships of mine? O
58E.2	Out and spak an auld rich knicht,
	And an ill death may he die!
	Says, Young Patrick is the best skipper
	That ever set sail on sea.
58E.3	The king did write a lang letter,
	Sealed it with his own hand,
	And he sent it to Young Patrick,
	To come at his command.
58E.4	When Young Patrick read the letter lang,
	The tear blindit his ee;
	Says Wha is this, or wha is that,
	That’s tauld the king of me?
	Altho he had been better than what he is,
	He micht hae askt leave of me.
58E.5	‘But busk, O busk, my merry men a’,
	O busk and mak you braw,
	For blaw the wind what airt it will,
	Our ship she must awa.
58E.6	‘Drink, O drink, my merrie men all,
	Drink o the beer and wine,
	For gin Wedensday by twal o’clock
	We’ll a’ be in our lang hame.’
58E.7	Out and spak a pretty little boy:
	‘I fear a deadlie storm;
	For I saw the new mune late yestreen,
	And the old ane in her arm,
	And readilie, maister,’ said he,
	‘That’s the sign of a deadly storm.’
58E.8	Aye they sat, and aye they drank,
	They drank of the beer and wine,
	And gin Wedensday gin ten o’clock,
	Their hair was wat abune.
58E.9	‘Whare wuld I get a pretty little boy,
	That wants to win hose and shoon,
	Wuld up to the top of my mainmast go,
	See if he could spy land?’
58E.10	‘O here am I, a pretty little boy,
	Wants to win hose and shoon;
	I’ll up to the top of your mainmast go,
	Though I should neer come doun.’
58E.11	‘Come doun, come doun, my pretty little boy,
	I think thou tarries lang;
	For the jawe is coming in at my coat-neck,
	Going out at my richt hand.’
58E.12	But there cum a shouir out o the Norewest,
	Of dreidfu hail and rain,
	It made Young Patrick and his men
	A’ flat wi the sea faem.
58E.13	O is na it a great pitye
	To see feather-beds on the main?
	But it is a greater pitye, I think,
	To see men doing the same.
58E.14	There’s a brig at the back o Sanct John’s toun,
	It’s fifty fadom deep,
	And there lies a’ our brau Scots lords,
	Young Patrick’s at their feet.
58E.15	Young Patrick’s lady sits at hame,
	She’s sewing her silken seam;
	And aye when she looks to the salt sea waves,
	‘I fear he’ll neer return.’
58E.16	Young Patrick’s lady sits at hame
	Rocking her oldest son;
	And aye when she looks to the salt sea waves,
	‘I’m feared he’ll neer come hame.’


		  Child 58F: Sir Patrick Spens

Motherwell’s MS., p. 153, from the recitation of Mrs Thomson.

58F.1	THE king he sits on Dunfermline hill,
	Drinking baith beer and wine; O
	Says, Whare shall I get a good skipper,
	That will sail the salt sea fine? O
58F.2	But out then speaks an Irish knight,
	Sat by the king’s right knee:
	‘Skipper Patrick is the best skipper
	That ever my eyes did see.’
58F.3	The king has written a lang letter,
	And sealed it wi his hand,
	And sent it to Skipper Patrick,
	As he walked alang the sand.
58F.4	‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
	That’s tauld the king of me?
	For tho it had been the queen hersell,
	She might hae let it be.
58F.5	‘But busk you, O busk, my merry men all,
	Sae merrily busk and boune,
	For blaw the wind where eer it will,
	Our gude ship sails the morn.’
58F.6	‘O no, O no, our dear master,
	It will be a deidly storm;
	For yestreen I saw the new new mune,
	Wi the auld mune in her arm;
	It’s a token, maister, or ye were born,
	It will be a deadly storm.’
58F.7	‘But busk, O busk, my merrie men all,
	Our gude ship sails the morn,
	For blow the wind whereer it will,
	Our gude ship sails the morn.’
58F.8	They had na sailed a day, a day,
	A day but scarsely five,
	Till Skipper Patrick’s bonny ship
	Began to crack and rive.
58F.9	It’s bonny was the feather beds
	That swimmed alang the main,
	But bonnier was our braw Scots lords,
	They neer returned again.
58F.10	Our Scots lords they are all laith
	To weet their coal black shoon;
	But I trow or a’ the play was played,
	They wat their hair abune.
58F.11	Our ladies may stand upon the sand,
	Kembing down their yellow hair,
	But they will neer see Skipper Patrick’s ship
	Come sailing in nae mair.
58F.12	Our ladies may stand upon the sand
	Wi gloves upon their hand,
	But they will never see Skipper Patrick’s ship
	Come sailing into the land.
58F.13	O vour and o vour to bonnie Aberdour
	It’s fifty fadoms deep;
	There you will find young Patrick lye,
	Wi his Scots lords at his head.
58F.14	Row owre, row owre to Aberdour,
	It’s fifty fadom deep;
	And there lies Earl Patrick Spens,
	His men all at his feet.

	
	Child 58G: Sir Patrick Spens

Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 157, communicated by Scott.

58G.1	THE king sits in Dunfermlin town,
	Sae merrily drinkin the wine:
	‘Whare will I get a mariner,
	Will sail this ship o mine?’
58G.2	Then up bespak a bonny boy,
	Sat just at the king’s knee:
	‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best seaman,
	That eer set foot on sea.’
58G.3	The king has written a braid letter,
	Seald it wi his ain hand;
	He has sent word to Sir Patrick,
	To come at his command.
58G.4	‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
	Has tald the king o me?
	For I was never a good seaman,
	Nor ever intend to be.’
58G.5	They mounted sail on Munenday morn,
	Wi a’ the haste they may,
	And they hae landed in Norraway,
	Upon the Wednesday.
58G.6	They hadna been a month, a month
	In Norraway but three,
	Till lads o Norraway began to say,
	Ye spend a’ our white monie.
58G.7	‘Ye spend a’ our good kingis goud,
	But and our queenis fee:’
	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,
	Sae weel’s I hear you lie.
58G.8	‘For I brought as much white money
	As will gain my men and me;
	I brought half a fou o good red goud
	Out oer the sea with me.
58G.9	‘Be’t wind or weet, be’t snaw or sleet,
	Our ships maun sail the morn:’
	‘O ever alack! my master dear,
	I fear a deadly storm.
58G.10	‘I saw the new moon late yestreen,
	Wi the auld moon in her arm;
	And if we gang to sea, master,
	I fear we’ll suffer harm.’
58G.11	They hadna sailed a league on sea,
	A league but barely ane,
	Till anchors brak, and tap-masts lap;
	There came a deadly storm.
58G.12	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy
	Will tak thir sails in hand,
	That will gang up to the tap-mast,
	See an he ken dry land?’
58G.13	Laith, laith were our good Scots lords
	To weet their leathern shoon;
	But or the morn at fair day-light,
	Their hats were wat aboon.
58G.14	Mony was the feather bed,
	That flotterd on the faem,
	And mony was the good Scots lord
	Gaed awa that neer cam hame,
	And mony was the fatherless bairn
	That lay at hame greetin.
58G.15	It’s forty miles to Aberdeen,
	And fifty fathoms deep;
	And there lyes a’ our good Scots lords,
	Wi Sir Patrick at their feet.
58G.16	The ladies crackt their fingers white,
	The maidens tore their hair,
	A’ for the sake o their true loves,
	For them they neer saw mair.
58G.17	Lang, lang may our ladies stand,
	Wi their fans in their hand,
	Ere they see Sir Patrick and his men
	Come sailing to the land.


		  Child 58H: Sir Patrick Spens
	
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 64, ed. 1803; I, 299, ed. 1833; "taken from two MS. copies, collated with several verses recited by the editor’s friend, Robert Hamilton, Esq., Advocate."

58H.1	THE king sits in Dumfermline town,
	Drinking the blude-red wine: O
	‘O whare will I get a skeely skipper,
	To sail this new ship of mine?’ O
58H.2	O up and spake an eldern knight,
	Sat at the king’s right knee:
	‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
	That ever saild the sea.’
58H.3	Our king has written a braid letter,
	And seald it with his hand,
	And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
	Was walking on the strand.
58H.4	‘To Noroway, to Noroway,
	To Noroway oer the faem;
	The king’s daughter of Noroway,
	’Tis thou maun bring her hame.’
58H.5	The first word that Sir Patrick read,
	Sae loud, loud laughed he;
	The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
	The tear blinded his ee.
58H.6	‘O wha is this has done this deed,
	And tauld the king o me,
	To send us out at this time of the year
	To sail upon the sea?
58H.7	‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
	Our ship must sail the faem;
	The king’s daughter of Noroway,
	’Tis we must fetch her hame.’
58H.8	They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
	Wi a’ the speed they may;
	They hae landed in Noroway,
	Upon a Wodensday.
58H.9	They hadna been a week, a week
	In Noroway but twae,
	When that the lords o Noroway
	Began aloud to say:
58H.10	‘Ye Scottishmen spend a’ our king’s goud,
	And a’ our queenis fee!’
	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,
	Fu loud I hear ye lie!
58H.11	‘For I brought as much white monie
	As gane my men and me,
	And I brought a half-fou o gude red goud
	Out oer the sea wi me.
58H.12	‘Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a’,
	Our gude ship sails the morn:’
	‘Now, ever alake! my master dear,
	I fear a deadly storm!
58H.13	‘I saw the new moo late yestreen,
	Wi the auld moon in her arm;
	And if we gang to sea, master,
	I fear we’ll come to harm.’
58H.14	They hadna sailed a league, a league,
	A league but barely three,
	When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
	And gurly grew the sea.
58H.15	The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,
	It was sic a deadly storm,
	And the waves came oer the broken ship,
	Till a’ her sides were torn.
58H.16	‘O where will I get a gude sailor,
	To take my helm in hand,
	Till I get up to the tall topmast,
	To see if I can spy land?’
58H.17	‘O here am I, a sailor gude,
	To take the helm in hand,
	Till you go up to the tall topmast;
	But I fear you’ll neer spy land.’
58H.18	He hadna gane a step, a step,
	A step but barely ane,
	When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,
	And the salt sea it came in.
58H.19	‘Gae fetch a web o the silken claith,
	Another o the twine,
	And wap them into our ship’s side,
	And letna the sea come in.’
58H.20	They fetched a web o the silken claith,
	Another o the twine,
	And they wapped them roun that gude ship’s side,
	But still the sea came in.
58H.21	O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords
	To weet their cork-heeld shoon;
	But lang or a’ the play was playd,
	They wat their hats aboon.
58H.22	And mony was the feather-bed
	That flattered on the faem,
	And mony was the gude lord’s son
	That never mair cam hame.
58H.23	The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
	The maidens tore their hair,
	A’ for the sake of their true loves,
	For them they’ll see na mair.
58H.24	O lang, lang may the ladyes sit,
	Wi their fans into their hand,
	Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
	Come sailing to the strand.
58H.25	And lang, lang may the maidens sit,
	Wi their goud kaims in their hair,
	A’ waiting for their ain dear loves,
	For them they’ll see na mair.
58H.26	O forty miles off Aberdeen
	’Tis fifty fathoms deep,
	And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
	Wi the Scots lords at his feet.


		  Child 58I: Sir Patrick Spens

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 1; Motherwell’s MS., p. 550.

58I.1	THE king sits in Dumfermline town,
	A-drinking at the wine;
	Says, Where will I get a good skipper,
	Will sail the saut seas fine?
58I.2	Out it speaks an eldren knight
	Amang the companie:
	‘Young Patrick Spens is the best skipper
	That ever saild the sea.’
58I.3	The king he wrote a braid letter,
	And seald it wi his ring;
	Says, Ye’ll gie that to Patrick Spens,
	See if ye can him find.
58I.4	He sent this not wi an auld man,
	Nor yet a simple boy,
	But the best o nobles in his train
	This letter did convoy.
58I.5	When Patrick lookd the letter upon
	A light laugh then gae he;
	But ere he read it till an end,
	The tear blinded his ee.
58I.6	Ye’ll eat and drink, my merry men a’,
	An see ye be weell thorn;
	For blaw it weet, or blaw it wind,
	My guid ship sails the morn.’
58I.7	Then out it speaks a guid auld man,
	A guid death mat he dee!
	‘Whatever ye do, my guid master,
	Tak God your guide to bee.
58I.8	‘For late yestreen I saw the new moon,
	The auld moon in her arm:’
	‘Ohon, alas!’ says Patrick Spens,
	‘That bodes a deadly storm.
58I.9	‘But I maun sail the seas the morn,
	And likewise sae maun you;
	To Noroway, wi our king’s daughter,
	A chosen queen she’s now.
58I.10	‘But I wonder who has been sae base
	As tauld the king o mee;
	Even tho he ware my ae brither,
	An ill death mat he dee!’
58I.11	Now Patrick he riggd out his ship,
	And sailed ower the faem,
	But mony a dreary thought had hee,
	While hee was on the main.
58I.12	They hadna saild upon the sea
	A day but barely three,
	Till they came in sight o Noroway,
	It’s there where they must bee.
58I.13	They hadna stayed into that place
	A month but and a day,
	Till he causd the flip in mugs gae roun,
	And wine in cans sae gay.
58I.14	The pipe and harp sae sweetly playd,
	The trumpets loudly soun;
	In every hall where in they stayd,
	Wi their mirth did reboun.
58I.15	Then out it speaks an auld skipper,
	An inbearing dog was hee:
	‘Ye’ve stayd ower lang in Noroway,
	Spending your king’s monie.’
58I.16	Then out it speaks Sir Patrick Spens: ‘O how can a’ this bee?
	I hae a bow o guid red gowd
	Into my ship wi mee.
58I.17	‘But betide me well, betide me wae, This day I’se leave the shore,
	And never spend my king’s monie
	Mong Noroway dogs no more.’
58I.18	Young Patrick hee is on the sea,
	And even on the faem,
	Wi five-an-fifty Scots lords’ sons,
	That langd to bee at hame.
58I.19	They hadna saild upon the sea
	A day but barely three,
	Till loud and boistrous grew the wind,
	And stormy grew the sea.
58I.20	‘O where will I get a little wee boy
	Will tak my helm in hand,
	Till I gae up to my tapmast,
	And see for some dry land?’
58I.21	He hadna gane to his tapmast
	A step but barely three,
	Ere thro and thro the bonny ship’s side
	He saw the green haw sea.
58I.22	‘There are five-an-fifty feather beds
	Well packed in ae room;
	And ye’ll get as muckle guid canvas
	As wrap the ship a’ roun.
58I.23	‘Ye’ll pict her well, and spare her not,
	And mak her hale and soun:’
	But ere he had the word well spoke
	The bonny ship was down.
58I.24	O laith, laith were our guid lords’ sons
	To weet their milk-white hands;
	But lang ere a’ the play was ower,
	They wat their gowden bands.
58I.25	O laith, laith were our Scots lords’ sons
	To weet their coal-black shoon;
	But lang ere a’ the play was ower,
	They wat their hats aboon.
58I.26	It’s even ower by Aberdour
	It’s fifty fathoms deep,
	And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,
	And a’s men at his feet.
58I.27	It’s even ower by Aberdour,
	There’s mony a craig and fin,
	And yonder lies Sir Patrick Spens,
	Wi mony a guid lord’s son.
58I.28	Lang, lang will the ladyes look,
	Into their morning weed,
	Before they see young Patrick Spens
	Come sailing ower the fleed.
58I.29	Lang, lang will the ladyes look,
	Wi their fans in their hand,
	Before they see him Patrick Spens
	Come sailing to dry land.

		  Child 58J: Sir Patrick Spens

Miss Harris’s MS., fol. 4, from the singing of her mother.

58J.1	HIE sits oor king in Dumfermline,
	Sits birlin at the wine;
	Says, Whare will I get a bonnie boy
	That will sail the saut seas fine?
	That will hie owre to Norraway,
	To bring my dear dochter hame?
58J.2	Up it spak a bonnie boy,
	Sat by the king’s ain knie:
	‘Sir Patrick Spens is as gude a skipper
	As ever sailed the sea.’
58J.3	The king has wrote a broad letter,
	And signed it wi his hand,
	And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
	To read it gif he can.
58J.4	The firsten line he luikit on,
	A licht lauchter gae he;
	But ere he read it to the end,
	The tear blindit his ee.
58J.5	‘O wha is this, or wha is that,
	Has tauld oor king o me?
	I wad hae gien him twice as muckle thank
	To latten that abee!
58J.6	‘But eat an drink, my merrie young men,
	Eat, an be weel forn;
	For blaw it wind, or blaw it weet,

	Oor gude ship sails the morn.’
58J.7	Up it spak his youngest son,
	Sat by Sir Patrick’s knie:
	‘I beg you bide at hame, father,
	An I pray be ruled by me.
58J.8	‘For I saw the new mune late yestreen,
	Wi the auld mune in her arms;
	An ever an alake, my father dear,
	It’s a token o diedly storms.’
58J.9	‘It’s eat an drink, my merrie young men,
	Eat, an be weel forn;
	For blaw it wind, or blaw it weet,
	Oor gude ship sails the morn.’
58J.10	They hadna sailed a league, a league,
	A league but only three,
	When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws
	Cam drivin to their knie.
58J.11	They hadna sailed a league, a league,
	A league but only five,
	When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws
	Their gude ship began to rive.
58J.12	They hadna sailed a league, a league,
	A league but only nine,
	When the whirlin wind an the ugly jaws
	Cam drivin to their chin.
58J.13	‘O whaur will I get a bonnie boy
	Will tak the steer in hand,
	Till I mount up to oor tapmast,
	To luik oot for dry land?’
58J.14	‘O here am I, a bonnie boy,
	Will tak the steer in hand,
	Till you mount up to oor tapmast,
	To luik oot for dry land.’
58J.15	He’s gaen up to the tapmast,
	To the tapmast sae hie;
	He luikit around on every side,
	But dry land he couldna see.
58J.16	He luikit on his youngest son,
	An the tear blindit he ee;

	Says, I wish you had been in your mother’s bowr,
	But there you’ll never be.
58J.17	‘Pray for yoursels, my merrie young men,
	Pray for yoursels an me,
	For the first landen that we will land
	Will be in the boddam o the sea.’
58J.18	Then up it raise the mermaiden,
	Wi the comb an glass in her hand:
	‘Here’s a health to you, my merrie young men,
	For you never will see dry land.’
58J.19	O laith, laith waur oor gude Scots lords
	To weet their cork-heeled shoon;
	But lang, lang ere the play was played,
	Their yellow locks soomed aboun.
58J.20	There was Saturday, an Sabbath day,
	An Monnonday at morn,
	That feather-beds an silken sheets
	Can floatin to Kinghorn.
58J.21	It’s och, och owre to Aberdour,
	It’s fifty faddoms deep;
	An there lie a’ oor gude Scots lords,
	Wi Sir Patrick Spens at their feet.
58J.22	O lang, lang will his lady sit,
	Wi the fan into her hand,
	Until she see her ain dear lord
	Come sailin to dry land.
58J.23	O lang, lang will his lady sit,
	Wi the tear into her ee,
	Afore she see her ain dear lord
	Come hieing to Dundee.
58J.24	O lang, lang will his lady sit,
	Wi the black shoon on her feet,
	Afore she see Sir Patrick Spens
	Come drivin up the street.


		  Child 58K: Sir Patrick Spens

Communicated by Mr Murison, as taken down from recitation in Old Deer by Mrs Murison.

58K.1	IT’S when he read the letter ower
	A licht lauch then leuch he;
	But lang ere he wan the end o it
	The saut tear filled his ee.
58K.2	‘O woe be to the man,’ he says,
	‘That’s tauld the king o me;
	Altho he be my ain brither,
	Some ill death mat he dee!
58K.3	. . . . . .
	. . . .
	‘For be it weet, or be it win,
	My bonnie ship sails the morn.’
	’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’
58K.4	‘For late the streen I saw the new meen,
	Bit an the auld ane tee.
	An it fears me sair, my good maister,
	For a tempest in the sea.’
58K.5	. . . . .
	. . . . . .
	Till up it rase the win an storm,
	An a tempest i the sea.
58K.6	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	It’s throch an throu the comely cog
	There comes the green raw sea.
	’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’
58K.7	‘Call upo your men, maister,
	An dinna call on me,
	For ye drank them weel ere ye tuke the gate,
	But O nane gae ye me.
58K.8	‘Ye beat my back, an beat my sides,
	When I socht hose an sheen;
	So call upo your men, maister,
	As they lie drunk wi wine.’
58K.9	‘Come doon, come doon, my bonnie boy,
	An tak my helm in han;
	Gin ever we live to gae to lan,
	I’ll wed ye wi my daughter Ann.’
58K.10	‘Ye used me ill, my guid maister,
	When we was on the lan,
	But nevertheless, my gude maister,
	I’ll tak your helm in han.’
58K.11	O laith, laith was oor bonny boys

	To weet their cork-heeled shoes;
	But lang ere a’ the play was played,
	They wat their yallow broos.
58K.12	O laith, laith was oor bonnie boys
	To weet their cork-heeled sheen;
	But lang ere a’ the play was played,
	They wat their hair abeen.
58K.13	‘O lang, lang will my lady leuk,
	Wi the lantern in her han,
	Afore she see my bonnie ship
	Come sailin to dry lan.’
58K.14	Atween Leith an Aberdeen
	Lies mony a craig an sea,
	An there it lies young Patrick Spens,
	An mony bonnie boys him wi.

		  Child 58L: Sir Patrick Spens

Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 6, Motherwell’s MS., p. 156, from Mrs Gentles, Paisley, February 1825.

58L.1	OUR ship it was a gudely ship,
	Its topmast was of gold,
	And at every tack of needlework
	There hung a silver bell.
58L.2	Up started the mermaid by our ship,
	Wi the glass and the comb in her hand:
	‘Reek about, reek about, my merrie men,
	Ye are not far from land.’
58L.3	‘You lie, you lie, you pretty mermaid,
	Sae loud as I hear you lie;
	For since I have seen your face this nicht,
	The land I will never see.’
58L.4	We hadna sailed a league but ane,
	A league but barely three,
	Till all we and our goodly ship
	Was all drowned in the sea.
58L.5	Lang lang may our ladies stand,
	Wi their seams into their hand,
	Looking for Sir Patrick’s ship,
	That will never come to land.


		  Child 58M: Sir Patrick Spens

Buchan’s Gleaning, p. 196, "from a very intelligent old man."

58M.1	THERE shall no man go to my ship
	Till I say mass and dine,
	And take my leave of my lady;
	Go to my bonny ship syne.
58M.2	When he was up at the top-mast head
	Around could naething see,
	But terrible storm in the air aboon,
	And below the roaring sea.
58M.3	‘Come down, come down, my good master,
	You see not what I see;
	For thro an thro your bonny ship’s side
	I see the green salt sea.’
58M.4	Lang lang will the ladies look,
	Wi their gown-tails owre their crown,
	Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
	Sailing to Dumferline town.

		  Child 58N: Sir Patrick Spens

Noted down from a female servant, by Joseph Robertson, July, 15, 1829, Adversaria, p. 67.

58N.1	OWER and ower by Aberdour
	There’s mony a cloudy stone,
	And there is mony a gude lord’s son
	I fear will never come home.
58N.2	Lang, lang will his lady look,
	Wi her baby in her arms,
	But she’ll never see Earl Patrick Spens
	Com walkin up the stran.
58N.3	‘I have a table in my room,
	It cost me guineas nine;
	I wad sink it in the sea
	For ae sight o dry lan.
58N.4	‘There’s a coast o green velvet on my back,
	I got it for my fee;
	But tho I wad gie ten thousan punds,
	Dry land I will never see.’


		  Child 58O: Sir Patrick Spens

Gibb MS., p. 63.

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


		 Child 58 P: Sir Patrick Spens

Kinloch MSS, I, 281.

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


		 Child 58 Q: Sir Patrick Spens
	
Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, I, xiv, from a recited copy.

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


		  Child 58R: Sir Patrick Spens

	Communicated by Mr Macmath, from Mr William Traquair, S. S. C., Edinburgh; obtained originally in Perthsire.

58R	’TWAS late, late on a Saturday night,
	And early on a Sunday morn,
	That robes of silk and feather beds
	Came floating to Kean-Gorn.



		  Child 59A: Sir Aldingar

Percy MS., p. 68; Hales and Furnivall, I, 166.

59A.1	OUR king he kept a ffalse steward,
	Men called him Sir Aldingar,
	. . . . .
	. . . .
59A.2	He wold haue layen by our comely queene,
	Her deere worshipp to haue betraide;
	Our queene shee was a good woman,
	And euer more said him nay.
59A.3	Aldingar was offended in his mind,
	With her hee was neuer content,
	But he sought what meanes he cold find out,
	In a fyer to haue her brent.
59A.4	There came a lame lazer to the kings gates,
	A lazar was blind and lame;
	He tooke the lazar vpon his backe,
	Vpon the queenes bed he did him lay.
59A.5	He said, Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest;
	Looke thou goe not away;
	Ile make thee a whole man and a sound
	In two howres of a day.
59A.6	And then went forth Sir Aldingar,
	Our queene for to betray,
	And then he mett with our comlye king,
	Saies, God you saue and see!
59A.7	‘If I had space, as I haue grace,
	A message I wold say to thee:’
	‘Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,
	Say thou on and vnto me.’
59A.8	‘I can let you now see one of [the] greiuos[est] sights
	that euer Christen king did see;
	Our queene hath chosen a new, new loue,
	She will haue none of thee.
59A.9	‘If shee had chosen a right good knight,
	The lesse had beene her shame;
	But she hath chosen a lazar man,
	Which is both blinde and lame.’
59A.10	‘If this be true, thou Aldingar,
	that thou dost tell to me,
	Then will I make thee a rich knight
	Both of gold and fee.
59A.11	‘But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,
	That thou doest tell to me,
	Then looke for noe other death
	But to be hangd on a tree.
	Goe with me,’ saide our comly king,
	‘This lazar for to see.’
59A.12	When the king he came into the queenes chamber,
	Standing her bed befor,
	‘There is a lodly lome,’ says Harry King,
	‘For our dame Queene Elinor!
59A.13	‘If thou were a man, as thou art none,
	Here thou sholdest be slaine;
	But a paire of new gallowes shall be built,
	Thoust hang on them soe hye.
59A.14	‘And [a] fayre fyer there shalbe bett,
	And brent our queene shalbee:’
	Fforth then walked our comlye king,
	And mett with our comly queene.
59A.15	Saies, God you saue, our queene, Madam,
	And Christ you saue and see!
	Heere you [haue] chosen a new, new loue,
	And you will haue none of mee.
59A.16	‘If you had chosen a right good knight,
	The lesse had beene your shame;
	But you haue chosen a lazar man,
	That is both blind and lame.’
59A.17	‘Euer alacke!’ said our comly queene,
	‘Sir Aldingar is false to mee;
	But euer alacke!’ said our comly queene,
	‘Euer alas, and woe is mee!
59A.18	‘I had thought sweuens had neuer been true;
	I haue prooued them true at the last;
	I dreamed in my sweauen on Thursday at eueninge,
	In my bed wheras I lay,
59A.19	‘I dreamed a grype and a grimlie beast
	Had carryed my crowne away,
	My gorgett and my kirtle of golde,
	And all my faire heade-geere.
59A.20	How he wold haue worryed me with his tush,
	And borne me into his nest,
	Saving there came a little hawk,
	Flying out of the east.
59A.21	‘Saving there came a little hawke,
	Which men call a merlion;
	Vntill the ground he stroke him downe,
	that dead he did fall downe.
59A.22	‘Giffe I were a man, as I am none,
	A battell I would proue;
	I wold fight with that false traitor;
	Att him I cast my gloue!
59A.23	‘Seing I am able noe battell to make,
	You must grant me, my leege, a knight,
	To fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar,
	To maintaine me in my right.’
59A.24	‘I’le giue thee forty dayes,’ said our king,
	‘To seeke thee a man therin;
	If thou find not a man in forty dayes,
	In a hott fyer thou shall brenn.’
59A.25	Our queene sent forth a messenger;
	He rode fast into the south;
	He rode the countryes through and through,
	Soe ffar vnto Portsmouth.
59A.26	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	He cold find never a man in the south country
	that wold fight with the knight soe keene.
59A.27	The second messenger the queen forth sent
	Rode far into the east;
	But, blessed be God made sunn and moone!
	He sped then all of the best.
59A.28	As he rode then by one riuer side,
	There he mett with a little child;
	He seemed noe more in a mans likenesse
	Then a child of four yeeres old.
59A.29	He askt the queenes messenger how far he rode;
	Loth he was him to tell;
	The little one was offended att him,
	Bid him adew, farwell.
59A.30	Said, Turne thou againe, thou messenger,
	Greete our queene well from me;
	When bale is att hyest, boote is att next;
	Helpe enough there may bee.
59A.31	‘Bid our queene remember what she did dreame
	In her bedd wheras shee lay;
	Shee dreamed the grype and the grimly beast
	Had carryed her crowne away;
59A.32	‘Her gorgett and her kirtle of gold,
	Alsoe her faire head-geere;
	He wold haue werryed her with his tushe,
	And borne her into his nest.
59A.33	‘Saving there came a little hawke,
	Men call him a merlyon;
	Vntill the ground he did strike him downe,
	that dead he did ffall downe.
59A.34	‘Bidd the queene be merry att her hart,
	Euermore light and glad;
	When bale is att hyest, boote is at next,
	Helpe enoughe there shalbe.’
59A.35	Then the queenes messenger rode backe,
	A gladed man then was hee;
	When he came before our queene,
	A gladd woman then was shee.
59A.36	Shee gaue the messenger twenty pound,
	O lord, in gold and ffee;
	Saies, Spend and spare not while this doth last,
	Then feitch thou more of me.
59A.37	Our queene was put in a tunne to burne,
	She thought no thing but death;
	Th?e were ware of the little one
	Came ryding forth of the east.
59A.38	With a mu . . . . .
	A louelie child was hee;
	When he came to that fier,
	He light the queene full nigh.
59A.39	Said, Draw away these brands of fire
	Lie burning before our queene,
	And feitch me hither Sir Aldingar,
	that is a knight soe keene.
59A.40	When Aldingar see that little one,
	Ffull litle of him hee thought;
	If there had beene halfe a hundred such,
	Of them he wold not haue wrought.
59A.41	Hee sayd, Come hither, Sir Aldingar;
	Thou seemust as bigge as a ffooder;
	I trust to God, ere I haue done with thee,
	God will send to vs [an] auger.
59A.42	Saies, The first stroke that’s giuen, Sir Aldingar,
	I will giue vnto thee,
	And if the second giue thou may,
	Looke then thou spare not mee.
59A.43	The litle one pulld forth a well good sword,
	I-wis itt was all of guilt;
	It cast light there over that feild,
	It shone soe all of guilt.
59A.44	He stroke the first stroke att Aldingar,
	He stroke away his leggs by his knee;
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
59A.45	Sayes, Stand vp, stand vp, thou false traitor,
	And fight vpon thy feete;
	For and thou thriue as thou begins,
	Of a height wee shalbe meete.
59A.46	‘A preist, a preist,’ sayes Aldingar,
	‘Me for to houzle and shriue!
	A preist, a preist,’ sayes Aldingar,
	‘While I am a man liuing a-liue!
59A.47	‘I wold haue laine by our comlie queene;
	To it shee wold neuer consent;
	I thought to haue betrayd her to our king,
	In a fyer to haue had her brent.
59A.48	‘There came a lame lazar to the kings gates,
	A lazar both blind and lame;
	I tooke the lazar vpon my backe,
	In the Queenes bed I did him lay.
59A.49	‘I bad him, Lie still, lazar, where he lay,
	Looke he went not away;
	I wold make him a whole man and a sound
	In two houres of a day.
59A.50	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘Euer alacke!’ sayes Sir Aldingar,
	‘Falsing neuer doth well;
59A.51	‘Forgiue, forgiue me, queene, Madam!
	For Christs loue forgiue me!’
	‘God forgaue his death, Aldingar,
	And freely I forgiue thee.’
59A.52	‘Now take thy wife, thou King Harry,
	And loue her as thou shold;
	Thy wiffe shee is as true to thee
	As stone that lies on the castle wall.’
59A.53	The lazar vnder the gallow tree
	Was a pretty man and small;
	The lazar vnder the gallow tree
	Was made steward in King Henerys hall.


		  Child 59B: Sir Aldingar

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 51, 1803. Communicated to Scott by K. Williamson Burnet, of Monboddo, as written down from the recitation of an old woman, long in the service of the Arbuthnot family.

59B.1	THE birds sang sweet as ony bell,
	The world had not their make;
	The queen she’s gone to her chamber,
	With Rodingham to talk.
59B.2	‘I love you well, my queene, my dame,
	Bove land and rents so clear,
	And for the love of you, my queen,
	Would thole pain most severe.’
59B.3	‘If well you love me, Rodingham,
	I’m sure so do I thee;
	I love you well as any man,
	Save the king’s fair bodye.’
59B.4	‘I love you well, my queen, my dame,
	’Tis truth that I do tell;
	And for to lye a night with you,
	The salt seas I would sail.’
59B.5	‘Away, away, O Rodingham!
	You are both stark and stoor;
	Would you defile the king’s own bed,
	And make his queen a whore?
59B.6	‘To-morrow you’d be taken sure,
	And like a traitor slain,
	And I’d be burned at a stake,
	Altho I be the queen.’
59B.7	All in an angry mood,
	Untill he met a leper-man,
	Just by the hard way-side.
59B.8	He intoxicate the leper-man,
	With liquors very sweet,
	And gave him more and more to drink,
	Until he fell asleep.
59B.9	He took him in his arms two,
	And carried him along,
	Till he came to the queen’s own bed,
	And there he laid him down.
59B.10	He then steppd out of the queen’s bower,
	As swift as any roe,
	Till he came to the very place
	Where the king himself did go.
59B.11	The king said unto Rodingham,
	What news have you to me?
	He said, Your queen’s a false woman,
	As I did plainly see.
59B.12	He hastend to the queen’s chamber,
	So costly and so fine,
	Until he came to the queen’s own bed,
	Where the leper-man was lain.
59B.13	He looked on the leper-man,
	Who lay on his queen’s bed;
	He lifted up the snaw-shite sheets,
	And thus he to him said.
59B.14	‘Plooky, plooky are your cheeks,
	And plooky is your chin,
	And plooky are your armis twa,
	My bonny queen’s layne in.
59B.15	‘Since she has lain into your arms,
	She shall not lye in mine;
	Since she has kissd your ugsome mouth,
	She never shall kiss mine.’
59B.16	In anger he went to the queen,
	Who fell upon her knee;
	He said, You false, unchaste woman,
	What’s this you’ve done to me?
59B.17	The queen then turnd herself about,
	The tear blinded her ee:
	‘There’s not a knight in a’ your court
	Dare give that name to me.’
59B.18	He said, ’Tis true that I do say;
	For I a proof did make;
	You shall be taken from my bower,
	And burned at a stake.
59B.19	‘Perhaps I’ll take my word again,
	And may repent the same,
	If that you’ll get a Christian man
	To fight that Rodingham.’
59B.20	‘Alass! alass!’ then cried our queen,
	‘Alas, and woe to me!
	There’s not a man in all Scotland
	Will fight with him for me.’
59B.21	She breathed unto her messengers,
	Sent them south, east, and west;
	They could find none to fight with him,
	Nor enter the contest.
59B.22	She breathed on her messengers,
	She sent them to the north;
	And there they found Sir Hugh le Blond,
	To fight him he came forth.
59B.23	When unto him they did unfold
	The circumstance all right,
	He bade them go and tell the queen
	That for her he would fight.
59B.24	The day came on that was to do
	That dreadful tragedy;
	Sir hugh le Blond was not come up,
	To fight for our lady.
59B.25	‘Put on the fire,’ the monster said,
	‘It is twelve on the bell;’
	’’Tis scarcely ten, now,’ said the king,
	‘I heard the clock mysell.’
59B.26	Before the hour the queen is brought,
	The burning to proceed;
	In a black velvet chair she’s set,
	A token for the dead.
59B.27	She saw the flames ascending high,
	The tears blinded her ee:
	‘Where is the worthy knight,’ she said,
	‘Who is to fight for me?’
59B.28	Then up and spak the king himsell:
	‘My dearest, have no doubt,
	For yonder comes the man himsel,
	As bold as eer set out.’
59B.29	They then advanced to fight the duel,
	With swords of temperd steel;
	Till down the blood of Rodingham
	Came running to his heel.
59B.30	Sir Hugh took out a lusty sword,
	’Twas of the metal clear,
	And he has pierced Rodingham
	Till’s heart-blood did appear.
59B.31	‘Confess your treachery, now,’ he said,
	‘This day before you die;’
	‘I do confess my treachery,
	I shall no longer lye.
59B.32	‘I like to wicked Haman am,
	This day I shall be slain:’
	The queen was brought to her chamber,
	A good woman again.
59B.33	The queen then said unto the king,
	Arbattle’s near the sea;
	Give it unto the northern knight,
	That this day fought for me.
59B.34	Then said the king, Come here, Sir Knight,
	And drink a glass of wine,
	And, if Arbattle’s not enough,
	To it we’ll Fordoun join.


		  Child 59C: Sir Aldingar

Dr Joseph Robertson’s Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 6.

59C.1	THEY’VE putten her into prison strang,
	A twalmon lang and mair,
	Until the mice and wild rattens
	Did tear her yallow hair.
59C.2	’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’
	‘One shake o your han,’ said Rodingham,
	‘One shak o your han gie me:’
	‘I cam na here for shaking hans,
	But to fight maist desperatelie.’
59C.3	‘It’s nae ten strucken on the clock,
	Nor eleven on the bell:’
	‘We’ll doe ill deeds anew ere night,
	Tho it were strucken twall.’


			Child 60: King Estmere
	
a. Percy’s Reliques, edition of 1794, I, 64. b. Reliques, edition of 1765, I, 58.

60.1	HEARKEN to me, gentlemen,
	Come and you shall heare;
	Ile tell you of two of the boldest brether
	That ever borne were.
60.2	The tone of them was Adler Younge,
	The tother was Kyng Estmere;
	The were as bolde men in their deeds
	As any were, farr and neare.
60.3	As they were drinking ale and wine
	Within his brother’s hall,
	‘When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
	A wyfe to glad us all?’
60.4	Then bespake him Kyng Estmere,
	And answered him hartilye:
	‘I know not that ladye in any land,
	That’s able to marrye with mee.’
60.5	‘Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
	Men call her bright and sheene;
	If I were kyng here in your stead,
	That ladye shold be my queene.’
60.6	Saies, Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
	Throughout merry England,
	Where we might find a messenger
	Betwixt us towe to sende.
60.7	Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brother,
	Ile beare you companye;
	Many a man throughe fals messengers is deceived,
	And I feare lest soe shold wee.
60.8	Thus the renisht them to ryde,
	Of twoe good renisht steeds,
	And when the came to King Adlands halle,
	Of redd gold shone their weeds.
60.9	And when the came to Kyng Adlands hall,
	Before the goodlye gate,
	There they found good Kyng Adland
	Rearing himselfe theratt.
60.10	‘Now Christ thee save, good Kyng Adland;
	Now Christ you save and see:’
	Sayd, You be welcome, King Estmere,
	Right hartilye to mee.
60.11	‘You have a daughter,’ said Adler Younge,
	‘Men call her bright and sheene;
	My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe,
	Of Englande to be queene.’
60.12	‘Yesterday was att my deere daughter
	The king his sonne of Spayn,
	And then she nicked him of naye,
	And I doubt sheele do you the same.’
60.13	‘The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim,
	And ’leeveth on Mahound,
	And pitye it were that fayre ladye
	Shold marrye a heathen hound.’
60.14	‘But grant to me,’ sayes Kyng Estmere,
	‘For my love I you praye,
	That I may see your daughter deere
	Before I goe hence awaye.’
60.15	‘Although itt is seven yeers and more
	Since my daughter was in halle,
	She shall come once downe for your sake,
	To glad my guest?es alle.’
60.16	Downe then came that mayden fayre,
	With ladyes laced in pall,
	And halfe a hundred of bold knightes,
	To bring her [from] bowre to hall,
	And as many gentle squiers,
	To tend upon them all.
60.17	The talents of golde were on her head sette
	Hanged low downe to her knee,
	And everye ring on her small finger
	Shone of the chrystall free.
60.18	Saies, God you save, my deere madam, Saies,
	God you save and see:
	Said, You be welcome, Kyng Estmere,
	Right welcome unto mee.
60.19	‘And, if you love me, as you saye,
	Soe well and hartilee,
	All that ever you are comen about
	Soone sped now itt shal bee.’
60.20	Then bespake her father deare:
	My daughter, I saye naye;
	Remember well the kyng of Spayne,
	What he sayd yesterdaye.
60.21	‘He wold pull downe my halles and castles,
	And reave me of my lyfe;
	I cannot blame him if he doe,
	If I reave him of his wyfe.
60.22	‘Your castles and your towres, father,
	Are stronglye built aboute,
	And therefore of the king his sonne of Spaine
	Wee neede not stande in doubt.
60.23	‘Plight me your troth, nowe, Kyng Estmere,
	By heaven and your righte hand,
	That you will marrye me to your wyfe,
	And make me queene of your land.’
60.24	Then Kyng Estmere he plight his troth,
	By heaven and his righte hand,
	That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe,
	And make her queene of his land.
60.25	And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre,
	To goe to his owne countree,
	To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes,
	That marryed the might bee.
60.26	They had not ridden scant a myle,
	A myle forthe of the towne,
	But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
	With kemp?es many one.
60.27	But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
	With manye a bold barone,
	Tone day to marrye Kyng Adlands daughter,
	Tother daye to carrye her home.
60.28	Shee sent one after Kyng Estmere,
	In all the spede might bee,
	That he must either turne againe and fighte,
	Or goe home and loose his ladye.
60.29	One whyle then the page he went,
	Another while he ranne;
	Till he had oretaken King Estmere,
	I-wis he never blanne.
60.30	‘Tydings, tydings, Kyng Estmere!’
	‘What tydinges nowe, my boye?’
	‘O tydinges I can tell to you,
	That will you sore annoye.
60.31	‘You had not ridden scant a mile,
	A mile out of the towne,
	But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
	With kemp?es many a one.
60.32	‘But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
	With manye a bold barone,
	Tone daye to marrye King Adlands daughter,
	Tother daye to carry her home.
60.33	‘My ladye fayre she greetes you well,
	And ever-more well by mee;
	You must either turne againe and fighte,
	Or goe home and loose your ladye.’
60.34	Saies, Reade me, reade me, deere brother,
	My reade shall ryse at thee,
	Whether it is better to turne and fighte,
	Or goe home and loose my ladye.
60.35	‘Now hearken to me,’ sayes Adler Yonge,
	‘And your reade must rise at me;
	I quicklye will devise a waye
	To sette thy ladye free.
60.36	‘My mother was a westerne woman,
	And learned in gramarye,
	And when I learned at the schole,
	Something shee taught itt mee.
60.37	‘There growes an hearbe within this field,
	And iff it were but knowne,
	His color, which is whyte and redd,
	It will make blacke and browne.
60.38	‘His color, which is browne and blacke,
	Itt will make redd and whyte;
	That sworde is not in all Englande
	Upon his coate will byte.
60.39	‘And you shal be a harper, brother,
	Out of the north countrye,
	And Ile be your boy, soo faine of fighte,
	And beare your harpe by your knee.
60.40	‘And you shal be the best harper
	That ever tooke harpe in hand,
	And I wil be the best singer
	That ever sung in this lande.
60.41	‘Itt shal be written in our forheads,
	All and in grammarye,
	That we towe are the boldest men
	That are in all Christentye.’
60.42	And thus they renisht them to ryde,
	Of tow good renisht steedes,
	And when they came to King Adlands hall,
	Of redd gold shone their weedes.
60.43	And whan the came to Kyng Adlands hall

	Untill the fayre hall-yate,
	There they found a proud porter,
	Rearing himselfe thereatt.
60.44	Sayes, Christ thee save, thou proud porter,
	Sayes, Christ thee save and see:
	‘Nowe you be welcome,’ sayd the porter,
	‘Of what land soever ye bee.’
60.45	‘Wee beene harpers,’ sayd Adler Younge,
	‘Come out of the northe countrye;
	Wee beene come hither untill this place
	This proud weddinge for to see.’
60.46	Sayd, And your color were white and redd,
	As it is blacke and browne,
	I wolde saye King Estmere and his brother
	Were comen untill this towne.
60.47	Then they pulled out a ryng of gold,
	Layd itt on the porters arme:
	‘And ever we will thee, proud porter,
	Thow wilt saye us no harme.’
60.48	Sore he looked on Kyng Estmere,
	And sore he handled the ryng,
	Then opened to them the fayre hall-yates,
	He lett for no kind of thyng.
60.49	Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede
	Soe fayre att the hall-bord;
	The froth that came from his brydle bitte
	Light in Kyng Bremors beard.
60.50	Saies, Stable thy steed, thou proud harper,
	Saies, Stable him in the stalle;
	It doth not beseeme a proud harper
	To stable his steed in a kyngs halle.
60.51	‘My ladde he is so lither,’ he said,
	‘He will doe nought that’s meete;
	And is there any man in this hall
	Were able him to beate?’
60.52	‘Thou speakst proud words,’ sayes the king of Spaine,
	‘Thou harper, here to mee;
	There is a man within this halle
	Will beate thy ladd and thee.’
60.53	‘O let that man come downe,’ he said,
	‘A sight of him wold I see;
	And when hee hath beaten well my ladd,
	Then he shall beate of mee.’
60.54	Downe then came the kemperye man,
	And looked him in the eare;
	For all the gold that was under heaven,
	He durst not neigh him neare.
60.55	‘And how nowe, kempe,’ said the kyng of Spaine,
	‘And how, what aileth thee?’
	He saies, It is writt in his forhead,
	All and in grammarye,
	That for all the gold that is under heaven,
	I dare not neigh him nye.
60.56	Then Kyng Estmere pulld forth his harpe,
	And plaid a pretty thinge;
	The ladye upstart from the borde,
	And wold have gone from the king.
60.57	‘Stay thy harpe, thou proud harper,
	For Gods love I pray thee;
	For and thou playes as thou beginns,
	Thou’lt till my bryde from mee.’
60.58	He stroake upon his harpe againe,
	And playd a pretty thinge;
	The ladye lough a loud laughter,
	As shee sate by the king.
60.59	Saies, Sell me thy harpe, thou proud harper,
	And thy string?es all;
	For as many gold nobles thou shalt have
	As heere bee ringes in the hall.’
60.60	‘What wold ye doe with my harpe,’ he sayd,
	‘If I did sell itt yee?’
	‘To playe my wiffe and me a fitt,
	When abed together wee bee.’
60.61	‘Now sell me,’ quoth hee, ‘thy bryde soe gay,
	As shee sitts by thy knee;
	And as many gold nobles I will give
	As leaves been on a tree.’
60.62	‘And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay,
	Iff I did sell her thee?
	More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye
	To lye by mee then thee.’
60.63	Hee played agayne both loud and shrille,
	And Adler he did syng,
	‘O ladye, this is thy owne true love,
	Noe harper, but a kyng.
60.64	‘O ladye, this is thy owne true love,
	As playnlye thou mayest see,
	And Ile rid thee of that foule paynim
	Who partes thy love and thee.’
60.65	The ladye looked, the ladye blushte,
	And blushte and lookt agayne,
	While Adler he hath drawne his brande,
	And hath the sowdan slayne.
60.66	Up then rose the kemperye men,
	And loud they gan to crye:
	‘Ah! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng,
	And therefore yee shall dye.’
60.67	Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde,
	And swith he drew his brand,
	And Estmere he and Adler Yonge
	Right stiffe in stour can stand.
60.68	And aye their swordes soe sore can byte,
	Throughe help of gramarye,
	That soone they have slayne the kempery men,
	Or forst them forth to flee.
60.69	Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye,
	And marryed her to his wiffe,
	And brought her home to merry England,
	With her to leade his life.


			Child 61: Sir Cawline
	
Percy MS., p. 368; Hales and Furnivall, III, 3.

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



			Child 62A: Fair Annie
	
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 102, 1802, chiefly from the recitation of an old woman residing near Kirkhill, in West Lothian.

62A.1	IT’S narrow, narrow, make your bed,
	And learn to lie your lane;
	For I’m ga’n oer the sea, Fair Annie,
	A braw bride to bring hame.
	Wi her I will get gowd and gear;
	Wi you I neer got nane.
62A.2	‘But wha will bake my bridal bread,
	Or brew my bridal ale?
	And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
	That I bring oer the dale?’
62A.3	‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread,
	And brew your bridal ale,
	And I will welcome your brisk bride,
	That you bring oer the dale.’
62A.4	‘But she that welcomes my brisk bride
	Maun gang like maiden fair;
	She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
	And braid her yellow hair.’
62A.5	‘But how can I gang maiden-like,
	When maiden I am nane?
	Have I not born seven sons to thee,
	And am with child again?’
62A.6	She’s taen her young son in her arms,
	Another in her hand,
	And she’s up to the highest tower,
	To see him come to land.
62A.7	‘Come up, come up, my eldest son,
	And look oer yon sea-strand,
	And see your father’s new-come bride,
	Before she come to land.’
62A.8	‘Come down, come down, my mother dear,
	Come frae the castle wa!
	I fear, if langer ye stand there,
	Ye’ll let yoursell down fa.’
62A.9	And she gaed down, and farther down,
	Her love’s ship for to see,
	And the topmast and the mainmast
	Shone like the silver free.
62A.10	And she’s gane down, and farther down,
	The bride’s ship to behold,
	And the topmast and the mainmast
	They shone just like the gold.
62A.11	She’s taen her seven sons in her hand,
	I wot she didna fail;
	She met Lord Thomas and his bride,
	As they came oer the dale.
62A.12	‘You’re welcome to your house, Lord Thomas,
	You’re welcome to your land;
	You’re welcome with your fair ladye,
	That you lead by the hand.
62A.13	‘You’re welcome to your ha’s, ladye,
	Your welcome to your bowers;
	You’re welcome to your hame, ladye,
	For a’ that’s here is yours.’
62A.14	‘I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie,
	Sae dearly as I thank thee;
	You’re the likest to my sister Annie,
	That ever I did see.
62A.15	‘There came a knight out oer the sea,
	And steald my sister away;
	The shame scoup in his company,
	And land whereer he gae!’
62A.16	She hang ae napkin at the door,
	Another in the ha,
	And a’ to wipe the trickling tears,
	Sae fast as they did fa.
62A.17	And aye she served the lang tables,
	With white bread and with wine,
	And aye she drank the wan water,
	To had her colour fine.
62A.18	And aye she served the lang tables,
	With white bread and with brown;
	And ay she turned her round about,
	Sae fast the tears fell down.
62A.19	And he’s taen down the silk napkin,
	Hung on a silver pin,
	And aye he wipes the tear trickling
	A’ down her cheek and chin.
62A.20	And aye he turn’d him round about,
	And smiled amang his men;
	Says, Like ye best the old ladye,
	Or her that’s new come hame?
62A.21	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	And a’ men bound to bed,
	Lord Thomas and his new-come bride
	To their chamber they were gaed.
62A.22	Annie made her bed a little forbye,
	To hear what they might say;
	‘And ever alas!’ Fair Annie cried,
	‘That I should see this day!
62A.23	‘Gin my seven sons were seven young rats,
	Running on the castle wa,
	And I were a grew cat mysell,
	I soon would worry them a’.
62A.24	‘Gin my seven sons were seven young hares,
	Running oer yon lilly lee,
	And I were a grew hound mysell,
	Soon worried they a’ should be.’
62A.25	And wae and sad Fair Annie sat,
	And drearie was her sang,
	And ever, as she sobbd and grat,
	‘Wae to the man that did the wrang!’
62A.26	‘My gown is on,’ said the new-come bride,
	‘My shoes are on my feet,
	And I will to Fair Annie’s chamber,
	And see what gars her greet.
62A.27	‘What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie,
	That ye make sic a moan?
	Has your wine barrels cast the girds,
	Or is your white bread gone?
62A.28	‘O wha was’t was your father, Annie,
	Or wha was’t was your mother?
	And had ye ony sister, Annie,
	Or had ye ony brother?’
62A.29	‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father,
	The Countess of Wemyss my mother;
	And a’ the folk about the house
	To me were sister and brother.’
62A.30	‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,
	I wot sae was he mine;
	And it shall not be for lack o gowd
	That ye your love sall tyne.
62A.31	‘For I have seven ships o mine ain,
	A’ loaded to the brim,
	And I will gie them a’ to thee,
	Wi four to thine eldest son:
	But thanks to a’ the powers in heaven
	That I gae maiden hame!’


			Child 62B: Fair Annie

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

62B.1	THERE livd a lord on yon sea-side,
	And he thought on a wile,
	How he would go over the saut sea
	A lady to beguile.
62B.2	‘O learn to mak your bed, Helen,
	And learn to ly your lane,
	For I’m gaun over the saut seas
	A bright bride to bring hame.’
62B.3	‘How can I mak my bed,’ she says,
	‘Unless I mak it wide,
	Whan I have seven o your sons
	To lie down by my side?
62B.4	‘And the first o your seven sons,
	He rides a milk-white steed;
	The second o your seven sons
	He wears a milk-white weed.
62B.5	‘The third ane o your seven sons,
	He draws baith ale and wine;
	The fourth ane o your seven sons,
	He serves you when you dine.
62B.6	‘The fifth ane o your seven sons,
	He can baith read and write;
	And the sixth ane o your seven sons,
	He is a’ your heart’s delight.
62B.7	‘And the youngest o your seven sons,
	He sleeps on my breast-bane;
	Whan him and I ly down at night,
	For him rest get I nane.’
62B.8	‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
	And brew my bridal ale?
	And wha will welcome my gae lady,
	That I bring oer the dale?
62B.9	‘And sin ye’ve taen the turn in hand,
	See that ye do it right,
	And ilka chimly o the house,
	That they be dearly dight.’
62B.10	O a’ the day she washd and wrang,
	And a’ the night she buik,
	And she’s awa to her chamber,
	To gie her young son suck.
62B.11	‘Come here, come here, my eldest son,
	And see what ye may see;
	For yonder comes your father dear,
	Your mother-in-law side be.’
62B.12	She’s taen a cake o the best bread,
	A bottle o the best wine,
	And a’ the keys upon her arm,
	And to the yates she’s gaen.
62B.13	‘Ye are welcome hame, gay lady,’ she said,
	‘And ay ye are welcome hame;
	And sae is a’ the gentlewomen
	That’s wi you ridden and gane.
62B.14	‘You are welcome hame, gay lord’ she said,
	‘And ay ye are welcome hame;
	And sae is a’ the gentlemen
	That’s wi you ridden and gane.’
62B.15	She saird them up, she saird them down,
	She saird them till and frae;
	But when she went behind their backs,
	The tear did blind her ee.
62B.16	Whan day was gane, and night was come,
	And a’ man boun to bed,
	The bridegroom and the bonny bride
	In their chamber was laid.
62B.17	Burd Helen and her seven sons
	Lay in a bower near by;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
62B.18	‘If my seven sons were seven grey ratts,
	To rin frae wa to wa,
	And I mysel a good grey cat,
	I would bite their back a-twa.

62B.19	‘If my seven sons were seven grey hares,
	And them to rin a race,
	And I mysel a good greyhound,
	I would gie them a chace.’
62B.20	Up and spak the bonny bride,
	In chamber where she lay:
	‘There is a lady in this bower,
	She will gae mad or day.’
62B.21	‘Lye still, lye still, my bonny bride,
	Lye still and tak a sleep;
	It’s but ane o my wine puncheons;
	Nae langer wad it keep.’
62B.22	‘King Henry was my father dear,
	Queen Catherine was my mother,
	Lady Anne she was my sister dear,
	And Frederick was my brother.
62B.23	‘And whan I was six years of age,
	They ca’d me Mary Mild;
	I was stown frae my father’s yate,
	Whan I was but a child.’
62B.24	Then up and spak the bonny bride,
	By her lord as she lay:
	‘Lye down, lye down, my dear sister,
	There’s nae ill done for me.
62B.25	‘O seven ships conveyd me here,
	And seven came oer the main;
	And four o them shall stay wi you,
	And three convey me hame.
62B.26	‘But when I gae hame to my father’s house,
	They will laugh me to scorn,
	To come awa a wedded wife,
	Gae hame a maid the morn.’


			Child 62C: Fair Annie
	
Motherwell’s manuscript, p. 351, from the recitation of Janet Holmes, an old woman in Kilbarchan, who derived the ballad from her mother; July 18, 1825.

62C.1	LEARN to mak you bed, honey,
	And learn to lye your lane,
	For I’m gaun owre the salt seas,
	A fair lady to bring hame.
62C.2	‘And with her I’ll get gold and gear,
	With thee I neer got nane;
	I took you as a waaf woman,
	I leave you as the same.’
62C.3	‘What aileth thee at me, my lord,
	What aileth thee at me,
	When seven bonnie sons I have born,
	All of your fair bodie?
62C.4	‘The eldest of your seven sons,
	He can both read and write;
	The second of your sons, my lord,
	Can do it more perfyte.
62C.5	‘The third one of your sons, my lord,
	He waters your milk-white steed;
	The fourth one of your sons, my lord,
	With red gold shines his weed.
62C.6	‘The fifth one of your sons, my lord,
	He serves you when you dine;
	The sixth one now you do behold,
	How he walks out and in.
62C.7	‘The seventh one of your sons, my lord,
	Sucks hard at my breast-bane;
	When a’ the house they are at rest,
	For him I can get nane.
62C.8	‘And if you leave me thus forlorn,
	A wainless wife I’ll be,
	For anybody’s gold or gear
	That is beyond the sea.’
62C.9	‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
	Or wha will brew my ale?
	Or wha will cook my kitchen neat,
	Or give my men their meal?’
62C.10	‘For love I’ll bake your bridal bread,
	To brew your ale I’m fain,
	To cook your kitchen, as I have done,
	Till you return again.’
62C.11	‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
	Or wha will brew my ale?
	Or wha will welcome my braw bride,
	That I bring owre the dale?’
62C.12	‘For love I’ll bake your bridal bread,
	For love I’ll brew your ale,
	And I will welcome your braw bride
	That you bring owre the dale.’
62C.13	Her mind she keeped, but sair she weepd
	The time that he was gane
	. . . . . .
	. . . . . .
62C.14	‘Go up, go up, my eldest son,
	Go to the upmost ha,
	And see if you see your father coming,
	With your mother-to-be-in-law.’
62C.15	‘Put on, put on, O mother dear,
	Put on your gouns so braw,
	For yonder is my father coming,
	With my mother-to-be-in-law.’
62C.16	She’s taen the wheat-bread in one hand,
	The red wines, which plenty were,
	And she’s gane to the outmost gate,
	And bid them welcome there.
62C.17	‘You’re welcome here, my brother dear,
	Ye’re welcome, brother John;
	Ye’re welcome a’ my brethern dear,
	That has this journey gone.’
62C.18	‘I thank you, sister Annie,’ he says,
	‘And I thank you heartilie,
	And as you’ve welcomed home myself,
	You’ll welcome my fair ladye.’
62C.19	‘If I had roses to my feet,
	And ribbons to my gown,
	And as leal a maid as your braw bride,
	I would speak without a frown.’
62C.20	He’s given her roses to her feet,
	And ribbons to her gown,
	And she has welcomed his braw bride,
	But weel that was her own!
62C.21	‘I thank you, sister Annie,’ she says,
	‘I thank you heartilie,
	And if I be seven years about this place,
	Rewarded you shall be.’
62C.22	She served them up, she served them down,
	And she served all their cries,
	And aye as she came down the stair
	The tears fell from her eyes.
62C.23	When mass was sung, and all bells rung,
	And all men boune for bed,
	The good lord and his fair lady
	Were in their chamber laid.
62C.24	But poor Annie and her seven sons
	Was in a room hard by,
	And as she lay she sighed and wept,
	And thus began to cry:
62C.25	‘O were my sons transformed to cats,
	To speel this castle wa,
	And I mysell a red blood-hound
	That I might worry them a’!’
62C.26	The bride she overhearing all,
	And sair she rued her fate:
	‘Awauk, awauk, my lord,’ she said,
	‘Awauk, for well you may;
	For There’s a woman in this gate
	That will go mad ere day.
62C.27	‘I fear she is a leman of thine,
	And a leman meek and mild;
	Get up and pack her down the stairs,
	Tho the woods were neer sae wild.’
62C.28	‘O yes, she is a leman of mine,
	And a leman meek and kind,
	And I will not pack her down the stairs,
	For a’ the gear that’s thine.’
62C.29	‘O wha’s your father, Ann?’ she says,
	‘Or wha’s your mother dear?
	Or wha’s your sister, Ann?’ she says,
	‘Or brother? let me hear.’
62C.30	‘King Easter he’s my father dear,
	The Queen my mother was;
	John Armstrang, in the west-airt lands,
	My eldest brother is.’
62C.31	‘Then I’m your sister, Ann,’ she says,
	‘And I’m a full sister to thee;
	You were stolen awa when very young,
	By the same lord’s treacherie.
62C.32	‘I’ve seven ships upon the sea,
	All loaded to the brim,
	And five of them I’ll give to thee,
	And twa shall carry me hame.
62C.33	‘My mother shall mak my tocher up,
	When I tell her how you thrive;
	For we never knew where you was gone,
	Or if you was alive.’


			Child 62D: Fair Annie

Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p.307.
62D.1	‘WHA will bake my bridal bread,
	And brew my bridal ale?
	And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
	That I bring oer the dale?’
62D.2	‘I will bake your bridal bread,
	And brew your bridal ale,
	And I will welcome your brisk bride,
	That you bring oer the dale.’
62D.3	‘But she that welcomes my brisk bride
	Maun gang like maiden fair;
	She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
	And braid her yellow hair.’
62D.4	‘But how can I gang maiden-like,
	When maiden I am nane?
	Have I not born seven sons to thee,
	And am with child agen?’
62D.5	She’s taen her young son in her arms,
	Another in her hand,
	And she’s up to the highest tower,
	To see him come to land.
62D.6	‘You’re welcome to your house, master,
	You’re welcome to your land;
	You’re welcome with your fair lady,
	That you lead by the hand.’
	’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’
62D.7	And ay she servd the lang tables,
	With white bread and with wine,
	And ay she drank the wan water,
	To had her colour fine.
62D.8	Now he’s taen down a silk napkin,
	Hung on the silver pin,
	And ay he wipes the tears trickling
	Adown her cheek and chin.


			Child 62E: Fair Annie
	
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 20; Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 371.

62E.1	‘O WHA will bake my bridal bread,
	And brew my bridal ale?
	Wha will welcome my bright bride,
	That I bring oer the dale?’
62E.2	‘O I will bake your bridal bread,
	An brew your bridal ale;
	An I will welcome your bright bride,
	That you bring oer the dale.
62E.3	‘O she that welcomes my bright bride
	Maun gang like maiden fair;
	She maun lace her in her green cloathin,
	An braid her yallow hair.’
62E.4	‘O how can I gang maiden like,
	Whan maiden I am nane?
	Whan I ha born you seven sons,
	An am wi bairn again?’
62E.5	The lady stood in her bowr door
	An lookit oer the lan,
	An there she saw her ain good lord,
	Leadin his bride by the han.
62E.6	She’s dressd her sons i the scarlet red,
	Hersel i the dainty green,
	An tho her cheek lookd pale and wan,
	She well might ha been a queen.
62E.7	She calld upon her eldest son:
	‘Look yonder what you see;
	For yonder comes your father dear,
	Your step-mother him wi.
62E.8	‘O you’r welcome hame, my ain good lord,
	To your ha’s but an your bowrs;
	You’r welcome hame, my ain good lord,
	To your castles an your towrs:
	Sae is your bright bride you beside,
	She’s fairer nor the flowers.’
62E.9	‘O whatn a lady’s that?’ she says,
	‘That welcoms you an me?
	If I’m lang lady about this place,
	Some good I will her dee.
	She looks sae like my sister Jane,
	Was stoln i the bowr frae me.’
62E.10	O she has servd the lang tables,
	Wi the white bread an the wine;
	But ay she drank the wan water,
	To keep her colour fine.
62E.11	‘An she gid by the first table,
	An leugh amo them a’;
	But ere she reachd the second table,
	She let the tears down fa.
62E.12	She’s taen a napkin lang an white,
	An hung’t upon a pin;
	It was to dry her watry eyes,
	As she went out and in.
62E.13	Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung,
	An a’ man boun to bed,
	The bride but an the bonny bridegroom
	In ae chamber was laid.
62E.14	She’s taen her harp intill her han,
	To harp this twa asleep;
	An ay as she harped an she sang,
	Full sorely did she weep.
62E.15	‘O seven fu fair sons I have born
	To the good lord o this place,
	An I wish that they were seven hares,
	To run the castle race,
	An I mysel a good gray houn,
	An I woud gi them chase.
62E.16	‘O seven fu fair sons I have born
	To the good lord o this ha;
	I wish that they were seven rottons,
	To rin the castle wa,
	An I mysell a good gray cat,
	I wot I woud worry them a’
62E.17	‘The earle o Richmond was my father,
	An the lady was my mother,
	An a’ the bairns bisides mysel
	Was a sister an a brother.’
62E.18	‘Sing on, sing on, ye gay lady,
	I wot ye hae sung in time;
	Gin the earle o Richmond was your father,
	I wot sae was he mine.’
62E.19	‘Rise up, rise up, my bierly bride;
	I think my bed’s but caul;
	I woudna hear my lady lament
	For your tocher ten times taul.
62E.20	‘O seven ships did bring you here,
	An an sal tak you hame;
	The leve I’ll keep to your sister Jane,
	For tocher she gat nane.’


			Child 62F: Fair Annie
	
Motherwell’s MS., p. 385; Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 327. From the recitation of Mrs Rule, Paisley, August 16, 1825.

62F.1	‘LEARN to mak your bed, Annie,
	And learn to lie your lane,
	For I maun owre the salt seas gang,
	A brisk bride to bring hame.
62F.2	‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,
	And tye it in your neck,
	And see you look as maiden-like
	As the first day that we met.’
62F.3	‘O how can I look maiden-like,
	When a maid I’ll never be;
	When seven brave sons I’ve born to thee,
	And the eighth is in my bodie?
62F.4	‘The eldest of your sons, my lord,
	Wi red gold shines his weed;
	The second of your sons, my lord,
	Rides on a milk-white steed.
62F.5	‘And the third of your sons, my lord,
	He draws your beer and wine,
	And the fourth of your sons, my lord,
	Can serve you when you dine.
62F.6	‘And the fift of your sons, my lord,
	He can both read and write,
	And the sixth of your sons, my lord,
	Can do it maist perfyte.
62F.7	‘And the sevent of your sons, my lord,
	Sits on the nurse’s knee;
	And how can I look maiden-like,
	When a maid I’ll never be?
62F.8	‘But wha will bake your wedding bread,
	And brew your bridal ale?
	Or wha will welcome your brisk bride,
	That you bring owre the dale?’
62F.9	‘I’ll put cooks in my kitchen,
	And stewards in my hall,
	And I’ll have bakers for my bread,
	And brewers for my ale;
	But you’re to welcome my brisk bride,
	That I bring owre the dale.’
62F.10	He set his fut into his ship,
	And his cock-boat on the main;
	He swore it would be year and day
	Or he returned again.
62F.11	When year and day was past and gane,
	Fair Annie she thocht lang,
	And she is up to her bower-head,
	To behold both sea and land.
62F.12	‘Come up, come up, my eldest son,
	And see now what you see;
	O yonder comes your father dear,
	And your stepmother-to-be.’
62F.13	‘Cast off your gown of black, mother,
	Put on your gown of brown,
	And I’ll put off my mourning weeds,
	And we’ll welcome him home.’
62F.14	She’s taken wine into her hand,
	And she has taken bread,
	And she is down to the water-side
	To welcome them indeed.
62F.15	‘You’re welcome, my lord, you’re welcome, my lord,
	You’re welcome home to me;
	So is every lord and gentleman
	That is in your companie.
62F.16	‘You’re welcome, my lady, you’re welcome, my lady,
	You’re welcome home to me;
	So is every lady and gentleman
	That’s in your companye.’
62F.17	‘I thank you, my girl, I thank you, my girl,
	I thank you heartilie;
	If I live seven years about this house,
	Rewarded you shall be.’
62F.18	She served them up, she served them down,
	With the wheat bread and the wine;
	By aye she drank the cold water,
	To keep her colour fine.
62F.19	She servd them up, she servd them down,
	With the wheat bread and the beer;
	By aye she drank the cauld water,
	To keep her colour clear.
62F.20	When bells were rung and mass was sung,
	And all were boune for rest,
	Fair Annie laid her sons in bed,
	And a sorrowful woman she was.
62F.21	‘Will I go to the salt, salt seas,
	And see the fishes swim?
	Or will I go to the gay green-wood,
	And hear the small birds sing?’
62F.22	Out and spoke an aged man,
	That stood behind the door:
	‘Ye will not go to the salt, salt seas,
	To see the fishes swim;
	Nor will ye go to the gay green-wood,
	To hear the small birds sing.
62F.23	‘But ye’ll take a harp, into your hand,
	Go to the chamber door,
	And aye ye’ll harp, and aye ye’ll murn,
	With the salt tears falling oer.’
62F.24	She’s tane a harp into her hand,
	Went to their chamber door,
	And aye she harpd, and aye she murnd,
	With the salt tears falling oer.
62F.25	Out and spak the brisk young bride, I
	n bride-bed where she lay:
	‘I think I hear my sister Annie,
	And I wish weel it may;
	For a Scotish lord staw her awa,
	And an ill death may he die!
62F.26	‘Wha was your father, my girl,’ she says,
	‘Or wha was your mother?
	Or had you ever a sister dear,
	Or had you ever a brother?’
62F.27	‘King Henry was my father dear,
	Queen Easter was my mother,
	Prince Henry was my brother dear,
	And Fanny Flower my sister.’
62F.28	‘If King Henry was your father dear,
	And Queen Easter was your mother,
	And Prince Henry was your brother dear,
	Then surely I’m your sister.
62F.29	‘Come to your bed, my sister dear,
	It neer was wrangd for me,
	But an ae kiss of his merry mouth,
	As we cam owre the sea.’
62F.30	‘Awa, awa, ye forenoon bride,
	Awa, awa frae me!
	I wudna hear my Annie greet,
	For a’ the gold I got wi thee.’
62F.31	‘There was five ships of gay red gold
	Came owre the seas with me;
	It’s twa o them will take me hame,
	And three I’ll leave wi thee.
62F.32	‘Seven ships o white money
	Came owre the seas wi me;
	Five o them I’ll leave wi thee,
	And twa’ll tak me hame,
	And my mother will mak my portion up,
	When I return again.’


			Child 62 G: Fair Annie
	
Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as current in County Meath, Ireland, 1860-70.

62G.1	SHE served them up, she served them down,
	She served them up with wine,
	But still she drank the clear spring water,
	To keep her color fine.
62G.2	‘I must get up, she must sit down,
	She must sit in my place,
	Or else be torn by wild horses
	And thrown over the gates.’
62G.3	‘You wont get up, she wont sit down,
	She wont sit in your place,
	Nor yet be torn by wild horses,
	Nor thrown over the gates.’
62G.4	She called up her seven sons,
	By one, by two, by three:
	‘I wish you were all seven gray-hounds,
	This night to worry me.’
62G.5	‘What ails you, fair Ellen? what ails you, fair?
	Or why do you sigh and moan?’
	‘The hoops are off my wine hogsheads,
	And my wine is overflown.’


			Child 62 H: Fair Annie
	
From Dr Thomas Davidson. Aberdeenshire.

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


			Child 62I: Fair Annie

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

62I.1	‘LEARN to mak your bed, Annie,
	And learn to lie your lane;
	For I am gaing oure the saut seas,
	A brisk bride to bring hame.
62I.2	‘Wi her I will get gowd and gear;
	Wi thee I neer gat nane;
	I got thee as a waif woman,
	I’ll leave thee as the same.
62I.3	‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
	Or brew my bridal ale?
	Or wha welcome my brisk bride,
	That I’ll bring oure the dale?’
62I.4	‘O I will bake your bridal bread,
	And brew your bridal ale;
	But I downa welcam your brisk bride
	That ye’ll bring frae the dale.’
62I.5	‘She that welcomes my brisk bride,
	She maun took maiden-like;
	She maun kaim doun her yellow locks,
	And lay them in her neck.’
62I.6	‘O how can I look maiden-like,
	When maiden I am nane?
	For seven sons I hae born to thee,
	And the eighth lies in my wame.
62I.7	‘But what aileth thee at me, my lord,
	What aileth thee at me,
	Whan seven braw sons I’ve born to thee,
	Out of my fair bodie?
62I.8	‘The first ane of your sons, my lord,
	Can baith read and write;
	And the second of your sons, my lord,
	Can do it maist perfyte.
62I.9	‘The third ane o your sons, my lord,
	Can water your grey steed;
	And the fourth ane o your sons, my lord,
	Can bake your bridal bread.
62I.10	‘The fifth ane o your sons, my lord,
	Can serve ye whan ye dine;
	And the sixth ane o your sons, my lord,
	Can brew your bridal wine.
62I.11	‘The seventh ane o your sons, my lord,
	Lies close at my breist-bane;
	Whan a’ the lave are fast asleep,
	It’s rest I can get nane.’
62I.12	He set his foot into the stirrup,
	His hand upon the mane;
	Says, It will be year and day, ladie,
	Ere ye see me again.
62I.13	Whan he had ae foot on the sea,
	The ither on dry lan,
	‘It will be year and day, ladie,
	Till I come back again.’
62I.14	Whan year and day war past and gane,
	Fair Annie she thought lang;
	And she went up to her hie tower,
	Wi a silk seam in her hand.
62I.15	She lookit east, she lookit west,
	And south, below the sun,
	And there she spied her ain gude lord,
	Coming sailing to the lan.
62I.16	She called up her seven braw sons,
	By ane, twa, and by three:
	‘See, yonder comes your father,
	And your mother-for-to-be.’
62I.17	And she called up her servants a’:
	‘O come, behold and see!
	O yonder comes your master dear,
	And a new mistress brings he.
62I.18	‘Gae doun, gae doun, my eldest son,
	Into the outmost ha,
	And if ye welcome ane o them,
	Be sure to welcome a’.’
62I.19	Some ran east, and some ran west,
	And some ran to the sea;
	There was na ane in a’ his house
	To welcome his new ladie.
62I.20	But Annie’s to her coffer gane,
	Tane out a silver kaim,
	And she’s kaimd doun her yellow hair,
	As she a maid had been.
62I.21	And Annie has kaimd her lang yellow locks,
	And laid them in her neck;
	And she’s awa to the saut, saut sea,
	To welcome his lady aff deck.
62I.22	She durst na ca him her ain gude lord,
	For angering o the bride;
	But she did ca him master dear,
	And I wat he was richt glad.
62I.23	‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, master,’ she said,
	‘To your halls bot an your bouers;
	And sae are a’ thir merry young men
	That come alang with you.
62I.24	‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, fair ladie,
	To your halls but an your bouers;
	And sae are a’ thir gay ladies;
	For a’ that’s here is yours.’
62I.25	‘I thank ye, I thank ye, fair maiden,
	I thank ye kindlie;
	If I be lang about this house,
	Rewarded ye sall be.
62I.26	‘I have a brither o mine ain;
	He’s newly come from sea;
	I think it wad be a richt gude match
	To marry him and thee.’
62I.27	‘I thank ye, I thank ye, fair ladie;
	Gie your brither to whom like ye;
	But there’s never ane in this warld
	My wedding day sall see:
	But one word o my master dear
	In private wad I be.’
	’’ ’’ ’’ ’’ ’’
62I.28	The first dish that fair Annie set doun,
	She lookit baith pale and wan;
	The neist dish that fair Annie set doun,
	She was scarce able to stan.
62I.29	‘O is this your mistress, good lord,’ she says,
	‘Although she looks modest and mild?
	Then we will hunt her frae our house
	Wi dogs and hawks sae wild.’
62I.30	‘She’s na my mistress, dear lady,’ he says,
	‘Altho she looks modest and mild;
	Nor will we hunt her frae our house
	Wi dogs and hawks sae wild.’
62I.31	Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung,
	And a’ men boun for bed,
	The bonnie bride and the bridegroom
	In bride’s bed they were laid.
62I.32	Whan dinner was past, and supper was by,
	And a’ were boun for bed,
	Fair Annie and her seven sons
	In a puir bye-chamber war laid.
62I.33	Fair Annie took out her virginals,
	And sadly did she play;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
62I.34	‘O gin my sons were yon grey rats,
	That climb the castle-wa,
	And I mysel a bloody grey cat,
	I’d rise and worry them a’.’
62I.35	Then out and spak the bonny bride,
	In bride’s bed whare she lay:
	‘I think this is like my sister Anne,
	That doth sae sadly play.’
62I.36	‘Lie still, lie still, my gay ladie,
	Lie still and sleep a wee;
	It’s nathing but an auld servant,
	That waileth sae for me.’
62I.37	‘O gin my seven sons were seven young hares,
	That rin round the castle wa,
	And I mysel a bluidy grewhund,
	I wad rise and worry them a’.’
62I.38	The new bride waukenit in the nicht,
	And blew upon her horn:
	‘I think I hear my sister’s voice,
	That was stown frae us a bairn.’
62I.39	‘Sleep on, sleep on, dear lady,’ he says,
	‘It’s yon maiden in her dream,
	. . . . . .
	. . . . . .
62I.40	‘O wha was eer thy father, fair maid,
	Or wha was eer thy mither?
	Or wha was eer thy ae sister,
	Or wha was eer thy brither?’
62I.41	‘King Henry was my father,’ she said,
	‘Queen Elinore was my mither;
	Fair Marion was my ae sister,
	Earl Robert was my brither.’
62I.42	‘Sin King Henry was your father, fair maid,
	And Queen Elinore your mither,
	O I am een your ae sister,
	And ye are just the ither.
62I.43	‘Come to your bed, fair Annie,’ she said,
	‘Come to your bed full sune;
	I may weel say, I daur weel say,
	There is na evil dune.
62I.44	‘Seven ships of gold did bring me here,
	But ane shall tak me hame;
	Six I will leave to my sister Anne,
	To bring up her children young.
62I.45	‘But whan I gang to my father’s ha,
	And tirl on the pin,
	The meanest in a’ my father’s house
	Will ca me a forsaken ane.’


			Child 62J: Fair Annie
	
Buchan’s MSS, I, 66.

62J.1	‘LEARN, O learn, Fair Annie,’ he said,
	‘O learn to lie your lane;
	For I am going ower the sea,
	To woo and to bring hame
62J.2	‘A brighter and a fairer dame
	Than ever ye hae been;
	For I am going ower the sea,
	To chuse and bring her hame.’
62J.3	‘What aileth thee, my ain gude lord,
	What aileth thee at me?
	For seven braw sons hae I born
	Unto your fair bodie.
62J.4	‘The eldest o your sons, my lord,
	Is heir o a’ your land;
	The second o your braw young sons
	He rises at your right hand.
62J.5	‘The third o your braw young sons
	He serves you when you dine;
	The fourth o your braw sons, my lord,
	He bring to you the wine.
62J.6	‘The fifth o your braw young sons
	Right well can use the pen;
	The sixth o your braw young sons,
	He’s travelling but and ben.
62J.7	‘The seventh o your braw young sons,
	He lies on my breast-bane,
	The fairest flower amo them a’,
	That lay my sides between.’
62J.8	‘But I am going ower the sea,
	To woo and to bring hame
	A lady wi some gowd and gear;
	Wi you I never got nane.’
62J.9	‘Ye staw me awa in twall years auld,
	Ye sought nae gowd wi me;
	Ye put me to the schools o Ayr
	For fully years three.
62J.10	‘But wha’ll be cook in your kitchen,
	And butler in your ha?
	And wha will govern your merry young men,
	When ye are far awa?’
62J.11	‘O ye’ll be cook in my kitchen,
	And butler in my ha,
	And ye’ll wait on my merry young men,
	And serve them ane and a’.’
62J.12	‘But wha will bake your bridal bread,
	And wha will brew your ale?
	And wha will welcome that lady
	That ye bring ower the dale.
62J.13	‘O ye will bake my bridal bread,
	And ye will brew my ale,
	And ye will welcome that lady
	That I bring ower the dale.
62J.14	‘Ye’ll bake bread, and ye’ll brew ale,
	For three score knights and ten;
	That day month I gang awa,
	The same day I’ll come again.’
62J.15	‘O I will bake your bridal bread,
	And I will brew your ale;
	But oh, to welcome another woman
	My heart will nae be hale.’
62J.16	‘Ye will put roses in your hair,
	And ribbons in your sheen,
	And ye will look fair maiden like,
	Though maiden ye be nane.’
62J.17	‘O I’ll put roses in my hair,
	And ribbons in my sheen,
	And may be look as maiden-like
	As the bride ye bring hame.’
62J.18	Two of his sons he sent before,
	And two rade by his side,
	And three he left at hame wi her,
	She was the brightest bride.
62J.19	As she was gazing her around,
	To view the rural plain,
	And there she saw the bridal folk,
	Merrily coming hame.
62J.20	‘Come here, come here, my boys a’,
	Ye see not what I see;
	For here I see your fair father,
	And a step-mother to thee.
62J.21	‘O shall I call him honey, Sandy,
	Husband, or my gude lord?
	Or shall I call him my gude master,
	Let well or woe betide?’
62J.22	‘Ye winna call him honey, mother,
	For angering o the bride;
	But ye’ll call him your gude master,
	Let well or woe betide.’
62J.23	She buskd her bonny boys in black,
	Herself in simple green,
	A kaim o gowd upon her hair,
	As maiden she had been.
62J.24	She’s taen the white bread in her lap,
	The wine glass in her hand,
	And she’s gane out upo the green,
	To welcome the bride hame.
62J.25	She woudna ca him her ain gude lord,
	For angering o the bride:
	‘Ye’re welcome hame, my gude master,
	Your lands lie braid and wide.’
62J.26	‘O fair mat fa you, Fair Annie,
	Sae well’s ye’ve welcomd me;
	Ye might hae welcomd my new bride;
	Some gift to you she’ll gie.’
62J.27	‘Ye’re welcome hame, ye new-come bride,
	To your ha’s and your bowers;
	Ye’re welcome hame, my lady gay,
	Ye’re whiter that the flowers.’
62J.28	‘O wha is this,’ the bride did say,
	‘Sae well that welcomes me?
	If I’m lang lady o this place
	Some gift to her I’ll gie.
62J.29	‘She’s likest to my dear sister
	That eer my eyes did see;
	A landit lord staw her awa,
	An ill death mat he die!
62J.30	‘I hae a brother here this day,
	Fairer ye neer did see;
	And I woud think nae ill a match
	Unto this fair ladie.’
62J.31	‘Ye’ll wed your brother on a stock,
	Sae do ye on a stane;
	I’ll wed me to the kingdom of heaven,
	For I’ll neer wed a man.’
62J.32	She servd the footmen o the beer,
	The nobles o the wine;
	But nane did cross her pale, pale lips,
	For changing o her min.
62J.33	When she came in unto the room
	She leuch amo them a’,
	But when she turnd her back about
	She loot the saut tears fa.
62J.34	She hanged up a silken cloath
	Upon a siller pin;
	It was to dry her twa blue eyes,
	As she went out and in.
62J.35	Her heart wi sorrow sair was filld,
	Her breast wi milk ran out;
	She aft went ot a quiet chamber,
	And let her young son suck.
62J.36	‘There is a woman in this house
	This day has served me;
	But I’ll rise up, let her sit down,
	She’s ate, that I may see.
62J.37	‘O wha is this,’ the bride coud say,
	‘That serves this day sae well?
	And what means a’ this bonny boys,
	That follow at her heel?’
62J.38	‘This is my sister, Fair Annie,
	That serves this day sae well,
	And these are a’ her bauld brothers,
	That follow at her heel.’
62J.39	Then out it speaks the new-come bride,
	Was full o jealousie:
	‘I fear there’s something new, my lord,
	Ye mean to hide frae me.
62J.40	‘But if she be your light leman
	Has me sair beguild,
	She shall gae out at my window,
	And range the woods sae wild.’
62J.41	When day was dane, and night drew on,
	And a’ man bound for bed,
	The bridegroom and the new-come bride
	In ae chamber were laid.
62J.42	The lady being left alone,
	Nursing her fair young son,
	She has taen up her gude lord’s harp,
	She harped and she sung.
62J.43	‘Seven braw sons hae I born
	To the lord o this place;
	I wish they were seven hares
	To run the castle race,
	And I mysel a gude greyhound,
	To gie them a’ a chace.’
62J.44	‘Lie near, lie near, my ain gude lord,
	Lie near and speak wi me;
	There is a woman in the house,
	She will be wild ere day.’
62J.45	‘Lie still, lie still, my new-come bride,
	Lie still and take your rest;
	The pale’s out o my wine-puncheon,
	And lang it winna rest.’
62J.46	She held the harp still in her hand,
	To harp them baith asleep,
	And aye she harped and she sang,
	And saut tears she did weep.
62J.47	‘Seven braw sons hae I born
	To the gude lord o this ha;
	I wish that they were seven brown rats,
	To climb the castle wa,
	And I mysel a gude grey cat,
	To take them ane and a’.’
62J.48	‘Lie near, lie near, my ain gude lord,
	Lie near and speak wi me;
	There is a woman in this house,
	She will be wild ere day.’
62J.49	‘Lie yond, lie yond, my new-come bride,
	My sheets are wonderous cauld;
	I woudna hear my love’s lament
	For your gowd ten thousand fauld.’
62J.50	‘O wae be to you, ye fause lord,
	Some ill death mat ye die!
	For that’s the voice o my sister Ann,
	Was stown frae yont the sea.’
62J.51	‘Fair mat fa ye, ye buirdly bride,
	A gude death mat ye die!
	For that’s the voice o your sister Ann,
	Was stown frae yont the sea;
	I came seeking Annie’s tocher,
	I was not seeking thee.’
62J.52	‘Seven gude ships I hae brought here,
	In seven I’se gae hame;
	And a’ the gowd that I brought here,
	It’s a’ gang back again.’
62J.53	‘Seven ships they brought you here,
	But ye’ll gang hame in ane;
	Ye’ll leave the rest to tocher Ann,
	For wi her I got nane.’
62J.54	‘Seven ships they brought me here,
	But I’ll gang hame in ane;
	I’ll get my sister’s eldest son
	To hae me maiden hame.
62J.55	‘My father wants not gowd nor gear,
	He will get me a man;
	And happy, happy will he be
	To hear o his daughter Ann.
62J.56	‘I hae my sheen upon my feet,
	My gloves upon my hand,
	And ye’ll come to your bed, Annie,
	For I’ve dane you nae wrang.’



		  Child 63A: Child Waters

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

63A.1	CHILDE Watters in his stable stoode,
	And stroaket his milke-white steede;
	To him came a ffaire young ladye
	As ere did weare womans wee		  Child 63B: Child Waters

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

63B.1	‘I WARN ye all, ye gay ladies,
	That wear scarlet an brown,
	That ye dinna leave your father’s house,
	To follow young men frae town.’
63B.2	‘O here am I, a lady gay,
	That wears scarlet an brown,
	Yet I will leave my father’s house,
	An follow Lord John frae the town.’
63B.3	Lord John stood in his stable-door,
	Said he was bound to ride;
	Burd Ellen stood in her bowr-door,
	Said she’d rin by his side.
63B.4	He’s pitten on his cork-heeld shoone,
	An fast awa rade he;
	She’s clade hersel in page array,
	An after him ran she.
63B.5	Till they came till a wan water,
	An folks do ca it clyde;
	Then he’s lookit oer his left shoulder,
	Says, Lady, can ye wide?
63B.6	‘O I learnt it i my father house,
	An I learnt it for my weal,
	Wenneer I came to a wan water,
	To swim like ony eel.’
63B.7	But the firstin stap the lady stappit,
	The water came til her knee;
	‘Ohon, alas!’ said the lady,
	‘This water’s oer deep for me.’
63B.8	The nextin stap the lady stappit,
	The water came till her middle;
	An sighin says that gay lady,
	I’ve wat my gouden girdle
63B.9	The nextin stap the lady stappit,
	The water came till her pap;
	An the bairn that was in her twa sides
	For caul begane to quake.
63B.10	‘Lye still, lye still, my ain dear babe,
	Ye work your mither wae;
	Your father rides on high horse-back,
	Cares little for us twae.’
63B.11	O about the midst o Clyden water
	There was a yeard-fast stane;
	He lightly turnd his horse about,
	An tooke her on him behin.
63B.12	‘O tell me this now, good Lord John,
	An a word ye dinna lee,
	How far it is to your lodgin,
	Whare we this night maun be?’
63B.13	‘O see you nae yon castle, Ellen,
	That shines sae fair to see?
	There is a lady in it, Ellen,
	Will sunder you an me.
63B.14	‘There is a lady in that castle
	Will sunder you and I:’
	‘Betide me well, betide me wae,
	I sal go there an try.’
63B.15	‘O my dogs sal eat the good white bread,
	An ye sal eat the bran;
	Then will ye sigh, an say, alas!
	That ever I was a man!’
63B.16	‘O I sal eat the good white bread,
	An your dogs sal eat the bran;
	An I hope to live an bless the day,
	That ever ye was a man.’
63B.17	‘O my horse sal eat the good white meal,
	An ye sal eat the corn;
	Then will ye curse the heavy hour
	That ever your love was born.’
63B.18	‘O I sal eat the good white meal,
	An your horse sal eat the corn;
	An I ay sall bless the happy hour
	That ever my love was born.’
63B.19	O four an twenty gay ladies
	Welcomd Lord John to the ha,
	But a fairer lady than them a’
	Led his horse to the stable sta.
63B.20	An four an twenty gay ladies
	Welcomd Lord John to the green,
	But a fairer lady than them a’
	At the manger stood alane.
63B.21	Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung,
	Ar a’ men boun to meat,
	Burd Ellen at a bye-table
	Amo the foot-men was set.
63B.22	‘O eat an drink, my bonny boy,
	The white bread an the beer:’
	‘The never a bit can I eat or drink,
	My heart’s sae full of fear.’
63B.23	‘O eat an drink, my bonny boy,
	The white bread an the wine:’
	‘O I canna eat nor drink, master,
	My heart’s sae full of pine.’
63B.24	But out it spake Lord John’s mother,
	An a wise woman was she:
	‘Whare met ye wi that bonny boy,
	That looks sae sad on thee?
63B.25	‘Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,
	An sometimes deadly wan;
	He’s liker a woman big wi bairn,
	Than a young lord’s serving man.’
63B.26	‘O it makes me laugh, my mother dear,
	Sic words to hear frae thee;
	He is a squire’s ae dearest son,
	That for love has followd me.
63B.27	‘Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy,
	Gi my horse corn an hay:’
	‘O that I will, my master dear,
	As quickly as I may.’
63B.28	She’s taen the hay under her arm,
	The corn intill her han,
	An she’s gane to the great stable,
	As fast as eer she can.
63B.29	‘O room ye roun, my bonny broun steeds,
	O room ye near the wa;
	For the pain that strikes me thro my sides
	Full soon will gar me fa.’
63B.30	She’s leand her back against the wa;
	Strong travail seizd her on;
	An even amo the great horse feet
	Burd Ellen brought forth her son.
63B.31	Lord John’[s] mither intill her bowr
	Was sitting all alone,
	Whan, i the silence o the night,
	She heard fair Ellen’s moan.
63B.32	‘Won up, won up, my son,’ she says,
	‘Go se how a’ does fare;
	For I think I hear a woman’s groans,
	An a bairn greeting sair.’
63B.33	O hastily he gat him up,
	Stayd neither for hose nor shoone,
	An he’s doen him to the stable-door,
	Wi the clear light o the moon.
63B.34	He strack the door hard wi his foot,
	An sae has he wi his knee,
	An iron locks an iron bars
	Into the floor flung he:
	‘Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,’ he says,
	‘Ther’s nane come in but me.’
63B.35	Up he has taen his bonny young son,
	An gard wash him wi the milk;
	An up has he taen his fair lady,
	Gard row her in the silk.
63B.36	‘Cheer up your heart, Burd Ellen,’ he says,
	‘Look nae mair sad nor wae;
	For your marriage an your kirkin too
	Sal baith be in ae day.’

 
		  Child 63C: Child Waters
	
Kinloch’s annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, Kinloch MSS, IV, 180.

63C.1	‘THE corn is turning ripe, Lord John,
	The nuts are growing fu,
	And ye are bound for your ain countrie,
	Fain wad I go wi you.’
63C.2	‘Wi me, Margret, wi me, Margret,
	What wad ye do wi me?
	I’ve mair need o a pretty little boy,
	To wait upon my steed.’
63C.3	‘It’s I will be your pretty little boy,
	To wait upon your steed;
	And ilka town that we come to,
	A pack of hounds I’ll lead.’
63C.4	‘My hounds will eat o the bread o wheat,
	And ye of the bread of bran;
	And then you will sit and sigh,
	That eer ye loed a man.’
63C.5	The first water that they cam to,
	I think they call it Clyde,
	He saftly unto her did say,
	Lady Margret, will ye ride?
63C.6	The first step that she steppit in,
	She steppit to the knee;
	Says, Wae be to ye, waefu water,
	For through ye I maun be.
63C.7	The second step that she steppit in,
	She steppit to the middle,
	And sighd, and said, Lady Margret,
	‘I’ve staind my gowden girdle.’
63C.8	The third step that she steppit in,
	She steppit to the neck;
	The pretty babe within her sides,
	The cauld it garrd it squake.
63C.9	‘Lie still my babe, lie still my babe,
	Lie still as lang’s ye may,
	For your father rides on horseback high,
	Cares little for us twae.’
63C.10	It’s whan she cam to the other side,
	She sat doun on a stane;
	Says, Them that made me, help me now,
	For I am far frae hame.
63C.11	‘How far is it frae your mither’s bouer,
	Gude Lord John tell to me?’
	‘It’s therty miles, Lady Margaret,
	It’s therty miles and three:
	And yese be wed to ane o her serving men,
	For yese get na mair o me.’
63C.12	Then up bespak the wylie parrot,
	As it sat on the tree,
	‘Ye lee, ye lee, Lord John,’ it said,
	‘Sae loud as I hear ye lee.
63C.13	‘Ye say it’s therty miles frae your mither’s bouer,
	Whan it’s but barely three;
	And she’ll neer be wed to a serving man,
	For she’ll be your ain ladie.’
63C.14	[‘O dinna ye see yon bonnie castle,
	Lies on yon sunny lea?
	And yese get ane o my mither’s men,
	For yese get na mair o me.’]
63C.15	[‘We’ll see I yon bonnie castle,
	Lies on yon sunny lea,
	But Ise neer hae nane o your mither’s men,
	Tho I never gat mair o thee.’]
63C.16	[Whan he cam to the porter’s yett
	He tirled at the pin,
	And wha sae ready as the bauld porter
	To open and lat him in.]
63C.17	Monie a lord and fair ladie
	Met Lord John in the closs,
	But the bonniest face amang them a’
	Was hauding Lord John’s horse.
63C.18	[Monie a lord and lady bricht
	Met Lord John on the green,
	But the bonniest boy amang them a’
	Was standing by, him leen.]
63C.19	Monie a lord and gay ladie
	Sat dining in the ha,
	But the bonniest face that was there
	Was waiting on them a’.
63C.20	O up bespak Lord John’s sister,
	A sweet young maid was she:
	‘My brither has brought a bonnie young page,
	His like I neer did see;
	But the red flits fast frae his cheek,
	And the tear stands in his ee.’
63C.21	But up bespak Lord John’s mither,
	She spak wi meikle scorn:
	‘He’s liker a woman gret wi bairn,
	Than onie waiting-man.’
63C.22	‘It’s ye’ll rise up, my bonnie boy,
	And gie my steed the hay:’
	‘O that I will, my dear master,
	As fast as I can gae.’
63C.23	She took the hay aneath her arm,
	The corn intil her hand,
	But atween the stable-door and the staw,
	Lady Margret made a stand.
63C.24	[Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	And a’ men boun for bed,
	Lord John, mither, and sister gay
	In ae bour they were laid.]
63C.25	[Lord John had na weel gat aff his claise,
	Nor was he weel laid doun,
	Till his mither heard a bairn greet,
	And a woman’s heavy moan.]
63C.26	[‘Win up, win up, Lord John,’ she said,
	‘Seek neither hose nor shoon;
	For I’ve heard a bairn loud greet,
	And a woman’s heavy moan.’]
63C.27	[Lord John raise, put on his claise,
	Sought neither hose nor shoon,
	Atween the ha and the stable-door
	He made na a step but ane.]
63C.28	‘O open the door, Lady Margaret,
	O open and let me in;
	I want to see if my steed be fed,
	Or my grey-hounds fit to rin.’
63C.29	‘I’ll na open the door, Lord John,’ she said,
	‘I’ll na open it to thee,
	Till ye grant to me my ae request,
	And a puir ane it’s to me.
63C.30	‘Ye’ll gie to me a bed in an outhouse,
	For my young son and me,
	And the meanest servant in a’ the place,
	To wait on him and me.’
63C.31	[He’s tane the door wi his fit,
	And he keppd it wi his knee,
	He made the door o double deals
	In splinders soon to flee.]
63C.32	[‘An askin, an askin, grant me, Lord John,
	An askin ye’ll grant me;
	The meanest maid about the place
	To bring a glass o water to me.’]
63C.33	‘I grant, I grant, Lady Margret,’ he said,
	‘A’ that, and mair frae me,
	The very best bed in a’ the place
	To your young son and thee,
	And my mither, and my sister dear,
	To wait on him and thee.
63C.34	‘And a’ thae lands, and a’ thae rents,
	They shall be his and thine;
	Our wedding and our kirking day,
	They sall be all in ane.’
63C.35	And he has tane Lady Margaret,
	And rowd her in the silk,
	And he has tane his ain young son,
	And washd him in the milk.



		  Child 63D: Child Waters

63D.24.	* * * *
	Lord John rose, put on his clothes,
	Sought neither stockens nor shoon,
	An between the ha and the stable
	He made not a step but one.
63D.25	‘O open, open, to me, Burd Ellen,
	O open an let me in:’
	‘O yes, O yes, will I, Lord John,
	But not till I can win;
	O yes, will I, Lord John,’ she says,
	‘But I’m lyin wi your young son.’
63D.26	He’s taen the door wi his foot,
	An he kepped it wi his knee;
	He made the door of double deals
	In splinders soon to flee.
63D.27	‘An askin ye’ll grant me, Lord John,
	An askin ye’ll grant me;
	May the meanest maid about the place
	Bring a glass o water to me?’
63D.28	‘O hold your tongue, Burd Ellen,’ he said,
	‘Lat a’ your askins be;
	For the best maid about the house
	Shall bring a glass o wine to thee.
63D.29	‘An the best bed about it a’,
	For my young son an thee;
	My mother and my ae sister
	Sal bear you company.
63D.30	‘Your marriage an your kirkin day
	They sal be both in ane,
	An a’ these ha’s an bowers, Burd Ellen,
	They sal be yours an mine.’


		  Child 63E: Child Waters

63E.1	‘I BEG you bide at hame, Margaret,
	An sew your silken seam;
	If ye waur in the wide Hielands,
	Ye wald be owre far frae hame.’
63E.2	‘I winna bide a hame,’ she said,
	‘Nor sew my silken seam;
	For if I waur in the wide Hielands,
	I wald no be owre far frae hame.’
63E.3	‘My steed sall drink the blude-red wine,
	An you the water wan;
	I’ll mak you sigh, an say, alace,
	That ever I loed a man!’
63E.4	‘Though your steed does drink the blude-red wine,
	An me the water wan,
	Yet will I sing, an merry be,
	That ever I loed a man.’
63E.5	‘My hounds shall eat the bread o wheat,
	An you the bread o bran;
	I’ll mak you sigh, an say, alace,
	That ever you loed Lord John!’
63E.6	‘Though your hounds do eat the bread o wheat,
	An me the bread o bran,
	Yet will I sing, an merrie be,
	That ever I loed Lord John.’
63E.7	He turned aboot his high horse head,
	An awa he was boun to ride;
	She kilted up her green clieden,
	An after him she gaed.
63E.8	Whan they cam to that water
	Whilk a’ man ca the Clyde,
	He turned aboot his high horse head,
	Said, Ladie, will you ride?
63E.9	‘I learnt it in my mother’s bour,
	I wish I had learnt it weel,
	That I could swim this wan water
	As weel as fish or eel.’
63E.10	Whan at the middle o that water,
	She sat doon on a stone;
	He turned aboot his high horse head,
	Says, Ladie, will ye loup on?
63E.11	‘I learnt in my mother’s bour,
	I wish I had learnt it better,
	That I culd swim this wan water
	As weel as eel or otter.’
63E.12	He has taen the narrow ford,
	An she has taen the wide;
	Lang, lang ere he was at the middle,
	She was sittin at the ither side.
63E.13	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	Wi sighen said that Fair Margaret,
	Alace, I’m far frae hame!
63E.14	‘Hoo mony miles is’t to your castle?
	Noo Lord John, tell to me;’
	‘Hoo mony miles is’t to my castle?
	It’s thirty miles an three:’
	Wi sighen said that Fair Margaret,
	It’ll never be gane by me!
63E.15	But up it spak the wily bird,
	As it sat on the tree,
	‘Rin on, rin on noo, Fair Margaret,
	It scarcely miles is three.’
63E.16	Whan they cam to the wide Hielands,
	An lichted on the green,
	Every an spak Erse to anither,
	But Margaret she spak nane.
63E.17	Whan they waur at table set,
	An birlin at the best,
	Margaret set at a bye-table,
	An fain she wald hain rest.
63E.18	‘Oh mither, mither, mak my bed
	Wi clean blankets an sheets,
	An lay my futeboy at my feet,
	The sounder I may sleep.’
63E.19	She has made Lord John his bed,
	Wi clean blankets an sheets,
	An laid his futeboy at his feet,
	But neer a wink culd he sleep.
63E.20	‘Win up, win up noo, Fair Margaret,
	An see that my steed has meat;
	See that his corn is in his travisse,
	Nor lyin amang his feet.’
63E.21	Slowly, slowly rase she up,
	An slowly put she on,
	An slowly gaed she doon the stair,
	Aye makin a heavy moan.
	* * * * *
63E.22	‘An asken, an asken, gude Lord John,
	I pray you grant it me;
	For the warst bed in a’ your hoose,
	To your young son an me.’
63E.23	‘Your asken is but sma, Margaret,
	Sune grantet it shall be;
	For the best bed in a’ my hoose
	Is owre little for thee.’
63E.24	‘An asken, an asken, gude Lord John,
	I pray you grant it me;
	For the warst ale in a’ your hoose,
	That ye wald gie to me.’
63E.25	‘Your asken is but sma, Margaret,
	Sune grantet it sall be;
	For the best wine in a’ my hoose
	Is owre little for thee.
63E.26	‘But cheer up your heart noo, Fair Margaret,
	For, be it as it may,
	Your kirken an your fair weddin
	Sall baith be on one day.’


		  Child 63F: Child Waters

63F.1	LORD THOMAS stands in his stable-door,
	Seeing his steeds kaimd down;
	Lady Ellen sits at her bower-door,
	Sewing her silver seam.
63F.2	‘O will ye stay at hame, Ellen,
	And sew your silver seam?
	Or will ye to the rank highlands?
	For my lands lay far frae hame.’
63F.3	‘I winna stay at hame, Lord Thomas,
	And sew my silver seam;
	But I’ll gae to the rank highlands,
	Tho your lands lay far frae hame.’
	* * * * *
63F.4	‘An asking, an asking, Lord Thomas,
	I pray thee grant it me;
	How many miles into your fair tower,
	And house where you would be?’
63F.5	‘Your asking fair, lady Ellen,’ he says,
	‘Shall now be granted thee;
	For to my castle where it stands
	Is thirty miles and three:’
	‘O wae is me,’ says Lady Ellen,
	‘It will never be run by me.’
63F.6	But up and spak the wily pyot,
	That sat upon the tree:
	‘Sae loud, sae loud, ye fause, fause knight,
	Sae loud as I hear you lie!
63F.7	‘For to your dwelling-house,’ it says,
	‘Of miles it’s scantly three:’
	‘O weel is me,’ says Lady Ellen;
	‘It shall be run by me.’
	* * * * *
63F.8	‘O mither, mither, mak my bed,
	And mak it braid and wide,
	And lay my little page at my feet,
	Whatever may betide.’
	* * * * *
63F.9	‘An asking, an asking, Lord Thomas,
	I pray thee grant it me;
	O grant me a cup of cold water,
	Between my young son and me.’
63F.10	‘What you do ask, Lady Ellen,
	Shall soon be granted thee;
	The best bread and the best wine,
	Between my young son and thee.’
63F.11	‘I ask again, my good Lord Thomas,
	I ask again of thee;
	The poorest cot-house in your land,
	Between my young son and me.’
63F.12	‘Your asking now, dear Lady Ellen,
	I quickly grant to thee;
	The best bower about my tower,
	Between my young son and thee.’


		  Child 63G: Child Waters

63G.1	THE knight he stands in stable-door,
	Says he, I will go ride;
	The lady’s kilted her gay cloathing,
	And ran low by his side.
63G.2	He has ridden, and she has run,
	Till they came to yon water wan;
	He has ridden, and she has run,
	Like to his waiting man.
63G.3	He has ridden, and she has run,
	Till they came on to Clyde;
	The knight he rode on high horseback,
	But the lady she bot wide.
63G.4	The first step that the lady stepped,
	She stept into the knee;
	The bairn that was between her sides
	There he gied spartles three.
63G.5	‘Lie still, lie still, my bonny boy,
	Ye work your mother woe;
	Your father rides on high horseback,
	Cares little for us two.’
63G.6	The nextand step that lady stepped,
	She stept into the pap;
	The bairn that was between her sides
	There spartled and he lap.
63G.7	‘Ly still, ly still, my bonny boy,
	You work your mother’s woe;
	Your father rides on high horseback,
	Cares little for us two.’
63G.8	In the middle of that water
	There stands a yird-fast stone;
	He turnd his horse head back again,
	Said, Lady, loup ye on.
63G.9	She hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
	O never a mile but ane,
	Till she grew sick, and so weary
	She couldna ride nor gang.
63G.10	‘Ride on, ride on, my gay lady,
	You see not what I see;
	For yonder is my father’s castle,
	A little beyond the lee,
	And ye’ll get ane of my father’s men,
	But, lady, neer lippen on me.’
63G.11	There were four and twenty bonny ladies
	Led Willie frae bower to ha,
	But the bonniest lady among them a’
	Led his steed to the sta.
63G.12	When they were at the table set,
	And sitting at their dine,
	Out it spake his mother dear,
	And she spake aye in time.
63G.13	‘Sometimes your boy’s red, Willie,
	And other times he’s wan;
	He looks like a woman wi bairn,
	But no ways like a man.’
63G.14	‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
	Go look your master’s steed;
	See that his meat be at his head,
	And not among his feet.’
63G.15	O healy, healy raise she up,
	And healy gaed she down,
	And healy opend the stable-door,
	And as healy gaed she in,
	And even among that big horse feet
	She bear her dear young son.
63G.16	As Willie’s mother was walking alone,
	Between the bower and ha,
	She thought she heard a bairn’s greet
	And lady’s moan in the sta.
63G.17	‘Gude make ye safe, my ae son Willie,
	Gude keep ye safe frae harm;
	Ye might hae chosen a lighter foot-boy
	Than a women in travilling.’
63G.18	He hit the table wi his foot,
	He kept it wi his knee,
	Till silver cups and silver spoons
	Into the floor did flee.
63G.19	There was fifteen steps into that stair,
	I wat he made them a’ but three;
	He’s to the stable gane in haste,
	And a’ to see his gay lady.
63G.20	‘I am not come o sic low kin,
	Nor yet sic low degree,
	That you needed to banish me frae your sight,
	That ye left nae woman wi me.’
63G.21	‘I wish I’d drunken the wan water
	When I did drink the wine,
	Or when I left my lady gay,
	And her at sic a time.
63G.22	‘But up ye’ll take my dear young son,
	And wash him wi the milk,
	And up ye’ll take my lady gay
	And row her in the silk;
	For her kirking and her fair wedding
	Shall baith stand in ae day.’


		  Child 63H: Child Waters

63H.1	* * * *
	‘TURN back, turn back, O Burd Alone,
	For the water’s both broad and long:’
	First she went into the shoulders,
	And sine unto the chin.
63H.2	‘How far is it to your hall, Lord John?
	How far is it? I pray of thee:’
	‘The nearest way unto my hall
	Is thirty miles and three.
63H.3	‘Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone,
	Ye’ll sink before ye win owre:’
	‘I am too big with bairn,’ she says,
	‘To sink or I win owre.’
63H.4	‘Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone,
	Turn back, I pray of thee;
	For I’ve got a wife and seven bairns,
	I like far better than thee.’
63H.5	And then spak a wild parrot,
	Sat high upon the tree:
	‘Gang on, gang on, O Burd Alone,
	[He likes nane better nor thee.]
63H.6	‘For Lord John has neither wife nor bairns,
	He likes better than thee,
	And the nearest way to Lord John’s hall
	Is only short miles three.’
63H.7	When she was come to Lord John’s hall,
	Lords, knights and ladies braw
	Was there to welcome them hame;
	But the bravest in the ha,
	She waited at Lord John’s back,
	Serving the tables a’.
63H.8	When she was laid into her bed,
	Amang the servants a’ ilk ane,
	The mother heard a babie greet,
	And a lady make a heavy maen.
63H.9	‘Rise up, rise up, Lord John,’ she said,
	‘Bind on thy hose and shoon;
	Thow might hae got some other lady
	Then a lady big wi bairn.’
63H.10	Lord John awa to the hay-loft,
	Where his lady lay;
	‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says,
	‘O rise and let me in;
	It’s I have got no loves without,
	But I’ve got one within.’
63H.11	‘I ask three favours of you, Lord John,
	I ask three favours of thee;
	I ask a bottle of your sma, sma beer,
	For your old son and me.’
63H.12	‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says,
	‘O rise and let me in;
	My wine and gin is at your command,
	And that of my old son.’
63H.13	‘The next favour I ask of you, Lord John,
	The next favour I ask of thee,
	Is the meanest room in all your house,
	For your young son and me.
63H.14	‘The next favour I ask of you, Lord John,
	The next favour I ask of thee,
	Is the meanest maid in a’ your house,
	To wait on your yong son and me.’
63H.15	‘O rise, O rise, my love,’ he says,
	‘O rise and let me in;
	For thy bridal and thy banquet day
	Shall both be held in ane.’


		  Child 63I: Child Waters

63I.1	LORD JOHN stands in his stable-door,
	Just on his way to ride;
	Lady Ellen stands in her bower-door,
	Says, Bide, Lord John, abide!
	* * * * *
63I.2	He did ride, and she did run,
	A lief-lang simmer’s day,
	Until they came till a wan water,
	That a’ man did ca Tay.
63I.3	The first step that she steppit in,
	She steppit tae the cweet;
	An sichan said that gay lady,
	I fear this water’s deep!
63I.4	The next step that she steppit in,
	She steppit tae the knee;
	An sichan said that gay lady,
	This water’s deep for me!
63I.5	Lord John hield down his high horse head,
	Said, Lady, will ye ride?
	‘O no! O no! kind sir,’ she said,
	‘I’ll rather choose tae wide.’
63I.6	The next step that she steppit in,
	She steppit tae the chin;
	An sichan said that gay lady,
	I’ll wide nae farrer in.
63I.7	The firsten town that they cam till,
	She got a leash o huns tae lead,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
63I.8	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	An a’ was ready tae dine,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
63I.9	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	An a’ were bound for bed,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .


		  Child 63J: Child Waters

63J.1	THE knight stands in his stable-door,
	Says he, I will gae ride;
	A lady stands in her bower-door,
	Says, I’ll ride by your side.
63J.2	‘Ye shall not follow me, Burd Helen,
	Except ye do this deed;
	That is, to saddle to me my horse,
	And bridle to me my steed,
	And every town that ye come to,
	A liesh o hounds to lead.’
63J.3	‘I will saddle to you your horse,
	Sae will I bridle your steed;
	And every town that we come to,
	A liesh o hounds I’ll lead.’
63J.4	Take warning a’, ye maidens fair,
	That wear scarlet and brown;
	In virtue leave your lammas beds,
	To follow knights frae town.
63J.5	‘My dogs shall eat the white bread, Helen,
	And you the dust and bran;
	And you will sigh, and say, alas!
	That eer our loves began.’
63J.6	‘Your dogs may eat the gude white bread,
	And I the dust and bran;
	Yet will I sing, and say, well’s me,
	That eer our loves began.’
63J.7	‘My horse shall drink the gude red wine,
	And you the water wan;
	And then you’ll sigh, and say, alas!
	That eer our loves began.’
63J.8	‘Your horse may drink the gude red wine,
	And I the water wan;
	But yet I’ll sing, and say, well’s me,
	That eer our loves began.’
63J.9	Then Willie lap on his white steed,
	And straight awa did ride;
	Burd Helen, drest in men’s array,
	She walked by his side.
63J.10	But he was neer sae lack a knight
	As ance woud bid her ride,
	And she was neer sae mean a may
	As ance woud bid him bide.
63J.11	Sweet Willie rade, Burd Helen ran,
	A livelang summer’s tide,
	Until she came to wan water,
	For a’ men ca’s it Clyde.
63J.12	The first an step that she wade in,
	She wadit to the knee;
	‘Ohon, alas!’ said that fair maid,
	‘This water’s nae for me!’
63J.13	The next an step that she wade in,
	She wadit to the pap;
	The babe within her sides twa,
	Cauld water gart it quack.
63J.14	‘Lie still, lie still, my bonny bairn,
	For a’ this winna dee;
	Your father rides on high horseback,
	Minds neither you nor me.’
63J.15	In the midst of Clyde’s water,
	There stands a yird-fast stone;
	There he leant him ower his saddle-bow,
	And set that lady on,
	And brought her to the other side,
	Then set her down again.
63J.16	‘O see ye not yon goodly towers,
	And gowd towers stand sae hie?
	There is a lady in yonder bower
	Will sinder you and me.’
63J.17	‘I wish nae ill to your lady,
	She neer wishd nane to me;
	But I wish the maid maist o your love
	That drees far mair for thee.
63J.18	‘I wish nae ill to your lady,
	She neer comes in my thought;
	But I wish the maid maist o your love
	That dearest hae you bought.’
63J.19	Four an twenty gay ladies
	Led Willie thro bower and ha;
	But the fairest lady amo them a’
	Led his horse to the sta.
63J.20	Four an twenty gay ladies
	Were a’ at dinner set;
	Burd Helen sat at a by-table,
	A bit she coudna eat.
63J.21	Out it spake her Dow Isbel,
	A skilly dame was she:
	‘O whare got ye this fine foot-page
	Ye’ve brought alang wi thee?
63J.22	‘Sometimes his colour waxes red,
	Sometimes it waxes wan;
	He is liker a woman big wi bairn
	Nor be a waiting man.’
63J.23	‘Win up, win up, my boy,’ he says,
	‘At my bidding to be,
	And gang and supper my gude steed,
	See he be litterd tee.’
63J.24	Then she is into stable gane,
	Shut tee the door wi a pin,
	And even amang Willie’s horse feet
	Brought hame her bonny young son.
63J.25	When day was gane, and night was come,
	And a’ man bound for bed,
	Sweet Willie and Dow Isbel
	In ae chamber were laid.
63J.26	They hadna been well lien down,
	Nor yet well faen asleep,
	Till up it wakens Sweet Willie,
	And stood at Dow Isbel’s feet.
63J.27	‘I dreamd a dreary dream this night,
	I wish it may be for guid;
	Some rogue hae broke my stable-door,
	And stown awa my steed.
63J.28	‘Win up, win up now, Dow Isbel,
	At my bidding to be,
	And ye’ll gae to my stable-door,
	See that be true or lie.’
63J.29	When she gaed to the stable-door,
	She heard a grievous groan;
	She thought she heard a bairn greet,
	But and a woman’s moan.
63J.30	‘When I was in my bigly bower,
	I wore but what I would;
	This night I’m lighter ’mang Willie’s horse feet,
	I fear I’ll die for cold.
63J.31	‘When I was in my bigly bower,
	I wore gold to my tae;
	This night I’m lighter mang Willie’s horse feet,
	And fear I’ll die or day.
63J.32	‘When I was in my bigly bower,
	I wore scarlet and green;
	This night I’m lighter mang Willie’s horse feet,
	And fear I’ll die my lane.’
63J.33	Dow Isbel now came tripping hame,
	As fast as gang coud she;
	‘I thought your page was not a man,
	Ye brought alang wi thee.
63J.34	‘As I gaed to your stable, Willie,
	I heard a grievous groan;
	I thought I heard a bairn greet,
	But and a woman’s moan.
63J.35	‘She said, when in her bigly bower,
	She wore but what she would;
	But this night is lighter mang your horse feet,
	And fears she’ll die for cold.
63J.36	‘She said, when in her bigly bower,
	She wore gold to her tae;
	But this night is lighter mang your horse feet,
	And fears she’ll die or day.
63J.37	‘Win up, win up, now Sweet Willie,
	At my bidding to be,
	And speak some comfort to the maid,
	That’s dreed sae much for thee.’
63J.38	He is to the stable door gane,
	As fast as gang coud he;
	‘O open, O open, Burd Helen,’ he says,
	‘Ye’ll open the door to me.’
63J.39	‘That was never my mother’s custom,
	And hope it’s never be mine,
	A knight into her companie,
	When she drees a’ her pine.’
63J.40	‘O open the door, Burd Helen,’ he says,
	‘O open the door to me;
	For as my sword hangs by my gair,
	I’ll gar it gang in three.’
63J.41	‘How can I open, how shall I open,
	How can I open to thee,
	When lying amang your great steed’s feet,
	Your young son on my knee?’
63J.42	He hit the door then wi his foot,
	Sae did he wi his knee,
	Till doors o deal, and locks o steel,
	In splinders gart he flee.
63J.43	‘An asking, asking, Sweet Willie,
	An asking ye’ll grant me;
	The warst in bower in a’ your towers,
	For thy young son and me.’
63J.44	‘Your asking’s nae sae great, Burd Helen,
	But granted it shall be;
	The best in bower in a’ my towers,
	For my young son and thee.’
63J.45	‘An asking, asking, sweet Willie,
	An asking ye’ll grant me;
	The warst an woman about your bowers,
	To wait on him and me.’
63J.46	‘The best an woman about my bowers,
	To wait on him and thee,
	And that’s my sister Dow Isbel,
	And a gude woman is she.
63J.47	‘Ye will take up my little young son,
	And wash him wi the milk;
	And ye’ll take up my gay lady,
	And row her in the silk.
63J.48	‘Be favourable to my lady,
	Be favourable, if ye may;
	Her kirking and her fair wedding
	Shall baith stand on ae day.
63J.49	‘There is not here a woman living
	But her shall be my bride,
	And all is for the fair speeches
	I got frae her at Clyde.’


		  Child 63[K]: Child Waters

63[K].1	Willie was a harper guid,
	He was a harper fine;
	He harped the burds out of the tree,
	The fish out of the flood,
	The milk out of a woman’s brist
	That bab had never nean.
63[K.2]	He harped out, an he harped in,
	Till he harped them a’ aslep,
	Unless it was her Fair Elen,
	An she stood on her feett.
63[K.3]	Willie stod in stabile dor,
	He said he wad ride,
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
63[K.4]	‘Na women mane gae we me, Hellen,
	Na women mane gaie we me
	Bat them that will saddle my hors,
	An bridell my steed,
	An elky toun that I come to
	A lish of hons mane lead.’
63[K.5]	‘I will saddle yer hors, Willie,
	An I will bridel yer steed,
	An elky toun att we come tell
	A leash of honds will lead.’
63[K.6]	‘The dogs sall eat the gued fite bread,
	An ye the dou pran,
	An ye sall bliss, an na curse,
	That ever ye lied a man.’
63[K.7]	‘The dogs sall eat the whit bread,
	An me the dou pran,
	An I will bliss, an na curs,
	That ear I loved a man.’
63[K.8]	She has saddled his hors,
	An she has bridled his stead,
	An ealky toun att they came throu
	A lish of honds did lead.
63[K.9]	The dogs did eatt the whit bread,
	An her the douey pran,
	An she did bliss, an she did na curs,
	That ever she loyed a man.
63[K.10]	Fan they came to yon wan water
	That a’ man caas Clayd,
	He louked over his left shoder,
	Says, Ellen, will ye ride?
63[K.11]	‘I learned it in my medder’s bour,
	I wiss I had learned it better,
	Fan I came to wane water
	To sume as dos the otter.
63[K.12]	‘I learned in my midder’s bour,
	I watt I learned it well,
	Fan I came to wan water,
	To sume as dos the ell.’
63[K.13]	. . . . . . . .
	. . . . . . . .
	Or the knight was in the middell of the water,
	The lady was in the eather side.
63[K.14]	She leaned her back to a stane,
	Gaa a call opon:
	‘O my back is right sore,
	An I sae farr frae hame!
63[K.15]	‘Hou monny mill ha ye to rid,
	An hou mony I to rine?’
	‘Fifty mill ha I to rid,
	Fifty you to rine,
	An by that time I dou supos
	Ye will be a dead woman.’
63[K.16]	Out spak a bonny burd,
	Sate on yon tree,
	‘Gaa on, fair Ellen,
	Ye ha scarcly milles three.’
63[K.17]	Four-an-tuenty bony ladys
	Mett Willie in the closs,
	Bat the fairest lady among them a’
	Took Willie frae his horse.
63[K.18]	Four-an-trenty bonny ladys
	Lead Willie to the table,
	Bat the fairest lady among them a’
	Led his hors to the stable.
63[K.19]	She leaned betuen the gray folle an the waa,
	An gae a call opon;
	‘O my back is fue sore,
	An I sae far fra home!
63[K.20]	‘Fan I was in my father’s bour,
	I ware goud to my hell;
	Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,
	An the call it will me kell.
63[K.21]	‘Fan I was in my midder’s bour
	I wear goud to my head;
	Bat nou I am among Willie’s hors feet,
	And the calle will be my dead.’
63[K.22]	‘Fatten a heavey horse-boy, my son Willie,
	Is this ye ha brought to me?
	Some times he grous read, read,
	An some times paill an wane;
	He louks just leak a woman we bairn,
	An no weis es leak a man.’
63[K.23]	‘Gett up, my heavey hors-boy,
	Gie my hors corn an hay;’
	‘By my soth,’ says her Fair Ellen,
	‘Bat as fast as I may.’
63[K.24]	‘I dreamed a dream san the straine,
	Gued read a’ dreams to gued!
	I dreamed my stable-dor was opned
	An stoun was my best steed.
	Ye gae, my sister,
	An see if the dream be gued.’
63[K.25]	. . . . . . .
	. . . . . . .
	She thought she hard a baby greet,
	Bat an a lady mone.
63[K.26]	. . . . . . .
	. . . . . . .
	‘I think I hard a baby greet,
	Bat an a lady mone.’
63[K.27]	‘A askend, Wikllie,’ she says,
	‘An ye man grant it me;
	The warst room in a’ yer house
	To your young son an me.’
63[K.28]	[‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,
	Ye’r sure yer asken is free;]
	The best room in a’ my house
	To yer young son an ye.’
63[K.29]	‘[A] asken, Willie,’ she sayes,
	‘An ye will grant it me;
	The smallest bear in yer house
	To [yer] young son an me.’
63[K.30]	‘Ask on, Fair Ellen,
	Ye’r sure your asken is free;
	The best bear in my house
	[To yer young son an ye.]
63[K.31]	‘The best bear in my house
	Is the black bear an the wine,
	An ye sall haa that, Fair Ellen,
	To you an yer young son.’
63[K.32]	‘[A] askent, Willie,’ she says,
	‘An ye will grant [it] me;
	The warst maid in yer house
	To wait on yer young son an me.’
63[K.33]	‘The best maid in my house
	Is my sister Meggie,
	An ye sall ha her, Fair Ellen,
	To wait on yer young son an ye.
63[K.34]	‘Chire up, Fair Ellen,
	Chire up, gin ye may;
	Yer kirking an yer fair weding
	Sall baith stand in ae day.’



			Child 64A: Fair Janet

64A.1	‘YE maun gang to your father, Janet,
	Ye maun gang to him soon;
	Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,
	In case that his days are dune.’
64A.2	Janet’s awa to her father,
	As fast as she could hie:
	‘O what’s your will wi me, father?
	O what’s your will wi me?’
64A.3	‘My will wi you, Fair Janet,’ he said,
	‘It is both bed and board;
	Some say that he loe Sweet Willie,
	But ye maun wed a French lord.’
64A.4	‘A French lord maun I wed, father?
	A French lord maun I wed?
	Then, by my sooth,’ quo Fair Janet,
	‘He’s neer enter my bed.’
64A.5	Janet’s awa to her chamber,
	As fast as she could go;
	Wha’s the first ane that tapped there,
	But Sweet Willie her jo?
64A.6	‘O we maun part this love, Willie,
	That has been lang between;
	There’s a French lord coming oer the sea,
	To wed me wi a ring;
	There’s a French lord coming oer the sea,
	To wed and tak me hame.’
64A.7	‘If we maun part this love, Janet,
	It causeth mickle woe;
	If we maun part this love, Janet,
	It makes me into mourning go.’
64A.8	‘But ye maun gang to your three sisters,
	Meg, Marion, and Jean;
	Tell them to come to Fair Janet,
	In case that her days are dune.’
64A.9	Willie’s awa to his three sisters,
	Meg, Marion, and Jean:
	‘O haste, and gang to Fair Janet,
	I fear that her days are dune.’
64A.10	Some drew to them their silken hose,
	Some drew to them their shoon,
	Some drew to them their silk manteils,
	Their covering to put on,
	And they’re awa to Fair Janet,
	By the hie light o the moon.
	* * * * *
64A.11	‘O I have born this babe, Willie,
	Wi mickle toil and pain;
	Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie,
	For nurse I dare be nane.’
64A.12	He’s tane his young son in his arms,
	And kisst him cheek and chin,
	And he’s awa to his mother’s bower,
	By the hie light o the moon.
64A.13	‘O open, open, mother,’ he says,
	‘O open, and let me in;
	The rain rains on my yellow hair,
	And the dew drops oer my chin,
	And I hae my young son in my arms,
	I fear that his days are dune.’
64A.14	With her fingers lang and sma
	She lifted up the pin,
	And with her arms lang and sma
	Received the baby in.
64A.15	‘Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie,
	And comfort your fair lady;
	For where ye had but ae nourice,
	Your young son shall hae three.’
64A.16	Willie he was scarce awa,
	And the lady put to bed,
	Whan in and came her father dear:
	‘Make haste, and busk the bride.’
64A.17	‘There’s a sair pain in my head, father,
	There’s a sair pain in my side;
	And ill, O ill, am I, father,
	This day for to be a bride.’
64A.18	‘O ye maun busk this bonny bride,
	And put a gay mantle on;
	For she shall wed this auld French lord,
	Gin she should die the morn.’
64A.19	Some put on the gay green robes,
	And some put on the brown;
	But Janet put on the scarlet robes,
	To shine foremost throw the town.
64A.20	And some they mounted the black steed,
	And some mounted the brown;
	But Janet mounted the milk-white steed,
	To ride foremost throw the town.
64A.21	‘O wha will guide your horse, Janet?
	O wha will guide him best?’
	‘O wha but Willie, my true-love?
	He kens I loe him best.’
64A.22	And when they cam to Marie’s kirk,
	To tye the haly ban,
	Fair Janet’s cheek looked pale and wan,
	And her colour gaed an cam.
64A.23	When dinner it was past and done,
	And dancing to begin,
	‘O we’ll go take the bride’s maidens,
	And we’ll go fill the ring.’
64A.24	O ben than cam the auld French lord,
	Saying, Bride, will ye dance with me?
	‘Awa, awa, ye auld French lord,
	Your face I downa see.’
64A.25	O ben than cam now Sweet Willie,
	He cam with ane advance:
	‘O I’ll go tak the bride’s maidens,
	And we’ll go tak a dance.’
64A.26	‘I’ve seen ither days wi you, Willie,
	And so has mony mae,
	Ye would hae danced wi me mysel,
	Let a’ my maidens gae.’
64A.27	O ben than cam now Sweet Willie,
	Saying, Bride, will ye dance wi me?
	‘Aye, by my sooth, and that I will,
	Gin my back should break in three.’
64A.28	She had nae turned her throw the dance,
	Throw the dance but thrice,
	When she fell doun at Willie’s feet,
	And up did never rise.
64A.29	Willie’s taen the key of his coffer,
	And gien it to his man:
	‘Gae hame, and tell my mother dear
	My horse he has me slain;
	Bid her be kind to my young son,
	For father he has nane.’
64A.30	The tane was buried in Marie’s kirk,
	And the tither in Marie’s quire;
	Out of the tane there grew a birk,
	And the tither a bonny brier.


			Child 64B: Fair Janet

64B.1	‘IF you do love me weel, Willie,
	Ye’ll shew to me truelie;
	Ye’ll build to me a bonnie ship,
	And set her on the sea.’
64B.2	He did love her very weel,
	He shewed to her trulie;
	He builded her a bonnie ship,
	And set her on the sea.
64B.3	They had not sailed one league, one league,
	One league but only three,
	Till sharp, sharp showers fair Janet took,
	She grew sick and like to die.
64B.4	‘If you do love me weel, Willie,
	Ye’ll shew to me trulye;
	Ye’ll tak me to my mother’s bower,
	Whare I was wont to be.’
64B.5	He did love her very weel,
	He shewed to her trulye;
	He took her to her mother’s bower,
	Whare she was wont to be.
64B.6	‘It’s ye’ll stand up at my richt side,
	You will on tiptaes stand,
	Until you hear your auld son weep,
	But an you Janet mourn.
64B.7	‘Come take your auld son in your arms,
	He is both large and lang;
	Come take your auld son in your arms,
	And for a nourice gang.’
64B.8	He is to his mother’s bowers,
	An hour or it struck nine:
	‘I have a babe into my arms,
	He’ll die nor nouricing.’
64B.9	‘Goe home, go home, my son,’ she says,
	‘And mak thy Jenny blythe;
	If ae nurse winna sere her son,
	It’s I’ll provide him five.’
64B.10	Fair Janet was nae weel lichter,
	Nor weel doun on her side,
	Till ben and cam her father dear,
	Saying, Wha will busk our bride?
64B.11	Ben and cam her brethren dear,
	Saying, Wha will busk our bride?
	And wha will saddle our bride’s horse?
	Whom ahint will she ride?
64B.12	‘Hold your tongue, my brethren dear,
	And let your folly be,
	For I’m sae fair and full of hair
	Sma busking will serve me.
64B.13	‘Hold your tongue, my brethren dear,
	And let your folly be,
	For I will ride behint William,
	He will best wait on me.
64B.14	‘Willie, lay the saddle saft,
	And lead the bridle soun,
	And when we come to Mary’s Kirk,
	Ye’ll set me hooly down.’
64B.15	Supper scarslie was owre,
	Nor musick weel fa’n to,
	Till ben and cam the bride’s brethren,
	Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me:
	‘Awa, awa, my brethren dear,
	For dancing’s no for me.’
64B.16	Ben and came her ain bridegroom,
	Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me;
	She says, Awa, awa, ye southland dog,
	Your face I downa see.
64B.17	Ben and cam then Sweet Willie,
	Saying, Bride, ye’ll dance wi me:
	‘Oh I will dance the floor once owre,
	Tho my heart should break in three.’
64B.18	‘Oh no, oh no,’ said Sweet William,
	‘Let no such things eer be;
	But I will cut my glove in two,
	And I’ll dance for thee and me.’
64B.19	She hadna danced the floor once owre,
	I’m sure she hadna thrice,
	Till she fell in a deadly swound,
	And from it neer did rise.
64B.20	Out and spak her ain bridegroom,
	And an angry man was he:
	‘This day she has gien me the gecks,
	Yet she must bear the scorn;
	There’s not a bell in merry Linkum
	Shall ring for her the morn.’
64B.21	Out and spoke then Sweet William,
	And a sorry man was he:
	‘Altho she has gien you the gecks,
	She will not bear the scorn;
	There’s not a bell in merry Linkum
	But shall ring for her the morn.’
64B.22	There was not a bell in merry Linkum
	But they tinkled and they rang,
	And a’ the birds that flew above,
	They changed their notes and sang.


			Child 64C: Fair Janet

64C.1	LIVD ance twa luvers in yon dale,
	And they luvd ither weel;
	Frae evning late to morning aire
	Of luving luvd their fill.
64C.2	‘Now, Willie, gif you luve me weel,
	As sae it seems to me,
	Gar build, gar build a bonny schip,
	Gar build it speedilie.
64C.3	‘An\R \rwe wLl saL the sea sae g-een,
	Unto some far countrie,
	Or we’ll sail to some bonie isle,
	Stands lanely midst the sea.’
64C.4	But lang or ere the schip was built,
	Or deckd, or rigged out,
	Came sick a pain in Annet’s back
	That down she coud na lout.
64C.5	‘Now, Willie, gif ye luve me weel,
	As sae it seems to me,
	O haste, haste, bring me to my bowr,
	And my bowr-maidens three.’
64C.6	He’s taen her in his arms twa,
	And kissd her, cheik and chin;
	He’s brocht her to her ain sweet bowr,
	But nae bowr-maid was in.
64C.7	‘Now leave my bower, Willie,’ she said,
	‘Now leave me to my lane;
	When she was travelling.’
64C.8	He’s stepped three steps down the stair,
	Upon the marble stane;
	Sae loud’s he heard his young son’s greet,
	But and his lady’s mane!
64C.9	‘Now come, now come, Willie,’ she said,
	‘Tak your young son frae me,
	And hie him to your mother’s bower,
	With speed and privacie.’
64C.10	He’s taen his young son in his arms,
	He’s kissd him, cheik and chin;
	He’s hied him to his mother’s bower,
	By th’ ae light of the moon.
64C.11	And with him came the bold barone,
	And he spake up wi pride:
	‘Gar seek, gar seek the bower-maidens,
	Gar busk, gar busk the bryde.’
64C.12	‘My maidens, easy with my back,
	And easy with my side;
	O set my saddle saft, Willie,
	I am a tender bryde.’
64C.13	When she came to the burrow-town,
	They gied her a broch and ring,
	And when she came to . . .,
	They had a fair wedding.
64C.14	O up then spake the norland lord,
	And blinkit wi his ee:
	‘I trow this lady’s born a bairn,’
	Then laucht loud lauchters three.
64C.15	And up then spake the brisk bridegroom,
	And he spake up wi pryde:
	‘Gin I should pawn my wedding-gloves,
	I will dance wi the bryde.’
64C.16	‘Now had your tongue, my lord,’ she said,
	‘Wi dancing let me be;
	I am sae thin in flesh and blude,
	Sma dancing will serve me.’
64C.17	But she’s taen Willie be the hand,
	The tear blinded her ee:
	‘But I wad dance wi my true-luve,
	But bursts my heart in three.’
64C.18	She’s taen her bracelet frae her arm,
	Her garter frae her knee:
	‘Gie that, gie that to my young son,
	He’ll neer his mother see.’
	* * * * *
64C.19	‘Gar deal, gar deal the bread, mother,
	Gar deal, gar deal the wyne;
	This day hath seen my true-love’s death,
	This nicht shall witness myne.’


			Child 64D: Fair Janet

64D.1	‘IT never was my mother’s fashion,
	As little will’t be mine,
	For to hae gay lords within my room
	When ladies are travailing.’
64D.2	Lord William was scarsely down the stair,
	A step but only ane,
	Till he heard his auld son gie a cry,
	And his lady a heavy maen.
64D.3	‘Turn back, turn back, Lord William,’ she says,
	‘Take thy auld son in thy coat-neuk,
	And see and reach thy mother’s bowers
	Twa hours before day comes.’
64D.4	He’s awa wi his auld son in his coat-neuk,
	As fast as he can run,
	And there he’s reached his mother’s bowers,
	Twa hours before day came.
64D.5	‘O rise, O rise, my mother dear,
	O rise and let me in,
	For I’ve my auld son in my coat-neuk,
	And he shivers at the chin.’
64D.6	‘Ye’re welcome hame to me, Lord William,
	And so is thy auld son;
	It’s where ye had but ae nourice,
	Thy auld son he’ll hae four.’
64D.7	His lady was scarsely in her bed,
	Nor well faln owre asleep,
	When four and twenty knights and lords
	Came for the bride at last.
64D.8	They dressed her up, they dressed her down,
	They dressed her wondrous fine,
	And just before her ain bedside
	She lost her colour clean.
64D.9	‘Be hooly wi my head, maidens,
	Be hooly wi my hair,
	For it was washen late last night,
	And now it’s very sair.’
64D.10	Out then spoke a southern lord,
	And oh but he spak bauld:
	‘She is the likest that bore a child
	That eer my eyes did see.’
64D.11	Up then spak her auld, auld father,
	And oh he spoke in time:
	‘She neer bore a child since her birth
	Except it was yestreen.’
64D.12	Out then spoke a northern lord:
	‘It’s bride, will ye dance wi me?’
	‘Oh no, oh no, you northland lord,
	It’s dancing’s no for me.’
64D.13	Out then spoke a southland lord:
	‘It’s bride, will ye dance wi me?’
	‘Oh no, oh no, you southland lord,
	I would as lief chuse to die.’
64D.14	Out then spoke her ain bridegroom:
	‘O bride, will ye dance wi me?’
	‘Oh no, oh no, my ain bridegroom,
	It’s dancing’s no for me.’
64D.15	yes, I’ll dance, dear Willie,’ she said,
	Out then spoke her ain Willy,
	And oh he spoke fu fine:
	‘O bride, O bride, will ye dance wi me,’
	. . . . .
64D.16	‘Oh yes, oh yes, Willie,’ she said,
	‘It’s I will dance with thee;
	Oh yes, I’ll dance, dear Willie,’ she said,
	‘Tho my back it gaes in three.’
64D.17	She leaned her head on Willie’s breast,
	And her back unto the wa:
	‘O there’s the key of my coffer,
	And pay weel the nouriss fee,
	And aye when ye look on your auld son,
	Ye may aye think on me.’


			Child 64E: Fair Janet

64E.1	WILLIE and Fair Janet
	Sat a’ day on yon hill;
	And Janet she took sair pains,
	And O but she grew ill.
64E.2	‘Fetch a woman to me, Willie,
	O fetch a woman to me,
	For without the help of woman, Willie,
	Surely I will dee.’
64E.3	‘O tie a napkin on my face,
	That naething I may see,
	And what can a woman do, Janet,
	But I will do for thee?’
	* * * * *
64E.4	She was na scarcely brought to bed,
	Nor yet laid on her side,
	Till in and cam her father there,
	Crying, Fy, gae busk the bride.
64E.5	‘A wearyed bride am I, father,
	A wearyed bride am I;
	Must I gae wed that southlan lord,
	And let Sweet Willie abe?’
	* * * * *
64E.6	‘Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet,
	What shall your cleeding be;
	Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet,
	And I will gie it to thee.
64E.7	‘Whether will you hae it of the berry brown,
	Or of the holland green;
	Or will you hae it of the crimson red,
	Most lovely to be seen?’
64E.8	‘I will not hae’t of the berry brown,
	Nor yet o the holly green;
	But I will hae’t of the crimson red,
	Most lovely to be seen.’
64E.9	‘Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet,
	What man you’ll ride behind:’
	‘O wha sae fitting as Sweet Willie?
	He’ll fit my saddle fine.’
64E.10	O they rode on, and they rode on,
	Till they cam to Merrytown green;
	But Sweet Willie and Fair Janet
	Cam aye hoolie ahin.
64E.11	O whan they cam to Merrytown,
	And lighted on the green,
	Monie a bluidy aith was sworn
	That our bride was wi bairn.
64E.12	Out and spake the bonny bride,
	And she swore by her fingers ten:
	‘If eer I was wi bairn in my life,
	I was lighter sin yestreen.’
64E.13	Up and raise he the bridegroom,
	Says, Bride, will ye dance wi me?
	‘Dance on, dance on, bridegroom,’ she says,
	‘For I’ll dance nane wi thee.’
64E.14	Up and raise her father then,
	Says, Bride, will ye dance wi me?
	‘Dance on, my father,’ she replied,
	‘I pray thee let me be.’
64E.15	Then up and raise he Sweet Willie,
	And he had meikle pride:
	‘I’ll lay my gloves in the bride’s han,
	And I’ll dance for the bride.’
64E.16	‘O no, O no, O Sweet Willie,
	O no, that shall na be;
	For I will dance wi thee, Willie,
	Tho my back should fa in three.’
64E.17	She had na run a reel, a reel,
	A reel but barely three,
	Till pale and wan grew Fair Janet,
	And her head took Willie’s knee.
64E.18	Out and spake then the bridegroom,
	And he spake wi great scorn:
	‘There’s not a bell in Merrytown kirk
	Shall ring for her the morn.’
64E.19	Out and spak he Sweet Willie,
	And his heart was almost gane:
	‘’Tis a the bells in Merrytown kirk
	Shall ring for her the morn.’
64E.20	Willie was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	etc., etc., etc.


			Child 64F: Fair Janet

64F.1	HEY, love Willie, and how, love Willie,
	And Willie my love shall be;
	They’re thinking to sinder our lang love, Willie;
	It’s mair than man can dee.
64F.2	‘Ye’ll mount me quickly on a steed,
	A milk-white steed or gray,
	And carry me on to gude greenwood,
	Before that it be day.’
64F.3	He mounted her upon a steed,
	He chose a steed o gray;
	He had her on to gude greenwood,
	Before that it was day.
64F.4	‘O will ye gang to the cards, Meggie?
	Or will ye gang wi me?
	Or will ye hae a bower-woman,
	To stay ere it be day?’
64F.5	‘I winna gang to the cards,’ she said,
	‘Nor will I gae wi thee,
	Nor will I hae a bower-woman,
	To spoil my modestie.
64F.6	‘Ye’ll gie me a lady at my back,
	An a lady me beforn,
	An a midwife at my twa sides,
	Till your young son be born.
64F.7	‘Ye’ll do me up, and further up,
	To the top o yon greenwood tree;
	For every pain myself shall hae,
	The same pain ye maun drie.’
64F.8	The first pain that did strike Sweet Willie,
	It was into the side;
	Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie,
	These pains are ill to bide!
64F.9	The nextan pain that strake Sweet Willie,
	It was into the back;
	Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie,
	These pains are women’s wreck!
64F.10	The nextan pain that strake Sweet Willie,
	It was into the head;
	Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie,
	I fear my lady’s dead!
64F.11	Then he’s gane on, and further on,
	At the foot o yon greenwood tree;
	There he got his lady lighter,
	Wi his young son on her knee.
64F.12	Then he’s taen up his little young son,
	And kissd him, cheek and chin,
	And he is on to his mother,
	As fast as he could gang.
64F.13	‘Ye will take in my son, mother,
	Gie him to nurses nine;
	Three to wauk, and three to sleep,
	And three to fanf between.’
64F.14	Then he has left his mother’s house,
	And frae her he has gane,
	And he is back to his lady,
	And safely brought her hame.
64F.15	Then in it came her father dear,
	Was belted in a brand:
	‘It’s nae time for brides to lye in bed,
	When the bridegroom’s send’s in town.
64F.16	‘There are four-and-twenty noble lords
	A’ lighted on the green;
	The fairest knight amang them a’,
	He must be your bridegroom.’
64F.17	‘O wha will shoe my foot, my foot?
	And wha will glove my hand?
	And wha will prin my sma middle,
	Wi the short prin and the lang?’
64F.18	Now out it speaks him Sweet Willie,
	Who knew her troubles best:
	‘It is my duty for to serve,
	As I’m come here as guest.
64F.19	‘Now I will shoe your foot, Maisry,
	And I will glove your hand,
	And I will prin your sma middle,
	Wi the sma prin and the lang.’
64F.20	‘Wha will saddle my steed,’ she says,
	‘And gar my bridle ring?
	And wha will hae me to gude church-door,
	This day I’m ill abound?’
64F.21	‘I will saddle your steed, Maisry,
	And gar your bridle ring,
	And I’ll hae you to gude church-door,
	And safely set you down.’
64F.22	‘O healy, healy take me up,
	And healy set me down,
	And set my back until a wa,
	My foot to yird-fast stane.’
64F.23	He healy took her frae her horse,
	And healy set her down,
	And set her back until a wa,
	Her foot to yird-fast stane.
64F.24	When they had eaten and well drunken,
	And a’ had thornd fine,
	The bride’s father he took the cup,
	For to serve out the wine.
64F.25	Out it speaks the bridegroom’s brother,
	An ill death mat he die!
	‘I fear our bride she’s born a bairn,
	Or else has it a dee.’
64F.26	She’s taen out a Bible braid,
	And deeply has she sworn;
	‘If I hae born a bairn,’ she says,
	‘Sin yesterday at morn,
64F.27	‘Or if I’ve born a bairn,’ she says,
	‘Sin yesterday at noon,
	There’s nae a lady amang you a’
	That woud been here sae soon.’
64F.28	Then out it spake the bridegroom’s man,
	Mischance come ower his heel!
	‘Win up, win up, now bride,’ he says,
	‘And dance a shamefu reel.’
64F.29	Then out it speaks the bride hersell,
	And a sorry heart had she:
	‘Is there nae ane amang you a’
	Will dance this dance for me?’
64F.30	Then out it speaks him Sweet Willie,
	And he spake aye thro pride:
	‘O draw my boots for me, bridegroom,
	Or I dance for your bride.’
64F.31	Then out it spake the bride hersell:
	O na, this maunna be;
	For I will dance this dance mysell,
	Tho my back shoud gang in three.
64F.32	She hadna well gane thro the reel,
	Nor yet well on the green,
	Till she fell down at Willie’s feet
	As cauld as ony stane.
64F.33	He’s taen her in his arms twa,
	And haed her up the stair;
	Then up it came her jolly bridegroom,
	Says, What’s your business there?
64F.34	Then Willie lifted up his foot,
	And dang him down the stair,
	And brake three ribs o the bridegroom’s side,
	And a word he spake nae mair.
64F.35	Nae meen was made for that lady,
	When she was lying dead;
	But a’ was for him Sweet Willie,
	On the fields for he ran mad.


			Child 64G: Fair Janet

64G.1	‘WILL you marry the southland lord,
	A queen of fair England to be?
	Or will you burn for Sweet Willie,
	The morn upon yon lea?’
64G.2	‘I will marry the southland lord,
	Father, sen it is your will;
	But I’d rather it were my burial-day,
	For my grave I’m going till.
64G.3	‘O go, O go now, my bower-wife,
	O go now hastilie,
	O go now to Sweet Willie’s bower,
	And bid him cum speak to me.’
	* * * * *
64G.4	And he is to his mother’s bower,
	As fast as he could rin:
	‘Open, open, my mother dear,
	Open, and let me in.
64G.5	‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair,
	The dew stands on my chin,
	And I have something in my lap,
	And I wad fain be in.’
64G.6	‘O go, O go now, Sweet Willie,
	And make your lady blithe,
	For wherever you had ae nourice,
	Your young son shall hae five.’
64G.7	Out spak Annet’s mother dear,
	An she spak a word o’ pride;
	Says, Whare is a’ our bride’s maidens,
	They’re no busking the bride?
64G.8	‘O haud your tongue, my mother dear,
	Your speaking let it be,
	For I’m sae fair and full o flesh
	Little busking will serve me.’
64G.9	Out an spak the bride’s maidens,
	They spak a word o pride;
	Says, Whare is a’ the fine cleiding?
	It’s we maun busk the bride.
64G.10	‘Deal hooly wi my head, maidens,
	Deal hooly wi my hair;
	For it was washen late yestreen,
	And it is wonder sair.’
	* * * * *
64G.11	And Willie swore a great, great oath,
	And he swore by the thorn,
	That she was as free o a child that night
	As the night that she was born.
64G.12	‘Ye hae gien me the gowk, Annet,
	But I’ll gie you the scorn;
	For there’s no a bell in a’ the town
	Shall ring for you the morn.’
64G.13	Out and spak then Sweet Willie:
	Sae loud’s I hear you lie!
	There’s no a bell in a’ the town
	But shall ring for Annet and me.
	* * * * *



			Child 65A: Lady Maisry

65A.1	THE young lords o the north country
	Have all a wooing gone,
	To win the love of Lady Maisry,
	But o them she woud hae none.
65A.2	O they hae courted Lady Maisry
	Wi a’ kin kind of things;
	An they hae sought her Lady Maisry
	Wi brotches an wi’ rings.
65A.3	An they ha sought her Lady Maisry
	Frae father and frae mother;
	An they ha sought her Lady Maisry
	Frae sister an frae brother.
65A.4	An they ha followd her Lady Maisry
	Thro chamber an thro ha;
	But a’ that they coud say to her,
	Her answer still was Na.
65A.5	‘O had your tongues, young men,’ she says,
	‘An think nae mair o me;
	For I’ve gien my love to an English lord,
	An think nae mair o me.’
65A.6	Her father’s kitchy-boy heard that,
	An ill death may he dee!
	An he is on to her brother,
	As fast as gang coud he.
65A.7	‘O is my father an my mother well,
	But an my brothers three?
	Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well,
	There’s naething can ail me.’
65A.8	‘Your father and your mother is well,
	But an your brothers three;
	Your sister Lady Maisry’s well,
	So big wi bairn gangs she.’
65A.9	‘Gin this be true you tell to me,
	My mailison light on thee!
	But gin it be a lie you tell,
	You sal be hangit hie.’
65A.10	He’s done him to his sister’s bowr,
	Wi meikle doole an care;
	An there he saw her Lady Maisry,
	Kembing her yallow hair.
65A.11	‘O wha is aught that bairn,’ he says,
	‘That ye sae big are wi’
	And gin ye winna own the truth,
	This moment ye sall dee.’
65A.12	She turnd her right an roun about,
	An the kem fell frae her han;
	A trembling seizd her fair body,
	An her rosy cheek grew wan.
65A.13	‘O pardon me, my brother dear,
	An the truth I’ll tell to thee;
	My bairn it is to Lord William,
	An he is betrothd to me.’
65A.14	‘O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords,
	Intill your ain country,
	That ye draw up wi an English dog,
	To bring this shame on me?
65A.15	‘But ye maun gi up the English lord,
	Whan youre young babe is born;
	For, gin you keep by him an hour langer,
	Your life sall be forlorn.’
65A.16	‘I will gi up this English blood,
	Till my young babe be born;
	But the never a day nor hour langer,
	Tho my life should be forlorn.’
65A.17	‘O whare is a’ my merry young men,
	Whom I gi meat and fee,
	To pu the thistle and the thorn,
	To burn this wile whore wi?’
65A.18	‘O whare will I get a bonny boy,
	To help me in my need,
	To rin wi hast to Lord William,
	And bid him come wi speed?’
65A.19	O out it spake a bonny boy,
	Stood by her brother’s side:
	‘O I would rin your errand, lady,
	Oer a’ the world wide.
65A.20	‘Aft have I run your errands, lady,
	Whan blawn baith win and weet;
	But now I’ll rin your errand, lady,
	Wi sat tears on my cheek.’
65A.21	O whan he came to broken briggs,
	He bent his bow and swam,
	An whan he came to the green grass growin,
	He slackd his shoone and ran.
65A.22	O whan he came to Lord William’s gates,
	He baed na to chap or ca,
	But set his bent bow till his breast,
	An lightly lap the wa;
	An, or the porter was at the gate,
	The boy was i the ha.
65A.23	‘O is my biggins broken, boy?
	Or is my towers won?
	Or is my lady lighter yet,
	Of a dear daughter or son?’
65A.24	‘Your biggin is na broken, sir,
	Nor is your towers won;
	But the fairest lady in a’ the lan
	For you this day maun burn.’
65A.25	‘O saddle me the black, the black,
	Or saddle me the brown;
	O saddle me the swiftest steed
	That ever rade frae a town.’
65A.26	Or he was near a mile awa,
	She heard his wild horse sneeze:
	‘Mend up the fire, my false brother,
	It’s na come to my knees.’
65A.27	han he lighted at the gate,
	She heard his bridle ring:
	‘Mend up the fire, my false brother,
	It’s far yet frae my chin.
65A.28	‘Mend up the fire to me, brother,
	Mend up the fire to me;
	For I see him comin hard an fast
	Will soon men’t up to thee.
65A.29	‘O gin my hands had been loose, Willy,
	Sae hard as they are boun,
	I would have turnd me frae the gleed,
	And castin out your young son.’
65A.30	‘O I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
	Your father an your mother;
	An I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
	Your sister an your brother.
65A.31	‘An I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
	The chief of a’ your kin;
	An the last bonfire that I come to,
	Mysel I will cast in.’


			Child 65B: Lady Maisry

65B.1	IN came her sister,
	Stepping on the floor;
	Says, It’s telling me, my sister Janet,
	That you’re become a whore.
65B.2	‘A whore, sister, a whore, sister?
	That’s what I’ll never be;
	I’m no so great a whore, sister,
	As liars does on me lee.
65B.3	In came her brother,
	Stepping on the floor;
	Says, It’s telling me, my sister Janet,
	That you’re become a whore.’
65B.4	‘A whore, brother, a whore, brother?
	A whore I’ll never be;
	I’m no so bad a woman, brother,
	As liears does on me lee.’
65B.5	In came her mother,
	Stepping on the floor:
	‘They are telling me, my daughter,
	That you’re so soon become a whore.’
65B.6	‘A whore, mother, a whore, mother?
	A whore I’ll never be;
	I’m only with child to an English lord,
	Who promised to marry me.’
65B.7	In came her father,
	Stepping on the floor;
	Says, They tell me, my daughter Janet,
	That you are become a whore.’
65B.8	‘A whore, father, a whore, father?
	A whore I’ll never be;
	I’m but with child to an English lord,
	Who promisd to marry me.’
65B.9	Then in it came an old woman,
	The lady’s nurse was she,
	And ere she could get out a word
	The tear blinded her ee.
65B.10	‘Your father’s to the fire, Janet,
	Your brother’s to the whin;
	All for to kindle a bold bonfire,
	To burn your body in.’
65B.11	‘Where will I get a boy,’ she said,
	‘Will gain gold for his fee,
	That would run unto fair England
	For thy good lord to thee.’
65B.12	‘O I have here a boy,’ she said,
	‘Will gain gold to his fee,
	For he will run to fair England
	For thy good lord to thee.’
65B.13	Now when he found a bridge broken,
	He bent his bow and swam,
	And when he got where grass did grow,
	He slacked it and ran.
65B.14	And when he came to that lord’s gate,
	Stopt not to knock or call,
	But set his bent bow to his breast
	And lightly leapt the wall;
	And ere the porter could open the gate,
	The boy was in the hall,
65B.15	In presence of that noble lord,
	And fell down on his knee:
	‘What is it, my boy,’ he cried,
	‘Have you brought unto me?
65B.16	‘Is my building broke into?
	Or is my towers won?
	Or is my true-love delivered
	Of daughter or of son?’
65B.17	‘Your building is not broke,’ he cried,
	‘Nor is your towers won,
	Nor is your true-love delivered
	Of daughter nor of son;
	But if you do not come in haste,
	Be sure she will be gone.
65B.18	‘Her father is gone to the fire,
	Her brother to the whin,
	To kindle up a bold bonfire,
	To burn her body in.’
65B.19	‘Go saddle to me the black,’ he cried,
	‘And do it very soon;
	Get unto me the swiftest horse
	That ever rade from the town.’
65B.20	The first horse that he rade upon,
	For he was raven black,
	He bore him far, and very far,
	But failed in a slack.
65B.21	The next horse that he rode upon,
	He was a bonny brown;
	He bore him far, and very far,
	But did at last fall down.
65B.22	The next horse that he rode upon,
	He as the milk was white;
	Fair fall the mare that foaled that foal.
	Took him to Janet’s sight!
65B.23	And boots and spurs, all as he was,
	Into the fire he lap,
	Got one kiss of her comely mouth,
	While her body gave a crack.
65B.24	‘O who has been so bold,’ he says,
	‘This bonfire to set on?
	Or who has been so bold,’ he says,
	‘Her body for to burn?’
65B.25	‘O here are we,’ her brother said,
	‘This bonfire who set on;
	And we have been so bold,’ he said,
	‘Her body for to burn.’
65B.26	‘O I’ll cause burn for you, Janet,
	Your father and your mother;
	And I’ll cause die for you, Janet,
	Your sister and your brother.
65B.27	‘And I’ll cause mony back be bare,
	And mony shed be thin,
	And mony wife be made a widow,
	And mony ane want their son.’


			Child 65C: Lady Maisry

65C.1	BEN came to her father dear,
	Stepping upon the floor;
	Says, It’s told me, my daughter Janet,
	That you’re now become a whore.
65C.2	‘A whore, father, a whore, father?
	That’s what I’ll never be,
	Tho I am with bairn to an English lord,
	That first did marry me.’
65C.3	Soon after spoke her bower-woman,
	And sorely did she cry:
	‘Oh woe is me, my lady fair,
	That ever I saw this day!
65C.4	‘For your father’s to the fire, Janet,
	Your brother’s to the whin,
	Even to kindle a bold bonefire,
65C.5	‘Where will I get a bonnie boy,
	Will win gold to his fee,
	That will run on to fair England
	For my good lord to me?’
65C.6	‘Oh here am I, your waiting-boy,
	Would win gold to my fee,
	And will carry any message for you,
	By land or yet by sea.’
65C.7	And when he fand the bridges broke,
	He bent his bow and swam,
	But when he fand the grass growing,
	He slacked it and ran.
65C.8	And when he came to that lord’s gate,
	Stopt not to knock nor call,
	But set his bent bow to his breast,
	And lightly lap the wall.
65C.9	And ere the porter was at the gate
	The boy was in the hall,
	And in that noble lord’s presence
	He on his knee did fall.
65C.10	‘O is my biggins broken?’ he said,
	‘Or is my towers won?
	Or is my lady lighter yet,
	Of daughter of or son?’
65C.11	‘Your biggins are not broken,’ he said,
	‘Nor is your towers won,
	Nor is your lady lighter yet,
	Of daughter or of son;
	But if you stay a little time
	Her life it will be gone.
65C.12	‘For her father’s gone to the fire,
	Her brother to the whin,
	Even to kindle a bold bonfire,
	To burn her body in.’
65C.13	‘Go saddle for me in haste,’ he cried,
	‘A brace of horses soon;
	Go saddle for me the swiftest steeds
	That ever rode to a town.’
65C.14	The first steed that he rade on,
	For he was as jet black,
	He rode him far, and very far,
	But he fell down in a slack.
65C.15	The next steed that he rode on,
	For he was a berry brown;
	He bore him far, and very far,
	But at the last fell down.
65C.16	The next steed that he rode on,
	He was as milk so white;
	Fair fall the mare that foaled the foal
	Took him to Janet’s lyke!
65C.17	But boots and spurs, all as he was,
	Into the fire he lap,
	Took ae kiss of her comely mouth,
	While her body gave a crack.
65C.18	‘O who has been so bold,’ he said,
	‘This bonfire to set on?
	Or who has been so bold,’ he cried,
	‘My true-love for to burn?’
65C.19	Her father cried, I’ve been so bold
	This bonefire to put on;
	Her brother cried, We’ve been so bold
	Her body for to burn.
65C.20	‘Oh I shall hang for you, Janet,
	Your father and your brother;
	And I shall burn for you, Janet,
	Your sister and your mother.
65C.21	‘Oh I shall make many bed empty,
	And many shed be thin,
	And many a wife to be a widow,
	And many one want their son.
65C.22	‘Then I shall take a cloak of cloth,
	A staff made of the wand,
	And the boy who did your errand run
	Shall be heir of my land.’


			Child 65D: Lady Maisry

65D.1	LADY MARGERY was her mother’s ain daughter,
	And her father’s only heir,
	And she’s away to Strawberry Castle,
	To learn some unco lair.
65D.2	She hadna been in Strawberry Castle
	A year but only three,
	Till she has proved as big with child,
	As big as woman could be.
65D.3	Word has to her father gone,
	As he pat on his shoon,
	That Lady Margery goes wi child,
	Unto some English loon.
65D.4	Word has to her mother gane,
	As she pat on her gown,
	That Lady Margery goes wi child,
	Unto some English loon.
65D.5	The father he likes her ill,
	The mother she likes her waur,
	But her father he wished her in a fire strang,
	To burn for ever mair.
	* * * * *
65D.6	‘Will ye hae this auld man, Lady Margery,
	To be yeer warldly make?
	Or will ye burn in fire strang,
	For your true lover’s sake?’
65D.7	‘I wunna hae that old, old man
	To be my worldly make,
	But I will burn in fire strang,
	For my true lover’s sake.’
65D.8	‘O who will put of the pot?
	O who will put of the pan?
	And who will build a bale-fire,
	To burn her body in.’
65D.9	The brother took of the pot,
	The sister took of the pan,
	And her mother builded a bold bale-fire,
	To burn her body in.
65D.10	‘O where will I get a bony boy
	That will run my errand soon?
	That will run to Strawberry Castle,
	And tell my love to come soon?’
65D.11	But then started up a little boy,
	Near to that lady’s kin:
	‘Often have I gane your errands, madam,
	But now it is time to rin.’
65D.12	O when he came to Strawberry Castle,
	He tirled at the pin;
	There was nane sae ready as that lord himsell
	To let the young body in.
65D.13	‘O is my towers broken?
	Or is my castle wone?
	Or is my lady Margery lighter
	Of a daughter or a son?’
65D.14	‘Your towers are not broken,
	Nor is your castle wone;
	But the fairest lady of a’ the land
	For thee this day does burn.’
65D.15	‘Go saddle for me the black, black horse,
	Go saddle to me the brown;
	Go saddle to me as swift a steed
	As ever man rade on.’
65D.16	They saddled to him the black horse,
	They saddled to him the brown;
	They’ve saddled to him as swift a steed
	As ever man rade on.
65D.17	He put his foot into the stirrup,
	He bounded for to ride;
	The silver buttons lap of his breast,
	And his nose began to bleed.
65D.18	He bursted fifteen gude stout steeds,
	And four o them were dappled gray,
	And the little foot-page ran aye before,
	Crying, Mend it, an ye may!
65D.19	When he came to the bale-fire,
	He lighted wi a glent,
	Wi black boots and clean spurs,
	And through the fire he went.
65D.20	He laid ae arm about her neck,
	And the other beneath her chin;
	He thought to get a kiss o her,
	But her middle it gade in twain.
65D.21	‘But who has been so false,’ he said,
	‘And who has been sae cruel,
	To carry the timber from my ain wood
	To burn my dearest jewel?
65D.22	‘But I’ll burn for ye, Lady Margery,
	Yeer father and yeer mother;
	And I’ll burn for ye, Lady Margery,
	Yeer sister and yeer brother.
65D.23	‘I’ll do for ye, Lady Margery,
	What never was done for nane;
	I’ll make many lady lemanless,
	And many a clothing thin.
65D.24	‘And I’ll burn for yeer sake, Lady Margery,
	The town that yeer burnt in,
	And [make] many a baby fatherless,
	That’s naething o the blame.’


			Child 65E: Lady Maisry

65E.1	LADY MARJORY was her mother’s only daughter,
	Her father’s only heir, O
	And she is awa to Strawberry Castle,
	To get some unco lair. O
65E.2	She had na been in Strawberry Castle
	A twelve month and a day,
	Till Lady Marjory she gaes wi child,
	As big as she can gae.
65E.3	Word is to her father gone,
	Before he got on his shoon,
	That Lady Marjory she gaes wi child,
	And it is to an Irish groom.
65E.4	But word is to her mother gane,
	Before that she gat on her gown,
	That Lady Marjorie she goes wi child,
	To a lord of high renown.
65E.5	‘O wha will put on the pot?’ they said,
	‘Or wha will put on the pan?
	Or wha will put on a bauld, bauld fire,
	To burn Lady Marjorie in?’
65E.6	Her father he put on the pot,
	Her sister put on the pan,
	And her brother he put on a bauld, bauld fire,
	To burn Lady Marjorie in;
	And her mother she sat in a golden chair,
	To see her daughter burn.
65E.7	‘But where will I get a pretty little boy,
	That will win hose and shoon,
	That will go quickly to Strawberry Castle
	And bid my lord come doun?’
65E.8	‘O here am I a pretty boy,
	That’ll win hose and shoon,
	That will rin quickly to Strawberry Castle,
	And bid thy lord come doun.’
65E.9	O when he came to broken brigs,
	He bent his bow and swam,
	And when he came to good dry land,
	He let down his foot and ran.
65E.10	When he came to Strawberry Castle,
	He tirled at the pin;
	None was so ready as the gay lord himsell
	To open and let him in.
65E.11	‘O is there any of my towers burnt?
	Or any of my castles broken?
	Or is Lady Marjorie brought to bed,
	Of a daughter or a son?’
65E.12	‘O there is nane of thy towers burnt,
	Nor nane of thy castles broken,
	But Lady Marjorie is condemned to die,
	To be burnt in a fire of oaken.’
65E.13	‘O gar saddle to me the black,’ he said,
	‘Gar saddle to me the brown;
	Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed
	That eer carried a man from town.’
65E.14	He left the black into the slap,
	The brown into the brae,
	But fair fa that bonny apple-gray
	That carried this gay lord away!
65E.15	He took a little horn out of his pocket,
	And he blew ’t both loud and shrill,
	And the little life that was in her,
	She hearkend to it full weel.
65E.16	‘Beet on, beet on, my brother dear,
	I value you not one straw,
	For yonder comes my own true-love,
	I hear his horn blaw.
65E.17	‘Beet on, beet on, my father dear,
	I value you not a pin,
	For yonder comes my own true-love,
	I hear his bridle ring.’
65E.18	But when he came into the place,
	He lap unto the wa;
	He thought to get a kiss o her bonny lips,
	But her body fell in twa.
65E.19	‘Oh vow, oh vow, oh vow,’ he said,
	‘Oh vow but ye’ve been cruel!
	Ye’ve taken the timber out of my own wood
	And burnt my ain dear jewel.
65E.20	‘Now for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
	I’ll burn both father and mother;
	And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
	I’ll burn both sister and brother.
65E.21	‘And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie,
	I’ll burn both kith and kin;
	But I will remember the pretty little boy
	That did thy errand rin.’


			Child 65F: Lady Maisry

65F.1	FAIR MARJORY\R’\rS gaen into the school,
	Between six and seven,
	An she’s come back richt big wi bairn,
	Between twalve and eleven.
65F.2	It’s out then sprung her mither dear,
	Stood stately on the flure:
	‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory,
	But ye’re sune becum a hure.’
65F.3	‘I’m not a hure, mither,’ she said,
	‘Nor ever intend to be;
	But I’m wi child to a gentleman,
	An he swears he’ll marry me.’
65F.4	[It’s out then sprung her father dear,
	Stood stately on the flure:
	‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory,
	But ye’re sune becum a hure.’
65F.5	‘I’m not a hure, father,’ she said,
	‘Nor ever intend to be;
	But I’m wi child to a gentleman,
	An he swears he will marry me.’
65F.6	It’s out then sprung her brother dear,
	Stood stately on the flure:
	‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory,
	But ye’re sune becum a hure.’
65F.7	‘I’m not a hure, brother,’ she said,
	‘Nor ever intend to be;
	But I’m wi child to a gentleman,
	An he swears he will marry me.’
65F.8	It’s out then sprung her sister dear,
	Stood stately on the flure:
	‘Ye’re welcum back, young Marjory,
	But ye’re sune becum a hure.’
65F.9	‘I’m not a hure, sister,’ she said,
	‘Nor ever intend to be;]
	Ye’re but a young woman, sister,
	An ye shuld speak sparinlie.’
65F.10	Her father’s to the grene-wude gaen,
	Her brither’s to the brume;
	An her mither sits in her gowden chair,
	To see her dochter burn.
	* * * * *
65F.11	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	The sister she culd do naething,
	And she sat down to greet.
65F.12	‘Oh whare will I get a bonny boy,
	That will win hose an shoon,
	That wull rin to Strawberry Castle for me,
	And bid my true-love come?’
65F.13	It’s out than spak a bonny boy,
	That stude richt at her knee:
	‘It’s I wull rin your errand, ladie,
	Wi the saut tear i my ee.’
65F.14	It’s whan he cam to broken brigg,
	He bent his bow an swam,
	An whan he cam whare green grass grew,
	Set doon his feet an ran.
65F.15	An whan he cam to Strawberry Castle,
	He thirled at the pin,
	An aye sae ready as the porter was
	To rise and let him in.
	* * * * *
65F.16	‘Gae saddle to me the black,’ he says,
	‘Gae saddle to me the broun;
	Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed
	That eer set fute on grun.’
65F.17	It’s first he burst the bonny black,
	An syne the bonny broun,
	But the dapple-gray rade still away,
	Till he cam to the toun.
65F.18	An aye he rade, an aye he rade,
	An aye away he flew,
	Till the siller buttons flew off his coat;
	He took out his horn an blew.
65F.19	An aye he blew, an aye he blew,
	He blew baith loud an shrill,
	An the little life that Marjory had,
	She heard his horn blaw weel.
65F.20	‘Beik on, beik on, cruel mither,’ she said,
	‘For I value you not a straw;
	For if ever I heard my love in my life,
	He’s comin here awa.’
	* * * * *
65F.21	When he cam unto the flames
	He jamp in, butes and a’;
	He thocht to hae kissd her red rosy lips,
	But her body broke in twa.
	* * * * *
65F.22	I’ll burn for thy sake, Marjory,
	The toun that thou lies in;
	An I’ll mak the baby fatherless,
	For I’ll throw mysel therein.


			Child 65G: Lady Maisry

65G.1	* * * *
	‘MY father was the first good man
	Who tied me to a stake;
	My mother was the first good woman
	Who did the fire make.
65G.2	‘My brother was the next good man
	Who did the fire fetch;
	My sister was the next good woman
	Who lighted it with a match.
65G.3	‘They blew the fire, they kindled the fire,
	Till it did reach my knee:
	"[O mother, mother, quench the fire!
	The smoke will smother me."]
65G.4	‘O had I but my little foot-page,
	My errand he would run;
	He would run unto gay London,
	And bid my lord come home.’
65G.5	Then there stood by her sister’s child,
	Her own dear sister’s son:
	‘O many an errand I’ve run for thee,
	And but this one I’ll run.’
65G.6	He ran, where the bridge was broken down
	He bent his bow and swam;
	He swam till he came to the good green turf,
	He up on his feet and ran.
65G.7	He ran till he came at his uncle’s hall;
	His uncle sat at his meat:
	‘Good mete, good mete, good uncle, I pray,
	O if you knew what I’d got to say,
	How little would you eat!’
65G.8	‘O is my castle broken down,
	Or is my tower won?
	Or is my gay lady brought o bed,
	Of a daughter or a son?’
65G.9	‘Your castle is not broken down,
	Your tower it is not won;
	Your gay lady is not brought to bed,
	Of a daughter or a son.
65G.10	‘But she has sent you a gay gold ring,
	With a posy round the rim,
	To know, if you have any love for her,
	You’ll come to her burning.’
65G.11	He called down his merry men all,
	By one, by two, by three;
	He mounted on his milk-white steed,
	To go to Margery.
65G.12	They blew the fire, they kindled the fire,
	Till it did reach her head:
	‘O mother, mother, quench the fire!
	For I am nearly dead.’
65G.13	She turned her head on her left shoulder,
	Saw her girdle hang on the tree:
	‘O God bless them that gave me that!
	They’ll never give more to me.’
65G.14	She turned her head on her right shoulder,
	Saw her lord come riding home:
	‘O quench the fire, my dear mother!
	For I am nearly gone.’
65G.15	He mounted off his milk-white steed,
	And into the fire he ran,
	Thinking to save his gay ladye,
	But he had staid too long.


			Child 65H: Lady Maisry

65H.1	THERE stands a stane in wan water,
	It’s lang ere it grew green;
	Lady Maisry sits in her bower door,
	Sewing at her silken seam.
65H.2	Word’s gane to her mother’s kitchen,
	And to her father’s ha,
	That Lady Maisry is big wi bairn-+-
	And her true-love’s far awa.
65H.3	When her brother got word of this,
	Then fiercely looked he:
	‘Betide me life, betide me death,
	At Maisry’s bower I’se be.
65H.4	‘Gae saddle to me the black, the black,
	Gae saddle to me the brown;
	Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
	To hae me to the town.’
65H.5	When he came to Maisry’s bower,
	He turnd him round about,
	And at a little shott-window,
	He saw her peeping out.
65H.6	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,
	God make you safe and free!’
	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, my brother dear,
	What are your wills wi me?’
65H.7	‘What’s come o a’ your green claithing,
	Was ance for you too side?
	And what’s become o your lang stays,
	Was ance for you too wide?’
65H.8	‘O he that made my claithing short,
	I hope he’ll make them side;
	And he that made my stays narrow,
	I hope he’ll make them wide.’
65H.9	‘O is it to a lord o might,
	Or baron o high degree?
	Or is it to any o your father’s boys,
	Rides in the chase him wi?’
65H.10	‘It’s no to any Scottish lord,
	Nor baron o high degree;
	But English James, that little prince,
	That has beguiled me.’
65H.11	‘O was there not a Scots baron
	That could hae fitted thee,
	That thus you’ve lovd an Englishman,
	And has affronted me?’
65H.12	She turnd her right and round about,
	The tear blinded her ee:
	‘What is the wrang I’ve done, brother,
	Ye look sae fierce at me?’
65H.13	‘Will ye forsake that English blude,
	When your young babe is born?’
	‘I’ll nae do that, my brother dear,
	Tho I shoud be forlorn.’
65H.14	‘I’se cause a man put up the fire,
	Anither ca in the stake,
	And on the head o yon high hill
	I’ll burn you for his sake.
65H.15	‘O where are all my wall-wight men,
	That I pay meat and fee,
	For to hew down baith thistle and thorn,
	To burn that lady wi?’
65H.16	Then he has taen her, Lady Maisry,
	And fast he has her bound;
	And he causd the fiercest o his men
	Drag her frae town to town.
65H.17	Then he has causd ane of his men
	Hew down baith thistle and thorn;
	She carried the peats in her petticoat-lap,
	Her ainsell for to burn.
65H.18	Then ane pat up this big bauld fire,
	Anither ca’d in the stake;
	It was to burn her Lady Maisry,
	All for her true-love’s sake.
65H.19	But it fell ance upon a day,
	Prince James he thought full lang;
	He minded on the lady gay
	He left in fair Scotland.
65H.20	‘O where will I get a little wee boy,
	Will win gowd to his fee,
	That will rin on to Adam’s high tower,
	Bring tidings back to me?’
65H.21	‘O here am I, a little wee boy,
	Will win gowd to my fee,
	That will rin on to Adam’s high tower,
	Bring tidings back to thee.’
65H.22	Then he is on to Adam’s high tower,
	As fast as gang coud he,
	And he but only wan in time
	The fatal sight to see.
65H.23	He sat his bent bow to his breast,
	And ran right speedilie,
	And he is back to his master,
	As fast as gang coud he.
65H.24	‘What news, what news, my little wee boy?
	What news hae ye to me?’
	‘Bad news, bad news, my master dear,
	Bad news, as ye will see.’
65H.25	‘Are ony o my biggins brunt, my boy?
	Or ony o my towers won?
	Or is my lady lighter yet,
	O dear daughter or son?’
65H.26	‘There’s nane o your biggins brunt, master,
	Nor nane o your towers won,
	Nor is your lady lighter yet,
	O dear daughter nor son.
65H.27	‘There’s an has been [put up] a big bauld fire,
	Anither ca’d in the stake,
	And on the head o yon high hill,
	They’re to burn her for your sake.’
65H.28	‘Gae saddle to me the black, the black,
	Gae saddle to me the brown;
	Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
	To hae me to the town.’
65H.29	Ere he was three miles near the town,
	She heard his horse-foot patt:
	‘Mend up the fire, my fause brother,
	It scarce comes to my pap.’
65H.30	Ere he was twa miles near the town,
	She heard his bridle ring:
	‘Mend up the fire, my fause brother,
	It scarce comes to my chin.
65H.31	‘But look about, my fause brother,
	Ye see not what I see;
	I see them coming here, or lang
	Will mend the fire for thee.’
65H.32	Then up it comes him little Prince James,
	And fiercely looked he:
	‘I’se make my love’s words very true
	She said concerning me.
65H.33	‘O wha has been sae bauld,’ he said,
	‘As put this bonfire on?
	And wha has been sae bauld,’ he said,
	‘As put that lady in?’
65H.34	Then out it spake her brother then,
	He spoke right furiouslie;
	Says, I’m the man that put her in:
	Wha dare hinder me?
65H.35	‘If my hands had been loose,’ she said,
	‘As they are fastly bound,
	I woud hae looted me to the ground,
	Gien you up your bonny young son.’
65H.36	‘I will burn, for my love’s sake,
	Her father and her mother;
	And I will burn, for my love’s sake,
	Her sister and her brother.
65H.37	‘And I will burn, for my love’s sake,
	The whole o a’ her kin;
	And I will burn, for my love’s sake,
	Thro Linkum and thro Lin.
65H.38	‘And mony a bed will I make toom,
	And bower will I make thin;
	And mony a babe shall thole the fire,
	For I may enter in.’
65H.39	Great meen was made for Lady Maisry,
	On that hill whare she was slain;
	But mair was for her ain true-love,
	On the fields for he ran brain.


			Child 65I: Lady Maisry

65I.1	THERE lived a lady in Scotland,
  Refrain:	Hey my love and ho my joy
	There lived a lady in Scotland,
  Refrain:	Who dearly loved me
	There lived a lady in Scotland,
	An she’s fa’n in love wi an Englishman,
  Refrain:	And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in Dundee
65I.2	The father unto the daughter came,
  Refrain:	Who dearly loved me
65I.2	Saying, Will you forsake that Englishman?
65I.3	‘If you will not that Englishman forsake,
  Refrain:	Who dearly loved me
65I.3	O I will burn you at a stake.’
65I.4	‘I will not that Englishman forsake,
  Refrain:	Who dearly loved me
65I.4	Tho you should burn me at a stake.
65I.5	‘O where will I get a pretty little boy,
  Refrain:	Who dearly loves me
65I.5	Who will carry tidings to my joy?’
65I.6	‘Here am I, a pretty little boy,
  Refrain:	Who dearly loves thee
65I.6	Who will carry tidings to thy joy.’
65I.7	‘Give to him this right-hand glove,
  Refrain:	Who dearly loves me
65I.7	Tell him to get another love.
  Refrain:	For, etc.
65I.8	‘Give to him this little penknife,
  Refrain:	Who dearly loves me
65I.8	Tell him to get another wife.
  Refrain:	For, etc.
65I.9	‘Give to him this gay gold ring;
  Refrain:	Who dearly loves me
65I.9	Tell him I’m going to my burning.’
  Refrain:	An, etc.
65I.10	The brother did the stake make,
65I.10r	Who dearly loved me
65I.10	The father did the fire set.
65I.10r	An bonnie Susie Cleland was burnt in Dundee.


		  Child 65[J]: Lady Maisry

65[J].1	Lady Margery was the king’s ae daughter,
	But an the prince’s heir; O
	She’s away to Strawberry Castle,
	To learn some English lair. O
65[J.2]	She had not been in Strawberry Castle
	A twelvemonth and a day
	Till she’s even as big wi child
	As ever a lady could gae.
65[J.3]	Her father’s to the cutting o the birks,
	Her mother to the broom,
	And a’ for to get a bundle o sticks
	To burn that fair lady in.
65[J.4]	‘O hold your hand now, father dear,
	O hold a little while,
	For if my true-love be yet alive
	I’ll hear his bridle ring.
65[J.5]	‘Where will I get a bonny boy,
	That will win hoes and shoon,
	That will run to Strawberry Castle
	And tell my love to come?’
65[J.6]	She’s called on her waiting-maid
	To bring out bread and wine:
	‘Now eat and drink, my bonny boy,
	Ye’ll neer eat mair o mine.’
65[J.7]	Away that bonny boy he’s gaen,
	As fast as he could rin;
	When he cam where grass grew green
	Set down his feet and ran.
65[J.8]	And when he cam where brigs were broken
	He bent his bow and swam;
	. . . . . . .
	. . . . . . .
65[J.9]	When he came to Strawberry Castle,
	He lighted on the green;
	Who was so ready as the noble lord
	To rise and let the boy in!
65[J.10]	‘What news? what new, my pretty page?
	What tydings do ye bring?
	Is my lady lighter yet
	Of a daughter or a son?’
65[J.11]	‘Bad news, bad news, my noble lord,
	Bad tydings have I brung;
	The fairest lady in a’ Scotland
	This day for you does burn.’
65[J.12]	He has mounted a stately steed
	And he was bound to ride;
	The silver buttons flew off his coat
	And his nose began to bleed.
65[J.13]	The second steed that lord mounted
	Stumbled at a stone;
	‘Alass! alass!’ he cried with grief,
	‘My lady will be gone.’
65[J.14]	When he came from Strawberry Castle
	He lighted boots and a’;
	He thought to have goten a kiss from her,
	But her body fell in twa.
65[J.15]	For the sake o Lady Margery
	He’s cursed her father and mother,
	For the sake o Lady Margery
	He’s cursed her sister and brother.
65[J.16]	And for the sake o Lady Margery
	He’s cursed all her kin;
	He cried, Scotland is the ae warst place
	That ever my fit was in!


		  Child 65[K]: Lady Maisry

65[K].1	Marjorie was fer father’s dear,
	Her mother’s only heir,
	An she’s away to Strawberry Castle,
	To learn some unco lear.
65[K.2]	She had na been i Strawberry Castle
	A year but barely three
	Till Marjorie turnd big wi child,
	As big as big could be.
	* * * * *
65[K.3]	‘Will ye hae that old, old man
	To be yer daily mate,
	Or will ye burn in fire strong
	For your true lover’s sake?’
65[K.4]	‘I winna marry that old, old man
	To be my daily mate;
	I’ll rather burn i fire strong
	For my true lover’s sake.
	* * * * *
65[K.5]	‘O where will I get a bonnie boy
	That will win hose an shoon
	An will gae rin to Strawberry Castle,
	To gar my good lord come soon?’
65[K.6]	‘Here am I, a bonnie boy
	That will win hose an shoon,
	An I’ll gae rin to Strawberry Castle,
	And gar your lord come soon.’
65[K.7]	‘Should ye come to a brocken brig,
	Than bend your bow an swim;
	An whan ye com to garse growin
	Set down yer feet an rin.’
65[K.8]	When eer he came to brigs broken,
	He bent his bow an swam,
	And whan he cam to grass growin
	He set down his feet an ran.
65[K.7]	When eer he cam to Strawberry Castle
	He tirlt at the pin;
	There was nane sae ready as that young lord
	To open an let him in.
65[K.8]	‘Is there ony o my brigs broken?
	Or ony o my castle win?
	Or is my lady brought to bed
	Of a daughter or a son?’
65[K.9]	‘There’s nane o a’ yer brigs broken,
	Ther’s nane of your castles win;
	But the fairest lady in a’ your land
	This day for you will burn.’
65[K.10]	‘Gar saddle me the black, black horse,
	Gar saddle me the brown,
	Gar saddle me the swiftest stead
	That eer carried man to town.’
65[K.11]	He’s burstit the black unto the slack,
	The grey unto the brae,
	An ay the page that ran afore
	Cried, Ride, sir, an ye may.
65[K.12]	Her father kindlet the bale-fire,
	Her brother set the stake,
	Her mother sat an saw her burn,
	An never cired Alack!
65[K.13]	‘Beet on, beet [on], my cruel father,
	For you I cound nae friend;
	But for fifteen well mete mile
	I’ll hear my love’s bridle ring.’
65[K.14]	When he cam to the bonnie Dundee,
	He lightit wi a glent;
	Wi jet-black boots an glittrin spurs
	Through that bale-fire he went.
65[K.15]	He thought his love wad hae datit him,
	But she was dead an gane;
	He was na sae wae for the lady
	As he was for her yong son.
65[K.16]	‘But I’ll gar burn for you, Marjorie,
	Yer father an yer mother,
	An I’ll gar burn for you, Marjorie,
	Your sister an your brother.
65[K.17]	‘An I will burn for you, Marjorie,
	The town that ye’r brunt in,
	An monie ane’s be fatherless
	That has but little sin.’



		Child 66A: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet

66A.1	LORD INGRAM and Chiel Wyet
	Was baith born in one bower;
	Laid baith their hearts on one lady,
	The less was their honour.
66A.2	Chiel Wyet and Lord Ingram
	Was baith born in one hall;
	Laid baith their hearts on one lady,
	The worse did them befall.
66A.3	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery
	From father and from mother;
	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery
	From sister and from brother.
66A.4	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery
	With leave of a’ her kin;
	And every one gave full consent,
	But she said no to him.
66A.5	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery
	Into her father’s ha;
	Chiel Wyet wood her Lady Maisery
	Amang the sheets so sma.
66A.6	Now it fell out upon a day,
	She was dressing her head,
	That ben did come her father dear,
	Wearing the gold so red.
66A.7	He said, Get up now, Lady Maisery,
	Put on your wedding gown;
	For Lord Ingram he will be here,
	Your wedding must be done.
66A.8	‘I’d rather be Chiel Wyet’s wife,
	The white fish for to sell,
	Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife,
	To wear the silk so well.
66A.9	‘I’d rather be Chiel Wyet’s wife,
	With him to beg my bread,
	Before I were Lord Ingram’s wife,
	To wear the gold so red.
66A.10	‘Where will I get a bonny boy,
	Will win gold to his fee,
	And will run unto Chiel Wyet’s,
	With this letter from me?’
66A.11	‘O here I am, the boy,’ says one,
	‘Will win gold to my fee,
	And carry away any letter
	To Chiel Wyet from thee.’
66A.12	And when he found the bridges broke,
	He bent his bow and swam;
	And when he found the grass growing,
	He hastened and he ran.
66A.13	And when he came to Chiel Wyet’s castle,
	He did not knock nor call,
	But set his bent bow to his breast,
	And lightly leaped the wall;
	And ere the porter opend the gate,
	The boy was in the hall.
66A.14	The first line he looked on,
	A grieved man was he;
	The next line he looked on,
	A tear blinded his ee:
	Says, I wonder what ails my one brother
	He’ll not let my love be!
66A.15	‘But I’ll send to my brother’s bridal-+-
	The bacon shall be mine-+-
	Full four and twenty buck and roe,
	And ten tun of the wine;
	And bid my love be blythe and glad,
	And I will follow syne.’
66A.16	There was not a groom about that castle
	But got a gown of green,
	And all was blythe, and all was glad,
	But Lady Maisery she was neen.
66A.17	There was no cook about that kitchen
	But got a gown of gray,
	And all was blythe, and all was glad,
	But Lady Maisery was wae.
66A.18	Between Mary Kirk and that castle
	Was all spread ower with garl,
	To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens
	From tramping on the marl.
66A.19	From Mary Kirk and that castle
	Was spread a cloth of gold,
	To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens
	From treading on the mold.
66A.20	When mass was sung, and bells was rung,
	And all men bound for bed,
	Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maisery
	In one bed they were laid.
66A.21	When they were laid into their bed-+-
	It was baith soft and warm-+-
	He laid his hand over her side,
	Says, I think you are with bairn.
66A.22	‘I told you once, so did I twice,
	When ye came me to woo,
	That Chiel Wyet, your one brother,
	One night lay in my bower.
66A.23	‘I told you twice, I told you thrice,
	Ere ye came me to wed,
	That Chiel Wyet, your one brother,
	One night lay in my bed.’
66A.24	‘O will you father your bairn on me,
	And on no other man?
	And I’ll give him to his dowry
	Full fifty ploughs of land.’
66A.25	‘I will not father my bairn on you,
	Nor on no wrongeous man,
	Though ye would give him to his dowry
	Five thousand ploughs of land.’
66A.26	Then up did start him Chiel Wyet,
	Shed by his yellow hair,
	And gave Lord Ingram to the heart
	A deep wound and a sair.
66A.27	Then up did start him Lord Ingram,
	Shed by his yellow hair,
	And gave Chiel Wyet to the heart
	A deep wound and a sair.
66A.28	There was no pity for that two lords,
	Where they were lying slain;
	But all was for her Lady Maisery,
	In that bower she gaed brain.
66A.29	There was no pity for that two lords,
	When they were lying dead;
	But all was for her Lady Maisery,
	In that bower she went mad.
66A.30	Said, Get to me a cloak of cloth,
	A staff of good hard tree;
	If I have been an evil woman,
	I shall beg till I dee.
66A.31	‘For a bit I’ll beg for Chiel Wyet,
	For Lord Ingram I’ll beg three;
	All for the good and honorable marriage
	At Mary Kirk he gave me.’


		Child 66B: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet

66B.1	LORD INGRAM and Gil Viett
	Were baith born in ae ha;
	They laid their love on ae lady,
	An fate they coud na fa.
66B.2	Lord Ingram and Gil Viett
	Were baith laid in ae wame;
	They laid their love on ae lady,
	The greater was their shame.
66B.3	Lord Ingram wood her Lady Masery
	Frae father and frae mither;
	Gill Viett wood her Lady Masery
	Frae sister and frae brither.
66B.4	Lord Ingram courted her Lady Masery
	Among the company a’;
	Gill Viett he wood her Lady Masery
	Among the sheets so sma.
66B.5	‘Get up, my daughter dear,
	Put on your bridal gown;
	This day’s your bridal day
	Wi Lord Ingram.’
66B.6	‘How can I get up,
	An put on my bridal gown,
	Or how marry the ae brither,
	An the tither’s babe in my womb?’
	* * * * *
66B.7	‘O laugh you at mysell, brither,
	Or at my companie?
	Or laugh ye at my bonnie bride,
	She wad na laugh at thee?’
66B.8	‘I laugh na at yoursel, brither,
	Nor at your companie;
	Nor laugh I at your buirlie bride,
	She wad na laugh at me.
66B.9	‘But there’s a brotch on a breast-bane,
	A garlan on ane’s hair;
	Gin ye kend what war under that,
	Ye wad neer love woman mair.
66B.10	‘There is a brotch on a breast-bane,
	An roses on ane’s sheen;
	Gin ye kend what war under that,
	Your love wad soon be deen.’
66B.11	Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	And a’ man boun to bed,
	Lord Ingram and Lady Masery
	In ae chamer were laid.
66B.12	He put his hand out oure his bonnie bride,
	The babe between her sides did quake:
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
66B.13	‘O father your babe on me, Lady Masery,
	O father your babe on me.’
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
66B.14	‘I may father my babe on a stock,
	Sae may I on a stane,
	But my babe shall never hae
	A father but its ain.’
66B.15	He took out a brand,
	And laid it atween them twa;
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
66B.16	Gill Viett took out a long brand,
	And stroakd it oer a stro,
	An thro and thro Lord Ingram’s bodie
	He made it come and go.
66B.17	‘Wae mat worth ye, Gill Viett,
	An ill died mat ye die!
	For I had the cup in my hand
	To hae drunken her oer to thee.’
66B.18	‘[For] ae mile [I wad gae] for Gil Viett,
	For Lord Ingram I wad hae gaen three;
	An a’ for that in good kirk-door
	Fair wedding he gave me.’
66B.19	Gil Viett took a long brand,
	An stroakd it on a stro,
	An through and thro his own bodie
	He made it come and go.
66B.20	There was nae mean made for that godd lords,
	In bowr whar they lay slain,
	But a’ was for that lady,
	In bowr whar she gaed brain.
66B.21	There was nae mean made for that lady,
	In bowr whar she lay dead,
	But a’ was for the bonnie babe
	That lay blabbering in her bleed.


		Child 66C: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet

66C.1	LADY MAISDRY was a lady fair,
	She maid her mither’s bed;
	Auld Ingram was an aged knight,
	And hee sought her to wed.
66C.2	‘’Tis I forbid ye, Auld Ingram,
	For to seek me to spouse;
	For Lord Wayets, your sister’s son,
	Has been into my bowrs.
66C.3	‘’Tis I forbid ye, Auld Ingram,
	For to seek me to wed;
	For Lord Wayets, your sister’s son,
	Has been into my bed.’
66C.4	‘’Tis he has bought to this lady
	The robes of the brown;
	‘And ever alas,’ says this lady,
	‘The robs will pit mee down!’
66C.5	And he has bought to this lady
	The robs of the red;
	‘And ever alas,’ says this lady,
	‘The robs will be my dead!’
66C.6	And he has bought to this lady
	The chrystal and the lammer,
	Sae has hee bought to her mither
	The curches of the cammer.
66C.7	Every ane o her se’n brethren
	They had a hawk in hand,
	And every lady i the place
	They got a goud garland.
66C.8	Every cuk in that kitchen
	They gat a noble claith;
	A’ was blyth at Auld Ingram’s cuming,
	But Lady Maisdrey was wraith.
66C.9	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy,
	Wad fain wun hos and shoon,
	That wud rin on to my Wayets,
	And quickly cume again?’
66C.10	‘Here am I, a bonny boy,
	Wad fain wun hoes and shoon,
	Wha wull rin on to your Wayets,
	And quickly cume again.’
66C.11	‘Ye’l bid him, and ye’l pray him baith,
	Gif ony prayer can dee,
	To Mary Kirk to cume the morn,
	My weary wadding to see.’
66C.12	Lord Wayets lay our his castle wa,
	Beheld baith dale and down,
	And he beheld a bonny boy
	Cume rinnen to the town.
66C.13	‘What news, what news, ye bonny boy?
	What news ye hae to mee?
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
66C.14	‘O is my ladie’s fauldis brunt?
	Or is her towrs wun?
	Or is my Maisdrey lighter yet
	A dear dochter or sun?’
66C.15	‘Your ladie’s faulds they are not brunt,
	Nor yet are her towrs wun,
	Neither is Maisdrey lighter yet
	A dear dochter or sun.
66C.16	‘But she bids ye and she prays ye baith,
	Gif ony prayer can dee,
	To Mary Kirk to cume the morn,
	Her weary wadding to see.’
66C.17	He dung the boord up wi his fit,
	Sae did he wi his tae;
	The silver cup that sat upon’t
	I the fire he gard it flee:
	‘O what na a lord in a’ Scotland
	Dare marry my Maisdrey?’
66C.18	‘O ’tis but a feeble thought
	To tell the tane and not the tither;
	O ’tis but a feeble thought
	To tell ’tis your mither’s brither.’
66C.19	‘’Tis I wull send to that wadding,
	And I wul follow syne,
	The fitches o the fallow deer
	An the gammons o the swine,
	An the nine hides o the noble cow;
	’Twas slain in season time.
66C.20	‘’Tis I wul send to that wadding
	Ten ton of the red wyne;
	Much more I’ll send to that wadding,
	An I wul follow syne.’
66C.21	When he came in unto the ha,
	Lady Maisdrey she did ween,
	And twenty times he kist her mou
	Before Auld Ingram’s een.
66C.22	Nor to the kirk she wud ne gae,
	Nor til’t she wudn ride,
	Till four and twunty men she gat her before,
	An twunty on ilka side,
	An four and twunty milk-white dows
	To flee aboon her head.
66C.23	A loud laughter gae Lord Wayets
	Mang the mids o his men:
	‘Marry the lady wham they weel,
	A maiden she is nane.’
66C.24	‘O laugh ye at my men, Wayets?
	Or di ye laugh at me?
	Or laugh ye at the beerly bride,
	That’s gane to marry me?’
66C.25	‘I laugh na at your men, uncle,
	Nor yet dive I at thee,
	Bit I laugh at my lands sae braid,
	Sae weel’s I do them see.’
66C.26	Whan ene was cume, and ene-bells rung,
	An a’ man gane to bed,
	The bride bit and the silly bridegroom
	In chambers they were laid.
66C.27	Was na it a fell thing for to see,
	Twa heads lye on a coad,
	Lady Maisdrey like the moten goud,
	Auld Ingram like a toad?
66C.28	He turnd his face unto the stock,
	And sound he fell asleep;
	She turnd her fair face unto the wa,
	An sa’t tears she did weep.
66C.29	It fell about the mark midnight,
	Auld Ingram began to turn him;
	He pat his hands on’s lady’s sides,
	An waly, sair was she murnin.
66C.30	‘What aileth thee, my lady dear?
	Ever alas and wae’s me,
	There is a baube betwixt thy sides!
	O sae sair’s it grieves me.’
66C.31	‘Didn I tell ye that, Auld Ingram,
	Or ye saught me to wed,
	That Lord Wayets, your sister’s son,
	Had been into my bed?’
66C.32	‘O father that bairn on me, Maisdrey,
	O father it on me,
	An ye sall hae a rigland shire
	Your mornin’s gift to bee.’
66C.33	‘O sarbit,’ says the Lady Maisdrey,
	‘That ever the like me befa,
	To father my bairn on Auld Ingram,
	Lord Wayets in my father’s ha!
66C.34	‘O sarbit,’ says the Lady Maisdrey,
	‘That ever the like me betide,
	To father my bairn on Auld Ingram,
	An Lord Wayets beside!’


		Child 66D: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet

66D.1	LORD INGRAM and Childe Viat
	Were both bred in one ha;
	They laid their luves on one ladye,
	And frae her they could na fa.
66D.2	Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisery,
	He courted her frae ha to bower;
	And even sae did Childe Viat,
	Amang the summer flowers.
66D.3	Lord Ingram courted Ladye Maisery,
	He courted her frae bower to ha;
	And even sae did Childe Viat,
	Among the sheets sae sma.
66D.4	Sir Ingram bought her Ladye Maisery
	The steed that paid him well;
	She wads he were ayont the sea,
	Gin she had her true love.
66D.5	Lord Ingram bought her Lady Maisery
	The knives hafted wi steel;
	She wads they were in his heart’s bluid,
	Gin Childe Viat was weel.
66D.6	Lord Ingram bought her Lady Maisery
	The golden knobbed gloves;
	She wads they were ayone the sea,
	Gin she had her true love.
	* * * * *
66D.7	‘There’s two swords in one scabbard,
	They cost me many a pound;
	Take you the best, leave me the worst,
	We’s fight till they be done.’
66D.8	The firsten stroke Lord Ingram gae,
	He wounded Childe Viat nigh;
	The nexten stroke Childe Viat gae,
	Lord Ingram’s head did flie;
	And fifty feet oer a burken buss
	Lord Ingram’s head did flee.
66D.9	There was no mane made for these two lords,
	In bower where they lay slain;
	But all was for this fair ladie,
	In bower where she gaed brain.
	* * * * *
66D.10	‘For one word I would gie for Childe Viat,
	For Lord Ingram I would gie three;
	And it’s a’ for the brave wedding
	That he did to me gie.’


		Child 66E: Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet

66E.1	LORD INGRAM and Childe vyet
	Were baith born in ae bower;
	They fell in love wi ae lady,
	Their honour was but poor.
66E.2	Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet
	Were baith bred in ae ha;
	They laid their love on Lady Maisry,
	The waur did them befa.
66E.3	Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry
	Frae father and frae mother;
	Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry
	Frae sister and frae brother.
66E.4	Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry
	Frae a’ her kith and kin;
	Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry
	But she said nay to him.
66E.5	Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry
	In the garden amo the flowers;
	Childe Vyet courted Lady Maisry
	Amo her ha’s and bowers.
66E.6	Lord Ingram sent to Lady Maisry
	A steed paced fu well;
	She wishes he were ower the sea,
	If Childe Vyet were well.
66E.7	Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry
	Frae her relations a’;
	Childe Vyet courted Lady Maisry
	Amo the sheets sae sma.
66E.8	Lord Ingram bought to Lady Maisry
	The siller knapped gloves;
	She wishd his hands might swell in them,
	Had she her ain true love.
66E.9	Lord Ingram bought to Lady Maisry
	The brands garnishd wi steel;
	She wishd the same might pierce his heart,
	Gin Childe Vyet were weell.
66E.10	Child vyet bought to Lady Maisry
	The fancy ribbons sma;
	She had mair delight in her sma fancy
	Than o Lord Ingram, gowd and a’.
66E.11	Lord Ingram’s gane to her father,
	And thus he did complain:
	‘O am I doomd to die for love,
	And nae be loved again?
66E.12	‘I hae sent to you daughter
	The steed paced fu well;
	She wishes I were ower the sea,
	Gin Childe Vyet were well.
66E.13	‘I hae bought to your daughter
	The siller knapped gloves;
	She wishd my hands might swell in them,
	Had she her ain true love.
66E.14	‘I hae bought to your daughter
	The brands garnishd wi steel;
	She wishd the same might pierce my heart,
	Gin Childe Vyet were weell.
66E.15	‘Childe Vyet bought to your daughter
	The fancy ribbons sma;
	She’s mair delight in her sma fancy
	Nor o me, gowd and a’.’
66E.16	Her father turnd him round about,
	A solemn oath sware he,
	Saying, She shall be the bride this night,
	And you bridegroom shall be.
66E.17	‘O had your tongue, my father dear,
	Let a’ your passion be;
	The reason that I love this man,
	It is unknown to thee.’
66E.18	Sweetly played the merry organs,
	Intill her mother’s bower;
	But still and dum stood Lady Maisry,
	And let the tears down pour.
66E.19	Sweetly played the harp sae fine,
	Intill her fathers ha;
	But still and dum stood Lady Maisry,
	And let tears down fa.
66E.20	Tween Marykirk and her mother’s bower,
	Was a’ clad ower wi gowd,
	For keeping o her snaw-white feet
	Frae treading o the mould.
66E.21	Lord Ingram gaed in at ae church-door,
	Childe Vyet at another,
	And lightly leugh him Childe Vyet
	At Lord Ingram, his brother.
66E.22	‘O laugh ye at my men, brother?
	Or do ye laugh at me?
	Or laugh ye at young Lady Maisry,
	This night my bride’s to be?’
66E.23	‘I laugh na at your men, brother,
	Nor do I laugh at thee;
	But I laugh at the knightless sport
	That I saw wi my ee.
66E.24	‘It is a ring on ae finger,
	A broach on ae breast-bane;
	And if ye kent what’s under that,
	Your love woud soon be dane.’
66E.25	Lord Ingram and his merry young men
	Out ower the plains are gane,
	And pensively walkd him Childe Vyet,
	Him single self alane.
66E.26	When they had eaten and well drunken,
	And a’ men bound for bed,
	Lord Ingram and Lady Maisry
	In ae chamber were laid.
66E.27	He laid his hand upon her breast,
	And thus pronounced he:
	‘There is a bairn within your sides,
	Wha may the father be?
66E.28	‘Wha ever be your bairn’s father,
	Ye will father it on me;
	The fairest castle o Snowdown
	Your morning gift shall be.’
66E.29	‘Wha ever be my bairn’s father,
	I’ll neer father it on thee;
	For better love I my bairn’s father
	’Nor ever I’ll love thee.’
66E.30	Then he’s taen out a trusty brand,
	Laid it between them tway;
	Says, Lye ye there, ye ill woman,
	A maid for me till day.
66E.31	Next morning her father came,
	Well belted wi a brand;
	Then up it starts him Lord Ingram,
	He was an angry man.
66E.32	‘If your daughter had been a gude woman,
	As I thought she had been,
	Cauld iron shoud hae never lien
	The lang night us between.’
66E.33	‘Ohon, alas! my daughter dear,
	What’s this I hear o thee?
	I thought ye was a gude woman
	As in the north countrie.’
66E.34	‘O had your tongue, my father dear,
	Let a’ your sorrows be;
	I never liked Lord Ingram,
	Ye ken ye forced me.’
66E.35	Then in it came him Childe Vyet,
	Well belted wi a brand;
	Then up it raise him Lord Ingram,
	He was an angry man.
66E.36	‘Win up, win up, now Lord Ingram,
	Rise up immediately,
	That you and I the quarrel try,
	Who gains the victory.
66E.37	‘I hae twa brands in ae scabbard,
	That cost me mony pound;
	Take ye the best, gie me the warst,
	And I’ll fight where I stand.’
66E.38	Then up it starts him Childe Vyet,
	Shook back his yellow hair;
	The first an stroke Childe Vyet drew,
	He wounded Ingram sair.
66E.39	Then up it starts him Lord Ingram,
	Shed back his coal-black hair’
	The first an stroke Lord Ingram drew,
	Childe Vyet needed nae mair.
66E.40	Nae meen was made for these twa knights,
	Whan they were lying dead,
	But a’ for her Lady Maisry,
	That gaes in mournfu weed.
66E.41	Says, ‘If I hae been an ill woman,
	Alas and wae is me!
	And if I’ve been an ill woman,
	A gude woman I’ll be!
66E.42	‘Ye’ll take frae me my silk attire,
	Bring me a palmer’s weed,
	And thro the world, for their sakes,
	I’ll gang and beg my bread.
66E.43	‘If I gang a step for Childe Vyet,
	For Lord Ingram I’ll gang three;
	All for the honour that he paid
	At Marykirk to me.
66E.44	‘I’ll gang a step for Childe Vyet,
	For Lord Ingram I’ll gang three;
	It was into my mother’s bower
	Childe Vyet wronged me.’



			Child 67A: Glasgerion

67A.1	GLASGERION was a kings owne sonne,
	And a harper he was good;
	He harped in the kings chamber,
	Where cuppe and candle stoode,
	And soe did hee in the queens chamber,
	Till ladies waxed wood.
67A.2	And then bespake the kings daughter,
	And these words thus sayd shee:
	. . . .
	. . . . .
67A.3	Saide, Strike on, strike on, Glasgerrion,
	Of thy striking doe not blinne;
	There’s neuer a stroke comes ouer thin harpe
	But it glads my hart within.
67A.4	‘Faire might you fall, lady!’ quoth hee;
	‘Who taught you now to speake?
	I haue loued you, lady, seuen yeere;
	My hart I durst neere breake.’
67A.5	‘But come to my bower, my Glasgerryon,
	When all men are att rest;
	As I am a ladie true of my promise,
	Thou shalt bee a welcome guest.’
67A.6	But hom then came Glasgerryon,
	A glad man, Lord, was hee:
	‘And come thou hither, Iacke, my boy,
	Come hither vnto mee.
67A.7	‘For the kings daughter of Normandye,
	Her loue is granted mee,
	And beffore the cocke haue crowen,
	Att her chamber must I bee.’
67A.8	‘But come you hither master,’ quoth hee,
	‘Lay your head downe on this stone;
	For I will waken you, master deere,
	Afore it be time to gone.’
67A.9	But vpp then rose that lither ladd,
	And did on hose and shoone;
	A coller he cast vpon his necke,
	Hee seemed a gentleman.
67A.10	And when he came to that ladies chamber,
	He thrild vpon a pinn;
	The lady was true of her promise,
	Rose vp and lett him in.
67A.11	He did not take the lady gay
	To boulster nor to bedd,
	But down vpon her chamber-flore
	Full soone he hath her layd.
67A.12	He did not kisse that lady gay
	When he came nor when he youd;
	And sore mistrusted that lady gay
	He was of some churl s blood.
67A.13	But home then came that lither ladd,
	And did of his hose and shoone,
	And cast that coller from about his necke;
	He was but a churl s sonne:
	‘Awaken,’ quoth hee, ’My master deere,
	I hold it time to be gone.
67A.14	‘For I haue sadled your horsse, master,
	Well bridled I haue your steed;
	Haue not I serued a good breakfast,
	When time comes I haue need.’
67A.15	But vp then rose good Glasgerryon,
	And did on both hose and shoone,
	And cast a coller about his necke;
	He was a king\es sonne.
67A.16	And when he came to that ladies chamber,
	He thrild vpon a pinn;
	The lady was more then true of promise,
	Rose vp and let him in.
67A.17	Saies, Whether haue you left with me
	Your braclett or your gloue?
	Or are you returned backe againe
	To know more of my loue?’
67A.18	Glasgerryon swore a full great othe,
	By oake and ashe and thorne,
	‘Lady, I was neuer in your chamber
	Sith the time that I was borne.’
67A.19	‘O then it was your litle foote-page
	Falsly hath beguiled me:’
	And then shee pulld forth a litle pen-kniffe,
That	hanged by her knee,
	Says, There shall neuer noe churl s blood
	Spring within my body.
67A.20	But home then went Glasgerryon,
	A woe man, good [Lord], was hee;
	Sayes, Come hither, thou Iacke, my boy,
	Come thou hither to me.
67A.21	Ffor if I had killed a man to-night,
	Iacke, I wold tell it thee;
	But if I haue not killed a man to-night,
	Iacke, thou hast killed three!
67A.22	And he puld out his bright browne sword,
	And dryed it on his sleeue,
	And he smote off that lither ladds head,
	And asked noe man noe leaue.
67A.23	He sett the swords poynt till his brest,
	The pumill till a stone;
	Thorrow that falsenese of that lither ladd
	These three liues werne all gone.


			Child 67B: Glasgerion

67B.1	GLENKINDIE was ance a harper gude,
	He harped to the king;
	And Glenkindie was ance the best harper
	That ever harpd on a string.
67B.2	He’d harpit a fish out o saut water,
	Or water out o a stane,
	Or milk out o a maiden’s breast,
	That bairn had never nane.
67B.3	He’s taen his harp intil his hand,
	He harpit and he sang,
	And ay as he harpit to the king,
	To haud him unthought lang.
67B.4	‘I’ll gie you a robe, Glenkindie,
	A robe o the royal pa,
	Gin ye will harp i the winter’s night
	Afore my nobles a’.’
	* * * * *
67B.5	He’s taen his harp intill his hand,
	He’s harpit them a’ asleep,
	Except it was the young countess,
	That love did waukin keep.
67B.6	And first he has harpit a grave tune,
	And syne he has harpit a gay,
	And mony a sich atween hands
	I wat the lady gae.
67B.7	Says, Whan day is dawen, and cocks hae crawen,
	And wappit their wings sae wide,
	It’s ye may come to my bower-door,
	And streek you by my side.
67B.8	But look that ye tell na Gib, your man,
	For naething that ye dee;
	For, an ye tell him Gib, your man,
	He’ll beguile baith you and me.
67B.9	He’s taen his harp intill his hand,
	He harpit and he sang,
	And he is hame to Gib, his man,
	As fast as he could gang.
67B.10	‘O mith I tell you, Gib, my man,
	Gin I a man had slain?’
	‘O that ye micht, my gude master,
	Altho ye had slain ten.’
67B.11	‘Then tak ye tent now, Gib, my man,
	My bidden for to dee;
	And but an ye wauken me in time,
	Ye sall be hangit hie.
67B.12	‘Whan day has dawen, and cocks hae crawen,
	And wappit their wings sae wide,
	I’m bidden gang till yon lady’s bower,
	And streek me by her side.’
67B.13	‘Gae hame to your bed, my good master;
	Ye’ve waukit, I fear, oer lang;
	For I’ll wauken you in as good time
	As ony cock i the land.’
67B.14	He’s taen his harp intill his hand,
	He harpit and he sang,
	Until he harpit his master asleep,
	Syne fast awa did gang.
67B.15	And he is till that lady’s bower,
	As fast as he could rin;
	When he cam till that lady’s bower,
	He chappit at the chin.
67B.16	‘O wha is this,’ says that lady,
	‘That opens nae and comes in?’
	‘It’s I, Glenkindie, your ain true-love,
	O open and lat me in!’
67B.17	She kent he was nae gentle knicht
	That she had latten in,
	For neither when he gaed nor cam,
	Kist he her cheek or chin.
67B.18	He neither kist her when he cam,
	Nor clappit her when he gaed,
	And in and at her bower window,
	The moon shone like the gleed.
67B.19	‘O ragged is your hose, Glenkindie,
	And riven is your sheen,
	And reaveld is your yellow hair,
	That I saw late yestreen.’
67B.20	‘The stockings they are Gib, my man’s,
	They came first to my hand,
	And this is Gib, my man’s shoon,
	At my bed-feet they stand;
	I’ve reavelld a’ my yellow hair
	Coming against the wind.’
67B.21	He’s taen the harp intill his hand,
	He harpit and he sang,
	Until he cam to his master,
	As fast as he could gang.
67B.22	‘Won up, won up, my good master,
	I fear ye sleep oer lang;
	There’s nae a cock in a’ the land
	But was wappit his wings and crawn.’
67B.23	Glenkindie’s tane his harp in hand,
	He harpit and he sang,
	And he has reachd the lady’s bower
	Afore that eer he blan.
67B.24	When he cam to the lady’s bower,
	He chappit at the chin:
	‘O wha is that at my bower-door,
	That opens na and comes in?’
	‘It’s I, Glenkindie, your ain true-love,
	And in I canna win.’
	* * * * *
67B.25	‘Forbid it, forbid it,’ says that lady,
	‘That ever sic shame betide,
	That I should first be a wild loon’s lass,
	And than a young knight’s bride.’
67B.26	He’s taen his harp intill his hand,
	He harpit and he sang,
	And he is hame to Gib, his man,
	As fast as he could gang.
67B.27	‘Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man,
	Till I pay you your fee;
	Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man,
	Weel payit sall ye be.’
67B.28	And he has taen him Gib, his man,
	And he has hangd him hie,
	And he’s hangit him oer his ain yate,
	As high as high could be.
67B.29	There was nae pity for that lady,
	For she lay cald and dead,
	But a’ was for him, Glenkindie,
	In bower he must go mad.


			Child 67C: Glasgerion

67C.1	GLENKINNIE was as good a harper
	As ever harpet tone;
	He harpet fish out o the sea-flood,
	And water out of a dry loan,
	And milk out o the maiden’s breast
	That bairn had never neen.
67C.2	He harpit i the king’s palace,
	He harpit them a’ asleep,
	Unless it were Burd Bell alone,
	And she stud on her feet.
67C.3	‘Ye will do ye home, Glenkinnie,
	And ye will take a sleep,
	And ye will come to my bower-door
	Before the cock’s crowing.’
67C.4	He’s taen out his milk-white steed,
	And fast away rode he,
	Till he came to his ain castle,
	Where gold glanced never so hie.
67C.5	‘Might I tell ye, Jeck, my man,
	Gin I had slain a man?’
	‘Deed might [ye], my good master,
	Altho ye had slain ten.’
67C.6	‘I’ve faun in love wi a gay ladie,
	She’s daughter to the Queen,
	And I maun be at her bower-door
	Before the cock’s crowing.’
67C.7	He’s taen out his master’s steed,
	And fast awa rode he,
	Until he cam to Burd Bell’s door,
	Where gold glanced never so hie.
67C.8	When he came to Burd Bell’s door,
	He tirled at the pin,
	And up she rose, away she goes,
	To let Glenkinnie in.
67C.9	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	That I combed out yestreen.
	* * * * *
67C.10	She looked out at a shot-window,
	Atween her and the meen:
	‘There is twa lovers beguiled the night,
	And I fear I am ane.
67C.11	‘Ye shall na hae to say, Glenkindie,
	When you sit at the wine,
	That once you loved a queen’s daughter,
	And she was your footman’s quean.’
	* * * * *



		  Child 68A: Young Hunting

68A.1	O LADY, rock never your young son young
	One hour longer for me,
	For I have a sweetheart in Garlick’s Wells
	I love thrice better than thee.
68A.2	‘The very sols of my love’s feet
	Is whiter then thy face:’
	‘But nevertheless na, Young Hunting,
	Ye’l stay wi me all night.’
68A.3	She has birld in him Young Hunting
	The good ale and the beer,
	Till he was as fou drunken
	As any wild-wood steer.
68A.4	She has birld in him Young Hunting
	The good ale and the wine,
	Till he was as fou drunken
	As any wild-wood swine.
68A.5	Up she has tain him Young Hunting,
	And she has had him to her bed,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
68A.6	And she has minded her on a little penknife,
	That hangs low down by her gare,
	And she has gin him Young Hunting
	A deep wound and a sare.
68A.7	Out an spake the bonny bird,
	That flew abon her head:
	‘Lady, keep well thy green clothing
	Fra that good lord’s blood.’
68A.8	‘O better I’ll keep my green clothing
	Fra that good lord’s blood
	Nor thou can keep thy flattering toung,
	That flatters in thy head.
68A.9	‘Light down, light down, my bonny bird,
	Light down upon my hand,
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
68A.10	‘O siller, O siller shall be thy hire,
	An goud shall be thy fee,
	An every month into the year,
	Thy cage shall changed be.’
68A.11	‘I winna light down, I shanna light down,
	I winna light on thy hand;
	For soon, soon wad ye do to me
	As ye done to Young Hunting.’
68A.12	She has booted an spird him Young Hunting
	As he had been gan to ride,
	A hunting-horn about his neck,
	An the sharp sourd by his side.
68A.13	And she has had him to yon wan water,
	For a’ man calls it Clyde,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
68A.14	The deepest pot intill it all
	She has puten Young Hunting in;
	A green truff upon his breast,
	To hold that good lord down.
68A.15	It fell once upon a day
	The king was going to ride,
	And he sent for him Young Hunting,
	To ride on his right side.
68A.16	She has turnd her right and round about,
	She sware now by the corn,
	‘I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,
	Sen yesterday at morn.’
68A.17	She has turnd her right and round about,
	She swear now by the moon,
	‘I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,
	Sen yesterday at noon.
68A.18	‘It fears me sair in Clyde Water
	That he is drownd therein:’
	O thay ha sent for the king’s duckers,
	To duck for Young Hunting.
68A.19	They ducked in at the tae water-bank,
	Thay ducked out at the tither:
	‘We’ll duck no more for Young Hunting,
	All tho he wear our brother.’
68A.20	Out an spake the bonny bird,
	That flew abon their heads,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
68A.21	‘O he’s na drownd in Clyde Water,
	He is slain and put therein;
	The lady that lives in yon castil
	Slew him and put him in.
68A.22	‘Leave aff your ducking on the day,
	And duck upon the night;
	Whear ever that sakeless knight lys slain,
	The candels will shine bright.’
68A.23	Thay left off their ducking o the day,
	And ducked upon the night,
	And where that sakeless knight lay slain,
	The candles shone full bright.
68A.24	The deepest pot intill it a’
	Thay got Young Hunting in;
	A green turff upon his brest,
	To hold that good lord down.
68A.25	O thay ha sent aff men to the wood
	To hew down baith thorn an fern,
	That they might get a great bonefire
	To burn that lady in.
	‘Put na the wyte on me,’ she says,
	‘It was her May Catheren.’
68A.26	Whan thay had tane her May Catheren,
	In the bonefire set her in;
	It wad na take upon her cheeks,
	Nor take upon her chin,
	Nor yet upon her yallow hair,
	To healle the deadly sin.
68A.27	Out they hae tain her May Catheren,
	And they hay put that lady in;
	O it took upon her cheek, her cheek,
	An it took upon her chin,
	An it took on her fair body,
	She burnt like hoky-gren.


		  Child 68B: Young Hunting

68B.1	YOUNG REDIN\R’\rS til the huntin gane,
	Wi therty lords and three;
	And he has til his true-love gane,
	As fast as he could hie.
68B.2	‘Ye’re welcome here, my Young Redin,
	For coal and candle-licht;
	And sae are ye, my Young Redin,
	To bide wi me the nicht.’
68B.3	‘I thank ye for your licht, ladie,
	Sae do I for your coal;
	But there’s thrice as fair a ladie as thee
	Meets me at Brandie’s Well.’
68B.4	Whan they war at their supper set,
	And merrily drinking wine,
	This ladie has tane a sair sickness,
	And til her bed has gane.
68B.5	Young Redin he has followed her,
	And a dowie man was he;
	He fund his true-love in her bouer,
	And the tear was in her ee.
68B.6	Whan he was in her arms laid,
	And gieing her kisses sweet,
	Then out she’s tane a little penknife,
	And woundid him sae deep.
68B.7	‘O lang, lang is the winter nicht,
	And slawly daws the day;
	There is a slain knicht in my bouer,
	And I wish he war away.’
68B.8	Then up bespak her bouer-woman,
	And she spak ae wi spite:
	‘An there be a slain knicht in your bouer,
	It’s yoursell that has the wyte.’
68B.9	‘O heal this deed on me, Meggy,
	O heal this deed on me;
	The silks that war shapen for me gen Pasche,
	They sall be sewed for thee.’
68B.10	‘O I hae heald on my mistress
	A twalmonth and a day,
	And I hae heald on my mistress
	Mair than I can say.’
	* * * * *
68B.11	They’ve booted him, and they’ve spurred him,
	As he was wont to ride,
	A huntin-horn round his neck,
	And a sharp sword by his side;
	In the deepest place o Clyde’s Water,
	It’s there they’ve made his bed.
68B.12	Sine up bespak the wylie parrot,
	As he sat on the tree:
	‘And hae ye killd him Young Redin,
	Wha neer had love but thee?’
68B.13	‘Come doun, come doun, ye wylie parrot,
	Come doun into my hand;
	Your cage sall be o the beaten gowd,
	Whan now it’s but the wand.’
68B.14	‘I winna come doun, I canna come doun,
	I winna come doun to thee;
	For as ye’ve dune to Young Redin,
	Ye’ll do the like to me;
	Ye’ll thraw my head aff my hause-bane,
	And throw me in the sea.’
68B.15	O there cam seekin Young Redin
	Mony a lord and knicht,
	And there cam seekin Young Redin
	Mony a ladie bricht.
68B.16	And they’ve til his true-love gane,
	Thinking he was wi her;
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
68B.17	‘I hae na seen him Young Redin
	Sin yesterday at noon;
	He turnd his stately steed about,
	And hied him throw the toun.
68B.18	‘But ye’ll seek Clyde’s Water up and doun,
	Ye’ll seek it out and in;
	I hae na seen him Young Redin
	Sin yesterday at noon.’
68B.19	Then up bespak Young Redin’s mither,
	And a dowie woman was scho:
	‘There’s na a place in Clyde’s Water
	But my son wad gae throw.’
68B.20	They’ve sought Clyde’s Water up and doun,
	They’ve sought it out and in,
	And the deepest place in Clyde’s Water
	They’ve fund Young Redin in.
68B.21	O white, white war his wounds washen,
	As white as a linen clout;
	But as the traitor she cam near,
	His wounds they gushit out.
68B.22	‘It’s surely been my bouer-woman,
	O ill may her betide!
	I neer wad slain him Young Redin,
	And thrown him in the Clyde.’
68B.23	Then they’ve made a big bane-fire,
	The bouer-woman to brin;
	It tuke not on her cheek, her cheek,
	It tuke not on her chin,
	But it tuke on the cruel hands
	That pat Young Redin in.
68B.24	Then They’ve tane out the bouer-woman,
	And pat the ladie in;
	It tuke na on her cheek, her cheek,
	It tuke na on her chin,
	But it tuke on the fause, fause arms
	That Young Redin lay in.


		  Child 68C: Young Hunting

68C.1	The ladie stude in her bour-door,
	In her bour-door as she stude,
	She thocht she heard a bridle ring,
	That did her bodie gude.
68C.2	She thocht it had been her father dear,
	Come ridin owre the sand;
	But it was her true-love Riedan,
	Come hiean to her hand.
68C.3	‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, Young Riedan,’ she said,
	‘To coal an cannel-licht;
	You’re welcome, you’re welcome, Young Riedan,
	To sleep in my bour this nicht.’
68C.4	‘I thank you for your coal, madame,
	An for your cannel tae;
	There’s a fairer maid at Clyde’s Water,
	I love better than you.’
68C.5	‘A fairer maid than me, Riedan?
	A fairer maid than me?
	A fairer maid than ten o me
	You shurely neer did see.’
68C.6	He leant him owre his saddle-bow,
	To gie her a kiss sae sweet;
	She keppit him on a little penknife,
	An gae him a wound sae deep.
68C.7	‘O hide! oh hide! my bourswoman,
	Oh hide this deed on me!
	An the silks that waur shappit for me at Yule
	At Pasch sall be sewed for thee.’
68C.8	They saidled Young Riedan, they bridled Young Riedan,
	The way he was wont to ride;
	Wi a huntin-horn aboot his neck,
	An a sharp sword by his side.
68C.9	An they are on to Clyde’s Water,
	An they rade it up an doon,
	An the deepest linn in a’ Clyde’s Water
	They flang him Young Riedan [in].
68C.10	‘Lie you there, you Young Riedan,
	Your bed it is fu wan;
	The [maid] you hae at Clyde’s Water,
	For you she will think lang.’
68C.11	Up it spak the wily bird,
	As it sat on the tree:
	‘Oh wae betide you, ill woman,
	An an ill death may you dee!
	For he had neer anither love,
	Anither love but thee.’
68C.12	‘Come doon, come doon, my pretty parrot,
	An pickle wheat aff my glue;
	An your cage sall be o the beaten goud,
	Whan it’s of the willow tree.’
68C.13	‘I winna come doon, I sanna come doon,
	To siccan a traitor as thee:
	For as you did to Young Riedan,
	Sae wald you do to mee.’
68C.14	Come doon, come doon, my pretty parrot,
	An pickle wheat aff my hand;
	An your cage sall be o the beaten goud,
	Whan it’s o the willow wand.’
68C.15	‘I winna come doon, I sanna come doon,
	To siccan a traitor as thee;
	You wald thraw my head aff my hase-bane,
	An fling it in the sea.’
68C.16	It fell upon a Lammas-tide
	The king’s court cam ridin bye:
	‘Oh whare is it him Young Riedan?
	It’s fain I wald him see.’
68C.17	‘Oh I hae no seen Young Riedan
	Sin three lang weeks the morn;
	It bodes me sair, and drieds me mair,
	Clyde’s Water’s him forlorn.’
68C.18	Up it spak the wily bird,
	As it sat on the tree;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
68C.19	‘Leave aff, leave aff your day-seekin,
	An ye maun seek by nicht;
	Aboon the place Young Riedan lies,
	The cannels burn bricht.’
68C.20	They gae up their day-seekin,
	An they did seek by nicht;
	An ower the place Young Riedan lay,
	The cannels burnt bricht.
68C.21	The firsten grip his mother got
	Was o his yellow hair;
	An was na that a dowie grip,
	To get her ae son there!
68C.22	The nexten grip his mother got
	Was o his milk-white hand;
	An wasna that a dowie grip,
	To bring sae far to land!
68C.23	White, white waur his wounds washen,
	As white as ony lawn;
	But sune’s the traitor stude afore,
	Then oot the red blude sprang.
	* * * * *
68C.24	Fire wadna tak on her bourswoman,
	Niether on cheek nor chin;
	But it took fast on thae twa hands
	That flang young Riedan in.
68C.25	‘Come oot, come oot, my bourswoman,
	Come oot, lat me win in;
	For as I did the deed mysell,
	Sae man I drie the pine.’


		  Child 68D: Young Hunting

68D.1	EARL RICHARD has a hunting gone,
	As fast as he can ride;
	He’s a hunting-horn about his neck,
	And a broadsword by his side.
68D.2	‘Licht down, licht down, Earl Richard,’ she says,
	‘O licht down and come in,
	And thou’ll get cheer and charcoal clear,
	And torches for to burn.’
68D.3	‘I winna licht, I canna licht,
	I winna licht at all;
	A fairer lady then ten of thee
	Meets me at Richard’s Wall.’
68D.4	He louted owre his saddle-bow,
	And for to kiss her sweet,
	But little thocht o that penknife
	Wherewith she wound him deep.
68D.5	‘Why wounds thou me so deep, lady?
	Why stabs thou me so sore?
	There’s not a lord like Earl Richard
	Could love false woman more.’
68D.6	She called upon her waiting-maid,
	Long before it was day:
	‘I have a dead man in my bower,
	I wish he were away.’
68D.7	‘Keep ye your bower, my lily-flower,
	Keep it free of all men’s blood;’
	‘Oh I will keep it een as weel
	As you or any maid.
68D.8	‘But siller will be thy wage,’ she says,
	‘And gold will be thy fee,
	And I mysell will gang alang
	And bear thee companye.’
68D.9	They booted him, and spurred him,
	As he was wont to ride,
	And they’re awa to Lorn’s Water,
	To Lorn’s Water so wide.
68D.10	They turned down his yellow hair,
	Turnd up his milk-white feet:
	‘Lye thou there, Earl Richard,’ she said,
	‘Till the blood seep from thy bane;
	That fairer maid than ten of me
	Will look lang or thou come hame.’
68D.11	As they were coming hame again,
	Upon the road so hie,
	There they spy’d a small pyet,
	Was sitting on a tree.
68D.12	‘Where has thou been, fair lady?’ it says,
	‘Whare has thou been so soon?
	Or what did thou wi Earl Richard,
	Was late wi thee yestreen?’
68D.13	‘Come down, come down, my wee pyet;
	An thou’ll come to my knee,
	I have a cage of beaten gold,
	And I’ll bestow ’t on thee.’
68D.14	‘Keep thou thy cage of beaten gold,
	And I will keep my tree;
	For as thou did wi Earl Richard,
	So wad thou do wi me;
	Thou wad thraw the wee head aff my bouk,
	And drown me in the sea.’
68D.15	‘Come down, come down, my wee pyet;
	An thou’ll come to my hand,
	I have a cage of beaten gold,
	And thou’s be put therein.’
68D.16	‘Keep thou thy cage o beaten gold,
	And I will keep my tree;
	For as thou did wi Earl Richard,
	So would thou do wi me.’
68D.17	‘Oh an I had my bow bendit,
	And set unto my knee,
	I wad shoot this wee pyet
	Sits gabbling on the tree.’
68D.18	‘Before thou get thy bow bendit,
	And set unto thy knee,
	I’ll be at Earl Richard’s father,
	Telling ill tales on thee.’
68D.19	As they were coming hame again,
	Upon the road so bricht,
	There they saw Earl Richard’s father,
	Coming marching in their sicht.
68D.20	‘Whare has thou been, fair lady?’ he says,
	‘Whare has thou been back sae sune?
	O what did thou wi my auld son,
	Was late wi thee yestreen?’
68D.21	She did swear by stars o licht,
	And grass-green growing corn,
	That she had not seen Earl Richard’s face
	Since Saturday at morn;
	‘But in Lorn’s Water, indeed,’ she says,
	‘I fear his days are done.’
68D.22	‘There was not a ford in Lorn’s Water
	But he could ride it weel;
	And what did thou wi my auld son,
	That went with thee afield?’
	* * * * *


		  Child 68E: Young Hunting

68E.1	LORD WILLIAM was the bravest knight
	That dwalt in fair Scotland,
	And, though renowned in France and Spain,
	Fell by a ladie’s hand.
68E.2	As she was walking maid alone,
	Down by yon shady wood,
	She heard a smit o bridle reins,
	She wishd might be for good.
68E.3	‘Come to my arms, my dear Willie,
	You’re welcome hame to me;
	To best o chear and charcoal red,
	And candle burnin free.’
68E.4	‘I winna light, I darena light,
	Nor come to your arms at a’;
	A fairer maid than ten o you
	I’ll meet at Castle-law.’
68E.5	‘A fairer maid than me, Willie?
	A fairer maid than me?
	A fairer maid than ten o me
	Your eyes did never see.’
68E.6	He louted owr his saddle-lap
	To kiss here ere they part,
	And wi a little keen bodkin,
	She pierced him to the heart.
68E.7	‘Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,
	As fast as ye can dree;
	Your bonny lass at Castle-law
	Will weary you to see.’
68E.8	Out up then spake a bonny bird,
	Sat high upon a tree:
	‘How could you kill that noble lord?
	He came to marry thee.’
68E.9	‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
	And eat bread aff my hand;
	Your cage shall be of wiry goud,
	Whar now it’s but the wand.’
68E.10	‘Keep ye your cage o goud, lady,
	And I will keep my tree;
	As ye hae done to Lord William,
	Sae wad ye do to me.’
68E.11	She set her foot on her door-step,
	A bonny marble stane,
	And carried him to her chamber,
	Oer him to make her mane.
68E.12	And she has kept that good lord’s corpse
	Three quarters of a year,
	Until that word began to spread;
	Then she began to fear.
68E.13	Then she cryed on her waiting-maid,
	Ay ready at her ca:
	‘There is a knight into my bower,
	’Tis time he were awa.’
68E.14	The ane has taen him by the head,
	The ither by the feet,
	And thrown him in the wan water,
	That ran baith wide and deep.
68E.15	‘Look back, look back, now, lady fair,
	On him that loed ye weel;
	A better man than that blue corpse
	Neer drew a sword of steel.’


		  Child 68F: Young Hunting

68F.1	EARL RICHARD is a hunting gone,
	As fast as he can ride,
	His hunting-horn hung about his neck,
	And a small sword by his side.
68F.2	When he came to my lady’s gate
	He tirled at the pin,
	And wha was sae ready as the lady hersell
	To open and let him in.
68F.3	‘O light, O light, Earl Richard,’ she says,
	‘O light and stay a’ night;
	You shall have cheer wi charcoal clear,
	And candles burning bright.’
68F.4	‘I will not light, I cannot light,
	I cannot light at all;
	A fairer lady than ten of thee
	Is waiting at Richard’s Wall.’
68F.5	He stooped from his milk-white steed,
	To kiss her rosy cheek;
	She had a pen-knife in her hand,
	And wounded him so deep.
68F.6	‘O lie ye there, Earl Richard,’ she says,
	‘O lie ye there till morn;
	A fairer lady than ten of me
	Will think lang of your coming home.’
68F.7	She called her servants ane by ane,
	She called them twa by twa:
	‘I have got a dead man in my bower,
	I wish he were awa.’
68F.8	The one has taen [him] by the hand,
	And the other by the feet,
	And they’ve thrown him in a deep draw-well,
	Full fifty fathom deep.
68F.9	Then up bespake a little bird,
	That sat upon a tree:
	‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye false lady,
	And pay your maids their fee.’
68F.10	‘Come down, come down, my pretty bird,
	That sits upon the tree;
	I have a cage of beaten gold,
	I’ll gie it unto thee.’
68F.11	‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,
	And pay your maids their fee;
	As ye have done to Earl Richard,
	Sae wud ye do to me.’
68F.12	‘If I had an arrow in my hand,
	And a bow bent on a string,
	I’d shoot a dart at thy proud heart,
	Amang the leaves sae green.’


		  Child 68G: Young Hunting

68G.1	SHE has calld to her her bower-maidens,
	She has calld them one by one:
	‘There is a dead man in my bower,
	I wish that he was gone.’
68G.2	They have booted him, and spurred him,
	As he was wont to ride,
	A hunting-horn around his waist,
	A sharp sword by his side.
68G.3	Then up and spake a bonie bird,
	That sat upon the tree:
	‘What hae ye done wi Earl Richard?
	Ye was his gay lady.’
68G.4	‘Cum down, cum down, my bonie bird,
	Cum sit upon my hand;
	And ye sall hae a cage o the gowd,
	Where ye hae but the wand.’
68G.5	‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
	Nae ill woman for me;
	What ye hae done to Earl Richard,
	Sae wad ye do to mee.’
	* * * * *
68G.6	‘O there’s a bird intill your bowir
	That sings sae sad and sweet;
	O there’s a bird intill your bour
	Kept me frae my nicht’s sleep.’
	* * * * *
68G.7	And she sware by the grass sae greene,
	Sae did she by the corn,
	That she had not seen Earl Richard
	Sen yesterday at morn.
	* * * * *


		  Child 68H: Young Hunting

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


		  Child 68I: Young Hunting

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


		  Child 68J: Young Hunting

68J.1	‘O lady, rock never your young son young
	One hour langer for me;
	For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells
	I love far better than thee.
68J.2	‘The very sole o that ladye’s foot
	Than thy face is far mair white:’
	‘But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard,
	Ye will bide in my bower a’ night?’
68J.3	She birled him wi the ale and wine,
	As they sat down to sup:
	A living man he laid him down,
	But I wot he neer rose up.
68J.4	Then up and spake the popinjay,
	That flew aboun her head:
	‘Lady, keep weel your green cleiding
	Frae gude Erl Richard’s bleid.’
68J.5	‘O better I’ll keep my green cleiding
	Frae gude Erl Richard’s bleid,
	Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung,
	That trattles in thy head.’
68J.6	She has calld upon her bower-maidens,
	She has calld them ane by ane:
	‘There lies a deid man in my bowr,
	I wish that he were gane.’
68J.7	They hae booted him, and spurred him,
	As he was wont to ride,
	A hunting-horn tied round his waist,
	A sharp sword by his side;
	And they hae had him to the wan water,
	For a’ men call it Clyde.
68J.8	Then up and spake the popinjay,
	That sat upon the tree:
	‘What hae ye down wi Erl Richard?
	Ye were his gaye ladye.’
68J.9	‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
	And sit upon my hand;
	And thou sall hae a cage o gowd,
	Where thou hast but the wand.’
68J.10	‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
	Nae cage o gowd for me;
	As ye hae dune to Erl Richard,
	Sae wad ye do to me.’
68J.11	She hadna crossd a rigg o land,
	A rigg but barely ane,
	When she met wi his auld father,
	Came riding all alane.
68J.12	‘Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair,
	Where hae ye been sae late?
	We hae been seeking Erl Richard,
	But him we canna get.’
68J.13	‘Erl Richard kens a’ the fords in Clyde,
	He’ll ride them ane by ane;
	And though the night was neer sae mirk,
	Erl Richard will be hame.’
68J.14	O it fell anes upon a day
	The king was boun to ride,
	And he has mist him Erl Richard,
	Should hae ridden on his right side.
68J.15	The ladye turnd her round about,
	Wi mickle mournfu din:
	‘It fears me sair o Clyde water,
	That he is drownd therein.’
68J.16	‘Gar douk, gar douk,’ the king he cried,
	‘Gar douk for gold and fee;
	O wha will douk for Erl Richard’s sake,
	Or wha will douk for me?’
68J.17	They douked in at ae weil-heid,
	And out aye at the other:
	‘We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard,
	Altho he were our brother.’
68J.18	It fell that in that ladye’s castle
	The king was boun to bed,
	And up and spake the popinjay,
	That flew abune his head.
68J.19	‘Leave aff your douking on the day,
	And douk upon the night;
	And wherever that sackless knight lies slain,
	The candles will burn bright.’
68J.20	‘O there’s a bird within this bower,
	That sings baith sad and sweet;
	O there’s a bird within your bower
	Keeps me frae my night’s sleep.’
68J.21	They left the douking on the day,
	And douked upon the night,
	And where that sackless knight lay slain,
	The candles burned bright.
68J.22	The deepest pot in a’ the linn
	They fand Erl Richard in;
	A green turf tyed across his breast,
	To keep that gude lord down.
68J.23	Then up and spake the king himsell,
	When he saw the deadly wound,
	‘O wha has slain my right-hand man,
	That held my hawk and hound?’
68J.24	Then up and spake the popinjay,
	Says, What needs a’ this din?
	It was his light lemman took his life,
	And hided him in the linn.
68J.25	She swore her by the grass sae grene,
	Sae did she by the corn,
	She had na seen him Erl Richard
	Since Moninday at morn.
68J.26	‘Put na the wyte on me,’ she said,
	‘It was my may, Catherine:’
	Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,
	To burn that maiden in.
68J.27	It wadna take upon her cheik,
	Nor yet upon her chin,
	Nor yet upon her yellow hair,
	To cleanse the deadly sin.
68J.28	The maiden touchd the clay-cauld corpse,
	A drap it never bled;
	The ladye laid her hand on him,
	And soon the ground was red.
68J.29	Out they hae ta’en her May Catherine,
	And put her mistress in;
	The flame tuik fast upon her cheik,
	Tuik fast upon her chin,
	Tuik fast upon her fair bodye,
	She burnd like hollins grene.


		  Child 68K: Young Hunting

68K.1	LADY MAISRY forth from her bower came,
	And stood on her tower-head;
	She thought she heard a bridle ring,
	The sound did her heart guid.
68K.2	She thought it was her first true-love,
	Whom she loved ance in time;
	But it was her new love, Hunting,
	Come frae the hunting o the hyn.
68K.3	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,
	God make you safe and free;
	I’m come to take my last farewell,
	And pay my last visit to thee.’
68K.4	‘O stay, O stay then, Young Hunting,
	O stay with me this night;
	Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear,
	And candles burning bright.’
68K.5	‘Have no more cheer, you lady fair,
	An hour langer for me;
	I have a lady in Garmouth town
	I love better than thee.’
68K.6	‘O if your love be changed, my love,
	Since better canno be,
	Nevertheless, for auld lang syne,
	Ye’ll stay this night wi me.
68K.7	‘Silver, silver shall be your wage,
	And gowd shall be your fee,
	And nine times nine into the year
	Your weed shall changed be.
68K.8	‘Will ye gae to the cards or dice,
	Or to a tavern fine?
	Or will ye gae to a table forebye,
	And birl baith beer and wine?’
68K.9	‘I winna gang to the cards nor dice,
	Nor to a tavern fine;
	But I will gang to a table forebye,
	And birl baith beer and wine.’
68K.10	Then she has drawn for Young Hunting
	The beer but and the wine,
	Till she got him as deadly drunk
	As ony unhallowed swine.
68K.11	Then she’s taen out a trusty brand,
	That hang below her gare,
	Then she’s wounded him Young Hunting,
	A deep wound and a sair.
68K.12	Then out it speaks her comrade,
	Being in the companie:
	‘Alas! this deed that ye hae done
	Will ruin baith you and me.’
68K.13	‘Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,
	Heal well this deed on me,
	The robes that were shapen for my bodie,
	They shall be sewed for thee.’
68K.14	‘Tho I woud heal it never sae well,
	And never sae well,’ said she,
	‘There is a God above us baith
	That can baith hear and see.’
68K.15	They booted him, and spurred him,
	As he’d been gaun to ride,
	A hunting-horn about his neck,
	A sharp sword by his side.
68K.16	And they rode on, and farther on,
	All the lang summer’s tide,
	Until they came to wan water,
	Where a’ man ca’s it Clyde.
68K.17	And the deepest pot in Clyde’s water,
	And there they flang him in,
	And put a turf on his breast-bane,
	To had Young Hunting down.
68K.18	O out it speaks a little wee bird,
	As she sat on the brier:
	‘Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry,
	And pay your maiden’s hire.’
68K.19	‘O I will pay my maiden’s hire,
	And hire I’ll gie to thee;
	If ye’ll conceal this fatal deed,
	Ye’s hae gowd for your fee.’
68K.20	Then out it speaks a bonny bird,
	That flew aboon their head:
	‘Keep well, keep well your green claithing
	Frae ae drap o his bluid.’
68K.21	‘O I’ll keep well my green claithing
	Frae ae drop o his bluid,
	Better than I’ll do your flattering tongue,
	That flutters in your head.
68K.22	‘Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
	Light down upon my hand;
	For ae gowd feather that’s in your wing,
	I woud gie a’ my land.’
68K.23	‘How shall I come down, how can I come down,
	How shall I come down to thee?
	The things ye said to Young Hunting,
	The same ye’re saying to me.’
68K.24	But it fell out on that same day
	The king was going to ride,
	And he calld for him Young Hunting,
	For to ride by his side.
68K.25	Then out it speaks the little young son,
	Sat on the nurse’s knee:
	‘It fears me sair,’ said that young babe,
	‘He’s in bower wi yon ladie.’
68K.26	Then they hae calld her Lady Katharine,
	And she sware by the thorn
	That she saw not him Young Hunting
	Sin yesterday at morn.
68K.27	Then they hae calld her Lady Maisry,
	And she sware by the moon
	That she saw not him Young Hunting
	Sin yesterday at noon.
68K.28	‘He was playing him at the Clyde’s Water,
	Perhaps he has fa’en in:’
	The king he calld his divers all,
	To dive for his young son.
68K.29	They div’d in thro the wan burn-bank,
	Sae did they outthro the other:
	‘We’ll dive nae mair,’ said these young men,
	‘Suppose he were our brother.’
68K.30	Then out it spake a little bird,
	That flew aboon their head:
	‘Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,
	For there he lies indeed.
68K.31	‘But ye’ll leave aff your day diving,
	And ye’ll dive in the night;
	The pot where Young Hunting lies in,
	The candles they’ll burn bright.
68K.32	‘There are twa ladies in yon bower,
	And even in yon ha,
	And they hae killd him Young Hunting,
	And casten him awa.
68K.33	‘They booted him, and spurred him,
	As he’d been gaun to ride,
	A hunting-horn tied round his neck,
	A sharp sword by his side
68K.34	‘The deepest pot o Clyde’s Water,
	There they flang him in,
	Laid a turf on his breast-bane,
	To had Young Hunting down.’
68K.35	Now they left aff their day diving,
	And they dived on the night;
	The pot that Young Hunting lay in,
	The candles were burning bright.
68K.36	The king he calld his hewers all,
	To hew down wood and thorn,
	For to put up a strong bale-fire,
	These ladies for to burn.
68K.37	And they hae taen her Lady Katharine,
	And they hae pitten her in;
	But it wadna light upon her cheek,
	Nor woud it on her chin,
	But sang the points o her yellow hair,
	For healing the deadly sin.
68K.38	Then they hae taen her Lady Maisry,
	And they hae put her in:
	First it lighted on her cheek,
	And syne upon her chin,
	And sang the points o her yellow hair,
	And she burnt like keckle-pin.



		  Child 69A: Clerk Sanders

69A.1	CLARK SANDERS and May Margret
	Walkt ower yon graveld green,
	And sad and heavy was the love,
	I wat, it fell this twa between.
69A.2	‘A bed, a bed,’ Clark Sanders said,
	‘A bed, a bed for you and I;’
	‘Fye no, fye no,’ the lady said,
	‘Until the day we married be.
69A.3	‘For in it will come my seven brothers,
	And a’ their torches burning bright;
	They’ll say, We hae but ae sister,
	And here her lying wi a knight.’
69A.4	‘Ye’l take the sourde fray my scabbord,
	And lowly, lowly lift the gin,
	And you may say, your oth to save,
	You never let Clark Sanders in.
69A.5	‘Yele take a napken in your hand,
	And ye’l ty up baith your een,
	An ye may say, your oth to save,
	That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen.
69A.6	‘Yele take me in your armes twa,
	Yele carrey me ben into your bed,
	And ye may say, your oth to save,
	In your bower-floor I never tread.’
69A.7	She has taen the sourde fray his scabbord,
	And lowly, lowly lifted the gin;
	She was to swear, her oth to save,
	She never let Clerk Sanders in.
69A.8	She has tain a napkin in her hand,
	And she ty’d up baith her eeen;
	She was to swear, her oth to save,
	She saw na him sene late yestreen.
69A.9	She has taen him in her armes twa,
	And carried him ben into her bed;
	She was to swear, her oth to save,
	He never in her bower-floor tread.
69A.10	In and came her seven brothers,
	And all their torches burning bright;
	Says thay, We hae but ae sister,
	And see there her lying wi a knight.
69A.11	Out and speaks the first of them,
	‘A wat they hay been lovers dear;’
	Out and speaks the next of them,
	‘They hay been in love this many a year.’
69A.12	Out an speaks the third of them,
	‘It wear great sin this twa to twain;’
	Out an speaks the fourth of them,
	‘It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.’
69A.13	Out an speaks the fifth of them,
	‘A wat they’ll near be twaind by me;’
	Out an speaks the sixt of them,
	‘We’l tak our leave an gae our way.’
69A.14	Out an speaks the seventh of them,
	‘Altho there wear no a man but me,
	. . . . .
	I bear the brand, I’le gar him die.’
69A.15	Out he has taen a bright long brand,
	And he has striped it throw the straw,
	And throw and throw Clarke Sanders’ body
	A wat he has gard cold iron gae.
69A.16	Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt,
	Intill his arms whare she lay,
	And well and wellsom was the night,
	A wat it was between these twa.
69A.17	And they lay still, and sleeped sound,
	Untill the day began to daw;
	And kindly till him she did say
	‘It’s time, trew-love, ye wear awa.’
69A.18	They lay still, and sleeped sound,
	Untill the sun began to shine;
	She lookt between her and the wa,
	And dull and heavy was his eeen.
69A.19	She thought it had been a loathsome sweat,
	A wat it had fallen this twa between;
	But it was the blood of his fair body,
	A wat his life days wair na lang.
69A.20	‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake
	What other ladys would na thoule;
	When seven years is come and gone,
	There’s near a shoe go on my sole.
69A.21	‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake
	What other ladies would think mare;
	When seven years is come and gone,
	Ther’s nere a comb go in my hair.
69A.22	‘O Sanders, I’le do for your sake
	What other ladies would think lack;
	When seven years is come an gone,
	I’le wear nought but dowy black.’
69A.23	The bells gaed clinking throw the towne,
	To carry the dead corps to the clay,
	An sighing says her May Margret,
	‘A wat I bide a doulfou day.’
69A.24	In an come her father dear,
	Stout steping on the floor;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
69A.25	‘Hold your toung, my doughter dear,
	Let all your mourning a bee;
	I’le carry the dead corps to the clay,
	An I’le come back an comfort thee.’
69A.26	‘Comfort well your seven sons,
	For comforted will I never bee;
	For it was neither lord nor loune
	That was in bower last night wi mee.’


		  Child 69B: Clerk Sanders

69B.1	CLERK SAUNDERS and a gay lady
	Was walking in yonder green,
	And heavy, heavy was the love
	That fell this twa lovers between.
69B.2	‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said,
	‘And ay a bed for you and me;’
	‘Never a ane,’ said the gay lady,
	‘Till ance we twa married be.
69B.3	‘There would come a’ my seven brethern,
	And a’ their torches burning bright,
	And say, We hae but ae sister,
	And behad, she’s lying wi you the night.’
69B.4	‘You’ll take a napkain in your hand,
	And then you will tie up your een;
	Then you may swear, and safe your aith,
	You sawna Sandy sin yestreen.
69B.5	‘You’ll take me up upo your back,
	And then you’ll carry me to your bed;
	Then you may swear, and save your aith,
	Your board [-floor] Sandy never tred.’
69B.6	She’s taen him upo her back,
	And she’s carried him unto her bed,
	That she might swear, and safe her aith,
	Her board-floor Sandy never tread.
69B.7	She’s taen a napkin in her hand,
	And lo she did tie up her een,
	That she might swear, and safe her aith,
	She sawna Sandy syne yestreen.
69B.8	They were na weel into the room,
	Nor yet laid weel into the bed,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
69B.9	When in came a’ her seven brethern,
	And a’ their torches burning bright;
	Says they, We hae but ae sister,
	And behold, she’s lying wi you this night.
69B.10	‘I,’ bespake the first o them,
	A wat an ill death mat he die!
	‘I bear a brand into my hand
	Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.’
69B.11	‘I,’ bespake the second of them,
	A wat a good death mat he die!
	‘We will gae back, let him alane,
	His father has nae mair but he.’
69B.12	‘I,’ bespake the third o them,
	A wat an ill death mat he die!
	‘I bear the brand into my hand
	Shall quickly help to gar him die.’
69B.13	‘I,’ bespake the fourth o them,
	A wat an ill death mat he die!
	‘I bear the brand into my hand
	Shall never help to gar him die.’
69B.14	‘I,’ bespake the fifth o them,
	A wat a good death mat he die!
	‘Altho his father hae nae mair,
	I’ll quickly help to gar him die.’
69B.15	‘I,’ bespake the sixth o them,
	A wat a good death mat he die!
	‘He’s a worthy earl’s son,
	I’ll never help to gar him die.’
69B.16	‘I,’ bespake the seventh of them,
	A wat an ill death mat he die!
	‘I bear the brand into my hand
	Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.’
69B.17	They baith lay still, and sleeped sound,
	Untill the sun began to sheen;
	She drew the curtains a wee bit,
	And dull and drowsie was his een.
69B.18	‘This night,’ said she, ’The sleepiest man
	That ever my twa eyes did see
	Hay lyen by me, and sweat the sheets;
	A wite they’re a great shame to see.’
69B.19	She rowd the claiths a’ to the foot,
	And then she spied his deadly wounds:
	‘O wae be to my seven brethern,
	A wat an ill death mat they die!
69B.20	‘I’m sure it was neither rogue nor loun
	I had into my bed wi me;
	’Twas Clerk Saunders, that good earl’s son,
	That pledgd his faith to marry me.’


		  Child 69C: Clerk Sanders

69C.1	IT was a sad and a rainy nicht
	As ever raind frae toun to toun;
	Clerk Saunders and his lady gay
	They were in the fields sae broun.
69C.2	‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders cried,
	‘A bed, a bed, let me lie doun;
	For I am sae weet and sae wearie
	That I canna gae nor ride frae toun.’
69C.3	‘A bed, a bed,’ his lady cried,
	‘A bed, a bed, ye’ll neer get nane;
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
69C.4	‘For I hae seven bauld brethren,
	Bauld are they, and very rude;
	And if they find ye in bouer wi me,
	They winna care to spill your blude.’
69C.5	‘Ye’ll tak a lang claith in your hand,
	Ye’ll haud it up afore your een,
	That ye may swear, and save your aith,
	That ye saw na Sandy sin yestreen.
69C.6	‘And ye’ll tak me in your arms twa,
	Ye’ll carry me into your bed,
	That ye may swear, and save your aith,
	That in your bour-floor I never gaed.’
69C.7	She’s taen a lang claith in her hand,
	She’s hauden’t up afore her een,
	That she might swear, and save her aith,
	That she saw na Sandy sin yestreen.
69C.8	She has taen him in her arms twa,
	And carried him into her bed,
	That she might swear, and save her aith,
	That on her bour-floor he never gaed.
69C.9	Then in there cam her firsten brother,
	Bauldly he cam steppin in:
	‘Come here, come here, see what I see!
	We hae only but ae sister alive,
	And a knave is in bour her wi.’
69C.10	Then in and cam her second brother,
	Says, Twa lovers are ill to twin;
	And in and cam her thirden brother,
	‘O brother dear, I say the same.’
69C.11	Then in and cam her fourthen brother,
	‘It’s a sin to kill a sleepin man;’
	And in and cam her fifthen brother,
	‘O brother dear, I say the same.’
69C.12	Then in and cam her sixthen brother,
	‘I wat he’s neer be steerd by me;’
	But in and cam her seventhen brother,
	‘I bear the hand that sall gar him dee.’
69C.13	Then out he drew a nut-brown sword,
	I wat he stript it to the stroe,
	And thro and thro Clerk Saunder’s body
	I wat he garrd cauld iron go.
69C.14	Then they lay there in ither’s arms
	Until the day began to daw;
	Then kindly to him she did say,
	‘It’s time, my dear, ye were awa.
69C.15	‘Ye are the sleepiest young man,’ she said,
	‘That ever my twa een did see;
	Ye’ve lain a’ nicht into my arms,
	I’m sure it is a shame to be.’
69C.16	She turnd the blankets to the foot,
	And turnd the sheets unto the wa,
	And there she saw his bluidy wound,
	. . . . .
69C.17	‘O wae be to my seventhen brother,
	I wat an ill death mot he dee!
	He’s killd Clerk Saunders, an earl’s son,
	I wat he’s killd him unto me.’
69C.18	Then in and cam her father dear,
	Cannie cam he steppin in;
	Says, Haud your tongue, my dochter dear,
	What need you mak sic heavy meane?
69C.19	‘We’ll carry Clerk Saunders to his grave,
	And syne come back and comfort thee:’
	‘O comfort weel your seven sons, father,
	For man sall never comfort me;
	Ye’ll marrie me wi the Queen o Heaven,
	For man sall never enjoy me.’


		  Child 69D: Clerk Sanders

69D.1	* * * *
	‘O I have seven bold brethren,
	And they are all valiant men,
	If they knew a man that would tread my bower
	His life should not go along wi him.’
69D.2	‘Then take me up into your arms,
	And lay me low down on your bed,
	That ye may swear, and keep your oath clear,
	That your bower-room I did na tread.
69D.3	‘Tie a handkerchief round your face,
	And you must tye it wondrous keen,
	That you may swear, and keep your oath clear,
	Ye saw na me since late yestreen.’
69D.4	But they were scarsley gone to bed,
	Nor scarse fa’n owre asleep,
	Till up and started her seven brethren,
	Just at Lord Saunder’s feet.
69D.5	Out bespoke the first brither,
	‘Oh but love be wondrous keen!’
	Out bespoke the second brither,
	‘It’s ill done to kill a sleeping man.’
69D.6	Out bespoke the third brither,
	‘We had better gae and let him be;’
	Out bespoke the fourth brither,
	‘He’ll no be killd this night for me:’
69D.7	Out bespoke the fifth brother,
	‘This night Lord Saunders he shall die;
	Tho there were not a man in all Scotland,
	This night Lord Saunders he shall die.’
69D.8	He took out a rousty rapier,
	And he drew it three times thro the strae;
	Between Lord Saunders’ short rib and his side
	He gard the rusty rapier gae.
69D.9	‘Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,’ she said,
	‘Awake, awake, for sin and shame!
	For the day is light, and the sun shines bricht,
	‘And I am afraid we will be taen.
69D.10	‘Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,’ she said,
	‘Awake, awake, for sin and shame!
	For the sheets they are asweat,’ she said,
	‘And I am afraid we will be taen.
69D.11	‘I dreamed a dreary dream last night,
	I wish it may be for our good,
	That I was cutting my yellow hair,
	And dipping it in the wells o blood.’
69D.12	Aye she waukened at this dead man,
	Aye she put on him to and fro;
	Oh aye she waukend at this dead man,
	But of his death she did not know.
	* * * * *
69D.13	‘It’s I will do for my love’s sake
	What many ladies would think lang;
	Seven years shall come and go
	Before a glove go on my hand.
69D.14	‘And I will do for my love’s sake
	What many ladies would not do;
	Seven years shall come and go
	Before I wear stocking or shoe.
69D.15	‘Ther’ll neer a shirt go on my back,
	There’ll neer a kame go in my hair,
	There’ll never coal nor candle-light
	Shine in my bower nae mair.’


		  Child 69E: Clerk Sanders

69E.1	AN ensign and a lady gay,
	As they were walking on a green,
	The ensign said to the lady gay,
	Will you tak me to your bower at een?
69E.2	‘I have seven bluidy brithers,
	Och and to you they have nae good will;
	And if they catch you in my bower,
	They’ll value not your bluid to spill.’
69E.3	‘O you may take me on your back,
	And carry me to your chamber-bed,
	That I may swear, and avow richt clear,
	That your flowery bower I did never tread.
69E.4	‘O take a napkin from your pocket,
	And with it blindfold my een,
	That I may swear, and avow richt clear,
	That your flowery bower I have never seen.’
69E.5	O she’s taen him upon her back,
	And carried him to her chamber-bed,
	That he might swear, and avow it clear,
	That her flowery [bower] he did never tread.
69E.6	O she’s taen a napkin from her pocket,
	And with it blinded baith his een,
	That he might swear, and avow it clear,
	That her flowery bower he had never seen.
69E.7	They were not well into their bed,
	Nor were they scarsely fallen asleep,
	Till in there came her seven bluidy brithers,
	And placed themselves at the ensign’s feet.
69E.8	Said the first one to the second,
	‘Och it is long since this love began;’
	Said the second unto the third,
	‘It’s a sin to kill a sleeping man.’
69E.9	Said the third one to the fourth,
	‘I will go to yon tavern hie;’
	Said [the] fourth one to the fifth,
	‘O if you will go, so will I.’
69E.10	Said the fifth to the sixth,
	‘Och it’s long since this love began;’
	Said the sixth to the seventh,
	‘It’s a sin to kill a sleeping man.’
69E.11	Out then spoke the seventh bluidy brither,
	Aye and an angry man was he:
	‘Altho there was no more men alive,
	The ensign’s butcher I will be.’
69E.12	He’s taen out his rusty broad-sword,
	And ran it three times along his throat,
	And thro and thro the ensign’s body
	The tempered steel it went thro and thro.
69E.13	‘O I have dreamed a dream,’ she said,
	‘And such an dreams cannot be good;
	I dreamed my bower was full of swine,
	And the ensign’s clothes all dipped in blood.
69E.14	‘I have dreamed another dream,
	And such an dreams are never good;
	That I was combing down my yellow hair,
	And dipping it in the ensign’s blood.’
69E.15	‘O hold your tongue, my sister dear,
	And of your weeping let a be;
	For I will get you a better match
	Than eer the ensign, what was he?’
69E.16	‘So woe be to you, my seven bluidy brithers,
	Aye and an ill death may you die!
	For you durst not fight him in battle-field,
	But you killed him sleeping in bed wi me.
69E.17	‘I’ll do more for my love’s sake
	That other lovers would not incline;
	Seven years shall come and go
	Before I wash this face of mine.
69E.18	‘I will do for my love’s sake
	What other lovers would not repair;
	Seven years shall come and go
	Before I comb down my yellow hair.
69E.19	‘I’ll do more for my love’s sake,
	What other lovers will not do;
	Seven years shall come and go
	Before I cast off stocking and shoe.
69E.20	‘I will do for my love’s sake
	What other lovers they will be slack;
	Seven years shall come and go
	Before I cast off my robes of black.
69E.21	‘Go make to me a high, high tower,
	Be sure you make it stout and strong,
	And on the top put an honour’s gate,
	That my love’s ghost may go out and in.’


		  Child 69F: Clerk Sanders

69F.1	CLERK SAUNDERS was an earl’s son,
	He livd upon sea-sand;
	May Margaret was a king’s daughter,
	She livd in upper land.
69F.2	Clerk Saunders was an earl’s son,
	Weel learned at the scheel;
	May Margaret was a king’s daughter,
	They baith loed ither weel.
69F.3	He’s throw the dark, and throw the mark,
	And throw the leaves o green,
	Till he came to May Margaret’s door,
	And tirled at the pin.
69F.4	‘O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,
	Or are ye the bower within?’
	O wha is that at my bower-door,
	Sae weel my name does ken?’
	‘It’s I, Clerk Saunders, your true-love,
	You’ll open and lat me in.
69F.5	‘O will ye to the cards, Margaret,
	Or to the table to dine?
	Or to the bed, that’s weel down spread,
	And sleep when we get time?’
69F.6	‘I’ll no go to the cards,’ she says,
	‘Nor to the table to dine;
	But I’ll go to a bed, that’s weel down spread,
	And sleep when we get time.’
69F.7	They were not weel lyen down,
	And no weel fa’en asleep,
	When up and stood May Margaret’s brethren,
	Just up at their bed-feet.
69F.8	‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
	And dinna to us len,
	O wha is aught yon noble steed,
	That stands your stable in?’
69F.9	‘The steed is mine, and it may be thine,
	To ride whan ye ride in hie;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
69F.10	‘But awa, awa, my bald brethren,
	Awa, and mak nae din;
	For I am as sick a lady the nicht
	As eer lay a bower within.’
69F.11	‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
	And dinna to us len,
	O wha is aught yon noble hawk,
	That stands your kitchen in?’
69F.12	‘The hawk is mine, and it may be thine,
	To hawk whan ye hawk in hie;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
69F.13	‘But awa, awa, my bald brethren,
	Awa, and mak nae din;
	For I’m ane o the sickest ladies this nicht
	That eer lay a bower within.’
69F.14	‘O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,
	And dinna to us len,
	O wha is that, May Margaret,
	You and the wa between?’
69F.15	‘O it is my bower-maiden,’ she says,
	‘As sick as sick can be;
	O it is my bower-maiden,’ she says,
	‘And she’s thrice as sick as me.’
69F.16	‘We hae been east, and we’ve been west,
	And low beneath the moon;
	But a’ the bower-women eer we saw
	Hadna goud buckles in their shoon.’
69F.17	Then up and spak her eldest brither,
	Ay in ill time spak he:
	‘It is Clerk Saunders, your true-love,
	And never mat I the
	But for this scorn that he has done
	This moment he sall die.’
69F.18	But up and spak her youngest brother,
	Ay in good time spak he:
	‘O but they are a gudelie pair!
	True lovers an ye be,
	The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
	Sall never sinder ye.’
69F.19	Syne up and spak her nexten brother,
	And the tear stood in his ee:
	‘You’ve loed her lang, and loed her weel,
	And pity it wad be
	The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
	Shoud ever sinder ye.’
69F.20	But up and spak her fifthen brother:
	‘Sleep on your sleep for me;
	But we baith sall never sleep again,
	For the tane o us sall die.’
69F.21	And up and spak her thirden brother,
	Ay in ill time spak he:
	‘Curse on his love and comeliness!
	Dishonourd as ye be,
	The sword that hangs at my sword-belt
	Sall quickly sinder ye.’
69F.22	The eldest brother has drawn his sword,
	The second has drawn anither,
	Between Clerk Saunders’ hause and collarbane
	The cald iron met thegither.
69F.23	‘O wae be to you, my fause brethren,
	And an ill death mat ye die!
	Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field,
	And no in bed wi me.’


		  Child 69G: Clerk Sanders

69G.1	CLERK SANDY and a lady gay
	Where walking in the garden green,
	And great and heavy was the love
	That hae befa’en these twa between.
69G.2	‘A bed, a bed,’ said Clerk Sandy,
	‘A bed, my love, for you and me;’
	‘O never a foot,’ said the lady gay,

	‘Till ance that we twa married be.
69G.3	‘My seven brithers will come in,
	And a’ their torches burning bright;
	They’ll say, We hae but ae sister,
	And here she’s lying wi a knight.’
69G.4	‘Ye’ll take my brand I bear in hand,
	And wi the same ye’ll lift the gin;
	Then ye may swear, and save your oath,
	That ye neer let Clerk Sandy in.
69G.5	‘Ye’ll take that kurchie on your head,
	And wi the same tie up your een;
	And ye will swear, and save your oath,
	Ye saw not Sandy sin yestreen.
69G.6	‘Ye’ll lift me in your arms twa,
	And carry me unto your bed;
	Then ye may swear, and save your oath,
	Clerk Sandy in your bower neer tread.’
69G.7	She’s taen the brand he bare in hand,
	And wi the same lifted the gin;
	It was to swear, and save her oath,
	She never loot Clerk Sandy in.
69G.8	She’s taen the kurchie frae her head,
	And wi the same tied up her een;
	It was to swear, and save her oath,
	She saw not Sandy sin yestreen.
69G.9	She’s taen him in her arms twa,
	And she’s carried him to her bed;
	It was to swear, and save her oath,
	Clerk Sandie in her bower neer tread.
69G.10	They hadna kissd, nor love clapped,
	Like other lovers when they meet,
	Till in a quarter’s space and less
	These two lovers fell sound asleep.
69G.11	Then in it came her seven brothers,
	And a’ their torches burning bright;
	They said, We hae but ae sister,
	And here she’s lying wi a knight.
69G.12	O out it speaks the first o them,
	‘We will awa and lat them be;’
	Then out it speaks the second o them,
	‘His father has nae mair but he.’
69G.13	Out it speaks the third o them,
	For he was standing on the birk:
	‘Nae sweeter coud twa lovers lye,
	Tho they’d been married in a kirk.’
69G.14	Then out it speaks the fourth o them,
	Mair fair and lovely is his buke:
	‘Our sister dear we cannot blame,
	Altho in him she pleasure took.’
69G.15	Then out it speaks the fifth o them,
	‘It were a sin to do them ill;’
	Then out it spake the sixth o them,
	‘It’s hard a sleeping man to kill.’
69G.16	But out it speaks the seventh o them,
	I wish an ill death mat he dee!
	‘I wear the sharp brand by my side
	That soon shall gar Clerk Sandy die.’
69G.17	Then he’s taen out his trusty brand,
	And he has stroakd it ower a strae;
	And thro and thro Clerk Sandy’s middle
	I wat he’s gart it come and gae.
69G.18	The lady slept by her love’s side
	Until the dawning o the day,
	But what was dune she naething knew,
	For when she wak’d these words did say:
69G.19	‘Awake, awake, now Clerk Sandy,
	Awake, and turn you unto me;
	Ye’re nae sae keen’s ye were at night,
	When you and I met on the lee.’
69G.20	O then she calld her chamber-maid
	To bring her coal and candle seen:
	‘I fear Clerk Sandy’s dead eneuch,
	I had a living man yestreen.’
69G.21	They hae lifted his body up,
	They hae searched it round and round,
	And even anent his bonny heart
	Discovered the deadly wound.
69G.22	She wrung her hands, and tore her hair,
	And wrung her hands most bitterlie:
	‘This is my fause brothers, I fear,
	This night hae used this crueltie.
69G.23	‘But I will do for my love’s sake
	Woud nae be done by ladies rare;
	For seven years shall hae an end
	Or eer a kame gang in my hair.
69G.24	‘O I will do for my love’s sake
	What other ladies woud think lack;
	For seven years shall hae an end
	Or eer I wear but dowie black.
69G.25	‘And I will do for my love’s sake
	What other ladies woudna thole;
	Seven years shall hae an end
	Or eer a shoe gang on my sole.’
69G.26	In it came her father dear,
	And he was belted in a brand;
	Sae softly as he trad the floor,
	And in her bower did stately stand.
69G.27	Says, Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
	And ye’ll lat a’ your mourning be;
	I’ll wed you to a higher match
	Or eer his father’s son coud be.
69G.28	‘Wed well, wed well your seven sons;
	I wish ill wedded they may be,
	Sin they hae killd him Clerk Sandy!
	For wedded shall I never be.’
69G.29	His corpse was laid in the cauld clay,
	The bells went tinkling thro the town;
	‘Alas! alas!’ said the lady gay,
	‘That eer I heard that waefu soun!’
69G.30	When she had sitten intill her bower
	A twalmonth lang and weary day,
	Even below her bower-window
	She heard a ghaist to knock an cry.
69G.31	She says, Ye’re thief or bauld robber,
	Or biggin come to burn or brake;
	Or are you ony masterfu man,
	That is come seeking ony make?
69G.32	‘I am not thief nor bauld robber,
	Nor bigging come to burn nor brake;
	Nor am I ony masterfu man,
	That is come seeking ony make;
	But I’m Clerk Sandy, your first love,
	And wants wi you again to speak.
69G.33	‘Gin ye’re Clerk Sandy, my first love,
	And wants wi me to speak again,
	Tell me some o’ the love tokens
	That you and I had last between.’
69G.34	‘O mind not ye, ye gay lady,
	Sin last I was in bower wi thee,
	That in it came your seven brethren,
	The youngest gart me sairly dree?’
	Then sighd and said the gay lady,
	‘Sae true a tale as ye tell me.’
69G.35	Sae painfully she clam the wa,
	She clam the wa up after him;
	’Twas not for want of stockings nor sheen,
	But hadna time to put them on;
	And in the midst o gude greenwood,
	’Twas there she lost the sight o him.
69G.36	The lady sat, and mourning there,
	Until she coudna weep nae mair;
	At length the cloks and wanton flies
	They biggit in her yellow hair.
69G.37	‘O had your peace, my dearest dear,
	For I am come to mak you wise;
	Or this night nine nights come and gang,
	We baith shall be in Paradise.’



		 Child 70A: Willie and Lady Maisry

70A.1	WILLIE was a widow’s son,
	And he wore a milk-white weed, O
	And weel could Willie read and write,
	Far better ride on steed. O
70A.2	Lady Margerie was the first lady
	That drank to him the wine,
	And aye as the healths gade round and round,
	‘Laddy, your love is mine.’
70A.3	Lady Margerie was the first ladye
	That drank to him the beer,
	And aye as the healths gade round and round,
	‘Laddy, you’re welcome here.’
70A.4	‘You must come into my bower
	When the evening bells do ring,
	And you must come into my bower
	When the evening mass doth sing.’
70A.5	He’s taen four and twenty braid arrows,
	And laced them in a whang,
	And he’s awa to Lady Margerie’s bower,
	As fast as he can gang.
70A.6	He set ae foot on the wall,
	And the other on a stane,
	And he’s killed a’ the king’s life-guards,
	And he’s killed them every man.
70A.7	‘Oh open, open, Lady Margerie,
	Open and let me in;
	The weet weets a’ my yellow hair,
	And the dew draps on my chin.’
70A.8	With her feet as white as sleet
	She strode her bower within,
	And with her fingers long and small
	She’s looten Sweet Willie in.
70A.9	She’s louten down unto her foot
	To loose Sweet Willie’s shoon;
	The buckles were sa stiff they wudna lowse,
	The blood had frozen in.
70A.10	‘O Willie, Willie, I fear that thou
	Has bred me dule and sorrow;
	The deed that thou has dune this nicht
	Will kythe upon the morrow.’
70A.11	In then came her father dear,
	And a broad sword by his gare,
	And he’s gien Willie, the widow’s son,
	A deep wound and a sair.
70A.12	‘Lye yont, lye yont, Willie,’ she says,
	‘Your sweat weets a’ my side;
	Lye yont, lie yont, Willie,’ she says,
	‘For your sweat I downa bide.’
70A.13	She turned her back unto the wa,
	Her face unto the room,
	And there she saw her auld father,
	Walking up and down.
70A.14	‘Woe be to you, father,’ she said,
	‘And an ill deed may you die!
	For ye’ve killd Willie, the widow’s son
	And he would have married me.’
70A.15	She turned her back unto the room,
	Her face unto the wa,
	And with a deep and heavy sich
	Her heart it brak in twa.


		 Child 70B: Willie and Lady Maisry

70B.1	SWEET WILLIE was a widow’s son,
	And milk-white was his weed;
	It sets him weel to bridle a horse,
	And better to saddle a steed, my dear,
	And better to saddle a steed.
70B.2	But he is on to Maisry’s bower-door,
	And tirled at the pin:
	‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Lady Maisry,
	Ye’ll open, let me come in.’
70B.3	‘O who is this at my bower-door,
	Sae well that knows my name?’
	‘It is your ain true-love, Willie,
	If ye love me, lat me in.’
70B.4	Then huly, huly raise she up,
	For fear o making din,
	Then in her arms lang and bent,
	She caught sweet Willie in.
70B.5	She leand her low down to her toe,
	To loose her true-love’s sheen,
	But cauld, cauld were the draps o bleed
	Fell fae his trusty brand.
70B.6	‘What frightfu sight is that, my love?
	A frightfu sight to see!
	What bluid is this on your sharp brand?
	O may ye not tell me?’
70B.7	‘As I came thro the woods this night,
	The wolf maist worried me;
	O shoud I slain the wolf, Maisry?
	Or shoud the wolf slain me?’
70B.8	They hadna kissd, nor love clapped,
	As lovers when they meet,
	Till up it starts her auld father,
	Out o his drowsy sleep.
70B.9	‘O what’s become o my house-cock,
	Sae crouse at ane did craw?
	I wonder as much at my bold watch,
	That’s nae shooting ower the wa.
70B.10	‘My gude house-cock, my only son,
	Heir ower my land sae free,
	If ony ruffian hae him slain,
	High hanged shall he be.’
70B.11	Then he’s on to Maisry’s bower-door,
	And tirled at the pin:
	‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, daughter Maisry,
	Ye’ll open, lat me come in.’
70B.12	Between the curtains and the wa
	She rowd her true-love then,
	And huly went she to the door,
	And let her father in.
70B.13	‘What’s become o your maries, Maisry,
	Your bower it looks sae teem?
	What’s become o your green claithing,
	Your beds they are sae thin?’
70B.14	‘Gude forgie you, father,’ she said,
	‘I wish ye be’t for sin;
	Sae aft as ye hae dreaded me,
	But never found me wrang.’
70B.15	He turnd him right and round about,
	As he’d been gaun awa;
	But sae nimbly as he slippet in
	Behind a screen sae sma.
70B.16	Maisry, thinking a’ dangers past,
	She to her love did say,
	‘Come, love, and take your silent rest;
	My auld father’s away.’
70B.17	Then baith lockd in each other’s arms,
	They fell full fast asleep,
	When up it starts her auld father,
	And stood at their bed-feet.
70B.18	‘I think I hae the villain now
	That my dear son did slay;
	But I shall be revengd on him
	Before I see the day.’
70B.19	Then he’s drawn out a trusty brand,
	And stroakd it oer a stray,
	And thro and thro Sweet Willie’s middle
	He’s gart cauld iron gae.
70B.20	Then up it wakend Lady Maisry,
	Out o her drowsy sleep,
	And when she saw her true-love slain,
	She straight began to weep.
70B.21	‘O gude forgie you now, father,’ she said,
	‘I wish ye be’t for sin;
	For I never lovd a love but ane,
	In my arms ye’ve him slain.’
70B.22	‘This night he’s slain my gude bold watch,
	Thirty stout men and twa;
	Likewise he’s slain your ae brother,
	To me was worth them a’.
70B.23	‘If he has slain my ae brither,
	Himsell had a’ the blame,
	For mony a day he plots contriv’d,
	To hae Sweet Willie slain.
70B.24	‘And tho he’s slain your gude bold watch,
	He might hae been forgien;
	They came on him in armour bright,
	When he was but alane.’
70B.25	Nae meen was made for this young knight,
	In bower where he lay slain,
	But a’ was for sweet Maisry bright,
	In fields where she ran brain.



		  Child 71: The Bent Sae Brown

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



	  Child 72A: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford

72A.1	O I will sing to you a sang,
	But oh my heart is sair!
	The clerk’s twa sons in Owsenford
	Has to learn some unco lair.
72A.2	They hadna been in fair Parish
	A twelvemonth an a day,
	Till the clerk’s twa sons o Owsenford
	Wi the mayor’s twa dauthrers lay.
72A.3	O word’s gaen to the mighty mayor,
	As he saild on the sea,
	That the clerk’s twa sons o Owsenford
	Wi his twa daughters lay.
72A.4	‘If they hae lain wi my twa daughters,
	Meg an Marjorie,
	The morn, or I taste meat or drink,
	They shall be hangit hie.’
72A.5	O word’s gaen to the clerk himself,
	As he sat drinkin wine,
	That his twa sons in fair Parish
	Were bound in prison strong.
72A.6	Then up and spak the clerk’s ladye,
	And she spak powrfully:
	‘O tak with ye a purse of gold,
	Or take with ye three,
	And if ye canna get William,
	Bring Andrew hame to me.’
	* * * * *
72A.7	‘O lye ye here for owsen, dear sons,
	Or lie ye here for kye?
	Or what is it that ye lie for,
	Sae sair bound as ye lie?’
72A.8	‘We lie not here for owsen, dear father,
	Nor yet lie here for kye,
	But it’s for a little o dear bought love
	Sae sair bound as we lie.’
72A.9	O he’s gane to the mighty mayor,
	And he spoke powerfully:
	‘Will ye grant me my twa sons’ lives,
	Either for gold or fee?
	Or will ye be sae gude a man
	As grant them baith to me?’
72A.10	‘I’ll no grant ye yere twa sons’ lives,
	Neither for gold or fee,
	Nor will I be sae gude a man
	As gie them back to thee;
	Before the morn at twelve o’clock
	Ye’ll see them hangit hie.’
72A.11	Up an spak his twa daughters,
	An they spak powrfully:
	‘Will ye grant us our twa loves’ lives,
	Either for gold or fee?
	Or will ye be sae gude a man
	As grant them baith to me.’
72A.12	‘I’ll no grant ye yere twa loves’ lives,
	Neither for gold or fee,
	Nor will I be sae gude a man
	As grant their lives to thee;
	Before the morn at twelve o’clock
	Ye’ll see them hangit hie.’
72A.13	O he’s taen out these proper youths,
	And hangd them on a tree,
	And he’s bidden the clerk o Owsenford
	Gang hame to his ladie.
72A.14	His lady sits on yon castle-wa,
	Beholding dale an doun,
	An there she saw her ain gude lord
	Come walkin to the toun.
72A.15	‘Ye’re welcome, welcome, my ain gude lord,
	Ye’re welcome hame to me;
	But where away are my twa sons?
	Ye should hae brought them wi ye.’
72A.16	‘It’s I’ve putten them to a deeper lair,
	An to a higher schule;
	Yere ain twa sons ill no be here
	Till the hallow days o Yule.’
72A.17	‘O sorrow, sorrow come mak my bed,
	An dool come lay me doon!
	For I’ll neither eat nor drink,
	Nor set a fit on ground.’


	  Child 72B: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford

72B.1	DE weel, de weel, my twa young sons,
	An learn weel at the squeel;
	Tak no up wi young women-kin,
	An learn to act the feel.’
72B.2	But they had na been in Blomsbury
	A twalmon and a day,
	Till the twa pretty clerks o Owsenfoord
	Wi the mayr’s dauchters did lay.
72B.3	Word has gaen till the auld base mayr,
	As he sat at his wine,
	That the twa pretty clerks o Owsenford
	Wi his daughters had lien.
72B.4	Then out bespak the auld base mayr,
	An an angry man was he:
	‘Tomorrow, before I eat meat or drink,
	I’ll see them hanged hie.’
72B.5	But word has gaen to Owsenfoord
	. . . . .
	Before the letter was read,
	She let the tears doun fa.
	* * * * *
72B.6	‘Your sons are weel, an verra weel,
	An learnin at the squeel;
	But I fear ye winna see your sons
	At the holy days o Yeel.’
72B.7	Their father he went to Bloomsbury,
	He turnit him roun about,
	An there he saw his twa braw sons,
	In the prison, leukin out.
72B.8	‘O lie ye there for owsen, my sons,
	Or lie ye there for kye?
	Or lie ye there for dear fond love,
	Si closs as ye de lie?’
72B.9	‘We lie na here for owsen, father,
	We lie na here for kye,
	But we lie here for dear fond love,
	An we’re condemned to die.’
	* * * * *
72B.10	Then out bespak the clerks’ fader,
	An a sorry man was he:
	‘Gae till you bowers, ye lillie-flowers,
	For a’ this winna dee.’
72B.11	Then out bespak the aul base mayr,
	An an angry man was he:
	‘Gar to your bowers, ye vile base whores,
	Ye’ll see them hanged hie.’
	* * * * *


	  Child 72C: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford

72C.1	I\R’\rLL tell you a tale, or I’ll sing you a song,
	Will grieve your heart full sair;
	How the twa bonny clerks o Oxenford
	Went aff to learn their lear.
72C.2	Their father lovd them very weel,
	Their mother muckle mair,
	And sent them on to Billsbury,
	To learn deeper lear.
72C.3	Then out it spake their mother dear:
	‘Do weel, my sons, do weel,
	And haunt not wi the young women,
	Wi them to play the fiel.’
72C.4	Their father sware them on their souls,
	Their mother on their life,
	Never to lie wi the auld mayor’s daughters,
	Nor kiss the young mayor’s wife.
72C.5	But they hadna been in Billsbury
	A twallmonth and a day,
	Till the twa bonny clerks o Oxenford
	With the mayor’s twa daughters lay.
72C.6	As these twa clerks they sat and wrote,
	The ladies sewed and sang;
	There was mair mirth in that chamber
	Than all fair Ferrol’s land.
72C.7	But word’s gane to the wicked mayor,
	As he sat at the wine,
	That the twa bonny clerks o Oxenford
	With his twa daughters had lyne.
72C.8	‘O have they lain with my daughters dear,
	Heirs out ower a’ my land,
	The morn, ere I eat or drink,
	I’ll hang them with my hand.’
72C.9	Then he has taen the twa bonny clerks,
	Bound them frae tap to tae,
	Till the reddest blood in their body
	Out ower their nails did gae.
72C.10	‘Whare will I get a little wee boy,
	Will win gowd to his fee,
	That will rin on to Oxenford,
	And that right speedilie?’
72C.11	Then up it starts a bonny boy,
	Gold yellow was his hair;
	I wish his father and mother joy,
	His true-love muckle mair.
72C.12	Says, Here am I, a little wee boy,
	Will win gowd to my fee,
	That will rin on to Oxenford,
	And that right speedilie.
72C.13	‘Where ye find the grass green growing,
	Set down your heel and rin,
	And where ye find the brigs broken,
	Ye’ll bend your bow and swim.
72C.14	‘But when ye come to Oxenford,
	Bide neither to chap nor ca,
	But set your bent bow to your breast,
	And lightly loup the wa.’
72C.15	Where he found the grass green growing,
	He slackt his shoes and ran,
	And where he found the brigs broken,
	He bent his bow and swam.
72C.16	And when he came to Oxenford,
	Did neither chap nor ca,
	But set his bent bow to his breast,
	And lightly leapt the wa.
72C.17	‘What news, what news, my little wee boy?
	What news hae ye to me?
	How are my sons in Billsbury,
	Since they went far frae me?’
72C.18	‘Your sons are well, and learning well,
	But at a higher school,
	And ye’ll never see your sons again.
	On the holy days o Yule.’
72C.19	‘Wi sorrow now gae make my bed,
	Wi care and caution lay me down;
	That man on earth shall neer be born
	Shall see me mair gang on the groun.
72C.20	‘Take twenty pounds in your pocket,
	And ten and ten to tell them wi,
	And gin ye getna hynde Henry,
	Bring ye gay Gilbert hame to me.’
72C.21	Out it speaks old Oxenford,
	A sorry, sorry man, was he:
	Out it speaks old Oxenford,
	A sorry, sorry man, was he:
	‘Your strange wish does me surprise,
	They are baith there alike to me.
72C.22	‘Wi sorrow now I’ll saddle my horse,
	And I will gar my bridle ring,
	And I shall be at Billsbury
	Before the small birds sweetly sing.’
72C.23	Then sweetly sang the nightingale,
	As she sat on the wand,
	But sair, sair, mournd Oxenford,
	As he gaed in the strand.
72C.24	When he came to Billsbury,
	He rade it round about,
	And at a little shott-window
	His sons were looking out.
72C.25	‘O lye ye there, my sons,’ he said,
	‘For oxen, or for kye?
	Or is it for a little o deep dear love,
	Sae sair bound as ye lye?’
72C.26	‘We lye not here, father,’ they said,
	‘For oxen, nor for kye;
	It’s all for a little o deep dear love,
	Sae sair bound as we lye.
72C.27	‘O borrow’s, borrow’s, father,’ they said,
	‘For the love we bear to thee!’
	‘O never fear, my pretty sons,
	Well borrowed ye shall be.’
72C.28	Then he’s gane to the wicked mayor,
	And hailed him courteouslie:
	‘Good day, good day, O Billsbury,
	God make you safe and free!’
	‘Come sit you down, brave Oxenford,
	God make you safe and free!’
	‘Come sit you down, brave Oxenford,
	What are your wills with me?’
72C.29	‘Will ye gie me my sons again,
	For gold or yet for fee?
	Will ye gie me my sons again,
	For’s sake that died on tree?’
72C.30	‘I winna gie you your sons again,
	For gold nor yet for fee;
	But if ye’ll stay a little while,
	Ye’se see them hanged hie.’
72C.31	Ben it came the mayor’s daughters,
	Wi kirtle, coat alone;
	Their eyes did sparkle like the gold,
	As they tript on the stone.
72C.32	‘Will ye gie us our loves, father,
	For gold or yet for fee?
	Or will ye take our own sweet life,
	And let our true-loves be?’
72C.33	He’s taen a whip into his hand,
	And lashed them wondrous sair:
	Gae to your bowers, ye vile rank whores,
	Ye’se never see them mair.
72C.34	Then out it speaks old Oxenford,
	A sorry man was he:
	‘Gang to your bowers, ye lily-flowers,
	For a’ this maunna be.’
72C.35	Out it speaks him hynde Henry:
	‘Come here, Janet, to me;
	Will ye gie me my faith and troth,
	And love, as I gae thee?’
72C.36	‘Ye shall hae your faith and troth,
	Wi God’s blessing and mine;’
	And twenty times she kissd his mouth,
	Her father looking on.
72C.37	Then out it speaks him gay Gilbert:
	‘Come here, Margaret, to me;
	Will ye gie me my faith and troth,
	And love, as I gae thee?’
72C.38	‘Yes, ye shall get your faith and troth,
	Wi God’s blessing and mine;’
	And twenty times she kissd his mouth,
	Her father looking on.
72C.39	‘Ye’ll take aff your twa black hats,
	Lay them down on a stone,
	That nane may ken that ye are clerks
	Till ye are putten down.’
72C.40	The bonny clerks they died that morn,
	Their loves died lang ere noon;
	Their father and mother for sorrow died,
	They all died very soon.
72C.41	These six souls went up to heaven,
	I wish sae may we a’!
	The mighty mayor went down to hell,
	For wrong justice and law.


	  Child 72D: The Clerk’s Twa Sons o Owensford

72D.1	OH I will tell a tale of woe,
	Which makes my heart richt sair;
	The Clerk’s two sons of Oxenfoord
	Are too soon gone to lair.
72D.2	They thought their father’s service mean,
	Their mother’s no great affair;
	But they would go to fair Berwick,
	To learn [some] unco lair.
72D.3	They had not been in fair Berwick
	A twelve month and a day,
	Till the clerk’s two sons of Oxenfoord
	With the mayor’s two daughters lay.
72D.4	This word came to the mighty mayor,
	As he hunted the rae,
	That the clerks two sons of Oxenfoord
	With his two daughters lay.
72D.5	‘If they have lain with my daughters,
	The heirs of all my land,
	I make a vow, and will keep it true,
	To hang them with my hand.’
72D.6	When he was certain of the fact,
	An angry man was he,
	And he has taken these two brothers,
	And hanged them on the tree.
72D.7	Word it has come to Oxenfoord’s clerk,
	Ere it was many day,
	That his two sons sometime ago
	With the mayor’s two daughters lay.
72D.8	‘O saddle a horse to me,’ he cried,
	‘O do it quick and soon,
	That I may ride to fair Berwick,
	And see what can be done.’
72D.9	But when he came to fair Berwick
	A grieved man was he,
	When that he saw his two bonnie sons
	Both hanging on the tree.
72D.10	‘O woe is me,’ the clerk cried out,
	‘This dismal sight to see,
	All the whole comfort of my life
	Dead hanging on the tree!’
72D.11	He turned his horse’s head about,
	Making a piteous moan,
	And all the way to Oxenfoord
	Did sad and grievously groan.
72D.12	His wife did hastily cry out,
	‘You only do I see;
	What have you done with my two sons,
	You should have brought to me?’
72D.13	‘I put them to some higher lair,
	And to a deeper scule;
	You will not see your bonnie sons
	Till the haly days of Yule.
72D.14	‘And I will spend my days in grief,
	Will never laugh nor sing;
	There’s never a man in Oxenfoord
	Shall hear my bridle ring.’



		 Child 73A: Lord Thomas and Annet

73A.1	LORD THOMAS and Fair Annet
	Sate a’ day on a hill;
	Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,
	They had not talkt their fill.
73A.2	Lord Thomas said a word in jest,
	Fair Annet took it ill:
	‘A, I will nevir wed a wife
	Against my ain friends’ will.’
73A.3	‘Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,
	A wife wull neir wed yee:’
	Sae he is hame to tell his mither,
	And knelt upon his knee.
73A.4	‘O rede, O rede, mither,’ he says,
	‘A gude rede gie to mee;
	O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,
	And let Fair Annet bee?’
73A.5	‘The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,
	Fair Annet she has gat nane;
	And the little beauty Fair Annet haes
	O it wull soon be gane.’
73A.6	And he has till his brother gane:
	‘Now, brother, rede ye mee;
	A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,
	And let Fair Annet bee?’
73A.7	‘The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,
	The nut-browne bride has kye;
	I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
	And cast Fair Annet bye.’
	I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
	And cast Fair Annet bye.’
73A.8	‘Her oxen may dye i the house, billie,
	And her kye into the byre,
	And I sall hae nothing to mysell
	Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.’
73A.9	And he has till his sister gane:
	‘Now, sister, rede ye mee;
	O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,
	And set Fair Annet free?’
73A.10	‘I’se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas,
	And let the browne bride alane;
	Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace,
	What is this we brought hame!’
73A.11	‘No, I will tak my mither’s counsel,
	And marrie me owt o hand;
	And I will tak the nut-browne bride,
	Fair Annet may leive the land.’
73A.12	Up then rose Fair Annet’s father,
	Twa hours or it wer day,
	And he is gane into the bower
	Wherein Fair Annet lay.
73A.13	‘Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,’ he says,
	‘Put on your silken sheene;
	Let us gae to St. Marie’s kirke,
	And see that rich weddeen.’
73A.14	‘My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,
	And dress to me my hair;
	‘My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,
	And dress to me my hair;
	Whaireir yee laid a plait before,
	See yee lay ten times mair.
73A.15	‘My maids, gae to my dressing-room,
	And dress to me my smock;
	The one half is o the holland fine,
	The other o needle-work.’
73A.16	The horse Fair Annet rade upon,
	He amblit like the wind;
	Wi siller he was shod before,
	Wi burning gowd behind.
73A.17	Four and twanty siller bells
	Wer a’ tyed till his mane,
	And yae tift o the norland wind,
	They tinkled ane by ane.
73A.18	Four and twanty gay gude knichts
	Rade by Fair Annet’s side,
	And four and twanty fair ladies,
	As gin she had bin a bride.
73A.19	And whan she cam to Marie’s kirk,
	She sat on Marie’s stean:
	The cleading that Fair Annet had on
	It skinkled in their een.
73A.20	And whan she cam into the kirk,
	She shimmerd like the sun;
	The belt that was about her waist
	Was a’ wi pearles bedone.
73A.21	She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
	And her een they wer sae clear,
	Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
	Whan Fair Annet drew near.
73A.22	He had a rose into his hand,
	He gae it kisses three,
	And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
	Laid it on Fair Annet’s knee.
73A.23	Up than spak the nut-browne bride,
	She spak wi meikle spite:
	‘And whair gat ye that rose-water,
	That does mak yee sae white?’
73A.24	‘O I did get the rose-water
	Whair ye wull neir get nane,
	For I did get that very rose-water
	Into my mither’s wame.’
73A.25	The bride she drew a long bodkin
	Frae out her gay head-gear,
	And strake Fair Annet unto the heart,
	That word spak nevir mair.
73A.26	Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale,
	And marvelit what mote bee;
	But whan he saw her dear heart’s blude,
	A’ wood-wroth wexed hee.
73A.27	He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,
	That was sae sharp and meet,
	And drave it into the nut-browne bride,
	That fell deid at his feit.
73A.28	‘Now stay for me, dear Annet,’ he sed,
	‘Now stay, my dear,’ he cry’d;
	Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
	And fell deid by her side.
73A.29	Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa,
	Fair Annet within the quiere,
	And o the tane thair grew a birk,
	The other a bonny briere.
73A.30	And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
	As they wad faine be neare;
	And by this ye may ken right weil
	They were twa luvers deare.


		 Child 73B: Lord Thomas and Annet

73B.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie
	Sat a’ day on yon hill;
	Though they had sat til the leventh o June,
	They wad na got their fill.
73B.2	But Willie spak a word amiss,
	Fair Annie took it ill:
	‘I’ll neer marry a tocherless lass
	Agen my ain friends’ will.’
73B.3	Then on she lap, and awa she gat,
	As fast as she could hie:
	‘Fare ye weel now, Sweet Willie,
	It’s fare ye weel a wee.’
73B.4	Then he is gane to his father’s ha,
	And tirled at the pin;
	Then up and rase his father proud.
	And loot Sweet Willie in.
73B.5	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, father dear,
	Yea both of us into ane;
	Whether sall I marry Fair Annie,
	Or bring the brown bride hame?’
73B.6	‘The brown bride she has houses and land,
	And Annie she has nane;
	Sae on my blessing, my auld son,
	Bring ye Brown Bride hame.’
73B.7	Then he is to his mither’s bouer,
	And tirled at the pin;
	Then up and rose his mother dear
	To let Sweet Willie in.
73B.8	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, mother dear,
	Yea baith o us into ane;
	Whether sall I marry Fair Annie,
	Or bring the brown bride hame?’
73B.9	‘The brown bride she has gowd and gear,
	Fair Annie she has nane;
	And for my blessing, my auld son,
	Bring ye Brown Bride hame.’
73B.10	Then he is to his sister’s bouer,
	And tirled at the pin;
	And wha sae ready as his sister dear
	To let her brither in.
73B.11	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, sister fair,
	Us baith yea into ane;
	Whether sall I marry Fair Annie,
	Or bring the brown bride hame?’
73B.12	‘The brown bride she has horse and kye,
	And Annie she has nane;
	But for my love, my brither dear,
	Bring hame the fair woman.
73B.13	‘Your horse may dee into the staw,
	The kye into the byre,
	And ye’ll hae nocht but a howther o dirt,
	To feed about your fire.’
73B.14	Then he is to Fair Annie’s bouer,
	And tirled at the pin;
	And wha sae ready as Fair Annie
	To let Sweet Willie in.
73B.15	‘You’re welcome here to me, Willie,
	You’re welcome here to me:’
	‘I’m na welcome to thee, Annie,
	I’m na welcome to thee,
	For I’m come to bid ye to my wedding,
	It’s gey sad news to thee.’
73B.16	‘It’s gey sad news to me, Willie,
	The saddest ye could tell;
	It’s gey sad news to me, Willie,
	That shoud been bride mysel.’
73B.17	Then she is to her father gane,
	And bowed low on her knee:
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73B.18	‘Come riddle us, riddle us, father dear,
	Us baith yea into ane;
	Whether sall I gang to Willie’s wedding,
	Or sall I stay at hame?’
73B.19	‘Whare ane will be your frien, Annie,
	Twenty will be your fae;’
	‘But prove it gude, or prove it bad,
	To Willie’s wedding I’ll gae.
73B.20	‘I’ll na put on the grisly black,
	Nor yet the dowie green,
	But I’ll put on a scarlet robe
	To sheen like onie queen.’
73B.21	She’s orderd the smiths to the smithy,
	To shoe her a riding steed;
	She has orderd the tailors to her bouer,
	To dress her a riding weed.
73B.22	She has calld her maries to her bour,
	To lay gowd on her hair:
	‘Whare e’er ye put ae plait before,
	See ye lay ten times mair.’
73B.23	The steed Fair Annie rade upon,
	He bounded like the wind;
	Wi silver he was shod before,
	Wi burning gowd behind.
73B.24	And four and twenty siller bells
	War ti d til his mane;
	Wi ae blast o the norland wind
	They tinkled ane by ane.
73B.25	And whan she cam unto the place,
	And lichted on the green,
	Ilka ane that did her see
	Thought that she was a queen.
73B.26	‘Is this your bride, Sweet Willie?’ she said,
	‘I think she’s wondrous wan;
	Ye micht have had as fair a bride
	As eer the sun sheend on.’
73B.27	‘O haud your tongue, Fair Annie,’ he said,
	‘Wi your talk let me abee;
	For better I loe your little finger
	Than the brown bride’s haill bodie.’
73B.28	Then out and spak the nut-brown bride,
	And she spak out of spite:
	‘O whare gat ye the water, Annie,
	That washd your face sae white?’
73B.29	‘O I gat een the water,’ quo she,
	‘Whare ye will neer get nane;
	It’s I gat een the water,’ quo she,
	‘Aneath yon marble stane.’
73B.30	Then out and spake the nut-brown bride,
	And she spak yet again:
	‘O whare gat ye the claith, Annie,
	That dried your face sae clean?’
73B.31	‘O I gat een the claith,’ quo she,
	‘Whare ye will neer get nane;
	It’s I gat een the claith,’ quo she,
	‘Aneath yon bouer o bane.’
73B.32	The brown bride had a little penknife,
	Which she kept secret there;
	She stabbd Fair Annie to the heart,
	A deep wound and a sair.
73B.33	It’s out and spak he Sweet Willie,
	And he spak yet again:
	‘O what’s the matter wi thee, Annie,
	That ye do look sae wan?’
73B.34	‘Oh are ye blind, Willie?’ she said,
	‘Or do ye no weel see?
	I think ye micht see my heart’s blude,
	Come rinning by my knee.’
73B.35	Then Willie took a little sword,
	Which he kept secret there,
	And strak the brown bride to the heart,
	A word she neer spak mair.
73B.36	And after that a’ this was dune,
	He drew it through the strae,
	And through his ain fair bodie
	He causd the cauld iron gae.
73B.37	The last words that Sweet Willie spak,
	His heart was almaist gane;
	‘May never a young man like me
	Have sic a sad wedding.
73B.38	‘For gear will come, and gear will gang,
	And gear’s ae but a lend,
	And monie a ane for warld’s gear
	A silly brown bride brings hame.’
	And monie a ane for warld’s gear
	A silly brown bride brings hame.’
73B.39	Sweet Willie was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	And Annie in Mary’s quire,
	And out o the ane there grew a birk,
	And out o the ither a brier.
73B.40	And ae they grew, and ae they threw,
	Until the twa did meet,
	That ilka ane micht plainly see
	They were true lovers sweet.


		 Child 73C: Lord Thomas and Annet

73C.1	‘COME read my rede, O mother dear,
	Come riddle it all in one;
	O whether will I take Fair Annie,
	Or bring the brown bride home?’
73C.2	‘The brown, brown bride has kye and ewes,
	Fair Annie she has none;
	She has nothing but a bonny, bonny face,
	And that’ll soon be gone.’
73C.3	‘Where will I get a pretty little boy,
	That’ll rin my errands soon,
	That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower,
	And bid her to my wedding?’
73C.4	‘Here am I, a pretty little boy,
	That’ll rin your errands soon,
	That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower,
	And bid her to your wedding.’
73C.5	‘Forbid her to put on her silks so black,
	Or yet her silks so brown;
	But she must put on her suddled silks,
	That she wears up and down.
73C.6	‘Forbid her to put on her silks so green,
	Or yet her sils so gray;
	But she must put on her suddled silks,
	That she wears every day.’
73C.7	When he gade to Fair Annie’s bower,
	He tirled at the pin;
	So ready was Fair Annie hersell
	To open and let him in.
73C.8	‘What news, what news, my little boy?
	What news hast thou to me?’
	‘You must prepare for Lord Thomas’ wedding,
	And that’s bad news for thee.’
73C.9	‘Good news, good news,’ Fair Annie says,
	‘Good news is it for me,
	For me to be bride and him bridegroom,
	And that’s good news for me.’
73C.10	‘He forbids thee to put on thy silks so black,
	Or yet thy silks so brown;
	But thou must put on thy suddled silks,
	That thou wears up and down.
73C.11	‘He forbids you to put on thy silks so green,
	Or yet thy silks so gray;
	But thou must on thy suddled silks,
	That thou wears every day.’
73C.12	‘There are smiths into my smiddy-bour
	That’ll dress to me a steed,
	There are tailors in my tailor-house
	That’ll dress to me a weed.
73C.13	‘There are maidens in my maiden-bower
	That’ll lay gold in my hair,
	And where eer there were ane link before,
	It shall be nine times mair.’
73C.14	Then Annie got herself attired,
	In all things very fine,
	With red ribbons, and silks so fair,
	That owre her shoulders shine.
73C.15	When she came to Lord Thomas’ yett,
	She shined amang them a’,
	And the buttons on Lord Thomas’ coat
	Brusted and brak in twa.
73C.16	‘Brown, brown is your steed,’ she says,
	‘But browner is your bride;
	But gallant is that handkerchy
	That hideth her din hide.’
73C.17	‘O hold thy peace, Fair Annie,’ he says,
	‘Speak not of that to me,
	For happy is that bonny, bonny lad
	That leads his life with thee.’
73C.18	Then out bespoke the brown, brown bride,
	And she spoke out with spite:
	‘O whare gets thou that water-cherry,
	That washes thee so white?’
73C.19	‘I got in my father’s garden,
	Below an olive tree,
	And although thou war to seek long seven years
	That water thou’ll never see.
73C.20	‘Tho thou hast got Lord Thomas’ hand
	That water thou’ll neer see;
	For thou’s sunbrunt from thy mother’s womb,
	And thou’ll never be like me.’
	* * * * *


		 Child 73D: Lord Thomas and Annet

73D.1	LORD THOMAS he was a bold forrester,
	And a chaser of the king’s deer;
	Fair Ellinor was a fair woman,
	And Lord Thomas he loved her dear.
73D.2	‘Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,’ he said,
	‘And riddle us both as one,
	Whether I shall marry Fair Ellinor,
	And let the brown girl alone.’
73D.3	‘The brown girl she has got houses and lands,
	And Fair Ellinor she has got none;
	Therefore I charge you on my blessing
	To bring me the brown girl home.’
73D.4	And as it befell on a high holidaye,
	As many did more beside,
	Lord Thomas he went to Fair Ellinor,
	That should have been his bride.
73D.5	But when he came to Fair Ellinor’s bower,
	He knocked there at the ring;
	But who was so ready as Fair Ellinor
	For to let Lord Thomas in.
73D.6	‘What news, what news, Lord Thomas,’ she said,
	‘What news hast thou brought unto me?’
	‘I am come to bid thee to my wedding,
	And that is bad news to thee.’
73D.7	‘Oh God forbid, Lord Thomas,’ she said,
	‘That such a thing should be done;
	I thought to have been thy bride my own self,
	And you to have been the brid’s-groom.
73D.8	‘Come riddle my riddle, dear mother,’ she sayd,
	‘And riddle it all in one;
	Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas’s wedding,
	Or whether I shall tarry at home.’
73D.9	‘There’s many that are your friends, daughter,
	And many that are your fo;
	Therefore I charge you on my blessing,
	To Lord Thomas’s wedding don’t go.’
73D.10	‘There’s many that are my friends, mother,
	If a thousand more were my foe,
	Betide my life, betide my death,
	To Lord Thomas’s wedding I’le go.’
73D.11	She cloathed herself in gallant attyre,
	And her merry men all in green,
	And as they rid thorough everye towne,
	They took her to have been a queene.
73D.12	But when she came to Lord Thomas’s gate,
	She knocked there at the ring;
	But who was so ready as Lord Thomas
	To lett Fair Ellinor in.
73D.13	‘Is this your bride?’ Fair Ellin she sayd,
	‘Methinks she looks wondrous browne;
	Thou mightest have had as fair a woman
	As ever trod on the ground.’
73D.14	‘Despise her not, Fair Ellin,’ he sayd,
	‘Despise her not now unto mee;
	For better I love thy little finger
	Than all her whole body.’
73D.15	This browne bride had a little penknife,
	That was both long and sharp,
	And betwixt the short ribs and the long
	Prickd Fair Ellinor to the heart.
73D.16	‘Oh Christ now save thee,’ Lord Thomas he said,
	‘Methinks thou lookst wondrous wan;
	Thou wast usd for to look with as fresh a colour
	As ever the sun shin’d on.’
73D.17	‘Oh art thou blind, Lord Thomas?’ she sayd,
	‘Or canst thou not very well see?
	Oh dost thou not see my own heart’s blood
	Runs trickling down my knee?’
73D.18	Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side,
	As he walked about the hall;
	He cut off his bride’s head from her shoulders,
	And he threw it against the wall.
73D.19	He set the hilte against the ground,
	And the point against his heart;
	There was never three lovers that ever met
	More sooner they did depart.


		 Child 73E: Lord Thomas and Annet

73E.1	Sweet Willie and Fair Annie
	Sat a’ day on a hill,
	And though they had sitten seven year,
	They neer wad had their fill.
73E.2	Sweet Willie said a word in haste,
	And Annie took it ill:
	‘I winna wed a tocherless maid,
	Against my parents’ will.’
73E.3	‘Ye’re come o the rich, Willie,
	And I’m come o the poor;
	I’m oer laigh to be your bride,
	And I winna be your whore.’
73E.4	O Annie she’s gane till her bower,
	And Willie down the den,
	And he’s come till his mither’s bower,
	By the lei light o the moon.
73E.5	‘O sleep ye, wake ye, mither?’ he says,
	‘Or are ye the bower within?’
	‘I sleep richt aft, I wake richt aft;
	What want ye wi me, son?
73E.6	‘Whare hae ye been a’ nicht, Willie?
	O wow, ye’ve tarried lang!’
	‘I have been courtin Fair Annie,
	And she is frae me gane.
73E.7	‘There is twa maidens in a bower;
	Which o them sall I bring hame?
	The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows,
	And Fair Annie has nane.’
73E.8	‘It’s an ye wed the nut-brown maid,
	I’ll heap gold wi my hand;
	But an ye wed her Fair Annie,
	I’ll straik it wi a wand.
73E.9	‘The nut-brown maid has sheep and cows,
	And Fair Annie has nane;
	And Willie, for my benison,
	The nut-brown maid bring hame.’
73E.10	‘O I sall wed the nut-brown maid,
	And I sall bring her hame;
	But peace nor rest between us twa,
	Till death sinder’s again.
73E.11	‘But, alas, alas!’ says Sweet Willie,
	‘O fair is Annie’s face!’
	‘But what’s the matter, my son Willie?
	She has nae ither grace.’
73E.12	‘Alas, alas!’ says Sweet Willie,
	‘But white is Annie’s hand!’
	‘But what’s the matter, my son Willie?
	She hasna a fur o land.’
73E.13	‘Sheep will die in cots, mither,
	And owsen die in byre;
	And what’s this warld’s wealth to me,
	An I get na my heart’s desire?
73E.14	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy,
	That wad fain win hose and shoon,
	That will rin to Fair Annie’s bower,
	Wi the lei light o the moon?
73E.15	‘Ye’ll tell her to come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn at twal at noon;
	Ye’ll tell her to come to Willie’s weddin,
	The heir o Duplin town.
73E.16	‘She manna put on the black, the black,
	Nor yet the dowie brown,
	But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white,
	And her bonny locks hangin down.’
73E.17	He is on to Annie’s bower,
	And tirled at the pin,
	And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel
	To open and let him in.
73E.18	‘Ye are bidden come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn at twal at noon;
	Ye are bidden come to Willie’s weddin,
	The heir of Duplin town.
73E.19	‘Ye manna put on the black, the black,
	Nor yet the dowie brown,
	But the scarlet sae red, and the kerches sae white,
	And your bonny locks hangin down.’
73E.20	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn at twal at noon;
	It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	But I rather the mass had been mine.
73E.21	‘Maidens, to my bower come,
	And lay gold on my hair;
	And whare ye laid ae plait before,
	Ye’ll now lay ten times mair.
73E.22	‘Taylors, to my bower come,
	And mak to me a weed;
	And smiths, unto my stable come,
	And shoe to me a steed.’
73E.23	At every tate o Annie’s horse mane
	There hang a silver bell,
	And there came a wind out frae the south,
	Which made them a’ to knell.
73E.24	And whan she came to Mary-kirk,
	And sat down in the deas,
	The light that came frae Fair Annie
	Enlightend a’ the place.
73E.25	But up and stands the nut-brown bride,
	Just at her father’s knee:
	‘O wha is this, my father dear,
	That blinks in Willie’s ee?’
	‘O this is Willie’s first true-love,
	Before he loved thee.’
73E.26	‘If that be Willie’s first true-love,
	He might hae latten me be;
	She has as much gold on ae finger
	As I’ll wear till I die.
73E.27	‘O whare got ye that water, Annie,
	That washes you sae white?’
	‘I got it in my mither’s wambe,
	Whare ye’ll neer get the like.
73E.28	‘For ye’ve been washd in Dunny’s well,
	And dried on Dunny’s dyke,
	And a’ the water in the sea
	Will never wash ye white.’
73E.29	Willie’s taen a rose out o his hat,
	Laid it in Annie’s lap:
	. . . . .
	‘Hae, wear it for my sake.’
73E.30	‘Tak up and wear your rose, Willie,
	And wear’t wi mickle care;
	For the woman sall never bear a son
	That will make my heart sae sair.’
73E.31	Whan night was come, and day was gane,
	And a’ man boun to bed,
	Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride
	In their chamber were laid.
73E.32	They werena weel lyen down,
	And scarcely fa’n asleep,
	Whan up and stands she Fair Annie,
	Just up at Willie’s feet.
73E.33	‘Weel brook ye o your brown, brown bride,
	Between ye and the wa;
	And sae will I o my winding sheet,
	That suits me best ava.
73E.34	‘Weel brook ye o your brown, brown bride,
	Between ye and the stock;
	And sae will I o my black, black kist,
	That has neither key nor lock.’
73E.35	Sad Willie raise, put on his claise,
	Drew till him his hose and shoon,
	And he is on to Annie’s bower,
	By the lei light o the moon.
73E.36	The firsten bower that he came till,
	There was right dowie wark;
	Her mither and her three sisters
	Were makin to Annie a sark.
73E.37	The nexten bower that he came till,
	There was right dowie cheir;
	Her father and her seven brethren
	Were makin to Annie a bier.
73E.38	The lasten bower that he came till,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	And Fair Annie streekit there.
73E.39	He’s lifted up the coverlet,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73E.40	‘It’s I will kiss your bonny cheek,
	And I will kiss your chin,
	And I will kiss your clay-cald lip,
	But I’ll never kiss woman again.
73E.41	‘The day ye deal at Annie’s burial
	The bread but and the wine;
	Before the morn at twall o’clock,
	They’ll deal the same at mine.’
73E.42	The tane was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	The tither in Mary’s quire,
	And out o the tane there grew a birk,
	And out o the tither a brier.
73E.43	And ay they grew, and ay the drew,
	Untill they twa did meet,
	And every ane that past them by
	Said, Thae’s been lovers sweet!


		 Child 73F: Lord Thomas and Annet

73F.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie,
	As they sat on yon hill,
	If they hed sat frae morn till even,
	They hed no talked their fill.
	* * * * *
73F.2	Willie’s dune him hame again,
	As fast as gang could he:
	‘An askin, an askin, my mother,
	And I pray ye’ll grant it me.
73F.3	‘Oh will I merry the nut-brown maid,
	Wi her oxen and her kye?
	Or will I merry my Fair Annie,
	That hes my heart for aye?’
73F.4	‘Oh if ye merry your Fair Annie,
	Your mither’s malison you’ll wun;
	But if ye merry the nut-brown may,
	Ye will get her blessin.’
73F.5	‘Oh voe’s me, mother,’ Willie said,
	‘For Annie’s bonny face!’
	‘Little metter o that, my son Willie,
	When Annie hesna grace.’
73F.6	‘Oh voe’s me, mither,’ Willie said,
	‘For Annie’s bonny han!’
	‘And what’s the metter, son Willie,
	When Annie hesna lan?
73F.7	‘But ye will merry the nut-brown may,
	Wi her oxen and her kye;
	But ye will merry the nut-brown may,
	For she hes my hert for aye.’
73F.8	Out and spak his sister Jane,
	Where she sat be the fire:
	‘What’s the metter, brother Willie?
	Tack ye your heart’s desire.
73F.9	‘The oxen may die into the pleuch,
	The cow drown i the myre;
	And what’s the metter, brother Willie?
	Tak ye your heart’s desire.’
73F.10	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy,
	That will wun hose and shune,
	That will run on to Anny’s bower,
	And come right sune again?’
73F.11	‘Ye’ll bid her come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn is the day;
	Ye’ll bid her come to Willie’s weddin,
	And no make no delay.
73F.12	‘Ye’ll forbid her to put on the black, the black,
	Or yet the dowie brown;
	But the white silk and the reed skarlet,
	That will shine frae town to town.’
73F.13	He is on to Anie’s bower,
	And tirled at the pin,
	And wha was sae ready as Annie hersel
	To let the ladie in.
73F.14	‘Ye’r bidden to come to Willie’s weddin,
	The morn is the day;
	Ye’r bidden come to Willie’s weddin,
	And no mack no delay.
73F.15	‘Ye’r forbidden to put on the black, the black,
	Or yet the dowie brown;
	But the white silk and the red scarlet,
	That will shine frae town to town.
73F.16	‘Ye’r forbidden to put on the black, the black,
	Or yet the dowie gray;
	But the white silk and the red scarlet,
	That will shine frae brae to brae.’
73F.17	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	Gif the morn be the day;
	It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	And no mack no delay.’
73F.18	Annie’s steed was silver shod,
	And golden graithed behin;
	At every teet o her horse mane
	A silver bell did ring.
73F.19	When Annie was in her sadle set,
	She glanced like the moon;
	There was as much gould abov her brow
	Would buy an earldom.
73F.20	When Annie was on her sadel set,
	She glanced like the fire;
	There was as much gould above her brow
	Was worth a yearl’s hire.
73F.21	Annie gaed in the heigh, heigh hill,
	And Willie the dowie glen;
	Annie alane shone brighter
	Than Willie and a’ his men.
73F.22	‘Oh wha is that, my ane Willie,
	That glances in your ee?’
	‘Oh it is Annie, my first fore love,
	Come till see you and me.’
73F.23	‘Oh far got ye that water, Annie,
	That washes ye so wan?’
	‘Oh I got it aneth yon marble stane,
	Where ye will nere get nane.
73F.24	‘Ye’ve been brunt sare anent the sun,
	And rocket i the reek;
	And tho ye wad wash till doom’s day,
	Ye wad never be so white.’
73F.25	‘If this be Annie, your first fore love,
	Come our weddin to see,
	She has by far owr brent a brow
	To lat ye bide by me.’
73F.26	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	And a’ men bun to bed,
	Sweet Willie and his nut-brown bride
	In ae chamber were laid.
73F.27	The hedna weel layn down, layn down,
	But nor hed fallen asleep,
	When up and started Fair Annie,
	And stud at Willie’s feet.
73F.28	‘Vo be to you, nut-brown bride,
	Wi yer oxen and your sheep!
	It is Annie, my first fore love,
	And I fear sair she is dead.
73F.29	‘Vo be te you, nut-brown bride,
	An ill death you betide!
	For you’ve parted me and my first fore love,
	And I fear death is her guide.
73F.30	‘You’ll seddle to me the black, the black,
	You’ll seddle to me the brown,
	Till I ride on to Annie’s bower
	And see how she is bune.’
73F.31	When he came to Fair Annie’s bower,
	And lighted and gaed in,
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
73F.32	Her father was at her heed, her heed,
	Her mother at her feet,
	Her sister she was at her side,
	Puttin on her winding sheet.
73F.33	‘It’s kiss will I yer cheek, Annie,
	And kiss will I your chin,
	And I will kiss your wan, wan lips,
	Tho there be no breath within.
73F.34	‘Ye birl, ye birle at my luve’s wake
	The white bread and the wine,
	And or the morn at this same time
	Ye’ll brile the same at mine.’
73F.35	They birled, they birled at Annies wake
	The white bread and the wine,
	And ere the morn at that same time
	At his they birled the same.
73F.36	The one was buried at Mary’s kirk,
	The other at Mary’s quire,
	And throw the one there sprang a birk,
	And throw the other a brier.
73F.37	And ay at every year’s ane
	They grew them near and near,
	And every one that passed them by
	Said, They be lovers dear.


		 Child 73G: Lord Thomas and Annet

73G.1	SWEET WILLIE and Fair Annie,
	They sat on yon hill,
	And frae the morning till night
	This twa neer talked their fill.
73G.2	Willie spak a word in jest,
	And Ann took it ill:
	‘We’s court na mare maidens,
	Against our parent’s will.’
73G.3	‘It’s na against our parent’s will,’
	Fair Annie she did say,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73G.4	Willie is hame to his bower,
	To his book all alane,
	And Fair Annie is to her bower,
	To her book and her seam.
73G.5	Sweet Willie is to his mother dear,
	Fell low down on his knee:
	‘An asking, my mother dear,
	And ye grant it to me;
	O will I marry the nut-brown may,
	An lat Fair Annie gae?’
73G.6	‘The nut-brown may has ousen, Willie,
	The nut-brown may has key;
	An ye will winn my blessing, Willie,
	And latt Fair Annie be.’
73G.7	He did him to his father dear,
	Fell low down on his knee:
	‘An asking, my father,
	An ye man grant it me.’
73G.8	‘Ask on, my ae son Willie,
	Ye’r sur yer askin’s free;
	Except it is to marry her Fair Annie,
	And that manna be.’
73G.9	Out spak his little sister,
	As she [sat] by the fire:
	‘The ox-leg will brack in the plough,
	And the cow will drown in the mire.
73G.10	‘An Willie will ha nathing
	But the dam to sitt by the fire;
	Fair Annie will sit in her beagly bower,
	An winn a earl’s hire.’
73G.11	‘Fair faa ye, my little sister,
	A guid dead mat ye die!
	An ever I hae goud,
	Well tochered sall ye be.’
73G.12	He’s awa to Fair Annie,
	As fast as gan could he:
	‘O will ye come to my marriage?
	The morn it is to be.’
73G.13	‘O I will come to yer marriage,
	The morn, gin I can win.’
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73G.14	Annie did her to her father dear,
	Fell down on her knee:
	‘An askin, my father,
	And ye man grant it me;
	Lat me to Sweet Willie’s marriage,
	The morn it is to be.’
73G.15	‘Yer horse sall be siller shod afore,
	An guid red goud ahin,
	An bells in his mane,
	To ring against the win.’
73G.16	She did her to her mother dear,
	Fell down on her knee:
	‘Will ye lat me to Willie’s marriage?
	The morn it is to be;’
	‘I’ll lat ye to Willie’s marriage,
	An we the morn see.’
73G.17	Whan Annie was in her saddle set
	She flam’d against the fire;
	The girdle about her sma middle
	Wad a won an earl’s hire.
73G.18	Whan they came to Mary kirk,
	And on to Mary quire,
	‘O far gat ye that watter, Ann,
	That washes ye sae clear?’
73G.19	‘I got it in my father’s garden,
	Aneth a marbell stane;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
73G.20	‘O whar gat ye that water, Annie,
	That washes ye sae fite?’
	‘I gat it in my mother’s womb,
	Whar ye[’s] never get the like.
73G.21	‘For ye ha been christned wi moss-water,
	An roked in the reak,
	An ser brunt in yer mither’s womb,
	For I think ye’ll neer be fite.’
73G.22	The nut-brown bride pat her hand in
	. . . at Annie[’s] left ear,
	And gin her . . . .
	A deep wound and a sare.
73G.23	Than . . Annie ged on her horse back,
	An fast away did ride,
	But lang or cock’s crowing,
	Fair Annie was dead.
73G.24	Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung,
	An a’ man boun to bed,
	Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride
	In a chamber were laid.
73G.25	But up and wakend him Sweet Willie
	Out of his dreary dream:
	‘I dreamed a dream this night,
	God read a’ dream to guid!
73G.26	‘That Fair Annies bowr was full of gentlemen,
	An herself was dead;
	But I will on to Fair Annie,
	An si’t if it be guid.’
73G.27	Seven lang mile or he came near,
	He heard a dolefull chear,
	Her father and her seven brithern,
	Walking at her bier;
	The half of it guid red goud,
	The other silver clear.
73G.28	‘Ye deal at my love’s leak
	The white bread an the wine;
	But on the morn at this time
	Ye’s dee the like at mine.’
73G.29	The ane was buried at Mary kirk,
	The ither at Mary quire;
	Out of the ane grew a birk,
	Out of the ither a briar.
73G.30	An aye the langer that they grew,
	They came the ither near,
	An by that ye might a well kent
	They were twa lovers dear.


		 Child 73H: Lord Thomas and Annet

73H.1	FAIR ANNIE and Sweet Willie,
	As they talked on yon hill,
	Though they had talked a lang summer day,
	They wad na hae talked their fill.
73H.2	‘If you would be a good woman, Annie,
	An low leave a’ your pride,
	In spite of a’ my friends, Annie,
	I wad mak you my bride.’
73H.3	‘Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie,
	An thin, thin lie mine;
	An little wad a’ your friends think
	O sic a kin as mine.
73H.4	‘Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie,
	Down by the coving-tree;
	An little wad a’ your friends think
	O sic a bride as me.
73H.5	‘O Fair Annie, O Fair Annie,
	This nicht ye’ve said me no;
	But lang or ever this day month
	I’ll make your heart as sore.’
73H.6	It’s Willie he went home that night,
	An a sick man lay he down;
	An ben came Willie’s auld mither,
	An for nae gude she came.
	* * * * *
73H.7	‘It’s if ye marry Fair Annie,
	My malison ye’s hae;
	But if ye marry the nut-brown may,
	My blessin an ye’s hae.’
73H.8	‘Mother, for your malison,
	An mother, for your wis,
	It’s I will marry the nut-brown may,
	. . . . .
73H.9	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	It’s up an spak his sister,
	. . . . .
73H.10	‘The owsen may hang in the pleugh,
	The kye drown in the myre,
	An he’ll hae naething but a dirty drab
	To sit doun by the fire.’
	* * * * *
73H.11	‘Where will I get a bonny boy,
	That will win hose and shoon,
	That will rin on to Annie’s bower,
	An haste him back again?’
73H.12	‘It’s I have run your errands, Willie,
	An happy hae I been;
	It’s I will rin your errands, Willie,
	Wi the saut tears in my een.’
73H.13	‘When ye come to Annie’s bower,
	She will be at her dine;
	And bid her come to Willie’s weddin,
	On Monday in good time.
73H.14	‘Tell her neither to put on the dowie black,
	Nor yet the mournfu brown,
	But the gowd sae reed, and the silver white,
	An her hair weel combed down.
73H.15	‘Tell her to get a tailor to her bower,
	To shape for her a weed,
	And a smith to her smithy,
	To shoe for her a steed.
73H.16	‘To be shod wi silver clear afore,
	An gold graithed behind,
	An every foot the foal sets down,
	The gold lie on the ground.’
73H.17	It’s when he came to Annie’s bower,
	It’s she was at her dine:
	‘Ye’re bidden come to Willie’s weddin,
	On Monday in good time.
73H.18	‘You’re neither to put on the dowie black,
	Nor get the mournfu brown,
	But the gowd sae reid, an the silver white,
	An yere hair well combed doun.
73H.19	‘You’re to get a tailor to your bower,
	To shape for you a weed,
	And likewise a smith to your smithy,
	To shoe for you a steed.
73H.20	‘To be shod with silver clear afore,
	An gold graithed behind,
	An every foot the foal sets down,
	The gold lie on the ground.’
73H.21	‘It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	I rather it had been mine;
	It’s I will come to Willie’s weddin,
	On Monday in good time.
73H.22	‘It’s I’ll send to Willie a toweld silk,
	To hing below his knee.
	An ilka time he looks on it,
	He’ll hae gude mind o me.
	* * * * *
73H.23	‘An askin, father, an askin,
	An I hope you will grant me;
	For it is the last askin
	That ever I’ll ask of thee.’
73H.24	‘Ask me, Annie, gold,’ he said,
	‘An ask me, Annie, fee,
	But dinna ask me Sweet Willie,
	Your bedfellow to be.’
73H.25	‘It’s I will ask you gold, father,
	Sae will I ask you fee,
	But I needna ask you Sweet Willie,
	My bedfellow to be.
73H.26	‘For I am bidden to Willie’s weddin,
	On Monday in good time,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
73H.27	On every tait o her horse’s mane
	A siller bell did hing,
	An on every tait o her horse’s tail
	A golden bell did ring.
73H.28	Twal and twal rade her afore,
	An twal an twal ahind,
	An twal an twal on every side,
	To hold her frae the wind.
73H.29	Fair Annie shined mair on the top o the hill
	Than Willie did in the glen;
	Fair Annie shined mair on the heid o the hill
	Than Willie wi a’ his men.
73H.30	Whan she came to Mary’s kirk,
	She lighted on the stane;
	An when she came to the kirk-door,
	She bade the bride gae in.
73H.31	‘Clear, clear is your day, Willie,
	But brown, brown is your bride;
	Clear, clear is her lawn curches,
	But weel dunned is her hide.’
73H.32	‘Where got ye yon water, Annie,
	That has made you so white?’
	‘I got it in my father’s garden,
	Below yon hollan dyke.
73H.33	‘But ye hae been washed i the moss water,
	An rocked in the reek;
	Ye hae been brunt in your mither’s wame,
	An ye will neer be white.’
73H.34	‘Whatna fool were ye, Willie,
	To lay your love on me;
	She’s mair gowd on her heid this day
	Than I’ll wear till I die!’
73H.35	‘I’ve laid nae love on you, brown may,
	I’ve laid nae love on you;
	I’ve mair love for Fair Annie this day
	Than I’ll hae for you till I dee.’
	* * * * *
73H.36	‘If you will neither eat nor drink,
	You’ll see good game an play;’
	But she turned her horse head to the hill,
	An swift she rode away.
	* * * * *
73H.37	When they were all at supper set,
	. . . . .
	Till he went to Fair Annie’s bower,
	By the ley licht o the mune.
73H.38	An when he came to Annie’s bower,
	Annie was lying deid,
	An seven o Annie’s sisters an sisters’ bairns
	Were sewing at Annie’s weed.
73H.39	‘It’s I will take your hand, Annie,
	Since ye wald neer take mine;
	The woman shall never have the hand
	That I’ll touch after thine.
73H.40	‘An I will kiss your mouth, Annie,
	Since ye will never kiss mine;
	The woman shall never have the lips
	That I’ll kiss after thine.
	* * * * *
73H.41	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘As much breid ye deal at Annie’s dairgie
	Tomorrow ye’s deal at mine.’


		 Child 73[I]: Lord Thomas and Annet

73[I].1	Fair Annie an Sweet Willie
	Sat a’ day on yon hill;
	Whan day was gane an night was comd,
	They hadna said their fill.
73[I.2]	Willie spak but ae wrang word,
	An Annie took it ill:
	‘I’ll never marry a fair woman
	Against my friends’s will.’
73[I.3]	Annie spak but ae wrang word,
	An Willy lookit down:
	‘If I binna gude eneugh for yer wife,
	I’m our-gude for yer loun.’
73[I.4]	Willie’s turnd his horse’s head about,
	He’s turnd it to the broom,
	An he’s away to his father’s bower,
	I the ae light o the moon.
73[I.5]	Whan he cam to his father’s bower,
	[He tirlt at the pin;
	Nane was sae ready as his father
	To rise an let him in.]
73[I.6]	‘An askin, an askin, dear father,
	An askin I’ll ask thee;’
	‘Say on, say on, my son Willie,
	Whatever your askin be.’
73[I.7]	‘O sall I marry the nit-brown bride,
	Has corn, caitle an kye,
	Or sall I marry Fair Annie,
	Has nought but fair beauty?’
73[I.8]	‘Ye ma sit a gude sate, Willy,
	Wi corn, caitle an kye;
	But ye’ll but sit a silly sate
	Wi nought but fair beauty.’
73[I.9]	Up than spak his sister’s son,
	Sat on the nurse’s knee,
	Sun-bruist in his mother’s wame,
	Sun-brunt on his nurse’s knee:
73[I.10]	‘O yer hogs will die out i the field,
	Yer kye ill die i the byre;
	An than, whan a’ yer gear is gane,
	A fusom fag by yer fire!
	But a’ will thrive at is wi you
	An ye get yer heart’s desire.’
73[I.11]	Willie’s turnd his horse’s head about,
	He’s away to his mother’s bour, etc.
73[I.12]	‘O my hogs ill die out i the field,
	My kye die i the byre,
	An than, whan a’ my gear is gane,
	A fusom fag bi my fire!
	But a’ will thrive at is wi me
	Gin I get my heart’s desire.’
73[I.13]	Willie’s, etc.,
	He’s awae to his brother’s bower, etc.
73[I.14]	"] "] "] "] sister’s bower, etc.
73[I.15]	Than Willie has set his wadin-day
	Within thirty days an three,
	An he has sent to Fair Annie
	His waddin to come an see.
73[I.16]	The man that gade to Fair Annie
	Sae weel his errant coud tell:
	‘The morn it’s Willie’s wadin-day,
	Ye maun be there yer sell.’
73[I.17]	’Twas up an spak her aged father,
	He spak wi muckle care;
	‘An the morn be Willie’s wadin-day,
	I wate she maun be there.
73[I.18]	‘Gar take a steed to the smiddie,
	Caw on o it four shoon;
	Gar take her to a merchant’s shop,
	Cut off for her a gown.’
73[I.19]	She wadna ha ’t o the red sae red,
	Nor yet o the grey sae grey,
	But she wad ha ’t o the sky couler
	That she woor ilka day.
	* * * * * * *
73[I.20]	There war four-an-twontie gray goss-hawks
	A flaffin their wings sae wide,
	To flaff the stour thra off the road
	That Fair Annie did ride.
73[I.21]	The[re] war four-a-twontie milk-white dows
	A fleein aboon her head,
	An four-an-twontie milk-white swans
	Her out the gate to lead.
73[I.22]	Whan she cam to St Marie’s kirk,
	She lightit on a stane;
	The beauty o that fair creature
	Shone oer mony ane.
73[I.23]	’Twas than out cam the nit-brown bride,
	She spak wi muckle spite;
	‘O where gat ye the water, Annie,
	That washes you sae white?’
73[I.24]	‘I gat my beauty
	Where ye was no to see;
	I gat it i my father’s garden,
	Aneath an apple tree.
73[I.25]	‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said,
	‘An ye ma wash i syke,
	But an ye wad wash till doomsday
	Ye neer will be as white.
73[I.26]	‘Ye ma wash i dubs,’ she said,
	‘An ye ma wash i the sea,
	But an ye soud wash till doomsday
	Ye’ll neer be as white as me.
73[I.27]	‘For I gat a’ this fair beauty
	Where ye gat never none,
	For I gat a’ this fair beauty
	Or ever I was born.’
73[I.28]	It was than out cam Willie,
	Wi hats o silks and flowers;
	He said, Keep ye thae, my Fair Annie,
	An brook them weel for yours.’
73[I.29]	‘Na, keep ye thae, Willie,’ she said,
	‘Gie them to yer nit-brown bride;
	Bid her wear them wi mukle care,
	For woman has na born a son
	Sal mak my heart as sair.’
73[I.30]	Annie’s luppen on her steed
	An she has ridden hame,
	Than Annie’s luppen of her steed
	An her bed she has taen.
73[I.31]	When mass was sung, an bells war rung,
	An a’ man bound to bed,
	An Willie an his nit-brown bride
	I their chamber war laid.
73[I.32]	They war na weel laid in their bed,
	Nor yet weel faen asleep,
	Till up an startit Fair Annie,
	Just up at Willie’s feet.
73[I.33]	‘How like ye yer bed, Willie?
	An how like ye yer sheets?
	An how like ye yer nut-brown bride,
	Lies in yer arms an sleeps?’
73[I.34]	‘Weel eneugh I like my bed, Annie,
	Weel eneugh I like my sheets;
	But wae be to the nit-brown bride
	Lies in my arms an sleeps!’
73[I.35]	Willie’s ca’d on his merry men a’
	To rise an pit on their shoon;
	‘An we’ll awae to Annie’s bower,
	Wi the ae light o the moon.’
73[I.36]	An whan he cam to Annie’s bower,
	He tirlt at the pin;
	Nane was sae ready as her father
	To rise an let him in.
73[I.37]	There was her father a[n] her se’en brethren
	A makin to her a bier,
	Wi ae stamp o the melten goud,
	Another o siller clear.
73[I.38]	When he cam to the chamber-door
	Where that the dead lay in,
	There was her mother an six sisters
	A makin to her a sheet,
	Wi ae drap o . . . .
	Another o silk sae white.
73[I.39]	‘Stand by, stand by now, ladies a’,
	Let me look on the dead;
	The last time that I kiss[t] her lips
	They war mair bonny red.’
73[I.40]	‘Stand by, stand by now, Willie,’ they said,
	‘An let ye her alane;
	Gin ye had done as ye soud done,
	She wad na there ha lien.’
73[I.41]	‘Gar deal, gar deal at Annie’s burrial
	The wheat bread an the wine,
	For or the morn at ten o clock
	Ye’s deal’d as fast at mine.’



	  Child 74A: Fair Margaret and Sweet William

74A.1	As it fell out on a long summer’s day,
	Two lovers they sat on a hill;
	They sat together that long summer’s day,
	And could not talk their fill.
74A.2	‘I see no harm by you, Margaret,
	Nor you see none by me;
	Before tomorrow eight a clock
	A rich wedding shall you see.’
74A.3	Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window,
	A combing of her hair,
	And there she spy’d Sweet William and his bride,
	As they were riding near.
74A.4	Down she layd her ivory comb,
	And up she bound her hair;
	She went her way forth of her bower,
	But never more did come there.
74A.5	When day was gone, and night was come,
	And all men fast asleep,
	Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret,
	And stood at William’s feet.
74A.6	‘God give you joy, you two true lovers,
	In bride-bed fast asleep;
	Loe I am going to my green grass grave,
	And am in my winding-sheet.’
74A.7	When day was come, and night was gone,
	And all men wak’d from sleep,
	Sweet William to his lady said,
	My dear, I have cause to weep.
74A.8	‘I dreamd a dream, my dear lady;
	Such dreams are never good;
	I dreamd my bower was full of red swine,
	And my bride-bed full of blood.’
74A.9	‘Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord,
	They never do prove good,
	To dream thy bower was full of swine,
	And [thy] bride-bed full of blood.’
74A.10	He called up his merry men all,
	By one, by two, and by three,
	Saying, I’ll away to Fair Margaret’s bower,
	By the leave of my lady.
74A.11	And when he came to Fair Margaret’s bower,
	He knocked at the ring;
	So ready was her seven brethren
	To let Sweet William in.
74A.12	He turned up the covering-sheet:
	‘Pray let me see the dead;
	Methinks she does look pale and wan,
	She has lost her cherry red.
74A.13	‘I’ll do more for thee, Margaret,
	Than any of thy kin;
	For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,
	Tho a smile I cannot win.’
74A.14	With that bespeak her seven brethren,
	Making most pitious moan:
	‘You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,
	And let our sister alone.’
74A.15	‘If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,
	I do but what is right;
	For I made no vow to your sister dear,
	By day or yet by night.
74A.16	‘Pray tell me then how much you’ll deal
	Of your white bread and your wine;
	So much as is dealt at her funeral today
	Tomorrow shall be dealt at mine.’
74A.17	Fair Margaret dy’d today, today,
	Sweet William he dy’d the morrow;
	Fair Margaret dy’d for pure true love,
	Sweet William he dy’d for sorrow.
74A.18	Margaret was buried in the lower chancel,
	Sweet William in the higher;
	Out of her breast there sprung a rose,
	And out of his a brier.
74A.19	They grew as high as the church-top,
	Till they could grow no higher,
	And then they grew in a true lover’s knot,
	Which made all people admire.
74A.20	There came the clerk of the parish,
	As you this truth shall hear,
	And by misfortune cut them down,
	Or they had now been there.


	  Child 74B: Fair Margaret and Sweet William

74B.1	SWEET WILLIAM would a wooing ride,
	His steed was lovely brown;
	A fairer creature than Lady Margaret
	Sweet William could find none.
74B.2	Sweet William came to Lady Margaret’s bower,
	And knocked at the ring,
	And who so ready as Lady Margaret
	To rise and to let him in.
74B.3	Down then came her father dear,
	Clothed all in blue:
	‘I pray, Sweet William, tell to me
	What love’s between my daughter and you?’
74B.4	‘I know none by her,’ he said,
	‘And she knows none by me;
	Before tomorrow at this time
	Another bride you shall see.’
74B.5	Lady Margaret at her bower-window,
	Combing of her hair,
	She saw Sweet William and his brown bride
	Unto the church repair.
74B.6	Down she cast her iv’ry comb,
	And up she tossd her hair,
	She went out from her bowr alive,
	But never so more came there.
74B.7	When day was gone, and night was come,
	All people were asleep,
	In glided Margaret’s grimly ghost,
	And stood at William’s feet.
74B.8	‘How d’ye like your bed, Sweet William?
	How d’ye like your sheet?
	And how d’ye like that brown lady,
	That lies in your arms asleep?’
74B.9	‘Well I like my bed, Lady Margaret,
	And well I like my sheet;
	But better I like that fair lady
	That stands at my bed’s feet.’
74B.10	When night was gone, and day was come,
	All people were awake,
	The lady waket out of her sleep,
	And thus to her lord she spake.
74B.11	‘I dreamd a dream, my wedded lord,
	That seldom comes to good;
	I dreamd that our bowr was lin’d with white swine,
	And our brid-chamber of blood.’
74B.12	He called up his merry men all,
	By one, by two, by three,
	‘We will go to Lady Margaret’s bower,
	With the leave of my wedded lady.’
74B.13	When he came to Lady Margaret’s bower,
	He knocked at the ring,
	And who were so ready as her brethren
	To rise and let him in.
74B.14	‘Oh is she in the parlor,’ he said,
	‘Or is she in the hall?
	Or is she in the long chamber,
	Amongst her merry maids all?’
74B.15	‘She’s not in the parlor,’ they said,
	‘Nor is she in the hall;
	But she is in the long chamber,
	Laid out against the wall.’
74B.16	‘Open the winding sheet,’ he cry’d,
	‘That I may kiss the dead;
	That I may kiss her pale and wan
	Whose lips used to look so red.’
74B.17	Lady Margaret [died] on the over night,
	Sweet William died on the morrow;
	Lady Margaret die for pure, pure love,
	Sweet William died for sorrow.
74B.18	On Margaret’s grave there grew a rose,
	On Sweet William’s grew a briar;
	They grew till they joind in a true lover’s knot,
	And then they died both together.


	  Child 74C: Fair Margaret and Sweet William

74C.1	As Margaret stood at her window so clear,
	A combing back her hair,
	She saw Sweet William and his gay bride
	Unto the church draw near.
74C.2	Then down she threw her ivory comb,
	She turned back her hair;
	There was a fair maid at that window,
	She’s gone, she’ll come no more there.
74C.3	In the night, in the middle of the night,
	When all men were asleep,
	There walkd a ghost, Fair Margaret’s ghost,
	And stood at his bed’s feet.
74C.4	Sweet William he dremed a dream, and he said,
	‘I wish it prove for good;
	My chamber was full of wild men’s wine,
	And my bride-bed stood in blood.’
74C.5	Then he calld up his stable-groom,
	To saddle his nag with speed:
	‘This night will I ride to Fair Margaret’s bowr,
	With the leave of my lady.
74C.6	‘Oh is Fair Margaret in the kitchen?
	Or is she in the hall?
	. . . . .
	. . . .
74C.7	‘No, she is not in the kitchen,’ they cryed,
	‘Nor is she in the hall;
	But she is in the long chamber,
	Laid up against the wall.’
74C.8	Go with your right side to Newcastle,
	And come with your left side home,
	There you will see those two lovers
	Lie printed on one stone.



			Child 75A: Lord Lovel

75A.1	‘AND I fare you well, Lady Ouncebell,
	For I must needs be gone,
	And this time two year I’ll meet you again,
	To finish the loves we begun.’
75A.2	‘That is a long time, Lord Lovill,’ said she,
	‘To live in fair Scotland;’
	‘And so it is, Lady Ouncebell,
	To leave a fair lady alone.’
75A.3	He had not been in fair Scotland
	Not half above half a year,
	But a longin mind came into his head,
	Lady Ouncebell he woud go see her.
75A.4	He called up his stable-groom,
	To sadle his milk-white stead;
  Refrain:	Dey down, dey down, dey down dery down,
75A.4	I wish Lord Lovill good speed.
75A.5	He had not been in fair London
	Not half above half a day,
	But he heard the bells of the high chapel ring,
	They rang with a ceserera.
75A.6	He asked of a gentleman,
	That set there all alone,
	What made the bells of the high chapel ring,
	The ladys make all their moan.
75A.7	‘One of the king’s daughters are dead,’ said he,
	‘Lady Ouncebell was her name;
	She died for love of a courtous young night,
	Lord Lovill he was the same.’
75A.8	He caused her corps to be set down,
	And her winding sheet undone,
	And he made a vow before them all
	He’d never kiss wowman again.
75A.9	Lady Ouncebell died on the yesterday,
	Lord Lovill on the morrow;
	Lady Ouncebell died for pure true love,
	Lord Lovill died for sorrow.
75A.10	Lady Ouncebell was buried in the high chancel,
	Lord Lovill in the choir;
	Lady Ouncebell’s breast sprung out a sweet rose,
	Lord Lovill’s a bunch of sweet brier.
75A.11	They grew till they grew to the top of the church,
	And then they could grow no higher;
	They grew till they grew to a true-lover’s not,
	And then they tyed both together.
75A.12	An old wowman coming by that way,
	And a blessing she did crave,
	To cut of a bunch of that true-lover’s not,
	And buried them both in one grave.


			Child 75B: Lord Lovel

75B.1	LORD LAVEL he stands at his stable-door,
	Kaiming his milk-white steed;
	And by and cam Fair Nancybelle,
	And wished Lord Lavel good speed.
75B.2	‘O whare are ye going, Lord Lavel?’ she said,
	‘I pray ye tell to me:’
	‘O I am going to merry England,
	To win your love aff me.’
75B.3	‘And when will ye return again?’ she said,
	‘Lord Lavel, pray tell to me:’
	‘Whan seven lang years are past and gane,
	Fair Nancybelle, I’ll return to thee.’
75B.4	‘’Tis too lang, Lord Lavel,’ she said,
	‘’Tis too lang for me;
	’Tis too long, Lord Lavel,’ she said,
	‘A true lover for to see.’
	* * * * *
75B.5	He had na been in merry England
	A month but barely three,
	Till languishing thoughts cam into his mind,
	And Nancybelle fain wad he see.
75B.6	He rade, and he rade, alang the hieway,
	Till he cam to yonder toun;
	He heard the sound o a fine chapel-bell,
	And the ladies were mourning roun.
75B.7	He rade, and he rade, alang the hieway,
	Till he cam to yonder hall;
	He heard the sound o a fine chapel-bell,
	And the ladies were mourning all.
75B.8	He asked wha it was that was dead,
	The ladies did him tell:
	They said, It is the king’s daughter,
	Her name is Fair Nancybelle;
	She died for the love of a courteous young knicht,
	His name is Lord Lavel.
75B.9	‘O hast thou died, Fair Nancybelle,
	O hast thou died for me!
	O hast thou died, Fair Nancybelle!
	Then I will die for thee.’
75B.10	Fair Nancybelle died, as it might be, this day,
	Lord Lavel he died tomorrow;
	Fair Nancybelle died with pure, pure love,
	Lord Lavel he died with sorrow.
75B.11	Lord Lavel was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	Nancybelle in Mary’s quire;
	And out o the ane there grew a birk,
	Out the other a bonny brier.
75B.12	And ae they grew, and ae they threw,
	Until they twa did meet,
	That ilka ane might plainly see
	They war twa lovers sweet.


			Child 75C: Lord Lovel

75C.1	LORD TRAVELL stands in his stable-door,
	Dressing his milk-white steed,
	An bye comes Lady Ounceville:
	‘I wish you muckle speed.
75C.2	‘Oh whar are ye gaun, Lord Travell?’ she says,
	‘Whar are gaun frae me?’
	‘I am gaun to London town,
	Some strange things for to see.’
75C.3	‘Whan will ye be back, Lord Travell?’ she says,
	‘Whan will ye be back to me?’
	‘I will be back in seven lang years,
	To wed my gay ladie.’
75C.4	‘Oh that is too lang for me,’ she says,
	‘Oh that is too lang for me;
	Oh that is too lang for me,’ she says,
	‘To wed thy gay ladie.’
75C.5	He hadna been in London town
	A week but only three,
	When a boding voice thirld in his ear,
	That Scotland he maun see.
75C.6	He rade an he rode alang the highway,
	Till he cam to yon little town:
	‘Oh is there ony body dead?
	The bells they mak sic a sound.’
75C.7	He rade an he rode alang the highway,
	Till he cam to yon little town:
	‘Oh is there ony body dead?
	The folk gae mournin round.’
75C.8	‘Oh yes indeed, there is ane dead,
	Her name is Ounceville;
	An she has died for a courteous knicht,
	His name is Lord Travell.’
75C.9	‘Oh hand ye aboot, ye gentlemen,
	The white bread an the wine,
	For the morn’s nicht aboot this time
	Ye’ll do the same for mine!’


			Child 75D: Lord Lovel

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


			Child 75E: Lord Lovel

75E.1	‘NOW fare ye well, Lady Oonzabel,
	For I must needs be gone,
	To visit the king of fair Scotland,
	Oh I must be up and ride.’
75E.2	So he called unto him his little foot-page,
	To saddle his milk-white steed;
  Refrain:	Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down,
75E.2	How I wish my Lord Lovel good speed!
75E.3	He had not been in fair Scotland,
	Not passing half a year,
	When a lover-like thought came into his head,
	Lady Oonzabel he would go see her.
75E.4	So he called unto him his little foot-page,
	To saddle his milk-white steed;
  Refrain:	Hey down, hey down, hey derry, hey down,
75E.4	How I wish my Lord Lovel good speed.
75E.5	He had not been in fair England,
	Not passing half a day,
	When the bells of the high chappel did ring,
	And they made a loud sassaray.
75E.6	He asked of an old gentleman
	Who was sitting there all alone,
	Why the bells of the high chappel did ring,
	And the ladies were making a moan.
75E.7	‘Oh, the king’s fair daughter is dead,’ said he;
	‘Her name’s Lady Oonzabel;
	And she died for the love of a courteous young knight,
	And his name it is Lord Lovel.’
	* * * * *
75E.8	He caused the bier to be set down,
	The winding sheet undone,
	And drawing forth his rapier bright,
	Through his own true heart did it run.
75E.9	Lady Oonzabel lies in the high chappel,
	Lord Lovel he lies in the quier;
	And out of the one there grew up a white rose,
	And out of the other a brier.
75E.10	And they grew, and they grew, to the high chappel top;
	They could not well grow any higher;
	And they twined into a true lover’s knot,
	So in death they are joined together.


			Child 75F: Lord Lovel

75F.1	AS LORD LOVEL was at the stable-door,
	Mounting his milk-white steed,
	Who came by but poor Nancy Bell,
	And she wished Lovel good speed.
75F.2	‘O where are ye going, Lord Lovel?’ she said,
	‘How long to tarry from me?’
	‘Before six months are past and gone,
	Again I’ll return to thee.’
75F.3	He had not been a twelvemonth away,
	A twelvemonth and a day,
	Till Nancy Bell grew sick and sad,
	She pined and witherd away.
75F.4	The very first town that he came to,
	He heard the death-bell knell;
	The very next town that he came to,
	They said it was Nancy Bell.
75F.5	He orderd the coffin to be broke open,
	The sheet to be turned down,
	And then he kissd her cold pale lips,
	Till the tears ran tricklin down.
75F.6	The one was buried in St. John’s church,
	The other in the choir;
	From Nancy Bell sprang a bonny red rose,
	From Lord Lovel a bonny briar.
75F.7	They grew, and they grew, to the height o the church,
	To they met from either side,
	And at the top a true lover’s knot
	Shows that one for the other had died.


			Child 75G: Lord Lovel

75G.1	LORD REVEL he stands in his stable-door,
	He was dressing a milk-white steed;
	A lady she stands in her bour-door,
	A dressin with haste an speed.
75G.2	‘O where are you goin, Lord Revel,’ she said,
	‘Where are you going from me?’
	‘It’s I am going to Lonnon toun,
	That fair city for to see.’
75G.3	‘When will you be back, Lord Revel?’ she said,
	‘When will you be back to me?’
	‘I will be back in the space of three years,
	To wed you, my gey ladie.’
75G.4	‘That’s too long a time for me,’ she said,
	‘That’s too long a time for me;
	For I’ll be dead long time ere that,
	For want of your sweet companie.’
75G.5	He had not been in Lonnon toun
	A month but barely three,
	When word was brought that Isabell
	Was sick, an like to dee.
75G.6	He had not been in Lonnon toun
	A year but barely ane,
	When word was brought from Lonnon toun
	That Isabell was gane.
75G.7	He rode an he rode along the high way,
	Till he came to Edenborrow toon:
	Is there any fair lady dead,’ said he,
	‘That the bells gie such a tone?’
75G.8	‘Oh yes, there’s a ladie, a very fine ladie,
	Her name it is Isabell;
	She died for the sake of a young Scottish knight,
	His name it is Lord Revel.’
75G.9	‘Deal well, deal well at Isabell’s burial
	The biscuit and the beer,
	An gainst the morrow at this same time
	You’ll aye deal mair and mair.
75G.10	‘Deal well, deal well at Isabell’s burial
	The white bread and the wine,
	An gainst the morn at this same time
	You’ll deal the same at mine.’
75G.11	They dealt well, dealt weel at Isabell’s burial
	The biscuit an the beer,
	And gainst the morn at that same time
	They dealt them mair an mair.
75G.12	They dealt weel, dealt weel at Isabell’s burial
	The white bread an the wine,
	An gainst the morn at that same time
	They dealt the same again.


			Child 75H: Lord Lovel

75H.1	LORD LOVEL he stood at his castle-gate,
	Combing his milk-white steed,
	When up came Lady Nancy Belle,
	To wish her lover good speed, speed,
	To wish her lover good speed.
75H.2	‘Where are you going, Lord Lovel?’ she said,
	‘Oh where are you going?’ said she;
	‘I’m going, my Lady Nancy Belle,
	Strange countries for to see.’
75H.3	‘When will you be back, Lord Lovel?’ she said,
	‘Oh when will you come back?’ said she;
	‘In a year or two, or three, at the most,
	I’ll return to my fair Nancy.’
75H.4	But he had not been gone a year and a day,
	Strange countries for to see,
	When languishing thoughts came into his head,
	Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.
75H.5	So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed,
	Till he came to London town,
	And there he heard St Pancras bells,
	And the people all mourning round.
75H.6	‘Oh what is the matter?’ Lord Lovel he said,
	‘Oh what is the matter?’ said he;
	‘A lord’s lady is dead,’ a woman replied,
	‘And some call her Lady Nancy.’
75H.7	So he ordered the grave to be opened wide,
	And the shroud he turned down,
	And there he kissed her clay-cold lips,
	Till the tears came trickling down.
75H.8	Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today,
	Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow;
	Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief,
	Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.
75H.9	Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras church,
	Lord Lovel was laid in the choir;
	And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
	And out of her lover’s a briar.
75H.10	They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too,
	And then they could grow no higher;
	So there they entwined in a true-lover’s knot,
	For all lovers true to admire.


			Child 75I: Lord Lovel

75I.1	There came a ghost to Helen’s bower,
	Wi monny a sigh and groan:
	‘O make yourself ready, at Wednesday at een,
	Fair Helen, you must be gone.’
75I.2	‘O gay Death, O gallant Death,
	Will you spare my life sae lang
	Untill I send to merry Primrose,
	Bid my dear lord come hame?’
75I.3	‘O gay Helen, O galant Helen,
	I winna spare you sae lang;
	But make yoursell ready, again Wednesday at een,
	Fair Helen, you must be gane.’
75I.4	‘O where will I get a bonny boy,
	That would win hose and shoon,
	That will rin fast to merry Primrose,
	Bid my dear lord come soon?’
75I.5	O up and speak a little boy,
	That would win hose and shoon:
	‘Aft have I gane your errants, lady,
	But by my suth I’ll rin.’
75I.6	When he came to broken briggs
	He bent his bow and swam,
	And when he came to grass growing
	He cast off his shoon and ran.
75I.7	When he came to merry Primrose,
	His lord he was at meat:
	‘O my lord, kend ye what I ken,
	Right little wad ye eat.’
75I.8	‘Is there onny of my castles broken doun,
	Or onny of my towers won?
	Or is Fair Helen brought to bed
	Of a doughter or a son?’
75I.9	‘There’s nane of [your] castles broken doun,
	Nor nane of your towers won,
	Nor is Fair Helen brought to bed
	Of a doghter or a son.’
75I.10	‘Gar sadle me the black, black steed,
	Gar sadle me the brown;
	Gar sadle me the swiftest horse
	Eer carried man to town.’
75I.11	First he bursted the bonny black,
	And then he bursted the brown,
	And then he bursted the swiftest steed
	Eer carried man to town.
75I.12	He hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
	A mile but barelins ten,
	When he met four and twenty gallant knights,
	carrying a dead coffin.
75I.13	‘Set down, set down Fair Helen’s corps,
	Let me look on the dead;’
	And out he took a little pen-knife,
	And he screeded the winding-sheet.
75I.14	O first he kist her rosy cheek,
	And then he kist her chin,
	And then he kist her coral lips,
	But there’s nae life in within.
75I.15	‘Gar deal, gar deal the bread,’ he says,
	‘The bread bat an the wine,
	And at the morn at twelve o’clock
	Ye’s gain as much at mine.’
75I.16	The tane was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	The tother in Mary’s choir,
	And out of the tane there sprang a birch,
	And out of the tother a briar.
75I.17	The tops of them grew far sundry,
	But the roots of them grew neer,
	And ye may easy ken by that
	They were twa lovers dear.


		  Child 75[J]: Lord Lovel

75[J].1	Lord Lovel was standing at his stable-door,
	Kaiming down his milk-white steed,
	When by came Lady Anzibel,
	Was wishing Lord Lovel good speed, good speed,
	Was wishing Lord Lovel good speed.
75[J.2]	‘O where are you going, Lord Lovel?’ she said,
	‘O where are you going?’ said she:
	‘I’m going unto England,
	And there a fair lady to see.’
75[J.3]	‘How long will you stay, Lord Lovel?’ she said,
	‘How long will you stay?’ says she:
	‘O three short years will soon go by,
	And then I’ll come back to thee.’



		 Child 76A: The Lass of Roch Royal

76A.1	FAIR ISABELL of Rochroyall,
	She dreamed where she lay,
	She dreamd a dream of her love Gregory,
	A litle before the day.
76A.2	O huly, huly rose she up,
	And huly she put on,
	And huly, huly she put on
	The silks of crimsion.
76A.3	‘Gar sadle me the black,’ she sayes,
	‘Gar sadle me the broun;
	Gar sadle me the swiftest steed
	That ever rode the toun.
76A.4	‘Gar shoe him with the beat silver,
	And grind him with the gold;
	Gar put two bells on every side,
	Till I come to some hold.’
76A.5	She had not rode a mile, a mile,
	A mile but barely three,
	Till that she spyed a companie
	Come rakeing oere the lee.
76A.6	‘O whether is this the first young may,
	That lighted and gaed in;
	Or is this the second young may,
	That neer the sun shined on?
	Or is this Fair Isabell of Roch Royall,
	Banisht from kyth and kin.’
76A.7	‘O I am not the first young may,
	That lighted and gaed in;
	Nor neither am I the second young may,
	That neer the sun shone on;
76A.8	‘But I’m Fair Isabell of Roch Royall
	Banisht from kyth and kin;
	I’m seeking my true-love Gregory,
	And I woud I had him in.’
76A.9	‘O go your way to yon castle,
	And ride it round about,
	And there you’ll find Love Gregory;
	He’s within, without any doubt.’
76A.10	O she’s away to yon castle,
	She’s tirled at the pin:
	‘O open, open, Love Gregory,
	And let your true-love in.’
76A.11	‘If you be the lass of the Rochroyall,
	As I trow not you be,
	You will tell me some of our love-tokens,
	That was betwixt you and me.’
76A.12	‘Have you not mind, Love Gregory,
	Since we sat at the wine;
	When we changed the rings off our fingers,
	And ay the worst fell mine?
76A.13	‘Mine was of the massy gold,
	And thine was of the tin;
	Mine was true and trusty both,
	And thine was false within.’
76A.14	If you be [the] lass of the Roch Royall,
	As I trow not you be,
	You will tell me some other love-token
	That was betwixt you and me.’
76A.15	‘Have you not mind, Love Gregory,
	Since we sat at the wine,
	We changed the smocks off our two backs,
	And ay the worst fell mine?
76A.16	‘Mine was of the holland fine,
	And thine was course and thin;
	So many blocks have we two made,
	And ay the worst was mine.’
76A.17	‘Love Gregory, he is not at home,
	But he is to the sea;
	If you have any word to him,
	I pray you leave’t with me.’
	* * * * *
76A.18	‘O who will shoe my bony foot?
	Or who will glove my hand?
	Or who will bind my midle jimp
	With the broad lilly band?
76A.19	‘Or who will comb my bony head
	With the red river comb?
	Or who will be my bairn’s father
	Ere Gregory he come home?’
76A.20	‘O I’s gar shoe thy bony foot,
	And I’s gar glove thy hand,
	And I’s gar bind thy midle jimp
	With the broad lilly band.
76A.21	‘And I’s gar comb thy bony head
	With the red river comb;
	But there is none to be thy bairn’s father
	Till Love Gregory he come home.
76A.22	‘I’ll set my foot on the ship-board,
	God send me wind and more!
	For there’s never a woman shall bear a son
	Shall make my heart so sore.’
76A.23	‘I dreamed a dream now since yestreen,
	That I never dreamed before;
	I dreamd that the lass of the Rochroyall
	Was knocking at the door.’
76A.24	‘Ly still, ly still, my dear son,
	Ly still, and take a sleep;
	For it’s neither ane hour, nor yet a half,
	Since she went from the gate.’
76A.25	‘O wo be to you, ill woman,
	And ane ill death mott you die!
	For you might have come to my bed-side,
	And then have wakened me.
76A.26	‘Gar sadle me the black,’ he sayes,
	‘Gar sadle me the broun;
	Gar sadle me the swiftest steed
	That ever rode the toun.
76A.27	‘Gar shoe him with the beat silver,
	Gar grind him with the gold;
	Cause put two bells on every side,
	Till I come to some hold.’
76A.28	They sadled him the black, the black,
	So did they him the broun;
	So did they him the swiftest steed
	That ever rode to toun.
76A.29	They shoed him with the beat silver,
	They grind him with the gold;
	They put two bells on every side,
	Till he came to some hold.
76A.30	He had not rode a mile, a mile,
	A mile but barely three,
	Till that he spyed her comely corps
	Come raking oere the lee.
76A.31	‘Set doun, set doun these comely corps,
	Let me look on the dead:’
	And out he’s ta’en his little pen-knife,
	And slitted her winding sheet.
76A.32	And first he kist her cheek, her cheek,
	And then he kist her chin;
	And then he kist her rosy lips,
	But there was no breath within.
76A.33	‘Gar deall, gar deall for my love sake
	The spiced bread and the wine;
	For ere the morn at this time
	So shall you deall for mine.
76A.34	‘Gar deall, gar deall for my love sake
	The pennys that are so small;
	For ere the morn at this time,
	So shall you deall for all.’
76A.35	The one was buried in Mary kirk,
	The other in Mary quire;
	Out of the one there sprung a birk,
	Out of the other a bryar;
	So thus you may well know by that
	They were two lovers dear.


		 Child 76B: The Lass of Roch Royal

76B.1	‘O WHA will shoe thy bonny feet?
	Or wha will glove thy hand?
	Or wha will lace thy midle jimp,
	With a lang, lang London whang?
76B.2	‘And wha will kame thy bonny head,
	With a tabean brirben kame?
	And wha will be my bairn’s father,
	Till Love Gregory come hame?’
76B.3	‘Thy father’ll shoe his bonny feet,
	Thy mither’ll glove his hand;
	Thy brither will lace his middle jimp,
	With a lang, lang London whang.
76B.4	‘Mysel will kame his bonny head,
	With a tabean brirben kame;
	And the Lord will be the bairn’s father,
	Till Love Gregory come hame.’
76B.5	Then she’s gart build a bonny ship,
	It’s a’ cored oer with pearl,
	And at every needle-tack was in’t
	There hang a siller bell.
76B.6	And she’s awa . . .
	To sail upon the sea;
	She’s gane to seek Love Gregory,
	In lands whereer he be.
76B.7	She hadna saild a league but twa,
	O scantly had she three,
	Till she met with a rude rover,
	Was sailing on the sea.
76B.8	‘O whether is thou the Queen hersel,
	Or ane o her maries three?
	Or is thou the lass of Lochroyan,
	Seeking Love Gregory?’
76B.9	‘O I am not the Queen hersell,
	Nor ane o her maries three;
	But I am the lass o Lochroyan,
	Seeking Love Gregory.
76B.10	‘O sees na thou yone bonny bower?
	It’s a’ cored oer with tin;
	When thou hast saild it round about,
	Love Gregory is within.’
76B.11	When she had saild it round about,
	She tirled at the pin:
	‘O open, open, Love Gregory,
	Open, and let me in!
	For I am the lass of Lochroyan,
	Banisht frae a’ my kin.’
76B.12	‘If thou be the lass of Lochroyan,
	As I know no thou be,
	Tell me some of the true tokens
	That past between me and thee.’
76B.13	‘Hast thou na mind, Love Gregory,
	As we sat at the wine,
	We changed the rings aff ither’s hands,
	And ay the best was mine?
76B.14	‘For mine was o the gude red gould,
	But thine was o the tin;
	And mine was true and trusty baith,
	But thine was fa’se within.
76B.15	‘If thou be the lass of Lochroyan,
	As I know na thou be,
	Tell me some mair o the true tokens
	Past between me and thee.’
76B.16	‘And has na thou na mind, Love Gregory,
	As we sat on yon hill,
	Thou twin’d me of my [maidenhead,]
	Right sair against my will?
76B.17	‘Now open, open, Love Gregory,
	Open, and let me in!
	For the rain rains on my gude cleading,
	And the dew stands on my chin.’
76B.18	Then she has turnd her round about:
	‘Well, since that it be sae,
	Let never woman that has born a son
	Hae a heart sae full of wae.
76B.19	‘Take down, take down that mast o gould,
	Set up a mast of tree;
	For it dinna become a forsaken lady
	To sail so royallie.’
76B.20	‘I dreamt a dream this night, mother,
	I wish it may prove true,
	That the bonny lass of Lochroyan
	Was at the gate just now.’
76B.21	‘Lie still, lie still, my only son,
	And sound sleep mayst thou get,
	For it’s but an hour or little mair
	Since she was at the gate.’
76B.22	Awa, awa, ye wicket woman,
	And an ill dead may ye die!
	Ye might have ither letten her in,
	Or else have wakened me.
76B.23	‘Gar saddle to me the black,’ he said,
	‘Gar saddle to me the brown;
	Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed
	That is in a’ the town.’
76B.24	Now the first town that he cam to,
	The bells were ringing there;
	And the neist toun that he cam to,
	Her corps was coming there.
76B.25	‘Set down, set down that comely corp,
	Set down, and let me see
	Gin that be the lass of Lochroyan,
	That died for love o me.’
76B.26	And he took out the little penknife
	That hang down by his gare,
	And he’s rippd up her winding-sheet,
	A lang claith-yard and mair.
76B.27	And first he kist her cherry cheek,
	And syne he kist her chin,
	And neist he kist her rosy lips;
	There was nae breath within.
76B.28	And he has taen his little penknife,
	With a heart that was fou sair,
	He has given himself a deadly wound,
	And word spake never mair.


		 Child 76C: The Lass of Roch Royal

76C.1	* * * *
	SHE sailed west, she sailed east,
	She sailed mony a mile,
	Until she cam to Lord Gregor’s yett,
	And she tirled at the pin.
76C.2	‘It’s open, open, Lord Gregory,
	Open, and let me in;
	For the rain drops on my gouden hair,
	And drops upon your son.’
76C.3	‘Are you the Queen of Queensberry?
	Or one of the marys three?
	Or are you the lass of Ruchlaw hill,
	Seeking Lord Gregory?’
76C.4	‘I’m not the Queen of Queensberry,
	Nor one of the marys three;
	But I am the bonny lass of Ruchlawhill,
	Seeking Lord Gregory.’
76C.5	‘Awa, awa, ye fause thief,
	I will not open to thee
	Till you tell me the first token
	That was tween you and me.’
76C.6	‘Do not you mind, Lord Gregory,
	When we birled at the wine,
	We changed the rings of our fingers,
	And ay the best was mine?
76C.7	‘For mine was true and trusty goud,
	But yours it was of tin;
	Mine was of the true and trusty goud,
	But yours was fause within.’
76C.8	She turned about her bonny ship,
	Awa then did she sail:
	‘The sun shall never shine on man
	That made my heart so sare.’
76C.9	Then up the old mother she got,
	And wakened Lord Gregory:
	‘Awa, awa, ye fause gudeson,
	A limmer was seeking thee.’
76C.10	‘It’s woe be to you, witch-mother,
	An ill death may you die!
	For you might hae set the yet open,
	And then hae wakened me.’
76C.11	It’s up he got, and put on his clothes,
	And to the yet he ran;
	The first sight of the ship he saw,
	He whistled and he sang.
76C.12	But whan the bonny ship was out o sight,
	He clapped his hands and ran,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
76C.13	The first kirktoun he cam to,
	He heard the death-bell ring,
	The second kirktoun he cam to,
	He saw her corpse come in.
76C.14	‘Set down, set down this bonny corpse,
	That I may look upon;
	If she died late for me last night,
	I’ll die for her the morn.
76C.15	‘Be merry, merry, gentlemen,
	Be merry at the bread and wine;
	For by the morn at this time o day
	You’ll drink as much at mine.’
76C.16	The one was buried in Mary’s isle,
	The other in Mary’s quire;
	Out of the one there grew a thorn,
	And out of the other a brier.
76C.17	And aye they grew, and aye they blew,
	Till their twa taps did meet;
	And every one that passed thereby
	Might see they were lovers sweet.


		 Child 76D: The Lass of Roch Royal

76D.1	‘O WHA will shoe my fu fair foot?
	An wha will glove my han?
	An wha will lace my middle gimp
	Wi the new made London ban?
76D.2	‘Or wha will kemb my yallow hair,
	Wi the new made silver kemb?
	Or wha’ll be father to my young bairn,
	Till Love Gregor come hame?’
76D.3	Her father shoed her fu fair foot,
	Her mother glovd her han;
	Her sister lac’d her middle gimp
	Wi the new made London ban.
76D.4	Her brother kembd her yallow hair,
	Wi the new made silver kemb,
	But the king o heaven maun father her bairn,
	Till Love Gregor come hame.
76D.5	‘O gin I had a bony ship,
	An men to sail wi me,
	It’s I would gang to my true-love,
	Since he winna come to me.’
76D.6	Her father’s gien her a bonny ship,
	An sent her to the stran;
	She’s tane her young son in her arms,
	An turnd her back to the lan.
76D.7	She had na been o the sea saillin
	About a month or more,
	Till landed has she her bonny ship
	Near her true-love’s door.
76D.8	The night was dark, an the win blew caul,
	An her love was fast asleep,
	An the bairn that was in her twa arms
	Fu sair began to weep.
76D.9	Long stood she at her true-love’s door,
	An lang tirld at the pin;
	At length up gat his fa’se mither,
	Says, Wha’s that woud be in?
76D.10	‘O it is Anny of Roch-royal,
	Your love, come oer the sea,
	But an your young son in her arms;
	So open the door to me.’
76D.11	‘Awa, awa, you ill woman,
	You’ve na come here for gude,
	You’re but a witch, or wile warlock,
	Or mermaid o the flude.’
76D.12	‘I’m na a witch, or wile warlock,
	Nor mermaiden,’ said she;
	‘I’m but Fair Anny o Roch-royal;
	O open the door to me.’
76D.13	‘O gin ye be Anny o Roch-royal,
	As [I] trust not ye be,
	What taiken can ye gie that ever
	I kept your company?’
76D.14	‘O dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,’ she says,
	‘Whan we sat at the wine,
	How we changed the napkins frae our necks,
	It’s na sae lang sin syne?
76D.15	‘An yours was good, an good enough,
	But nae sae good as mine;
	For yours was o the cumbruk clear,
	But mine was silk sae fine.
76D.16	‘An dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,’ she says,
	‘As we twa sat at dine,
	How we changed the rings frae our fingers,
	But ay the best was mine?
76D.17	‘For yours was good, an good enough,
	Yet nae sae good as mine;
	For yours was of the good red gold,
	But mine o the diamonds fine.
76D.18	‘Sae open the door now, Love Gregor,
	An open it wi speed,
	Or your young son that is in my arms
	For cauld will soon be dead.’
76D.19	‘Awa, awa, you ill woman,
	Gae frae my door for shame;
	For I hae gotten another fair love,
	Sae ye may hye you hame.’
76D.20	‘O hae you gotten another fair love,
	For a’ the oaths you sware?
	Then fair you well now, fa’se Gregor,
	For me you’s never see mair.’
76D.21	O heely, heely gi’d she back,
	As the day began to peep;
	She set her foot on good ship-board,
	An sair, sair did she weep.
76D.22	Love Gregor started frae his sleep,
	An to his mither did say,
	I dreamd a dream this night, mither,
	That maks my heart right wae.
76D.23	‘I dreamd that Anny of Roch-royal,
	The flowr o a’ her kin,
	Was standin mournin at my door,
	But nane would lat her in.’
76D.24	‘O there was a woman stood at the door,
	Wi a bairn intill her arms,
	But I woud na lat her within the bowr,
	For fear she had done you harm.’
76D.25	O quickly, quickly raise he up,
	An fast ran to the stran,
	An there he saw her Fair Anny,
	Was sailin frae the lan.
76D.26	An ‘Heigh, Anny!’ an ‘Hou, Anny!
	O Anny, speak to me!’
	But ay the louder that he cried Anny,
	The louder roard the sea.
76D.27	An ‘Heigh, Anny!’ an ‘Hou, Anny!
	O Anny, winna you bide?’
	But ay the langer that he cried Anny,
	The higher roard the tide.
76D.28	The win grew loud, an the sea grew rough,
	An the ship was rent in twain,
	An soon he saw her Fair Anny
	Come floating oer the main.
76D.29	He saw his young son in her arms,
	Baith tossd aboon the tide;
	He wrang his hands, than fast he ran,
	An plung’d i the sea sae wide.
76D.30	He catchd her by the yallow hair,
	An drew her to the strand,
	But cauld an stiff was every limb
	Before he reachd the land.
76D.31	O first he kissd her cherry cheek,
	An then he kissd her chin;
	An sair he kissd her ruby lips,
	But there was nae breath within.
76D.32	O he has mournd oer Fair Anny
	Till the sun was gaing down,
	Then wi a sigh his heart it brast,
	An his soul to heaven has flown.


		 Child 76E: The Lass of Roch Royal

76E.1	‘O WHA will shoe my fu fair foot?
	And wha will glove my hand?
	And wha will lace my middle jimp,
	Wi the new made London band?
76E.2	‘And wha will kaim my yellow hair,
	Wi the new made silver kaim?
	And wha will father my young son,
	Till Love Gregor come hame?’
76E.3	‘Your father will shoe your fu fair foot,
	Your mother will glove your hand;
	Your sister will lace your middle jimp
	Wi the new made London band.
76E.4	‘Your brother will kaim your yellow hair,
	Wi the new made silver kaim;
	And the king of heaven will father your bairn,
	Till Love Gregor come haim.’
76E.5	‘But I will get a bonny boat,
	And I will sail the sea,
	For I maun gang to Love Gregor,
	Since he canno come hame to me.’
76E.6	O she has gotten a bonny boat,
	And sailld the sa’t sea fame;
	She langd to see her ain true-love,
	Since he could no come hame.
76E.7	‘O row your boat, my mariners,
	And bring me to the land,
	For yonder I see my love’s castle,
	Closs by the sa’t sea strand.’
76E.8	She has taen her young son in her arms,
	And to the door she’s gone,
	And lang she’s knocked and sair she ca’d,
	But answer got she none.
76E.9	‘O open the door, Love Gregor,’ she says,
	‘O open, and let me in;
	For the wind blaws thro my yellow hair,
	And the rain draps oer my chin.’
76E.10	‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
	You’r nae come here for good;
	You’r but some witch, or wile warlock,
	Or mer-maid of the flood.’
76E.11	‘I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock,
	Nor mer-maid of the sea,
	I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal;
	O open the door to me.’
76E.12	‘Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal-+-
	And I trust ye are not she-+-
	Now tell me some of the love-tokens
	That past between you and me.’
76E.13	‘O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor,
	When we sat at the wine,
	How we changed the rings frae our fingers?
	And I can show thee thine.
76E.14	‘O yours was good, and good enneugh,
	But ay the best was mine;
	For yours was o the good red goud,
	But mine o the dimonds fine.
76E.15	‘But open the door now, Love Gregor,
	O open the door I pray,
	For your young son that is in my arms
	Will be dead ere it be day.’
76E.16	‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
	For here ye shanno win in;
	Gae drown ye in the raging sea,
	Or hang on the gallows-pin.’
76E.17	When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn,
	And the sun began to peep,
	Then it raise him Love Gregor,
	And sair, sair did he weep.
76E.18	‘O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear,
	The thoughts o it gars me greet,
	That Fair Annie of Rough Royal
	Lay cauld dead at my feet.’
76E.19	‘Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal
	That ye make a’ this din,
	She stood a’ last night at this door,
	But I trow she was no in.’
76E.20	‘O wae betide ye, ill woman,
	An ill dead may ye die!
	That ye woudno open the door to her,
	Nor yet woud waken me.’
76E.21	O he has gone down to yon shore-side,
	As fast as he could fare;
	He saw Fair Annie in her boat,
	But the wind it tossd her sair.
76E.22	‘Hey, Annie!’ and ‘How, Annie!
	O Annie, winna ye bide?’
	But ay the mair that he cried Annie,
	The braider grew the tide.
76E.23	And ‘Hey, Annie!’ and ‘How, Annie!
	Dear Annie, speak to me!’
	But ay the louder he cried Annie,
	The louder roard the sea.
76E.24	The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,
	And dashd the boat on shore;
	Fair Annie floats on the raging sea,
	But her young son raise no more.
76E.25	Love Gregor tare his yellow hair,
	And made a heavy moan;
	Fair Annie’s corpse lay at his feet,
	But his bonny young son was gone.
76E.26	O cherry, cherry was her cheek,
	And gowden was her hair,
	But clay cold were her rosey lips,
	Nae spark of life was there.
76E.27	And first he’s kissd her cherry cheek,
	And neist he’s kissed her chin;
	And saftly pressd her rosey lips,
	But there was nae breath within.
76E.28	‘O wae betide my cruel mother,
	And an ill dead may she die!
	For she turnd my true-love frae my door,
	When she came sae far to me.’


		 Child 76F: The Lass of Roch Royal

76F.1	‘O WHA will lace my steys, mother?
	O wha will gluve my hand?
	O wha will be my bairn’s father,
	While my luve cums to land?’
76F.2	‘O sall I lace your steys, dochter,
	O sall I gluve your hand;
	And God will be your bairn’s father,
	While your luve cums to land.’
76F.3	Now she’s gard build a bonie schip,
	Forbidden she wad nae be;
	She’s gane wi four score mariners,
	Sailand the salt, salt sea.
76F.4	They had nae saild but twenty legues,
	Bot twenty legues and three,
	When they met wi the ranke robers,
	And a’ their companie.
76F.5	‘Now whether are ye the Queen hersell?
	For so ye weel micht bee,
	Or are ye the lass o the Ruch Royal,
	Seekand Lord Gregorie?’
76F.6	‘O I am neither the Queen,’ she sed,
	‘Nor sick I seem to be;
	But I am the lass o the Ruch Royal,
	Seekand Lord Gregorie.’
	* * * * *
76F.7	And when she saw the stately tower,
	Shynand sae cleere and bricht,
	Whilk proud defies the jawing wave,
	Built on a rock a hicht,
76F.8	Sche sailed it round, and sailed it sound,
	And loud, loud cried she,
	‘Now break, now break, ye fairy charms,
	And let the prisoner free.’


		 Child 76G: The Lass of Roch Royal

76G.1	IT fell on a Wodensday,
	Love Gregory’s taen the sea,
	And he has left his lady Janet,
	And a weary woman was she.
76G.2	But she had na been in child-bed
	A day but barely three,
	Till word has come to Lady Janet
	Love Gregory she would never see.
76G.3	She’s taen her mantle her middle about,
	Her cane into her hand,
	And she’s awa to the salt-sea side,
	As fast as she could gang.
76G.4	‘Whare will I get a curious carpenter,
	Will make a boat to me?
	I’m going to seek him Love Gregory,
	In’s lands where eer he be.’
76G.5	‘Here am I, a curious carpenter,
	Will make a boat for thee,
	And ye may seek him Love Gregory,
	But him ye’ll never see.’
76G.6	She sailed up, she sailed down,
	Thro many a pretty stream,
	Till she came to that stately castle,
	Where Love Gregory lay in.
76G.7	‘Open, open, Love Gregory,
	O open, and lat me in;
	Your young son is in my arms,
	And shivering cheek and chin.’
76G.8	‘Had awa, ye ill woman,
	Had far awa frae me;
	Ye’re but some witch, or some warlock,
	Or the mermaid, troubling me.
76G.9	‘My lady she’s in Lochranline,
	Down by Lochlearn’s green;
	This day she wadna sail the sea,
	For goud nor warld’s gain.
76G.10	‘But if ye be my lady Janet,
	As I trust not well ye be,
	Come tell me oer some love-token
	That past ’tween thee an me.’
76G.11	‘Mind on, mind on now, Love Gregory,
	Since we sat at the wine;
	The rings that were on your fingers,
	I gied thee mine for thine.
76G.12	‘And mine was o the good red goud,
	Yours o the silly tin,
	And mine’s been true, and very true,
	But yours had a fause lynin.
76G.13	‘But open, open, Love Gregory,
	Open, and let me in;
	Your young son is in my arms,
	He’ll be dead ere I win in.’
76G.14	‘Had awa, ye ill woman,
	Had far awa frae me;
	Ye’re but some witch, or some warlock,
	Or the mermaid, troubling me.
76G.15	‘But if ye be my lady Janet,
	As I trust not well ye be;
	Come tell me o’er some love-token
	That past tween thee and me.’
76G.16	‘Mind on, mind on, Love Gregory,
	Since we sat at the wine;
	The shifts that were upon your back,
	I gave thee mine for thine.
76G.17	‘And mine was o the good holland,
	And yours o the silly twine,
	And mine’s been true, and very true,
	But yours had fause lynin.’
	* * * * *


		 Child 76H: The Lass of Roch Royal

76H.1	‘OH who’ll comb my yellow locks,
	With the brown berry comb?
	And who’ll be the child’s father,
	Until Gregory comes home?’
76H.2	‘OH . . . . .
	And God will be the child’s father,
	Until Gregory comes home.’
	* * * * *
76H.3	‘The dew wets my yellow locks,
	The rain wets my skin,
	The babe’s cold in my arms,
	Oh Gregory, let me in!’
76H.4	‘Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim,
	As I suppose you not to be,
	Come tell me the last token
	Between you and me.’
  Refrain:	The dew wets, etc.
76H.5	‘Oh Gregory, don’t you remember
	One night on the hill,
	When we swapped rings off each other’s hands,
	Sorely against my will?’
	Mine was of the beaten gold,
	Yours was but black tin.’
  Refrain:	The dew wets, etc.
76H.6	‘Oh if you be the lass of aughrim,
	As I suppose you not to be,
	Come tell me the last token
	Between you and me.’
  Refrain:	The dew wets, etc.
76H.7	‘Oh Gregory don’t you remember
	One night on the hill,
	When we swapped smocks off each other’s backs,
	Sorely against my will?
	Mine was of the holland fine,
	Yours was but Scotch cloth.’
  Refrain:	The dew wets, etc.
76H.8	‘Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim,
	As I suppose you not to be,
	Come tell me the last token
	Between you and me.’
  Refrain:	The dew wets, etc.
76H.9	‘Oh Gregory, don’t you remember,
	In my father’s hall,
	When you had your will of me?
	And that was worse than all.’
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
  Refrain:	The dew wets, etc.


		 Child 76I: The Lass of Roch Royal

76I.1	‘OH open the door, Lord Gregory,
	Oh open, and let me in;
	The rain rains on my scarlet robes,
	The dew drops oer my chin.’
76I.2	‘If you are the lass that I lovd once,
	As I true you are not she,
	Come give me some of the tokens
	That past between you and me.’
76I.3	‘Ah wae be to you, Gregory,
	An ill death may you die!
	You will not be the death of one,
	But you’ll be the death of three.
76I.4	‘Oh don’t you mind, Lord Gregory,
	’Twas down at yon burn-side
	We changed the ring of our fingers,
	And I put mine on thine?’


		 Child 76J: The Lass of Roch Royal

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


		 Child 76K: The Lass of Roch Royal

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



		 Child 77A: Sweet William’s Ghost

77A.1	THERE came a ghost to Margret’s door,
	With many a grievous groan,
	And ay he tirled at the pin,
	But answer made she none.
77A.2	‘Is that my father Philip,
	Or is’t my brother John?
	Or is’t my true-love, Willy,
	From Scotland new come home?’
77A.3	‘’Tis not thy father Philip,
	Nor yet thy brother John;
	But ’tis thy true-love, Willy,
	From Scotland new come home.
77A.4	‘O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,
	I pray thee speak to me;
	Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
	As I gave it to thee.’
77A.5	‘Thy faith and troth thou’s never get,
	Nor yet will I thee lend,
	Till that thou come within my bower,
	And kiss my cheek and chin.’
77A.6	‘If I shoud come within thy bower,
	I am no earthly man;
	And shoud I kiss thy rosy lips,
	Thy days will not be lang.
77A.7	‘O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,
	I pray thee speak to me;
	Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
	As I gave it to thee.’
77A.8	‘Thy faith and troth thou’s never get,
	Nor yet will I thee lend,
	Till you take me to yon kirk,
	And wed me with a ring.’
77A.9	‘My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard,
	Afar beyond the sea,
	And it is but my spirit, Margret,
	That’s now speaking to thee.’
77A.10	She stretchd out her lilly-white hand,
	And, for to do her best,
	‘Hae, there’s your faith and troth, Willy,
	God send your soul good rest.’
77A.11	Now she has kilted her robes of green
	A piece below her knee,
	And a’ the live-lang winter night
	The dead corp followed she.
77A.12	‘Is there any room at your head, Willy?
	Or any room at your feet?
	Or any room at your side, Willy,
	Wherein that I may creep?’
77A.13	‘There’s no room at my head, Margret,
	There’s no room at my feet;
	There’s no room at my side, Margret,
	My coffin’s made so meet.’
77A.14	Then up and crew the red, red cock,
	And up then crew the gray:
	‘Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret,
	That you were going away.’
77A.15	No more the ghost to Margret said,
	But, with a grievous groan,
	Evanishd in a cloud of mist,
	And left her all alone.
77A.16	‘O stay, my only true-love, stay,’
	The constant Margret cry’d;
	Wan grew her cheeks, she closd her een,
	Stretchd her soft limbs, and dy’d.


		 Child 77B: Sweet William’s Ghost

77B.1	WHAN bells war rung, an mass was sung,
	A wat a’ man to bed were gone,
	Clark Sanders came to Margret’s window,
	With mony a sad sigh and groan.
77B.2	‘Are ye sleeping, Margret,’ he says,
	‘Or are ye waking, presentlie?
	Give me my faith and trouthe again,
	A wat, trew-love, I gied to thee.’
77B.3	‘Your faith and trouth ye’s never get,
	Nor our trew love shall never twain,
	Till ye come with me in my bower,
	And kiss me both cheek and chin.’
77B.4	‘My mouth it is full cold, Margret,
	It has the smell now of the ground;
	And if I kiss thy comely mouth,
	Thy life-days will not be long.
77B.5	‘Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf,
	I wat the wild fule boded day;
	Gie me my faith and trouthe again,
	And let me fare me on my way.’
77B.6	‘Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get,
	Nor our trew love shall never twin,
	Till ye tell me what comes of women
	Awat that dy’s in strong traveling.’
77B.7	‘Their beds are made in the heavens high,
	Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee,
	Well set about wi gilly-flowers,
	A wat sweet company for to see.
77B.8	‘O cocks are crowing a merry midd-larf,
	A wat the wilde foule boded day;
	The salms of Heaven will be sung,
	And ere now I’le be misst away.’
77B.9	Up she has tain a bright long wand,
	And she has straked her trouth thereon;
	She has given [it] him out at the shot-window,
	Wi many a sad sigh and heavy groan.
77B.10	‘I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret,
	And I thank you hartilie;
	Gine ever the dead come for the quick,
	Be sure, Margret, I’ll come again for thee.’
77B.11	It’s hose an shoon an gound alane
	She clame the wall and followed him,
	Untill she came to a green forest,
	On this she lost the sight of him.
77B.12	‘Is their any room at your head, Sanders?
	Is their any room at your feet?
	Or any room at your twa sides?
	Whare fain, fain woud I sleep.’
77B.13	‘Their is na room at my head, Margret,
	Their is na room at my feet;
	There is room at my twa sides,
	For ladys for to sleep.
77B.14	‘Cold meal is my covering owre,
	But an my winding sheet;
	My bed it is full low, I say,
	Down among the hongerey worms I sleep.
77B.15	‘Cold meal is my covering owre,
	But an my winding sheet;
	The dew it falls na sooner down
	Then ay it is full weet.’


		 Child 77C: Sweet William’s Ghost

77C.1	LADY MARJORIE, Lady Marjorie,
	Sat sewing her silken seam;
	By her came a pale, pale ghost,
	With many a sich and mane.
77C.2	‘Are ye my father, the king?’ she says,
	‘Or are ye my brother John?
	Or are you my true-love, Sweet William,
	From England newly come?’
77C.3	‘I’m not your father, the king,’ he says,
	‘No, no, nor your brother John;
	But I’m your true love, Sweet William,
	From England that’s newly come.’
77C.4	‘Have ye brought me any scarlets so red?
	Or any silks so fine?
	Or have ye brought me any precious things,
	That merchants have for sale?’
77C.5	‘I have not brought you any scarlets sae red,
	No, no, nor the silks so fine;
	But I have brought you my winding-sheet,
	Oer many’s the rock and hill.
77C.6	‘O Lady Marjory, Lady Marjory,
	For faith and charitie,
	Will you give to me my faith and troth,
	That I gave once to thee?’
77C.7	‘O your faith and troth I’ll not give thee,
	No, no, that will not I,
	Until I get one kiss of your ruby lips,
	And in my arms you come [lye].’
77C.8	‘My lips they are so bitter,’ he says,
	‘My breath it is so strong,
	If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,
	Your days will not be long.
77C.9	‘The cocks they are crowing, Marjory,’ he says,
	‘The cocks they are crawing again;
	It’s time the deid should part the quick,
	Marjorie, I must be gane.’
77C.10	She followed him high, she followed him low,
	Till she came to yon church-yard;
	O there the grave did open up,
	And young William he lay down.
77C.11	‘What three things are these, Sweet William,’ she says,
	‘That stands here at your head?’
	‘It’s three maidens, Marjorie,’ he says,
	‘That I promised once to wed.’
77C.12	‘What three things are these, Sweet William,’ she says,
	‘That stands here at your side?’
	‘It is three babes, Marjorie,’ he says,
	‘That these three maidens had.’
77C.13	‘What three things are these, Sweet William,’ she says,
	‘That stands here at your feet?’
	It is three hell-hounds, Marjorie,’ he says,
	‘That’s waiting my soul to keep.’
77C.14	She took up her white, white hand,
	And she struck him in the breast,
	Saying, Have there again your faith and troth,
	And I wish your soul good rest.


		 Child 77D: Sweet William’s Ghost

77D.1	LADY MARGARET was in her wearie room,
	Sewin her silken seam,
	And in cam Willie, her true-love,
	Frae Lundin new come hame.
77D.2	‘O are ye my father Philip,
	Or are ye my brither John?
	Or are ye my true-love, Willie,
	Frae London new come home?’
77D.3	‘I’m nae your father Philip,
	Nor am I your brother John;
	But I am your true-love, Willie,
	An I’m nae a levin man.
77D.4	‘But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat,
	An let me pass on my way;
	For the bells o heaven will be rung,
	An I’ll be mist away.’
77D.5	‘Yere faith and troth ye’se never get,
	Till ye tell me this ane;
	Till ye tell me where the women go
	That hang themsell for sin.’
77D.6	‘O they gang till the low, low hell,
	Just by the devil’s knee;
	It’s a’ clad ower wi burnin pitch,
	A dreadfu sicht to see.’
77D.7	‘But your faith and troth ye’se never get,
	Till you tell me again;
	Till you tell me where the children go
	That die without a name.’
77D.8	‘O they gang till the high, high heaven,
	Just by our Saviour’s knee,
	An it’s a’ clad ower wi roses red,
	A lovelie sicht to see.
77D.9	‘But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat,
	And let me pass on my way;
	For the psalms o heaven will be sung,
	An I’ll be mist away.’
77D.10	‘But your faith and troth yese never get
	Till ye tell me again;
	Till ye tell me where the women go
	That die in child-beddin.’
77D.11	‘O they gang till the hie, hie heaven,
	Just by our Saviour’s knee,
	And every day at twal o clock
	They’re dipped oer the head.
77D.12	‘But gie me my faith and troth, Margret,
	And let me pass on my way;
	For the gates o heaven will be shut,
	And I’ll be mist away.’
77D.13	Then she has taen a silver key,
	Gien him three times on the breast;
	Says, There’s your faith and troth, Willie,
	I hope your soul will rest.
77D.14	‘But is there room at your head, Willie?
	Or is there room at your feet?
	Or is there room at any o your sides,
	To let in a lover sweet?’
77D.15	‘There is nae room at my head, Margrat,
	There’s nae room at my feet,
	But there is room at baith my sides,
	To lat in a lover sweet.’


		 Child 77E: Sweet William’s Ghost

77E.1	‘AS May Margret sat in her bouerie,
	In her bouer all alone,
	At the very parting o midnicht
	She heard a mournfu moan.
77E.2	‘O is it my father? O is it my mother?
	Or is it my brother John?
	Or is it Sweet William, my ain true-love,
	To Scotland new come home?’
77E.3	‘It is na your father, it is na your mother,
	It is na your brother John;
	But it is Sweet William, your ain true-love,
	To Scotland new come home.’
77E.4	‘Hae ye brought me onie fine things,
	Onie new thing for to wear?
	Or hae ye brought me a braid o lace,
	To snood up my gowden hair?’
77E.5	‘I’ve brought ye na fine things at all,
	Nor onie new thing to wear,
	Nor hae I brought ye a braid of lace,
	To snood up your gowden hair.
77E.6	‘But Margaret, dear Margaret,
	I pray ye speak to me;
	O gie me back my faith and troth,
	As dear as I gied it thee.’
77E.7	‘Your faith and troth ye sanna get,
	Nor will I wi ye twin,
	Till ye come within my bouer,
	And kiss me, cheek and chin.’
77E.8	‘O should I come within your bouer,
	I am na earthly man;
	If I should kiss your red, red lips,
	Your days wad na be lang.
77E.9	‘O Margaret, dear Margaret,
	I pray ye speak to me;
	O gie me back my faith and troth,
	As dear as I gied it thee.’
77E.10	‘Your faith and troth ye sanna get,
	Nor will I wi ye twin,
	Till ye tak me to yonder kirk,
	And wed me wi a ring.’
77E.11	‘My banes are buried in yon kirk-yard,
	It’s far ayont the sea;
	And it is my spirit, Margaret,
	That’s speaking unto thee.’
77E.12	‘Your faith and troth ye sanna get,
	Nor will I twin wi thee,
	Till ye tell me the pleasures o heaven,
	And pains of hell how they be.’
77E.13	‘The pleasures of heaven I wat not of,
	But the pains of hell I dree;
	There some are hie hangd for huring,
	And some for adulterie.’
77E.14	‘Then Margret took her milk-white hand,
	And smoothd it on his breast:
	‘Tak your faith and troth, William,
	God send your soul good rest!’


		 Child 77F: Sweet William’s Ghost

77F.1	WHEN seven years were come and gane,
	Lady Margaret she thought lang;
	And she is up to the hichest tower,
	By the lee licht o the moon.
77F.2	She was lookin oer her castle high,
	To see what she might fa,
	And there she saw a grieved ghost,
	Comin waukin oer the wa.
77F.3	‘O are ye a man of mean,’ she says,
	‘Seekin ony o my meat?
	Or are you a rank robber,
	Come in my bower to break?’
77F.4	‘O I’m Clerk Saunders, your true-love,
	Behold, Margaret, and see,
	And mind, for a’ your meikle pride,
	Sae will become of thee.’
77F.5	‘Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true-love,
	This meikle marvels me;
	O wherein is your bonny arms,
	That wont to embrace me?’
77F.6	‘By worms they’re eaten, in mools they’re rotten,
	Behold, Margaret, and see,
	And mind, for a’ your mickle pride,
	Sae will become o thee.’
	* * * * *
	* * * * *
77F.7	‘O, bonny, bonny sang the bird,
	Sat on the coil o hay;
	But dowie, dowie was the maid
	That followd the corpse o clay.
77F.8	‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?
	Is there ony room at your feet?
	Is there ony room at your twa sides,
	For a lady to lie and sleep?’
77F.9	‘There is nae room at my head, Margaret,
	As little at my feet;
	There is nae room at my twa sides,
	For a lady to lie and sleep.
77F.10	‘But gae hame, gae hame now, May Margaret,
	Gae hame and sew your seam;
	For if ye were laid in your weel made bed,
	Your days will nae be lang.’


		 Child 77G: Sweet William’s Ghost

	* * * *
77G.1	BUT plait a wand o bonny birk,
	And lay it on my breast,
	And shed a tear upon my grave,
	And wish my saul gude rest.
77G.2	‘And fair Margret, and rare Margret,
	And Margret o veritie,
	Gin eer ye love another man,
	Neer love him as ye did me.’
77G.3	Then up and crew the milk-white cock,
	And up and crew the grey;
	The lover vanishd in the air,
	And she gaed weeping away.



		  Child 78A: The Unquiet Grave

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


		  Child 78B: The Unquiet Grave

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


		  Child 78C: The Unquiet Grave

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


		  Child 78D: The Unquiet Grave

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


		 Child 78[E]: The Unquiet Grave

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


		 Child 78[F]: The Unquiet Grave

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


		 Child 78[G]: The Unquiet Grave

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


		 Child 78[Ha]: The Unquiet Grave

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


		 Child 78[Hb]: The Unquiet Grave

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


		 Child 78[Hc]: The Unquiet Grave

78[Hc].1	‘It’s for to meet the falling drops,
	Cold fall the drops of rain;
	The last true-love, etc.
78[Hc.2]	‘I’ll do as much for my fair love
	as any,’ etc.
the	rest "[almost exactly"] as b.



		 Child 79A: The Wife of Usher’s Well

79A.1	THERE lived a wife at Usher’s Well,
	And a wealthy wife was she;
	She had three stout and stalwart sons,
	And sent them oer the sea.
79A.2	They hadna been a week from her,
	A week but barely ane,
	Whan word came to the carline wife
	That her three sons were gane.
79A.3	They hadna been a week from her,
	A week but barely three,
	Whan word came to the carlin wife
	That her sons she’d never see.
79A.4	‘I wish the wind may never cease,
	Nor fashes in the flood,
	Till my three sons come hame to me,
	In earthly flesh and blood.’
79A.5	It fell about the Martinmass,
	When nights are lang and mirk,
	The carlin wife’s three sons came hame,
	And their hats were o the birk.
79A.6	It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
	Nor yet in ony sheugh;
	But at the gates o Paradise,
	That birk grew fair eneugh.
	* * * * *
79A.7	‘Blow up the fire, my maidens,
	Bring water from the well;
	For a’ my house shall feast this night,
	Since my three sons are well.’
79A.8	And she has made to them a bed,
	She’s made it large and wide,
	And she’s taen her mantle her about,
	Sat down at the bed-side.
	* * * * *
79A.9	Up then crew the red, red cock,
	And up and crew the gray;
	The eldest to the youngest said,
	’Tis time we were away.
79A.10	The cock he hadna crawd but once,
	And clappd his wings at a’,
	When the youngest to the eldest said,
	Brother, we must awa.
79A.11	‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
	The channerin worm doth chide;
	Gin we be mist out o our place,
	A sair pain we maun bide.
79A.12	‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
	Fareweel to barn and byre!
	And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
	Fareweel to barn and byre!
	And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
	That kindles my mother’s fire!’


		 Child 79B: The Wife of Usher’s Well

79B.1	THE hallow day o Yule are come,
	The nights are lang an dark,
	An in an cam her ain twa sons,
	Wi their hats made o the bark.
79B.2	‘O eat an drink, my merry men a’,
	The better shall ye fare,

	For my twa sons the are come hame
	To me for evermair.’
79B.3	She has gaen an made their bed,
	An she’s made it saft an fine,
	An she’s happit them wi her gay mantel,
	Because they were her ain.
79B.4	O the young cock crew i the merry Linkeum,
	An the wild fowl chirpd for day;
	The aulder to the younger did say,
	Dear brother, we maun away.
79B.5	‘Lie still, lie still a little wee while,
	Lie still but if we may;
	For gin my mother miss us away
	She’ll gae mad or it be day.’
79B.6	O it’s they’ve taen up their mother’s mantel,
	An they’ve hangd it on the pin:
	‘O lang may ye hing, my mother’s mantel,
	Or ye hap us again!’


		Child 79[C]: The Wife of Usher’s Well

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



		 Child 80: Old Robin of Portingale

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



	  Child 81A: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81A.	it fell one holy-day,
  Refrain:	Hay downe
	As many be in the yeare,
	When young men and maids together did goe,
	Their mattins and masse to heare,
81A.2	Little Musgrave came to the church-dore;
	The preist was at private masse;
	But he had more minde of the faire women
	Then he had of our lady[’s] grace.
81A.3	The one of them was clad in green,
	Another was clad in pall,
	And then came in my lord Bernard’s wife,
	The fairest amonst them all.
81A.4	She cast an eye on Little Musgrave,
	As bright as the summer sun;
	And then bethought this Little Musgrave,
	This lady’s heart have I woonn.
81A.5	Quoth she, I have loved thee, Little Musgrave,
	Full long and many a day;
	‘So have I loved you, fair lady,
	Yet never word durst I say.’
81A.6	‘I have a bower at Buckelsfordbery,
	Full daintyly it is deight;
	If thou wilt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave,
	Thou’s lig in mine armes all night.’
81A.7	Quoth he, I thank yee, faire lady,
	This kindnes thou showest to me;
	But whether it be to my weal or woe,
	This night I will lig with thee.
81A.8	With that he heard, a little tyn page,
	By this ladye’s coach as he ran:
	‘All though I am my ladye’s foot-page,
	Yet I am Lord Barnard’s man.
81A.9	‘My lord Barnard shall knowe of this,
	Whether I sink or swim;’
	And ever where the bridges were broake
	He laid him downe to swimme.
81A.10	‘A sleepe or wake, thou Lord Barnard,
	As thou art a man of life,
	For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery,
	A bed with thy own wedded wife.’
81A.11	‘If this be true, thou little tinny page,
	This thing thou tellest to me,
	Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery
	I freely will give to thee.
81A.12	‘But if it be a ly, thou little tinny page,
	This thing thou tellest to me,
	On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery
	Then hanged shalt thou be.’
81A.13	He called up his merry men all:
	‘Come saddle me my steed;
	This night must I to Buckellsfordbery,
	For I never had greater need.’
81A.14	And some of them whistld, and some of them sung,
	And some these words did say,
	And ever when my lord Barnard’s horn blew,
	‘Away, Musgrave, away!’
81A.15	‘Methinks I hear the thresel-cock,
	Methinks I hear the jaye;
	Methinks I hear my lord Barnard,
	And I would I were away.’
81A.16	‘Lye still, lye still, thou Little Musgrave,
	And huggell me from the cold;
	’Tis nothing but a shephard’s boy,
	A driving his sheep to the fold.
81A.17	‘Is not thy hawke upon a perch?
	Thy steed eats oats and hay;
	And thou a fair lady in thine armes,
	And wouldst thou bee away?’
81A.18	With that my lord Barnard came to the dore,
	And lit a stone upon;
	He plucked out three silver keys,
	And he opend the dores each one.
81A.19	He lifted up the coverlett,
	He lifted up the sheet:
	‘How now, how now, thou Littell Musgrave,
	Doest thou find my lady sweet?’
81A.20	‘I find her sweet,’ quoth Little Musgrave,
	‘The more ’tis to my paine;
	I would gladly give three hundred pounds
	That I were on yonder plaine.’
81A.21	‘Arise, arise, thou Littell Musgrave,
	And put thy cloth s on;
	It shall nere be said in my country
	I have killed a naked man.
81A.22	‘I have two swords in one scabberd,
	Full deere they cost my purse;
	And thou shalt have the best of them,
	And I will have the worse.’
81A.23	The first stroke that Little Musgrave stroke,
	He hurt Lord Barnard sore;
	The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke,
	Little Musgrave nere struck more.
81A.24	With that bespake this faire lady,
	In bed whereas she lay:
	‘Although thou’rt dead, thou Little Musgrave,
	Yet I for thee will pray.
81A.25	‘And wish well to thy soule will I,
	So long as I have life;
	So will I not for thee, Barnard,
	Although I am thy wedded wife.’
81A.26	He cut her paps from off her brest;
	Great pitty it was to see
	That some drops of this ladie’s heart’s blood
	Ran trickling downe her knee.
81A.27	‘Woe worth you, woe worth, my mery men all
	You were nere borne for my good;
	Why did you not offer to stay my hand,
	When you see me wax so wood?
81A.28	‘For I have slaine the bravest sir knight
	That ever rode on steed;
	So have I done the fairest lady
	That ever did woman’s deed.
81A.29	‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Barnard cryd,
	‘To put these lovers in;
	But lay my lady on the upper hand,
	For she came of the better kin.’


	  Child 81B: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

	* * * * *
81B.1	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘Ffor this same night att [Bucklesfeildberry]
	Litle Musgreue is in bed with thy wife.’
81B.2	‘If it be trew, thou litle foote-page,
	This tale thou hast told to mee,
	Then all my lands in Buckle[s]feildberry
	I’le freely giue to thee.
81B.3	‘But if this be a lye, thou little foot-page,
	This tale thou hast told to mee,
	Then on the highest tree in Bucklesfeildberry
	All hanged that thou shalt bee.’
81B.4	Saies, Vpp and rise, my merrymen all,
	And saddle me my good steede,
	For I must ride to Bucklesfeildberry;
	God wott I had neuer more need!
81B.5	But some they whistled, and some th’z sunge,
	And some they thus cold say,
	When euer as Lord Barnetts horne blowes,
	‘Away, Musgreue, away!’
81B.6	‘Mie thinkes I heare the throstlecocke,
	Me thinkes I heare the iay,
	Me thinkes I heare Lord Barnetts horne,
	Away, Musgreue, away!’
81B.7	‘But lie still, lie still, Litle Musgreue,
	And huddle me from the cold,
	For it is but some sheaperds boy,
	Is whistling sheepe ore the mold.
81B.8	‘Is not thy hauke vpon a pearch,
	Thy horsse eating corne and hay?
	And thou, a gay lady in thine armes,
	And yett thou wold goe away!’
81B.9	By this time Lord Barnett was come to the dore,
	And light vpon a stone,
	And he pulled out three silver kayes,
	And opened the dores euery one.
81B.10	And first he puld the couering downe,
	And then puld downe the sheete;
	Saies, How now? How now, Litle Musgreue?
	Dost find my gay lady sweet?
81B.11	‘I find her sweete,’ saies Litle Musgreue,
	‘The more is my greefe and paine;’
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
81B.12	. . . .
	. . . . .
	‘Soe haue I done the fairest lady
That	euer wore womans weede.
81B.13	‘Soe haue I done a heathen child,
	Which full sore greiueth mee,
	For which Ile repent all the dayes of my life,
	And god be with them all three!’


	  Child 81C: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81C.1	AS it fell on a light holyday,
	As many more does in the yeere,
	Little Mousgrove would to the church and pray,
	To see the faire ladyes there.
81C.2	Gallants there were of good degree,
	For beauty exceeding faire,
	Most wonderous lovely to the eie,
	That did to that church repaire.
81C.3	Some came downe in red velvet,
	And others came downe in pall,
	But next came downe my Lady Barnet,
	The fairest amongst them all.
81C.4	She cast a looke upon Little Mousgrove,
	As bright as the summer’s sunne;
	Full well perceived then Little Mousgrove
	Lady Barnet’s love he had wonne.
81C.5	Then Lady Barnet most meeke and mild
	Saluted this Little Mousgrove,
	Who did repay her kinde courtesie
	With favour and gentle love.
81C.6	‘I have a bower in merry Barnet,
	Bestrowed with cowslips sweet;
	If that it please you, Little Mousgrove,
	In love me there to meete,
81C.7	‘Within mine armes one night to sleepe,
	For you my heart have wonne,
	You need not feare my suspicious lord,
	For he from home is gone.’
81C.8	‘Betide me life, betide me death,
	This night I will sleepe with thee,
	And for thy sake I’le hazzard my breath,
	So deare is thy love to me.’
81C.9	‘What shall wee doe with our little foot-page,
	Our counsell for to keepe,
	And watch for feare Lord Barnet comes,
	Whilest wee together doe sleepe?’
81C.10	‘Red gold shall be his hier,’ quoth he,
	‘And silver shall be his fee,
	If he our counsell safely doe keepe,
	That I may sleepe with thee.’
81C.11	‘I will have non of your gold,’ said he,
	‘Nor none of your silver fee;
	If I should keepe your counsell, sir,
	’Twere great disloyaltie.
81C.12	‘I will not be false unto my lord,
	For house nor yet for land;
	But if my lady doe prove untrue,
	Lord Barnet shall understand.’
81C.13	Then swiftly runnes the little foot-page,
	Unto his lord with speed,
	Who then was feasting with his deare friends,
	Not dreaming of this ill deede.
81C.14	Most speedily the page did haste,
	Most swiftly did he runne,
	And when he came to the broken bridge
	He lay on his brest and swumme.
81C.15	The page did make no stay at all,
	But went to his lord with speed,
	That he the truth might say to him
	Concerning this wicked deed.
81C.16	He found his lord at supper then,
	Great merriment there they did keepe:
	‘My lord,’ quoth he, ’This night, on my word,
	Mousgrove with your lady does sleepe.’
81C.17	‘If this be true, my little foot-page,
	And true as thou tellest to me,
	My eldest daughter I’le give to thee,
	And wedded thou shalt be.’
81C.18	‘If this be a lye, my little foot-page,
	And a lye as thou tellest to mee,
	A new paire of gallowes shall straight be set,
	And hanged shalt thou be.’
81C.19	‘If this be a lye, my lord,’ said he,
	‘A lye that you heare from me,
	Then never stay a gallowes to make,
	But hang me up on the next tree.’
81C.20	Lord Barnet then cald up his merry men,
	Away with speed he would goe;
	His heart was so perplext with griefe,
	The truth of this he must know.
81C.21	‘Saddle your horses with speed,’ quoth he,
	‘And saddle me my white steed;
	If this be true as the page hath said,
	Mousgrove shall repent this deed.’
81C.22	He charg’d his men no noise to make,
	As they rode all along on the way;
	‘Nor winde no hornes,’ quoth he,’on your life,
	Lest our comming it should betray.’
81C.23	But one of the men, that Mousgrove did love,
	And respected his friendship most deare,
	To give him knowledge Lord Barnet was neere,
	Did winde his bugle most cleere.
81C.24	And evermore as he did blow,
	‘Away, Mousgrove, and away;
	For if I take thee with my lady,
	Then slaine thou shalt be this day.’
81C.25	‘O harke, fair lady, your lord is neere,
	I heare his little horne blow;
	And if he finde me in your armes thus,
	Then slaine I shall be, I know.’
81C.26	‘O lye still, lye still, Little Mousgrove,
	And keepe my backe from the cold;
	I know it is my father’s shepheard,
	Driving sheepe to the pinfold.’
81C.27	Mousgrove did turne him round about,
	Sweete slumber his eyes did greet;
	When he did wake, he then espied
	Lord Barnet at his bed’s feete.
81C.28	‘O rise up, rise up, Little Mousgrove,
	And put thy cloth s on;
	It shall never be said in faire England
	I slew a naked man.

81C.29	‘Here’s two good swords,’ Lord Barnet said,
	‘Thy choice, Mousgrove, thou shalt make;
	The best of them thy selfe shalt have,
	And I the worst will take.’
81C.30	The first good blow that Mousgrove did strike,
	He wounded Lord Barnet sore;
	The second blow that Lord Barnet gave,
	Mousgrove could strike no more.
81C.31	He tooke his lady by the white hand,
	All love to rage did convert,
	That with his sword, in most furious sort,
	He pierst her tender heart.
81C.32	‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Barnet cryde,
	‘Prepare to lay us in;
	My lady shall lie on the upper side,
	Cause she’s of the better kin.’
81C.33	Then suddenly he slue himselfe,
	Which grieves his friends full sore;
	The deaths of these thra worthy wights
	With teares they did deplore.
81C.34	This sad mischance by lust was wrought;
	Then let us call for grace,
	That we may shun this wicked vice,
	And mend our lives apace.


	  Child 81D: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81D.1	THERE were four and twenty gentlemen
	A playing at the ba,
	And lusty Lady Livingstone
	Cuist her ee out oure them a’.
81D.2	She cuist her ee on Lord Barnard,
	He was baith black and broun;
	She cuist her ee on Little Musgrave,
	As bricht as the morning sun.
81D.3	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘What’ll I gie ye, my Little Musgrave,
	Ae nicht wi me to sleep?’
81D.4	‘Ae nicht wi you to sleep,’ he says,
	‘O that wad breed meikle strife;
	For the ring on your white finger
	Shows you Lord Barnard’s wife.’
81D.5	‘O Lord Barnard he is gane frae hame,
	He’ll na return the day;
	He has tane wi him a purse o goud,
	For he’s gane hind away.’
81D.6	Up startit then the wylie foot-page,
	. . . . .
	‘What will ye gie to me,’ he said,
	‘Your council for to keep?’
81D.7	‘O goud sall be my little boy’s fee,
	And silver sall be his hire;
	But an I hear a word mair o this,
	He sall burn in charcoal fire.’
81D.8	But the wylie foot-page to the stable went,
	Took out a milk-white steed,
	And away, away, and away he rade,
	Away wi meikle speed.
81D.9	It’s whan he cam to the water-side,
	He smoothd his breist and swam,
	And whan he cam to gerss growing,
	He set down his feet and ran.
81D.10	‘Whan he cam to Lord Barnard’s towr
	Lord Barnard was at meat;
	He said, ‘If ye kend as meikle as me,
	It’s little wad ye eat.’
81D.11	‘Are onie o my castles brunt?’ he says,
	‘Or onie my towrs won?
	Or is my gay ladie broucht to bed,
	Of a dochter or a son?’
81D.12	‘There is nane o your castles brunt,
	Nor nane o your towrs won;
	Nor is your gay ladie broucht to bed,
	Of a dochter or a son.
81D.13	‘But Little Musgrave, that gay young man,
	Is in bed wi your ladie,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
81D.14	‘If this be true ye tell to me,
	It’s goud sall be your fee;
	But if it be fause ye tell to me,
	I’se hang ye on a tree.’
	* * * * *
81D.15	Whan they cam to yon water-side,
	They smoothd their breists and swam;
	And whan they cam to gerss growing,
	They sat doun their feet and ran.
	* * * * *
81D.16	‘How do ye like my sheets?’ he said,
	‘How do ye like my bed?
	And how do ye like my gay ladie,
	Wha’s lying at your side?’
81D.17	‘O I do like your sheets,’ he said,
	‘Sae do I like your bed;
	But mair do I like your gay ladie,
	Wha’s lying at my side.’
81D.18	‘Get up, get up, young man,’ he said,
	‘Get up as swith’s ye can;
	Let it never be said that Lord Barnard
	Slew in bed a nakit man.’
	* * * * *
81D.19	‘How do ye like his bluidy cheeks?
	Or how do ye like me?’
	‘It’s weill do I like his bluidy cheeks,
	Mair than your haill bodie.’
81D.20	Then she has kissd his bluidy cheeks,
	It’s oure and oure again,’
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .


	  Child 81E: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81E.1	FOUR and twenty gay ladies
	Were playing at the ba,
	And [out] came Lord Barnaby’s lady,
	The fairest o them a’.
81E.2	She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave,
	And he on her again;
	She coost her eyes on Little Musgrave,
	As they twa lovers had been.

81E.3	‘I have a hall in Mulberry,
	It stands baith strong and tight;
	If you will go to there with me,
	I’ll lye with you all night.’
81E.4	‘To lye with you, madam,’ he says,
	‘Will breed both sturt and strife;
	I see by the rings on your fingers
	You are Lord Barnaby’s wife.’
81E.5	‘Lord Barnaby’s to the hunting gone,
	And far out oer the hill,
	And he will not return again
	Till the evening tide untill.’
81E.6	They were not well lain down,
	Nor yet well fallen asleep,
	Till up started Lord Barnaby’s boy,
	Just up at their bed-feet.
81E.7	She took out a little penknife,
	Which hung down low by her gair:
	‘If you do not my secret keep,
	A word ye’s neer speak mair.’
81E.8	The laddie gae a blythe leer look,
	A blythe leer look gave he,
	And he’s away to Lord Barnaby,
	As fast as he can hie.
	* * * * *
81E.9	‘If these tidings binna true,
	These tidings ye tell to me,
	A gallows-tree I’ll gar be made
	And hanged ye shall be.
81E.10	‘But if these tidings are true,
	These tidings ye tell me,
	The fairest lady in a’ my court
	I’ll gar her marry thee.’
81E.11	He’s taen out a little horn,
	He blew baith loue and sma,
	And aye the turning o the tune
	‘Away, Musgrave, awa!’
81E.12	They were not well lain down,
	Nor yet well fallen asleep,
	Till up started Lord Barnaby,
	Just up at their bed-feet.
81E.13	‘O how like ye my blankets, Musgrave?
	And how like ye my sheets?
	And how like ye my gay lady,
	So sound in your arms that sleeps?’
81E.14	‘Weel I like your blankets, Sir,
	And far better yere sheets;
	And better far yere gay lady,
	So sound in my arms that sleeps.’
81E.15	‘Get up, get up, now, Little Musgrave,
	And draw to hose and sheen;
	It’s neer be said in my country
	I’d fight a naked man.
81E.16	‘There is two swords into my house,
	And they cost me right dear;
	Take you the best, and I the worst,
	I’ll fight the battle here.’
81E.17	The first stroke that Lord Barnaby gave,
	It was baith deep and sore;
	The next stroke that Lord Barnaby gave,
	A word he never spoke more.
81E.18	He’s taen out a rappier then,
	He’s struck it in the straw,
	And thro and thro his lady’s sides
	He gard the cauld steel gae.
81E.19	‘I am not sae wae for Little Musgrave,
	As he lys cauld and dead;
	But I’m right wae for his lady,
	For she’ll gae witless wud.
81E.20	‘I’m not sae wae for my lady,
	For she lies cauld and dead;
	But I’m right wae for my young son,
	Lies sprawling in her blood.’
81E.21	First crew the black cock,
	And next crew the sparrow;
	And what the better was Lord Barnaby?
	He was hanged on the morrow.


	  Child 81F: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81F.1	‘I HAVE a tower in Dalisberry,
	Which now is dearly dight,
	And I will gie it to Young Musgrave,
	To lodge wi me a’ night.’
81F.2	‘To lodge wi thee a’ night, fair lady,
	Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;
	For I see by the rings on your fingers
	You’re good Lord Barnaby’s wife.’
81F.3	‘Lord Barnaby’s wife although I be,
	Yet what is that to thee?
	For we’ll beguile him for this ae night,
	He’s on to fair Dundee.
81F.4	‘Come here, come here, my little foot-page,
	This gold I will give thee,
	If ye will keep thir secrets close
	’Tween Young Musgrave and me.
81F.5	‘But here I hae a little pen-knife,
	Hings low down by my gare;
	Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close,
	Ye’ll find it wonder sair.’
81F.6	Then she’s taen him to her chamber,
	And down in her arms lay he;
	The boy coost aff his hose and shoon,
	And ran to fair Dundee.
81F.7	When he cam to the wan water,
	He slackd his bow and swam,
	And when he cam to growin grass,
	Set down his feet and ran.
81F.8	And when he cam to fair Dundee,
	Wad neither chap nor ca,
	But set his braid bow to his breast,
	And merrily jumpd the wa.
81F.9	‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
	Waken, and come away!’
	‘What ails, what ails my wee foot-page,
	He cries sae lang ere day?
81F.10	‘O is my bowers brent, my boy?
	Or is my castle won?
	Or has the lady that I loe best
	Brought me a daughter or son?’
81F.11	‘Your ha’s are safe, your bowers are safe,
	And free frae all alarms,
	But, oh! the lady that ye loe best
	Lies sound in Musgrave’s arms.’
81F.12	‘Gae saddle to me the black,’ he cried,
	‘Gae saddle to me the gray;
	Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,
	To hie me on my way.’
81F.13	‘O lady, I heard a wee horn toot,
	And it blew wonder clear;
	And ay the turning o the note,
	Was, Barnaby will be here!
81F.14	‘I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,
	And it blew loud and high;
	And ay at ilka turn it said,
	Away, Musgrave, away!’
81F.15	‘Lie still, my dear, lie still, my dear,
	Ye keep me frae the cold;
	For it is but my father’s shepherds,
	Driving their flocks to the fold.’
81F.16	Up they lookit, and down they lay,
	And they’re fa’en sound asleep;
	Till up stood good Lord Barnaby,
	Just close at their bed-feet.
81F.17	‘How do you like my bed, Musgrave?
	And how like ye my sheets?
	And how like ye my fair lady,
	Lies in your arms and sleeps?’
81F.18	‘Weel like I your bed, my lord,
	And weel like I your sheets,
	But ill like I your fair lady,
	Lies in my arms and sleeps.
81F.19	‘You got your wale o se’en sisters,
	And I got mine o five;
	Sae tak ye mine, and I’s tak thine,
	And we nae mair sall strive.’
81F.20	‘O my woman’s the best woman
	That ever brak world’s bread,
	And your woman’s the worst woman
	That ever drew coat oer head.
81F.21	‘I hae twa swords in ae scabbert,
	They are baith sharp and clear;
	Tak ye the best, and I the warst,
	And we’ll end the matter here.
81F.22	‘But up, and arm thee, Young Musgrave,
	We’ll try it han to han;
	It’s neer be said o Lord Barnaby,
	He strack at a naked man.’
81F.23	The first straik that Young Musgrave got,
	It was baith deep and sair,
	And down he fell at Barnaby’s feet,
	And word spak never mair.
	* * * * *
81F.24	‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Barnaby cried,
	‘A grave to lay them in;
	My lady shall lie on the sunny side,
	Because of her noble kin.’
81F.25	But oh, how sorry was that good lord,
	For a’ his angry mood,
	Whan he beheld his ain young son
	All weltring in his blood!


	  Child 81G: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81G.1	LORD BARNARD\R’\rS awa to the green wood,
	To hunt the fallow deer;
	His vassals a’ are gane wi him,
	His companies to bear.
81G.2	His lady wrate a braid letter,
	And seald it wi her hand,
	And sent if aff to Wee Messgrove,
	To come at her command.
81G.3	When Messgrove lookt the letter on,
	A waefu man was he;
	Sayin, Gin I’m gript wi Lord Barnard’s wife,
	Sure hanged I will be.
81G.4	When he came to Lord Barnard’s castel

	He tinklit at the ring,
	And nane was so ready as the lady hersell
	To let Wee Messgrove in.
81G.5	‘Welcome, welcome, Messgrove,’ she said,
	‘You’re welcome here to me;
	Lang hae I loed your bonnie face,
	And lang hae ye loed me.
81G.6	‘Lord Barnard is a hunting gane,
	I hope he’ll neer return,
	And ye sall sleep into his bed,
	And keep his lady warm.’
81G.7	‘It cannot be,’ Messgrove he said,
	‘I ween it cannot be;
	Gin Lord Barnard suld come hame this nicht,
	What would he do to me?’
81G.8	‘Ye naething hae to fear, Messgrove,

	Ye naething hae to fear;
	I’ll set my page without the gate,
	To watch till morning clear.’
81G.9	But wae be to the wee fut-page,
	And an ill death mat he die!
	For he’s awa to the green wood,
	As hard as he can flee.
81G.10	And whan he to the green wood cam,
	’Twas dark as dark could bee,
	And he fand his maister and his men
	Asleep aneth a tree.
81G.11	‘Rise up, rise up, maister,’ he said,
	‘Rise up, and speak to me;
	Your wife’s in bed wi Wee Messgrove,
	Rise up richt speedilie.’
81G.12	‘Gin that be true ye tell to me,
	A lord I will mak thee;
	But gin it chance to be a lie,
	Sure hanged ye sall be.’
81G.13	‘It is as true, my lord,’ he said,
	‘As ever ye were born;
	Messgrove’s asleep in your lady’s bed,
	All for to keep her warm.’
81G.14	He mounted on his milk-white steed,
	He was ane angry man;
	And he reachd his stately castell gate
	Just as the day did dawn.
81G.15	He put his horn unto his mouth,
	And he blew strong blasts three;
	Sayin, He that’s in bed with anither man’s wife,
	He suld be gaun awa.
81G.16	Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,
	A frichtit man was he;
	‘I hear Lord Barnard’s horn,’ he said,
	‘It blaws baith loud and hie.’
81G.17	‘Lye still, lye still, my Wee Messgrove,
	And keep me frae the cauld;
	’Tis but my father’s shepherd’s horn,
	A sounding in the fauld.’
81G.18	He put his horn unto his mouth,
	And he blew loud blasts three;
	Saying, He that’s in bed wi anither man’s wife,
	’Tis time he was awa.
81G.19	Syne out and spak the Wee Messgrove,
	A frichtit man was he:
	‘Yon surely is Lord Barnard’s horn,
	And I maun een gae flee.’
81G.20	‘Lye still, lye still, Messgrove,’ she said,
	‘And keep me frae the cauld;
	’Tis but my father’s shepherd’s horn,
	A sounding in the fauld.’
81G.21	And ay Lord Barnard blew and blew,
	Till he was quite wearie;
	Syne he threw down his bugle horn,
	And up the stair ran he.
81G.22	‘How do you like my blankets, Sir?
	How do you like my sheets?
	How do ye like my gay ladie,
	That lies in your arms asleep?’
81G.23	‘Oh weel I like your blankets, Sir,
	And weel I like your sheet;
	But wae be to your gay ladie,
	That lyes in my arms asleep!’
81G.24	‘I’ll gie you ae sword, Messgrove,
	And I will take anither;
	What fairer can I do, Messgrove,
	Altho ye war my brither?’
81G.25	The firsten wound that Messgrove gat,
	It woundit him richt sair;
	And the second wound that Messgrove gat,
	A word he neer spak mair.
81G.26	‘Oh how do ye like his cheeks, ladie?
	Or how do ye like his chin?
	Or how do ye like his fair bodie,
	That there’s nae life within?’
81G.27	‘Oh weel I like his cheeks,’ she said,
	‘And weel I like his chin;
	And weel I like his fair bodie,
	That there’s nae life within.’
81G.28	‘Repeat these words, my fair ladie,
	Repeat them ower agane,
	And into a basin of pure silver
	I’ll gar your heart’s bluid rin.’
81G.29	‘Oh weel I like his cheeks,’ she said,
	‘And weel I like his chin;
	And better I like his fair bodie
	Than a’ your kith and kin.’
81G.30	Syne he took up his gude braid sword,
	That was baith sharp and fine,
	And into a basin of pure silver
	Her heart’s bluid he gart rin.
81G.31	‘O wae be to my merrie men,
	And wae be to my page,
	That they didna hald my cursed hands
	When I was in a rage!’
81G.32	He leand the halbert on the ground,
	The point o’t to his breast,
	Saying, Here are three sauls gaun to heaven,
	I hope they’ll a’ get rest.


	  Child 81H: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81H.1	LITTLE MUSGROVE is to the church gone,
	Some ladies for to sply;
	Doun came one drest in black,
	And one came drest in brown,
	And down and came Lord Barlibas’ lady,
	The fairest in a’ the town.
81H.2	‘I know by the ring that’s on your finger
	That you’r my Lord Barlibas’ lady:’
	‘Indeed I am the Lord Barlibas’ lady,
	And what altho I bee?’
	* * * * *
81H.3	‘Money shall be your hire, foot-page,
	And gold shall be your fee;
	You must not tell the secrets
	That’s between Musgrove and me.’
81H.4	‘Money shall not be hire,’ he said,
	‘Nor gold shall be my fee;
	But I’ll awa to my own liege lord,
	With the tidings you’ve told to me.’
81H.5	When he cam to the broken brig,
	He coost aff his clothes and he swimd,
	And when he cam to Lord Barlibas’ yett,
	He tirled at the pin.
81H.6	‘What news, what news, my little foot-page?
	What news have ye brocht to me?
	Is my castle burnt?’ he said,
	‘Or is my tower tane?
	Or is my lady lighter yet,
	Of a daughter or son?’
81H.7	‘Your castle is not burnt,’ he says,
	‘Nor yet is your tower tane,
	Nor yet is your lady brocht to bed,
	Of a daughter or a son;
	But Little Musgrove is lying wi her,
	Till he thinks it is time to be gane.’
81H.8	‘O if the news be a lie,’ he says,
	‘That you do tell unto me,
	I’ll ca up a gallows to my yard-yett,
	And hangd on it thou shalt be.
81H.9	‘But if the news be true,’ he says,
	‘That you do tell unto me,
	I have a young fair dochter at hame,
	Weel wedded on her you shall be.’
81H.10	He called upon his merry men,
	By thirties and by three:
	‘Put aff the warst, put on the best,
	And come along with me.’
81H.11	He put a horn to his mouth,
	And this he gard it say:
	‘The man that’s in bed wi Lord Barlibas’ lady,
	It’s time he were up and away.’
81H.12	‘What does yon trumpet mean?’ he sayd,
	‘Or what does yon trumpet say?
	I think it says, the man that’s in bed wi Lord Barlibas’ lady,
	It’s time he were up and away.’
81H.13	‘O lie you still, my Little Musgrove,
	And cover me from the cold,
	For it is but my father’s sheepherd,
	That’s driving his sheep to the fold.’
81H.14	. . . . . .
	In a little while after that,
	Up started good Lord Barlibas,
	At Little Musgrove his feet.
81H.15	‘How do you like my blankets?’ he says,
	‘Or how do you like my sheets?
	Or how do you like mine own fair lady,
	That lies in your arms and sleeps?’
81H.16	‘I like your blankets very well,
	And far better your sheets;
	But woe be to this wicked woman,
	That lies in my arms and sleeps!’
81H.17	‘Rise up, rise up, my Little Musgrove,
	Rise up, and put your clothes on;
	It’s neer be said on no other day
	That I killed a naked man.
81H.18	‘There is two swords in my chamber,
	I wot they cost me dear;
	Take you the best, give me the warst,
	We’ll red the question here.’
81H.19	The first stroke that Lord Barlibas struck,
	He dang Little Musgrove to the ground;
	The second stroke that Lord Barlibas gave
	Dang his lady in a deadly swound.
81H.20	‘Gar mak, gar mak a coffin,’ he says,
	‘Gar mak it wide and long,
	And lay my lady at the right hand,
	For she’s come of the noblest kin.’


	  Child 81I: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81I.1	‘IT\R’\rS gold shall be your hire,’ she says,
	‘And silver shall be your fee,
	If you will keep the secrets
	Between Little Sir Grove and me.’
81I.2	‘Tho gold should be my hire,’ he says,
	‘And silver should be my fee,
	It’s I’ll not keep the secret
	Betwixt Little Sir Grove and thee.’
81I.3	Up he rose, and away he goes,
	And along the plain he ran,
	And when he came to Lord Bengwill’s castle,
	He tinkled at the pin;
	And who was sae ready as Lord Bengwill himsell
	To let his little page in.
81I.4	‘Is any of my towers burnt?’ he said,
	‘Or any of my castles taen?
	Or is Lady Bengwill brought to bed,
	Of a daughter or a son?’
81I.5	‘It’s nane of your towers are burnt,’ he said,
	‘Nor nane of your castles taen;
	But Lady Bengwill and Little Sir Grove
	To merry bed they are gane.’
81I.6	‘If this be true that you tell me,
	Rewarded you shall be;
	And if it’s a lie that you tell me,
	You shall be hanged before your ladie’s een.
81I.7	‘Get saddled to me the black,’ he says,
	‘Get saddled to me the brown;
	Get saddled to me the swiftest steed
	That ever man rode on.’
81I.8	The firsten town that he cam to,
	He blew baith loud and schill,
	And aye the owre-word o the tune
	Was, ‘Sir Grove, I wish you well.’
81I.9	The nexten town that he came to,
	He blew baith loud and long,
	And aye the owre-word of the tune
	Was ‘Sir Grove, it is time to be gone.’
81I.10	‘Is yon the sound of the hounds?’ he says,
	‘Or is yon the sound of the deer?
	But I think it’s the sound of my brother’s horn,
	That sound sae schill in my ear.’
81I.11	‘Lye still, lye still, Sir Grove,’ she says,
	‘And keep a fair lady from cold;
	It’s but the sound of my father’s herd-boys,
	As they’re driving the sheep to the fold.’
81I.12	They lay down in each other’s arms,
	And they fell fast asleep,
	And neer a one of them did wake
	Till Lord Bengwill stood at their feet.
81I.13	‘How do you love my soft pillow?
	Or how do you love my sheets?
	Or how do you love my fair lady,
	That lies in your arms and sleeps?’
81I.14	‘Full well I love your soft pillow,
	Far better I love your sheets;
	But woe be to your fair lady,
	That lies in my arms and sleeps!’
81I.15	‘Rise up, rise up, Sir Grove,’ he says,
	‘Some clothes there put you upon;
	Let it never be said in fair England
	I fought with a naked man.’
81I.16	‘Oh where shall I go, or where shall I fly,
	Or where shall I run for my life?
	For you’ve got two broadswords into your hand,
	And I have never a knife.’
81I.17	‘You shall take the one sword,’ he says,
	‘And I shall take the other,
	And that is as fair I’m sure to day
	As that you are my born brother.’
81I.18	‘Hold your hand, hold your hand, my brother dear,
	You’ve wounded me full sore;
	You may get a mistress in every town,
	But a brother you’ll never get more.’
81I.19	The very first stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him,
	He wounded him full sore;
	The very next stroke that Lord Bengwill gave him,
	A word he never spoke more.
81I.20	He’s lifted up Lady Bengwill,
	And set her on his knee,
	Saying, Whether do you love Little Sir Grove
	Better than you do me?
81I.21	‘Full well I love your cherry cheeks,
	Full well I love your chin,
	But better I love Little Sir Grove, where he lies,
	Than you and all your kin.’
	* * * * *
81I.22	‘A grave, a grave,’ Lord Bengwill cried,
	‘To put these lovers in,
	And put Lady Bengwill uppermost,
	For she’s come of the noblest kin.’


	  Child 81J: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81J.1	FOUR and twenty ladies fair
	Was playing at the ba,
	And out cam the lady, Barnabas’ lady,
	The flower amang them a’.
81J.2	She coost an ee on Little Mossgrey,
	As brisk as any sun,
	And he coost anither on her again,
	And they thocht the play was won.
81J.3	‘What would you think, Little Mossgrey,
	To lye wi me this nicht?
	Good beds I hae in Barnabey,
	If they were ordered richt.’
81J.4	‘Hold thy tongue, fair lady,’ he says,
	‘For that would cause much strife;
	For I see by the rings on your fingers
	That you’re Lord Barnabas’ wife.’
81J.5	‘Lord Barnabas’ lady indeed I am,
	And that I’ll let you ken,
	But he’s awa to the king’s court,
	And I hope he’ll neer come hame.’
81J.6	Wi wrapped arms in bed they lay
	Till they fell both asleep,
	When up and starts Barnabas’ boy,
	And stood at their bed-feet.
81J.7	‘How likes thou the bed, Mossgrey?
	Or how likes thou the sheets?
	Or how likes thou my master’s lady,
	Lyes in thy arms and sleeps?’
81J.8	‘Weel I love the bed,’ he said,
	‘And far better the sheets;
	But foul may fa your master’s lady,
	Lies in my arms and sleeps!’
81J.9	She pulled out a rusty sword,
	Was sticking by the stroe;
	Says, Tell no tidings of me, my boy,

	Or thou’ll neer tell no moe.
81J.10	He’s awa to the king’s court,
	As fast as he can dree;
	He’s awa to the king’s court,
	For to tell Barnaby.
81J.11	‘Are there any of my biggins brunt?
	Or any of my young men slain?
	Or is my lady brocht to bed,
	Of a dochter or a son?’
81J.12	‘There is none of your biggings brunt,
	There’s none of your young men slain;
	But Little Mossgrey and your lady
	They are both in a bed within.’
81J.13	‘If that be true, my bonnie boy,
	Thou tellest unto me,
	I have not a dochter but only one,
	And married ye shall be.
81J.14	‘But if it be a lie, my bonnie boy,
	You’re telling unto me,
	On the highest tree of Balisberry,
	Thereon I’ll gar hang thee.’
81J.15	There was a man in the king’s court
	Had a love to Little Mossgrey;
	He took a horn out of his pocket,
	And blew both loud and hie:
	‘He that’s in bed wi Barnabas’ lady,
	It’s time he were away!’
81J.16	‘Oh am I not the maddest man
	Ere lay in a woman’s bed!
	I think I hear his bridle ring,
	But and his horse feet tread.’
81J.17	‘Lye still, lye still, Little Mossgrey,
	And keep me from the cold;
	It’s but my father’s small sheep-herd,
	Calling his sheep to the fold.’
81J.18	With wrapped arms in bed they lay
	Till they fell both asleep,
	Till up and darts Barnabas himsell,
	And stood at their bed-fit.

81J.19	‘How likest thou the bed, Mossgrey?
	And how loves thou the sheets?
	And how loves thou my lady fair,
	Lyes in your arms and sleeps?’
81J.20	‘Well I love your bed,’ he says,
	‘And far better your sheets;
	But foul may fa your lady fair,
	Lyes in my arms and sleeps!’
81J.21	‘Rise, O rise, Little Mossgrey,
	Put on your hose and shoon;
	I’ll neer hae’t said in a far countrie
	I killed a naked man.’
81J.22	Slowly, slowly rose he up,
	And slowly put he on,
	And slowly down the stairs he goes,
	And thinking to be slain.
81J.23	‘Here’s two swords,’ Barnabas said,
	‘I wad they cost me dear;
	Tak thou the best, I’ll tak the warst,
	We’ll try the battle here.’
81J.24	The first stroke that Mossgrey got,
	It was baith sharp and sore;
	And the next stroke his lady got,
	One word she neer spak more.
81J.25	word she neer spak more.
81J.25	‘Ye’ll mak a coffin large and wide,
	And lay this couple in;
	And lay her head on his right hand,
	She’s come o the highest kin.’


	  Child 81K: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81K.1	IT\R’\rS four and twenty bonny boys
	Were playin at the ba,
	And out it cums Lord Barnet’s ladie,
	And playit out ower them a’.
81K.2	And aye she shot it’s Little Mousgray,
	As clear as any sun:
	‘O what wad ye gie, it’s Little Mousgray,
	It’s in O my arms to won?’
81K.3	‘For no, for no, my gay ladie,
	For no, that maunna be;
	For well ken I by the rings on your fingers,
	Lord Barnet’s ladie are ye.’
81K.4	When supper was over, and mass was sung,
	And a’ man boun for bed,
	It’s Little Mousgray and that lady
	In ae chamber was laid.
81K.5	It’s up and starts her little foot-page,
	Just up at her bed-feet:
	‘Hail weel, hail weel, my little foot-page,
	Hail well this deed on me,
	An ever I lee my life to brook,
	I’se pay you well your fee.’
81K.6	Out it spaks it’s Little Mousgray:
	‘I think I hear a horn blaw;
	She blaws baith loud and shill at ilka turning of the tune,
	Mousgray, gae ye your wa!’
81K.7	‘Lie still, lie still, it’s Little Mousgray,
	Had the caul win frae my back;
	It’s bat my father’s proud shepherds,
	The’re huntin their hogs to the fauld.’
81K.8	O up it starts the bold Barnet:
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
81K.9	‘Win up, win up, it’s Little Mousgray,
	Draw ti your stockins and sheen;
	I winna have it for to be said
	I killed a naked man.
81K.10	‘There is two swords in my scabbart,
	They cost me many a pun;
	Tak ye the best, and I the warst,
	And we sall to the green.’
81K.11	‘The firsten strok Lord Barnet strak,
	He wound Mousgray very sore;
	The nexten stroke Lord Barnet strak,
	Mousgray spak never more.
81K.12	O he’s taen out a lang, lang brand,
	And stripped it athwart the straw,
	And throch and throu his ain ladie
	And he’s gart it cum and ga.
81K.13	There was nae main made for that ladie,
	In bower whar she lay dead!
	But a’ was for her bonny young son,
	Lay blobberin amang the bluid.


	  Child 81L: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81L.1	FOUR and twenty handsome youths
	Were a’ playing at the ba,
	When forth it came him Little Munsgrove,
	The flower out ower them a’.
81L.2	At times he lost, at times he wan,
	Till the noon-tide o the day,
	And four an twenty gay ladies
	Went out to view the play.
81L.3	Some came down in white velvet,
	And other some in green;
	Lord Burnett’s lady in red scarlet,
	And shin’d like ony queen.
81L.4	Some came down in white velvet,
	And other some in pale;
	Lord Burnett’s lady in red scarlet,
	Whose beauty did excell.
81L.5	She gae a glance out ower them a’,
	As beams dart frae the sun;
	She fixed her eyes on Little Munsgrove,
	For him her love lay on.
81L.6	‘Gude day, gude day, ye handsome youth,
	God make ye safe and free;
	What woud ye gie this day, Munsgrove,
	For ae night in bower wi me?’
81L.7	‘I darena for my lands, lady,
	I darena for my life;
	I ken by the rings on your fingers
	Ye are Lord Burnett’s wife.’
81L.8	‘It woud na touch my heart, Munsgrove,
	Nae mair than ’twoud my tae,
	To see as much o his heart’s blood
	As twa brands coud let gae.
81L.9	‘I hae a bower in fair Strathdon,
	And pictures round it sett,
	And I hae ordered thee, Munsgrove,
	In fair Strathdon to sleep.’
81L.10	Her flattering words and fair speeches,
	They were for him too strong,
	And she’s prevailed on Little Munsgrove
	With her to gang along.
81L.11	When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
	And a’ man bound for bed,
	Little Munsgrove and that lady
	In ae chamber were laid.
81L.12	‘O what hire will ye gie your page,
	If he the watch will keep,
	In case that your gude lord come hame
	When we’re fair fast asleep?’
81L.13	‘Siller, siller’s be his wage,
	And gowd shall be his hire;
	But if he speak ae word o this,
	He’ll die in a burning fire.’
81L.14	‘The promise that I make, Madam,
	I will stand to the same;
	I winna heal it an hour langer
	Than any master comes hame.’
81L.15	She’s taen a sharp brand in her hand,
	Being in the tidive hour;
	He ran between her and the door,
	She never saw him more.
81L.16	Where he found the grass grow green,
	He slacked his shoes an ran,
	And where he found the brigs broken,
	He bent his bow an swam.
81L.17	Lord Burnett ower a window lay,
	Beheld baith dale and down;
	And he beheld his ain foot-page
	Come hastening to the town.
81L.18	‘What news, what news, my little wee boy,
	Ye bring sae hastilie?’
	‘Bad news, bad news, my master,’ he says,
	‘As ye will plainly see.’
81L.19	‘Are any of my biggins brunt, my boy?
	Or are my woods hewed down?
	Or is my dear lady lighter yet,
	O dear daughter or son?’
81L.20	‘There are nane o your biggins brunt, master,
	Nor are your woods hewn down;
	Nor is your lady lighter yet,
	O dear daughter nor son.
81L.21	‘But ye’ve a bower in fair Strathdon,
	And pictures round it sett,
	Where your lady and Little Munsgrove
	In fair Strathdon do sleep.’
81L.22	‘O had your tongue! why talk you so
	About my gay ladye?
	She is a gude and chaste woman
	As in the North Countrie.’
81L.23	‘A word I dinna lie, my lord,
	A word I dinna lie;
	And if ye winna believe my word,
	Your ain twa een shall see.’
81L.24	‘Gin this be a true tale ye tell,
	That ye have tauld to me,
	I’ll wed you to my eldest daughter,
	And married you shall be.
81L.25	‘But if it be a fause story
	That ye hae tauld to me,
	A high gallows I’ll gar be built,
	And hanged shall ye be.’
81L.26	He’s called upon his landlady,
	The reckoning for to pay,
	And pulled out twa hands fou o gowd;
	Says, We’ll reckon anither day.
81L.27	He called upon his stable-groom,
	To saddle for him his steed,
	And trampled ower yon rocky hills
	Till his horse hoofs did bleed.
81L.28	There was a man in Lord Burnett’s train
	Was ane o Munsgrove’s kin,
	And aye as fast as the horsemen rade,
	Sae nimbly’s he did rin.
81L.29	He set a horn to his mouth,
	And he blew loud and sma,
	And aye at every sounding’s end,
	‘Awa, Munsgrove, awa!’
81L.30	Then up it raise him Little Munsgrove,
	And drew to him his sheen;
	‘Lye still, lye still,’ the lady she cried,
	‘Why get ye up sae seen?’
81L.31	‘I think I hear a horn blaw,
	And it blaws loud and sma;
	And aye at every sounding’s end,
	Awa, Munsgrove, awa!’
81L.32	‘Lye still, lye still, ye Little Munsgrove,
	Had my back frae the wind;
	It’s but my father’s proud shepherd,
	Caing his hogs to town.’
81L.33	‘I think I hear a horn blaw,
	And it blaws loud and shrill,
	And aye at every sounding’s end
	Bids Munsgrove take the hill.’
81L.34	‘Lye still, my boy, lye still, my sweet,
	Had my back frae the cauld;
	It’s but the sugh o the westlin wind,
	Blawing ower the birks sae bauld.’
81L.35	He turned him right and round about,
	And he fell fast asleep;
	When up it started Lord Burnett,
	And stood at their bed-feet.
81L.36	‘Is’t for love o my blankets, Munsgrove?
	Or is’t for love o my sheets?
	Or is’t for love o my gay lady?
	Sae soun in your arms she sleeps!’
81L.37	‘It’s nae for love o your blankets, my lord,
	Nor yet for love o your sheets;
	But wae be to your gay ladye,
	Sae soun in my arms she sleeps!’
81L.38	‘Win up, win up, ye Little Munsgrove,
	Put all your armour an;
	It’s never be said anither day
	I killed a naked man.
81L.39	‘I hae twa brands in ae scabbard,
	Cost me merks twenty-nine;
	Take ye the best, gie me the warst,
	For ye’re the weakest man.’
81L.40	The firs an stroke that Munsgrove drew
	Wounded Lord Burnett sair;
	The next an stroke Lord Burnett drew,
	Munsgrove he spake nae mair.
81L.41	He turned him to his ladye then,
	And thus to her said he:
	‘All the time we’ve led our life
	I neer thought this o thee.
81L.42	‘How like ye now this well-faird face,
	That stands straight by your side?
	Or will ye hate this ill-faird face,
	Lyes weltering in his blude?’
81L.43	‘O better love I this well-faird face,
	Lyes weltering in his blude,
	Then eer I’ll do this ill-faird face,
	That stands straight by my side.’
81L.44	Then he’s taen out a sharp dagger,
	It was baith keen and smart,
	And he has wounded that gay ladye
	A deep wound to the heart.
81L.45	‘A grave, a grave,’ cried Lord Burnett,
	‘To bury these two in;
	And lay my ladye in the highest flat,
	She’s chiefest o the kin.
81L.46	‘A grave, a grave,’ said Lord Burnett,
	‘To bury these two in;
	Lay Munsgrove in the lowest flat,
	He’s deepest in the sin.
81L.47	‘Ye’ll darken my windows up secure,
	Wi staunchions round about,
	And there is not a living man
	Shall eer see me walk out.
81L.48	‘Nae mair fine clothes my body deck,
	Nor kame gang in my hair,
	Nor burning coal nor candle light
	Shine in my bower mair.’


	  Child 81M: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

81M.1	IT fell upon a Martinmas time,
	When the nobles were a’ drinking wine,
	That Little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did go,
	For to see the ladies come in.


	  Child 81N: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

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


	 Child 81[O]: Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

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



		  Child 82: The Bonny Birdy

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



		  Child 83A: Child Maurice

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


		  Child 83B: Child Maurice

83B.Tha\rt	euer ware womans weede!’


		  Child 83B: Child Maurice

83B.1	CHILD NORYCE is a clever young man,
	He wavers wi the wind;
	His horse was silver-shod before,
	With the beaten gold behind.
83B.2	He called to his little man John,
	Saying, You don’t see what I see;
	For O yonder I see the very first woman
	That ever loved me.
83B.3	‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he said,
	‘Lined with the silver grey;
	You may tell her to come to the merry greenwood,
	To speak to Child Nory.
83B.4	‘Here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,
	‘It’s all gold but the stane;
	You may tell her to come to the merry greenwood,
	And ask the leave o nane.’
83B.5	‘So well do I love your errand, my master,
	But far better do I love my life;
	O would ye have me go to Lord Barnard’s castle,
	To betray away his wife?’
83B.6	‘O don’t I give you meat,’ he says,
	‘And don’t I pay you fee?
	How dare you stop my errand?’ he says;
	‘My orders you must obey.’
83B.7	O when he came to Lord Bernard’s castle,
	He tinkled at the ring;
	Who was as ready as Lord Barnard himself
	To let this little boy in?
83B.8	‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,
	‘Lined with the silver grey;
	You are bidden to come to the merry greenwood,
	To speak to Child Nory.
83B.9	‘Here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,
	‘It’s all gold but the stane;
	You are bidden to come to the merry greenwood,
	And ask the leave o nane.’
83B.10	Lord Barnard he was standing by,
	And an angry man was he:
	‘O little did I think there was a lord in the world
	My lady loved but me!’
83B.11	O he dressed himself in the holland smock,
	And garments that was gay,
	And he is away to the merry green-wood,
	To speak to Child Nory.
83B.12	Child Noryce sits on yonder tree,
	He whistles and he sings:
	‘O wae be to me,’ says Child Noryce,
	‘Yonder my mother comes!’
83B.13	Child Noryce he came off the tree,
	His mother to take off the horse:
	‘Och alace, alace,’ says Child Noryce,
	‘My mother was neer so gross!’
83B.14	Lord Barnard he had a little small sword,
	That hung low down by his knee;
	He cut the head off Child Noryce,
	And put the body on a tree.
83B.15	And when he came home to his castell,
	And to his ladie’s hall,
	He threw the head into her lap,
	Saying, Lady, there’s a ball!
83B.16	She turned up the bloody head,
	She kissed it frae cheek to chin:
	‘Far better do I love this bloody head
	Than all my royal kin.
83B.17	‘When I was in my father’s castel,
	In my virginity,
	There came a lord into the North,
	Gat Child Noryce with me.’
83B.18	‘O wae be to thee, Lady Margaret,’ he sayd,
	‘And an ill death may you die;
	For if you had told me he was your son,
	He had neer been slain by me.’


		  Child 83C: Child Maurice

83C.1	BOB NORICE is to the grein-wud gane,
	He is awa wi the wind;
	His horse is siller-shod afore,
	In the shynand gowd ahind.
83C.2	He said unto his wee boy John,
	I sie what ye dinna sie;
	I see the [first] woman that I eer luvit,
	Or ever luvit me.
83C.3	‘Gae tak to hir this pair o gluvis,
	They’re o the siller-gray,
	And tell her to cum to the merrie grein-wud
	An speik to Bob Norice.
83C.4	‘Gae tak to her this gay gowd ring,
	And it’s aw gowd but the stane,
	And tell her to cum to the merrie grein-wud,
	And ask the leive o nane.
83C.5	‘Gae tak to her this braw manteil,
	It’s a’ silk but the sleive,
	And tell her to cum to the merrie green-wud,
	And ax nae bauld Barnet’s leive.’
83C.6	‘I daurna gang to Lord Barnet’s castel,
	I daurna gang for my lyfe;
	I daurna gang to Lord Barnet’s castell,
	To twyne him o his wife.’
83C.7	‘Do I nae pay you gowd?’ he said,
	‘Do I nae pay you fee?
	How daur you stand my bidding, Sir,
	Whan I bid you to flee?’
83C.8	‘Gif I maun gang to Lord Barnet’s castel,
	Sae sair agane my will,
	I vow a vow, and I do protest,
	It sall be dune for ill.’
83C.9	But whan he came to Lord Barnet’s castel
	He tinklet at the ring;
	Tha war nane sae ready as Lord Barnet himsell
	To let the wee calland in.
83C.10	‘What news, what news, my bonnie wee boy?
	What news hae ye to me?’
	‘Nae news, nae news, Lord Barnet,’ he said,
	‘But you ladie I fain would see.
83C.11	‘Here is a pair o gluves to her,
	Thay’r o the silver gray;
	And tell her to cum to the merrie green-wud,
	And speik to Bob Norice.
83C.12	‘Here is a gay gowd ring to her,
	It’s aw gowd but the stane;
	And she maun cum to the merrie green-wud,
	And speir the leive o nane.
83C.13	‘Here is a gay manteil to her,
	It’s aw silk but the sleive;
	And she maun cum to the merrie grein-wud,
	And ask not bauld Barnet’s leive.’
83C.14	Then out bespack the yellow nurse,
	Wi the babie on her knee,
	Sayand, Gif thay be cum frae Bob Norice,
	They are welcum to me.
83C.15	‘O haud your tung, ye yellow nurse,
	Aloud an I heir ye lie;
	For they’re to Lord Barnet’s lady,
	I trew that this be she.’
83C.16	Lord Barnet’s to a dressing-room,
	And buskt him in woman’s array,
	And he’s awa to the merrie green-wud,
	To speik to Bob Norrice.
83C.17	Bob Norrice he sits on a tree,
	He is whissland and singand;
	Says, Merrie, merrie may my hert be,
	I see my mither cumand.
83C.18	Bob Norice he cam doun frae the trie,
	To help his mother to licht fra her horss;
	‘Och alace, alace,’ says Bob Norice,
	‘My mither was neer sae gross!’
83C.19	mither was neer sae gross!’
83C.19	Lord Barnet had a not-brown sword,
	That hung down by his knee,
	And he has cut Bob Norice heid
	Aff frae his fair bodie.
83C.20	He tuke the bluidy head in his hand,
	And he brocht it to the ha,
	And flang it into his lady’s lap,
	Sayand, Lady, there is a ba!
83C.21	She took the bluidy heid in her hand,
	And kisst it frae cheik to chin,
	Sayand, Better I lyke that weil faurit face
	Nor aw my royal kin.
83C.22	‘Whan I was in my father’s bour,
	A’ in my dignity,
	An Englis lord a visit came,
	Gat Bob Norice wi me.’
83C.23	Then out bespak Lord Barnet syne,
	And a wae, wae man was he,
	Sayand, Gif I had kent he was your son,
	He wuld neer been killit be me.


		  Child 83D: Child Maurice

83D.1	GILL MORICE stood in stable-door,
	With red gold shined his weed;
	A bonnie boy him behind,
	Dressing a milk-white steed.
83D.2	‘Woe’s me for you, maister,
	Your name it waxes wide;
	It is not for your rich, rich robes,
	Nor for your meikle pride,
	But all is for yon lord’s ladie,
	She lives on Ithan side.’
83D.3	‘Here’s to thee, my bonnie wee boy,
	That I pay meat and fee;
	You will run on to Ithan side
	An errand unto me.’
83D.4	‘If ye gar me that errand run,
	Sae sair against my will,
	I’ll make a vow, and keep it true,
	I’ll do your errand ill.’
83D.5	‘I fear nae ill of thee, boy,
	I fear nae ill of thee;
	I fearna ill of my bonnie boy,
	My sister’s son are ye.
83D.6	‘Ye’ll tak here this green manteel,
	It’s lined with the frieze;
	Ye’ll bid her come to gude green-wood,
	To talk with Gill Morice.
83D.7	‘Ye’ll tak here this sark o silk,
	Her ain hand sewed the sleeve;
	Ye’ll bid her come to gude green-wood,
	And ask not Burnard’s leave.’
83D.8	When he gade to Ithan side
	They were hailing at the ba,
	And four and twenty gay ladyes
	They lookd ower castle wa.
	And four and twenty gay ladyes
	They lookd ower castle wa.
83D.9	‘God mak you safe, you ladies all,
	God mak you safe and sure;
	But Burnard’s lady amang you all,
	My errand is to her.
83D.10	‘Ye’ll tak here this green manteel,
	It’s a’ lined wi the frieze;
	Ye’re bidden come to gude green-wood
	And speak to Gill Morice.
83D.11	‘Ye’ll tak here this sark of silk,
	Your ain hand sewed the sleeve;
	Ye’re bidden come to gude green-wood,
	And ask not Burnard’s leave.’
83D.12	Up it stood the little nurice,
	She winked with her ee:
	‘Welcome, welcome, bonnie boy,
	With luve-tidings to me.
83D.13	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye false nurice,
	Sae loud’s I hear ye lie;
	It’s to the lady of the house,
	I’m sure ye are not shee.’
83D.14	Then out and spoke him bold Burnard,
	Behind the door stood he:
	‘I’ll go unto gude green-wood,
	And see what he may be.
83D.15	‘Come, bring to me the gowns of silk,
	Your petticoats so small,
	And I’ll go on to gude green-wood,
	I’ll try with him a fall.’
83D.16	Gill Morice stood in gude green-wood,
	He whistled and he sang:
	‘I think I see the woman come
	That I have loved lang.’
83D.17	‘What now, what now, ye Gill Morice,
	What now, and how do ye?
	How lang hae ye my lady luved?
	This day come tell to me.’
83D.18	‘First when I your lady loved,
	In green-wood amang the thyme,
	I wot she was my first fair love
	Or ever she was thine.
83D.19	‘First when I your lady loved,
	In green-wood amang the flouirs,
	I wot she was my first fair love
	Or ever she was yours.’
83D.20	He’s taen out a lang, lang brand
	That he was used to wear,
	And he’s taen aff Gill Morice head,
	And put it on a spear:
	The soberest boy in a’ the court
	Gill Morice head did bear.
83D.21	He’s put it in a braid basin,
	And brocht it in the ha,
	And laid it in his lady’s lap;
	Said, Lady, tak a ba!
83D.22	‘Play ye, play ye, my lady,’ he said,
	‘Play ye frae ha to bower;
	Play ye wi Gill Morice head,
	He was your paramour!
83D.23	‘He was not my paramour,
	He was my son indeed;
	I got him in my mother’s bower,
	And in my maiden -weed.
83D.24	‘I got him in my mother’s bower,
	Wi meikle sin and shame;
	I brocht him up in good green-wood,
	Got mony a shower o rain.
83D.25	‘But I will kiss his bluidy head,
	And I will clap his chin;
	I’ll make a vow, and keep it true,
	I’ll never kiss man again.
83D.26	‘Oftimes I by his cradle sat,
	And fond to see him sleep;
	But I may walk about his grave,
	And fond to see him sleep;
	But I may walk about his grave,
	The saut tears for to weep.’
83D.27	‘Bring cods, bring cods to my ladye,
	Her heart is full of wae;’
	‘None of your cods, Burnet,’ she says,
	‘But lay me on the strae.’
83D.28	‘Pox on you, my lady fair,
	That wudna telled it me;
	If I had known he was your son,
	He had not been slain by me;
	And for ae penny ye wud hae gien
	I wud hae gien him three.’
	And for ae penny ye wud hae gien
	I wud hae gien him three.’
83D.29	‘Keep weel your land, Burnet,’ she said,
	‘Your land and white monie;
	There’s land eneuch in Norroway
	Lies heirless I wot the day.’
83D.30	The one was killed in the mornin air,
	His mother died at een,
	And or the mornin bells was rung
	The threesome were a’ gane.


		  Child 83E: Child Maurice

83E.1	CHIELD MORRICE was an earl’s son,
	His name it waxed wide;
	It was nae for his parentage,
	Nor yet his meikle pride,
	But it was for a lady gay,
	That lived on Carron side.
83E.2	‘O Willie, my man, my errand gang,
	And you maun rin wi speed;
	When other boys run on their feet,
	On horseback ye shall ride.
83E.3	‘O master dear, I love you weel,
	And I love you as my life,
	But I will not go to Lord Barnard’s ha,
	For to tryst forth his wife.
83E.4	‘For the baron he’s a man of might,
	He neer could bide a taunt,
	And ye shall see or it be late
	How meikle ye’ll hae to vaunt.’
83E.5	‘O you must rin my errand, Willie,
	And you must rin wi speed,
	And if you don’t obey my high command
	I’ll gar your body bleed.
83E.6	‘And here it is a gay manteel,
	It’s a’ gowd but the hem;
	Bid her come speak to Chield Morice,
	Bring naebody but her lane.
83E.7	‘And here it is a holland smock,
	her own hand sewed the sleeve;
	Bid her come speak to Chield Morice,
	Ask not the baron’s leave.’
83E.8	‘Since I must run this errand for you,
	So sore against my will,
	I’ve made a vow, and I’ll keep it true,
	It shall be done for ill.’
83E.9	For he did not ask the porter’s leave,
	Tho he stood at the gate,
	But straight he ran to the big hall,
	Where great folk sat at meat.
83E.10	‘Good hallow, gentle sir and dame,
	My errand canno wait;
	Dame, ye must go speak to Chield Morice,
	Before it be too late.
83E.11	‘And here it is a gay manteel,
	It’s a’ goud but the hem;
	Ye must come speak to Child Morice,
	Bring nae body but your lane.
83E.12	‘And here it is a holland smock,
	Your ain hand sewed the sleeve;
	You must come speak to Chield Morice,
	Ask not the baron’s leave.’
83E.13	O aye she stamped wi her foot,
	And winked wi her ee,
	But a’ that she could say or do,
	Forbidden he wad na be.
83E.14	‘It’s surely to my bouir-woman,
	It canna be to me:’
	‘I brocht it to Lord Barnard’s lady,
	And I trow that thou art she.’
83E.15	Out then spak the wylie nurse,
	Wi the bairn just on her knee:
	‘If this be come fra Chield Morice,
	It’s dear welcome to me.’
83E.16	‘Thou lies, thou lies, thou wylie nurse,
	Sae loud’s I hear thee lie;
	I brought it to Lord Barnard’s lady,
	And I trow thou binna she.’
	I brought it to Lord Barnard’s lady,
	And I trow thou binna she.’
83E.17	Then up and rose him the bold baron,
	And an angry man was he;
	He took the table wi his foot,
	And keppd it wi his knee,
	Till silver cup and ezar dish
	In flinders they did flee.
83E.18	‘Go gring me one of thy cleeding,
	That hings upon the pin,
	And I’ll awa to the good green-wood,
	And crack wi your leman.’
83E.19	‘I would have you stay at home, Lord Barnard,
	I would have you stay at home;
	Never wyte a man for violence douce
	That never thought you wrong.’
83E.20	And when he to the green-wood went,
	No body saw he there
	But Chield Morice, on a milk-white steed,
	Combing down his yellow hair.
83E.21	Chield Morice sat in the gay green-wood,
	He whistled and he sang:
	‘O what means a’ thir folks coming?
	My mother tarries lang.’
83E.22	mother tarries lang.’
83E.22	‘No wonder, no wonder, Chield Morice,’ he said,
	‘My lady loved thee weel;
	For the whitest bit of my body
	Is blacker than thy heel.
83E.23	‘But nevertheless now, Chield Morice,
	For a’ thy gay beautie,
	O nevertheless, Chield Morice,
	Thy head shall go with me.’
83E.24	He had a rapier by his side,
	Hung low down by his knee;
	He struck Chield Morrice on the neck,
	Till aff his head did flee.
83E.25	Then he’s taen up that bloody head,
	And stuck it on a spear,
	And the meanest man in a’ his train
	Gat Chield Morice head to bear.
83E.26	The lady looked owre the castle-wa,
	Wi meikle dool and down,
	And there she saw Chield Morice head,
	Coming trailing to the town.
83E.27	But he’s taen up this bluidy head,
	And dashed it gainst the wa:
	‘Come down, come down, you ladies fair,
	And play at this foot-ba.’
83E.28	Then she’s taen up this bluidy head,
	And an ill deid may thou die!
	And she kissed it both cheek and chin:
	‘I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head
	Than a’ thy earldom.
	‘I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head
	Than a’ thy earldom.
	‘I would rather hae a kiss o that bluidy head
	Than a’ thy earldom.
83E.29	‘I got him in my father’s bouir,
	Wi meikle sin and shame,
	And I brought him up in gay green-wood,
	Beneath the heavy rain.
83E.30	‘Many a day have I rockd thy cradle,
	And fondly seen thee sleep,
	But now I’ll go about thy grave,
	And sore, sore will I weep.’
83E.31	‘O woe be to thee, thou wild woman,
	And an ill deid may thou die!
	For if ye had tauld me he was your son,
	He should hae ridden and gane wi me.’
83E.32	‘O hold your tongue, you bold baron,
	And an ill death may ye die!
	He had lands and rents enew of his ain,
	He needed nane fra thee.’
83E.33	‘Then I’ll curse the hand that did the deed,
	The heart that thought him ill,
	The feet that carried me speedilie
	This comely youth to kill.’
83E.34	This lady she died gin ten o’clock,
	Lord Barnard died gin twall,
	And bonnie boy now, Sweet Willie,
	What’s come o him I canna tell.


		  Child 83F: Child Maurice

83F.at’s	come o him I canna tell.


		  Child 83F: Child Maurice

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


		  Child 83G: Child Maurice

83G.1	GIL MORRICE sat in silver wood,
	He whistled and he sang:
	‘Whar sall I get a bonny boy
	My errand for to gang?’
83G.2	He ca’d his foster-brither Willie:
	‘Come, win ye hose and shoon,
	And gae unto Lord Barnard’s ha,
	And bid his lady come.’
	* * * * *
83G.3	And she has taen the bloody head,
	And cast it i the brim,
	Syne gathered up her robes o green,
	And fast she followed him.



		 Child 84A: Bonny Barbara Allen

84A.1	IT was in and about the Martinmas time,
	When the green leaves were a falling,
	That Sir John Gra+eme, in the West Country,
	Fell in love with Barbara Allan.
84A.2	He sent his men down through the town,
	To the place where she was dwelling:
	‘O haste and come to my master dear,
	Gin ye be Barbara Allan.’
84A.3	O hooly, hooly rose she up,
	To the place where he was lying,
	And when she drew the curtain by,
	‘Young man, I think you’re dying.’
	And when she drew the curtain by,
	‘Young man, I think you’re dying.’
84A.4	‘O it’s I’m sick, and very, very sick,
	And ’tis a’ for Barbara Allan:’
	‘O the better for me ye’s never be,
	Tho your heart’s blood were a spilling.
84A.5	‘O dinna ye mind, young man,’ said she,
	‘When ye was in the tavern a drinking,
	That ye made the healths gae round and round,
	And slighted Barbara Allan?’
84A.6	He turnd his face unto the wall,
	And death was with him dealing:
	‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
	And death was with him dealing:
	‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
	And be kind to Barbara Allan.’
84A.7	And slowly, slowly raise she up,
	And slowly, slowly left him,
	And sighing said, she coud not stay,
	Since death of life had reft him.
84A.8	She had not gane a mile but twa,
	When she heard the dead-bell ringing,
	And every jow that the dead-bell geid,
	It cry’d, Woe to Barbara Allan!
84A.9	‘O mother, mother, make my bed!
	O make it saft and narrow!
	Since my love died for me to-day,
	I’ll die for him to-morrow.’


		 Child 84B: Bonny Barbara Allen

84B.1	IN SCARLET TOWN, where I was bound,
	There was a fair maid dwelling,
	Whom I had chosen to be my own,
	And her name it was Barbara Allen.
84B.2	All in the merry month of May,
	When green leaves they was springing,
	This young man on his death-bed lay,
	For the love of Barbara Allen.
84B.3	He sent his man unto her then,
	To the town where she was dwelling:
	‘You must come to my master dear,
	If your name be Barbara Allen.
84B.4	‘For death is printed in his face,
	And sorrow’s in him dwelling,
	And you must come to my master dear,
	If your name be Barbara Allen.’
84B.5	your name be Barbara Allen.’
84B.5	‘If death be printed in his face,
	And sorrow’s in him dwelling,
	Then little better shall he be
	For bonny Barbara Allen.’
84B.6	So slowly, slowly she got up,
	And so slowly she came to him,
	And all she said when she came there,
	Young man, I think you are a dying.
84B.7	He turnd his face unto her then:
	‘If you be Barbara Allen,
	My dear,’ said he, ’Come pitty me,
	As on my death-bed I am lying.’
84B.8	‘If on your death-bed you be lying,
	What is that to Barbara Allen?
	I cannot keep you from [your] death;
	So farewell,’ said Barbara Allen.
84B.9	He turnd his face unto the wall,
	And death came creeping to him:
	‘Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all,
	And adieu to Barbara Allen!’
84B.10	And as she was walking on a day,
	She heard the bell a ringing,
	And it did seem to ring to her
	‘Unworthy Barbara Allen.’
84B.11	She turnd herself round about,
	And she spy’d the corps a coming:
	‘Lay down, lay down the corps of clay,
	That I may look upon him.’
84B.12	And all the while she looked on,
	So loudly she lay laughing,
	While all her friends cry’d [out] amain,
	So loudly she lay laughing,
	While all her friends cry’d [out] amain,
	‘Unworthy Barbara Allen!’
84B.13	When he was dead, and laid in grave,
	Then death came creeping to she:
	‘O mother, mother, make my bed,
	For his death hath quite undone me.
84B.14	‘A hard-hearted creature that I was,
	To slight one that lovd me so dearly;
	I wish I had been more kinder to him,
	The time of his life when he was near me.’
84B.15	So this maid she then did dye,
	And desired to be buried by him,
	And repented her self before she dy’d,
	That ever she did deny him.


		 Child 84C: Bonny Barbara Allen

84C.1	IT fell about the Lammas time,
	When the woods grow green and yellow,
	There came a wooer out of the West
	A wooing to Barbara Allan.
84C.2	‘It is not for your bonny face,
	Nor for your beauty bonny,
	But it is all for your tocher good
	Nor for your beauty bonny,
	But it is all for your tocher good
	I come so far about ye.’
84C.3	ome so far about ye.’
84C.3	‘If it be not for my comely face,
	Nor for my beauty bonnie,
	My tocher good ye’ll never get paid
	Down on the board before ye.’
84C.4	‘O will ye go to the Highland hills,
	To see my white corn growing?
	Or will ye go to the river-side,
	To see my boats a rowing?’
84C.5	O he’s awa, and awa he’s gone,
	And death’s within him dealing,
	And it is all for the sake of her,
	And death’s within him dealing,
	And it is all for the sake of her,
	His bonnie Barbara Allan.
84C.6	O he sent his man unto the house,
	Where that she was a dwelling:
	‘O you must come my master to see,
	If you be Barbara Allan.’
84C.7	So slowly aye as she put on,
	And so stoutly as she gaed till him,
	And so slowly as she could say,
	‘I think, young man, you’re lying.’
84C.8	‘O I am lying in my bed,
	And death within me dwelling;
	And it is all for the love of thee,
	My bonny Barbara Allan.’
84C.9	She was not ae mile frae the town,
	Till she heard the dead-bell ringing:
	‘Och hone, oh hone, he’s dead and gone,
	For the love of Barbara Allan!’



			Child 85A: Lady Alice

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


			Child 85B: Lady Alice

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


		  Child 85[C]: Lady Alice

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



		  Child 86A: Young Benjie

86A.1	OF a’ the maids o fair Scotland
	The fairest was Marjorie,
	And young Benjie was her ae true-love,
	And a dear true-love was he.
86A.2	And wow! but they were lovers dear,
	And loved fu constantlie;
	But ay the mair, when they fell out,
	The sairer was their plea.
86A.3	And they hae quarrelled on a day,
	Till Marjorie’s heart grew wae,
	And she said she’d chuse another luve,
	And let Young Benjie gae.
86A.4	And he was stout, and proud-hearted,
	And thought o’t bitterlie,
	And he’s gaen by the wan moon-light
	To meet his Marjorie.
86A.5	‘O open, open, my true-love,
	‘O open, open, my true-love,
	‘I dare na open, Young Benjie,
	My three brother are within.’
86A.6	‘Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,
	Sae loud’s I hear ye lie;
	As I came by the Lowden banks,
	They bade gude een to me.
86A.7	‘But fare ye weel, my ae fause love,
	That I hae loved sae lang!
	It sets ye chuse another love,
	And let Young Benjie gang.’
86A.8	Then Marjorie turned her round about,
	The tear blinding her ee:
	‘I darena, darena let thee in,
	But I’ll come down to thee.’
86A.9	Then saft she smiled, and said to him,
	O what ill hae I done?
	He took her in his armis twa,
	And threw her oer the linn.
86A.10	The stream was strang, the maid was stout,
	And laith, laith to be dang,
	But ere she wan the Lowden banks
	Her fair colour was wan.
86A.11	Then up bespak her eldest brother,
	‘O see na ye what I see?’
	And out then spak her second brother,
	‘It’s our sister Marjorie!’
86A.12	Out then spak her eldest brother,
	‘O how shall we her ken?’
	And out then spak her youngest brother,
	‘There’s a honey-mark on her chin.’
86A.13	Then they’ve taen up the comely corpse,
	And laid it on the grund:
	‘O wha has killed our ae sister,
	And how can he be found?
86A.14	‘The night it is her low lykewake,
	The morn her burial day,
	And we maun watch at mirk midnight,
	And hear what she will say.’
86A.15	Wi doors ajar, and candle-light,
	And torches burning clear,
	The streikit corpse, till still midnight,
	They waked, but naething hear.
86A.16	About the middle o the night
	The cocks began to craw,
	And at the dead hour o the night
	The corpse began to thraw.
86A.17	‘O wha has done the wrang, sister,
	Or dared the deadly sin?
	Wha was sae stout, and feared nae dout,
	As thraw ye oer the linn?’
86A.18	‘Young Benjie was the first ae man
	I laid my love upon;
	He was sae stout and proud-hearted,
	He threw me oer the linn.’
86A.19	‘Sall we Young Benjie head, sister?
	Sall we Young Benjie hang?
	Or sall we pike out his twa gray een,
	And punish him ere he gang?’
86A.20	‘Ye mauna Benjie head, brothers,
	Ye mauna Benjie hang,
	But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,
	And punish him ere he gang.
86A.21	‘Tie a green gravat round his neck,
	And lead him out and in,
	And the best ae servant about your house
	To wait Young Benjie on.
86A.22	‘And ay, at every seven year’s end,
	Ye’ll tak him to the linn;
	For that’s the penance he maun drie,
	To scug his deadly sin.’


		  Child 86B: Young Benjie

86B.1	‘O COME along wi me, brother,
	Now come along wi me;
	‘O COME along wi me, brother,
	Now come along wi me;
	And we’ll gae seek our sister Maisry,
	Into the water o Dee.’
86B.2	The eldest brother he stepped in,
	He stepped to the knee;
	Then out he jumpd upo the bank,
	Says, This water’s nae for me.
86B.3	The second brother he stepped in,
	He stepped to the quit;
	Then out he jumpd upo the bank,
	Says, This water’s wondrous deep.
86B.4	When the third brother stepped in,
	He stepped to the chin;
	Out he got, and forward wade,
	For fear o drowning him.
86B.5	The younges brother he stepped in,
	Took’s sister by the hand;
	Said, Here she is, my sister Maisry,
	Wi the hinny-draps on her chin.
86B.6	‘O if I were in some bonny ship,
	And in some strange countrie,
	For to find out some conjurer,
	To gar Maisry speak to me!’
86B.7	Then out it speaks an auld woman,
	As she was passing by:
	‘Ask of your sister what you want,
	And she will speak to thee.’
86B.8	‘O sister, tell me who is the man
	That did your body win?
	And who is the wretch, tell me, likewise,
	That threw you in the lin?’
86B.9	‘O Bondsey was the only man
	That did my body win;
	And likewise Bondsey was the man
	That threw me in the lin.’
86B.10	‘O will we Bondsey head, sister?
	Or will we Bondsey hang?
	Or will we set him at our bow-end,
	Lat arrows at him gang?’
86B.11	‘Ye winna Bondsey head, brothers,
	Nor will ye Bondsey hang;
	But ye’ll take out his twa grey een,
	Make Bondsey blind to gang.
86B.12	‘Ye’ll put to the gate a chain o gold,
	A rose garland gar make,
	And ye’ll put that in Bondsey’s head,
	A’ for your sister’s sake.’



		  Child 87A: Prince Robert

87A.1	PRINCE ROBERT has wedded a gay ladye,
	He has wedded her with a ring;
	Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,
	But he daur na bring her hame.
87A.2	‘Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear,
	Your blessing now grant to me!’
	‘Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,
	And you’ll get nae blessing frae me.’
87A.3	She has called upon her waiting-maid,
	To fill a glass of wine;
	She has called upon her fause steward,
	To put rank poison in.
87A.4	She has put it to her roudes lip,
	And to her roudes chin;
	She has put it to her fause, fause mouth,
	But the never a drop gaed in.
87A.5	He has put it to his bonny mouth,
	And to his bonny chin,
	He’s put it to his cherry lip,
	And sae fast the rank poison ran in.
87A.6	‘O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,
	Your ae son and your heir;
	O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,
	And sons you’ll never hae mair.
87A.7	‘O where will I get a little boy,
	That will win hose and shoon,
	To rin sae fast to Darlinton,
	And bid Fair Eleanor come?
87A.8	Then up and spake a little boy,
	That wad win hose and shoon,
	‘O I’ll away to Darlinton,
	And bid Fair Eleanor come.’
87A.9	O he has run to Darlinton,
	And tirled at the pin;
	And wha was sae ready as Eleanor’s sell
	To let the bonny boy in?
87A.10	‘Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour,
	She’s made it baith gude and fine;
	Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,
	And ye maun cum till her and dine.’
87A.11	It’s twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town,
	The langest that ever were gane;
	But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,
	And she cam linkin in.
87A.12	But when she came to Sillertoun town,
	And into Sillertoun ha,
	The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,
	And they were weeping a’.
87A.13	‘O where is now my wedded lord,
	And where now can he be?
	O where is now my wedded lord?
	For him I canna see.’
87A.14	‘Your wedded lord is dead,’ she says,
	‘And just gane to be laid in the clay;
	Your wedded lord is dead,’ she says,
	‘And just gane to be buried the day.
87A.15	‘Ye’se get nane o his gowd, ye’se get nane o his gear,
	Ye’se get nae thing frae me;
	Ye’se na get an inch o his gude broad land,
	Tho your heart suld burst in three.’
87A.16	‘I want nane o his gowd, I want nane o his gear,
	I want nae land frae thee;
	But I’ll hae the ring that’s on his finger,
	For them he did promise to me.’
87A.17	‘Ye’se na get the ring that’s on his finger,
	Ye’se na get them frae me;
	Ye’se na get the ring that’s on his finger,
	An your heart suld burst in three.’
87A.18	She’s turn’d her back unto the wa,
	And her face unto a rock,
	And there, before the mother’s face,
	Her very heart it broke.
87A.19	The tane was buried in Marie’s kirk,
	The tother in Marie’s quair,
	And out o the tane there sprang a birk,
	And out o the tother a brier.
87A.20	And thae twa met, and thae twa plat,
	The birk but and the brier,
	And by that ye may very weel ken
	They were twa lovers dear.


		  Child 87B: Prince Robert

87B.1	IT’S fifty miles to Sittingen’s Rocks,
	As eer was ridden or gane;
	And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,
	But he dare na bring her hame.
	And Earl Robert has wedded a wife,
	But he dare na bring her hame.
87B.2	His mother, she called to her waiting-maid,
	To bring her a pint o wine:
	‘For I dinna weel ken what hour of the day
	That my son Earl Robert shall dine.’
87B.3	She’s put it to her fause, fause cheek,
	But an her fause, fause chin;
	She’s put it to her fause, fause lips,
	But never a drap went in.
87B.4	But he’s put it to his bonny cheek,
	Aye and his bonny chin;
	He’s put it to his red rosy lips,
	And the poison went merrily doun.
87B.5	‘O where will I get a bonny boy,
	That will win hose and shoon,
	That will gang quickly to Sittingen’s Rocks,
	And bid my lady come?’
87B.6	It’s out then speaks a bonny boy,
	To Earl Robert was something akin:
	‘Many a time have I ran thy errand,
	But this day wi the tears I’ll rin.’
87B.7	Bat when he came to Sittingin’s Rocks,
	To the middle of a’ the ha,
	There were bells a ringing, and music playing,
	And ladies dancing a’.
87B.8	‘What news, what news, my bonny boy?
	What news have ye to me?
	Is Earl Robert in very good health,
	And the ladies of your countrie?’
87B.9	‘O Earl Robert’s in very good health,
	And as weel as a man can be;
	But his mother this night has a drink to be druken,
	And at it you must be.’
87B.10	She called to her waiting-maid,
	To bring her a riding-weed,
	And she called to her stable-groom,
	To saddle her milk-white steed,
87B.11	But when she came to Earl Robert’s bouir,
	To the middle of a’ the ha,
	There were bells a ringing, and sheets doun hinging,
	And ladies mourning a’.
87B.12	‘I’ve come for none of his gold,’ she said,
	‘Nor none of his white monie,
	Excepting a ring of his smallest finger,
	If that you will grant me.’
87B.13	‘Thou’ll not get none of his gold,’ she said,
	‘Nor none of his white monie;
	Thou’ll not get a ring of his smallest finger,
	Tho thy heart should break in three.’
87B.14	She set her foot unto a stane,
	Her back unto a tree;
	She set her foot unto a stane,
	And her heart did break in three.
87B.15	The one was buried in Mary’s kirk,
	The other in Mary’s quire;
	Out of the one there grew a birk,
	From the other a bonnie brier.
87B.16	And these twa grew, and these twa threw,
	Till their twa craps drew near;
	So all the warld may plainly see
	That they loved each other dear.


		  Child 87C: Prince Robert

87C.1	LORD ROBERT and Mary Florence,
	They were twa children young;
	They were scarse seven years of age
	Till love began to spring.
87C.2	Lord Robert loved Mary Florence,
	And she lovd him above power;
	But he durst not for his cruel mother
	Bring her unto his bower.
87C.3	It was nineteen miles to Strawberry Castle,
	As good as ever was rode or gane,
	But the lord being light, and the steed being swift,
	Lord Robert was hame gin noon.
87C.4	‘A blessing, a blessing, dear mother,’ he cries,
	‘A blessing I do crave!’
	‘A blessing, a blessing, my son Lord Robert,
	And a blessing thou shalt have.’
87C.5	She called on her chamber-maid
	To fill up a glass of wine,
	And so clever was her cursed fingers
	To put the rank poison in.
87C.6	‘O wae be to you, mother dear,’ he cries,
	‘For working such a wae;
	For poisoning of your son Lord Robert,
	And children you have nae mae.
87C.7	‘O where will I get a pretty little boy
	That’ll rin him my errands sune?
	That will rin unto Strawberry Castle,
	And tell Mary Florence to cum?’
87C.8	‘Here am I, a pretty little boy,
	Your eldest sister’s son,
	That will rin unto Strawberry Castle,
	And tell Mary Florence to come.’
87C.9	When he came unto Strawberry Castle
	He tirled at the pin,
	And so ready was Mary Florence hersell
	To open and let him in.
87C.10	‘What news, what news, my pretty little boy?
	What news hast thou brocht here?’
	With sichin and sabbin and wringing his hands,
	No message he could refer.
87C.11	‘The news that I have gotten,’ he says,
	‘I cannot weel declair;
	But my grandmother has prepard a feast,
	And fain she would hae thee thair.’
87C.12	She called on her stable-groom
	To dress her swiftest steed;
	For she knew very weel by this pretty little boy
	That Lord Robert was dead.
87C.13	And when she came to Knotingale Castle
	She tirled at the pin,
	And so ready was Lord Robert’s mother
	To open and let her in.
87C.14	‘What news, what news, Mary Florence?’ she says,
	‘What news has thou to me?’
	‘I came to see your son Lord Robert,
	And fain would I him see.
87C.15	‘I came not for his gude red gold,
	Nor for his white monie,
	But for the ring on his wee finger,
	And fain would I it see.’
87C.16	‘That ring thou cannot see, Mary Florence,
	That ring thou’ll never see;
	For death was so strong in Lord Robert’s breast
	That the gold ring burst in three.’
87C.17	She has set her foot unto a stone,
	Her back unto a tree;
	Before she left Knotingale Castle
	Her heart it brak in three.


		  Child 87D: Prince Robert

87D.1	PRINCE ROBERT he has wedded a wife,
	An he daurna bring her hame;
	The queen . . . .
	His mither was much to blame.
	* * * * *
87D.2	‘It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither,
	I dinna ken what it is here,
	To like your wife better than your mither,
	That . . . bought you sae dear.’
87D.3	She called upon her best marie,
	An tippet her wi a ring,
	To bring to her the rank poison,
	To gie Prince Robert a dram.
87D.4	She put it to her cheek, her cheek,
	She put it to her chin;
	She put it to her fause, fause lips,
	But neer a drap gaed in.
87D.5	She put it to his cheek, his cheek,
	She put it to his chin;
	She put it to his rosy lips,
	An the rank poison gaed in.
87D.6	‘Whare will I get a bonnie boy,
	Wha will win meat an fee,
	Wha will rin on to . . . bower,
	Bring my gude ladie to me?’
87D.7	‘Here am I, a bonnie boy,
	Willin to win meat an fee,
	Wha will rin on to . . . bower,
	An bring your gude ladie.’
87D.8	‘Whan you come to broken brig,
	Tak aff your coat an swim;
	An whan you come to grass growin,
	Tak aff your shoon an rin.’
87D.9	An whan he cam to broken brig,
	He coost his coat an swam,
	An whan he cam to grass growin,
	Set doon his feet an ran.
87D.10	An whan he cam to the ladie’s bower,
	He fand her a’ her lane,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
87D.11	An syne she kissed his wan, wan lips,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	. . . . .



		  Child 88A: Young Johnstone

88A.1	THE knight stands in the stable-door,
	As he was for to ryde,
	When out then came his fair lady,
	Desiring him to byde.
88A.2	‘How can I byde? how dare I byde?
	How can I byde with thee?
	Have I not killd thy ae brother?
	Thou hadst nae mair but he.’
88A.3	‘If you have killd my ae brother,
	Alas, and woe is me!
	But if I save your fair body,
	The better you’ll like me.’
88A.4	She’s tane him to her secret bower,
	Pinnd with a siller pin,
	And she’s up to her highest tower,
	To watch that none come in.
88A.5	She had na well gane up the stair,
	And entered in her tower,
	When four and twenty armed knights
	Came riding to the door.
88A.6	‘Now God you save, my fair lady,
	I pray you tell to me,
	Saw you not a wounded knight
	Come riding by this way?’
88A.7	‘Yes, bloody, bloody was his sword,
	And bloody were his hands;
	But if the steed he rides be good,
	He’s past fair Scotland’s strands.
88A.8	‘Light down, light down then, gentlemen,
	And take some bread and wine;
	The better you will him pursue
	When you shall lightly dine.’
88A.9	‘We thank you for your bread, lady,
	We thank you for your wine;
	I would gie thrice three thousand pounds
	Your fair body was mine.’
88A.10	Then she’s gane to her secret bower,
	Her husband dear to meet;
	But he drew out his bloody sword,
	And wounded her sae deep.
88A.11	‘What aileth thee now, good my lord?
	What aileth thee at me?
	Have you not got my father’s gold,
	But and my mother’s fee?’
88A.12	‘Now live, now live, my fair lady,
	O live but half an hour,
	There’s neer a leech in fair Scotland
	But shall be at thy bower.’
88A.13	‘How can I live? how shall I live?
	How can I live for thee?
	See you not where my red heart’s blood
	Runs trickling down my knee?’


		  Child 88B: Young Johnstone

88B.1	YOUNG Johnstone and the young Colnel
	Sat drinking at the wine:
	‘O gin ye wad marry my sister,
	It’s I wad marry thine.’
88B.2	‘I wadna marry your sister
	For a’ your houses and land;
	But I’ll keep her for my leman,
	When I come oer the strand.
88B.3	‘I wadna marry your sister
	For a’ your gowd so gay;
	But I’ll keep her for my leman,
	When I come by the way.’
88B.4	Young Johnstone had a little small sword,
	Hung low down by his gair,
	And he stabbed it through the young Colnel,
	That word he neer spak mair.
88B.5	But he’s awa to his sister’s bower,
	He’s tirled at the pin:
	‘Where hae ye been, my dear brither,
	Sae late a coming in?’
	‘I hae been at the school, sister,
	Learning young clerks to sing.’
88B.6	‘I’ve dreamed a dreary dream this night,
	I wish it may be for good;
	They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
	And the young Colnel was dead.’
88B.7	‘Hawks and hounds they may seek me,
	As I trow well they be;
	For I have killed the young Colnel,
	And thy own true-love was he.’
88B.8	‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel,
	O dule and wae is me!
	But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows,
	And hae nae power to flee.’
88B.9	And he’s awa to his true-love’s bower,
	He’s tirled at the pin:
	‘Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone,
	Sae late a coming in?’
	‘It’s I hae been at the school,’ he says,
	‘Learning young clerks to sing.’
88B.10	‘I have dreamed a dreary dream,’ she says,
	‘I wish it may be for good;
	They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
	And the young Colnel was dead.’
88B.11	‘Hawks and hounds they may seek me,
	As I trow well they be;
	For I hae killed the young Colnel,
	And thy ae brother was he.’
88B.12	‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel,
	O dule and wae is me!
	But I care the less for the young Colnel,
	If thy ain body be free.
88B.13	‘Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone,
	Come in and take a sleep;
	And I will go to my casement,
	And carefully I will thee keep.’
88B.14	He had not weel been in her bower-door,
	No not for half an hour,
	When four and twenty belted knights
	Came riding to the bower.
88B.15	‘Well may you sit and see, lady,
	Well may you sit and say;
	Did you not see a bloody squire
	Come riding by this way?’
88B.16	‘What colour were his hawks?’ she says,
	‘What colour were his hounds?
	What colour was the gallant steed,
	That bore him from the bounds?’
88B.17	‘Bloody, bloody were his hawks,
	And bloody were his hounds;
	But milk-white was the gallant steed,
	That bore him from the bounds.
88B.18	‘Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks,
	And bloody were his hounds;
	And milk-white was the gallant steed,
	That bore him from the bounds.
88B.19	‘Light down, light down now, gentlemen,
	And take some bread and wine;
	And the steed be swift that he rides on,
	He’s past the brig o Lyne.’
88B.20	‘We thank you for your bread, fair lady,
	We thank you for your wine;
	But I wad gie thrice three thousand pound
	That bloody knight was taen.’
88B.21	‘Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone,
	Lie still and take a sleep;
	For thy enemies are past and gone,
	And carefully I will thee keep.’
88B.22	But Young Johnstone had a little wee sword,
	Hung low down by his gair,
	And he stabbed it in fair Annet’s breast,
	A deep wound and a sair.
88B.23	‘What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone?
	What aileth thee at me?
	Hast thou not got my father’s gold,
	Bot and my mither’s fee?’
88B.24	‘Now live, now live, my dear ladye,
	Now live but half an hour,
	And there’s no a leech in a’ Scotland
	But shall be in thy bower.’
88B.25	‘How can I live? how shall I live?
	Young Johnstone, do not you see
	The red, red drops o my bonny heart’s blood
	Rin trinkling down my knee?
88B.26	‘But take thy harp into thy hand,
	And harp out owre you plain,
	And neer think mair on thy true-love
	Than if she had never been.’
88B.27	He hadna weel been out o the stable,
	And on his saddle set,
	Till four and twenty broad arrows
	Were thrilling in his heart.


		  Child 88C: Young Johnstone

88C.1	SWEET WILLIAM and the young Colnel
	One day was drinking wine:
	‘It’s I will marry your sister,
	If ye will marry mine.’
88C.2	‘I will not marry your sister,
	Altho her hair be brown;
	But I’ll keep her for my liberty-wife,
	As I ride thro the town.’
88C.3	William, having his two-edged sword,
	He leaned quite low to the ground,
	And he has given the young Colnel
	A deep and a deadly wound.
88C.4	He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,
	Till he came to his mother’s bower;
	‘O open, open, mother,’ he says,
	‘And let your auld son in.
88C.5	‘For the rain rains owre my yellow hair,
	And the dew draps on my chin,
	And trembling stands the gallant steed
	That carries me from the ground.’
88C.6	‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says,
	‘What harm now hast thou done?’
	‘Oh I hae killed the young Colnel,
	And his heart’s blood sair does run.’
88C.7	‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel,
	Nae shelter ye’ll get frae me;
	May the two-edged sword be upon your heart,
	That never hath power to flee!’
88C.8	He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,
	Till he came to his sister’s bower;
	‘Oh open, open, sister,’ he says,
	‘And let your brother in.
88C.9	‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair,
	And the dew draps on my chin,
	And trembling stands the gallant steed
	That carries me from the ground.’
88C.10	‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says,
	‘What harm now hast thou done?’
	‘Oh I have killed the young Colnel,
	And his heart’s blood sair doth run.’
88C.11	‘If ye hae killed the young Colnel,
	Nae shelter ye’ll get frae me;
	May the two-edged sword be upon your heart,
	That never hath power to flee!’
88C.12	He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,
	Till he came to his true-love’s bower;
	‘Oh open, oh open, my true-love,’ he says,
	‘And let your sweetheart in.
88C.13	‘For the rain rains on my yellow hair,
	And the dew draps on my chin,
	And trembling stands the gallant steed
	That carries me from the ground.’
88C.14	‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says,
	‘What harm now hast thou done?’
	‘Oh I hae killed thy brother dear,
	And his heart’s blood sair doth run.’
88C.15	‘If ye hae killed my brother dear,
	It’s oh and alace for me!
	But between the blankets and the sheets
	It’s there I will hide thee!’
88C.16	She’s taen him by the milk-white hand,
	She’s led him thro chambers three,
	Until she came to her own chamber:
	‘It’s there I will hide thee.
88C.17	‘Lye down, lye down, Sweet William,’ she says,
	‘Lye down and take a sleep;
	It’s owre the chamber I will watch,
	Thy fair bodie to keep.’
88C.18	She had not watched at the chamber-door
	An hour but only three,
	Till four and twenty belted knichts
	Did seek his fair bodie.
88C.19	‘O did you see the hunt?’ she says,
	‘Or did you see the hounds?
	Or did you see that gallant steed,
	That last rade thro the town?’
88C.20	‘What colour was the fox?’ they said,
	‘What colour was the hounds?
	What colour was the gallant steed,
	That’s far yont London toun?’
88C.21	‘O dark grey was the fox,’ she said,
	‘And light grey was the hounds,
	But milk-white was the gallant steed
	That’s far yont London town.’
88C.22	‘Rise up, rise up, Sweet William,’ she says,
	‘Rise up, and go away;
	For four and twenty belted knights
	Were seeking thy bodye.’
88C.23	Sweet William, having his two-edged sword,
	He leaned it quite low to the ground,
	And he has given his own true-love
	A deep and deadly wound.
88C.24	‘What aileth thee, Sweet William?’ she says,
	‘What harm now have I done?
	I never harmed a hair of your head
	Since ever this love began.’
88C.25	‘Oh live, oh live, my own true-love,
	Oh live but half an hour,
	And the best doctor in London town
	Shall come within thy bower.’
88C.26	‘How can I live? how shall I live?
	How can I live half an hour?
	For don’t you see my very heart’s blood
	All sprinkled on the floor?’
88C.27	William, having his two-edged sword,
	He leaned it quite low to the ground,
	And he has given his own bodie
	A deep and deadly wound.


		  Child 88D: Young Johnstone

88D.1	JOHNSTON HEY and Young Caldwell
	Were drinking o the wine:
	‘O will ye marry my sister?
	And I will marry thine.’
88D.2	‘I winna marry your sister,
	Altho her locks are broun;
	But I’ll make her my concubine,
	As I ride through the toun.’
88D.3	Syne Johnston drew a gude braid sword,
	That hang down by his knee,
	And he has run the Young Caldwell
	Out through the fair bodie.
88D.4	Up he gat, and awa he rade,
	By the clear light o the moon,
	Until he came to his mother’s door,
	And there he lichtit doun.
88D.5	‘Whare hae ye been, son Willie,’ she said,
	‘Sae late and far in the night?’
	‘O I hae been at yon new slate house,
	Hearing the clergy speak.’
88D.6	‘I dreamd a dream, son Willie,’ she said,
	‘I doubt it bodes nae gude;
	That your ain room was fu o red swine,
	And your bride’s bed daubd wi blude.’
88D.7	‘To dream o blude, mither,’ he said,
	‘It bodeth meikle ill;
	And I hae slain a Young Caldwell,
	And they’re seeking me to kill.’
88D.8	‘Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell,
	Alace and wae is me!
	But gin your fair body’s free frae skaith,
	The easier I will be.’
88D.9	Up he gat, and awa he rade,
	By the clear licht o the mune,
	Until he cam to his sister’s bower,
	And there he lichtit doun.
88D.10	‘Whare hae ye been, brither,’ she said,
	‘Sae late and far in the night?’
	‘O I hae been in yon new slate house,
	Hearing the clergy speak.’
88D.11	‘I dreamd a dream, brither,’ she said,
	‘I doubt it bodes nae gude;
	I dreamd the ravens eat your flesh,
	And the lions drank your blude.’
88D.12	‘To dream o blude, sister,’ he said,
	‘It bodeth meikle ill;
	And I hae slain a Young Caldwell,
	And they’re seeking me to kill.’
88D.13	‘Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell,
	Alace and wae is me!
	To be torn at the tail o wild horses
	Is the death I weet ye’ll die.’
88D.14	Up he gat, and awa he rade,
	By the clear light o the mune,
	Untill he cam to his true-love’s bower,
	And there he lichtit doun.
88D.15	‘Whare hae ye been, Love Willie,’ she said,
	‘Sae late and far in the night?’
	‘O I hae been in yon new sklate house,
	Hearing the clergy speak.’
88D.16	‘I dreamd a dream, Willie,’ she said,
	‘I doubt it bodes nae gude;
	I dreamd the ravens ate your flesh,
	And the lions drank your blude.’
88D.17	‘To dream o ravens, love,’ he said,
	‘Is the loss o a near friend;
	And I hae killed your brither dear,
	And for it I’ll be slain.’
88D.18	‘Gin ye hae slain my ae brither,
	Alace and wae is me!
	But gin your fair body’s free frae skaith,
	The easier I will be.
88D.19	‘Lye doun, lye doun, Love Willie,’ she said,
	‘Lye doun and tak a sleep;
	And I will walk the castel wa,
	Your fair bodie to keep.’
88D.20	He laid him doun within her bowr,
	She happit him wi her plaid,
	And she’s awa to the castle-wa,
	To see what would betide.
88D.21	She hadna gane the castle round
	A time but only three,
	Till four and twenty beltit knichts
	Cam riding ower the lea.
88D.22	And whan they came unto the gate,
	They stude and thus did say:
	‘O did ye see yon bludie knicht,
	As he rade out this way?’
88D.23	‘What colour was his hawk?’ she said,
	‘What colour was his hound?
	What colour was the gudely steed
	The bludie knicht rade on?’
88D.24	‘Nut-brown was his hawk,’ they said,
	‘And yellow-fit was his hound,
	And milk-white was the goodly steed
	The bluidie knicht rade on.’
88D.25	‘Gin nut-brown was his hawk,’ she said,
	‘And yellow-fit was his hound,
	And milk-white was the gudely steed,
	He’s up to London gone.’
88D.26	They spurrd their steeds out ower the lea,
	They being void o fear;
	Syne up she gat, and awa she gade,
	Wi tidings to her dear.
88D.27	‘Lye still, lye still, Love Willie,’ she said,
	‘Lye still and tak your sleep;’
	Syne he took up his good braid sword,
	And wounded her fu deep.
88D.28	‘O wae be to you, Love Willie,’ she said,
	‘And an ill death may ye die!
	For first ye slew my ae brither,
	And now ye hae killd me.’
88D.29	‘Oh live, oh live, true-love,’ he said,
	‘Oh live but ae half hour,
	And there’s not a docter in a’ London
	But sall be in your bower.’
88D.30	‘How can I live, Love Willie,’ she said,
	‘For the space of half an hour?
	Dinnae ye see my clear heart’s blood
	A rinnin down the floor?
88D.31	‘Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark,
	And rive’t frae gare to gair,
	And stap it in my bleeding wounds;
	They’ll may be bleed nae mair.’
88D.32	Syne he took aff her holland sark,
	And rave’t frae gare to gair,
	And stappit it in her bleeding wounds,
	But aye they bled the mair.
88D.33	‘Gae dress yoursell in black,’ she said,
	‘And gae whistling out the way,
	And mourn nae mair for your true-love
	When she’s laid in the clay.’
88D.34	He leaned his halbert on the ground,
	The point o’t to his breast,
	Saying, Here three sauls [’s] gaun to heaven;
	I hope they’ll a’ get rest.


		  Child 88E: Young Johnstone

88E.1	LORD JOHN stands in his stable door,
	Says he, I will gae ride,
	His lady, in her bigly bower?
	Desired him to bide.
88E.2	‘How can I bide? how can I bide?
	How shall I bide wi thee?
	When I hae killd your ae brother;
	You hae nae mair but he.’
88E.3	‘If ye hae killd my ae brother,
	Alas, and wae is me!
	If ye be well yoursell, my love,
	The less matter will be.
88E.4	‘Ye’ll do you to yon bigly bower,
	And take a silent sleep,
	And I’ll watch in my highest tower,
	Your fair body to keep.’
88E.5	She has shut her bigly bower,
	All wi a silver pin,
	And done her to the highest tower,
	To watch that nane come in.
88E.6	But as she looked round about,
	To see what she could see,
	There she saw nine armed knights
	Come riding oer the lea.
88E.7	‘God make you safe and free, lady,
	God make you safe and free!
	Did you see a bludy knight
	Come riding oer the lea?’
88E.8	‘O what like was his hawk, his hawk?
	And what like was his hound?
	If his steed has ridden well,
	He’s passd fair Scotland’s strand.
88E.9	‘Come in, come in, gude gentlemen,
	And take white bread and wine;
	And aye the better ye’ll pursue,
	The lighter that ye dine.’
88E.10	‘We thank you for your bread, lady,
	We thank you for the wine,
	And I woud gie my lands sae broad
	Your fair body were mine.’
88E.11	She has gane to her bigly bower,
	Her ain gude lord to meet;
	A trusty brand he quickly drew,
	Gae her a wound sae deep.
88E.12	‘What harm, my lord, provokes thine ire
	To wreak itself on me,
	When thus I strove to save thy life,
	Yet served for sic a fee?’
88E.13	‘Ohon, alas, my lady gay,
	To come sae hastilie!
	I thought it was my deadly foe,
	Ye had trysted into me.
88E.14	‘O live, O live, my gay lady,
	The space o ae half hour,
	And nae a leech in a’ the land
	But I’se bring to your bower.’
88E.15	‘How can I live? how shall I live?
	How can I live for thee?
	Ye see my blude rin on the ground,
	My heart’s blude by your knee.
88E.16	‘O take to flight, and flee, my love,
	O take to flight, and flee!
	I woudna wish your fair body
	For to get harm for me.’
88E.17	‘Ae foot I winna flee, lady,
	Ae foot I winna flee;
	I’ve dune the crime worthy o death,
	It’s right that I shoud die.
88E.18	‘O deal ye well at my love’s lyke
	The beer but an the wine;
	For ere the morn, at this same time,
	Ye’ll deal the same at mine.’


		  Child 88F: Young Johnstone

88F.1	AS WILLIE and the young Colnel
	Were drinking at the wine,
	‘O will ye marry my sister?’ says Will,
	‘And I will marry thine.’



		  Child 89A: Fause Foodrage

89A.1	KING EASTER has courted her for her gowd,
	King Wester for her fee,
	King Honor for her lands sae braid,
	And for her fair body.
89A.2	They had not been four months married,
	As I have heard them tell,
	Until the nobles of the land
	Against them did rebel.
89A.3	And they cast kaivles them amang,
	And kaivles them between,
	And they cast kaivles them amang
	Wha shoud gae kill the king.
89A.4	O some said yea, and some said nay,
	Their words did not agree;
	Till up it gat him Fa’se Footrage,
	And sware it shoud be he.
89A.5	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	And a’ man boon to bed,
	King Honor and his gay ladie
	In a hie chamer were laid.
89A.6	Then up it raise him Fa’se Footrage,
	While a’ were fast asleep,
	And slew the porter in his lodge,
	That watch and ward did keep.
89A.7	O four and twenty silver keys
	Hang hie upon a pin,
	And ay as a door he did unlock,
	He has fastend it him behind.
89A.8	Then up it raise him King Honor,
	Says, What means a’ this din!
	Now what’s the matter, Fa’se Footrage?
	O wha was’t loot you in?
89A.9	‘O ye my errand well shall learn
	Before that I depart;’
	Then drew a knife baith lang and sharp
	And pierced him thro the heart.
89A.10	Then up it got the Queen hersell,
	And fell low down on her knee:
	‘O spare my life now, Fa’se Footrage!
	For I never injured thee.
89A.11	‘O spare my life now, Fa’se Footrage!
	Until I lighter be,
	And see gin it be lad or lass
	King Honor has left me wi.’
89A.12	‘O gin it be a lass,’ he says,
	‘Well nursed she shall be;
	But gin it be a lad-bairn,
	He shall be hanged hie.
89A.13	‘I winna spare his tender age,
	Nor yet his hie, hie kin;
	But as soon as eer he born is,
	He shall mount the gallows-pin.’
89A.14	O four and twenty valiant knights
	Were set the Queen to guard,
	And four stood ay at her bower-door,
	To keep baith watch and ward.
89A.15	But when the time drew till an end
	That she should lighter be,
	She cast about to find a wile
	To set her body free.
89A.16	O she has birled these merry young men
	Wi strong beer and wi wine,
	Until she made them a’ as drunk
	As any wallwood swine.
89A.17	‘O narrow, narrow is this window,
	And big, big am I grown!’
	Yet thro the might of Our Ladie
	Out at it she has won.
89A.18	She wanderd up, she wanderd down,
	She wanderd out and in,
	And at last, into the very swines’ stye,
	The Queen brought forth a son.
89A.19	Then they cast kaivles them amang
	Wha should gae seek the Queen,
	And the kaivle fell upon Wise William,
	And he’s sent his wife for him.
89A.20	O when she saw Wise William’s wife,
	The Queen fell on her knee;
	‘Win up, win up, madame,’ she says,
	‘What means this courtesie?’
89A.21	‘O out of this I winna rise
	Till a boon ye grant to me,
	To change your lass for this lad-bairn
	King Honor left me wi.
89A.22	‘And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawke
	Well how to breast a steed,
	And I shall learn your turtle-dow
	As well to write and read.
89A.23	‘And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawke
	To wield baith bow and brand,
	And I shall learn your turtle-dow
	To lay gowd wi her hand.
89A.24	‘At kirk or market where we meet,
	We dare nae mair avow
	But, Dame how does my gay gose-hawk?
	Madame, how does my dow?’
89A.25	When days were gane, and years came on,
	Wise William he thought long;
	Out has he taen King Honor’s son,
	A hunting for to gang.
89A.26	It sae fell out at their hunting,
	Upon a summer’s day,
	That they cam by a fair castle,
	Stood on a sunny brae.
89A.27	‘O dinna ye see that bonny castle,
	Wi wa’s and towers sae fair?
	Gin ilka man had back his ain,
	Of it you shoud be heir.’
89A.28	‘How I shoud be heir of that castle
	In sooth I canna see,
	When it belongs to Fa’se Footrage,
	And he’s nae kin to me.’
89A.29	‘O gin ye shoud kill him Fa’se Footrage,
	You woud do what is right;
	For I wot he killd your father dear,
	Ere ever you saw the light.
89A.30	‘Gin you should kill him Fa’se Footrage,
	There is nae man durst you blame;
	For he keeps your mother a prisoner,
	And she dares no take you hame.’
89A.31	The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawke,
	Says, What may a’ this mean!
	‘My boy, you are King Honor’s son,
	And your mother’s our lawful queen.’
89A.32	‘O gin I be King Honor’s son,
	By Our Ladie I swear,
	This day I will that traytour slay,
	And relieve my mother dear.’
89A.33	He has sent his bent bow till his breast,
	And lap the castle-wa,
	And soon he’s siesed on Fa’se Footrage,
	Wha loud for help gan ca.
89A.34	‘O hold your tongue now, Fa’se Footrage,
	Frae me you shanno flee;’
	Syne pierced him through the foul fa’se heart,
	And set his mother free.
89A.35	And he has rewarded Wise William
	Wi the best half of his land,
	And sae has he the turtle-dow
	Wi the truth of his right hand.


		  Child 89B: Fause Foodrage

89B.1	THE Eastmure king, and the Westmure king,
	And the king of Onorie,
	They have all courted a pretty maid,
	And guess wha she micht be.
89B.2	The Eastmure king courted her for gold,
	And the Westmure king for fee,
	The king of Onore for womanheid,
	And for her fair beautie.
89B.3	The Eastmure king swore a solemn oath,
	He would keep it till May,
	That he would murder the king of Onore,
	Upon his wedding day.
89B.4	When bells was rung, and psalms was sung,
	And all men boune for sleep,
	Up and started the Eastmure king
	At the king of Onore’s head.
89B.5	He has drawn the curtains by-+-
	Their sheets was made of dorn-+-
	And he has murdered the king of Onore,
	As innocent as he was born.
89B.6	This maid she awak’d in the middle of the night,
	Was in a drowsy dream;
	She found her bride’s-bed swim with blood,
	Bot and her good lord slain.
89B.7	‘What will the court and council say
	What will they say to me?
	What will the court and council say
	But this night I’ve murderd thee?’
89B.8	Out and speaks the Eastmure king:
	‘Hold your tongue, my pretty may,
	And come along with me, my dear,
	And that court ye’ll never see.’
89B.9	He mounted her on a milk-white steed,
	Himself upon a gray;
	She turnd her back against the court,
	And weeping rode away.
89B.10	‘Now if you be with child,’ he says,
	‘As I trew well you be,
	If it be of a lassie-bairn,
	I’ll give her nurses three.
89B.11	‘If it be a lassie-bairn,
	If you please she’ll get five;
	But if it be a bonnie boy,
	I will not let him live.’
89B.12	Word is to the city gone,
	And word is to the town,
	And word is to the city gone,
	She’s delivered of a son.
89B.13	But a poor woman in the town
	In the same case does lye,
	Wha gived to her her woman-child,
	Took awa her bonnie boy.
89B.14	At kirk or market, whereer they met,
	They never durst avow,
	But ‘Thou be kind to my boy,’ she says,
	‘I’ll be kind to your bonnie dow.’
89B.15	This boy was sixteen years of age,
	But he was nae seventeen,
	When he is to the garden gone,
	To slay that Eastmure king.
89B.16	‘Be aware, be aware, thou Eastmure king,
	Be aware this day of me;
	For I do swear and do declare
	Thy botcher I will be.’
89B.17	‘What aileth thee, my bonnie boy?
	What aileth thee at me?
	I’m sure I never did thee wrang;
	Thy face I neer did see.’
89B.18	‘Thou murdered my father dear,
	When scarse conceived was I;
	Thou murdered my father dear,
	When scarse conceived was me:’
	So then he slew that Eastmure king,
	Beneath that garden tree.


		  Child 89C: Fause Foodrage

89C.1	EASTMURE king, and Westmuir king,
	And king o Luve, a’ three,
	It’s they coost kevils them amang,
	Aboot a gay ladie.
89C.2	Eastmuir king he wan the gowd,
	An Wastmuir king the fee,
	But king o Luve, wi his lands sae broad,
	He’s won the fair ladie.
89C.3	Thae twa kings, they made an aith,
	That, be it as it may,
	They wad slay him king o Luve,
	Upon his waddin day.
89C.4	Eastmuir king he brak his aith,
	An sair penance did he;
	But Wastmuir king he made it oot,
	An an ill deid mat he dee!



		  Child 90A: Jellon Grame

90A.1	O JELLON GRAME sat in Silver Wood,
	He whistled and he sang,
	And he has calld his little foot-page,
	His errand for to gang.
90A.2	‘Win up, my bonny boy,’ he says,
	‘As quick as eer you may;
	For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower,
	Before the break of day.’
90A.3	The boy he’s buckled his belt about,
	And thro the green-wood ran,
	And he came to the ladie’s bower-door,
	Before the day did dawn.
90A.4	‘O sleep ye, or wake ye, Lillie Flower?
	The red run’s i the rain:’
	‘I sleep not aft, I wake right aft;
	Wha’s that that kens my name?’
90A.5	‘Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,
	But I fear you’ll never win hame;
	Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,
	And speak wi Jellon Grame.’
90A.6	‘O I will gang to Silver Wood,
	Though I shoud never win hame;
	For the thing I most desire on earth
	Is to speak wi Jellon Grame.’
90A.7	She had no ridden a mile, a mile,
	A mile but barely three,
	Ere she came to a new made grave,
	Beneath a green oak tree.
90A.8	O then up started Jellon Grame,
	Out of a bush hard bye:
	‘Light down, light down now, Lillie Flower,
	For it’s here that ye maun ly.’
90A.9	She lighted aff her milk-white steed,
	And knelt upon her knee:
	‘O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame!
	For I’m nae prepar’d to die.
90A.10	‘Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,
	Maun shortly see the light;
	But to see it weltring in my blude
	Woud be a piteous sight.’
90A.11	‘O shoud I spare your life,’ he says,
	‘Until that bairn be born,
	I ken fu well your stern father
	Woud hang me on the morn.’
90A.12	‘O spare my life now, Jellon Grame!
	My father ye neer need dread;
	I’ll keep my bairn i the good green wood,
	Or wi it I’ll beg my bread.’
90A.13	He took nae pity on that ladie,
	Tho she for life did pray;
	But pierced her thro the fair body,
	As at his feet she lay.
90A.14	He felt nae pity for that ladie,
	Tho she was lying dead;
	But he felt some for the bonny boy,
	Lay weltring in her blude.
90A.15	Up has he taen that bonny boy,
	Gien him to nurices nine,
	Three to wake, and three to sleep,
	And three to go between.
90A.16	And he’s brought up that bonny boy,
	Calld him his sister’s son;
	He thought nae man would eer find out
	The deed that he had done.
90A.17	But it sae fell out upon a time,
	As a hunting they did gay,
	That they rested them in Silver Wood,
	Upon a summer-day.
90A.18	Then out it spake that bonny boy,
	While the tear stood in his eye,
	‘O tell me this now, Jellon Grame,
	And I pray you dinna lie.
90A.19	‘The reason that my mother dear
	Does never take me hame?
	To keep me still in banishment
	Is baith a sin and shame.’
90A.20	‘You wonder that your mother dear
	Does never send for thee;
	Lo, there’s the place I slew thy mother,
	Beneath that green oak tree.’
90A.21	Wi that the boy has bent his bow,
	It was baith stout and lang,
	And through and thro him Jellon Grame
	He’s gard an arrow gang.
90A.22	Says, Lye you thare now, Jellon Grame,
	My mellison you wi;
	The place my mother lies buried in
	Is far too good for thee.


		  Child 90B: Jellon Grame

90B.1	WORD has come to May Margerie,
	In her bower where she sat:
	‘You are bid come to good green-wood,
	To make your love a shirt.’
90B.2	‘I wonder much,’ said May Margerie,
	‘At this message to me;
	There is not a month gone of this year
	But I have made him three.’
90B.3	Then out did speak her mother dear,
	A wise woman was she;
	Said, Stay at home, my daughter May,
	They seek to murder thee.
90B.4	‘O I’ll cast off my gloves, mother,
	And hang them up, I say;
	If I come never back again,
	They will mind you on May.
90B.5	‘Go saddle my horseback,’ she said,
	‘It’s quick as ever you may,
	And we will ride to good green-wood;
	It is a pleasant day.’
90B.6	And when she came to good green-wood,
	It’s through it they did ride;
	Then up did start him Hind Henry,
	Just at the lady’s side.
90B.7	Says, Stop, O stop, you May Margerie,
	Just stop I say to thee;
	The boy that leads your bridle reins
	Shall see you red and blue.
90B.8	It’s out he drew a long, long brand,
	And stroked it ower a strae,
	And through and through that lady’s sides
	He made the cauld weapon gae.
90B.9	Says, Take you that now, May Margerie,
	Just take you that from me,
	Because you love Brown Robin,
	And never would love me.
90B.10	There was less pity for that lady,
	When she was lying dead,
	As was for her bony infant boy,
	Lay swathed amang her bleed.
90B.11	The boy fled home with all his might,
	The tear into his ee:
	‘They have slain my lady in the wood,
	With fear I’m like to die.’
90B.12	Her sister’s ran into the wood,
	With greater grief and care,
	Sighing and sobbing all the way,
	Tearing her cloaths and hair.
90B.13	Says, I’ll take up that fair infant,
	And lull him on my sleeve;
	Altho his father should wish me woe,
	His mother to me was leeve.
90B.14	Now she has taken the infant up,
	And she has brought him hame,
	And she has called him Brown Robin,
	That was his father’s name.
90B.15	And when he did grow up a bit,
	She put him to the lair,
	And of all the youths was at that school
	None could with him compare.
90B.16	And it fell once upon a day
	A playtime it was come,
	And when the rest went from the school,
	Each one to their own home,
90B.17	He hied him unto good green-wood,
	And leapt from tree to tree;
	It was to pull a hollin wand,
	To play his ownself wi.
90B.18	And when he thus had passed his time,
	To go home he was fain,
	He chanced to meet him Hind Henry,
	Where his mother was slain.
90B.19	‘O how is this,’ the youth cried out,
	‘If it to you is known,
	How all this wood is growing grass,
	And on that small spot grows none?’
90B.20	‘Since you do wonder, bonnie boy,
	I shall tell you anon;
	That is indeed the very spot
	I killed your mother in.’
90B.21	He catched hold of Henry’s brand,
	And stroked it ower a strae,
	And thro and thro Hind Henry’s sides
	He made the cauld metal gae.
90B.22	Says, Take you that, O Hind Henry,
	O take you that from me,
	For killing of my mother dear,
	And her not hurting thee.


		  Child 90C: Jellon Grame

90C.1	WHEN spring appeard in all its bloom,
	And flowers grew fresh and green,
	As May-a-Roe she set her down,
	To lay gowd on her seam.
90C.2	But word has come to that lady,
	At evening when ’twas dark,
	To meet her love in gude greenwood,
	And bring to him a sark.
90C.3	‘That’s strange to me,’ said May-a-Roe,
	‘For how can a’ this be?
	A month or twa is scarcely past
	Sin I sent my lovie three.’
90C.4	Then May-a-Roe lap on her steed,
	And quickly rade away;
	She hadna ridden but hauf a mile,
	Till she heard a voice to say:
90C.5	‘Turn back, turn back, ye ventrous maid,
	Nae farther must ye go;
	For the boy that leads your bridle rein
	Leads you to your overthrow.’
90C.6	But a’ these words she neer did mind,
	But fast awa did ride;
	And up it starts him Hynde Henry,
	Just fair by her right side.
90C.7	‘Ye’ll tarry here, perfidious maid,
	For by my hand ye’se dee;
	Ye married my brother, Brown Robin,
	Whan ye shoud hae married me.’
90C.8	‘O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry,
	O mercy have on me!
	For I am eight months gane wi child,
	Therefore ye’ll lat me be.’
90C.9	‘Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid,
	Nae mercy is for thee;
	You married my brother, Brown Robin,
	Whan ye shoud hae married me.’
90C.10	‘Ye will bring here the bread, Henry,
	And I will bring the wine,
	And ye will drink to your ain love,
	And I will drink to mine.’
90C.11	‘I winna bring here the bread, fair maid,
	Nor yet shall ye the wine,
	Nor will I drink to my ain love,
	Nor yet shall ye to thine.’
90C.12	‘O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry,
	Until I lighter be!
	Hae mercy on your brother’s bairn,
	Tho ye hae nane for me.’
90C.13	‘Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid,
	Nae mercy is for thee;
	Such mercy unto you I’ll gie
	As what ye gae to me.’
90C.14	Then he’s taen out a trusty brand,
	And stroakd it ower a strae,
	And thro and thro her fair body
	He’s gart cauld iron gae.
90C.15	Nae meen was made for that lady,
	For she was lying dead;
	But a’ was for her bonny bairn,
	Lay spartling by her side.
90C.16	Then he’s taen up the bonny bairn,
	Handled him tenderlie,
	And said, Ye are o my ain kin,
	Tho your mother ill used me.
90C.17	He’s washen him at the crystal stream,
	And rowd him in a weed,
	And namd him after a bold robber
	Who was calld Robin Hood.
90C.18	Then brought to the next borough’s town,
	And gae him nurses three;
	He grew as big in ae year auld
	As some boys woud in three.
90C.19	Then he was sent to guid squeel-house,
	To learn how to thrive;
	He learnd as muckle in ae year’s time
	As some Boys would in five.
90C.20	‘But I wonder, I wonder,’ said little Robin,
	‘Gin eer a woman bare me;
	For mony a lady spiers for the rest,
	But nae ane spiers for me.
90C.21	‘I wonder, I wonder,’ said little Robin,
	‘Were I of woman born;
	Whan ladies my comrades do caress,
	They look at me wi scorn.’
90C.22	It fell upon an evening-tide,
	Was ae night by it lane,
	Whan a’ the boys frae guid squeel-house
	Were merrily coming hame,
90C.23	Robin parted frae the rest,
	He wishd to be alane;
	And when his comrades he dismist,
	To guid greenwood he’s gane.
90C.24	When he came to guid greenwood,
	He clamb frae tree to tree,
	To pou some o the finest leaves,
	Ffor to divert him wi.
90C.25	He hadna pu’d a leaf, a leaf,
	Nor brake a branch but ane,
	Till by it came him Hynde Henry,
	And bade him lat alane.
90C.26	‘You are too bauld a boy,’ he said,
	‘Sae impudent you be,
	As pu the leaves that’s nae your ain,
	Or yet to touch the tree.’
90C.27	‘O mercy, mercy, gentleman,
	O mercy hae on me!
	For if that I offence hae done,
	It was unknown to me.’
90C.28	‘Nae boy comes here to guid greenwood
	But pays a fine to me;
	Your velvet coat, or shooting-bow,
	Which o them will ye gie?’
90C.29	‘My shooting-bow arches sae well,
	Wi it I canno part;
	Lest wer’t to send a sharp arrow
	To pierce you to the heart.’
90C.30	He turnd him right and round about,
	His countenance did change:
	‘Ye seem to be a boy right bauld;
	Why can ye talk sae strange?
90C.31	‘I’m sure ye are the bauldest boy
	That ever I talkd wi;
	As for your mother, May-a-Roe,
	She was neer sae bauld to me.’
90C.32	‘O, if ye knew my mother,’ he said,
	‘That’s very strange to me;
	And if that ye my mother knew,
	It’s mair than I coud dee.’
90C.33	‘Sae well as I your mother knew,
	Ance my sweet-heart was she;
	Because to me she broke her vow,
	This maid was slain by me.’
90C.34	‘O, if ye slew my mother dear,
	As I trust ye make nae lie,
	I wyte ye never did the deed
	That better paid shall be.’
90C.35	‘O mercy, mercy, little Robin,
	O mercy hae on me!’
	‘Sic mercy as ye pae my mother,
	Sic mercy I’ll gie thee.
90C.36	‘Prepare yourself, perfidious man,
	For by my hand ye’se dee;
	Now come’s that bluidy butcher’s end
	Took my mother frae me.’
90C.37	Then he hae chosen a sharp arrow,
	That was baith keen and smart,
	And let it fly at Hynde Henry,
	And piercd him to the heart.
90C.38	These news hae gaen thro Stirling town,
	Likewise thro Hunting-ha;
	At last it reachd the king’s own court,
	Amang the nobles a’.
90C.39	When the king got word o that,
	A light laugh then gae he,
	And he’s sent for him little Robin,
	To come right speedilie.
90C.40	He’s putten on little Robin’s head
	A ribbon and gowden crown,
	And made him ane o’s finest knights,
	For the valour he had done.


		  Child 90D: Jellon Grame

90D.1	* * * *
	D’YE mind, d’ye mind, Lady Margerie,
	When we handed round the beer?
	Seven times I fainted for your sake,
	And you never dropt a tear.
90D.2	‘D’ye mind, d’ye mind, Lady Margerie,
	When we handed round the wine?
	Seven times I fainted for your sake,
	And you never fainted once for mine.’
	* * * * *
90D.3	And he’s taen the baby out of her womb
	And thrown it upon a thorn:
	‘Let the wind blow east, let the wind blow west,
	The cradle will rock its lone.’
	* * * * *
90D.4	But when brother Henry’s cruel brand
	Had done the bloody deed,
	The silver-buttons flew off his coat,
	And his nose began to bleed.
	* * * * *
90D.5	‘O I have been killing in the silver wood
	What will breed mickle woe;
	I have been killing in the silver wood
	A dawdy and a doe.’
	* * * * *



		 Child 91A: Fair Mary of Wallington

91A.1	WHEN we were silly sisters seven,
	sisters were so fair,
	Five of us were brave knights’ wives,
	and died in childbed lair.
91A.2	Up then spake Fair Mary,
	marry woud she nane;
	If ever she came in man’s bed,
	the same gate wad she gang.
91A.3	‘Make no vows, Fair Mary,
	for fear they broken be;
	Here’s been the Knight of Wallington,
	asking good will of thee.’
91A.4	‘If here’s been the knight, mother,
	asking good will of me,
	Within three quarters of a year
	you may come bury me.’
91A.5	When she came to Wallington,
	and into Wallington hall,
	There she spy’d her mother dear,
	walking about the wall.
91A.6	‘You’re welcome, daughter dear,
	to thy castle and thy bowers;’
	‘I thank you kindly, mother,
	I hope they’ll soon be yours.’
91A.7	She had not been in Wallington
	three quarters and a day,
	Till upon the ground she could not walk,
	she was a weary prey.
91A.8	She had not been in Wallington
	three quarters and a night,
	Till on the ground she coud not walk,
	she was a weary wight.
91A.9	‘Is there neer a boy in this town,
	who’ll win hose and shun,
	That will run to fair Pudlington,
	and bid my mother come?’
91A.10	Up then spake a little boy,
	near unto a-kin;
	‘Full oft I have your errands gone,
	but now I will it run.’
91A.11	Then she calld her waiting-maid
	to bring up bread and wine:
	‘Eat and drink, my bonny boy,
	thou’ll neer eat more of mine.
91A.12	‘Give my respects to my mother,
	[as] she sits in her chair of stone,
	And ask her how she likes the news,
	of seven to have but one.
91A.13	[‘Give my respects to my mother,
	as she sits in her chair of oak,
	And bid her come to my sickening,
	or my merry lake-wake.]
91A.14	‘Give my love to my brother
	William, Ralph, and John,
	And to my sister Betty fair,
	and to her white as bone.
91A.15	‘And bid her keep her maidenhead,
	be sure make much on’t,
	For if eer she come in man’s bed,
	the same gate will she gang.’
91A.16	Away this little boy is gone,
	as fast as he could run;
	When he came where brigs were broke,
	he lay down and swum.
91A.17	When he saw the lady, he said,
	Lord may your keeper be!
	‘What news, my pretty boy,
	hast thou to tell to me?’
91A.18	‘Your daughter Mary orders me,
	as you sit in a chair of stone,
	To ask you how you like the news,
	of seven to have but one.
91A.19	‘Your daughter gives commands,
	as you sit in a chair of oak,
	And bids you come to her sickening,
	or her merry lake-wake.
91A.20	‘She gives command to her brother
	William, Ralph, and John,
	[And] to her sister Betty fair,
	and to her white as bone.
91A.21	‘She bids her keep her maidenhead,
	be sure make much on’t,
	for if eer she came in man’s bed,
	the same gate woud she gang.’
91A.22	She kickt the table with her foot,
	she kickt it with her knee,
	The silver plate into the fire,
	so far she made it flee.
91A.23	Then she calld her waiting-maid
	to bring her riding-hood,
	So did she on her stable-groom
	to bring her riding-steed.
91A.24	‘Go saddle to me the black [the black,]
	go saddle to me the brown,
	Go saddle to me the swiftest steed
	that eer rid [to] Wallington.’
91A.25	When they came to Wallington,
	and into Wallington hall,
	There she spy’d her son Fenwick,
	walking about the wall.
91A.26	‘God save you, dear son,
	Lord may your keeper be!
	Where is my daughter fair,
	that used to walk with thee?’
91A.27	He turnd his head round about,
	the tears did fill his ee:
	‘’Tis a month,’ he said, ‘Since she
	took her chambers from me.’
91A.28	She went on . . .
	and there were in the hall
	Four and twenty ladies,
	letting the tears down fall.
91A.29	Her daughter had a scope
	into her cheek and into her chin,
	All to keep her life
	till her dear mother came.
91A.30	‘Come take the rings off my fingers,
	the skin it is so white,
	And give them to my mother dear,
	for she was all the wite.
91A.31	‘Come take the rings off my fingers,
	the veins they are so red,
	Give them to Sir William Fenwick,
	I’m sure his heart will bleed.’
91A.32	She took out a razor
	that was both sharp and fine,
	And out of her left side has taken
	the heir of Wallington.
91A.33	There is a race in Wallington,
	and that I rue full sare;
	Tho the cradle it be full spread up,
	the bride-bed is left bare.


		 Child 91B: Fair Mary of Wallington

91B.1	‘WHEN we were sisters seven,
	An five of us deyd wi child,
	And there is nane but you and I, Mazery,
	And we’ll go madens mild.’
91B.2	But there came knights, and there came squiers,
	An knights of high degree;
	She pleasd hersel in Levieston,
	They wear a comly twa.
91B.3	He has bought her rings for her fingers,
	And garlands for her hair,
	The broochis till her bosome braid;
	What wad my love ha mair?
	And he has brought her on to Livingston,
	And made her lady thear.
91B.4	She had na been in Liveingston
	A twelvemonth and a day,
	Till she was as big wi bairn
	As ony lady could gae.
91B.5	The knight he knocked his white fingers,
	The goude rings flew in twa:
	‘Halls and bowers they shall go wast
	Ere my bonny love gie awa!’
91B.6	The knight he knocked his white fingers,
	The goude rings flew in foure:
	‘Halls and bowers they shall go waste
	Eren my bonny lady gie it ore!’
91B.7	The knight he knocked his white fingers,
	The lady[s] sewed and sung;
	It was to comfort Lady Mazery,
	But her life-days wear na long.
91B.8	‘O whare will I get a bonny boy,
	That will win both hoos and shoon,
	That will win his way to Little Snoddown,
	To my mother, the Queen?’
91B.9	Up and stands a bonny boy,
	Goude yellow was his hair;
	I wish his mother mickle grace at him,
	And his trew-love mickle mare.
91B.10	‘Here am I a bonny boy,
	That will win baith hoos an shoon,
	That will win my way to Little Snoddown,
	To thy mother, the Queen.’
91B.11	‘Here is the rings frae my fingers,
	The garlonds frae my hair,
	The broches fray my bosom braid;
	Fray me she’ll nere get mare.
91B.12	‘Here it is my weeding-goun,
	It is a’ goude but the hem;
	Gi it to my sister Allen,
	For she is left now bird her lane.
91B.13	‘When you come whare brigs is broken,
	Ye’l bent your bow and swim;
	An when ye come whare green grass grows,
	Ye’l slack your shoon and run.
91B.14	‘But when you come to yon castle,
	Bide neither to chap nor ca,
	But you’l set your bent bow to your breast,
	And lightly loup the wa,
	And gin the porter be half-gate,
	Ye’ll be ben throw the ha!
91B.15	O when he came whare brigs was broken,
	He bent his bow and swam;
	An when he came where green grass grows,
	He slackd his shoon an ran.
91B.16	And when he came to yon castel,
	He stayed neither to chap no ca’l,
	But bent his bow unto his breast,
	And lightly lap the wa’l;
	And gin the porter was hafe-gate,
	He was ben throw the ha’l.
91B.17	‘O peace be to you, ladys a’l!
	As ye sit at your dine
	Ye ha little word of Lady Mazery,
	For she drees mickel pine.
91B.18	‘Here is the rings frae her fingers,
	The garlands frae her hair,
	The broches frae her bosome brade;
	Fray her ye’l nere get mare.
91B.19	‘Here it is her weeding-goun,
	It is a’ goude but the hem;
	Ye’ll ge it to her sister Allen,
	For she is left bird her lane.’
91B.20	She ca’d the table wi her foot,
	And coped it wi her tae,
	Till siller cups an siller cans
	Unto the floor did gae.
91B.21	‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny boy,
	Ye wash, and come to dine;
	It does not fit a bonny boy
	His errant for to tine.
91B.22	‘Ge saddle to me the black, the black,
	Ge saddle to me the brown,
	Ge saddle to me the swiftest steed
	That ever rid frae a town.’
91B.23	The first steed they saddled to her,
	He was the bonny black;
	He was a good steed, an a very good steed,
	But he tiyrd eer he wan the slack.
91B.24	The next steed they saddled to her,
	He was the bonny brown;
	He was a good steed, an a very good steed,
	But he tiyird ere he wan the town.
91B.25	The next steed they saddled to her,
	He was the bonny white;
	Fair fa the mair that fo’d the fole
	That carried her to Mazeree[’s] lear!
91B.26	As she gaed in at Leivingston,
	Thair was na mickel pride;
	The scobs was in her lovely mouth,
	And the razer in her side.
91B.27	‘O them that marrys your daughter, lady,
	I think them but a foole;
	A married man at Martimass,
	An a widdow the next Yule!’
91B.28	‘O hold your toung now, Livingston,
	Let all your folly abee;
	I bear the burden in my breast,
	Mun suffer them to dee.’
91B.29	Out an speaks her Bird Allen,
	For she spake ay through pride;
	‘That man shall near be born,’ she says,
	‘That shall ly down by my side.’
91B.30	‘O hold your toung now, Bird Allen,
	Let all your folly abee;
	For you shall marry a man,’ she says,
	‘Tho ye shoud live but rathes three.’


		 Child 91C: Fair Mary of Wallington

91C.1	‘O WE were sisters seven, Maisry,
	And five are dead wi child;
	There is nane but you and I, Maisry,
	And we’ll go maidens mild.’
91C.2	She hardly had the word spoken,
	And turnd her round about,
	When the bonny Earl of Livingston
	Was calling Maisry out.
91C.3	Upon a bonny milk-white steed,
	That drank out o the Tyne,
	And a’ was for her Lady Maisry,
	To take her hyne and hyne.
91C.4	Upon a bonny milk-white steed,
	That drank out o the Tay,
	And a’ was for her Lady Maisry,
	To carry her away.
91C.5	She had not been at Livingston
	A twelve month and a day,
	Until she was as big wi bairn
	As any ladie coud gae.
91C.6	She calld upon her little foot-page,
	Says, Ye maun run wi speed,
	And bid my mother come to me,
	For of her I’ll soon have need.
91C.7	‘See, there is the brootch frae my hause-bane,
	It is of gowd sae ried;
	Gin she winna come when I’m alive,
	Bid her come when I am dead.’
91C.8	But ere she wan to Livingston,
	As fast as she coud ride,
	The gaggs they were in Maisry’s mouth,
	And the sharp sheers in her side.
91C.9	Her good lord wrang his milk-white hands,
	Till the gowd rings flaw in three:
	‘Let ha’s and bowers and a’ gae waste,
	My bonny love’s taen frae me!’
91C.10	‘O hold your tongue, Lord Livingston,
	Let a’ your mourning be;
	For I bare the bird between my sides,
	Yet I maun thole her to die.’
91C.11	Then out it spake her sister dear,
	As she sat at her head:
	‘That man is not in Christendoom
	Shall gar me die sicken dead.’
91C.12	‘O hold your tongue, my ae daughter,
	Let a’ your folly be,
	For ye shall be married ere this day week
	Tho the same death you should die.’


		 Child 91D: Fair Mary of Wallington

91D.1	‘HERE it is was sisters seven,
	And five is died with child;
	Was non but you and I, Hellen,
	And we’se be maidens mild.’
91D.2	They hadna been maidens o bonny Snawdon
	A twalvemonth and a day,
	When lairds and lords a courting came,
	Seeking Mary away.
91D.3	The bonny laird of Livingstone,
	He liket Mary best;
	He gae her a ring, a royal ring,
	And he wedded her at last.
91D.4	She hed na been lady o Livingstone
	A twalvemonth and a day,
	When she did go as big wi bairn
	As iver a woman could be.
	* * * * *
91D.7	The knights were wringin their white fingers,
	And the ladys wer tearin their hair;
	It was a’ for the lady o Livingstone,
	For a word she never spake mare.
91D.8	Out and spake her sister Hellen,
	Where she sat by her side;
	‘The man shall never be born,’ she said,
	‘Shall ever make me his bride.
91D.9	‘The man,’ she said, ’That would merry me,
	I’de count him but a feel,
	To merry me at Whitsunday,
	And bury me at Yele.’
91D.10	Out and spak her mother dear,
	Whare she sat by the fire:
	‘I bare this babe now from my side,
	Maun suffer her to die.
91D.11	‘And I have six boys now to my oyes,
	And none of them were born,
	But a hole cut in their mother’s side,
	And they from it were shorne.’
91D.12	. . . . . .
	. . . . .
	. . . . . .
	. . . . .


		 Child 91E: Fair Mary of Wallington

91E.1	‘ARISE, arise, dochter,’ she said,
	‘My bidding to obey;
	The bravest lord in all Scotland
	This night asked you of me.’
91E.2	‘O haud your tongue, mother,’ she said,
	‘These words they do me wrang;
	For gin I lye in a man’s bed,
	My days will no be lang.
91E.3	‘There were seven sisters o us a’,
	We were a’ clad in white;
	And five of them were married,
	And in child-bed they died.’
91E.4	‘Ye shall not be drest in black,
	Nor sall ye be in broun;
	But ye’se be drest in shining gowd,
	To gae glittering thro the town.
91E.5	‘Your father sall ride before you,’ she said,
	‘And your brother sall ride ahin;
	Your horses fore-feet siller shod,
	And his hind anes wi gowd shall shine.
91E.6	‘Wi four and twenty buirdlie men
	Atween ye and the wun,
	And four and twenty bonnie mays
	Atween ye and the sun.
91E.7	‘Four and twenty milk-white geese,
	Stretching their wings sae wide,
	Blawing the dust aff the high-way,
	That Mild Mary may ride.’
91E.8	They took to them their milk-white steeds,
	Set her upon a grey,
	And wi a napkin in her hand
	Weeping she rade away.
91E.9	O they rade on that lee-lang nicht,
	And part o the neist day also,
	And syne she saw her auld good mother
	Stand in the gates below.
91E.10	‘You’r welcome, welcome, dochter,’ she said,
	‘To your biggins and your bowers;’
	‘I thank ye kindly, mither,’ she said,
	‘But I doubt they’ll sune be yours.’
	* * * * *


		 Child 91F: Fair Mary of Wallington

91F.1	‘O WE were seven brave sisters,
	Five of us died wi child,
	And nane but you and I, Maisry,
	so we’ll gae maidens mild.’
91F.2	‘O had your tongue, now Lady Margaret,
	Let a’ your folly be;
	I’ll gar you keep your true promise
	To the lad ayont the sea.’
91F.3	‘O there is neither lord nor knight
	My love shall ever won,
	Except it be Lord Darlington,
	And here he winna come.’
91F.4	But when the hour o twall was past,
	And near the hour o one,
	Lord Darlington came to the yetts,
	Wi thirty knights and ten.
91F.5	Then he has wedded Lady Margaret,
	And brought her oer the sea,
	And there was nane that lived on earth
	Sae happy as was she.
91F.6	But when nine months were come and gane
	Strong travailling took she,
	And nae physician in the land
	Could ease her maladie.
91F.7	‘Where will I get a little wee boy,
	Will won baith meat and fee,
	That will gae on to Seaton’s yetts,
	Bring my mother to me?’
91F.8	‘O here am I, a little wee boy,
	That will won meat and fee,
	That will gae on to Seaton’s yetts,
	And bring your mother to thee.’
91F.9	Then he is on to Seaton’s yetts,
	As fast as gang could he;
	Says, Ye must come to Darlington,
	Your daughter for to see.
91F.10	But when she came to Darlington,
	Where there was little pride,
	The scobbs were in the lady’s mouth,
	The sharp sheer in her side.
91F.11	Darlington stood on the stair,
	And gart the gowd rings flee:
	‘My ha’s and bowers and a’ shall gae waste,
	If my bonny love die for me.’
91F.12	‘O had your tongue, Lord Darlington,
	Let a’ your folly be;
	I boor the bird within my sides,
	I’ll suffer her to die.
91F.13	‘But he that marries my daughter,
	I think he is a fool;
	If he marries her at Candlemas,
	She’ll be frae him ere Yule.
91F.14	‘I had seven ance in companie,
	This night I go my lane;
	And when I come to Clyde’s water,
	I wish that I may drown.’


		 Child 91[G]: Fair Mary of Wallington

91[G].1	‘We was sisters, we was seven,
	Five of us dayed we child,
	An you an me, Burd Ellen,
	Sall live maidens mild.’
91[G.2]	Ther came leards, and ther came lords,
	An knights of high degree,
	A’ courting Lady Messry,
	Bat it widne deei.
91[G.3]	Bat the bonny lord of Livenston,
	He was flour of them a’,
	The bonny lord of Livenston,
	He stole the lady awaa.
91[G.4]	Broad was the horses hoves
	That dumped the water of Clide,
	An a’ was for honor of that gay lady
	That day she was Livenston’s bride.
91[G.5]	Fan she came to Livenston
	Mukell mirth was ther;
	The knights knaked ther whit fingers
	The ladys curled ther hear.
91[G.6]	She had no ben in Livenston
	A tuall-month an a day,
	Till she was as big we bearn
	As a lady coud gaa.
91[G.7]	She had ne ben in Livenston
	A tuall-month an a hour,
	Till for the morning of the may
	The couldne ane come near her bour.
91[G.8]	‘Far will I gett a bonny boy
	That will rean my earend shoun,
	That will goo to leve London,
	To my mother, the quin?’
91[G.9]	‘Hear am I, a bonny boy
	Will rin yer earend sune,
	That will rin on to fair London,
	To yer mother, the quin.’
91[G.10]	‘Hear is the bruch fra my breast-bane,
	The garlands fra my hear;
	Ye ge that to my mider,
	Fra me she’ll never gett mare.
91[G.11]	‘Hear is the rosses fra my shoun,
	The ribbons fra my hear;
	Ye gee that to my mider,
	Fra me she’ll never gett mare.
91[G.12]	‘Hear is my briddel-stand,
	It is a’ goud to the heam;
	Ye gie that to Burd Ellen,
	Forbed her to marry men.
91[G.13]	‘Ye bid them and ye pray them bath,
	If they will dou it for my sake,
	If they be not att my death,
	To be att my leak-wake.
91[G.14]	‘Ye bid them and ye pray them baith,
	If they will dou it for my name,
	If they be not att my leak-wake,
	To be att my birrien.’
91[G.15]	Fan he came to grass grouen,
	He strated his bou an rane,
	An fan he came to brigs broken
	He slaked his bou an swam.
91[G.16]	An fan he came to yon castell,
	He bad nether to chap nor caa,
	But sait his bent bou to his breast
	An lightly lap the waa;
	Or the porter was att the gate,
	The boy was in the haa.
91[G.17]	‘Mukell meatt is on yer table, lady,
	A littil of it is eaten,
	Bat the bonny lady of Livenston
	Ye have her clean forgotten.’
91[G.18]	‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye bonny boy,
	Sae loud as I hear ye lie;
	Mukell ha I sold the [meatt],
	An littel hae I bought,
	Batt the bonny lady of Livenston
	Gass never out of my thought.
91[G.19]	‘Mukell have I bought, bonny boy,
	An littel haa I sale,
	Bat the bonny lady of Livenston
	She couls my heart fue cale.’
91[G.20]	‘Hear is the ribbings fra her hear,
	The roses fra her shoun;
	I was bidden gie that to her midder,
	To her midder, the quin.
91[G.21]	‘Hear is the bruch fra her breast-bean,
	The garlands frae her hear;
	I was bidden gee that to her mother,
	Fra her she’ll never gett mare.
91[G.22]	‘Hear is her bridell-stand,
	The’r a’ goud to the heam;
	I was bidden ga that to Burd Ellen,
	Forbid her to marry man.
91[G.23]	‘She bids ye on she prays ye bath,
	Gin yee’ll di et for her sake,
	If ye be not att her death,
	To be att her leak-wake.
91[G.24]	‘She bids yee an she prays ye bath,
	Gine ye’ll dou et for her name,
	If ye be not att her leak-wake,
	To be at her burrien.’
91[G.25]	‘Garr saddell to me the blak,
	Saddle to me the broun,
	Gar saddel to me the suiftest stead
	That ever read fraa a toun,
	Till I gaa to Livenston
	An see hou Measry fairs.’
91[G.26]	The first stead was saddled to her,
	It was the bonny black;
	She spured him aftt and she spared him na,
	An she tayened him at a slap.
91[G.27]	The neast stead that was saddled to her
	Was the berrey-broun;
	She spured him aftt an she spared him not,
	An she tayned him att a toun.
91[G.28]	The neast an steed that was saddled to her,
	It was the milk-white:
	‘Fair faa the mear that folled the foll
	Had me to Meassry’s leak!’
91[G.29]	Fan she came to Livenston,
	Mukel dolle was ther;
	The knights wrang ther whit fingers,
	The ladys tore ther hear.
91[G.30]	The knights they wrang ther whit fingers,
	The rings they flue in four:
	‘Latt haas an tours an a’ doun fau!
	My dear thing has gine it our.’
91[G.31]	Our spak him Livenston,
	An a sorry man was he;
	‘I had rader lost the lands of Livenston,
	Afor my gay lady.’
91[G.32]	‘Had yer toung nou, Livenston,
	An latt yer folly be;
	I bare the burd in my bosom,
	I man thole to see her diee.’
91[G.33]	Fan she came to her doughter’s boure,
	Ther was littel pride;
	The scoups was in her doughter’s mouth,
	An the sharp shirrs in her side.
91[G.34]	Out spake her Burd Ellen,
	An she spake ay threu pride;
	The wife sall never bear the sin
	Sall lay doun by my side.
91[G.35]	‘Had your toung nou, Burd Ellen,
	Ye latt yer folly a be;
	Dinn ye mind that ye promised yer love
	To him that is ayond the seaa?’
91[G.36]	‘Hold yer toung, my mother,
	Ye speak just leak a fooll;
	Tho I wer marred att Martimes,
	I wad be dead or Yeull.’
91[G.37]	‘I have five bonny oyes att heam,
	Ther was never ane of them born,
	Bat every ane of them
	Out of ther midder’s sides shorn.’



		  Child 92A: Bonny Bee Hom

92A.1	BY Arthur’s Dale as late I went
	I heard a heavy moan;
	I heard a ladie lammenting sair,
	And ay she cried Ohone!
92A.2	‘Ohon, alas! what shall I do,
	Tormented night and day!
	I never loved a love but ane,
	And now he’s gone away.
92A.3	‘But I will do for my true-love
	What ladies woud think sair;
	For seven year shall come and go
	Ere a kaim gang in my hair.
92A.4	‘There shall neither a shoe gang on my foot,
	Nor a kaim gang in my hair,
	Nor eer a coal nor candle-light
	Shine in my bower nae mair.’
92A.5	She thought her love had been on the sea,
	Fast sailling to Bee Hom;
	But he was in a quiet chamer,
	Hearing his ladie’s moan.
92A.6	‘Be husht, be husht, my ladie dear,
	I pray thee mourn not so;
	For I am deep sworn on a book
	To Bee Hom for to go.’
92A.7	She has gien him a chain of the beaten gowd,
	And a ring with a ruby stone:
	‘As lang as this chain your body binds,
	Your blude can never be drawn.
92A.8	‘But gin this ring shoud fade or fail,
	Or the stone shoud change its hue,
	Be sure your love is dead and gone,
	Or she has proved untrue.’
92A.9	He had no been at Bonny Bee Hom
	A twelve month and a day,
	Till, looking on his gay gowd ring,
	The stone grew dark and gray.
92A.10	‘O ye take my riches to Bee Hom,
	And deal them presentlie,
	To the young that canna, the auld that maunna,
	And the blind that does not see.’
92A.11	Now death has come into his bower,
	And split his heart in twain;
	So their twa souls flew up to heaven,
	And there shall ever remain.


		  Child 92B: Bonny Bee Hom

92B.1	IN Lauderdale I chanc’d to walk,
	And heard a lady’s moan,
	Lamenting for her dearest dear,
	And aye she cried, Ohon!
92B.2	‘Sure never a maid that eer drew breath
	Had harder fate than me;
	I’d never a lad but one on earth,
	They forc’d him to the sea.
92B.3	‘The ale shall neer be brewin o malt,
	Neither by sea nor land,
	That ever mair shall cross my hause,
	Till my love comes to hand.
92B.4	‘A handsome lad, wi shoulders broad,
	Gold yellow was his hair;
	None of our Scottish youths on earth
	That with him could compare.’
92B.5	She thought her love was gone to sea,
	And landed in Bahome;
	But he was in a quiet chamber,
	Hearing his lady’s moan.
92B.6	‘Why make ye all this moan, lady?
	Why make ye all this moan?
	For I’m deep sworn on a book,
	I must go to Bahome.
92B.7	‘Traitors false for to subdue
	Oer seas I’ll make me boun,
	That have trepand our kind Scotchmen,
	Like dogs to ding them down.’
92B.8	‘Weell, take this ring, this royal thing,
	Whose virtue is unknown;
	As lang’s this ring’s your body on,
	Your blood shall neer be drawn.
92B.9	‘But if this ring shall fade or stain,
	Or change to other hue,
	Come never mair to fair Scotland,
	If ye’re a lover true.’
92B.10	Then this couple they did part,
	With a sad heavy moan;
	The wind was fair, the ship was rare,
	They landed in Bahome.
92B.11	But in that place they had not been
	A month but barely one,
	Till he lookd on his gay gold ring,
	And riven was the stone.
92B.12	Time after this was not expir’d
	A month but scarcely three,
	Till black and ugly was the ring,
	And the stone was burst in three.
92B.13	‘Fight on, fight on, you merry men all,
	With you I’ll fight no more;
	I will gang to some holy place,
	Pray to the King of Glore.’
92B.14	Then to the chapel he is gone,
	And knelt most piteouslie,
	For seven days and seven nights,
	Till blood ran frae his knee.
92B.15	‘Ye’ll take my jewels that’s in Bahome,
	And deal them liberallie,
	To young that cannot, and old that mannot,
	The blind that does not see.
92B.16	‘Give maist to women in child-bed laid,
	Can neither fecht nor flee;
	I hope she’s in the heavens high,
	That died for love of me.’
92B.17	The knights they wrang their white fingers,
	The ladies tore their hair;
	The women that neer had children born,
	In swoon they down fell there.
92B.18	But in what way the knight expir’d,
	No tongue will eer declare;
	So this doth end my mournful song,
	From me ye’ll get nae mair.



			 Child 93A: Lamkin

93A.1	IT’S Lamkin was a mason good
	As ever built wi stane;
	He built Lord Wearie’s castle,
	But payment got he nane.
93A.2	‘O pay me, Lord Wearie,
	come, pay me my fee:’
	‘I canna pay you, Lamkin,
	For I maun gang oer the sea.’
93A.3	‘O pay me now, Lord Wearie,
	Come, pay me out o hand:’
	‘I canna pay you, Lamkin,
	Unless I sell my land.’
93A.4	‘O gin ye winna pay me,
	I here sall mak a vow,
	Before that ye come hame again,
	ye sall hae cause to rue.’
93A.5	Lord Wearie got a bonny ship,
	to sail the saut sea faem;
	Bade his lady weel the castle keep,
	ay till he should come hame.
93A.6	But the nourice was a fause limmer
	as eer hung on a tree;
	She laid a plot wi Lamkin,
	whan her lord was oer the sea.
93A.7	She laid a plot wi Lamkin,
	when the servants were awa,
	Loot him in at a little shot-window,
	and brought him to the ha.
93A.8	‘O whare’s a’ the men o this house,
	that ca me Lamkin?’
	‘They’re at the barn-well thrashing;
	’twill be lang ere they come in.’
93A.9	‘And whare’s the women o this house,
	that ca me Lamkin?’
	‘They’re at the far well washing;
	’twill be lang ere they come in.’
93A.10	‘And whare’s the bairns o this house,
	that ca me Lamkin?’
	‘They’re at the school reading;
	’twill be night or they come hame.’
93A.11	‘O whare’s the lady o this house,
	that ca’s me Lamkin?’
	‘She’s up in her bower sewing,
	but we soon can bring her down.’
93A.12	Then Lamkin’s tane a sharp knife,
	that hang down by his gaire,
	And he has gien the bonny babe
	A deep wound and a sair.
93A.13	Then Lamkin he rocked,
	and the fause nourice sang,
	Till frae ilkae bore o the cradle
	the red blood out sprang.
93A.14	Then out it spak the lady,
	as she stood on the stair:
	‘What ails my bairn, nourice,
	that he’s greeting sae sair?
93A.15	‘O still my bairn, nourice,
	O still him wi the pap!’
	‘He winna still, lady,
	for this nor for that.’
93A.16	‘O still my bairn, nourice,
	O still him wi the wand!’
	‘He winna still, lady,
	for a’ his father’s land.’
93A.17	‘O still my bairn, nourice,
	O still him wi the bell!’
	‘He winna still, lady,
	till ye come down yoursel.’
93A.18	O the firsten step she steppit,
	she steppit on a stane;
	But the neisten step she steppit,
	she met him Lamkin.
93A.19	‘O mercy, mercy, Lamkin,
	hae mercy upon me!
	Though you’ve taen my young son’s life,
	Ye may let mysel be.’
93A.20	‘O sall I kill her, nourice,
	or sall I lat her be?’
	‘O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,
	for she neer was good to me.’
93A.21	‘O scour the bason, nourice,
	and mak it fair and clean,
	For to keep this lady’s heart’s blood,
	For she’s come o noble kin.’
93A.22	‘There need nae bason, Lamkin,
	lat it run through the floor;
	What better is the heart’s blood
	o the rich than o the poor?’
93A.23	But ere three months were at an end,
	Lord Wearie came again;
	But dowie, dowie was his heart
	when first he came hame.
93A.24	‘O wha’s blood is this,’ he says,
	’That lies in the chamer?’
	‘It is your lady’s heart’s blood;
	’tis as clear as the lamer.’
93A.25	‘And wha’s blood is this,’ he says,
	’That lies in my ha?’
	‘It is your young son’s heart’s blood;
	’tis the clearest ava.’
93A.26	O sweetly sang the black-bird
	that sat upon the tree;
	But sairer grat Lamkin,
	when he was condemnd to die.
93A.27	And bonny sang the mavis,
	Out o the thorny brake;
	But sairer grat the nourice,
	when she was tied to the stake.


			 Child 93B: Lamkin

93B.1	BALANKIN was as gude a mason
	as eer picked a stane;
	He built up Prime Castle,
	but payment gat nane.
93B.2	The lord said to his lady,
	when he was going abroad,
	O beware of Balankin,
	for he lyes in the wood.
93B.3	The gates they were bolted,
	baith outside and in;
	At the sma peep of a window
	Blankin crap in.
93B.4	‘Good morrow, good morrow,’
	said Lambert Linkin:
	‘Good morrow to yoursell, sir,’
	said the false nurse to him.
93B.5	‘O where is your good lord?’
	said Lambert Linkin:
	‘He’s awa to New England,
	to meet with his king.’
93B.6	‘O where is his auld son?’
	said Lambert Linkin:
	‘He’s awa to buy pearlings,
	Gin our lady lye in.’
93B.7	‘Then she’ll never wear them,’
	said Lambert Linkin:
	‘And that is nae pity,’
	said the false nurse to him.
93B.8	‘O where is your lady?’
	said Lambert Linkin:
	‘She’s in her bower sleeping,’
	said the false nurse to him.
93B.9	‘How can we get at her?’
	said Lambert Linkin:
	‘Stab the babe to the heart,
	wi a silver bokin.’
93B.10	‘That would be a pity,’
	said Lambert Linkin:
	‘No pity, no pity,’
	said the false nurse to him.
93B.11	Balankin he rocked,
	and the false nurse she sang,
	Till all the tores of the cradle
	wi the red blood down ran.
93B.12	‘O still my babe, nurice,
	O still him wi the knife!’
	‘He’ll no be still, lady,
	tho I lay doun my life.’
93B.13	‘O still my babe, nurice,
	O still him wi the kame!’
	‘He’ll be no still, lady,
	till his daddy come hame.’
93B.14	‘O still my babe, nurice,
	O still him wi the bell!’
	‘He’ll no be still, lady,
	till ye come doun yoursell.’
93B.15	‘It’s how can I come down,
	this cauld winter nicht,
	Without eer a coal,
	or a clear candle-licht?’
93B.16	‘There’s two smocks in your coffer,
	as white as a swan;
	Put one of them about you,
	it will shew you licht down.’
93B.17	She took ane o them about her,
	and came tripping doun;
	But as soon as she viewed,
	Balankin was in.
93B.18	‘Good morrow, good morrow,’
	said Lambert Linkin:
	‘Good morrow to yoursell, sir,
	said the lady to him.
93B.19	‘O save my life, Balankin,
	till my husband come back,
	And I’ll gie you as much red gold
	as you’ll hold in your hat.’
93B.20	‘I’ll not save your life, lady,
	till your husband come back,
	Tho you would give me as much red gold
	as I could hold in a sack.
93B.21	‘Will I kill her?’ quo Balankin,
	’will I kill her, or let her be?’
	‘You may kill her,’ said the false nurse,
	’She was neer good to me;
	And ye’ll be laird of the castle,
	and I’ll be ladie.’
93B.22	Then he cut aff her head
	fram her lily breast-bane,
	And he hung’t up in the kitchen,
	it made a’ the ha shine.
93B.23	The lord sat in England,
	a drinking the wine:
	‘I wish a’ may be weel
	with my lady at hame;
	For the rings of my fingers
	the’re now burst in twain!’
93B.24	He saddled his horse,
	and he came riding doun,
	But as soon as he viewed,
	Balankin was in.
93B.25	He had na weel stepped
	twa steps up the stair,
	Till he saw his pretty young son
	lying dead on the floor.
93B.26	He had not weel stepped
	other twa up the stair,
	Till he saw his pretty lady
	lying dead in despair.
93B.27	He hanged Balankin
	out over the gate,
	And he burnt the fause nurice,
	being under the grate.


			 Child 93C: Lamkin

93C.1	LAMERLINKIN, as gude a mason
	as eer laid a stane,
	Built a house to Lord Arran,
	but entrance had nane.
93C.2	Says the lord to his lady,
	when going abroad,
	Take care of Lamerlinkin,
	wha bides in the wood.
93C.3	‘I care not for Lamkin,
	nor none of his kin;
	My house is plastered outside,
	and bolted within.’
93C.4	The gates they were locked,
	baith outside and in,
	But there was a wee hole
	that let Lamkin creep in.
93C.5	‘Good woman, good woman,’
	said Lamerlinkin:
	‘Good woman, good woman,’
	said the fause nurse to him.
93C.6	‘Where’s the lord o this house?
	is he not within?’
	‘He’s up in Old England,
	he’s dining wi the king.’
93C.7	‘Where’s the lady of this house?
	or is she not within?’
	‘She’s up in her high room,
	and cannot come down.’
93C.8	‘Where is the maids o this house?
	or are they not within?’
	‘They are at the well washing,
	and cannot get in.’
93C.9	‘Where is the men o this house?
	or are they not within?’
	‘They are at the barn threshing,
	and cannot win hame.’
93C.10	‘O what will I do,
	to mak her come doun?’
	‘We’ll kill her auld son,
	to mak her come doun.’
93C.11	He took out a pen-knife,
	baith pointed and sharp,
	And he stabbed the babie
	three times in the heart.
93C.12	Lamerlinkin did rock,
	and the fause nurse did sing;
	Ower the four-cornered cradle
	the red blood did spring.
93C.13	‘O please my babie, nurse,
	O please him wi wands!’
	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
	for a’ his father’s lands.’
93C.14	‘O please my babie, nurse,
	O please him wi keys!’
	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
	let me do what I please.’
93C.15	‘O please my babie, nurse,
	O please him with bells!’
	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
	till you come down yoursell.
93C.16	‘How can I come doun
	this cold frosty night,
	Without coal or candle
	for to shew me light?’
93C.17	‘The gold rings on your finger
	are bright as the sun;
	You may see to cum doun the stair
	with the light o them.’
93C.18	O then she came doun the stair,
	stepping step by step;
	So ready was Lamkin
	to grip her in his lap.
93C.19	‘Save my life, Lamkin,
	till five minutes break,
	And I’ll give thee gold,
	the fu o a peck.’
93C.20	‘I’ll no save your life,
	till five minutes break,
	Tho thou should give me gold,
	the fu of a sack.’
93C.21	‘O Jeany, O Jeany,
	O scour the bason clean,
	That your lady’s noble blood
	may be kepped clean.’
93C.22	‘O no, no, no, Lambkin,
	my heart will be sare;
	O take my life, Lambkin,
	let my lady go.’
	* * * * *
93C.23	He sent for the false nurse,
	to give her her fee;
	All the fee that he gave her
	was to hang her on a tree.
93C.24	sent for Lamerlinkin,
	to give him his hire;
	All the hire that he gave him
	was to burn him in the fire.


			 Child 93D: Lamkin

93D.1	SAID the lord to his lady,
	Beware of Rankin;
	For I am going to England,
	to wait on the king.
93D.2	‘No fears, no fears,’
	said the lady, said she,
	‘For the doors shall be bolted,
	and the windows pindee.
93D.3	‘Go bar all the windows,
	both outside and in;
	Don’t leave a window open,
	to let Bold Rankin in.’
93D.4	She has barred all the windows,
	both outside and in;
	But she left one of them open,
	to let Bold Rankin in.
93D.5	‘O where is the master of this house?’
	said Bold Rankin;
	‘He’s up in Old England.’
	said the false nurse to him.
93D.6	‘O where is the mistress of this house?’
	said Bold Rankin;
	‘She’s up in the chamber sleeping,’
	said the false nurse to him.
93D.7	‘O how shall we get her down?’
	said Bold Rankin;
	‘By piercing the baby,’
	said the false nurse to him.
93D.8	‘Go please the baby, nursy,
	go please it with a bell;’
	‘It will not be pleased, madam,
	till you come down yoursel.’
93D.9	‘How can I come down stairs,
	so late into the night,
	Without coal or candle,
	to shew me the light?
93D.10	‘There is a silver bolt
	lies on the chest-head;
	Give it to the baby,
	give it sweet milk and bread.’
93D.11	She rammed the silver bolt
	up the baby’s nose,
	Till the blood it came trinkling
	down the baby’s fine clothes.
93D.12	‘Go please the baby, nursie,
	go please it with the bell:’
	‘It will not please, madam,
	till you come down yoursel.
93D.13	‘It will neither please with breast-milk,
	nor yet with pap;
	But I pray, loving lady,
	Come and roll it in your lap.’
93D.14	The first step she stepit,
	she steppit on a stone;
	And the next step she stepit,
	she met Bold Rankin.
93D.15	‘O rankin, O Rankin,
	spare me till twelve o’clock,
	And I will give you as many guineas
	as you can carry on your back.’
93D.16	‘What care I for as many guineas
	as seeds into a sack,
	When I cannot keep my hands off
	your lily-white neck?’
93D.17	‘O will I kill her, nursie,
	or let her abee?’
	‘O kill her,’ said the false nurse,
	’She was never good to me.’
93D.18	‘Go scour the bason, lady,
	both outside and in,
	To hold your mother’s heart’s blood,
	sprung from a noble kin.’
93D.19	‘To hold my mother’s heart’s blood
	would make my heart full woe;
	O rather kill me, Rankin,
	and let my mother go.’
93D.20	‘Go scour the bason, servants,
	both outside and in,
	To hold your lady’s heart’s blood,
	sprung from a noble kin.’
93D.21	‘To hold my lady’s heart’s blood
	would make my heart full woe;
	O rather kill me, Rankin,
	and let my lady go.’
93D.22	‘Go scour the bason, nursy,
	both outside and in,
	To hold your lady’s heart’s blood,
	sprung from a noble kin.’
93D.23	‘To hold my lady’s heart’s blood
	would make my heart full glad;
	Ram in the knife, Bold Rankin,
	and gar the blood to shed.
93D.24	‘She’s none of my comrades,
	she’s none of my kin;
	Ram in the knife, Bold Rankin,
	and gar the blood rin.’
93D.25	‘O will I kill her, nursy,
	or let her abee?’
	‘O kill her,’ said the false nurse,
	’She was never good to me.’
	* * * * *
93D.26	‘I wish my wife and family
	may be all well at home;
	For the silver buttons of my coat
	they will not stay on.’
93D.27	As Betsy was looking
	oer her window so high,
	She saw her dear father
	come riding by.
93D.28	‘O father, dear father,
	don’t put the blame on me
	It was false nurse and Rankin
	that killed your lady.’
93D.29	O wasn’t that an awful sight,
	when he came to the stair,
	To see his fairest lady
	lie bleeding there!
93D.30	The false nurse was burnt
	on the mountain hill-head,
	And Rankin was boiled
	in a pot full of lead.


			 Child 93E: Lamkin

93E.1	LAMBKIN was as good a mason
	as ever laid stone;
	He builded Lord Montgomery’s castle,
	but payment got none.
93E.2	He builded the castle
	without and within;
	But he left an open wake
	for himself to get in.
93E.3	Lord Montgomery said to his lady,
	when he went abroad,
	Take care of Bold Lambkin,
	for he is in the wood.
93E.4	‘Gar bolt the gate, nourice,
	without and within,
	Leave not the wake open,
	to let Bold Lambkin in.’
93E.5	She bolted the gates,
	without and within,
	But she left the wake open,
	to let Bold Lambkin in.
93E.6	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’
	says Bold Lambkin then;
	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’
	says the false nurse to him.
93E.7	‘Where is Lord Montgomery?
	or where is he gone?’
	‘He is gone up to England,
	to wait on the king!
93E.8	‘Where are the servants?
	and where are they gone?’
	‘They are all up to England,
	to wait upon him.’
93E.9	‘Where is your lady?
	or where is she gone?’
	‘She is in her bower sitting,
	and sewing her seam.’
93E.10	‘O what shall we do
	for to make her come down?’
	‘We’ll kill the pretty baby,
	that’s sleeping so sound.’
93E.11	Lambkin he rocked,
	and the false nurse she sung,
	And she stabbed the babe to the heart
	with a silver bodkin.
93E.12	‘O still my babe, nourice,
	O still him with the pap:’
	‘He’ll no be stilled, madam,
	for this nor for that.’
93E.13	‘O still my babe, nourice,
	go still him with the keys:’
	‘He’ll no be stilled, madam,
	let me do what I please.’
93E.14	‘O still my babe, nourice,
	go still him with the bell:’
	‘He’ll no be stilled, madam,
	till you come down yoursel.’
93E.15	‘How can I come down,
	this cold winter night,
	When there’s neither coal burning,
	nor yet candle-light?’
93E.16	‘The sark on your back
	is whiter than the swan;
	Come down the stair, lady,
	by the light of your hand.’
93E.17	The lady she cam down
	the stair trip for trap;
	Who so ready as Bold Lambkin
	to meet her in the dark?
93E.18	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’
	said Bold Lambkin then;
	‘Gude morrow, gude morrow,’
	said the lady to him.
93E.19	‘O where is Lord Montgomery?
	or where is he gone?’
	‘O he is up to England,
	to wait on the king.’
93E.20	‘O where are your servants?
	or where are they gone?’
	‘They are all up to England,
	to wait upon him.
93E.21	‘I’ll give you as much gold, Lambkin,
	as you’ll put in a peck,
	If you’ll spare my life
	till my lord comes back.’
93E.22	‘Tho you would [give] me as much
	as I could put in a sack,
	I would not spare thy life
	till thy lord comes back.’
93E.23	Lord Montgomery sate in England,
	drinking with the king;
	The buttons flew off his coat,
	all in a ring.
93E.24	‘God prosper, God prosper
	my lady and son!
	For before I get home
	they will all be undone.’


			 Child 93F: Lamkin

93F.1	SAID my lord to his ladye,
	as he mounted his horse, (bis)
	Take care of Long Lankyn,
	who lies in the moss. (bis)
93F.2	Said my lord to his ladye,
	as he rode away,
	Take care of Long Lankyn,
	who lies in the clay.
93F.3	Let the doors be all bolted,
	and the windows all pinned,
	And leave not a hole
	for a mouse to creep in.
93F.4	Then he kissed his fair ladye,
	and he rode away;
	He must be in London
	before break of day.
93F.5	The doors were all bolted,
	and the windows were pinned,
	All but one little window,
	where Long Lankyn crept in.
93F.6	‘Where is the lord of this house?’
	said Long Lankyn:
	‘He is gone to fair London,’
	said the false nurse to him.
93F.7	‘Where is the ladye of this house?’
	said Long Lankyn:
	‘She’s asleep in her chamber,’
	said the false nurse to him.
93F.8	‘Where is the heir of this house?’
	said Long Lankyn:
	‘He’s asleep in his cradle,’
	said the false nurse to him.
	* * * * *
93F.9	‘We’ll prick him, and prick him,
	all over with a pin,
	And that will make your ladye
	to come down to him.’
93F.10	So she pricked him and pricked,
	all over with a pin,
	And the nurse held a basin
	for the blood to run in.
93F.11	‘Oh nurse, how you sleep!
	Oh nurse, how you snore!
	And you leave my little son Johnstone
	to cry and to roar.’
93F.12	‘I’ve tried him with suck,
	and I’ve tried him with pap;
	So come down, my fair ladye,
	and nurse him in your lap.’
93F.13	‘Oh nurse, how you sleep!
	Oh nurse, how you snore!
	And you leave my little son Johnstone
	to cry and to roar.’
93F.14	‘I’ve tried him with apples,
	I’ve tried him with pears;
	So come down, my fair ladye,
	and rock him in your chair.’
93F.15	‘How can I come down,
	’tis so late in the night,
	When there’s no candle burning,
	nor fire to give light?’
93F.16	‘You have three silver mantles
	as bright as the sun;
	So come down, my fair ladye,
	by the light of one.’
	* * * * *
93F.17	‘Oh spare me, Long Lankyn,
	oh spare me till twelve o’clock,
	You shall have as much gold
	as you can carry on your back.’
93F.18	‘If I had as much gold
	as would build me a tower,’
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
93F.19	‘Oh spare me, Long Lankyn,
	oh spare me one hour,
	You shall have my daughter Betsy,
	she is a sweet flower.’
93F.20	‘Where is your daughter Betsy?
	she may do some good;
	She can hold the silver basin,
	to catch your heart’s blood.’
	* * * * *
93F.21	Lady Betsy was sitting
	in her window so high,
	And she saw her father,
	as he was riding by.
93F.22	‘Oh father, oh father,
	don’t lay the blame on me;
	’Twas the false nurse and Long Lankyn
	that killed your ladye.’
	* * * * *
93F.23	Then Long Lankyn was hanged
	on a gallows so high,
	And the false nurse was burnt
	in a fire just by.


			 Child 93G: Lamkin

93G.1	THE lord said to his ladie,
	as he mounted his horse,
	Beware of Long Lonkin,
	that lies in the moss.
93G.2	The lord said to his ladie,
	as he rode away,
	Beware of Long Lonkin,
	that lies in the clay.
93G.3	‘What care I for Lonkin,
	or any of his gang?
	My doors are all shut,
	and my windows penned in.’
93G.4	There were six little windows,
	and they were all shut,
	But one little window,
	and that was forgot.
93G.5	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	And at that little window
	long Lonkin crept in.
93G.6	‘Where’s the lord of the hall?’
	says the Lonkin:
	‘He’s gone up to London,’
	says Orange to him.
93G.7	‘Where’s the men of the hall?’
	says the Lonkin:
	‘They’re at the field ploughing,’
	says Orange to him.
93G.8	‘Where’s the maids of the hall?’
	says the Lonkin:
	‘They’re at the well washing,’
	says Orange to him.
93G.9	‘Where’s the ladies of the hall?’
	says the Lonkin:
	‘They’re up in their chambers,’
	says Orange to him.
93G.10	‘How shall we get them down?’
	says the Lonkin:
	‘Prick the babe in the cradle,’
	says Orange to him.
93G.11	‘Rock well my cradle,
	and bee-ba my son;
	You shall have a new gown
	when the lord he comes home.’
93G.12	Still she did prick it,
	and bee-ba she cried:
	‘Come down, dearest mistress,
	and still your own child.’
93G.13	‘Oh still my child, Orange,
	still him with a bell:’
	‘I can’t still him, ladie,
	till you come down yoursell.’
	* * * * *
93G.14	‘Hold the gold basin,
	for your heart’s blood to run in,’
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
93G.15	‘To hold the gold basin,
	it grieves me full sore;
	Oh kill me, dear Lonkin,
	and let my mother go.’


			 Child 93H: Lamkin

93H.1	BAULD RANKIN was as gude a mason
	as eer biggit wi stane;
	He has biggit a bonny castle,
	but siller he gat nane.
	* * * * *
93H.2	‘Gae bar the gates,’ the lady said,
	’gae bar them out and in;
	Leave not a door open,
	lest Rankin should come in.’
93H.3	They’ve bard them on the outer side,
	sae hae they on the in;
	But left the cellar-door open,
	and Bauld Rankin crap in.
93H.4	‘Where’s a’ the women o the house?’
	says Bauld Rankin:
	‘They’re at the well washing,’
	says the fause nurse to him.
93H.5	‘Where’s a’ the men of this house?’
	says the Bauld Rankin:
	‘They are at the barn thrashing,’
	says the fause nurse to him.
93H.6	‘Where’s the lady of this house?’
	says the Bauld Rankin:
	‘She’s in the chamber, sleeping,’
	says the fause nurse to him.
93H.7	‘How will we get her wakent?
	how will we get her down?’
	‘We’ll pierce the baby’s heart’s blood,’
	says the fause nurse to him.
	* * * * *
93H.8	‘Come, please the babe, nurse,
	come please it wi the keys:’
	‘It’ll no be pleased, madam,
	tho I’ll down on my knees.’
93H.9	‘Come, please the babe, nurse,
	come, please it wi the knife:’
	‘It’ll no be pleased, madam,
	should I lay down my life.’
93H.10	‘Come, please the babe, nurse,
	come, please it wi the bell:’
	‘It’ll no be pleased, madam,
	till ye come down yoursel.’
93H.11	‘How can I come down, how can I come,
	sae late in the night,
	And neither coal nor candle,
	for to shew me light?’
93H.12	The first step she steppit,
	she steppit on a stane;
	The next step she steppit,
	she met the Bauld Rankin.
93H.13	‘O spare my life, Rankin,
	O spare it most dear!
	I’ll gie you as monie guineas
	as birds in the air.
93H.14	‘O spare my life, Rankin,
	O save it most sweet!
	I’ll gie you as monie guineas
	as there’s stanes in the street.’
	* * * * *
93H.15	‘I wish my wife and bairns
	may be all well at hame;
	For the buttons on my waistcoat
	they winna bide on.
93H.16	‘I wish my wife and family
	may be all well at home;
	For the rings upon my fingers
	they winna bide on.’
	* * * * *
93H.17	He has kindled a big bane-fire,
	in the middle o the closs,
	And he has burned Bauld Rankin,
	likewise the fause nurse.


			 Child 93I: Lamkin

93I.1	LANCKIN was as guid a mason
	as ever did use stane;
	He biggit Lord Murray’s house,
	an payment neer got nane.
93I.2	It fell ance on a day
	Lord Murray went frae hame,
	An Lankin came to the fause nourice,
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
93I.3	‘O still my bairn, nourice,
	still him wi the knife:’
	‘He winna still, lady,
	Tho I should lay down my life.’
93I.4	‘O still my bairn, nurice,
	still him wi the bell:’
	‘He winna still, lady,
	till ye come down yersel.’
93I.5	The first [step she steppit],
	she came on the marble stane;
	The next step [she steppit],
	she met him Lankin.
93I.6	‘O spare my life, Lankin,
	an I’ll gie ye a peck o goud;
	An that dinna please ye,
	I’ll heap it wi my hand.’
93I.7	‘O will I kill the lady, nurice,
	or will I lat her be?’
	‘O kill her, Lankin,
	she was never guid to me.’
93I.8	‘O wanted ye yer meat, nurice?
	or wanted ye yer fee?
	Or wanted ye the othir bounties
	ladys are wont to gie?’
93I.9	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘O kill her, Lankin,
	she was never guid to me.’
93I.10	‘Gae wash a bason, nurice,
	an ye wash it clean,
	To cape this ladie’s blood;
	she is come o high kine.’
93I.11	‘I winna wash a bason,
	nor will I wash it clean,
	To cape this ladie’s blood,
	tho she’s come o high kine.’
	* * * * *
93I.12	Bonny sang yon bird,
	as he sat upon the tree,
	But sare grat Lankin.
	for he was hangit hie.
93I.13	Bonny sang the bird,
	that sat upon the hill,
	But sare grat the nurice,
	whan the caudron gan to boil.
93I.14	. . . . .
	Lankin was hangit hie,
	And the fause nourice burnt
	in the caudron was she.


			 Child 93J: Lamkin

93J.1	O LAMMIKIN was as good a mason
	as ever bigget stane;
	He’s bigget Lord Erley’s castle,
	but money he got nane.
93J.2	It fell out upon a time
	Lord Earley went from home;
	He left his lady in his castle,
	but and his young son.
	* * * * *
93J.3	‘Where is the lord o this house,
	that calls me Lammikin?’
	‘He’s on the sea sailing,
	he will not come home.’
93J.4	‘Where are the men o this house,
	that call me Lammikin?’
	‘They are at the barn threshing,
	they will not come in.’
93J.5	‘Where are the maids of this house,
	that call me Lammikin?’
	‘They are at the well washing,
	they will not come in.’
93J.6	‘Where is the lady o this house,
	that calls me Lammikin?’
	‘She’s in her room shewing,
	she will not come down.’
93J.7	‘How shall we contrive
	for to make her come down?’
	‘We’ll stick her dear infant,
	and make her come down.’
93J.8	O Lammikin he rocket,
	and the fause nurice sung,
	While out o the cradle
	the infant’s blude sprung.
93J.9	‘O still my bairn, nurice,’
	the lady did cry:
	‘He will not still, lady,
	for you nor for I.’
93J.10	‘O still my bairn, nurice,
	still him wi the wan:’
	‘He will not still, lady,
	for a’ his father’s lan.’
93J.11	‘Oh still my bairn, nurice,
	still him wi the keys:’
	‘Oh he winna still, lady,
	for a’ his father’s leys.’
93J.12	‘Oh still my bairn, nurice,
	still him wi the bell:’
	‘Oh he winna still, lady,
	till ye come down yersell.’
93J.13	The firsten step that lady stepped,
	it was upon a stone;
	The nexten step that lady stepped,
	she saw him Lammikin.
93J.14	The nexten step that lady stepped
	was in her own child’s blood,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
93J.15	‘Oh will I kill her, nurice,
	or will I let her be?’
	‘Kill her, dear Lammikin,
	she was never gude to me.’
93J.16	‘Oh wanted you meat, nurice?
	or wanted you fee?
	Or wanted you anything
	that a lady can gie?’
93J.17	‘I wanted no meat, lady,
	nor wanted I fee,
	But I wanted mony a thing
	that a lady could gie.’
	* * * * *


			 Child 93K: Lamkin

93K.1	MY lord said to my lady,
	when he went from home,
	Take care of Long Longkin,
	he lies in the lone.
93K.2	My lady said to my lord,
	when he went abroad,
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
93K.3	‘I care not for Longkin,
	nor none of his kin,
	For my gate’s fast barrd,
	and my windows shut in.’
93K.4	My lord was not gone
	many miles from the place,
	Until the false Longkin
	came straight to the place.
	* * * * *
93K.5	‘Pinch the bairn, nourry,
	pinch it very sore,
	Untill the mother
	shall come down below.’
93K.6	‘Still the bairn, nury,
	still it with the pap:’
	‘It wont be stilld, madam,
	with neither this nor that.’
93K.7	‘Still the bairn, nury,
	still it with a bell:’
	‘It wont be stilld, madam,
	till you cum down yoursell.’
	* * * * *
93K.8	‘Come down, Lady Betty,
	the flower of all your kin,
	And see your mother’s heart’s blood,
	so freely running.
93K.9	Down came Lady Betty,
	her heart full of woe:
	‘Oh take my life, Longkin,
	and let my mother go.’
93K.10	‘Come down, Lady Nelly,
	the flower of all your kin,
	And see your sister’s heart’s blood,
	so freely running.’
93K.11	Down came Lady Nelly,
	her heart full of woe:
	‘Oh take my life, Longkin,
	and let my sister go.’
93K.12	‘Come down, Lady Jenny, etc.


			 Child 93L: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93M: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93N: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93O: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93P: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93Q: Lamkin

93Q.1	LAMMIKIN was as gude a mason
	as ever hewed a stane;
	He biggit Lord Weire’s castle,
	but payment gat he nane.
	* * * * *
93Q.2	‘Where are the lads o this castle?’
	says the Lammikin:
	‘They are a’ wi Lord Weire, hunting,’
	the false nourice did sing.
93Q.3	‘Where are the lasses o this castle?’
	says the Lammikin:
	‘They are a’ out at the washing,’
	the false nourice did sing.
93Q.4	‘But where’s the lady o this house?’
	says the Lammikin:
	‘She is in her bower sewing,’
	the false nourice did sing.
93Q.5	‘Is this the bairn o this house?’
	says the Lammikin:
	‘The only bairn Lord Weire aughts,’
	the false nourice did sing.
	* * * * *
93Q.6	‘Still my bairn, nourice,
	O still him if ye can:’
	‘He will not still, madam,
	for a’ his father’s lan.’
93Q.7	‘O gentle nourice, still my bairn,
	O still him wi the keys:’
	‘He will not still, fair lady,
	let me do what I please.’
93Q.8	‘O still my bairn, kind nourice,
	O still him wi the ring:’
	‘He will not still, my lady,
	let me do any thing.’
	* * * * *
93Q.9	The first step she stepped,
	she stepped on a stane;
	The next step she stepped,
	she met the Lammikin.
	* * * * *
93Q.10	‘O nourice, wanted ye your meat?
	or wanted ye your fee?
	Or wanted ye for any thing
	a fair lady could gie?’
93Q.11	‘I wanted for nae meat, ladie,
	I wanted for nae fee;
	But I wanted for a hantle
	a fair lady could gie.’
	* * * * *
93Q.12	‘I wish a’ may be weel,’ he says,
	’wi my ladie at hame;
	For the rings upon my fingers
	are bursting in twain.’
	* * * * *
93Q.13	‘There’s bluid in my nursery,
	there’s bluid in my ha,
	There’s bluid in my fair lady’s bower,
	an that’s warst of a’.’
93Q.14	O sweet, sweet sang the birdie,
	upon the bough sae hie,
	But little cared false nourice for that,
	for it was her gallows-tree.
	* * * * *


			 Child 93R: Lamkin

93R.1	WHEN Sir Guy and his train
	gaed to hunt the wild boar,
	He gard bar up his castle,
	behind and before.
93R.2	And he bade his fair lady
	guard weel her young son,
	For wicked Balcanqual
	great mischief had done.
93R.3	So she closed a’ the windows,
	without and within,
	But forgot the wee wicket,
	and Balcanqual crap in.
	* * * * *
93R.4	Syne Balcanqual he rocked,
	and fause nourice sang,
	Till through a’ the cradle
	the baby’s blood sprang.
93R.5	‘O please the bairn, nourice,
	and please him wi the keys:’
	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
	for a’ thet he sees.’
93R.6	And Balcanqual ay rocked,
	while fause nourice sang,
	And through a’ the cradle
	the baby’s blood ran.
93R.7	‘Please the bairn, nourice,
	and please him wi the knife:’
	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
	tho I’d gie my life.’
93R.8	And Balcanqual still rocked,
	and fause nourice sang,
	While through a’ the cradle
	the baby’s blood ran.
93R.9	‘Now please the bairn, nourice,
	and please him wi the bell:’
	‘He’ll no be pleased, madam,
	till ye come yoursell.’
93R.10	Down came this fair lady,
	tripping down the stair,
	To see her sick bairn,
	but returned never mair.
93R.11	‘Now scour the bason, Jenny,
	and scour’t very clean,
	To haad this lady’s blood,
	for she’s of noble kin.’
	* * * * *


			 Child 93S: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93T: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93U: Lamkin

93U.1	AS my lord and my lady
	were out walking one day,
	Says my lord to my lady,
	Beware of Lamkin.
93U.2	‘O why should I fear him,
	or any such man,
	When my doors are well barrd,
	and my windows well pinnd?’
	* * * * *
93U.3	‘O keep your gold and silver,
	it will do you some good;
	It will buy you a coffin,
	when you are dead.’
93U.4	There’s blood in the kitchen,
	and blood in the hall,
	And the young Mayor of England
	lies dead by the wall.


			 Child 93V: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93[W]: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93[X]: Lamkin

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


			 Child 93[Y]: Lamkin

93[Y].1	Lie in your room, my wife,
	. . . . . .
	. . . . . .
	. . . . . .
93[Y.2]	‘You’ll fasten doors and windows,
	you’ll fasten them out an in,
	For if you leave ae window open
	Lammikin will come in.’
93[Y.3]	They’ve fastened doors an windows,
	they’ve fastened them out an in,
	But they have left ae window open,
	and Lammikin cam in.
93[Y.4]	‘O where are a’ the women
	that dwell here within?’
	‘They’re at the well washin,
	and they will not come in.’
93[Y.5]	‘O where are a’ the men
	that dwell here within?’
	‘They’re at the . . . . ,
	and they will not come in.’
93[Y.6]	‘O where is the lady
	that dwells here within?’
	‘She’s up the stair dressin,
	and she will not come doun.’
93[Y.7]	‘It’s what will we do
	to mak her come doun?
	We’ll rock the cradle, nourrice,
	an mak her come doun.’
93[Y.8]	They [hae] rocked the cradle
	to mak her come doun,
	. . . . . .
	the red bluid out sprung.
93[Y.9]	‘O still the bairn, nourrice,
	O still him wi the bell:;
	‘He winna still, my lady,
	till ye come doun yersel.’
93[Y.10]	The first step she steppit,
	it was upon a stane;
	The next step she steppit,
	she keppit Lammikin.
93[Y.11]	‘O mercy, mercy, Lammikin,
	hae mercy upo me!
	Tho ye hae killed my young son,
	ye may lat mysel abee.’
93[Y.12]	‘O it’s will I kill her, nourrice,
	or will I lat her be?’
	‘O kill her, kill her, Lammikin,
	she neer was gude to me.’
93[Y.13]	‘O it’s wanted ye your meat?
	or wanted ye your fee?’
	. . . . . .
	. . . . . .
93[Y.14]	‘I wanted not my meat,
	I wanted not my fee,
	But I wanted some bounties
	That ladies can gie.’



			Child 94: Young Waters

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



	  Child 95A: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

95A.1	* * * *
	‘O GOOD Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
	Peace for a little while!
	Methinks I see my own father,
	Come riding by the stile.
95A.2	‘Oh father, oh father, a little of your gold,
	And likewise of your fee!
	To keep my body from yonder grave,
	And my neck from the gallows-tree.’
95A.3	‘None of my gold now you shall have,
	Nor likewise of my fee;
	For I am come to see you hangd,
	And hanged you shall be.’
95A.4	‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
	Peace for a little while!
	Methinks I see my own mother,
	Come riding by the stile.
95A.5	‘Oh mother, oh mother, a little of your gold,
	And likewise of your fee,
	To keep my body from yonder grave,
	And my neck from the gallows-tree!’
95A.6	‘None of my gold now shall you have,
	Nor likewise of my fee;
	For I am come to see you hangd,
	And hanged you shall be.’
95A.7	‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
	Peace for a little while!
	Methinks I see my own brother,
	Come riding by the stile.
95A.8	‘Oh brother, oh brother, a little of your gold,
	And likewise of your fee,
	To keep my body from yonder grave,
	And my neck from the gallows-tree!’
95A.9	‘None of my gold now shall you have,
	Nor likewise of my fee;
	For I am come to see you hangd,
	And hanged you shall be.’
95A.10	‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
	Peace for a little while!
	Methinks I see my own sister,
	Come riding by the stile.
95A.11	‘Oh sister, oh sister, a little of your gold,
	And likewise of your fee,
	To keep my body from yonder grave,
	And my neck from the gallows-tree!’
95A.12	‘None of my gold now shall you have,
	Nor likewise of my fee;
	For I am come to see you hangd,
	And hanged you shall be.’
95A.13	‘Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge,
	Peace for a little while!
	Methinks I see my own true-love,
	Come riding by the stile.
95A.14	‘Oh true-love, oh true-love, a little of your gold,
	And likewise of your fee,
	To save my body from yonder grave,
	And my neck from the gallows-tree.’
95A.15	‘Some of my gold now you shall have,
	And likewise of my fee,
	For I am come to see you saved,
	And saved you shall be.’


	  Child 95B: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

95B.1	‘IT\R’\rS hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says,
	‘O hold your hand for a while!
	For yonder I see my father a coming,
	Riding many’s the mile.
95B.2	‘Have you any gold, father?’ she says,
	‘Or have you any fee?
	Or did you come to see your own daughter a hanging,
	Like a dog, upon a tree?’
95B.3	‘I have no gold, daughter,’ he says,
	‘Neither have I any fee;
	But I am come to see my ain daughter hanged,
	And hanged she shall be.’
95B.4	‘Hey the broom, and the bonny, bonny broom,
	The broom o the Cauthery Knowes!
	I wish I were at hame again,
	Milking my ain daddie’s ewes.
95B.5	‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says,
	‘O hold your hand for a while!
	For yonder I see my own mother coming,
	Riding full many a mile.
95B.6	‘Have you any gold, mother?’ she says,
	‘Or have you any fee?
	Or did you come to see your own daughter hanged,
	Like a dog, upon a tree?’
95B.7	‘I have no gold, daughter,’ she says,
	‘Neither have I any fee;
	But I am come to see my own daughter hanged,
	And hanged she shall be.’
95B.8	‘Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom,
	The broom o the Cauthery Knowes!
	I wish I were at hame again,
	Milking my ain daddie’s ewes.
95B.9	‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says,
	‘O hold your hand for a while!
	For yonder I see my ae brother a coming,
	Riding many’s the mile.
95B.10	‘Have you any gold, brother?’ she says,
	‘Or have you any fee?
	Or did you come to see your ain sister a hanging,
	Like a dog, upon a tree?’
95B.11	‘I have no gold, sister,’ he says,
	‘Nor have I any fee’
	But I am come to see my ain sister hanged,
	And hanged she shall be.’
95B.12	‘Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom,
	The broom o the Cathery Knowes!
	I wish I were at hame again,
	Milking my ain daddie’s ewes.
95B.13	‘Hold your hand, dear judge,’ she says,
	‘O hold your hand for a while!
	For yonder I see my own true-love coming,
	Riding full many a mile.
95B.14	‘Have you any gold, my true-love?’ she says,
	‘Or have you any fee?
	Or have you come to see your own love hanged,
	Like a dog, upon a tree?’
	* * * * *


	  Child 95C: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

95C.1	‘HOLD up thy hand, most righteous judge,
	Hold up thy hand a while!
	For here I see my own dear father,
	Come tumbling over the stile.
95C.2	‘Oh hast thou brought me silver or gold,
	Or jewels, to set me free?
	Or hast thou come to see me hung?
	For hanged I shall be.
95C.3	‘If I could get out of this prickly bush,
	That prickles my heart so sore,
	If I could get out of this prickly bush,
	I’d never get in it no more.’
95C.4	‘Oh I have brought nor silver nor gold,
	Nor jewels, to set thee free;
	But I have come to see thee hung,
	For hanged thou shall be.
	* * * * *
95C.5	‘It’s I have brought thee silver and gold,
	And jewels, to set thee free;
	I have not come to see thee hung,
	For hanged thou shall not be.’
95C.6	‘Now I have got out of this prickly bush,
	That prickled my heart so sore,
	And I have got out of this prickly bush,
	I’ll never get in it no more.’


	  Child 95D: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

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


	  Child 95E: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

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


	  Child 95F: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

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


	  Child 95G: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

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


	  Child 95H: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

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


	  Child 95[I]: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

95[I].1	‘Hold your tongue, Lord Judge,’ she says,
	‘Yet hold it a little while;
	Methinks I see my ain dear father
	Coming wandering many a mile.
95[I.2]	‘O have you brought me gold, father?
	Or have you brought me fee?
	Or are you come to save my life
	From off this gallows-tree?’
95[I.3]	‘I have not brought you gold, daughter,
	Nor have I brought you fee,

	But I am come to see you hangd,
	As you this day shall be.’
	* * * * *
95[I.4]	‘I have not brought you gold, true-love,
	Nor yet have I brought fee,
	But I am come to save thy life
	From off this gallows-tree.’
95[I.5]	‘Gae hame, gae hame, father,’ she says,
	‘Gae hame and saw yer seed;
	And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,
	But the thistle and the weed.
95[I.6]	‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,
	Gae hame and brew yer yill;
	And I wish the girds may a’ loup off,
	And the Deil spill a’ yer yill.
95[I.7]	‘Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,
	Gae hame and lie with yer wife;
	And I wish that the first news I may hear
	That she has tane your life.
95[I.8]	‘Gae hame, gae hame, sister,’ she says,
	‘Gae hame and sew yer seam;
	I wish that the needle-point may break,
	And the craws pyke out yer een.’


	  Child 95[J]: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

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


	  Child 95[K]: The Maid Freed From the Gallows

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



		  Child 96A: The Gay Goshawk

96A.1	‘O WELL\R’\rS me o my gay goss-hawk,
	That he can speak and flee;
	He’ll carry a letter to my love,
	Bring back another to me.’
96A.2	‘O how can I your true-love ken,
	Or how can I her know?
	Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth,
	Nor wi my eyes her saw.’
96A.3	‘O well sal ye my true-love ken,
	As soon as you her see;
	For, of a’ the flowrs in fair Englan,
	The fairest flowr is she.
96A.4	‘At even at my love’s bowr-door
	There grows a bowing birk,
	An sit ye down and sing thereon,
	As she gangs to the kirk.
96A.5	‘An four-an-twenty ladies fair
	Will wash and go to kirk,
	But well shall ye my true-love ken,
	For she wears goud on her skirt.
96A.6	‘An four and twenty gay ladies
	Will to the mass repair,
	But well sal ye my true-love ken,
	For she wears goud on her hair.’
96A.7	O even at that lady’s bowr-door
	There grows a bowin birk,
	And she set down and sang thereon,
	As she ged to the kirk.
96A.8	‘O eet and drink, my marys a’,
	The wine flows you among,
	Till I gang to my shot-window,
	An hear yon bonny bird’s song.
96A.9	‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
	The song ye sang the streen,
	For I ken by your sweet singin
	You’re frae my true-love sen.’
96A.10	O first he sang a merry song,
	An then he sang a grave,
	An then he peckd his feathers gray,
	To her the letter gave.
96A.11	‘Ha, there’s a letter frae your love,
	He says he sent you three;
	He canna wait your love langer,
	But for your sake he’ll die.
96A.12	‘He bids you write a letter to him;
	He says he’s sent you five;
	He canno wait your love langer,
	Tho you’re the fairest woman alive.’
96A.13	‘Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,
	And brew his bridal-ale,
	An I’ll meet him in fair Scotlan
	Lang, lang or it be stale.’
96A.14	She’s doen her to her father dear,
	Fa’n low down on her knee:
	‘A boon, a boon, my father dear,
	I pray you, grant it me.’
96A.15	‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter,
	An granted it sal be;
	Except ae squire in fair Scotlan,
	An him you sall never see.’
96A.16	‘The only boon, my father dear,
	That I do crave of the,
	Is, gin I die in southin lands,
	In Scotland to bury me.
96A.17	‘An the firstin kirk that ye come till,
	Ye gar the bells be rung,
	An the nextin kirk that ye come till,
	Ye gar the mess be sung.
96A.18	‘An the thirdin kirk that ye come till,
	You deal gold for my sake,
	An the fourthin kirk that ye come till,
	You tarry there till night.’
96A.19	She is doen her to her bigly bowr,
	As fast as she coud fare,
	An she has tane a sleepy draught,
	That she had mixed wi care.
96A.20	She’s laid her down upon her bed,
	An soon she’s fa’n asleep,
	And soon oer every tender limb
	Cauld death began to creep.
96A.21	Whan night was flown, an day was come,
	Nae ane that did her see
	But thought she was as surely dead
	As ony lady coud be.
96A.22	Her father an her brothers dear
	Gard make to her a bier;
	The tae half was o guide red gold,
	The tither o silver clear.
96A.23	Her mither an her sisters fair
	Gard work for her a sark;
	The tae half was o cambrick fine,
	The tither o needle wark.
96A.24	The firstin kirk that they came till,
	They gard the bells be rung,
	An the nextin kirk that they came till,
	They gard the mess be sung.
96A.25	The thirdin kirk that they came till,
	They dealt gold for her sake,
	An the fourthin kirk that they came till,
	Lo, there they met her make!
96A.26	‘Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,
	Lat me the dead look on;’
	Wi cherry cheeks and ruby lips
	She lay an smil’d on him.
96A.27	‘O ae sheave o your bread, true-love,
	An ae glass o your wine,
	For I hae fasted for your sake
	These fully days is nine.
96A.28	‘Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,
	Gang hame and sound your horn;
	An ye may boast in southin lans
	Your sister’s playd you scorn.’


		  Child 96B: The Gay Goshawk

96B.1	OUT then spoke the king of Scotland,
	And he spak wondrous clear:
	Where will I get a boy, and a pretty little boy,
	That will my tidings bear?
96B.2	Out then spak a pretty little bird,
	As it sat on a brier:
	What will ye gie me, king of Scotland, he said,
	If I your tidings will bear?
96B.3	‘One wing of the beaten gowd,
	And another of the silver clear;
	It’s all unto thee, my pretty little bird,
	If thou my tidings will bear.’
96B.4	The bird flew high, the bird flew low,
	This bird flew to and fro,
	Until that he came to the king of England’s dochter,
	Who was sitting in her bower-window.
96B.5	‘Here is a gift, a very rare gift,
	And the king has sent you three;
	He says if your father and mother winna let,
	You may come privately.
96B.6	‘Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,
	The king has sent you five;
	He says he will not wait any longer on you,
	If there be another woman alive.’
96B.7	She’s away to her mother dear,
	Made a low beck on her knee:
	‘What is your asking of me, daughter?
	Queen of Scotland you never shall be.’
96B.8	‘That’s not my asking of thee, mother,
	That’s not my asking of thee;
	But that if I die in merry England,
	In Scotland you will bury me.’
96B.9	She’s awa to her father dear,
	Made a low beck on her knee:
	‘What is your asking of me, daughter?
	Queen of Scotland you never shall be.’
96B.10	‘That’s not my asking of thee, father,
	That’s not my asking of thee;
	But that if I die in merry England,
	In Scotland you will bury me.’
96B.11	She walked to and fro,
	She walked up and down,
	But ye wud na spoken three words to an end
	Till she was in a deep swoon.
96B.12	Out then spoke an auld witch-wife,
	And she spoke random indeed:
	Honoured madam, I would have you to try
	Three drops of the burning lead.
96B.13	Her mother went weeping round and round,
	She dropped one on her chin;
	‘Och and alace,’ her mother did say,
	‘There is no breath within!’
96B.14	Her mother went weeping round and round,
	She dropt one on her briest;
	‘Och and alace,’ her mother did cry,
	‘For she’s died without a priest!’
96B.15	Her mother went weeping round and round,
	She dropped one on her toe;
	‘Och and alace,’ her mother did cry,
	‘To Scotland she must goe!
96B.16	‘Call down, call down her sisters five,
	To make to her a smock;
	The one side of the bonny beaten gold,
	And the other of the needle-work.
96B.17	‘Call down, call down her brothers seven,
	To make for her a bier;
	The one side of the bonny beaten gold,
	And the other of the silver clear.’
96B.18	Many a mile by land they went,
	And many a league by sea,
	Until that they came to the king of Scotland,
	Who was walking in his own valley.
96B.19	‘Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,
	And you to have made her your own;
	But now she is dead, and she’s new come from her steed,
	And she’s ready to lay in the ground.’
96B.20	O he has opened the lid of the coffin,
	And likewise the winding sheet,
	And thrice he has kissed her cherry, cherry cheek,
	And she smiled on him full sweet.
96B.21	‘One bit of your bread,’ she says,
	‘And one glass of your wine;
	It’s all for you and your sake
	I’ve fasted long days nine.
96B.22	‘One glass of your wine,’ she says,
	‘And one bit of your bread;
	For it’s all for you and for your sake
	I suffered the burning lead.
96B.23	‘Go home, go home, my brothers seven,
	You may go blow your horn;
	And you may tell it in merry England
	That your sister has given you the scorn.
96B.24	‘Go home, go home, my brothers seven,
	Tell my sisters to sew their seam;
	And you may tell it in merry England
	That your sister she is queen.’


		  Child 96C: The Gay Goshawk

96C.1	‘O WELL is me, my jolly goshawk,
	That ye can speak and flee,
	For ye can carry a love-letter
	To my true-love from me.’
96C.2	‘O how can I carry a letter to her,
	When her I do not knaw?
	I bear the lips to her never spake,
	And the eyes that her never saw.’
96C.3	‘The thing of my love’s face is white
	It’s that of dove or maw;
	The thing of my love’s face that’s red
	Is like blood shed on snaw.
96C.4	‘And when you come to the castle,
	Light on the bush of ash,
	And sit you there and sing our loves,
	As she comes from the mass.
96C.5	‘And when she goes into the house,
	Sit ye upon the whin;
	And sit you there and sing our loves,
	As she goes out and in.’
96C.6	And when he flew to that castel,
	He lighted on the ash;
	And there he sat and sang their loves,
	As she came from the mass.
96C.7	And when she went into the house,
	He flew unto the whin;
	And there he sat and sang their loves,
	As she went out and in.
96C.8	‘Come hither, come hither, my maidens all,
	And sip red wine anon,
	Till I go to my west window,
	And hear a birdie’s moan.’
96C.9	She’s gone unto her west window,
	And fainly aye it drew,
	And soon into her white silk lap
	The bird the letter threw.
96C.10	‘Ye’re bidden send your love a send,
	For he has sent you twa;
	And tell him where he can see you,
	Or he cannot live ava.’
96C.11	‘I send him the rings from my white fingers,
	The garlands off my hair;
	I send him the heart that’s in my breast:
	What would my love have mair?
	And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland,
	Ye’ll bid him meet me there.’
96C.12	She hied her to her father dear,
	As fast as gang could she:
	‘An asking, an asking, my father dear,
	An asking ye grant me;
	That, if I die in fair England,
	In Scotland bury me.
96C.13	‘At the first kirk of fair Scotland,
	You cause the bells be rung;
	At the second kirk of fair Scotland,
	You cause the mass be sung.
96C.14	‘At the third kirk of fair Scotland,
	You deal gold for my sake;
	And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,
	O there you’ll bury me at.
96C.15	‘And now, my tender father dear,
	This asking grant you me;’
	‘Your asking is but small,’ he said,
	‘Weel granted it shall be.’
96C.16	She hied her to her mother dear,
	As fast as gang could she:
	‘An asking, an asking, my mother dear,
	An asking ye grant me;
	That if I die in fair England
	In Scotland bury me.
96C.17	‘And now, my tender mother dear,
	This asking grant you me;’
	‘Your asking is but small,’ she said,
	‘Weel granted it shall be.’
96C.18	She hied her to her sister dear,
	As fast as gang could she:
	‘An asking, an asking, my sister dear,
	An asking ye grant me;
	That if I die in fair England,
	In Scotland bury me.
96C.19	‘And now, my tender sister dear,
	This asking grant you me:’
	‘Your asking is but small,’ she said,
	‘Weel granted it shall be.’
96C.20	She hied her to her seven brothers,
	As fast as gang could she:
	‘An asking, an asking, my brothers seven,
	An asking ye grant me;
	That if I die in fair England,

	In Scotland ye bury me.
96C.21	‘And now, my tender brothers dear,
	This asking grant you me:’
	‘Your asking is but small,’ they said,
	‘Weel granted it shall be.’
96C.22	Then down as dead that lady drapd,
	Beside her mother’s knee;
	Then out it spoke an auld witch-wife,
	By the fire-side sat she.
96C.23	Says, Drap the hot lead on her cheek,
	And drop it on her chin,
	And drop it on her rose-red lips,
	And she will speak again:
	For much a lady young will do,
	To her true-love to win.
96C.24	They drapd the het lead on her cheek,
	So did they on her chin;
	They drapt it on her red-rose lips,
	But they breathed none again.
96C.25	Her brothers they went to a room,
	To make to her a bier;
	The boards of it was cedar wood,
	And the plates ow it gold so clear.
96C.26	Her sisters they went to a room,
	To make to her a sark;
	The cloth of it was satin fine,
	She bids you meet her there.’
	And the steeking silken wark.
96C.27	‘But well is me, my jolly goshawk,
	That ye can speak and flee;
	Come shew to my any love-tokens
	That you have brought to me.’
96C.28	‘She sends you the rings from her fingers,
	The garlands from her hair;
	She sends you the heart within her breast;
	And what would you have mair?
	And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,
	She bids you meet her there.’
96C.29	‘Come hither, all my merry young men,
	And drink the good red wine;
	For we must on to fair Scotland,
	To free my love frae pine.’
96C.30	At the first kirk of fair Scotland,
	They gart the bells be rung;
	At the second kirk of fair Scotland,
	They gart the mass be sung.
96C.31	At the third kirk of fair Scotland,
	They dealt gold for her sake;
	And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland
	Her true-love met them at.
96C.32	‘Set down, set down the corpse,’ he said,
	‘Till I look on the dead;
	The last time that I saw her face,
	She ruddy was and red;
	But now, alas, and woe is me!
	She’s wallowit like a weed.’
96C.33	He rent the sheet upon her face,
	A little above her chin;
	With lily-white cheeks, and lemin een,
	She lookt and laughd to him.
96C.34	‘Give me a chive of your bread, my love,
	A bottle of your wine;
	For I have fasted for your love
	These long days nine;
	There’s not a steed in your stable
	But would have been dead ere syne.
96C.35	‘Go home, go home, my seven brothers,
	Go home and blow the horn;
	For you can say in the south of England
	Your sister gave you a scorn.
96C.36	‘I came not here to fair Scotland
	To lye amang the meal;
	But I came here to fair Scotland
	To wear the silks so weel.
96C.37	‘I came not here to fair Scotland
	To ly amang the dead;
	But I came here to fair Scotland
	To wear the gold so red.’


		  Child 96D: The Gay Goshawk

96D.1	‘O WHERE\R’\rLL I get a pretty little bird
	That’ll go my errand soon,
	That will fly to the Queen of England’s dochter,
	And bid my trew-luve come?’
96D.2	‘Here am I, a pretty little bird,
	That’ll go your errands soon,
	That will fly to the Queen of England’s daughter,
	And bid your trew-luve come.’
96D.3	This wee birdie’s taken its flight,
	And it’s flown owre the sea,
	Until it cam to the Queen of England’s daughter;
	She’s sitting in her bower-windie.
96D.4	Then out bespoke these nine ladies,
	As they sat in a ring:
	‘O we’ll awa to the west window,
	To hear this birdie sing.’
96D.5	This wee birdie’s taken its flight,
	And it’s flown owre them a’,
	And at the lady’s left shoulder
	It loot a letter fa.
96D.6	She has taken the letter up,
	And read it speedilie:
	‘O mother, the queen, O mother, the queen,
	Grant this request to me;
	Whenever I do chance for to die,
	In Scotland gar bury me.’
	* * * * *
96D.7	‘Bring to me the red, red lead,
	And rub it on her chin;
	It’s Oh and alace for my dochter Janet!
	But there is not a breath within.
96D.8	‘Bring to me the red, red lead,
	And rub it on her toe;
	It’s Oh and alace for my daughter Janet!
	To Scotland she must go.’
96D.9	‘Rise up, rise up, ye seven sisters,
	And make her winding sheet,
	With the one side of the beaten gold,
	And the other o the needle-wark.
96D.10	‘Rise up, rise up, ye seven brethren,
	And make her carriage-bier,
	With the one side of the beaten gold,
	And the other o the silver clear.’
96D.11	‘They’ve carried east, they’ve carried west,
	They’ve carried her high and low,
	Until that they came to the king of Scotland,
	Was sitting in his bower-window.
96D.12	‘Here is a token of your trew-love,
	And here is a token come down,
	For she is dead, and she’s ready to be buried,
	And she wants to be laid in your ground.’
96D.13	He’s taen out his mickle knife,
	And tore her winding sheet,
	And there she lay like the crimson red,
	And she smiled in his face so sweet.
96D.14	‘Go home, go home, you seven brethren,
	Go home and saw your corn,
	For she if fit for the queen of Scotland now,
	And she’s gien you the scorn.
96D.15	‘Go home, go home, you seven sisters,
	Go home and sew your seam,
	For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now,
	And she’s ready to be my queen.’


		  Child 96E: The Gay Goshawk

96E.1	‘O WALY, waly, my gay goss-hawk,
	Gin your feathering be sheen!’
	‘And waly, waly, my master dear,
	Gin ye look pale and lean!
96E.2	‘O have ye tint at tournament
	Your sword, or yet your spear?
	Or mourn ye for the southern lass,
	Whom you may not win near?’
96E.3	‘I have not tint at tournament
	My sword, nor yet my spear,
	But sair I mourn for my true-love,
	Wi mony a bitter tear.
96E.4	‘But weel’s me on ye, my gay goss-hawk,
	Ye can baith speak and flee;
	Ye sall carry a letter to my love,
	Bring an answer back to me.’
96E.5	‘But how sall I your true-love find,
	Or how suld I her know?
	I bear a tongue neer wi her spake,
	An eye that neer her saw.’
96E.6	‘O weel sall ye my true-love ken,
	Sae sune as ye her see,
	For of a’ the flowers of fair England,
	The fairest flower is she.
96E.7	‘The red that’s on my true-love’s cheik
	Is like blood-drops on the snaw;
	The white that is on her breast bare
	Like the down o the white sea-maw.
96E.8	‘And even at my love’s bouer-door
	There grows a flowering birk,
	And ye maun sit and sing thereon,
	As she gangs to the kirk.
96E.9	‘And four-and-twenty fair ladyes
	Will to the mass repair,
	But weel may ye my ladye ken,
	The fairest ladye there.’
96E.10	Lord William has written a love-letter,
	Put it under his pinion gray,
	And he is awa to southern land,
	As fast as wings can gae.
96E.11	And even at that ladye’s bour
	There grew a flowering birk,
	And he sat down and sang thereon,
	As she gaed to the kirk.
96E.12	And weel he kent that ladye feir
	Amang her maidens free,
	For the flower that springs in May morning
	Was not sae sweet as she.
96E.13	[He lighted at the ladye’s yate,
	And sat him on a pin,
	And sang fu sweet the notes o love,
	Till a’ was cosh within.]
96E.14	And first he sang a low, low note,
	And syne he sang a clear,
	And aye the oerword of the sang
	Was, Your love can no win here.
96E.15	‘Feast on, feast on, my maidens a’,
	The wine flows you amang,
	While I gang to my shot-window,
	And hear yon bonny bird’s sang.
96E.16	‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
	The sang ye sung yestreen;
	For weel I ken by your sweet singing
	Ye are frae my true-love sen.’
96E.17	O first he sang a merry sang,
	And syne he sang a grave,
	And syne he peckd his feathers gray,
	To her the letter gave.
96E.18	‘Have there a letter from Lord William;
	He says he’s sent ye three;
	He canna wait your love langer,
	But for your sake he’ll die.’
96E.19	‘Gae bid him bake his bridal bread,
	And brew his bridal ale,
	And I sall meet him at Mary’s kirk,
	Lang, lang ere it be stale.’
96E.20	The lady’s gane to her chamber,
	And a moanfu woman was she,
	As gin she had taen a sudden brash,
	And were about to die.
96E.21	‘A boon, a boon, my father deir,
	A boon I beg of thee!’
	‘Ask not that paughty Scotish lord,
	For him you neer shall see.
96E.22	‘But, for your honest asking else,
	Weel granted it shall be:’
	‘Then, gin I die in southern land,
	In Scotland gar bury me.
96E.23	‘And the first kirk that ye come to,
	Ye’s gar the mass be sung,
	And the next kirk that ye come to,
	Ye’s gar the bells be rung.
96E.24	‘And when ye come to St Mary’s kirk,
	Ye’s tarry there till night:’
	And so her father pledged his word,
	And so his promise plight.
96E.25	She has taen her to her bigly bour,
	As fast as she could fare,
	And she has drank a sleepy draught,
	That she had mixed wi care.
96E.26	And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek,
	That was sae bright of blee,
	And she seemed to be as surely dead
	As any one could be.
96E.27	They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd,
	They drapt it on her chin;
	‘And ever alas,’ her mother cried,
	‘There is nae life within!’
96E.28	They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd,
	They drapt it on her breast-bane;
	‘Alas,’ her seven bauld brothers said,
	‘Our sister’s dead and gane!’
96E.29	Then up arose her seven brethren,
	And hewd to her a bier;
	They hewd it frae the solid aik,
	Laid it oer wi silver clear.
96E.30	Then up and gat her seven sisters,
	And sewed to her a kell,
	And every steek that they pat in
	Sewd to a siller bell.
96E.31	The first Scots kirk that they cam to,
	They gard the bells be rung;
	The next Scots kirk that they cam to,
	They gard the mass be sung.
96E.32	But when they cam to St Mary’s kirk,
	There stude spearmen all on raw,
	And up and started Lord William,
	The chieftane amang them a’.
96E.33	‘Set down, set down the bier,’ he said,
	‘Let me looke her upon:’
	But as soon as Lord William touched her hand,
	Her colour began to come.
96E.34	She brightened like the lily-flower,
	Till her pale colour was gone;
	With rosy cheek, and ruby lip,
	She smiled her love upon.
96E.35	‘A morsel of your bread, my lord,
	And one glass of your wine,
	For I hae fasted these three lang days,
	All for your sake and mine.
96E.36	‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers,
	Gae hame and blaw your horn;
	I trow you wad hae gien me the skaith,
	But I’ve gien you the scorn.
96E.37	‘Ah woe to you, you light woman,
	An ill death may you die!
	For we left father and mother at hame
	Breaking their hearts for thee.’


		  Child 96F: The Gay Goshawk

96F.1	* * * *
	SHE got three drops of boiling lead,
	And dropped them on her hand:
	‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
	I’d rather all my land!’
96F.2	She got three drops of boiling lead,
	And dropped them on her chin:
	‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
	There is no life within!’
96F.3	She got three drops of boiling lead,
	And dropped them on her toe:
	‘Oh and alas, my daughter dear,
	To fair Scotland you must go!’
	* * * * *
96F.4	‘Give me a cake of the new made bread,
	And a cup of the new made wine,
	For for your sake, Lord Thomas,’ she said,
	‘I fasted those days nine.’


		  Child 96G: The Gay Goshawk

96G.1	WHEN grass grew green on Lanark plains,
	And fruit and flowers did spring,
	A Scottish squire in cheerfu strains,
	Sae merrily thus did sing:
96G.2	‘O well fails me o my parrot
	That he can speak and flee;
	For he will carry love-letters
	Between my love and me.
96G.3	‘And well fails me o my parrot
	He can baith speak and gang;
	And he will carry love-letters
	To the maid in South England.’
96G.4	‘O how shall I your love find out?
	Or how shall I her know?
	When my tongue with her never spake,
	Nor my eyes her ever saw.’
96G.5	‘O what is red of her is red
	As blude drappd on the snaw;
	And what is white o her is white
	As milk, or the sea-maw.
96G.6	‘Even before that lady’s yetts
	You’ll find a bowing birk;
	And there ye’ll sit, and sing thereon,
	Till she gaes to the kirk.
96G.7	‘Then even before that lady’s yetts
	You’ll find a bowing ash;
	And ye may sit and sing thereon,
	Till she comes frae the mass.
96G.8	‘And even before that lady’s window
	You’ll find a bed o tyme;
	And ye may sit and sing thereon,
	Till she sits down to dine.
96G.9	‘Even abeen that lady’s window
	There’s fixd a siller pin;
	And a’ these words that I tell you,
	Ye’ll sit and sing therein.
96G.10	‘Ye’ll bid her send her love a letter,
	For he has sent her five;
	And he’ll never send anither ane,
	To nae woman alive.
96G.11	‘Ye’ll bid her send her love a letter,
	For he has sent her seven;
	And he’ll never send anither send,
	To nae maid under heaven.’
96G.12	This little bird then took his flight,
	Beyond the raging sea,
	And lighted at that lady’s yetts,
	On tower o gowd sae hie.
96G.13	Even before that lady’s yetts
	He found a bowing birk;
	And there he sat, and sang thereon,
	Till she went to the kirk.
96G.14	Even before that lady’s yetts
	He found a bowing ash;
	And then he sat and sang thereon,
	Till she came frae the mass.
96G.15	Even before that lady’s window
	He found a bed o tyme;
	And then he sat and sang thereon,
	Till she sat down to dine.
96G.16	Even abeen that lady’s window
	Was fixd a siller pin;
	And a’ the word that were tauld him,
	He sat and sang them in.
96G.17	‘You’re bidden send your love a letter,
	For he has sent you five;
	Or he’ll never send anither send,
	To nae woman alive.
96G.18	‘You’re bidden send your love a letter,
	For he has sent you seven;
	And he’ll never send anither send,
	To nae maid under heaven.’
96G.19	‘Sit in the hall, good ladies all,
	And drink the wine sae red,
	And I will to yon small window,
	And hear you bridie’s leed.
96G.20	‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
	The sang ye sung just now;’
	‘I’ll sing nae mair, ye lady fair,
	My errand is to you.’
96G.21	‘If ye be my true-lovie’s bird,
	Sae well’s I will you ken;
	You will gae in at my gown-sleeve,
	Come out at my gown-hem.’
96G.22	‘That I am come frae your true-love,
	You soon shall see right plain;
	And read these lines below my wing,
	That I hae brought frae him.’
96G.23	When she looked these lines upon,
	She read them, and she leuch:
	‘O well fails me, my true-love, now,
	O this I hae eneuch.
96G.24	‘Here is the broach on my breast-bane,
	The garlings frae my hair,
	Likewise the heart that is within;
	What woud my love hae mair?
96G.25	‘The nearest kirk in fair Scotland,
	Ye’ll bid him meet me there:’
	She has gane to her dear father,
	Wi heart perplexd and sair.
96G.26	When she came to her auld father,
	Fell low down on her knee:
	‘An asking, asking, father dear,
	I pray you grant it me.’
96G.27	‘Ask what you will, my dear daughter,
	And I will grant it thee;
	Unless to marry yon Scottish squire;
	That’s what shall never be.’
96G.28	‘O that’s the asking, father,’ she said,
	‘That I’ll neer ask of thee;
	But if I die in South England,
	In Scotland ye’ll bury me.’
96G.29	h5The asking’s nae sae great, daughter,
	But granted it shall be;
	And tho ye die in South England,
	In Scotland we’ll bury thee.’
96G.30	She has gane to her step-mother,
	Fell low down on her knee:
	‘An asking, asking, mother dear,
	I pray you grant it me.’
96G.31	‘Ask what ye please, my lily-white dove,
	And granted it shall be:’
	‘If I die in South England,
	In Scotland bury me.’
96G.32	‘Had these words spoke been in again,
	I woud not granted thee;
	You hae a love in fair Scotland,
	Sae fain’s you woud be tee.’
96G.33	She scarce was to her chamber gane
	Nor yet was well set down,
	Till on the sofa where she sat
	Fell a deadly swoon.
96G.34	Her father and her seven brithers,
	They made for her a bier;
	The one half o ’t was gude red gowd,
	The other siller clear.
96G.35	Her seven sisters were employed
	In making her a sark;
	The one half o ’t was cambric fine,
	The other needle-wark.
96G.36	Then out it speaks her auld step-dame,
	Sat on the sofa’s end:
	Ye’ll drap the het lead on her cheek,
	Sae do you on her chin;
	For women will use mony a wile
	Their true-loves for to win.
96G.37	Then up it raise her eldest brither,
	Into her bower he’s gane;
	Then in it came her youngest brither,
	The het leed to drap on.
96G.38	He drapt it by her cheek, her cheek,
	Sae did he by her chin;
	Sae did he by her comely hause;
	He knew life was therein.
96G.39	The bier was made wi red gowd laid,
	Sae curious round about;
	A private entrance there contriv’d,
	That her breath might win out.
96G.40	The first an kirk in fair Scotland,
	They gard the bells be rung;
	The niest an kirk in fair Scotland,
	They causd the mass be sung.
96G.41	The third an kirk in fair Scotland,
	They passd it quietly by;
	The fourth an kirk in fair Scotland,
	Clerk Sandy did them spy.
96G.42	‘O down ye’ll set this corpse o clay,
	Lat me look on the dead;
	For I may sigh, and say, alas!
	For death has nae remeid.’
96G.43	Then he has cut her winding sheet
	A little below her chin,
	And wi her sweet ruby lips
	She sweetly smil’d on him.
96G.44	‘Gie me a sheave o your white bread,
	A bottle o your wine;
	For I hae fasted for your sake
	Fully these lang days nine.
96G.45	‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,
	Gae hame and blaw your trumpet;
	And ye mat tell to your step-dame
	This day she is affronted.
96G.46	‘I camna here to fair Scotland
	To lye amo the dead;
	But came to be Clerk Sandy’s wife,
	And lay gowd on my head.
96G.47	‘Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,
	Gae hame and blaw your horn;
	And ye may tell in fair England
	In Scotland ye got the scorn.
96G.48	‘I came not here to fair Scotland
	To mix amang the clay;
	But came to be Clerk Sandy’s wife,
	And wear gowd to my tae.’
96G.49	‘Sin ye hae gien us this ae scorn,
	We shall gie you anither;
	Ye sall hae naething to live upon
	But the bier that brought you hither.’


		  Child 96[H]: The Gay Goshawk

96[H].1	Lord William was walkin i the garden green,
	Viewin the roses red,
	An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,
	Was fleein aboon his head.
96[H.2]	‘O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,
	As ye hae wings to flee,
	Then ye wad carry a luve-letter
	Atween my love an me.’
96[H.3]	‘But how can I your true-love ken?
	Or how can I her know?
	Or how can I your true-love ken,
	The face I never saw?’
96[H.4]	‘Ye may esily my love ken
	Amang them ye never saw;
	The red that’s on o my love’s cheek
	Is like bluid drapt on the snaw.’
	* * * * * * *
96[H.5]	‘O what will be my meat, master?
	An what’ll be my fee?
	An what will be the love-tokens
	That ye will send wi me?’
96[H.6]	‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,
	A kiss, aye, will I three;
	If ever she come [to] fair Scotland,
	My wedded wife she’s be.
96[H.7]	‘Ye may tell my love I’ll send her a kiss,
	A kiss, aye, will I twae;
	An ever she come to fair Scotland,
	I the red gold she sall gae.’
	* * * * * * *
96[H.8]	The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,
	An south aneath the sun,
	Untill it cam, etc.
96[H.9]	‘Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,
	An sew your silken seam,
	Till I gae to my bower-window
	An hear yon Scottish bird sing.’
96[H.10]	Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,
	An’ far aboon the wa;
	She drapit to that ladie’s side,
	An loot the letter fa.
96[H.11]	‘What news, what news, my bonnie burd?
	An what word carry ye?
	An what are a’ the love-tokens
	My love has sent to me?’
96[H.12]	‘O ye may send your love a kiss,
	For he has sent ye three;
	Ye hae the heart within his buik,
	What mair can he send thee?’
96[H.13]	‘O I will send my love a kiss,
	A kiss, I, will I three;
	If I can win to fair Scotland,
	His wedded wife I’ll be.
96[H.14]	‘O I will send my love a kiss,
	An the caim out o my hair;
	He has the hart that’s in my buik,
	What can I send him mair?
96[H.15]	‘An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,
	An tell my love frae me,
	If [I] be na there gin Martinmas,
	Gin Yool I there will be.’
	* * * * * * *
96[H.16]	’Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,
	An ill deed may she die!
	‘Yer daughter Janet’s taen her bed,
	An she’ll do nought but die.’
96[H.17]	‘An askin, an askin, dear father,
	An askin I crave o thee;
	If I should die just at this time,
	In Scotland burry me.’
96[H.18]	‘There’s room eneugh in wide England
	To burry thee an me;
	But sould ye die, my dear daughter,
	I Scotland I’ll burry thee.’
96[H.19]	She’s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,
	She’s warnd them ane an a’,
	To mak a kist wi three windows,
	The cauler air to blaw.
96[H.20]	‘O will ye gae, my six sisters,
	An sew to me a sheet,
	The tae half o the silk sae fine,
	The tother o cambric white.’
96[H.21]	Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.
96[H.22]	Then said her cruel step-minnie,
	Take ye the boilin lead
	An some o ’t drap on her bosom;
	We’ll see gif she be dead.
96[H.23]	Then boilin lead than they hae taen
	An drappit on her breast;
	‘Alas! alas!’ than her father he cried,
	‘For she’s dead without the priest!’
96[H.24]	She neither chatterd in her teeth
	Nor shivert wi her chin;
	‘Alas! alas!’ her father cried,
	‘For there nae life within!’
	* * * * * * *
96[H.25]	‘It’s nine lang days, an nine lang nights,
	She’s wantit meat for me;
	But for nine days, nine langer nights,
	Her face ye salna see.’
96[H.26]	He’s taen the coffin wi his fit,
	Gar it in flinders flie, etc.
96[H.27]	‘Fetch me,’ she said, a+e cake o yer bread
	An a wi drap o your wine,
	For luve o you an for your sake
	I’ve fastit lang nights nine.’
96[H.28]	’Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,
	A grey-haird knight was he;
	‘Now ye hae left yer auld father,
	For you he’s like to die.
96[H.29]	‘An ye hae left yer sax sisters
	Lamentin a’ for you;
	I wiss that this, my dear ladie,
	Ye near may hae to rue.’
96[H.30]	‘Commend me to my auld father,
	If eer ye come him niest;
	But nought say to my ill step-minnie,
	Gard burn me on the breist.
96[H.31]	‘Commend me to my six sisters,
	If ye gang bak again;
	But nought say to my ill step-minnie,
	Gard burn me on the chin.
96[H.32]	‘Commend me to my brethren bald,
	An ever ye them see;
	If ever they come to fair Scotland
	They’s fare nae war than me.
96[H.33]	‘For I cam na to fair Scotland
	To lie amang the dead,
	But I cam down to fair Scotland
	To wear goud on my head.
96[H.34]	‘Nor did I come to fair Scotland
	To rot amang the clay,
	But I cam to fair Scotland
	To wear goud ilka day.’



			Child 97A: Brown Robin

97A.1	THE king but an his nobles a’
	Sat birling at the wine;
	He would ha nane but his ae daughter
	To wait on them at dine.
97A.2	She’s servd them butt, she’s servd them ben,
	Intill a gown of green,
	But her ee was ay on Brown Robin,
	That stood low under the rain.
97A.3	She’s doen her to her bigly bowr,
	As fast as she coud gang,
	An there she’s drawn her shot-window,
	An she’s harped an she sang.
97A.4	‘There sits a bird i my father’s garden,
	An O but she sings sweet!
	I hope to live an see the day
	Whan wi my love I’ll meet.’
97A.5	‘O gin that ye like me as well
	As your tongue tells to me,
	What hour o the night, my lady bright,
	At your bowr sal I be?’
97A.6	‘Whan my father an gay Gilbert
	Are baith set at the wine,
	O ready, ready I will be
	To lat my true-love in.’
97A.7	O she has birld her father’s porter
	Wi strong beer an wi wine,
	Until he was as beastly drunk
	As ony wild-wood swine:
	She’s stown the keys o her father’s yates
	An latten her true-love in.
97A.8	Whan night was gane, an day was come,
	An the sun shone on their feet,
	Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
	I’ll be discoverd yet.
97A.9	Then out it spake that gay lady:
	My love, ye need na doubt;
	For wi ae wile I’ve got you in,
	Wi anither I’ll bring you out.
97A.10	She’s taen her to her father’s cellar,
	As fast as she can fare;
	She’s drawn a cup o the gude red wine,
	Hung ’t low down by her gare;
	An she met wi her father dear
	Just coming down the stair.
97A.11	‘I woud na gi that cup, daughter,
	That ye hold i your han
	For a’ the wines in my cellar,
	An gantrees whare the stan.’
97A.12	‘O wae be to your wine, father,
	That ever’t came oer the sea;
	’T’ is pitten my head in sick a steer
	I my bowr I canna be.’
97A.13	‘Gang out, gang out, my daughter dear,
	Gang out an tack the air;
	Gang out an walk i the good green wood,
	An a’ your marys fair.’
97A.14	Then out it spake the proud porter-+-
	Our lady wishd him shame-+-
	‘We’ll send the marys to the wood,
	But we’ll keep our lady at hame.’
97A.15	‘There’s thirty marys i my bowr,
	There’s thirty o them an three;
	But there’s nae ane amo them a’
	Kens what flowr gain for me.’
97A.16	She’s doen her to her bigly bowr,
	As fast as she could gang,
	An she has dresst him Brown Robin
	Like ony bowr-woman.
97A.17	The gown she pat upon her love
	Was o the dainty green,
	His hose was o the saft, saft silk,
	His shoon o the cordwain fine.
97A.18	She’s pitten his bow in her bosom,
	His arrow in her sleeve,
	His sturdy bran her body next,
	Because he was her love.
97A.19	Then she is unto her bowr-door,
	As fast as she coud gang;
	But out it spake the proud porter-+-
	Our lady wishd him shame-+-
	‘We’ll cout our marys to the wood,
	An we’ll cout them back again.’
97A.20	The firsten mary she sent out
	Was Brown Robin by name;
	Then out it spake the king himsel,
	‘This is a sturdy dame.’
97A.21	O she went out in a May morning,
	In a May morning so gay,
	But she came never back again,
	Her auld father to see.


			Child 97B: Brown Robin

97B.1	A FEATHERD fowl’s in your orchard, father,
	O dear, but it sings sweet!
	What would I give, my father dear,
	That bonnie bird to meet!’
	What would I give, etc.
97B.2	‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
	Let a’ your folly be;
	There’s six Scots lords tomorrow, child,
	That will a’ dine wi me,
	And ye maun serve tham a’, Mary,
	As ’twere for meat and fee.’
97B.3	She served them up, sae has she down,
	The footmen a’ the same,
	But her mind was aye on Love Robbie,
	Stood out below the rain.
97B.4	A hundred pun o pennies roun,
	Tied in a towel so sma,
	She has gien to him Love Robbie,
	Out oer the castle-wa;
	Says, Tak ye that, my love Robbie
	And mysel ye may hae.
97B.5	A hundred pun o pennies roun,
	Tied in a napkin white,
	She has gien to him Love Robbie,
	Out oer the garden-dyke;
	Says, Tak ye that, my Love Robbie,
	And mysel gin ye like.
97B.6	‘If this be true ye tell to me,
	As your tongue woudna lee,
	I shall be in your bigly bower
	Before the clock strike three;
	I shall be in your bigly bower,
	Dressd like a gay ladye.’
97B.7	When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	And all men bound for bed,
	Love Robbie came to Mary’s bower,
	Dressd like a comely maid.
97B.8	They had not kissd nor love clapp d,
	As lovers when they meet,
	Till sighing said he Love Robbie,
	My life, my life I doubt.
97B.9	‘Your life, your life, you Love Robbie,
	Your life you needna doubt;
	For it was wiles brought in Robbie,
	And wiles will lat him out.’
97B.10	Then in it came her father dear,
	And stood upon the floor,
	And she filld the cup of good red wine,
	Said, Father, will ye drink more?
97B.11	‘O better I love the cup, Mary,
	The cup that’s in your hand,
	Than all my barrels full of wine,
	On the gantrees where they stand.’
97B.12	‘O woe be to your wine, father,
	It eer came oer the sea!
	If I getna the air o good greenwood
	O I will surely dee.’
97B.13	‘There’s seven maries in your bower,
	There’s seven o them and three,
	And I’ll send them to good greenwood,
	For flowers to shortsome thee.’
97B.14	‘There’s seven maries in my bower,
	There’s seven o them and three,
	But there’s nae a mary mang them a’
	Can pu flowers to shortsome me:’
	‘Then by my sooth,’ said her father dear,
	‘Let yoursel gang them wi.’
97B.15	She dressd hersel in the royal red,
	Love Robbie was in dainty green;
	Love Robbie’s brand was about his middle,
	And he shone like ony queen.
97B.16	The firsten ane that took the floor,
	Love Robbie was that ane:
	‘Now by my sooth,’ said the proud porter,
	‘She is a sonsie dame;
	I would not care now very much
	To turn her in again.’
97B.17	‘I’d fain see any woman or man,
	Of high or low degree,
	Would turn a mary in again
	That once came out with me.’
97B.18	They had not been in good greenwood,
	Pu’d a flower but only three,
	Till the porter stood behind a bush,
	And shot him Love Robbie.
97B.19	Now word has come to her father dear,
	In the chamber where he lay,
	Lady Mary’s sick in good greenwood,
	And cannot come away.
97B.20	He’s taen his mantle him about,
	His cane into his han,
	And he is on to good greenwood,
	As fast as he could gang.
97B.21	‘O want you fish out o the fleed,
	Or whale out o the sea?
	Or is there any one alive
	This day has angerd thee?’
97B.22	‘I want not fish out o the fleed,
	Nor whale out o the sea;
	But woe be to your proud porter,
	Sae sair’s he’s angerd me!
	He’s shot the fairest flower this day,
	That would hae comfort me.’
97B.23	‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
	Let a’ your folly be;
	Tomorrow ere I eat or drink
	High hang d shall he be.’


			Child 97C: Brown Robin

97C.1	‘THERE is a bird in my father’s orchard,
	And dear, but it sings sweet!
	I hope to live to see the day
	This bird and I will meet.’
97C.2	‘O hold your tongue, my daughter Mally,
	Let a’ your folly be;
	What bird is that in my orchard
	Sae shortsome is to thee?
97C.3	‘There are four-an-twenty noble lords
	The morn shoud dine wi me;
	And ye maun serve them a’, Mally,
	Like one for meat and fee.’
97C.4	She servd the nobles all as one,
	The horsemen much the same;
	But her mind was aye to Brown Robyn,
	Beneath the heavy rain.
97C.5	Then she’s rowd up a thousand pounds
	Intil a servit white,
	And she gae that to Brown Robyn,
	Out ower the garden-dyke:
	Says, Take ye that, my love Robyn,
	And mysell gin ye like.
97C.6	‘If this be true, my dame,’ he said,
	‘That ye hae tauld to me,
	About the hour o twall at night,
	At your bower-door I’ll be.’
97C.7	But ere the hour o twall did chap,
	And lang ere it was ten,
	She had hersell there right and ready
	To lat Brown Robyn in.
97C.8	They hadna kissd nor love clapped
	Till the birds sang on the ha;
	‘O,’ sighing says him Brown Robyn,
	‘I wish I were awa!’
97C.9	They hadna sitten muckle langer
	Till the guards shot ower the way;
	Then sighing says him Brown Robyn,
	‘I fear my life this day.’
97C.10	‘O had your tongue, my love Robyn,
	Of this take ye nae doubt;
	It was by wiles I brought you in,
	By wiles I’ll bring you out.’
97C.11	Then she’s taen up a cup o wine,
	To her father went she;
	‘O drink the wine, father,’ she said,
	‘O drink the wine wi me.’
97C.12	‘O well love I the cup, daughter,
	But better love I the wine;
	And better love I your fair body
	Than a’ the gowd in Spain.’
97C.13	‘Wae be to the wine, father,
	That last came ower the sea;
	Without the air o gude greenwood,
	There’s nae remeid for me.’
97C.14	‘Ye’ve thirty maries in your bower,
	Ye’ve thirty and hae three;
	Send ane o them to pu a flower,
	Stay ye at hame wi me.’
97C.15	‘I’ve thirty maries in my bower,
	I’ve thirty o them and nine;
	But there’s nae a marie amo them a’
	That kens my grief and mind.
97C.16	‘For they may pu the nut, the nut,
	And sae may they the slae,
	But there’s nane amo them a’ that kens
	The herb that I woud hae.’
97C.17	‘Well, gin ye gang to gude greenwood,
	Come shortly back again;
	Ye are sae fair and are sae rare,
	Your body may get harm.’
97C.18	She dressd hersell into the red,
	Brown Robyn all in green,
	And put his brand across his middle,
	He was a stately dame.
97C.19	The first ane stepped ower the yett,
	It was him Brown Robyn;
	‘By my sooth,’ said the proud porter,
	‘This is a stately dame.
97C.20	‘O wi your leave, lady,’ he said,
	‘And leave o a’ your kin,
	I woudna think it a great sin
	To turn that marie in.’
97C.21	‘O had your tongue, ye proud porter,
	Let a’ your folly be;
	Ye darena turn a marie in
	That ance came forth wi me.’
97C.22	‘Well shall I call your maries out,
	And as well shall I in;
	For I am safe to gie my oath
	That marie is a man.’
97C.23	Soon she went to gude greenwood,
	And soon came back again;
	‘Gude sooth,’ replied the proud porter,
	‘We’ve lost our stately dame.’
97C.24	‘My maid’s faen sick in gude greenwood,
	And sick and liken to die;
	The morn before the cocks do craw,
	That marie I maun see.’
97C.25	Out it spake her father then,
	Says, Porter, let me know
	If I will cause her stay at hame,
	Or shall I let her go?
97C.26	‘She says her maid’s sick in the wood,
	And sick and like to die;
	I really think she is too gude
	Nor ever woud make a lie.’
97C.27	Then he whispered in her ear,
	As she was passing by,
	‘What will ye say if I reveal
	What I saw wi my eye?’
97C.28	‘If ought ye ken about the same,
	O heal that well on me,
	And if I live or brook my life,
	Rewarded ye shall be.’
97C.29	Then she got leave o her father
	To gude greenwood again,
	And she is gane wi Brown Robyn,
	But ’twas lang ere she came hame.
97C.30	O then her father began to mourn,
	And thus lamented he:
	‘O I woud gie ten thousand pounds
	My daughter for to see.’
97C.31	‘If ye will promise,’ the porter said,
	‘To do nae injury,
	I will find out your daughter dear,
	And them that’s gane her wi.’
97C.32	Then he did swear a solemn oath,
	By a’ his gowd and land,
	Nae injury to them’s be dune,
	Whether it be maid or man.
97C.33	The porter then a letter wrote,
	And seald it wi his hand,
	And sent it to that lady fair,
	For to return hame.
97C.34	When she came to her father’s ha,
	He received her joyfullie,
	And married her to Brown Robyn;
	Now a happy man was he.
97C.35	She hadna been in her father’s ha
	A day but barely three,
	Till she settled the porter well for life,
	Wi gowd and white monie.



			Child 98A: Brown Adam

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


			Child 98B: Brown Adam

98B.1	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	For wha ere had a lealer luve
	Than Broun Edom the smith?
98B.2	His studie was o the beaten gowd,
	His hammer o the pith;
	His cords waur o the gude green silk,
	That blew his bellows with.
98B.3	It fell out ance upon a time
	Broun Edom he thoucht lang,
	That he wald gae to see his luve,
	By the le licht o the mune.


			Child 98C: Brown Adam

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



		  Child 99A: Johnie Scott

99A.1	O JOHNEY was as brave a knight
	As ever saild the sea,
	An he’s done him to the English court,
	To serve for meat and fee.
99A.2	He had nae been in fair England
	But yet a little while,
	Untill the kingis ae daughter
	To johney proves wi chil.
99A.3	O word’s come to the king himsel,
	In his chair where he sat,
	That his ae daughter was wi bairn
	To Jack, the Little Scott.
99A.4	‘Gin this be true that I do hear,
	As I trust well it be,
	Ye pit her into prison strong,
	An starve her till she die.’
99A.5	O Johney’s on to fair Scotland,
	A wot he went wi speed,
	An he has left the kingis court,
	A wot good was his need.
99A.6	O it fell once upon a day
	That Johney he thought lang,
	An he’s gane to the good green wood,
	As fast as he coud gang.
99A.7	‘O whare will I get a bonny boy,
	To rin my errand soon,
	That will rin into fair England,
	An haste him back again?’
99A.8	O up it starts a bonny boy,
	Gold yallow was his hair,
	I wish his mither meickle joy,
	His bonny love mieckle mair.
99A.9	‘O here am I, a bonny boy,
	Will rin your errand soon;
	I will gang into fair England,
	An come right soon again.’
99A.10	O whan he came to broken briggs,
	He bent his bow and swam;
	An whan he came to the green grass growan,
	He slaikid his shoone an ran.
99A.11	Whan he came to yon high castzel,
	He ran it roun about,
	An there he saw the king’s daughter,
	At the window looking out.
99A.12	‘O here’s a sark o silk, lady,
	Your ain han sewd the sleeve;
	You’r bidden come to fair Scotlan,
	Speer nane o your parents leave.
99A.13	‘Ha, take this sark o silk, lady,
	Your ain han swed the gare;
	You’re bidden come to good green wood,
	Love Johney waits you there.’
99A.14	She’s turnd her right and roun about,
	The tear was in her ee:
	‘How can I come to my true-love,
	Except I had wings to flee?
99A.15	‘Here am I kept wi bars and bolts,
	Most grievous to behold;
	My breast-plate’s o the sturdy steel,
	Instead of the beaten gold.
99A.16	‘But tak this purse, my bonny boy,
	Ye well deserve a fee,
	An bear this letter to my love,
	An tell him what you see.’
99A.17	Then quickly ran the bonny boy
	Again to Scotlan fair,
	An soon he reachd Pitnachton’s towrs,
	An soon found Johney there.
99A.18	He pat the letter in his han
	An taul him what he sa,
	But eer he half the letter read,
	He loote the tears doun fa.
99A.19	‘O I will gae back to fair Englan,
	Tho death shoud me betide,
	An I will relieve the damesel
	That lay last by my side.’
99A.20	Then out it spake his father dear,
	My son, you are to blame;
	An gin you’r catchd on English groun,
	I fear you’ll neer win hame.
99A.21	Then out it spake a valiant knight,
	Johny’s best friend was he;
	I can commaun five hunder men,
	An I’ll his surety be.
99A.22	The firstin town that they came till,
	They gard the bells be rung;
	An the nextin town that they came till,
	They gard the mess be sung.
99A.23	The thirdin town that they came till,
	They gard the drums beat roun;
	The king but an his nobles a’,
	Was startld at the soun.
99A.24	Whan they came to the king’s palace
	They rade it roun about,
	An there they saw the king himsel,
	At the window looking out.
99A.25	‘Is this the Duke o Albany,
	Or James, the Scottish king?
	Or are ye some great foreign lord,
	That’s come a visiting?’
99A.26	‘I’m nae the Duke of Albany,
	Nor James, the Scottish king;
	But I’m a valiant Scottish knight,
	Pitnachton is my name.’
99A.27	‘O if Pitnachton be your name,
	As I trust well it be,
	The morn, or I tast meat or drink,
	You shall be hanged hi.’
99A.28	Then out it spake the valiant knight
	That came brave Johney wi;
	Behold five hunder bowmen bold,
	Will die to set him free.
99A.29	Then out it spake the king again,
	An a scornfu laugh laugh he;
	I have an Italian i my house
	Will fight you three by three.
99A.30	‘O grant me a boon,’ brave Johney cried;
	‘Bring your Italian here;
	Then if he fall beneath my sword,
	I’ve won your daughter dear.’
99A.31	Then out it came that Italian,
	An a gurious ghost was he;
	Upo the point o Johney’s sword
	This Italian did die.
99A.32	Out has he drawn his lang, lang bran,
	Struck it across the plain:
	‘Is there any more o your English dogs
	That you want to be slain?’
99A.33	‘A clark, a clark,’ the king then cried,
	‘To write her tocher free;’
	‘A priest, a priest,’ says Love Johney,

	‘To marry my love and me.
99A.34	‘I’m seeking nane o your gold,’ he says,
	‘Nor of your silver clear;
	I only seek your daughter fair,
	Whose love has cost her dear.’


		  Child 99B: Johnie Scott

99B.1	JOHNNY\R’\rS into England gane,
	Three quarters of a year;
	Johnny’s into England gane,
	The king’s banner to bear.
99B.2	He had na been in England lang,
	But and a little while,
	Untill the king’s daughter
	To Johnny gaes wi child.
99B.3	Word is to the kitchin gane,
	And word is to the ha,
	And word is to the king’s palace,
	Amang the nobles a’.
99B.4	Word’s gane to the king’s palace,
	The palace where she sat,
	That his ae daughter gaes wi child
	To Jock, the Little Scot.
99B.5	‘If she be wi child,’ he says,
	‘As I trow well she be,
	I’ll put her into strang prison,
	And hang her till she die.’
99B.6	But up and spak young Johnny,
	And O he spake in time:
	Is there never a bony boy here
	Will rin my errand soon?
99B.7	That will gae to yon castle,
	And look it round about?
	And there he’ll see a fair lady,
	The window looking out.
99B.8	Up then spak a bony boy,
	And a bony boy was he:
	I’ll run thy errand, Johnny, he said,
	Untill the day I die.
99B.9	‘Put on your gown o silk, madam,
	And on your hand a glove,
	And gang into the good green-wood,
	To Johnny, your true-love.’
99B.10	‘The fetters they are on my feet,
	And O but they are cauld!
	My bracelets they are sturdy steel,
	Instead of beaten gold.
99B.11	‘But I will write a lang letter,
	And seal it tenderlie,
	And I will send to my true-love,
	Before that I do die.’
99B.12	The first look that Johnny lookd,
	A loud laughter gae he;
	But the next look that Johnny gae,
	The tear blinded his ee.
99B.13	He says, I’ll into England gae,
	Whatever may betide,
	And a’ to seek a fair woman
	That sud hae been my bride.
99B.14	But up and speaks his father,
	And O he spak in time:
	If that ye into England gae,
	I’m feerd ye neer come hame.
99B.15	But up then speaks our gude Scotch king,
	And a brisk young man was he:
	He’s hae five hunder o my life-guard,
	To bear him companie.
99B.16	When Johnny was on saddle set,
	And seemly for to see,
	There was not a married man
	Into his companie.
99B.17	When Johnny sat on saddle-seat,
	And seemly to behold,
	The hair that hang on Johnny’s head
	Was like the threads o gold.
99B.18	When he cam to . . .
	He gard the bells a’ ring,
	Untill the king and a’ his court
	Did marvel at the thing.
99B.19	‘Is this the brave Argyle,’ he said,
	‘That’s landed and come hame?
	Is this the brave Argyle,’ he said,
	‘Or James, our Scottish king?’
99B.20	‘It’s no the brave Argyle,’ they said,
	‘That’s landed and come hame;
	But it is a brave young Scottish knight,
	McNaughtan is his name.’
99B.21	‘If McNaughtan be his name,’ he says,
	‘As I trow weel it be,
	The fairest lady in a’ my court
	Gangs wi child to thee.’
99B.22	‘If that she be wi child,’ he says,
	‘As I wat weel she be,
	I’ll mak it lord o a’ my land,
	And her my gay lady.’
99B.23	‘I have a champion in my court
	Will fight you a’ by three;’
	But up then speaks a brisk young man,
	And a brisk young man was he:
	I will fight to my life’s end,
	Before poor Johnny die.
99B.24	The king but and his nobles a’
	Went out into the plain,
	The queen but and her maidens a’,
	To see young Johnny slain.
99B.25	The first wound that Johnny gae the champion
	Was a deep wound and sair;
	The next wound that he gae the champion,
	He never spak mair.
99B.26	‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnny cries,
	‘To wed me and my love;’
	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried,
	‘To sign her tocher gude.’
99B.27	‘I’ll hae nane o your goud,’ he says,
	‘I’ll hae nane o your gear,
	But a’ I want is my true-love,
	For I hae bought her dear.’
99B.28	He took out a little goat-horn,
	And blew baith loud and shill;
	The victry’s into Scotland gane,
	Tho sair against their will.


		  Child 99C: Johnie Scott

99C.1	O JOHNIE\R’\rS to the hunting gone,
	Unto the woods sae wild,
	And Earl Percy’s old daughter
	To Johnie goes with child.
99C.2	O word is to the kitchen gone,
	And word is to the ha,
	And word is to the highest towers,
	Amang the nobles a’.
99C.3	‘If she be with child,’ her father said,
	‘As woe forbid it be,
	I’ll put her into a prison strong,
	And try the veritie.’
99C.4	‘But if she be with child,’ her mother said,
	‘As woe forbid it be,
	I’ll put her intil a dungeon dark,
	And hunger her till she die.’
99C.5	Then she has wrote a braid letter,
	And sealed it wi her hand,
	And sent T to the merry green wood,
	Wi her own boy at command.
99C.6	The first line of the letter he read,
	His heart was full of joy;
	But he had not read a line past two
	Till the salt tears blind his eye.
99C.7	‘O I must up to England go,
	What ever me betide,
	For to relieve that fair ladie
	That lay last by my side.’
99C.8	Out and spak his father then,
	And he spak all in time:
	Johnie, if ye to England go,
	I fear ye’ll neer return.
99C.9	But out and spak his uncle then,
	And he spak bitterlie:
	Five hundred of my good life-guards
	Shall go along with thee.
99C.10	When they were mounted on their steeds,
	They were comely to behold;
	The hair that hung owre Johnie’s shoulders
	Was like the yellow gold.
99C.11	The first town that they came to,
	They made the bells to ring;
	And when they rode the town all owre,
	They made the trumpets sound.
99C.12	When they came to Earl Percy’s gates,
	They rode them round about,
	And who saw he but his own true-love,
	At a window looking out!
99C.13	‘The doors they are bolted with iron and steel,
	The windows round about;
	My feet they are in fetters strong;
	And how can I get out?
99C.14	‘My garters they are of the lead,
	And oh but they be cold!
	My breast-plate’s of the beaten steel,
	Instead of beaten gold.’
99C.15	But when they came to Earl Percy’s yett,
	They tirled at the pin;
	None was so ready as Earl Percy
	To open and let them in.
99C.16	‘Art thou the King of Aulsberry,
	Or art thou the King of Spain?
	Or art thou one of our gay Scots lords,
	McNachtan by thy name?’
99C.17	‘I’m not the King of Aulsberry,
	Nor yet the King of Spain;
	But I am one of our gay Scots lords,
	Johnie Scot I am called by name.’
99C.18	‘If Johnnie Scot be thy name,’ he said,
	‘As I trow weel it be,
	The fairest lady in a’ our court
	Gaes big with child to thee.’
99C.19	‘If she be with child,’ fair Johnie said,
	‘As I trow weel she be,
	I’ll make it heir owre a’ my land,
	And her my gay ladie.’
99C.20	‘But if she be with child,’ her father said,
	‘As I trow weel she be,
	Tomorrow morn again eight o clock
	High hanged thou shalt be.’
99C.21	But out and spak his uncle then,
	And he spak bitterlie:
	Before that we see Johnie Scot slain,
	We’ll a’ fight till we die.
99C.22	‘But is there ever a Tailliant about your court,
	That will fight duels three?
	Before that I be hanged or slain,
	On the Tailliant’s sword I’ll die.’
99C.23	But some is to the good green wood,
	And some is to the plain,
	Either to see fair Johnie hanged,
	Or else to see him slain.
99C.24	And they began at eight o clock of the morning,
	And they fought on till three,
	Till the Tailliant, like a swallow swift,
	Owre Johnie’s head did flee.
99C.25	But Johnie being a clever young boy,
	He wheeled him round about,
	And on the point of Johnie’s broad sword
	The Tailliant he slew out.
99C.26	‘A priest, a priest,’ fair Johnie cried,
	‘To wed my love and me;’
	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried,
	‘To sum the tocher free.’
99C.27	‘I’ll have non of your gold,’ fair Johnie said,
	‘Nor none of your white monie;
	But I will have my own fair bride,
	For I vow that I’ve bought her dear.’
99C.28	He’s taen his true-love by the hand,
	He led her up the plain:
	‘Have you any more of your English dogs
	You want for to have slain?’
99C.29	He took a little horn out of his pocket,
	He blew it baith loud and shill,
	And honour’s into Scotland gone,
	In spite of England’s skill.


		  Child 99D: Johnie Scott

99D.1	O JOHNNIE Scot walks up and down
	Among the woods sae wild;
	Who but the Earl of Percy’s ae daughter
	To him goes big with child!
99D.2	O word is to the kitchen gone,
	And word’s gone to the hall,
	And word is to King Henry gane,
	And amongst his nobles all.
99D.3	O Johnnie’s called his waiting-man,
	His name was Germanie:
	‘O thou must to fair England go,
	Bring me that fair ladie.’
99D.4	He rode till he came to Earl Percy’s gate,
	He tirled at the pin;
	‘O who is there?’ said the proud porter,
	‘But I daurna let thee in.’
99D.5	So he rade up, and he rode down,
	Till he rode it round about;
	Then he saw her at a wee window,
	Where she was looking out.
99D.6	‘O thou must go to Johnnie Scot,
	Unto the woods so green,
	In token of thy silken shirt,
	Thine own hand sewed the seam.’
99D.7	‘How can I go to Johnnie Scot?
	Or how can I get out?
	My breast plate’s o the hard, hard iron,
	With fetters round about.
99D.8	‘But I will write a lang letter,
	And give it unto thee,
	And thou must take that to Johnnie Scot,
	See what answer he sends to me.’
99D.9	When Johnnie looked the letter upon
	A sorry man was he;
	He had not read one line but two
	Till the saut tear did blind his ee.
99D.10	‘O I must to fair England go,
	Whatever me betide,
	All for to fight for that gay ladie
	That last lay by my side.’
99D.11	O out and spoke his father then,
	And he spoke well in time:
	O if you to fair England go,
	I doubt your coming home.
99D.12	‘O no, O no,’ said good King James,
	‘Before such a thing shall be,
	I’ll send five hundred of my life-guards,
	To bear Johnnie company.’
99D.13	When they were all on saddle set,
	Most pleasant to behold,
	The hair that hung over Johnnie’s neck
	Was like the links of gold.
99D.14	When they were all marching away,
	Most beautiful to see,
	There was not so much as a married man
	In Johnnie’s company.
99D.15	O Johnnie was the foremost man
	In the company that did ride;
	King James he was the second man,
	Wi his rapier by his side.
99D.16	They rode till they came to Earl Percy’s yate,
	They tirled at the pin:
	‘O who is there?’ said the proud porter;
	‘But I daurnot let thee in.
99D.17	‘Is it the Duke of York,’ he said,
	‘Or James, our Scotish king?
	Or is it one of the Scotish lords,
	From hunting new come home?’
99D.18	‘It’s not the Duke of York,’ he said,
	‘Nor James, our Scotish king;
	But it is one of the Scotish lords,
	Earl Hector is my name.’
99D.19	When Johnnie came before the king,
	He fell low down on his knee:
	‘O the brawest lady in a’ my court
	With child goes big to thee.’
99D.20	‘O if she be with child,’ Johnnie said,
	‘As I trew well she be,
	I will make it heir of all my land,
	And her my gay ladie.’
99D.21	‘But if she be with child,’ said the king,
	‘As I trew well she be,
	Before the morn at ten o clock
	High hanged thou shalt be.’
99D.22	‘O no, O no,’ said good King James,
	‘Before such a thing shall be,
	Before that Johnnie Scot be hanged,
	We’ll a’ fight till we die.’
99D.23	‘But there is a Talliant in my court,
	Of men he will fight five;
	Go bring them out to the green wood,
	See wha will gain the prize.’
99D.24	Lords and ladies flocked all,
	They flocked all amain,
	They flocked all to the green wood,
	To see poor Johnnie slain.
99D.25	This Talliant he could find no way
	To be poor Johnnie’s dead,
	But, like unto a swallow swift,
	He jumped oer Johnnie’s head.
99D.26	But Johnnie was a clever man,
	Cunning and crafty withal,
	And up on the top of his braid sword
	He made this Talliant fall.
99D.27	‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnnie cried,
	‘To marry my love and me;’
	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried,
	‘To sum the tocher free.’
99D.28	‘I’ll take none of your gold,’ Johnnie said,
	‘Nor none of your other gear,
	But I’ll just have my own true-love,
	This day I’ve won her dear.’


		  Child 99E: Johnie Scott

99E.1	MCNAUCHTON\R’\rS unto England gane,
	The king’s banner to bear:
	‘O do you see yon castle, boy?
	It’s walled round about;
	There you will spy a fair ladye,
	In the window looking out.’
99E.2	‘Here is a silken sark, fair lady,
	Thine own hand sewed the sleeve,
	And thou must go to yon green wood,
	To Johnnie thy true-love.’
99E.3	‘The castle it is high, my boy,
	And walled round about;
	My feet are in the fetters strong,
	And how can I get out?
99E.4	‘My garters o the gude black iron,
	And they are very cold;
	My breast plate’s of the sturdy steel,
	Instead of beaten gold.
99E.5	‘But had I paper, pen and ink,
	And candle at my command,
	It’s I would write a lang letter
	To John in fair Scotland.’
99E.6	The first line that Johnnie looked on,
	A loud, loud lauch leuch he;
	The second line that Johnnie looked on,
	The tear did blind his ee.
99E.7	Says, I must unto England go,
	Whatever me betide,
	For to relieve my own fair lady,
	That lay last by my side.
99E.8	Then up and spoke Johnnie’s auld mither,
	A well spoke woman was she:
	If you do go to England, Johnnie,
	I may take farewell o thee.
99E.9	Then up and spoke Johnnie’s old father,
	A well spoke man was he:
	It’s twenty-four of my gay troop
	Shall go along with thee.
99E.10	When Johnie was on saddle set,
	Right comely to be seen,
	There was not so much as a married man
	In Johnie’s companie;
	There was not so much as a married man,
	Not a one only but ane.
99E.11	The first gude toun that Johnie came to,
	He made the bells be rung;
	The next gude toun that Johnie came to,
	He made the psalms be sung.
99E.12	The next gude toun that Johnie came to,
	He made the drums beat round,
	Till the king and all his merry men
	A-marvelled at the sound.
99E.13	‘Are you the Duke of Mulberry,
	Or James, our Scotish king?
	Are you the Duke of Mulberry,
	From Scotland new come home?’
99E.14	‘I’m not the Duke of Mulberry,
	Nor James, our Scotish king;
	But I am a true Scotishman,
	McNaughtoun is my name.’
99E.15	‘If McNaughtoun be your name,’ he said,
	‘As I trew well it be,
	The fairest lady in a’ my court
	She goes with child to thee.
99E.16	‘If McNauchton be your name,’ he said,
	‘As I trew well it be,
	Tomorrow morn by eight o clock
	O hanged you shall be.’
99E.17	O Johnie had a bonnie little boy,
	His name was Germany:
	‘Before that we be all hanged, my sovereign,
	We’ll fight you till we die.’
99E.18	‘Say on, say on, my bonnie little boy,
	It is well spoken of thee,
	For there is a campioun in my court
	Shall fight you three by three.’
99E.19	Next morning about eight o’clock
	The king and his merry men,
	The queen and all her maidens fair,
	Came whistling down the green,
	To see the cruel fight begin,
	And see poor Johnnie slain.
99E.20	y fought on, and Johnie fought on,
	Wi swords of tempered steel,
	Until the drops of red, red blood
	Ran prinkling down the field.
99E.21	They fought on, and Johnie fought on,
	They fought so manfullie
	They left not a man alive in all the king’s court,
	Not a man only but three.
99E.22	‘A priest, a priest,’ poor Johnie cries,
	‘To wed my love and me;’
	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king did cry,
	‘To write her portion free.’
99E.23	‘I’ll have none of your gold,’ he says,
	‘Nor none of your white money,
	But I will have mine own fair lady,
	Who has been dear to me.’
99E.24	Johnie put a horn unto his mouth,
	He blew it wondrous schill;
	The sound is unto Scotland gane,
	Sair against all their will.
99E.25	He put his horn to his mouth,
	He blew it ower again,
	And aye the sound the horn cried,
	‘McNaughtoun’s cure to them!’


		  Child 99F: Johnie Scott

99F.1	WORD has to the kitchen gane,
	And word is to the ha,
	And word has to the king himsell,
	In the chamber where he sat,
	That his ae daughter gaes wi bairn
	To bonnie Johnie Scot.
99F.2	Word has to the kitchen gane,
	And word has to the ha,
	And word has to the queen hersell,
	In the chamber where she sat,
	That her ae dochter gaes wi bairn
	To bonnie Johnie Scot.
99F.3	‘O if she be wi bairn,’ he says,
	‘As I trew well she be,
	We’ll put her in a prison strang,
	And try her verity.’
99F.4	‘O if she be wi bairn,’ she says,
	‘As I trew weel she be,
	We’ll put her in a dungeon dark,
	And hunger her till she die.’
99F.5	Now she has written a letter,
	And sealed it with her hand,
	And sent it unto Johnie Scot,
	To come at her command.
99F.6	The first lang line that he looked to,
	He laughed at the same;
	The neist lang line that he did read,
	The tears did blin his een.
99F.7	‘Once more to England I must go,
	May God be my sure guide!
	And all to see that lady fair
	That last lay by my side.’
99F.8	Then out bespoke our Scotish king,
	And he spoke manfullie:
	I and three thousand of my guards
	Will bear you companye.
99F.9	They all were mounted on horseback,
	So gallantly they rode;
	The hair that hung owre Johnie’s shoulders
	Was like the links of goud.
99F.10	When they came to the king of England’s gate,
	They knocked at the pin;
	So ready was the king himsell
	To open and let them in.
99F.11	‘Are you the Duke [of York],’ he says,
	‘Or are ye the King of Spain?
	Or are ye some of the gay Scots boys,
	From hunting now come hame?’
99F.12	‘I am not the Duke of York,’ he says,
	‘Nor yet the King of Spain;
	But I am one of the gay Scots boys,
	From hunting just come hame.’
99F.13	‘If you are one of the Scots boys,
	As I trew weel you be,
	The fairest lady in my hall
	Gaes big wi child to thee.’
99F.14	‘Then if she be wi bairn,’ he says,
	‘As I trew weel she be,
	I’ll make him heir of a’ my gear,
	And her my fair ladye.’
99F.15	‘If she be wi bairn,’ her father says,
	‘As I trew weel she be,
	Before the morn at ten o’clock
	High hanged thou shall be.’
99F.16	Then out bespake our Scotish king,
	And he spoke manfullie:
	Before that Johnie Scott be slain,
	We’ll all fight till we die.
99F.17	‘I have a Talliant in my house
	We’ll fight your men by three;’
	‘Bring out your trooper,’ Johnie says,
	‘For fain I would him see.’
99F.18	Some gade unto the high mountain,
	Some gade unto the plain,
	Some at high windows looked out,
	To see poor Johnie slain.
99F.19	The Talliant he fought on a while,
	Thinking of Johnie would retire,
	And then he, like a swallow swifte,
	Owre Johnie’s head did flee.
99F.20	But Johnie was a clever man,
	And turned about with speed,
	And on the edge of his broadsword
	He slew the Talliant dead.
99F.21	Then he has brought the lady out,
	And sat her on a dapple-gray,
	And being mounted on before,
	They briskly rode away.
99F.22	Now the honour unto Scotland came,
	In spite of England’s skill;
	The honour unto Scotland came
	In spite of England’s will.


		  Child 99G: Johnie Scott

99G.1	JOHNIE SCOTT\R’\rS a hunting gone,
	To England woods so wild,
	Until the king’s old dochter dear
	She goes to him with child.
99G.2	‘If she be with bairn,’ her mother says,
	‘As I trew weel she be,
	We’ll put her in a dark dungeon,
	And hunger her till she die.’
99G.3	‘If she be with bairn,’ her father says,
	‘As oh forbid she be!
	We’ll put her in a prison strong,
	And try the veritie.’
99G.4	The king did write a long letter,
	Sealed it with his own hand,
	And he sent it to Johnie Scot,
	To speak at his command.
99G.5	When Johnie read this letter long,
	The tear blindit his ee:
	‘I must away to Old England;
	King Edward writes for me.’
99G.6	Out and spak his mother dear,
	She spoke aye in time:
	Son, if thou go to Old England,
	I fear thou’ll neer come hame.
99G.7	Out and spoke a Scotish prince,
	And a weel spoke man was he:
	Here’s four and twenty o my braw troops,
	To bear thee companie.
99G.8	Away they gade, awa they rade,
	Away they rade so slie;
	There was not a maried man that day
	In Johnie’s companie.
99G.9	The first good town that they passed thro,
	They made their bells to ring;
	The next good town that they passed thro,
	They made their music sing.
99G.10	The next gude town that they passed thro,
	They made their drums beat round,
	The king and a’ his gay armies
	Admiring at the sound.
99G.11	When they came to the king’s court,
	They travelled round about,
	And there he spied his own true-love,
	At a window looking out.
99G.12	‘O fain wald I come down,’ she says,
	‘Of that ye needna dout;
	But my garters they’re of cauld, cauld iron,
	And I can no win out.
99G.13	‘My garters they’re of cauld, cauld iron,
	And it is very cold;
	My breast-plate is of sturdy steel,
	Instead o beaten gold.’
99G.14	Out and spoke the king himsell,
	And an angry man was he:
	The fairest lady in a’ my court,
	She goes with child to thee.
99G.15	‘If your old doughter be with child,
	As I trew weel she be,
	I’le make it heir of a’ my land,
	And her my gay lady.’
99G.16	‘There is a Talliant in my court,
	This day he’s killed three;
	And gin the morn by ten o’clock
	He’ll kill thy men and thee.’
99G.17	Johnie took sword into his hand,
	And walked cross the plain;
	There was many a weeping lady there,
	To see young Johnie slain.
99G.18	The Talliant, never knowing this,
	Now he’ll be Johnie’s dead,
	But, like unto a swallow swift,
	He flew out owre his head.
99G.19	Johnie was a valliant man,
	Weel taught in war was he,
	And on the point of his broad sword
	The Talliant stickit he.
99G.20	Johnie took sword into his hand,
	And walked cross the plain:
	‘Are there here any moe of your English dogs
	That’s wanting to be slain?
99G.21	‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnie cries,
	‘To wed my bride and me;’
	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ her father cried,
	‘To tell her tocher wi.’
99G.22	‘I’m wanting none of your gold,’ he says,
	‘As little of your gear;
	But give me just mine own true-love,
	I think I’ve won her dear.’
99G.23	Johnie sets horn into his mouth,
	And he blew loud and schrill;
	The honour it’s to Scotland come,
	Sore against England’s will.


		  Child 99H: Johnie Scott

99H.1	‘WHERE will I gett a bony boy,
	That would fain win hose and shoon,
	That will go on to yon palace,
	And hast him back again?’
99H.2	‘Here am I, a bony boy,
	That would fain win hose and shoon,
	That will go on to yon palace,
	And haste me back again.’
99H.3	‘When you come to yon palace,
	You’l run it round about;
	There you’l see a gay lady,
	At the window looking out.
99H.4	‘Give hir this shirt of silk,
	Hir own hand sewed the slive,
	And bid her come to good green woods,
	Spear no hir parents’ leave.
99H.5	‘Give hir this shirt of silk, boy,
	Hir own hand sewed the gare;
	You’l bid her come to good green woods,
	Love Johny, I’ll meet hir there.’
99H.6	When he came to yon palace,
	He ran it round about,
	And there he saw a gay lady,
	At the window looking out.
99H.7	‘Take here this shirt of silk, lady,
	Your own hand sewed the slive;
	You’re biden come to good green woods,
	Spire no your parents’ leave.
99H.8	‘Take here this shirt of silk, lady,
	Your own hand sewed the gare;
	You’re biden come to good green woods,
	Love Johny’ll meet you there.’
99H.9	‘The staunchens they are strong, boy,
	Dear, vow but they are stout!
	My feet they are in strong fetters,
	And how shall I win out?
99H.10	‘My garters is of the cold iron,
	Dear, vow but they are cold!
	And three splits of the sturdy steel,
	Instead of beaten goold.
99H.11	‘But I will write a braud leter,
	And sign it with my hand,
	And I will send it to Love Johny,
	Weel may he understand.’
99H.12	And she has wrote [a] braud leter,
	And signd it with hir hand,
	And sent it on to Love Jony,
	Weel did he understand.
99H.13	When he got this letter,
	A light laugh did he gie;
	But or he read it half down through,
	The salt tears blinded ’s ee.
99H.14	Says, I’ll awa to fair England,
	What ever may betide,
	And all is for the fair lady
	That lay close by my side.
99H.15	Out it spoke Jony’s mother,
	And she spoke ay through pride;
	Says, If ye go to fair England,
	Sir, better to you bide.
99H.16	When Jony was on his sadle set,
	And seemly to behold,
	Every tet o Love Jony’s hair
	Was like the threads of goold.
99H.17	When Jony was on his sadle set,
	And seemly for to see,
	There was not a maried man
	In a’ Jony’s company.
99H.18	The first town that they came till,
	They gard the bells be rung;
	The next town that they came till,
	They gard the mess bee sung.
99H.19	When they came to the king’s palace,
	The drums they did beat round,
	And the quien and her marys all
	Amased at the sound.
99H.20	‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry,
	Or James, our Scottish king?
	Or is it any noble lord
	That’s going a visiting?’
99H.21	‘It’s not the Duke of Mulberry,
	Nor James, our Scottish king;
	But it is Jack, the Little Scot,
	And Auchney is his name.’
99H.22	‘If Auchney bee your name,’ he said,
	‘As I trust weel it be,
	The fairest lady in all my court
	She goes with bairn to the.’
99H.23	‘If she be with bairn,’ he said,
	‘As I doubt not nor she be,
	I will make it heir oer all my land,
	And hir my gay lady.’
99H.24	The king he swore a solemn oath,
	And a solemn oath swore he,
	‘The morn, before I eat or drink,
	High hanged he shall be!’
	* * * * *
99H.25	The king and his nobles all
	Went out into the plain,
	And the quen and hir marys all,
	To see Love Johny slain.
99H.26	They fought up, and they fought down,
	With swords of temperd steel,
	But not a drop of Johny’s blood
	In that day he did spill.
99H.27	Out they brought the Itilian,
	And a greecy ghost was he,
	But by the edge o Love Johny’s sword
	That Itilian did die.
99H.28	Johny’s taen his neat drawn sword,
	And stript it to the stran:
	‘Is there any more of your English dogs
	That wants for to be slain?’
99H.29	‘A clerck, a clerck,’ now says the king,
	‘To sign her tocher free;’
	‘A priest, a priest,’ said Love Johny,
	‘To mary my dear and me.
99H.30	‘I fought not for your goold, your goold,
	I fought not for your gear,
	But I fought for my rose Mary,
	And vow! I’ve bought hir dear.’


		  Child 99I: Johnie Scott

99I.1	JOHNIE is up to London gane,
	Three quarters o the year,
	And he is up to London gane,
	The king’s banner for to bear.
99I.2	He had na been in fair London
	A twalmonth and a day,
	Till the king’s ae daughter
	To Johnie gangs wi child.
99I.3	O word is to the kitchen gane,
	And word is to the ha,
	And word is to the king himsel
	Amang his nobles a’.
	* * * * *
99I.4	She has wrote a braid letter,
	She has wrote it tenderly,
	And she’s wrote a braid letter,
	To lat her Johnie see
99I.5	That her bower is very high,
	It’s aw weel walled about;
	Her feet are in the fetters strang,
	Her body looking out.
99I.6	Her garters are of cauld iron,
	And they are very cold;
	Her breist-plate is o the sturdy steel,
	Instead o the beaten gold.
99I.7	Whan he lookit the letter on,
	A licht lauch gaed he;
	But eer he read it til an end,
	The tear blindit his ee.
99I.8	‘I maun up to London gang,
	Whatever me betide,
	And louse that lady out o prison strang;
	She lay last by my side.’
99I.9	Up spak Johnie’s ae best man,
	That stood by Johnie’s knie:
	Ye’ll get twenty four o my best men,
	To bear ye companie.
99I.10	When Johnie was in his saddle set,
	A pleasant sicht to see,
	There was na ae married man
	In Johnie’s companie.
99I.11	The first toun that he cam till,
	He made the mass be sung;
	The niest toun that he cam till,
	He made the bells be rung.
99I.12	When he cam to fair London,
	He made the drums gae round;
	The king and his nobles aw
	They marvelld at the sound.
99I.13	‘Is this the Duke of Winesberry,
	For James, the Scotish king;
	Or is it a young gentleman,
	That wants for to be in?’
99I.14	‘It’s na the Duke of Winesberry,
	Nor James, the Scotish king;
	But it is a young gentleman,
	Buneftan is his name.’
99I.15	Up spak the king himsel,
	An angry man was he:
	The morn eer I eat or drink
	Hie hangit sall he be.
99I.16	Up spak Johnie’s ae best man,
	That stood by Johnie’s knie:
	Afore our master he be slain
	We’ll aw fecht till we die.
99I.17	Up spak the king himsel,
	And up spak he:
	I have an Italian in my court
	That will fecht ye manifullie.
99I.18	‘If ye hae an Italian in your court,
	Fu fain wad I him see;
	If ye hae an Italian in your court,
	Ye may bring him here to me.’
99I.19	The king and his nobles aw
	Went tripping doun the plain,
	Wi the queen and her maries aw,
	To see fair Johnie slain.
99I.20	Even anent the prison-door
	The battle did begin;
	. . . .
	. . . .
99I.21	They foucht up, and they foucht doun,
	Wi swerds o tempered steel,
	Til Johnie wi his gude braidswerd
	Made the Italian for to yield.
99I.22	He has kickd him with his foot,
	And he has kickd him oure the plain:
	‘Onie mair Italians in your court
	Ye want for to be slain?’
99I.23	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king cried,
	‘To sign her tocher-fee;’
	‘A priest, a priest,’ young Johnie said,
	‘To marry her and me.
99I.24	‘For I want nane o your gowd,
	Nor nane o your weel won fee;
	I only want your fair dochter,
	I have won her mannfullie.’


		  Child 99J: Johnie Scott

99J.1	O word is to the queen hersel,
	In parlour whare she sat,
	That the king’s dochter goes wi child
	To Jock, that little Scot.
99J.2	O word is to the king himsel,
	And an angry man was he;
	Says, I will put her in cold prison,
	And hunger her till she dee.
99J.3	The ladie was laid in cold prison,
	By the king, a grievous man;
	And up and starts a little boy,
	Upon her window-stane.
99J.4	Says, Here’s a silken shift, ladye,
	Your ane hand sewed the sleeve,
	And ye maun gang to yon greenwud,
	And of your freends speir na leave.
99J.5	‘My bouer is very hie,’ said the lady,
	‘And it’s wondrous hie round about;
	My feet are lockit in the iron fetters,
	And how can I get out?
99J.6	‘But I will write a braid letter,
	And seal it tenderlie,
	And send it to yon greenwud,
	And let young Johnie see.’
99J.7	O Johnie’s to his father gane,
	And til him did say,
	O I maun up to London, father,
	And fecht for that lady gay.
99J.8	His father spak but ae word,
	Says, I speak it in time;
	For an ye gang to London, Johnie,
	I fear your coming hame.
99J.9	And out and spak anither youth,
	And a pretty youth was he:
	Afore I see young Johnie dung
	I’ll fecht for him till I dee.
	* * * * *
99J.10	He has wallowd it, he has wallowd it,
	He’s wallowd it again;
	Cries, Onie mae o your English dogs
	That wants for to be slain?
99J.11	He set the horn until his mouth,
	And he has blawn baith loud and shill;
	The victor’s doun to Scotland gane,
	Richt sair against their will.


		  Child 99K: Johnie Scott

99K.1	JOHNIE\R’\rS up to England gane,
	Three quarters o a year;
	Johnie’s up to England gane,
	The king’s banner to bear.
99K.2	He had not in fair England been
	A month ’twas barely ane,
	When the fairest lady o the court
	To Johnie wi child is gane.
99K.3	Word is to the kitchen gane,
	And word’s gane to the ha;
	Word’s gane to the high, high rooms,
	Among the nobles a’.
99K.4	And word o’t to the king is gane,
	In the chamber where he sat,
	His only daughter goes wi child
	To Johnie, the Little Scot.
99K.5	‘O if she be wi child,’ he says,
	‘As I trow weel she be,
	I’ll lock her up in strong prison,
	And punish her till she dee.’
99K.6	Then she has wrote a long letter,
	And seald it without a blot,
	And she has sent it to fair Scotland,
	To Johnie, the Little Scot.
99K.7	The first line that he did read,
	In laughter loud was he;
	But or he gat the hindmost read
	The tear blindit his ee.
99K.8	‘Get ready for me the black, black steed,
	Get ready for me the brown,
	And saddle to me the swiftest horse
	Eer carried man to town.’
99K.9	Whan he cam to Edinburgh town,
	He made the bells to ring,
	And when he cam to merry Carlisle,
	He made the monks to sing.
99K.10	When he cam to the king’s gates,
	He made his drums beat round;
	The king bot and his nobles a’
	They wonderd at the sound.
99K.11	‘Is this [the] King of France,’ he cried,
	‘Or is’t the King of Spain?
	Or is it Johnie, the Little Scot,
	That’s wanting to be slain?’
99K.12	‘It’s neither the King of France,’ he said,
	‘Nor is’t the King of Spain;
	But it is Johnie, the Little Scot,
	That’s come to claim his ain.’
	* * * * *
99K.13	They foucht it ance, they foucht it twice,
	They foucht it oure again,
	Till draps o blood, like draps o rain,
	War rinning to the plain.
99K.14	Then Johnie drew a nut-brown brand,
	And strook it oure the plain,
	Saying, Are there onie mae o your Englishmen
	That’s wanting to be slain?
99K.15	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried,
	‘To sign her tocher-fee;’
	‘A priest, a priest,’ then Johnie cried,
	‘To marry my love and me.
99K.16	‘I’ll hae nane o your gowd,’ he says,
	‘As little o your gear;
	But I’ll hae her, my ain true-love,
	For I’m sure I’ve coft her dear.’


		  Child 99L: Johnie Scott

99L.1	JOHNNIE SCOTT\R’\rS a hunting gane,
	To England’s woods sae wild;
	The fairest flower of all England
	To Johnnie provd big with child.
99L.2	It’s word’s going up, and word’s going down,
	Going to the king’s bower,

	That his dear daughter was with child,
	That was his daily flower.
99L.3	‘If she be with child,
	As I suppose she be,
	I’ll put her into prison strong,
	And hunger her till she die.’
99L.4	The king he wrote a letter broad,
	And sealed it with his hands,
	And sent it down to Johnnie Scott,
	In Scotland where he stands.
99L.5	The first line that Johnnie lookd on,
	A merry man was he;
	The next line that he lookd on,
	The salt tears blinded his eye.
99L.6	Out then spoke his old father,
	Who neer spoke out of time:
	And if you go to England, son,
	I doubt your coming home.
99L.7	Out then spoke our Scottish James,
	Sitting low by Johnnie’s knee:
	Fifteen score of my life-guards
	Shall ride in your company.
99L.8	When Johnnie came to the king’s court
	He rode it round about,
	And there he spied his own true-love,
	From the jail-window looking out.
99L.9	‘Come down, true-love,’ said Johnnie Scott,
	‘And now you’ll ride behind me;
	Before I leave fair England
	Some life shall die for thee.’
99L.10	‘My feet are in the fetters strong,
	I’m belted round about;
	My breastplate is of the stubborn steel,
	Instead of beaten gold.’
99L.11	When Johnnie came to the king’s bower
	He tinkled at the ring;
	Who was so ready as the king himself
	To let proud Johnnie in!
99L.12	‘Are ye the Duke of Marlborough,’ he said,
	‘Or James, our Scottish king?
	Or are you my bastard son,
	From Scotland new come home?’
99L.13	‘I’m not the Duke of Marlborough,’ he said,
	‘Nor James, our Scottish king;
	But I am just a good Scotch lad,
	And Johnnie Scott’s my name.’
99L.14	‘If you be Johnnie Scott,’ says he,
	‘As I suppose you be,
	The fairest flower in all England
	Is big with child by thee.’
99L.15	‘If she be big with child,’ said he,
	‘As I hope her to be,
	I’ll make it heir of all my lands,
	And she my gay lady.’
99L.16	‘O no,’ then the king he crys,
	‘There’s no such thing will be;
	There is an Italian in my court,
	And by his hands ye’ll die.’
99L.17	‘I’ll stand my ground,’ says Johnnie Scott,
	‘I’ll stand it till I die;
	I’ll stand my ground,’ says Johnnie Scott,
	‘One foot I’d scorn to fly.’
99L.18	When the Italian was brought out,
	A fearsome sight was he;
	Between his brows three women’s spang,
	His shoulders was yards three.
99L.19	As Johnnie, being a crafty lad,
	Well tried at the sword was he,
	Upon the point of his broad sword
	He made the Italian die.


		  Child 99M: Johnie Scott

99M.1	LORD JOHNNIE\R’\rS up to England gane,
	Three quarters of an year;
	Lord Johnnie’s up to England gone,
	The king’s banner to bear.
99M.2	He had not been in fair England,
	Three quarters he was not,
	Till the king’s eldest daughter
	Goes with child to Lord Johnnie Scott.
99M.3	Word has to the kitchen gone,
	And word’s gone to the hall,
	And word’s gone to the high, high room,
	Among the nobles all.
99M.4	And word has gaen to the king himsel,
	In his chamber where he sat,
	That his eldest daughter goes wi child
	To good Lord Johnnie Scott.
99M.5	‘Gin that be true,’ the king replied,
	‘As I suppose it be,
	I’ll put her in a prison strong,
	And starve her till she die.’
	* * * * *
99M.6	‘O where will I get a little page,
	That will win baith hose and shoon,
	And run into fair Scotland,
	And tell my love to come?’
	* * * * *
99M.7	‘What news, what news, my little page?
	What news hae ye brought to me?’
	‘Bad news, bad news, my master dear,
	The king’s daughter maun die.
99M.8	‘Here is a shirt, O master dear,
	Her ain hand sewd the sleeve;
	She bad me run and tell ye this,
	And ask nae person’s leave.
99M.9	‘They have her in a prison strong,
	And in a dungeon deep;
	Her feet are in the fetters strong,
	And they’ve left her to weep.
99M.10	‘Her feet are in the cold, cold iron,
	Instead of beaten gold;
	Her garters are of the cauld, cauld iron,
	And O but they are cold!’
	* * * * *
99M.11	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king did cry,
	‘To cry the toucher-fee;’
	‘A priest, a priest,’ Lord Johnnie cry’d,
	‘To join my love and me.
99M.12	‘I want none of your gold,’ he said,
	‘Nor as little want I a fee;
	But I do want your daughter dear,
	My wedded wife to be.’


		  Child 99N: Johnie Scott

99N.1	LORD JOHN he’s on to England gone,
	To England gone is he;
	Love John he’s on to England gone,
	The king’s banneret to be.
99N.2	He hadna been in fair England
	O but a little while,
	Till faen in love wi the king’s daughter,
	And to him she’s with chile.
99N.3	Now word is to the kitchen gane,
	And word is to the ha,
	And word is to the king’s high court,
	And that was warst of a’.
99N.4	Out then spake the king himsell,
	An angry man was he:
	I’ll put her in prison strong,
	And starve her till she die.
99N.5	Love John he’s on to Scotland gone,
	I wat he’s on wi speed;
	Love John he’s on to Scotland gone,
	And as good was his need.
99N.6	He hadna been in fair Scotland
	But a very short tide,
	Till he minded on the damsel
	That lay last by his side.
99N.7	‘Whare will I get a bonny boy,
	Will win baith meat and fee,
	That will run on to fair England,
	And haste him back to me?’
99N.8	‘O here am I, a bonny boy,
	Will win baith meat and fee,
	That will run on to fair England,
	And haste him back to thee.’
99N.9	‘Where ye find the grass grow green,
	Ye’ll slack your shoes and rin;
	And when ye find the brigs broken,
	Ye’ll bend your bow and swim.
99N.10	‘And when ye come to the king’s high court,
	Ye’ll rin it round about,
	And there ye’ll see a lady gay,
	At a window looking out.
99N.11	‘Bid her take this shirt of silk,
	Her ain hand sewed the sleeve;
	Bid her come to good green-wood,
	At her parents spier nae leave.
99N.12	‘Bid her take this shirt of silk,
	Her ain hand sewed the gair;
	Bid her come to good green-wood,
	Love John he waits her there.’
99N.13	Where he found the grass grow green,
	He slackd his shoes and ran;
	Where he fan the brigs broken,
	He bent his bow and swam.
99N.14	When he came to the king’s high court,
	He ran it round about;
	And there he saw the lady gay,
	At the window looking out.
99N.15	‘Ye’re bidden take this shirt of silk,
	Yere ain hand sewed the sleeve;
	Ye’re bidden come to good green-wood,
	At your parents spier nae leave.
99N.16	‘Ye’re bidden take this shirt of silk,
	Yere ain hand sewed the gair;
	Ye’re bidden come to good green-wood,
	Love John he waits you there.’
99N.17	‘My feet are in the fetters strong,
	Instead of silken sheen;
	My breast-plate’s of the cold iron,
	Instead of gold so fine.
99N.18	‘But I will write a broad letter,
	And seal it with my hand,
	And send it off to my Love Johnny,
	And let him understand.’
99N.19	The first line that he looked on,
	A loud laughter laught he;
	But ere he read it to the end,
	The tear blinded his ee.
99N.20	‘O I will on to fair England,
	Whatever me betide,
	For to relieve the damsel
	That lay last by my side.’
99N.21	Out it spake his father dear,
	A noble lord was he:
	If ye gang to England, Johnny,
	Ye’ll neer come back to me.
99N.22	Out it spake a noble lord,
	A noble lord, I wat, was he:
	Fifteen of our Scottish lords
	Will bear his honour companie.
99N.23	The first town that they eer came till,
	They gart the bells be rung;
	The next town that they came till,
	They gart the mass be sung.
99N.24	And when they came to the king’s court,
	They gart the trumpet soun,
	Till the king and all his merry young men
	Did marvel at the tune.
99N.25	‘Is this the Duke of Marlborough,
	Or James, the Scottish king?
	Or is it else some Scottish lord,
	Come here a visiting?’
99N.26	‘It’s not the Duke of Marlborough,
	Nor James, the Scottish king:
	It is Love John of fair Scotland,
	Come here a visiting.’
99N.27	‘If this be John of fair Scotland,
	He’s dearly welcome to me;
	The morn ere he eat or drink,
	High hanged he shall be.’
99N.28	He’s taen his broadsword in his hand,
	And stripd it oer a stane;
	Then thro and thro the king’s high court
	With broadsword now is gane.
99N.29	They fought it up, they fought it down,
	Till they were weary men,
	When the blood, like drops of rain,
	Came trickling down the plain.
99N.30	Out it spake the king himsel,
	Ane angry man was he:
	I have ane Italian within my court
	Will fight ye three and three.
99N.31	Out it came that ae Italian,
	As pale as death was he,
	And on the point of Johnny’s sword
	That ae Italian did die.
99N.32	‘A clerk, a clerk,’ the king he cried,
	‘And seal her tocher wi;’
	‘A priest, a priest,’ Lord John he cried,
	‘That we may married be.
99N.33	‘For I want neither gold,’ he said,
	‘Nor do I want your gear;
	But I do want my ain true-love,
	For I have bought her dear.’


		  Child 99O: Johnie Scott

99O.1	* * * *
	out then spak his auld faither,
	And a blythe auld man was he,
	Saying, I’ll send five hunner o my brisk young men,
	To bear Johnie companie.
99O.2	And when they were on saddle set,
	They were a pleasant sight for to see,
	For there was na ae married man
	In a’ Johnie’s companie.
99O.3	And when they were on saddle set,
	They were a pleasant sight to behold,
	For the hair that hung down Johnie’s back
	Was like the links of gold.
99O.4	And when they came to Newcastle,
	They reined their horses about;
	Wha did he see but his ain Jeanie,
	At a window looking out!
99O.5	‘Come doun, come doun, Jeanie,’ he says,
	‘Come doun, come doun to me;’
	‘I canna come doun, Johnie,’ she says,
	‘For King Edward has bolted me.
99O.6	‘My stockings are o the heavy iron,
	I feel them very cold;
	And my breast-plate’s o the sturdy steel,
	Instead of beaten gold.’
	* * * * *
99O.7	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘I’ll make it heir o a’ my lands,
	And her my gay lady.’
99O.8	‘There is an Italian in this court;
	This day he has slain knights three;
	And before tomorrow at eight o’clock
	The Italian will slay thee.’


		  Child 99P: Johnie Scott

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


		  Child 99[Q]: Johnie Scott

99[Q].1	Young Johnie’s up to England gane
	Three quarters of a year;
	Young Johnie’s up to England gane,
	The king’s banner for to bear.
99[Q.2]	But he had not in England been
	The one half of the time
	Till the fairest laidy in all the court
	Was going with child to him.
99[Q.3]	Word unto the kitchen’s gane,
	And word’s to the hall,
	And word unto the court has gane,
	Among the nobles all.
99[Q.4]	And word unto the chamber’s gane,
	The place where the king sat,
	That his only daughter is with child
	To Johnie, the little Scott.
99[Q.5]	‘If this be true,’ then sais the king,
	‘As I true well it be,
	I’ll put hir in a strong castle,
	And hungre hir till she dee.’
99[Q.6]	Hir breast-plate was made of iron,
	In place of the beaten gold,
	A belt of steel about hir waist,
	And O but she was cold!
99[Q.7]	‘O where will I get a pritty little boy,
	That will win hoes ahd shoon,
	That will go doun to yonder lee
	And tell young Johnie to come?’
99[Q.8]	‘Here am I, a pritty little boy,
	That will win hoes ahd shoon,
	And I’ll go doun to yonder lee
	And tell young Johnie to come.’
99[Q.9]	She has wrote a brod letter,
	And seald it tenderly,
	And she has sent it to Johnie the Scott,
	That lay on yonder lee.
99[Q.10]	When Johnie first the letter got,
	A blith, blith man was be;
	But or he read the half of it
	The salt teer blind Johnie’s ee.
99[Q.11]	‘I will go to fair England,’ says he,
	‘What ever may betide,
	For to releave that gay laidy
	Who last lay by my side.’
99[Q.12]	Up then spoke his old mother,
	A sorrifull woman was she;
	‘If you go to England, John,
	I’ll never see you mare.’
99[Q.13]	Up then spoke Johnie’s father,
	His head was growing gray;
	‘If you go to England, John,
	O fair you well for me!’
99[Q.14] up then spoke Johnie’s uncle,
	Our Scottish king was he;
	‘Five hundred of my merry men
	Shall bear you company.’
99[Q.15]	When Johnie was mounted on his steed
	He looked wondorous bold,
	The hair that oer his shouldiers hang
	Like threeds of yellow gold.
99[Q.16]	‘Now come along with me, my men,
	O come along with me,
	We’l blow thier castles in the air,
	And set free my gay laidy.’
99[Q.17]	The first gay town that they came to,
	Made mass for to be sung;
	The nixt gay town that they came to,
	Made bells for to be rung.’
99[Q.18]	But when they came to London town,
	They made the drums beat round,
	Who made the king and all his court
	To wonder at the sound.
99[Q.19]	‘Is this the Duke of Mulberry,
	Or James the Scottish king?
	Or is it a young gentleman
	To England new come home?’
99[Q.20]	‘It is not the Duke of Mulberry,
	Nor James the Scottish [king];
	But is a young gentleman,
	MacNaughten is his name.’
99[Q.21]	‘If MacNaughten be your name,’ says the king,
	‘As I true well it be,
	Before the morn at eight o clock
	Dead hanged you shall be.’
99[Q.22]	Up bespoke one of Johnie’s little boys,
	And a well-spoke boy was he;
	‘Before we see our master hangd,
	We’l all fight till we dee.’
99[Q.23]	‘Well spoke, well spoke, my little boy,
	That is well spoke of thee;
	But I have a champian in my bower
	That will fight you three by three.’
99[Q.24]	Up then spoke Johnie himself,
	And he spoke manfully;
	‘If it please your Majesty,
	May I this champian see?’
99[Q.25]	The king and all his nobles then
	Rode down unto the plain,
	The queen and all [her] gay marries,
	To see young Johnie slain.
99[Q.26]	When the champian came out of the bower,
	He looked at Johnie with disdain;
	But upon the tope of Johnie’s brodsword
	This champian soon was slain.
99[Q.27]	He fought on, and Johnie fought on,
	With swords of tempered steel,
	And ay the blood like dropes of rain
	Came trinkling down thier hiel.
99[Q.28]	The very nixt stroke that Johnie gave,
	He brought him till his knee;
	The nixt stroke that Johnie gave,
	He clove his head in twa.
99[Q.29]	He swapt his sword on every side,
	And turned him on the plain:
	‘Have you any more of your English dogs
	That wants for to be slain?’
99[Q.30]	‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king he crys,
	‘I’ll seal her taucher free;’
	‘A priest, a priest!’ the queen she crys,
	‘For weded they shall be.’
99[Q.31]	‘I’ll have none of your [gold],’ say[s] he,
	‘Nor any of your white money;
	But I will have my ain true-love;
	This day she has cost me dear.’


		  Child 99[R]: Johnie Scott

99[R].1	Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone
	Three quarters of an year;
	Lord Jonnie’s up to England gone,
	The king’s banner to bear.
99[R.2]	He had not been in fair England,
	Three quarters he was not,
	Till the king’s eldest daughter
	Goes with child to Lord Jonnie Scott.
99[R.3]	Word is to the kitchen gone,
	And word’s gone to the hall,
	And word’s gone to the high, high room,
	Among the nobles all.
99[R.4]	Word’s gone to the king himsel,
	In the chamber where he sat,
	That his eldest daughter goes with child
	To Lord Jonnie Scott.
99[R.5]	‘If that be true,’ the king replied,
	‘As I suppose it be,
	I’ll put her in a prison strong,
	And starve her till she die.’
99[R.6]	‘O where will I get a little boy,
	That has baith hose and shoon,
	That will run into fair Scotland,
	And tell my love to come?’
99[R.7]	‘O here is a shirt, little boy,
	Her own hand sewed the sleeve;
	Tell her to come to good greenwood,
	Not ask her father’s leave.’
99[R.8]	‘What news, what news, my little boy?
	What news have ye brought to me?’
	‘No news, no news, my master dear,
	But what I will tell thee.
99[R.9]	‘O here is a shirt, madam,
	Your awn hand sewed the sleeve;
	You must gang to good greenwood,
	Not ask your parents’ leave.’
99[R.10]	‘My doors they are all shut, little boy,
	My windows round about;
	My feet is in the fetters strong,
	And I cannot get out.
99[R.11]	‘My garters are of the black, black iron,
	And O but they are cold!
	My breast-plate’s o the strong, strong steel,
	Instead of beaten gold.
99[R.12]	‘But tell him for to bide away,
	And not come near to be,
	For there’s a champion in my father’s ha
	Will fight him till he dee.’
99[R.13]	‘What news, what news, my little boy?
	What news have ye to me?’
	‘No news, no news, my master dear,
	But what I will tell thee.
99[R.14]	‘Her doors they are all shut, kind sir,
	Her windows round about;
	Her feet are in the fetters strong,
	And she cannot get out.
99[R.15]	‘Her garters are of the black, black iron,
	And O but they are cold!
	Her breast-plate’s of the strong, strong steel,
	Instead of beaten gold.
99[R.16]	‘She bids you for to bide away,
	And not go near to see,
	For there’s a champion in her father’s house
	Will fight you till you die.’
99[R.17]	Then up and spoke Lord Jonnie’s mother,
	But she spoke out of time;
	‘O if you go to fair England
	I fear you will be slain.’
99[R.18]	But up nd spoke a little boy,
	Just at Lord Jonnie’s knee,
	‘Before you lose your ain true-love,
	We’ll a’ fight till we die.’
99[R.19]	The first church-town that they came to,
	They made the bells be rung;
	The next church-town that they came to,
	The[y] gard the mass be sung.
99[R.20]	The next church-town that they came to,
	They made the drums go through;
	The king and all his nobles stood
	Amazing for to view.
99[R.21]	‘Is this any English gentleman,
	Or James our Scottish king?
	Or is it a Scottish gentleman,
	To England new come in?’
99[R.22]	‘No, ’tis no English gentleman,
	Nor James the Scottish king;
	But is is a Scottish gentleman,
	Lord Jonnie is my name.’
99[R.23]	‘If Lord Jonnie be your name,
	As I suppose it be,
	I have a champion in my hall
	Will fight you till you die.’
99[R.24]	‘O go fetch out that gurrley fellow,
	Got fetch him out to me;
	Before I lose my ain true-love,
	We’ll all fight till we die.’
99[R.25]	Then out and came that gurrly fellow,
	A gurrly fellow was he,
	With twa lang sclasps between his eyes,
	His shoulders there were three.
99[R.26]	The king and all his nobles stood
	To see the battle gained;
	The queen and all her maries stood
	To see Lord Jonnie slain.
99[R.27]	The first stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,
	He wounded very sore;
	The next stroke that Lord Jonnie gave,
	The champion could fight no more.
99[R.28]	He’s taen a whistle out from his side,
	He’s blawn a blast loud and shill:
	‘Is there any more of your English dogs
	To come here and be killed?’
99[R.29]	‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king did say,
	‘To cry her toucher free;’
	‘A priest, a priest!’ Lord Jonnie [did] cry
	‘To wed my love and me.
99[R.30]	’Twas for none of your monnie I fought,
	Nor for none of your world’s gear;
	But it was for my own true-love;
	I think I’ve bought her dear.’


		  Child 99[S]: Johnie Scott

99[S].1	O Johny’s up thro England gane
	Three quarters of a year,
	An Johny’s up thro England gane,
	The king’s banner to bear.
99[S.2]	He had not been in London town
	But a very little while
	Till the fairest lady in the court
	By Johny gaes wi child.
99[S.3]	But word is to the kitchin gane,
	An word’s gane to the ha,
	An word’s gane to yon high, high court,
	Amang our nobles a’.
99[S.4]	An when the king got wit o that
	An angry man was he:
	‘On the highest tree in a’ the wood
	High hangit shall he be!
99[S.5]	‘An for the lady, if it’s true,
	As I do fear it be,
	I’ll put her in yon castle strong,
	An starve her till she die.’
99[S.6]	But Johny had a clever boy,
	A clever boy was he,
	O Johny had a clever boy,
	His name was Gregory.

99[S.7]	‘O run, my boy, to yon castle,
	All windows round about,
	An there you’l see a fair lady,
	At a window looking out.
99[S.8]	Ye maun bid her take this silken sark-+-
	Her ain hand sewd the gare-+-
	An bid her come to the green wood,
	For Johny waits her there.’
99[S.9]	Away he ran to yon castle,
	All windows round about,
	Where he espy’d a lady fair,
	At a window looking out.
99[S.10]	‘O madam, there’s a silken sark-+-
	Your ain hand sewd the gare-+-
	An haste ye to the good green wood,
	For Johny waits you there.’
99[S.11]	‘O I’m confin’d in this castle,
	Though lighted round about;
	My feet are bound with fetters strong,
	That I cannot win out.
99[S.12]	‘My gartens are of stubborn ern,
	Alas! baith stiff and cold;
	My breastplate of the sturdy steel,
	Instead of beaten gold.
99[S.13]	‘Instead of silken stays, my boy,
	With steel I’m lac’d about;
	My feet are bound with fetters strong,
	And how can I get out?
99[S.14]	‘But tell him he must stay at home,
	Nor venture here for me;
	Else an Italian in our court
	Must fight him till he die.’
99[S.15]	When Johny he got wit o that,
	An angry man was he:
	‘But I will gae wi a’ my men
	My dearest dear to see.’
99[S.16]	But up then spake a noble lord,
	A noble lord was he;
	‘The best of a’ my merry men
	Shall bear you company.’
99[S.17]	But up then spake his auld mother,
	I wat wi meikle pain;
	‘If ye will gae to London, son,
	Ye’l neer come back again.’
99[S.18]	But Johny turnd him round about,
	I wat wi meikle pride:
	‘But I will gae to London town,
	Whatever may betide.’
99[S.19]	When they were a’ on horseback set,
	How comely to behold!
	For a’ the hairs o Johny’s head
	Did shine like threads o gold.
99[S.20]	The first ae town that they gaed through,
	They gart the bells be rung,
	But the neist town that they gaed through
	They gart the mass be sung.
99[S.21]	But when they gaed to London town
	The trumpets loud were blown,
	Which made the king and a’ his court
	To marvel at the sound.
99[S.22]	‘Is this the Duke of Morebattle?
	Or James the Scottish king?’
	‘No, sire, I’m a Scottish lord,
	McNaughten is my name.’
99[S.23]	‘If you be that young Scottish lord,
	As I believe you be,
	The fairest lady in my court
	She gaes wi child by thee.’
99[S.24]	‘And if she be with child by me,
	As I think sae may be,
	It shall be heir of a’ my land,
	And she my gay lady.’
99[S.25]	‘O no, O no,’ the king reply’d,
	‘That thing can never be,
	Fore ere the morn at ten o clock
	I’ll slay thy men an thee.
99[S.26]	‘A bold Italian in my court
	Has vanquishd Scotchmen three,
	And ere the morn at ten o clock
	I’m sure he will slay thee.’
99[S.27]	But up the spake young Johny’s boy,
	A clever boy was he;
	‘O master, ere that you be slain,
	There’s mae be slain than thee.’
99[S.28]	The king and all his court appeard
	Neist morning on the plain,
	The queen and all her ladies came
	To see youn[g] Johny slain.
99[S.29]	Out then stepd the Italian bold,
	And they met on the green;
	Between his shoulders was an ell,
	A span between his een.
99[S.30]	When Johny in the list appeard,
	Sae young and fair to see,
	A prayer staw frae ilka heart,
	A tear frae ilka ee.
99[S.31]	And lang they fought, and sair they fought,
	Wi swords o temperd steel,
	Until the blood like draps o rain
	Came trickling to their heal.
99[S.32]	But Johny was a wannle youth,
	And that he weel did show;
	For wi a stroke o his broad sword
	He clove his head in two.
99[S.33]	‘A priest, a priest!’ then Johny cry’d,
	‘To wed my love and me;’
	‘A clerk, a clerk!’ the king reply’d,
	‘To write her tocher free.’


		  Child 99[T]: Johnie Scott

99[T].1	Johnny’s gane up to fair England
	Three quarters of a year,
	And Johny’s gane up to fair England,
	The king’s broad banner to bear.
99[T.2]	He had not been in fair England,
	Even but a little while,
	When that the king’s ae dochter
	To Johnny gaes wi child.
99[T.3]	And word is gane to the kitchen,
	And word’s gane to the ha,
	And word’s gane to the high, high court,
	Amang the nobles a’.
99[T.4]	And word is gane unto the king,
	In the chair where he sat,
	That his ae dochter’s wi bairn
	To John the little Scott.
99[T.5]	‘If that I thought she is wi bairn,
	As I true weel she be,
	I’ll put her up in high prison,
	And hunger her till she die.’
99[T.6]	‘There is a silken sark, Johnny,
	My ain sell sewed the gare,
	And if ye come to tak me hence
	Ye need nae taken mare.
99[T.7]	‘For I am up in high prison,
	And O but it is cold!
	My garters are o the cold, cold iron,
	In place o the beaten gold.’
99[T.8]	‘Is this the Duke o York?’ they said,
	‘Or James the Scottish king?
	Or is it John the little Scott,
	Frae Scotland new come hame?’
99[T.9]	‘I have an Italian in my bower,
	This day he has eaten three;
	Before I either eat or sleep
	The fourth man ye shall be.’
99[T.10]	. . . . . . .
	. . . . . . .
	Between his een there was two spans,
	His shoulders ells were three.
99[T.11]	Johnny drew forth his good braid glaive
	And slate it on the plain:
	‘Is there any more of your Italian dogs
	That wanteth to be slain?’
99[T.12]	‘A clerk, a clerk!’ her father cry’d
	‘To register this deed;’
	‘A priest, a priest!’ her mother cry’d,
	‘To marry them wi speed.’



		 Child 100A: Willie o Winesberry

100A.1	THE king he hath been a prisoner,
	A prisoner lang in Spain, O
	And Willie o the Winsbury
	Has lain lang wi his daughter at hame. O
100A.2	‘What aileth thee, my daughter Janet,
	Ye look so pale and wan?
	Have ye had any sore sickness,
	Or have ye been lying wi a man?
	Or is it for me, your father dear,
	And biding sae lang in Spain?’
100A.3	‘I have not had any sore sickness,
	Nor yet been lying wi a man;
	But it is for you, my father dear,
	In biding sae lang in Spain.’
100A.4	‘Cast ye off your berry-brown gown,
	Stand straight upon the stone,
	That I may ken ye by yere shape,
	Whether ye be a maiden or none.’
100A.5	She’s coosten off her berry-brown gown,
	Stooden straight upo yon stone;
	Her apron was short, and her haunches were round,
	Her face it was pale and wan.
100A.6	‘Is it to a man o might, Janet?
	Or is it to a man of fame?
	Or is it to any of the rank robbers
	That’s lately come out o Spain?’
100A.7	‘It is not to a man of might,’ she said,
	‘Nor is it to a man of fame;
	But it is to William of Winsburry;
	I could lye nae langer my lane.’
100A.8	The king’s called on his merry men all,
	By thirty and by three:
	‘Go fetch me William of Winsbury,
	For hanged he shall be.’
100A.9	But when he cam the king before,
	He was clad o the red silk;
	His hair was like to threeds o gold.
	And his skin was as white as milk.
100A.10	‘It is nae wonder,’ said the king,
	‘That my daughter’s love ye did win;
	Had I been a woman, as I am a man,
	My bedfellow ye should hae been.
100A.11	‘Will ye marry my daughter Janet,
	By the truth of thy right hand?
	I’ll gie ye gold, I’ll gie ye money,
	And I’ll gie ye an earldom o land.’
100A.12	‘Yes, I’ll marry yere daughter Janet,
	By the truth of my right hand;
	But I’ll hae nane o yer gold, I’ll hae nane o yer money,
	Nor I winna hae an earldom o land.
100A.13	‘For I hae eighteen corn-mills,
	Runs all in water clear,
	And there’s as much corn in each o them
	As they can grind in a year.’


		 Child 100B: Willie o Winesberry

100B.*	* * *
	‘WHAT aileth ye, my dochter Dysmill,
	Ye look sae pale and wan?
	Hae ye had ony sair sickness,
	Or ill luve wi a man?
100B.2	‘Cast aff, cast aff your bony brown goun,
	And lay’t down on the stane,
	And I sall tell ye ay or no
	Ye hae layn wi a man.’
100B.3	She has taen aff her bony brown gown,
	She has laid it on the stane;
	Her waist was big, her side was round,
	Her fair colour was gane.
100B.4	‘Now is it to a man of micht,
	Or to a man of mean?
	Or is it to the ranke robber
	That robs upon the main?’
100B.5	‘O it’s nor to a man of micht,
	Nor to a man of mean;
	But it’s to Willie Winchberrie,
	That came frae France and Spain.’
100B.6	The king he’s turnd him round about,
	An angry man was he:
	‘Gar bring to me your fals leman,
	Wha sall high hanged be.’
100B.7	Then Dysmill turnd her round about,
	The tear blinded her ee:
	‘Gin ye begin to hang, father,
	Ye maun begin wi mee.’
100B.8	When Willie he cam to the king,
	His coat was o the silk;
	His hair was like the thread o gowd,
	His skin white as the milk.
100B.9	‘Ne wonder, ne wonder,’ quoth the king,
	‘My dochter shoud like ye;
	Gin ye were a woman, as ye’re a man,
	My bedfellow ye sould be.
100B.10	‘Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,
	By the truth o your right hand?
	Now will ye marry my dochter Dysmill,
	And be a lord o the land?’


		 Child 100C: Willie o Winesberry

100C.1	THE king has been long seven years away,
	Long seven years away frae hame;
	Our king has been long seven years away,
	A hunting oer in Spain.
	* * * * *
100C.2	‘What aileth thee, my ae daughter,
	Thou lookst so pale and wan?
	Hast thou had any sore sickness,
	Or hast thou loved man?’
100C.3	‘I have not had any sore sickness,
	To make me look sae wan;
	But it is for your own majestie,
	You staid sae lang in Spain.’
100C.4	‘Cast aff, cast aff thy silken gown,
	And lay it on yon stane,
	And I’ll tell to thee if with child you be,
	Or if ye be with nane.’
100C.5	She’s casten aff her costly gown,
	That’s made o the silk sae fine;
	Her stays were sae strait she could na loot,
	And her fair colour was wan.
100C.6	‘Oh is it to any mighty man?
	Or any lord of fame?
	Or is it to the rank robbers
	That I sent out o Spain?’
100C.7	‘It is no to the rank robbers
	That you sent out o Spain;
	But it is to Thomas of Winsbury,
	For I dought na lie my lane.’
100C.8	‘If it be to Lord Thomas,’ he says,
	‘It’s hanged shall he be:’
	‘If you hang Thomas of Winsbury,
	You’ll get na mair gude o me.’
100C.9	The king’s called up his merry men all,
	By one, by two, and three;
	Lord Thomas should hae been the foremost man,
	But the hindmost man was he.
100C.10	‘No wonder, no wonder,’ the king he said,
	‘My daughter loved thee;
	For wert thou a woman, as thou art a man,
	My bedfellow thou shouldst be.
100C.11	‘O will you marry my daughter dear,
	By the faith of thy right hand?
	And thou shalt reign, when I am dead,
	The king over my whole land.’
100C.12	‘I will marry your daughter dear,
	With my heart, yea and my hand;
	But it never shall be that Lord Winsbury
	Shall rule oer fair Scotland.’
100C.13	He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed,
	Himself on a dapple-grey,
	And made her a lady of as much land
	She could ride in a whole summer day.


		 Child 100D: Willie o Winesberry

100D.1	THERE was a lady fine and gay,
	She was so neat and trim;
	She went unto her own garden-wall,
	To see her own ships come in.
100D.2	And there she spied her daughter Jane,
	Who lookd so pale and wan:
	‘What, have you had some long sickness,
	Or lain with some young man?’
100D.3	‘No, I have had no long sickness,
	Nor lain with no young man:’
	Her petticoats they were so short,
	She was full nine months gone.
100D.4	‘Oh is it by some nobleman?
	Or by some man of fame?
	Or is it by Johnny Barbary,
	That’s lately come from Spain?’
100D.5	‘No, it is by no nobleman,
	Nor by no man of fame;
	But it is by Johnny Barbary,
	That’s lately come from Spain.’
100D.6	Then she calld down her merry men,
	By one, by two, by three;
	Johnny Barbary used to be the first,
	But now the last came he.
100D.7	‘Oh will you take my daughter Jane,
	And wed her out of hand?
	And you shall dine and sup with me,
	And be heir of my land.’
100D.8	‘Yes, I will take your daughter Jane,
	And wed her out of hand;
	And I will dine and sup with you,
	But I do not want your land.’
100D.9	Then she calld down her merry men,
	With a shrill and a pleasant voice:
	‘Come, let us all now mery be,
	Since she has made such a happy choice.’


		 Child 100E: Willie o Winesberry

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


		 Child 100F: Willie o Winesberry

100F.1	OUR king hath been a poor prisoner,
	And a poor prisoner in Spain; O
	When seven long years was past and gone,
	Our Scotish king came hame.O
100F.2	As he was riding along the way,
	He met with his dear dochter:
	‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter dear,
	Thou looks so pale and wan?
100F.3	‘Have ye had any sore sickness,
	Or have ye lovd a man?
	Or is it for me, my dochter dear,
	I have been so long in Spain?’
100F.4	‘I have had no sore sickness,
	Nor yet have I loved a man;
	But it is for you, my father dear,
	Thou’ve been so long in Spain.’
100F.5	‘Cast aff, cast aff thy brown silk gown,
	And spread it on yonder stone,
	And I will tell you by and by
	Whether thou art a maid or none.’
100F.6	She’s coosten off her brown silk gown,
	And spread it on yonder stone,
	And her belly was big, and her face pale and wan,
	And she was about half gone.
100F.7	‘Is it to a man o micht?
	Or to a man of fame?
	Or is it to one of the rank rebels
	That I sent out of Spain?’
100F.8	‘It is not to a man of micht,
	Nor to a man of fame,
	Nor yet to one of the rank rebels
	That ye sent out o Spain;
	But it is to Willie o Winsberry,
	Thy very own serving-man.’
100F.9	‘If it be to Willie o Winsberry,
	As I trew well it be,
	Gin the morn at ten o the clock
	It’s hanged shall he be.’
100F.10	As the king was riding up the gate
	He met Willie clothed in scarlet red,
	And his hair was as yellow as the beam, beam gold,
	And his breast as white as milk.
100F.11	‘No wonder, no wonder,’ quo the king,
	‘My dochter luvit thee;
	For if thou was a woman, as thou’rt a man,
	My bedfellow thou should be.’
100F.12	The king called down his merry men all,
	By one, by two, and by three;
	Sweet Willie should ha been the foremost man,
	But the hindmost man drew he.
100F.13	‘Will you take my dochter Jean,
	By the faith of her richt hand?
	And you shall sup and dine with me,
	And heir the third part of my land.’
100F.14	‘I will take your dochter Jean,
	By the faith of her richt hand,
	And I will sup and dine with you,
	But a fig for all your land;
	For I’ve as much land in Winsberry
	As we’ll ride in a long summer’s day.’


		 Child 100G: Willie o Winesberry

100G.1	SEVEN years the king he staid
	Into the land of Spain,
	And seven years True Thomas was
	His daughter’s chamberlain.
100G.2	But it fell ance upon a day
	The king he did come home;
	She baked and she benjed ben,
	And did him there welcome.
100G.3	‘What aileth you, my daughter Janet,
	You look sae pale and wan?
	There is a dreder in your heart,
	Or else you love a man.’
100G.4	‘There is no dreder in my heart,
	Nor do I love a man;
	But it is for your lang byding
	Into the land of Spain.’
100G.5	‘Ye’ll cast aff your bonny brown gown,
	And lay it on a stone,
	And I’ll tell you, my jelly Janet,
	If ever ye lovd a man.’
100G.6	She’s cast aff her bonny brown gown,
	And laid it on a stone;
	Her belly was big, her twa sides high,
	Her colour it was quite gane.
100G.7	‘Is it to a man o the might, Janet,
	Or is it till a man o the main?
	Or is it to one o my poor soldiers,
	That I brought hame frae Spain?’
100G.8	‘It’s not till a man o the might,’ she says,
	‘Nor yet to a man o the main;
	But it’s to Thomas o Winsbury,
	That cannot longer len.’
100G.9	‘O where are all my wall-wight men,
	That I pay meat and fee,
	That will go for him True Thomas,
	And bring him in to me?
	For the morn, ere I eat or drink,
	High hanged shall he be.’
100G.10	She’s turnd her right and round about,
	The tear blinded her ee:
	‘If ye do any ill to True Thomas,
	Ye’se never get gude o me.’
100G.11	When Thomas came before the king
	He glanced like the fire;
	His hair was like the threads o gold,
	His eyes like crystal clear.
100G.12	‘It was nae wonder, my daughter Janet,
	Altho ye loved this man;
	If he were a woman, as he is a man,
	My bed-fellow he would been.
100G.13	‘O will ye marry my daughter Janet?
	The truth’s in your right hand;
	Ye’s hae some o my gold, and some o my gear,
	And the twalt part o my land.’
100G.14	‘It’s I will marry your daughter Janet;
	The truth’s in my right hand;
	I’ll hae nane o your gold, nor nane o your gear,
	I’ve enough in my own land.
100G.15	‘But I will marry your daughter Janet
	With thirty ploughs and three,
	And four and twenty bonny breast-mills,
	And a’ on the water o Dee.’


		 Child 100H: Willie o Winesberry

100H.1	IT fell upon a time, when the proud king of France
	Went a hunting for five months and more,
	That his dochter fell in love with Thomas of Winesberrie,
	From Scotland newly come oer.
100H.2	Whan her father cam hame frae hunting the deer,
	And his dochter before him cam,
	Her belly it was big, and her twa sides round,
	And her fair colour was wan.
100H.3	‘What ails thee, what ails thee, my dochter Janet?
	What makes thee to look sae wan?
	Ye’ve either been sick, and very, very sick,
	Or else ye hae lain wi a man.’
100H.4	’re welcome, ye’re welcome, dear father,’ she says,
	‘Ye’re welcome hame to your ain,
	For I hae been sick, and very, very sick,
	Thinking lang for your coming hame.
100H.5	‘O pardon, O pardon, dear father,’ she says,
	‘A pardon ye’ll grant me:’
	‘Na pardon, na pardon, my dochter,’ he says,
	‘Na pardon I’ll grant thee.
100H.6	‘O is it to a man of micht,
	Or to a man of mean?
	Or is it to onie of thae rank robbers
	That I sent hame frae Spain?’
100H.7	‘It is not to a man of micht,
	Nor to a man of mean;
	But it is to Thomas o Winesberrie,
	And for him I suffer pain.’
100H.8	‘If it be to Thomas o’ Winesberrie,
	As I trust well it be,
	Before I either eat or drink,
	Hie hangit sall he be.’
100H.9	When this bonnie boy was brought afore the king,
	His claithing was o the silk,
	His fine yellow hair hang dangling doun,
	And his skin was like the milk.
100H.10	‘Na wonder, na wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says,
	‘My dochter fell in love wi thee,
	For if I war a woman, as I am a man,
	My bed-fellow ye shoud be.
100H.11	‘Then will ye marry my dochter Janet,
	To be heir to a’ my land?
	O will ye marry my dochter Janet,
	Wi the truth o your richt hand?’
100H.12	‘I will marry your dochter Janet,
	Wi the truth o my richt hand;
	I’ll hae nane o your gowd, nor yet o your gear,
	I’ve eneuch in fair Scotland.
100H.13	‘But I will marry your dochter Janet,
	I care na for your land,
	For she’s be a queen, and I a king,
	Whan we come to fair Scotland.’


		 Child 100I: Willie o Winesberry

100I.1	IT fell upon a time that the proud king of France
	Went a hunting for five months and more;
	His daughter fell in love with Lord Winsberry,
	Who from Scotland was newly come oer.
100I.2	‘You’re welcome, welcome, dear father,’ she said,
	‘You’re welcome again to your own;
	For I have been sick, and very, very sick,
	Thinking long for your coming home.’
100I.3	‘Put off, put off your gown of green,’ he says,
	‘And spread it on yonder green,
	And tell them from me that in mourning you are,
	Or that he have lain with a man.’
100I.4	She’s put off her gown of green,
	And spread it on the strand;
	Her haunches were round, and her belly was big,
	From her face the colour is gone.
100I.5	‘O is it to a man of might,’ he says,
	‘Or is it to a man that’s mean?
	Or is it to one of those rank rebels,
	That lately from Scotland came?’
100I.6	‘O it is to a man of might,’ she says,
	‘It is not to one that is mean;
	It is to Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
	And for him I must suffer pain.’
100I.7	The king called up his merry men all,
	By one, by two, and by three:
	‘Go fetch me Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
	For tomorrow he shall die.’
100I.8	They sought him up, they sought him down,
	As fast as fast could be;
	There they found Lord Thomas of Winsberry,
	Sitting under an orange tree.
100I.9	‘Get up, get up, Lord Thomas,’ they said,
	‘Get up, and bound your way;
	For the king has sworn by his honoured crown
	That tomorrow is thy dying-day.’
100I.10	‘O what have I robbd, or what have I stolen,
	Or what have I killed or slain,
	That I should be afraid to speak to your king?
	For I have done him no wrong.’
100I.11	Lord Thomas came tripping up the stair,
	His cloathing was of the silk;
	His fine yellow hair hung dangling down,
	His skin was white as the milk.
100I.12	And when he came before the king
	He kneeled down on his knee;
	Says, What is your will with me, my liege,
	What is your will with me?
100I.13	‘I think no wonder, Lord Thomas,’ he says,
	‘That my daughter fell in love with thee;
	If thou wert a woman, as thou art a man,
	My bed-fellow thou wouldst be.
100I.14	‘Will ye marry my daughter Jean,
	By the faith of thy right hand?
	Thou’se have part of my gold, part of my gear,
	And a third part of my land.’
100I.15	‘Yes, I will marry thy daughter Jean,
	By the faith of my right hand;
	I’ll have none of your gold, none of your gear;
	I have enough in fair Scotland.’
100I.16	He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,
	Himself on a dapple-grey;
	He’s got as much land in fair Scotland
	As they can ride in a summer’s day.



		 Child 101A: Willie o Couglas Dale

101A.1	O WILLY was as brave a lord
	As ever saild the sea,
	And he has gane to the English court,
	To serve for meat and fee.
101A.2	He had nae been at the kingis court
	A twelvemonth and a day,
	Till he longd for a sight o the king’s daughter,
	But ane he coud never see.
101A.3	O it fell ance upon a day
	To the green wood she has gane,
	An Willy he has followd her,
	With the clear light o the moon.
101A.4	He looted him low, by her did go,
	Wi his hat intill his hand:
	‘O what’s your will wi me, Sir Knight?
	I pray keep your hat on.’
101A.5	‘O I am not a knight, Madam,
	Nor never thinks to be;
	For I am Willy o Douglassdale,
	An I serve for meat and fee.’
101A.6	‘O I’ll gang to my bowr,’ she says,
	‘An sigh baith even an morn
	That ever I saw your face, Willy,
	Or that ever ye was born.
101A.7	‘O I’ll gang to my bowr,’ she says,
	‘An I’ll pray baith night an day,
	To keep me frae your tempting looks,
	An frae your great beauty.’
101A.8	O in a little after that
	He keepit Dame Oliphant’s bowr,
	As the love that passd between this twa,
	It was like paramour.
101A.9	‘O narrow, narrow’s my gown, Willy,
	That wont to be sae wide;
	An short, short is my coats, Willy,
	That wont to be sae side;
	An gane is a’ my fair colour,
	An low laid is my pride.
101A.10	‘But an my father get word of this,
	He’ll never drink again;
	An gin my mother get word of this,
	In her ain bowr she’ll go brain;
	An gin my bold brothers get word this,
	I fear, Willy, you’ll be slain.’
101A.11	‘O will you leave your father’s court,
	An go along wi me?
	I’ll carry you unto fair Scotland,
	And mak you a lady free.’
101A.12	She pat her han in her pocket
	An gae him five hunder poun:
	‘An take you that now, Squire Willy,
	Till awa that we do won.’
101A.13	Whan day was gane, and night was come,
	She lap the castle-wa;
	But Willy kepit his gay lady,
	He was laith to let her fa.
101A.14	Whan night was gane, an day come in,
	An lions gaed to their dens,
	An ay the lady followd him,
	An the tears came hailing down.
101A.15	‘O want ye ribbons to your hair?
	Or roses to your shoone?
	Or want ye as meickle dear bought love
	As your ain heart can contain?’
101A.16	‘I want nae ribbons to my hair,
	Nor roses till my shoone;
	An Ohone, alas, for dear bought love!
	I have mair nor I can contain.’
101A.17	O he’s pu’d the oak in good green wood,
	An he’s made to her a fire;
	He coverd it oer wi withred leaves,
	An gard it burn thro ire.
101A.18	He made a bed i the good green wood,
	An he’s laid his lady down,
	An he’s coverd her oer wi fig-tree leaves,
	But an his ain night-gown.
101A.19	‘O had I a bunch o yon red roddins,
	That grows in yonder wood,
	But an a drink o water clear,
	I think it woud do me good.’
101A.20	He’s pu’d her a bunch o yon red roddins,
	That grew beside yon thorn,
	But an a drink o water clear,
	Intill his hunting-horn.
101A.21	He’s bent his bow, and shot the deer,
	An thro the green wood gane,
	An ere that he came back again
	His lady took travailing.
101A.22	‘O up ye tak that horn,’ she says,
	‘An ye blaw a blast for me;
	Gin my father be in good green wood,
	Sae seen’s he’ll come me ti.’
101A.23	‘O gin there be a man on earth
	That ye loo better nor me,
	Ye blaw the horn yoursel,’ he says,
	‘For it’s never be blawn by me.’
101A.24	O he’s bent his bow, an shot the deer,
	An thro the green wood has he gane,
	An lang or he came back again
	His lady bare him a son.
101A.25	O up has he tane his bonny young son,
	An washn him wi the milk,
	An up has he tane his gay lady,
	An rowd her i the silk.
101A.26	He’s bent his bow, and shot the deer,
	An thro the green wood has he gane,
	Till he met wi a well-fard may,
	Her father’s flock feeding.
101A.27	‘Ye leave your father’s flock feeding,
	An go along wi me;
	I’ll carry you to a lady fair,
	Will gi you both meat and fee.’
101A.28	O whan she came the lady before,
	She’s fa’n down on her knee:
	‘O what’s your will wi me, my dame?
	An a dame you seem to be.’
101A.29	‘O I’m Dame Oliphant, the king’s daughter,
	Nae doubt but ye’ve heard o me;
	Will you leave your father’s flock feeding,
	An go to Scotlan wi me?
101A.30	‘An ye sal get a nouriship
	Intill an earldome,
	An I will gar provide for the
	To marry some brave Scotsman.’
101A.31	The may she keepit the bonny boy,
	An Willy led his lady,
	Untill they took their fair shippin,
	Then quickly hame came they.
101A.32	The win was fair, an the sea was clear,
	An they a’ wan safe to lan;
	He’s haild her lady of Douglassdale,
	Himsel the lord within.


		 Child 101B: Willie o Couglas Dale

101B.1	WILLIE was an earl’s ae son,
	And an earl’s ae son was he,
	But he thought his father lack to sair,
	And his mother of low degree.
101B.2	But he is on to fair England,
	To sair for meat an fee,
	And all was for Dame Oliphant,
	A woman of great beauty.
101B.3	He hadna been in fair England
	A month but barely ane,
	Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant
	Gied him a gay gold ring.
101B.4	He hadna been in fair England
	A month but barely four,
	Ere he dreamd that fair Dame Oliphant
	Gied him a red rose flower,
	Well set about with white lilies,
	Like to the paramour.
101B.5	It fell ance upon a day
	Dame Oliphant thought lang,
	And she gaed on to good green wood,
	As fast as she could gang.
101B.6	As Willie stood in his chamber-door,
	And as he thought it good,
	There he beheld Dame Oliphant,
	As she came thro the wood.
101B.7	He’s taen his bow his arm oer,
	His sword into his hand,
	And he is on to good green wood,
	As fast as he could gang.
101B.8	And there he found Dame Oliphant,
	Was lying sound asleep,
	And aye the sounder she did sleep
	The nearer he did creep.
101B.9	But when she wakend from her sleep
	An angry maid was she,
	Crying, Had far away frae me, young man,
	Had far away frae me!
	For I fear ye are the Scottish knight
	That beguiles young ladies free.
101B.10	‘I am not the Scottish knight,
	Nor ever thinks to be;
	I am but Willie o Douglass Dale,
	That serves for meat an fee.’
101B.11	‘If ye be Willie o Douglass Dale,
	Ye’re dearly welcome to me;
	For oft in my sleep have I thought on
	You and your merry winking ee.’
101B.12	But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,
	And the lions took the hill,
	And Willie he gaed hame again,
	To his hard task and till;
	And likewise did Dame Oliphant,
	To her book and her seam.
101B.13	Till it fell ance upon a day
	Dame Oliphant thought lang,
	And she went on to Willie’s bower-yates,
	As fast as she could gang.
101B.14	‘O are ye asleep now, Squire Willie?
	O are you asleep?’ said she;
	O waken, waken, Squire Willie,
	O waken, and speak to me.
101B.15	‘For the gowns that were oer wide, Willie,
	They winna meet on me,
	And the coats that were oer side, Willie,
	They winna come to my knee;
	And if the knights of my father’s court get word,
	I’m sure they’ll gar you die.’
	* * * * *
101B.16	But she’s taen a web of the scarlet,
	And she tare it fine an sma,
	And even into Willie’s arms
	She leapt the castle-wa;
	And Willie was wight and well able,
	And he keept her frae a fa.
101B.17	But the cocks they crew, and the horns blew,
	And the lions took the hill,
	And Willie’s ladie followed him,
	And the tears did twinkle still.
101B.18	‘O want ye ribbons to your hair?
	Or roses to your sheen?
	Or want ye chains about your neck?
	Ye’se get mair ere that be deen.’
101B.19	‘I want not ribbons to my hair,
	Nor roses to my sheen,
	And there’s mair chains about my neck
	Nor ever I’ll see deen;
	But I have as much dear bought love
	As my heart can contain.’
101B.20	‘Will ye go to the cards or dice?
	Or to the table ee?
	Or to a bed, so well down spread,
	And sleep till it be day?’
101B.21	I’ve mair need of the roddins, Willie,
	That grow on yonder thorn;
	Likewise a drink o Marywell water,
	Out of your grass-green horn.
101B.22	‘I’ve mair need of a fire, Willie,
	To had me frae the cauld;
	Likewise a glass of your red wine,
	Ere I bring my son to the fauld.’
101B.23	He’s got a bush o roddins till her,
	That grows on yonder thorn;
	Likewise a drink o Marywell water,
	Out of his grass-green horn.
101B.24	He carried the match in his pocket
	That kindled to her the fire,
	Well set about wi oaken spells,
	That leamd oer Lincolnshire.
101B.25	And he has bought to his lady
	The white bread and the wine;
	And the milk he milked from the goats,
	He fed his young son on.
101B.26	Till it fell ance upon a day
	Dame Oliphant thought lang:
	‘O gin ye hae a being, Willie,
	I pray ye hae me hame.’
101B.27	He’s taen his young son in his arms,
	His lady by the hand,
	And they’re down thro good green wood,
	As fast as they could gang.
101B.28	Till they came to a shepherd-may,
	Was feeding her flocks alone;
	Said, Will ye gae alang wi me,
	And carry my bonny young son?
101B.29	The gowns that were shapen for my back,
	They shall be sewd for thine;
	And likewise I’ll gar Squire Willie
	Gie you a braw Scotsman.
101B.30	When they came on to Willie’s bower-yates,
	And far beyont the sea,
	She was haild the lady o Douglass Dale,
	And Willie an earl to be:
	Likewise the maid they brought awa,
	She got a braw Scotsman.


		 Child 101C: Willie o Couglas Dale

101C.1	SWEET Sir William of Douglas Dale,
	A knight’s ae son was he;
	He dreamed of dear Dame Oliphant,
	Lang ere he did her see.
101C.2	He dreamed a woman of great beauty
	Gave him a red rose flower,
	Well busket about wi the lillies white,
	Just like the paramour.
101C.3	O sweet Sir William of Douglas Dale,
	A knight’s ae son was he,
	And he is on to the king’s high court,
	To serve for meat and fee.
	* * * * *
101C.4	Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,
	Tied in a towal so white,
	And that she has given her Lord William,
	Out oer the castle-dyke.
101C.5	Five hundred pounds of Spanish gold,
	Tied in a towel sae sma,
	And that she has given her own true-love,
	Out ore the castle-wa.
101C.6	She rowed hersell in a robe o silk,
	To loup the castle-wa;
	He ceppet her in his armes twa,
	And he let not her get a fa.
	* * * * *
101C.7	The cocks do craw, and the day does daw,
	And the wild fowl bodes on hill;
	The lassie she followed her Sweet William,
	And let the tears down fall.
	* * * * *
101C.8	‘O want you ribbons to your hair?
	Or roses to your sheen?
	Or want ye as much of feel daft love
	As your heart can contain?’
101C.9	‘I want nor ribbons to my hair,
	Nor roses to my sheen;
	I’ve got as much o dear bought love
	As my heart can contain.’
	* * * * *
101C.10	He carried a flint in his pocket,
	And he strack to her a fire,
	And he buskit it roun wi the leaves o oak,
	And gart it burn wi ire.
101C.11	He’s taen his big coat him about,
	And his gun into his hand,
	And he has gone to good green wood,
	To kill some venison.
101C.12	He’s taen his big coat him about,
	And his gun into his han,
	But lang ere he came back again
	She bare his dear young son.
101C.13	He rowed her in his muckle coat,
	But in his good night-gown,
	And he fed her wi the good goat-milk,
	Till she was well able to gang.
101C.14	He’s taen his young son in his arm,
	His lady in his hand,
	And they are down thro good green wood,
	As fast as they can gang.
101C.15	And they came to a shepherd’s daughter,
	Was feeding at her sheep;
	Says, Will ye go to Douglass Dale,
	Wi my yong son to keep?
101C.16	O I will gee you gold, maiden,
	And I will gee you fee,
	Gin ye will go to Douglas Dale,
	Wi my yong son and me.
101C.17	She’s taen his young son in her arm,
	And kissed baith cheek and chin;
	Says, I will go to Douglas Dale,
	As fast as I can win.
101C.18	He’s taen his big coat him about,
	And his lady in his hand,
	And they are off to Douglas Dale,
	As fast as they can gang.
101C.19	And when they came to Douglas Dale
	A happy man was he,
	For his lady, and his young son,
	And his nurse, a’ three.


		 Child 101[D]: Willie o Couglas Dale

101[D].1	Willie was a rich man’s son,
	A rich man’s son was he;
	Hee thought his father lake to sair,
	An his mother of mine digree,
	An he is on to our English court,
	To serve for meatt an fee.
101[D.2]	He hadno ben in our king’s court
	A tuall-month an a day,
	Till he fell in love we Mary, Dem [Ele]fon,
	An a great buity was she.
101[D.3]	He hadno ben in our king’s court
	A tuall-month an a houre,
	Till he dreamed a lady of buty bright
	Gave him a rosey flour.
101[D.4]	The lady touk her mantell her about,
	Her gooun-teall in her hand,
	An she is on to gued grean woud,
	As fast as she could gang.
101[D.5]	. . . . . . . .
	. . . . . . . .
	An ther she spayed a gellant knight,
	Kamen his yallou hear.
101[D.6]	‘What is yer name, sir knight?
	For a knight I am sure ye be;’
	‘I am called Willie of Duglas Dall,
	Did ye never hear of me?’
	‘If ye be Willie of Duglass Daill,
	I afft have heard of thee.’
101[D.7]	‘What is yer name, ye lovely dame?
	For a lady I trou ye be;’
	‘I am called Mary, Dem Elefond,
	Did ye never hear of me?’
101[D.8]	‘In ye be Mary, Dem Elefon,
	As I trust well ye be,
	. . . . . . .
	My heart ye haa ye we.’
101[D.9]	The lady was fair an rear,
	The knight’s heart had she;
	The knight was tall an straght withall,
	The lady’s hart had he.
101[D.10]	It fell ance upon a day
	Dem Elofen thought lang,
	An she is on to Willie’s bour,
	As fast as she could gang.
101[D.11]	‘Narrou is my pettecot, Willie,
	It ance was saa wide,
	An narrou is my stays, Willie,
	Att ance wer saa wide,
	An paill is my chikes, Willie,
	An laigh, laigh is my pride.
101[D.12]	’. . . . . . . .
	. . . . . . . .
	An the knights of my father’s court gat word of this,
	I feer they wad gare ye diee.’
101[D.13]	He touke . . . . . . . . .
	The lady by the hand,
	An they are one to gued green woud,
	As fast as they coud gang.
101[D.14]	It fell ance upon a day
	Strong travileng came her tell,
	. . . . . . .
	. . . . . . .
101[D.15]	‘Ye take your boue on yer shoulder,
	Yer arrous in yer hand,
	An ye gaa farr throu green woud,
	An shout some veneson.
101[D.16]	‘Fan ye hear me loud cray,
	Bide far awaa fra me,
	Bat fan ye hear me laying still
	Ye may come back an see.’
101[D.17]	Fan he hard her loud cray,
	He bad far awaa,
	Bat fan he heard her laying still
	He did come an see,
	An he got her
	An her young son her wee.
101[D.18]	He milked the goats,
	An feed his young son wee,
	And he made a fire of the oken speals,
	An warmed his lady wee.
101[D.19]	It fell ance upon a day
	The lady though[t] lang:
	‘An ye haa any place in fair Scotland, Willie,
	I wiss ye wad haa me hame.’
101[D.20]	’. . . . . . .
	I ha lands an reants saa friee,
	The bonny lands of Duglass Daill,
	They a’ lay bread an friee.’
101[D.21]	He’s taen the knight-bairn in his arms,
	His lady by the hand,
	An he is out throu gued green woud,
	As fast as they coud gang.
101[D.22]	. . . . . . . .
	. . . . . . . .
	Till they came to a maid kepping her goats,
	. . . . . . . .
101[D.23]	‘Hall , ye maid,
	For a maid ye seem to be;
	Will ye live your goats kepping
	An goo we me?
101[D.24]	‘I cannot live my father, I canno live my midder,
	Nor yet my brethren three;
	I cannot live my goats kepping,
	An goo along we the.
101[D.25]	‘Fatt is your name, ye lovely dame?
	For a lady I am shour ye be;’
	‘I am called Mary, Dem Elifond,
	Did ye nver hear of me?’
101[D.26]	‘If ye be Mary, Dem Elifond,
	As I trust weel ye be,
	I will live my goats kepping
	An goo along we the.
101[D.27]	‘For I will live my father, an I ill live my mother,
	An my brothers three,
	An I will live my goats,
	An go along we thee.’
101[D.28]	The maid touke the knight-bairn in her ar[m]s,
	An his lady took he,
	An they are to gued ship-bourd,
	And took God to be ther foresteed, an didne fear to droun.
101[D.29]	An they landed att Duglas Dalle,
	Far the lands was briad an frie,
	An the knight-bairn was Black Sir James of Duglas Dall,
	An a gallant knight was hee.



	 Child 102A: Willie and Earl Richard’s Daughter

102A.1	O WILLIE\R’\rS large o limb and lith,
	And come o high degree,
	And he is gane to Earl Richard,
	To serve for meat and fee.
102A.2	Earl Richard had but ae daughter,
	Fair as a lily-flower,
	And they made up their love-contract
	Like proper paramour.
102A.3	It fell upon a simmer’s nicht,
	Whan the leaves were fair and green,
	That Willie met his gay ladie
	Intil the wood alane.
102A.4	‘O narrow is my gown, Willie,
	That wont to be sae wide;
	And gane is a’ my fair colour,
	That wont to be my pride.
102A.5	‘But gin my father should get word
	What’s past between us twa,
	Before that he should eat or drink,
	He’d hang you oer that wa.
102A.6	‘But ye’ll come to my bower, Willie,
	Just as the sun gaes down,
	And kep me in your arms twa,
	And latna me fa down.’
102A.7	O whan the sun was now gane down,
	He’s doen him till her bower,
	And there, by the lee licht o the moon,
	Her window she lookit oer.
102A.8	Intill a robe o red scarlet
	She lap, fearless o harm;
	And Willie was large o lith and limb,
	And keepit her in his arm.
102A.9	And they’ve gane to the gude green wood,
	And, ere the night was deen,
	She’s born to him a bonny young son,
	Amang the leaves sae green.
102A.10	Whan night was gane, and day was come,
	And the sun began to peep,
	Up and raise the Earl Richard
	Out o his drowsy sleep.
102A.11	He’s ca’d upon his merry young men,
	By ane, by twa, and by three:
	‘O what’s come o my daughter dear,
	That she’s nae come to me?
102A.12	‘I dreamt a dreary dream last night,
	God grant it come to gude!
	I dreamt I saw my daughter dear
	Drown in the saut sea flood.
102A.13	‘But gin my daughter be dead or sick,
	Or yet be stown awa,
	I mak a vow, and I’ll keep it true,
	I’ll hang ye ane and a’!’
102A.14	They sought her back, they sought her fore,
	They sought her up and down;
	They got her in the gude green wood,
	Nursing her bonny young son.
102A.15	He took the bonny boy in his arms,
	And kist him tenderlie;
	Says, Though I would your father hang,
	Your mother’s dear to me.
102A.16	He kist him oer and oer again:
	‘My grandson I thee claim,
	And Robin Hood in gude green wood,
	And that shall be your name.’
102A.17	And mony ane sings o grass, o grass,
	And mony ane sings o corn,
	And mony ane sings o Robin Hood
	Kens little whare he was born.
102A.18	It wasna in the ha, the ha,
	Nor in the painted bower,
	But it was in the gude green wood,
	Amang the lily-flower.


	 Child 102B: Willie and Earl Richard’s Daughter

102B.1	MONY ane talks o the grass, the grass,
	And mony ane o the corn,
	And mony ane talks o gude Robin Hood
	Kens little whar he was born.
102B.2	He was gotten in a earl’s ha,
	And in a lady’s bower,
	And born into gude greenwood,
	Thro mony cauld winter’s shower.
102B.3	His father was the earl’s own steward,
	Sprung frae sma pedigree;
	His mother, Earl Huntingdon’s ae daughter,
	For he had nane else but she.
102B.4	When nine months were near an end,
	And eight months they were gone,
	The lady’s cheeks wi tears were wet,
	And thus she made her moan:
102B.5	‘What shall I say, my love Archibald,
	This day for you and me?
	I will be laid in cauld irons,
	And ye’ll be hanged on tree.’
102B.6	‘What aileth my love Clementina?
	What gars you mourn sae sair?’
	‘You know,’ said she, ‘I’m with child to thee,
	These eight lang months and mair.’
102B.7	‘Will ye gae to my mother’s bower,
	Stands on yon stately green?
	Or will ye gae to the gude greenwood,
	Where ye will not be seen?’
102B.8	‘I winna gang to your mother’s bower,
	Stands on yon stately green;
	But I will on to gude greenwood,
	For I will not be seen.’
102B.9	He’s girt his sword down by his side,
	Took his lady by the hand,
	And they are on thro gude greenwood,
	As fast as they could gang.
102B.10	With slowly steps these couple walkd,
	About miles scarcely three.
	When this lady, being sair wearied out,
	Lay down beneath a tree.
102B.11	‘O for a few of yon junipers,
	To cheer my heart again,
	And likewise for a gude midwife,
	To ease me of my pain!’
102B.12	‘I’ll bring to you yon junipers,
	To cheer your heart again,
	And I’ll be to you a gude midwife,
	To ease you of your pain.’
102B.13	‘Had far awa frae me, Archibald,
	For this will never dee;
	That’s nae the fashion o our land,
	And it’s nae be used by me.
102B.14	‘Ye’ll take your small-sword by your side,
	Your buckler and your bow,

	And ye’ll gae down thro gude greenwood,
	And hunt the deer and roe.
102B.15	‘You will stay in gude greenwood,
	And with the chase go on,
	Until yon white hind pass you by,
	Then straight to me ye’ll come.’
102B.16	He’s girt his sword then by his side,
	His buckler and his bow,
	And he is on thro gude greenwood,
	To hunt the deer and roe.
102B.17	And in the greenwood he did stay,
	And with the chase gaed on,
	Until the white hind passd him by,
	Then to his love he came.
102B.18	He girt his sword then by his side,
	Fast thro greenwood went he,
	And there he found his love lie dead,
	Beneath the green oak tree.
102B.19	The sweet young babe that she had born
	Right lively seemed to be;
	‘Ohon, alas!’ said young Archibald,
	‘A mournful scene to me!
102B.20	‘Altho my sweet babe is alive,
	This does increase my woe;
	How to nourish a motherless babe
	Is mair than I do know.’
102B.21	He looked east, he looked west,
	To see what he could see,
	Then spied the Earl o Huntingdon,
	And mony a man him wi.
102B.22	Then Archibald fled from the earl’s face,
	Among the leaves sae green,
	That he might hear what might be said,
	And see, and nae be seen.
102B.23	The earl straight thro the greenwood came,
	Unto the green oak tree,
	And there he saw his daughter dead,
	Her living child her wi.
102B.24	Then he’s taen up the little boy,
	Rowed him in his gown-sleeve;
	Said, Tho your father’s to my loss,
	Your mother’s to me leave.
102B.25	And if ye live until I die,
	My bowers and lands ye’se heir;
	You are my only daughter’s child;
	But her I never had mair.
102B.26	Ye’se hae all kinds of nourishment,
	And likewise nurses three;
	If I knew where the fause knave were,
	High hanged should he be.
102B.27	His daughter he buried in gude church-yard,
	All in a mournful mood,
	And brought the boy to church that day,
	And christend him Robin Hood.
102B.28	This boy was bred in the earl’s ha
	Till he became a man,
	But loved to hunt in gude greenwood,
	To raise his noble fame.


	 Child 102C: Willie and Earl Richard’s Daughter

102C.1	MONY ane speaks o grass, o grass,
	And mony mare o corn,
	And mony ane sings o Robin Heed
	Kens little whare he was born.
102C.2	He was born in good green wood,
	At the fut o yon olive tree;
	His father was a knight’s ae son,
	And his mother a lady free.



	  Child 103A: Rose the Red and White Lily

103A.1	O ROSE the Red and White Lilly,
	Their mother dear was dead,
	And their father married an ill woman,
	Wishd them twa little guede.
103A.2	Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
	As eer brake manis bread,
	And the tane of them loed her White Lilly,
	An the tither lood Rose the Red.
103A.3	O biggit ha they a bigly bowr,
	And strawn it oer wi san,
	And there was mair mirth i the ladies’ bowr
	Than in a’ their father’s lan.
103A.4	But out is spake their step-mother,
	Wha stood a little foreby:
	I hope to live and play the prank
	Sal gar your loud sang ly.
103A.5	She’s calld upon her eldest son:
	Come here, my son, to me;
	It fears me sair, my eldest son,
	That ye maun sail the sea.
103A.6	‘Gin if fear you sair, my mither dear,
	Your bidding I maun dee;
	But never war to Rose the Red
	Than ye ha been to me.’
103A.7	‘O had your tongue, my eldest son,
	For sma sal be her part;
	You’ll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth
	Gin your very fair heart should break.’
103A.8	She’s calld upon her youngest son:
	Come here, my son, to me;
	It fears me sair, my youngest son,
	That ye maun sail the sea.
103A.9	‘Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
	Your bidding I maun dee;
	But be never war to White Lilly
	Than ye ha been to me.’
103A.10	‘O haud your tongue, my youngest son,
	For sma sall be her part;
	You’ll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth
	Tho your very fair heart should break.’
103A.11	When Rose the Red and White Lilly
	Saw their twa loves were gane,
	Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang,
	And tane up the still mournin;
	And their step-mother stood listnin by,
	To hear the ladies’ mean.
103A.12	Then out it spake her White Lilly:
	My sister, we’ll be gane;
	Why should we stay in Barnsdale,
	To waste our youth in pain?
103A.13	Then cutted ha they their green cloathing
	A little below their knee,
	An sae ha they there yallow hair,
	A little aboon there bree;
	An they’ve doen them to haely chapel,
	Was christened by Our Lady.
103A.14	There ha they chang’d their ain twa names,
	Sae far frae ony town,
	An the tane o them hight Sweet Willy,
	An the tither o them Roge the Roun.
103A.15	Between this twa a vow was made,
	An they sware it to fulfil;
	That at three blasts o a bugle-horn,
	She’d come her sister till.
103A.16	Now Sweet Willy’s gane to the kingis court,
	Her true-love for to see,
	An Roge the Roun to good green wood,
	Brown Robin’s man to be.
103A.17	As it fell out upon a day
	They a’ did put the stane,
	Full seven foot ayont them a’
	She gard the puttin-stane gang.
103A.18	She leand her back against an oak,
	And gae a loud Ohone!
	Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
	But that’s a woman’s moan!
103A.19	‘O ken ye by my red rose lip?
	Or by my yallow hair?
	Nor ken ye by my milk-white breast?
	For ye never saw it bare?’
103A.20	ken no by your red rose lip,
	Nor by your yallow hair;
	Nor ken I by your milk-white breast,
	For I never saw it bare;
	But come to your bowr whaever sae likes,
	Will find a lady there.’
103A.21	‘O gin ye come to my bowr within,
	Thro fraud, deceit, or guile,
	Wi this same bran that’s in my han,
	I swear I will the kill.’
103A.22	‘But I will come thy bowr within,
	An spear nae leave,’ quoth he;
	‘An this same bran that’s i my han
	I sall ware back on the.’
103A.23	About the tenth hour of the night
	The ladie’s bower-door was broken,
	An eer the first hour of the day
	The bonny knave-bairn was gotten.
103A.24	When days were gane, and months were run,
	The lady took travailing,
	And sair she cry’d for a bowr-woman,
	For to wait her upon.
103A.25	Then out it spake him Brown Robin:
	Now what needs a’ this din?
	For what coud any woman do
	But I coud do the same?
103A.26	‘’Twas never my mither’s fashion,’ she says,
	‘Nor sall it ever be mine,
	That belted knights shoud eer remain
	Where ladies dreed their pine.
103A.27	‘But ye take up that bugle-horn,
	An blaw a blast for me;
	I ha a brother in the kingis court
	Will come me quickly ti.’
103A.28	‘O gin ye ha a brither on earth
	That ye love better nor me,
	Ye blaw the horn yoursel,’ he says,
	‘For ae blast I winna gie.’
103A.29	She’s set the horn till her mouth,
	And she’s blawn three blasts sae shrill;
	Sweet Willy heard i the kingis court,
	And came her quickly till.
103A.30	Then up it started Brown Robin,
	An an angry man was he:
	‘There comes nae man this bowr within
	But first must fight wi me.’
103A.31	O they hae fought that bowr within
	Till the sun was gaing down,
	Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red
	Came hailing to the groun.
103A.32	She leand her back against the wa,
	Says, Robin, let a’ be;
	For it is a lady born and bred
	That’s foughten sae well wi thee.
103A.33	O seven foot he lap a back;
	Says, Alas, and wae is me!
	I never wishit in a’ my life,
	A woman’s blude to see;
	An a’ for the sake of ae fair maid
	Whose name was White Lilly.
103A.34	Then out it spake her White Lilly,
	An a hearty laugh laugh she:
	She’s lived wi you this year an mair,
	Tho ye kentna it was she.
103A.35	Now word has gane thro a’ the lan,
	Before a month was done,
	That Brown Robin’s man, in good green wood,
	Had born a bonny young son.
103A.36	The word has gane to the kingis court,
	An to the king himsel;
	‘Now, by my fay,’ the king could say,
	‘The like was never heard tell!’
103A.37	Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
	An a hearty laugh laugh he:
	I trow some may has playd the loun,
	And fled her ain country.
103A.38	‘Bring me my steed,’ then cry’d the king,
	‘My bow and arrows keen;
	I’l ride mysel to good green wood,
	An see what’s to be seen.’
103A.39	‘An’t please your grace,’ said Bold Arthur,
	‘My liege, I’ll gang you wi,
	An try to fin a little foot-page,
	That’s strayd awa frae me.’
103A.40	O they’ve hunted i the good green wood
	The buck but an the rae,
	An they drew near Brown Robin’s bowr,
	About the close of day.
103A.41	Then out it spake the king in hast,
	Says, Arthur, look an see
	Gin that be no your little foot-page
	That leans against yon tree.
103A.42	n Arthur took his bugle-horn,
	An blew a blast sae shrill;
	Sweet Willy started at the sound,
	An ran him quickly till.
103A.43	‘O wanted ye your meat, Willy?
	Or wanted ye your fee?
	Or gat ye ever an angry word,
	That ye ran awa frae me?’
103A.44	‘I wanted nought, my master dear;
	To me ye ay was good;
	I came but to see my ae brother,
	That wons in this green wood.’
103A.45	Then out it spake the king again,
	Says, Bonny boy, tell to me
	Wha lives into yon bigly bowr,
	Stands by yon green oak tree?
103A.46	‘O pardon me,’ says Sweet Willy,
	‘My liege, I dare no tell;
	An I pray you go no near that bowr,
	For fear they do you fell.’
103A.47	‘O haud your tongue, my bonny boy,
	For I winna be said nay;
	But I will gang that bowr within,
	Betide me weel or wae.’
103A.48	They’ve lighted off their milk-white steeds,
	An saftly enterd in,
	An there they saw her White Lilly,
	Nursing her bonny yong son.
103A.49	‘Now, by the rood,’ the king coud say,
	‘This is a comely sight;
	I trow, instead of a forrester’s man,
	This is a lady bright!’
103A.50	Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
	An fell low down on her knee:
	O pardon us, my gracious liege,
	An our story I’ll tell thee.
103A.51	Our father was a wealthy lord,
	That wond in Barnsdale;
	But we had a wicked step-mother,
	That wrought us meickle bale.
103A.52	Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
	As ever the sun did see,
	An the tane o them lood my sister dear,
	An the tither sayd he lood me.
103A.53	Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
	As by the king he stood:
	Now, by the faith o my body,
	This shoud be Rose the Red!
103A.54	Then in it came him Brown Robin,
	Frae hunting o the deer,
	But whan he saw the king was there,
	He started back for fear.
103A.55	The king has taen him by the hand,
	An bade him naithing dread;
	Says, Ye maun leave the good green wood,
	Come to the court wi speed.
103A.56	Then up he took White Lilly’s son,
	An set him on his knee;
	Says, Gin ye live to wiald a bran,
	My bowman ye sall bee.
103A.57	The king he sent for robes of green,
	An girdles o shinning gold;
	He gart the ladies be arrayd
	Most comely to behold.
103A.58	They’ve done them unto Mary Kirk,
	An there gat fair wedding,
	An fan the news spread oer the lan,
	For joy the bells did ring.
103A.59	Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
	An a hearty laugh laugh she:
	I wonder what would our step-dame say,
	Gin she this sight did see!


	  Child 103B: Rose the Red and White Lily

103B.1	NOW word is gane thro a’ the land,
	Gude seal that it sae spread!
	To Rose the Red and White Lillie,
	Their mither dear was dead.
103B.2	Their father’s married a bauld woman,
	And brought her ower the sea,
	Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons,
	Intill her companie.
103B.3	They fixd their eyes on those ladies,
	On shipboard as they stood,
	And sware, if ever they wan to land,
	These ladies they woud wed.
103B.4	But there was nae a quarter past,
	A quarter past but three,
	Till these young luvers a’ were fond
	O other’s companie.
103B.5	The knights they harped i their bower,
	The ladies sewd and sang;
	There was mair mirth in that chamer
	Than a’ their father’s lan.
103B.6	Then out it spak their step-mither,
	At the stair-foot stood she:
	I’m plagued wi your troublesome noise!
	What makes your melodie?
103B.7	O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud,
	White Lillie, your voice is strang;
	But gin I live and brook my life,
	I’se gar you change your sang.
103B.8	‘We maunna change our loud, loud song
	For nae duke’s son ye’ll bear;
	We winna chnage our loud, loud song,
	But aye we’ll sing the mair.
103B.9	‘We never sung the sang, mither,
	But we’ll sing ower again;
	We’ll take our harps into our hands,
	And we’ll harp, and we’ll sing.’
103B.10	She’s calld upon her twa young sons,
	Says, Boun ye for the sea;
	Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
	Stay in their bower wi me.
103B.11	‘O God forbid,’ said her eldest son,
	‘Nor lat it ever be,
	Unless ye were as kind to our luves
	As gin we were them wi.’
103B.12	‘Yet never the less, my pretty sons,
	Ye’ll boun you for the faem;
	Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
	Stay in their bowers at hame.’
103B.13	‘O when wi you we came alang,
	We felt the stormy sea,
	And where we go, ye neer shall know,
	Nor shall be known by thee.’
103B.14	Then wi her harsh and boisterous word
	She forc’d these lads away,
	While Rose the Red and White Lillie
	Still in their bowers did stay.
103B.15	But there was not a quarter past,
	A quarter past but ane,
	Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed,
	White Lillie’s claithing grew thin.
103B.16	Wi bitter usage every day,
	The ladies they thought lang;
	‘Ohon, alas!’ said Rose the Red,
	‘She’s gard us change our sang.
103B.17	‘But we will change our own fu names,
	And we’ll gang frae the town,
	Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie
	To Nicholas and Roger Brown.
103B.18	‘And we will cut our green claithing
	A little aboon our knee,
	And we will on to gude greenwood,
	Twa bauld bowmen to be.’
103B.19	‘Ohon, alas!’ said White Lillie,
	‘My fingers are but sma,
	And tho my hands woud wield the bow,
	They winna yield at a’.’
103B.20	‘O had your tongue now, White Lillie,
	And lat these fears a’ be;
	There’s naething that ye’re awkward in
	But I will learn thee.’
103B.21	Then they are on to gude greenwood,
	As fast as gang coud they;
	O then they spied him Robin Hood,
	Below a green aik tree.
103B.22	‘Gude day, gude day, kind sir,’ they said,
	‘God make you safe and free:’
	‘Gude day, gude day,’ said Robin Hood,
	‘What is your wills wi me?’
103B.23	‘Lo here we are, twa banishd knights,
	Come frae our native hame;
	We’re come to crave o thee service,
	Our king will gie us nane.’
103B.24	‘If ye be twa young banishd knights,
	Tell me frae what countrie:’
	‘Frae Anster town into Fifeshire;
	Ye know it as well as we.’
103B.25	‘If a’ be true that ye hae said,
	And tauld just now to me,
	Ye’re welcome, welcome, every one;
	Your master I will be.
103B.26	‘Now ye shall eat as I do eat,
	And lye as I do lye;
	Ye salna wear nae waur claithing
	Nor my young men and I.’
103B.27	Then they went to a ruinous house,
	And there they enterd in,
	And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood,
	And Roger wi Little John.
103B.28	But it fell ance upon a day
	They were at the putting-stane,
	Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a’,
	As they stood on the green.
103B.29	She hit the stane then wi her foot,
	And kepd it wi her knee,
	And spaces three aboon them a’
	I wyte she gard it flee.
103B.30	She sat her back then to a tree,
	And gae a loud Ohon!
	A lad spak in the companie,
	I hear a woman’s moan.
103B.31	‘How know you that, young man?’ she said,
	‘How know you that o me?
	Did eer ye see me in that place
	Ae foot my ground to flee?
103B.32	‘Or know ye by my cherry cheeks?
	Or by my yellow hair?
	Or by the paps on my breast-bane?
	Ye never saw them bare.’
103B.33	‘I know not by your cherry cheeks,
	Nor by your yellow hair;
	But I know by your milk-white chin,
	On it there grows nae hair.
103B.34	‘I never saw you in that cause
	Ae foot your ground to flee;
	I’ve seen you stan wi sword in han
	Mang men’s blood to the knee.
103B.35	‘But if I come your bower within,
	By night, or yet by day,
	I shall know before I go
	If ye be man or may.’
103B.36	‘O if you come my bower within,
	By night, or yet by day,
	As soon’s I draw my trusty brand,
	Nae lang ye’ll wi me stay.’
103B.37	But he is haunted to her bower,
	Her bigly bower o stane,
	Till he has got her big wi bairn,
	And near sax months she’s gane.
103B.38	Whan three mair months were come and gane,
	They gaed to hunt the hynde;
	She wont to be the foremost ane,
	But now stayd far behynd.
103B.39	Her luver looks her in the face,
	And thus to her said he;
	I think your cheeks are pale and wan;
	Pray, what gaes warst wi thee?
103B.40	O want ye roses to your breast?
	Or ribbons to your sheen?
	Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luve
	As your heart can conteen?
103B.41	‘I want nae roses to my breast,
	Nae ribbons to my sheen;
	Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve
	As my heart can conteen.
103B.42	‘I’d rather hae a fire behynd,
	Anither me before,
	A gude midwife at my right side,
	Till my young babe be bore.’
103B.43	‘I’ll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane,
	Bring wine in a green horn;
	I’ll be midwife at your right side,
	Till your young babe be born.’
103B.44	‘That was neer my mither’s custom,
	Forbid that it be mine!
	A knight stan by a lady bright
	Whan she drees a’ her pine.
103B.45	‘There is a knight in gude greenwood,
	If that he kent o me,
	Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
	Sae soon’s he woud come me tee.’
103B.46	‘If there be a knight in gude greenwood
	Ye like better than me,
	If ance he come your bower within,
	Ane o us twa shall dee.’
103B.47	She set a horn to her mouth,
	And she blew loud and shrill;
	Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
	Brave Roger came her till.
103B.48	‘Wha’s here sae bauld,’ the youth replied,
	‘Thus to encroach on me?’
	‘O here I am,’ the knight replied,
	‘Hae as much right as thee.’
103B.49	Then they fought up the gude greenwood,
	Sae did they down the plain;
	They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords,
	Till they were bleedy men.
103B.50	Then out it spak the sick woman,
	Sat under the greenwood tree;
	O had your han, young man, she said,
	She’s a woman as well as me.
103B.51	Then out it speaks anither youth,
	Amang the companie;
	Gin I had kent what I ken now,
	’Tis for her I woud dee.
103B.52	‘O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red,
	An ill death mat ye dee!
	Altho ye tauld upo yoursell,
	Ye might hae heald on me.’
103B.53	‘O for her sake I was content
	For to gae ower the sea;
	For her I left my mither’s ha,
	Tho she proves fause to me.’
103B.54	But whan these luvers were made known,
	They sung right joyfullie,
	Nae blyther was the nightingale,
	Nor bird that sat on tree.
103B.55	Now they hae married these ladies,
	Brought them to bower and ha;
	And now a happy life they lead;
	I wish sae may we a’.


	  Child 103C: Rose the Red and White Lily

103C.1	THE king has wedded an ill woman,
	Into some foreign land;
	His daughters twa, that stood in awe,
	They bravely sat and sang.
103C.2	Then in became their step-mother,
	Sae stately steppin ben:
	‘O gin I live and bruik my life,
	I’ll gar ye change your tune.’
103C.3	‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
	But we will sing again;
??	‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
	But we will sing again;
??	‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
	But we will sing again;
??	‘O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
	But we will sing again;
	And ye neer boor that son, ladie,
	But we will sing again;
	And ye neer boor that son, ladie,
	We wad lay our love on.
103C.4	‘But we will cow our yellow locks
	A little abune our bree,
	And we will on to gude greenwud,
	And serve for meat and fee.
103C.5	‘And we will kilt our gay claithing
	A little below the knee,
	And we will on to gude greenwud,
	Gif Robin Hood we see.
	And we will on to gude greenwud,
	Gif Robin Hood we see.
	And we will on to gude greenwud,
	Gif Robin Hood we see.
	And we will on to gude greenwud,
	Gif Robin Hood we see.
103C.6	‘And we will change our ain twa names,
	When we gae frae the toun;
	The tane we will call Nicholas,
	The tither Rogee Roun.’
103C.7	Then they hae cowd their yellow locks
	A little abune their bree,
	And they are on to gude greenwud,
	To serve for meat and fee.
103C.8	And they hae kilt their gay claithing
	A little below their knee,
	And they are on to gud greenwud,
	Gif Robin Hood they see.
103C.9	And they hae chang’d thair ain twa names,
	Whan they gaed frae the toun;
	The tane they’ve called Nicholas,
	The tither Rogee Roun.
103C.10	And they hae staid in gude greenwud,
	And never a day thoucht lang,
	Till it fell ance upon a day
	That Rogee sang a sang.
103C.11	‘Whan we were in our father’s bouer,
	We sewd the silken seam;
	But now we walk the gude greenwud,
	And bear anither name.
103C.12	‘When we were in our father’s ha,
	We wore the beaten gold;
	But now we wear the shield sae sharp;
	Alas, we’ll die with cold!’
103C.13	Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
	As he to them drew near:
	‘Instead of boys to carry the bow,
	Two ladies we’ve got here.’
103C.14	So they had not been in gud greenwud
	A twalmonth and a day,
	Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairn
	As onie lady could gae.
103C.15	‘O wae be to my stepmother,
	That garrd me leave my hame!
	For I’m wi bairn to Robin Hood,
	And near nine month is gane.
103C.16	‘O wha will be my bouer-woman?
	Na bouer-woman is here;
	O wha will be my bouer-woman,
	Whan that sad time draws near?’
103C.17	Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
	At the foot o yon greenwud tree:
	O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun,
	For married ye sall be.
103C.18	The tane was wedded to Robin Hood,
	And the tither to Little John;
	And it was a’ owing to their stepmother,
	That garrd them leave their hame.



		  Child 104A: Prince Heathen

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


		  Child 104B: Prince Heathen

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



	 Child 105: The Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington

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



	  Child 106: The Famous Flower of Serving Men

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



		 Child 107A: Will Steward and John

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


		 Child 107B: Will Steward and John

107B.1	‘SPEAK for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
	‘Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
	‘Speak for yoursell, John Stewart,’ he did say,
	‘And soon an answer I will gie to thee;
	The highest service I can give thee
	Is to wait on my daughter Ailly.
107B.2	’. . . . .

	. . . . .
	If ever I gie a man a penny wage,
	I’m sure, John Stewart, ye shall hae three.’
107B.3	‘I speak not for mysell,’ John Stewart he did say,
	‘I speak for a lord of a higher degree;
	The message is from my brother William,
	Your loving daughter’s husband to be.’
107B.4	’. . . . . .
	. . . . . .
\N3	i’ll rather beat fair Ailly in my leather bang,
	As lang as she can either stand or gang.’
107B.5	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	‘Ye hadna beat her before my face
	Or ye’ll beat three hundred men and me.’
107B.6	When william came to Mulbery Hall,
	He kissd the ladies one and all;
	But when he cam to fair Ailly,
	She thought he might hae gaen her twa or three.
107B.7	Between the kitchen and the garden
	It is calld a measured mile;
	That lady and that lord fell into discourse,
	And they thought they rode it in a short while.
	Chorus: Tring dilly, tring dilly, tring ding dido,
	Tring dilly, tring dilly, dolo dee.



		  Child 108: Christopher White

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



			Child 109A: Tom Potts

109A.1	all you lords of Scottland faire,
	And ladyes alsoe, bright of blee,
	There is a ladye amongst them all,
	Of her report you shall heare of me.
109A.2	Of her bewtye shee is soe bright,
	And of her colour soe bright of blee;
	Shee is daughter to the Lord Arrndell,
	His heyre apparrant for to bee.
109A.3	le see that bryde,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
	’That is a ladye of hye degree,
	And iff I like her countenance well,
	The heyre of all my land shee’st bee
109A.4	To that ladye fayre Lord Phenix came,
	And to that like-some dame said hee,
	Now God thee saue, my ladye faire,
	The heyre of all my land tho’st bee.
109A.5	‘Leaue of your suite,’ the ladye sayd;
	‘You are a lord of honor free;
	You may gett ladyes enowe att home,
	And I haue a lour in mine owne countrye.
109A.6	‘I haue a louer true of mine owne,
	A servinge-man of a small degree;
	Thomas a Pott, itt is his name,
	He is the first loue that euer I had, and the last that hee shalbee.’
109A.7	‘Giue Thomas a Pott then be his name,
	I wott I ken him soe readilye;
	I can spend forty pounds by weeke,
	And hee cannott spend pounds three.’
109A.8	d giue you good of your gold,’ said the ladye,
	Hee was the first loue that euer I had,
	‘And alsoe, sir, of your fee!
	Hee was the first lour that euer I had,
	And the last, sir, shall hee bee.’
109A.9	With that Lord Phenix was sore amoued;
	Vnto her father then went hee;
	Hee told her father how itt was proued,
	How that his daughter’s mind was sett.
109A.10	‘Thou art my daughter,’ the Erle of Arrndell said,
	‘They heyre of all my land to bee;
	Thou’st be bryde to the Lord Phenix,
	Daughter, giue thou’le be heyre to mee.’
109A.11	For lacke of her loue this ladye must lose,
	Her foolish wooing lay all aside;
	The day is appoynted, and freinds are agreede;
	Shee is forcte to be the Lord Phenix bryde.
109A.12	With that the lady began to muse-+-
	A greeued woman, God wott, was shee-+-
	How shee might Lord Phenix beguile,
	And scape vnmarryed from him that day.
109A.13	Shee called to her her litle foote-page,
	To Iacke her boy, soe tenderlye;
	Sayes, Come thou hither, thou litle foote-page,
	For indeed I dare trust none but thee.
109A.14	To Strawberry Castle, boy, thou must goe,
	To Thomas Pott there as hee can bee,
	And giue him here this letter faire,
	And on Guilford Greene bidd him meete me.
109A.15	Looke thou marke his contenance well,
	And his colour tell to mee;
	And hye thee fast, and come againe,
	And forty shillings I will giue thee.
109A.16	For if he blush in his face,
	Then in his hart hee’se sorry bee;
	Then lett my father say what hee will,
	For false to Potts I’le neuer bee.
109A.17	And giue hee smile then with his mouth,
	Then in his heart hee’le merry be;
	Then may hee gett him a loue where-euer he can,
	For small of his companye my part shalbe.
109A.18	Then one while that the boy hee went,
	Another while, God wott, rann hee,
	And when hee came to Strawberry Castle,
	There Thomas Potts hee see.
109A.19	Then he gaue him this letter faire,
	And when he began then for to reade,
	They boy had told him by word of mouth
	His loue must be the Lord Phenix bryde.
109A.20	With that, Thomas a Pott began to blushe,
	The teares trickeled in his eye:
	‘Indeed this letter I cannot reede,
	Nor neuer a word to see or spye.
109A.21	‘I pray thee, boy, to me thou’le be trew,
	And heer’s fiue marke I will giue thee;
	And all these words thou must peruse,
	And tell thy lady this from mee.
109A.22	‘Tell her by faith and troth shee is mine owne,
	By some part of promise, and soe itt’s be found;
	Lord Phenix shall neuer marry her, by night nor day,
	And bidd that ladye for mee pray;
	Without he can winn her with his hand.
109A.23	‘On Gilford Greene I will her meete,
	And bidd that ladye for mee pray;
	For there I’le loose my liffe soe sweete,
	Or else the wedding I will stay.’
109A.24	Then backe againe the boy he went,
	As fast againe as he cold hye;
	The ladye mett him fiue mile on the way:
	‘Why hast hou stayd soe long?’ saies shee.
109A.25	‘Boy,’ said the ladye, ’Thou art but younge;
	To please my mind thou’le mocke and scorne;
	I will not beleeue thee on word of mouth,
	Vnlesse on this booke thou wilt be sworne.’
109A.26	‘Marry, by this booke,’ the boy can say,
	‘As Christ himselfe be true to mee,

	Thomas Pott cold not his letter reade
	For teares trickling in his eye.’
109A.27	‘If this be true,’ the ladye sayd,
	‘Thou bonny boy, thou tells to mee,
	Forty shillings I did thee promise,
	But heere’s ten pounds I’le giue itt thee.
109A.28	‘All my maids,’ the lady sayd,
	’That this day doe waite on mee,
	Wee will fall downe vpon our knees,
	For Thomas Pott now pray will wee.
109A.29	‘If his fortune be now for to winn-+-
	Wee will pray to Christ in Trinytye-+-
	I’le make him the flower of all his kinn,
	Ffor they Lord of Arrundale he shalbe.’
109A.30	Now lett vs leaue talking of this ladye faire,
	In her prayer good where shee can bee;
	And I’le tell you hou Thomas Pott
	For ayd to his lord and master came hee.
109A.31	And when hee came Lord Iockye before,
	He kneeled him low downe on his knee;
	Saies, Thou art welcome, Thomas Pott,
	Thou art allwayes full of thy curtesye.
109A.32	Has thou slaine any of thy fellowes,
	Or hast thou wrought me some villanye?
	‘Sir, none of my fellowes I haue slaine,
	Nor I haue wrought you noe villanye.
109A.33	‘But I haue a loue in Scottland faire,
	I doubt I must lose her through pouertye;
	If you will not beleeue me by word of mouth,
	Behold the letter shee writt vnto mee.’
109A.34	When Lord Iockye looked the letter vpon,
	The tender words in itt cold bee,
	‘Thomas Pott, take thou no care,
	Thou’st neuer loose her throughe pouertye.
	‘Thomas Pott, take thou no care,
	Thou’st neuer loose her throughe pouertye.
109A.35	‘Thou shalt have forty pounds a weeke,
	In gold and siluer thou shalt rowe,
	And Harbye towne I will thee allowe
	As longe as thou dost meane to wooe.
109A.36	‘Thou shalt haue fortye of thy fellowes faire,
	And forty horsse to goe with thee,
	And forty speares of the best I haue,
	And I my-selfe in thy companye.’
109A.37	‘I thanke you, master,’ sayd Thomas Pott,
	‘Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee;
	I wold not for a thousand pounds
	Take one man in my companye.’
109A.38	‘Why then, God be with thee, Thomas Pott!
	Thou art well knowen and proued for a man;
	Looke thou shedd no guiltlesse bloode,
	Nor neuer confound no gentlman.
109A.39	‘But looke thou take with him some truce,
	Apoint a place of lybertye;
	Lett him provide as well as hee cann,
	And as well provided thou shalt bee.’
109A.40	And when Thomas Pott came to Gilford Greene,
	And walked there a litle beside,
	Then was hee ware of the lord Phenix,
	And with him Ladye Rozamund his bryde.
109A.41	Away by the bryde rode Thomas of Pott,
	But noe word to her that he did say;
??	Away by the bryde rode Thomas of Pott,
	But noe word to her that he did say;
	But when he came Lord Phenix before,
	He gaue him the right time of the day.
109A.42	‘O thou art welcome, Thomas a Potts,
	How fares they lord and master att home,
	Thou serving-man, welcome to mee!
	How fares they lord and master att home,
	And all the ladyes in thy cuntrye?’
109A.43	‘Sir, my lord and my master is in verry good health,
	I wott I ken itt soe readylye;
	I pray you, will you ryde to one outsyde,
	A word or towe to talke with mee.
109A.44	‘You are a nobleman,’ sayd Thomas a Potts,
	‘Yee are a borne lord in Scottland free;
	You may gett ladyes enowe att home;
	You shall neuer take my loue from mee.’
109A.45	‘Away, away, thou Thomas a Potts!
	Thou seruing-man, stand thou a-side!
	I wott there’s not a serving-man this day,
	I know, can hinder mee of my bryde.’
109A.46	‘If I be but a seruing-man,’ sayd Thomas,
	‘And you are a lord of honor free,
	A speare or two I’le with you runn,
	Before I’le loose her thus cowardlye.’
109A.47	‘On Gilford Greene,’ Lord Phenix saies, ‘I’le thee meete;
	Neither man nor boy shall come hither with mee;’
	‘And as I am a man,’ said Thomas a Pott,
	‘I’le haue as few in my companye.’
109A.48	With that the wedding-day was stayd,
	The bryde went vnmarryed home againe;
	Then to her maydens fast shee loughe,
	And in her hart shee was full faine.
109A.49	‘But all my mayds,’ they ladye sayd,
	’That this day doe waite on mee,
	Wee will fall downe againe vpon our knees,
	For Thomas a Potts now pray will wee.
109A.50	‘If his fortune be for to winn-+-
	Wee’le pray to Christ in Trynitye-+-
	I’le make him the flower of all his kinn,
	For the lord of Arrundale he shalbe.’
109A.51	Now let vs leaue talking of this lady fayre,
	In her prayers good where shee can bee;
	I’le tell you the troth how Thomas a Potts
	For aide to his lord againe came hee.
109A.52	And when he came to Strawberry Castle,
	To try for his ladye he had but one weeke;
	Alacke, for sorrow hee cannott forbeare,
	For four dayes then he fell sicke.
109A.53	With that his lord and master to him came,
	Sayes, I pray thee, Thomas, tell mee without all doubt,
	Whether hast thou gotten the bonny ladye,
	Or thou man gange the ladye withoute.
109A.54	‘Marry, master, yett that matter is vntryde;
	Within two dayes tryed itt must bee;
	He is a lord, and I am but a seruing-man,
	I doubt I must loose her through pouertye.’
	‘Why, Thomas a Pott, take thou no care;
	Thou’st neuer loose her through pouertye.
109A.55	‘Thou shalt haue halfe my land a yeere,
	And that will raise thee many a pound;
	Before thou shalt loose thy bonny ladye,
	Thou shalt drop angells with him to the ground.
109A.56	‘And thou shalt haue forty of thy fellowes faire,
	And forty horsses to goe with thee,
	And forty speres of the best I haue,
	And I my-selfe in thy companye.’
109A.57	‘I thanke you, master,’ sayd Thomas a Potts,
	‘But of one thinge, sir, I wold be faine;
	If I shold loose my bonny ladye,
	How shall I increase your goods againe?’
109A.58	‘Why, if thou winn thy lady faire,
	Thou maye well forth for to pay mee;
	If thou loose thy lady, thou hast losse enoughe;
	Not one penny I will aske thee.’
109A.59	‘Master, you haue thirty horsses in one hold,
	You keepe them ranke and royallye;
	There’s an old horsse, -+-for him you doe not care-+-
	This day wold sett my lady free.
109A.60	’That is a white, with a cutt tayle,
	Ffull sixteen yeeres of age is hee;
	Giffe you wold lend me that old horsse,
	Then I shold gett her easilye.’
109A.61	‘Thou takes a foolish part,’ the Lord Iockye sayd,
	‘And a foolish part thou takes on thee;
	Thou shalt haue a better then euer he was,
That	forty pounds cost more nor hee.’
109A.62	‘O master, those horsses beene wild and wicked,
	And litle they can skill of the old traine;
	Giffe I be out of my saddle cast,
	They beene soe wild they’le neuer be tane againe.
109A.63	‘Lett me haue age, sober and wise;
	Itt is a part of wisdome, you know itt plaine;
	If I be out of my sadle cast,
	Hee’le either stand still or turne againe.’
109A.64	‘Thou shalt haue that horsse with all my hart,
	And my cote-plate of siluer free,
	And a hundred men att thy backe,
	For to fight if neede shalbee.’
109A.65	‘I thanke you, master,’ said Thomas a Potts,
	‘Neither man nor boy shall goe with mee;
	As you are a lord off honor borne,
	Let none of my fellowes know this of mee.
109A.66	‘Ffor if they wott of my goinge,
	I wott behind me they will not bee;
	Without you keepe them vnder a locke,
	Vppon that greene I shall them see.’
109A.67	And when Thomas came to Gilford Greene,
	And walked there some houres three,
	Then was he ware of the Lord Phenix,
	And four men in his companye.
109A.68	‘You haue broken your vow,’ sayd Thomas a Pott,
	‘Your vowe that you made vnto mee;
	You said you wold come your selfe alone,
	And you haue brought more then two or three.’
109A.69	‘These are my waiting-men,’ Lord Phenix sayd,
	’That euery day doe waite on mee;
	Giffe any of these shold att vs stirr,
	My speare shold runn throwe his bodye.’
109A.70	‘I’le runn noe race,’ said Thomas Potts,
	‘Till that this othe heere made may bee:
	If the one of vs be slaine,
	The other forgiuen that hee may bee.’
109A.71	‘I’le make a vow,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
	‘My men shall beare wittnesse with thee,
	Giffe thou slay mee att this time,
	Neuer the worsse beloued in Scottland thou shalt bee.’
109A.72	Then they turned their horsses round about,
	To run the race fore egarlye;
	Lord Phenix he was stiffe and stout,
	He has runn Thomas quite thorrow the thye.
109A.73	And beere Thomas out of his saddle faire;
	Vpon the ground there did hee lye;
	He saies, For my liffe I doe not care,
	But for the loue of my ladye.
109A.74	But shall I lose my ladye faire?
	I thought shee shold haue beene my wiffe;
	I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ryde not away,
	For with thee I will loose my liffe.
109A.75	Tho Thomas a Potts was a seruing-man,
	He was alsoe a phisityan good;
	He clapt his hand vpon his wound,
	With some kind of words he stauncht the blood.
109A.76	Then into his sadle againe hee leepe;
	The blood in his body began to warme;
	He mist Lord Phenix bodye there,
	But he run him quite throw the brawne of the arme.
109A.77	And he bore him quite out of his saddle faire;
	Vpon the ground there did he lye;
	He said, I pray thee, Lord Phenix, rise and fight,
	Or else yeeld this ladye sweete to mee.
109A.78	‘To fight with thee,’ quoth Phenix, ‘I cannott stand.
	Nor for to fight, I cannott, sure;
	Thou hast run me through the brawne of the arme;
	Noe longer of thy spere I cannott endure.
109A.79	‘Thou’st haue that ladye with all my hart,
	Sith itt was like neuer better to proue,
	Nor neuer a noble-man this day,
That	will seeke to take a pore man’s loue.’
109A.80	‘Why then, be of good cheere,’ saies Thomas Pott,
	‘Indeed your bucher I’le neuer bee,
	For I’le come and stanche your bloode,
	Giff any thankes you’le giue to mee.’
109A.81	As he was stanching the Phenix blood,
	These words Thomas a Pott cann to him proue:
	‘I’le neuer take a ladye of you thus,
	But here I’le giue you another choice.
109A.82	‘Heere is a lane of two miles longe;
	Att either end sett wee will bee;
	The ladye shall sitt vs betweene,
	And soe will wee sett this ladye free.’
109A.83	‘If thou’le doe soe,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
	‘Thomas a Pott, as thou dost tell mee,
	Whether I gett her or goe without her,
	Heere’s forty pounds I’le giue itt thee.’
109A.84	And when the ladye there can stand,
	A woman’s mind that day to proue,
	‘Now, by my faith,’ said this ladye faire,
	‘This day Thomas a Pott shall haue his owne loue.’
109A.85	Toward Thomas a Pott the lady shee went,
	To leape behind him hastilye;
	‘Nay, abyde a while,’ sayd Lord Phenix,
	‘Ffor better yett proued thou shalt bee.
109A.86	‘Thou shalt stay heere with all thy maids-+-
	In number with thee thou hast but three-+-
	Thomas a Pott and I’le goe beyond yonder wall,
	There the one of vs shall dye.’
109A.87	And when they came beyond the wall,
	The one wold not the other nye;
	Lord Phenix he had giuen his word
	With Thomas a Pott neuer to fight.
109A.88	‘Giue me a choice,’ Lord Phenix sayes,
	‘Thomas a Pott, I doe pray thee;
	Lett mee goe to yonder ladye faire,
	To see whether shee be true to thee.’
109A.89	And when hee came that ladye too,
	Vnto that likesome dame sayd hee,
	Now God thee saue, thou ladye faire,
	The heyre of all my land thou’st bee.
109A.90	Ffor this Thomas a Potts I haue slaine;
	He hath more than deadlye wounds two or three;
??	Ffor this Thomas a Potts I haue slaine;
	He hath more than deadlye wounds two or three;
	Thou art mine owne ladye, he sayd,
	And marryed together wee will bee.
109A.91	The ladye said, If Thomas a Potts this day thou haue slaine,
	Thou hast slaine a better man than euer was thee;
	And I’le sell all the state of my lande
	But thou’st be hanged on a gallow-tree.
109A.92	With that they lady shee fell in a soone;
	A greeued woman, I wott, was shee;
	Lord Phenix hee was readye there,
	Tooke her in his armes most hastilye.
109A.93	‘O Lord, sweete, and stand on thy feete,
	This day Thomas a Pott aliue can bee;
	I’le send for thy father, the Lord of Arrundale,
	And marryed together I will you see:
	Giffe hee will not maintaine you well,
	Both gold and land you shall haue from me.’
109A.94	‘I’le see that wedding,’ my Lord of Arrundale said,
	‘Of my daughter’s loue that is soe faire;
	And sith itt will no better be,
	Of all my land Thomas a Pott shall be my heyre.’
109A.95	‘Now all my maids,’ the ladye said,
	‘And ladyes of England, faire and free,
	Looke you neuer change your old loue for no new,
	Nor neuer change for no pouertye.
109A.96	‘Ffor I had a louer true of mine owne,
	A seruing-man of a small degree;
	Ffrom Thomas a Pott I’le turne his name,
	And the Lord of Arrundale hee shall bee.’


			Child 109B: Tom Potts

109B.1	 OF all the lords in Scotland fair,
	 And ladies that been so bright of blee,
	 There is a noble lady among them all,
	 And report of her you shall hear by me.
109B.2	 For of her beauty she is bright,
	 And of her colour very fair;
	 She’s daughter to Lord Arundel,
	 And of her colour very fair;
	 She’s daughter to Lord Arundel,
	 Approvd his parand and his heir.
109B.3	 ‘I’le see this bride,’ Lord Phenix said,
	 ‘That lady of so bright a blee,
	 And if I like her countenance well,
	 The heir of all my lands she’st be.’
109B.4	 But when he came the lady before,
	 Before this comely maid came he,
	 ‘O God thee save, thou lady sweet,
	 My heir and parand thou shalt be.’
109B.5	 ‘Leave off your suit,’ the lady said,
	 ‘As you are a lord of high degree;
	 And I have a lord in mine own country.
109B.6	 ‘For I have a lover true of mine own,
	 A serving-man of low degree,
	 One Tommy Pots it is his name,
	 My first love and last that ever shall be.’
109B.7	 ‘If that Tom Pots is his name,
	 I do ken him right verily;
	 I am able to spend fourty pounds a week,
	 Where he is not able to spend pounds three.’
109B.8	 ‘God give you good of your gold,’ she said,
	 ‘And ever God give you good of your fee;
	 Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had,
	 And I do mean him the last to be.’
109B.9	 With that Lord Phenix soon was movd;
	 Towards the lady did he threat;
	 He told her father, and so it was provd,
	 How his daughter’s mind was set.
109B.10	 ‘O daughter dear, thou art my own,
	 The heir of all my lands to be;
	 Thou shalt be bride to the Lord Phenix,
	 If that thou mean to be heir to me.’
109B.11	 ‘O father dear, I am your own,
	 And at your command I needs must be;
	 But bind my body to whom you please,
	 My heart, Tom Pots, shall go with thee.’
109B.12	 Alas! the lady her fondness must leave,
	 And all her foolish wooing lay aside;
	 The time is come, her friends have appointed,
	 That she must be Lord Phenix bride.
109B.13	 With that the lady began to weep;
	 She knew not well then what to say,
	 How she might Lord Phenix deny,
	 And escape from marriage quite away.
109B.14	 See calld unto her little foot-page,
	 Saying, I can trust none but thee;
	 Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair,
	 And bid him on Guilford Green meet me.
109B.15	 For I must marry against my mind,
	 Or in faith well proved it shall be;
	 And tell to him I am loving and kind,
	 And wishes him this wedding to see.
109B.16	 But see that thou note his countenance well,
	 And his colour, and shew it to me;
	 And go thy way and hie thee again,
	 And forty shillings I will give thee.
109B.17	 For if he smile now with his lips,
	 His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart;
	 Then may I seek another true-love,
	 For of Tom Pots small is my part.
109B.18	 But if he blush now in his face,
	 Then in his heart he will sorry be;
	 Then to his vow he hath some grace,
	 And false to him I will never be.
109B.19	 Away this lacky-boy he ran,
	 And a full speed forsooth went he,
??	 Away this lacky-boy he ran,
	 And a full speed forsooth went he,
	 Till he came to Strawberry Castle,
	 And there Tom Pots came he to see.
109B.20	 He gave him the letter in his hand;
	 Before that he began to read,
	 He told him plainly by word of mouth,
	 His love was forc’d to be Lord Phenix bride.
109B.21	 When he lookd on the letter fair,
	 The salt tears blemished his eye;
	 Says, I cannot read this letter fair,
	 Nor never a word to see or spy.
109B.22	 My little boy, be to me true,
	 Here is five marks I will give thee;
	 And all these words I must peruse,
	 And tell my lady this from me.
109B.23	 By faith and troth she is my own,
	 By some part of promise, so it’s to be found;
	 Lord Phenix shall not have her night nor day,
	 Except he can win her with his own hand.
109B.24	 On Guilford Green I will her meet;
	 Say that I wish her for me to pray;
	 For there I’le lose my life so sweet,
	 Or else the wedding I mean to stay.
109B.25	 Away this lackey-boy he ran,
	 Even as fast as he could hie;
	 The lady she met him two miles of the way;
	 Says, Why hast thou staid so long, my boy?
109B.26	 My little boy, thou art but young,
	 It gives me at heart thou’l mock and scorn;
	 I’le not believe thee by word of mouth,
	 Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn.
109B.27	 ‘Now by this book,’ the boy did say,
	 ‘And Jesus Christ be as true to me,
	 Tom Pots could not read the letter fair,
	 Nor never a word to spy or see.
109B.28	 ‘He says, by faith and troth you are his own,
	 By some part of promise, so it’s to be found;
	 Lord Phenix shall not have you night nor day,
	 Except he win you with his own hand.
109B.29	 ‘On Guilford Green he will you meet;
	 He wishes you for him to pray;
	 For there he’l lose his life so sweet,
	 Or else the wedding he means to stay.’
109B.30	 ‘If this be true, my little boy,
	 These tidings which thou tellest to me,
	 Forty shillings I did thee promise,
	 Here is ten pounds I will give thee.
109B.31	 ‘My maidens all,’ the lady said,
	 ‘That ever wish me well to prove,
	 Now let us all kneel down and pray
	 That Tommy Pots may win his love.
109B.32	 ‘If it be his fortune the better to win,
	 As I pray to Christ in Trinity,
	 I’le make him the flower of all his kin,
	 For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’
109B.33	 Let’s leave talking of this lady fair,
	 In prayers full good where she may be;
	 Now let us talk of Tommy Pots;
	 To his lord and master for aid went he.
109B.34	 But when he came Lord Jockey before,
	 He kneeled lowly on his knee:
	 ‘What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots,
	 Thou art so full of courtesie?
109B.35	 ‘What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy Pots,
	 Thou art so full of courtesie?
	 Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair,
	 Or wrought to me some villany.’
109B.36	 ‘I have slain none of my fellows fair,
	 Nor wrought to you no villany,
	 But I have a love in Scotland fair,
	 And I fear I shall lose her with poverty.
109B.37	 ‘If you’l not believe me by word of mouth,
	 But read this letter, and you shall see,
	 Here by all these suspitious words
	 That she her own self hath sent to me.’
109B.38	 But when he had read the letter fair,
	 Of all the suspitious words in it might be,
	 ‘O Tommy Pots, take thou no care,
	 Thou’st never lose her with poverty.
109B.39	 ‘For thou’st have forty pounds a week,
	 In gold and silver thou shalt row,
	 And Harvy Town I will give thee
	 As long as thou intendst to wooe.
109B.40	 ‘Thou’st have forty of thy fellows fair,
	 And forty horses to go with thee,
	 Forty of the best spears I have,
	 And I my self in thy company.’
109B.41	 ‘I thank you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
	 ‘That proffer is too good for me;
	 But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side,
	 My own hands shall set her free.
109B.42	 ‘God be with you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
	 ‘Now Jesus Christ you save and see;
	 If ever I come alive again,
	 Staid the wedding it shall be.’
109B.43	 ‘O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots,
	 Thou art well proved for a man;
	 See never a drop of blood thou spil,
	 Nor yonder gentleman confound.
109B.44	 ‘See that some truce with him you take,
	 And appoint a place of liberty;
	 Let him provide him as well as he can,
	 As well provided thou shalt be.’
109B.45	 But when he came to Guilford Green,
	 And there had walkt a little aside,
	 There was he ware of Lord Phenix come,
	 And Lady Rosamond his bride.
109B.46	 Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went,
	 But never a word to her did say,
	 Till he the Lord Phenix came before;
	 He gave him the right time of the day.
109B.47	 ‘O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots,
	 Thou serving-man of low degree;
	 How doth thy lord and master at home,
	 And all the ladies in that countrey?’
109B.48	 ‘My lord and master is in good health,
	 I trust since that I did him see;
	 Will you walk with me to an out-side,
	 Two or three words to talk with me?
109B.49	 ‘You are a noble man,’ said Tom,
	 ‘And born a lord in Scotland free;
	 You may have ladies enough at home,
	 And never take my love from me.’
109B.50	 ‘Away, away, thou Tommy Pots;
	 Thou serving-man, stand thou aside;
	 It is not a serving-man this day
	 That can hinder me of my bride.’
109B.51	 ‘If I be a serving-man,’ said Tom,
	 ‘And you a lord of high degree,
	 A spear or two with you I’le run,
	 Before I’le lose her cowardly.
109B.52	 ‘Appoint a place, I will thee meet,
	 Appoint a place of liberty;
	 For there I’le lose my life so sweet,
	 Or else my lady I’le set free.’
109B.53	 ‘On Guilford Green I will thee meet;
	 No man nor boy shall come with me:’
	 ‘As I am a man,’ said Tommy Pots,
	 ‘I’le have as few in my company.’
109B.54	 And thus staid the marriage was,
	 The bride unmarried went home again;
	 Then to her maids fast did she laugh,
	 And in her heart she was full fain.
109B.55	 ‘My maidens all,’ the lady said,
	 ‘That ever wait on me this day,
	 Now let us all kneel down,
	 And for Tommy Pots let us all pray.
109B.56	 ‘If it be his fortune the better to win,
	 As I trust to God in Trinity,
	 I’le make him the flower of all his kin,
	 For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’
109B.57	 When Tom Pots came home again,
	 To try for his love he had but a week;
	 For sorrow, God wot, he need not care,
	 For four days that he fel sick.
109B.58	 With that his master to him came,
	 Says, Pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if tho doubt
	 Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady,
	 Or thou must go thy love without.
109B.59	 ‘O master, yet it is unknown;
	 Within these two days well try’d it must be;
	 He is a lord, I am but a serving-man,
	 I fear I shall lose her with poverty.’
109B.60	 ‘I prethee, Tom Pots, get thee on thy feet;
	 My former promises kept shall be;
	 As I am a lord in Scotland fair,
	 Thou’st never lose her with poverty.
109B.61	 ‘For thou’st have the half of my lands a year,
	 And that will raise thee many a pound;
	 Before thou shalt out-braved be,
	 Thou shalt drop angels with him on the ground.’
109B.62	 ‘I thank you, master,’ said Tommy Pots,
	 ‘Yet there is one thing of you I would fain;
	 If that I lose my lady sweet,
	 How I’st restore your goods again?’
109B.63	 ‘If that thou win the lady sweet,
	 Thou mayst well forth, thou shalt pay me;
	 If thou loosest thy lady, thou losest enough;
	 Thou shalt not pay me one penny.’
109B.64	 ‘You have thirty horses in one close,
	 You keep them all both frank and free;
	 Amongst them all there’s an old white horse
	 This day would set my lady free.
109B.65	 ‘That is an old horse with a cut tail,
	 Full sixteen years of age is he;
	 If thou wilt lend me that old horse,
	 Then could I win her easily.’
109B.66	 ‘That’s a foolish opinion,’ his master said,
	 ‘And a foolish opinion thou tak’st to thee;
	 Thou’st have a better then ever he was,
	 Though forty pounds more it cost me.’
109B.67	 ‘O your choice horses are wild and tough,
	 And little they can skill of their train;
	 If I be out of my saddle cast,
	 They are so wild they’l ner be tain.’
109B.68	 ‘Thou’st have that horse,’ his master said,
	 ‘If that one thing thou wilt tell me;
	 Why that horse is better than any other,
	 I pray thee, Tom Pots, shew thou to me.’
109B.69	 ‘That horse is old, of stomach bold,
	 And well can he skill of his train;
	 If I be out of my saddle cast,
	 He’l either stand still or turn again.’
109B.70	 ‘Thou’st have the horse with all my heart,
	 And my plate-coat of silver free;
	 An hundred men to stand at thy back,
	 To fight if he thy master be.’
109B.71	 ‘I thank you master,’ said Tommy Pots;
	 ‘That proffer is too good for me;
	 I would not, for ten thousand pounds,
	 Have man or boy in my company.
109B.72	 ‘God be with you master,’ said Tommy Pots;
	 ‘Now, as you are a man of law,
	 One thing let me crave at your hand;
	 Let never a one of my fellows know.
109B.73	 ‘For if that my fellows they did wot,
	 Or ken of my extremity,
	 Except you keep them under a lock,
	 Behind me I am sure they would not be.’
109B.74	 But when he came to Guilford Green,
	 He waited hours two or three;
	 There he was ware of Lord Phenix come,
	 And four men in his company.
109B.75	 ‘You have broken your vow,’ said Tommy Pots,
	 ‘The vow which you did make to me;
	 You said you would bring neither man nor boy,
	 And now has brought more than two or three.’
109B.76	 ‘These are my men,’ Lord Phenix said,
	 ‘Which every day do wait on me;
	 [If] any of these dare proffer to strike,
	 I’le run my spear through his body.’
109B.77	 ‘I’le run no race now,’ said Tommy Pots,
	 ‘Except now this may be;
	 If either of us be slain this day,
	 The other shall forgiven be.’
109B.78	 ‘I’le make that vow with all my heart,
	 My men shall bear witness with me;
	 And if thou slay me here this day,
	 In Scotland worse belovd thou never shalt be.’
109B.79	 They turnd their horses thrice about,
	 To run the race so eagerly;
	 Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout,
	 And ran Tom Pots through the thick o th’ thigh.
109B.80	 He bord him out of the saddle fair,
	 Down to the ground so sorrowfully:
	 ‘For the loss of my life I do not care,
	 But for the loss of my fair lady.
109B.81	 ‘Now for the loss of my lady sweet,
	 Which once I thought to have been my wife,
	 I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away,
	 For with thee I would end my life.’
109B.82	 Tom Pots was but a serving-man,
	 But yet he was a doctor good;
	 He bound his handkerchief on his wound,
	 And with some kind of words he stancht his blood.
109B.83	 He leapt into his saddle again,
	 The blood in his body began to warm;
	 He mist Lord Phenix body fair,
And	 ran him through the brawn of the arm.
109B.84	 He bord him out of his saddle fair,
	 Down to the ground most sorrowfully;
	 Says, Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight,
	 Or yield my lady unto me.
109B.85	 ‘Now for to fight I cannot tell,
	 And for to fight I am not sure;
	 Thou hast run me throw the brawn o th’ arm,
	 That with a spear I may not endure.
109B.86	 ‘Thou’st have the lady with all my heart;
	 It was never likely better to prove
	 With me, or any nobleman else,
	 That would hinder a poor man of his love.’
109B.87	 ‘Seeing you say so much,’ said Tommy Pots,
	 ‘I will not seem your butcher to be;
	 But I will come and stanch your blood,
	 If any thing you will give me.’
109B.88	 As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood,
	 Lord, in his heart he did rejoyce!
	 ‘I’le not take the lady from you thus,
	 But of her you’st have another choice.
109B.89	 ‘Here is a lane of two miles long;
	 At either end we set will be;
	 The lady shall stand us among,
	 Her own choice shall set her free.’
109B.90	 ‘If thou’l do so,’ Lord Phenix said,
	 ‘To lose her by her own choice it’s honesty;
	 Chuse whether I get her or go her without,
	 Forty pounds I will give thee.’
109B.91	 But when they in that lane was set,
	 The wit of a woman for to prove,
	 ‘By the faith of my body,’ the lady said,
	 ‘Then Tom Pots must needs have his love.’
109B.92	 Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie,
	 To get on behind him hastily;
	 ‘Nay stay, nay stay,’ Lord Phenix said,
	 ‘Better proved it shall be.
109B.93	 ‘Stay you with your maidens here-+-
	 In number fair they are but three-+-
	 Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall,
	 That one of us two be proved to dye.’
109B.94	 But when they came behind the wall,
	 The one came not the other nigh;
	 For the Lord Phenix had made a vow,
	 That with Tom Pots he would never fight.
109B.95	 ‘O give me this choice,’ Lord Phenix said,
	 ‘To prove whether true or false she be,
	 And I will go to the lady fair,
	 And tell her Tom Pots slain is he.’
109B.96	 When he came from behind the wall,
	 With his face all bloody as it might be,
	 ‘O lady sweet, thou art my own,
	 For Tom Pots slain have I.
109B.97	 ‘Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots,
	 And given him death’s wounds two or three;
	 O lady sweet, thou art my own;
	 Of all loves, wilt thou live with me?’
109B.98	 ‘If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots,
	 And given him death’s wounds two or three,
	 I’le sell the state of my father’s lands
	 But hanged shall Lord Phenix be.’
109B.99	 With that the lady fell in a swound,
	 For a grieved woman, God wot, was she;
	 Lord Phenix he was ready then
	 To take her up so hastily.
109B.100	‘O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet,
	 Tom Pots alive this day may be;
	 I’le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,
	 And he and I the wedding will see.
109B.101	‘I’le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,
	 And he and I the wedding will see;
	 If he will not maintain you well,
	 Both lands and livings you’st have of me.’
109B.102	‘I’le see this wedding,’ Lord Arundel said,
	 ‘Of my daughter’s luck that is so fair;
	 Seeing the matter will be no better,
	 Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir.’
109B.103	With that the lady began for to smile,
	 For a glad woman, God wot, was she;
	 ‘Now all my maids,’ the lady said,
	 ‘Example you may take by me.
109B.104	‘But all the ladies of Scotland fair,
	 And lasses of England that well would prove,
	 Neither marry for gold nor goods,
	 Nor marry for nothing but only love.
109B.105	‘For I had a lover true of my own,
	 A serving-man of low degree;
	 Now from Tom Pots I’le change his name,
	 For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.’


			Child 109C: Tom Potts

109C.1	 IN Scotland there are ladies fair,
	 There’s ladies of honor and high degree,
  Refrain:	Hey down, down a down derry
	 But one excels above all the rest,
	 And the Earl of Arundel’s daughter is she.
  Refrain:	With hey down, derry down,
	 Lang derry down derry
109C.2	 Both knights and lords of great account
	 Comes thither a wooing for this ladie’s sake:
	 It fell on a day that Earl Arundell said,
	 Daughter, which of these lords will you take?
109C.3	 Or which of them now likes thee best?
	 Speak truth to me, but do not lie;
	 Speak truth to me, and do not jest,
	 Who must heir my livings when as I die?
109C.4	 Lord Fenix is a lord of high degree,
	 And hath both lands and livings free;
	 I tell thee, daughter, thou shalt him have,
	 If thou wilt take any counsell at me.
109C.5	 With that the young lady fell down of her knee,
	 And trickling tears ran down her eye:
	 ‘As you are my father, and loves me dear,
	 My heart is set where it must be.
109C.6	 ‘On a serving-man which is so poor,
	 For all he hath is but pounds three;
	 He was the first lover that ere I had,
	 And the last I mean him for to be.’
109C.7	 With that her father was sore offended,
	 And fast he rode at that same tide,
	 Untill he to the Lord Fenix came,
	 And fast he rode at that same tide,
109C.8	 The yong ladie cald up Jack, her foot-boy:
	 ‘I dare trust no man alive but thee;
	 Thou must go my errand to Strawberry Castle,
	 To the place where Tomy o’th Potts doth lye.
109C.9	 ‘And carry this letter, in parchment fair,
	 That I have sealed with mine own hand;
	 And when Tomey looks this letter upon,
	 Be sure his countenance thou understand.
109C.10	 ‘And if he either laugh or smile,
	 He is not sorry at his heart;
	 I must seek a new love where I will,
	 For small of Tomey must be my part.
109C.11	 ‘But if he wax red in the face,
	 And tricling tears fall from his eyes,
	 Then let my father say what he will,
	 For true to Tomey I’le be always.
109C.12	 ‘And thou must tell him by word of mouth,
	 If this letter cannot be read at that tyde,
	 That this day sennight, and no longer hence,
	 I must be Lord William Fenix bride.’
109C.13	 The boy took leave of his lady gay,
	 And to Strawberry Castle he did him fast hie;
	 A serving-man did guide him the way
	 To the place where Tomey o’th Pots did lie.
109C.14	 ‘O Christ thee save, good Tomey o’th Pots,
	 And Christ thee save as I thee see;
	 Come read this letter, Tomey o’th Potts,
	 As thy true-love hath sent to thee.’
109C.15	 Then Tomey he waxed red in the face,
	 And trickling tears ran down his eyes;
	 But never a letter could he read,
	 If he should be hanged on th’gallow-tree.
109C.16	 ‘Shee bid me tell you by word of mouth,
	 If this letter could not be read at this tide,
	 That this day sennight, and no longer hence,
	 She must be Lord William Fenix bride.’
109C.17	 ‘Now in faith,’ said Tomey, ’She is mine own,
	 As all hereafter shall understand;
	 Lord Fenix shall not marry her, by night or day,
	 Unless he win her by his own hand.
109C.18	 ‘For on Gilforth Green I will her meet,
	 And if she love me, bid her for me pray;
	 And there I will lose my life so sweet,
	 Or else her wedding I will stay.’
109C.19	 He cald this boy unto accounts;
	 Think whether he loved this lady gay!
	 He gave him forty shilling for his message,
	 And all he had was but pounds three.
109C.20	 The boy took his leave of Tomey o’th Potts,
	 Fearing that he had staid too late;
	 The young lady did wait of his comming,
	 And met him five miles out of the gate.
109C.21	 ‘O boney boy, thou art not of age,
	 Therefore thou canst both mock and scorn;
	 I will not beleeve what my love hath said,
	 Unlesse thou on this book be sworn.’
109C.22	 ‘Now, in faith, gay lady, I will not lye,’
	 And kist the book full soon did he:
	 ‘One letter he could not read at that time,
	 If he should have been hangd at gallo-tree.
109C.23	 ‘He said in faith you are his own,
	 As all hereafter shall understand;
	 Lord Fenix shall not marry you by night or day,
	 Unlesse he winn you with his own hand.
109C.24	 ‘For on Gilforth Green he will you meet,
	 And if you love him, you must for him pray;
	 And there he will lose his life so sweet,
	 Or else your wedding he will stay.’
109C.25	 Let us leave talking of the boy,
	 That with his gay lady is turned home;
	 Now let us go talk of Tomey o’th Potts,
	 And how to his master he is gone.
109C.26	 When Tomey came his master before,
	 He kneeled down upon his knee:
	 ‘What tidings hast thou brought, my man,

	 As that thou makes such courtesie?’
109C.27	 ‘O Christ you save, dear master,’ he said,
	 ‘And Christ you save as I you see;
	 For God’s love, master, come read me this letter,
	 Which my true love hath sent to me.’
109C.28	 His master took this letter in hand,
	 And looked ore it with his eye;
	 ‘In faith, I am fain, my man,’ he said,
	 ‘As thou hast a lady so true to thee.’
109C.29	 ‘I have a lady true to me,
	 And false to her I’le never be;
	 But ere this day sennight, and no longer hence,
	 I must lose my love through povertie.
109C.30	 ‘Lord Fenix he will her have,
	 Because he hath more wealth then I:’
	 ‘Now hold thy tongue, my man,’ he said,
	 ‘For before that day many a one shall die.
109C.31	 ‘O Tomey,’ said he, ‘I love thee well,
	 And something for thee I will doo;
	 For Strawberry Castle shall be thine own
	 So long as thou dost mean to woo.
109C.32	 ‘One half of my lands I’le give thee a year,
	 The which will raise thee many a pound;
	 Before that thou lose thy bonny sweet-hart,
	 Thou shalt drop angels with him to the ground.
109C.33	 ‘I have thirty steeds in my stable strong,
	 Which any of them is good indeed,
	 And a bunch of spears hangs them among,
	 And a nag to carry thee swift with speed.
109C.34	 ‘My sute of armour thou shalt put on-+-
	 So well it becomes thy fair body-+-
	 And when thou comst on Gilford Green
	 Thou’ll look more like a lord then he.
109C.35	 ‘My men shall all rise and with thee go,
	 And I my self with thee will ride;
	 And many a bloody wound will we make
	 Before that thou shalt lose thy bride.’
109C.36	 ‘Now Christ reward you, dear master,’ he said,
	 ‘For the good will you bear to me;
	 But I trust to God, in a little space,
	 With my own hands to set her free.
109C.37	 ‘I’le none of your horses, master,’ he said,
	 ‘For they cannot well skill of their trade;
	 None but your gray nag that hath a cut tail,
	 For hee’ll either stand or turn again.
109C.38	 ‘One spear, master, and no more,
	 No more with me that I will take,
	 And if that spear it will not serve my turn,
	 I’le suffer death for my true-love’s sake.’
109C.39	 Early in the morning, when day did spring,
	 On Gilforth Green betime was he;
	 There did he espie Lord Fenix comming,
	 And with him a royall company.
109C.40	 Gold chains about their necks threescore,
	 Full well might seem fine lords to ride;
	 The young lady followed far behind,
	 Sore against her will that she was a bride.
109C.41	 There Tomey passed this lady by,
	 But never a word to her did say;
	 Then straight to Lord Fenix he is gone,
	 And gives him the right time of the day.
109C.42	 ‘O Christ you save, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
	 ‘And Christ you save as I you see;’
	 ‘Thou art welcome, Tomey o’th Potts,’ he said,
	 ‘A serving-man into our company.
109C.43	 ‘O how doth thy master, Tomy o’th Potts?
	 Tell me the truth and do not lye;’
	 ‘My master is well,’ then Tomey replide,
	 ‘I thank my lord, and I thank not thee.
109C.44	 ‘O Christ you save Lord Fenix,’ he said,
	 ‘And Christ you save as I you see;
	 You may have choyce of ladies enough,
	 And not take my true-love from me.’
109C.45	 With that Lord Fenix was sore offended,
	 And fast away he rode at that tide;
	 ‘God forbid,’ Lord Fenix he said,
	 ‘A serving-man should hold me from my bride!’
109C.46	 But afterward Tomey did him meet,
	 As one that came not thither to flye,
	 And said, Lord Fenix, take thou my love,
	 For I will not lose her cowardly.
109C.47	 ‘O meet me here tomorrow,’ he said;
	 ‘As thou art a man, come but thy sell;
	 And if that I come [with] any more,
	 The divell fetch my soul to hell.’
109C.48	 And so this wedding-day was staid,
	 The lady and lords they turned home;
	 The lady made merry her maidens among,
	 And said, Tomey I wish thou may win thy own.
109C.49	 Early in the morning, when day did spring,
	 On Gilforth Green betime was he;
	 He waited long for Lord Fenix comming,
	 But Lord William Fenix he could not see.
109C.50	 He waited long and very long,
	 Untill the sun waxed very high;
	 There was he ware of Lord Fenix coming,
	 And with him other men three.
109C.51	 ‘Thou art a false thief, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
	 Thou promisedst me to come by thy self,
	 And thou hast brought other men three.
109C.52	 ‘But in regard I call thee thief,
	 Because thou hast broken promise with me,
	 I vow, and you were as many more,
	 Forsaken sure you should not be.’
109C.53	 ‘These are my men,’ Lord Fenix said,
	 ‘That every day do wait on me;
	 If any of them do strike a stroke,
	 In faith then hanged he shall be.’
109C.54	 They fetcht a race and rode about,
	 And then they met full eagerly;
	 Lord Fenix away by Tomey’s body glowd,
	 And he ran him quite thorow the thigh.
109C.55	 Out of his saddle bore him he did,
	 And laid his body on the ground;
	 His spear he ran thorow Tomey’s thigh,
	 In which he made a grievous wound.
109C.56	 But Tomey quickly start up again;
	 For as he was a physitian good,
	 He laid his hand upon the wound,
	 And quickly he did stanch the blood.
109C.57	 Full lightly he leaped to his saddle again,
	 Forth of it long he did not stay;
	 For he weighed more of the ladie’s love
	 Then of any life he had that day.
109C.58	 They fetched a race and rode about,
	 The blood in Tomey’s body began to warm;
	 He away by Lord Fenix body glowde,
	 And he ran him quite through the arm.
109C.59	 Out of his saddle bore him he hath,
	 Of from his steed that mounted so high;
	 ‘Now rise and fight, Lord Fenix,’ he said,
	 ‘Or else yeeld the lady unto me.’
109C.60	 ‘I’ll yeeld the lady unto thee;
	 My arm no more my spear will guide;
	 It was never better likely to prove,
	 To hold a poor seving-man from his bride.’
109C.61	 ‘But if thou wilt thus deal then with me,
	 Lest of this matter should rise any voice,
	 That I have gotten the victory,
	 Then thou shalt have another choice.
109C.62	 ‘Yonder is a lane of two miles long;
	 At either end then stand will we;
	 Wee’l set the lady in the midst,
	 And whether she come to, take her, for me.’
109C.63	 ‘If thou wilt thus deal,’ said Fenix then,
	 ‘Thou’ll save my credit and honor high;
	 And whether I win her, or go without her,
	 I’le be willing to give ten pounds to thee.’
109C.64	 There was a lane of two miles long;
	 The lady was set in the middle that tide;
	 She laught and made merry her maids among,
	 And said, Tomey o’th Pots, now I’le be thy bride.
109C.65	 Now all you ladies of high degree,
	 And maides that married yet would be,
	 Marry no man for goods or lands,
	 Unlesse you love him faithfully.
109C.66	 For I had a love of my own, she said,
	 At Strawberrie Castle there lived he;
	 I’le change his name from Tomey o’th Pots,
	 And the yong Earl of Arundell now he shall be.



	 Child 110A: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110A.1	 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter
	 Came triping on the way,
	 And there she met a courteous knight,
	 Which caused her to stay
  Refrain:	Sing trang sil do lee
110A.2	 ‘Good morrow to you, beautious maid,’
	 These words pronounced he;
	 ‘O I shall dye this day,’ he said,
	 ‘If I have not my will of thee.’
110A.3	 ‘The Lord forbid,’ the maid reply’d,
	 ‘That such a thing should be,
	 That ever such a courteous yong knight
	 Should dye for love of me.’
110A.4	 He took her by the middle so small,
	 And laid her down on the plain,
	 And after he had had his will,
	 He took her up again.
110A.5	 ‘Now you have had your wil, good sir,
	 And put my body thus to shame,
	 Even as you are a courteous knight,
	 Tel me what is your name.’
110A.6	 ‘Some men do call me Jack, sweet heart,
	 And some do call me John,
	 But when I come to the king’s [fair] court,
	 They call me Sweet William.’
110A.7	 He set his foot in the stirrop,
	 And away then did he ride;
	 She tuckt her kirtle about her middle,
	 And run close by his side.
110A.8	 But when she came to the broad water,
	 She set her brest and swom,
	 And when she was got out again,
	 She took her heels and run.
110A.9	 He never was the courteous knight
	 To say, Fair maid, will you ride?
	 Nor she never was so loving a maid
	 To say, Sir Knight, abide.
110A.10	 But when she came to the king’s fair court,
	 She knocked at the ring;
	 So ready was the king himself
	 To let his fair maid in.
110A.11	 ‘O Christ you save, my gracious leige,
	 Your body christ save and see!
	 You have got a knight within your court
	 This day hath robbed me.
110A.12	 ‘What hath he robbed thee of, fair maid?
	 Of purple or of pall?
	 Or hath he took thy gay gold ring,
	 From off thy finger small?’
110A.13	 ‘He hath not robbed me, my liege,
	 Of purple nor of pall;
	 But he hath got my maidenhead,
	 Which grieves me worst of all.’
110A.14	 ‘Now if he be a batchelor,
	 His body I’le give to thee;
	 But if he be a married man,
	 High hanged shall he be.’
110A.15	 He called down his merry men all,
	 By one, by two, and by three;
	 Sweet William was us’d to be the first,
	 But now the last comes hee.
110A.16	 He brought her down full forty pound,
	 Ty’d up with[in] a glove:
	 ‘Fair maid, I give the same to the,
	 And seek another love.’
110A.17	 ‘O I’le have none of your gold,’ she said,

	 ‘Nor I’le have none of your fee;
	 But I must have your fair body
	 The king hath given me.’
110A.18	 Sweet William ran and fetcht her then
	 Five hundred pound in gold,
	 Saying, Fair maid, take this unto thee;
	 Thy fault will never be told.
110A.19	 ‘’Tis not your gold that shall me tempt,’
	 These words then answered she,
	 ‘But I must have your own body;
	 So the king hath granted me.’
110A.20	 ‘Would I had drank the fair water
	 When I did drink the wine,
	 That ever any shepherd’s daughter
	 Should be a fair lady of mine!
110A.21	 ‘Would I had drunk the puddle-water
	 When I did drink the ale,
	 That ever any shepherd’s daughter
	 Should have told me such a tale!’
110A.22	 ‘A shepheard’s daughter as I was,
	 You might have let me be;
	 I’d never come to the king’s fair court
	 To have craved any love of thee.’
110A.23	 He set her on a milk-white steed,
	 And himselfe upon a gray;
	 He hung a bugle about his neck,
	 And so they rode away.
110A.24	 But when they came unto the place
	 Where marriage rites were done,
	 She provd her selfe a duke’s daughter,
	 And he but a squire’s son.
110A.25	 ‘Now you have married me, sir knight,
	 Your pleasures may be free;
	 If you make me lady of one good town,
	 I’le make you lord of three.’
110A.26	 ‘Accursed be the gold,’ he said,
	 ‘If thou hadst not bin true,
	 That should have parted thee from me,
	 To have chang’d thee for a new.’
110A.27	 Their hearts being then so linked fast,
	 And joyning hand in hand,
	 He had both purse and person too,
	 And all at his command.


	 Child 110B: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110B.1	 THERE was a shepherd’s dochter
	 Kept sheep upon yon hill,
	 And by cam a gay braw gentleman,
	 And wad hae had his will.
110B.2	 He took her by the milk-white hand,
	 And laid her on the ground,
	 And whan he got his will o her
	 He lift her up again.
110B.3	 ‘O syne ye’ve got your will o me,
	 Your will o me ye’ve taen,
	 ’Tis all I ask o you, kind sir,
	 Is to tell to me your name.’
110B.4	 ‘Sometimes they call me Jack,’ he said,
	 ‘Sometimes they call me John,
	 But whan I am in the king’s court,
	 My name is Wilfu Will.’
110B.5	 Then he loup on his milk-white steed,
	 And straught away he rade,
	 And she did kilt her petticoats,
	 And after him she gaed.
110B.6	 He never was sae kind as say,
	 O lassie, will ye ride?
	 Nor ever had she the courage to say,
	 O laddie, will ye bide!
110B.7	 Until they cam to a wan water,
	 Which was called Clyde,
	 And then he turned about his horse,
	 Said, Lassie, will ye ride?
110B.8	 ‘I learned it in my father’s hall,
	 I learned it for my weel,
	 That whan I come to deep water,
	 I can swim as it were an eel.
110B.9	 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower,
	 I learned it for my better,
	 That whan I come to broad water,
	 I can swim like ony otter.’
110B.10	 He plunged his steed into the ford,
	 And straught way thro he rade,
	 And she set in her lilly feet,
	 And thro the water wade.
110B.11	 And whan she cam to the king’s court,
	 She tirled on the pin,
	 And wha sae ready’s the king himsel
	 To let the fair maid in?
110B.12	 ‘What is your will wi me, fair maid?
	 What is your will wi me?’
	 ‘There is a man into your court
	 This day has robbed me.’
110B.13	 ‘O has he taen your gold,’ he said,
	 ‘Or has he taen your fee?
	 Or has he stown your maidenhead,
	 The flower of your bodye?’
110B.14	 ‘He has na taen my gold, kind sir,
	 Nor as little has he taen my fee,
	 But he has taen my maidenhead,
	 The flower of my bodye.’
110B.15	 ‘O gif he be a married man,
	 High hangit shall he be,
	 But gif he be a bachelor,
	 His body I’ll grant thee.’
110B.16	 ‘Sometimes they call him Jack,’ she said,
	 ‘Sometimes they call him John,
	 But whan he’s in the king’s court,
	 His name is Sweet William.’
110B.17	 ‘There’s not a William in a’ my court,
	 Never a one but three,
	 And one of them is the Queen’s brother;
	 I wad laugh gif it war he.’
110B.18	 The king called on his merry men,
	 By thirty and by three;
	 Sweet Willie, wha used to be foremost man,
	 Was the hindmost a’ but three.
110B.19	 O he cam cripple, and he cam blind,
	 Cam twa-fald oer a tree:
	 ‘O be he cripple, or be he blind,
	 This very same man is he.’
110B.20	 ‘O whether will ye marry the bonny may,
	 Or hang on the gallows-tree?’
	 ‘O I will rather marry the bonny may,
	 Afore that I do die.’
110B.21	 But he took out a purse of gold,
	 Weel locked in a glove:
	 ‘O tak ye that, my bonny may,
	 And seek anither love.’
110B.22	 ‘O I will hae none o your gold,’ she says,
	 ‘Nor as little ony of your fee,
	 But I will hae your ain body,
	 The king has granted me.’
110B.23	 O he took out a purse of gold,
	 A purse of gold and store;
	 ‘O tak ye that, fair may,’ he said,
	 ‘Frae me ye’ll neer get mair.’
110B.24	 ‘O haud your tongue, young man,’ she says,
	 ‘And I pray you let me be;
	 For I will hae your ain body,
	 The king has granted me.’
110B.25	 He mounted her on a bonny bay horse,
	 Himsel on the silver grey;
	 He drew his bonnet out oer his een,
	 He whipt and rade away.
110B.26	 O whan they cam to yon nettle bush,
	 The nettles they war spread:
	 ‘O an my mither war but here,’ she says,
	 ‘These nettles she wad sued.’
110B.27	 ‘O an I had drank the wan water
	 Whan I did drink the wine,
	 That eer a shepherd’s dochter
	 Should hae been a love o mine!’
110B.28	 ‘O may be I’m a shepherd’s dochter,
	 And may be I am nane;
	 But you might hae ridden on your ways,
	 And hae let me alane.’
110B.29	 O whan they cam unto yon mill,
	 She heard the mill clap:
	 . . . . .
	 . . . . .
110B.30	 ‘Clap on, clap on, thou bonny mill,
	 Weel may thou, I say,
	 For mony a time thou’s filled my pock
	 Wi baith oat-meal and grey.’
110B.31	 ‘O an I had drank the wan water
	 Whan I did drink the wine,
	 That eer a shepherd’s dochter
	 Should hae been a love o mine!’
110B.32	 ‘O may be I’m a shepherd’s dochter,
	 And may be I am nane;
	 But you might hae ridden on your ways,
	 And hae let me alane.
110B.33	 ‘But yet I think a fitter match
	 Could scarcely gang thegither
	 Than the King of France’s auld dochter
	 And the Queen of Scotland’s brither.’


	 Child 110C: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110C.1	 THERE was a shepherd’s dochter
	 Kept sheep on yonder hill;
	 Bye cam a knicht frae the High College,
	 And he wad hae his will.
110C.2	 Whan he had got his wills o her,
	 His will as he has taen:
	 ‘Wad ye be sae gude and kind
	 As tell to me your name?’
110C.3	 ‘Some ca’s me Jock, some ca’s me John,
	 Some disna ken my name,
	 But whan I’m into the king’s court,
	 Mitchcock is my name.’
110C.4	 ‘Mitchcock! hey!’ the lady did say,
	 And spelt it oure again;
	 ‘If that’s your name in the Latin tongue,
	 Earl Richard is your name!’
110C.5	 O jumpt he upon his horse,
	 And said he wad go ride;
	 Kilted she her green claithing,
	 And said she wad na bide.
110C.6	 The knicht rade on, the lady ran,
	 A live-lang simmer’s day,
	 Till they cam to a wan water
	 Was calld the river Tay.
110C.7	 ‘Jump on behind, ye weill-faurd may,
	 Or do ye chuse to ride?’
	 ‘No thank ye, sir,’ the lady said,
	 ‘I rather chuse to wade;’
	 And afore that he was mid-water,
	 She was at the ither side.
110C.8	 ‘Turn back, turn back, ye weill-faurd may,
	 My heart will brak in three:’
	 ‘And sae did mine in yon bonny hill-side,
	 Whan ye wad [na] lat me be.’
110C.9	 ‘Whare gat ye that gay claithing
	 This day I see on thee?’
	 ‘My mither was a gude milk-nurse,
	 And a gude nourice was she;
	 She nursd the Earl of Stockford’s daughter,
	 And gat aw this to me.’
110C.10	 Whan she cam to the king’s court,
	 She rappit wi a ring;
	 Sae ready as the king himsel
	 Was to let the lady in!
110C.11	 ‘There is a knicht into your court
	 This day has robbed me:’
	 ‘O has he taen your gowd,’ he says,
	 ‘Or has he taen your fee?’
110C.12	 ‘He has na taen my gowd,’ she says,
	 ‘Nor yet has he my fee;
	 But he has taen my maiden-head,
	 The flowr o my fair bodie.’
110C.13	 Then out bespak the queen hersel,
	 Wha sat by the king’s knee:
	 There’s na a knicht in aw our court
	 Wad hae dune that to thee,
	 Unless it war my brither, Earl Richard,
	 And forbid it it war he!
110C.14	 Wad ye ken your love,
	 Amang a hunder men?
	 ‘I wad,’ said the bonnie ladie,
	 ‘Amang five hunder and ten.’
110C.15	 The king made aw his merry men pass,
	 By ane, by twa, and three;
	 Earl Richard us’d to be the first man,
	 But he was hinmost man that day.
110C.16	 He cam hauping on ane foot,
	 And winking with ae ee;
	 But ‘Ha! ha!’ said the bonnie ladie,
	 ‘That same young man are ye.’
110C.17	 He’s taen her up to a hie towr-head
	 And offerd her hunder punds in a glove:
	 ‘Gin ye be a courteous maid,
	 Ye’ll choice anither love.’
110C.18	 ‘What care I for your hunder pund?
	 Na mair than ye wad for mine;
	 What’s a hunder pund to me,
	 To a marriage wi a king!’
110C.19	 Whan the marriage it was oure,
	 And ilk ane took them horse,
	 ‘It never set a beggar’s brat
	 At nae knicht’s back to be.’
110C.20	 The ladie met wi a beggar-wife,
	 And gied her half o crown:
	 ‘Tell aw your neebours, whan ye gang hame,
	 That Earl Richard’s your gude-son.’
110C.21	 ‘O hold your tongue, ye beggar’s brat,
	 My heart will brak in three;’
	 ‘And sae did mine on yon bonny hill-side,
	 Whan ye wad na let me be.’
110C.22	 Whan she cam to yon nettle-dyke,
	 . . . . .
	 ‘An my auld mither she was here,
	 Sae weill as she wad ye pu.
110C.23	 ‘She wad boil ye weill, and butter ye weill,
	 And sup till she war fu,
	 And lay her head upon her dish-doup,
	 And sleep like onie sow.’
110C.24	 Whan she cam to Earl Richard’s house,
	 The sheets war holland fine:
	 ‘O haud awa thae linen sheets,
	 And bring to me the linsey clouts
	 I hae been best used in.’
110C.25	 [‘Awa, awa wi your siller spoons,
	 Haud them awa frae me;
	 It would set me better to feed my flocks
	 Wi the brose-cap on my knee:
	 Sae bring to me the gude ram’s horn,
	 The spoons I’ve been used wi.’]
110C.26	 ‘Hold your tongue, ye beggar’s brat,
	 My heart will brak in three;’
	 ‘And sae did mine on yon bonnie hillside,
	 Whan ye wadna lat me be.’
110C.27	 ‘I wish I had drank the well-water
	 Whan first I drank the wine!
	 Never a shepherd’s dochter
	 Wad hae been a love o mine.
110C.28	 ‘O I wish I’d drank the well-water
	 Whan first I drank the beer,
	 That ever a shepherd’s dochter
	 Shoud hae been my only dear!’
	 * * * * *
110C.29	 ‘Ye’ll turn about, Earl Richard,
	 And mak some mair o me;
	 An ye mak me lady o ae puir plow,
	 I can mak ye laird o three.’
110C.30	 ‘If ye be the Earl of Stockford’s dochter,
	 As I’ve taen some thouchts ye be,
	 Aft hae I waited at your father’s yett,
	 But your face I coud never see.’


	 Child 110D: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110D.*	 * * *
	 AND he was never sae discreet
	 As bid her loup on and ride,
	 And she was neer sae meanly bred
	 As for to bid him bide.
110D.2	 And whan she cam to yon water,
	 It was running like a flude:
	 ‘I’ve learned it in my mither’s bouer,
	 I’ve learned it for my gude,
	 That I can soum this wan water
	 Like a fish in a flude.
110D.3	 ‘I’ve learned it in my father’s bouer,
	 I’ve learned it for my better,
	 And I will soum this wan water
	 As tho I was ane otter.’
	 * * * * *
110D.4	 ‘Gude day, gude day, my liege the king,
	 Gude day, gude day, to thee;’
	 ‘Gude day,’ quoth he, ’My lady fair,
	 What want ye wi me?’
	 * * * * *
110D.5	 ‘Gin he be a single man,
	 His bodie I’ll gie thee;
	 But gin he be a married man,
	 I’ll hang him on a tree.’
	 * * * * *
110D.6	 He’s powd out a hundred punds,
	 Weel lockit in a glove;
	 . . . .
	 . . . .
110D.7	 ‘I’ll hae nane o your gowd,’ she said,
	 ‘Nor either o your fee;
	 But I will hae your ain bodie
	 The king has granted me.’
110D.8	 ‘O was ye gentle gotten, maid?
	 Or was ye gentle born?
	 Or hae ye onie gerss growing?
	 Or hae ye onie corn?
110D.9	 ‘Or hae ye onie lands or rents,
	 Lying at libertie?
	 Or hae ye onie education,
	 To dance alang wi me?’
110D.10	 ‘I was na gentle gotten, madam,
	 Nor was I gentle born;
	 Neither hae I gerss growing,
	 Nor hae I onie corn.
110D.11	 ‘I have na onie lands or rents,
	 Lying at libertie;
	 Nor hae I onie education,
	 To dance alang wi thee.’
110D.12	 He lap on ae milk-white steed,
	 And she lap on anither,
	 And then the twa rade out the way
	 Like sister and like brither.
110D.13	 And whan she cam to Tyne’s water,
	 She wililie did say,
	 Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne’s water,
	 With thee I bid gude-day.
110D.14	 Fareweil, ye mills o Tyne’s water,
	 To you I bid gud-een,
	 Whare monie a day I hae filld my pock,
	 Baith at midnicht and at een.
	 * * * * *
110D.15	 Whan they cam to her father’s yett,
	 She tirled on the pin;
	 And an auld belly-blind man was sitting there,
	 As they war entering in.
110D.16	 ‘The meetest marriage,’ the belly-blind did cry,
	 ‘Atween the ane and the ither,
	 Atween the Earl of Stockford’s dochter
	 And the Queen o England’s brither.’


	 Child 110E: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110E.1	 EARL RICHARD, once upon a day,
	 And all his valiant men so wight,
	 He did him down to Barnisdale,
	 Where all the land is fair and light.
110E.2	 He was aware of a damosel-+-
	 I wot fast on she did her bound-+-
	 With towers of gold upon her head,
	 As fair a woman as could be found.
110E.3	 He said, Busk on you, fair ladye,
	 The white flowers and the red;
	 For I would give my bonnie ship
	 To get your maidenhead.
110E.4	 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
	 And drown you in the sea;
	 For all this would not mend the miss
	 That ye would do to me.’
	 ‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
	 Soon mended it might be.
110E.5	 ‘I have four an twenty mills in Scotland,
	 Stands on the water of Tay;
	 You’ll have them, and as much flour
	 As they’ll grind in a day.’
110E.6	 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
	 And drown you in the sea;
	 For all that would not mend the miss
	 That ye would do to me.’
	 ‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
	 Soon mended it will be.
110E.7	 ‘I have four an twenty milk-white cows,
	 All calved in a day;
	 You’ll have them, and as much haind grass
	 As they all on can gae.’
110E.8	 ‘I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,
	 And drown you in the sea;
	 For all that would not mend the miss
	 That ye would do to me.’
	 ‘The miss is not so great, ladye;
	 Soon mended it might be.
110E.9	 ‘I have four an twenty milk-white steeds,
	 All foaled in one year;
	 You’ll have them, and as much red gold
	 As all their backs can bear.’
110E.10	 She turned her right and round about,
	 And she swore by the mold;
	 ‘I would not be your love,’ said she,
	 ‘For that church full of gold.’
110E.11	 He turned him right and round about,
	 And he swore by the mess;
	 Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,
	 And gold ye shall have less.
110E.12	 She turned her right and round about,
	 And she swore by the moon;
	 ‘I would not be your love,’ says she,
	 ‘For all the gold in Rome.’
110E.13	 He turned him right and round about,
	 And he swore by the moon;
	 Says, Ladye, ye my love shall be,
	 And gold ye shall have none.
110E.14	 He caught her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by the grass-green sleeve,
	 And there has taken his will of her,
	 Wholly without her leave.
110E.15	 The ladye frownd, and sadly blushd,
	 And oh, but she thought shame!
	 Says, If you are a knight at all,
	 You surely will tell me your name.
110E.16	 ‘In some places they call me Jack,
	 In other some they call me John;
	 But when into the queen’s court,
	 O then Lithcock it is my name!’
110E.17	 ‘Lithcock! Lithcock!’ the ladye said,
	 And oft she spelt it ower again;
	 ‘Lithcock! it’s Latin,’ the ladye said,
	 ‘Richard’s the English of that name.’
110E.18	 The knight he rode, the ladye ran,
	 A live-long summer’s day,
	 Till they came to the wan water
	 That all men do call Tay.
110E.19	 He set his horse head to the water,
	 Just thro it for to ride,
	 And the ladye was as ready as him
	 The waters for to wade.
110E.20	 For he had never been as kind-hearted
	 As to bid the ladye ride,
	 And she had never been so low-hearted
	 As for to bid him bide.
110E.21	 But deep into the wan water
	 There stands a great big stone;
	 He turned his wight horse head about,
	 Said Ladye fair, will ye loup on?
110E.22	 She’s taken the wand was in her hand
	 And struck it on the faem,
	 And before he got the middle-stream
	 The ladye was on dry land:
	 ‘By help of God and our Lady,
	 My help lyes not in your hand!
110E.23	 ‘I learned it from my mother dear,
	 Few are there that have learned better,
	 When I come to deep water,
	 I can swim thro like ony otter.
110E.24	 ‘I learned it from my mother dear,
	 I find I learnd it for my weel,
	 When I come to a deep water,
	 I can swim thro like ony eel.’
110E.25	 ‘Turn back, turn back, you ladye fair,
	 You know not what I see;
	 There is a ladye in that castle
	 That will burn you and me.’
	 ‘Betide me weel, betide me wae,
	 That ladye I will see.’
110E.26	 She took a ring from her finger,
	 And gave it the porter for his fee;
	 Says, Take you that, my good porter,
	 And bid the queen speak to me.
110E.27	 And when she came before the queen,
	 There she fell low down on her knee;
	 Says, There is a knight into your court
	 This day has robbed me.
110E.28	 ‘O has he robbed you of your gold,
	 Or has he robbed you of your fee?’
	 ‘He has not robbed me of my gold,
	 He has not robbed me of my fee;
	 He has robbed me of my maidenhead,
	 The fairest flower of my bodie.’
110E.29	 ‘There is no knight in all my court,
	 That thus has robbed thee,
	 But you’ll have the truth of his right hand,
	 Or else for your sake he’ll die:
110E.30	 ‘Tho it were Earl Richard, my own brother,
	 And, Oh, forbid that it be!’
	 Then sighing said the ladye fair,
	 I wot the same man is he.
110E.31	 The queen called on her merry men,
	 Even fifty men and three;
	 Earl Richard used to be the first man,
	 But now the hindmost man was he.
110E.32	 He’s taken out one hundred pounds,
	 And told it in his glove;
	 Says, Take you that, my ladye fair,
	 And seek another love.
110E.33	 ‘Oh, no! oh, no!’ the ladye cried,
	 ‘That’s what shall never be;
	 I’ll have the truth of your right hand,
	 The queen it gave to me.’
110E.34	 [‘I wish I’d drunken your water, sister,
	 When I did drink thus of your ale,
	 That for a carl’s fair daughter
	 It does me gar dree all this bale!]
110E.35	 ‘I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,
	 When I did drink your wine,
	 That for a carle’s fair daughter
	 It does gar me dree all this pine!’
110E.36	 ‘May be I am a carle’s daughter,
	 And may be never nane;
	 When ye met me in the greenwood,
	 Why did you not let me alane?’
110E.37	 ‘Will you wear the short clothes,
	 Or will you wear the side?
	 Or will you walk to your wedding,
	 Or will you till it ride?’
110E.38	 ‘I will not wear the short clothes,
	 But I will wear the side;
	 I will not walk to my wedding,
	 But I to it will ride.’
110E.39	 When he was set upon the horse,
	 The lady him behin,
	 Then cauld and eerie were the words
	 The twa had them between.
110E.40	 She said, Good e’en, ye nettles tall,
	 Just there where ye grow at the dyke;
	 If the auld carline my mother were here,
	 Sae weel’s she would your pates pyke!
110E.41	 How she would stap you in her poke-+-
	 I wot at that she wadna fail-+-
	 And boil ye in her auld brass pan,
	 And of ye make right good kail!
110E.42	 And she would meal you with millering,
	 That she gathers at the mill,
	 And make you thick as ony daigh:
	 And when the pan was brimful,
110E.43	 Would mess you up in scuttle-dishes,
	 Syne bid us sup till we were fou,
	 Lay down her head upon a poke,
	 Then sleep and snore like ony sow.
110E.44	 ‘Away, away, you bad woman!
	 For all your vile words grieveth me;
	 When you hide so little for yourself,
	 I’m sure ye’ll hide far less for me.
110E.45	 ‘I wish I had drunk your water, sister,
	 When that I did drink of your wine,
	 Since for a carle’s fair daughter,
	 It aye gars me dree all this pine.’
110E.46	 ‘May be I am a carle’s daughter,
	 And may be never nane;
	 When ye met me in the good greenwood,
	 Why did you not let me alane?
110E.47	 ‘Gude een, gude een, ye heather-berries,
	 As ye’re growing on yon hill;
	 If the auld carline and her bags were here,
	 I wot she would get meat her fill.
110E.48	 ‘Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,
	 With even four an twenty knots;
	 And in the morn at breakfast time
	 I’ll carry the keys of an earl’s locks.
110E.49	 ‘Late, late at night, I knit our pokes,
	 With even four an twenty strings;
	 And if you look to my white fingers,
	 They have as many gay gold rings.’
110E.50	 ‘Away, away, ye ill woman!
	 So sore your vile words grieveth me;
	 When you hide so little for yourself,
	 I’m sure ye’ll hide far less for me.
110E.51	 ‘But if you are a carle’s daughter,
	 As I take you to be,
	 How did you get the gay cloathing
	 In greenwood ye had on thee?
110E.52	 ‘My mother, she’s a poor woman,
	 She nursed earl’s chidren three,
	 And I got them from a foster-sister,
	 For to beguile such sparks as thee.’
110E.53	 ‘But if you be a carle’s daughter,
	 As I believe you be,
	 How did you learn the good Latin
	 In greenwood ye spoke to me?’
110E.54	 ‘My mother, she’s a mean woman,
	 She nursd earl’s children three;
	 I learnt it from their chaplain,
	 To beguile such sparks as ye.’
110E.55	 When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
	 And all men bound for bed,
	 Then Earl Richard and this ladye
	 In ae bed they were laid.
110E.56	 He turned his face unto the stock,
	 And she her’s to the stane,
	 And cauld and dreary was the love
	 That was these twa between.
110E.57	 Great mirth was in the kitchen,
	 Likewise intill the ha,
	 But in his bed lay Earl Richard,
	 Wiping the tears awa.
110E.58	 He wept till he fell fast asleep,
	 Then slept till light was come;
	 Then he did hear the gentlemen
	 That talked in the room:
110E.59	 Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match,
	 Betwixt the ane and ither,
	 The king of Scotland’s fair dochter
	 And the queen of England’s brither?
110E.60	 ‘And is she the king o Scotland’s fair dochter?
	 This day, O weel is me!
	 For seven times has my steed been saddled,
	 To come to court with thee;
	 And with this witty lady fair,
	 How happy must I be!’


	 Child 110F: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110F.1	 EARL LITHGOW he’s a hunting gane,
	 Upon a summer’s day,
	 And he’s fa’en in with a weel-far’d maid,
	 Was gathering at the slaes.
110F.2	 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	 And by the grass-green sleeve;
	 He led her to the foot of a tree,
	 At her he spierd nae leave.
110F.3	 The lassie being well learned,
	 She turned her right around;
	 Says, Will ye be as good, kind sir,
	 As tell to me your name?
110F.4	 ‘Whiles they call me Jack,’ he says,
	 ‘And whiles they call me John;
	 But when I’m in the queen’s high court,
	 Earl Litchcock is my name.’
110F.5	 The lassie being well learned,
	 She spelld it ower again;
	 Says, Litchcock is a Latin word,
	 But Lithgow is your name.
110F.6	 The lassie being well learned,
	 She spelld it ower again;
	 Says, Lithgow is a gentle word,
	 But Richard is your name.
110F.7	 She has kilted her green claithing
	 A little abeen her knee;
	 The gentleman rode, and the lassie ran,
	 Till at the water o Dee.
110F.8	 When they were at the water o Dee,
	 And at the narrow side,
	 He turned about his high horse head,
	 Says, Lassie, will ye ride?
110F.9	 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower,
	 I wish I had learned it better,
	 When I came to this wan water,
	 To swim like ony otter.
110F.10	 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower,
	 I wish I had learned it weel,
	 That when I came to a wan water,
	 To swim like ony eel.’
110F.11	 She has kilted her green claithing
	 A little abeen her knee;
	 The gentleman rode, the lassie swam,
	 Thro the water o Dee:
	 Before he was at the middle o the water,
	 At the other side was she.
110F.12	 She sat there and drest hersell,
	 And sat upon a stone;
	 There she sat to rest hersell,
	 And see how he’d come on.
110F.13	 ‘How mony miles hae ye to ride?
	 How mony hae I to gang?’
	 ‘I’ve thirty miles to ride,’ he says,
	 ‘And ye’ve as mony to gang.’
110F.14	 ‘If ye’ve thirty miles to ride,’ she says,
	 ‘And I’ve as mony to gae,
	 Ye’ll get leave to gang yoursell;
	 It will never be gane by me.’
110F.15	 She’s gane to the queen’s high court,
	 And knocked at the pin;
	 Who was sae ready as the proud porter,
	 To let this lady in!
110F.16	 She’s put her hand in her pocket,
	 And gien him guineas three:
	 ‘Ye will gang to the queen hersell,
	 And tell her this frae me.
110F.17	 ‘There is a lady at your yetts
	 Can neither card nor spin;
	 But she can sit in a lady’s bower,
	 And lay gold on a seam.’
110F.18	 He’s gane ben thro ae lang room,
	 And he’s gane ben thro twa,
	 Till he came to a lang, lang trance,
	 And then came to the ha.
110F.19	 When he came before the queen,
	 Sat low down on his knee:
	 ‘Win up, win up, my proud porter,
	 What makes this courtesie?’
110F.20	 ‘There is a lady at your yetts
	 Can neither card nor spin;
	 But she can sit in a lady’s bower,
	 And lay gold on a seam.’
110F.21	 ‘If there is a lady at my yetts
	 That cannot card nor spin,
	 Ye’ll open my yetts baith wide and braid,
	 And let this lady in.’
110F.22	 Now she has gane ben thro ae room,
	 And she’s gane ben thro twa,
	 And she gaed ben a lang, lang trance,
	 Till she came to the ha.
110F.23	 When she came before the queen,
	 Sat low down on her knee:
	 ‘Win up, win up, my fair woman,
	 What makes such courtesie?’
110F.24	 ‘My errand it’s to thee, O queen,
	 My errand it’s to thee;
	 There is a man within your courts
	 This day has robbed me.’
110F.25	 ‘O has he taen your purse, your purse,
	 Or taen your penny-fee?
	 Or has he taen your maidenhead,
	 The flower of your bodie?’
110F.26	 He hasna taen my purse, my purse,
	 Nor yet my penny-fee,
	 But he has taen my maidenhead,
	 The flower of my bodi’
110F.27	 ‘It is if he be a batchelor,
	 Your husband he shall be;
	 But if he be a married man,
	 High hanged he shall be.
110F.28	 ‘Except it be my brother, Litchcock,
	 I hinna will it be he;’
	 Sighd and said that gay lady,
	 That very man is he.
110F.29	 She’s calld on her merry men a’,
	 By ane, by twa, by three;
	 Earl Litchcock used to be the first,
	 But the hindmost man was he.
110F.30	 He came cripple on the back,
	 Stane blind upon an ee;
	 And sighd and said Earl Richard,
	 I doubt this calls for me.
110F.31	 He’s laid down a brand, a brand,
	 And next laid down a ring;
	 It’s thrice she minted to the brand,
	 But she’s taen up the ring:
	 There’s not a knight in a’ the court,
	 But calld her a wise woman.
110F.32	 He’s taen out a purse of gold,
	 And tauld it on a stane;
	 Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,
	 And ye’ll frae me be gane.
110F.33	 ‘I will hae nane o your purse[s] o gold,
	 That ye tell on a stane;
	 But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
	 ‘Another I’ll hae nane.’
110F.34	 He has taen out another purse,
	 And tauld it in a glove;
	 Says, Take ye that, my fair woman,
	 And choice another love.
110F.35	 ‘I’ll hae nane o your purses o gold,
	 That ye tell in a glove;
	 But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
	 ‘I’ll hae nae ither love.’
110F.36	 But he’s taen out another purse,
	 And tauld it on his knee;
	 Said, Take ye that, ye fair woman,
	 Ye’ll get nae mair frae me.
110F.37	 ‘I’ll hae nane o your purses o gold,
	 That ye tell on your knee;
	 But I will hae yoursell,’ she says,
	 ‘The queen has granted it me.’
110F.38	 ‘O will ye hae the short claithing,
	 Or will ye hae the side?
	 Or will ye gang to your wedding,
	 Or will ye to it ride?’
110F.39	 ‘I winna hae the short claithing,
	 But I will hae the side;
	 I winna gang to my wedding,
	 But to it I will ride.’
110F.40	 The first town that they came till
	 They made the mass be sung,
	 And the next town that they came till
	 They made the bells be rung.
110F.41	 And the next town that they came till
	 He bought her gay claithing,
	 And the next town that they came till
	 They held a fair wedding.
110F.42	 When they came to Mary-kirk,
	 The nettles grew on the dyke:
	 ‘If my auld mither, the carlin, were here,
	 Sae well’s she would you pyke.
110F.43	 ‘Sae well’s she would you pyke,’ she says,
	 ‘She woud you pyke and pou,
	 And wi the dust lyes in the mill
	 Sae woud she mingle you.
110F.44	 ‘She’d take a speen intill her hand,
	 And sup ere she be fou,
	 Syne lay her head upon a sod,
	 And snore like ony sow.’
110F.45	 When she came to yon mill-dams,
	 Says, Well may ye clap;
	 I wyte my minnie neer gaed by you
	 Wanting mony a lick.
110F.46	 He’s drawn his hat out ower his face,
	 Muckle shame thought he;
	 She’s driven her cap out ower her locks,
	 And a light laugh gae she.
110F.47	 When they were wedded, and well bedded,
	 And hame at dinner set,
	 Then out it spake our bride hersell,
	 And she spake never blate.
110F.48	 Put far awa your china plates,
	 Put them far awa frae me,
	 And bring to me my humble gockies,
	 That I was best used wi.
110F.49	 Put far awa your siller speens,
	 Had them far awa frae me,
	 And bring to me my horn cutties,
	 That I was best used wi.
110F.50	 When they were dined and well served,
	 And to their dancing set,
	 Out it spake our bride again,
	 For she spake never blate.
110F.51	 If the auld carlin, my mither, were here,
	 As I trust she will be,
	 She’ll fear the dancing frae us a’,
	 And gar her meal-bags flee.
110F.52	 When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
	 And a’ men bound for rest,
	 Earl Richard and the beggar’s daughter
	 In ae chamber were placed.
110F.53	 ‘Had far awa your fine claithing,
	 Had them far awa frae me,
	 And bring to me my fleachy clouts,
	 That I was best used wi.
110F.54	 ‘Had far awa your holland sheets,
	 Had them far awa frae me,
	 And bring to me my canvas clouts,
	 That I was best used wi.
110F.55	 ‘Lay a pock o meal beneath my head,
	 Another aneath my feet,
	 A pock o seeds beneath my knees,
	 And soundly will I sleep.’
110F.56	 ‘Had far awa, ye carlin’s get,
	 Had far awa frae me;
	 I disna set a carlin’s get
	 My bed-fellow to be.’
110F.57	 ‘It’s may be I’m a carlin’s get,
	 And may be I am nane;
	 But when ye got me in good greenwood,
	 How letna you me alane?’
110F.58	 ‘It is if you be a carlin’s get,
	 As I trust well ye be,
	 Where got ye all the gay claithing
	 You brought to greenwood with thee?’
110F.59	 ‘My mother was an auld nourice,
	 She nursed bairns three;
	 And whiles she got, and whiles she staw.
	 And she kept them a’ for me;
	 And I put them on in good greenwood,
	 To beguile fause squires like thee.’
110F.60	 It’s out then spake the Billy-Blin,
	 Says, I speak nane out of time;
	 If ye make her lady o nine cities,
	 She’ll make you lord o ten.
110F.61	 Out it spake the Billy-Blin,
	 Says, The one may serve the other;
	 The King of Gosford’s ae daughter,
	 And the Queen of Scotland’s brother.
110F.62	 ‘Wae but worth you, Billy-Blin,
	 An ill death may ye die!
	 My bed-fellow he’d been for seven years
	 Or he’d kend sae muckle frae me.’
110F.63	 ‘Fair fa ye, ye Billy-Blin,
	 And well may ye aye be!
	 In my stable is the ninth horse I’ve killd,
	 Seeking this fair ladie:
	 Now we’re married, and now we’re bedded,
	 And in each other’s arms shall lie.’


	 Child 110G: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110G.1	 JOJANET has to the greenwood gane,
	 Wi a’ her maidens free,
	 . . . . .
	 . . . . .
	 * * * * *
110G.2	 ‘Some ca me Jack, some ca me John,
	 Some ca me Jing-ga-lee,
	 But when I am in the queen’s court
	 Earl Hitchcock they ca me.’
110G.3	 ‘Hitchcock, Hitchcock,’ Jo Janet she said,
	 An spelled it ower agane,
	 ‘Hitchcock it’s a Latin word;
	 Earl Richard is your name.’
110G.4	 But when he saw she was book-learned,
	 Fast to his horse hied he;
	 But she kilted up her gay claithing,
	 An fast, fast followed she.
110G.5	 Aye he rade, an aye she ran,
	 The live-lang simmer’s day,
	 Till they came to the wan water,
	 An a’ men call it Tay.
110G.6	 She has tane the narrow fuird,
	 An he has tane the wide,
	 An ere he was in the middle-water,
	 Jo Janet was at the ither side.
110G.7	 . . . . .
	 . . . .
	 . . . . .
	 As swift as eel or otter.
110G.8	 An when she cam to the queen’s court
	 She tirled at the pin,
	 An wha sae ready as the queen hersel
	 To let Jo Janet in!
110G.9	 . . . . .
	 . . . . .
	 ‘There is a knicht into your court
	 This day has robbed me.’
110G.10	 ‘Has he robbed you o your gold, fair may,
	 Or robbed you o your fee?
	 Or robbed you o your maidenhead,
	 The flower o your bodie?’
110G.11	 ‘He has nae robbed me o my gold,’ she said,
	 ‘Nor o my weel won fee,
	 But he has robbed me o my maidenhead,
	 The flower o my bodie.’
110G.12	 ‘It’s if he be a married knight,
	 It’s hanged he shall be;
	 But if he be a single knight,
	 It’s married ye sall be.
110G.13	 ‘There’s but three knichts into my court
	 This day hae been frae me,
	 An ane is Earl Richard, my brither,
	 An I hope it is na he:’
	 Then sichin said Jo Janet,
	 The very same man is he.
110G.14	 The queen has called on her merry men
	 By thirty and by three;
	 He wont to be the foremost man,
	 But hinmost in cam he.
110G.15	 ‘If this your tricks abroad, Richard,
	 Is this your tricks abroad,
	 Wheneer ye meet a bonny may
	 To lay her on the road?’
	 * * * * *
110G.16	 But he took out a purse o gold,
	 . . . . .
	 Says, Tak you that, my bonny may,
	 An seek nae mair o me.
110G.17	 ‘I winna hae your gold,’ she said,
	 ‘I winna hae your fee;
	 I’ll hae the troth o your right hand
	 The queen has promised me.’
	 * * * * *
110G.18	 As they rade bye yon bonny mill-town
	 Sae fair’s the nettles grew;
	 Quoth she, If my auld mither were here,
	 Sae finely’s she wad you pu.
110G.19	 She wad you nip, she wad you clip,
	 Sae finely’s she wad you pu,
	 An pit you on in a wee, wee pat,
	 An sup till she were fu,
	 Syne rowe her heid in her gown-tail,
	 An sleep like ony soo.
110G.20	 He drew his hat down ower his broos,
	 An a doon look gae he,
	 But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,
	 An nae ways dung was she.
110G.21	 ‘It’s if ye be a beggar’s brat,
	 As I dout na but ye be,
	 It’s where gat ye the gay claithing
	 That hings down to your knee?’
110G.22	 ‘My mither was nurse to Earl Marshall’s dother,
	 An a fine lady is she,
	 An aye when she gets new claithing
	 She casts the auld to me:’
	 An sichin said Earl Richard,
	 My ain true-love is she!
110G.23	 But if you be a beggar’s brat,
	 As I doutna but ye be,
	 Where got ye the Latin words
	 Ye said in greenwood to me?
110G.24	 ‘My mither was a bad woman,
	 She served sic men as thee,
	 An a’ the gear at ever she got
	 She waired it a’ on me,
	 An learned me weel the Latin tongue,
	 To beguile sic sparks as thee.’
110G.25	 ‘Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
	 An ill death mat ye dee!
	 . . . .
	 . . . .
110G.26	 When they were a’ at supper set,
	 An siller spoons gaen roun,
	 It’s, ‘Haud awa yer siller spoons,
	 Haud them far awa frae me,
	 An bring to me a guid ramshorn,
	 The thing I’m best used wi.’
110G.27	 An when they were at supper set,
	 An the ale-caup gaen about,
	 She took it in her arms twa,
	 An sae clean’s she lickit it oot.
110G.28	 He drew his hat doun ower his broos,
	 An a doun look gae he,
	 But she threw her locks out ower her cocks,
	 An nae ways dung was she.
110G.29	 When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
	 An a’ men boun to bed,
	 Earl Richard an Jo Janet
	 In ae bed they were laid.
110G.30	 He turned his face unto the stock,
	 An sair, sair did he weep;
	 She turned her face unto the wa,
	 An sound she fell asleep.
110G.31	 . . . . . .
	 . . . . . .
	 . . . . . .
	 The Billie Blin stood up at their bed-feet.
110G.32	 Said, Saw ye ever a fitter match
	 Atween the tane and the tither,
	 The Earl Marshall[’s] ae dother
	 An the Queen o Scotland’s brither?
110G.33	 ‘Wae be to you for an ill woman,
	 An ill death mat ye dee!
	 For mony’s the mare and mare’s foal
	 I’ve bursten seekin thee.’
110G.34	 . . . a cup o wine,
	 Quoth, Here’s to thee and me!
	 If ye mak me lady o ae puir pleugh,
	 I’ll mak ye lord o three.


	 Child 110H: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110H.1	 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter,
	 Kept sheep on yonder hill;
	 There came a knight o courage bright,
	 And he wad have his will. Diddle, ’C\.
110H.2	 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
	 Gien her a gown o green;
	 ‘O take you that, fair may,’ he says,
	 ‘There’s nae mair o me to be seen.’
110H.3	 ‘Since ye have taen your wills o me,
	 Your wills o me you’ve taen,
	 Since ye have taen your wills o me,
	 Pray tell to me your name.’
110H.4	 ‘O some they call me Jack, lady,
	 And others call me John;
	 But when I’m in the king’s court,
	 Sweet William is my name.’
110H.5	 She’s kilted up her green clothing
	 A little below her knee,
	 And she is to the king’s court,
	 As fast as she could gae.
110H.6	 And when she came unto the king,
	 She knelt low on her knee:
	 ‘There is a man into your court
	 This day has robbed me.’
110H.7	 ‘Has he robbd you of your gold,’ he says,
	 ‘Or of your white monie?
	 Or robbed you of the flowery branch,
	 The flower of your bodie?’
110H.8	 ‘He has not robbd me of my gold,’ she says,
	 ‘Nor of my white monie,
	 But he’s robbd me of the flowery branch,
	 The flower of my bodie.’
110H.9	 ‘O if he be a bond-man,
	 High hanged shall he be;
	 But if he be a free man,
	 He’se well provide for thee.’
110H.10	 The king’s called on his nobles all,
	 By thirty and by three;
	 Sweet William should have been the foremost man,
	 But the hindmost man was he.
110H.11	 ‘Do you not mind yon shepherd’s daughter,
	 You met on yonder hill?
	 When a’ her flocks were feeding round,
	 Of her you took your will.’
110H.12	 And he’s taen out a purse o gold,
	 And tied up in a glove;
	 ‘Take you that, fair may,’ he says,
	 ‘And choice for you a love.’
110H.13	 O he’s taen out three hundred pounds,
	 Tied up in a purse;
	 ‘See, take you that, fair may,’ he says,
	 ‘And that will pay the nurse.’
110H.14	 ‘I’ll neither have your gold,’ she says,
	 ‘Nor yet your white monie,
	 But I will have the king’s grant,
	 That he has granted me.’
110H.15	 Then he’s taen her on a milk-white steed,
	 Himsell upon another,
	 And to his castle they have rode,
	 Like sister and like brother.
110H.16	 O ilka nettle that they came to,
	 ‘O well mote you grow!
	 For mony a day’s my minny and me
	 Pilkit at your pow.’
110H.17	 O ilka mill that they came to,
	 ‘O well mote you clack!
	 For monie a day’s my minnie and me
	 Buckled up our lap.’
	 * * * * *
110H.18	 ‘You’re the king of England’s ae brother,
	 I trust well that you be;
	 I’m the Earl of Stampford’s ae daughter,
	 And he has nae mair but me.’
110H.19	 O saw you eer such a near marriage,
	 Between the one and the other,
	 The Earl of Stampford’s ae daughter,
	 And the King of England’s brother!


	 Child 110I: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110I.1	 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter,
	 Kept flocks on yonder hill,
	 And by there cam a courteous knight,
	 Wud fain and hae his will.
	 * * * * *
110I.2	 ‘Some do ca me Jock,’ he said,
	 ‘And some do ca me John,
	 But when I do ride i the king’s high court,
	 Gulelmus is my name.’
	 * * * * *
110I.3	 And when she came to the kinges court
	 She tirled at the pin,
	 And wha was there but the king himsel,
	 To lat this fair maid in!
110I.4	 ‘Now Christ you save, my lord,’ she said,
	 ‘Now Christ you save and see;
	 There is a knicht into your court
	 This day has robbed me.
110I.5	 ‘He’s na robbed me o my silken purse,
	 Nor o my white money,
	 But he’s robbed me o my maidenheid,
	 The flower o my bodie.’
110I.6	 ‘O gin he be a single man,
	 Weel married sall ye be,
	 But an he be a married man,
	 He’s hang upon a tree.’
110I.7	 Then he called up his merry men a’,
	 By one, by two, and by three,
	 And William should a been the first,
	 But the hindmost man was he.
110I.8	 And he cam hirplin on a stick,
	 And blin upon an ee,
	 But sighand said that gay ladie,
	 That same man robbed me.
	 * * * * *
110I.9	 ‘Gin I had drunk the wan water,
	 When I did drink the wine,
	 A cairdman’s daughter
	 Should never be a true-love o mine.’
110I.10	 ‘Maybe I’m a cairdman’s daughter,
	 And maybe I am nane;
	 But when ye did come to good green wood,
	 Ye sud hae latten me alane.’
110I.11	 She set upon a milk-white steed,
	 An himsel on a dapple grey,
	 An she had as much lan in fair Scotlan
	 ’S ye cud ride in a lang simmer’s day.


	 Child 110J: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110J.*	 * * *
	 ‘SOME ca’ss me James, some ca’as me John,
	 I carena what they ca me,
	 But when I [am] at hame in my ain country,
	 It’s Lispcock that they ca me.’
110J.2	 The lassie being well beuk-learned,
	 She spelled it ower again;
	 Says, Lispcock in a Latin beuk
	 Spells Erl Richard in plain.
110J.3	 . . . . .
	 . . . . .
	 The lassie kilted up her green claithing,
	 And fast, fast followed on.
110J.4	 Till they cam till a wide water,
	 . . . . .
	 He’s turned his hie horse head about,
	 Says, Lassie will ye ride?
110J.5	 ‘I learned it in my mother’s bower,
	 I wish I’d learned it better,
	 Whanever I cam to any wide water,
	 To soum like ony otter.’
110J.6	 The laird he chused the ford to ride,
	 The ladie the pot to swim,
	 And or the laird was half water,
	 The ladie was on dry lan.
110J.7	 O he rade on to yon hie castell,
	 He rade it richt and roun about;
	 The laird gaed in at ae back-door,
	 But the ladie beet to knock.
110J.8	 Out it cam the proud porter,
	 Wi his hat into his han,
	 . . . . .
	 . . . . .
110J.9	 She’s pitten her hand in her pocket,
	 Pulld out guineas three,
	 And that she’s given to the proud porter,
	 To cause her to get entrance there.
110J.10	 The proud porter ran up the stair,
	 O fifteen steps he made but three:
	 ‘The prettiest lady stands at yer yetts
	 That ever my een did see.’
110J.11	 . . . . .
	 . . . . .
	 ‘Goe doun, goe doun, you proud porter,
	 Cause her to cum up to me.’
110J.12	 When she gaed in before the queen,
	 She fell low down on her knee:
	 ‘There is a man into your courts
	 This day has robbed me.’
110J.13	 ‘Has he robbed you o your fine clothing,
	 Or o your white monie?
	 Or taen frae you your maidenhead,
	 The flower o your bodie?’
110J.14	 ‘He hasna robbed me o my fine clothing,
	 Nor o my white monie,
	 But he’s taen frae me my maidenhead,
	 The flower o my bodie.’
110J.15	 ‘O gin he be a married man,
	 High hanged sall he be;
	 And gin he be a batchelere,
	 Well wedded shall ye be.’
110J.16	 O she has called in her merry young men,
	 By thirties and by threes;
	 Earl Richard should hae been the foremost man,
	 But the hindmost man was he.
110J.17	 He cam limpin on a staff,
	 And blinkin on an ee,
	 And sichand says that gay ladie,
	 That samen man is he.
	 * * * * *


	 Child 110K: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110K.1	 THERE was a shepherd’s daughter,
	 Kept sheep on yonder hill;
	 O by comes a courtier,
	 And fain wud hae his will.
  Refrain:	We’ll go no more a roving,
	 A roving in the night,
	 We’ll go no more a roving,
	 Let the moon shine neer so bright.
	 O we’ll go [no] more a roving.
110K.2	 He took her by the middle so small,
	 And by the grass-green sleeve;
	 He bended her body unto the ground,
	 And of her parents he askd no leave.
110K.3	 ‘Now since you’ve got your will o me,
	 And brought my fair bodie to shame,
	 All the request I ask of you is,
	 Pray tell me what’s your name.’
110K.4	 ‘O some do call me Jack,’ he says,
	 ‘And some do call me John,
	 But when I am in the king’s court,
	 My name is Sweet William.’
110K.5	 She took her petticoats by the band,
	 Her mantle oer her arm,
	 And she’s awa to the king’s court,
	 As fast as she could run.
110K.6	 When she came to the king’s court,
	 She tinkled at the ring;
	 Who was so ready as the king himsel
	 To let this fair maid in!
110K.7	 And when she came before the king,
	 She kneeled low by his knee;
	 ‘What’s this? what’s this, fair maid,’ he says,
	 ‘What’s this you ask of me?’
110K.8	 . . . . .
	 . . . . .
	 ‘There is a knight into your court
	 This day has robbed me.’
110K.9	 ‘If he robbed you of your gold,’ he said,
	 ‘It’s hanged he must be;
	 If he’s robbed you of your maidenhead,
	 His body I grant to thee.’
110K.10	 ‘He’s not robbed me of my gold,’ she said,
	 ‘Nor of my white money,
	 But he’s robbed me of my maidenhead,
	 The flower of my bodie.’
110K.11	 He’s called down his merry men all,
	 By one, by two, by three;
	 John used to be the foremost man,
	 But the hindmost man was he.
110K.12	 He took a long purse of gold
	 And wrapped it in a glove:
	 ‘Here’s to thee, my dearest dear,
	 Go seek some other love.’
110K.13	 ‘I’ll have none of your gold,’ she says,
	 ‘Nor any of your white money,
	 But I’ll just have your own bodie
	 The king has granted to me.’
110K.14	 ‘I wish I was drinking the well-water
	 When I drank of the ale,
	 Before a shepherd’s daughter
	 Would tell me such a tale.’
110K.15	 He got her on a milk-white steed,
	 Himself upon a grey,
	 Then on a day . . .
	 This couple rode away.
110K.16	 It’s when they were coming by the nettle-bush,
	 She said, So well may you grow!
	 For many a day my mammy and me
	 Hae pickled at your pow.
110K.17	 When they cam by the mill-door, she said,
	 So well may you clatter!
	 For many a day my mammy and me
	 Pickled at your happer.
110K.18	 When they came to the king’s court,
	 They reckoned up their kin;
	 She was a king’s one dochter,
	 And he but a blacksmith’s son.


	 Child 110L: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110L.*	 * * *
	 ‘I LEARNED it in my father’s bower,
	 And I learned it for the better,
	 That every water I coudna wade,
	 I swam it like an otter,
	 With my low silver ee.
110L.2	 ‘I learned it in my father’s bower,
	 And I learned it for my weel,
	 That every water I coudna wade,
	 I swam it like an eel.’
	 * * * * *
110L.3	 And he cam hirpling on a stick,
	 And leaning on a tree:
	 ‘Be he cripple, or be he blind,
	 The same man is he.’


	 Child 110[M]: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110[M].1	There was a shepherd’s daughter
	 Kept hogs upo yon hill,
	 By cam her a gentle knight,
	 And he would hae his will.
110[M.2]	Whan his will o her he had,
	 [His will] as he had taen,
	 ‘Kind sir, for yer courtesy,
	 Will ye tell me yer name?’
110[M.3]	‘Some they ca me Jock,’ he says,
	 ‘And some they ca me John;
	 But whan ’m in our king’s court
	 Hitchcock is my name.’
110[M.4]	They lady being well book-read
	 She spelt it oer again:
	 ‘Hitchcock in our king’s court
	 Is Earl Richard at hame.’
110[M.5]	He pat his leg out-oer his steed
	 And to the get he’s gane;
	 She keltit up her green clothing,
	 And fast, fast followed him.
110[M.6]	‘Turn back, turn back, ye carl’s daughter,
	 And dinna follow me;
	 It sets na carl’s daughters
	 Kings’ courts for to see.’
110[M.7]	‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter,
	 Perhaps I am nane,
	 But whan ye gat me in free forest
	 Ye might ha latten’s alane.’
110[M.8]	Whan they cam to yon wan water
	 That a’ man does call Clyde,
	 He looket oer his left shuder,
	 Says, Fair may, will ye ride?
110[M.9]	‘I learnt it in my mother’s bowr,
	 I wis I had learnt it better,
	 Whan I cam to wan water
	 To soom as does the otter.’
110[M.10]	Or the knight was i the middle o the water,
	 The lady she was oer;
	 She took out a came o gold,
	 To came down her yellow hair.
110[M.11]	‘Whar gat ye that, ye cerl’s daughter?
	 I pray ye tell to me:’
	 ‘I got it fra my mither,’ she says,
	 ‘To beguil sick chaps as thee.’
110[M.12]	Whan they cam to our king’s court,
	 He rade it round about,
	 And he gade in at a shot-window,
	 And left the lady without.
110[M.13]	She gade to our king hersel,
	 She fell low down upon her knee:
	 ‘There is a knight into your court
	 This day has robbed me.’
110[M.14]	‘Has he robbd ye o your goud?
	 Or o yer well-won fee?
	 Or o yer maidenhead,
	 The flower o yer body?’
110[M.15]	‘He has na robbd me o my goud,
	 For I ha nane to gee;
	 But he has robbd me o my maidenhead,
	 The flower o my body.’
110[M.16]	‘O wud ye ken the knight,’ he says,
	 ‘If that ye did him see?’
	 ‘I wud him ken by his well-fared face
	 And the blyth blink o his ee.’
110[M.17]	‘An he be a married man,
	 High hanged sall he be,
	 And an he be a free man,
	 Well wedded to him ye’s be,
	 Altho it be my brother Richie,
	 And I wiss it be no he.’
110[M.18]	The king called on his merry young men,
	 By ane, by twa, by three;
	 Earl Richmond had used to be the first,
	 But the hindmost was he.
110[M.19]	By that ye mith ha well kent
	 That the quilty man was he;
	 She took him by the milk-white hand,
	 Says, This same ane is he.
110[M.20]	There was a brand laid down to her,
	 A brand but an a ring,
	 Three times she minted to the brand,
	 But she took up the ring;
	 A’ that was in our king’s court
	 Countet her a wise woman.
110[M.21]	‘I’ll gi ye five hundred pounds,
	 To mak yer marriage we,
	 An ye’l turn back, ye cerl’s daughter,
	 And fash nae mere wi me.’
110[M.22]	‘Gae keep yer five hundred pounds
	 To mak yer merriage we,
	 For I’ll hae nathing but yersel
	 The king he promised me.’
110[M.23]	‘I’ll gae ye one thousand pounds
	 To mak yer marriage we,
	 An ye’l turn back, ye cerl’s daughter,
	 And fash nae mere wi me.’
110[M.24]	‘Gae keep yer one thousand pounds,
	 To mak yer merriage we,
	 For I’ll hae nathing but yersel
	 The king he promised me.’
110[M.25]	He took her down to yon garden,
	 And clothed her in the green;
	 Whan she cam up again,
	 Sh[e] was fairer than the queen.
110[M.26]	They gad on to Mary kirk, and on to Mary quire,
	 The nettles they grew by the dyke:
	 ‘O, an my mither wer her[e],
	 So clean as she wud them pick!’
110[M.27]	‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
	 ‘Whan I drank the ale,
	 That ony cerl’s daughter
	 Sud tell me sick a tale.’
110[M.28]	‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter,
	 Perhaps I am nane;
	 But whan ye gat me in free forest
	 Ye might ha latten’s alane.
110[M.29]	‘Well mat this mill be,
	 And well mat the gae!
	 Mony a day they ha filled me pock
	 O the white meal and the gray.’
110[M.30]	‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
	 ‘When I drank the ale,
	 That ony cerl’s daughter
	 Sud tell me sick a tale.’
110[M.31]	‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter,
	 Perhaps I am nane;
	 But whan ye gat me in free forest
	 Ye might ha latten’s alane.
110[M.32]	‘Tak awa yer siller spoons,
	 Tak awa fra me,
	 An gae me the gude horn spoons,
	 It’s what I’m used tee.
110[M.33]	‘O an my mukle dish wer here,
	 And sine we hit were fu,
	 I wud sup file I am saerd,
	 An sine lay down me head and sleep wi ony sow.’
110[M.34]	‘I wiss I had druken water,’ he says,
	 ‘Whan I drank the ale,
	 That any cerl’s daughter
	 Sud tell me sick a tale.’
110[M.35]	‘Perhaps I am a cerl’s daughter,
	 Perhaps I am nane,
	 But whan ye gat me in free forest,
	 Ye might ha latten’s alane.’
110[M.36]	He took his hat in oer his face,
	 The tear blindit his ee;
	 She threw back her yellow locks,
	 And a light laughter leugh she.
110[M.37]	‘Bot an ye be a beggar geet,
	 As I trust well ye be,
	 Whar gat ye their fine clothing
	 Yer body was covered we?’
110[M.38]	‘My mother was an ill woman,
	 And an ill woman was she;
	 She gat them . . . .
	 Fra sic chaps as thee.’
110[M.39]	Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung,
	 And aa man bound to bed,
	 Earl Richard and the carl’s daughter
	 In a chamer were laid.
110[M.40]	‘Lie yont, lie yont, ye carl’s daughter,
	 Yer hot skin burns me;
	 It sets na carl’s daughters
	 In earls’ beds to be.’
110[M.41]	‘Perhaps I am a carl’s daughter,
	 Perhaps I am nane;
	 But whan ye gat me in free forest
	 Ye might ha latten’s alane.’
110[M.42]	Up it starts the Belly Blin,
	 Just at their bed-feet.
110[M.43]	‘I think it is a meet marrige
	 Atween the taen and the tither,
	 The Earl of Hertford’s ae daughter
	 And the Queen of England’s brither.’
110[M.44]	‘An this be the Earl of Hertford’s ae daughter,
	 As I trust well it be,
	 Mony a gude horse ha I ridden
	 For the love o thee.’


	 Child 110[N]: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110[N].1	Ther was a sheperd’s daughter
	 Keeped hogs upon yon hill,
	 An by came [t]her a gentell knight,
	 An he wad haa his will.
110[N.2]	Fan his will
	 Of her he had taiin,
	 ‘Kind sir, for your curtisy,
	 Will ye tell me yer name?’
110[N.3]	‘Some they caa me Joke,
	 An some caa me John,
	 Bat fan I am in our king’s court
	 Hichkoke is my name.’
110[N.4]	The lady bieng well book-read
	 She spealled it our agen:
	 ‘Hichkoke in Latin
	 Is Earl Richerd att heam.’
110[N.5]	He patt his liag out-our his stead
	 An to the gate has gain;
	 She kilted up her green clathing
	 An fast folloued she.
110[N.6]	‘Turn back, ye carl’s dother,
	 An dinn follou me;
	 It setts no carl’s dothers
	 King’s courts to see.’
110[N.7]	‘Perhaps I am a carle’s dother,
	 Perhaps I am nean,
	 Bat fan ye gat me in free forest
	 Ye sud haa latten alean.’
110[N.8]	Fan they came to yon wan water
	 That a’ man cas Clide,
	 He luked our his left shoulder,
	 Says, Fair maid, will ye ride?
110[N.9]	‘I learned it in my mother’s bour,
	 I watt I learned it well,
	 Fan I came to wan water
	 To soum as dos the eall.
110[N.10]	‘I learned it in my mother’s bour,
	 I wiss I had learned it better,
	 Fan I came to wan watter
	 To sume as dos the otter.’
110[N.11]	She touk a golden comb,
	 Combed out her yallou hear,
	 . . . . . . .
	 . . . . . . .
110[N.12]	‘Far gatt ye that, ye carl’s dother,
	 I pray ye tell to me;’
	 ‘I gatt it fra my mither,’ she says,
	 ‘To begulle sick sparks as ye.’
110[N.13]	‘Gin ye be a carl’s gett,
	 As I trou well ye be,
	 Far gatt ye a’ that fine clothing,
	 To cloath yer body we?’
110[N.14]	‘My mother was an ill woman,
	 An ill woman was she,
	 An she gatt a’ that fine clathing,
	 Frae sick chaps as ye.’
110[N.15]	Fan they came to our king’s court,
	 She fell lou doun on her knee:
	 ‘Win up, ye fair may,
	 What may ye want we me?’
	 ‘Ther is a knight in your court
	 This day has robbed me.’
110[N.16]	‘Has he robbed you of your goud?
	 Or of your whit monie?
	 Or of your meadnhead,
	 The flour of your body?’
110[N.17]	‘He has no robbed me of my goud,
	 Nor yet of my fiee,
	 Bat he has robed me of my madinhead,
	 The flour of my body.’
110[N.18]	‘Wad ye keen the knight,
	 If ye did him see?’
	 ‘I wad keen him well by his well-fared face
	 An the blieth blink of his eay.’
	 An sighan says the king,
	 I wiss it bin my brother Richie!
110[N.19]	The king called on his merry men a’,
	 By an, by tua, by three;
	 Earl Richerd had ay ben the first,
	 Bat the last man was he.
110[N.20]	By that ye might a well kent
	 The gulty man was he;
	 She took him by the hand,
	 Says, That same is hee.
110[N.21]	Ther was a brand laid doun to her,
	 A brand batt an a ring,
	 Three times she minted to the brand,
	 Bat she took up the ring;
	 A’ that was in the court
	 ’S counted her a wise woman.
110[N.22]	‘I will gee ye five hundred pound,
	 To make yer marrage we,
	 An ye gie hame, ye carl’s dother,
	 An fash na mare we me.’
110[N.23]	‘Ye keep yer five hundred pound,
	 To make yer marreg we,
	 For I will ha nathing bat yer sell,
	 The king he promised me.’
110[N.24]	‘I ill gee ye a thousand poun,
	 To make yer marrage we,
	 An ye gae hame, ye carl’s gett,
	 An fash na mare we me.’
110[N.25]	‘Ye keep yer thousand pound,
	 To make yer marreg we,
	 For I ill ha nathing batt yer sell,
	 The king he promised me.’
110[N.26]	He toke her doun
	 An clothed her in green;
	 Fan she cam up,
	 She was fairer then the quin.
110[N.27]	Fan they gaid to Mary Kirk,
	 The nettels grue by dike:
	 ‘O gin my midder war hear,
	 Sai clean as she wad them peak!’
110[N.28]	He drue his hat out-our his eayn,
	 The tear blinded his eay;
	 She drue back her yallou loaks,
	 An a light laughter luke she.
110[N.29]	Fan she came by yon mill-toun,
	 . . . . . .
	 ‘O well may the mill goo,
	 An well matt she be!
	 For aften ha ye filled my poke
	 We the whit meall an the gray.’
110[N.30]	‘I wiss I had druken the water
	 Fan I drank the aill,
	 Or any carl’s dother
	 Suld ha tald me siken a teall.’
110[N.31]	‘Perhaps I am a carl’s dother,
	 Perhaps I am nean;
	 Fan ye gatt me in frie forest,
	 Ye sud ha latten alean.
	 * * * * * *
110[N.32]	‘Take awa yer silver spons,
	 Far awa fra me,
	 An ye gee me t[he] ram-horn [s]pons,
	 Them I am best used we.
110[N.33]	‘Ye take awa yer tabel-cloths,
	 Far awa fra me,
	 An ye gee me a mukell dish
	 I am best used we.
110[N.34]	‘For if I had my mukel dish hear,
	 An sayn an it war fou,
	 I wad sup till I war sared,
	 An sayn lay doun my head an slep like ony sou.
110[N.35]	‘Ye take away yer hollan shits,
	 Far awa fra me,
	 An ye bring me a cannas,
	 It’s the thing I ben eased we.’
110[N.36]	Fan bells wer rung, an mess was sung,
	 An a’ man boun to bed,
	 Earl Richerd an the carl’s dother
	 In a bed [were laid].
110[N.37]	‘Lay yond, lay yond, ye carl’s dother,
	 Your hot skin . . me;
	 It setts na carl’s dothers
	 In earls’ beds to be.’
110[N.38]	‘Perhaps I am a carl’s dother,
	 Perhaps I am nean;
	 Bat fan ye gat me in free forest
	 Ye might a latten alean.’
110[N.39]	Up starts the Bellie Blind,
	 Att ther bed-head:
	 ‘I think it is a meatt marrage
	 Betuen the ane an the eather,
	 The Earl of Heartfourds ae daughter
	 An the Quien of England’s brother.’
110[N.40]	‘If this be the Earl of Heartfourd’s ae doughter,
	 As I trust well it be,
	 Mony a gued hors have I redden
	 For the love of the.’


	 Child 110[O]: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

110[O].1	There was a shepherd’s daughter
	 Who kept sheep on yon hill;
	 There came a young man riding by,
	 Who swore he’d have his will.
110[O.1b]	Fol lol lay
	 Fol lol di diddle lol di day
110[O.2]	He took her by the lilly-white hand
	 And by her silken sleeve,
110[O.3]	Or tell to me your name.
110[O.4]	‘Oh, some they call me Jack, sweetheart,
	 And some they call me Will,
	 But when I ride the king’s high-gate
	 My name is sweet William.’
110[O.4.j]	But name,


	 Child 110[P]: The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

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



		  Child 111: Crow and Pie

111.1	 THROUGHE a forest as I can ryde,
	 To take my sporte yn an mornyng,
	 I cast my eye on euery syde,
	 I was ware of a bryde syngynge.
111.2	 I sawe a faire mayde come rydyng;
	 I speake to hur of loue, I trowe;

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



		Child 112A: Blow Away the Morning Dew

112A.1	 YONDER comes a courteous knight,
	 Lustely raking ouer the lay;
	 He was well ware of a bonny lasse,
	 As she came wandring ouer the way.
  Refrain:	Then she sang downe a downe, hey downe derry (bis)
112A.2	 ‘Ioue you speed, fayre lady,’ he said,
	 ‘Among the leaues that be so greene;
	 If I were a king, and wore a crowne,
	 Full soone, fair lady, shouldst thou be a queen.
112A.3	 ‘Also Ioue saue you, faire lady,
	 Among the roses that be so red;
	 If I haue not my will of you,
	 Full soone, faire lady, shall I be dead.’
112A.4	 Then he lookt east, then hee lookt west,
	 Hee lookt north, so did he south;
	 He could not finde a priuy place,
	 For all lay in the diuel’s mouth.
112A.5	 ‘If you will carry me, gentle sir,
	 A mayde vnto my father’s hall,
	 Then you shall haue your will of me,
	 Vnder purple and vnder paule.’
112A.6	 He set her vp vpon a steed,
	 And him selfe vpon another,
	 And all the day he rode her by,
	 As though they had been sister and brother.
112A.7	 When she came to her father’s hall,
	 It was well walled round about;
	 She yode in at the wicket-gate,
	 And shut the foure-eard foole without.
112A.8	 ‘You had me,’ quoth she, ‘abroad in the field,
	 Among the corne, amidst the hay,
	 Where you might had your will of mee,
	 For, in good faith, sir, I neuer said nay.
112A.9	 ‘Ye had me also amid the field,
	 Among the rushes that were so browne,
	 Where you might had your will of me,
	 But you had not the face to lay me downe.’
112A.10	 He pulled out his nut-browne sword,
	 And wipt the rust off with his sleeue,
	 And said, Ioue’s curse come to his heart
	 That any woman would beleeue!
112A.11	 When you haue you owne true-loue
	 A mile or twaine out of the towne,
	 Spare not for her gay clothing,
	 But lay her body flat on the ground.


		Child 112B: Blow Away the Morning Dew

112B.1	 THERE was a knight, and he was young,
	 A riding along the way, sir,
	 And there he met a lady fair,
	 Among the cocks of hay, sir.
112B.2	 Quoth he, Shall you and I, lady,
	 Among the grass lye down a?
	 And I will have a special care
	 Of rumpling of your gown a.
112B.3	 ‘If you will go along with me
	 Unto my father’s hall, sir,
	 You shall enjoy my maidenhead,
	 And my estate and all, sir.’
112B.4	 So he mounted her on a milk-white steed,
	 Himself upon another,
	 And then they rid upon the road,
	 Like sister and like brother.
112B.5	 And when she came to her father’s house,
	 Which was moated round about, sir,
	 She stepped streight within the gate,
	 And shut this young knight out, sir.
112B.6	 ‘Here is a purse of gold,’ she said,
	 ‘Take if for your pains, sir;
	 And I will send my father’s man
	 To go home with you again, sir.
112B.7	 ‘And if you meet a lady fair,
	 As you go thro the next town, sir,
	 You must not fear the dew of the grass,
	 Nor the rumpling of her gown, sir.
112B.8	 ‘And if you meet a lady gay,
	 As you go by the hill, sir,
	 If you will not when you may,
	 You shall not when you will, sir.’


		Child 112C: Blow Away the Morning Dew

112C.1	 THERE was a knight was drunk with wine
	 A riding along the way, sir,
	 And there he did meet with a lady fine,
	 And among the cocks of hay, sir.
112C.2	 One favour he did crave of her,
	 And askd her to lay her down, sir,
	 But he had neither cloth nor sheet,
	 To keep her from the ground, sir.
112C.3	 ‘There is a great dew upon the grass,
	 And if you shoud lay me down, sir,
	 You would spoil my gay clothing,
	 That has cost me many a pound, sir.’
112C.4	 ‘I have a cloak of scarlet red,
	 I’ll lay it under you, love,
	 So you will grant me my request
	 That I shall ask of you, love.’
112C.5	 ‘And if you’ll go to my father’s hall,
	 That is moated all round about, sir,
	 There you shall have your will of me,
	 Within, sir, and without, sir.
112C.6	 ‘Oh yonder stands my milk-white steed,
	 And among the cocks of hay, sir;
	 If the king’s pinner should chance to come,
	 He’ll take my steed away, sir.’
112C.7	 ‘I have a ring upon my finger,
	 It’s made of the finest gold, love,
	 And it shall serve to fetch your steed
	 Out of the pinner’s fold, love.’
112C.8	 ‘And if you’ll go to my father’s house,
	 Round which there’s many a tree, sir,
	 There you shall have your chamber free,
	 And your chamberlain I’ll be, sir.’
112C.9	 He sate her on a milk-white steed,
	 Himself upon another,
	 And then they rid along the way,
	 Like sister and like brother.
112C.10	 But when she came to her father’s house,
	 Which was moated all round about, sir,
	 She slipd herself within the gate,
	 And she lockd the knight without, sir.
112C.11	 ‘I thank you, kind knight, for seeing me here,
	 And bringing me home a maiden, sir,
	 But you shall have two of my father’s men
	 For to set you as far back again, sir.’
112C.12	 He drew his sword out of his scabbard,
	 And whet it upon his sleeve, sir,
	 Saying, Cursed be to evry man
	 That will a maid believe, sir!
112C.13	 She drew her handkerchief out of her pocket,
	 And threw it upon the ground, sir,
	 Saying, Thrice cursed be to evry maid
	 That will believe a man, sir!
112C.14	 We have a tree in our garden,
	 Some call it of rosemary, sir;
	 There’s crowing-cocks in our town,
	 That will make a capon of you, sir.
112C.15	 We have a flower in our garden,
	 Some call it a marygold, sir,
	 And he that would not when he might,
	 He shall not when he would, sir.
112C.16	 But if you chance for to meet a maid,
	 A little below the town, sir,
	 You must not fear her gay cloathing,
	 Nor the wrinkling of her gown, sir.
112C.17	 And if you chance for to meet a maid,
	 A little below the hill, sir,
	 You need not fear her screeking out,
	 For she quickly will lye still, sir.
112C.18	 The baffld knight was by the lass
	 Ingeniously outwitted,
	 And since that time it came to pass
	 He was again well fitted.
112C.19	 As he was riding cross a plain,
	 In boots, spurs, hat and feather,
	 He met that lady fair again;
	 They talkd a while together.
112C.20	 He said, Tho you did serve me so,
	 And cunningly decoy me,
	 Yet now, before you further go,
	 I must and will enjoy thee.
112C.21	 \R’\rtwas near a spacious river’s side,
	 Where rushes green were growing,
	 And Neptune’s silver streams did glide,
	 Four fathom waters flowing.
112C.22	 The lady blushd like scarlet red,
	 And trembled at this stranger:
	 ‘How shall I guard my maidenhead
	 From this approaching danger!’
112C.23	 With a lamenting sigh, said she,
	 To dye I now am ready;
	 Must this dishonour fall on me?
	 A most unhappy lady!
112C.24	 He from his saddle did alight,
	 In gaudy rich attire,
	 And cried, I am a noble knight,
	 Who do your charms admire.
112C.25	 He took the lady by the hand,
	 Who seemingly consented,
	 And woud no more disputing stand:
	 She had a plot invented.
112C.26	 How she might baffle him again,
	 With much delight and pleasure,
	 And eke unspotted still remain,
	 With her pure virgin treasure.
112C.27	 ‘Look yonder, good sir knight, I pray:
	 Methinks I do discover,
	 Well mounted on a dapple-grey,
	 My true, entire lover.’
112C.28	 The knight, he standing on the brink
	 Of the deep floating river,
	 Thought she, Thou now shalt swim or sink;
	 Choose which you fancy rather.
112C.29	 Against his back the lady run;
	 The waters strait he sounded;
	 He cry’d out, Love, what have you done!
	 Help! help! or I am drowned.
112C.30	 Said she, Sir knight, farewel, adieu;
	 You see what comes of fooling;
	 That is the fittest place for you,
	 Whose courage wanted cooling.
112C.31	 ‘Love help me out, and I’ll forgive
	 This fault which you’ve committed;
	 ‘No, no,’ says she, ’Sir, as I live,
	 I think you’re finely fitted.’
112C.32	 She rid home to her father’s house,
	 For speedy expedition,
	 While the gay knight was soakd like souce,
	 In a sad wet condition.
112C.33	 1 When he came mounted to the plain
	 He was in rich attire,
	 Yet when he back returnd again
	 He was all muck and mire.
	 Yet when he back returnd again
	 He was all muck and mire.
112C.34	 A solemn vow he there did make,
	 Just as he came from swiming,
	 He’d love no lady, for her sake,
	 Nor any other women.
112C.35	 The baffld knight was foold once more,
	 You’ll find by this pleasant ditty,
	 For she whose charms he did adore
	 Was wonderful sharp and witty.
112C.36	 Returning from her father’s park,
	 Just close by a summer bower,
	 She chanc’d to meet her angry spark,
	 Who gave her a frowning lower.
112C.37	 The thoughts of what she twice had done
	 Did cause him to draw his rapier,
	 And at the lady then he run,
	 And thus he began to vapour:
112C.38	 ‘You chousd me at your father’s gate,
	 Then tumbld me into the river;
	 I seek for satisfaction straight;
	 Shall I be a fool forever?’
112C.39	 He came with resolution bent
	 That evening to enjoy her,
	 And if she did not give consent,
	 That minute he would destroy her.
112C.40	 ‘I pray, sir knight, and why so hot
	 Against a young silly woman?
	 Such crimes as these might be forgot;
	 For merry intrigues are common.’
112C.41	 ‘What! do you count it mirth,’ he cry’d,
	 ‘To tumble me in and leave me?
	 What if I drowned there had dy’d?
	 A dangerous jest, believe me.
112C.42	 ‘Well, if I pardon you this day
	 Those injuries out of measure,
	 It is because without delay
	 I mean to enjoy the pleasure.’
112C.43	 ‘Your suit,’ she said, ’is not deny’d,
	 But think of your boots of leather,
	 And let me pull them off,’ she cry’d,
	 ‘Before we lye down together.’
112C.44	 He set him down upon the grass,
	 And violets so sweet and tender;
	 Now by this means it came to pass
	 That she did his purpose hinder.
112C.45	 For having pulld his boots half-way,
	 She cry’d, I am now your betters;
	 You shall not make of me your prey;
	 Sit there, like a thief in fetters.
112C.46	 Now finding she had servd him so,
	 He rose and began to grumble;
	 Yet he could neither stand nor go,
	 But did like a cripple tumble.
112C.47	 The boots stuck fast, and would not stir;
	 His folly she soon did mention,
	 And laughing said, I pray, kind sir,
	 How like you my new invention?
112C.48	 My laughing fit you must excuse;
	 You are but a stingless nettle;
	 You’d neer a stood for boots or shooes,
	 Had you been a man of mettle.
112C.49	 Farewel, sir knight, ’tis almost ten;
	 I fear neither wind nor weather;
	 I’ll send my father’s serving-men
	 To pull off your boots of leather.
112C.50	 She laughed outright, as well she might,
	 With merry conceits of scorning,
	 And left him there to sit all night,
	 Untill the approaching morning.
112C.51	 The fourth part of the baffld knight
	 The lady hath fairly acted;
	 She did his love and kindness slight,
	 Which made him almost distracted.
112C.52	 She left him in her father’s park,
	 Where nothing but deer could hear him;
	 While he lay rouling in the dark,
	 There’s never a soul came near him.
112C.53	 Until the morning break of day,
	 And being warm summer weather,
	 A shepherd chanc’d to come that way,
	 Who pulld on his boots of leather.
112C.54	 Then mounting on his milk-white steed,
	 He, shaking his ears, was ready,
	 And whip and spur he rid with speed
	 To find out this crafty lady.
112C.55	 ‘If once this lady I come nigh
	 She shall be released by no man:
	 Why shoud so brave a knight as I
	 Be foold by a silly woman!
112C.56	 ‘Three times she has affronted me,
	 In crimes which I cannot pardon;
	 But if I an’t revengd,’ said he,
	 ‘Let me not be worth a farthing.
112C.57	 ‘I value not her beauty fair,
	 Tho once I did dote upon her;
	 This trusty sword shall now repair
	 My baffled, blasted honour.’
112C.58	 Unto her father’s house he came,
	 Which every side was moated;
	 The fair sweet youthful charming dame,
	 His angry brows she noted.
112C.59	 Thought she, I’ll have the other bout,
	 And tumble him in the river;
	 And let the Devil help him out,
	 Or there he shall soak for ever.
112C.60	 He will not let me live at rest,
	 Although I have often foild him;
	 Therefore once more, I do protest,
	 With flattering I’ll beguile him.
112C.61	 The bridge was drawn, the gates lockd fast,
	 So that he could no ways enter;
	 She smil’d to him, and cry’d at last,
	 Sir knight, if you please to venture,
112C.62	 A plank lies over the moat hard by,
	 Full seventeen foot in measure;
	 There’s no body now at home but I;
	 Therefore we’ll take our pleasure.
112C.63	 This word she had no sooner spoke,
	 But straight he was tripping over;
	 The plank was sawd, and snapping broke;
	 He provd an unhappy lover.


		Child 112D: Blow Away the Morning Dew

112D.1	 THERE was a shepherd’s son
	 Kept sheep upon a hill;
	 He laid his pipe and crook aside,
	 And there he slept his fill.
  Refrain:	Sing, Fal deral, etc.
112D.2	 He looked east, he looked west,
	 Then gave an under-look,
	 And there he spyed a lady fair,
	 Swimming in a brook.
112D.3	 He raisd his head frae his green bed,
	 And then approachd the maid;
	 ‘Put on your claiths, my dear,’ he says,
	 ‘And be ye not afraid.
112D.4	 ‘\R’\rtis fitter for a lady fair
	 To sew her silken seam
	 Than to get up in a May morning
	 And strive against the stream.’
112D.5	 ‘If you’ll not touch my mantle,
	 And let my claiths alane,
	 Then I’ll give you as much money
	 As you can carry hame.’
112D.6	 ‘O I’ll not touch your mantle,
	 And I’ll let your claiths alane;
	 But I’ll tak you out of the clear water,
	 My dear, to be my ain.’
112D.7	 And when she out of the water came,
	 He took her in his arms:
	 ‘Put on your claiths, my dear,’ he says,
	 ‘And hide those lovely charms.’
112D.8	 He mounted her on a milk-white steed,
	 Himself upon anither,
	 And all along the way they rode,
	 Like sister and like brither.
112D.9	 When she came to her father’s yate
	 She tirled at the pin,
	 And ready stood the porter there,
	 To let this fair maid in.
112D.10	 And when the gate was opened,
	 So nimbly’s she whipt in;
	 ‘Pough! you’re a fool without,’ she says,
	 ‘And I’m a maid within.
112D.11	 ‘Then fare ye well, my modest boy,
	 I thank you for your care;
	 But had you done what you should do,
	 I neer had left you there.’
112D.12	 ‘Oh I’ll cast aff my hose and shoon,
	 And let my feet gae bare,
	 And gin I meet a bonny lass,
	 Hang me if her I spare.’
112D.13	 ‘In that do as you please,’ she says,
	 ‘But you shall never more
	 Have the same opportunity;’
	 With that she shut the door.
112D.14	 There is a gude auld proverb,
	 I’ve opten heard it told,
	 He that would not when he might,
	 He should not when he would.


		Child 112E: Blow Away the Morning Dew

112E.1	 THERE was a knight, was drunk with wine,
	 Came riding along the way, sir;
	 He would have had a lady gay
	 Amang the quiles of hay, sir.
112E.2	 ‘What if I should lay thee down,
	 Amang the quiles of hay, maid?
	 Sheets nor blankets have I none,
	 To keep thy cloathing clean, maid.’
112E.3	 ‘The wind blaws east, the wind blaws west,
	 The wind blaws owre yon thorn, sir;
	 Weel may I wash my cloathing clear,
	 And dry them on the morn, sir.’
112E.4	 ‘What if I should lay thee down,
	 Amang the rigs of corn, maid?
	 Then the king’s life-guard will come,
	 And steal our steeds away, maid.’
112E.5	 ‘I have ten gold rings on my hand,
	 They’re all gold but the stone, sir;
	 I’ll give them to the king’s life-guard,
	 If he’ll let our steeds alone, sir.
112E.6	 ‘But see you not yon sunny bank,
	 Over yon lily lea, sir,
	 Where you and I may crack a while,
	 And never one may see, sir?’
112E.7	 He was on a milk-white steed,
	 And she was on another,
	 And all the live-long winter night
	 They rode like sister and brother.
112E.8	 When they came to that sunny bank,
	 He began to lay her down, sir;
	 ‘O no, O no, kind sir,’ she says,
	 ‘Ye’ll ruffle all my gown, sir.
112E.9	 ‘My gown it cost my father dear,
\R’\rtwas	many a mark and pound, sir;
	 And if that ye do lay me down,
	 Ye’ll ruffle all my gown, sir.
112E.10	 ‘But see ye na yon fair castel,
	 Over yon lily lea, sir,
	 Where you and I may crack a while,
	 And never one may see, sir?’
112E.11	 He was on a milk-white steed,
	 And she was on another,
	 And all the live-long winter night
	 They rode like sister and brother.
112E.12	 When they came to that fair castel,
	 She was at her father’s yet, sir;
	 She jumped in at her father’s door,
	 And left this knight without, sir.
112E.13	 She says, I am a maid within,
	 You’re but a knave without, sir;
	 There were neer a butcher’s son
	 Put me in so much doubt, sir.
112E.14	 ‘Oh if I had thee out,’ he said,
	 ‘But two miles from the town, maid,
	 I would lay thee down,’ he said,
	 ‘And never mind thy gown, maid.’
112E.15	 ‘There is a flower in my father’s garden,
	 The name o’t marigold, sir,
	 And he that would not when he might,
	 He shall not when he wold, sir.
112E.16	 ‘But when eer ye meet a pretty maid,
	 And two miles from a town, sir,
	 Ye may lay her down,’ she says,
	 And never mind her gown, sir.
112E.17	 ‘Ye’re like unto my father’s steed;
	 He’s standing in the lone, sir;
	 He hings his head above the sheaf,
	 But daur not venture on, sir.
112E.18	 ‘When eer ye meet a pretty maid,
	 And two miles from the town, sir,
	 Ye may lay her down,’ she says,
	 ‘And never mind her gown, sir.
112E.19	 ‘There is a cock in my father’s flock,
	 He wears a double comb, sir,
	 He claps his wings, but craweth not;
	 I fear you be like him, sir.
112E.20	 ‘But when eer you meet a pretty maid,
	 And two miles from a town, sir,
	 You may lay her down,’ she said,
	 ‘And never mind her gown, sir.’



	  Child 113: The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry

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



		  Child 114A: Johnie Cock

114A.1	 JOHNY he has risen up i the morn,
	 Calls for water to wash his hands;
	 But little knew he that his bloody hounds
	 Were bound in iron bands. bands
	 Were bound in iron bands
114A.2	 Johny’s mother has gotten word o that,
	 And care-bed she has taen:
	 ‘O Johny, for my benison,
	 I beg you’l stay at hame;
	 For the wine so red, and the well baken bread,
	 My Johny shall want nane.
114A.3	 ‘There are seven forsters at Pickeram Side,
	 At Pickeram where they dwell,
	 And for a drop of thy heart’s bluid
	 They wad ride the fords of hell.’
114A.4	 Johny he’s gotten word of that,
	 And he’s turnd wondrous keen;
	 He’s put off the red scarlett,
	 And he’s put on the Lincolm green.
114A.5	 With a sheaf of arrows by his side,
	 And a bent bow in his hand,
	 He’s mounted on a prancing steed,
	 And he has ridden fast oer the strand.
114A.6	 He’s up i Braidhouplee, and down i Bradyslee,
	 And under a buss o broom,
	 And there he found a good dun deer,
	 Feeding in a buss of ling.
114A.7	 Johny shot, and the dun deer lap,
	 And she lap wondrous wide,
	 Until they came to the wan water,
	 And he stemd her of her pride.
114A.8	 He ’as taen out the little pen-knife,
	 ’Twas full three quarters long,
	 And he has taen out of that dun deer
	 The liver bot and the tongue.
114A.9	 They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the blood,
	 And the blood it was so sweet,
	 Which caused Johny and his bloody hounds
	 To fall in a deep sleep.
114A.10	 By then came an old palmer,
	 And an ill death may he die!
	 For he’s away to Pickram Side,
	 As fast as he can drie.
114A.11	 ‘What news, what news?’ says the Seven Forsters,
	 ‘What news have ye brought to me?’
	 ‘I have noe news,’ the palmer said,
	 ‘But what I saw with my eye.
114A.12	 ‘High up i Bradyslee, low down i Bradisslee,
	 And under a buss of scroggs,
	 O there I spied a well-wight man,
	 Sleeping among his dogs.
114A.13	 ‘His coat it was of light Lincolm,
	 And his breeches of the same,
	 His shoes of the American leather,
	 And gold buckles tying them.’
114A.14	 Up bespake the Seven Forsters,
	 Up bespake they ane and a’:
	 O that is Johny o Cockleys Well,
	 And near him we will draw.
114A.15	 O the first y stroke that they gae him,
	 They struck him off by the knee;
	 Then up bespake his sister’s son:
	 ’O the next ’ll gar him die!’
114A.16	 ‘O some they count ye well-wight men,
	 But I do count ye nane;
	 For you might well ha wakend me,
	 And askd gin I wad be taen.
114A.17	 ‘The wildest wolf in aw this wood
	 Wad not ha done so by me;
	 She’d ha wet her foot ith wan water,
	 And sprinkled it oer my brae,
	 And if that wad not ha wakend me,
	 She wad ha gone and let me be.
114A.18	 ‘O bows of yew, if ye be true,
	 In London, where ye were bought,
	 Fingers five, get up belive,
	 Manhuid shall fail me nought.’
114A.19	 He has killd the Seven Forsters,
	 He has killd them all but ane,
	 And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side,
	 To carry the bode-words hame.
114A.20	 ‘Is there never a boy in a’ this wood
	 That will tell what I can say;
	 That will go to Cockleys Well,
	 Tell my mither to fetch me away?’
114A.21	 There was a boy into that wood,
	 That carried the tidings away,
	 And many ae was the well-wight man
	 At the fetching o Johny away.


		  Child 114B: Johnie Cock

114B.1	 FIFTEEN foresters in the Braid alow,
	 And they are wondrous fell;
	 To get a drop of Johnny’s heart-bluid,
	 They would sink a’ their souls to hell.
114B.2	 Johnny Cock has gotten word of this,
	 And he is wondrous keen;
	 He[’s] custan off the red scarlet,
	 And on the Linkum green.
114B.3	 And he is ridden oer muir and muss,
	 And over mountains high,
	 Till he came to yon wan water,
	 And there Johnny Cock did lie.
114B.4	 They have ridden oer muir and muss,
	 And over mountains high,
	 Till they met wi’ an old palmer,
	 Was walking along the way.
114B.5	 ‘What news, what news, old palmer?
	 What news have you to me?’
	 ‘Yonder is one of the proudest wed sons
	 That ever my eyes did see.’
	 * * * * *
114B.6	 He’s taen out a horn from his side,
	 And he blew both loud and shrill,
	 Till a’ the fifteen foresters
	 Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn.
114B.7	 They have sworn a bluidy oath,
	 And they swore all in one,
	 That there was not a man among them a’
	 Would blaw such a blast as yon.
114B.8	 And they have ridden oer muir and muss,
	 And over mountains high,
	 Till they came to yon wan water,
	 Where Johnny Cock did lie.
114B.9	 They have shotten little Johnny Cock,
	 A little above the ee:
	 . . . . .
	 ‘For doing the like to me.
114B.10	 ‘There’s not a wolf in a’ the wood
	 Woud ’ha’ done the like to me;
	 ’She’d ha’ dipped her foot in coll water,
	 And strinkled above my ee,
	 And if I would not have waked for that,
	 ’She’d ha’ gane and let me be.
114B.11	 ‘But fingers five, come here, [come here,]
	 And faint heart fail me nought,
	 And silver strings, value me sma things,
	 Till I get all this vengeance rowght!’
114B.12	 He ha[s] shot a’ the fifteen foresters,
	 Left never a one but one,
	 And he broke the ribs a that ane’s side,
	 And let him take tiding home.
114B.13	 ’. . . a bird in a’ the wood
	 Could sing as I could say,
	 It would go in to my mother’s bower,
	 And bid her kiss me, and take me away.’


		  Child 114C: Johnie Cock

114C.1	 JOHNNY COCK, in a May morning,
	 Sought water to wash his hands,
	 And he is awa to louse his dogs,
	 That’s tied wi iron bans.
	 That’s tied wi iron bans.
114C.2	 His coat it is of the light Lincum green,
	 And his breiks are of the same;
	 His shoes are of the American leather,
	 Silver buckles tying them.
114C.3	 ’He’ hunted up, and so did ’he’ down,
	 Till ’he’ came to yon bush of scrogs,
	 And then to yon wan water,
	 Where he slept among his dogs.
	 * * * * *
114C.4	 Johnny Cock out-shot a’ the foresters,
	 And out-shot a the three;
	 Out shot a’ the foresters,
	 Wounded Johnny aboun the bree.
114C.5	 ‘Woe be to you, foresters,
	 And an ill death may you die!
	 For there would not a wolf in a’ the wood
	 Have done the like to me.
114C.6	 ‘For’ ’twould ha’ put its foot in the coll water
	 And ha strinkled it on my bree,
	 And gin that would not have done,
	 Would have gane and lett me be.
114C.7	 ‘I often took to my mother
	 The dandoo and the roe,
	 But now I’l take to my mother
	 Much sorrow and much woe.
114C.8	 ‘I often took to my mother
	 The dandoo and the hare,
	 But now I’l take to my mother
	 Much sorrow and much care.’


		  Child 114D: Johnie Cock

114D.1	 UP Johnie raise in a May morning,
	 Calld for water to wash his hands,
	 And he has calld for his gude gray hunds,
	 That lay bund in iron bands. bands
	 That lay bund in iron bands
114D.2	 ‘Ye’ll busk, ye’ll busk my noble dogs,
	 Ye’ll busk and mak them boun,
	 For I’m going to the Braidscaur hill,
	 To ding the dun deer doun.’
114D.3	 Whan Johnie’s mither gat word o that,
	 On the very bed she lay,
	 Says, Johnie, for my malison,
	 I pray ye at hame to stay.
114D.4	 Your meat sall be of the very, very best,
	 Your drink sall be the same,
	 And ye will win your mither’s benison,
	 Gin ye wad stay at hame.
114D.5	 But Johnie has cast aff the black velvet,
	 And put on the Lincoln twine,
	 And he is on to gude greenwud,
	 As fast as he could gang.
114D.6	 His mither’s counsel he wad na tak,
	 He’s aff, and left the toun,
	 He’s aff unto the Braidscaur hill,
	 To ding the dun deer doun.
114D.7	 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,
	 And he lookit aneath the sun,
	 And there he spied the dun deer sleeping,
	 Aneath a buss of whun.
114D.8	 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
	 And he’s scaithed him in the side,
	 And atween the water and the wud
	 He laid the dun deer’s pride.
114D.9	 They ate sae meikle o the venison,
	 And drank sae meikle o the blude,
	 That Johnie and his twa gray hunds
	 Fell asleep in yonder wud.
114D.10	 By ther cam a silly auld man,
	 And a silly auld man was he,
	 And he’s aff to the proud foresters,
	 As fast as he could dree.
114D.11	 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man?
	 What news? come tell to me:’
	 ‘I heard na news, I speird na news
	 But what my een did see.
114D.12	 ‘As I cam in by Braidisbanks,
	 And doun amang the whuns,
	 The bonniest youngster eer I saw
	 Lay sleepin amang his hunds.
114D.13	 ‘His cheeks war like the roses red,
	 His neck was like the snaw;
	 His sark was o the holland fine,
	 And his jerkin lac’d fu braw.’
114D.14	 Up bespak the first forester,
	 The first forester of a’:
	 O this is Johnie o Cockerslee;
	 Come draw, lads, we maun draw.
114D.15	 Up bespak the niest forester,
	 The niest forester of a’:
	 An this be Johnie o Cockerslee,
	 To him we winna draw.
114D.16	 The first shot that they did shoot,
	 They woundit him on the bree;
	 Up bespak the uncle’s son,
	 ‘The niest will gar him die.’
114D.17	 The second shot that eer they shot,
	 It scaithd him near the heart;
	 ‘I only wauken,’ Johnie cried,
	 ‘Whan first I find the smart.
114D.18	 ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs,
	 Stand stout, and dinna flee;
	 Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds,
	 And we will gar them die.’
114D.19	 He has killed six o the proud foresters,
	 And wounded the seventh sair:
	 He laid his leg out owre his steed,
	 Says, I will kill na mair.
114D.20	 ‘Oh wae befa thee, silly auld man,
	 An ill death may thee dee!
	 Upon thy head be a’ this blude,
	 For mine, I ween, is free.’


		  Child 114E: Johnie Cock

114E.1	 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning,
	 Calld for water to wash his hands,
	 And he has calld for his gud gray hunds,
	 That lay bund in iron bands. bands
	 That lay bund in iron bands
114E.2	 ‘Ye’ll busk, ye’ll busk my noble dogs,
	 Ye’ll busk and mak them boun,
	 For I’m gaing to the Broadspear hill,
	 To ding the dun deer doun.’
114E.3	 Whan Johnie’s mither heard o this,
	 She til her son has gane:
	 ‘Ye’ll win your mither’s benison,
	 Gin ye wad stay at hame.
114E.4	 ‘Your meat sall be o the very, very best,
	 And your drink o the finest wine;
	 And ye will win your mither’s benison,
	 Gin ye wad stay at hame.’
114E.5	 His mither’s counsel he wad na tak,
	 Nor wad he stay at hame;
	 But he’s on to the Broadspear hill,
	 To ding the dun deer doun.
114E.6	 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,
	 And a little below the sun,
	 And there he spied the dun deer lying sleeping,
	 Aneath a buss o brume.
114E.7	 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
	 And he has woundit him in the side,
	 And atween the water and the wud
	 He laid the dun deer’s pride.
114E.8	 They ate sae meikle o the venison,
	 And drank sae meikle o the blude,
	 That Johnie and his twa gray hunds
	 Fell asleep in yonder wud.
114E.9	 By ther cam a silly auld man,
	 A silly auld man was he,
	 And he’s aff to the proud foresters,
	 To tell what he did see.
114E.10	 ‘What news, what news, my silly auld man,
	 What news? come tell to me:’
	 ‘Na news, na news,’ said the silly auld man,
	 ‘But what mine een did see.
114E.11	 ‘As I cam in by yon greenwud,
	 And doun amang the scrogs,
	 The bonniest youth that ere I saw
	 Lay sleeping atween twa dogs.
114E.12	 ‘The sark that he had on his back
	 Was o the holland sma,
	 And the coat that he had on his back
	 Was laced wi gowd fu braw.’
114E.13	 Up bespak the first forester,
	 The first forester ava:
	 ‘An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir,
	 It’s time we war awa.’
114E.14	 Up bespak the niest forester,
	 The niest forester ava:
	 ‘An this be Johnie o Cocklesmuir,
	 To him we winna draw.’
114E.15	 The first shot that they did shoot,
	 They woundit him on the thie;
	 Up bespak the uncle’s son,
	 The niest will gar him die.
114E.16	 ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs,
	 Stand stout, and dinna flee;
	 Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds,
	 And we will mak them dee.’
114E.17	 He has killed six o the proud foresters,
	 And he has woundit the seventh sair;
	 He laid his leg out oure his steed,
	 Says, I will kill na mair.


		  Child 114F: Johnie Cock

114F.1	 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning,
	 Called for water to wash his hands:
	 ‘Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs,
	 That are bound wi iron bands.’
114F.2	 When Johnie’s mother gat word o that,
	 Her hands for dule she wrang:
	 ‘O Johnie, for my bennison,
	 To the grenewood dinna gang!
114F.3	 ‘Eneugh ye hae o the gude wheat-bread,
	 And eneugh o the blude-red wine,
	 And therefore for nae vennison, Johnie,
	 I pray ye, stir frae hame.’
114F.4	 But Johnie’s buskt up his gude bend bow,
	 His arrows, ane by ane,
	 And he has gane to Durrisdeer,
	 To hunt the dun deer down.
114F.5	 As he came down by Merriemass,
	 And in by the benty line,
	 There has he espied a deer lying,
	 Aneath a bush of ling.
114F.6	 Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap,
	 And he wounded her on the side,
	 But atween the water and the brae,
	 His hounds they laid her pride.
114F.7	 And Johnie has bryttled the deer sae weel
	 That he’s had out her liver and lungs,
	 And wi these he has feasted his bludey hounds
	 As if they had been erl’s sons.
114F.8	 They eat sae much o the vennison,
	 And drank sae much o the blude,
	 That Johnie and his bludey hounds
	 Fell asleep as they had been dead.
114F.9	 And by there came a silly auld carle,
	 An ill death mote he die!
	 For he’s awa to Hislinton,
	 Where the Seven Foresters did lie.
114F.10	 ‘What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle?
	 What news bring ye to me?’
	 ‘I bring nae news,’ said the gray-headed carle,
	 ‘Save what these eyes did see.
114F.11	 ‘As I came down by Merriemass,
	 And down amang the scroggs,
	 The bonniest childe that ever I saw
	 Lay sleeping amang his dogs.
114F.12	 ‘The shirt that was upon his back
	 Was o the holland fine;
	 The doublet which was over that
	 Was o the Lincome twine.
114F.13	 ‘The buttons that were on his sleeve
	 Were o the gowd sae gude;
	 The gude graie hounds he lay amang,
	 Their mouths were dyed wi blude.’
114F.14	 Then out and spak the first forester,
	 The heid man ower them a’:
	 If this be Johnie o Breadislee,
	 Nae nearer will we draw.
114F.15	 But up and spak the sixth forester,
	 His sister’s son was he:
	 If this be Johnie o Breadislee,
	 We soon shall gar him die.
114F.16	 The first flight of arrows the foresters shot,
	 They wounded him on the knee;
	 And out and spak the seventh forester,
	 The next will gar him die.
114F.17	 Johnie’s set his back against an aik,
	 His fute against a stane,
	 And he has slain the Seven Foresters,
	 He has slain them a’ but ane.
114F.18	 He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side,
	 But and his collar bane;
	 He’s laod him twa-fald ower his steed,
	 Bade him carry the tidings hame.
114F.19	 ‘O is there na a bonnie bird
	 Can sing as I can say,
	 Could flee away to my mother’s bower,
	 And tell to fetch Johnie away?’
114F.20	 The starling flew to his mother’s window-stane,
	 It whistled and it sang,
	 And aye the ower-word o the tune
	 Was, Johnie tarries lang!
114F.21	 They made a rod o the hazel-bush,
	 Another o the slae-thorn tree,
	 And mony, mony were the men
	 At fetching our Johnie.
114F.22	 Then out and spake his auld mother,
	 And fast her teirs did fa;
	 Ye wad nae be warnd, my son Johnie,
	 Frae the hunting to bide awa.
114F.23	 ‘Aft hae I brought to Breadislee
	 The less gear and the mair,
	 But I neer brought to Breadislee
	 What grieved my heart sae sair.
114F.24	 ‘But wae betyde that silly auld carle,
	 An ill death shall he die;
	 For the highest tree on Merriemass
	 Shall be his morning’s fee.’
114F.25	 Now Johnie’s gude bend bow is broke,
	 And his gude graie dogs are slain,
	 And his bodie lies dead in Durrisdeer,
	 And his hunting it is done.


		  Child 114G: Johnie Cock

114G.1	 JOHNNIE BRAD, on a May mornin,
	 Called for water to wash his hands,
	 An there he spied his twa blude-hounds,
	 Waur bound in iron bands. bands
	 Waur bound in iron bands
114G.2	 Johnnie’s taen his gude bent bow,
	 Bot an his arrows kene,
	 An strippit himsel o the scarlet red,
	 An put on the licht Lincoln green.
114G.3	 Up it spak Johnnie’s mither,
	 An’ a wae, wae woman was she:
	 I beg you bide at hame, Johnnie,
	 I pray be ruled by me.
114G.4	 Baken bread ye sall nae lack,
	 An wine you sall lack nane;
	 Oh Johnnie, for my benison,
	 I beg you bide at hame!
114G.5	 He has made a solemn aith,
	 Atween the sun and the mune,
	 That he wald gae to the gude green wood,
	 The dun deer to ding doon.
114G.6	 He luiket east, he luiket wast,
	 An in below the sun,
	 An there he spied the dun deer,
	 Aneath a bush o brume.
114G.7	 The firsten shot that Johnnie shot,
	 He wounded her in the side;
	 The nexten shot that Johnnie shot,
	 I wat he laid her pride.
114G.8	 He’s eaten o the venison,
	 An drunken o the blude,
	 Until he fell as sound asleep
	 As though he had been dead.
114G.9	 Bye there cam a silly auld man,
	 And a silly auld man was he,
	 An he’s on to the Seven Foresters,
	 As fast as he can flee.
114G.10	 ‘As I cam in by yonder haugh,
	 An in among the scroggs,
	 The bonniest boy that ere I saw
	 Lay sleepin atween his dogs.’
	 * * * * *
114G.11	 The firsten shot that Johnnie shot,
	 He shot them a’ but ane,
	 An he flang him owre a milk-white steed,
	 Bade him bear tidings hame.


		  Child 114H: Johnie Cock

114H.1	 JOHNNIE raise up in a May morning,
	 Calld for water to wash his hands,
	 And he’s commant his bluidy dogs
	 To be loosd frae their iron bands. bands
	 To be loosd frae their iron bands
114H.2	 ‘Win up, win up, my bluidy dogs,
	 Win up, and be unbound,
	 And we will on to Bride’s Braidmuir,
	 And ding the dun deer down.’
114H.3	 When his mother got word o that,
	 Then she took bed and lay;
	 Says, Johnnie, my son, for my blessing,
	 Ye’ll stay at hame this day.
114H.4	 There’s baken bread and brown ale
	 Shall be at your command;
	 Ye’ll win your mither’s blythe blessing,
	 To the Bride’s Braidmuir nae gang.
114H.5	 Mony are my friends, mither,
	 Though thousands were my foe;
	 Betide me life, betide me death,
	 To the Bride’s Braidmuir I’ll go.
114H.6	 The sark that was on Johnnie’s back
	 Was o the cambric fine;
	 The belt that was around his middle
	 Wi pearlins it did shine.
114H.7	 The coat that was upon his back
	 Was o the linsey brown;
	 And he’s awa to the Bride’s Braidmuir,
	 To ding the dun deer down.
114H.8	 Johnnie lookd east, Johnnie lookd west,
	 And turnd him round and round,
	 And there he saw the king’s dun deer,
	 Was cowing the bush o brune.
114H.9	 Johnnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
	 He wounded her in the side;
	 Between him and yon burnie-bank,
	 Johnnie he laid her pride.
114H.10	 He ate sae muckle o the venison,
	 He drank sae muckle bleed,
	 Till he lay down between his hounds,
	 And slept as he’d been dead.
114H.11	 But by there came a stane-auld man,
	 An ill death mat he dee!
	 For he is on to the Seven Foresters,
	 As fast as gang could he.
114H.12	 ‘What news, what news, ye stane-auld man?
	 What news hae ye brought you wi?’
	 ‘Nae news, nae news, ye seven foresters,
	 But what your eyes will see.
114H.13	 ‘As I gaed i yon rough thick hedge,
	 Amang yon bramly scroggs,
	 The fairest youth that eer I saw
	 Lay sleeping between his dogs.
114H.14	 ‘The sark that was upon his back
	 Was o the cambric fine;
	 The belt that was around his middle
	 Wi pearlins it did shine.’
114H.15	 Then out it speaks the first forester:
	 Whether this be true or no,
	 O if it’s Johnnie o Cocklesmuir,
	 Nae forder need we go.
114H.16	 Out it spake the second forester,
	 A fierce fellow was he:
	 Betide me life, betide me death,
	 This youth we’ll go and see.
114H.17	 As they gaed in yon rough thick hedge,
	 And down yon forest gay,
	 They came to that very same place
	 Where John o Cockis he lay.
114H.18	 The first an shot they shot at him,
	 They wounded him in the thigh;
	 Out spake the first forester’s son:
	 By the next shot he maun die.
114H.19	 ‘O stand ye true, my trusty bow,
	 And stout steel never fail!
	 Avenge me now on all my foes,
	 Who have my life i bail.’
114H.20	 Then Johnnie killd six foresters,
	 And wounded the seventh sair;
	 Then drew a stroke at the stane-auld man,
	 That words he neer spake mair.
114H.21	 His mother’s parrot in window sat,
	 She whistled and she sang,
	 And aye the owerturn o the note,
	 ‘Young Johnnie’s biding lang.’
114H.22	 When this reached the king’s own ears,
	 It grievd him wondrous sair;
	 Says, I’d rather they’d hurt my subjects all
	 Than Johnnie o Cocklesmuir.
114H.23	 ‘But where are all my wall-wight men,
	 That I pay meat and fee,
	 Will gang the morn to Johnnie’s castle,
	 See how the cause may be.’
114H.24	 Then he’s calld Johnnie up to court,
	 Treated him handsomelie,
	 And now to hunt in the Bride’s Braidmuir,
	 For life has license free.


		  Child 114I: Johnie Cock

114I.1	 JOHNIE rose up in a May morning,
	 Called for water to wash his hands, hands
	 And he is awa to Braidisbanks,
	 To ding the dun deer down. down
	 To ding the dun deer down
114I.2	 Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,
	 And it’s lang before the sun,
	 And there he did spy the dun deer lie,
	 Beneath a bush of brume.
114I.3	 Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap,
	 And he’s woundit her in the side;
	 Out then spake his sister’s son,
	 ‘And the neist will lay her pride.’
	 * * * * *
114I.4	 They’ve eaten sae meikle o the gude venison,
	 And they’ve drunken sae muckle o the blude,
	 That they’ve fallen into as sound a sleep
	 As gif that they were dead.
	 * * * * *
114I.5	 ‘It’s doun, and it’s doun, and it’s doun, doun,
	 And it’s doun amang the scrogs,
	 And there ye’ll espy twa bonnie boys lie,
	 Asleep amang their dogs.’
	 * * * * *
114I.6	 They waukened Johnie out o his sleep,
	 And he’s drawn to him his coat:
	 ‘My fingers five, save me alive,
	 And a stout heart fail me not!’
	 * * * * *


		  Child 114J: Johnie Cock

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


		  Child 114K: Johnie Cock

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


		  Child 114L: Johnie Cock

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


		  Child 114M: Johnie Cock

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



		 Child 115A: Robyn and Gandeleyn

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



 Child 116A: Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough and William of Cloudesly

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



		 Child 117A: The Gest of Robyn Hode

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

117A.394	‘Make good chere,’ said Robyn,
	 ‘Abbot, for charyt ;
	 And for this ylk tydynge,
	 Blyssed mote thou be.
117A.395	‘Now shalte thou se what lyfe we lede,
	 Or thou hens wende;
	 Than thou may enfourme our kynge,
	 Whan ye togyder lende.’
117A.396	Up they stert all in hast,
	 Theyr bow s were smartly bent;
	 Our kynge was neuer so sore agast,
	 He wende to haue be shente.
117A.397	Two yerd s there were vp set,
	 Thereto gan they gange;
	 By fyfty pase, our kynge sayd,
	 The merk s were to longe.
117A.398	On euery syde a rose-garlonde,
	 They shot vnder the lyne:
	 ‘Who so fayleth of the rose-garlonde,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘His takyll he shall tyne,
117A.399	‘And yelde it to his mayster,
	 Be it neuer so fyne;
	 For no man wyll I spare,
	 So drynke I ale or wyne:
117A.400	‘And bere a buffet on his hede,
	 I-wys ryght all bare:’
	 And all that fell in Robyns lote,
	 He smote them wonder sare.
117A.401	Twyse Robyn shot aboute,
	 And euer he cleued the wande,
	 And so dyde good Gylberte
	 With the Whyt Hande.
117A.402	Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,
	 For nothynge wolde they spare;
	 When they fayled of the garlonde,
	 Robyn smote them full sore.
117A.403	At the last shot that Robyn shot,
	 For all his frend s fare,
	 Yet he fayled of the garlonde
	 Thre fyngers and mare.
117A.404	Than bespake good Gylberte,
	 And thus he gan say;
	 ‘Mayster,’ he sayd, ’your takyll is lost,
	 Stande forth and take your pay.’
117A.405	‘If it be so,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘That may no better be,
	 Syr abbot, I delyuer the myn arowe,
	 I pray the, syr, serue thou me.’
117A.406	‘It falleth not for myn ordre,’ sayd our kynge,
	 ‘Robyn, by thy leue,
	 For to smyte no good yeman,
	 For doute I sholde hym greue.’
117A.407	‘Smyte on boldely,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘I giue the larg leue:’
	 Anone our kynge, with that worde,
	 He folde vp his sleue,
117A.408	And sych a buffet he gaue Robyn,
	 To grounde he yede full nere:
	 ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘Thou arte a stalworthe frere.
117A.409	‘There is pith in thyn arme,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘I trowe thou canst well shete:’
	 Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode
	 Togeder gan they mete.
117A.410	Robyn beheld our comly kynge
	 Wystly in the face,
	 So dyde Syr Rycharde at the Le,
	 And kneled downe in that place.
117A.411	And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,
	 Whan they se them knele:
	 ‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde,
	 Now I knowe you well.
117A.412	‘Mercy then, Robyn,’ sayd our kynge,
	 ‘Vnder your trystyll-tre,
	 Of thy goodnesse and thy grace,
	 For my men and me!’
117A.413	‘Yes, for God,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘And also God me saue,
	 I ask mersy, my lorde the kynge,
	 And for my men I craue.’
117A.414	‘Yes, for God,’ than sayd our kynge,
	 ‘And therto sent I me,
	 With that thou leue the gren wode,
	 And all thy company;
117A.415	‘And come home, syr, to my courte,
	 And there dwell with me.’
	 ‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘And ryght so shall it be.
117A.416	‘I wyll come to your courte,
	 Your seruyse for to se,
	 And brynge with me of my men
	 Seuen score and thre.
117A.417	‘But me lyk well your seruyse,
	 I [wyll] come agayne full soone,
	 And shote at the donn dere,
	 As I am wonte to done.’
117A.418	‘Haste thou ony gren cloth,’ sayd our kynge,
	 ‘That thou wylte sell nowe to me?’
	 ‘Ye, for God,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘Thyrty yerd s and thre.’
117A.419	‘Robyn,’ sayd our kynge,
	 ‘Now pray I the,
	 Sell me some of that cloth,
	 To me and my meyn .’
117A.420	‘Yes, for God,’ then sayd Robyn,
	 ‘Or elles I were a fole;
	 Another day ye wyll me clothe,
	 I trowe, ayenst the Yole.’
117A.421	The kynge kest of his col then,
	 A grene garment he dyde on,
	 And euery knyght also, i-wys,
	 Another had full sone.
117A.422	Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene,
	 They keste away theyr graye;
	 ‘Now we shall to Notyngham,’
	 All thus our kynge gan say.
117A.423	They bente theyr bowes, and forth they went,
	 Shotynge all in-fere,
	 Towarde the towne of Notyngham,
	 Outlawes as they were.
117A.424	Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder,
	 For soth as I you say,
	 And they shote plucke-buffet,
	 As they went by the way.
117A.425	And many a buffet our kynge wan
	 Of Robyn Hode that day,
	 And nothynge spared good Robyn
	 Our kynge in his pay.
117A.426	‘So God me help ,’ sayd our kynge,
	 ‘Thy game is nought to lere;
	 I sholde not get a shote of the,
	 Though I shote all this yere.’
117A.427	All the people of Notyngham
	 They stode and behelde;
	 They sawe nothynge but mantels of grene
	 That couered all the felde.
117A.428	Than euery man to other gan say,
	 I drede our kynge be slone;
	 Com Robyn Hode to the towne, i-wys
	 On lyue he lefte neuer one.’
117A.429	Full hast[ ]ly they began to fle,
	 Both yemen and knaues,
	 And olde wyues that myght euyll goo,
	 They hypped on theyr staues.
117A.430	The kynge l[o]ughe full fast,
	 And commaunded them agayne;
	 When they se our comly kynge,
	 I-wys they were full fayne.
117A.431	They ete and dranke, and made them glad,
	 And sange with not s hye;
	 Than bespake our comly kynge
	 To Syr Rycharde at the Lee.
117A.432	He gaue hym there his londe agayne,
	 A good man he bad hym be;
	 Robyn thanked our comly kynge,
	 And set hym on his kne.
117A.433	Had robyn dwelled in the kyng s courte
	 But twelue monethes and thre,
	 That [he had] spent an hondred pounde,
	 And all his mennes fe.
117A.434	In euery place where Robyn came
	 Euer more he layde downe,
	 Both for knyght s and for squyres,
	 To gete hym grete renowne.
117A.435	By than the yere was all agone
	 He had no man but twayne,
	 Lytell Johan and good Scathlocke,
	 With hym all for to gone.
117A.436	Robyn sawe yonge men shote
	 Full fayre vpon a day;
	 ‘Alas!’ than sayd good Robyn,
	 ‘My welthe is went away.
117A.437	‘Somtyme I was an archere good,
	 A styffe and eke a stronge;
	 I was compted the best archere
	 That was in mery Englonde.
117A.438	‘Alas!’ then sayd good Robyn,
	 ‘Alas and well a woo!
	 Yf I dwele lenger with the kynge,
	 Sorowe wyll me sloo.’
117A.439	Forth than went Robyn Hode
	 Tyll he came to our kynge:
	 ‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde,
	 Graunte me myn askynge.
117A.440	‘I made a chapell in Bernysdale,
	 That semely is to se,
	 It is of Mary Magdaleyne,
	 And thereto wolde I be.
117A.441	‘I myght neuer in this seuen nyght
	 No tyme to slepe ne wynke,
	 Nother all these seuen dayes
	 Nother ete ne drynke.
117A.442	‘Me longeth sore to Bernysdale,
	 I may not be therfro;
	 Barefote and wolwarde I haue hyght
	 Thyder for to go.’
117A.443	‘Yf it be so,’ than sayd our kynge,
	 ‘It may no better be,
	 Seuen nyght I gyue the leue,
	 No lengre, to dwell fro me.’
117A.444	‘Gramercy, lorde,’ then sayd Robyn,
	 And set hym on his kne;
	 He toke his leu full courteysly.
	 To gren wode then went he.
117A.445	Whan he came to gren wode,
	 In a mery mornynge,
	 There he herde the not s small
	 Of byrd s mery syngynge.
117A.446	‘It is ferre gone,’ sayd Robyn,
	 ‘That I was last here;
	 Me lyste a lytell for to shote
	 At the donn dere.’
117A.447	Robyn slewe a full grete harte;
	 His horne than gan he blow,
	 That all the outlawes of that forest
	 That horne coud they knowe,
117A.448	And gadred them togyder,
	 In a lytell throwe.
	 Seuen score of wyght yonge men
	 Came redy on a rowe,
117A.449	And fayre dyde of theyr hodes,
	 And set them on theyr kne:
	 ‘Welcome,’ they sayd, ’our [der ] mayster,
	 Under this gren -wode tre.
117A.450	Robyn dwelled in gren wode
	 Twenty yere and two;
	 For all drede of Edwarde our kynge,
	 Agayne wolde he not goo.
117A.451	Yet he was begyled, i-wys,
	 Through a wycked woman,
	 The pryoresse of Kyrk sly,
	 That nye was of hys kynne:
117A.452	For the loue of a knyght,
	 Syr Roger of Donkesly,
	 That was her own speciall;
	 Full euyll mot they the!
117A.453	They toke togyder theyr counsell
	 Robyn Hode for to sle,
	 And how they myght best do that dede,
	 His banis for to be.
117A.454	Than bespake good Robyn,
	 In place where as he stode,
	 ‘To morow I muste to Kyrke[s]ly,
	 Craftely to be leten blode.’
117A.455	Syr Roger of Donkestere,
	 By the pryoresse he lay,
	 And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode,
	 Through theyr fals playe.
117A.456	Cryst haue mercy on his soule,
	 That dyed on the rode!
	 For he was a good outlawe,
	 And dyde pore men moch god.



	  Child 118A: Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne

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



		 Child 119A: Robin Hood and the Monk

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



		 Child 120A: Robin Hood’s Death

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


		 Child 120B: Robin Hood’s Death

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



		Child 121A: Robin Hood and the Potter

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



		Child 122A: Robin Hood and the Butcher

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


		Child 122B: Robin Hood and the Butcher

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



	  Child 123A: Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar

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


	  Child 123B: Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar

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



	  Child 124A: The Jolly Pindar of Wakefield

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


	  Child 124B: The Jolly Pindar of Wakefield

124B.*	 * * *
	 ‘BUT hold y . . hold y . . . ’ says Robin,
	 ‘My merrymen, I bid yee,
	 For this [is] one of the best pindars
	 That euer I saw with mine eye.
124B.2	 ‘But hast thou any meat, thou iolly pindar,
	 For my merrymen and me?’
	 . . . .
	 . . . .
124B.3	 ‘But I haue bread and cheese,’ sayes the pindar,
	 ‘And ale all on the best:’
	 ‘That’s cheere good enoughe,’ said Robin,
	 ‘For any such vnbidden guest.

124B.4	 ‘But wilt be my man?’ said good Robin,
	 ‘And come and dwell with me?
	 And twise in a yeere thy clothing [shall] be changed
	 If my man thou wilt bee,
	 The tone shall be of light Lincolne greene,
	 The tother of Picklory.’
124B.5	 ‘Att Michallmas comes a well good time,
	 When men haue gotten in their fee;
	 I’le sett as litle by my master
	 As he now setts by me,
	 I’le take my benbowe in my hande,
	 And come into the grenwoode to thee.’



		Child 125A: Robin Hood and Little John

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



		Child 126A: Robin Hood and the Tanner

126A.1	 IN Nottingham there lives a jolly tanner,
	 With a hey down down a down down
	 His name is Arthur a Bland;
	 There is nere a squire in Nottinghamshire
	 Dare bid bold Arthur stand.
126A.2	 With a long pike-staff upon his shoulder,
	 So well he can clear his way;
	 By two and by three he makes them to flee,
	 For he hath no list to stay.
126A.3	 And as he went forth, in a summer’s morning,
	 Into the forrest of merry Sherwood,
	 To view the red deer, that range here and there,
	 There met he with bold Robin Hood.
126A.4	 As soon as bold Robin Hood did him espy,
	 He thought some sport he would make;
	 Therefore out of hand he bid him to stand,
	 And thus to him he spake:
126A.5	 Why, what art thou, thou bold fellow,
	 That ranges so boldly here?
	 In sooth, to be brief, thou lookst like a thief,
	 That comes to steal our king’s deer.
126A.6	 For I am a keeper in this forrest;
	 The king puts me in trust
	 To look to his deer, that range here and there,
	 Therefore stay thee I must.
126A.7	 ‘If thou beest a keeper in this forrest,
	 And hast such a great command,
	 Yet thou must have more partakers in store,
	 Before thou make me to stand.’
126A.8	 ‘Nay, I have no more partakers in store,
	 Or any that I do need;
	 But I have a staff of another oke graff,
	 I know it will do the deed.’
126A.9	 ‘For thy sword and thy bow I care not a straw,
	 Nor all thine arrows to boot;
	 If I get a knop upon thy bare scop,
	 Thou canst as well shite as shoote.’
126A.10	 ‘Speak cleanly, good fellow,’ said jolly Robin,
	 ‘And give better terms to me;
	 Else I’le thee correct for thy neglect,
	 And make thee more mannerly.’
126A.11	 ‘Marry gep with a wenion!’ quoth Arthur a Bland,
	 ‘Art thou such a goodly man?
	 I care not a fig for thy looking so big;
	 Mend thou thyself where thou can.’
126A.12	 Then Robin Hood he unbuckled his belt,
	 He laid down his bow so long;
	 He took up a staff of another oke graff,
	 That was both stiff and strong.
126A.13	 ‘I’le yield to thy weapon,’ said jolly Robin,
	 ‘Since thou wilt not yield to mine;
	 For I have a staff of another oke graff,
	 Not half a foot longer then thine.
126A.14	 ‘But let me measure,’ said jolly Robin,
	 ‘Before we begin our fray;
	 For I’le not have mine to be longer then thine,
	 For that will be called foul play.’
126A.15	 ‘I pass not for length,’ bold Arthur reply’d,
	 ‘My staff is of oke so free;
	 Eight foot and a half, it will knock down a calf,
	 And I hope it will knock down thee.’
126A.16	 Then Robin Hood could no longer forbear;
	 He gave him such a knock,
	 Quickly and soon the blood came down,
	 Before it was ten a clock.
126A.17	 Then Arthur he soon recovered himself,
	 And gave him such a knock on the crown,
	 That on every hair of bold Robin Hoods head,
	 The blood came trickling down.
126A.18	 Then Robin Hood raged like a wild bore,
	 As soon as he saw his own blood;
	 Then Bland was in hast, he laid on so fast,
	 As though he had been staking of wood.
126A.19	 And about, and about, and about they went,

	 Like two wild bores in a chase;
	 Striving to aim each other to maim,
	 Leg, arm, or any other place.
126A.20	 And knock for knock they lustily dealt,
	 Which held for two hours and more;
	 That all the wood rang at every bang,
	 They ply’d their work so sore.
126A.21	 ‘Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood,
	 ‘And let our quarrel fall;
	 For here we may thresh our bones into mesh,
	 And get no coyn at all.
126A.22	 ‘And in the forrest of merry Sherwood
	 Hereafter thou shalt be free:’
	 ‘God-a-mercy for naught, my freedom I bought,
	 I may thank my good staff, and not thee.’
126A.23	 ‘What tradesman art thou?’ said jolly Robin,
	 ‘Good felow, I prethee me show:
	 And also me tell in what place thou dost dwel,
	 For both these fain would I know.’
126A.24	 ‘I am a tanner,’ bold Arthur reply’d,
	 ‘In Nottingham long have I wrought;
	 And if thou’lt come there, I vow and do swear
	 I will tan thy hide for naught.’
126A.25	 ‘God a mercy, good fellow,’ said jolly Robin,
	 ‘Since thou art so kind to me;
	 And if thou wilt tan my hide for naught,
	 I will do as much for thee.
126A.26	 ‘But if thou’lt forsake thy tanners trade,
	 And live in green wood with me,
	 My name’s Robin Hood, I swear by the rood
	 I will give thee both gold and fee.’
126A.27	 ‘If thou be Robin Hood,’ bold Arthur reply’d,
	 ‘As I think well thou art,
	 Then here’s my hand, my name’s Arthur a Bland,
	 We two will never depart.
126A.28	 ‘But tell me, O tell me, where is Little John?
	 Of him fain would I hear;
	 For we are alide by the mothers side,
	 And he is my kinsman near.’
126A.29	 Than Robin Hood blew on the beaugle horn,
	 He blew full lowd and shrill,
	 But quickly anon appeard Little John,
	 Come tripping down a green hill.
126A.30	 ‘O what is the matter?’ then said Little John,
	 ‘Master, I pray you tell;
	 Why do you stand with your staff in your hand?
	 I fear all is not well.’
126A.31	 ‘O man, I do stand, and he makes me to stand,
	 The tanner that stands thee beside;
	 He is a bonny blade, and master of his trade,
	 For soundly he hath tand my hide.’
126A.32	 ‘He is to be commended,’ then said Little John,
	 ‘If such a feat he can do;
	 If he be so stout, we will have a bout,
	 And he shall tan my hide too.’
126A.33	 ‘Hold thy hand, hold thy hand,’ said Robin Hood,
	 ‘For as I do understand,
	 He’s a yeoman good, and of thine own blood,
	 For his name is Arthur a Bland.’
126A.34	 Then Little John threw his staff away,
	 As far as he could it fling,
	 And ran out of hand to Arthur a Bland,
	 And about his neck did cling.
126A.35	 With loving respect, there was no neglect,
	 They were neither nice nor coy,
	 Each other did face, with a lovely grace,
	 And both did weep for joy.
126A.36	 Then Robin Hood took them both by the hand,
	 And danc’d round about the oke tree;
\R’F\ror	three merry men, and three merry men,
	 And three merry men we be.
126A.37	 ‘And ever hereafter, as long as I live,
	 We three will be all one;
	 The wood shall ring, and the old wife sing,
	 Of Robin Hood, Arthur, and John.’



		Child 127A: Robin Hood and the Tinker

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



	  Child 128A: Robin Hood and the Newly Revived

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



	 Child 129A: Robin Hood and the Prince of Aragon

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



	  Child 130A: Robin Hood and the Scotchman

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


	  Child 130B: Robin Hood and the Scotchman

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



		Child 131A: Robin Hood and the Ranger

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



	  Child 132A: The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood

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



	  Child 133A: Robin Hood and the Beggar, I

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



	  Child 134A: Robin Hood and the Beggar, II

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



	  Child 135A: Robin Hood and the Shepherd

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



		 Child 136A: Robin Hood’s Delight

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



		Child 137A: Robin Hood and the Pedlars

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



	  Child 138A: Robin Hood and Allen a Dale

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



	 Child 139A: Robin Hood’s Progress to Nottingham

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



	 Child 140A: Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires

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


	 Child 140B: Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires

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


	 Child 140C: Robin Hood Rescuing Three Squires

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



	  Child 141A: Robin Hood Rescuing Will Stutly

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



		 Child 142A: Little John a Begging

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


		 Child 142B: Little John a Begging

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



		Child 143A: Robin Hood and the Bishop

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



	 Child 144A: Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford

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


	 Child 144B: Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford

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



	  Child 145A: Robin Hood and Queen Katherine

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


	  Child 145B: Robin Hood and Queen Katherine

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


	  Child 145C: Robin Hood and Queen Katherine

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



		 Child 146A: Robin Hood’s Chase

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



		Child 147A: Robin Hood’s Golden Prize

147A.1	 I HAVE heard talk of bold Robin Hood,
	 Derry derry down
	 And of brave Little John,
	 Of Fryer Tuck, and Will Scarlet,
	 Loxley, and Maid Marion.
	 Hey down derry derry down
147A.2	 But such a tale as this before
	 I think there was never none;
	 For Robin Hood disguised himself,
	 And to the wood is gone.
147A.3	 Like to a fryer, bold Robin Hood
	 Was accoutered in his array;
	 With hood, gown, beads and cricifix,
	 He past upon the way.
147A.4	 He had not gone [past] miles two or three,
	 But it was his chance to spy
	 Two lusty priests, clad all in black,
	 Come riding gallantly.
147A.5	 ‘Benedicete,’ then said Robin Hood,
	 ‘Some pitty on me take;
	 Cross you my hand with a silver groat,
	 For Our dear Ladies sake.
147A.6	 ‘For I have been wandring all this day,
	 And nothing could I get;
	 Not so much as one poor cup of drink,
	 Nor bit of bread to eat.’

147A.7	 ‘Now, by my holydame,’ the priests repli’d,
	 ‘We never a peny have;
	 For we this morning have been robd,
	 And could no mony save.’
147A.8	 ‘I am much afraid,’ said bold Robin Hood,
	 ‘That you both do tell a lye;
	 And now before that you go hence,
	 I am resolvd to try.’
147A.9	 When as the priests heard him say so,
	 Then they rode away amain;
	 But Robin Hood betook him to his heels,
	 And soon overtook them again.
147A.10	 Then Robin Hood laid hold of them both,
	 And pulld them down from their horse:
	 ‘O spare us, fryer!’ the priests cry’d out,
	 ‘On us have remorse!’
147A.11	 ‘You said you had no mony,’ quoth he,
	 ‘Wherefore, without delay,
	 We three will fall down on our knees,
	 And for mony we will pray.’
147A.12	 The priests they could not him gainsay,
	 But down they kneeled with speed;
	 ‘Send us, O send us,’ then quoth they,
	 ‘Some mony to serve our need.’
147A.13	 The priests did pray with mournful chear,
	 Sometimes their hands did wring,
	 Sometimes they wept and cried aloud,
	 Whilst Robin did merrily sing.
147A.14	 When they had been praying an hours space,
	 The priests did still lament;
	 Then quoth bold Robin, Now let’s see
	 What mony heaven hath us sent.
147A.15	 We will be sharers now all alike
	 Of the mony that we have;
	 And there is never a one of us
	 That his fellows shall deceive.
147A.16	 The priests their hands in their pockets put,
	 But mony would find none:
	 ‘We’l search our selves,’ said Robin Hood,
	 ‘Each other, one by one.’
147A.17	 Then Robin took pains to search them both,
	 And he found good store of gold;
	 Five hundred peeces presently
	 Vpon the grass was told.
147A.18	 ‘Here is a brave show,’ said Robin Hood,
	 ‘Such store of gold to see,
	 And you shall each one have a part,
	 Cause you prayed so heartily.’
147A.19	 He gave them fifty pound a-peece,
	 And the rest for himself did keep;
	 The priests durst not speak one word,
	 Bur they sighed wondrous deep.
147A.20	 With that the priests rose up from their knees,
	 Thinking to have parted so;
	 ‘Nay, stay,’ said Robin Hood, ’one thing more
	 I have to say ere you go.
147A.21	 ‘You shall be sworn,’ said bold Robin Hood,
	 ‘Vpon this holy grass,
	 That you will never tell lies again,
	 Which way soever you pass.
147A.22	 ‘The second oath that you here must take,
	 All the days of your lives
	 You never shall tempt maids to sin,
	 Nor lye with other mens wives.
147A.23	 ‘The last oath you shall take, it is this,
	 Be charitable to the poor;
	 Say you have met with a holy fryer,
	 And I desire no more.’
147A.24	 He set them upon their horses again,
	 And away then they did ride;
	 And hee returnd to the merry green-wood,
	 With great joy, mirth and pride.



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

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



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

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



		Child 150A: Robin Hood and Maid Marian

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



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

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



	  Child 152A: Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow

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



	 Child 153A: Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight

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


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

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



		Child 154A: A True Tale of Robin Hood

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


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

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



	  Child 155A: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155B: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155C: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155D: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155E: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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

155E.18	 ‘Oh the lead it is wondrous heavy, mother,
	 The well it is wondrous deep;
	 The little penknife sticks in my throat,
	 And I downa to ye speak.
155E.19	 ‘But lift me out o this deep draw-well,
	 And bury me in yon churchyard;
	 . . . .
	 . . . .
155E.20	 ‘Put a Bible at my head,’ he says,
	 ‘And a Testament at my feet,
	 And pen and ink at every side,
	 And I’ll lie still and sleep.
155E.21	 ‘And go to the back of Maitland town,
	 Bring me my winding sheet;
	 For it’s at the back of Maitland town
	 That you and I shall meet.’
155E.22	 O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
	 The broom that makes full sore,
	 A woman’s mercy is very little,
	 But a man’s mercy is more.


	  Child 155F: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155G: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155H: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155I: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155J: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155K: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155L: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155M: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155N: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155O: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155P: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155Q: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


	  Child 155R: Sir Hugh, or the Jew’s Daughter

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


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

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


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

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


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

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



		Child 156A: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

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


		Child 156B: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

156B.1	 OUR queen’s sick, an very sick,
	 She’s sick an like to die;
	 She has sent for the friars of France,
	 To speak wi her speedilie.
156B.2	 ‘I’ll put on a friar’s robe,
	 An ye’ll put on anither,
	 An we’ll go to Madam the Queen,
	 Like friars bath thegither.’
156B.3	 ‘God forbid,’ said Earl Marishall,
	 ‘That ever the like shud be,
	 That I beguile Madam the Queen!
	 I wad be hangit hie.’
156B.4	 The King pat on a friar’s robe,
	 Earl Marishall on anither;
	 They’re on to the Queen,
	 Like friars baith thegither.
156B.5	 ‘Gin ye be the friars of France,
	 As I trust well ye be-+--+-
	 But an ye be ony ither men,
	 Ye sall be hangit hie.’
156B.6	 The King he turnd him roun,
	 An by his troth sware he,
	 We hae na sung messe
	 Sin we came frae the sea.
156B.7	 ‘The first sin ever I did,
	 An a very great sin ’twas tee,
	 I gae my maidenhead to Earl Marishall,
	 Under the greenwood tree.’
156B.8	 \R’T\rhat was a sin, an a very great sin,
	 But pardond it may be;’
	 ‘Wi mendiment,’ said Earl Marishall,
	 But a heavy heart had he.
156B.9	 ‘The next sin ever I did,
	 An a very great sin ’twas tee,
	 I poisened Lady Rosamond,
	 An the King’s darling was she.’
156B.10	 ‘That was a sin, an a very great sin,
	 But pardond it may be;’
	 ‘Wi mendiment,’ said King Henry,
	 But a heavy heart had he.
156B.11	 ‘The next sin ever I did,
	 An a very great sin ’twas tee,
	 I keepit poison in my bosom seven years,
	 To poison him King Henrie.’
156B.12	 ‘That was a sin, an a very great sin,
	 But pardond it may be;’
	 ‘Wi mendiment,’ said King Henry,
	 But a heavy heart had he.
156B.13	 ‘O see na ye yon bonny boys,
	 As they play at the ba?
	 An see na ye Lord Marishal’s son?
	 I lee him best of a’.
156B.14	 ‘But see na ye King Henry’s son?
	 He’s headit like a bull, and backit like a boar,
	 I like him warst awa:’
	 ‘And by my sooth,’ says him King Henry,
	 ‘I like him best o the twa.’
156B.15	 The King he turned him roun,
	 Pat on the coat o goud,
	 . . . .
	 The Queen turnd the King to behold.
156B.16	 . . . .
	 . . . .
	 ‘Gin I hadna sworn by the crown and sceptre roun,
	 Earl Marishal sud been gart die.’


		Child 156C: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

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


		Child 156D: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

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


		Child 156E: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

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


		Child 156F: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

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


	  Child 156[G]: Queen Eleanor’s Confession

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



		  Child 157A: Gude Wallace

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


		  Child 157B: Gude Wallace

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


		  Child 157C: Gude Wallace

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


		  Child 157D: Gude Wallace

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


		  Child 157E: Gude Wallace

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


		  Child 157F: Gude Wallace

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


		  Child 157G: Gude Wallace

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


		  Child 157H: Gude Wallace

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


		  Child 157[I]: Gude Wallace

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



	  Child 158A: High Spencer’s Feats in France

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


	  Child 158B: High Spencer’s Feats in France

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


	  Child 158C: High Spencer’s Feats in France

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



		  Child 159A: Durham Field

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



		 Child 160A: The Knight of Liddesdale

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



		 Child 161A: The Battle of Otterburn

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


		 Child 161B: The Battle of Otterburn

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


		 Child 161C: The Battle of Otterburn

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


		 Child 161D: The Battle of Otterburn

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


		 Child 161E: The Battle of Otterburn

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



		Child 162A: The Hunting of the Cheviot

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


		Child 162B: The Hunting of the Cheviot

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



		 Child 163A: The Battle of Harlaw

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


		 Child 163B: The Battle of Harlaw

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



	 Child 164A: King Henry Fifth’s Conquest of France

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



		  Child 165A: Sir John Butler

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



		 Child 166A: The Rose of England

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



		  Child 167A: Andrew Bartin

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


		  Child 167B: Andrew Bartin

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



		  Child 168A: Flodden Field

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



		  Child 169A: Johnie Armstrong

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


		  Child 169B: Johnie Armstrong

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


		  Child 169C: Johnie Armstrong

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



		 Child 170A: The Death of Queen Jane

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


		 Child 170B: The Death of Queen Jane

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


		 Child 170C: The Death of Queen Jane

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


		 Child 170D: The Death of Queen Jane

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


		 Child 170E: The Death of Queen Jane

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


		 Child 170F: The Death of Queen Jane

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


		 Child 170G: The Death of Queen Jane

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


		Child 170[H]: The Death of Queen Jane

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


		Child 170[I]: The Death of Queen Jane

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



		  Child 171A: Thomas Cromwell

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



		 Child 172A: Musselburgh Field

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



		  Child 173A: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173B: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173C: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173D: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173E: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173F: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173G: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173H: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173I: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173J: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173K: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173L: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173M: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173N: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173O: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173P: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173Q: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173R: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[S]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[T]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[U]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[V]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[W]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[X]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[Y]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[Z]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[Aa]: Mary Hamilton

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


		   Child 173[Bb]: Mary Hamilton

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



		   Child 174A: Earl Bothwell

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



		 Child 175A: The Rising in the North

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



	  Child 176A: Northumberland Betrayed by Douglas

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



		 Child 177A: The Earl of Westmoreland

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



	   Child 178A: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

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


	   Child 178B: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

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


	   Child 178C: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

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


	   Child 178D: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

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


	   Child 178E: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

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


	   Child 178F: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

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


	   Child 178G: Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon

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


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

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


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

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



		   Child 179A: Rookhope Ryde

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



		  Child 180A: King James and Brown

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



		 Child 181A: The Bonnie Earl o’ Moray

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


		 Child 181B: The Bonnie Earl o’ Moray

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



		  Child 182A: The Laird of Logie

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


		 Child 182[A2]: The Laird of Logie

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


		  Child 182B: The Laird of Logie

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


		  Child 182C: The Laird of Logie

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


		  Child 182D: The Laird of Logie

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


		  Child 182E: The Laird of Logie

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



		   Child 183A: Willie Macintosh

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


		   Child 183B: Willie Macintosh

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



		  Child 184A: The Lads of Wamphray

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



		   Child 185A: Dick o the Cow

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



		   Child 186A: Kinmont Willie

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



		   Child 187A: Jock o the Side

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


		   Child 187B: Jock o the Side

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


		   Child 187C: Jock o the Side

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


		   Child 187D: Jock o the Side

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



		  Child 188A: Archie o Cawfield

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


		  Child 188B: Archie o Cawfield

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


		  Child 188C: Archie o Cawfield

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


		  Child 188D: Archie o Cawfield

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


		  Child 188E: Archie o Cawfield

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


		  Child 188F: Archie o Cawfield

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



		    Child 189A: Hobie Noble

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



	   Child 190A: Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead

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



		   Child 191A: Hughie Graham

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


		   Child 191B: Hughie Graham

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


		   Child 191C: Hughie Graham

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


		   Child 191D: Hughie Graham

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


		   Child 191E: Hughie Graham

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


		   Child 191F: Hughie Graham

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


		   Child 191G: Hughie Graham

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


		   Child 191[H]: Hughie Graham

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


		   Child 191[I]: Hughie Graham

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



		  Child 192A: The Lochmaben Harper

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


		  Child 192B: The Lochmaben Harper

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


		  Child 192C: The Lochmaben Harper

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


		  Child 192D: The Lochmaben Harper

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


		  Child 192E: The Lochmaben Harper

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



		 Child 193A: The Death of Parcy Reed

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


		 Child 193B: The Death of Parcy Reed

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


		Child 193[B2]: The Death of Parcy Reed

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



		 Child 194A: The Laird of Wariston

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


		 Child 194B: The Laird of Wariston

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


		 Child 194C: The Laird of Wariston

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



	   Child 195A: Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight

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


	   Child 195B: Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight

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



		 Child 196A: The Fire of Frendruahgt

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


		 Child 196B: The Fire of Frendruahgt

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


		 Child 196C: The Fire of Frendruahgt

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


		 Child 196D: The Fire of Frendruahgt

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


		 Child 196E: The Fire of Frendruahgt

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



		    Child 197A: James Grant

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



		   Child 198A: Bonny John Seton

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


		   Child 198B: Bonny John Seton

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



		 Child 199A: Bonnie House o’ Airlie

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


		 Child 199B: Bonnie House o’ Airlie

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


		 Child 199C: Bonnie House o’ Airlie

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


		 Child 199D: Bonnie House o’ Airlie

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



		   Child 200A: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200B: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200C: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200D: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200E: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200F: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200G: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200H: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200I: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200J: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		   Child 200K: The Gypsy Laddie

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


		  Child 200[L]: The Gypsy Laddie

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



		 Child 201A: Bessy Bell and Mary Gray

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



		 Child 202A: The Battle of Philiphaugh

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



		 Child 203A: The Baron of Brackley

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


		 Child 203B: The Baron of Brackley

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


		 Child 203C: The Baron of Brackley

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


		 Child 203D: The Baron of Brackley

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



		   Child 204A: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204B: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204C: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204D: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204E: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204F: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204G: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204H: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204I: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204J: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204K: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204L: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204M: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204N: Jamie Douglas

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


		   Child 204O: Jamie Douglas

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



		 Child 205A: Loudon Hill, or Dromclog

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



		   Child 206A: Bothwell Bridge

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



		   Child 207A: Lord Delamere

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


		   Child 207B: Lord Delamere

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


		   Child 207C: Lord Delamere

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


		   Child 207D: Lord Delamere

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



		  Child 208A: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208B: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208C: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208D: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208E: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208F: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208G: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208H: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208I: Lord Dernwentwater

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


		  Child 208[J]: Lord Dernwentwater

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



			 Child 209A: Geordie

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


			 Child 209B: Geordie

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

	 An a’ the royal family,
	 An ay she blessed the royal queen,
	 For sparin o her Geordie.
209B.28	 . . . .
	 . . . .
	 Nae bird sang sweeter in the bush
	 Than she did wi her Geordie.
209B.29	 ‘It’s wo be to my Lord Costorph,
	 It’s wo be to him daily!
	 For if Geordie’s neck had been on the block
	 He had neer enjoyd his ladie.
209B.30	 ‘Gar print me ballants weel,’ she said,
	 ‘Gar print me ballants many,
	 Gar print me ballants weel,’ she said,
	 ‘That I am a worthy ladie.’


			 Child 209C: Geordie

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


			 Child 209D: Geordie

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


			 Child 209E: Geordie

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


			 Child 209F: Geordie

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


			 Child 209G: Geordie

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


			 Child 209H: Geordie

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


			 Child 209I: Geordie

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


			 Child 209J: Geordie

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


			 Child 209K: Geordie

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


			 Child 209L: Geordie

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


			 Child 209M: Geordie

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


			 Child 209N: Geordie

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



		 Child 210A: Bonnie James Campbell

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


		 Child 210B: Bonnie James Campbell

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


		 Child 210C: Bonnie James Campbell

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


		 Child 210D: Bonnie James Campbell

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



		  Child 211A: Bewick and Graham

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



		Child 212A: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

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


		Child 212B: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

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


		Child 212C: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

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


		Child 212D: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

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


		Child 212E: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

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


		Child 212F: The Duke of Athole’s Nurse

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



		  Child 213A: Sir James the Rose

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



		  Child 214A: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214B: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214C: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214D: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214E: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214F: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214G: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214H: The Braes o Yarrow

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

214H.9	 ‘Take hame yer ox, and take hame yer kye,
	 You’ve bred me muckle sorrow;
	 I wish they’d a’ gane mad that day,
	 That day they came to Yarrow.’
214H.10	 This woman being big wi child,
	 And full of lamentation,
	 She died into her father’s arms,
	 Among that stubborn nation.


		  Child 214I: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214J: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214K: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214L: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214M: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214N: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214O: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214P: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214[Q]: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214[R]: The Braes o Yarrow

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


		  Child 214[S]: The Braes o Yarrow

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



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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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



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

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


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

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


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

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



		 Child 217A: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217B: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217C: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217D: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217E: The Broom of Cowdenknows

217E.1	 THERE was a may, and a bonnie may,
	 In the bught, milking the ewes,
	 And by came a troop of gentlemen,
	 And they rode by and by.
217E.2	 ‘O I’ll give thee my milk-white steed,
	 It cost me three hundred pound,
	 If ye’ll go to yon sheep-bught,
	 And bring yon fair maid doun.’
217E.3	 ‘Your steed ye canna want, master,
	 But pay to ane a fee;
	 Fifty pound of good red gold,
	 To be paid down to me.’
217E.4	 ‘Come shew me the way, pretty may,’ he said,
	 ‘For our steeds are quite gone wrong;
	 Will you do to me such a courtesy
	 As to shew us the near-hand way?’
217E.5	 ‘O go ye doun to yon meadow,
	 Where the people are mowing the hay;
	 Go ye doun to yon meadow,

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


		 Child 217F: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217G: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217H: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217I: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217J: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217K: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217L: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217M: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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


		 Child 217N: The Broom of Cowdenknows

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



		 Child 218A: The False Lover Won Back

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


		 Child 218B: The False Lover Won Back

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



		    Child 219A: The Gardener

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


		    Child 219B: The Gardener

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


		    Child 219C: The Gardener

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



	    Child 220A: The Bonny Lass of Anglesley

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


	    Child 220B: The Bonny Lass of Anglesley

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



		   Child 221A: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221B: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221C: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221D: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221E: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221F: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221G: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221H: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221I: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221J: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221K: Katherine Jafray

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


		   Child 221L: Katherine Jafray

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



		 Child 222A: Bonny Baby Livingston

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


		 Child 222B: Bonny Baby Livingston

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


		 Child 222C: Bonny Baby Livingston

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


		 Child 222D: Bonny Baby Livingston

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


		 Child 222E: Bonny Baby Livingston

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



		    Child 223A: Epie Morrie

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



		  Child 224A: The Lady of Arngosk

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



			 Child 225A: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225B: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225C: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225D: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225E: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225F: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225G: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225H: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225I: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225J: Rob Roy

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


			 Child 225K: Rob Roy

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


			Child 225[L]: Rob Roy

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



		   Child 226A: Lizie Lindsay

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


		   Child 226B: Lizie Lindsay

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


		   Child 226C: Lizie Lindsay

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


		   Child 226D: Lizie Lindsay

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


		   Child 226E: Lizie Lindsay

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


		   Child 226F: Lizie Lindsay

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


		   Child 226G: Lizie Lindsay

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


		   Child 226[H]: Lizie Lindsay

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



		  Child 227A: Bonny Lizie Baillie

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



		   Child 228A: Glasgow Peggie

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


		   Child 228B: Glasgow Peggie

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


		   Child 228C: Glasgow Peggie

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


		   Child 228D: Glasgow Peggie

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


		   Child 228E: Glasgow Peggie

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


		   Child 228F: Glasgow Peggie

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


		   Child 228[G]: Glasgow Peggie

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



		   Child 229A: Earl Crawford

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


		   Child 229B: Earl Crawford

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



	Child 230A: The Slaughter of the Laird of Mellerstain

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


		  Child 231A: The Earl of Errol

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


		  Child 231B: The Earl of Errol

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


		  Child 231C: The Earl of Errol

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


		  Child 231D: The Earl of Errol

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


		  Child 231E: The Earl of Errol

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


		  Child 231F: The Earl of Errol

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



		    Child 232A: Richie Story

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


		    Child 232B: Richie Story

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


		    Child 232C: Richie Story

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


		    Child 232D: Richie Story

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


		    Child 232E: Richie Story

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


		    Child 232F: Richie Story

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


		    Child 232G: Richie Story

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


		    Child 232H: Richie Story

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



		   Child 233A: Andrew Lammie

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


		   Child 233B: Andrew Lammie

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


		   Child 233C: Andrew Lammie

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



		  Child 234A: Charlie MacPherson

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


		  Child 234B: Charlie MacPherson

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



		  Child 235A: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235B: The Earl of Aboyne

235B.1	 THE Earl o Aboyne to old England’s gone,
	 An a his nobles wi him;
	 Sair was the heart his fair lady had
	 Because she wanna wi him.
235B.2	 As she was a walking in her garden green,
	 Amang her gentlewomen,

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


		  Child 235C: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235D: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235E: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235F: The Earl of Aboyne

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

	 Frae our horse to our hat, we’ll gae in black,
	 And we’ll murn for Peggy Irwine.’
235F.12	 They rade on but stap or stay
	 Till they came to her father’s garden,
	 Whare fifty o the bravest lords
	 Were convoying Peggy Irwine.


		  Child 235G: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235H: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235I: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235J: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235K: The Earl of Aboyne

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


		  Child 235L: The Earl of Aboyne

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



		   Child 236A: The Laird o Drum

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


		   Child 236B: The Laird o Drum

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


		   Child 236C: The Laird o Drum

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


		   Child 236D: The Laird o Drum

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


		   Child 236E: The Laird o Drum

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


		   Child 236F: The Laird o Drum

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



	   Child 237A: The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter

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



	   Child 238A: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

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


	   Child 238B: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

238B.1	 FOUR and twenty nobles sits in the king’s ha,
	 Bonnie Glenlogie is the flower among them a’.
238B.2	 In came Lady Jean, skipping on the floor,
	 And she has chosen Glenlogie ’mong a’ that was there.
238B.3	 She turned to his footman, and thus she did say:
	 Oh, what is his name? and where does he stay?
238B.4	 ‘His name is Glenlogie, when he is from home;
	 He is of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.’
238B.5	 ‘Glenlogie, Glenlogie, an you will prove kind,
	 My love is laid on you; I am telling my mind.’
238B.6	 He turned about lightly, as the Gordons does a’:
	 ‘I thank you, Lady Jean, my loves is promised awa.’
238B.7	 She called on her maidens her bed for to make,

	 Her rings and her jewels all from her to take.
238B.8	 In came Jeanie’s father, a wae man was he;
	 Says, I’ll wed you to Drumfendrich, he has mair gold than he.
238B.9	 Her father’s own chaplain, being a man of great skill,
	 He wrote him a letter, and indited it well.
238B.10	 The first lines he looked at, a light laugh laughed he;
	 But ere he read through it the tears blindid his ee.
238B.11	 Oh, pale and wan looked she when Glenlogie cam in,
	 But even rosy grew she when Glenlogie sat down.
238B.12	 ‘Turn round, Jeanie Melville, turn round to this side,
	 And I’ll be the bridegroom, and you’ll be the bride.’
238B.13	 Oh, ’twas a merry wedding, and the portion down told,
	 Of bonnie Jeanie Melville, who was scarce sixteen years old.


	   Child 238C: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

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


	   Child 238D: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

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


	   Child 238E: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

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


	   Child 238F: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

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


	   Child 238G: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

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


	   Child 238H: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

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


	   Child 238I: Glenlogie or Jean o Bethalnie

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



	    Child 239A: Lord Saltoun and Auchanachie

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


	    Chile 239B: Lord Saltoun and Auchanachie

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



		  Child 240A: The Rantin Laddie

240A.1	 ‘AFTEN hae I playd at the cards and the dice,
	 For the love of a bonie rantin laddie,
	 But now I maun sit in my father’s kitchen-neuk
	 And balow a bastard babie.

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


		  Child 240B: The Rantin Laddie

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


		  Child 240C: The Rantin Laddie

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


		  Child 240D: The Rantin Laddie

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



		   Child 241A: The Baron o Leys

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


		   Child 241B: The Baron o Leys

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


		   Child 241C: The Baron o Leys

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



		  Child 242A: The Coble o Cargin

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



	   Child 243A: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

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


	   Child 243B: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

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


	   Child 243C: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

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


	   Child 243D: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

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


	   Child 243E: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

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


	   Child 243F: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

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


	   Child 243G: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

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


	   Child 243H: James Harris, (The Daemon Lover)

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



		    Child 244A: James Hatley

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


		    Child 244B: James Hatley

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


		    Child 244C: James Hatley

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



		    Child 245A: Young Allan

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


		    Child 245B: Young Allan

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


		    Child 245C: Young Allan

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


		    Child 245D: Young Allan

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


		    Child 245E: Young Allan

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



		Child 246A: Redesdale and Wise William

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


		Child 246B: Redesdale and Wise William

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


		Child 246C: Redesdale and Wise William

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



		    Child 247A: Lady Elspat

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



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

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



		    Child 249A: Auld Matrons

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



		    Child 250A: Henry Martyn

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


		    Child 250B: Henry Martyn

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


		    Child 250C: Henry Martyn

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


		    Child 250D: Henry Martyn

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


		   Child 250[E]: Henry Martyn

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



		   Child 251A: Lang Johnny More

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



		   Child 252A: The Kitchie-Boy

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


		   Child 252B: The Kitchie-Boy

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


		   Child 252C: The Kitchie-Boy

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


		   Child 252D: The Kitchie-Boy

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


		   Child 252E: The Kitchie-Boy

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



		  Child 253A: Thomas o Yonderdale

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



	    Child 254A: Lord William, or Lord Lundy

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


	    Child 254B: Lord William, or Lord Lundy

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


	    Child 254C: Lord William, or Lord Lundy

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



		  Child 255A: Willie’s Fatal Visit

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



		  Child 256A: Alison and Willie

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



	    Child 257A: Burd Isabel and Earl Patrick

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


	    Child 257B: Burd Isabel and Earl Patrick

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


	    Child 257C: Burd Isabel and Earl Patrick

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



		   Child 258A: Broughty Wa’s

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



		  Child 259A: Lord Thomas Stuart

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



	   Child 260A: Lord Thomas and Lady Margaret

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


	   Child 260B: Lord Thomas and Lady Margaret

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



		    Child 261A: Lady Isabel

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



		   Child 262A: Lord Livingston

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



		  Child 263A: The New-Slain Knight

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



		   Child 264A: The White Fisher

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



		  Child 265A: The Knight’s Ghost

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



		Child 266A: John Thomson and the Turk

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


		Child 266B: John Thomson and the Turk

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



		  Child 267A: The Heir of Linne

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


		  Child 267B: The Heir of Linne

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



		   Child 268A: The Twa Knights

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



		    Child 269A: Lady Diamond

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


		    Child 269B: Lady Diamond

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


		    Child 269C: Lady Diamond

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


		    Child 269D: Lady Diamond

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


		    Child 269E: Lady Diamond

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



		Child 270A: The Earl of Mar’s Daughter

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



	 Child 271A: The Lord of Lorn and the False Steward

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


	 Child 271B: The Lord of Lorn and the False Steward

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



		  Child 272A: The Suffolk Miracle

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



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

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



		    Child 274A: Our Goodman

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


		    Child 274B: Our Goodman

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



		 Child 275A: Get Up and Bar the Door

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


		 Child 275B: Get Up and Bar the Door

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


		 Child 275C: Get Up and Bar the Door

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



		 Child 276A: The Friar in the Well

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


		 Child 276B: The Friar in the Well

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



	   Child 277A: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

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


	   Child 277B: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

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


	   Child 277C: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

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


	   Child 277D: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

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


	   Child 277E: The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin

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



		 Child 278A: The Farmer’s Curst Wife

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


		 Child 278B: The Farmer’s Curst Wife

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



		   Child 279A: The Jolly Beggar

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


		   Child 279B: The Jolly Beggar

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



		  Child 280A: The Beggar-Laddie

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


		  Child 280B: The Beggar-Laddie

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


		  Child 280C: The Beggar-Laddie

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


		  Child 280D: The Beggar-Laddie

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


		  Child 280E: The Beggar-Laddie

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



		 Child 281A: The Keach I the Creel

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


		 Child 281B: The Keach I the Creel

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


		 Child 281C: The Keach I the Creel

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


		 Child 281D: The Keach I the Creel

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



	  Child 282A: Jock the Leg and the Merry Merchant

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



		  Child 283A: The Crafty Farmer

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



			Child 284A: John Dory

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



	  Child 285A: The George Aloe and the Sweepstake

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



	 Child 286A: The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity)

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


	 Child 286B: The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity)

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


	 Child 286C: The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity)

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



	    Child 287A: Captain Ward and the Rainbow

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



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

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


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

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



			 Child 289A: Mermaid

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


			 Child 289B: Mermaid

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


			 Child 289C: Mermaid

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


			 Child 289D: Mermaid

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


			 Child 289E: Mermaid

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


			 Child 289F: Mermaid

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



	  Child 290A: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie

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


	  Child 290B: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie

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


	  Child 290C: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie

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


	  Child 290D: The Wylie Wife of the Hie Toun Hie

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



		    Child 291A: Child Owlet

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



	  Child 292A: The West-Country Damosel’s Complaint

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



		  Child 293A: John of Hazelgreen

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


		  Child 293B: John of Hazelgreen

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


		  Child 293C: John of Hazelgreen

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


		  Child 293D: John of Hazelgreen

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


		  Child 293E: John of Hazelgreen

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



			Child 294A: Dugal Quin

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



		   Child 295A: The Brown Girl

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


		   Child 295B: The Brown Girl

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



		    Child 296A: Walter Lesly

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



		    Child 297A: Earl Rothes

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



		    Child 298A: Young Peggy

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



		   Child 299A: Trooper and Maid

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


		   Child 299B: Trooper and Maid

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


		   Child 299C: Trooper and Maid

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


		  Child 299[D]: Trooper and Maid

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



	   Child 300A: Blancheflour and Jellyflorice

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



		 Child 301A: The Queen of Scotland

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



		   Child 302A: Young Bearwell

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



		   Child 303A: The Holy Nunnery

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



		    Child 304A: Young Ronald

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



		  Child 305A: The Outlaw Murray

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


		  Child 305B: The Outlaw Murray

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


		  Child 305C: The Outlaw Murray

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