{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch048.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch048.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch048.htm","text":"Sacred Texts\u00a0\n Legends & Sagas\u00a0\n England\u00a0\n Index\u00a0\n Previous\u00a0\n Next\u00a0\n \n \n \n 48: Young Andrew\n \n \n 48.1\tAS I was cast in my first sleepe,\n A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew,\n Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man,\n Some men called him yonge Andrew.\n 48.2\tThe moone shone bright, and itt cast a fayre light,\n Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, and my sweete!\n For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere,\n And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete.\n 48.3\tThen he tooke her in his armes two,\n And kissed her both cheeke and chin,\n And twise or thrise he pleased this may\n Before they tow did part in twinn.\n 48.4\tSaies, Now, good sir, you haue had your will,\n You can demand no more of mee;\n Good sir, remember what you said before,\n And goe to the church and marry mee.\n 48.5\t\u2018Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold;\n . . . . .\n Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold,\n And I\u2019le goe to the church and marry thee.\n 48.6\tThis ladye is gone to her fathers hall,\n And well she knew where his red gold lay,\n And counted forth five hundred pound,\n Besides all other iuells and chaines:\n 48.7\twas well counted vpon his knee;\n And brought itt all to younge Andrew,\n Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand,\n And led her vp to an hill soe hye.\n 48.8\tShee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett,\n (A pittyffull sight after yee shall see:)\n \u2018Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,\u2019 he sayes,\n \u2018For noe foote further thoust gang with mee.\u2019\n 48.9\tBut then shee put of her gowne of veluett,\n With many a salt teare from her eye,\n And in a kirtle of fine breaden silke\n Shee stood beffore young Andrews eye.\n 48.10\tSais, O put off thy kirtle of silke,\n Ffor some and all shall goe with mee;\n And to my owne lady I must itt beare,\n Who I must needs loue better then thee.\n 48.11\tThen shee put of her kirtle of silke,\n With many a salt teare still from her eye;\n In a peticoate of scarlett redd\n Shee stood before young Andrewes eye.\n 48.12\tSaies, O put of thy peticoate,\n For some and all of itt shall goe with mee;\n And to my owne lady I will itt beare,\n Which dwells soe farr in a strange countrye\n 48.13\tBut then shee put of her peticoate,\n With many a salt teare still from her eye,\n And in a smocke of braue white silke\n She stood before young Andrews eye.\n 48.14\tSaies, O put of thy smocke of silke,\n For some and all shall goe with mee;\n Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare,\n That\tdwells soe farr in a strange countrye.\n 48.15\tSayes, O remember, young Andrew,\n Once of a woman you were borne;\n And for that birth that Marye bore,\n I pray you let my smocke be vpon!\n 48.16\t\u2018Yes, fayre ladye, I know itt well,\n Once of a woman I was borne;\n Yett for noe birth that Mary bore,\n Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.\u2019\n 48.17\tBut then shee put of her head-geere fine;\n Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound;\n The hayre that was vpon this bony wench head\n Couered her bodye downe to the ground.\n 48.18\tThen he pulled forth a Scottish brand,\n And held itt there in his owne right hand;\n Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords point, ladye,\n Or thow wilt goe naked home againe?\n 48.19\t\u2018Liffe is sweet,\u2019 then, \u2019Sir,\u2019 said shee,\n \u2018Therfore I pray you leaue mee with mine;\n Before I wold dye on your swords point,\n I had rather goe naked home againe.\n 48.20\t\u2018My father,\u2019 shee sayes, \u2019is a right good erle\n As any remaines in his countrye;\n If euer he doe your body take,\n You\u2019r sure to flower a gallow tree.\n 48.21\t\u2018And I haue seuen brethren,\u2019 shee sayes,\n \u2018And they are all hardy men and bold;\n Giff euer th doe your body take,\n You must neuer gang quicke ouer the mold.\u2019\n 48.22\t\u2018If your father be a right good erle\n As any remaines in his owne countrye,\n Tush! he shall neuer by body take,\n I\u2019le gang soe fast ouer the sea.\n 48.23\t\u2018If you have seuen brethren,\"] he sayes,\n \u2018If they be neuer soe hardy or bold,\n Tush! they shall neuer my body take,\n I\u2019le gang soe fast into the Scottish mold.\u2019\n 48.24\tNow this ladye is gone to her fathers hall,\n When euery body their rest did take;\n But the Erle which was her father\n Lay waken for his deere daughters sake.\n 48.25\t\u2018But who is that,\u2019 her father can say,\n \u2019That soe priuilye knowes the pinn?\u2019\n \u2018It\u2019s Hellen, your owne deere daughter, father,\n I pray you rise and lett me in.\u2019\n 48.26\t. . . . .\n \u2018Noe, by my hood!\u2019 quoth her father then,\n \u2018My [house] thoust neuer come within,\n Without I had my red gold againe.\u2019\n 48.27\t\u2018Nay, your gold is gone, father!\u2019 said shee,\n . . . . .\n \u2018Then naked thou came into this world,\n And naked thou shalt returne againe.\u2019\n 48.28\t\u2018Nay! God forgaue his death, father,\u2019 shee sayes,\n \u2018And soe I hope you will doe mee;\u2019\n \u2018Away, away, thou cursed woman,\n I pray God an ill death thou may dye!\u2019\n 48.29\tShee stood soe long quacking on the ground\n Till her hart itt burst in three;\n And then shee fell dead downe in a swoond,\n And this was the end of this bonny ladye.\n 48.30\tIthe morning, when her father gott vpp,\n A pittyffull sight there he might see;\n His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,\n The teares they trickeled fast from his eye.\n 48.31\t. . . . . .\n Sais, Fye of gold, and fye of fee!\n For I sett soe much by my red gold\n That\tnow itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!\u2019\n 48.32\t. . . . . .\n But after this time he neere dought good day,\n But as flowers doth fade in the frost,\n Soe he did wast and weare away.\n 48.33\tBut let vs leaue talking of this ladye,\n And talke some more of young Andrew;\n Ffor false he was to this bonny ladye,\n More pitty that he had not beene true.\n 48.34\tHe was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,\n Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales,\n But there they cought him by such a braue wyle\n That\thee must come to tell noe more tales.\n * * * * *\n 48.35\t. . . . .\n Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,\n And shee came roaring like a beare,\n And gaping like a feend of hell.\n 48.36\tSoe they fought together like two lyons,\n And fire betweene them two glashet out;\n Th raught eche other such a great rappe,\n That\tthere young Andrew was slaine, well I wott.\n 48.37\tBut now young Andrew he is dead,\n But he was neuer buryed vnder mold,\n For ther as the wolfe devoured him,\n There lyes all this great erles gold.\n \n \n \n \n \n \n Next: 49. The Twa Brothers","title":"The Child Ballads: 48. Young Andrew","type":"page"}