{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch049.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch049.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch049.htm","text":"49A.1 THERE were twa brethren in the north,\nThey went to the school thegither;\nThe one unto the other said,\nWill you try a warsle afore?\n49A.2 They warsled up, they warsled down,\nTill Sir John fell to the ground,\nAnd there was a knife in Sir Willie\u2019s pouch,\nGied him a deadlie wound.\n49A.3 \u2018Oh brither dear, take me on your back,\nCarry me to yon burn clear,\nAnd wash the blood from off my wound,\nAnd it will bleed nae mair.\u2019\n49A.4 He took him up upon his back,\nCarried him to yon burn clear,\nAnd washd the blood from off his wound,\nBut aye it bled the mair.\n49A.5 \u2018Oh brither dear, take me on your back,\nCarry me to yon kirk-yard,\nAnd dig a grave baith wide and deep,\nAnd lay my body there.\u2019\n49A.6 He\u2019s taen him up upon his back,\nCarried him to yon kirk-yard,\nAnd dug a grave baith deep and wide,\nAnd laid his body there.\n49A.7 \u2018But what will I say to my father dear,\nGin he chance to say, Willie, whar\u2019s John?\u2019\n\u2018Oh say that he\u2019s to England gone,\nTo buy him a cask of wine.\u2019\n49A.8 \u2018And what will I say to my mother dear,\nGin she chance to say, Willie, whar\u2019s John?\u2019\n\u2018Oh say that he\u2019s to England gone,\nTo buy her a new silk gown.\u2019\n49A.9 \u2018And what will I say to my sister dear,\nGin she chance to say, Willie, whar\u2019s John?\u2019\n\u2018Oh say that he\u2019s to England gone,\nTo buy her a wedding ring.\u2019\n49A.10 \u2018But what will I say to her you loe dear,\nGin she cry, Why tarries my John?\u2019\n\u2018Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,\nAnd home again will never come.\u2019\n49B: The Twa Brothers\n49B.1 THERE was two little boys going to the school,\nAnd twa little boys they be,\nThey met three brothers playing at the ba,\nAnd ladies dansing hey.\n49B.2 \u2018It\u2019s whether will ye play at the ba, brither,\nOr else throw at the stone?\u2019\n\u2018I am too little, I am too young,\nO brother let me alone.\u2019\n49B.3 He pulled out a little penknife,\nThat was baith sharp and sma,\nHe gave his brother a deadly wound\nThat was deep, long and sair.\n49B.4 He took the holland sark off his back,\nHe tore it frae breast to gare,\nHe laid it to the bloody wound,\nThat still bled mair and mair.\n49B.5 \u2018It\u2019s take me on your back, brother,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018And carry me to yon kirk-yard,\nAnd make me there a very fine grave,\nThat will be long and large.\n49B.6 \u2018Lay my bible at my head,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018My chaunter at my feet,\nMy bow and arrows by my side,\nAnd soundly I will sleep.\n49B.7 \u2018When you go home, brother,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018My father will ask for me;\nYou may tell him I am in Saussif town,\nLearning my lesson free.\n49B.8 \u2018When you go home, brother,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018My mother will ask for me;\nYou may tell her I am in Sausaf town,\nAnd I\u2019ll come home merrily.\n49B.9 \u2018When you go home, brother,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018Lady Margaret will ask for me;\nYou may tell her I\u2019m dead and in grave laid,\nAnd buried in Sausaff toun.\u2019\n49B.10 She put the small pipes to her mouth,\nAnd she harped both far and near,\nTill she harped the small birds off the briers,\nAnd her true love out of the grave.\n49B.11 \u2018What\u2019s this? what\u2019s this, lady Margaret?\u2019 he says,\n\u2018What\u2019s this you want of me?\u2019\n\u2018One sweet kiss of your ruby lips,\nThat\u2019s all I want of thee.\u2019\n49B.12 \u2018My lips they are so bitter,\u2019 he says,\n\u2018My breath it is so strong,\nIf you get one kiss of my ruby lips,\nYour days will not be long.\u2019\n49C: The Twa Brothers\n49C.1 THERE were twa brithers at ae scule;\nAs they were coming hame,\nThen said the ane until the other\n\u2018John, will ye throw the stane?\u2019\n49C.2 \u2018I will not throw the stane, brither,\nI will not play at the ba;\nBut gin ye come to yonder wood\nI\u2019ll warsle you a fa.\u2019\n49C.3 The firsten fa young Johnie got,\nIt brought him to the ground;\nThe wee pen-knife in Willie\u2019s pocket\nGied him a deadly wound.\n49C.4 \u2018Tak aff, tak aff, my holland sark,\nAnd rive it frae gore to gore,\nAnd stap it in my bleeding wounds,\nThey\u2019ll aiblins bleed noe more.\u2019\n49C.5 He pouit aff his holland sark,\nAnd rave it frae gore to gore,\nAnd stapt it in his bleeding wounds,\nBut ay they bled the more.\n49C.6 \u2018O brither, tak me on your back,\nAnd bear me hence away,\nAnd carry me to Chester kirk,\nAnd lay me in the clay.\u2019\n49C.7 \u2018What will I say to your father,\nThis night when I return?\u2019\n\u2018Tell him I\u2019m gane to Chester scule,\nAnd tell him no to murn.\u2019\n49C.8 \u2018What will I say to your mother,\nThis nicht whan I gae hame?\u2019\n\u2018She wishd afore I cam awa\nThat I might neer gae hame.\u2019\n49C.9 \u2018What will I say to your true-love,\nThis nicht when I gae hame?\u2019\n\u2018Tell her I\u2019m dead and in my grave,\nFor her dear sake alane.\u2019\n49C.10 He took him upon his back\nAnd bore him hence away,\nAnd carried him to Chester kirk,\nAnd laid him in the clay.\n49C.11 He laid him in the cauld cauld clay,\nAnd he cuirt him wi a stane,\nAnd he\u2019s awa to his fathers ha,\nSae dowilie alane.\n49C.12 \u2018You\u2019re welcome, dear son,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018You\u2019re welcome hame to me;\nBut what\u2019s come o your brither John,\nThat gade awa wi thee?\u2019\n49C.13 \u2018Oh he\u2019s awa to Chester scule,\nA scholar he\u2019ll return;\nHe bade me tell his father dear\nAbout him no to murn.\u2019\n49C.14 \u2018You\u2019re welcome hame, dear son,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018You\u2019re welcome hame to me;\nBut what\u2019s come o your brither John,\nThat gade awa wi thee?\u2019\n49C.15 \u2018He bade me tell his mother dear,\nThis nicht when I cam hame,\nYe wisht before he gade awa,\nThat he might neer return.\u2019\n49C.16 Then next came up his true-love dear,\nAnd heavy was her moan;\n\u2018You\u2019re welcome hame, dear Will,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018But whare\u2019s your brither John?\u2019\n49C.17 \u2018O lady, cease your trouble now,\nO cease your heavy moan;\nHe\u2019s dead and in the cauld cauld clay,\nFor your dear sake alone.\u2019\n49C.18 She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht,\nShe wept the sma brids frae the tree,\nShe wept the starns adoun frae the lift,\nShe wept the fish out o the sea.\n49C.19 \u2018O cease your weeping, my ain true-love,\nYe but disturb my rest;\u2019\n\u2018Is that my ain true lover John,\nThe man that I loe best?\u2019\n49C.20 \u2018\u2019Tis naething but my ghaist,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018That\u2019s sent to comfort thee;\nO cease your weeping, my true-love,\nAnd \u2019twill gie peace to me.\u2019\n49D: The Twa Brothers\n49D.1 \u2018O WILL ye gae to the school, brother?\nOr will ye gae to the ba?\nOr will ye gae to the wood a-warslin,\nTo see whilk o\u2019s maun fa?\u2019\n49D.2 \u2018It\u2019s I winna gae to the school, brother,\nNor will I gae to the ba;\nBut I will gae to the wood a-warslin,\nAnd it is you maun fa.\u2019\n49D.3 They warstled up, they warstled down,\nThe lee-lang simmer\u2019s day;\n. . . . .\n. . . .\n49D.4 \u2018O lift me up upon your back,\nTak me to yon wall fair;\nYou\u2019ll wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,\nAnd syne they\u2019ll bleed nae mair.\n49D.5 \u2018And ye\u2019ll tak aff my hollin sark,\nAnd riv\u2019t frae gair to gair;\nYe\u2019ll stap it in my bluidy wounds,\nAnd syne they\u2019ll bleed nae mair.\u2019\n49D.6 He\u2019s liftit his brother upon his back,\nTaen him to yon wall fair;\nHe\u2019s washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer,\nBut ay they bled mair and mair.\n49D.7 And he\u2019s taen aff his hollin sark,\nAnd riven\u2019t frae gair to gair;\nHe\u2019s stappit it in his bluidy wounds,\nBut ay they bled mair and mair.\n49D.8 \u2018Ye\u2019ll lift me up upon your back,\nTak me to Kirkland fair;\nYe\u2019ll mak my greaf baith braid and lang,\nAnd lay my body there.\n49D.9 Ye\u2019ll lay my arrows at my head,\nMy bent bow at my feet,\nMy sword and buckler at my side,\nAs I was wont to sleep.\n49D.10 \u2018Whan ye gae hame to your father,\nHe\u2019ll speer for his son John:\nSay, ye left him into Kirkland fair,\nLearning the school alone.\n49D.11 \u2018When ye gae hame to my sister,\nShe\u2019ll speer for her brother John:\nYe\u2019ll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,\nThe green grass growin aboon.\n49D.12 \u2018Whan ye gae hame to my true-love,\nShe\u2019ll speer for her lord John:\nYe\u2019ll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,\nBut hame ye fear he\u2019ll never come.\u2019\n49D.13 He\u2019s gane hame to his father;\nHe speered for his son John:\n\u2018It\u2019s I left him into Kirkland fair,\nLearning the school alone.\u2019\n49D.14 And whan he gaed hame to his sister,\nShe speered for her brother John:\n\u2018It\u2019s I left him into Kirkland fair,\nThe green grass growin aboon.\u2019\n49D.15 And whan he gaed home to his true-love,\nShe speerd for her lord John:\n\u2018It\u2019s I left him into Kirkland fair,\nAnd hame I fear he\u2019ll never come.\u2019\n49D.16 \u2018But whaten bluid\u2019s that on your sword, Willie?\nSweet Willie, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018O it is the bluid o my grey hounds,\nThey wadna rin for me.\u2019\n49D.17 \u2018It\u2019s nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie,\nTheir bluid was never so red;\nBut it is the bluid o my true-love,\nThat ye hae slain indeed.\u2019\n49D.18 That fair may wept, that fair may mournd,\nThat fair may mournd and pin\u2019d:\n\u2018When every lady looks for her love,\nI neer need look for mine.\u2019\n49D.19 \u2018O whaten a death will ye die, Willie?\nNow, Willie, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018Ye\u2019ll put me in a bottomless boat,\nAnd I\u2019ll gae sail the sea.\u2019\n49D.20 \u2018Whan will ye come hame again, Willie?\nNow, Willie, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018Whan the sun and moon dances on the green,\nAnd that will never be.\u2019\n49E: The Twa Brothers\n49E.1 THERE were twa brothers at the scule,\nAnd when they got awa,\n\u2018It\u2019s will ye play at the stane-chucking,\nOr will ye play at the ba,\nOr will ye gae up to yon hill head,\nAnd there we\u2019ll warsel a fa?\u2019\n49E.2 \u2018I winna play at the stane-chucking,\nNor will I play at the ba;\nBut I\u2019ll gae up to yon bonnie green hill,\nAnd there we\u2019ll warsel a fa.\u2019\n49E.3 They warsled up, they warsled down,\nTill John fell to the ground;\nA dirk fell out of William\u2019s pouch,\nAnd gave John a deadly wound.\n49E.4 \u2018O lift me upon your back,\nTake me to yon well fair,\nAnd wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,\nAnd they\u2019ll neer bleed nae mair.\u2019\n49E.5 He\u2019s lifted his brother upon his back,\nTaen him to yon well fair;\nHe\u2019s wash\u2019d his bluidy wounds oer and oer,\nBut they bleed ay mair and mair.\n49E.6 \u2018Tak ye aff my holland sark,\nAnd rive it gair by gair,\nAnd row it in my bluidy wounds,\nAnd they\u2019ll neer bleed nae mair.\u2019\n49E.7 He\u2019s taken aff his holland sark,\nAnd torn it gair by gair;\nHe\u2019s rowit it in his bluidy wounds,\nBut they bleed ay mair and mair.\n49E.8 \u2018Tak now aff my green cleiding,\nAnd row me saftly in,\nAnd tak me up to yon kirk-style,\nWhare the grass grows fair and green.\u2019\n49E.9 He\u2019s taken aff the green cleiding,\nAnd rowed him saftly in;\nHe\u2019s laid him down by yon kirk-style,\nWhare the grass grows fair and green.\n49E.10 \u2018What will ye say to your father dear,\nWhen ye gae hame at een?\u2019\n\u2018I\u2019ll say ye\u2019re lying at yon kirk-style,\nWhare the grass grows fair and green.\u2019\n49E.11 \u2018O no, O no, my brother dear,\nO you must not say so;\nBut say that I\u2019m gane to a foreign land,\nWhare nae man does me know.\u2019\n49E.12 When he sat in his father\u2019s chair,\nHe grew baith pale and wan:\n\u2018O what blude\u2019s that upon your brow?\nO dear son, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018It is the blude of my gray steed,\nHe wadna ride wi me.\u2019\n49E.13 \u2018O thy steed\u2019s blude was neer sae red,\nNor eer sae dear to me:\nO what blude\u2019s this upon your cheek?\nO dear son, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018It is the blude of my greyhound,\nHe wadna hunt for me.\u2019\n49E.14 \u2018O thy hound\u2019s blude was neer sae red,\nNor eer sae dear to me:\nO what blude\u2019s this upon your hand?\nO dear son, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018It is the blude of my gay goss-hawk,\nHe wadna flee for me.\u2019\n49E.15 \u2018O thy hawk\u2019s blude was neer sae red,\nNor eer sae dear to me:\nO what blude\u2019s this upon your dirk?\nDear Willie, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018It is the blude of my ae brother,\nO dule and wae is me!\u2019\n49E.16 \u2018O what will ye say to your father?\nDear Willie, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018I\u2019ll saddle my steed, and awa I\u2019ll ride,\nTo dwell in some far countrie.\u2019\n49E.17 \u2018O when will ye come hame again?\nDear Willie, tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018When sun and mune leap on yon hill,\nAnd that will never be.\u2019\n49E.18 She turnd hersel right round about,\nAnd her heart burst into three:\n\u2018My ae best son is deid and gane,\nAnd my tother ane I\u2019ll neer see.\u2019\n49F: The Twa Brothers\n49F.1 THERE were twa brothers in the east,\nWent to the school o Ayr;\nThe one unto the other did say,\nCome let us wrestle here.\n49F.2 They wrestled up and wrestled down,\nTill John fell to the ground;\nThere being a knife in Willie\u2019s pocket,\nGae John his deadly wound.\n49F.3 \u2018O is it for my gold, brother?\nOr for my white monie?\nOr is it for my lands sae braid,\nThat ye hae killed me?\u2019\n49F.4 \u2018It is not for your gold,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Nor for your white monie;\nIt is by the hand o accident\nThat I hae killed thee.\u2019\n49F.5 \u2018Ye\u2019ll take the shirt that\u2019s on my back,\nRive it frae gair to gair,\nAnd try to stop my bloody wounds,\nFor they bleed wonderous sair.\u2019\n49F.6 He\u2019s taen the shirt was on his back,\nReave it frae gare to gare,\nAnd tried to stop his bleeding wounds,\nBut still they bled the mair.\n49F.7 \u2018Ye\u2019ll take me up upon your back,\nCarry me to yon water clear,\nAnd try to stop my bloody wounds,\nFor they run wonderous sair.\u2019\n49F.8 He\u2019s taen him up upon his back,\nCarried him to yon water clear,\nAnd tried to stop his bleeding wounds,\nBut still they bled the mair.\n49F.9 \u2018Ye\u2019ll take me up upon your back,\nCarry me to yon church-yard;\nYe\u2019ll dig a grave baith wide and deep,\nAnd then ye\u2019ll lay me there.\n49F.10 \u2018Ye\u2019ll put a head-stane at my head,\nAnother at my feet,\nLikewise a sod on my breast-bane,\nThe souner I may sleep.\n49F.11 \u2018Whenever my father asks of thee,\nSaying, What\u2019s become of John?\nYe\u2019ll tell frae me, I\u2019m ower the sea,\nFor a cargo of good wine.\n49F.12 \u2018And when my sweetheart asks of thee,\nSaying, What\u2019s become of John?\nYe\u2019ll tell frae me, I\u2019m ower the sea,\nTo buy a wedding gown.\n49F.13 \u2018And when my sister asks of thee,\nSaying, William, where is John?\nYe\u2019ll tell frae me, I\u2019m ower the sea,\nTo learn some merry sang.\n49F.14 \u2018And when my mother asks of thee,\nSaying, William, where is John?\nTell her I\u2019m buried in green Fordland,\nThe grass growing ower my tomb.\u2019\n49F.15 He\u2019s taen him up upon his back,\nCarried him to yon church-yard,\nAnd dug a grave baith wide and deep,\nAnd he was buried there.\n49F.16 He laid a head-stane at his head,\nAnother at his feet,\nAnd laid a green sod on his breast,\nThe souner he might sleep.\n49F.17 His father asked when he came hame,\nSaying, \u2018William, where is John?\u2019\nThen John said, \u2018He is ower the sea,\nTo bring you hame some wine.\u2019\n49F.18 \u2018What blood is this upon you, William,\nAnd looks sae red on thee?\u2019\n\u2018It is the blood o my grey-hound,\nHe woudna run for me.\u2019\n49F.19 \u2018O that\u2019s nae like your grey-hound\u2019s blude,\nWilliam, that I do see;\nI fear it is your own brother\u2019s blood\nThat looks sae red on thee.\u2019\n49F.20 \u2018That is not my own brother\u2019s blude,\nFather, that ye do see;\nIt is the blood o my good grey steed,\nHe woudna carry me.\u2019\n49F.21 \u2018O that is nae your grey steed\u2019s blude,\nWilliam, that I do see;\nIt is the blood o your brother John,\nThat looks sae red on thee.\u2019\n49F.22 \u2018It\u2019s nae the blood o my brother John,\nFather, that ye do see;\nIt is the blude o my good grey hawk,\nBecause he woudna flee.\u2019\n49F.23 \u2018O that is nae your grey hawk\u2019s blood,\nWilliam, that I do see:\u2019\n\u2018Well, it\u2019s the blude o my brother,\nThis country I maun flee.\u2019\n49F.24 \u2018O when will ye come back again,\nMy dear son, tell to me?\u2019\n\u2018When sun and moon gae three times round,\nAnd this will never be.\u2019\n49F.25 \u2018Ohon, alas! now William, my son,\nThis is bad news to me;\nYour brother\u2019s death I\u2019ll aye bewail,\nAnd the absence o thee.\u2019\n49G: The Twa Brothers\n49G.1 AS John and William were coming home one day,\nOne Saturday afternoon,\nSays John to William, Come and try a fight,\nOr will you throw a stone?\nOr will you come down to yonder, yonder town\nWhere the maids are all playing ball, ball, ball,\nWhere the maids are all playing ball?\n49G.2 Says William to John, I will not try a fight,\nNor will I throw a stone,\nNor will I come down to yonder town,\nWhere the maids are all playing ball.\n49G.3 So John took out of his pocket\nA knife both long and sharp,\nAnd stuck it through his brother\u2019s heart,\nAnd the blood came pouring down.\n49G.4 Says John to William, Take off thy shirt,\nAnd tear it from gore to gore,\nAnd wrap it round your bleeding heart,\nAnd the blood will pour no more.\u2019\n49G.5 So John took off his shirt,\nAnd tore it from gore to gore,\nAnd wrapped it round his bleeding heart,\nAnd the blood came pouring more.\n49G.6 \u2018What shall I tell your dear father,\nWhen I go home to-night?\u2019\n\u2018You\u2019ll tell him I\u2019m dead and in my grave,\nFor the truth must be told.\u2019\n49G.7 \u2018What shall I tell your dear mother,\nWhen I go home to-night?\u2019\n\u2018You\u2019ll tell her I\u2019m dead and in my grave,\nFor the truth must be told.\u2019\n49G.8 \u2018How came this blood upon your knife?\nMy son, come tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018It is the blood of a rabbit I have killed,\nO mother, pardon me.\u2019\n49G.9 \u2018The blood of a rabbit couldnt be so pure,\nMy son, come tell to me:\u2019\n\u2018It is the blood of a squirrel I have killed,\nO mother, pardon me.\u2019\n49G.10 \u2018The blood of a squirrel couldnt be so pure,\nMy son, come tell to me:\u2019\n\u2018It is the blood of a brother I have killed,\nO mother, pardon me.\u2019\n49[H]: The Twa Brothers\n49[H].1 Two pretty boys lived in the North,\nThe went to the school so rare;\nThe one unto the other said,\nWe\u2019ll try some battle of war.\n49[H.2] The worselaid up, the worselaid down,\nTill John lay on the ground;\nA pen-knife out of William\u2019s pocket\nGave John a deadly wound.\n49[H.3] \u2018O is it for my gold?\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Or for my rich monie?\nOr is it for my land sa broad,\nThat you have killed me?\u2019\n49[H.4] \u2018It\u2019s neither for your gold,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Or for your rich monie,\nBut it is for your land sa broad\nThat I have killed thee.\u2019\n49[H.5] \u2018You\u2019ll take [me] up upon your back,\nCarry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;\nYou\u2019ill houk a hole large and deep,\nAnd lay my body there.\n49[H.6] \u2018You\u2019ll put a good stone ou my head,\nAnother at me feet,\nA good green turf upon my breast,\nThat the sounder I m[a]y sleep.\n49[H.7] \u2018And if my father chance to ask\nWhat\u2019s come of your brother John,\n. . . . . . .\n. . . . . . . .\n* * * * *\n49[H.8] \u2018What blood is this upon your coat?\nI pray come tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018It is the blood of my grey hound,\nIt would not run for me.\u2019\n49[H.9] \u2018The blood of your greyhound was near so red,\nI pray come tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018It is the blood of my black horse,\nIt would not hunt for me.\u2019\n49[H.10] \u2018The blood of your black horse was near so red,\nI pray come tell to me;\u2019\n\u2018It is the blood of my brother John,\nSince better canna be.\u2019\n* * * * *\n49[H.11] He put his foot upon a ship,\nSaying, I am gane our the sea;\n\u2018O when will you come back again,\nI pray come tell to me.\u2019\n49[H.12] \u2018When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,\nThat[\u2019s] the day you\u2019ll never see.\u2019","title":"The Child Ballads: 49. The Twa Brothers","type":"page"}