{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch052.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch052.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch052.htm","text":"52A.1 THE king\u2019s young dochter was sitting in her window,\nSewing at her silken seam;\nShe lookt out o the bow-window,\nAnd she saw the leaves growing green, my luve,\nAnd she saw the leaves growing green.\n52A.2 She stuck her needle into her sleeve,\nHer seam down by her tae,\nAnd she is awa to the merrie green-wood,\nTo pu the nit and slae.\n52A.3 She hadna pu\u2019t a nit at a\u2019,\nA nit but scarcely three,\nTill out and spak a braw young man,\nSaying, How daur ye bow the tree?\n52A.4 \u2018It\u2019s I will pu the nit,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018And I will bow the tree,\nAnd I will come to the merrie green wud,\nAnd na ax leive o thee.\u2019\n52A.5 He took her by the middle sae sma,\nAnd laid her on the gerss sae green,\nAnd he has taen his will o her,\nAnd he loot her up agen.\n52A.6 \u2018Now syn ye hae got your will o me,\nPray tell to me your name;\nFor I am the king\u2019s young dochter,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018And this nicht I daurna gang hame.\u2019\n52A.7 \u2018Gif ye be the king\u2019s dochter,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018I am his auldest son;\nI wish I had died on some frem isle,\nAnd never had come hame!\n52A.8 \u2018The first time I came hame, Jeanie,\nThou was na here nor born;\nI wish my pretty ship had sunk,\nAnd I had been forlorn!\n52A.9 \u2018The neist time I came hame, Jeanie,\nThou was sittin on the nourice knee;\nAnd I wish my pretty ship had sunk,\nAnd I had never seen thee!\n52A.10 \u2018And the neist time I came hame, Jeanie,\nI met thee here alane;\nI wish my pretty ship had sunk,\nAnd I had neer come hame!\u2019\n52A.11 She put her hand down by her side,\nAnd doun into her spare,\nAnd she pou\u2019t out a wee pen-knife,\nAnd she wounded hersell fu sair.\n52A.12 Hooly, hooly rase she up,\nAnd hooly she gade hame,\nUntil she came to her father\u2019s parlour,\nAnd there she did sick and mane.\n52A.13 \u2018O sister, sister, mak my bed,\nO the clean sheets and strae,\nO sister, sister, mak my bed,\nDown in the parlour below.\u2019\n52A.14 Her father he came tripping down the stair,\nHis steps they were fu slow;\n\u2018I think, I think, Lady Jean,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Ye\u2019re lying far ower low.\u2019\n52A.15 \u2018O late yestreen, as I came hame,\nDown by yon castil wa,\nO heavy, heavy was the stane\nThat on my briest did fa!\u2019\n52A.16 Her mother she came tripping doun the stair,\nHer steps they were fu slow;\n\u2018I think, I think, Lady Jean,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018Ye\u2019re lying far ower low.\u2019\n52A.17 \u2018O late yestreen, as I cam hame,\nDown by yon castil wa,\nO heavy, heavy was the stane\nThat on my breast did fa!\u2019\n52A.18 Her sister came tripping doun the stair,\nHer steps they were fu slow;\n\u2018I think, I think, Lady Jean,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018Ye\u2019re lying far ower low.\u2019\n\u2018O late yestreen, as I cam hame,\nDoun by yon castil wa,\nO heavy, heavy was the stane\nThat on my breast did fa!\u2019\n52A.19 Her brither he cam trippin doun the stair,\nHis steps they were fu slow;\nHe sank into his sister\u2019s arms,\nAnd they died as white as snaw.\n52B: The King\u2019s Dochter Lady Jean\n52B.1 LADY MARGARET sits in her bow-window,\nSewing her silken seam;\n. . . . . .\n. . . . .\n52B.2 She\u2019s drapt the thimble at her tae,\nAnd her scissars at her heel,\nAnd she\u2019s awa to the merry green-wood,\nTo see the leaves grow green.\n52B.3 She had scarsely bowed a branch,\nOr plucked a nut frae the tree,\nTill up and starts a fair young man,\nAnd a fair young man was he.\n52B.4 \u2018How dare ye shake the leaves?\u2019 he said,\n\u2018How dare ye break the tree?\nHow dare ye pluck the nuts,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Without the leave of me?\u2019\n52B.5 . . . . . .\n. . . . .\n\u2018Oh I know the merry green wood\u2019s my ain,\nAnd I\u2019ll ask the leave of nane.\u2019\n52B.6 He gript her by the middle sae sma,\nHe gently sat her down,\nWhile the grass grew up on every side,\nAnd the apple trees hang down.\n52B.7 She says, Young man, what is your name?\nFor ye\u2019ve brought me to meikle shame;\nFor I am the king\u2019s youngest daughter,\nAnd how shall I gae hame?\n52B.8 \u2018If you\u2019re the king\u2019s youngest daughter,\nIt\u2019s I\u2019m his auldest son,\nAnd heavy heavy is the deed, sister,\nThat you and I have done.\u2019\n52B.9 He had a penknife in his hand,\nHang low down by his gair,\nAnd between the long rib and the short one\nHe woundit her deep and sair.\n52B.10 . . . . . .\n. . . . .\nAnd fast and fast her ruddy bright blood\nFell drapping on the ground.\n52B.11 She took the glove off her right hand,\nAnd slowly slipt it in the wound,\nAnd slowly has she risen up,\nAnd slowly slipped home.\n* * * * *\n52B.12 \u2018O sister dear, when thou gaes hame\nUnto thy father\u2019s ha,\nIt\u2019s make my bed baith braid and lang,\nWi the sheets as white as snaw.\u2019\n* * * * *\n52B.13 \u2018When I came by the high church-yard\nHeavy was the stain that bruised my heel,\n. . . . . . . that bruised my heart,\nI\u2019m afraid it shall neer heal.\u2019\n* * * * *\n52C: The King\u2019s Dochter Lady Jean\n52C.1 AS Annie sat into her bower,\nA thought came in her head,\nThat she would gang to gude greenwood,\nAcross the flowery mead.\n52C.2 She hadna pu\u2019d a flower, a flower,\nNor broken a branch but twa,\nTill by it came a gentle squire,\nSays, Lady, come awa.\n52C.3 There\u2019s nane that comes to gude greenwood\nBut pays to me a tein,\nAnd I maun hae your maidenhead,\nOr than your mantle green.\n52C.4 \u2018My mantle\u2019s o the finest silk,\nAnither I can spin;\nBut gin you take my maidenhead,\nThe like I\u2019ll never fin.\u2019\n52C.5 He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\nAnd by the grass-green sleeve,\nThere laid her low in gude greenwood,\nAnd at her spierd nae leave.\n52C.6 When he had got his wills o her,\nHis wills as he had taen,\nShe said, If you rightly knew my birth,\nYe\u2019d better letten alane.\n52C.7 \u2018Is your father a lord o might?\nOr baron o high degree?\nOr what race are ye sprung frae,\nThat I should lat ye be?\u2019\n52C.8 \u2018O I am Castle Ha\u2019s daughter,\nO birth and high degree,\nAnd if he knows what ye hae done,\nHe\u2019ll hang you on a tree.\u2019\n52C.9 \u2018If ye be Castle Ha\u2019s daughter,\nThis day I am undone;\nIf ye be Castle Ha\u2019s daughter,\nI am his only son.\u2019\n52C.10 \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye jelly hind squire,\nSae loud as I hear you lie,\nCastle Ha, he has but ae dear son,\nAnd he is far beyond the sea.\u2019\n52C.11 \u2018O I am Castle Ha\u2019s dear son,\nA word I dinna lie;\nYes, I am Castle Ha\u2019s dear son,\nAnd new come oer the sea.\n52C.12 \u2018\u2019Twas yesterday, that fatal day,\nThat I did cross the faem;\nI wish my bonny ship had sunk,\nAnd I had neer come hame.\u2019\n52C.13 Then dowie, dowie, raise she up,\nAnd dowie came she hame,\nAnd stripped aff her silk mantle,\nAnd then to bed she\u2019s gane.\n52C.14 Then in it came her mother dear,\nAnd she steps in the fleer:\n\u2018Win up, win up, now fair Annie,\nWhat makes your lying here?\u2019\n52C.15 \u2018This morning fair, as I went out,\nNear by yon castle wa,\nGreat and heavy was the stane\nThat on my foot did fa.\u2019\n52C.16 \u2018Hae I nae ha\u2019s, hae I nae bowers,\nTowers, or mony a town?\nWill not these cure your bonny foot,\nGar you gae hale and soun?\u2019\n52C.17 \u2018Ye hae ha\u2019s, and ye hae bowers,\nAnd towers, and mony a town,\nBut nought will cure my bonny foot,\nGar me gang hale and soun.\u2019\n52C.18 Then in it came her father dear,\nAnd he trips in the fleer:\n\u2018Win up, win up, now fair Annie,\nWhat makes your lying here?\u2019\n52C.19 \u2018This morning fair, as I went out,\nNear by yon castle wa,\nGreat and heavy was the stane\nThat on my foot did fa.\u2019\n52C.20 \u2018Hae I nae ha\u2019s, hae I nae bowers,\nAnd towers, and mony a town?\nWill not these cure your bonny foot,\nGar you gang hale and soun?\u2019\n52C.21 \u2018O ye hae ha\u2019s, and ye hae bowers,\nAnd towers, and mony a town,\nBut nought will cure my bonny foot,\nGar me gang hale and soun.\u2019\n52C.22 Then in it came her sister Grace;\nAs she steps in the fleer,\n\u2018Win up, win up, now fair Annie,\nWhat makes your lying here?\n52C.23 \u2018Win up, and see your ae brother,\nThat\u2019s new come ower the sea;\u2019\n\u2018Ohon, alas!\u2019 says fair Annie,\n\u2018He spake ower soon wi me.\u2019\n52C.24 To her room her brother\u2019s gane,\nStroked back her yellow hair,\nTo her lips his ain did press,\nBut words spake never mair.\n52D: The King\u2019s Dochter Lady Jean\n52D.1 THE lady\u2019s taen her mantle her middle about,\nInto the woods she\u2019s gane,\n. . . . . .\n. . . . .\n52D.2 She hadna poud a flower o gude green-wood,\nO never a flower but ane,\nTill by he comes, an by he gangs,\nSays, Lady, lat alane.\n52D.3 For I am forester o this wood,\nAnd I hae power to pine\nYour mantle or your maidenhead,\nWhich o the twa ye\u2019ll twine.\n52D.4 \u2018My mantle is o gude green silk,\nAnother I can card an spin;\nBut gin ye tak my maidenhead,\nThe like I\u2019ll never fin.\u2019\n52D.5 He\u2019s taen her by the milk-white hand,\nAnd by the grass-green sleeve,\nAnd laid her low at the foot o a tree,\nAt her high kin spierd nae leave.\n52D.6 \u2018I am bold Burnet\u2019s ae daughter,\nYou might hae lat me be:\u2019\n\u2018And I\u2019m bold Burnet\u2019s ae dear son,\nThen dear! how can this dee?\u2019\n52D.7 \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye jolly hind squire,\nSo loud\u2019s I hear you lie!\nBold Burnet has but ae dear son,\nHe\u2019s sailing on the sea.\u2019\n52D.8 \u2018Yesterday, about this same time,\nMy bonny ship came to land;\nI wish she\u2019d sunken in the sea,\nAnd never seen the strand!\n52D.9 \u2018Heal well this deed on me, lady,\nHeal well this deed on me!\u2019\n\u2018Although I would heal it neer sae well,\nOur God above does see.\u2019\n52D.10 She\u2019s taen her mantle her middle about,\nAnd mourning went she hame,\nAnd a\u2019 the way she sighd full sair,\nCrying, Am I to blame!\n52D.11 Ben it came her father dear,\nStout stepping on the flear:\n\u2018Win up, win up, my daughter Janet,\nAnd welcome your brother here.\u2019\n52D.12 Up she\u2019s taen her milk-white hand,\nStreakd by his yellow hair,\nThen turnd about her bonny face,\nAnd word spake never mair.","title":"The Child Ballads: 52. The King's Dochter Lady Jean","type":"page"}