{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch068.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch068.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch068.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 68A: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68A.1\tO LADY, rock never your young son young\n One hour longer for me,\n For I have a sweetheart in Garlick\u2019s Wells\n I love thrice better than thee.\n 68A.2\t\u2018The very sols of my love\u2019s feet\n Is whiter then thy face:\u2019\n \u2018But nevertheless na, Young Hunting,\n Ye\u2019l stay wi me all night.\u2019\n 68A.3\tShe has birld in him Young Hunting\n The good ale and the beer,\n Till he was as fou drunken\n As any wild-wood steer.\n 68A.4\tShe has birld in him Young Hunting\n The good ale and the wine,\n Till he was as fou drunken\n As any wild-wood swine.\n 68A.5\tUp she has tain him Young Hunting,\n And she has had him to her bed,\n . . . . .\n . . . . .\n 68A.6\tAnd she has minded her on a little penknife,\n That hangs low down by her gare,\n And she has gin him Young Hunting\n A deep wound and a sare.\n 68A.7\tOut an spake the bonny bird,\n That flew abon her head:\n \u2018Lady, keep well thy green clothing\n Fra that good lord\u2019s blood.\u2019\n 68A.8\t\u2018O better I\u2019ll keep my green clothing\n Fra that good lord\u2019s blood\n Nor thou can keep thy flattering toung,\n That flatters in thy head.\n 68A.9\t\u2018Light down, light down, my bonny bird,\n Light down upon my hand,\n . . . . . .\n . . . . .\n 68A.10\t\u2018O siller, O siller shall be thy hire,\n An goud shall be thy fee,\n An every month into the year,\n Thy cage shall changed be.\u2019\n 68A.11\t\u2018I winna light down, I shanna light down,\n I winna light on thy hand;\n For soon, soon wad ye do to me\n As ye done to Young Hunting.\u2019\n 68A.12\tShe has booted an spird him Young Hunting\n As he had been gan to ride,\n A hunting-horn about his neck,\n An the sharp sourd by his side.\n 68A.13\tAnd she has had him to yon wan water,\n For a\u2019 man calls it Clyde,\n . . . . .\n . . . . .\n 68A.14\tThe deepest pot intill it all\n She has puten Young Hunting in;\n A green truff upon his breast,\n To hold that good lord down.\n 68A.15\tIt fell once upon a day\n The king was going to ride,\n And he sent for him Young Hunting,\n To ride on his right side.\n 68A.16\tShe has turnd her right and round about,\n She sware now by the corn,\n \u2018I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,\n Sen yesterday at morn.\u2019\n 68A.17\tShe has turnd her right and round about,\n She swear now by the moon,\n \u2018I saw na thy son, Young Hunting,\n Sen yesterday at noon.\n 68A.18\t\u2018It fears me sair in Clyde Water\n That he is drownd therein:\u2019\n O thay ha sent for the king\u2019s duckers,\n To duck for Young Hunting.\n 68A.19\tThey ducked in at the tae water-bank,\n Thay ducked out at the tither:\n \u2018We\u2019ll duck no more for Young Hunting,\n All tho he wear our brother.\u2019\n 68A.20\tOut an spake the bonny bird,\n That flew abon their heads,\n . . . . .\n . . . . .\n 68A.21\t\u2018O he\u2019s na drownd in Clyde Water,\n He is slain and put therein;\n The lady that lives in yon castil\n Slew him and put him in.\n 68A.22\t\u2018Leave aff your ducking on the day,\n And duck upon the night;\n Whear ever that sakeless knight lys slain,\n The candels will shine bright.\u2019\n 68A.23\tThay left off their ducking o the day,\n And ducked upon the night,\n And where that sakeless knight lay slain,\n The candles shone full bright.\n 68A.24\tThe deepest pot intill it a\u2019\n Thay got Young Hunting in;\n A green turff upon his brest,\n To hold that good lord down.\n 68A.25\tO thay ha sent aff men to the wood\n To hew down baith thorn an fern,\n That they might get a great bonefire\n To burn that lady in.\n \u2018Put na the wyte on me,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018It was her May Catheren.\u2019\n 68A.26\tWhan thay had tane her May Catheren,\n In the bonefire set her in;\n It wad na take upon her cheeks,\n Nor take upon her chin,\n Nor yet upon her yallow hair,\n To healle the deadly sin.\n 68A.27\tOut they hae tain her May Catheren,\n And they hay put that lady in;\n O it took upon her cheek, her cheek,\n An it took upon her chin,\n An it took on her fair body,\n She burnt like hoky-gren.\n \n \n \n 68B: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68B.1\tYOUNG REDINRR\u2019rrS til the huntin gane,\n Wi therty lords and three;\n And he has til his true-love gane,\n As fast as he could hie.\n 68B.2\t\u2018Ye\u2019re welcome here, my Young Redin,\n For coal and candle-licht;\n And sae are ye, my Young Redin,\n To bide wi me the nicht.\u2019\n 68B.3\t\u2018I thank ye for your licht, ladie,\n Sae do I for your coal;\n But there\u2019s thrice as fair a ladie as thee\n Meets me at Brandie\u2019s Well.\u2019\n 68B.4\tWhan they war at their supper set,\n And merrily drinking wine,\n This ladie has tane a sair sickness,\n And til her bed has gane.\n 68B.5\tYoung Redin he has followed her,\n And a dowie man was he;\n He fund his true-love in her bouer,\n And the tear was in her ee.\n 68B.6\tWhan he was in her arms laid,\n And gieing her kisses sweet,\n Then out she\u2019s tane a little penknife,\n And woundid him sae deep.\n 68B.7\t\u2018O lang, lang is the winter nicht,\n And slawly daws the day;\n There is a slain knicht in my bouer,\n And I wish he war away.\u2019\n 68B.8\tThen up bespak her bouer-woman,\n And she spak ae wi spite:\n \u2018An there be a slain knicht in your bouer,\n It\u2019s yoursell that has the wyte.\u2019\n 68B.9\t\u2018O heal this deed on me, Meggy,\n O heal this deed on me;\n The silks that war shapen for me gen Pasche,\n They sall be sewed for thee.\u2019\n 68B.10\t\u2018O I hae heald on my mistress\n A twalmonth and a day,\n And I hae heald on my mistress\n Mair than I can say.\u2019\n * * * * *\n 68B.11\tThey\u2019ve booted him, and they\u2019ve spurred him,\n As he was wont to ride,\n A huntin-horn round his neck,\n And a sharp sword by his side;\n In the deepest place o Clyde\u2019s Water,\n It\u2019s there they\u2019ve made his bed.\n 68B.12\tSine up bespak the wylie parrot,\n As he sat on the tree:\n \u2018And hae ye killd him Young Redin,\n Wha neer had love but thee?\u2019\n 68B.13\t\u2018Come doun, come doun, ye wylie parrot,\n Come doun into my hand;\n Your cage sall be o the beaten gowd,\n Whan now it\u2019s but the wand.\u2019\n 68B.14\t\u2018I winna come doun, I canna come doun,\n I winna come doun to thee;\n For as ye\u2019ve dune to Young Redin,\n Ye\u2019ll do the like to me;\n Ye\u2019ll thraw my head aff my hause-bane,\n And throw me in the sea.\u2019\n 68B.15\tO there cam seekin Young Redin\n Mony a lord and knicht,\n And there cam seekin Young Redin\n Mony a ladie bricht.\n 68B.16\tAnd they\u2019ve til his true-love gane,\n Thinking he was wi her;\n . . . . . .\n . . . . .\n 68B.17\t\u2018I hae na seen him Young Redin\n Sin yesterday at noon;\n He turnd his stately steed about,\n And hied him throw the toun.\n 68B.18\t\u2018But ye\u2019ll seek Clyde\u2019s Water up and doun,\n Ye\u2019ll seek it out and in;\n I hae na seen him Young Redin\n Sin yesterday at noon.\u2019\n 68B.19\tThen up bespak Young Redin\u2019s mither,\n And a dowie woman was scho:\n \u2018There\u2019s na a place in Clyde\u2019s Water\n But my son wad gae throw.\u2019\n 68B.20\tThey\u2019ve sought Clyde\u2019s Water up and doun,\n They\u2019ve sought it out and in,\n And the deepest place in Clyde\u2019s Water\n They\u2019ve fund Young Redin in.\n 68B.21\tO white, white war his wounds washen,\n As white as a linen clout;\n But as the traitor she cam near,\n His wounds they gushit out.\n 68B.22\t\u2018It\u2019s surely been my bouer-woman,\n O ill may her betide!\n I neer wad slain him Young Redin,\n And thrown him in the Clyde.\u2019\n 68B.23\tThen they\u2019ve made a big bane-fire,\n The bouer-woman to brin;\n It tuke not on her cheek, her cheek,\n It tuke not on her chin,\n But it tuke on the cruel hands\n That pat Young Redin in.\n 68B.24\tThen They\u2019ve tane out the bouer-woman,\n And pat the ladie in;\n It tuke na on her cheek, her cheek,\n It tuke na on her chin,\n But it tuke on the fause, fause arms\n That Young Redin lay in.\n \n \n \n 68C: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68C.1\tThe ladie stude in her bour-door,\n In her bour-door as she stude,\n She thocht she heard a bridle ring,\n That did her bodie gude.\n 68C.2\tShe thocht it had been her father dear,\n Come ridin owre the sand;\n But it was her true-love Riedan,\n Come hiean to her hand.\n 68C.3\t\u2018You\u2019re welcome, you\u2019re welcome, Young Riedan,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018To coal an cannel-licht;\n You\u2019re welcome, you\u2019re welcome, Young Riedan,\n To sleep in my bour this nicht.\u2019\n 68C.4\t\u2018I thank you for your coal, madame,\n An for your cannel tae;\n There\u2019s a fairer maid at Clyde\u2019s Water,\n I love better than you.\u2019\n 68C.5\t\u2018A fairer maid than me, Riedan?\n A fairer maid than me?\n A fairer maid than ten o me\n You shurely neer did see.\u2019\n 68C.6\tHe leant him owre his saddle-bow,\n To gie her a kiss sae sweet;\n She keppit him on a little penknife,\n An gae him a wound sae deep.\n 68C.7\t\u2018O hide! oh hide! my bourswoman,\n Oh hide this deed on me!\n An the silks that waur shappit for me at Yule\n At Pasch sall be sewed for thee.\u2019\n 68C.8\tThey saidled Young Riedan, they bridled Young Riedan,\n The way he was wont to ride;\n Wi a huntin-horn aboot his neck,\n An a sharp sword by his side.\n 68C.9\tAn they are on to Clyde\u2019s Water,\n An they rade it up an doon,\n An the deepest linn in a\u2019 Clyde\u2019s Water\n They flang him Young Riedan [in].\n 68C.10\t\u2018Lie you there, you Young Riedan,\n Your bed it is fu wan;\n The [maid] you hae at Clyde\u2019s Water,\n For you she will think lang.\u2019\n 68C.11\tUp it spak the wily bird,\n As it sat on the tree:\n \u2018Oh wae betide you, ill woman,\n An an ill death may you dee!\n For he had neer anither love,\n Anither love but thee.\u2019\n 68C.12\t\u2018Come doon, come doon, my pretty parrot,\n An pickle wheat aff my glue;\n An your cage sall be o the beaten goud,\n Whan it\u2019s of the willow tree.\u2019\n 68C.13\t\u2018I winna come doon, I sanna come doon,\n To siccan a traitor as thee:\n For as you did to Young Riedan,\n Sae wald you do to mee.\u2019\n 68C.14\tCome doon, come doon, my pretty parrot,\n An pickle wheat aff my hand;\n An your cage sall be o the beaten goud,\n Whan it\u2019s o the willow wand.\u2019\n 68C.15\t\u2018I winna come doon, I sanna come doon,\n To siccan a traitor as thee;\n You wald thraw my head aff my hase-bane,\n An fling it in the sea.\u2019\n 68C.16\tIt fell upon a Lammas-tide\n The king\u2019s court cam ridin bye:\n \u2018Oh whare is it him Young Riedan?\n It\u2019s fain I wald him see.\u2019\n 68C.17\t\u2018Oh I hae no seen Young Riedan\n Sin three lang weeks the morn;\n It bodes me sair, and drieds me mair,\n Clyde\u2019s Water\u2019s him forlorn.\u2019\n 68C.18\tUp it spak the wily bird,\n As it sat on the tree;\n . . . . .\n . . . . .\n 68C.19\t\u2018Leave aff, leave aff your day-seekin,\n An ye maun seek by nicht;\n Aboon the place Young Riedan lies,\n The cannels burn bricht.\u2019\n 68C.20\tThey gae up their day-seekin,\n An they did seek by nicht;\n An ower the place Young Riedan lay,\n The cannels burnt bricht.\n 68C.21\tThe firsten grip his mother got\n Was o his yellow hair;\n An was na that a dowie grip,\n To get her ae son there!\n 68C.22\tThe nexten grip his mother got\n Was o his milk-white hand;\n An wasna that a dowie grip,\n To bring sae far to land!\n 68C.23\tWhite, white waur his wounds washen,\n As white as ony lawn;\n But sune\u2019s the traitor stude afore,\n Then oot the red blude sprang.\n * * * * *\n 68C.24\tFire wadna tak on her bourswoman,\n Niether on cheek nor chin;\n But it took fast on thae twa hands\n That flang young Riedan in.\n 68C.25\t\u2018Come oot, come oot, my bourswoman,\n Come oot, lat me win in;\n For as I did the deed mysell,\n Sae man I drie the pine.\u2019\n \n \n \n 68D: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68D.1\tEARL RICHARD has a hunting gone,\n As fast as he can ride;\n He\u2019s a hunting-horn about his neck,\n And a broadsword by his side.\n 68D.2\t\u2018Licht down, licht down, Earl Richard,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018O licht down and come in,\n And thou\u2019ll get cheer and charcoal clear,\n And torches for to burn.\u2019\n 68D.3\t\u2018I winna licht, I canna licht,\n I winna licht at all;\n A fairer lady then ten of thee\n Meets me at Richard\u2019s Wall.\u2019\n 68D.4\tHe louted owre his saddle-bow,\n And for to kiss her sweet,\n But little thocht o that penknife\n Wherewith she wound him deep.\n 68D.5\t\u2018Why wounds thou me so deep, lady?\n Why stabs thou me so sore?\n There\u2019s not a lord like Earl Richard\n Could love false woman more.\u2019\n 68D.6\tShe called upon her waiting-maid,\n Long before it was day:\n \u2018I have a dead man in my bower,\n I wish he were away.\u2019\n 68D.7\t\u2018Keep ye your bower, my lily-flower,\n Keep it free of all men\u2019s blood;\u2019\n \u2018Oh I will keep it een as weel\n As you or any maid.\n 68D.8\t\u2018But siller will be thy wage,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018And gold will be thy fee,\n And I mysell will gang alang\n And bear thee companye.\u2019\n 68D.9\tThey booted him, and spurred him,\n As he was wont to ride,\n And they\u2019re awa to Lorn\u2019s Water,\n To Lorn\u2019s Water so wide.\n 68D.10\tThey turned down his yellow hair,\n Turnd up his milk-white feet:\n \u2018Lye thou there, Earl Richard,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018Till the blood seep from thy bane;\n That fairer maid than ten of me\n Will look lang or thou come hame.\u2019\n 68D.11\tAs they were coming hame again,\n Upon the road so hie,\n There they spy\u2019d a small pyet,\n Was sitting on a tree.\n 68D.12\t\u2018Where has thou been, fair lady?\u2019 it says,\n \u2018Whare has thou been so soon?\n Or what did thou wi Earl Richard,\n Was late wi thee yestreen?\u2019\n 68D.13\t\u2018Come down, come down, my wee pyet;\n An thou\u2019ll come to my knee,\n I have a cage of beaten gold,\n And I\u2019ll bestow \u2019t on thee.\u2019\n 68D.14\t\u2018Keep thou thy cage of beaten gold,\n And I will keep my tree;\n For as thou did wi Earl Richard,\n So wad thou do wi me;\n Thou wad thraw the wee head aff my bouk,\n And drown me in the sea.\u2019\n 68D.15\t\u2018Come down, come down, my wee pyet;\n An thou\u2019ll come to my hand,\n I have a cage of beaten gold,\n And thou\u2019s be put therein.\u2019\n 68D.16\t\u2018Keep thou thy cage o beaten gold,\n And I will keep my tree;\n For as thou did wi Earl Richard,\n So would thou do wi me.\u2019\n 68D.17\t\u2018Oh an I had my bow bendit,\n And set unto my knee,\n I wad shoot this wee pyet\n Sits gabbling on the tree.\u2019\n 68D.18\t\u2018Before thou get thy bow bendit,\n And set unto thy knee,\n I\u2019ll be at Earl Richard\u2019s father,\n Telling ill tales on thee.\u2019\n 68D.19\tAs they were coming hame again,\n Upon the road so bricht,\n There they saw Earl Richard\u2019s father,\n Coming marching in their sicht.\n 68D.20\t\u2018Whare has thou been, fair lady?\u2019 he says,\n \u2018Whare has thou been back sae sune?\n O what did thou wi my auld son,\n Was late wi thee yestreen?\u2019\n 68D.21\tShe did swear by stars o licht,\n And grass-green growing corn,\n That she had not seen Earl Richard\u2019s face\n Since Saturday at morn;\n \u2018But in Lorn\u2019s Water, indeed,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018I fear his days are done.\u2019\n 68D.22\t\u2018There was not a ford in Lorn\u2019s Water\n But he could ride it weel;\n And what did thou wi my auld son,\n That went with thee afield?\u2019\n * * * * *\n \n \n \n 68E: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68E.1\tLORD WILLIAM was the bravest knight\n That dwalt in fair Scotland,\n And, though renowned in France and Spain,\n Fell by a ladie\u2019s hand.\n 68E.2\tAs she was walking maid alone,\n Down by yon shady wood,\n She heard a smit o bridle reins,\n She wishd might be for good.\n 68E.3\t\u2018Come to my arms, my dear Willie,\n You\u2019re welcome hame to me;\n To best o chear and charcoal red,\n And candle burnin free.\u2019\n 68E.4\t\u2018I winna light, I darena light,\n Nor come to your arms at a\u2019;\n A fairer maid than ten o you\n I\u2019ll meet at Castle-law.\u2019\n 68E.5\t\u2018A fairer maid than me, Willie?\n A fairer maid than me?\n A fairer maid than ten o me\n Your eyes did never see.\u2019\n 68E.6\tHe louted owr his saddle-lap\n To kiss here ere they part,\n And wi a little keen bodkin,\n She pierced him to the heart.\n 68E.7\t\u2018Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,\n As fast as ye can dree;\n Your bonny lass at Castle-law\n Will weary you to see.\u2019\n 68E.8\tOut up then spake a bonny bird,\n Sat high upon a tree:\n \u2018How could you kill that noble lord?\n He came to marry thee.\u2019\n 68E.9\t\u2018Come down, come down, my bonny bird,\n And eat bread aff my hand;\n Your cage shall be of wiry goud,\n Whar now it\u2019s but the wand.\u2019\n 68E.10\t\u2018Keep ye your cage o goud, lady,\n And I will keep my tree;\n As ye hae done to Lord William,\n Sae wad ye do to me.\u2019\n 68E.11\tShe set her foot on her door-step,\n A bonny marble stane,\n And carried him to her chamber,\n Oer him to make her mane.\n 68E.12\tAnd she has kept that good lord\u2019s corpse\n Three quarters of a year,\n Until that word began to spread;\n Then she began to fear.\n 68E.13\tThen she cryed on her waiting-maid,\n Ay ready at her ca:\n \u2018There is a knight into my bower,\n \u2019Tis time he were awa.\u2019\n 68E.14\tThe ane has taen him by the head,\n The ither by the feet,\n And thrown him in the wan water,\n That ran baith wide and deep.\n 68E.15\t\u2018Look back, look back, now, lady fair,\n On him that loed ye weel;\n A better man than that blue corpse\n Neer drew a sword of steel.\u2019\n \n \n \n 68F: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68F.1\tEARL RICHARD is a hunting gone,\n As fast as he can ride,\n His hunting-horn hung about his neck,\n And a small sword by his side.\n 68F.2\tWhen he came to my lady\u2019s gate\n He tirled at the pin,\n And wha was sae ready as the lady hersell\n To open and let him in.\n 68F.3\t\u2018O light, O light, Earl Richard,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018O light and stay a\u2019 night;\n You shall have cheer wi charcoal clear,\n And candles burning bright.\u2019\n 68F.4\t\u2018I will not light, I cannot light,\n I cannot light at all;\n A fairer lady than ten of thee\n Is waiting at Richard\u2019s Wall.\u2019\n 68F.5\tHe stooped from his milk-white steed,\n To kiss her rosy cheek;\n She had a pen-knife in her hand,\n And wounded him so deep.\n 68F.6\t\u2018O lie ye there, Earl Richard,\u2019 she says,\n \u2018O lie ye there till morn;\n A fairer lady than ten of me\n Will think lang of your coming home.\u2019\n 68F.7\tShe called her servants ane by ane,\n She called them twa by twa:\n \u2018I have got a dead man in my bower,\n I wish he were awa.\u2019\n 68F.8\tThe one has taen [him] by the hand,\n And the other by the feet,\n And they\u2019ve thrown him in a deep draw-well,\n Full fifty fathom deep.\n 68F.9\tThen up bespake a little bird,\n That sat upon a tree:\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, ye false lady,\n And pay your maids their fee.\u2019\n 68F.10\t\u2018Come down, come down, my pretty bird,\n That sits upon the tree;\n I have a cage of beaten gold,\n I\u2019ll gie it unto thee.\u2019\n 68F.11\t\u2018Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,\n And pay your maids their fee;\n As ye have done to Earl Richard,\n Sae wud ye do to me.\u2019\n 68F.12\t\u2018If I had an arrow in my hand,\n And a bow bent on a string,\n I\u2019d shoot a dart at thy proud heart,\n Amang the leaves sae green.\u2019\n \n \n \n 68G: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68G.1\tSHE has calld to her her bower-maidens,\n She has calld them one by one:\n \u2018There is a dead man in my bower,\n I wish that he was gone.\u2019\n 68G.2\tThey have booted him, and spurred him,\n As he was wont to ride,\n A hunting-horn around his waist,\n A sharp sword by his side.\n 68G.3\tThen up and spake a bonie bird,\n That sat upon the tree:\n \u2018What hae ye done wi Earl Richard?\n Ye was his gay lady.\u2019\n 68G.4\t\u2018Cum down, cum down, my bonie bird,\n Cum sit upon my hand;\n And ye sall hae a cage o the gowd,\n Where ye hae but the wand.\u2019\n 68G.5\t\u2018Awa, awa, ye ill woman,\n Nae ill woman for me;\n What ye hae done to Earl Richard,\n Sae wad ye do to mee.\u2019\n * * * * *\n 68G.6\t\u2018O there\u2019s a bird intill your bowir\n That sings sae sad and sweet;\n O there\u2019s a bird intill your bour\n Kept me frae my nicht\u2019s sleep.\u2019\n * * * * *\n 68G.7\tAnd she sware by the grass sae greene,\n Sae did she by the corn,\n That she had not seen Earl Richard\n Sen yesterday at morn.\n * * * * *\n \n \n \n 68H: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68H.1\t* * * *\n \u2018HAIL well, hail well, my little foot-page,\n Hail well this deed on me,\n And ever I live my life to brook,\n I\u2019se pay thee well thy fee.\u2019\n 68H.2\t\u2018It\u2019s we\u2019l beet him, and we\u2019l spur him,\n As gin he had been gain to ride,\n Put a huntin-horn about his neck,\n And a small sword by his side.\n 68H.3\t\u2018And we\u2019ll carry him to Clyde\u2019s Water,\n And there we\u2019ll fling him in,\n That we may have it to be said\n In Clyde\u2019s Water he drownd.\u2019\n 68H.4\tO they bet him, and they spurrd him,\n As gin he had been gain to ride,\n Pat a huntin-horn about his neck,\n But the sword on his wrang side.\n 68H.5\tAnd they hae carried him to Clyde\u2019s Water,\n And there they flang him in,\n That they might have it to be said\n In Clyde\u2019s Water he drowned.\n * * * * *\n 68H.6\t\u2018It\u2019s we\u2019ll sen for the king\u2019s doukers,\n And douk it up and doun;\n It\u2019s we\u2019ll sen for the king\u2019s doukers,\n And douk it out and in.\u2019\n 68H.7\tOut it spak a little wee birdie,\n As it sat on yon burn-brae:\n . . . . .\n . . . . .\n 68H.8\t\u2018Ye may lay by your day doukers,\n And turn you to the night,\n And where the innocent blood lies slain,\n The candles will burn fou bricht.\u2019\n 68H.9\tO they hae brunt that gay ladie,\n And blawn her in the air,\n And nothing o that bower-man would burn\n But the hands that buskd him rare.\n \n \n \n 68I: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68I.1\t* * * *\n \u2018Come down, come down, thou bonnie bird,\n Sit low upon my hand,\n And thy cage shall be o the beaten gowd,\n And not of hazel wand.\u2019\n 68I.2\t\u2018O woe, O woe be to thee, lady,\n And an ill death may thou die!\n For the way thou guided good Lord John,\n Soon, soon would thou guide me.\u2019\n 68I.3\t\u2018Go bend to me my bow,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018And set it to my ee,\n And I will gar that bonnie bird\n Come quickly down to me.\u2019\n 68I.4\t\u2018Before thou bend thy bow, lady,\n And set it to thy ee,\n O I will be at yon far forest,\n Telling ill tales on thee.\u2019\n * * * * *\n \n \n \n 68J: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68J.1\t\u2018O lady, rock never your young son young\n One hour langer for me;\n For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells\n I love far better than thee.\n 68J.2\t\u2018The very sole o that ladye\u2019s foot\n Than thy face is far mair white:\u2019\n \u2018But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard,\n Ye will bide in my bower a\u2019 night?\u2019\n 68J.3\tShe birled him wi the ale and wine,\n As they sat down to sup:\n A living man he laid him down,\n But I wot he neer rose up.\n 68J.4\tThen up and spake the popinjay,\n That flew aboun her head:\n \u2018Lady, keep weel your green cleiding\n Frae gude Erl Richard\u2019s bleid.\u2019\n 68J.5\t\u2018O better I\u2019ll keep my green cleiding\n Frae gude Erl Richard\u2019s bleid,\n Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung,\n That trattles in thy head.\u2019\n 68J.6\tShe has calld upon her bower-maidens,\n She has calld them ane by ane:\n \u2018There lies a deid man in my bowr,\n I wish that he were gane.\u2019\n 68J.7\tThey hae booted him, and spurred him,\n As he was wont to ride,\n A hunting-horn tied round his waist,\n A sharp sword by his side;\n And they hae had him to the wan water,\n For a\u2019 men call it Clyde.\n 68J.8\tThen up and spake the popinjay,\n That sat upon the tree:\n \u2018What hae ye down wi Erl Richard?\n Ye were his gaye ladye.\u2019\n 68J.9\t\u2018Come down, come down, my bonny bird,\n And sit upon my hand;\n And thou sall hae a cage o gowd,\n Where thou hast but the wand.\u2019\n 68J.10\t\u2018Awa, awa, ye ill woman,\n Nae cage o gowd for me;\n As ye hae dune to Erl Richard,\n Sae wad ye do to me.\u2019\n 68J.11\tShe hadna crossd a rigg o land,\n A rigg but barely ane,\n When she met wi his auld father,\n Came riding all alane.\n 68J.12\t\u2018Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair,\n Where hae ye been sae late?\n We hae been seeking Erl Richard,\n But him we canna get.\u2019\n 68J.13\t\u2018Erl Richard kens a\u2019 the fords in Clyde,\n He\u2019ll ride them ane by ane;\n And though the night was neer sae mirk,\n Erl Richard will be hame.\u2019\n 68J.14\tO it fell anes upon a day\n The king was boun to ride,\n And he has mist him Erl Richard,\n Should hae ridden on his right side.\n 68J.15\tThe ladye turnd her round about,\n Wi mickle mournfu din:\n \u2018It fears me sair o Clyde water,\n That he is drownd therein.\u2019\n 68J.16\t\u2018Gar douk, gar douk,\u2019 the king he cried,\n \u2018Gar douk for gold and fee;\n O wha will douk for Erl Richard\u2019s sake,\n Or wha will douk for me?\u2019\n 68J.17\tThey douked in at ae weil-heid,\n And out aye at the other:\n \u2018We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard,\n Altho he were our brother.\u2019\n 68J.18\tIt fell that in that ladye\u2019s castle\n The king was boun to bed,\n And up and spake the popinjay,\n That flew abune his head.\n 68J.19\t\u2018Leave aff your douking on the day,\n And douk upon the night;\n And wherever that sackless knight lies slain,\n The candles will burn bright.\u2019\n 68J.20\t\u2018O there\u2019s a bird within this bower,\n That sings baith sad and sweet;\n O there\u2019s a bird within your bower\n Keeps me frae my night\u2019s sleep.\u2019\n 68J.21\tThey left the douking on the day,\n And douked upon the night,\n And where that sackless knight lay slain,\n The candles burned bright.\n 68J.22\tThe deepest pot in a\u2019 the linn\n They fand Erl Richard in;\n A green turf tyed across his breast,\n To keep that gude lord down.\n 68J.23\tThen up and spake the king himsell,\n When he saw the deadly wound,\n \u2018O wha has slain my right-hand man,\n That held my hawk and hound?\u2019\n 68J.24\tThen up and spake the popinjay,\n Says, What needs a\u2019 this din?\n It was his light lemman took his life,\n And hided him in the linn.\n 68J.25\tShe swore her by the grass sae grene,\n Sae did she by the corn,\n She had na seen him Erl Richard\n Since Moninday at morn.\n 68J.26\t\u2018Put na the wyte on me,\u2019 she said,\n \u2018It was my may, Catherine:\u2019\n Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,\n To burn that maiden in.\n 68J.27\tIt wadna take upon her cheik,\n Nor yet upon her chin,\n Nor yet upon her yellow hair,\n To cleanse the deadly sin.\n 68J.28\tThe maiden touchd the clay-cauld corpse,\n A drap it never bled;\n The ladye laid her hand on him,\n And soon the ground was red.\n 68J.29\tOut they hae ta\u2019en her May Catherine,\n And put her mistress in;\n The flame tuik fast upon her cheik,\n Tuik fast upon her chin,\n Tuik fast upon her fair bodye,\n She burnd like hollins grene.\n \n \n \n 68K: Young Hunting\n \n \n 68K.1\tLADY MAISRY forth from her bower came,\n And stood on her tower-head;\n She thought she heard a bridle ring,\n The sound did her heart guid.\n 68K.2\tShe thought it was her first true-love,\n Whom she loved ance in time;\n But it was her new love, Hunting,\n Come frae the hunting o the hyn.\n 68K.3\t\u2018Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,\n God make you safe and free;\n I\u2019m come to take my last farewell,\n And pay my last visit to thee.\u2019\n 68K.4\t\u2018O stay, O stay then, Young Hunting,\n O stay with me this night;\n Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear,\n And candles burning bright.\u2019\n 68K.5\t\u2018Have no more cheer, you lady fair,\n An hour langer for me;\n I have a lady in Garmouth town\n I love better than thee.\u2019\n 68K.6\t\u2018O if your love be changed, my love,\n Since better canno be,\n Nevertheless, for auld lang syne,\n Ye\u2019ll stay this night wi me.\n 68K.7\t\u2018Silver, silver shall be your wage,\n And gowd shall be your fee,\n And nine times nine into the year\n Your weed shall changed be.\n 68K.8\t\u2018Will ye gae to the cards or dice,\n Or to a tavern fine?\n Or will ye gae to a table forebye,\n And birl baith beer and wine?\u2019\n 68K.9\t\u2018I winna gang to the cards nor dice,\n Nor to a tavern fine;\n But I will gang to a table forebye,\n And birl baith beer and wine.\u2019\n 68K.10\tThen she has drawn for Young Hunting\n The beer but and the wine,\n Till she got him as deadly drunk\n As ony unhallowed swine.\n 68K.11\tThen she\u2019s taen out a trusty brand,\n That hang below her gare,\n Then she\u2019s wounded him Young Hunting,\n A deep wound and a sair.\n 68K.12\tThen out it speaks her comrade,\n Being in the companie:\n \u2018Alas! this deed that ye hae done\n Will ruin baith you and me.\u2019\n 68K.13\t\u2018Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,\n Heal well this deed on me,\n The robes that were shapen for my bodie,\n They shall be sewed for thee.\u2019\n 68K.14\t\u2018Tho I woud heal it never sae well,\n And never sae well,\u2019 said she,\n \u2018There is a God above us baith\n That can baith hear and see.\u2019\n 68K.15\tThey booted him, and spurred him,\n As he\u2019d been gaun to ride,\n A hunting-horn about his neck,\n A sharp sword by his side.\n 68K.16\tAnd they rode on, and farther on,\n All the lang summer\u2019s tide,\n Until they came to wan water,\n Where a\u2019 man ca\u2019s it Clyde.\n 68K.17\tAnd the deepest pot in Clyde\u2019s water,\n And there they flang him in,\n And put a turf on his breast-bane,\n To had Young Hunting down.\n 68K.18\tO out it speaks a little wee bird,\n As she sat on the brier:\n \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry,\n And pay your maiden\u2019s hire.\u2019\n 68K.19\t\u2018O I will pay my maiden\u2019s hire,\n And hire I\u2019ll gie to thee;\n If ye\u2019ll conceal this fatal deed,\n Ye\u2019s hae gowd for your fee.\u2019\n 68K.20\tThen out it speaks a bonny bird,\n That flew aboon their head:\n \u2018Keep well, keep well your green claithing\n Frae ae drap o his bluid.\u2019\n 68K.21\t\u2018O I\u2019ll keep well my green claithing\n Frae ae drop o his bluid,\n Better than I\u2019ll do your flattering tongue,\n That flutters in your head.\n 68K.22\t\u2018Come down, come down, my bonny bird,\n Light down upon my hand;\n For ae gowd feather that\u2019s in your wing,\n I woud gie a\u2019 my land.\u2019\n 68K.23\t\u2018How shall I come down, how can I come down,\n How shall I come down to thee?\n The things ye said to Young Hunting,\n The same ye\u2019re saying to me.\u2019\n 68K.24\tBut it fell out on that same day\n The king was going to ride,\n And he calld for him Young Hunting,\n For to ride by his side.\n 68K.25\tThen out it speaks the little young son,\n Sat on the nurse\u2019s knee:\n \u2018It fears me sair,\u2019 said that young babe,\n \u2018He\u2019s in bower wi yon ladie.\u2019\n 68K.26\tThen they hae calld her Lady Katharine,\n And she sware by the thorn\n That she saw not him Young Hunting\n Sin yesterday at morn.\n 68K.27\tThen they hae calld her Lady Maisry,\n And she sware by the moon\n That she saw not him Young Hunting\n Sin yesterday at noon.\n 68K.28\t\u2018He was playing him at the Clyde\u2019s Water,\n Perhaps he has fa\u2019en in:\u2019\n The king he calld his divers all,\n To dive for his young son.\n 68K.29\tThey div\u2019d in thro the wan burn-bank,\n Sae did they outthro the other:\n \u2018We\u2019ll dive nae mair,\u2019 said these young men,\n \u2018Suppose he were our brother.\u2019\n 68K.30\tThen out it spake a little bird,\n That flew aboon their head:\n \u2018Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,\n For there he lies indeed.\n 68K.31\t\u2018But ye\u2019ll leave aff your day diving,\n And ye\u2019ll dive in the night;\n The pot where Young Hunting lies in,\n The candles they\u2019ll burn bright.\n 68K.32\t\u2018There are twa ladies in yon bower,\n And even in yon ha,\n And they hae killd him Young Hunting,\n And casten him awa.\n 68K.33\t\u2018They booted him, and spurred him,\n As he\u2019d been gaun to ride,\n A hunting-horn tied round his neck,\n A sharp sword by his side\n 68K.34\t\u2018The deepest pot o Clyde\u2019s Water,\n There they flang him in,\n Laid a turf on his breast-bane,\n To had Young Hunting down.\u2019\n 68K.35\tNow they left aff their day diving,\n And they dived on the night;\n The pot that Young Hunting lay in,\n The candles were burning bright.\n 68K.36\tThe king he calld his hewers all,\n To hew down wood and thorn,\n For to put up a strong bale-fire,\n These ladies for to burn.\n 68K.37\tAnd they hae taen her Lady Katharine,\n And they hae pitten her in;\n But it wadna light upon her cheek,\n Nor woud it on her chin,\n But sang the points o her yellow hair,\n For healing the deadly sin.\n 68K.38\tThen they hae taen her Lady Maisry,\n And they hae put her in:\n First it lighted on her cheek,\n And syne upon her chin,\n And sang the points o her yellow hair,\n And she burnt like keckle-pin.\n \n \n \n \n \n \n Next: 69. Clerk Sanders","title":"The Child Ballads: 68. Young Hunting","type":"page"}