{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch096.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch096.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch096.htm","text":"96A.1 \u2018O WELLRR\u2019rrS me o my gay goss-hawk,\nThat he can speak and flee;\nHe\u2019ll carry a letter to my love,\nBring back another to me.\u2019\n96A.2 \u2018O how can I your true-love ken,\nOr how can I her know?\nWhan frae her mouth I never heard couth,\nNor wi my eyes her saw.\u2019\n96A.3 \u2018O well sal ye my true-love ken,\nAs soon as you her see;\nFor, of a\u2019 the flowrs in fair Englan,\nThe fairest flowr is she.\n96A.4 \u2018At even at my love\u2019s bowr-door\nThere grows a bowing birk,\nAn sit ye down and sing thereon,\nAs she gangs to the kirk.\n96A.5 \u2018An four-an-twenty ladies fair\nWill wash and go to kirk,\nBut well shall ye my true-love ken,\nFor she wears goud on her skirt.\n96A.6 \u2018An four and twenty gay ladies\nWill to the mass repair,\nBut well sal ye my true-love ken,\nFor she wears goud on her hair.\u2019\n96A.7 O even at that lady\u2019s bowr-door\nThere grows a bowin birk,\nAnd she set down and sang thereon,\nAs she ged to the kirk.\n96A.8 \u2018O eet and drink, my marys a\u2019,\nThe wine flows you among,\nTill I gang to my shot-window,\nAn hear yon bonny bird\u2019s song.\n96A.9 \u2018Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,\nThe song ye sang the streen,\nFor I ken by your sweet singin\nYou\u2019re frae my true-love sen.\u2019\n96A.10 O first he sang a merry song,\nAn then he sang a grave,\nAn then he peckd his feathers gray,\nTo her the letter gave.\n96A.11 \u2018Ha, there\u2019s a letter frae your love,\nHe says he sent you three;\nHe canna wait your love langer,\nBut for your sake he\u2019ll die.\n96A.12 \u2018He bids you write a letter to him;\nHe says he\u2019s sent you five;\nHe canno wait your love langer,\nTho you\u2019re the fairest woman alive.\u2019\n96A.13 \u2018Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,\nAnd brew his bridal-ale,\nAn I\u2019ll meet him in fair Scotlan\nLang, lang or it be stale.\u2019\n96A.14 She\u2019s doen her to her father dear,\nFa\u2019n low down on her knee:\n\u2018A boon, a boon, my father dear,\nI pray you, grant it me.\u2019\n96A.15 \u2018Ask on, ask on, my daughter,\nAn granted it sal be;\nExcept ae squire in fair Scotlan,\nAn him you sall never see.\u2019\n96A.16 \u2018The only boon, my father dear,\nThat I do crave of the,\nIs, gin I die in southin lands,\nIn Scotland to bury me.\n96A.17 \u2018An the firstin kirk that ye come till,\nYe gar the bells be rung,\nAn the nextin kirk that ye come till,\nYe gar the mess be sung.\n96A.18 \u2018An the thirdin kirk that ye come till,\nYou deal gold for my sake,\nAn the fourthin kirk that ye come till,\nYou tarry there till night.\u2019\n96A.19 She is doen her to her bigly bowr,\nAs fast as she coud fare,\nAn she has tane a sleepy draught,\nThat she had mixed wi care.\n96A.20 She\u2019s laid her down upon her bed,\nAn soon she\u2019s fa\u2019n asleep,\nAnd soon oer every tender limb\nCauld death began to creep.\n96A.21 Whan night was flown, an day was come,\nNae ane that did her see\nBut thought she was as surely dead\nAs ony lady coud be.\n96A.22 Her father an her brothers dear\nGard make to her a bier;\nThe tae half was o guide red gold,\nThe tither o silver clear.\n96A.23 Her mither an her sisters fair\nGard work for her a sark;\nThe tae half was o cambrick fine,\nThe tither o needle wark.\n96A.24 The firstin kirk that they came till,\nThey gard the bells be rung,\nAn the nextin kirk that they came till,\nThey gard the mess be sung.\n96A.25 The thirdin kirk that they came till,\nThey dealt gold for her sake,\nAn the fourthin kirk that they came till,\nLo, there they met her make!\n96A.26 \u2018Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,\nLat me the dead look on;\u2019\nWi cherry cheeks and ruby lips\nShe lay an smil\u2019d on him.\n96A.27 \u2018O ae sheave o your bread, true-love,\nAn ae glass o your wine,\nFor I hae fasted for your sake\nThese fully days is nine.\n96A.28 \u2018Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,\nGang hame and sound your horn;\nAn ye may boast in southin lans\nYour sister\u2019s playd you scorn.\u2019\n96B: The Gay Goshawk\n96B.1 OUT then spoke the king of Scotland,\nAnd he spak wondrous clear:\nWhere will I get a boy, and a pretty little boy,\nThat will my tidings bear?\n96B.2 Out then spak a pretty little bird,\nAs it sat on a brier:\nWhat will ye gie me, king of Scotland, he said,\nIf I your tidings will bear?\n96B.3 \u2018One wing of the beaten gowd,\nAnd another of the silver clear;\nIt\u2019s all unto thee, my pretty little bird,\nIf thou my tidings will bear.\u2019\n96B.4 The bird flew high, the bird flew low,\nThis bird flew to and fro,\nUntil that he came to the king of England\u2019s dochter,\nWho was sitting in her bower-window.\n96B.5 \u2018Here is a gift, a very rare gift,\nAnd the king has sent you three;\nHe says if your father and mother winna let,\nYou may come privately.\n96B.6 \u2018Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,\nThe king has sent you five;\nHe says he will not wait any longer on you,\nIf there be another woman alive.\u2019\n96B.7 She\u2019s away to her mother dear,\nMade a low beck on her knee:\n\u2018What is your asking of me, daughter?\nQueen of Scotland you never shall be.\u2019\n96B.8 \u2018That\u2019s not my asking of thee, mother,\nThat\u2019s not my asking of thee;\nBut that if I die in merry England,\nIn Scotland you will bury me.\u2019\n96B.9 She\u2019s awa to her father dear,\nMade a low beck on her knee:\n\u2018What is your asking of me, daughter?\nQueen of Scotland you never shall be.\u2019\n96B.10 \u2018That\u2019s not my asking of thee, father,\nThat\u2019s not my asking of thee;\nBut that if I die in merry England,\nIn Scotland you will bury me.\u2019\n96B.11 She walked to and fro,\nShe walked up and down,\nBut ye wud na spoken three words to an end\nTill she was in a deep swoon.\n96B.12 Out then spoke an auld witch-wife,\nAnd she spoke random indeed:\nHonoured madam, I would have you to try\nThree drops of the burning lead.\n96B.13 Her mother went weeping round and round,\nShe dropped one on her chin;\n\u2018Och and alace,\u2019 her mother did say,\n\u2018There is no breath within!\u2019\n96B.14 Her mother went weeping round and round,\nShe dropt one on her briest;\n\u2018Och and alace,\u2019 her mother did cry,\n\u2018For she\u2019s died without a priest!\u2019\n96B.15 Her mother went weeping round and round,\nShe dropped one on her toe;\n\u2018Och and alace,\u2019 her mother did cry,\n\u2018To Scotland she must goe!\n96B.16 \u2018Call down, call down her sisters five,\nTo make to her a smock;\nThe one side of the bonny beaten gold,\nAnd the other of the needle-work.\n96B.17 \u2018Call down, call down her brothers seven,\nTo make for her a bier;\nThe one side of the bonny beaten gold,\nAnd the other of the silver clear.\u2019\n96B.18 Many a mile by land they went,\nAnd many a league by sea,\nUntil that they came to the king of Scotland,\nWho was walking in his own valley.\n96B.19 \u2018Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,\nAnd you to have made her your own;\nBut now she is dead, and she\u2019s new come from her steed,\nAnd she\u2019s ready to lay in the ground.\u2019\n96B.20 O he has opened the lid of the coffin,\nAnd likewise the winding sheet,\nAnd thrice he has kissed her cherry, cherry cheek,\nAnd she smiled on him full sweet.\n96B.21 \u2018One bit of your bread,\u2019 she says,\n\u2018And one glass of your wine;\nIt\u2019s all for you and your sake\nI\u2019ve fasted long days nine.\n96B.22 \u2018One glass of your wine,\u2019 she says,\n\u2018And one bit of your bread;\nFor it\u2019s all for you and for your sake\nI suffered the burning lead.\n96B.23 \u2018Go home, go home, my brothers seven,\nYou may go blow your horn;\nAnd you may tell it in merry England\nThat your sister has given you the scorn.\n96B.24 \u2018Go home, go home, my brothers seven,\nTell my sisters to sew their seam;\nAnd you may tell it in merry England\nThat your sister she is queen.\u2019\n96C: The Gay Goshawk\n96C.1 \u2018O WELL is me, my jolly goshawk,\nThat ye can speak and flee,\nFor ye can carry a love-letter\nTo my true-love from me.\u2019\n96C.2 \u2018O how can I carry a letter to her,\nWhen her I do not knaw?\nI bear the lips to her never spake,\nAnd the eyes that her never saw.\u2019\n96C.3 \u2018The thing of my love\u2019s face is white\nIt\u2019s that of dove or maw;\nThe thing of my love\u2019s face that\u2019s red\nIs like blood shed on snaw.\n96C.4 \u2018And when you come to the castle,\nLight on the bush of ash,\nAnd sit you there and sing our loves,\nAs she comes from the mass.\n96C.5 \u2018And when she goes into the house,\nSit ye upon the whin;\nAnd sit you there and sing our loves,\nAs she goes out and in.\u2019\n96C.6 And when he flew to that castel,\nHe lighted on the ash;\nAnd there he sat and sang their loves,\nAs she came from the mass.\n96C.7 And when she went into the house,\nHe flew unto the whin;\nAnd there he sat and sang their loves,\nAs she went out and in.\n96C.8 \u2018Come hither, come hither, my maidens all,\nAnd sip red wine anon,\nTill I go to my west window,\nAnd hear a birdie\u2019s moan.\u2019\n96C.9 She\u2019s gone unto her west window,\nAnd fainly aye it drew,\nAnd soon into her white silk lap\nThe bird the letter threw.\n96C.10 \u2018Ye\u2019re bidden send your love a send,\nFor he has sent you twa;\nAnd tell him where he can see you,\nOr he cannot live ava.\u2019\n96C.11 \u2018I send him the rings from my white fingers,\nThe garlands off my hair;\nI send him the heart that\u2019s in my breast:\nWhat would my love have mair?\nAnd at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland,\nYe\u2019ll bid him meet me there.\u2019\n96C.12 She hied her to her father dear,\nAs fast as gang could she:\n\u2018An asking, an asking, my father dear,\nAn asking ye grant me;\nThat, if I die in fair England,\nIn Scotland bury me.\n96C.13 \u2018At the first kirk of fair Scotland,\nYou cause the bells be rung;\nAt the second kirk of fair Scotland,\nYou cause the mass be sung.\n96C.14 \u2018At the third kirk of fair Scotland,\nYou deal gold for my sake;\nAnd the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,\nO there you\u2019ll bury me at.\n96C.15 \u2018And now, my tender father dear,\nThis asking grant you me;\u2019\n\u2018Your asking is but small,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Weel granted it shall be.\u2019\n96C.16 She hied her to her mother dear,\nAs fast as gang could she:\n\u2018An asking, an asking, my mother dear,\nAn asking ye grant me;\nThat if I die in fair England\nIn Scotland bury me.\n96C.17 \u2018And now, my tender mother dear,\nThis asking grant you me;\u2019\n\u2018Your asking is but small,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018Weel granted it shall be.\u2019\n96C.18 She hied her to her sister dear,\nAs fast as gang could she:\n\u2018An asking, an asking, my sister dear,\nAn asking ye grant me;\nThat if I die in fair England,\nIn Scotland bury me.\n96C.19 \u2018And now, my tender sister dear,\nThis asking grant you me:\u2019\n\u2018Your asking is but small,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018Weel granted it shall be.\u2019\n96C.20 She hied her to her seven brothers,\nAs fast as gang could she:\n\u2018An asking, an asking, my brothers seven,\nAn asking ye grant me;\nThat if I die in fair England,\nIn Scotland ye bury me.\n96C.21 \u2018And now, my tender brothers dear,\nThis asking grant you me:\u2019\n\u2018Your asking is but small,\u2019 they said,\n\u2018Weel granted it shall be.\u2019\n96C.22 Then down as dead that lady drapd,\nBeside her mother\u2019s knee;\nThen out it spoke an auld witch-wife,\nBy the fire-side sat she.\n96C.23 Says, Drap the hot lead on her cheek,\nAnd drop it on her chin,\nAnd drop it on her rose-red lips,\nAnd she will speak again:\nFor much a lady young will do,\nTo her true-love to win.\n96C.24 They drapd the het lead on her cheek,\nSo did they on her chin;\nThey drapt it on her red-rose lips,\nBut they breathed none again.\n96C.25 Her brothers they went to a room,\nTo make to her a bier;\nThe boards of it was cedar wood,\nAnd the plates ow it gold so clear.\n96C.26 Her sisters they went to a room,\nTo make to her a sark;\nThe cloth of it was satin fine,\nShe bids you meet her there.\u2019\nAnd the steeking silken wark.\n96C.27 \u2018But well is me, my jolly goshawk,\nThat ye can speak and flee;\nCome shew to my any love-tokens\nThat you have brought to me.\u2019\n96C.28 \u2018She sends you the rings from her fingers,\nThe garlands from her hair;\nShe sends you the heart within her breast;\nAnd what would you have mair?\nAnd at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland,\nShe bids you meet her there.\u2019\n96C.29 \u2018Come hither, all my merry young men,\nAnd drink the good red wine;\nFor we must on to fair Scotland,\nTo free my love frae pine.\u2019\n96C.30 At the first kirk of fair Scotland,\nThey gart the bells be rung;\nAt the second kirk of fair Scotland,\nThey gart the mass be sung.\n96C.31 At the third kirk of fair Scotland,\nThey dealt gold for her sake;\nAnd the fourth kirk of fair Scotland\nHer true-love met them at.\n96C.32 \u2018Set down, set down the corpse,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Till I look on the dead;\nThe last time that I saw her face,\nShe ruddy was and red;\nBut now, alas, and woe is me!\nShe\u2019s wallowit like a weed.\u2019\n96C.33 He rent the sheet upon her face,\nA little above her chin;\nWith lily-white cheeks, and lemin een,\nShe lookt and laughd to him.\n96C.34 \u2018Give me a chive of your bread, my love,\nA bottle of your wine;\nFor I have fasted for your love\nThese long days nine;\nThere\u2019s not a steed in your stable\nBut would have been dead ere syne.\n96C.35 \u2018Go home, go home, my seven brothers,\nGo home and blow the horn;\nFor you can say in the south of England\nYour sister gave you a scorn.\n96C.36 \u2018I came not here to fair Scotland\nTo lye amang the meal;\nBut I came here to fair Scotland\nTo wear the silks so weel.\n96C.37 \u2018I came not here to fair Scotland\nTo ly amang the dead;\nBut I came here to fair Scotland\nTo wear the gold so red.\u2019\n96D: The Gay Goshawk\n96D.1 \u2018O WHERERR\u2019rrLL I get a pretty little bird\nThat\u2019ll go my errand soon,\nThat will fly to the Queen of England\u2019s dochter,\nAnd bid my trew-luve come?\u2019\n96D.2 \u2018Here am I, a pretty little bird,\nThat\u2019ll go your errands soon,\nThat will fly to the Queen of England\u2019s daughter,\nAnd bid your trew-luve come.\u2019\n96D.3 This wee birdie\u2019s taken its flight,\nAnd it\u2019s flown owre the sea,\nUntil it cam to the Queen of England\u2019s daughter;\nShe\u2019s sitting in her bower-windie.\n96D.4 Then out bespoke these nine ladies,\nAs they sat in a ring:\n\u2018O we\u2019ll awa to the west window,\nTo hear this birdie sing.\u2019\n96D.5 This wee birdie\u2019s taken its flight,\nAnd it\u2019s flown owre them a\u2019,\nAnd at the lady\u2019s left shoulder\nIt loot a letter fa.\n96D.6 She has taken the letter up,\nAnd read it speedilie:\n\u2018O mother, the queen, O mother, the queen,\nGrant this request to me;\nWhenever I do chance for to die,\nIn Scotland gar bury me.\u2019\n* * * * *\n96D.7 \u2018Bring to me the red, red lead,\nAnd rub it on her chin;\nIt\u2019s Oh and alace for my dochter Janet!\nBut there is not a breath within.\n96D.8 \u2018Bring to me the red, red lead,\nAnd rub it on her toe;\nIt\u2019s Oh and alace for my daughter Janet!\nTo Scotland she must go.\u2019\n96D.9 \u2018Rise up, rise up, ye seven sisters,\nAnd make her winding sheet,\nWith the one side of the beaten gold,\nAnd the other o the needle-wark.\n96D.10 \u2018Rise up, rise up, ye seven brethren,\nAnd make her carriage-bier,\nWith the one side of the beaten gold,\nAnd the other o the silver clear.\u2019\n96D.11 \u2018They\u2019ve carried east, they\u2019ve carried west,\nThey\u2019ve carried her high and low,\nUntil that they came to the king of Scotland,\nWas sitting in his bower-window.\n96D.12 \u2018Here is a token of your trew-love,\nAnd here is a token come down,\nFor she is dead, and she\u2019s ready to be buried,\nAnd she wants to be laid in your ground.\u2019\n96D.13 He\u2019s taen out his mickle knife,\nAnd tore her winding sheet,\nAnd there she lay like the crimson red,\nAnd she smiled in his face so sweet.\n96D.14 \u2018Go home, go home, you seven brethren,\nGo home and saw your corn,\nFor she if fit for the queen of Scotland now,\nAnd she\u2019s gien you the scorn.\n96D.15 \u2018Go home, go home, you seven sisters,\nGo home and sew your seam,\nFor she is fit for the queen of Scotland now,\nAnd she\u2019s ready to be my queen.\u2019\n96E: The Gay Goshawk\n96E.1 \u2018O WALY, waly, my gay goss-hawk,\nGin your feathering be sheen!\u2019\n\u2018And waly, waly, my master dear,\nGin ye look pale and lean!\n96E.2 \u2018O have ye tint at tournament\nYour sword, or yet your spear?\nOr mourn ye for the southern lass,\nWhom you may not win near?\u2019\n96E.3 \u2018I have not tint at tournament\nMy sword, nor yet my spear,\nBut sair I mourn for my true-love,\nWi mony a bitter tear.\n96E.4 \u2018But weel\u2019s me on ye, my gay goss-hawk,\nYe can baith speak and flee;\nYe sall carry a letter to my love,\nBring an answer back to me.\u2019\n96E.5 \u2018But how sall I your true-love find,\nOr how suld I her know?\nI bear a tongue neer wi her spake,\nAn eye that neer her saw.\u2019\n96E.6 \u2018O weel sall ye my true-love ken,\nSae sune as ye her see,\nFor of a\u2019 the flowers of fair England,\nThe fairest flower is she.\n96E.7 \u2018The red that\u2019s on my true-love\u2019s cheik\nIs like blood-drops on the snaw;\nThe white that is on her breast bare\nLike the down o the white sea-maw.\n96E.8 \u2018And even at my love\u2019s bouer-door\nThere grows a flowering birk,\nAnd ye maun sit and sing thereon,\nAs she gangs to the kirk.\n96E.9 \u2018And four-and-twenty fair ladyes\nWill to the mass repair,\nBut weel may ye my ladye ken,\nThe fairest ladye there.\u2019\n96E.10 Lord William has written a love-letter,\nPut it under his pinion gray,\nAnd he is awa to southern land,\nAs fast as wings can gae.\n96E.11 And even at that ladye\u2019s bour\nThere grew a flowering birk,\nAnd he sat down and sang thereon,\nAs she gaed to the kirk.\n96E.12 And weel he kent that ladye feir\nAmang her maidens free,\nFor the flower that springs in May morning\nWas not sae sweet as she.\n96E.13 [He lighted at the ladye\u2019s yate,\nAnd sat him on a pin,\nAnd sang fu sweet the notes o love,\nTill a\u2019 was cosh within.]\n96E.14 And first he sang a low, low note,\nAnd syne he sang a clear,\nAnd aye the oerword of the sang\nWas, Your love can no win here.\n96E.15 \u2018Feast on, feast on, my maidens a\u2019,\nThe wine flows you amang,\nWhile I gang to my shot-window,\nAnd hear yon bonny bird\u2019s sang.\n96E.16 \u2018Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,\nThe sang ye sung yestreen;\nFor weel I ken by your sweet singing\nYe are frae my true-love sen.\u2019\n96E.17 O first he sang a merry sang,\nAnd syne he sang a grave,\nAnd syne he peckd his feathers gray,\nTo her the letter gave.\n96E.18 \u2018Have there a letter from Lord William;\nHe says he\u2019s sent ye three;\nHe canna wait your love langer,\nBut for your sake he\u2019ll die.\u2019\n96E.19 \u2018Gae bid him bake his bridal bread,\nAnd brew his bridal ale,\nAnd I sall meet him at Mary\u2019s kirk,\nLang, lang ere it be stale.\u2019\n96E.20 The lady\u2019s gane to her chamber,\nAnd a moanfu woman was she,\nAs gin she had taen a sudden brash,\nAnd were about to die.\n96E.21 \u2018A boon, a boon, my father deir,\nA boon I beg of thee!\u2019\n\u2018Ask not that paughty Scotish lord,\nFor him you neer shall see.\n96E.22 \u2018But, for your honest asking else,\nWeel granted it shall be:\u2019\n\u2018Then, gin I die in southern land,\nIn Scotland gar bury me.\n96E.23 \u2018And the first kirk that ye come to,\nYe\u2019s gar the mass be sung,\nAnd the next kirk that ye come to,\nYe\u2019s gar the bells be rung.\n96E.24 \u2018And when ye come to St Mary\u2019s kirk,\nYe\u2019s tarry there till night:\u2019\nAnd so her father pledged his word,\nAnd so his promise plight.\n96E.25 She has taen her to her bigly bour,\nAs fast as she could fare,\nAnd she has drank a sleepy draught,\nThat she had mixed wi care.\n96E.26 And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek,\nThat was sae bright of blee,\nAnd she seemed to be as surely dead\nAs any one could be.\n96E.27 They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd,\nThey drapt it on her chin;\n\u2018And ever alas,\u2019 her mother cried,\n\u2018There is nae life within!\u2019\n96E.28 They drapt a drap o the burning red gowd,\nThey drapt it on her breast-bane;\n\u2018Alas,\u2019 her seven bauld brothers said,\n\u2018Our sister\u2019s dead and gane!\u2019\n96E.29 Then up arose her seven brethren,\nAnd hewd to her a bier;\nThey hewd it frae the solid aik,\nLaid it oer wi silver clear.\n96E.30 Then up and gat her seven sisters,\nAnd sewed to her a kell,\nAnd every steek that they pat in\nSewd to a siller bell.\n96E.31 The first Scots kirk that they cam to,\nThey gard the bells be rung;\nThe next Scots kirk that they cam to,\nThey gard the mass be sung.\n96E.32 But when they cam to St Mary\u2019s kirk,\nThere stude spearmen all on raw,\nAnd up and started Lord William,\nThe chieftane amang them a\u2019.\n96E.33 \u2018Set down, set down the bier,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Let me looke her upon:\u2019\nBut as soon as Lord William touched her hand,\nHer colour began to come.\n96E.34 She brightened like the lily-flower,\nTill her pale colour was gone;\nWith rosy cheek, and ruby lip,\nShe smiled her love upon.\n96E.35 \u2018A morsel of your bread, my lord,\nAnd one glass of your wine,\nFor I hae fasted these three lang days,\nAll for your sake and mine.\n96E.36 \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers,\nGae hame and blaw your horn;\nI trow you wad hae gien me the skaith,\nBut I\u2019ve gien you the scorn.\n96E.37 \u2018Ah woe to you, you light woman,\nAn ill death may you die!\nFor we left father and mother at hame\nBreaking their hearts for thee.\u2019\n96F: The Gay Goshawk\n96F.1 * * * *\nSHE got three drops of boiling lead,\nAnd dropped them on her hand:\n\u2018Oh and alas, my daughter dear,\nI\u2019d rather all my land!\u2019\n96F.2 She got three drops of boiling lead,\nAnd dropped them on her chin:\n\u2018Oh and alas, my daughter dear,\nThere is no life within!\u2019\n96F.3 She got three drops of boiling lead,\nAnd dropped them on her toe:\n\u2018Oh and alas, my daughter dear,\nTo fair Scotland you must go!\u2019\n* * * * *\n96F.4 \u2018Give me a cake of the new made bread,\nAnd a cup of the new made wine,\nFor for your sake, Lord Thomas,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018I fasted those days nine.\u2019\n96G: The Gay Goshawk\n96G.1 WHEN grass grew green on Lanark plains,\nAnd fruit and flowers did spring,\nA Scottish squire in cheerfu strains,\nSae merrily thus did sing:\n96G.2 \u2018O well fails me o my parrot\nThat he can speak and flee;\nFor he will carry love-letters\nBetween my love and me.\n96G.3 \u2018And well fails me o my parrot\nHe can baith speak and gang;\nAnd he will carry love-letters\nTo the maid in South England.\u2019\n96G.4 \u2018O how shall I your love find out?\nOr how shall I her know?\nWhen my tongue with her never spake,\nNor my eyes her ever saw.\u2019\n96G.5 \u2018O what is red of her is red\nAs blude drappd on the snaw;\nAnd what is white o her is white\nAs milk, or the sea-maw.\n96G.6 \u2018Even before that lady\u2019s yetts\nYou\u2019ll find a bowing birk;\nAnd there ye\u2019ll sit, and sing thereon,\nTill she gaes to the kirk.\n96G.7 \u2018Then even before that lady\u2019s yetts\nYou\u2019ll find a bowing ash;\nAnd ye may sit and sing thereon,\nTill she comes frae the mass.\n96G.8 \u2018And even before that lady\u2019s window\nYou\u2019ll find a bed o tyme;\nAnd ye may sit and sing thereon,\nTill she sits down to dine.\n96G.9 \u2018Even abeen that lady\u2019s window\nThere\u2019s fixd a siller pin;\nAnd a\u2019 these words that I tell you,\nYe\u2019ll sit and sing therein.\n96G.10 \u2018Ye\u2019ll bid her send her love a letter,\nFor he has sent her five;\nAnd he\u2019ll never send anither ane,\nTo nae woman alive.\n96G.11 \u2018Ye\u2019ll bid her send her love a letter,\nFor he has sent her seven;\nAnd he\u2019ll never send anither send,\nTo nae maid under heaven.\u2019\n96G.12 This little bird then took his flight,\nBeyond the raging sea,\nAnd lighted at that lady\u2019s yetts,\nOn tower o gowd sae hie.\n96G.13 Even before that lady\u2019s yetts\nHe found a bowing birk;\nAnd there he sat, and sang thereon,\nTill she went to the kirk.\n96G.14 Even before that lady\u2019s yetts\nHe found a bowing ash;\nAnd then he sat and sang thereon,\nTill she came frae the mass.\n96G.15 Even before that lady\u2019s window\nHe found a bed o tyme;\nAnd then he sat and sang thereon,\nTill she sat down to dine.\n96G.16 Even abeen that lady\u2019s window\nWas fixd a siller pin;\nAnd a\u2019 the word that were tauld him,\nHe sat and sang them in.\n96G.17 \u2018You\u2019re bidden send your love a letter,\nFor he has sent you five;\nOr he\u2019ll never send anither send,\nTo nae woman alive.\n96G.18 \u2018You\u2019re bidden send your love a letter,\nFor he has sent you seven;\nAnd he\u2019ll never send anither send,\nTo nae maid under heaven.\u2019\n96G.19 \u2018Sit in the hall, good ladies all,\nAnd drink the wine sae red,\nAnd I will to yon small window,\nAnd hear you bridie\u2019s leed.\n96G.20 \u2018Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,\nThe sang ye sung just now;\u2019\n\u2018I\u2019ll sing nae mair, ye lady fair,\nMy errand is to you.\u2019\n96G.21 \u2018If ye be my true-lovie\u2019s bird,\nSae well\u2019s I will you ken;\nYou will gae in at my gown-sleeve,\nCome out at my gown-hem.\u2019\n96G.22 \u2018That I am come frae your true-love,\nYou soon shall see right plain;\nAnd read these lines below my wing,\nThat I hae brought frae him.\u2019\n96G.23 When she looked these lines upon,\nShe read them, and she leuch:\n\u2018O well fails me, my true-love, now,\nO this I hae eneuch.\n96G.24 \u2018Here is the broach on my breast-bane,\nThe garlings frae my hair,\nLikewise the heart that is within;\nWhat woud my love hae mair?\n96G.25 \u2018The nearest kirk in fair Scotland,\nYe\u2019ll bid him meet me there:\u2019\nShe has gane to her dear father,\nWi heart perplexd and sair.\n96G.26 When she came to her auld father,\nFell low down on her knee:\n\u2018An asking, asking, father dear,\nI pray you grant it me.\u2019\n96G.27 \u2018Ask what you will, my dear daughter,\nAnd I will grant it thee;\nUnless to marry yon Scottish squire;\nThat\u2019s what shall never be.\u2019\n96G.28 \u2018O that\u2019s the asking, father,\u2019 she said,\n\u2018That I\u2019ll neer ask of thee;\nBut if I die in South England,\nIn Scotland ye\u2019ll bury me.\u2019\n96G.29 h5The asking\u2019s nae sae great, daughter,\nBut granted it shall be;\nAnd tho ye die in South England,\nIn Scotland we\u2019ll bury thee.\u2019\n96G.30 She has gane to her step-mother,\nFell low down on her knee:\n\u2018An asking, asking, mother dear,\nI pray you grant it me.\u2019\n96G.31 \u2018Ask what ye please, my lily-white dove,\nAnd granted it shall be:\u2019\n\u2018If I die in South England,\nIn Scotland bury me.\u2019\n96G.32 \u2018Had these words spoke been in again,\nI woud not granted thee;\nYou hae a love in fair Scotland,\nSae fain\u2019s you woud be tee.\u2019\n96G.33 She scarce was to her chamber gane\nNor yet was well set down,\nTill on the sofa where she sat\nFell a deadly swoon.\n96G.34 Her father and her seven brithers,\nThey made for her a bier;\nThe one half o \u2019t was gude red gowd,\nThe other siller clear.\n96G.35 Her seven sisters were employed\nIn making her a sark;\nThe one half o \u2019t was cambric fine,\nThe other needle-wark.\n96G.36 Then out it speaks her auld step-dame,\nSat on the sofa\u2019s end:\nYe\u2019ll drap the het lead on her cheek,\nSae do you on her chin;\nFor women will use mony a wile\nTheir true-loves for to win.\n96G.37 Then up it raise her eldest brither,\nInto her bower he\u2019s gane;\nThen in it came her youngest brither,\nThe het leed to drap on.\n96G.38 He drapt it by her cheek, her cheek,\nSae did he by her chin;\nSae did he by her comely hause;\nHe knew life was therein.\n96G.39 The bier was made wi red gowd laid,\nSae curious round about;\nA private entrance there contriv\u2019d,\nThat her breath might win out.\n96G.40 The first an kirk in fair Scotland,\nThey gard the bells be rung;\nThe niest an kirk in fair Scotland,\nThey causd the mass be sung.\n96G.41 The third an kirk in fair Scotland,\nThey passd it quietly by;\nThe fourth an kirk in fair Scotland,\nClerk Sandy did them spy.\n96G.42 \u2018O down ye\u2019ll set this corpse o clay,\nLat me look on the dead;\nFor I may sigh, and say, alas!\nFor death has nae remeid.\u2019\n96G.43 Then he has cut her winding sheet\nA little below her chin,\nAnd wi her sweet ruby lips\nShe sweetly smil\u2019d on him.\n96G.44 \u2018Gie me a sheave o your white bread,\nA bottle o your wine;\nFor I hae fasted for your sake\nFully these lang days nine.\n96G.45 \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,\nGae hame and blaw your trumpet;\nAnd ye mat tell to your step-dame\nThis day she is affronted.\n96G.46 \u2018I camna here to fair Scotland\nTo lye amo the dead;\nBut came to be Clerk Sandy\u2019s wife,\nAnd lay gowd on my head.\n96G.47 \u2018Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brithers,\nGae hame and blaw your horn;\nAnd ye may tell in fair England\nIn Scotland ye got the scorn.\n96G.48 \u2018I came not here to fair Scotland\nTo mix amang the clay;\nBut came to be Clerk Sandy\u2019s wife,\nAnd wear gowd to my tae.\u2019\n96G.49 \u2018Sin ye hae gien us this ae scorn,\nWe shall gie you anither;\nYe sall hae naething to live upon\nBut the bier that brought you hither.\u2019\n96[H]: The Gay Goshawk\n96[H].1 Lord William was walkin i the garden green,\nViewin the roses red,\nAn there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,\nWas fleein aboon his head.\n96[H.2] \u2018O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,\nAs ye hae wings to flee,\nThen ye wad carry a luve-letter\nAtween my love an me.\u2019\n96[H.3] \u2018But how can I your true-love ken?\nOr how can I her know?\nOr how can I your true-love ken,\nThe face I never saw?\u2019\n96[H.4] \u2018Ye may esily my love ken\nAmang them ye never saw;\nThe red that\u2019s on o my love\u2019s cheek\nIs like bluid drapt on the snaw.\u2019\n* * * * * * *\n96[H.5] \u2018O what will be my meat, master?\nAn what\u2019ll be my fee?\nAn what will be the love-tokens\nThat ye will send wi me?\u2019\n96[H.6] \u2018Ye may tell my love I\u2019ll send her a kiss,\nA kiss, aye, will I three;\nIf ever she come [to] fair Scotland,\nMy wedded wife she\u2019s be.\n96[H.7] \u2018Ye may tell my love I\u2019ll send her a kiss,\nA kiss, aye, will I twae;\nAn ever she come to fair Scotland,\nI the red gold she sall gae.\u2019\n* * * * * * *\n96[H.8] The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,\nAn south aneath the sun,\nUntill it cam, etc.\n96[H.9] \u2018Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,\nAn sew your silken seam,\nTill I gae to my bower-window\nAn hear yon Scottish bird sing.\u2019\n96[H.10] Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,\nAn\u2019 far aboon the wa;\nShe drapit to that ladie\u2019s side,\nAn loot the letter fa.\n96[H.11] \u2018What news, what news, my bonnie burd?\nAn what word carry ye?\nAn what are a\u2019 the love-tokens\nMy love has sent to me?\u2019\n96[H.12] \u2018O ye may send your love a kiss,\nFor he has sent ye three;\nYe hae the heart within his buik,\nWhat mair can he send thee?\u2019\n96[H.13] \u2018O I will send my love a kiss,\nA kiss, I, will I three;\nIf I can win to fair Scotland,\nHis wedded wife I\u2019ll be.\n96[H.14] \u2018O I will send my love a kiss,\nAn the caim out o my hair;\nHe has the hart that\u2019s in my buik,\nWhat can I send him mair?\n96[H.15] \u2018An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,\nAn tell my love frae me,\nIf [I] be na there gin Martinmas,\nGin Yool I there will be.\u2019\n* * * * * * *\n96[H.16] \u2019Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,\nAn ill deed may she die!\n\u2018Yer daughter Janet\u2019s taen her bed,\nAn she\u2019ll do nought but die.\u2019\n96[H.17] \u2018An askin, an askin, dear father,\nAn askin I crave o thee;\nIf I should die just at this time,\nIn Scotland burry me.\u2019\n96[H.18] \u2018There\u2019s room eneugh in wide England\nTo burry thee an me;\nBut sould ye die, my dear daughter,\nI Scotland I\u2019ll burry thee.\u2019\n96[H.19] She\u2019s warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,\nShe\u2019s warnd them ane an a\u2019,\nTo mak a kist wi three windows,\nThe cauler air to blaw.\n96[H.20] \u2018O will ye gae, my six sisters,\nAn sew to me a sheet,\nThe tae half o the silk sae fine,\nThe tother o cambric white.\u2019\n96[H.21] Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc.\n96[H.22] Then said her cruel step-minnie,\nTake ye the boilin lead\nAn some o \u2019t drap on her bosom;\nWe\u2019ll see gif she be dead.\n96[H.23] Then boilin lead than they hae taen\nAn drappit on her breast;\n\u2018Alas! alas!\u2019 than her father he cried,\n\u2018For she\u2019s dead without the priest!\u2019\n96[H.24] She neither chatterd in her teeth\nNor shivert wi her chin;\n\u2018Alas! alas!\u2019 her father cried,\n\u2018For there nae life within!\u2019\n* * * * * * *\n96[H.25] \u2018It\u2019s nine lang days, an nine lang nights,\nShe\u2019s wantit meat for me;\nBut for nine days, nine langer nights,\nHer face ye salna see.\u2019\n96[H.26] He\u2019s taen the coffin wi his fit,\nGar it in flinders flie, etc.\n96[H.27] \u2018Fetch me,\u2019 she said, a+e cake o yer bread\nAn a wi drap o your wine,\nFor luve o you an for your sake\nI\u2019ve fastit lang nights nine.\u2019\n96[H.28] \u2019Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,\nA grey-haird knight was he;\n\u2018Now ye hae left yer auld father,\nFor you he\u2019s like to die.\n96[H.29] \u2018An ye hae left yer sax sisters\nLamentin a\u2019 for you;\nI wiss that this, my dear ladie,\nYe near may hae to rue.\u2019\n96[H.30] \u2018Commend me to my auld father,\nIf eer ye come him niest;\nBut nought say to my ill step-minnie,\nGard burn me on the breist.\n96[H.31] \u2018Commend me to my six sisters,\nIf ye gang bak again;\nBut nought say to my ill step-minnie,\nGard burn me on the chin.\n96[H.32] \u2018Commend me to my brethren bald,\nAn ever ye them see;\nIf ever they come to fair Scotland\nThey\u2019s fare nae war than me.\n96[H.33] \u2018For I cam na to fair Scotland\nTo lie amang the dead,\nBut I cam down to fair Scotland\nTo wear goud on my head.\n96[H.34] \u2018Nor did I come to fair Scotland\nTo rot amang the clay,\nBut I cam to fair Scotland\nTo wear goud ilka day.\u2019","title":"The Child Ballads: 96. The Gay Goshawk","type":"page"}